North Downs and beyond ... yet again

Ranmore Common

2012-01-28T09:53:00.000-08:00

I spent five hours meandering over the not insignificant Ranmore Common, as much as to get a bit of fresh air and exercise as it was to hoover up the wildlife set before me. The wooded areas were quiet, although I recorded a minimum of eight Marsh Tits. The open chalk downland was quieter still and teased me with the promise of all of those Chalkhill Blues, Adonis Blues and Silver-spotted Skippers to come. I even stood at the edge of the field at the base of the slope that harbours a fine array of so-called 'arable weeds' - but not today. That is all for later...

Fungi was not hard to come by, although I do shy away from anything that looks as if it has gone over. Fungi can be difficult enough to identify without putrefecation thrown in as an added obstacle. Turkeytail (above) was common and I came across Yellow Brain (below) to add a splash of colour to the day.

I saw an awful lot of moss. It was everywhere. I was tempted, I really was, but I reminded myself not to get involved, there's too much to do without adding mosses to my list of 'things to take up my time'. But there would have been a fine pan-species haul had I collected it, picked up a hand lens and consulted my field guide... no, don't tempt me.

The G word

2012-01-27T11:11:00.000-08:00

Gulls.

Can't get away from the buggers at the moment. Every other blog seems to parade the latest images of Iceland Gulls, Med Gulls, Caspian Gulls, even humble Herring Gulls. Of all ages. And races. A grey, white and buff celebration of all things larid.

Why don't I sound so keen?

Well, I do like gulls. I even scope flocks of them and pit my knowledge of them against what is before me. I reckon I'm OK on gulls but not up to scratch compared to the true larophiles that seem to lurk in every harbour, landfill site and reservoir the length and breadth of Britain.

Gulls seem to attract a certain sort of birder. They are pioneers (there is still so much to learn about them). They are purists (the need of critical examination, note taking and good old fashioned fieldcraft is required). They are confident (if you don't have birding self-belief you wouldn't tackle them).

I can understand why some birders look the other way where gulls are concerned. Not everybody has the time, discipline and sheer willpower to take them on. To me, gull watchers are Clint Eastwood, they are Sir Runnulph Feinnes, they are in the SAS - single-minded obsessives who tread ground that most people don't visit.If you think this is bollocks stand next to one as they scan a gull flock. Be prepared to be there for hours. Be prepared to listen to a language that is understood by fewer people than understand Elvish. Be prepared to realise how little you actually know.

If you take on the challenge, then say goodbye to normal birding...

Celebrity birding

2012-01-23T05:40:00.000-08:00

One of my shortest lists is of celebrities that I have seen whilst birding. Most of them barely even qualify as celebrities, so the list might be considered stringy...

BILL ODDIE
I've bumped into the ex-Goodie and TV birder on quite a few occasions, but one meeting on the shingle at Dungeness deserves highlighting.
Me: "Hi!"
Bill: "Hello"
Me: "There are a few Whinchats further along"
Bill: "Thanks"
I reckon that's worth a Channel 4 dramatisation at some future point.

CHRISTOPHER TIMOTHY
The 'All Creatures Great and Small' actor and doyen of BBC1 afternoon TV was walking with a family group at Pagham Harbour. He was not carrying binoculars. I nodded at him (as I would to anybody even if they are not famous) but he didn't see me do so. Or he ignored me.

DEREK JARMAN
Artistic film director. Had a house at Dungeness.Regularly past him as I birded close to his garden. Now and again bumped into him within the DBO recording area. Polite waves and nods.

EDWINA CURRIE
Lives close to Holmethorpe Sand Pits and does walk around the footpaths that criss-cross the area. I have yet to pluck up the courage to replicate the comment that Gordon Ramsay made to her - "You may have f***ed our Prime Minister, but I don't want you f***ing up my kitchen"

ELLIOTT MORLEY
Jailed politician and expenses fiddler, stayed at Dungeness Bird Observatory at the same time as me in the late 1970s. Seemed a decent bloke. Most probably bought me a pint, so can't be all bad.

I can't think of any more at the moment. If I suddenly remember bumping into Michael Jackson at Cley or Mother Theresa on St. Agnes I'll let you know...

Derek, to the bat cave!

2012-01-21T08:40:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Derek Coleman and members of the London Bat Group, I was able to join them on one of three winter visits that they undertake to count the bat roost that can be found in two disused tunnels right next to Highgate tube station in north London (above). These Victorian brick tunnels were used by steam trains up until the 1950s and are now boarded up and pitch black inside, save for small caged openings at either end. The floor of the tunnels are a medley of old track, corroded metal and shattered stone, a murderous cocktail without a torchlight to guide us through. The walls have been blackened by soot over the years and age has taken its toll on the mortar - nice hidey holes for the mammals to roost in. There were plenty of experts at hand to explain about bat ecology and the history behind this particular roost.

On a mild day the experts prediction was that the count would be 'in the low-to-mid teens' and they were spot on - we found 15 individual bats, 12 Natterer's and 3 Daubenton's. This was the first time that I had visited any kind of bat roost and enjoyed searching for them in the many nooks and crannies the walls provided.

Above is a photo I managed to grab in torchlight of a Natterer's Bat resting in a specially constructed 'bat brick'. Natterer's was also a lifer - the pan-list gets its 2012 lift-off!

Plume time

2012-01-19T15:51:00.000-08:00

I had reason to try out my recent book purchase (Colin Hart's excellent plume moth book), as this mornings back garden MV 'haul' comprised a Spring Usher and a plume moth sp. If I am honest I thought that the plume was Amblyptilia acanthadactyla, and so it proved, rendering using the book to crack a difficult identification redundant, although I did learn a lot about the species by reading the thorough account (including the English name of Beautiful Plume). This morning I also saw an Early Moth, resting on a wall at Banstead Station.

2012 GARDEN MOTH SPECIES TOTAL: 2
(Macro: 1 Micro: 1)

Slipping down the league

2012-01-17T09:18:00.000-08:00

The more popular this pan-species lark gets, the further down the list I go. If I were a man I would learn all of my mosses, liverworts and lichens, befriend an insect expert, string like hell and haul my sorry ass up into the play-off positions (that's 3rd - 6th for you non-Football types). Fat chance...

1^st: Jonty Denton (10,535)
2^nd: Dave Gibbs (9,506)
3^rd: Mark Telfer (6,169)
4^th: Malcolm Storey (5,284)
5^th: John Palmer (5,280)
6^th: Graeme Lyons (3,713)
7^th: Martin Harvey (3,681)
8^th: Sarah Patton (3,327)
9^th: Nicola Bacciu (3,253)
10^th: Matt Prince (3,217)
11^th: Jonathan Newman (3,013)
12^th: Steve Gale (3,012)
13^th: Tony Davis (2,953)
14^th: Seth Gibson (2,495)
15^th: Rob Woodall (2,328)
16^th: Jeff Blincow (2,170)
17^th: Mark Skevington (1,983)
18^th: Graham French (1,943)
19^th: Stuart Dunlop (1,404)
20^th: Josh Jenkins-Shaw (1,342)
21^st: Clive Washington (1,060)
22^nd: Sami Webster (900)
23^rd: Robert Smith (894)
24^th: James Harding-Morris (876)

To read more about this heroic list of competitors, click on their names for an entertaining read.

Box Hill, Box and Johnny Rotten

2012-01-15T09:32:00.000-08:00

This is Box (Buxus sempervirens), a shrub found as a native in this country exceedingly rarely. Given its status it is not surprising that two of the areas where it does grow are named after the plant - Boxley in Kent and Box Hill in Surrey. The latter is where I took these pictures this afternoon. The image above captures a mature shrub's rather messy and open appearance - it is the mass of foilage between the two obvious tree trunks. To the left you can see the flower buds. I found very little in open flower. At Box Hill it is a very common species. At this time of year, together with the other evergreen species of Yew, Holly and Ivy, this part of the North Downs stays very green indeed. If you want to see truly wild box then this is the place to wallow in it! Box Hill has a cultural part to play in the life of Londoners. It towers (OK, to us southerners it appears to tower) above the town of Dorking, some twenty miles south of the heart of the capital. It has been known as a beauty spot for many years and has been a place of picknicking and walking to Victorians, Edwardians, baby-boomers and beyond. I can think of two songs (both written by Londoners) that name-check this iconic hill. 'On Box Hill' was written by Ben Watt (one half of Everything But The Girl) and 'The Flowers of Romance' was recorded by Public Image Limited and written by one John Lydon. In this latter song the punk idol sings "I've got binoculars on top of Box Hill". So have I Johnny, so have I...

To round off this mish-mash of natural history, social documentation and modern music, please accept this image of Spurge-laurel, an early flowering species found in deciduous woodland, and common in valleys to the north of Box Hill. I found plenty of it today, including many plants along a 100m strip of woodland at Juniper Bottom. It's one of my favourites.

Police in Calshot sparrow warning

2012-01-12T12:38:00.000-08:00

Hampshire police today released an 'artist's impression' of what they fear the crowd scenes at the village of Calshot may be like if the Spanish Sparrow remains until the weekend. Locals have been warned that a 'vast army of middle-aged men dressed like Ray Mears' might arrive on site. In a totally unrelated incident, 45-year old Ray Dobie from Gosport was arrested for possessing an illegal aviary of exotic birds, including several Dark-eyed Juncos, White-throated Sparrows and several species obtained on a recent Spanish holiday.

Firing blanks

2012-01-10T01:03:00.000-08:00

What do you know? After sending the MV out into the garden to reignite the 'Warren Road Back Garden Moth Year List', and being successful with a Spring Usher, the past two nights trapping have produced... bugger all! Both nights have been very mild, mostly cloudy and I have even inspected the trap in the wee small hours dressed but in my jimjams - and not felt even chilly. I'm not being greedy, a Chestnut would have done!

So, how do I break this blank spell? Make a sacrifice to the Moth Gods? Should I just accept that in suburbia at this time of year a blank night is the norm? Change the bulb? Ah, that jogs a memory. I seem to remember reading somewhere that you should change your MV bulb every season as it loses some of its ability to function at 100%. Is that something that the bulb manufacturers invented to ensure that we buy them more frequently? Whatever the truth is, I will replace the bulb tonight that is, admittedly, at least into its third year.

There is no doubt that those MVs operating in woodland at this time of year are the ones that are going to catch higher numbers. One chilly December night I drove from Brighton back to north Surrey and was amazed at the number of moths that the car headlights picked up as I drove through the countryside, particularly well wooded areas. Literally hundreds of them. I put the MV out in the garden as soon as I got home, even though it was quite cold, convinced by my drive home that I would be successful. The next morning the trap was empty.

Ushering in the moth year

2012-01-08T06:43:00.000-08:00

The MV went out into the garden last night for its first outing of the year. A hazy cloud cover kept the moon at bay and it was very mild, an overnight low of 7C being suggested. When I inspected the trap it was empty, although sitting on the wall above it, and being the first garden moth of 2012, was this Spring Usher.

I will keep a back garden moth year list for 2012. It will be interesting to compare it to those from 1987-1996 (when I stopped year listing my moths). I'll keep you posted.

2012 GARDEN MOTH TOTAL: 1
(Macro: 1 Micro: 0)

2012 and the string has started

2012-01-07T09:53:00.000-08:00

There comes a time early in the year when the shiny newness of that year starts to become tarnished. The enthusiasm so abundant when you head out into the field, bouyed with the anticipation of great things to come, starts to whither. The belief that 'this is the year to beat all years' evapourates.

Yes folks, North Downs and beyond becomes a tad grumpy on the ludicrously early date of January 7th.

Today began quite well, as I arrived at Beddington Sewage Farm at first light to be greeted by roost-fleeing flocks of Jackdaws, some of them hundreds strong, at rooftop height. The tip and lake had already attracted several thousand gulls. Yesterday no less than three Iceland Gulls were present here (including a Kumlien's) so I thought that it wasn't asking much to be granted views of at least one of them - preferably the more exotic of them. For the first three hours of daylight, scouring the lake-loafing gulls had produced nothing.

I have a reputation at the sewage farm for dipping on birds when I leave the watchpoint to cover other areas of the farm. It is a daft thing to do, as observers are concentrated at the lake and many pairs of eyes make light work of what flies through. Some of the regulars never leave the spot for fear of dipping. In the past year my list of 'birds missed because I abandoned the watchpoint and went 'walkabout' includes Waxwing, Bearded Tit, White-fronted Goose and Bar-tailed Godwit. Today I can add Kumlien's Gull...

Whilst wandering, I went up to the landfill site fence and took this picture of the gulls pestering the refuse vehicles. Now, I don't want to appear stringy, but I reckon that the 234th bird in from the left, partially hidden by the smudgy looking white thing that might be a Herring Gull (or even three Black-headed Gulls blended together) looks a good candidate for the Kumlien's. It was, after all, seen by a few other birders soon afterwards.

Is it too early in the year to start with the dodgy identifications?

More Garganey

2012-01-05T13:29:00.000-08:00

Just in case any of you thought that my digiscoping skills were getting better, may I present another image of the Holmethorpe Garganey that proves that they are not. I suppose that birders in this country rarely get the chance to see first-winter drakes so there is a validity in posting this as an educational tool (if you believe that spin you'll believe anything...) I just hope that if it does stay it doesn't become some horrible hybrid and show us all up as duck dunces.

Ring flash?

2012-01-03T04:32:00.000-08:00

A plea to my fellow bloggers and anyone that has randomly come across this post. I want to start using my DSLR for macro photography and am aware that I need to illuminate the subject that is having its picture taken. I have a Canon 450D (the dust is being blown off as I type) and a Canon 60mm dedicated macro lens. Is a ring flash the simplest (and best) solution? Any thoughts would be welcomed...

Garganey and Garlic Mustard

2012-01-02T09:17:00.000-08:00

You don't expect to see a Garganey and Garlic Mustard in flower on January 2nd, but that's exactly what went into my notebook at Holmethorpe Sand Pits today. The Garganey (a first-winter drake) has been present for about a month now and furtively lurks on the same pool that provided us with a Ferruginous Duck back in 2010. A very poor picture, taken shortly after dawn, is above.

Botanically it was most odd, with the picture above illustrating the point - a field full of Corn Marigolds still in good flower. Most plants had tens of flowers on them. More surprising was the single Garlic Mustard in flower, a good three months early in my reckoning. Needless to say, there were no Orange-tip butterflies on the wing to make use of this foodplant, although I wouldn't have been totally bemused if one had floated past!

