NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

I've been out and about solidly over the last couple of weeks, but have found very little to blog about. Locally the birding has been quiet, although Mogador did produce an Osprey and a Merlin, so maybe the use of the word 'quiet' is not well chosen. My love of observing birds visibly migrating is usually being taken care of by late-September, but the skies have remained stubbornly empty, give or take the odd pipit and hirundine. Maybe the dam is about to burst... I have a number of projects on the go or in the offing. First up is one for 2022 - an 'on-foot' search for, and recording of, all plant species found and identified within 4-miles from home. I chose that distance as it is about an hour's walk, although any botanists reading this will know that it can take an hour to walk 100 yards if the flora is there to see. The map below gives you (and me) some idea of where I'll be searching. Expect plenty of suburban wandering seeking out those aliens that hav...

Wikipedia succinctly states that "Mogador is a hamlet at the edge of Banstead Heath, about 1 km from the top of the north-facing dip-slope of the North Downs. At an elevation of about 200 metres it is one of the highest settlements in south-east England." As for the purposes of bird recording, the area that I consider to be Mogador begins much closer to the top of the dip-slope, starting with an area of horse paddocks and copses. No doubt the height (relative I know) of the ground must be of some asset to what turns up here. It is very good for chats, much better than the nearby North Downs scarp slope at Colley Hill, which is directly south of Mogador. Colley Hill looks as though it should be a great site to bird, but the hours that I have put in over the years have been scantily rewarded - I have had much more success at Mogador. Birds on the move appear to be more easily and regularly seen at Mogador than Colley Hill, and it has taken me some time to accept that the more d...

This post is a bit of a round-up, covering the last few days - those images that didn't quite fit into previous posts, those snippets of information that fell through the cracks in the blogging floor... to begin with, I've been visiting the 'Station field' on an almost daily basis, which is a recently cut meadow that is but a ten minute stroll from my front door. The bales of hay have been left in place, which has meant that any chats present are easy to see as they perch up, sentinel like, surveying all before them. Whinchats have only been present on one visit, although Wheatears (below) have been seen on each occasion, peaking (so far) at four last Sunday. The freshly exposed stubble has enticed up the three Red Kites (above) and six Common Buzzards to search for food. As previously mentioned, this site looks very good for sky-watching, being on proven fly lines. I await a chance to test the theory. After 33 'blank' years, the migrant tortrix Cydia amplana tu...

Two large chunks of the day were spent birding across the rank grassland and arable farmland of Mogador, the Surrey village that sounds like a place straight out of a Tolkien novel. For the first visit I was joined by local birder and Holmethorpe-legend, Gordon Hay. We were delighted to find that the first influx of autumn Meadow Pipits was apparent, with 50 birds in a loose flock that happily drifted around by our sides. At least five Wheatears and a couple of Stonechats entertained us, and the two Yellow Wagtails that came in from the north and alighted in the long grass were most welcome. It was not until the end of our visit that an immature male Common Redstart bestowed upon us a distant sighting. I was alone in the early afternoon, and it was at once apparent that there had been a further arrival of chats, the Stones having increased to three and a Whin newly in. All five of this mornings Wheatears had moved on, to be replaced by three fresh ones, clearly identifiable as new on p...

A mid-September Saturday saw me embark on the whistle-stop tour of Kent, starting at Shellness, on the Isle of Sheppey, where a marked passage of hirundines and pipits was most obvious, along with 100 grounded Meadow Pipits, eight Wheatears and eight Yellow Wagtails. Nearby Capel Fleet was playing host to an immature Marsh Harrier. We then dropped down and drove slowly across the flat greenlands of Walland Marsh, where 25 Yellow Wagtails, four Whinchats and a Common Redstart were seen from the car. Arriving at Dungeness it was all too apparent that little was happening, although the following morning was kind enough to bestow upon us an adult female Red-backed Shrike, along with a Turtle Dove and Whinchat. All were keeping low in the bushes thanks to a strengthening south-westerly wind. Along with Dave E, we were whisked down to Cornwall in the early hours of September 21st courtesy of Mike Mc’s Toyota Celica – speed trumped comfort as we lowered ourselves into the cramped interior. Fi...

