NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

So the government have spoken. We are entering the second lockdown. We are being asked to make essential journeys only. Unlike lockdown during the Spring, I am not going to suggest the way that birders should act on this advice, but my personal response will be to only bird from home by foot. There is no scientific rationale behind it, but I will not be getting into a car to carry out my birding. I will start tomorrow (November 1st) and stop on December 2nd, when the projected lockdown will end. During this time I will keep a list of the birds that I record. It will be my way of helping out to the cause of slowing down the virus. During the 6-week spring lockdown I recorded 70 species that were seen just from the garden. Can I match that? Let's see... #BWKM0 became a bit of a thing back in March - started by an Italian ornithologist to gather some camaraderie amongst locked-down Italian birders, it gathered pace and was adopted across the world. This very blog hosted over 60 garden...

It's late autumn, it's been raining, therefore logic suggested that there would be a lot of fungi sending fruiting bodies up above ground. My morning visit to the beech woodland close to Mickleham was a partial success - yes, there was fungi, but not in the numbers that I was expecting. Maybe it will be better in the next couple of weeks. I'm not anything other than a mycological dabbler, so I was quite pleased to identify (within reason) twenty species: Orange Bonnet, Lumpy Bracket, Porcelain Fungus, Southern Bracket, Turkeytail (below), Beech Woodwart, Candlesnuff Fungus, Green Elfcup, Oak Pin, Toothed Crust, Marasmius cohaerrens, Fairy Inkcap, Lemon Disco, Flat Oystering, Burgundydrop Bonnet, Lilac Bonnet, Stinkhorn, Ivory Woodwax, Inky Mushroom and Cabbage Parachute. Haven't they got fantastic names? The Stinkhorn is always a highlight - foul smelling and covered in flies (but which species?) Today's three individuals all lacked the black goo (spore mass) that n...

Dryad's Saddle Yesterday I had the bright idea of spring-cleaning (or should that be autumn-cleaning) my Pan-species list (PSL). If you want to find out more about this PSL madness have a look here.  My PSL 'career' has been one of bursts of enthusiasm, followed by troughs of neglect, but the list has always been steadily maintained even if not actively pursued. Even before Mark Telfer launched the PSL initiative, I had already been keeping such a list (all taxa species personally recorded in the UK), and it was a pleasant surprise to find out that others were also doing so. My Top Ten listing in the first 'league' table was a false dawn as I soon started to fall down the ladder as others joined in  - many of them professional ecologists. Even now, hovering around 40th position, is not a true reflection on who has seen what in the UK, as I know of many naturalists who have recorded far more than I but who do not appear. I do not keep an all-encompassing database of ...

Sheffield Park in East Sussex is famed for its autumn colour, so Katrina and I paid it a visit this morning. The gardens were largely laid out in the 18th-century by Capability Brown. The overall effect was quite stunning, if a little saccharine for my taste, but there is room in this world for a classically-influenced wet-dream garden as much as there is for a bit of decent birding habitat I suppose.

The Merveille du Jour is a striking species of moth, as the photograph of the individual above, that came this morning to the Banstead MV, attests. The direct translation of its French common name is 'wonder of the day' - most apt. The first one that I laid eyes on was at Spurn Bird Observatory in October 1985, when birding legend John Cudworth walked into the common room with one perched on the end of a finger. A 'wow' moment if ever there was one, as he was crowded by a mob of appreciative birders. For some it would have been the first time that they had ever taken notice of a moth. Here in Banstead they are not quite annual, so when one comes along they are rightly treated with reverence. As we get to the back end of the autumn the number of moths, both individuals and species, drops off. But the lepidopterist cannot pack up the MV yet! It is a good time to jam in on a migrant or two, especially if a plume of warm air comes up from the south of Europe. There are also...

The following three natural history books were published during the year and deserve as much publicity and praise as they can get. If you haven't read them then I can whole-heartedly recommend each and every one. Greenery by Tim Dee is part travelogue, using the season of Spring as a framework on which to hang a series of essays covering much more than the awakening of the natural world. It is a thought-provoking book that ends with the author pondering his own life's journey, the fall into autumn being mirrored by his own bodies frailties. Powerful stuff and, as always from Mr Dee, superbly written.  His Imperial Majesty by Matthew Oates is the author's love letter to the Purple Emperor butterfly. For a book that is dense with intrinsic information it is nothing but a joyful read. The insect’s life cycle, distribution, abundance and a site gazetteer is amalgamated into the story of all those obsessives who spend each summer in HIM's presence.  Owls of the Eastern Ice...

Yesterday afternoon, in dull light and rain, I came across a strikingly pale Stonechat in a grassy paddock at Little Woodcote in Surrey. It had something of the Whinchat about it, all creamy peaches and obvious supercillium, but it was distant and flighty. My schoolboy error was in not having my scope with me, and seeing that I needed to get home, the bridge camera came out and I took a couple of dodgy shots. These were enough to elicit interest from a few birders, one of which, Peter Alfrey, met me shortly after first light this morning to try and see if the bird was (a) still present and (b) a wanderer from further east. Thankfully the bird had stayed overnight and had remained in the meadow, and not only that, it was an awfully lot closer than yesterday. A ‘typical’ female Stonechat was keeping it company, highlighting the striking paleness of ‘our’ birds underparts, lacking the orange-russet tones of its typical hibernans companion. Again, the supercillium was marked and obvious. ...