NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

Every five seconds a monotonous single call note was given – I didn’t know whether to describe it as a penetrating whistle or a hoot. Maybe a bit of both. We were straining to try and get a glimpse of the bird that was making it, but a mature tree in full leaf, in the middle of a field, and at dusk, were proving to be considerable stumbling blocks. After half an hour of standing on a road that ran alongside the field’s edge, the bird dropped out of the tree and made a short, direct flight into another, from where it started to call once more. We were lucky, as unlike most of the 150 birders present, we had been standing in the right place at the right time, able to watch the Scops Owl in flight. The views had not been great but were enough to make out a small grey owl, thinner and more drawn out in shape than a Little. And so, the sleepy Hampshire hamlet of Dummer found itself at the centre of the British birding universe, hosting the first twitchable Scop’s Owl of our lifetimes. Dave ...

Dawn at Canons Farm was a misty old affair, with barely a breath of wind. I went straight to the grassy field behind the farm house, where yesterday the flock of Whinchats were hanging out. For a good 20 minutes there was nothing on show, then they appeared, at least seven still present. I caught a glimpse of a warbler low among them, and in the couple of seconds that my binoculars were trained on it thought that it was possibly a Grasshopper Warbler. I waited awhile, but nothing popped up, and I supposed that it would be a case of letting one slip through my fingers again. Being entertained by the Whinchats, my attention was elsewhere when the warbler popped up again, this time quite close - indeed, it was a Grasshopper. It stayed perched on a dead stem of Common Sorrel for a good minute, allowing me to obtain a few pictures with the camera (above and below). It was a memorable morning, as a flock of five Golden Plover, a Yellow Wagtail and a Grey Wagtail all flew through eastwards, a...

Let's cut to the chase - locally, the birding has been poor. I'm not moaning - OK, I am a bit - but for all of the hours spent out in the field, the rewards have been slow and few. I've already alluded to a dearth of birds, with hardly any warbler, finch or tit flocks. There have been times when, after 10-15 minutes, I realise I haven't seen or heard a passerine. Really. Luchtime today found me at Canons Farm. I was getting into that all-to familiar state, of wondering where all the birds had gone, of starting to despair with how things were turning out - I was on the verge of writing my own blues song, something along the lines of 'The lonesome Canons Farm birding lament', when up popped a Whinchat. Ah, something, at least something. Then another. Now three. Five. I scanned back and forth across the field of long grass and dead hogweed. Each time another Whinchat was on show. They were mobile, all keeping to the same field, but frequently dropping down out of s...

I was close to completing my final year at Art College. The Easter break of two weeks was upon us, and I had just one place in mind as to where I would spend it – Dungeness. Teaming up with Tim Collins, we travelled down via Otford Field Pits (four Green Sandpipers, two Redshanks and 80 Common Snipe) and Shirley Moor (a Little Owl), arriving at the bird observatory after dark. It was a fortnight of heavy birding, with our horizons stretched across the greater Dungeness area, walking many miles over the energy-sapping shingle, building up our calf muscles as some compensation for the birding being, at times, slow. But we did have some success. In the observatory recording area we experienced a steady, if unremarkable, passage of migrant passerines, with peaks of Wheatear (20 on March 29th, 26 on April 2nd), Willow Warbler (30 on April 11th), Chiffchaff (15 on April 11th), Firecrest (five on March 28th and April 2nd), Meadow Pipit (100 on March 29th) and Black Redstart (five on April 9th...

The first twitch of 1980 also turned out to be the first dip. On the morning of January 26th, I stood on the narrow paths at Radipole Lake in Dorset along with several hundred other birders, forlornly searching every dyke and pool for the Pied-billed Grebe that had been found the previous day. The neighbouring reedbeds were quiet, a single singing Cetti’s Warbler and three Bearded Tits hardly enough to compensate for the lack of rarity. A skein of 24 White-fronted Geese that flew through were a surprise though, along with three Greenshanks. The grebe, however, was just toying with us, as we were back again the following weekend as it had resurfaced, this time allowing us to obtain close views almost as soon as we arrived. It sat close to a Little Grebe, dwarfing its European cousin, betraying a long, thick neck and anvil shaped head that seemed out of proportion to the small body. There was a hint of colour to the largely grey-brown plumage, with a black crown and russet cheeks. The bi...

I was sitting in the Britannia Inn at Dungeness as 1979 gave way to 1980. The cheering and embracing that greeted this passing of time’s baton was fuelled as much by alcohol as it was bonhomie. Keith and Fran Redshaw, Tim Collins and I stayed in the crowded public bar until 01.00hrs, when we purchased some ‘take-aways’ and then left to carry on our revelries back at the Redshaw’s house, conveniently situated next-door to the bird observatory. I made a mental note of the first piece of music that blasted out of Keith’s speakers in this brand-new decade – ‘Another Girl, Another Planet’ by the Only Ones – and there followed a heady mix of music, alcohol, and conversation until the first glimmer of daylight started to lighten the curtainless windows. We then picked up our binoculars, put on our jackets and boots, and went out into the fresh air. New Year’s morning is a time to cherish as a birder. The previous year’s slate has been wiped clean, with the scores and numbers in notebooks and ...

For the past two early-autumns I have visited a small section of the Sussex South Downs to get a birding fix. In a vague rectangle, between Burpham in the west, Steyning in the east, Chanctonbury in the north and Cissbury in the south, there is a delightful mix of chalk grassland, pasture, crop, copse and hedgerow, all with a good track record for birds in number and species of some repute. In my previous visits I have come to expect some big passerine flocks and migrant choked vegetation, but today was a bit of a disappointment. Passerine numbers were much depressed, especially warblers, and it was, at times, hard going. I did end up seeing a Marsh Harrier, a Hobby, four Yellow Wagtails, 13 Wheatears, five Whinchats, a Spotted Flycatcher, a Common Redstart, a Sedge Warbler and 50 Corn Buntings, so I cannot really complain. I will try and get back before September passes the baton to October, as this land is excellent for chats.