Yesterday I was walking back home from Epsom Town centre when I passed a gateway - a gateway that I have walked on by over the years - and noticed that the substantial field on the other side was being cut, the grass neatly piled and baled. My birding brain kicked in with "I bet there will be a Wheatear or two on top of those bales before the day is out" and I found myself back on site later that evening - no Wheatear, but at least six Common Buzzards were gathered, no doubt taking advantage of the recently cut grass to forage for food. I returned early this afternoon, and, joy of joys, two Wheatears were on show, along with seven Common Buzzards and a Red Kite. And there was more, for I went back two hours later and the Wheatears had been joined by three Whinchats! Now, this field is largely unbirdable, with private housing, a railway station and a mature Hawthorn hedgerow keeping observations down to the previously mentioned gateway - or so I thought. I have found a couple ...

I had been introduced to Mike McDonnell by Dave E, who had befriended him on the Isles of Scilly the previous autumn. Mike was a happy-go-lucky birder/photographer who lived in Dartford. I was to spend much time with him over the coming couple of years, regularly being driven to his house by Dave E, where we would invariably wait for Mike to gather his stuff, which would also involve his preparation of lunch for the day’s birding. Mike did not scrimp on his food – he would produce veritable feasts that would shame my simple sandwiches, often featuring an oversized thermos flask full of cuts of meat. It was never a dull moment with Mike, the time being passed with much laughter and the inevitable search for a decent pub at the day’s end. On this mid-August day, we had driven on to the north-Kent village of Cliffe, where a series of Thames-side pools could be found and had a reputation as being good for waders. Our haul included six Wood Sandpipers, 12 Ruffs and two Curlew Sandpipers, al...

My time as an art student had come to an end. The social element of college life was something that I enjoyed, albeit on my own terms. I was known as someone that would join in when the collective hair was being let down (and our hair was still long for most of that period) but if a good bird was to suddenly appear, I would be missing. Birding came first. My frequent absences, because of last-minute decisions to go off to Dungeness, Norfolk, or the Isles of Scilly, were just accepted by my peers. In later years, one of my fellow students expressed his admiration for my self-confidence, and my willingness to please myself, not worrying about what others thought. It had come at a price however – whereas others had formed firm friendship groups, I was always on their edge, never one on the inside. I had turned and walked the other way whenever there was the hint of a relationship forming, so focussed was I on maintaining my birding connections. I believed that to show any drop in commitme...

Every five seconds a monotonous single call note was given – I didn’t know whether to describe it as a penetrating whistle or a hoot. Maybe a bit of both. We were straining to try and get a glimpse of the bird that was making it, but a mature tree in full leaf, in the middle of a field, and at dusk, were proving to be considerable stumbling blocks. After half an hour of standing on a road that ran alongside the field’s edge, the bird dropped out of the tree and made a short, direct flight into another, from where it started to call once more. We were lucky, as unlike most of the 150 birders present, we had been standing in the right place at the right time, able to watch the Scops Owl in flight. The views had not been great but were enough to make out a small grey owl, thinner and more drawn out in shape than a Little. And so, the sleepy Hampshire hamlet of Dummer found itself at the centre of the British birding universe, hosting the first twitchable Scop’s Owl of our lifetimes. Dave ...