Austerity birding

2012-01-01T08:48:00.000-08:00

Welcome to 2012. Welcome to the world of austerity birding...

North Downs and Beyond has gained access to a secret document that has been prepared for the government by DEFRA. In it there are proposals for further expenditure cutbacks and the saving of energy, but it is obvious that there are going to be big implications for birders up and down the country.

Partial ban on twitching. To conserve fuel, car journeys of over fifty miles will be banned. The government have identified twitching as one area where this restriction may be flouted, so a rapid response team will be dispatched to all rare birds where car registration plates will be scrutinised and the offenders taken away and put on a 'local patch watching' course. To discourage repeat offenders, the confiscation of life-lists is being considered.

Selling of off-shore islands. The government are in talks with 'interested parties' to sell all of the UK's off-shore islands (The Isles of Scilly is rumoured to be in the final stages of completion with China and even Sheppey has been subject to a bid from a Russian oil-baron). If these sales do go through then birds seen on these islands in the past will have to be removed from the British list. To help birders get back species that they may lose, there is a proposal to sell off unwanted species from lapsed birders lists. It has been suggested that a mainland Black-and -White Warbler could be sold for as much as £750. The government would take a 30% cut from all sales. Companies like e-bay will be monitored to stop re-sales by profiteering naturalists.

Species lumping. Most worrying is the suggestion that vast sums of money can be saved by lumping species so that the need to conserve the rare ones becomes redundant. 'Warbler', 'Raptor' and 'Birds found by water and reeds' are just some of the suggested new species names.

European exchange. To foster relations within the EU, shooting parties from the southern european countries are to be invited to spend the spring and autumn at specially selected headlands. This will enable the shooters to finally kill those birds that 'got away' earlier in the year and also boost the economies of seaside towns the length and breadth of Britain. 'A shot in the Turtle Dove and a shot in the arm of our dying bead and breakfasts' is how the report puts it.

Next year...

2011-12-29T13:02:00.000-08:00

...I will not look at mosses

...I will not attempt liverworts

...I will not be snared into lichen temptation

...I will not forget that this natural history lark IS MEANT TO BE ENJOYABLE

...I will not forget to write things down and send in my records

...I will be more friendly to my fellow naturalist

...I will learn how to take proper images with my grown-up DSLR

...I will not suffer blogging envy

...I will visit Ranscombe Farm in Kent

...I will go back to the New Forest and have a pan-species blitz

...I will find a half-decent bird (it's about bloody time I did that again)

...I will, I promise, give micro moths a proper go

...and use my new plume moth guide

...and my big thick hoverfly book

...but not my mosses, liverworts and lichens guides

Whatever you are aiming to do next year, may you be successful. Keep well, be happy and if you do manage to have moments of natural history pleasure, cherish them.

Being Gilbert White

2011-12-28T10:00:00.000-08:00

Today I visited Selborne in Hampshire. This is woodland at the top of the hangar, made famous by a naturalist clergyman, who, among other things, was the first person to use field skills to identify our commoner phylloscopus warblers. Here he watched and listened to Chiffchaffs, Willow Warblers and Wood Warblers.

This is the front of his house in the village. Today it was closed. Therefore I cannot tell you much about it. Try Google...

The parish church of St. Mary is where he had four spells as curate. He was buried here in 1793. This is a detail from a modern stained glass window in the church that depicts his life through natural history images and as a celebration of his world famous book 'The Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne'.

In the churchyard is one of the 50 designated 'Great Trees of Britain' - or, more accurately, what is left of it after the 1990 storm - the famous Selborne Yew.

Taman Negara

2011-12-27T08:21:00.000-08:00

If you have had the good fortune to have visited there, those two words - Taman Negara - will have shaken a multitude of thoughts and emotions awake within you. It is, quite simply, one of the best places on earth to experience birding in the rainforest. Slap bang in the middle of peninsular Malaysia, it is a vast reserve. I visited back in 1994. As part of a three-week birding holiday with two friends, we spent 10 days at Kuala Tahan, the reserve HQ, staying in a level of luxury that would be scoffed at by the likes of Rajah Brookes and Sir Rannulph Feinnes.

To reach the HQ required a three-hour drive from Kuala Lumpur to then catch a boat that required a further two hours to speed its way along the river. There were a series of trails that snaked away from the HQ, and the bravest of birders could walk for days to reach the park interior (to see Crested Argus required such a trek with a guide). However, if trekking was not your cup of tea, then the birds came to you. There were many times during our stay that sought after species turned up in the HQ gardens.

Highlights, there were many...

A Masked Finfoot sitting motionless amongst emergent vegetation as we paddled to within twenty feet of it in a canoe... A Hooded Pitta standing on top of a fallen log allowing fantastic views... A male Great Argus strutting across the Jenut Muda trail like a silent carnival float... finally catching up with a Banded Pitta (one of the best looking birds on Earth) after five days of chasing their calls... an Oriental Dwarf Kingfisher that perched two feet from my nose as I silently sat in a ravine... a Bathawk flying skua-like over a clearing as dusk fell... the same clearing echoing to calling Malaysian Eared Nightjars,,,

I could go on. And on. If you get the chance, go. I've never regretted it.

Pitta delight

2011-12-26T03:26:00.000-08:00

No, I haven't been spending Christmas in Asia and burning up those gems of the rainforest, the pittas. But a man that spent a year searching for every one of these beauties has enlivened my Christmas with his tales of the quest. 'The Jewel Hunter' by Chris Gooddie is a book that is as much a rare thing as the birds that it is partly about - a well-written account of the modern birder in action. Chris packed in a successful career whilst in his mid-forties to try and see every species of pitta in a calendar year. As someone who dreams of making similar grand plans (but never will) and who loves pittas (I have actually seen three species - Hooded, Banded, Blue-winged) and heard a further one (Mangrove), this book appeals to me on many levels. The writing style is one that accepts that most of the readers will be birders but never the less makes it accessible to those who are not. Part travel book, part social commentary, part natural history documentation, all intelligently written with an infusion of humour, I haven't enjoyed any book this much for a while. So, what are you waiting for? Order it now. You won't be disappointed.

By the way, I don't know the author and am not on commission...

George Osborne - seemingly not a friend of wildlife

2011-12-18T11:19:00.000-08:00

A couple of days ago I posted a link to a comment piece that appeared on Birdguides which refered to the autumn statement that was given by the Chancellor, George Osborne. Now I am making anybody who reads this post aware of an RSPB call to arms to try and stop the harm that could come from the Chancellor's anti-habitat sentiments expressed in that statement. Please read and act by clicking here.

I will try and keep my dignity and humility by not bad-mouthing this politician who obviously values his 'mates' business opportunities above the safeguarding of our natural habitats; above the welfare of those species that are dependent on them; and above our enjoyment of them and of the future generations to come.

After all, how much money can you milk an Adonis Blue, Turtle Dove or Marsh Helleborine for?

Earthstar!

2011-12-17T12:41:00.000-08:00

An alien being? Something from the Jetsons?

I spent a wonderful morning tramping over one of my old patches - Holmethorpe Sand Pits. Apart from a wintery shower it remained clement. The birding wasn't too bad, with a good collection of wildfowl (including a Goldeneye), Water Rail, plus good feeding flocks of Stock Doves and finches on the farmland. But, highlight was without doubt the four Earthstars that local birder Graham James had alerted me to. These strange fungi are a family that I had been wanting to see these past few months and I was not disappointed. A stranger thing you'd be hard pushed to find. Geiger-esque. I reckon that they are Barometer Earthstars (Astraeus hygrometricus) and my photos match those on Roger Phillip's website pretty closely.

Worth a read

2011-12-16T01:03:00.000-08:00

This opinion piece is worth a read. The country is in safe hands...not.

Do you like butter?

2011-12-14T12:05:00.000-08:00

Cambridge University has revealed how buttercups are able to shine a yellow light under our chins when a flowerhead is placed close to it. It's great that some of these old childhood games involving plants are still being discussed. Do children still make daisy chains? Do boys pelt each other with burdock burrs? Do bindweed flowers still get popped, conkers still get smashed and do girls pick petals off of anything to hand reciting 'he loves me, he loves me not'?

2011 - the year, not a pan-species total

2011-12-10T12:00:00.000-08:00

Colley Hill - part of 'North Downs and beyond'

Birds: Most of my time was spent locally, with Beddington Sewage Farm the normal choice of destination. The year began with my seeing Waxwings in Redhill, Cheam and Canons Farm, the latter site providing a flock of 60+. Common Redpolls were in the company of many flocks of Lessers. An Eider on a sandpit near Buckland was a stunning local record. Spring came early - March, April and May were dry, sunny and warm. Canons Farm produced for me Ring Ouzel, Grasshopper Warbler and a singing Quail that I actually managed to see. Not to be outdone, Beddington came back with two Common Cranes that flew through, calling noisily, in mid-April. The fact that I couldn't see them was down to the fact that a thousand gulls were circling above me at the time rather than my incompetence. A week at Sandwich Bay in June was like stepping back in time. The farmland there still is home to breeding Corn Buntings, Grey Partridges, Yellow Wagtails, Turtle Doves and Barn Owls. These species were constant companions during my stay. Later in the year Hawfinches at Headley and a Cetti's Warbler at Beddington were welcome. Today I saw my first Canons Farm Barn Owl. I must record my thanks to three local birders who, apart from being avid patch-workers, also selflessly send out bird information to those who are interested - Johnny Allan, David Campbell and Graham James.

Flora: For the first time for quite a while I didn't botanise as much. My Beddington botanical survey did, however, kick-off and together with a few of the birders we identified 250+ species. A lot of work needs to be done on the grasses, sedges and rushes still. Thanks to fellow-blogger Steve Coates I was shown the biggest Oxtongue Broomrape colony in the UK, close to his Kent home. Sandwich Bay provided me with a week of botanising that was wide-ranging and enjoyable. A particularly pleasurable afternoon on Reigate Heath in June was memorable due to the good numbers of Bird's-foot, Annual Knawel and Knotted Clover.

Moths: The garden MV supplied me with two new macro lifers: Rannoch Looper (4 caught between June 3-6) and a Tree-lichen Beauty in August.

Fungi: I really fell for mushrooms and toadstools this autumn, spending time, in particular at Ebernoe Common and Box Hill, both full of fungal delights. It's an area of study that I will return to next year.

Pan-species: My target of reaching 3,000 species before the years end was made with several weeks to spare. It has been an eye-opener chasing this list. My awareness of other forms of nature has been heightened and my appreciation of it enhanced. It's not just about the ticking...

The faint tang of success

2011-12-08T05:48:00.000-08:00

Seeing 'the bird' doesn't always guarantee joy, as I alluded to at the end of my last post. A poor view and nothing more can set all sorts of doubts of in your mind, such as 'was that enough to tick?' through to 'did I actually see the bird?' More than once I've come away from a twitch wrestling the problem of 'to tick or not to tick'. That scenario always ended the same - the knowledge that by asking the question in the first place really meant that the only response could be NO.

Sometimes I've seen the bird really well and felt underwhelmed. Twice this has happened when seeing the rarest of the rare, a first for Britain.The Pallid Swift at Stodmarsh in May 1977 zipped around me within touching distance, but to my untrained eye I really did have to convince myself that the bird really was what the experts said it was. October 1978 saw me on St. Agnes looking at a Ringed Plover that I was being told was a Semipalmated Plover. I'd travelled to Scilly specifically to see it as well. It was a tick, and the mission was accomplished, although if I'd been honest with myself at the time I'd have declared it a massive disappointment.

As much as bowling up on site to immediately see the quarry is the considered ideal, when I did so the overall event became weakened. A little wait, a sniff of disaster made the final ticking (when it came) all the sweeter. A psychologist might be able to explain to me why I should want that - delayed gratification maybe?

The agony and the ecstasy

2011-12-06T04:55:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help but experience a half-forgotten chill run down my spine when I read this post on Devilbirder's blog. It is a tale of dipping, magnified by the rarity of the species that he had hoped to see, plus the distance that he had travelled to see it. Increased distance (with a cost and time factor) does not always make dipping worse - a local failure can be far more personal and painful.

I started to think back to the days when I too picked up the twitching baton and ran with it. Were all my dips as painful? And come to that, were all of my successes pleasurable? 'No' and 'no' were my concluding answers to those questions.

Painful dipping
The bird that hurt me the most was a Great Spotted Cuckoo at Dungeness in the summer of 1989. I was in the grip of 'Dungeness fever' and liked nothing more than a Dungeness tick. At the time, this would have also been a UK lifer. The call came through to me soon after the bird had been found, and at the very same moment some friends had arrived at our house to take my wife and I away for an all-expenses paid weekend at a Brighton hotel (I think it was the DeVere). Timing had never seemed so poor. I did momentarily think about not joining my wife and friends on the 'fluffy-towels and cocktails' hospitality shindig, but I bottled it. Needless to say, I spent the whole of the journey down to Brighton in a cloud of despair, which pervaded all of the fine food and drinks that we were then placed before us for the rest of the day. How many times I phoned the observatory and Birdline I'd hate to think, but at least the cuckoo was still there! I then threw a sickie. My wife was in on it. Our friends (who, remember, had driven), planned to stay and have a slap-up Sunday lunch, which would have meant a departure from Brighton at about 2.30pm. Therefore, the earliest I could get into my car and head for Dungeness would be about 4pm - too much of a wait. So, summoning up the most pathetic face I could (and passing the chance of a full breakfast although I would have loved to have eaten it) I explained that I really needed to get home and into my bed. They kindly drove us back up the A23 within half-an-hour. We were home by noon. The only fly in the ointment was that I had not been able to talk to anybody at the bird observatory to get the low down on the cuckoo that day. Birdline was vague as to whether it was still about. Once home I made contact - the news was one big negative. I spent the rest of the afternoon behaving as if I had just suffered a bereavement. I think it was then that I realised that I needed to sort myself out and re-evaluate my approach to birding.

