This Birding Life (40 page)

May was also a time of frantic breeding activity: first, courtship and nest-building, then egg-laying, and finally the miraculous appearance of dozens of baby birds, which seemed to be everywhere. The most notable breeding species here are Little Ringed and Ringed Plovers, with their larger relative the Lapwing, whose frantic cries mean the place is rarely quiet.

June continued in the same vein, with some chicks growing bigger by the day, while other, less fortunate, ones met an early demise through predatory crows or foxes. The foxes, too, have provided plenty of interest, whether swimming across to the island on yet another egg raid or simply playing with their cubs on the path near the hide.

As the year goes on, the wildflowers have grown too: so that the path is now a bit of a jungle. Weeds produce seeds, so I'm not complaining — and neither are the Goldfinches and Linnets which have already arrived to feed. I've even seen a pair of Bullfinches, though they are often elusive – something which can't be said for the many broods of Blue, Great and Long-tailed Tits flitting around the bushes.

Now it's July, which in the birders' calendar means the start of autumn. Small flocks of gulls have begun to turn up, much to the distress of the local Kestrel, who mobs them whenever they get too close. Last week I saw my first Dunlin for the reserve, probably a returning migrant heading back south for the winter. Hopefully this will be the first of many migrating waders dropping in to feed during the next few weeks.

So with less than a third of the year gone by since my first visit, I
am beginning to understand the nature of the place: who lives here, who drops in from time to time to feed, and who just passes through on their way somewhere else. I've enjoyed the comings and goings of more than 75 different kinds of bird – and missed at least a dozen more. In the global, or even the national, sense, Kempton Nature Reserve may not be particularly important, but from a local point of view, it's priceless. Like most people, I spend most of my time near where I live – so for me, this is one of the most important places of all.

It's six months since I began visiting my new local patch, Kempton Nature Reserve – so it's time to give the place a half-term report. Overall, it has more than lived up to my expectations, though as with any new location, there are birds which I didn't expect to see, but have; and those which I did expect to see, but haven't – at least not yet.

For some species in the latter category, it can only be a matter of time. As summer gives way to autumn, I'm sure that a Great Black-backed Gull will drift overhead soon, while Goldcrests, Redwings and Fieldfares must also be on their way. I only saw my first Mistle Thrush last week, while other recent additions include Pheasant, Wigeon and Pochard. I was surprised not to see any Sedge Warblers this spring, and missed out on Lesser Whitethroat, Redstart and Yellow Wagtail, all of which were noted by other observers.

Nevertheless, my current total of 84 species (out of 97 recorded at the site this year) is not too bad, considering that I only started in March. My aim is to reach a personal total of 100 species by the end of next year – a daunting, though far from impossible task.

Of those 84, what were the highlights? It is always tempting to pick out the unexpected visitors – one-offs like the Bar-tailed Godwit that stayed for a few days in late April, the Cuckoo in June or the Little Egret in August. But although birds like these always set the pulse racing, a local patch is really about the regular species – and the subtle changes that occur as the weeks and months pass by.

At the time of my first visit, in late March, the first spring migrants had yet to arrive. By early May, the place had been transformed into a cauldron of birdsong, with residents and summer visitors competing for airspace. In mid-May, the young birds began to appear – dominated by ducklings, goslings and cygnets. Things quietened down a bit in June and July, though as the chicks grew larger the amount of squabbling increased. August saw an influx of Teal and Lapwings – with six new additions to the ‘patch list' including Hobby, a bird I had managed to miss on several previous occasions.

The driest September for a long while has reduced the water levels considerably, and the past couple of weeks have been very quiet. There have been a few surprises, such as a new brood of Little Grebes, and one evening, a flock of a couple of hundred Jackdaws flying overhead. These must have come from their feeding grounds in Bushy Park, on their way to roost – but who knows where? They certainly showed no signs of landing as they continued westwards.

Meanwhile, Jays have just begun to arrive in good numbers, while the tit flocks, so quiet during late summer, are active again. Sound-wise, the spring chorus has given way to a single soloist – the Robin and its delightful autumn song.

In many ways, sights and sounds like these are the most satisfying thing about regularly visiting a local patch. During the next six months bird numbers will build up for the winter – and although the variety of species will no doubt decline, there will be the spectacle of hundreds of ducks, gulls and Lapwings. Something to look forward to as the long autumn nights draw in.

On the hottest day ever recorded, with the thermometer finally breaking the 100-degree barrier, the best place to be was the garden. But by early evening, as the temperature finally began to drop, I decided to take a walk around my local patch.

This long, hot summer has played havoc with the breeding birds: low water levels mean that just one pair of Lapwings has raised chicks, while the usual Ringed and Little Ringed Plovers have long since vanished. The Mute Swans have three healthy cygnets, and the chatter of Little Grebes is constant, but apart from the odd Robin or Dunnock there are few signs of young songbirds. I fear that it has been a poor breeding season all round, as seems to be the case all over the country.

To compensate for the lack of bird activity, I have been paying more attention to butterflies and dragonflies. Butterflies are also thin on the ground this year, though I usually see a Speckled Wood along the path, while Gatekeepers and Meadow Browns flit around the sunnier areas of the reserve. I've seen several Banded Demoiselles, identified by their distinctive wing pattern, and on the few remaining patches of water, the larger hawkers and Emperors cruise around like fighter pilots looking for the enemy.

Nevertheless, there are still a few birds to see. Some don't worry about the heat, and there are plenty of Wood Pigeons and Stock Doves feeding on weed seeds on the sides of the reserve. Goldfinches, too, are plentiful – hanging onto thistles to extract the precious seeds. Some are juvenile birds, lacking the red face patch of their parents, giving them a rather baffled expression.

August is usually the time when a migrant or two drops in, but in the fine weather many seem to be passing overhead without landing. One exception is the Green Sandpiper, a couple of which have stopped off on their long journey south to Africa. It is one of the joys of
birding at your local patch that birds like this, which breed no nearer to Britain than Scandinavia, pop in on their migratory travels across the globe.

Meanwhile, some of our own summer visitors are already on their way. We are still seeing the odd Swift over the garden, but most have now headed off to Africa, while numbers of House Martins are also beginning to drop. Soon it will be autumn, and it will be left to the resident birds to keep up the interest. On this particular visit, the star performer was a female Sparrowhawk, which pounced on an unwary Starling right in front of the hide where I was sitting.

Contrary to popular belief, Sparrowhawks do not always dispatch their prey with a single blow. So as the unfortunate Starling continued to struggle, she attempted to pin it down with her powerful talons. This activity soon attracted interest, and as the Sparrowhawk tried to pluck the feathers from her prey, she had to fend off the unwelcome attentions of a Magpie and a couple of young crows. Eventually, fed up with the interference, she flew off, the Starling still held tightly in her grasp.