NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

May 30th. There were none at dawn, but a couple of hours later they suddenly appeared, as if dropped en mass onto the very tip of Dungeness - Painted Lady butterflies (above). Every flowering Red Valerian plant held them and on approach they fell from the flower-heads, either onto the shingle or would circle off together, taking the short flight to the nearest source of nectar. Others did not move, busily feeding, refuelling from their cross-channel flight and getting ready for their next northward push. There were hundreds, possibly low thousands. I walked the road northwards from the lighthouses to the estate entry gate and sought out the Red Valerian - not as much as formerly found - each clump dripping with this migrant lepidoptera. It was mesmerising, these orange, black and white visitors from North Africa and the continent that had shared their arrival alongside some saharan dust and a cast of rare migrant moths. By lunchtime they had all gone, melted away. It left me feeling be...

"Prrrp...prrrp..." There aren't many bird calls that can illicit such a strong response from the birder than that of a European Bee-eater. They are uncommon enough to be valued, colourful of plumage to the extreme, graceful in flight and are rainbows with wings. Redolent of the Mediterranean and the Middle East they bring glamour and excitement to our ordinary world. So when I heard one call whilst eating an ice-cream and sitting chatting to Dave Bunney I knew that the day had just got a whole lot better - and more were to come! That afternoon (May 24th) we were to be treated to at least four of them flying around the point, giving their position away with calls to then reward us with low fly passes. Two of them decided to hang around Kerton Road Pit for long enough to enable all-comers to feast their eyes upon these apparitions calved from the sun, perching up on wires or sweeping above in the blue skies, feeding and calling, feeding and calling, feeding and calling. Bli...

I’ve just returned from a further spell of 12 days at Dungeness in Kent, making use of the facilities offered by Dungeness Bird Observatory (DBO). Once again this magical shingle kingdom bestowed upon me a trip that was full of highlights - further posts will cover the birds, invertebrates and detail one very long walk that was undertaken in the heat - but this post will concentrate on the emotions that were stirred during this late-May period, owing to a mixture of feeling the spirit of the Ness, interacting with the people who populated it and the sheer wonder of being able to walk across the shingle - at different times of day - and feel blessed to be part of something so huge that could inexplicably and suddenly collapse into something so small and personal. I cannot put my finger on it, and in some respects am glad that I can’t, but there are special forces - benign powers - that govern this corner of Kent. The overriding theme of this stay was of heat. Rarely have I felt so hot i...

Harry Cawkell would tap his pipe out, lean back into the common room chair, survey the eager faces before him and then begin. Anecdotes and stories, gossip and rumour, all had a place in the show that had now started. Harry, Dungeness Bird Observatory’s (DBO) long standing honorary secretary, loved nothing more than to talk about ‘the old times’ with any birders that happened to be in his orbit when he popped into the obs. For those of us who had known Harry for a few years the stories would be familiar, but we listened with avid interest regardless. Some of his stories were so familiar, and so rarely did he deviate in their telling, that we would know exactly what words were about to be spoken. Some of these became catchphrases. Harry’s stories - and Harry’s telling of them - became part of the Dungeness story itself. And then, in 1999, Harry died. And with him went those stories… They didn’t entirely go. Some of us remembered them, or at least the odd personally selected highlight. I...

In April 1976, I had booked accommodation at Dungeness Bird Observatory, in Kent, along with my birding friends Mark and Neil Greenway. Being one of the places that was dear to HG Alexander's heart, I was more than a little excited about being there, but my first impressions as we drove onto the peninsula were not favourable. It appeared an open waste of shingle, strewn with ramshackle dwellings and set against the backdrop of a vast nuclear power station that had squeezed perspective to such an extent that it appeared two-dimensional, as if it were merely an enormous theatrical backdrop. Peering from the car as it made its way along the single road towards the peninsula’s point, I wondered what on earth I have let myself in for. I had tenuous links to Dungeness from family trip’s taken to Camber Sands. On a cool July afternoon in 1972, sitting on the edge of a picnic rug, bare feet pushed into the sand and a frown on my face, I looked around in petulant boredom. I didn’t want to...

A long stay at Dungeness Bird Observatory (above) straddled these two months. For years, when a full-time working man, I longed after spending an entire autumn at DBO. Now that my employment is of a much looser arrangement, the time was ripe to ‘live the dream’. A whole autumn was a bit excessive, so I settled on a four week stay. November is an underrated month and is often overshadowed by its neighbour, October - but the former can be just as exciting and there is something about the dying autumn that has its very own vibe - so I was keen to spend at least the opening fortnight. Although primarily a birding trip, there is much else to see at Dungeness. My stay did not coincide with any appreciable insect migration, and, apart from a handful of Red Admirals and Clouded Yellows, it was quiet. However, what was on show and grabbed a lot of attention was the late and profuse flowering of many plants. It wasn’t just a case of the odd bloom either. Species such as Sea Campion was ram...

Alexander McQueen? Paul Smith? Ted Baker? These fashion houses better mind their backs and move aside because there's a new kid in town - Dungeness Bird Observatory! The warden and the committee have poached the best young designers in Europe to produce the 2015 'Pom Collection', which was launched at a star-studded, invitation-only soiree held in The Britannia Inn car park last month. For modest and affordable prices you can own one (or all) of the Pomarine Skua range - polo shirt (£15), sweat shirt (£20) and fleece (£25). And you can have any colour that you like, as long as that colour is black. They come in S, M, L, XL and XXL. Knowing the birding demographic, the sales of S and M will most probably be poor, as most birders are (a) middle-aged and (b) overweight - therefore the stock of L - XXL will be kept topped up! If you want to purchase any of these desirable garments (and why wouldn't you want to support one of the UK's foremost ornithological establi...