May 3, 2024 by ammcculloch49

How to identify birds by their songs and calls

There are plenty of smartphone apps for this purpose but without knowing what you’re likely to see or hear software such as Merlin or Birdnet can mislead if used in isolation. I’m not an expert but birder and fellow Kent walker Dave most definitely is. I’ve never seen him use an app. He just stands in the middle of the path for ages building up an aural picture from the space around us. “Chaffinches somewhere in that oak 30 metres to the right; greenfinch behind us, maybe 200 metres, nuthatch flying to those conifers… look, there it is, mistle thrush down low …” I find it quite annoying to be honest. But it’s a remarkable display of skill, patience and knowledge built up over years.

What doing the odd walk with Dave has taught me is that it’s best to learn a few calls of birds you are likely to see/hear and then, once you are familiar with them, start adding other likely species. Some, robin, blue and great tits, blackbird, you can learn from the garden or park. Cuckoo is obvious and one you can hear this month and in June on the Ide Hill, Chiddingstone and Hever walks in particular. Greenfinch is very distinctive too and dead easy to pick up once you know its chatter and “wheeze” – similar but different enough to more common goldfinch. You hear it more in parks and gardens though than on the KWNL walks.

*Wren – one of our smallest, but loudest birds. Photo: Wikimedia Commons*

It took me ages to realise that wrens were incredibly loud and identifiable; I’ve got that one down now, along with song thrush, greenfinch, chaffinch, long tailed tits, chiff chaff, blackcap, coal tit, goldcrest, and most recently, nuthatch. I’ve no idea what dunnocks sound like, so I better give that a listen, and treecreeper too. Bullfinch is a toughie because you really have to listen out for their weird “rusty gate”-like whistle and toots. Yellowhammer is easy. To see one of these I recommend the hedgerows on the Polhill route, once down on the valley floor; Fackenden Down hedges; the Eastern Valley walk and the Chevening walk. A great one to listen for now is common whitethroat. These have arrived from Africa now and are filling our hedgerows with song; they sound a bit like their cousins the blackcap but less rich and burbling. There are loads of other, less common, summer visitors to tick off, which all may be encountered on a walk at KWNL – willow warbler has a lovely song, nightingale obviously, garden warbler… Cetti’s warbler is startlingly loud and a bird that sings disconcertingly close to you but from deep inside a thorny dense bush, so you can’t see it.

So, I’d say use a combination of memory and app to recognise birdsong. Use the RSPB site and British Birdsongs to learn two or three bird species at a time, then use one of the smartphone apps to record and analyse what you hear – having listened out for the birds you’ve tried to memorise. It doesn’t seem easy at first but pretty soon you’ll start recognising the patterns. After all, it’s just music in another form and the difference between a chiffchaff and a wren will soon be as obvious as between Dua Lipa and, say, Raye. Or Chaka Khan and Whitney Houston. Or Teena Marie and Cindy Lauper. Or George Benson and Philip Bailey; Luther Vandross and Maurice White. I could go on, and would quite like to.

February 4, 2024 by ammcculloch49

A bird walk at Knole

Mysterious birder Dave has emerged once again from his Kent weald lair! This was great news on this gusty, mild, cloudy day with a walk at Knole planned. Dave’s presence would ensure that I would observe or hear (rarely both) species I wouldn’t usually encounter when walking alone. Arriving at Knole late thanks to an unforeseen ambush cunningly laid by temporary traffic lights on the A21, I spotted Dave already staking out the territory in Knole’s south eastern corner. “There’s nothing here,” he said, greeting me with breezy optimism. But it wasn’t entirely true. By standing still amid the beeches and oaks in the open woodland of that area of the park it seemed the birds started to come to us. First a troop of chaffinches (but not as far as we could tell the hoped for brambling), then coal tit, song thrush, nuthatch, greater spotted woodpecker and goldcrest. As we entered the south eastern conifer plantation we heard siskin (pictured header) – or rather Dave did.

Lesser Redpoll wikimedia commons — Lesser redpoll. Photo by Ron Knight/Wikimedia Commons

Later a lesser redpoll (pictured above) flew over, a very delicate little finch type thing. Two greenfinches – not at all common these days – were spotted at the top of a tree, while more predictably, a buzzard wheeled above. Mistle thrush was then heard and a flock of redwings streamed across the field on the Godden Green side of the wall on the eastern fringe, where there’s a lovely view of Fackenden to Kemsing downs and of the Darent Valley opening. Finally, a fetching pair of stonechat, a male and a female, alighted in grass just ahead of us as we started to walk up to the house. As we got close they hopped into the bracken tops, disturbing a roosting wren.

It’s definitely worth walking with Dave – you become aware of far more birds than you would normally see. I had to bite my lip though when checking the football scores – West Ham were playing at Man Utd and it wasn’t going well … sorry Dave.

March 15, 2023 by ammcculloch49

In the depths of springter

Of all the seasons-within-seasons, the end of winter, or springter, is one of the least enjoyable for walking I find. That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy getting out into the countryside; it just means that when I do, I look around and think “meh” quite a bit. There’s still a lot to look out for in early March: old man’s beard (clematis vitalba), hazel and alder catkins, blossoming blackthorn, the vigorous growth of bluebell shoots, redwings and fieldfares flocking to migrate east, small birds breaking into song, the passage of gulls at high level etc, but the predominant colours are grey and brown, the air is still harsh and raw, mud clings to your boots and you slip on steep paths.

On recent walks to Hosey, Fackenden Down, Bough Beech and Downe, I found plenty to like but not much to inspire. This was partly because, apart from at Fackenden where there was an eyecatching sunset, the sky was unyielding and grey. Drama is needed in the sky at times like these, and springter often provides it as great air masses come into conflict, showering us with rain, hail, snow and sleet and producing fascinating aerial vistas. But at Hosey, all was monotone, at Bough Beech a thin Sunday drizzle dampened down any sense of vitality and at Downe, the morning brightness was consumed by a blanket of altostratus – the precursor to an approaching front – which had stealthily taken over the day as I was en route. But everyday is different if you look closely enough and the sun, a white ball behind the veil, did its best to make the stroll memorable.

View over Chartwell, Hosey walk
Bough Beech nature reserve
View over Bough Beech reservoir from the Bore Place chair
Downe walk under altostratus cloud
View from Fackenden Down, March 2023

That terrific birder Dave accompanied me at Bough Beech, educating me as we went on the courtships of goldcrests, the behaviour of gadwall – a much underappreciated duck, he said – West Ham’s unsatisfactory season, the calls of marsh tit and treecreeper (I’d forgotten, again), and the distribution of local chaffinch populations. Although we made it to 39 species we saw no snipe, barn owl, brambling, kestrel or even buzzard as we hoped. The bird of prey fraternity was represented only by a solo red kite who lazily loitered above the low weald landscape for nearly half the walk, sometimes close, sometimes distant – an almost spectral presence so unfettered was it by the subdued, squelchy land below.

Thinking back to that red kite (which by the way would have been an extraordinarily rare sight in this part of the world until about 10 years ago) my springter moans and groans appear misplaced; these grey walks were brilliant.

Photographs by AMcCulloch