tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-88022062899965006592024-03-14T13:43:29.517+00:00NORTH DOWNS & BEYONDThe ramblings of an all-round naturalist based in north SurreySteve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.comBlogger2257125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-19429983062552231952024-02-27T12:43:00.000+00:002024-02-27T12:43:01.994+00:00PSL complete<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuKyQlwlkec8VDxCH2ydQkiqFQqovGx24HU-A3_hVugCEaJDBZPd0dtsjSnB8OaK-xoo5JwhVYhXMZGk57sHsI1jTJtcYx5PldSWkxGicb1Ye5EhYl7hSSXb2OQh3bruIqkOK8eu0PQ7xZYdqnvBGodx5D4flPZ80rGSP-_yDYdWZuRQY4z6owNxrVwZg/s2494/Kestrel22%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2198" data-original-width="2494" height="564" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWuKyQlwlkec8VDxCH2ydQkiqFQqovGx24HU-A3_hVugCEaJDBZPd0dtsjSnB8OaK-xoo5JwhVYhXMZGk57sHsI1jTJtcYx5PldSWkxGicb1Ye5EhYl7hSSXb2OQh3bruIqkOK8eu0PQ7xZYdqnvBGodx5D4flPZ80rGSP-_yDYdWZuRQY4z6owNxrVwZg/s1600/Kestrel22%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Back in the mists of time (or at least the turn of the millennium) I sat down and worked out my UK list of lifeforms that I had identified. This was primarily made up of birds, plants, butterflies and moths, although I was able to dig up plenty of additional filler, such as dragonflies, easy to identify insects and a whole host of miscellaneous creatures that I could remember having seen. I kept it in a notebook and now and again would suddenly remember something from the past and add it to the list. The list was purely for a bit of fun, and as far as I were aware there was nobody else that kept such a pointless tally - but I was so very, very wrong.</p><p>I cannot remember the moment that I became aware of other 'lifeform listers' although I'm pretty sure that the name Mark Telfer was involved. He, too, kept such a list and not only that, he was on the lookout for other like-minded souls, to gather (and publish) a league table of totals. Even though my competitive listing days were long over, I was drawn to this idea, got in touch with him and soon found myself in the Top 10 of 'Pan-species' listers (as it was soon named). My stay at such heady heights in the table soon plummeted as others got wind of the project, and it soon became obvious that there were <i>hundreds</i> of us out there. The project mushroomed, Facebook accounts and websites were founded, field trips organised - I covered a lot of this a couple of posts ago. I also then mentioned that a new home had been provided for the PSL family over on the BUBO Listing platform and that I was in the process of moving my observations on to it. Well, that task has now been completed. </p><p>It has, on the whole, gone smoothly. I've lost a few species in the move, as the BUBO site is still missing some, or are using authorities that differ in their taxonomical agreements as those that I referred to before. Also, in botanical circles clearly identifiable subspecies are 'a tick' whereas on BUBO there is no allowance for that. Together with some of my obscure checklists being out of date, the lumping of species and poor admin on my part, my Pan-species list now stands at a lower-than-expected 3,762 species (or, if I'm being precious, 3,818, including those that are missing or not allowed on BUBO).</p><p>The exercise has awakened the pan-lister in me, not in a competitive way but in the 'I wonder what is out there' sense. Just to test the water I wandered into the garden the other day, shook a bit of ivy and gathered together three spiders, one of which was not only identifiable, but new (and common). Wonder is outside the back door and lifers are that easy!</p><p>Today's images comes courtesy of a Kestrel up on Epsom Downs, perched on a race course marker while feeding. I couldn't identify what it was feasting on and after it had finished and flew off I walked up to where it had been perched to try and find any left-overs - just a neat pile of entrails were on the grass. No feather, fur or bone.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScSFDGxTcNCE5b4qUQe4XYStC0qQ0HCguUH7bXjjVGJ4n66-85NfDju_i9q5uX70I6btpgwnHCHTioi1jYWs245NUy4T4QGlQdsx5zJ3_ow80T5twpf18yFQrEuhg1bP-vOw1zxtWZJ6fFH5lUsWE-VSxBKcz2glw5f9YMTm2HEWH_C9YQ3FR9p1N0aaI/s3333/Kestrel23%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2652" data-original-width="3333" height="510" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiScSFDGxTcNCE5b4qUQe4XYStC0qQ0HCguUH7bXjjVGJ4n66-85NfDju_i9q5uX70I6btpgwnHCHTioi1jYWs245NUy4T4QGlQdsx5zJ3_ow80T5twpf18yFQrEuhg1bP-vOw1zxtWZJ6fFH5lUsWE-VSxBKcz2glw5f9YMTm2HEWH_C9YQ3FR9p1N0aaI/s1600/Kestrel23%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-40985883647628769582024-02-18T10:39:00.002+00:002024-02-18T10:39:32.712+00:00Mistletoe, thrushes and wings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7eOhxDfIXJuZv-GNTy5PcwCjKC29v9GSR54QnbrSdubDlbTYuMuE-vNT285tzHbUkRRHEIvjSos4AfHW0JRUY_FBjb6kyAsku2sgF5qO5z9R8TLELVOn3iSNo8Wki5fhOBwOCm75jIU_OrXjebbjCJ_py_qb9n5ICAnvRzkb4q7SjZhyXXwu1s_nw953/s5136/IMG_1151.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2830" data-original-width="5136" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiX7eOhxDfIXJuZv-GNTy5PcwCjKC29v9GSR54QnbrSdubDlbTYuMuE-vNT285tzHbUkRRHEIvjSos4AfHW0JRUY_FBjb6kyAsku2sgF5qO5z9R8TLELVOn3iSNo8Wki5fhOBwOCm75jIU_OrXjebbjCJ_py_qb9n5ICAnvRzkb4q7SjZhyXXwu1s_nw953/s1600/IMG_1151.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_OTWcqYukPN8rZW8E3_LNypkQSOXYu5DVKHbzg2KfWPNAlGWhuSgmI19OpTsqr24cND0bY-D6NmFAYcqy53mPsxAMgIQ4Vny0mHmP1QpaKjLeR_Jknkw91AFmOcJGBBwWk6-d1JlzGo9VGUom4QskJEKAYVbc96pGduh_gEGq6bkBViFtxHSjb0wFyJ_/s4671/IMG_1152.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3814" data-original-width="4671" height="522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_OTWcqYukPN8rZW8E3_LNypkQSOXYu5DVKHbzg2KfWPNAlGWhuSgmI19OpTsqr24cND0bY-D6NmFAYcqy53mPsxAMgIQ4Vny0mHmP1QpaKjLeR_Jknkw91AFmOcJGBBwWk6-d1JlzGo9VGUom4QskJEKAYVbc96pGduh_gEGq6bkBViFtxHSjb0wFyJ_/s1600/IMG_1152.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The belated 'Waxwing Winter' continues in Surrey, with birds on offer at places such as Farnham, Carshalton, Wallington, Redhill, Ashtead, Bookham and Leatherhead. Some of these may be the same flock meandering around the local berry crop, but it would be fair to say that there must be at least a couple of hundred in the county. At most sites the birds are keeping fairly faithful so that any observer wanting their Waxwing fix is able to do so. During the week I went along to Leatherhead to see the 50+ birds which were feeding on (and in) Mistletoe behind the leisure centre. There is plenty of Mistletoe in the area (as can be seen in the pictures above) and the birds spent a lot of time perched out in view, their soft trilling competing with the nearby sub-singing Redwings. A Mistle Thrush did decided to confront the flock, harshly rattling in warning, no doubt defending its patch of Mistletoe. Quite sensibly, even though they outnumbered it 50 to 1, the Waxwings decided to vacate and take up squatting rights in another tree.</p><p>A brief warm period saw my first butterflies of the year here in Banstead, several Brimstones and a Red Admiral. To see the earliest of these magnificent insects on the wing in weak sunshine never loses its power.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-36436185736071127822024-02-09T12:13:00.003+00:002024-02-09T12:13:55.685+00:00PSL reborn<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eyup-_NyX7d2DuJTh3VctJpPLq37Zp0RJGCgmw06FWw0MrLZUoROpTMsnHeFA_uw9e0DYtJQ07pMBmVZld14EVhuZOGJ6bQ9CUTFnLEggVdn2-qVao7zpfmp93fbaOBcXpBYgLvRq3LlXHZ-35W9HpNbsKUUJbM-6sflgg3_WYx3i-sPlRaXNfbpITo3/s640/Panspeople.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="235" data-original-width="640" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8eyup-_NyX7d2DuJTh3VctJpPLq37Zp0RJGCgmw06FWw0MrLZUoROpTMsnHeFA_uw9e0DYtJQ07pMBmVZld14EVhuZOGJ6bQ9CUTFnLEggVdn2-qVao7zpfmp93fbaOBcXpBYgLvRq3LlXHZ-35W9HpNbsKUUJbM-6sflgg3_WYx3i-sPlRaXNfbpITo3/s1600/Panspeople.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>It must have been some time in the early 2000s that I first counted up all of the life forms that I had identified and recorded in Britain. This fledgling list was largely made up of birds, moths and plants with a few large, colourful and obvious insects thrown in for good measure. I thought of it as an enjoyable sideshow in my natural history studies, and, as a maintainer of lists rather than a chaser of them, it kept itself firmly in the background, coming out to play whenever I had a few ticks to add to it. I'm at a loss to remember the precise moment that I discovered that there were others out there that kept a similar list - maybe through an internet search or a discussion while out birding, but I soon found myself in touch with Mark Telfer, who was organising a web-site devoted to such matters with an accompanying league table of recorder's lists. I needed no second invite to post my efforts and, very briefly, found myself in the top 10 of the innaugaral table. I soon started to spiral down the ladder as more people joined in, but position was not my main interest, more the sharing of our passion and knowledge (the latter being more one way in my direction, there really were some talented people out there).</p><p>All this took off in 2012, when the photograph above was taken, at Heyshott Down in West Sussex, day two of a Pan-species Lister's (PSL) get together. It was here that I first met Mark, Graeme Lyons and Mark Skevington, all still listing and all still blogging. It was a revelation, walking with people who couldn't put one foot in front of the other before finding yet another obscure species of moss/lichen/insect. I had a lot to learn.</p><p>For maybe three years I took to the PSL way of life, spending my time in the field trying to identify everything that I came across. Of course I had limitations - a lack of insect keys, a misunderstanding of how easy it would be to identify fungi (they are difficult!) and a need for calm dedication to master even a small group of species. I soldiered on, sometimes going along on organised forays into the field for fungi, bryophytes and insects (often in the company of Graeme and Seth Gibson), which I throughly enjoyed but must admit to feeling a little empty afterwards, as a notebook full of Latin names is not the most satisfying way of remembering what you saw. I gradually withdrew, not giving up for good, still adding to the list now and again. I spent my time more focused on my core interests of birds, plants and moths.</p><p>Graeme Lyons recently announced that BUBO listing was creating a PSL list on their renowned website, which would see the existing PSL website close. <a href="http://analternativenaturalhistoryofsussex.blogspot.com/2024/01/pan-species-listing-has-brand-new.html" target="_blank">You can read Graeme's article here.</a> I wasn't sure that I could be bothered with transferring my almost 4,000 species over and wondered whether my PSL days were over, but I thought that I would take a look... and I'm glad that I did!</p><p>Firstly, the team behind this enterprise deserve huge congratulations. It is so easy (and quick) to populate your lists, with a fast and intuitive build. I have had few issues so far (apart from losing the odd species which is most probably due to lumping). I have so far uploaded 2400+ species and have only 1500+ species of plant to go - I will take my time over these as I'm sure that I have not added all that can be counted! There are a number of features to play with, such as being able to see how many observers have seen a certain species, who has recorded the most of every order and being able to create a list of targets. It has, without a doubt, rekindled my interest in the PSL world. </p><p>And this PSL world is not all about numbers. It is, to my mind, a celebration of the wealth of wildlife to be found across these islands and of a sharing in our enjoyment and knowledge. It also encourages us to get out there and record. I found myself dusting down a few basic guides to churchyard lichens this week and hot-footing it to the gravestones at Mickleham. I reckon, in all good faith, I added six species to my PSL list... </p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-73775479551624647322024-02-04T16:37:00.002+00:002024-02-04T16:37:29.563+00:00More Waxwings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4DjM5e1cvfM2Z_LqrBQdotBBCWSbsoSOy6Ljs024xCtd7jvEhBc0m2ole-nyCDBN7DtOSQxi7iHM-bj5UV0J5YM1SoIz2uyu_tC8XvvCRq6AUMXzBX4C848AZjcCQ5mvo9M6b_pfNGchAABcOvB4K_s1hRGJOX4vqlzo1Sh4r6UJ2tUolANVw6IV_kCE/s4024/Waxwing09%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3154" data-original-width="4024" height="502" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz4DjM5e1cvfM2Z_LqrBQdotBBCWSbsoSOy6Ljs024xCtd7jvEhBc0m2ole-nyCDBN7DtOSQxi7iHM-bj5UV0J5YM1SoIz2uyu_tC8XvvCRq6AUMXzBX4C848AZjcCQ5mvo9M6b_pfNGchAABcOvB4K_s1hRGJOX4vqlzo1Sh4r6UJ2tUolANVw6IV_kCE/s1600/Waxwing09%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>After a fairly featureless wander around Holmethorpe Sand Pits with Gordon Hay this morning - our time being spent under a dull dark-grey blanket of cloud, and wondering where all the birds had gone - we decided to make the short journey to the Frenches Road area of Redhill, where a group of Waxwings had been found yesterday afternoon. On arrival just the one bird was present, perched high in a Silver Birch before it descended onto a pale-orange berried Sorbus tree to feed. After 20 minutes a further 28 Waxwings decided to show. They were wary, keeping high and away from the Sorbus berries. Our patience was rewarded as they came down to feed several times. Their location of choice was unfortunate - a small, neat cul-de-sac of modern houses - an area in which I would feel awkward loitering even without a pair of binoculars and a camera around my neck. There is no way that you can blend into such surroundings. I was, without any doubt, intruding on the resident's space and privacy. After a brief spell of observation (and a few photographs) I hurriedly left, with the 29 Waxwings still happily doing what Waxwings do - trilling, gorging on berries and looking superb.