arunwild

The morning is cold and getting colder. A Grey Wagtail is foraging disconsolately by the river path, its normal haunts frozen over. This weather will displace more birds, I think, and am proved right when a Grey Partridge whirs from the adjacent field edge. Partridges aren’t common here, but they’re plentiful on the downs that rise enticingly above Burpham, a couple of miles up the valley from where I’m standing. I was there a couple of afternoons back, looking for owls. It was a long walk in, following the track running north past Burpham High Barn and the dewpond, then northwest up to the Burgh. These downs always involve long walks, rewarded by large skies and a subtly-changing landscape. It’s an old landscape, words on the map like Camp Hill, Burgh, earthworks and field systems telling of Romans, Saxons and later folk. Earlier peoples, too. An inconspicuous mound at the Burgh is the remnant of a Bronze Age round barrow. The mound is by a gate that provides one of t

The morning is mild but grey, the route along the Arun to the Millstream quiet apart from six Magpies squabbling territorially on the path. Rain has swollen what is already one of the fastest-flowing rivers in England and detritus picked up at high tide is now careering towards the sea. Among it is a matted mass of reeds, a Moorhen perching incongruously on the vegetation probing for food. Watching it, I recall standing by a different river a decade ago. It’s 28 December 2007, a bright, crisp day in northern Thailand, and hosts of waders are feeding on a small chain of sandbars along the Mekong River. There are Long-billed Plovers and Temminck’s Stints, Spotted Redshanks and Small Pratincoles, but the River Lapwings are the real prize. This is a new species for me. What’s more the side of the river I’m standing on is the border between Thailand and Laos, meaning the birds are in Laos. The 14 species noted on the sandbars form my list for a country I’ve still not set foot i

What is the collective noun for Hawfinches? An internet search yields nothing specific, but does give ‘charm’, ‘trembling’ and ‘company’ as collective nouns for finches. Charm, though, is usually associated with Goldfinches, while trembling doesn’t sound right for the stolid Hawfinch. And company? These are furtive birds, glimpsed rarely at the top of distant trees, usually as individuals or in small groups. Greenfinches might form a company, but Hawfinches? Well, the answer since October 2017 is yes. From mid-month the UK’s small population of Hawfinches was swollen by an unprecedented influx of birds pushed out of central Europe by poor seed yields. They are still present, with significant concentrations in the Arun valley and other parts of Sussex where their favoured hornbeams and yews occur. Many of the initial Arun valley sightings related to a flock in the Rewell area which at times numbered up to 60 birds. Smaller numbers – individuals or small parties - were seen