NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

It was the 18th-century French philosopher Voltaire who said that you must "cultivate your own garden" - in other words, if you conduct your life in a nurturing and productive way, and be able to ignore how others are looking after theirs, then you will be playing your part in trying to make the world a happier and more fulfilling place. I am increasingly trying to follow this ethos in the way that I conduct my natural history study. If I can try and act responsibly in the light of climate change then, even though my small efforts will make not a halfpenny of difference on their own, if everybody else followed suit then my actions would be part of a greater good - so, the car increasingly stays at home; I walk as much as I can; local birding is the number one choice; importance is attached to the sharing of my results as a way to encourage others to do likewise. I could do so much more to 'cultivate my garden' - we are a three car family; I still eat meat and dairy; I...

LEGACY: the long-lasting impact of your actions on others... I will soon reach a significant age, one that will allow me to claim a state pension and a free bus pass. Apart from greyer hair and a narrower band of hearing range it has also brought with it a certain amount of navel gazing: what did I do to get to where I am today, what have I done with that time and what - if anything - will I leave behind after I have gone? They are thoughts that are not unusual as we grow older. The answer to such questions are easier and more obvious if we have a family - any surviving partner, child or sibling will have their own memories of you that one hopes will be positive, that there will be some elements of your life that has informed them, touched them or even warned them off from replicating. Friends might be able to recall amusing anecdotes that you were involved in over a beer or a pot of tea. But as far as this post is concerned I am more interested in the afterlife of my natural history i...

Phasing. A good word that, used quite a bit in the counter-culture that was 1970s twitching. If somebody had phased they had given up going for rare birds.  "Dave didn't go for the 'legs or the Bobolink, he's phased" This was said in hushed tones, as if Dave had recently departed this life. To phase was to exit stage right (or left), to cease to be a player, to be consigned to the rank of 'dude' - another good 1970s twitching word. Now, my question to myself is 'Am I phasing?" We are in mid-August. I would normally be scouring the nearby downs for passage warblers and chats. Even having fantasies of Wrynecks and shrikes. But I'm not. Has fifty years of birding experience told me that to do so will only solicit disappointment? Just a Wheatear or two, maybe even a Whinchat? I could wait a week and drive an hour south and see hundreds of migrants on the South Downs, double-figure counts of Spotted Flycatchers and Common Redstarts to boot. Why not...

With Easter about to be celebrated it has come to my attention that a personal landmark is fast approaching. During my school Easter holidays of 1974 I experienced a Damascene ornithological moment that instantly turned me from somebody that thought little about birds into an obsessive. That event occurred 50 years ago, or, if you want to make it sound more like ancient history, half a century. I do have to come clean that Easter 1974 happened in mid-April, so the anniversary is three weeks away yet, but with the holiday fast approaching it seems like a good time to reminisce. I have written about 'that moment' before on this blog (and you can read a fuller account if you so desire by clicking on the 'ND&B publications' tab above and then visiting the 'Of My Time' account. Here's an abridged taster: And there it was, on the garden lawn. A Jay. I involuntarily held my breath, keeping completely still, so as not to spook the bird with sudden movement. Igno...

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...  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. I didn't travel far this year. Most of my birding was...

I am grateful to Gavin Haig (Not Quite Scilly) 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? 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 hi...

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. I'm just about to hit 65 and have recently lost a few birding role mode...

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. So, my local birding experience is not going to be anything other than a regular diet of mediocrity...

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. 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 co...

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...

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. 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!). You can read a bit more about that here.  The hot summer of 1976 saw the last two weeks of August spent blissfully in Suffolk. Again, if yo...

Colley Hill on the North Downs. Always looks good, rarely produces. Maybe this autumn? Back in the late spring I embarked upon a '14-days at home' project which saw me spend a fortnight criss-crossing the uberpatch (May 26th - June 8th) recording all that I saw. The final totals comprised 88 species of bird, 419 species of plant, 19 species of butterfly and a distance of 245.5km walked. The birding was slow, with many species in woeful numbers. However, as a project - a green, low-carbon project - it was enjoyable. At the time I suggested that I might do it again in the autumn. Well, the autumn is here... I may start tomorrow, or maybe at the end of the week, I'm not sure yet. I will, as far as possible, remain on foot. I will concentrate just on the birds this time. I'm not expecting too much as, locally at any rate, this autumn has been painful for extracting passage migrants. Chats are thin on the ground. Hirundines largely missing in action. It's a bit early for...