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0QVNXtGeAxQIbqxq-3lI2uFxLKwBf2M7Mk5vc_mUkAZxYzEHok54QNdQLC8fx46EUxPYK7lEfr86V0QG_BVH-noqzx528StNTpqXQ6pA4dInGDNMCFim6YyZZKDrwxcTSvVBQb4lCjdwsg1ceukGOOwiaqTHb7lRNzrbAUnV0i7wymV2X_9AKMJhLqyQ/s4200/Waxwing10%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3196" data-original-width="4200" height="488" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN0QVNXtGeAxQIbqxq-3lI2uFxLKwBf2M7Mk5vc_mUkAZxYzEHok54QNdQLC8fx46EUxPYK7lEfr86V0QG_BVH-noqzx528StNTpqXQ6pA4dInGDNMCFim6YyZZKDrwxcTSvVBQb4lCjdwsg1ceukGOOwiaqTHb7lRNzrbAUnV0i7wymV2X_9AKMJhLqyQ/s1600/Waxwing10%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CSsfMJ-CvSESA0q_7ndROsHqR3JyjZDbl3qZZdUOHOtv7muQ5VO7bYjCXC03gaMuXC2F1hBAs1p8i2T5-vPWa0Tr4_3JN_2ideVrI7eCb3h5CDtAU_ohry9GDYx6piBnwJETtm_TxRiYUEN6nud8v6-2cDo-Jxv2kk_NV02-bzu_7Bcr4D6FYT_vHNjC/s5184/Waxwing11%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7CSsfMJ-CvSESA0q_7ndROsHqR3JyjZDbl3qZZdUOHOtv7muQ5VO7bYjCXC03gaMuXC2F1hBAs1p8i2T5-vPWa0Tr4_3JN_2ideVrI7eCb3h5CDtAU_ohry9GDYx6piBnwJETtm_TxRiYUEN6nud8v6-2cDo-Jxv2kk_NV02-bzu_7Bcr4D6FYT_vHNjC/s1600/Waxwing11%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NVqbEFlxh_q7P1B9dQpk6cZituYc_n99JPFdSLREGUAb5EwhnJm5JJvHm2IBof99RUtorKQNCVP_T6QZ6_wfAcs5eio_Gn-U6UKdZmB7V3b4FUs_0fu-jBOwwfL0aijIGCbK3eIxMgmsv-EJT28Kq0Mc8g1eP7Fsuz7vUnUIoahzNxH9tYX5Hy09k2N5/s4198/Waxwing12%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3444" data-original-width="4198" height="526" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6NVqbEFlxh_q7P1B9dQpk6cZituYc_n99JPFdSLREGUAb5EwhnJm5JJvHm2IBof99RUtorKQNCVP_T6QZ6_wfAcs5eio_Gn-U6UKdZmB7V3b4FUs_0fu-jBOwwfL0aijIGCbK3eIxMgmsv-EJT28Kq0Mc8g1eP7Fsuz7vUnUIoahzNxH9tYX5Hy09k2N5/s1600/Waxwing12%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-2163009929077360272024-01-29T18:42:00.001+00:002024-01-29T18:42:59.911+00:00Willing Waxwings<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N15T-GFGtbNJ2GBd5rT-8idEqwQkJ9m-DbTbpAU_edEXaBgyEflNmX9TB26MepSJIP7gTt_qaZxYCJ-3nbyJUYCwZRYgXazmzrnkUheUd0ruA4jzbm1eRqAHS_ABjIx2b6hLkftwzQEwaip4FcVLvHLs1rKaikgpacWuyUuPH8KfWb_UQrQRiQrP1Vdp/s5184/Waxwing04.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8N15T-GFGtbNJ2GBd5rT-8idEqwQkJ9m-DbTbpAU_edEXaBgyEflNmX9TB26MepSJIP7gTt_qaZxYCJ-3nbyJUYCwZRYgXazmzrnkUheUd0ruA4jzbm1eRqAHS_ABjIx2b6hLkftwzQEwaip4FcVLvHLs1rKaikgpacWuyUuPH8KfWb_UQrQRiQrP1Vdp/s1600/Waxwing04.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>In the last post, I eluded to spending some fruitless time trying to track down my own Waxwings - but what I didn't admit to was that I was also wasting minutes by dipping on other peoples, including a brief flock in Epsom 12-days ago. Since then there have been a rash of sightings in the Ashtead area, the birds never settling for long, at least not long enough for others to join the original observer in watching them. Yesterday saw a flock of 60+ fly over the area, but not settle. Us local birders needed a break and this morning that came courtesy of Andy Holden, who, after searching the area for several days, found a flock of c20 Waxwings feeding on Mistletoe berries in Greville Park Road.</p><p>The alert from Andy came just before 10.00hrs, and, needing to be elsewhere by lunchtime, gave me just a brief window of opportunity to see them, but, happy to say, I was successful. The birds were keeping to the top of a tall tree feeding on the berries of several large clumps of Mistletoe. Later in the day 34 birds were counted - so maybe the 60+ flock is still around, scattered through the neighbouring streets devouring berries from several sources. It was heartening to talk to some of the street's residents, including the owner of the garden in which the Waxwings were frequenting, all of who were delighted to be playing host to such fine birds.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aaJIamnC-OcIQu19FV6TruJ2J-QfhQ9V2_XvPNlwkhxAeSoxApRt3-xcIYmBqk6wgWP7e0Qd6GQBUnmZMe57j04mGKc0Seh-qeyaiCsBF8nZ3K-HK_hY43tQdEpqLKqtSvw4vDZnEa7cwioQa-_0FkhiAvYqejaB_7MAT4BL6U9RVoStWSYm0VHFF8mN/s5024/Waxwing05.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3351" data-original-width="5024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6aaJIamnC-OcIQu19FV6TruJ2J-QfhQ9V2_XvPNlwkhxAeSoxApRt3-xcIYmBqk6wgWP7e0Qd6GQBUnmZMe57j04mGKc0Seh-qeyaiCsBF8nZ3K-HK_hY43tQdEpqLKqtSvw4vDZnEa7cwioQa-_0FkhiAvYqejaB_7MAT4BL6U9RVoStWSYm0VHFF8mN/s1600/Waxwing05.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtizvgQ_67H629qRWtskvgGWRv0ZVMkStudtyrg3JdkVelYcataFvAbCC-qhGRr0lNcsZSGOrO1mYH5BjgJOVhhZ1V7c1G46snuC_Df6lO5lRqIO0hteBXh5LR9WN9lmIsbBHZOnoVTvgQbbXa2GxJAoVw_twUZXBFeR0I-nvPC-roxzwRsCMPVZZJP-cV/s4133/Waxwing06%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2646" data-original-width="4133" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtizvgQ_67H629qRWtskvgGWRv0ZVMkStudtyrg3JdkVelYcataFvAbCC-qhGRr0lNcsZSGOrO1mYH5BjgJOVhhZ1V7c1G46snuC_Df6lO5lRqIO0hteBXh5LR9WN9lmIsbBHZOnoVTvgQbbXa2GxJAoVw_twUZXBFeR0I-nvPC-roxzwRsCMPVZZJP-cV/s1600/Waxwing06%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC23NY3_gDdcRQdwTw5IAy_i6cDPejGn1ltHu2XMX_IDXPGhNo3Ej2TMSs3JgpOusiRgMbMX4033uruYfmLve_qt9KVV5ssdBfsgwO3CQZQTazqMsvpr-uLTWVFTsBwPMw0GyKWOwNNLvWtqDb1lwbh0XpyZdKeXIFLlbTYcDL-fyxCJvvlL2amogYO01/s5184/Waxwing07.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5184" data-original-width="3888" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpC23NY3_gDdcRQdwTw5IAy_i6cDPejGn1ltHu2XMX_IDXPGhNo3Ej2TMSs3JgpOusiRgMbMX4033uruYfmLve_qt9KVV5ssdBfsgwO3CQZQTazqMsvpr-uLTWVFTsBwPMw0GyKWOwNNLvWtqDb1lwbh0XpyZdKeXIFLlbTYcDL-fyxCJvvlL2amogYO01/s1600/Waxwing07.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCOPETOLRyHFzStD06oN3Pg4y8Um1cr3XkcwHiYuGeUBZZ-jODT7A83b0Gn4sOF04vxANOTdW3yCHkHIapNbqUQqxpfhPV3PFd2z8VoWAOf189qrcL3LSkPzplkG5ItrfgAzynWdgx8Ml7vJ7hJB0bXGYG9wMcmsJwFzrQLvD377Vc523cGPAozd5H_VF/s5085/Waxwing08%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2642" data-original-width="5085" height="332" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzCOPETOLRyHFzStD06oN3Pg4y8Um1cr3XkcwHiYuGeUBZZ-jODT7A83b0Gn4sOF04vxANOTdW3yCHkHIapNbqUQqxpfhPV3PFd2z8VoWAOf189qrcL3LSkPzplkG5ItrfgAzynWdgx8Ml7vJ7hJB0bXGYG9wMcmsJwFzrQLvD377Vc523cGPAozd5H_VF/s1600/Waxwing08%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-5519546836760518482024-01-27T15:22:00.002+00:002024-01-29T18:22:32.033+00:00Catch-up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kMHHy7lmzkuZzkybcVLKGcM0MX8Gu0AhLScYi85iK54GR7Huocjuy05Oet-hvz91SPu5jVTK_YzdY7PxX-gwwYoF5ZCBoKjYxIE4YAp4zZrgFZBsQq1Qoxc8ISZxis0HWz-rJZ0DjnTGCzSHZM_RGxGs5i0T_DxNcSPWdU4uhO8Erzg9iUvncpbfEeHR/s5184/Fieldfare09.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3kMHHy7lmzkuZzkybcVLKGcM0MX8Gu0AhLScYi85iK54GR7Huocjuy05Oet-hvz91SPu5jVTK_YzdY7PxX-gwwYoF5ZCBoKjYxIE4YAp4zZrgFZBsQq1Qoxc8ISZxis0HWz-rJZ0DjnTGCzSHZM_RGxGs5i0T_DxNcSPWdU4uhO8Erzg9iUvncpbfEeHR/s1600/Fieldfare09.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Since the last post I have been pounding the streets in a fruitless search for Waxwings; combing the slopes and woods of the downs with my newly refurbished binoculars; taking notice of the emerging flora; been staring at my telescope and tripod thinking that it is about time that they are given an outing; and have run the MV trap in the garden (with limited, but welcome success).</p><p>Bird-wise it has been quiet. There are still very low numbers of thrushes and finches about (although this superb Fieldfare decided to hang around for a photo-shoot) and I have to admit that it has been disheartening at times. Of course, there have been highlights, with 180 Skylarks still hanging on in the Canons Farm stubble; a gathering of 2,000 Woodpigeons on Ranmore Common, most of which arrived during the first hour of daylight from the south; and three Brambling discretely tucked into a Chaffinch flock at the latter location.</p><p>On the plant front the usual winter-flowering suspects have been seen, with one or two 'aliens' to add to the mix, such as the plant below - a Willow-leaved Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster salicifolious). This species can appear as a large and sprawling tree/bush, with long, glossy green upper-leaves. I found this specimen on Epsom Downs, and since then have noticed it in several other localities - I've just been walking past it for years...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGjhyJq-_PVwTVmB57_DExfCBqnMkU6LeS5UCXDZMeb0bATs0W4Iyrzmq9mwJXRsgNM_6bFHxfSzn2D3dnTXGwIhaKVJAlNADdQzbjxDucCntGkyf4K_ivzq-rxaQZs0KAPel884AZaoJnR35ZMlNEkRgHCL1BkjNzMv6W9TrIPtZcUO7e6qi9iGz3iiw/s5184/WillowleavedCotoneaster01.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxGjhyJq-_PVwTVmB57_DExfCBqnMkU6LeS5UCXDZMeb0bATs0W4Iyrzmq9mwJXRsgNM_6bFHxfSzn2D3dnTXGwIhaKVJAlNADdQzbjxDucCntGkyf4K_ivzq-rxaQZs0KAPel884AZaoJnR35ZMlNEkRgHCL1BkjNzMv6W9TrIPtZcUO7e6qi9iGz3iiw/s1600/WillowleavedCotoneaster01.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>My 2024 moth list has limped on to five species, with Mottled Umber, Winter Moth, Spring Usher, Early Moth and Light Brown Apple Moth doing the decent thing. With a pulse of warm air arriving from the Canary Islands in the next couple of days it is acceptable to live in hope of an early migrant!</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-55033773929167032932024-01-16T08:50:00.000+00:002024-01-16T08:50:11.826+00:00Steady<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmk4t0gD9vAch9xkcZuSDBZJ3avWdf0yll8oOghhHNMuXg77yusoYBFUZBXOn52cGtrBcyKABVIzjCtOQNt-Ym4ofOqsGiwjZU4u0dj-oZS1ZiBA3ocSqiYFbiXY0b4YfSnEKaVYDeq9p_4umK2pwRVa5-mPxI8mN-MVQenBbOvLiaDiti4bBNSk9JEbM/s5184/LittleEgret29.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAmk4t0gD9vAch9xkcZuSDBZJ3avWdf0yll8oOghhHNMuXg77yusoYBFUZBXOn52cGtrBcyKABVIzjCtOQNt-Ym4ofOqsGiwjZU4u0dj-oZS1ZiBA3ocSqiYFbiXY0b4YfSnEKaVYDeq9p_4umK2pwRVa5-mPxI8mN-MVQenBbOvLiaDiti4bBNSk9JEbM/s1600/LittleEgret29.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This Little Egret was being faithful to a back channel of the Hogsmill at Ewell</td></tr></tbody></table><p>My 2024 birding year has just celebrated being a fortnight old and so far has not set any proverbial cats among any proverbial pigeons. There have been one or two 'moments' but by and large the rewards have been modest. All efforts have been close to home, with visits having been made to Banstead Downs, Epsom Downs, Headley Heath, Banstead Heath, Canons Farm, Rushett Farm, the River Hogsmill at Ewell and the wooded slopes of Bramblehall and Juniper (close to Boxhill). It has been very quiet, with few thrushes and finches. Each and every winter is different and this particular winter just seems to be having an ornithological snooze - there will be parts of the country full of birds, but just not in this particular corner of Surrey. Highlights? A couple of sizeable Redpoll flocks and a count of 255 Skylarks at Canons Farm that were hunkered down in the large stubble fields on the southern boundary. With colder weather just to the north there may be the chance of a few displaced birds arriving in the next few days and, as ever in a Waxwing winter, hope remains that my wanderings will cross paths with a feeding flock. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKJA_wQ2sGrWE7bKIew9XQGrESieCsHN2790BYAtISY3EdJYvZeeOnUikbMlh_97sL5Y37oIuDKhyQ98PH6pDU0OFHLV9fiUnXHVm1Sg1tl7c9F9Z7MQRbhw4kYrgv468eF7bmHkVgaZqbrWeow5YSYHNNgSWlwtOP84BoWI8Mful0889TyR2OdPbxM6Z/s5184/JuniperBottom09.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUKJA_wQ2sGrWE7bKIew9XQGrESieCsHN2790BYAtISY3EdJYvZeeOnUikbMlh_97sL5Y37oIuDKhyQ98PH6pDU0OFHLV9fiUnXHVm1Sg1tl7c9F9Z7MQRbhw4kYrgv468eF7bmHkVgaZqbrWeow5YSYHNNgSWlwtOP84BoWI8Mful0889TyR2OdPbxM6Z/s1600/JuniperBottom09.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Recent storms and high winds have felled many trees in the Juniper Bottom area</td></tr></tbody></table>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-20061738015931269372024-01-09T13:07:00.001+00:002024-01-09T13:07:07.141+00:00Welcome back!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqwClMh-bbqDrQhKp1TBM_WZdjXulOKC_rmIU6MpwksgfldnLlvbSJ2ZQ-UPDQTkAaUKfjuymVH_if_6OQuNxqeqj7hH0davq8Uz7A2jqYZSFl7K7xo_3X-MgP4hYqJuO_vKyJsrZIGSbmUUdI_CRIbYfNlKsvTxEZyDIG2rXuqORYl0mnaGnWepx45_t/s4417/IMG_1022.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3168" data-original-width="4417" height="460" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNqwClMh-bbqDrQhKp1TBM_WZdjXulOKC_rmIU6MpwksgfldnLlvbSJ2ZQ-UPDQTkAaUKfjuymVH_if_6OQuNxqeqj7hH0davq8Uz7A2jqYZSFl7K7xo_3X-MgP4hYqJuO_vKyJsrZIGSbmUUdI_CRIbYfNlKsvTxEZyDIG2rXuqORYl0mnaGnWepx45_t/s1600/IMG_1022.