This Birding Life (15 page)

Nevertheless, during this period, I did manage to visit some of the very best of British wildlife sites: from Speyside to Shetland and Devon to Minsmere. I even managed a trip to the most remote — and surely the most incredible – place in Britain: the fabled islands of St Kilda. Thanks to the decision to broaden our approach to include other wildlife, I also began to take notice of other wild creatures: notably dragonflies and butterflies. Now I know what it's like to be a beginner again!

Few people in this overcrowded country have not some favourite heath or common or moor to which they retire when they need solitude, or unpolluted fresh air, the glimpse of wild life, or the sound of water falling over stones.

These words, by the English landscape expert W.G. Hoskins, are as true today as when he wrote them more than a generation ago. Hoskins understood that human beings will always need special places where they are able to contemplate the natural world.

One Sunday afternoon in June, I suddenly felt the need to escape from my busy urban surroundings and to get a dose of solitude,
wildlife and unpolluted fresh air. So I got into the car and headed down the A3: through the suburban blight of Tolworth, past the horrors of the M25 and into deepest Surrey.

Despite being so close to London, Surrey is still quite rural, and you can usually get away from the madding crowd. Unfortunately, on this sunny summer's evening, the madding crowd had brought their dogs, children and loud voices to the car park at Thursley Common. Fortunately, people who come in cars don't usually go very far, and I only had to walk through the wood and out onto the open common to be alone.

Well, almost alone. Thursley isn't always the easiest place to see birds, but in late June it is at its peak. Skylarks sang high in the sky above – do they ever stop for a rest? A Meadow Pipit launched into the air and parachuted down to Earth, singing as it fell. And a family of Stonechats clicked and whistled from the tops of the gorse bushes.

Thursley has its special birds, too, if you know where to look. I headed along the boardwalk, taking care not to step off into the boggy surroundings. Suddenly there was a sound of terrified quacking, and a dark object shot overhead. The noise came from a panicking pair of Mallards, and the dark shape was a pursuing Hobby.

Hobbies are far too small to catch a Mallard – but they can still give them a nasty scare. The slender, swift-like falcon whipped across the common, then rose high in the sky, where it attracted the attentions of a passing crow. The two birds made a few casual jabs at one another, before the Hobby disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Further on, a little copse of pine trees echoed to the sound of birds. Chaffinches sang, doing their usual impression of a fast bowler running up to deliver. Coal Tits and Goldcrests seeped their high-pitched calls, and in the distance, a Green Woodpecker lolloped off, laughing as it went.

By now it was almost seven o'clock, and the sun was low in the sky, bathing the gorse and heather in a golden light. I had one final quest: to see the elusive Dartford Warbler. Then I heard a short, unassuming
song, like someone scratching the strings of an out-of-tune cello. I raised my binoculars just in time to see a tiny, burgundy-coloured bird dive into the foliage.

The song began again, and then stopped. The bird leapt out of the bush and bounded across to another, where for just a few seconds, it sat in full view. Unmistakably a Dartford Warbler, once one of Britain's rarest breeding birds, but thanks to the recent run of mild winters, now quite common in its specialised heathland habitat. This cheeky little bird, with its dark magenta plumage and cocked tail, is always a treat to see.

It was time to go. For one brief moment I had shared the life of a bird. In some strange, indefinable way, I had also shared the experience with every other birdwatcher that has ever seen a Dartford Warbler. And with one other special person, whose being there made the evening one I shall never forget.

For many birdwatchers, including myself, the coming weekend sees the highlight of the birding year: the British Birdwatching Fair at Rutland Water. For three days, thousands of birdwatchers from all over Britain will converge on this tiny county in the heart of England. They'll be joined by visitors from as far apart as Israel and Costa Rica, Uganda and Trinidad & Tobago, united by one simple thing: their shared love of birds and birdwatching.

So what will they find there? Well, there are huge marquees with stalls selling everything from binoculars to exotic foreign holidays; lectures and quizzes; artists and photographers; and all sorts of local and national conservation groups. And when you've had enough, there's even a beer tent!

In the unlikely event of becoming bored, you can always go off and watch the birds. For the Birdfair, as it is usually known, doesn't take place in some vast, cavernous hall by a motorway junction, but on a really excellent bird reserve. By late August the autumn migration is well under way, and the place will be packed with birds: ducks and geese, grebes and Cormorants, and the tamest Tree Sparrows I've ever seen. At this time of year, almost anything can turn up: perhaps even an Osprey stopping off on its long journey south from Scotland to Africa.

The Birdfair has become so much a part of today's birding scene that it seems to have been going for ever. Yet the whole thing began only a decade ago, when two local conservationists, Tim Appleton and Martin Davies, came up with a bright idea. It started small, but just kept on growing, and this year marks the tenth annual fair.

Their second bright idea was to donate the profits from the Birdfair to conservation projects around the world. Over the years, more than £300,000 has been raised for projects in places like Poland, Spain, Morocco and Ecuador. This year's fair supports a project with a difference: the BirdLife International Threatened Birds Programme, which aims to create survival action plans for the world's II II endangered bird species, as well as raising awareness of the plight of the 10 per cent of the world's birds currently threatened with extinction.

But although it's a good thing that the Birdfair supports such worthwhile causes, that's not what makes it such fun. For me, the most important element of all is the human one. When I went to my first Birdfair, back in 1992, I only knew a handful of people there. In those days, birdwatchers tended to keep themselves to themselves, and there were few opportunities to socialise and get to know each other.

To a large extent, the Birdfair has helped to change all that. It has created a focal point: a place where any birdwatcher, however inexperienced, can chat to other enthusiasts, get advice, and above all ‘have a go'. Every year now, I meet people who've just taken up watching birds, yet who can come along to the fair and rub shoulders with
experts such as Ian Wallace, Bruce Pearson and Bill Oddie, getting the benefit of their vast knowledge and experience.

It's great for children, too. This year I'm taking along my son James, who has heard about the fair's delights from his big brother David, and now wants to see for himself. Where else could you let an eight-year-old child wander around on his own, enjoying his freedom without the risk of danger? And where else can a child spend three whole days and still not say ‘Daddy, I'm bored!'

New Year's Day is traditionally a time for renewal: for seeing the familiar, day-to-day world through new eyes. For birdwatchers, things are no different. We drag ourselves out of bed on the morning of I January, shake off the hangover from the night before, and head out to start our ‘year list'. The aim: to see as many different species as possible between the hours of dawn and dusk.

That, at least, is the theory. Unfortunately the dawn start didn't quite go as planned, and it was just before nine when Suzanne and I began the drive down to Pagham Harbour in Sussex. Pagham is one of my favourite birding sites. It has great scenery, a wide variety of habitats and a good range of birds, with the potential for surprises.