RSPB Bempton cliffs

15 Feb

unpredictable winter weather!

Earlier this year, I made the journey up to RSPB Bempton Cliffs, staying overnight on the Yorkshire coast to give myself the best chance the following morning. February isn’t always the easiest time of year, but that’s part of the appeal—fewer people, raw conditions, and the potential for something different.

The evening I arrived, everything looked promising. I met up with Rachel Jones a fellow wildlife photographer, [Instagram]. We met for a pint, a bloody good chat and a chippy tea - I mean Yorkshire… we had too, right?

As we walked along the seafront in Bempton, it was cold, as you’d expect, but clear. No rain, no wind to speak of—just that crisp winter stillness. The kind of conditions that give you a bit of confidence for the morning ahead.

Waking Up to the Worst Case Scenario

That confidence didn’t last long.

The next morning, I stepped outside and it felt like everything had flipped overnight. What had been calm and clear had turned into incredibly windy, cold and snowing, pretty much a full-on blizzard. A full-on blizzard for a southerner, anyway…

Snow already settling on the ground. Strong winds cutting across the landscape. Thick cloud cover blocking out what little light there should have been.

Not ideal for anything—let alone trying to see a barn owl.

And in that moment, I’ll be honest, my heart sank a bit. After driving all that way, it felt like the kind of morning where you just know your chances have taken a hit.

trying regardless

But when you’re already there, you may as well head out and see what you can see.

I took the short drive to the reserve, attempting to keep an open mind to whatever the morning had in store for us.

Those first moments outside the car felt quiet in a different way—not peaceful, but softened by the weather. Snow drifting across the ground, the wind carrying it in every direction. It didn’t feel like a morning where much would be moving.

Which made what happened next even more unexpected.

A Moment That Changes Everything

Out of nowhere, movement. A ghostly white shape in the darkness.

A barn owl, cutting through the snow.

Low over the ground, completely focused, working against the wind and weather in a way that didn’t seem possible just minutes earlier. It wasn’t the calm, golden light scene you might imagine with this species—it was raw, unpredictable, and full of energy.

My mind was blown!

Standing there, watching it hunt in those conditions, everything else just disappeared for a moment. We watched it quarter for around 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. The weather that had felt like a problem suddenly became part of the experience. I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life.

This was all before the sun came up, and I could only imagine we were in for a pretty spectacular day. I was not wrong!

The sunrise was incredible—I’ll share an image, although I’m no landscape photographer and I know it won’t quite do it justice.

As the light began to build, we headed out along the cliff edge. It was bitterly cold (I can’t quite explain just how cold), but it didn’t take long before we started seeing movement. Early arrivals were already passing through—Northern Gannets, which I absolutely love. Such majestic birds. I even attempted some slower shutter work (ICM), which I’m not particularly good at, but you’ve got to try, haven’t you.

As we continued along the cliffs, more life started to appear—a kestrel out on an early morning hunt, along with jackdaws, rock doves, kittiwakes, fulmars, and herring gulls.

Before long, we made our way back to the visitor centre to warm up and scoff some breakfast.

What a lot of people don’t realise is that the small woodland at Bempton just outside the visitors centre can be just as rewarding as the seabird colony—or even the owls—despite often being overlooked. While we were there, we saw blackbird, blue tit, house sparrow, wood pigeon, dunnock, robin, chaffinch, and song thrush. Turtle doves are also known to visit, although I’ve never been lucky enough to see one. And I can’t forget Rachel’s favourite—the pheasant.

Shared Moments Make It Better

One of the best parts of the trip wasn’t just the wildlife—it was the people, the community around it.

Rachel and I stood together in the cold, watching that early morning owl hunt unfold in the snow—one of those moments you just know will stay with you. Not just because of what you saw, but because you shared it.

The sunrise breaking over the cliffs felt completely at odds with how the day had started, and alongside that we had multiple sightings of barn owls hunting, as well as those first gannets beginning to return—subtle signs that the season was starting to shift.

Later in the day, we met up with Aaron and Mrs. Aaron. Aaron [Instagram] and I had been speaking for a while but had never actually met in person.

As Rachel and I were stood waiting at a spot for short-eared owls, (I did not get any good photos of these) I suddenly heard someone shout “sausage” across a line of photographers.

That was all it took.

Amongst the crowd, I knew exactly who it was.

It was one of those genuinely funny, slightly ridiculous moments that perfectly sums up how these connections form—from messages online to standing in the same place, sharing the same experience. A friendship forming.

More Than Just the Photos

I came away with one of my most interesting photos to date from that barn owl encounter—but honestly, the images are only part of it.

Trips like this remind me why I enjoy wildlife photography as much as I do.

Yes, it’s about the species, the conditions, and the challenge—but it’s also about the people you meet along the way. The wildlife photography community is one of the most welcoming I’ve found myself part of. In a world where so much interaction happens through screens, it’s refreshing to connect with people properly, out in the field, through a shared interest.

Final Thoughts

That day at RSPB Bempton Cliffs had everything.

A rough start. Unexpected conditions. Incredible wildlife. And great company.

For a trip so early in the season, it delivered far more than I expected. And looking back, it was more than worth the 500-miles and 8 hours spent in the car, the early start, and standing out in a blizzard.

It’s funny how often the days that look like failures at the beginning end up being the ones you remember the most. My advice to anyone interested will always remain the same, get out there, take photos.