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>In November 2005 I purchased a pair of Swarovski 10x42 EL binoculars from The London Camera Exchange shop in Guildford, for the then princely sum of £899. These bins have served me well, with almost daily use in all types of weather, testing their durability to the maximum - salt water spray, deluges of rain, 38C temperatures, dust, dirt, slight knocks... and apart from the armour coating that had started to bubble and come away from the body, nothing to be alarmed about. Then, in the summer of 2022, I noticed that I had a problem when close focusing - the outer focusing wheel would lose grip and it would take me an age to regain a middle-ground distance of focus - plus, over the next few weeks this outer focusing wheel became loose. I resorted to the use of tape to keep it all in place, but realised that I had to do something about it in the long run. For a while I did consider buying a new pair - after all, they were then 17-years old - but they were still optically superb. It seemed a waste of £2000+ if all that was needed was a straightforward (I hoped) repair. I dithered, putting off sorting them out as I was still using them every day, and using them without a problem as long as I didn't close focus. But I finally cracked, taking them into the London (Strand) branch of The London Camera Exchange who agreed to act as handlers, sending them back to Swarovski in Austria. That was in mid-November. Only six weeks later I received a call from the shop, informing me that they were ready for collection! The price? Absolutely nothing, all done under guarantee. And those kind people from Swarovski also re-armoured the body, replaced the lens caps (top and bottom) and furnished me with a new strap, the old one having been in a right sorry state. Again, free of charge. The service has been superb, from the helpful and keen LCE staff, the professionalism and generosity from Swarovski and the short timescale in which the job was completed (which also included the Christmas holidays). They look, and feel, as good as new. Apart from the serial number, the only way that I can tell that they are my original binoculars is by the silver colouring showing along the edges of the black metal body caused by 19 years of wear and tear. The scars of birding. I did splash out on a new case for them - after all, these should see me out now! </p><p>So, armed with an almost new pair of binoculars, I stepped out into this shiny new year full of hope. Has that optimism been rewarded? The answer to that is for the next post...</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-79291386628496996852023-12-27T13:59:00.003+00:002023-12-27T13:59:37.609+00:00End of. Beginning of.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8nxkPrc58SyzHWmfE_IWWaHYjIJLf8FesDXF4Qogb9th265hxDLBsQyVVWnDXFBQfqXiIFRskccbPLjI9KyXAQ-PSju9E1FhCJFGZ6JjXiHICe7CSjKvwaD6qYL_kRhEiWEUq1K5eumucQlVMnMVkNDhjJ8Ht-mli1zs2MvLmjqQoIfAwGsFm1FUlmsR/s4939/DarkCrimsonUnderwing02.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3637" data-original-width="4939" height="472" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg8nxkPrc58SyzHWmfE_IWWaHYjIJLf8FesDXF4Qogb9th265hxDLBsQyVVWnDXFBQfqXiIFRskccbPLjI9KyXAQ-PSju9E1FhCJFGZ6JjXiHICe7CSjKvwaD6qYL_kRhEiWEUq1K5eumucQlVMnMVkNDhjJ8Ht-mli1zs2MvLmjqQoIfAwGsFm1FUlmsR/s1600/DarkCrimsonUnderwing02.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Even here in the normally sedate south-east of England the weather is kicking off. An unusually blustery west to south-westerly wind is making itself felt and, looking at the weather forecast for the next few days, will continue to be a nuisance. What it must be like to the north and west of us I can only imagine and sympathise with. Roof tiles, fence panels, tree boughs, garden furniture and moth-traps all going on unscheduled journeys into the air... </p><p>Now Christmas is over (in my book that is when Boxing Day finishes) I normally start to tidy up in readiness for the new year and look back at the past 12-months. 2023 has been a bit of a roller-coaster for me, some great highs and some nasty lows. As I'm fond of saying, if you experience the privilege of reaching an 'older' age then you need to accept that things will not always run smoothly - unless you are very lucky indeed. It goes with the territory. Enough said.</p><p>I didn't travel far this year. Most of my birding was local - for the first time in an age I did no coastal birding at all. The moth trap got a fair outing, but only in the garden and largely from early-summer onwards. I woefully neglected my botanical studies. but having said all of that I did get a lot of enjoyment from my natural history time, albeit not filled with highlights to look back on with a warm feeling. It would be wrong of me to brush under the carpet the undeniable truth that numbers of birds and invertebrates were down. At times they were abject. </p><p>There were two moth species that turned up in the garden that I was dead chuffed with - a couple of Dark Crimson Underwings (above) and Uresiphita gilvata, the latter a very scarce migrant. My aims for 2024? Well, I do have a few projects in mind, but nothing grand and ones that I will not announce here, mainly because they quite often wither away as the year progresses, but if they stay the course then I might mention them. A few trips down to the coast and South Downs will be in order. My neglect of botany will be rectified. Another burst of enthusiasm with the micro-moths has been ordered. I'm also looking forward to getting my binoculars back from Austria where they are undergoing a service and repair, hopefully by the end of January. I've missed them. </p><p>Whatever your hopes, wishes and aims are for the next 12 months, good luck, and may 2024 be a peaceful one for you and yours. Thanks for visiting ND&B - it is appreciated.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-91524673605766460652023-12-10T11:45:00.002+00:002023-12-10T11:45:34.706+00:00Time to reflect<p>I normally come up with the title for a post after I have written it. If I'm feeling creative it will be some sort of play on words, or if I'm not then an all-encompassing word or two will do. As for this particular post, and with a few things to discuss, I've written the title first, inspired by having just read a feature about musicians who have used the title of an album as the starting point for their creative exercise. Here goes...</p><p>Firstly, blogs - yes, this very medium that I am writing in and you are reading from. - what content they derive, the reason that the content exists and what the writer should (or should not) expect from any reader that visits the blog. This was brought into sharp focus by a series of posts to be found <a href="http://www.wansteadbirder.com">here, at Jono Lethbridge's excellent 'Wansted Birder'.</a> His blogging output has recently included detailed and entertaining reports on his recent overseas trips which have received a bit of flak from certain quarters. None of us bloggers like to get a negative response to what we have posted (I have had a few over the years) and Jono responded to this negativity with a post in which he puts forward his reasons for writing what he did and why he feels justified in continuing to do so. It made a lot of sense and struck several chords with me. </p><p>Blogging is, it must be admitted, a bit old school. A dying platform? I don't think so, or at least I hope not. So the first question that I asked myself is why do I continue to do it? I do it because I enjoy writing, always have done, from essays at school to private notebook entries. It is also true that the chance to share with others what I have seen, or my views on the natural world, is one that I am delighted to partake in. No doubt this is partly ego driven, maybe could be vainly considered as altruistic but is also no more than the action of a social person, one who believes in the benefits of contact with like-minded souls.</p><p>Second question then is how should we respond to negative comments? The fact that many bloggers allow comments to be posted (they can be switched off) would suggest that we invite them. And as such we must accept that the delight we feel with a positive response will, at some point down the line, be countered by a negative one. When I have received these they have sometimes been from regular correspondents (which are easier to accept as they are from people who are usually positive) but at other times from unknown (even anonymous) posters. These are harder to fathom, particularly if they verge on the aggressive. However, what must be accepted is that the written word cannot covey the tone of voice, whether a harsh sentence is in fact an attempt at humour or irony, or if the person who took the time to respond spends a lot of time trawling cyberspace to troll other people, rendering that negativity as not necessarily specific to what you think or who you are. And we must also consider that a negative comment might well have a point and is, after all, just another point of view.</p><p>Despite all of this mild uneasiness I have no intention of quitting blogging. I have thought about it before, I have taken time out from doing so and my output is not what it used to be. What does concern me is that the pool of bloggers is reducing, and their output shrinking. I do know of younger naturalists who embrace this medium, so it is not just populated by us older exponents. My final question to myself is "Where would you go if blogging was no longer an option?" I don't know. This is a comfortable platform to embrace, I have been doing so since 2010, have posted well over a thousand times and received close to 1,500,000 visits (not all bots!) It has introduced me to a cast of characters who have become virtual friends (and some even real human ones!) This has also acted as a diary of sorts, a narrative to the dry lists and counts that are in my notebooks. Blogging has definitely reduced my written word entries elsewhere. I have started to copy certain blog entries and keep them together just in case the platform collapsed or my account suddenly disappeared. This all points to the content of this blog being of importance to me. I have been considering starting up 'hard copy' notebook narrative again, which might be a worthwhile exercise anyway. </p><p>I still marvel at the number of natural history blogs that are on offer out there. The sheer volume of content ripe for exploring. The expertise of those that write them. The education and entertainment dished up, all for free and all produced by kind individuals who think it worth their time to share in their experiences. I thank them for it.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-76599534485422522792023-12-03T10:02:00.003+00:002023-12-03T10:02:39.213+00:00To tell it like it is, or not...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiralYrxMtd3vfQz7tpJxzO2_PPeCFO0mYsgtLsoqn-UEhSynoOUA3sRro0HkbE4xFKqCqgAcxGksnrhlZ4PdhVSRtbScrWot8kaNse7LSTZF4bHomaR3BcTxPeWXl_cZQfk7VvfX_4Yt3s3vo-HG62ifXV1UgSR2S21O_l2u5F4s5fHcCjxumw_cOLMxL_/s2308/TreeSparrow01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1728" data-original-width="2308" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiralYrxMtd3vfQz7tpJxzO2_PPeCFO0mYsgtLsoqn-UEhSynoOUA3sRro0HkbE4xFKqCqgAcxGksnrhlZ4PdhVSRtbScrWot8kaNse7LSTZF4bHomaR3BcTxPeWXl_cZQfk7VvfX_4Yt3s3vo-HG62ifXV1UgSR2S21O_l2u5F4s5fHcCjxumw_cOLMxL_/s1600/TreeSparrow01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br />I am grateful to <a href="https://notquitescilly2.blogspot.com">Gavin Haig (Not Quite Scilly)</a> who drew my attention to an opinion piece, penned by Matt Phelps, which appeared in the November issue of 'Birdwatch' magazine, entitled 'Positive Approach', which I have now read. In it, he suggests that there is too much negativity being posted on social media regarding the state of our birding world, which is then acting as a deterrent towards a younger generation in adopting conservation and wildlife study. He also suggests that a lot of this negativity is being generated by older birders, and that these old timers keep banging on about the 'good old days' which isn't helpful in encouraging the youth to pick up a pair of binoculars and get out into the field. Does he have a point?<p></p><p>Now, I am undeniably an older birder, and I am also guilty of having posted, blogged, written and spoken about the slump in bird and invertebrate numbers. I also like nothing better than to revisit my notebooks and share in the highlights from the past. Am I guilty of frightening off the next generation of birders?</p><p>It made me think about when I first started birding some 50 years ago (and before Matt stops reading, this isn't about some glorious day back in time when all was in black-and-white and the vast number of birds blotted out the sun). Were there similar bad news stories around that may have acted as a deterrent to me? Well, yes there were. Through the medium of print I was aware that Sparrowhawks were at a low ebb due to DDT poisoning thinning egg-shells and compromising successful breeding outcomes; that Wrynecks and Red-backed Shrikes had only, just a few years before, been regular breeding species but had now come to the point of extinction in the UK; that Common Whitethroats had been decimated by conditions in the Sahel during 1969; that 1975 had been a brilliant autumn for rarities and that I really should have been around in the 1960s to witness the massive falls enjoyed on the east coast. Did any of that put me off and snuff out enthusiasm? No it didn't, not a bit. It made me aware of how precarious bird numbers could be, that weather played a part in this as much as man-made obstacles and when I read about those great falls or screaming rarities it inspired me. I wanted to rush out, not retreat into my shell. It was almost as if I had been passed an ornithological baton to run with - "here you are, this is the current state of play, now go and investigate the future..." </p><p>Is it right to sugar-coat the current state of play, to look the other way or to dumb-down on the undeniable crisis in our wildlife to save upsetting the youngsters? I don't think that they need to be spared from the truth by a softly-softly approach to our social media discourse. They are brighter than that. They already get it. And, it mustn't be forgotten, the old farts who doom-monger also big up the success stories - even if many of these are the products of climate change and reintroduction programmes - we all get behind the genuine winners, such as Peregrines, Common Buzzards and Ravens, telling the 'youth' in our posts/tweets how, years ago, we had to drive miles westwards just to hope to get a glimpse of one.