But, as you may have noticed, I hadn't actually gone for the bird. But it still hurt. One that I did actually go for, a rarer bird which involved a certain amount of faffing about to get to was a Ruppell's Warbler on Lundy in June 1979. A Saturday boatload of birders had seen this spectacular sylvia (a cracking male) and the next opportunity was midweek when the next charter sailed. When we boarded the boat at Ilfracombe that midweek day (I cannot remember which day it was) we had no idea if the bird was still present (as was often the case 'back in the day'). I do remember that the weather was sunny and warm and that I was in a good mood. The trip to Lundy was enjoyable. I stood on the deck and felt the wind in my hair, the sun on my face and felt alive. When we disembarked we were met by a resident birder with the news that the bird had not been seen for at least a couple of days. And do you know what? I wasn't that bothered. Don't ask me why, but I wandered Lundy for the few hours that we were there with a beatific smile on my face. I felt at peace and floated around without a care in the world. I even considered missing the boat so that I could stay on this magical island.

Two dips, two completely differing reactions to dipping. For me, the emotion that I disliked the most when twitching was the uncertainty. Was the bird still there? Was it genuine? More often than not my overiding emotion when I did see the bird was not joy, but relief. That seemed wrong. Maybe that's why I packed it in. If my joy didn't come from seeing 'lifers' or 'rare birds' then I needed to find my joy elsewhere.

Next post: why my successes were not always pleasurable.

Common Redpoll saves the morning

2011-12-04T07:17:00.000-08:00

A cool morning was spent at Beddington Sewage Farm, the south-westerly breeze picking up and getting cooler as the hours ticked by. I stayed close to the hide, scanning both the north and south lakes without too much joy, 2 Shelduck, 18 Gadwall, 40 Shoveler, 150 Teal and 47 Lapwings being the pick. The morning was saved by a low-flying flock of redpolls, that alighted in a nearby Silver Birch. Scoping revealed a smart Common Redpoll amongst the Lessers. These birds were very flighty and after 20 minutes seemed to leave the area. Only myself and Steve Thomas saw the bird. This is not a regular species at Beddington. This autumn has seen a remarkable proportion of 'redpolls' being identified as Commons in Kent and Surrey, with ringing at Leith Hill providing record breaking numbers for the latter county. In the north part of Surrey we have struggled to find them even though most 'redpoll' flocks have been grilled (from such diverse sites as Holmethorpe, Canons Farm and Headley Heath). Hopefully they are now moving further north and will give themselves up more easily.

Next year, I will be mainly doing...

2011-11-28T12:00:00.000-08:00

I know that it isn't December until this coming Thursday, but my mind is already wandering towards 2012. So much for carpe diem...

What I'm thinking about is this. Where do I concentrate my efforts next year? So far my choices are:

Pan-listing: go for it. Blast the hell out of everything on offer, blitz the list and assault 3500. The downside would be plenty of stringing and a feeling of treating natural history as a product to consume and spit out.

Beddington love-in: embrace the smelly plot and study its undoubted wildlife in a celebration of urban diversity. The downside would be getting very muddy and possibly having to endure plenty of gripping off from the hard-core birders skywatching from the hide as I potter about looking at the ground mostly.

Go birding: Do I remember that? The days when I looked at birds and little else? I could finally get over 400 and look at some of the upstarts in the face again. Downside? I don't like many birders...

Botanical proficiency: my time spent with plants has often been botany-lite - I've largely steered clear of grasses, sedges, rushes, yellow crucifers - I could go on. So why not embrace them and become more of an all-rounder? Downside: I might get fully sucked-in.

North Downs Year: One year I'd like to just wander my beloved section of the downs and just watch without aim. See what comes along. Photograph it and get all Clare or Mabey about it. Write a book about the experience, start a religion, big stuff like that. Downside: confiscation of Beddington key, end up talking to myself as I 'wander lonely as a cloud', etc

So, in truth, I haven't a clue as to what I might do next year. Any suggestions?

Old tennis shoes

2011-11-27T00:19:00.000-08:00

I was flicking through a field guide to trees last night when I came across this description of the smell of the fallen leaves of the Tree-of-heaven:

'old tennis shoes'

This quaint and twee statement had me looking at the front of the book to see when it was written (surely in the 1930s) but was surprised to find out it was in 1982 - more like 1882 I reckon with such a turn of phrase. Why tennis shoes? Does the author distinguish this niff from 'old ballroom pumps' or 'tired businessmen's brogues'? He could have been more elitist and original with the description such as 'wet labrador dog in front of a log fire' or 'matron's apron after a morning washing old bed linen'

If I were to update the guide then I could bring it bang up to date with a more accurate and less polite description. The Tree-of-heaven, at a certain time of year has about it the unmistakable smell of

'vomit'.

Birding, for a change

2011-11-26T09:54:00.000-08:00

After all of that pan-species malarky I thought that I'd better get back out birding before my bins and scope were confiscated and I was publicly pronounced 'lapsed'.

Beddingtom Sewage Farm was my venue of choice. The birding reflected the weather, being non-descript and dull with the odd bright spell. A single Water Pipit gave itself up along with 7 Green Sandpipers. A feature of the farm these days is the gathering of feeding and loafing Grey Herons, no fewer than 88 being on show, mostly on the islands of the north lake. As always, Tree Sparrows took advantage of the well-stocked feeders.

I did grill the gulls although nothing got the pulse racing. I read two colour rings - TJ6T black lettering on red, left leg of an adult Lesser BB Gull - plus AV71 black lettering on orange, left leg of a first-winter Herring - but my quick look on the European colour ringing website failed to identify where they might have been ringed.

The first-winter Common Gull (above) is a gift to a certain red booble-hatted Devonian birder who likes his gulls almost as much as he likes his Giant Chocolate Buttons. Which reminds me, he still owes me a bag...

The Dusty Lurker

2011-11-25T04:28:00.000-08:00

English bird names just haven’t had the same amount ofimagination or free-form thinking put into them as some other natural history orders have. Moths ( The Alchemist, Merveille du Jour , The Suspected) and fungi (Destroying Angel, Slippery Jack, Dead Man’s Fingers) certainly have. They sound like characters from the works of Tolkien and Dickens.

Compare them to Dunnock. What a dull name. It is, it must be said, not a remarkable bird to look at even if it has a very interesting sex life (look it up if you are curious). The derivation of the name ‘Dunnock’ is, according to Wikipedia:

“this usage(Dunnock) has much to be said for it, based as it is on the oldest known name for any of the species (old English dun-, brown, + -ock, small bird: "little brown bird"), and a much more euphonious name than the contrived "Accentor".

So, in some ways Dunnock does exactly what it says on the tin. But we can do better than that. What about Dusty Lurker. Or Drab-coated Dandy. Or even The Unremarkable.

All better than Dunnock any day

Made it!

2011-11-20T06:44:00.000-08:00

It may not be a spectacular looking species, but Bitter Bracket became my 3,000th pan-species yesterday morning whilst on the hunt at Reigate Heath. I would have liked that honour to have gone to Ceratiomyxa fraticulosa, a species of slime mould that I was rather taken with, but that came in at 2,998. That's it to right of Sir Winston (above). Before any of you go thinking that I've suddenly become an expert in slime moulds, I haven't. I know as much about them as I do 19th century Russian ballerinas - it just so happens that this species is illustrated in a mycology book that I own, and my double-checking online suggests that the identification is correct. Reigate Heath also supplied White Brain, Liver Milkcap, Yellow Fieldcap and Turf Mottlegill. Above all of this fungi action, two male Crossbills entertained me feeding in conifers only yards away.

I then went on to Juniper Bottom, taking in Box Hill and Juniper Top. The new fungi species kept on coming, with Cabbage Parachute, Lemon Disco, Green Elfcup (pictured left), Scarlet Bonnet, Sheathed Woodtuft, Matt Bolete and some interesting white furry thing called Coprinopsis stercora growing out of cow dung. The pan-species list is now 3,012.

I had set myself the task of reaching 3,000 by the end of this year back in the spring. There have been times when I've gone for it and others when I've let it slide, but the past month has seen me targeting the 'low hanging fruit' that is fungi. There are lots of them and plenty are easy to identify. I've enjoyed it immensly and can add fungi to my list of groups that I will count as favourites. I am mindful that this pan-species listing can water down my deeper knowledge of other groups - to be perfectly honest since diversifying away from birds my prowess as a birder has fallen. My ability to name moths and plants on sight has also taken a step back (although a year of immersing myself back into them should bring that back).

What of the pan-species future? I will continue to keep the list, but maybe resist the temptation to take on groups that will provide lots of ticks (mosses, lichens, 'other' insects) as the time spent becoming proficient with them is time that I don't have at my disposal. It's going to be time better spent getting back into the birding, mothing and botanising. But mosses do look interesting...

Scarce Umber

2011-11-15T11:04:00.000-08:00

To prove that I haven't given up looking at anything that isn't a fungus, here is a Scarce Umber that I put up whilst at Ebernoe Common last Saturday. I followed its weak flight for maybe thirty seconds until it alighted on the leaf litter.

Trawling of photographs has yielded further new species of fungi, but this has its limitations as I cannot possibly check all the salient details to clinch certain identification on many. 2995 now....

Back to Ebernoe

2011-11-13T14:50:00.000-08:00

The dry spell for much of southern of England has ended, and I have been seeing quite a bit of fungi springing up. Mindful of the possibility of night frosts killing off what fungi are currently on show I thought I would make a return trip to Ebernoe Common in West Sussex.

Any regular visitor to this blog will know that I have adopted fungi as my 'new passion' this autumn and have managed to progress from a complete mushroom novice to a partial mushroom novice. I'm slowly getting to the point where I can find a place in the field guide where the mushroom that I am looking at will be found (at least to a family - but not all the time!). I can appreciate the need to note cap, gill and stipe colour, texture, and form, plus to take in what the fungi is growing on and the habitat that I'm in (that last point is the easiest to answer...)

I was lucky to bump into a knowledgable mycologist in the middle of the afternoon who was helpful in helping me identify some species that I was struggling to put a name to. He also tempered my increasing sense of competence by warning me of 'juvenile' stages to fungi, and pointed out that my hefty guide contained only 'some' of the species that I would find...gulp!! Help may be at hand with the publication of a guide (Buczacki and Shields) early next year that claims to cover every macro species of mushroom in Europe.

How did I fare? Well, I was happy to identify 23 new species, including such obvious ones such as Purple Jellydisc, Wood Blewit, Scarlet Waxcap, Parrot Waxcap (pictured), Snowy Waxcap, Magpie Inkcap, Garlic Parachute, Giant Funnel, Amethyst Deceiver, Glistening Inkcap and Shaggy Parasol.

With a few other additions since my last post, my pan-species list now stands at 2990. My aim to reach 3000 by the years end should be attainable. Even if I do not go out into the field again in 2010, I have a folder of 'mystery' photographs sitting on the computer awaiting my scrutiny, all taken during the summer and autumn. Surely I can turn some of these into firm identifications.

Listing dilemmas and ladybirds

2011-11-10T12:07:00.000-08:00

Graham Lyons posed the following question in his latest post - could he tick a potted Red-headed Chestnut on show at a moth group meeting? He suggested not and for what it's worth I agree with him. However, it opens up a dilemma attached to any listing that we might get involved in, and that is one of having clear rules to what we can - and cannot - count on a list.

I have two rules for listing. The first is that I can count whatever I want to on my closed, private list. Rule two is that if I keep a competitive list, where other peoples lists are also taken into consideration, then I need to abide by the rules of that particular group. For example, the Beddington Birders maintain a league table of birds seen on the site. On this list I have not included Common Redpoll, because when I saw my only Beddington sighting in 1980 I did not submit it, so it was never formally accepted. Only formally accepted records count on the league table. My private Beddington list does include it.

More extreme is the fact that my private British bird list includes a species not even on the British list. I was one of a handful of observers of the 1989 Dungeness White-cheeked Tern. It wasn't accepted by the BBRC and I abide by that judgement when it comes to comparable listing even though I'm convinced it was one. It sits quietly on my personal British list but not my pan-species list.

Back to the potted moth conundrum. If you are inspecting a moth trap with a friend, who finds a Crimson Speckled at rest nearby on a bush, you would walk over and tick it. The same situation, where your friend pots up a Crimson Speckled out of your eyesight and then presents it to you would, I suggest, end up with you ticking it. But what if he was a mile away from the trap site and brought it to you? Or phoned you up from his house and invited you over to see it? What if you lived next door to him - would that be different to having a twenty mile drive to see it? What if it had been potted in a fridge for a day? Two days? There are many shades of grey to this situation, which probably exposes the futility of ticking and keeping lists in the first place...

I would like to 'big-up' the latest book to enter the North Downs and Beyond library - The Ladybirds (Coccinellidae) of Britain and Ireland by Helen Roy, Peter Brown, Robert Frost and Remy Poland. You need never sweat over ladybird identification again and gives a bang up to date account of the status and distribution of these popular beetles.Available from all natural history book websites now.

Back garden ticking

2011-11-06T07:07:00.000-08:00

This is an earthtongue, that I reckon is Geoglossum cookeanum, based on the fact that it hasn't got a hairy, tapered stem. Just in case a knowledgable mycologist has stumbled across this humble twaddle, and they think that I'm incorrect, please let me know. This is a new species of fungi for me, and was found growing out of the soil in a pot where a Viburnum tinus is planted, only yards from the back door.

This handily demonstrates one of the positives of pan-listing - you can always find something that you haven't identified before even where you live. You needn't go outside!! This week I've found a spider and three species of fungi in the back garden that I've not knowingly seen before, although all are common and no doubt previously ignored/overlooked.

I was too busy (couldn't be bothered) to look critically at a few snails and slugs that came out during the recent wet weather, but I suspect a few of them might be new. With the total creeping up to 2959 I need to tackle them (and some nearby mosses) if I want to get to 3000 by the end of the year.

A wander along the north downs at Gatton handily produced a dozen species of fungi of which several were new - Common Inkcap included. There are still a large number of common fungi that I haven't identified yet, either through my novice status, ignorance or not having been in the right place at the right time. There's still plenty of scope here in the next few weeks.

Beddington Sewage Farm

2011-10-31T12:20:00.000-07:00

I've added a page to this blog, called 'Beddington birds'. Not surprisingly this is a list of the bird species recorded at the world famous sewage farm, with my own personal list highlighted in red. There are four birders who have seen over 200 species there, which is no mean feat for a London sewage farm. You will find some top class rarities among them - Glaucous-winged Gull and Killdeer being the stand-outs. However, there is still no record of Slavonian Grebe or Nightjar. One or two others, that were easily seen when I first trod the paths, are now gone - Grey Partridge and Willow Tit - maybe to never return.

Patch watching is, of course, more than a list. Blogger pages become too difficult to manipulate if they have too much data loaded onto them, otherwise I would bombard you with further Beddington info.

