darent valley

How to identify birds by their songs and calls
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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.

A Christmas trudge – then some fudge
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A Christmas trudge – then some fudge

We chose Lullingstone for our Christmas morning walk. Well, I didn’t actually. It was the family choice, and a surprise one because I was, for once in my life, all for staying in and wrongly assumed my partner would be. I’m glad we did though: staying in all day and not walking anywhere is hardly ever the right choice, even with a turkey to roast and fudge to finish.

There’s no denying that in the mild, grey, mizzly, boring weather the Darent Valley landscape seemed to have lost a bit of its lustre. It felt as if we’d taken it by surprise – it’s usually ready for us and induces an inward gasp of delight as we get our first view of it. On Christmas Day it looked a bit bleak, a bit ‘meh’. It seemed to be saying, “oh it’s just them again – I can’t be bothered frankly.”

Fieldfare profusion

But on closer examination there was a lot to enjoy: huge groups of fieldfare (a winter thrush visitor from north-east Europe); a few chaffinch (relatively scarce nowadays in these parts) in brilliant winter plumage; loads of berries – haws, rosehips, elderberry in the main – and long-tailed tits flitting through open woodland. The profusion of berries was the attraction for the fieldfares. My regular Lullingstone kestrel did not appear, nor did the almost tame goldcrest I’ve encountered previously in Upper Beechen Wood. (Fieldfare photo: hedera.baltica/Wikimedia Commons)

Oh, that tree!

I’m often astonished at myself for not noticing things – I’ve been known to sit on sofas at home without realising they are brand new, turn on TVs that someone has just delivered and installed, and fail to remark on a room‘s entire renovation. I exaggerate, but it amazes me that I’ve walked past the extraordinary old oak at Lullingstone pictured below at least 200 times without really clocking it; a memory of it must have been lodged in my brain somewhere since childhood, but in the subliminal part. In a similar vein there’s an elegant art deco building opposite Brixton station that’s very familiar to me but it was only last week, on returning from the Ritzy, that I actually looked at it and saw it for what it was. I’ll never ignore it again, and the same goes for this incredible oak.

To be fair, there are several of these oaks at Lullingstone, mostly up towards the golf clubhouse in the west of the park (unlike this one). With some I’m not quite sure if they’re dead or alive. There’s one that you could actually hide inside. This one, which is maybe 300 years old, has a kind of elephant’s face embedded, is indicated on the map below. I’m going to try to keep eyes and brain a bit more joined up from now on. Probably means less daydreaming – let’s see!

Click on the link for a ‘live’, gpx version of this 4-mile Lullingstone route at OS Maps.

Most memorable walks of the year 2023
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Most memorable walks of the year 2023

This time last year there was snow in the North Downs; not a lot but certainly enough for bleak midwinter atmosphere, providing one of 2022’s most memorable walks: a saunter around the whole of Lullingstone (pictured below).

By contrast, this year’s winter walks have so far been muddy wet trudges in the gathering gloom. I did really enjoy Hosey Common the other week (see previous blog post) in atrocious conditions, because it reminded me of Scotland, I was with an old friend and family, and quite frankly I needed to get out – so it was great. Walking in uninspiring weather and finding pleasure is a challenge, a task that one must learn to relish, especially if one runs a walks website, which one does.

So looking back over the year none of my most recent strolls will make it into my most memorable top three and I’m gambling that my Christmas walks won’t top those this selection. An “out of town“ sortie to Hastings country park was among the best but was disqualified on obvious grounds.

This leaves my favourite walks in 2023 as:

  1. Chiddingstone, 15 September: scorching late summer sunshine heavy with humidity; dragonflies and damsels over the River Eden; soaring buzzards, long grasses shimmering, a great pint in the Castle Inn with family. Blissful.
  2. Fackenden Down, 26 August: old friends visiting from abroad joined us. They were more used to the chaparral of southern climes than the moist beech woods, scabious meadows and brambly hedgerows of the North Downs. They had read my piece in the Guardian about this walk and fancied a good old saunter. Iffy weather but delightful company and a lovely sesh at the Mount Vineyard and Samuel Palmer pub afterwards.
  3. Ide Hill, 3 February: an incredible multicoloured winter evening sky and rare close-up sightings of treecreepers in mysterious Scord Wood really made it. The ram pump pond was perfectly still and there were timeless frozen views over the wintry weald to enjoy. Again, great company – an old friend joined me. We finished in darkness with a bright moon picking out the gathering mist.
  • Tudor houses, Chiddingstone
    Tudor houses, Chiddingstone
  • Kent walk
    Southernmost end of Magpie Bottom
Dull, damp and delightful
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Dull, damp and delightful