</p><p>There are areas of concern regarding how the recruitment of our youth into natural history study is compromised. We could start with education that they do not receive in infant and junior schools and work on from there - far more of a hazard than some old boy typing on a keyboard about the Tree Sparrows of his youth and how he doesn't see them any more...</p><p>I do get where Matt is coming from and understand that an opinion piece is just that. In this instance I am not sure that such wording is putting youngsters off from spending time with birds. If they are reading such negative stuff then they have already made the choice to be a part of this world - and, as I earlier mentioned, they are far cannier than to be put off by that.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-49779164331987165302023-11-25T20:41:00.003+00:002023-11-25T20:41:47.508+00:00Birding. Why and what does it mean?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3lrnWEbLKkfOJ9CxHsh9RnSCYkI4qRqFJj97cQjUF3zeXAZxdR047gA6wA6fFttRqysrrLrQ94SsAoc19dTBjgALi6santRN6H2wRFASomekgQM-q1IArNo-C05IlgU78mj8QFKdCgjFBceeMZQNNPqxxkwWl6KJM4Sj7ZmR9moEa3WTf8HnqiShw-E-/s2392/BHGull01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1528" data-original-width="2392" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV3lrnWEbLKkfOJ9CxHsh9RnSCYkI4qRqFJj97cQjUF3zeXAZxdR047gA6wA6fFttRqysrrLrQ94SsAoc19dTBjgALi6santRN6H2wRFASomekgQM-q1IArNo-C05IlgU78mj8QFKdCgjFBceeMZQNNPqxxkwWl6KJM4Sj7ZmR9moEa3WTf8HnqiShw-E-/s1600/BHGull01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>It might seem a simple question to answer. We tend to start off with a desire to identify what birds are in our presence and to record what we find by making a list. As time goes on we begin to make several lists, that of species seen within differing borders, at varying times of year and of many parameters. We identify and we collect. But, with advancing age - and experience - this does not cut the mustard. Our outlooks mellow, out age bestows upon us a certain sagacity (whether that is earned or not). We want more from what we have done, unquestioned as it might have been for many years. To 'just do' can become nothing more than a means to an end, something to fill in the time, to keep us amused, to act as a deterrent to stop us from wasting time that might otherwise be spent doing less meaningful things. Too much over thinking? Maybe, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a worthwhile exercise.</p><p>I'm just about to hit 65 and have recently lost a few birding role models and friends. Such events demand a looking at life. I was struck by a blog that I posted back in 2017, commenting on a notebook that I had been keeping for a number of years:</p><p><i><span style="color: #0b5394;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(117, 117, 117);">Back in 1975 I purchased a medium sized hard-backed notebook, narrow feint of line and blue of colour. It became my 'book of lists'. One such list was my bird species total for each year. Across an open spread I drew columns, each a centimetre wide, and after allowing for a generous space in which to write the bird species name, there were 26 columns - the first being for that current year, 1975. I was 16 at the time, and all of those blank columns represented to me a vast period of time - they would take me up to the year 2000, which sounded back then like a construct of science fiction, and the year in which I would celebrate my 42nd birthday. It was so far away that it really didn't warrant any thought at all. They were just there.</span><br style="caret-color: rgb(117, 117, 117); font-family: Roboto, sans-serif;" /><br style="caret-color: rgb(117, 117, 117); font-family: Roboto, sans-serif;" /><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; caret-color: rgb(117, 117, 117);">The years slowly passed, and they then picked up speed as they do when you grow older. Life happened. I left college. I started a career. I got married. We had children. And shortly before those columns were due to be finally filled, I became seriously ill. And it came to pass that the final column, for the year 2000, was completed and I turned over the page to start drawing another set of 26 columns, but stopped. 26 columns.... they would represent 26 years. They would take me up to 2026 when, if I were still alive, I would see my 68th birthday. No, this didn't seem the right thing to be doing, so I put down my pen and ruler and shut the book. I was still ill (and it would be another four years of treatment before I could consider myself to be well again). Would I be tempting fate to draw those lines? Would my presumption be waving a red rag at fate? Either way, those blank columns seemed to represent my life in a distilled and disturbing way. They never got drawn.</span></span></i></p><p>Well, that 68th birthday is now just three years away, and if I had carried on with my 'ruling out of the columns' I would be looking forward to having to do so again, which would then take me up to my 94th birthday. That is an age that I do not expect to meet. That's being realistic, not fatalistic. So, as we (I) start to creak into later age, does birding possess the same values as it did all those years ago? Well, yes... and no.</p><p>My early birding days were filled with awe. I just could not wait to get out into the field and see what was there. Yes, unusual species had a certain cache, but that wasn't what necessarily drove my enthusiasm. It was a sense of wonder - a wonder that was fuelled by discovering birds that could be found close to home. The searching for birds then spread out to the coast, to islands just off-shore of Britain and then countries thousands of miles away, but at the root of it all was the wonder, the sheer joy of finding species that spoke of the diversity that the natural world provided - and not just birds, but insects and plants as well. If you looked, you found, and you saw. </p><p>It might be supposed that after many years of 'looking' and 'seeing' the novelty might wear off. It doesn't. It gets stronger. Having been privileged enough to be able to spend time out in the field over many years enables you to appreciate the sheer pleasure in doing so. As time creeps on you lose friends and family. You suffer your own set-backs. The ability to walk out the front door with a rucksack full of optics becomes not so much a right but a gift - hence, what you then see is something that cannot be taken for granted.</p><p>Example - I was walking through Epsom town centre on Wednesday morning and, looking up into a baby blue sky watched a flock of 100 Woodpigeons pass overhead, a stately procession. I almost cried. Yes, there were only 100, and yes they were just Woodpigeons, but the stately manner in which they flew over me, the simplicity of that passage and the beauty of the colour palette before me spoke volumes. If, after 50-odd years of birding such a simple observation can reach inside me with such power, then I am truly blessed.</p><p>I may bleat on about the fall in bird numbers, the lack of passage migrants and my inability (recently) to find those special birds, but in all honesty they are ALL special. No time in the field is wasted or unrewarded. We go out and record so that we as individuals become knowledgable about our birdlife. And, as a major byproduct, we enrich our souls. Maybe the byproduct is, in fact, our real reward. I'm now in a place where my birding has two major threads - (1) To act as a balm in this mad world and (2) to enable me to help document the state of the world's birds. I am lucky enough to throw moths, butterflies and plants into the mix. I like to think that I may have played a small part in the ability of future naturalists to look back at late 20th and early 21st-century with some certainty as to what the state of the wildlife was. That is, to be honest, all that I need as an incentive to carry on looking. And if that is not enough then those moments when I can look up into a blue urban sky and be moved by a flock of common birds will do nicely as an alternative.</p><p>So, to answer the initial question - 'Birding - why and what does it mean?' Well I know what it means to me. But I would suggest that the answer to this question will vary between each and every one of us. It's what makes birding (and wider natural history study) such a marvellous thing.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-48573061479895551872023-11-16T09:45:00.001+00:002023-11-16T09:45:40.649+00:00Mike Netherwood<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxc8K5_i1moKmMy-Wrnw_0gsdhrY0EecVsySp6WxIsMnhlPEL5RQAp3ZHhxradjloGWAnaiIeccPvdoxXfOPtIAhvuDnLcE44VzsOafGp-CMvCoowQcywnTAEN_AlAV5am8_-6X_ket1YHwKCGGSAGbIQM-0NN8PxUEknS2MwlI4txw5uBbqoigvnn2gOt/s256/Bluethr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="256" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxc8K5_i1moKmMy-Wrnw_0gsdhrY0EecVsySp6WxIsMnhlPEL5RQAp3ZHhxradjloGWAnaiIeccPvdoxXfOPtIAhvuDnLcE44VzsOafGp-CMvCoowQcywnTAEN_AlAV5am8_-6X_ket1YHwKCGGSAGbIQM-0NN8PxUEknS2MwlI4txw5uBbqoigvnn2gOt/s1600/Bluethr.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><p>I first met Mike Netherwood at Beddington Sewage Farm in early 1975, me being an ultra-keen and ultra-green 16-year old birder, he some 20 years my senior. Mike, together with Ken Parsley, were the remnants of a once much larger ringing group which carried out the trapping and ringing of birds across the open expanse of the sewage farm. Whenever I bumped into them, which I often did, they would both tolerate my many questions about what they had seen and trapped and listen to me waxing lyrical about my own observations. Over the coming months they showed me how they caught the birds, allowed me to witness the ringing and measuring of them and, if I were very lucky, allow me to help them out by holding mist-net poles, carrying bird bags or writing down (scribing) the data that they were collecting into notebooks. By the summer of 1976 I had joined them, proudly in possession of my trainee ringer's permit.</p><p>For the next three years (until I 'defected' to Dungeness) I spent many, many hours in Mike's company. We both looked back on this period of time with great affection. Back then Beddington was still an old-fashioned sewage farm - open fields that were regularly flooded, mature hedgerows between the banked settling beds, culverts and brick out-buildings that had been built in the late 19th century, stands of willow, poplar and elm - and you could wander the site as truly believe that you were in the middle of the Sussex or Suffolk countryside. For both of us, being sensitive souls, this was a place of peace and a balm to the outside world. Mike liked nothing better than meeting up on a mid-Summer weekday afternoon (he was a postman so was well disposed to do so) when the Swifts were flying low over the settling beds and catch them in the mist-nets by 'flicking'. This trapping method had been devised by the Beddington ringers of old, and needed the pole at each end of the mist net to be held horizontally low until a Swift flew towards it. In unison the net would then be brought up into a vertical plane, intercepting the Swift. By this method we caught hundreds.</p><p>In between net rounds, or on days when we wandered the farm purely birding, we would chat away, subjects as various as the species we were observing. We both had a love of music and art, sometimes Mike would share with me his latest sketch or painting. We also shared a similar sense of humour. There were times when his ability to convey information about birds was magical. Almost fifty years after he imparted such nuggets to me they remain fresh in the memory - his rendering of the call of a Spotted Redshank and description of a Lesser Whitethroat were so accurate that when I came across both species soon afterwards - for the first time - I knew exactly what they were. Among our diet of commoner birds being trapped were a couple of standout highlights. On 10th October 1976, from a single-panelled mist-net placed in a settling bed full of Fathen, we caught a first-winter Bluethroat (pictured by Mike, above). Then, a couple of years later during an influx of Short-eared Owls (we recorded 12 on a single day) we extracted one from a mist-net.