Bewildered

2011-10-30T01:35:00.000-07:00

With a self-imposed target of my pan-species list reaching 3000 by the end of the year, and currently falling a little bit short, I decided to target mosses. I've got the book to help me and a fine book it is to (Atherton, Bosanquet and Lawley). The trouble is, there are so many of the pesky things and a lot of them look the same. With a brave face and after giving myself a good speaking to (to inject enthusiasm and conviction into my doubting self) I entered the field yesterday to give them (another) go.

Well. After time spent at Beddington and Walton Heath, I added the grand total of....none. I tried. I really did. But I couldn't in all honesty confidently name anything. My mosses and liverworts list will remain low for some time to come I'm afraid.

I did add a few fungi to the list (which now stands at 2951). It's touch and go if I get to the magic figure before the year's end.

I've also got the Dobson lichen guide. There are thousands of possibilities there, but make mosses seem like a stroll in the park.

The public and 'our' reserves

2011-10-26T12:57:00.000-07:00

I recently visited Rye Harbour Nature Reserve on the East Sussex coast, within a couple of gull's wing flaps from the Kent border. There have been great things happening at Rye. What used to be Rye Harbour Farm is slowly being turned into saltmarsh, capable of supporting breeding and roosting birds. This is part of a grand 50-year plan called the 'Romney Marshes Living Landscape Partnership'. What is being constructed is an almost unbroken mosaic of wetland habitat stretching from Hastings in the west through to New Romney in the east, taking in Pett, Icklesham, Rye, Walland and Romney Marshes, Dungeness and Lade. Really exciting times.

When I was staying at Sandwich Bay back in June, I was similarly impressed by local plans for turning a large area of Worth Marshes back into exactly that - marshes. This would created a similar run of habitat all the way back westwards along the Stour Valley to Canterbury.

When I was wandering around the newly created paths at Rye, which criss-cross the new habitat, I was taken by the number of people using this facility. It's a big area, so it wasn't overcrowded. I most probably saw 150 people. Of those only 20 weilded optics. Most of them were out for a walk/cycle/jog in the fresh air or were being pulled along by dogs on leads. A few years ago I would have felt aggrieved that non-birders should gain access to 'our' reserves, no doubt scaring off the wildlife and not realising what wonders were before them. But now, I welcome them with open arms. These are the very people who will help maintain and preserve these habitats. As much as we want to bird and botanise over them so they want to spend their leisure time in the unspoilt outdoors. Airports, windfarms and superstores are us unpalatable to them as to us. So I say encourage them. Let us build cafes on our reserves, create shops that sell tea-towels, bird feeders and cheap optics and invite them in without the need for membership or any expectations of them. It doesn't matter if they don't know a Dunnock from a Dunlin, but if they feel they have a stake in the area they will be just as passionate about its protection. Our inclusion of them will create a small number of naturalists and an even larger number of supporters of the environment.

I'm now off to join David Attenborough in his frozen world - from an armchair of course. (Just got back from the ice caps - what a stunning programme. if you missed it you really should watch it)

Entering the Lyon's Den

2011-10-21T09:44:00.000-07:00

I couldn't resist it any longer - after having read so much about the delights of Ebernoe Common on Graeme Lyon's excellent blog I decided to go along and take a look for myself. I persuaded my old mate Gordon Hay to come along for the experience.

Neither of us are fungi experts, but on arrival headed straight for the churchyard where I knew an easy to identify species should be present. It was, but just the one...

Pink Waxcap! I was pleased with that. We wandered around for a couple of hours and saw, amongst others, Dead Moll's Fingers, Brown Birch Bolete, Tawny Funnel, Field Blewit, Chanterelle, Powdery Brittlegill and Poisonpie. The more familiar Fly Agaric, Lilac Bonnet and yellow Stagshorn were also on show. A number of fungi photographers were also combing the area, on of whom reckoned that the numbers present were very poor due to the dry weather. We were not disappointed with what we had seen however.

After this we went onto Pulborough Brooks (2 Ruff) and Amberley Wild Brooks (Short-eared Owl). Trudging our way back to the car, which was parked at Greatham Bridge, I glanced down into a ditch and was delighted to see hundreds and thousands of green 'hundreds and thousands' - Rootless Duckweed! A new species for me.

I will revisit Ebernoe Common. There is much to entice me back...

Why we list. An expert explains...

2011-10-19T03:41:00.000-07:00

I am currently reading a book by Eckhart Tolle. He specialises in writing what are best described as 'self-help' manuals. The following passage is from a chapter dealing with the human ego. Read it, and at the same time think 'listing'...

'The ego identifies with having, but its identification in having is a relatively shallow and short-lived one. Concealed within it remains a deep-seated sense of dissatisfaction, of incompleteness, of "not enough". "I don't have enough yet", by which the ego really means, "I am not enough yet". As we have seen, having - the concept of ownership - is a fiction created by the ego to give itself solidity and permanency and make itself stand out, make itself special. Since you cannot find yourself through having, however, there is another more powerful drive underneath it that pertains to the structure of the ego: the need for more, which we could also call "wanting". No ego can last for long without the need for more. Therefore, wanting keeps the ego alive much more than having. The ego wants to want more than it wants to have. And so the shallow satisfaction of having is always replaced by more wanting. This is the psychological need for more, that is to say, more things to identify with. It is an addictive need, not and authentic one."

So there you go. We cannot help it, this listing, as it is part of the programmed mindset that most of us humans have exhibited for thousands of years. We can replace our need for birds/plants/moths with others obsessions with cars, sex and money. It is a mind-set that the author explains can be by-passed, but it takes time to master. And effort. I suspect that most of us would rather put the effort into seeing a Rufous-tailed Robin rather than trying to dismantle the mind-set that makes us want to do things that impact on our jobs and relationships.

That's enough soul-searching from me. I'm off to count up my pan-species list again. I want more...

Seawatching in Surrey

2011-10-18T07:00:00.000-07:00

The thin slither of silver that you can see in the centre of the picture above is the sea. No big deal to you, maybe, but to me this was one of those golden moments. I was standing in Surrey and I could see the sea! There was something about that which was rather special. Squint as I might, but I couldn't make out any seabird passage, although it was a bit hazy. Also the 30 mile distance may not have helped. I think the gap in the South Downs that allows us Surreyites to get a salty sea view is where the River Adur empties itself into the Channel at Shoreham. But I maybe wrong.

Where was I? Leith Hill.

The Surrey Alps

2011-10-17T14:25:00.000-07:00

This is Colley Hill, on the North Downs. We are facing eastwards and that's Reigate nestling down like the sleepy little leafy town that it is. The scarp and bowl look far more dramatic in real life than it does in a photograph - the perspective and vertiginous slopes have the life squeezed out of them.

The North Downs is a different beast to the South Downs. The latter appear wilder, more remote and grander. Both are of similar height, although because the adjacent land is already pretty high, the North Downs does not give the impression of being as lofty as that southern bit of chalk. Having plenty of cloaking woodland also adds a softness to the north.

Back to Colley Hill. I have spent a lot of time here over the years. It is a place of family walks and picnics and also one that I do venture onto for plants (Meadow Clary!), butterflies (good numbers of Silver-spotted Skippers) and birds... well, when I say birds I really mean in expectation of them. To me it looks like a good birdy place. Marvellous vantage point. Plenty of scrub. Must be on a good fly line. But I have failed here. I cannot even muster up a list of half-decent migrants to wow you with. No Shrikes, no raptors, let alone Common Redstarts or Ring Ouzels. Some lucky beggar had a Common Crane drift over in the spring, but apart from that I cannot recall anything better than a Red Kite being seen here (and let's face it, that's hardly unexpected these days, is it?).

On Saturday I sat in the same place for three hours and saw bugger all. But in reality, of course, I saw an awful lot. Just look at the view! It is one place that I don't mind birding and coming home with an empty notebook. Colley Hill is my balm.

If you're easily offended, look away now...

2011-10-16T15:31:00.000-07:00

This is a Stinkhorn, one of the more phallic looking fungi. No doubt this sort of species was covered up by Victorian naturalists to save the honour of any passing women. Mind you, if it does remind you of a penis, and you are a man, I suggest that you make an appointment with your doctor urgently and get yours checked out. They are supposed to smell to such an extent that you can detect their whereabouts with your nostrils before your eyes have a chance to do so. I bent down to sniff the tip of this particular specimen (I did feel a bit perverted doing so) and can reveal that it was sickly sweet.

All this eroticism was taking place at Thundry Meadows, a Surrey Wildlife Trust reserve close to Elstead. It is an interesting reserve of Alder Carr, grassland and mixed woodland along a stretch of the River Wey. The picture below is looking across the river away from the reserve. Pretty...

I carried on afterwards to Thursley Common. In glorious weather and with a mere breeze, there were plenty of darters still on the wing. There must have been 30+ Black, 12+ Common and 1 Ruddy on show. The Black Darter below stayed still for a snap shot.

Also seen were 2 Woodlarks, 6 Stonechat and a Crossbill. Oh, and some more fungi - but I've done enough about them recently, so I'll shut up.

North Downs and Beyond AGM

2011-10-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

Thankyou all for coming along to this, the first North Downs and Beyond AGM. It's been just over a year now since the blog was relaunched, and visitor numbers have never been higher. No doubt this is due to the high standard of posting that the readers receive. if I can...

Hold on! Aren't we getting high numbers of hits purely down to a number of 'odd' sites sending traffic this way?

Er, I ...

Sites like Google Correction, Shineads and SendPTP?

Ok, yes. I'll admit it. 400-600 hits a day was quite a shock. The best previous day was 300, but they were genuine.

But it's normally aroung 70-100 isn't it?

Yes. But all's not lost. The blog that sent the largest volume of traffic to this particular blog was always Not Quite Scilly and they've opened again. That should bump the numbers up again, just you wait and see!

But it's not just about numbers is it. And we've got some things to address, haven't we?

Have we?

Yes, like the complaints about pan-listing. Some say it's for sad twats. And there's one particular person who reckons that Beddington Sewage Farm gets mentioned far too frequently. Plus, your current obsession with fungi - what's that all about?

Well, I quite like them.

But other people might not want to see yet another picture of a bloody mushroom.

I was going to show the readers a Common Earthball

I wouldn't advise it!

You bloody idiot. That's another set of visitors lost to Jonathan Lethbridge's blog.

It's OK, he just blogs about banking now.

But it's still well written. Better than this pile of...

OK, OK. Shall I mention the new tab feature at the top of the page, with lists and stuff?

I'm sure thet're all dying to look at that...

That's it. I'm closing this AGM. I'm off to string a few spiders.

Dryad's Saddle

2011-10-11T10:50:00.000-07:00

The Dryad's Saddle (above), was found in Nonsuch Park, Cheam, this afternoon. It's a much better specimen than the one I saw yesterday in Banstead Woods. A small child could easily sit on it (although I wouldn't recommend it as they would fall straight through it). I'm getting quite excited by fungiat the moment and seem to spend far more time looking on the ground for them than anything else natural history related at the moment.

Dead wood occupancy

2011-10-11T04:23:00.000-07:00

Oyster Mushroom

Dryad's Saddle

Porcelain Fungus

All of the fungi pictured above were found on fallen trees in Banstead Woods. There was only a single Dryad's Saddle, and a small amount of Oyster Mushroom, but the Porcelain Fungus was quite common and varied enormously in shape, from long-stalked bonnets to the flat slippery plates pictured above.

The back garden will provide

2011-10-09T09:32:00.000-07:00

Another morning, and another bleary-eyed one courtesy of more Rugby World Cup. The moth trap was a little livelier than yesterday, but the Green-brindled Crescent (above) was the only species that got a brief 'ahhh' from me as I turned the egg boxes over.

In an attempt to get to 3,000 before the year's end (I've left it too late I think), I wandered around the garden and added no fewer than three species (courtesy of slugs and snails). All common, and all overlooked by me as I've basically never looked at them before. My fellow pan-listers must despair of my efforts... I reckon there are quite a few more to be had in my humble plot. As I was doing this, three noisy Crossbills flew over.

Last night's trap contents

2011-10-08T10:02:00.000-07:00

No Crimson Speckled, Flame Brocade or Ni Moth... instead just 3 macros on a coldish night. They were Silver Y, Brown-spot Pinion and the ever-welcome Merveille du Jour (above). Pan-listing was not ignored as I was able to string/identify Lepthyphantes minutus, a common spider. What with Redwings flying overhead yesterday and a distinct chilliness in the air, it was without doubt autumnal. But hold on ... apparently it's going to be 70 degrees F tomorrow - get those shorts and suncream out again!

Look who's back...

2011-10-07T10:00:00.001-07:00

http://notquitescilly.blogspot.com/

He just cannot keep away. Welcome back.

Humble pie

2011-10-06T11:06:00.000-07:00

Well, Blogger finally caught up with me. I was taken to a 'correction centre' and made to realise that I could no longer go under the guise of a naturalist if I persisted in my ways. I was made to watch ALL previous episodes of Springwatch and Autumnwatch to re-establish a relationship with British wildlife. I wasn't keen at first, but they had ways of making me (see picture above).

After that I was sent out into the wild and told to write down what I saw and have all sightings verified by a celebrity naturalist who officiates in such ocassions. I felt that Miss Humble was rather harsh in rejecting my claim of an overflying Sandhill Crane. She did, however, allow my Loch Ness Monster - I bet that's one that even Jonty Denton hasn't seen!

I've got the next fortnight off of work, so will hope - in between bouts of watching the Rugby World Cup and decorating - to get out into the field... you never know, I might just blog about it.

Blogger investigates North Downs and beyond

2011-10-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

Blogger today stepped in to close down ‘North Downs and beyond’ ahead of an investigation into claims that Steve Gale, the site’s owner, is a complete sham.

For several months now, regular visitors to the blog have been noticing that there is little original content. ‘We rarely read about what he has actually seen’, claims Graham James from Merstham, ‘all we get is stream of half-baked ideas and lists that a five-year old could have put together.’

Somebody from in the north-east, but who wishes to remain anonymous, was quoted as saying that he’d ‘given up visiting the site ages ago’ and that this had freed up his time to ‘give Bunty more regular walks’.

Mark Telfer, holder of the key to the kingdom of Panlistia and patron saint to White Prominents was relieved that an investigation was under way, as he had harboured doubts as to Steve’s suitability as a pan-lister. ‘He never seems to go out, and suspiciously adds exactly the same species to his list just after a certain dreadlocked naturalist from Sussex. I think he just visits other people’s blogs and ticks what he sees on them!’

