NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

September has positively flown by. My 'Uberpatch Meteorological Autumn' project (a rather pompous construct to spur me on to cover the local patches throughout September - November) is a third of the way complete. I can say that it has, so far, not totally lived up to expectations. Looking back over the last four weeks has certainly had its moments but these have been heavily outweighed by periods of disappointment. It was always likely to be this way, no dry inland birding patches are going to compete with what the coast - or local sewage farms or reservoirs - will be able to serve up, but the purpose of my efforts are to highlight what is possible across areas that are largely shunned and neglected by the avid birder. There were times when I berated myself for yet again treading this 'path less taken' but then something - invariably something quite modest - delighted me and I was once again fully engaged. I can truthfully say that I have got out of bed each morning wi...

I'm now well into week four of the 'Uberpatch Meteorological Autumn' project and will wait until the end of September before going through the highs and lows that have been experienced. I have been doing a lot of sky-watching, or vis-migging if you prefer that description, and this has opened up avenues of pleasure, frustration and bewilderment, especially in trying to understand what weather conditions are best to witness a decent movement and where I'm best to position myself to do so. It isn't straight forward! I have a number of 'go-to' places to practice this dark art and all can produce the goods. In rough order of prominence they are: Denbies Hillside; Colley Hill; Box Hill; Epsom Downs; my Banstead garden; Canons Farm; and Priest Hill. Apart from my garden all have great viewing conditions (open sky, long horizons) although Box and Colley Hill lack decent northward views. This post is a distillation of what I think I know about autumn bird movements...

On August 14th this year I found a bright green Shieldbug in the MV moth trap which I was pretty sure was a new species for me - not the common Green (Palomino prasina) but the far more localised Southern Green (Nezara viridula), a species that has been increasing in eastern and southern parts of England since the turn of the millennium. The photograph below illustrates nicely the presence of white dots at the front of the scutellum, an identification pointer for viridula . Then a few days ago an unfamiliar insect landed on my arm as I was making a cup of tea in the kitchen. After quickly potting it up I was able to identify it - with old-fashioned perusal of field guides (albeit on-line) - as a mid-instar Southern Green! I think you might agree that this younger stage knocks its final appearance into a cocked hat.

It is just over a year since I took possession of my hearing aids - obtained because I had lost the ability to hear high-end frequency sounds which includes the calls of Swifts, Redwings, Tree Pipits (all unless they are close) plus most grasshoppers and crickets - and if I want to be completist, also some annoying human-manufactured bleeps and pulses that accompany certain electrical goods (but thankfully not fire or smoke alarms!) I only use them when vis-migging where the ability to hear calls is quite a plus point. However, since using them I am just as mindful to leave them in their cases. Here's why... When I first tried my hearing aids out in the field it was really eye-opening (or should that be ear-opening). I could hear sounds that I didn't know existed. I stood at the top of the garden and marvelled at the bird calls that were audible. I took the ear pieces out and was at once plunged into a muffled semi-silence - yes I could hear a Robin calling and a nearby Great T...

The rather grandly named 'Uberpatch Meterological Autumn Birding Blitz 2026' - or 'UMA26' for short - kicked off at 05.40hrs at Reigate Hill on Tuesday 1st September. Since then I have had five days worth of the project, with most of them providing a good eight-nine hours of birding. The next few days will see a slight lessening of hours in the field as I still need to conduct a 'normal' life alongside that of trying to wring out plenty of ornithological action. However, spare moments will see me staring skywards and there will still be plenty of local excursions. The birding has been undeniably slow, which is to be expected, any days of action more of a welcome bonus. The real aim of this folly is to prove to myself, and interested others, that wherever you look, if you look regularly and diligently enough then rewards will come, be those rewards in the guise of scarcity, number or just the pleasure that such an undertaking can bring. So far there has been no c...

I've mentioned this saying several times on this blog, but it is one that I come back to time and again. It is: 'Comparison is the thief of joy' When I first heard it I wasn't really sure what it was on about. Then I gave it a bit of thought. Then I got it. We are easily persuaded that what is going on elsewhere is better than what we are experiencing in the here and now. The birds that are being seen. The moths that are being trapped. The weather. People having a good time. You get my drift. What you have set out before you can then lessen in quality and shrink in meaning - if you allow it to do so. After having been on a short holiday with my wife last week I was planning on going down to Dungeness for 10 days, staying at the Bird Observatory. Everything was lined up. At the last moment I pulled out. I still don't know why, but I didn't have the drive, the oomph, the wanting to. So I stayed at home. I then decided to book into the said observatory for a three ...