</p><p>Mike didn't keep himself to Beddington. He developed a love of Dorset, having holidays at Burton Bradstock (where he trapped two Bluethroats in the same net one morning) and then a regular autumn stay at Portland Bill Bird Observatory. And, like many Beddington-boys before him, took the road south to Dungeness. After Ken died, Mike became the custodian of the Beddington Ringing Group, teaming up with Mick Cook to carry on the work that had been started many years before. They concentrated their efforts in the Storm Tanks, away from the increasing disturbance that was now widespread across the farm as it morphed from sewage works into landfill. They had much success, and even a few surprises, such as a Wryneck and another Bluethroat - a first-year male on August 3rd 1997 that was incredibly re-trapped on June 13th 1999 - a white-spotted bird that held territory until last being seen on July 10th. There was a resurgence in the ringing group a few years later of which Mike was at the forefront. One of the notable achievements of this period was the monitoring of nest-boxes and ringing of the Tree Sparrow broods that had been hatched within them. Between 1992 and 2006 over 5,000 were ringed. This colony is now, sadly, extinct. </p><p>In later life Mike suffered mobility issues and increasing ill-health. He was still able to get out in the field owing to the kindness of friends. We kept in contact via social media, the odd phone call and I last saw him at the end of last year, for a lunchtime gathering of 'Beddington Old Boys' in The Hope pub in Carshalton. Regardless of his need to be on oxygen, his appetite for life was there to see and the twinkle remained in his eyes. I had much to thank him for and made sure that he knew how I felt about him. I'm so pleased that I got the chance to do so. He was as kind, generous and content a man as you could wish to meet. I cannot remove Mike from Beddington and Beddington from Mike when I think back to those golden days of the 1970s and certainly wouldn't want to do so. They were magical times. Farewell friend.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-89788956725016440782023-11-10T15:34:00.001+00:002023-11-10T15:34:29.548+00:00The dying of the year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJn9-DZZYwEVgZupsXwJk4KOjRJbe7bta2F9BKRo-ZPsNRvrA-Hn6DTVWO08xR7t_9Sk0XIWA4xY4tBNOfvaOArcvRVDSk78JU0lfraFzYvtjBtrDWECrrnoptaYtkh-p-nXMgyzAC1WFcEQmySzzNO4imRELWHeoX25zETKgDt5AiocxJKR-0SPOBd8YR/s4937/Linnet05%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2871" data-original-width="4937" height="372" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJn9-DZZYwEVgZupsXwJk4KOjRJbe7bta2F9BKRo-ZPsNRvrA-Hn6DTVWO08xR7t_9Sk0XIWA4xY4tBNOfvaOArcvRVDSk78JU0lfraFzYvtjBtrDWECrrnoptaYtkh-p-nXMgyzAC1WFcEQmySzzNO4imRELWHeoX25zETKgDt5AiocxJKR-0SPOBd8YR/s1600/Linnet05%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>By the time that the calendar creeps towards mid-November, there is a part of me that accepts that the year is on the way out. Even though there are still at least six weeks to go until that becomes a reality, something buried deep within me has always felt that way. From a schoolboy kicking through deep drifts of leaves to an adult scanning the skies for some late migrant thrush action, mid-November says decay, whispers 'end', suggests a last act before it creeps off 'stage right'. As morose and macabre as that sounds, these feelings are not those of death but more like a readying for a coming birth - that of a new year and a not-to-distant spring - the pagan in me is alive and kicking!</p><p>I've spent a lot of time skywatching from Epsom Downs over the past few weeks. And Colley Hill. And Box Hill. Even the back garden has had a look-in (although has not lived up to its previous successes). It has all been a little bit... meh (as the kids say). Apart from a couple of mornings of Woodpigeon moment - 5,410 on November 5th and 10,375 on November 6th - it has been disappointing, with very few thrushes and finches, usually the staple diet of October and early November skywatch mornings. We do have to say something about 'Woodpigeon movement' here: it is highly likely that these birds are not migrants but merely birds moving from overnight roosts to feeding grounds. This is a topic that that get birders having heated discussions as to the true reason for the pigeons being on the move, with camps being set up on the 'migrant' side of the argument against those opposing them on the 'feeding' side. For what it's worth, I'm a 'feeder'. Whatever the true reason for them being up there in the sky, en masse, it is a true spectacle, with some flocks attaining four-figure counts. It says something about the effect that such sights can have that even after 50+ years of birding I will make sure that I am standing on a still dark Epsom Downs, setting up the scope on the tripod, in excited readiness for the pigeon spectacular. It is just a shame that, sometimes, they will decide not to show, even if the weather conditions seem perfect for them to do so.</p><p>Yesterday found me in a bemused state of happy melancholia, sitting at the top of a slope looking down upon the western most valleys that scour Headley Heath. The leaves and vegetation were taking their last exhalations, dropping and mulching on top of the wet ground. A stillness wreathed the air, little stirred and a pale sunlight tried its hardest to paint life onto the brown and russet panorama. There were birds - at least eight Hawfinches sat up at the top of a leafless tree close to High Ashurst. A flock of 100 Linnets and 60 Redpolls took turns in flying between the high ground either side of the valley. Chaffinches were a constant above me, just small flocks, up high and giving themselves away with distant calls (as did a couple of Bramblings). It was all so restful. I sat and contemplated. I looked with an unhurried eye. I sank in my seat, felt the leaves around me, smelt the rot - but a fragrant rot - and started to ready myself for the dying of the year.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-78506154858685072772023-10-29T12:36:00.002+00:002023-10-29T12:36:35.745+00:00Multi-tasking<p>This autumn has, so far, been underwhelming on the birding front. Sky-watching has failed to produce any notable movements, with thrush and finch numbers very low. My combing of the local fields and hedgerows has uncovered a lack - even a silence - of avian presence. It is, it must be said, depressing. What exacerbates this dearth of birdlife is that social media reveals that, elsewhere in the country, there are birders filling their boots with large numbers, variety and rarity. At times like this I am reminded that 'comparison is the thief of joy', so it is best to try not evaluate your own, albeit small successes, against what is going on elsewhere - there lies disillusionment, disappointment and madness. It is also a truism that such successes elsewhere are often localised, and increasingly only happening when weather conditions are ideal, which does not happen all that often.</p><p>So, my local birding experience is not going to be anything other than a regular diet of mediocrity unless the weather conditions conspire to create ideal visible migration conditions, be they for the arrival (and passing) of passage migrants; a hard-weather event; or an irruption on a nationwide scale (think Waxwing, Hawfinch etc). That might sound defeatist but then again our resident bird numbers are way down, so any normal day's birding is one that is going to be set against depressed numbers, something that I have been experiencing for some time now. However, with a bit of effort it is easy to pull yourself out of such negativity by trying to focus on the detail of what you are doing, such as accepting that by counting (and reporting) on what you do see it has enormous value in collectively being used to make sense of just what is going in with our birds. </p><p>You can also multi-task...</p><p>What do I mean by multi-task? Well, if you are out birding it is not only the birds that are on offer. There are butterflies, moths, a multitude of other insect orders, fungi, plants... it is all there, awaiting your discovery. I have been lucky that my interest in natural history branched out from that of a sole ornithologist many years ago. I have had years in which birding has taken a back seat. Sometime, at the turn of the millennium, my main area of interest turned to all things botanical. I had joined the <a href="https://www.surreyflora.org.uk">Surrey Botanical Society</a> (SBS) and was a keen recorder of the species of flower found close to my Banstead home, the data of which I studiously sent in via the preferred recording method. I learnt a lot from the Society field trips that I attended and made new friends. Somewhere along the line the plants then made way, for a few years, of lepidopteran favouritism, before heading back to the birds again. At the time, a birding friend of mine, Neil Randon, jokingly referred to this blog being just about 'moths and twiggy bits.'! Yesterday I attended a SBS social at the Box Hill Village Hall and had a wonderful time, meeting up with old friends and making some new ones, finding out about the fieldwork that has been carried out over the past few months, the upcoming publication of the 'Surrey Rare Plant Register' and the exciting new possibilities with reporting data and accessing the Societies database. I came away with a rediscovered botanical spring in my step. The birding might not be taking a back-seat, but with butterflies, moths and plants waiting in the wings, a quiet birding day needn't be one without additional interest. I have, and will once again, happily switch between disciplines and even, when I feel like it, multi-task when out in the field. It is all there. Bring it on!</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-31746428857554760402023-10-08T13:25:00.003+01:002023-10-08T13:25:17.815+01:00Wonder of the day (and night)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTWb60wurkW5I8MtonZCM0UUdzvWum58mWknjwecf5ZmXQjfkWQ9Yh-zYlsvMzR8PaLKiAso2oLz7gfiHP3Ok7jQa6wtcZ-ZrDPb7U_nVu-RlDrh92lI0liA4D_RFqrLqe1Bo5HwgwTbSJFwmM1pJmz8DK4-_0uBLzQKxm0pMOoVwczm77tzGKe29UhpI/s3196/MervduJour05%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2223" data-original-width="3196" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiTWb60wurkW5I8MtonZCM0UUdzvWum58mWknjwecf5ZmXQjfkWQ9Yh-zYlsvMzR8PaLKiAso2oLz7gfiHP3Ok7jQa6wtcZ-ZrDPb7U_nVu-RlDrh92lI0liA4D_RFqrLqe1Bo5HwgwTbSJFwmM1pJmz8DK4-_0uBLzQKxm0pMOoVwczm77tzGKe29UhpI/s1600/MervduJour05%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOAEY9vk9PCVk_JtBMboSLVqC5ScRJ50QOE8TJtnS2jahXGhvFoYFTYhoMYViZyfMVWLAJKSysGrwVs0u1YzKhvQlwfLNr3U8OXmQiyxoG65-Rlmg-vuTf1jON-1UjgIxz9FGFibfc6kXlo26hufOcyEHk_heHWL0l_p0rfR0MhkTcQZ-h1LiNHondmN4/s3760/MervduJour03%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2064" data-original-width="3760" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNOAEY9vk9PCVk_JtBMboSLVqC5ScRJ50QOE8TJtnS2jahXGhvFoYFTYhoMYViZyfMVWLAJKSysGrwVs0u1YzKhvQlwfLNr3U8OXmQiyxoG65-Rlmg-vuTf1jON-1UjgIxz9FGFibfc6kXlo26hufOcyEHk_heHWL0l_p0rfR0MhkTcQZ-h1LiNHondmN4/s1600/MervduJour03%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>Merveille du Jour is an uncommon enough species of moth which enables it to retain a certain aura. Not quite annual here in Banstead, anytime I record it is a joyful thing. No further words needed, just enjoy this mint green humbug of a moth...</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7SXzYIVwKiTZNKXWtkjIEIU144h7KPUa73DyKXnWfOkhWsBwbhuFVnFsRE_0zv78FW-rcXhdXIMCvhhQKEHDmGQpcbovkW0V4WO4pkXIJ_JF_xdl7AHakDi3XZBSLz8dCykjCw4WBaihazWp3T_Ec86HZB2rjNlQSz7ES1V4Ewp6ikgP7iNdBdYvsYoK/s3567/MervduJour04%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2178" data-original-width="3567" height="390" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjr7SXzYIVwKiTZNKXWtkjIEIU144h7KPUa73DyKXnWfOkhWsBwbhuFVnFsRE_0zv78FW-rcXhdXIMCvhhQKEHDmGQpcbovkW0V4WO4pkXIJ_JF_xdl7AHakDi3XZBSLz8dCykjCw4WBaihazWp3T_Ec86HZB2rjNlQSz7ES1V4Ewp6ikgP7iNdBdYvsYoK/s1600/MervduJour04%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wSrC4-N-hGmhtqjBDlmp3RIuhRjK5LKUfH-Y0Vi67L1LyxcHQPiE4oI_HUOBuUXZnCjCNT_T4TJ5FyhHBxqh8VIinHlFhyphenhyphenqjHVYh2Fd-gc9NCuOB7iY1bMclJstA0WfNw__ifcy1NkPEF37IFcNXzl2jGNezU2pXVjV36ojoNDFWMbYzdIODSkdYkJXs/s3480/MervduJour06%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2172" data-original-width="3480" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_wSrC4-N-hGmhtqjBDlmp3RIuhRjK5LKUfH-Y0Vi67L1LyxcHQPiE4oI_HUOBuUXZnCjCNT_T4TJ5FyhHBxqh8VIinHlFhyphenhyphenqjHVYh2Fd-gc9NCuOB7iY1bMclJstA0WfNw__ifcy1NkPEF37IFcNXzl2jGNezU2pXVjV36ojoNDFWMbYzdIODSkdYkJXs/s1600/MervduJour06%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-21513097470645693292023-10-02T14:12:00.002+01:002023-10-02T14:12:59.300+01:00Moth people<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWfbIXF8ioAJduSLHDdWb1Pdi1C_OesLiDbxLOIIpOzK1yvx5qXuv542Xq_XVTUxpQcehqKaNjJHX4GorHWSNUJmPBtWAoRtAt0_wemZqEBYMxCkjnAn1DwIPo9llWzdFZXcMXRZutDYy8GS_wqxwY52QqOo8EkoU7gd-tVScTKNxYbgoPFQZbKojciyj/s3648/TreelichenBeauty03.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyWfbIXF8ioAJduSLHDdWb1Pdi1C_OesLiDbxLOIIpOzK1yvx5qXuv542Xq_XVTUxpQcehqKaNjJHX4GorHWSNUJmPBtWAoRtAt0_wemZqEBYMxCkjnAn1DwIPo9llWzdFZXcMXRZutDYy8GS_wqxwY52QqOo8EkoU7gd-tVScTKNxYbgoPFQZbKojciyj/s1600/TreelichenBeauty03.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>With so little to blog about as far as birds are concerned, and with my botanical hat seemingly put away for the rest of the year, it falls upon the lepidoptera to once more provide the subject matter for this latest post. Last time up it was all about my early mothing memories, but what I neglected to mention was the part that people played in nurturing and encouraging my interest. This will put that right.</p><p>First up is Sean Clancy. As my last post mentioned, it was his actinic trap set up in the moat at Dungeness that was the spark that set alight my early interest in moths. Sean was a little younger than me, and was somebody that I had first met birdwatching at Beddington SF (when he was just 13 years old) in the company of a school-teacher of his, one Barry Banson (of more later). Sean's regular appearances at Dungeness often coincided with mine, and we soon became good friends, taking birding trips together. I knew of his interest in moths, and although I had had my own moments with them, they were just that - moments. As I became a bit more interested, it was Sean who I looked to for advice, help and identification.