NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

After what seems like several months of Christmas being force-fed to me, I am now happy to concede that this ‘season to be jolly’ is upon us. Not being religious means that this festival is, for me, one based on companionship, food, drink and relaxation - normally. This year will be different, whatever your take on Christmas. Reduced congregations or closed churches, smaller gatherings at home, suppressed jollity out of respect to those who have left us or continue to struggle with this virus... I sometimes think that, apart from the truly religious, anything else pertaining to Christmas this year has an air of triviality about it. I’m not going to debate the why’s-and-wherefore’s, the do’s-and-dont’s and the right’s-and-wrong’s - we will all conduct ourselves as we believe we should over the coming week or two. We can but hope that the vaccine roll-outs speed up, they work well, and that by the spring we might just be entering the start of normality, although I would question as to wh...

So another Christmas Day has slipped through the fingers of time, leaving a trail of torn wrapping paper, empty glasses and left-overs in the fridge. Did you go birding? No, me neither, although once-upon-a-time, pre-wife and children, I would have done... It occurred to me yesterday that it was 40 years to the day since I found Dungeness’s first Ring-necked Duck, a smart drake, on ARC. I was staying at the bird observatory having escaped the (what I then considered to be) suffocating ritual of a family Christmas. I was not alone that Xmas Day in 1979 - the warden Nick Riddiford was in residence with his partner Elizabeth (who cooked us lunch), London-based birder Barry Banson (who had kindly given me a lift down) was there, as was Australian birder Dave Eades, who was on a world tour. We all did the Christmas thing with observant gravitas but it took second place to the birding. If I remember rightly we did a bit of ringing, a sea watch, conducted a census of the recording area and ...

Good King Wenceslas looked out, On the fields of Sennen, Where a pipit ran about, Deep in mud and even, Birders came throughout the night, Though they couldn’t name it, When one fellow came in sight Gathering up the bird’s shit. “Hither Doctor stand by me, Analyse the faeces, Yonder Pipit who is he, Where and what his dwelling?” “Sire he flew a good league hence, And I can name his Daddy, He didn’t hop a local fence, Came from an eastern paddy.”

In the days before marriage and children, but after being a child myself, there was a brief window of life having few responsibilities - a time when I could please myself without guilt. During this time Christmas had largely lost its sparkle. I didn't particularly want to be at home, not because of any antagonism towards my parents and siblings, but because I wanted to be out birding. Those early birding years (1974 - 1978) this ornithological itch was scratched by spending the morning at Beddington Sewage Farm, ensuring that I was back home in time for the dinner! But in 1979 and 1981 I strayed further from home and actually stayed away from home, choosing Dungeness Bird Observatory as my destination. It had all I wanted at that particular time and on both occasions I was not alone, as other similar minded folk did the same - it wouldn't happen now I'd wager! We cooked a communal turkey dinner, had plenty to drink (and made use of the nearby pub) and even exchanged simpl...

I'm not anti-Christmas. That is, I'm not anti-Christmas as in it being used as a public holiday and for family get-togethers. Having been a life-long atheist I do still feel a little uneasy about using a religious festival as an excuse to 'eat, drink and be merry' - I don't subscribe to the Dawkin's school of belittling believers. I respect one's right to adhere to a belief system of choice. How and when the marketing people turned the birth of Jesus into a reason to put on weight, get pissed and waste lots of money I'm not sure, but they've done a good job in brainwashing us to do so. When our girls were little ones during the 1990s, we too fell into the consumer trap. We must have spent hours trying to hunt down the most wanted toys (this was pre-Internet) and joined in the obscene overspending on everything from gifts, food, drink, decorations, trees, crackers.... and making sure that we had those extra little things that you cannot do without a...

JANUARY A murmuration of Black-tailed Godwits over Pulborough Brooks FEBRUARY The basis for a future painting - male Reed Bunting and buds at Holmethorpe MARCH The early promise of the summer to come in the form of a Small Tortoiseshell at Canons Farm APRIL Lilliputian flora at Dungeness - Early Forget-me-not MAY Green Hairstreak warming up in the morning sun, Chipstead Bottom JUNE A day at Box Hill with the DSLR camera capturing Sainfoin on the southern slopes JULY The Boquer Valley spills into the Med, with Balearic Warblers and Eleonora's Falcons to ease the journey AUGUST Perennial Sow-thistles at Langley Vale Farm - the commonplace becomes art form SEPTEMBER An orthopteran snacking Stonechat, Canons Farm OCTOBER Adult Caspian Gull at Dungeness NOVEMBER Golden dawn at Dungeness DECEMBER It's either a Robin or a clump of Mistletoe...

Whether you encompass all things Christmas; by being meaningfully religious; praying at the altar of mass consumerism; or breaking out in a rash at its very mention - may I wish you all a happy and enjoyable holiday period. Some of you will continue to get out there and bird, others may slump in an armchair having over-indulged. Whatever you get up to, enjoy yourselves. I hope to get out with the family, post Christmas festivities, and take in the woods of the north Surrey hills (such as these at Juniper Bottom), which is sometimes home to Hawfinches. There is also the expectation of very good cake at the top!

There may not be snow down here in the balmy south-east (it was 15-16C yesterday), but we do sometimes get it - just not at Christmas. So in lieu of a suitably festive image, please accept this snowy scene from Canons Farm a couple of January's ago. Whatever you are doing, may you have an enjoyable and peaceful Christmas. 224? That is the number of posts that I've inflicted upon you so far this year. It also beats last years record total of 223. Pointless statistics are a way of life for me...

Hopefully I've been a good boy over these last 12 months. Could I please ask for the following books to be placed under the tree in the early hours of Christmas Morning... The Fly Trap by Frederik Sjoberg Swedish biologist regales us with his memoirs of catching hoverflies on a small island. Finally an English version has been published, this book was recommended to me by Pete Burness. A Buzz in the Meadow by Dave Goulson I thoroughly enjoyed his bee book 'A sting in the tale' and this follow-up is an account of his attempts to entice invertebrates into a French garden through selective planting and management. Just up my street. Claxton by Mark Cocker A collection of essays written by the birder-author based on his observations in the Suffolk countryside. This man is up there with Roger Deakin and Richard Mabey as far as I'm concerned. That should see my reading material sorted up until the new year...

The Holly and the Ivy - oh how festive of me.... Unless a Dusky Thrush appears in my garden, I doubt that I will post again this year. So far in 2013 I've posted 220 times, which is an awful lots of waffle, rant, p*ss-taking and - sometimes - observation for you to have to contend with. Visitor numbers have BOOMED! (see what I did there?) this year, with one or two posts having ridiculous numbers of visitors. I'm not complaining, just grateful and bemused. All that is left for me to do is wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Whatever it is that floats your boat, be it a 'rare' or a slime mould, I hope you get plenty of them in 2014. Ah, I hear the postman has just delivered - and it's the new Checklist of the lepidoptera of the British Isles! Well, that's the rest of the day taken care of...