Birding is, without doubt, a physical activity - admittedly more so for some than others. But even if you are a 'drive to chosen destination and sit in a hide' advocate you will use your body in several different ways. And all of these 'ways' are at the mercy to deterioration with age. It is about time that I visited my ornithological doctor and have a health check... Dr. Bird: "Come in Mr. Gale, take a seat. I will ask you a series of questions and ask you to be as honest as you possibly can. The last birder that I saw claimed to have walked from Cley coastguards to Blakeney Point in 45 minutes. Needless to say I dismissed the rest of his answers as nonsense. Now, according to my records you are 64 years old, a non-smoker and can see from looking at you that although not worryingly overweight you could do with losing a few pounds. A fair assessment I think you'd agree. Now, to start with, please tell me about your eyesight." Me: "I've just had ...

Back in April 2022, on a warm evening at Gander Green Lane, I was watching Sutton United play Crawley Town in the company of Sussex birder Jake Everitt. Even though the match before us was a pretty decent one, as birders will we started to talk about our birding experiences, particularly what species we had observed while watching football matches. It was at this point that we devised a competition - football spectator meeting birding fanatic - a challenge to find out who could see the most species, while watching football matches - during the upcoming 2022-23 season. The rules were outlined here.  Apart from updates on the Twitter/X platform my results have not been revealed - until now! During the 2022-23 season I attended 47 matches, involving 59 clubs across 14 different grounds. Apart from a random visit to Suffolk-based Leiston Town, they were all played in south-London and Surrey, the majority being at League Two Sutton United where I held a season ticket. I saw 129 goals, t...

When I was growing up there was a common question - in real life and on the TV - that was asked of older relatives and family friends, and that was "What did you do in the war?" It would not surprise me if future generations have their own version of this, that along the lines of "What did you do during the climate crisis?" And, if you are going to be asked that question, what do you think your answer will be? Most people, sad to say, are not really interested in the drivers of climate change. They might be nudged into some sort of response when something directly affects them - the shops run out of ice cream and cold drinks if it's too hot; their fence gets blown down when it's too windy; or there's a hosepipe ban because it's too dry. When these irritations stop (which, at the moment, they do) all talk of a climate crisis is then relegated to media chatter, becoming just a background noise to be ignored alongside Brexit, boats crossing the channel ...

On May 3rd I put on my walking boots, opened the front door, and ventured out into the (almost) dawn. It was 03.45hrs and the start of a carefully planned circuitous birding walk. The aims were simple really, to see what could be found across a large swathe of the Uberpatch. I wasn't expecting much, as the 'properly' birdy areas of my extended patch (Beddington and Holmethorpe) were not being visited, as these areas are well covered by others, and I have perversely taken it upon myself to travel on 'those roads less birded'. It would be fair for others to question why any sane birder would remove themselves from such proven honeypots, and I'd largely agree, but we all get our ornithological kicks in different ways, and the older I get the more left-field they have become. Call it self-denial, self-harming or just plain stupid, but to me these 'forgotten' patches can - an do - spring surprises. Just not all that regularly. To cut a long story short - a 34...

I first met Bob Hibbett in 1981. Maybe 10-years older than me, he cut quite a striking figure, being tall and upright, wearing long flowing hair and sporting a clutch of love-beads around his neck. He spoke with a slow, deep voice and in conversation made me realise that he was not like other birders - he used to hang around the pubs and clubs with professional Chelsea footballers, and had lost a digit or two from one hand due to a failed schoolboy firework experiment - it is fair to say that I found him a touch exotic. He became a mainstay of my birding world throughout much of the 1980s. Along with his young son Scotty, Steve Broyd and Stuart Holdsworth, we formed a merry band of birders who travelled across the country in his Citroen in search of the rare and the wonderful. Birds such as Little Whimbrel (Kenfig), American Bittern (Magor), Greater Yellowlegs and Caspian Tern (Minsmere), Squacco Heron (Radipole) and Varied Thrush (Nanquidno) readily spring to mind, but there were many...

After returning home on November 2nd I was back on the shingle a week later, just a quick morning visit that provided two Wheatears, three Black Redstarts and a Firecrest in the moat. It was then on to Elmley, on the Isle of Sheppey, where a wealth of wildfowl included a single White-fronted Goose and three Bewick’s Swans. Wader numbers were high, with 1,000 Dunlins and good numbers of Grey Plovers and Knots, along with two Avocets, two Greenshanks and a Spotted Redshank. In a cold, blue, late-afternoon sky, bathed in sunlight, we sat and watched a minimum of six Short-eared Owls, that hunted over the honey-coloured panorama before us. Back at Beddington, Mike Netherwood had found a Spotted Crake, that was being faithful to one of the large settling beds on 100acre. After a three day wait I saw the bird on November 15th, joining a few other birders sitting on the banking that surrounded the muddy rectangle of vegetated sludge. The crake was oblivious to its admirers, feeding out in the...