I love to walk the Hosey and Westerham routes in late autumn because of the views of the Low Weald woods from Mariner’s Hill and the hues of the trees on the lower slopes of Tower Hill along the infant River Darent. I missed out on those treats this year but last Sunday we took the Hosey route despite persistent rain and cloud so low it scudded into the hollows of the Greensand Ridge and draped itself over NT attractions such as Chartwell and nearby Emmett’s Garden. We did the walk in reverse, which made life a little less predictable but also disoriented us on a couple of occasions. Even the familiar can confuse when approached from a different direction (wise words indeed ha ha). Despite the rain and mud it was a lovely atmospheric stroll and further proof that, as the great walker Alfred Wainwright said, “there is no such thing as bad weather only the wrong clothing”. I can’t say I had the right clothing, given the fact that my jeans were covered in mud by halfway through and the skin on my bare hands had shrivelled, but these minor discomforts were dwarfed by the pleasure of being out in the countryside. Small birds, including three bullfinch – a rare sight – flittered in many of the hedgerows, a sign that recent frosts have softened and sweetened the berries enough to be gulped down. (Pictured below: Mariner’s Hill views in cloud and rain; water meadow of infant River Darent – a good spot for bullfinch. Above: Chartwell)

Frisson in the North Downs freeze
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Frisson in the North Downs freeze

There’s a real pleasure to walking in very cold conditions and not only because you’ve bought some hot chocolate with you with a shot of rum in it. The light, the clouds, the wonder of winter and the sudden dusk all bring an edge of adventure. It’s a great time for a walk. Often the mud is hardened by frost too so you can stride without getting bogged down. We don’t often get snow in these parts but remember that if there’s a hint of the white stuff in south east London there’s a good chance there’s a lot more of it on the North Downs. So if you have children pining for snow larks, there’s always a chance that by heading to say Fackenden Down, Polhill or Knockholt you might have a bit of luck. It’s worked for me over the years. I particularly love the atmosphere of Knole in winter – the frosty hollows and rich (ish) bird life coupled with that huge medieval home that is lit so beautifully by the setting sun and from within as twilight comes on, are an essential part of my mid-winter wanders. This little cold snap will be over by tomorrow evening but there’ll be more to come.

  • Frosted trees nearing Warren Farm
  • Downe, Kent, England
    Frosty hillside fields, Downe
  • Line of trees after sunset Austin Spring
  • Squerrys path, Westerham
A sultry stroll at Fackenden Down
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A sultry stroll at Fackenden Down

The hot sunny weather – this September has been pronounced already as one of the hottest on record in the UK – has been good news for butterflies. The Fackenden walk is particularly good for viewing them; the first few sections after the right turn on White Hill were awash with chalkhill blues, red admirals, large whites, meadow browns and gatekeepers this week. I was particularly intrigued by the numbers of brimstones flying during my sultry stroll there last Monday. These beauties are the offspring of the butterflies that emerged from hibernation in April and May. With so many scabious and devil’s-bit scabious still flowering along with the likes of fading marjoram, valerian, wild carrot and trefoil, there is plenty of foodstuff still around. That wonderful ‘garden’ running halfway up between White Hill and Fackenden Down is great for other creatures too: it’s clearly good habitat for reptiles and birds, though I’ve never personally seen much there, not even a whitethroat, blackcap or yellowhammer this summer – just a few goldfinches (a beautiful but common bird), red kite, buzzards and green woodpeckers after the many ants on these slopes. I did spot a rapidly disappearing common lizard though, after hearing a rustle in the leaf litter. Earlier in the walk, at Austin Spring I was delighted by a view of a hobby (a smallish, fast-flying falcon) hurtling straight towards me, presumably chasing dragonflies.

I’ve taken to doing the Fackenden route the ‘wrong’ way round these days: so I take the path on the left up White Hill that culminates in the steps, then across the Dunstall Farm fields to Austin Spring and Romney Street, Magpie Bottom (also great for flowers and insects) and eventually to Fackenden Down. Either way is great, I suppose I just want to save that ‘garden’ with its kaleidoscopic haze of grasses, scabious and insects until last. (Pictured: red admiral, brimstone, red admiral, the path linking White Hill and Fackenden Down looking north, a scabious flower and, below, a male chalkhill blue.)

Here’s something I’ve never seen before …
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Here’s something I’ve never seen before …

Walking on the path through the scabious, ragwort, marjoram, yew trees and grasses on the chalky west-facing slopes of White Hill/Fackenden Down last Saturday I spotted a wasp spider – a creature I’d never seen personally. It’s a spectacular arachnid, one that has been increasing its numbers in the south-east over the past 15 years. I guess a powerful orb weaver like this will be snaffling up drowsy late summer insects in the coming weeks. The walk itself was as beautiful as ever but quite bereft of bird life, which isn’t unusual for late August just prior to the large migrations. Only a solitary buzzard and a charm of goldfinches being of note, though we weren’t being particularly observant. Oddly, not a single swallow was noted – unlike during the walk at Cudham the following day, where a red kite was also seen. My friend Teri took the spider photos.

