Farewell, farewell

Early March. Sometimes, out of the storm clouds comes sunshine, out of the murk, clarity. Dawn at Gorey, on the Channel Island of Jersey was bright but misty. The rising sun soon burnt off the mist to reveal a morning of rare brilliance. The light was ethereal, liquid, slightly hazy. A deep azure-blue upper sky became pearly white towards the horizon. The sea had been tamed, a benign swell softly lapping against the honeyed shingle. The houses, that rose steeply from the beach, dazzling white and with unblemished grey-tiled roofs, were as a film set. Palm trees competed with the riotous flower beds for my attention, with even Agapanthus coming into bloom. In the near distance Gorey Castle rose majestically from its rocky base, all-seeing over the centuries. It was all calm, all peaceful and a strange prelude to visiting my younger sister for the last time.

She had been admitted to a hospice a few days earlier, a long illness finally overcoming her. I had visited her the previous evening and was able to come to terms with the situation that we found ourselves in through her calmness and acceptance of what was to be. This mornings visit would be a different proposition altogether, knowing that our goodbye would be final. Somehow, this morning walk along the Gorey seafront, one that she loved to do, was creating a balm to what was coming up, the natural world putting a comforting arm around us all. 

My sister was an avid reader of this blog and any other social media platforms that I subscribed to. Although not a birder, botanist or moth-er, she appreciated natural history and enjoyed reading what I had written and was keen on finding out about the latest observations. We both followed Tottenham Hotspur and got to see the mighty Spurs together. Our love of music was also shared, although I had to begrudgingly accept that she was one of the few people who could beat me in any 'Name that Intro' competition and could accurately name the year of release of numerous random tracks, regardless of the music's era. Oh, she would also wipe the floor with me at Scrabble. My sister stood just shy of five feet tall, but her fight, energy and sheer willpower was out of proportion to her stature. She certainly did 'not go gentle into that good night' - Dylan Thomas would have been proud of her. She passed away on Saturday evening, 22nd March. We will miss her terribly.

Would she have wanted me to lay off of a round-up of my natural-history escapades during this most blemished March? Absolutely not! She'd have wanted to read about what had happened and maybe even enjoy the section about herself (particularly my bigging her up over Scrabble.) There were many times during this month when chasing random totals or giving a damn about how many Hawfinches were still around meant very little to me, but she wouldn't have wanted that  - that I know for a fact. So, here it is Sis, the monthly round-up for March 2025 (albeit several days early)...

This is the month that can flatter to deceive. Thoughts turn to incoming summer migrants and the days can be undeniably warm, suggesting that the winter has gone - and, to a point this is closer to the truth than not - but the month of March has a habit of giving a little bit to the birder before pulling down the shutters and making them wait a bit longer before we can truly feel as if a corner has been turned. Although it was relatively mild and dry in my part of the world I felt as if I were chasing my ornithological tail a bit, the few migrants that had been dribbling this far inland conspiring to miss me, although Chiffchaffs were on show, with 11 on 20th, 23 on 22nd and 60 on 27th, all counts from the Colley Hill to Box Hill area. A single Willow Warbler at Beddington on 26th could not make up for my lack of Wheatears and hirundines, although my efforts were largely away from sites that could be normally relied on the provide such species.  I spent a lot of time on the North Downs ridge. Although I didn't record a Hawfinch until 22nd they then became a regular occurrence in the notebook, with a peak of 50 on 22nd, birds being recorded from Box Hill, Bramblehall Wood, Mickleham Downs and Buckland Hills. Apart from that large count mentioned, there were plenty of singletons perched on top of bare trees, motionless for minutes at a time and easy to pick out even if I were several hundred metres away. Goshawks are obviously making their home here as each visit was rewarded with 1-2 birds. Visible migration was not a feature but there was a Chaffinch cameo of 444 heading east over Banstead on 9th. Stonechats, a normal staple component of early spring passage migrants, were largely missing.

I dedicated a 22km walk on 27th to my sister. We had both visited Colley Hill a few years ago and had sat at the top of the scarp slope looking out across the Surrey and Sussex weald, putting the world to rights. It seemed a good place to clear my head and lick my wounds (and a good excuse to get a long solid days birding in!) The sun was out, a gentle breeze came in from the west and, to a point, the birds played ball. She would have loved it. The main event was the number of raptors recorded, with some exhibiting a steady movement west, others thermaling up high and away. Final counts were - 8 Red Kite, 2 Goshawk, 6 Sparrowhawk 55 Common Buzzard, 7 Kestrel and a Peregrine.

So, if the birds largely disappointed it was just as well that this particular observer has a complete love of alien/naturalised plants. March is still a slow time for wild flowers to open up and sniff the early-spring air - however, there is a whole host of escapes that are more than willing to do so, especially the glut of daffodils and crocuses that are there to wade through, along with anenomes, starflowers and other bulb-like offerings. There is a senior member of the Surrey Botanical Society who holds a crucifix up against such plants, such as Professor Van-Helsing did against vampires, but I love them. I still revel in the moment that I came across vast amounts of soil dumped on the horse paddocks on Walton Downs at the turn of the millennium that was brimming with all sorts of exotic alien flower - it was like a florists and a well-stocked garden centre had exploded and scattered its goods across several hundred yards of Surrey countryside - which, by the way, included the first naturalised county record of Greater Honeywort (Cerinthe major). Happy days. Much time was spent walking the pavements, grass verges and alleyways of Banstead and Epsom looking for those opportunist plants that jumped the garden wall and fence to establish life in the nooks and crannies of brick walls and tarmacadam, grass verges and waste ground. I didn't neglect those species that are (or maybe are) truly wild - Green Hellebore, Rue-leaved Saxifrage and Toothwort among them.

I will now admit to abandoning my moth target for the year. The months of January to April can be terribly slow and disappointing for the suburban moth trapper. While woodland can provide significant results during these early months, the back garden recorder is mostly left wondering why they bothered to switch on the MV trap at all. Apart from the odd Dotted Chestnut or Blossom Underwing it can be underwhelming. I will, however, resume my moth time in mid-May but can be doing without the disappointment just to chase an annual target that had been pulled out of the air on a whim. I love the garden for moths in the summer and autumn, when previous results have been shown to reward the time and effort put in.

Peacock, Comma and particularly Brimstone butterflies became more numerous on the wing, and a Small Tortoiseshell at Box Hill on 27th was all the more notable due to last years awful numbers - a far cry from my youth when it was one of the most numerous of butterflies.

Having said farewell to my sister it is also time to say farewell to North Downs and Beyond. After 15 years, 2276 posts and over 1.8 million views it has run its time. Visitor numbers are still healthy but my enthusiasm for it has waned. Some suggest that blogging is a dying art, although there are still some fine exponents of it out there - they are just not as numerous as they once were. The long-form narrative that blogs are made up of has, without doubt, started to be superseded by small sound-bites that are found on other social media outlets. By writing a blog I have to admit that my written notebooks have suffered - they are certainly not what they were 'back in the day' - maybe this will make me inject some much needed life into them. Yes, paper and pen still have a place in my world! I will keep the blog live as I do dip into it from time to time (my notebooks do not have a search engine) and my blog stats show that older posts are revisited multiple times. Thanks for dropping by. You'll find me on BlueSky if you want to continue to read about what I've seen and my participation on various What'sApp groups is still ongoing. 

All the best in whatever floats your natural history boat, be that Hawfinches, orchids, or, as Neil Randon once said of my various interests, "mothy things and twigs".