Posts

Bladerunner plus six

I'm pretty sure that most of us measure our lives in blocks of time, based around the calendar year. I know I do. Always have done. There's something cathartic about December 31st giving way to January 1st, a cleansing of negatives which are now going to be turned into positives - at least, that is the hope. And this is no more true than when it comes to our natural history recording - think year lists, resolutions, plans - all that scheming and plotting that bouys us up during the dark nights of early winter. When I used to year list (some time way back when, before mobile phones and the internet) I would forgo an alcoholically infused New Year's Eve to ensure that I was out of the door, pre-dawn, on New Year's Day, ready to add species to the brand new notebook (always a brand new notebook), to start to populate that shiny new year's list. Madness really, rushing around celebrating each species even though I'd seen most of them 24-hours previously... What of n

October - Hawfinches return

My plans were thrown into disarray on September 30th - I had hoped to stay on at Dungeness Bird Observatory well into mid-October, but a staff member fell ill with a nasty bout of Covid, so I thought it best to return home. As much as it was disappointing to miss out on more 'shingle time' it at least gave me the chance to do a bit of Uber-patch vis-migging, something that I am quite partial to. So, Colley Hill beckoned on October 3rd which happily coincided with a flock of seven Ring Ouzels that were inadvertently flushed from scarp-top scrub, with one female/imm staying behind to allow close, if partially hidden, observation. The nearby farm fields at Mogador were full of brassica, enticing at least 110 Skylark to linger within the crop. I returned to Colley Hill the following day ( 4th ) which was blessed with a mad 30-minute spell which saw two Great White Egret fly north, a Woodlark alight on the open sward before heading west and a single Hawfinch fly right past my head -

A special day

In birding, timing can mean the difference between an average day in the field and that of a spectacular one. Good timing can be helped by reading the weather conditions correctly, or understanding local conditions but it is more often down to pure luck. In this case, I just got lucky... I had not visited Dungeness since March 2022, quite a gap for me. It was high time that I once more trod the shingle and my timing of a visit was down to several factors, mostly a personal liking for mid-late autumn but also because I needed to be at home until September 20th and could not make the journey south until then. I also chose to stay at the bird observatory for a few days rather than make it a day trip. All this conveniently found me stepping outside the observatory's back door in the breaking dawn of Sunday 22nd September, quickly making my way to the fishing boats, an area I prefer to stand to best appreciate any visible bird migration, an aspect of birding that I find exhilarating.  A

Not quite phasing

Phasing. A good word that, used quite a bit in the counter-culture that was 1970s twitching. If somebody had phased they had given up going for rare birds.  "Dave didn't go for the 'legs or the Bobolink, he's phased" This was said in hushed tones, as if Dave had recently departed this life. To phase was to exit stage right (or left), to cease to be a player, to be consigned to the rank of 'dude' - another good 1970s twitching word. Now, my question to myself is 'Am I phasing?" We are in mid-August. I would normally be scouring the nearby downs for passage warblers and chats. Even having fantasies of Wrynecks and shrikes. But I'm not. Has fifty years of birding experience told me that to do so will only solicit disappointment? Just a Wheatear or two, maybe even a Whinchat? I could wait a week and drive an hour south and see hundreds of migrants on the South Downs, double-figure counts of Spotted Flycatchers and Common Redstarts to boot. Why not

200k Manx

The 'insert image' tool is still disabled regardless of my efforts to correct it, so until the fault rectifies itself (which apparently it can do) my blog posts will have to do without images to brighten up an otherwise unbroken sea of words. To be honest that doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would, as this blogging lark has always been more about the words to me - just as well with the current situation. So, where was I?... Ah yes, there was going to be a post about my recent long holiday in Cornwall. What started as a two-week family holiday became one of three-and-a-half weeks, due to a happy set of circumstances that you needn't be bothered with. It was very much a family holiday, but as usual I took along the optics (and the camera, which is being made largely redundant as far as blogging is concerned, although if you follow me on X, WhatsApp or even that quiet place for the more elderly - Facebook - you will still see the results of my automatic point-and

Blank

I would like to post about my recent stay in Cornwall, but am having a problem with Blogger - when attempting to insert an image, and then selecting the 'upload from computer' option, I am getting a blank screen, not allowing me the luxury of selecting said image - same outcome if I try and select an image by clicking on the 'Photos' option. I've Googled the problem and attempted to rectify the situation by clearing my cache and trying several other suggestions, but no luck. So, unless the problem self-rectifies I will be left with the choice of sending out my posts sans-images (dull) or not posting at all. Any ideas?

Eyes to the downland skies

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Epsom Downs (plus the adjoining Walton Downs) has an ornithological history that has been documented -  in fits and starts - over the years, from the Victorian bird-catchers up to the (very few) 21st-century observers of which I am one of that number. My own time 'up on the downs' has been rather sporadic, but has rewarded me, with Arctic Skua, Quail, Honey Buzzard and Osprey the headliners. There have also been times when good numbers of birds revealed themselves to me while on the move, most strikingly the amazing Stonechat passage of early-October 2022 that peaked at 65+ on 6th with up to three Dartford Warblers in tow. Days of notable swift, pipit and hirundine visible migration have also been enjoyed.  Last autumn I dedicated a few days to staking out the skies above these downs which, although lacking in ideal weather conditions, still provided numbers that suggested that a more concerted effort would be rewarding - a few sessions with southerly passage of Meadow Pipits (