NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

Another morning that was spent in the snow at Canons Farm. I was on the edge of a cloud bank for much of the time, being in either bright sunshine or snow-bearing greyness - at times this line was clearly delineated and made for a surreal and spectacular sight - my left half bathed in a golden ‘warmth’, my right chilled and spattered with ice. Headline news (of sorts) was that I got in on the cold-weather movement that has been recorded over the past couple of days, with a modest return of 25 Lapwing west and a couple of Golden Plover north. The passerine flock that has been faithful to the site for several weeks now had reduced by 50% overnight, now numbering 100 birds (50 Skylark and 50 Linnet). They fed in the open, between bare strips dividing the rows of stubble, with the larks leaving some tell-tale traces behind in the snow (below). A bit of video of some of these birds feeding is also provided. A morning for living in the moment and appreciating what was set out before me.

You wait three years for another 'Beast from the East' to turn up, and when it comes it has very little of the beast in it - better for the birds, not so good for the birder seeking a thrill. As far as the 3km area is concerned, the snow sort of came on Sunday and dribbled its way onto the ground throughout both Monday and today, in fits and starts. The easterly wind is cold, but is not getting above force 2-3, and does not carry that rapier like edge that the Beast did. Standing water has hardly frozen, and it was surprising to be walking along muddy paths this morning that were soft. However, some have been treated to a bit of overhead wader movement in response to the cold weather - to the north, south, east and west of me, Lapwings, Golden Plover and Common Snipe have enlivened many a skywatch, but even though I have diligently been out in the field for the past three days, not a single Lapwing has passed over me. I cannot complain, my home area has provided me with many me...

For those of us who live on the edges of London, snow is almost as unusual as finding as BBRC rarity - not quite annual and worth talking about when it does happen. The 'white stuff' started to fall by mid-morning and deposited a good couple of inches before stopping by lunch time. My knee-jerk reaction to snow is to stare up into the skies just in case a few birds have been made to move, but it takes more than a bit of localised winter to stir things up. Never the less, I did visit Canons Farm this afternoon and the snow had in fact played its part in providing a bit more to look at, as at least 200 Skylarks had gathered on InFront George East (that is the name of a field by the way), along with 75 Linnets. The Barn Owl put on a further show, short video attached. I will continue to stare up, hoping for a wayward Golden Plover or Snipe to add to the growing 3km lockdown list.

Langley Bottom Farm has appeared on this blog many times - mostly because of the fine arable flora that is present. Keen students of ND&B will remember that the Woodland Trust has bought the farm and are currently planting up large areas to create a Millennium Wood. Thankfully they are leaving plenty of the fields alone and the early signs are good that the rare arable flora will be looked after. Last summer was the first in which no crops were grown. The fields were left to run wild, a tangle of grass and flower. Most of the fields have been cut back (above) and others left well alone (below). The upshot of this 'wildness' is that there is plenty of seed on the ground, and where there is seed, there are birds. Any scan across the farm revealed good numbers of birds, moving along hedgerows, dodging between copses and wheeling over the open ground. My final counts are very much minima - Skylark (80), Fieldfare (145), Redwing (75), Goldfinch (100), Brambling (1) and...

I've been bad. I've neglected my moths - no MV out in the garden since mid-February. And I've largely ignored my flowers - barely glanced at them to be honest. Trouble is, if I don't keep looking at them and naming them, then I lose what little information I'd retained. It means a return to basics, a need to search once again for the commonest names and an uphill struggle to try and remember salient identification features. Does it matter? No, not really, but it does seem a shame to 'go back to square one' when you've put a lot of effort in over the years to try and get to the level of 'competent'. I was wandering around a very quiet Priest Hill this morning when I had a pang of regret over this situation. As much as I've enjoyed the many hours spent birding at this site over the past four months, it's a little like driving up a cul-de-sac - you do need to turn around at some point. So, the MV will be going out again soon and a trek onto ...

The unfurling of a crocus is all that it takes for me to believe that an invisible line has been crossed in the progression of the seasons. Winter might still hold all of the trump cards, but Spring has peeked over the parapet and has taken a look around. After spying that crocus, I spent an hour at Priest Hill and was delighted to hear up to four Skylarks in song and display - the first this year. This species has been otherwise sullen so far. A Common Buzzard also crossed the airspace (the first since early autumn here) and drew an escort of corvids that frantically and noisily chased it away. We have quite a marked Spring passage of this raptor, and I wouldn't mind guessing that this is an early migrant. We may still see snow, frost and freezing cold, but the next season in line has already put a marker down.