NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

Common Buzzard used to be a screaming rarity in the south-east of England. Some time in the late 1980s they started to appear with more frequency, although it was still a good day if you saw one. My first in Surrey and Kent was not recorded until 1995. By the turn of the millennium numbers were definitely on the rise, to the point that it was no longer a surprise when one flew into sight, but they were normally encounters with single birds. Then came the multiple encounters, and the rest, as they say, is history. At Dungeness, the Common Buzzard story is a similar one of gradual infiltration as a regularly encountered species. It is now a few years since a scan of the horizon - especially from the RSPB reserve towards Lydd - almost guaranteed seeing Common Buzzard. In recent times there has been a new dimension to sky watching here - that of 'raptor days' - primarily on sunny and calm days in April/May and August/September, and the Common Buzzard is a major component of them....

How can a flock of big white birds be so difficult to count? When Colin T located eight Cattle Egrets in a field close to Boulderwall Farm, the quickly gathering clans, scopes at the ready, attempted to match his count. The egrets chose a roughly vegetated field with plenty of dips and folds which, together with the cattle, provided plenty of hiding places. Eight became nine, soon ten, then finally eleven. Were there any more lurking unseen? Martin C's evening egret roost count numbered six Great and eleven Cattle, so some vindication was had for our final daytime total. 'Our' flock may be 40 short of the recent Devon 'mega count', but it was impressive all the same.

A steady rainfall from 08.00 - 14.00hrs saw plenty of tea and coffee drinking before us birders scattered to all four corners of Dungeness to see what the precipitation had brought us. I chose a very dry corner courtesy of the RSPB hides. The open water on both Burrowes and ARC were covered with hawking Sand Martins, some 2,000 of them. However, as arresting a sight this undoubtably was, the lack of grounded waders was disappointing. After the rain came sun, and, back at the observatory came the flycatchers with it. Figures that 30 years ago would have barely raised an eyebrow are now notable - 10+ Pied and 4 Spotted. I spent several hours watching them, along with the ever expanding chat flock in the desert, that comprised 13 Stonechat, 5 Whinchat and a Wheatear.

A strange day, with soporific spells interrupted by sudden bursts of 'happening'. The first occurred at 06.15hrs when a tight flock of  c400 Sand Martins appeared low over the point, slaloming through the bushes as if water flowing around a boulder. They were silent, which matched the calm cotton wool weather. The second was a mass emergence of flying insects (sorry, I cannot be more specific) that shook up hundreds of gulls into a spot of aerial snacking, to be joined by 1,000+ Starlings, doing their best to mimic feeding hirundines. And last, but not least, when the sun burned away the stubborn cloud in the early afternoon up to 200 Migrant Hawkers took to the wing, filling the lower trapping area air space with their erratic patrolling.

After a three month absence, I'm back on the Dungeness shingle for a stay. For how long? A piece of string comes to mind... My itinerary on arrival was one that was target specific - RSPB for American Black Tern and observatory fridge for Beautiful Marbled. Both successful. Both worthy in their differing ways. The purist will salivate at the subtle tern and deride the Lepidoptera in the pot. However, my purity is sullied. What was unadulterated was the splendid loose flock of chats that I spent over an hour with in the desert, with up to eight Stonechat, two Whinchat and a Wheatear. They tolerated me as they moved around a small area of gorse and broom, in the process picking up 3-4 Whitethroats and two Great Tits that adhered themselves to the mobile chats. As dark fell we wandered out to take in the Mediterranean vibe of the singing Tree Crickets. It's good to be back.

Pipit Meadow* is the rather twee name that has been given to a field in the 'greater' Canons Farm area, just north of Ruffett Wood and south of the housing in Holly Lane West. When I first knew of the area some twenty years ago it was a grassy field which was, shortly afterwards, ploughed and planted with crops. And then, maybe two years ago, the field was left alone and allowed to revert back to 'the wild', whatever that means in reality. As can be seen from the picture above, it has a patchy look to it, with bare areas offset by carpets of returning wildflower. Today I took a closer look. I cannot claim that my 'look' was a thorough one. I spent an hour criss-crossing the field, which is at its highest in the south and drops before flattening out along the northern boundary. The northern half seems to be better for plants, and here the most obvious species is Scarlet Pimpernel, great carpets that must number in millions of flowers. Dotted amongst this are...

This afternoon's visit to Canons Farm was made with birds firmly in mind. We are now into late August, the time for chats, warblers and hirundines to build in numbers as they pass through on their way southwards. Southern coastal watch-points are doing OK as it goes, and as much as the inland birder does not set their sights as high as 'our friends by the sea', it is fair enough for us to hope for a few ornithological crumbs to come our way. After a couple of hours of tramping around the patch, I was deflated. The hedgerows and copses were empty. No calling warblers and no proudly perched chats. To save the day I needed to take off my ornithological hat and replace it with my botanical one. The new destination was the steep field to the east of Fames Rough, where a rather fine colony of Devil's-bit Scabious can be found. Was it having a good year? Oh yes! Tens of thousands of flowerhead were blooming - and this is a scarce plant locally. Take a look for yourself: ...