Grass and butterflies
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Grass and butterflies

Late July, early August: it’s a slightly torporous time, and in most summers the countryside becomes gradually a bit tired and frazzled looking – rather like the Australian cricket team currently trying to play out the Ashes (now there’s a hostage to fortune). But this year, thanks to recent regular rain, there’s still a freshness about things. I particularly love the long grasses this year, so full of wildflowers – and such a contrast to last summer’s scorched earth. We’ve been lucky in 2023 in that respect, as other parts of Europe have literally burned. Nearly all the walks on this site feature beautiful grassy meadows at one point or another, the best being on the chalk North Downs at Downe, Shoreham (Eastern Valleys, Pluto, and Fackenden in particular, Knockholt and Cudham. Wild marjoram, wild carrot, ragwort, trefoil, knapweed, pyramidal orchids (still flowering) are among the common wildflowers all flourishing amid the grasses, creating a fetching spangle of purples, yellows, pinks, reds and creams among the greens. Anecdotally, butterflies have shown well this summer despite the mixed weather. At the moment it seems to me species such as comma, red admiral, marbled white and large white are the most commonly seen. In April and May, brimstones were a common sight, then peacock butterflies. I haven’t seen any silver fritillaries this year and hardly any orange tips or small tortoisehells, I’ve just been unlucky – others have seen them. Pictured below: red admiral butterfly, scarp view, knapweed in Chevening churchyard, a cleft in the North Downs scarp, a comma butterfly, the escarpment, a lonely path, all from Knockholt/Chevening short walk on a near-cloudless late July early evening.

Balmy evening saunters
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Balmy evening saunters

The longer days give us the opportunity to walk as the shadows lengthen and temperature dips – although in the warm spell that recently ended it hardly felt as though the evenings were cooler than the afternoons. Recently, a very tranquil saunter on the path between Shoreham and Eynsford – a route we’ve neglected a bit of late (pictured) – proved a real tonic, made even more fun by keeping with the tennis and cricket on the phone. Amid a limpid sky a solo Spitfire growled over a timeless pastoral scene of river, hedgerows and fields. As we neared the hops and spectacular lavender of Castle Farm we turned round and headed back to Shoreham where a pint of Larkins awaited us at the Samuel Palmer. We felt lucky. And so close to south-east London and even more relaxing when you use the train, direct between SE London and Shoreham in just 30 mins.

Lullingstone golf course closes
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Lullingstone golf course closes

It seems that financial pressures brought on by the Covid lockdown and reduced footfall in winter has led to the closure of this beautiful, historic, and challenging public course and its owner Sencio’s other leisure facilities in Sevenoaks and Edenbridge. It’s very sad news not just because I’ve enjoyed the odd round at Lullingstone for many years, but because the course is a key component of the country park; the wild grasses, woods and scrub in between fairways is highly biodiverse and is home to a decent array of flora and fauna. I should know, I’ve tentatively had to search for my ball in these wild fringes often enough. Without the course you wonder what might happen to the rest of it what with the pressure for new housing. Let’s not worry about it too much for now; Sevenoaks District Council says it is confident that a new operator can be found for the course and the other Sencio facilities so let’s hope for the best. My main Lullingstone walk starts from Eynsford station but, if you’re driving, you can park just outside the golf course entrance (presumably shut now) and do a complete 5-mile orbit of the country park.

In the meantime it’d be good if people enjoying the new freedom in the park stay off the greens; I’m sure it’s fine to cross the fairways if you want but please leave the wildlife-rich rough well alone.

  • River Darent
  • Bench, Lullingstone
  • Lullingstone horse chestnut in flower

Skylarks nesting and wildflowers: put dogs on the lead

Skylarks provide us with the soundtrack of the countryside in southern England as they mark out their territories from around 100ft in the air. There are quite a few of them at Lullingstone, whereas birds that used to be seen in the park such as lapwings and yellowhammers have largely disappeared. I’m a bit worried that without the golf, people and their dogs will range all over the grassy slopes and will inadvertently destroy skylark nests. The birds nest in hollow scrapes in reasonably grass between 20 and 50cm high. I noticed last Sunday that quite a few dogs were bounding around in areas they wouldn’t normally be because of the golf closure. It’d be a shame to lose the skylarks and other flora and fauna that was protected by being in “islands” of grasses and meadow in between fairways.