A week to go until the launch of my 'meteorological autumn birding blitz' and since I committed myself by announcing it on social media I have been humbled by the response - OK, maybe not hundreds of correspondents but at least a dozen birders have commented on the undertaking and all have sent words of kindness and encouragement. In fact one of them (north-Kent's very own Kevin Thornton) even wrote a poem/hymn in its honour, which I share with you below - with the author's blessing. Something that I am eternally grateful for is that even after 50+ years of birding I can still get excited and enthusiastic about local, simple birding. I know plenty who cannot stomach time with their optics unless they are at a hotbed of ornithological action. I do get it, I have slipped into this mindset myself in the past. That I have chosen to plough a relatively lonely and local furrow rather than hit the Kent shingle this autumn was actually an easy choice in the end. In all honesty ...

Fate has spoken - presumed plans for this autumn's birding have not gone according to said plan - so I find myself cooking up a project which, although modest, has got my juices flowing. A local 'meteorological autumn' birding blitz will be undertaken, all ornithological effort to be committed across the downland areas of my self-proclaimed 'uberpatch' - in effect the scarp slope of the North Downs between Ranmore and Reigate Hill plus the northern spur that runs up to Banstead. This removes Beddington Farmlands and the Holmethorpe sand pit complex from my orbit, both areas that already receive decent coverage. Meteorological autumn runs from September 1st - November 30th. During that time I will endeavour to cram as much birding in as I can considerately do, keeping to the areas defined above. To many birders this will be an act of folly - committing yourself to cover a largely waterless area which is not heavily birded because it is not, to be brutally honest, all...

A short non-birding break in Gloucestershire and Herefordshire was based in the small but charming village of Newnham, nestled on the western bank of the River Severn. The accompanying watery images were all taken from there on one of our wanders along a very short section of its length. A morning yomp through a tiny part of the Forest of Dean (4 miles of trail close to Speech Hall) was most enjoyable and enlivened by a group of six Wild Boar which we happily let forage and pass before we continued on our walk - one off them posed for the camera (above). Two Clouded Yellow butterflies in one of the few clearings was a surprise. We also visited Ross-on-Wye and crossed the Welsh border to look around Monmouth - mainly in search of coffee and cake under the disguise of culture.

The vegetation in the region of Banstead (Surrey) can best be summed up by using the following adjectives - crisped, wilted, stressed, exhausted; and the same exercise for flowers throws up spent, sparse, finished and missing. The 'fifth' heatwave across our country has done in a lot of the greenery (have you seen the colour of grass recently?) and dried out the rest to a point where a stray spark can ignite a major event. This seems to be the first year in which many people have finally climbed down off of the 'climate fence' and have started to take the whole subject more seriously. Many will climb back up on to it if we get through the remainder of the summer without further drama, especially if we have a wet autumn. Worrying times. The hot weather has been responsible for a large number of migrant insects to appear in the UK in numbers that were previously the stuff of fantasy. A few sites have clocked up 500-1,000+ Small Mottled Willows in a single night and - reme...

I really haven't got my act together since I returned from Dungeness at the end of May - besides a family holiday to Cornwall at the beginning of July my time in the field has been woeful. A lack of oomph, missing mojo, the relentless heat, you name it and I'll re-christen it as an excuse. Last Friday I decided that enough was enough and I was long overdue some time out 'in the wild'. Surrey Hills? No, no way, parched dry and lacking in birds at the best of times, I needed a bit of an ornithological shot in the arm and my destination was to be a little further afield.  I settled on the Arun Valley in West Sussex. I've searched the river valley either side of Arundel before and have always had a great day out. PLUS... Arundel FC were playing at home to Ringmer AFC in Division One of the Southern Combination at 3pm on Saturday afternoon, so I put one and one together and came up with a big fat two (birding and football!) - what wasn't to like? I arrived at Arundel...

We all need our happy places. These happy places become our mind's bolt-holes, a mechanism to reset, good for our mental wellbeing and act as refuges in times of trouble or uncertainty. They can stabilise our thought processes, remove us from the present if the present is somewhat unpalatable or, if we just wish to embark on a bit of happy time-travelling, are a ready made destination to do so. And - because they exist in reality, are beacons of calmness to be visited when time and logistics allow. Fortunately I have several happy places. It will come as no surprise to long-time readers of this blog that Dungeness is one of them. To save on any repetition I will not dwell there as my reasons for its inclusion have already been shared with you down the years. But there are others. For a happy place to become a happy place can take years to be accepted as such or it may be instantaneously given the honour. Off the top of my head here is the first of my (non-Dungeness) happy places. O...

