One Fine Day

Well, THE fine day in a week otherwise characterised by high winds, heavy rain, stripped roofs and fallen fences. So any extra effort was required to force myself out with friends into the COLD fresh air for Alan’s Special Scotney Circular, taking in new lambs and dead lambs in the vast vistas of Walland, by way of Red House, Oakhill Fleet and along Tore Wall past the not-to-be-missed Mecket Pen as far as Kentpen Wall then back past Rosedale and the Barnacle Geese.

While I was still admiring the winter-lit corrugations of the Scotney Court barns, a flock of Mute Swans swept in behind us trailing a Whooper and once they dropped onto the gravel pit we could pick out more, though they kept turning away or dipping their diagnostic bills just to add some eye-watering challenge. It looked like 5 – a group which had previously been at Appledore, but I haven’t seen a Whooper Swan for years. There have been odd individuals on the Peninsular but I have never bothered to rush over for them. A poor attitude, I know.

Out in the big spaces there were plenty of skylarks in the stubbles or reeling out life-enhancing song up in the blue with a silver airliner bound for Las Vegas way beyond. No Tree Sparrows around the farm, in fact there don’t seem to be any anywhere this winter, not even frequenting the Sparrow Zoo at Boulderwall. Where are they? A similar question I’ve asked recently has concerned Linnets – well, they’re at Oakhill Fleet, maybe 150 along with c50 Chaffinches. Another fortnight and they’ll be back with us in every patch of gorse or bramble.

Proceeding in a south-westerly direction along a farm track where the field level to the west was appreciably higher than to the east, (the explanation comes in the presence of the mighty remaining Tore Wall, partially bulldozed in a fit of post-war vandalism) we looked over the pits for various ducks, and over the fields for Buzzard, Marsh Harrier, Great Egret & Raven. Diving into the choppy water of a newish pit behind Jury’s Gap Farm, we picked out a Long-tailed Duck. When it flew off and dropped down again its relocation was hampered by inexpert Landmark Hints (“Which pylon? Which bush?? Which barn???”) till it found a companion, then they both flew off again to join two more. These 4 have been around for a while but (previous excuse). I don’t see long-tailed Duck very often in the RX area and never as many as 4.

Just past a cluster of peaceably grazing Greylags, Canadas, hybrid Emperors & The Big White One we came to a massive new quarry, clawing into a thousand years’ worth of silver shingle, the shallow puddles within it just perfect for Little Ringed Plovers, reminding me of teenage springs in the Cray & Darenth Valleys.

Back beside the cycle path we came across 15 Ringed Plovers busily displaying,, reflected in shallow rainwater. Altogether 66 sp (+ Lower Back Pain) in 4 hours.

Barnacle Geese by Dave Rowlands

After restoration in the Pilot, and following discussion about Water Pipit ID, we walked across the bridleway from ARC to a flooded hay-field at Dengemarsh where we were very surprised to find 17 of them, in flight, on the ground, running along the waterside like little white-bellied waders, bright sunshine sometimes catching their white supercialia. I have frequently made my feelings known regarding the uncooperative nature of this species but in this case they were fine. And, again, I’ve never seen that many together, though double-figure counts are annual in the Combe Valley.

Goldeneye by Dave Rowlands

While we were looking at them, word came through of a Red-necked Grebe back at the ARC pit so… I had a poor view of it between willow branches but what was much, much more exciting was a courting half-dozen Goldeneye just outside the hide. Such fabulously beautiful birds – I’ve never been so close to one, They were doing all the head-throwing-back gymnastics and making weird noises I’d never heard before…but all the others had cleared off back up the path to look at this comparatively dismal. but rarer, grebe.

Finally – the drive back was into the dark maw of an apocalyptic hailstorm, framing a half-drowned sun like a John Martin Doomscape.