The whereabouts of Mr. Gale is unknown at present. Enquiries were made at his local patches, but were met with incredulity. At Beddington, Johnny Allan said that he had ‘never heard of him’, Canons Farm’s very own David Campbell thought that he’d given up birding ‘several years ago’ and the Holmethorpe birders were convinced that he now collected stamps.

The long suffering Mrs. Gale welcomes the investigation. 'He might actually look at me rather than a bloody computer screen. With any luck, there won't be so many potted moths in the fridge. It's about time someone made him grow up...'

If you do come across him, Blogger will be keen to hear from you. He is described as 'a sad-looking man with a permanent air of disillusion and failure' about him. They suggest that you do not approach him.

Top 10 UK bird noises... by my reckoning

2011-09-28T12:04:00.000-07:00

A post that has no scientific value at all and is just about pointless opinion and league tables. I love 'em...

Bird song, bird calls and miscellaneous other bird-made noises are as big a part of the birding experience as looking at the blighters. I started to work out what my favourite UK sounds were in this avian cacophany and even put them in order. I'd like to share them with you. However, before I start honorable mention must be made to those species that didn't quite make the top ten but were in the running. A churring Nightjar instantly brings to mind balmy evenings spent on Surrey heaths; Turtle Doves are stunning lookers already, but add to that the drowsy purr of a singing bird and you could drift off into a warm doze; crisp mornings or foggy afternoons during the colder months are always enlivened by the chuckle overhead of a Fieldfare. But none of them made the final cut. The following, in reverse order, did:

10 BRAMBLING
That nasal call coming from a mixed flock of finches migrating overhead always adds spice to the day. It speaks of migration and tells you that there are gems hidden within the flock. The discordant wheeze speaks of the wild.

9 MEDITERRANEAN GULL
When I was in my late teens I was seawatching at Dungeness when Keith Redshaw looked up in the air and said that he had heard a Med Gull call. I was stunned - how did this man know what one sounded like? They were still a rare bird then. After a few seconds it floated over us, a full adult. It carried on calling as it went westwards and away from us. The muffled, rounded up-and-down 'yawl' gets me every time. If we had to exterminate all gulls bar one species, I'd spare this one on call alone.

8 GOLDEN ORIOLE
A poplar plantation in Breckland one still June morning is a memory that will stay with me until the day I die, made so memorable by the echoes of fruity whistling throughout the catherdral-like stands of trees. Light, space and sound combined have never been bettered.

7 GREEN WOODPECKER
Not lessened by its ubiquity, the laughing yaffle of our smartest 'pecker brightens up any occasion. If it were a person it would be Ken Dodd (if you are under 40, ask your parents).

6 SNIPE
The only sound here that is not a call or song, but a vibration of feathers. A drumming Snipe is something that I rarely hear, but one that always excites me. The rhythmic song isn't bad either. Nor, come to think of it, that furtive, annoyed alarm call they give off when you flush the little blighters. An all round audial good egg!

5 SWALLOW
'Vit, vit...' Simple contact call, which, whenever heard - which is frequently - always grabs my attention to zoom in on its caller as it flits quickly by. Less is sometimes more.

4 SWIFT
When I hear a Swift scream I know that summer is here. I then sit out in the garden during subsequent summer evenings watching (and listening) to them tearing through the sky like 'ragged black comets' (as described by Richard Mabey).

3 JACKDAW
I could listen to a tape loop of the yodelling crow. One can sound like a flock! Three can sound like ten!! Do they call for fun?

2 TAWNY OWL
It has to be at night, and although I enjoy the 'kewik' call it's the tremulous hoot that gets me every time. The hairs DO stand up on the back of my neck. Mystery and awe.

1 LAPWING
A displaying bird in flight has so much going on in the sounds that it makes. A range of notes wrapped up in rolls and loops, it can sound almost synthesized, but I never, ever tire of it. There is more than a whiff of rose-tinted glasses about this pick as I cut my ornithological teeth on these waders displaying at Beddington during the mid 1970s.

Dewick's Plusia breeding in the UK

2011-09-28T06:02:00.000-07:00

I might be a bit previous in claiming this, but apart from the finding of larvae it seems as if Beddington Sewage Farm is home to a population of Dewick's Plusia. Several weeks ago Peter Alfrey, whose home borders the farm, had a moth of this species fly into a lit room at a time of little migrant activity. This has been followed by his recording of several more since. Today Johnny Allan found an adult at rest on vegetation close to the birder's hide. A hunt, at the right time, for larvae will be made. Foodplants include Common Nettle, Yarrow and Chamomile. It will be interesting to see how far and quickly this population will spread.

More birding soul searching

2011-09-22T10:43:00.000-07:00

A couple of bird species that have recently turned up in neighbouring Sussex have made me question my birding motives. Both Pallid Harrier and Long-toed Stint would be British lifers. Neither are more than an hours drive. Would I like to see them? Yes, I would. Have I been to see them or even seriously consider going to see them? No I haven't. Then why not?

Distance is not an issue. Time and money is not an issue either. I know where to go. I was reading on-line directions to both birds and a familiar wave of nausea washed over me... it's the people that puts me off, and by that I mean the birders. I'd better explain...

Both sites where the rarities are/were have finite parking facilities, so immediately there will be a free for all to get those places. Early arrivals will bag them. There will then be an assortment of sympathetic parking and antisocial parking away from those places. The procession of the green clad hordes (first weekend for both since identification was clinched) will then congregate as one to the viewpoint. I cannot face it. These aren't people to avoid, they are just like me (okay, maybe that does make them people to avoid!)

I'm not anti-social. I like the company of like-minded souls, but not en masse. My interest in natural history was at first borne out of wonder at what there was to see and identify. I used to twitch. I used to seek out the crowd and get comfort within it. But now, I do all of this as much to find peace in a world that I increasingly find alien and confusing. My local patches do have regular birders who I know that I will bump into and I look forward to sharing time with them. But not 50 of them. Or a hundred. That to me is a non-starter.

So, my membership of the 400 Club will never be fulfilled. My twitching peers from the late 70s and early 80s are all way past 500 now, and had I continued even at a gentle twitching pace I would be a 500 plus man. My birding is a strange beast - I'm ambivalent even on a local level, but even so I still venture out, optics at the ready, with hope and ambition in my soul. My expectations are not high although I still harbour hopes of those good birds coming my way. As proof of this, I have been reading up on Pallid Harrier identification, just in case...

Books in active service

2011-09-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

I'm sure that most of you have a natural history themed library of books, barging those of your partner or kids out of the way to be in full view for the admiring hoardes to inspect. Sod the gardening and cookery books, make way for the latest New Naturalist!! Send the P D James collection into the cupboard, I want all of my south American field guides on show (in descending order of height, spines all aligned...)

Do you stand back and admire them? Do you proudly look on as another new tome shines out from the others, promising hours of dipping into? Do you also recognise those that are showing their age or are in distress due to active service?

FADED SPINES
My New Naturalist volume on British Thrushes that I purchased on publication in the late 1970s has faded to a ghost image of its original state. The reds are now a pale apricot and the thrush illustration is a vague sketch made in a see-through pencil as opposed to the robust blackness that the artist originally drew. The Birds of Pakistan (Vol 1) by Roberts looks as though it has been left out in the sun for the past twenty years - and it certainly hasn't been to Pakistan!

DISCOLOURED SPINES
I was amused to see that Skev's latest blog header shows a line-up of some of his lepidoptera books, including volume 1-7 of The Moths and Butterflies of Great Britain and Ireland. Just like mine, volumes 1 and 2 have discoloured, and had he volumes 9 and 10 on show I bet they would appear like mine, looking as if they had been present in a room full of cigar smokers over the twenty odd years since they have been published. My early Poysers from the mid-seventies are more dirty-buff than the white they used to be.

WOUNDED IN ACTION
My first edition Skinner is the dirtiest book I own. Because it has been used 'in the field' a combination of rain, grass, splattered moths and compromised fingers have seen that a second layer coats not just the cover and spine but most of the inside pages as well. There are several species attached to the plate on which they are depicted... Top prize, however, goes to my copy of The Birds of Borneo, Sumatra, Bali and Java by Mackinnon and Phillips that came with me to Malaysia in 1994. On a slippery descent from the top of Bukkit Teresek in Taman Nagara, I fell heavily, scattering the contents of my rucksack across the muddy floor. The said guide came off really badly, coated in mud and sending me into mourning - it was brand new and was nursed like a child owing to its importance as an identification aid. After careful cleaning it served its purpose for the rest of the trip and to this day has a brown caste, that I now consider to be a badge of honour won whilst on active service.

MISCELLANEOUS DAMAGE
Birds of Surrey (Wheatley) arrived with a hole the size of a ten-pence piece on the back dust jacket; Lars Jonssons original mini-guide to the Mediterranean (not the combined field guide) with ripped cover due to lazy picking up of book in one hand; blood from a small cut on my ear finding its way onto Skinner (second edition); New Naturalist 'Wild Flowers of Chalk and Limestone' jacket totally gone AWOL - I could go on.

They might just be books, but they all have their own tales beyond those that may be inside them.

The birth of a bit of birding habitat

2011-09-17T13:49:00.000-07:00

The poor photograph above (light against me, it was raining, photographer is pants, etc, etc) may not mean much to you or even hint at the excitement that it caused this particular blogger. I was on Walton and Banstead Heath this morning, primarily looking for fungi. Earlier in the spring I had stumbled across a recently created pond in the area and was keen to go back and have a look. As I approached it I was disappointed to find that it had been emptied of water and that the ground had been scraped by earthmovers and dumped nearby - so much for checking the populating vegetation. However, close by was a new earth bank complete with fencing and signs warning of deep water. Hello...

As I got closer the expanse of water that revealed itself got me very excited indeed. About the size of three football pitches, a quick scan revealed a Moorhen and three Little Grebes. Why such joy? This particular part of Surrey has very little open water apart from the odd pond. Away from Holmethorpe, Beddington and Epsom Stew Ponds there is next to none, so this represents quite a good bit of bird habitat. I'm not getting carried away, but I can see the odd bit of wildfowl dropping in and no doubt a wader or two. Such places do turn up the most unexpected species, so my visits to Walton Heath may well increase.

The moth that started it all

2011-09-16T14:11:00.000-07:00

The Blood-vein (above) holds a special place in my natural history heart as it was the species that really fired my imagination and turned me from a birder into someone who started to look at other things.

My early notebooks do hint that I was aware of non-avian things - the odd reference is made to orchids, butterflies and, yes, even moths - diary entries exist from when I was still living at home as a student, and refer to a Swallow-tailed Moth and a Red Underwing which visited my bedroom through an open window during a hot spell in the summer of 1975.

But it was when I stayed at Dungeness Bird Observatory that my interest grew. In the common room was a cupboard that housed the old log books. As I was a regular I was trusted to assist in any data gathering that the then warden, Nick Riddiford, was involved in. I loved this cupboard. It held hours and hours of captivating reading, old sheets of records stretching back to 1952. I handled them and inspected them with a reverence usually reserved for ancient manuscripts. Those 'old days' came back to life in my head as I immersed myself in the writings of the day. But I digress...

In that same cupboard I came across an index card box. I opened it up and found a collection of cards, each with a handwritten name of a moth, underneath of which was a forewing and a hindwing stuck down with sellotape. A macarbre and crude identification guide, but this was before Skinner published his groundbreaking book which superceded the old, diffcult volumes by South. I was mesmerised as I flicked through them, most of them brown and crumbling under yellowing tape. But there was one card that was fresher than the rest and showed a striking wing with a name that I would never forget - a Blood-vein! Would I ever see such a beast?

I cannot say that I became a recorder of moths overnight. I spent a bit of time looking at those that came to lit windows at night, and it wasn't until 1981 that I inspected an actinic trap with a young lad that I had befriended - his name was Sean Clancy. You may have heard of him.

My first MV experience blew me away. It was 1984 and some visiting moth-ers set one up in the observatory garden. It was like watching a machine hoover up moths. And what variety! I recognised one of them straight away, memorised from a card in the observatory cupboard - BLOOD-VEIN!! I ordered a trap the next day. I've spent so many happy nights (and days) with moths, from Surrey woodland, downland and heathland; Kentish coasts; Scottish hillsides; and my own garden which still provides great highlights such as this years Rannoch Loopers. If you haven't got into them yet, I can thoroughly recommend that you do. You don't need much, just check a lit window at night...

Are you sitting comfortably? Then we'll start ticking...

2011-09-13T09:15:00.000-07:00

Stewart Sexton alerted me, via his ever readable blog, to this Birdwatch post regarding the new British Ornithological Union species splits. He can celebrate the addition of two 'armchair' ticks whereas I can only put out the bunting (no pun inteneded) for just the one - Siberian Stonechat.

My first was a stunning male that was present on St.Mary's, Isles of Scilly, in October 1979. If memory serves me right, I had just jumped off a boat that had been to St. Agnes (where we had queued to watch a Blyth's Reed Warbler that was, in fact, a Marsh). The second was an immature bird at Spurn, East Yorkshire in October 1985 of which I was a co-finder.

We are currently enjoying an era of 'splitterdom', where adding to your British life list while sitting in an armchair is becoming a regular event. Hooded Crow, Water Pipit, Common Redpoll, Yellow-legged Gull, Caspian Gull and the like have all been greedily gobbled up by the birding fraternity - and if you are a big lister then you can possibly milk two extra ticks from your Bonelli's and Olivaceous Warblers.

I've got a few possible 'full species' squirreled away, including Balearic Woodchat Shrike that I hope will get the nod, although some birding chums don't reckon on this one being likely.

At this rate I will reach 500 for the UK even if I don't ever go out birding again, but only as long as I live to be 150. Although by then we may have entered the era of 'The Lumper'...

I must go up to the downs again...

2011-09-12T12:05:00.000-07:00

... with apologies to John Masefield.
I was in dire need of a walk along my beloved North Downs at the weekend, so parked up in Mickleham and went on a circular walk that took in Mickleham Downs, Juniper Bottom, Juniper Top, Box Hill, Norbury Farm, the river Mole and Norbury Park.

This is 'The Gallops', the flat top of Mickleham Downs. On Sunday it was a fragrant mass of Marjoram, Clustered Bellflower and Harebell. There is Cut-leaved Germander here, although I've yet to stumble across it in this particular part of Surrey.