The Blogger analytics figures report that, as of this moment, ND&B has been visited 3,044,462 times. On July 26th alone 20,385 of you clicked on your mice - or pressed your screen - to see what was going on. Nonsense I know. How many of these visitors were genuine human beings? I'll never know. How many were in reality carried out by an automated software programme, also known as a bot? Plenty I'd wager. Good for stats if this blogging lark was purely a numbers game, which as far as I'm concerned it isn't. To be honest it's all beyond me... Anyway, for those of you who are human I thought I'd do a little round up of the back garden mothing news. Here in Surrey we are still without rain (getting on for 40 days now) and the daily maximum temperatures are above 30C more regularly than are underneath it. The grass is burnt caramel, vegetation wilting. There is no good news here really, although perversely if you are running a moth trap you try and find a silver...

When I began birding in the mid-1970s you could count the number of celebrity birders not on one hand but on one finger, and that finger belonged to Robert Dougal, a gentleman newsreader of advanced years who dressed soberly and conducted himself with impeccable manners - not the type of personality to became a role model for us young aspiring birders. And then, out of the celebrity-birder vacuum appeared a long-haired and bearded man who was one third of a cult TV comedy programme, who possessed street cred AND was a proper birder. His name was Bill Oddie. To be a schoolboy of a certain age in the early to mid-seventies meant that there were two big television highlights each week that were not to be missed. They were 'Monty Python's Flying Circus' and 'The Goodies'. Both were slightly subversive, off-the-wall and created by Oxbridge graduates that had turned comedy into not just an art form, not only full of social comment but infused it with an intelligence that ...

There has been much 'bigging up' and love shown for the Olympus TG7 camera recently, the reviewers raving about its macro facility and the fact that not only is it robust but it can also be used underwater. Although my current bridge camera is good for general photography (and is wonderful for birds at range) I must admit that it does not perform so well at the macro level. I recently spent some time in the field with Graeme Lyons who owns a TG7 and was blown away with the results that he got from such a modestly priced bit of kit - a tiny beetle that I could just about see revealed all kinds of form and pattern when its image was captured by the Olympus. Yesterday I purchased one. Early days and I've only just charged up the battery - however I hurriedly took a few sample images this morning and thought I'd share with you a couple of the results. One of the features of the macro (or microscope mode) is that you can set the camera to take a stack of shots of your flower...

Nostalgia. Is it a wimpish retreat into a bygone age, a celebration of what has gone before or just a plain old symptom of being a sentient human being who can look back as well as look forward? Maybe it is all three? I'm always mindful of Spike Milligan's take on the subject, an obsessive nostalgianarian (I may have just made up that word). He wrote something along the lines of - 'do we always look back in time because the present is troubling, the future is uncertain but the past is a known quantity' - some thing like that. I'm also drawn to the final line in F Scott Fitzgerald's novel 'The Great Gatsby' which is 'so we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past'. I wish I'd written that. Almost as good as 'I've seen things you people wouldn't believe' - I'll stop there before I go full flow into a response such as... "a quarter of a million hirundines fleeing the Kent coast and heading...

I've always liked to have plans, to have projects in the pipeline, a peg to hang my natural history sightings on, a reason behind why I do things even if those reasons are based more on a whim rather than scientific rationale. I also like to change things around a bit, hence my flitting between patches or swapping my core interests - normally birds, sometimes moths, there again it could be plants. Or trying to big up my Pan-species list. Itchy feet, a wandering mind, call it what you will but it is something that I have always suffered (or been blessed) with. And as the year starts to fade away (yes I know it is only July!) I like to prepare the ground for next year, that human construct of a time-line that some of us are slaves to. So, what has prompted my latest bout of 'thinking' - yes I can be accused of thinking now and again! Well, several things. First up is that need for me to hang my natural history sightings on a peg, to give a bit of reason and purpose to what I ...

For the inland moth trapper the chance of recording a scarce migrant moth is much higher than an inland birder recording a scarce migrant bird. I like to think of Vestals, Bordered Straws and Delicates as the lepidopteran equivalent of Yellow-browed Warblers, Red-backed Shrikes and Wrynecks - maybe not quite equals but I'm sure you get my drift. The latest heatwave has managed to send some more migrant moths to my modest inland garden in Surrey, with the first record of Ni Moth (pictured) plus two Small Mottled Willows - and on the back of two Striped Hawk-moths so far this year (plus a good few months of possible action to come) 2026 is turning out to be a decent year for continental wanderers. I have been recording the moths here in Banstead since 1987 and thought it a worthwhile exercise to tot up all of the migrant species that have come my way. I left out the much commoner species, such as noctuella, ferrugalis, and Silver Y, plus a few others that may have been pure migrants ...