2021. It wasn't great, was it? Most patch-watchers or bird finders I know have mainly bad things to say about this past year, which was blighted by unseasonal weather, poor breeding success (see here) and a dearth of migrants during both spring and autumn. From a personal point of view, I started the year without a plan. South-west Surrey's crazy end to 2020 and various other factors (not least lockdown) had me automatically going for another local year list – although by spring I realised I didn't really want to be chasing numbers. I was jaded. It's been a gradual process, but the last few months have allowed me to revaluate what birding is all about for me.
I don't have a plan for 2022 at the moment. I'll take it as it comes, though I'm sure south-west Surrey will be the stage for the vast majority of my birding. I'm looking forward to another year of local fieldwork and, with luck, being able to properly get away for some overseas birding. I don't think I'll do a south-west Surrey year list post like I did last year, given I pretty much surrendered mid-season, though I may change my mind. For what it's worth, I'm on 153 at the time of writing [23 December] and I suspect I'll end on that. Not bad at all, but if it wasn't for the magic of 2020 (i.e. two certain bunting species) I would have only just scraped 150.
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| Displaying Goshawk. |
What I've decided to do at the end of this year is a rundown of my favourite moments or sessions of 2021. After all, birding is about exactly that – moments, and the everlasting memories they create. Lists are great fun, but they are not what I'll remember in years gone by, nor what provide the momentary wonder that certain encounters with wildlife can. I also feel there's an added layer of thrill when these moments happen close to home and at places that mean something to you.
So, below are my top 10 local moments or sessions of 2021. Even in this rather grim year, there were those brief seconds or minutes of magic. Here's to more next year.
February 23rd
After a long, grey and locked down winter, this felt like the first time there was truly light at the end of the tunnel. With conditions teetering on early spring, a glorious day looking for Goshawks resulted in a sensational performance by a displaying pair. Watching these magnificent, elusive beasts twisting and turning in the fresh blue skies was a truly uplifting and exhilarating moment. I remember feeling completely free, as if I'd been removed from the real world for a short while. Magical stuff!
March 6th
It was cold and grey upon arrival at Tuesley – there was nothing to suggest it wasn't winter. Then, out of nowhere, that electric shock I wait for annually: a hirundine flicking through the skies. Two, in fact, both Sand Martins, providing that rush of blood the first hirundine of the year always does. Spring had begun.
March 12th
A perfect storm at Frensham Great Pond, creating an evocative spectacle. Amid sudden torrential rain a flock of 16 noisy and stunning adult Mediterranean Gulls dropped from the sky, their overland migration interrupted by the weather. Perfect timing on my part, and the conditions only added to the occasion, which you can just about picture in the recording below.
April 4th
Five hours on Thursley Common probably proved to be the most joyous field session of the year. It was warm for the first time – T-shirt weather – and early migrants headlined in glorious sunshine: Cuckoo, Redstart and Tree Pipit, with Willow Warblers and Swallows also noted. Heaps of species were in song, while Curlew and Lapwing displayed over Pudmore. The Little Bunting duo were still about and I enjoyed them all to myself, to a backdrop of birdsong and brightness. I noted no fewer than 62 species in all. A day we wait all winter for – and the reason why spring is simply the best season.
April 26th
Fast forward a few weeks and a freakishly cold April had left me a bit frustrated. I got to Tuesley expecting nothing. A Brent Goose bobbing around on the water completely lifted my spirits; I then went into hyper-excitement mode when I noted a Bar-tailed Godwit on the far shore. Dave and Eric whizzed down and were able to enjoy these local rarities, but the action didn't stop there, as Greenshank and Yellow Wagtail flew over, while Common and Green Sandpipers patrolled the shoreline. You work sites like this all year for something like a Brent or Barwit, so to get two in one morning – with such a fine supporting cast to boot – made this a very special hour or so.
June 3rd
I took a birding hiatus of sorts for a couple of weeks in May for various reasons, partly because I felt jaded after a year plus of hardcore time in the field. On 3 June I took an innocuous stroll around my old haunt at Thorncombe Street and, slowly, the joy of summer revealed itself in a peaceful and almost therapeutic session. Birds were everywhere, many singing or carrying food to hungry youngsters in the warm weather. I didn't observe much of note, but bits like Spotted Flycatcher and Cuckoo were lovely to see and hear after such a cold and wet spring. It was the first time I felt I was properly enjoying birding since that Thursley session in early April but, beyond that, it felt like common species were putting a smile on my face for the first time in even longer.
June 16th
A walk through a remote, Low Weald woodland with life abounding in the lazy midsummer sunshine. Juvenile Hawfinch and Nightingale with attendant parents were fantastic to see – indeed, recently fledged youngsters of many species were seemingly everywhere, and heaps of birds were in full song. Insects zipped about, flowers were in bloom ... The place felt so alive. Among those songsters was a purring Turtle Dove – the perfect icing on the cake.
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| Hungry Hawfinch. |
July 1st
I was out on Thursley early morning, blissfully alone under warm blue skies. A group of high-flying birds caught my eye over Shrike Hill – to my great surprise they were Shelduck. What an incongruous, but wonderful, sight – so out of context not just over a vast landscape of heath and woodland, but on a warm midsummer's day. They were clearly on a long journey and it made me think about the huge number of migration spectacles such as these that are missed by human eyes.
August 15th
Another example of lucky timing, with a juvenile Marsh Harrier
swooping low over the track at Shackleford as soon as I arrived mid-morning. This
species is always exciting to see locally and, better still, this was the
first I'd encountered down low and 'in habitat'. Despite heavy-handed corvid
attention it loitered for a little while before continuing south. If I'd have
arrived a few minutes later I'd have never seen it.
September 14th
A confiding juvenile Little Stint made for a morning to remember at Tuesley. Not only was this bird a great local rarity – and easily my bird of the year – it also showed ridiculously well. Being all alone with this waif from the High Arctic was incredibly special. What a distance this bird had come – and to end up here, on my patch, for me to revel in. The places and birds this individual must have encountered during its short life resonated with me – it was free in a way I could only imagine. What luck that our paths crossed.
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| My bird of the year. |
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