Dawn at Canons Farm was a misty old affair, with barely a breath of wind. I went straight to the grassy field behind the farm house, where yesterday the flock of Whinchats were hanging out. For a good 20 minutes there was nothing on show, then they appeared, at least seven still present. I caught a glimpse of a warbler low among them, and in the couple of seconds that my binoculars were trained on it thought that it was possibly a Grasshopper Warbler. I waited awhile, but nothing popped up, and I supposed that it would be a case of letting one slip through my fingers again. Being entertained by the Whinchats, my attention was elsewhere when the warbler popped up again, this time quite close - indeed, it was a Grasshopper. It stayed perched on a dead stem of Common Sorrel for a good minute, allowing me to obtain a few pictures with the camera (above and below). It was a memorable morning, as a flock of five Golden Plover, a Yellow Wagtail and a Grey Wagtail all flew through eastwards, a...

Let's cut to the chase - locally, the birding has been poor. I'm not moaning - OK, I am a bit - but for all of the hours spent out in the field, the rewards have been slow and few. I've already alluded to a dearth of birds, with hardly any warbler, finch or tit flocks. There have been times when, after 10-15 minutes, I realise I haven't seen or heard a passerine. Really. Luchtime today found me at Canons Farm. I was getting into that all-to familiar state, of wondering where all the birds had gone, of starting to despair with how things were turning out - I was on the verge of writing my own blues song, something along the lines of 'The lonesome Canons Farm birding lament', when up popped a Whinchat. Ah, something, at least something. Then another. Now three. Five. I scanned back and forth across the field of long grass and dead hogweed. Each time another Whinchat was on show. They were mobile, all keeping to the same field, but frequently dropping down out of s...

I was close to completing my final year at Art College. The Easter break of two weeks was upon us, and I had just one place in mind as to where I would spend it – Dungeness. Teaming up with Tim Collins, we travelled down via Otford Field Pits (four Green Sandpipers, two Redshanks and 80 Common Snipe) and Shirley Moor (a Little Owl), arriving at the bird observatory after dark. It was a fortnight of heavy birding, with our horizons stretched across the greater Dungeness area, walking many miles over the energy-sapping shingle, building up our calf muscles as some compensation for the birding being, at times, slow. But we did have some success. In the observatory recording area we experienced a steady, if unremarkable, passage of migrant passerines, with peaks of Wheatear (20 on March 29th, 26 on April 2nd), Willow Warbler (30 on April 11th), Chiffchaff (15 on April 11th), Firecrest (five on March 28th and April 2nd), Meadow Pipit (100 on March 29th) and Black Redstart (five on April 9th...

The first twitch of 1980 also turned out to be the first dip. On the morning of January 26th, I stood on the narrow paths at Radipole Lake in Dorset along with several hundred other birders, forlornly searching every dyke and pool for the Pied-billed Grebe that had been found the previous day. The neighbouring reedbeds were quiet, a single singing Cetti’s Warbler and three Bearded Tits hardly enough to compensate for the lack of rarity. A skein of 24 White-fronted Geese that flew through were a surprise though, along with three Greenshanks. The grebe, however, was just toying with us, as we were back again the following weekend as it had resurfaced, this time allowing us to obtain close views almost as soon as we arrived. It sat close to a Little Grebe, dwarfing its European cousin, betraying a long, thick neck and anvil shaped head that seemed out of proportion to the small body. There was a hint of colour to the largely grey-brown plumage, with a black crown and russet cheeks. The bi...

I was sitting in the Britannia Inn at Dungeness as 1979 gave way to 1980. The cheering and embracing that greeted this passing of time’s baton was fuelled as much by alcohol as it was bonhomie. Keith and Fran Redshaw, Tim Collins and I stayed in the crowded public bar until 01.00hrs, when we purchased some ‘take-aways’ and then left to carry on our revelries back at the Redshaw’s house, conveniently situated next-door to the bird observatory. I made a mental note of the first piece of music that blasted out of Keith’s speakers in this brand-new decade – ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’ by the Only Ones – and there followed a heady mix of music, alcohol, and conversation until the first glimmer of daylight started to lighten the curtainless windows. We then picked up our binoculars, put on our jackets and boots, and went out into the fresh air. New Year’s morning is a time to cherish as a birder. The previous year’s slate has been wiped clean, with the scores and numbers in notebooks and ...