NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

This is the third in an occasional series looking at bird species that have fared well - and those not so well - across the uberpatch over the last 50-odd years. I first set foot on Epsom Common (Surrey) in December 1974. I had been decanted from a bus that had stopped on the Ashtead Road, then followed a public footpath that took me over a railway line and on to an open area that was characterised by scrub, mature Silver Birch, muddy tracks and a fully-fledged woodland in the near distance. The photograph above was taken in February 2023 which, apart from the newly laid footpath, is a fairly good representation of what the area looked like 52 years ago, at least if you can imagine that the tree height was generally lower. Over the following two years this became one of my regular birding haunts, always coming onto the common from this direction and, more often than not, bringing me into contact with Willow Tits, regardless of the time of year. The nasal, slightly sneery call was a dea...

Birds on visible migration (vis-mig) can provide some of the most spectacular of ornithological experiences, so much so that there is a band of birders who dedicate their time to seeking out such events. I count myself as one of them albeit on a lower plane than the most obsessive of aficionados. It is a sub-sect of the birding family that will spend hours scouring weather maps for tell-tell signs of a possible upcoming vis-mig happening and will then ensure that they are at their chosen vantage point by, or shortly after, dawn. There are websites devoted to the observations gathered by such birders (for example Trektellen ) and also WhatsApp groups where data can be instantly shared. It is an inclusive world in which the celebration of bird migration is a central pillar. People that you have never met become virtual friends and places that you have never visited become as familiar as your own back garden. Those that get their vis-mig kicks from sea watching will hopefully excuse my la...

This is the second in an occasional series looking at bird species that have fared well - and those not so well - across the uberpatch over the last 50-odd years. In 1974, the year of the birth of my ornithological journey, Common Buzzard was not a species that you could even think of seeing in London and the Home Counties. Or in 1984. Or, for that matter, 1994. If I wanted to avail myself of a bit of Buzzard action I needed to go to the New Forest or undertake a long car journey to the West Country where I might be able to feast my eyes on one flying over a major A-road in Wiltshire, Devon or Cornwall. They were special. They were 'an event'. How times change... It was not until 28 September 1999 that a Common Buzzard and I crossed paths on the uberpatch, a single at Holmethorpe SP. It had been expected as they had been increasing in number in the SE of England, but was still something to be celebrated. The next encounter was one that flew over the M25/23 junction as I was sit...

This is the first in an occasional series looking at bird species that have fared well - and those not so well - across the uberpatch over the last 50-odd years. When I began birding in 1974 there had been under 200 Little Egrets recorded in Great Britain and Ireland and at that time this total had only recently been bumped up by the unprecedented numbers recorded during what was referred to as an invasion in 1970, which appeared to be very much an anomaly. Out of those records the Surrey contribution was a big fat zero. (It is worth mentioning that an excavation at a site in Southwark - part of the VC17 recording area - had discovered remains of this species dating back to 1500-1700 AD. It would have taken some juggling of the concept of time for a 1974 vintage birder to have been able to claim that one on their county list.) Needless to say, the idea that I might see a Little Egret at all, let alone in my home county of Surrey, was very small indeed. It is hard to appreciate that thi...

  I fancied a change today. The thought of a day being spent on the North Downs didn't power up my ornithological enthusiasm, so I considered the areas that are adjacent to the uberpatch, looking for inspiration. Out came the trusty OS map, unfolded as far as it would go, hardly manageable yet strangely satisfying and absorbing - you can really lose yourself in the intricacies printed before you, following the contour lines with your finger, taking in the place names, deciphering the symbols - rituals that have been undertaken for many years by those who stride out across the land, something that loses its warmth and connection if you choose to stare at a phone screen instead. Old school. And there it was, my inspiration. Burstow Park Farm. Served by several footpaths that cross the farmland between Bransland Wood and Outwood Common. I hadn't just plucked the location out of the air though. A few years ago my very good friend Gordon Hay had located a wintering flock of Yellowha...

Time, its passing and the effects that it has upon us is something that readily colours my birding. Apart from being a handy hook to hang a rare bird or spectacular movement on, a date can also bring to memory a place, people, a conversation, a feeling. A bit of a Proust's madeleine cake moment. I was idly daydreaming about birding places recently and my mental rolodex randomly settled upon Portland Bill. September 1977 sprang immediately to mind. Why then and not the date that I saw a Yellow-billed Cuckoo (September 1979) or Ivory Gull (February 1980) on that fair island? I then recalled that September 1977 visit - not blessed with loads of birds, certainly no rarity - but blessed with a calming, restful, place defining moment. Us young birders (for we were young back then) were crammed into a smallish car, parked on the road that heads downhill towards the car park and obelisk. The observatory was full, so no bed was to be had there. Our student pockets would not stretch to a hot...