</p><p>In 1981, at a Dungeness Bird Observatory committee meeting, I mentioned my new found interest in moths to Bob Scott (ex-Dungeness warden). I was keen on finding out what species had been recorded there and he suggested that I contact Barry Goater, who had, in the past, been a regular visitor to the point in pursuit of moths. Furnished with his address I wrote to him, hoping that he might be able to point me in the right direction as to where to find any published information. What I did not expect was a most speedy, and full, reply. In meticulous handwriting, and spanning a number of pages, Barry had given me a list of species that he had recorded, with dates and numbers. He urged me to keep recording and I found his response not only informative but ever so touching - he really had gone out of his way to help someone who was a total stranger to him. As it happened, my interest in moths did not yet fully bloom.</p><p>Sometime during 1987-88 the next 'moth person' appeared, and that was Barry Banson. This south-London schoolmaster, who I had known from my early Beddington days, had purchased a bungalow on the Kent coast close to Dungeness. He started to run an MV in his garden which, I think it is fair to say, started to produce migrant moth records that were the envy of the country. My times at DBO would not be complete without a visit to Barry's to see his latest captures. He had already nurtured my interest (and modest skills) botanically, and now he set about educating me in the ways of lepidoptera. </p><p>At about the same time I would meet up with three Surrey-based birder's once a fortnight for a beer - Derek Coleman, Graham Geen and Ian Dodd. We also had more than a passing interest in moths. By now I (and my other fellow beer drinkers) had purchased actinic traps, so our sessions would be enlivened by pots of moths being passed around for our education and titillation. Derek then upgraded to an MV - and that changed everything. I would often join him out in the field, lugging generators, ever expanding number of MV traps, electrics, egg boxes, sheets, etc, etc. We would regularly visit Ashtead Common (especially for Heart Moth), Banstead Downs, Dawcombe, White Downs and especially Oaken Wood. We would return home in the early hours full of mothing memories. We were often joined by Graham Collins, the county moth recorder, another who gave freely of his time and expertise.</p><p>Dungeness continued to have a strong moth influence on me. DBO warden David Walker became an avid recorder, the observatory sometimes running two MV's. He was generous in sharing his prize captures, sometimes phoning me at home to let me know about them. I actually drove the 90-miles from Banstead to see two of his most attractive successes - Death's-head Hawk-moth and Spurge Hawk-moth. I declined to make the journey for one of his rarest, a Tree-lichen Beauty. Just as well that I saved on time and petrol for that particular moth as I now trap them regularly in the garden (pictured above). Others also ran traps nearby and would share in their results - Owen Leyshon, Dorothy Beck and Keith Redshaw to name just three. I was also lucky enough to meet some of the titans of the mothing world - Bernard Skinner, John Langmaid and Jim Porter - each of them to a man approachable, friendly, helpful and full of encouragement.</p><p>I'm so grateful to each and every one of the people mentioned in this post. There are others that have also played their part in my mothing time, and even though they may have not been mentioned by name they are certainly not forgotten.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-53460792236849940972023-09-28T12:42:00.001+01:002023-09-28T12:42:14.091+01:00In the beginning (moths)<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDtCkzaLPOlWxIPtWSd5QDrG1AiwHUB1kinJvwo7NoMQcqfZazV5jZmiZmwcsy8z6sVbtb07GXvyhS_PWLPhPZGGvf1c3M7P-cOLTsRhWqUde6eMriaGz5hVlasX0aQ9n0TJ5t87Sa4_ZhAFSiqB_rO2T1jMcVgoyhySixDXsyBwq2ggt30bK56Hashcf/s1600/ElephantHawkmoth01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzDtCkzaLPOlWxIPtWSd5QDrG1AiwHUB1kinJvwo7NoMQcqfZazV5jZmiZmwcsy8z6sVbtb07GXvyhS_PWLPhPZGGvf1c3M7P-cOLTsRhWqUde6eMriaGz5hVlasX0aQ9n0TJ5t87Sa4_ZhAFSiqB_rO2T1jMcVgoyhySixDXsyBwq2ggt30bK56Hashcf/s1600/ElephantHawkmoth01.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>The first moth that I have any recollection of appeared as if a short, stubby, pink cigar, hanging onto a pile of freshly laundered clothing that was spilling over the top of a washing basket. At first I wasn't sure what this 'thing' was - a medley of pink bubblegum and mossy green - was it really a living thing and not some toy misplaced by a younger sibling? But on closer examination it was real enough. It moved. And it had wings. Even then, without any known education or experience, I somehow knew that this was no butterfly but a moth. It was the summer of 1973 and I had no real interest in natural history, but that was about to change...</p><p>As if priming me for what was about to unfold, a second moth came to me that summer. A big thing, all chocolate brown discs on a white background, with splurges of orange. Two moths and two absolute belters. I needed to know more. And so, like so many schoolchildren before me, I sought enlightenment via one of the ubiquitous Observer Books - this particular small volume all about moths. My two unidentified insects were soon found - an Elephant Hawk Moth and a Garden Tiger - both bright and colourful, unlike quite a few of the species within the pages, like, for example, the Large Yellow Underwing - which became moth number three a few days later, being found at rest on my bedroom wall. And then, for some reason, the Observer's volume was placed on a bookshelf and stayed there, untouched.</p><p>Fast forward to early August 1975. A hot Saturday, memorable for two reasons. Firstly, my first experience of a live professional cricket match, an Ashes test at Lord's. And secondly, because of the moths. That evening, my extended family met up in the evening at a village hall in the Hertfordshire countryside close to Tring, gathering to celebrate the wedding of a distant relation. It was a warm night. I couldn't help but notice the hundreds of moths that were gathering at the windows, fluttering on the glass trying to find a way into the lit room. As I looked closer, a few of the younger children present saw my interest and came up to see what was going on. Look, moths! Loads of different sizes, shapes and colours! Yellows and Greens! Stripes and spots! And Large Yellow Underwings! I knew that one, and that impressed a few of them. We started to try and count how many different species were present, even though I (we) could not identify them. Like a modern-day Fagin, I gathered together a gang helpers, Oliver Twists and Artful Dodgers going outside with glass tumblers to collect the moths and bring them back to me where I pronounced what was what. One in particular was not only striking but I could identify it from the forgotten Observer book - a Swallowtail Moth!</p><p>But, once again, the moths sunk back into the background, way behind my interest in birds. By 1976 I had become a devotee of Dungeness and its bird observatory, and was aware that, apart from birds, some of my fellow shingle-crunchers were also interested in other natural history orders. The warden, Nick Riddiford, had compiled a card-index of moths, their lifeless wings taped to small cards, his spidery writing naming each species. I flicked through them and was most taken by the Blood-vein, due to a combination of name and looks - I quite fancied seeing one of those. Life at Dungeness opened me up to being regularly assailed by the odd moth, normally a hawk-moth found on a wall, but these interludes were nothing more than that. It all changed in 1981.</p><p>In late May - early June of that year the warden at the time, Dorian Buffery, went off on a short holiday leaving me to act as his deputy warden. With me, as an able assistant, was Sean Clancy, who had brought with him an actinic moth trap. This was put out each night in the moat and I was a willing observer as he checked the egg trays each morning to count and identify the moths that had been captured. How on earth he knew what was what was beyond me, but as the week wore on I found myself increasingly looking forward to this 'moth time'. I had a soft spot for the localised and striking White Spot, a Dungeness speciality - there was something in this mothing lark after all, beyond just random casual acquaintances with hawk-moths on piles of washing. On return home I ordered the two volumes of South, at the time the only identification guide to the larger moths available, even though the plates and text were from the turn of the century. However, these were soon placed next to the Observer's book on the shelf to gather dust.</p><p>The dam burst in 1984. Two things happened. Number one, Bernard Skinner's Moth book was published, a revelation with every species of larger moth photographed, identification features discussed and up to date status given. Number two, I saw my first MV in action. It was placed in the Dungeness Bird Observatory back garden and I had never seen so many moths in my life - they formed a blizzard around the 125w bulb, flooding into the trap or landing on the ground and walls all around it. Included in the enormous haul was a Blood-vein. My mind was made up - I might not have the place to run an MV trap at home, but I could operate one of the far less antisocial actinic traps. Within a week or two I was running one in the grounds of an old peoples home close to my second floor flat in south Sutton. This trap served me well until, with my own garden, I was able to upgrade to an MV in 1990. And even today, 50 years later, I cannot see an Elephant Hawk-moth without thinking back to that individual that decided to rest on a pile of washing during the summer of 1973.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-49658330281595691512023-09-26T10:55:00.000+01:002023-09-26T10:55:42.002+01:00Downs and rare crambids<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtmeF0Rl7JIxRn6t2lMFA6oBRgVUMDwCtH00Zx8YZHA9BHxFxI0QJuCYYcW4jw00lUN3dcFx9Cz5YxlbM-kaG92Qu9OTdUXZR6nCRYTs7NBjbsckyIcROhkBS1iE_in5qzqxrky4WE5QTIhQ1Nxm8jprYc2RSae8JCJs9ls-LPKOrN59hhkDSwL2rVGVO/s5139/EpsomDowns04.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3120" data-original-width="5139" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtmeF0Rl7JIxRn6t2lMFA6oBRgVUMDwCtH00Zx8YZHA9BHxFxI0QJuCYYcW4jw00lUN3dcFx9Cz5YxlbM-kaG92Qu9OTdUXZR6nCRYTs7NBjbsckyIcROhkBS1iE_in5qzqxrky4WE5QTIhQ1Nxm8jprYc2RSae8JCJs9ls-LPKOrN59hhkDSwL2rVGVO/s1600/EpsomDowns04.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>Four consecutive mornings have seen me setting up shop on Epsom Downs to do a bit of skywatching - or vis-migging to be more precise - the dark art of counting migrating birds as they pass overhead. I find this form of birding most relaxing and full of surprises. It is a bit like an inland form of seawtaching as you just keep still and let the conveyor belt of birds come to you. Even on the quietest of days it is rewarding. Mid-to-late autumn is the busiest time of the year to engage, so I have been full of hope that rewards (however modest) would come my way. And they have. The position that I take up (as can be seen in the photo above) looks northwards towards the race course buildings, and gives me uninterrupted views all round, including sight-lines into the dips that can otherwise hide low-flying birds. So far it has confirmed that hirundines and pipits move across the area on a broad-front, with any obvious concentrated streams of birds easy to pick out. I believe that when the thrushes and finches get going I may have to slightly alter where I stand, but at least from this spot it will be possible to see where they are moving - some species like to follow tree-lines and, as can be seen in the image above, I'm not standing by one!</p><p>First up, on Friday <b>(22nd)</b> an Osprey stole the show as it headed east, drifting over the race course grandstands. A steady passage of 159 Meadow Pipit, 41 Swallow and 7 Sand Martin moved south. The <b>23rd</b> yielded a south to south-west movement of 637 Stock Dove, 51 Woodpigeon, 115 Swallow, 17 House Martin, 2 Sand Martin, 9 Skylark, 308 Meadow Pipit and a Grey Wagtail, plus both single Wheatear and Chiffchaff flying above the open downland, purposefully south. The Stock Doves appeared in a brief window shortly after dawn, in low small groups. These birds are, in my opinion, leaving roosts to the north to feed in the fields south of the downs, where I have encountered large numbers before. Hirundines dominated the grey, murky morning of <b>24th</b>, when 1137 House Martin and 140 Swallow moved south-east. And yesterday (<b>25th</b>) when little was moving, I concentrated on counting the Stock Doves, reaching a total of 1029, before the picture was confused by birds returning back northwards.</p><p>Would you like a bit of moth news? I thought so! This morning I was delighted to find a single Uresiphita gilvata in the MV trap - a migrant crambid from the European mainland and quite a scarce species, one that I have longed to see. The images below show it at rest plus an underwing shot showing off the pale orange coloration with dark edging.