I took plenty of pictures of fungi which I will revisit and try to identify in the coming days (or weeks). The pan-lister was lurking somewhere under the surface.

I arrived at Norbury Park with some anticipation, as last year there was a fallow field full of wild flowers, including plenty of Henbane. My visit yesterday revealed that it is now grassland being munched by a herd of milking cows.

Who out there knows their knotgrasses? I reckon this is Cornfield Knotgrass, found in the same corner of a field that is forever Norbury Park Farm (second poetic reference in the post - keep up...)

Last, but not least, I wound up at the Banstead Countryside Day, organised by the Downlands Project and held in Holly Lane adjacent to Banstead Woods. Over 100 stalls were manned by enthusiasts of all sorts of country persuits, from wildlife groups, arts and crafts, purveyors of food and local political green activists! I said hello to David Campbell and the gang on the Canons Farm Bird Group stand and was delighted to meet, face to face, John Peacock, he of Banstead Botany Blog. After several years of blog comments and email correspondence it was good to actually meet him. He said I looked just as he expected me to, but as to whether he was expecting a Hobbit or George Clooney, he would not say.

Reservoir blogs

2011-09-07T20:00:00.000-07:00

Reservoirs - or 'Rezziz' as in the birding slang - can leave me cold (and not just on freezing January mornings). Although I've seen some good birds on them, from American waders at Staines to a Surf Scoter on an unpronouncable Welsh one, I always arrive at a reservoir with a sinking heart.

Is it their lack of ambience? After all, 'a man made bowl of concrete filled with tap water' is hardly Rogersesque, is it. Especially those without any deviation in contour away from a square or a circle. No emergent vegetation. And thinking about it, no access. Maybe youthful memories of climbing over spiked metal fencing to try and get nearer to distant dots has played its part on my aversion to them.

And then there is their positioning. Always close to a motorway. Or an airport. Or industrial estate. Some of them creep me out by being vast banked beasts rising ominously above nearby housing estates, just waiting to burst themselves and take out the meddling humans in a tide of revenge. Personification? Me?

I have visited the odd reservoir which has been sympathetically landscaped and actually has trees around it, but they also seem to be crap for birds. No, reservoirs just can't win I'm afraid. I'd sooner kick around a bit of habitat with less birding potential just because it has some charm.

Did you see what I did with the post title by the way? This rubbish isn't just thrown together you know...

Bird crapped in my open mouth...

2011-09-06T12:20:00.000-07:00

... is a search engine entry that somebody has typed to get onto this blog during the past week. It doesn't beat the 'Steve, where's my dead dog?' entry point of 2009. I wonder if these people found what they craved?

Under the skin

2011-09-05T13:02:00.000-07:00

On one level Beddington Sewage Farm is an eyesore that requires hours of birding input to whittle out each hard won avian nugget. On another it is an oasis in an urban sprawl that freely bestows upon the visiting birder ornithological delights. There are plenty of other levels inbetween - days spent up to the knees in mud watching and listening to Water Pipits; hot days of screaming swifts and scratchy Whitethroats; days of looking longingly eastwards towards an up-Thames squall and praying for displaced seabirds; and other days involving the risk of eyestrain looking through telescopes to pick through the thousands and thousands of gulls resting on ice. All of these states of the farm have their own magic that has snared generations of birders since the 1930s.

It is a site that has a continuous birding record stretching back 80 years (with some records going back even further). There is even a book that chronicles the enormous amount of data that has been collected by the amateur faithful. From the largest breeding colony of Tree Sparrows in the UK, to late summer gatherings of 40 Green Sandpipers. From wintering Water Pipits, to records of Glaucous-winged Gull and Killdeer, there is something here for everyone, with a history that few patches can equal.

I first trod the grassy banks and stared across the sludge lagoons in the autumn of 1974 and fell under its spell. I saw plenty of 'firsts' here and can honestly say I have never - ever - felt more excited birding than I did during 1975-1976 when I started to immerse myself in its birdlife, learning the trade of identification and being accepted into the Beddington camararderie that existed between the regular visitors. I lay on grassy banks as Swifts zoomed above my head only feet away as at the same time Lapwings displayed overhead, collapsing as they did so, on folded wings of bottle green irridescence in the sunshine. These were happy and formative times.

As a 'regular' irregular today I can see beyond the ugly landfill, the piles of earth, the plastic bags flapping in netting. There are plants and insects colonising these man-made scars on the landscape. Here, also, be birds! I can still see the Elms of my youth even though they were felled 35 years ago, I can still visualise the brick outhouses that I sheltered in from the rain, still imagine the small bed in which I saw a Bluethroat trapped and the large fields that regularly held small flocks of Ruff and Golden Plover in amongst the winter thrushes. All now gone, under the wheels of diggers, bulldozers and piles and piles of refuse. My winter Beddington skies are still filled with the ghosts of those Short-eared Owls that were always there - surely for all other winters to come... Today's Beddington is just a continuation of the old one and if I am still standing there birding in 20 years time will no doubt feel just as nostalgic for our current tin hide in which we bullshit so freely between the rare bouts of excitement. It's a refuge from the 'real' world, a place where my carrying a scope and tripod is not met with incredulity. Each and every member of the bird group will have their own reasons for visiting and I'm sure we each harbour our own idealised view on why we continue to do so and what makes the place special. But special it is. The future may be unsure, but even if the Beddington of 2030 is but a blackened tree stump poking out of a contaminated pool, there will still be a birder nearby, checking it out.

Wet, wet, wet

2011-09-04T10:46:00.000-07:00

This isn't a post about the disbanded Scottish pop band of the 1990s (apologies for those seeking images of Marty Pellow), but a reference to the state I found myself in at about 13.00hrs this afternoon at Beddington Sewage Farm. The promised rain hadn't materialised (apart from a bit of pathetic drizzle) so I assumed that that was it. I strode out across the treeless farm, ignoring the growing darkness bubbling up from the south. That darkness harboured a good half-hours worth of soaking rain and I embraced it fully. Bins, scope and clothing took a hit.

Birdwise, not as good as hoped for, although at least 4 Hobby were hassling the few hirundines present (and we watched two of them hunt down a Swift in tandem, plucking the hapless bird out of the air after a brief chase), 2 LRP (one pictured above), 1 Ringed Plover, 2 Green Sandpiper, 1 Kingfisher, 1 Wheatear and 1 Whinchat.

The banter between the gathered faithful kept boredom at bay, with subjects up for discussion ranging from Wayne Rooney's hair transplant, The Rugby World Cup, stringing, Peruvian night birds, useless facts and the proposed cultivation of the Hemp that has sprung up beneath the bird feeders.

What are you doing for the next 17 years?

2011-08-27T09:00:00.000-07:00

So, 'scientists' reckon that the total number of species to be found on earth is likely to be close to 8.7 million. Whilst idly chatting to Steve Thomas at Beddington this morning, he speculated on how long it would take to see them all. Needless to say, that would be an impossible task. However, if you could be presented with each species, one at a time, for a thirty second peek (this taking place for a twelve hour period each day, seven days a week), it will take almost 17 years to see the lot - (1,440 per day, 525,600 per year). This is what birders do in idle moments...

Guess the island

2011-08-25T11:02:00.000-07:00

OK, where is this? Only clue is that it is off the British coast. First prize, a years subscription to North Downs and beyond. Second prize, two years subscription to North Downs and beyond... (yeah, the old ones are the best ones, etc).

1974

2011-08-24T13:02:00.000-07:00

As a simple way of filling dead 'cyber space' and out of sheer personal indulgence, 1974 launches a series of 'years in the natural history life of one S W Gale'. I won't be surprised, or offended, if you stop reading right now and go off in search of something far more worthwhile.

It all began during an art lesson at Sutton Grammar School, Surrey, in the spring of 1974. We had been given the subject of 'Conflict' to illustrate. Most of us were up to our elbows in poster paint trying to work up life-like images of warfare. However, a fellow pupil's work had caught my eye as he had been far more original than the rest of us and was painting a garden scene of a cat pouncing at an improbably coloured bird that was flying just out of paw's reach. I asked him if the bird was a parrot. No, he replied, it was a Jay. He also told me that I could see one in my back garden if I kept a look out. Nonsense, I said, sheer bloody nonsense...

Maybe two weeks later I was dreamily looking out of a backroom window at home, most probably wondering whether or not Martin Chivers would score for Tottenham that coming weekend, when a large, colourful bird hopped onto the lawn. I knew what it was at once. It was a Jay.

Within days, at the age of 15, I had purchased a Hamlyn field guide and was looking out of my bedroom window to see what other birds might be there. The Jay had put hooks in me without any doubt. My small suburban garden mustered up a simple list - Robin, Blackbird, Song Thrush, Dunnock, Great Tit, Blue Tit - and did include my first stringy sighting, that of Tree Sparrow. At least my embryo garden list was not populated by such foolish fancies as Rock Bunting, Ptarmigan and Tengmalm's Owl.

My dad had a pair of binoculars that he never used. I don't know why he owned them, although the box suggested that maybe watching boats at sea was a worthwhile pasttime. I soon 'borrowed' these and took them into the local park. My first experience of birdwatching away from suburbia was on a family camping holiday to the New Forest. One bird from that trip still stands out, a bird that I never thought I would ever see, a species that had looked so good in the field guide that I could scarcely believe my eyes when I actually saw it- a Green Woodpecker.

Until the years end I visited local parks, scoured local downland, haunted local commons and went on a proper birding trip with a man that 'lived over the road' who had a vague interest in wildlife. He took his son and myself to Beddington Sewage Farm. It was a disappointing day, with no flocks of waders or any of the hoped for rarities that John Gooders had promised in his book, 'Where to Watch Birds'. I had also come across a book that I still hold dear to this very day - '70 Years of Birdwatching' by H G Alexander. By December 31st I had seen 55 species of bird. I had bought a diary for the coming year to enter my sightings in. I had purchased my own cheap binoculars. And modelling myself on HGA, I was ready for the coming year...

P*n-species update - for sad twats only

2011-08-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

The latest pan-species update is:

Flora 1378 (+2)
Mosses & Liverworts 36 (+9)
Lichen 23 (+12)
Fungi 32 (+2)
Birds 375
Moths 710 (+2)
Butterflies 50
Dragonflies 34
Mammals 32
Amphibians 5
Reptiles 4
Fish 17
Snails & Slugs 8
Marine 45 (+25)
Worms 1
Leeches 1
Algae 1
Thysanura (Bristletails) 1
Orthoptera (Grasshoppers) 3
Dermaptera (Earwigs) 1
Hemiptera (Shieldbugs, hoppers) 10 (+1)
Thysanoptera (Thrips, Lice) 1
Neuropterans (Lacewings) 2
Trichoptera (Caddisflies) 2
Diptera (Flies) 20 (+2)
Hymenoptera (Wasps, Bees, Ants) 20 (+1)
Coleoptera (Beetles) 31
Centipedes 4
Millipedes 2
Woodlice 4
Ticks, Mites, Harvestmen 4
Spiders 13
TOTAL: 2870
Most of the additions have come courtesy of Cornish rock pools and beaches. Will I reach 3,000 before the end of the year? It would be easy enough to do if I put my mind to it, but I'm quite happy with letting things come to me. I could target hoverflies, fungi, mosses and lichens in the next few weeks and get very close. That would still leave me a good 7,000 species behind Jonty Denton - I bet he's quaking in his boots...

Nature's very own abstract art

2011-08-21T10:50:00.000-07:00

Please take a moment and click on the picture above (I've saved it to a larger size to better appreciate it). I took it on a Cornish headland. If it were to be hung in a gallery of abstract art, it would not be out of place. Lichens... just don't ask me to identify them all!

It's not only birders...

2011-08-20T12:28:00.000-07:00

The following message was sent to the BBC Test Match Special after Ian Bell was dismissed for 235 at the Oval (England v India cricket test match for those of you that do not follow the thwack of leather on willow):

"Gutted. If Bell had got out on 238, it would have been the lowest score never previously scored in a Test."

I had to laugh when I read that, as only cricket officianados can out compete birders when it comes to quoting trivia and the ability to be anally retentive...

The missing pictures

2011-08-20T02:30:00.000-07:00

As promised, a gallery of Wavy St.John's-wort images taken at Greena Moor, North Cornwall, last week.

Culm grassland

2011-08-18T01:51:00.000-07:00

Culm grassland. Ever heard of it? No, neither had I until I visited this part of north Cornwall. It is a much reduced grassland/heath habitat owing to it being turned over for agricultural use. It has a specialised flora, including some species that are rare nationally or at least have restricted ranges.

Yesterday afternoon, under a blue sky, I visited Greena Moor, a Plantlife reserve south of the vilage of Week St Mary. You will need precise directions to find it, although there is a sign on a roadside gateway to give you a clue as to the culm grassland's whereabouts.

There are a couple of areas on the reserve that I found particularly rewarding - a sloping field with a stream running through it, the stream side being full of Marsh Ragwort, Water Mint, Greater Bird's-foot Trefoil, Wild Angelica and, star of the show, Wavy St.John's-wort. This latter species could also be found in good numbers closer to the reserve entrance, in a boggy field corner, along with another botanical star, Whorled Carraway. I did get some good images of these plants, and they are waiting to be uploaded onto this post, but at the moment Blogger isn't allowing me to. They will appear soon...

For more information on culm grassland and Greena Moor, click here click here

Hummers and strawberries

2011-08-15T03:02:00.000-07:00

I have been reliving childhood summer holidays that were spent on Devon and Cornish beaches. Whereas I then brandished a bucket, spade and small green plastic net at the end of a bamboo cane, I now carry a digital camera and a field guide. As a middle-aged man, and in today's sensitive times, I felt a little awkward entering rock pools that were populated by toddlers, but was able to enlist my youngest daughter to accompany me on my quest for pan-species additions. The rock pools here at Bude are plentiful and seem to me to have plenty to offer the naturalist who's experience in such habitat has, up until now, been restricted to watching Turnstones.

The picture above is of my favourite find of the day, the delightfully named Strawberry Anemone. No doubt if I'd risked drowning as the tide engulfed it, I could have watched the 'tentacles' emerge from the jelly-like body.

Shortly afterwards, this Hummingbird Hawk-moth was seen nectaring on Red Valerian. It was a worn individual, and the photographs were snatched with a compact camera, but these creatures are one of my favourites, so I make no apologies for posting such substandard fayre.

