NORTH DOWNS & BEYOND

There's a kind of hush all over our countryside. A disturbing quietness that is not just aural but also visual. Where once were Lapwings, finches and buntings there are... well, not a lot actually. A brief visit to Canons Farm this morning was soul destroying. In recent years it has come to be expected that the days of bird numbers at this site have long gone, but even so we do, from time to time, witness a build up of Linnets, Chaffinches and Skylarks, plus a few cherished Yellowhammers. The winter months are normally blessed with several hundred Redwings and Fieldfares. And if we are really struggling for something to look at then we have always been able to fall back on scanning through the hundreds of corvids, Wood Pigeons and Stock Doves. But not now. Not this winter. The place is barren. And it isn't just Canons Farm that appears to be bereft locally. With all of the time that I'm spending in the woodlands looking for Hawfinches it has not gone unnoticed that - g...

I have found that, on the whole, birders are very fond of food. Trenchermen to a man (or woman). Never ones to refuse a proffered bite. Unwilling to forgo an offered cuppa. Greedy so-and-so's, actually. But they are all different in what they do to ensure that the time in the field is not spoilt by rumbling stomach noises and possible nutrition depravation... I used to be a sandwich and thermos flask birder. Maybe an apple or banana as back up (never an orange, what with sticky juice and zest to gum up optics and making your fingers tacky to the point of being a hazard). One chap that I spent a lot of time with in the early 1980s (the late Mike McDonnell) used to go to town with his lunchtime snack - he owned a giant thermos flask that he used to fill with sausages, pork chops, chicken thighs and other tasty off-cuts of meat. These were joined by quiches and bread rolls. Give him his due, he used to let us 'peanut butter sandwich' boys have some of his superior eats. Th...