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixthTCrxImeFyvJRbd-7Cfxjmtt_qupfzb59kVXJtf-KDiPTTyzBb8AQJH9BQ48B3X-x3wxNS0wXaGMP3ayBhrYpXfMqFM70J_YiMMFO2uI9LbBfA33bDq2QWfn1885j3NsmQQyussef1QajGwdoEs4Kme0eQAOe1-J9wo5XFqi-3JGA2zd1ER-vf4zS1i/s2567/Screenshot%202023-09-26%20at%2010.22.13.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1353" data-original-width="2567" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixthTCrxImeFyvJRbd-7Cfxjmtt_qupfzb59kVXJtf-KDiPTTyzBb8AQJH9BQ48B3X-x3wxNS0wXaGMP3ayBhrYpXfMqFM70J_YiMMFO2uI9LbBfA33bDq2QWfn1885j3NsmQQyussef1QajGwdoEs4Kme0eQAOe1-J9wo5XFqi-3JGA2zd1ER-vf4zS1i/s1600/Screenshot%202023-09-26%20at%2010.22.13.png" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-70162419504911462252023-09-18T14:42:00.001+01:002023-09-18T14:42:10.534+01:00The rise and now the fall<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlXiOp71PWjGxu4Z1oLcpiM5DCLs-b7Bna0_Y0fYOUXDq1UzWbqQLiWV77SQITdlzMyMJcRbIMc1TURSGYcPO0ulNZIQw9QYK9yzgVVA0xFdhGHHvR8_nJYMAn2_7Ezj0uoRAbDhEbYxJkBjS3k58GC5VHyWl1qgfHYb8U75-bcoOV4gx2LmtzYaiteii/s1600/GardenTiger02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPlXiOp71PWjGxu4Z1oLcpiM5DCLs-b7Bna0_Y0fYOUXDq1UzWbqQLiWV77SQITdlzMyMJcRbIMc1TURSGYcPO0ulNZIQw9QYK9yzgVVA0xFdhGHHvR8_nJYMAn2_7Ezj0uoRAbDhEbYxJkBjS3k58GC5VHyWl1qgfHYb8U75-bcoOV4gx2LmtzYaiteii/s1600/GardenTiger02.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>The last post - looking at the successful colonising moth species to my Banstead garden - generated a comment from Dorset birder (and avid moth convert) Gavin Haig as to whether or not I would be up to creating a post that looked at those species that are declining here in my corner of Surrey. Good idea Gav!</p><p>What follows is all a little bit cobbled together, using some hard data with a large dollop of gut instinct. As background, we moved into our current home in 1987, set in a suburban area nestled between Banstead and Epsom Downs. The garden is about 100ft in length and well established (which goes for most of those close by). I have recorded the moths here since day one: an actinic from August 1987 until December 1989; then an MV from January 1990 onwards. Effort has been largely constant, although there were a couple of lapses that lasted just a few months. I used to count (and identify) each and every individual macro moth, but stopped doing that in 1993 due to time constraints. Without doubt, moth numbers have fallen sharply since these early days. This is most easily noticed with such species as Heart and Dart and Large Yellow Underwing, with, during their flight periods, hundreds each night and cumulative thousands over the summer. Such numbers are purely historical now and have no place in 2023. There are many, many species that have reduced in number since 1987 (far more than those that have increased). To list the 'fallers' would test your patience as a reader, so I've just pulled out a few examples. I have used my garden totals from 1990, 1991 and 1992 to illustrate the demise - three numbers in brackets are these figures in chronological order.</p><p>There are two species that, to my mind, illustrate this loss most acutely. The first is <b>Golden Plusia</b>. It is a beautiful moth, a delicate thing which looks as if it has been made from spun gold thread and pearls, a creation from an Art Nouveau mind. It used to be annual here in Banstead (8,8,6) and I last recorded it in 1996. The excellent <i>'Atlas of Britain and Ireland's Larger Moths'</i> (2019) suggests a reduction of abundance across Great Britain in the region of an alarming <span style="color: red;">-99%</span>. Any fall in abundance figures that I quote comes from this fine publication. The other is <b>Mouse Moth</b>, a plain looking thing that scuttles across the egg boxes in a moth trap just like a small rodent (hence its name). To see them was just a routine part of checking the trap during the summer (5, 78, 27) but then they started to become less frequent. The individual that I recorded in 2021 was the first for ten years <span style="color: red;">(-86%)</span>.</p><p>A few selected 'Banstead garden' species that have reduced in abundance by -80% or more are: <b>Spinach</b> (1,1,2 - now rarely seen -<span style="color: red;">97%</span>; <b>Toadflax Pug</b> (11, 13, 10 - one or two a year <span style="color: red;">-83%</span>); <b>Tawny Speckled Pug</b> (17, 34, 42 - a big highlight to see one now <span style="color: red;">-81%</span>); Bordered Pug (4, 2, 6 - certainly not annual now <span style="color: red;">-87%</span>); <b>Dusky Thorn</b> (11, 51, 5 - the garden has always been particularly good for this species, still annual but in small numbers <span style="color: red;">-97%</span>); <b>Garden Tiger</b> (pictured above, small numbers annually early on, but only one recorded in the past 10 years <span style="color: red;">-88%</span>); <b>Beaded Chestnut</b> (5, 27, 38 - much reduced <span style="color: red;">-92%</span>); <b>Dot Moth</b> (19, 10, 17 - one or two a year now, none in 2023 <span style="color: red;">-85%</span>); <b>Broad-barred White</b> (52, 61, 61 - missing now <span style="color: red;">-93%</span>); <b>Heart and Dart</b> (5112, 1730, 2189 - the days of swarms long gone, struggle to get double-figures most nights <span style="color: red;">-86%</span>).</p><p>One sad aspect of this is that, unless you count all of the individuals that you trap and note them down, a species demise can go under the radar. I hadn't realised that many of the above species were spiralling down the plug hole until I was confronted with the Atlas's findings. No doubt there are other species heading the same way that I am not aware of even though they are reducing right before my eyes. Sometimes the lack of a species can be unconsciously put down to it being just a bad year for that species, one that it will recover from quickly, rather than a genuine long-term fall in the population.</p><p>Want more? <b>Eyed Hawk-moth</b> (17, 3,16 - then none between 2003-13, now not annual and if seen just the one); <b>Riband Wave</b> (555, 1210, 399 - still common, but much reduced); <b>Marbled Beauty</b> (95, 190, 124 - this year has been awful for them, hardly seen one); <b>Large Ranunculus</b> (93, 47, 51 - autumn trap inspections mostly made without them now); <b>Dunbar</b> (46, 31, 14 - another going under the radar); <b>Shaded Broad-bar</b> (39 to my actinic trap in 1988 - certainly not annual for many years); <b>Dark Arches</b> (705, 1530, 485 - double figure counts at the MV now an exception); <b>Black Rustic</b> (62, 62, 85 - an now? I'm sure you're getting the picture...) There are plenty more that I could have used as examples.</p><p>So for every 'good news' moth species we unfortunately have many more that are 'bad news'. I am grateful that I can remember the 'moth snowstorms' that danced in front of the car headlights on muggy summer nights; can recall moths streaming through an open window and into a lit room before I owned a moth trap; and can luxuriate in the memory of the garden MV being full to the brim, each egg box a confusion of moth on top of moth. </p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-32503077514163454832023-09-17T10:24:00.007+01:002023-09-17T10:24:55.101+01:00Our ever-changing moths<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYsZnfUkjPUgbFq2FfG4ZfmQjqbg3pOOK8ijj5ftwCYu7dOBg-46kxdjSp5h2c9S3kgx967j4iEsAOL7KMX9Hgemql99vMD9LjOFgu_okwvI6t9DFNxGqDPjHA7WXfZEk7ttbuvR38PK1jpNr_WHSBfEABPm5PEwCIvzhRo119BwXX6_2khs2bQzz1K8o/s3935/ClancysRustic03%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2520" data-original-width="3935" height="410" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYsZnfUkjPUgbFq2FfG4ZfmQjqbg3pOOK8ijj5ftwCYu7dOBg-46kxdjSp5h2c9S3kgx967j4iEsAOL7KMX9Hgemql99vMD9LjOFgu_okwvI6t9DFNxGqDPjHA7WXfZEk7ttbuvR38PK1jpNr_WHSBfEABPm5PEwCIvzhRo119BwXX6_2khs2bQzz1K8o/s1600/ClancysRustic03%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>This morning saw the capture of a Clancy's Rustic (above) at the MV - the first to be recorded here in Banstead and my 652nd species (of which 413 are macros) for the garden. This species was unknown in the UK until my friend Sean Clancy caught and identified one in New Romney, Kent in 2002. As much as it is a moth that has only been reliably recorded in the country for 21 years, it is no longer a rare migrant but has now become a colonising resident. It's appearance in Banstead was not unexpected, in fact was overdue, having colonised southern coastal counties and is now making inroads into Surrey and the London area.</p><p>Our moth fauna is in a state of flux - of course, no group of creatures stays still, but the range of many moths have exhibited great changes in recent years, particularly migrants colonising the south-east of England. Others, pure residents, have suddenly increased in numbers so that they now appear in areas that they shunned not that long ago. I thought it might be of interest to look at those species that were new for my garden trap over the past 15 years to see which could be ascribed to the above two groups and what their current Banstead status is.</p><p><b>2008</b> Buff Footman (now a resident, annually recorded in good numbers)</p><p><b>2009</b> Dingy Footman (now a resident, annually recorded in good numbers)</p><p><b>2010</b> Toadflax Brocade (colonised from south coast, annual in small numbers, breeds in garden); Orange Footman (now a resident, annually recorded in modest numbers); Hoary Footman (now a resident, annually recorded in good numbers). As can be seen, the 'footmen' - all lichen and algae feeders - are doing well!</p><p><b>2011</b> Rannoch Looper (still just a rare continental visitor); Tree-lichen Beauty (another rapidly expanding species from the south coastal counties, multiple records per year)</p><p><b>2012</b> Jersey Tiger (big coloniser, from south-western coastal counties plus possible London releases, now ubiquitous both day and night); Gypsy Moth (London releases and possible migrants have created a resident population that is now annually caught in modest numbers)</p><p><b>2013</b> Royal Mantle (still just the one recorded); White-point (another big coloniser, multiples at the MV most nights in their flight season)</p><p><b>2014</b> Grass Rivulet (not annual); Dark Spectacle (annual in modestly increasing numbers)</p><p><b>2015</b> Cypress Carpet (south-coast coloniser, modest numbers annually)</p><p><b>2017</b> Yellow-legged Clearwing (once, lure only); Orange-tailed Clearwing (once, lure only); Scarlet Tiger (a rare wanderer); Scallop Shell (still just one record); Clifden Nonpareil (still just one record); Delicate (rare migrant, three records)</p><p><b>2018</b> Great Oak Beauty (one record); Kent Black Arches (still rare); Mocha (one record); Oak Processionary (now established from adventive stock, annual in modest number); Gold Spot (one record)</p><p><b>2019</b> Langmaid's Yellow Underwing (two recorded (and verified) but critical examination not carried out to increase records. No doubt from colonising south coastal population)</p><p><b>2020</b> Dewick's Plusia (pictured below, colonist from southern coastal and London populations, recorded annually in small numbers); Heath Rustic (one record, heathland wanderer); L-album Wainscot (another coloniser from the south, feet firmly under the table in a short time, up to six a night at the moment)</p><p><b>2021</b> Brown-veined Wainscot (just one record)</p><p><b>2023</b> Red-necked Footman (just one record); Dark Crimson Underwing (two recorded, to be expected given the presence of a recently established population to the immediate north-west of me); Clancy's Rustic (was expected, south coastal expansion, local records increasing)</p><p>These are exciting and fascinating times to be recording moths. We shouldn't gloss over the fact that many species are going the opposite way, with falls in numbers and distribution. All we can do is keep trapping, continue to take notes and collate the findings.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1drT0xhUSYPcX7hS4c8kHk4WTSvJhQkK98jMb8184WugefDxh5DAwE3yTTEkgR7s49WtqAwHrbgQlkxJWvH_nhja8hgaYKtSbJBlG3UK-i75BrP8NOEiajheuQb04xoLWUlTtVdysv0obpWYoapVi-qrSpJ67aU2a1HdybQhmM-VstpgofbFV_abrI8z/s4087/DewicksPlusia04%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2412" data-original-width="4087" height="378" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEje1drT0xhUSYPcX7hS4c8kHk4WTSvJhQkK98jMb8184WugefDxh5DAwE3yTTEkgR7s49WtqAwHrbgQlkxJWvH_nhja8hgaYKtSbJBlG3UK-i75BrP8NOEiajheuQb04xoLWUlTtVdysv0obpWYoapVi-qrSpJ67aU2a1HdybQhmM-VstpgofbFV_abrI8z/s1600/DewicksPlusia04%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-67193521126246442192023-09-12T09:45:00.001+01:002023-09-12T09:45:14.765+01:00A reckoning<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADOukdoK6WYDuRnwNnzASrFefAfVbIPoYp01eQ7SR3tS4r96FAJK-gFY9dadkypDXVhqA7dBKMNdmzT1al2DDI-Ezjsb7uOPa5Q2V-4rxrU14FZZwqRBKSbh-AadPtt0hxes87i19MOmo1k_heByQDCFdWQX4gNvBHL2MObqS3ezkkSta9Lk9Fdi-UAZd/s2932/Delicate04%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2682" data-original-width="2932" height="586" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgADOukdoK6WYDuRnwNnzASrFefAfVbIPoYp01eQ7SR3tS4r96FAJK-gFY9dadkypDXVhqA7dBKMNdmzT1al2DDI-Ezjsb7uOPa5Q2V-4rxrU14FZZwqRBKSbh-AadPtt0hxes87i19MOmo1k_heByQDCFdWQX4gNvBHL2MObqS3ezkkSta9Lk9Fdi-UAZd/s1600/Delicate04%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>It goes with the territory. If you are an advocate and an exponent of 'low-carbon' birding, of being green and of leaving the car in the driveway and walking (or taking public transport) to your places of birding, then it is prudent to 'walk-the-walk' and not just 'talk-the-talk'. It helps if you live by the coast, or at least close to a large water-body - your doorstep experience will be so much more rewarding than if you live, let's just say, on the edge of dry Surrey chalk downland. It is a fault of mine to embrace a cause and then become a cheerleader for it, rather than quietly support it. Thus, I bang on about the delights to be found in birdwatching my immediate area - and, believe me, there can be delights. But, in 2023, I am finding these delights to be hard to come by.