We have
spent several evenings on patch recently, a mix of cold but more often warm
evenings out there in the open farmland.
It has been most rewarding, reflecting many of the aspects of
birdwatching I most enjoy, and patch birding at its best. Peace, painted skyscapes, changing cloud
formations and wonderful sunsets to go along with lots of bird activity. Evenings well spent and no need to travel any
distance whatsoever. A great lift during
a difficult period. I mention below some
of the highlights.
At the
beginning of the year someone noted a large influx of Yellowhammers into the
area, I seem to remember that a flock of one hundred was mentioned. For a species becoming less and less common
it has been good to see so many breeding pairs in the area. Each evening has been filled with Yellowhammer
song coming from every direction, and some of those birds have shown so well
their stunning yellow colouring in the evening light. This brought back memories of a trip to
Spindlestone some years back where Yellowhammers were numerous.
Common
Whitethroat have
been seen in numbers too, the hedges full of their song and display. I cannot remember seeing so many in this area
before. The hedges a mass of blossom, in
a spring where blossom has been so good from so many trees. Willow Warblers have competed with
song and the Grasshopper Warbler too, the latter usually later in the
evening. Lapwings, Skylarks and
Grey Partridge have been the star birds of the open fields, with Meadow
Pipits showing too. The Lapwings entertained continually
as they guarded nests and young, their calls unmistakable. I’m hoping at least a few young survive the
attention of the corvids and the Red Fox.
Sam had a good and close sighting of an unafraid Red Fox and I
heard the calls of a vixen as I walked home one evening in the darkness. That was an eerie moment as I stood for some
seconds in complete solitary silence except for the vixen calling. Perhaps the
best sighting of Skylark was as we watched it ascend and display, with the
waxing moon as a backdrop in a clear darkening blue sky. Grey Partridge numbers seemed high and
their calling, best just as darkness fell after sunset, added much to a
wonderful atmosphere. What a miss Grey
Partridges are to the countryside as whole.
We were
remined that nature is tough when we noticed Lapwing chicks go missing,
found the remains of the Grey Partridge killed by a predator, and the
freshly killed Moorhen which seemed to have not a mark on it. A family of Linnets seemed to be doing
well and we watched the parent feeding three young. Losses and gains are another aspect of
nature.
It was good
to see and hear so many Song Thrushes.
Dare we hope that their comeback continues strongly? Certainly, the winner of the song contest in
my view goes to the Song Thrush that sang in darkness from the top of
the Ash Tree. The silent approach of
night meant that the song carried far into the distance as we walked home. We had stood under the tree for some time
listening to the repeated phrases of the song.
Clearly an experienced performer, as I don’t remember hearing so many
repeated phrases from a Song Thrush before. The Nightingale is lauded by many, but I’m
content with the Song Thrush and Blackbird, although that
particular evening did bring back memories of when we stood and listened to
Thrush Nightingale on a warm evening in Sweden.
The atmosphere if not the temperature, surprisingly similar. After an absence of some weeks a Song
Thrush returned to my garden briefly on 1st June.
Numbers of Swallow
and Swift were not high, but we did catch sight of a pair of Swift
mating in the air and both species made several appearances. Now I could go on about Swifts at length but
that would be repeating a previous blog, The Devils Bird, written by me
some time ago. http://killybirder.blogspot.com/2015/08/the-devils-bird.html
Raptors made
appearances as well. Two Common
Buzzards in the distance, a Kestrel regularly seen and a Sparrowhawk
mobbing a certain bird until it left the field. There were the unexpected birds too,
including a Canada Goose possibly making for The Rising Sun Country Park
and a pair of overhead calling Oystercatchers.
There was
much more of course, and that’s why we were there. Birding and atmosphere at its best, not to
mention much needed exercise (for me anyway). Botanical aspects of our trips out were not
forgotten either.
I note that
there is rain on the way and it is certainly much needed. Much of the land is parched. (Addendum…Rain has arrived!)
It is a
crying shame that this wonderful habitat is to be lost. I wonder how many of the planners and
officials so intent on covering this land with brick and cement have ever
walked through the area and appreciated what it offers to wildlife and the
people of the Bourgh. Below are a few
lines from a John Clare poem which I think can be addressed to them. Different times, different circumstances, but
similarities none the less.
These paths are
stopt - the rude philistine's thrall
Is laid upon them and destroyed them all
Each little tyrant with his little sign
Shows where man claims earth glows no more divine
But paths to freedom and to childhood dear
A board sticks up to notice 'no road here'
And on the tree with ivy overhung
The hated sign by vulgar taste is hung
As tho' the very birds should learn to know
When they go there they must no further go
Thus, with the poor, scared freedom bade goodbye
And much they feel it in the smothered sigh
And birds and trees and flowers without a name
All sighed when lawless law's enclosure came
And dreams of plunder in such rebel schemes
Have found too truly that they were but dreams
Is laid upon them and destroyed them all
Each little tyrant with his little sign
Shows where man claims earth glows no more divine
But paths to freedom and to childhood dear
A board sticks up to notice 'no road here'
And on the tree with ivy overhung
The hated sign by vulgar taste is hung
As tho' the very birds should learn to know
When they go there they must no further go
Thus, with the poor, scared freedom bade goodbye
And much they feel it in the smothered sigh
And birds and trees and flowers without a name
All sighed when lawless law's enclosure came
And dreams of plunder in such rebel schemes
Have found too truly that they were but dreams
Lines from The Mores (Moors)
by John Clare.
The
spring of 2020 is one for our book when/if we ever get it written.
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