Kernow calling

2011-08-11T03:44:00.000-07:00

Well, I must admit to being surprised by the number of comments generated by my recent post regarding 'nature and faith' - or, in my case, the lack of faith. Thanks to the cerebral ping-pong between Mel and Peter, plus the odd call from the sidelines, it kept me informed, amused and a little aware of my own shortcomings.

Not as a consequence of this, or of the riots, North Downs and beyond has decamped to the north Cornish coast. The view above is looking southwards towards the distant cliffs of Boscastle and Tintagel. To continue the 'faith' theme, I visited the famous museum of witchcraft at Boscastle - well worth a visit, regardless of your belief system.

As for the wildlife, I have been rather laid back. The odd bird has caught my attention (Ravens, Peregrines, Little Egrets), botanically I have paid my respects to the local speciality (Wild Leek) and from a pan-species perspective have added a few denizens of the rock pool. My attempts to swell my moss and lichen list is proving frustrating. I find specimens that fit only species found at the top of Scottish mountains and not a Cornish headland, and so start again, deflated. It's hard work, but I will perservere...

A surfeit of pasty, ice cream, beer, cider, rum and clotted cream with need further stiff walks along the spectacular cliff tops to burn up the calories, postpone the heart attack, and hopefully call into action the notebook...

A new blog link

2011-08-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

Whenever I add a blog link to North Downs and Beyond I like to alert you to the fact, and give you the opportunity to view some fine work - so please take a look at Mel Lloyd's Sandy Wildlife. She is currently having a high-brow exchange with Beddington's very own Peter Alfrey in the comments area of my post directly below this one - and that's worth a read on its own!

When an atheist gets a touch religious

2011-08-04T13:34:00.000-07:00

Click to appreciate the 'Grand Design'

It's very hard being an atheist who appreciates the natural world. All around you are reminders of the intricacies of natural structure; the minute detail of pattern and colour; the myriad species that inhabit the world. Why is there such variation? Who's it all for?

Now, those of a religious bent will sugggest that all of this variety is the work of God. Mathematicians will cite the construction of species as being the result of evolution into the most workable shape. Biologists will see patterning and colouring as needed for camouflage, display or warning purposes.

I took the picture above on Banstead Downs. It is of Small Scabious. It is not uncommon, and something that I see on a regular basis. But when I actually took it in - actually looked at it as opposed to identifying it and dismissing it - I was quite taken aback. It is a precious thing. This has been crafted, with symmetry at its heart. The more I looked, the more I was sucked in, it became a botanical snow flake. The old questions rose up inside me - 'Why?' 'For who?'

When fossils were first understood as being petrified life forms, those who rallied against the thought that these could possibly really have once been 'God's creatures' suggested that He had planted them for man to find as a kind of hidden entertainment, a treat for us in moments of idleness. I quite liked that quick thinking by the religious as a way of deflecting a challenge against their solid belief system.

I would quite like to be religious, but I never have and most probably never will. I've had moments of darkness, and I didn't ask for nor did I hear a voice. But when you look at a wonder of the natural world - and there are millions of them - wouldn't it explain an awful lot very simply if I were.

Tree-lichen Beauty

2011-08-03T10:24:00.000-07:00

Tree-lichen Beauty trapped this morning - thank you very much!

You can liken me to Nostradamus, or a bargain-basement Mystic Meg, but in my last post I suggested that this week would see me capture a Tree-lichen Beauty in the garden MV. This morning that is exactly what happened. It wasn't a totally unsurprising event, as this species has now established itself in the London area, but it was a lifer for me, following hot on the heels of June's back garden Rannoch Loopers.

Apart from a couple of random Victorian records, the first modern British record was in 1991. Since then they have been recorded along the south coast as far as Devon and up the east coast into Norfolk. The colonisation of London has seen a small expansion into the northern home counties, but so far not the south.

My next prediction? A Willowherb Hawk-moth or a Patton's Tiger please!

They used to watch birds there...

2011-07-30T13:05:00.000-07:00

..they still do really, but most of the regular members of the Beddington Farm Bird Group have foresaken birding during this summer to immerse themselves in the black art of pan-species listing. At least Johnny still had his wits about him to notch up a Black Kite a couple of weeks ago (shared with Peter who viewed it from his flat window).

The sewage farm plant list is still building nicely, and I've yet to seriously look at the grasses, sedges, willows and roses (maybe next year?). I quite like this laid back approach to observation - if I don't feel like looking critically at something, then why do so? After all, it's not a job. We didn't neglect the birds this morning, with 3 Greenshanks, 10 Green Sandpipers, 5 Common Sandpipers and a messy flock of 2,000 Starlings.

I have an aim for the coming week - to catch a Tree-lichen Beauty in the garden moth trap. It would be a lifer and is overdue. There are also some tantalisingly close Jersey Tigers that would grace the buddleija in the garden if they flitted my way.

I never seem to be short of moth possibilities and long may that continue.

Debbie Harry performs in my garden

2011-07-29T12:53:00.000-07:00

I know a girl from a lonely street
Cold as ice cream but still as sweet
Dry your eyes Sunday girl

Last night I was sitting in the back garden, the dusk quickly descending, taking in the calm weather, the muggy night and the bats and moths flitting through the air. But there was something else that stole my attention, and that was Debbie Harry of Blondie, singing to me live in my garden. No kidding...

Over the past two years the following have sung live to me as I've sat in the garden... Simply Red, JLS, The Beach Boys, The Feeling, The Wanted (quiet at the back Stables, I know it isn't exactly The Clash or 999), and there is something special about having these acts do so. I'd better explain.

I live a mile away from Epsom race course. For each of the past three summers they have put on weekly evening performances from a variety of bands directly after a race meeting. You can go and watch the gig by buying a ticket and watching from the grandstands; you can sit on the downs and hear the whole thing for free but see very little; or you can sit in my garden and listen while inspecting the early evening visitors to the moth trap.

If it's a still evening, or the wind is from the southern sector, the sound is clear. From the north however and you can't hear a thing (Texas played earlier in the summer and I didn't catch a note). Last night I heard the encore very clearly indeed - 'Heart of Glass' and a bloody good version it was too. people who actually paid to go said it was rammed - and mainly populated by teenagers. For those of us who grew up with Blondie as one of the biggest pop acts in the world (1978 - 1980), it was comforting to think that a whole generation of kids are finding something in their music.

If you're wondering what this post has to do with the natural world, then I will happily admit to the fact that it has bugger all to do with birds, moths, plants, pan-listing, twitching, etc, etc, etc.

Even I have to admit, there is more to life...

Mist netting - a necessary evil?

2011-07-28T09:28:00.000-07:00

Birdguides has just posted an article about a study into the safety of mist netting birds. This is a subject that often gets non-ringers hot under the collar and I wish I had an extra pan-species lifer for every time that I've heard somebody say that it is a cruel practice. It is something that I know a little bit about.

Between 1976 - 1983 I held a ringing permit, becoming an A permit holder and a trainer by 1979. I have spent a great deal of time handling many thousands of birds, from tiny Goldcrests right through to the veritable avian giants such as geese and swans. Most of these were trapped by mist net (not the geese and swans however!). A mist net, generally, only becomes dangerous to a bird when the person extracting it from the net is inexpert in the process. It takes a person with a 'feel' for the fine mesh to confidently untangle the bird from it. There are situations when weather can play a part in safety - a windy day can tangle birds beyond comfort, rain will chill them as will cold - but any ringer worth his salt will not operate in such conditions.

There are horror stories. Mist nets set over water to trap waders that have collapsed, drowning those birds caught. Trapped birds being predated by cats, rats or even Water Rails. These are rare events. The odd bird does get injured. The odd bird does die (Bullfinches and Greenfinches have a reputation for 'croaking it' in small - and I mean small - numbers).

Such losses are totally regretable, but are very rare. The data that ringing has given us has helped identify migration routes, wintering and breeding ranges, longevity figures, the means to assess the health of birds through fat counts and 'stress' bars on feathers - all in all a tool to help protect millions of birds across their whole range. I feel that the odd loss can therefore be justified.

It is also worth remembering that the light metal ring that is placed on a birds tarsus is specifically designed to allow a bird to carry on its normal life unhindered. Otherwise all data gathered would be meaningless. The use of plastic rings has been used to successfully allow larger birds, such as geese and gulls, to be identified in the field without the need for repeated capture to gather data. The longevity of these birds provides proof that they carry on living an unhindered life.

Read the article if you are a sceptic and it may provide you with some comfort as to the effects that mist netting (and ringing) has on birds.

Hawfinch valley

2011-07-23T13:31:00.000-07:00

Headley Heath holds a special place in my natural history heart. It is one of those places that I cut my ornithological teeth on back in the 1970s, with evenings spent in the company of Nightjars and Woodcocks. More recently it has been the moths and plants that have caught my attention there. Today I visited with moss and lichen in mind, but it was the birdlife that stole the show.

I took the picture above whilst sitting on a bench (very dude, I know) taking in the view and scanning the sky for anything that might float by. Earlier in the morning I had heard a calling Hawfinch maybe half a mile from this spot, but was still delighted to then see a flock of 11 of these magnificent finches fly from left to right across the far valley shown in this photo. I have seen Hawfinches here before, in this very spot, one October morning back in 2005 when a flock of eight entertained me for up to 10 minutes, I have since refered to this place as 'Hawfinch valley' (this being reinforced today) even though I have only seen this species here twice in the 36 years of visiting!

Today I downloaded the new Birdguides app for the Dragonflies and Damselflies of the UK. If you have the means to view apps, I would strongly recommend it. Marvellous stuff.

Even the bad times were good

2011-07-20T15:02:00.000-07:00

I've just watched a television documentary about cricketer Ian Botham, who, thirty years ago today, almost single-handedly defeated the Australians in the famous Headingley test. The first half of the programme, that looked at his career between 1974 - 1981, had me drowning in nostalgia - not just for the cricketing performances that I followed so avidly at the time, but also because these same years also neatly dovetailed into my early birding life. Botham's test debut recalls a trip to Abinger Common. His rise to 'first-name on the team sheet' was at the same time that I began my mercifully brief flirtation with twitching. His glorious summer of 81 paralleled my own semi-residence at Dungeness. At first I was at a loss to put a finger on what it was that bestowed upon this period really good reasons to cherish it so much...

Viewing any archive news footage from this period is a shock - Britain looked so grimy and downtrodden. The birding was similar. Most birders dressed in ex-army surplus, wore long greasy hair, spots were rife and we carried, by today's standards, poor optics. Rare birds were rare - by that, I mean rarer than now. There weren't so many people out looking for them and thus there weren't so many clued up birders. I think that there had been maybe 25 records each of Radde's and Dusky Warblers in the UK by the mid-1970s - there wasn't as much to go and see. Field guides were few and limited in scope. Getting the 'gen' - good seventies word that - necessitated contacts that had to be earned. If you weren't in with somebody with a car, you had to hitch. And if you did get a lift, cars always seemed to break down back then. It took longer to get to places because of the lack of by-passes and motorways. It makes you wonder why plenty of us consider this the golden age.

Youth has a lot to do with it, of course. You can never replicate the initial wonder that comes when something takes you over and burns with a passion. Anything is possible in those early years - I was going to be an observatory warden and most probably be on the rarities committee by the time I was 30 (no I didn't on both counts). Maybe because it wasn't easy - no pagers, no detailed ID, no relative affluence - each birding success was that much more cherished because we had to work for it.

I do look back on that period with a smug satisfaction that I lived through it and birded through it. Punk, riots, Wallcreepers (I had to get that in) and a stocky bearded Englishman who defined a sporting era by picking up a bat and ball, walking out onto a cricket pitch and giving it large to eleven Australian tourists.

I don't care what the weather man says...

2011-07-18T12:58:00.000-07:00

Click on picture to get the full weather effect

Us crazy Brits, eh? Preoccupied with the weather, never a dull moment on our island caught between Azores Highs, Baltic Lows, jetstreams and blasts from the Arctic. We suffer the driest April and May since Velocoraptors stalked the earth and then follow that with biblical rainfall throughout June and July. Watching the Open golf on TV over the weekend was as much about watching the weather from Sandwich as it was cheering on a slightly overweight Ulsterman beat off the American upstarts.

I dug out the picture above, taken at Dungeness last July. We were aware of a murderous black bank of cloud arriving from the west and stood on the moat as it came slowly towards us, building in height and menace all the time. What was most apparent was a raised grey ridge of cloud within it, like a giant cereal bowl. When it arrived rain fell hard for maybe ten minutes before it headed off to do battle over France. No doubt Michael Fish could tell me the name of this particular cloud formation.

Box Hill's Olympic dilemma

2011-07-14T11:54:00.000-07:00

Next July, the Olympic cycling road-race will hurtle around London and Surrey. The route includes the roads around Box Hill, including the famous zig-zag. Now, I do like my sport and have plans to go and see part of this particular event. I also like my wildlife. It is here where these two worlds collide. I can think of no better a natural ampitheatre to watch Mark Cavendish take on the world's best than the steep slopes that meander wildly up the side of the North Downs. But where will we be able to spectate from? This particular area is home to a magnificent chalk downland flora and some very localised invertebrates. A sudden influx of several thousand people onto the zig-zag will do damage to this fauna and flora - but as to how drastic the damage will be, I don't know. I have heard rumours of no access at all, that there will be cordoned-off vieweing areas and that in the spirit of the Olympics we will be allowed to trample on Musk Orchids (above), Dew Moths and Straw Belles. Has Lord Coe donned a hard hat and wandered the zig-zag with a man from the ministry calculating the worth of orchids against the TV rights? Will I join in the crush of Silver-spotted Skippers to get a glimpse of the cyclists as they flash past? Or will we all watch from the more mundane A24, having to console ourselves with remote images from the 20 different TV cameras set high on gantries along the length of the climb? There will be damage, I'm sure, whatever happens.

Four easy steps to a moth tick

2011-07-13T13:14:00.000-07:00

One: find a Horse-chestnut tree that exhibits the tell-tale signs of leaf-miner damage on its leaves.

Two: pick a leaf and place it in a large sealable plastic bag.

Three: keep the bag in a cool,dry place.

Four: check the bag regularly for the emergence of adult Horse-chestnut Leaf-miner moth(s) and any parasitoids that may also be present.

I put a leaf in a bag on Saturday and had three adult moths today - result!

"A room without a book is like a body without a soul"

2011-07-12T14:15:00.000-07:00

G K Chesterton, I think.