</p><p>It can appear - and it is - a 'first-world' problem: that of bleating on about how poor the local birding is. When compared to what could be wrong in life it is of little consequence. But... the birding is not 'poor' because I cannot find a rarity, or there isn't a decent fall or vis-mig on offer, it is because our (my) bird numbers are disturbingly low. I could tell you that, in eight solid days of birding, across decent looking habitat, I have seen just single Whinchat, Common Redstart and Willow Warbler. What might be more disturbing is that I have also seen just a single Song Thrush. I can relay to you how cumulative hours have been spent looking across panoramas where not a single passerine breaks cover. Or skies that are empty. Migrants might be thin on the ground, and there is a temptation to dismiss their non-attendance due to unfavourable weather conditions - but that does not explain away a lack of our resident species. Missing finch and tit flocks. Thrush numbers that require one hand to count them on. Believe me, these are not the bleatings of a disappointed birder but the concern of a naturalist who, after 50 years of recording wildlife is witnessing numbers falling off the edge of a cliff. I do read about good numbers elsewhere. But to temper that I also hear others asking the same question as I do - "Where have all the birds gone?"</p><p>I had started a 14-day, on-foot, local birding blitz. A social-media shared celebration of embracing your local area. Not a single day of the eight I completed was anything other than, at the very least, a disappointment and at the worst an ornithological nightmare. Maybe I'm over-reacting to a situation that is, for whatever reason, exacerbated in my immediate area. I don't think so. I've stopped this project, having walked 153.8Km in the first seven days and birded across several habitats. There comes a time when you have to question why it is worth my while repeating this exercise when I know the results will not change. Yes, I could be lucky and witness a small fall, or a rush of hirundines or pipits southbound over the coming days. But they would fail to mask the underlying truth and the reason for starting the project in the first place.</p><p>It isn't a case of licking my wounds or getting over disappointments. I'll be out again soon. My question is this. In a country where wildlife (especially birds) is increasingly marginalised and threatened, how easy is it going to be to carry on embracing the 'low-carbon' model? Is it inevitable that to enjoy my birding again on a regular basis I'm going to have to travel? After 18-months of not having left my home ground to do so I can see that the 'new normal' of birding in north Surrey is going to be testing. There will, of course, be moments of great excitement - a Redwing movement here, a Hawfinch flock there - but the widening gaps between these highlights seem to be heading in the same bird-less direction.</p><p>In other news: the garden's third record of the migrant Delicate turned up in the garden MV on September 10th. Previous records were on 25/9/17 and 25/9/21.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-31061283192703549962023-09-05T19:48:00.000+01:002023-09-05T19:48:28.301+01:00It is what it is<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rsQEqMZtUst5B_G4lBdhuQAlsxiKCRcgBeY_98yUAGFldJI9_kz2aHojh4WWP0TvGJuh5mn0peBFqe0Upc8IGuDV4DE8tSO6VTJZRZAB9WrI-PAzDGV2h7OgL27iYE0XvF7SyWV_PdHaDBG81rPZ-YV-jxmC83n7ZzE0SUUb5GsD5iZiiwNZpnBaQM9O/s5184/Mandarin01.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3888" data-original-width="5184" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5rsQEqMZtUst5B_G4lBdhuQAlsxiKCRcgBeY_98yUAGFldJI9_kz2aHojh4WWP0TvGJuh5mn0peBFqe0Upc8IGuDV4DE8tSO6VTJZRZAB9WrI-PAzDGV2h7OgL27iYE0XvF7SyWV_PdHaDBG81rPZ-YV-jxmC83n7ZzE0SUUb5GsD5iZiiwNZpnBaQM9O/s1600/Mandarin01.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The 14-day local uberpatch blitz continued. It must be said that the birding has been awfully quiet. It isn't just the passage migrants that are missing - the same could be said for any song-bird passerine. Actually thinking about it, the same could be said for ANYTHING. Even the ubiquitous corvids, pigeons and parakeets have suddenly gone AWOL, and gulls seem to have done a runner as well. Something tells me that they aren't elsewhere, that the numbers are low because the populations have plummeted. I have to keep reminding myself that birding is not a chore, I'm able to walk miles across beautiful scenery and that I have a choice not to do so. However, as worthy as that approach is, there is no denying that things are seriously wrong, not only with our bird numbers but also with our insects. It is easy for the general birder to put all this to one side and celebrate the fact that there are thousands of rare, misplaced seabirds on our western shores, putting on spectacular performances in scenes that have never before been witnessed. The fact that these events are almost certainly down to a shift in the range of the birds food supply (due to warming sea temperatures brought on by the man-made climate crisis) is regularly brushed under the carpet. Anyway, back to modest Surrey...</p><p><b>DAY 3 September 3rd</b> Misty start, soon burning off to reveal a hot, sun day with a gentle NE breeze.</p><p>A dawn start at the Stew Ponds on Epsom Common provided a group of four young Mandarin (above), a couple of surprise Teal and a flyover Yellow Wagtail. I was looking forward to visiting nearby Rushett Farm, an area full of weedy corners, big skies and, at least during the winter months, birds. Apart from two Reed Buntings todays headline news was the number of walkers, cyclists, dog walkers and runners - at a small caravan that sells very good coffee and cakes I counted 80 people. I left quickly afterwards. An afternoon skywatch back home did not bother the notebook.</p><p><b>DAY 4 September 4th</b> Sunny, hot, E f3</p><p>Today had the feeling of doing some 'proper' birding, as I visited my old patch at Beddington SF. I no longer have access to the site so made do with using the public hides and permissive footpath. Number one problem is that the hides face east, so when the skies are clear your view is blinded by the low morning sun. Number two problem is that this view is also compromised by the scrub and reeds that have grown up in front of the viewing slats. I wasn't happy. The morning was rescued by 4 Little Egrets, a Shelduck, four Lapwing, a Greenshank and three Cetti's Warbler. When a friend asked me if I fancied spending the afternoon with him in a beer garden, I agreed. After all, I could still skywatch! My additional 'beer goggles' did not allow for any stringing though...</p><p><b>DAY 5 September 5th</b> Sunny, hot, E breeze.</p><p>22.1km walked. Loads of lovely chalk downland scrub and hedgerow. I don't think that I've ever had such a quiet mornings birding. Desperate. We go again tomorrow.</p><p><br /></p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-72973697020513565572023-09-03T15:24:00.003+01:002023-09-03T15:24:50.091+01:00Brown Hairstreaked off<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRncLgIZZoDTD6znebCva4ricmpPyweyZubZsv-0NZ2US-xqGGU09lR7mLz5H36Rc2Mynl8xyaeseBPlXsGDmse_AzUmlRoBLiT6hkW6IGV0KGZUVQJNO7n-fs_I-eQPuOq27RST9jI3m0_NIRlPfObu3Cfp91BJpaEwXr5uNWe1AiulCTFd6lPrHCKBUK/s3158/IMG_0774.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2346" data-original-width="3158" height="476" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRncLgIZZoDTD6znebCva4ricmpPyweyZubZsv-0NZ2US-xqGGU09lR7mLz5H36Rc2Mynl8xyaeseBPlXsGDmse_AzUmlRoBLiT6hkW6IGV0KGZUVQJNO7n-fs_I-eQPuOq27RST9jI3m0_NIRlPfObu3Cfp91BJpaEwXr5uNWe1AiulCTFd6lPrHCKBUK/s1600/IMG_0774.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p>The 14-day Uberpatch birding bonanza has started, although my use of the word 'bonanza' is definitely overkill and there are moments when the appearance of the word 'birding' is highly questionable. It's been that sort of start...</p><p><b>DAY 1 September 1st.</b> Calm, overcast, rain during middle of day. Warm.</p><p>Local chalk downland was the order of the day, although I found myself walking much further than I intended, more in the desire to actually find some migrants rather than for the purposes of exercise. I clocked up 22.1km in the search - it really was a day of casting my eye across superb looking habitat and wondering why on earth there were no birds (mostly passerines) to look at. It was dire. Even though I was out in the field all day I only managed to find 28 warblers (which included a single Garden Warbler and two Lesser Whitethroats) and no chats. Hirundines were also hard to come by, with a couple of 20+ Swallow flocks hawking above horse paddocks. I visited Little Woodcote, Banstead Downs, Dungeon Hill and Canons Farm, clocking up a modest 47 species. Highlights, if they can be referred to as such, were a Little Owl, a Hobby (above), 12 Swifts and a Yellowhammer. It fell to a butterfly, this superb Brown hairstreak, to save the natural history day.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFynMTK1CRNTYZYg5VB06okM0lZPXW0zt_WAWntemlYQLOlj3LpBEB7Zv-Ub4iMMgZEoiQNRkcCnVjgBhZWiHsXbYqvNo6K-GoqJNq7xllV92IsgDIQ5k7j4Z9gm9xoO_-0Haxs1-vr1R7wy-4rfZ88gFL7K4Bi-q-3KSq7X1TmGy4ZMxue9SmJYLiqvK/s3731/BrownHairstreak04%20copy.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3156" data-original-width="3731" height="542" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqFynMTK1CRNTYZYg5VB06okM0lZPXW0zt_WAWntemlYQLOlj3LpBEB7Zv-Ub4iMMgZEoiQNRkcCnVjgBhZWiHsXbYqvNo6K-GoqJNq7xllV92IsgDIQ5k7j4Z9gm9xoO_-0Haxs1-vr1R7wy-4rfZ88gFL7K4Bi-q-3KSq7X1TmGy4ZMxue9SmJYLiqvK/s1600/BrownHairstreak04%20copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><b>DAY 2 September 2nd.</b> After a calm start a NE breeze picked up. Mainly cloudy and muggy. Warm.</p><p>More chalk downland, but this time that to be found alongside the world famous Epsom Downs racecourse. Better numbers for migrants, with two Wheatears, a Whinchat and 44 Chiffchaffs found. Most surprising of all was a flyover Tree Pipit, surprising in that I actually heard it call - it must have been low and close! An afternoon back garden skywatch (with numerous checks on the football scores) did not provide the hoped for Honey Buzzard, Marsh Harrier or Osprey - I had to make do with a few Common Buzzards. 13.6km walked. Cumulative species total raised to 53.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8802206289996500659.post-46356624035111468622023-08-31T09:20:00.002+01:002023-08-31T09:20:27.244+01:00Calendar turn<p>Today marks the end of meteorological summer, with August handing over the baton to September. Some may claim that we are now entering into proper autumn, although the birder in me still thinks that the early returning non-breeding waders of late May and early June are the first signs of that. However you think (or don't think) of August 31st, to me it has always been one tinged with melancholy, and for not sad reasons, just wistful ones.</p><p>In my early birding days, August was always holiday time. No school (or art college) to attend meant that the summer was mine. July would be spent at Beddington SF (with the odd journey further afield) but once August came along my plans would be elevated and what I considered proper field trips organised. 1975 found me on a train to Perthshire for my fist 'foreign' trip (well it felt like one to me!). <a href="http://northdownsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2017/03/look-north-young-man.html">You can read a bit more about that here.</a> The hot summer of 1976 saw the last two weeks of August spent blissfully in Suffolk. <a href="http://northdownsandbeyond.blogspot.com/2017/09/seven-go-mad-in-suffolk_5.html">Again, if you wish, you can see more details here.</a> As for 1977, 78 and 79, you would have found me spending the eighth month of the year on the shingle of Dungeness. Very different from Perthshire and Suffolk. I have written up these visits as well, found by going to the top of this page and accessing 'Of My Time' via the 'ND&B Publications' tab. What all of these trips/holidays have in common is that they were undertaken by a young fertile mind that was learning just not about birds, but also life. It also helped that each and every one of these carefree Augusts were full of birds. Birds that are largely missing now.</p><p>As August ran itself down there were subtle changes in what we were seeing and feeling. Chiffchaffs started to outnumber Willow Warblers. Blackcaps did the same with Whitethroats. Meadow Pipits took over from Tree Pipits and Yellow Wagtails. The mornings became decidedly chillier. And for me, September meant the spectre of education rearing its ugly head. I didn't want to swap my binoculars for the classroom. So as we turn over the page on the calendar to welcome in the new month, as much as September promises different things, and, it must be said, its own excitement, I will be mourning the loss of August. Its warmth. Its birds. But above all, its memories.</p>Steve Galehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09459545933323958452noreply@blogger.com0