I don't know what it is about looking on other birders' bookshelves, but I found myself clicking on this picture and checking each and every book shown, with a little voice in my head saying "got it, got it, got, haven't got it, got it..."

A rucksack full of Rye

2011-07-11T11:44:00.000-07:00

Sunday saw me head south to Rye Harbour. I don't know why my visits to this part of East Sussex are so infrequent - I really enjoy going there.

The enclosure above can be found west of the disused lifeboat station and contains two rare species of plant - Least Lettuce and Red Hemp-nettle. The latter is surprisingly hard to see considering the showy red flower, but there was enough of it inside (and just outside) the compound to make it hard to miss on this occasion. As for the former, well; a scrawny, dull, shy flowerer that sometimes can be prostrate on the shingle is never going to shout out it presence. Yesterday however, I did find a single plant close to the fencing. It wasn't flowering, but it was, after all mid-afternoon - they are best in the morning.

The Red Hemp-nettle above was found much closer to the river, a single plant all on its own. I have seen this species at Rye in small amounts anywhere from the river along the beach almost to Winchelsea. Apart from the fenced off compound it can lead you a merry dance.

The building above is the disused lifeboat station. I cannot pass it without walking up to the doors and spending a few moments reflecting on the sadness that marks it. At 04.30hrs on 15th November 1928, a ship was floundering off of Dungeness in a violent storm. The Rye lifeboat crew responded to the distress call, hauled their boat down the shingle beach and rowed out into the black maelstrom ahead. When they were a little way out those on land received a message that the stricken boat's crew were safe, so a recall flare was fired. The Rye crew did not see it, and rowed on. When dawn broke, their lifeboat, the Mary Stanford, was seen floating upside down in the water, as the first body from the 17-strong crew was being washed ashore. All had perished. The station has not been used since and remains as a monument to those brave men.

I experienced one of those rare, special moments that come along when you are watching and enjoying the natural world (I took the picture above just afterwards). I was walking up to this field and was taken by the creamy flush across its surface. I could see through binoculars that they were the flowers of a species of mayweed, but which species? As I got closer, the warm westerly wind started to bathe me in a sweet perfume, carried to me, no doubt, from the hundreds of thousands (millions?) of Scented Mayweed flowers ahead of me. You cannot buy these moments...

My day was helped along by a good selection of plants, including Marsh Mallow (above), Sea-heath and Sea Wormwood. Up to 40 Mediterranean Gulls were left over from the breeding colony. A flock of 300 Sandwich Terns were also loafing around and I was pleased to be able to watch half a dozen Little Terns. It is far too long since I last watched one.

One day at a time... for ten years

2011-07-09T04:20:00.000-07:00

I quote from Neil Randon's latest blog post, posted yesterday after he went and saw Surrey's fourth record of Red-rumped Swallow:

"I got to Unstead in 40 minutes, and Johnny (Allan) was already in position, alongside Brian Milton, the guy who discovered the bird . It was a major coup for Brian, who is nearing a remarkable landmark. He is fast approaching 3,500 days of continuous Unstead patch watching - that's nearly 10 years without a day off! It takes all sorts."

I'm not going to judge Brian on visiting the same place to go birding on a daily basis for so long - what he does with his life is his choice, and as long as he is not indulging in anything immoral or illegal then we can all keep out of it. My first thought was that he must be remarkably patient and tolerant. When I have spent any time birding in one place I cannot easily do a week in succession, let alone ten years. My second thought was that if there is a significant other in his life, then they must be terribly understanding. My final thought was that he has obviously not been on holiday, or travelled away from Surrey any great distance in all that time. Instead of sneering at such behaviour I applaud it. He has obviously found something that is a passion and keeps on giving. Isn't that something that we all strive for?

The only person that I can recall who has spent a similar number of years working the same site on an almost daily basis is Gary Messenbird, who was as much a fixture at Beddington Sewage Farm as the Tree Sparrows. Currently, one Mr Johnny Allan is at the same sewage farm on a daily basis (and has been for the past couple of years) in his quest to topple the Surrey year total record (that he also holds). This is after many years that he has spent regularly birding on the farm. And don't think that I have forgotten David Campbell who has been using his break in full-time education to haunt Canons Farm every day that he can (and he cannot only when he rushes of on a distant twitch).

I admire those naturalists that keep at it. I just haven't got the patience to stick at anything day after day. Even weekly visits to a site can pall.

Hats off to them all...

The 'boys' of Summer

2011-07-08T12:18:00.000-07:00

Red Bartsia - it must be summer

When do you know it's really summer? Are you one of those people who think summer begins with the summer solstice? Or when the schools break up for the six-week holiday? Is it when test cricket starts, or the football season ends? For me it's when I see Red Bartsia in flower. There is always a mixture of pleasure at seeing it again and sadness that the year is yet again careering onwards. I then start to think of summer as becoming long in the tooth when I see the first Harebell - as much as I like what the autumn brings, an air of melancholia briefly visits me when the first pastel blue bell nods my way. From a moth perspective, a Copper Underwing in the MV leaves me in no doubt as to it being summer. Birds are trickier. My problem with 'summer' birds is that I reckon that the first signs of autumn passage appears as early as June, when waders such as Lapwings and Green Sandpipers start to bother the notebook. Therefore I'd plump for the flocking of young Starlings as the undeniable sign of avian summer. The messy, whirring flocks of squabbling birds, a patchwork of pale buff and early adult gloss plumage is as much a summer scene as ice cream vans, lobster pink shoulders and the smell of barbeques. As for autumn... I'll save that for later.

Flies on me (and a flower)

2011-07-06T12:11:00.000-07:00

Mystery 1 - Sandwich Bay in June

Mystery 2 - Sandwich Bay in June

Mystery 3 - Beddington SF in May

Mystery 4 - Sandwich Bay in June, glabrous, glaucous leaves

I keep a folder on my computer full of photographs of species that I have yet to identify. Some of these will remain so forever, especially the mosses and lichens. There are some images, such as those above, which I reckon should have been easy enough to clinch but I have so far failed to do so. I'm being lazy with the flower as I'm sure that a trawl through the garden plant books will surely reveal its name. If anybody knows any of these mystery pictures then please leave a comment. Your only reward will be to dazzle the readership of this blog with your superior knowledge.

2814

2011-07-05T11:26:00.000-07:00

The pan-species list creeps on to 2814...

Flora 1376
Mosses & Liverworts 27
Lichen 11
Fungi 30
Birds 375
Moths 708
Butterflies 50
Dragonflies 34
Mammals 32
Amphibians 5
Reptiles 4
Fish 17
Snails & Slugs 8
Marine 20
Worms 1
Leeches 1
Algae 1
Thysanura (Bristletails) 1
Orthoptera (Grasshoppers) 3
Dermaptera (Earwigs) 1
Hemiptera (Shieldbugs, hoppers) 9
Thysanoptera (Thrips, Lice) 1
Neuropterans (Lacewings) 2
Trichoptera (Caddisflies) 2
Diptera (Flies) 18
Hymenoptera (Wasps, Bees, Ants) 19
Coleoptera (Beetles) 31
Centipedes 4
Millipedes 2
Woodlice 4
Ticks, Mites, Harvestmen 4
Spiders 13

If you are still reading this then you deserve a medal. There is plenty of scope to add to the list, and no doubt my totals for moss, lichen, fungi, flies and beetles will draw howls of derision from many naturalists. Before I draw more flak from the 'Pan-species listing is pointless and why don't you get a life' brigade, I will point out that I enjoy keeping the list, it's a bit of fun and it gives me a much wider appreciation of what there is to see in our country.

So there.

Small Ranunculus

2011-07-04T12:27:00.000-07:00

Click to enlarge and appreciate the attractive, but modest, Small Ranunculus

When I started moth-ing, Small Ranunculus was a mythical beast. They were a fairly common species in the south-east of England during the era of Victorian lepidopterists, but then suffered a catastrophic decline, ultimately heading towards British extinction by the start of the First World War. It was not until the 1990s that the species resurfaced, in north Kent and London. Since then it has re-established itself successfully in its old territory and spread to parts of the midlands, south Wales and north-west England. The photograph above is of the third garden record of this species for me, which, this morning, shared the MV along with the fourth record of Beautiful Hook-tip. That little so-and-so flew off just as I was about to photograph it.

Lobster Moth

2011-07-03T02:19:00.000-07:00

Only the third Lobster Moth to be recorded in the garden since 1987. Trap counts are not anything special at the moment, although Coronets are starting to appear in good numbers - this used to be a species that appeared sparingly, but can now reach double figures in a single night.

The Bird Observatory - has it got a future?

2011-07-01T12:26:00.000-07:00

Having just returned from a weeks residency at Sandwich Bay Bird Observatory and Field Centre, my thoughts have turned to what role such places can play in 2011.

Firstly, I must declare a love affair for bird observatories that stretches back to my first stay at Dungeness in 1976. I have spent over 600 visitor nights at that particular observatory, from sudden one-night residencies through to a four month stint in 1979. I have put up with thin mattresses, fug-fumed bedrooms full of large hairy men, kitchens where the dirty crockery has hidden every kitchen surface and, in the early days, the lack of a shower or bath. And I loved every single minute of it...

I have stayed at Spurn, graced the lighthouse at Portland Bill and turned up with a rucksack at Sandwich Bay.

A sea-change occurred for me in the late 1990s when I realised that I no longer could put up with unhygenic conditions, did not want to share a room with farting strangers and I increasingly enjoyed the pleasures of a good night's sleep without the need to anaethatise myself with copious amounts of alcohol. My search for observatory accommodation took on the need for added civilisation.

Dungeness became a place that I could only tolerate if nobody else was staying (although it has had a recent kitchen re-fit). Portland was almost hotel-like in comparison, with large bathroom/shower facilities and space that allowed you to command your very own. My recent Sandwich sojourn upped the ante with lockable rooms, clean and modern showers, libraries, wi-fi, B&O televisions, shops, CCTV and butler service (OK, I made the last one up).

The days of communal flaggons of cocoa, bird logs by tilley-lamp and cable sweaters being worn to stave off the overnight cold and mallets by the camp bed to fight off the rats are long gone. Visitors demand comfort. They demand en-suite. They demand coffee machines, fruit blenders and juicers. The bird observatory that cannot cater for these demands, I think, is on borrowed time.

There may be observatories that do still function with a film of squalor, but I bet they are patronised by an older, decidedly male demographic. Where will they be in twenty years time? Have observatories got a future unless they diversify into the model of establishing a field centre and trawl for custom from schools, adult education centres and universities? Do they need to hold quizzes, talks, walks and open sessions to maintain a stream of interest and money? Do they need to accept that they cannot exist without enticing people to stay - and then stay again and again? Do they need to become hotels with a natural history theme? Or are they an echo from the past that is slowly, but surely, dying?

I'd be interested to know what you think.

A rosy glow

2011-06-30T10:14:00.000-07:00

Rosy Footman - one of my favourites. This week has not produced much in the MV, although a Small Rufous was only the second garden record and this Rosy Footman only the fourth.

Emperor's new clothes

2011-06-27T12:17:00.000-07:00

A cousin of my wife phoned yesterday afternoon to say that he had taken a photograph of a rather striking butterfly in his Slinfold, West Sussex, garden. Would I mind taking a look, he wondered? As I waited for the photograph to be emailed to me, I pondered as to what it might be. I knew that he has more than a passing interest in wildlife, so thought that at least a photograph of a Painted Lady may arrive, possibly a hairstreak. I didn't expect this...

Slinfold is a village well endowed with trees, although I do not know exactly how close the nearest colony of Purple Emperor is. All I know is that I would have turned cartwheels had one chosen to alight in my modest suburban plot.

BFBG goes botanical

2011-06-26T09:27:00.000-07:00

Under blue skies and in high temperatures, a motley collection of Beddington birders gathered for a botanical wander across our fair sewage farm. Johnny Allan, Peter Alfrey, Frank Prater and Keith Miller joined me in looking down, rather than up, for a few hours. We were briefly joined by Grant, Tank and the Prof.

Recent rain has given the vegetation a much needed boost, and there are parts of the farm that are virtually impenetrable, with chest-high nettles, mallow and hogweed making progress slow and tricky. However, our route around the south lake, along the stream, through the mounds to 100 acre, (via Pongo Park) rewarded us with a good mornings plant list. Highlights were Marsh Dock (a population discovered last year on a bed on 100 acre), Dittander (by the northern enclosed lagoon), Narrow-leaved Water Plantain (south lake), Fool's Watercress, Horseradish and Water Figwort.

The boys spent a great deal of time quizzing me on identification features of melilots, sowthistles, willowherbs and other confusing groups. Frank showed his increasing knowledge by putting me right a couple of times...

The Beddington SF plant list is coming along nicely. At the end of this year I will collate all the information that we are gathering and produce a 'half-term' report. I reckon we have a good couple of years left before a more definitive document will be ready.

Birth of a hawker

2011-06-24T06:56:00.000-07:00

This adult Southern Hawker was found in its final stage of leaving the larva earlier this morning. Shortly after the photograph was taken it took its first flight.

Botanical time travelling

2011-06-23T06:14:00.000-07:00

On the border between Nonsuch and Cheam Park, some kind-hearted soul has decided to create a wildflower meadow. I stood mesmerised by the sympathetic and frankly exciting mixture that had been chosen - Corn Chamomile, Cornflower, Corncockle, Corn Marigold - all that was missing was Corncrake!
This is how I imagine all field edges appeared when John Ray wandered the countryside in the late 17th century. Simply stunning.

Corncockle

Cornflower - the colour of summer skies...

...with the sun in the middle, courtesy of Corn Marigold

On my knees at Reigate Heath

2011-06-22T10:54:00.000-07:00

Knotted Clover - in good number

Birdsfoot - I've never seen so much

Burrowing Clover - hidden amongst the dwarf vegetation

Annual Knawel - still going strong

As you leave Reigate on the A25 heading towards Dorking, you will see a cricket pitch on your left hand side, flanked on one side by a row of chocolate-box cottages. This is the edge of Reigate Heath. Now park up and walk towards the bus stop that you can clearly see not 100m away. Now turn towards the cricket square and walk no more than 10m. At your feet you will find a marvellous selection of all the plants pictured above. If you carry on further, maybe another 70m, you will start to find Chamomile. All of these are diminutive plants in stature and all are doing well if todays visit is anything to go by. Maybe they all like dry springs followed by a wet, cooler spell. But hurry - they can all be burnt off if the sun returns!