17th
January Ship Ahoy Frank
Zappa
I am now ashamed to say that I was getting little frustrated as I wanted
to get to the reserve ASAP and I hope that Dave will forgive me for my
selfishness. Obviously, Dave knew better than me and we soon reached a deep
water- filled quarry area but not before I had another puncture, the back tyre
this time. Dave took over the repair job and we were joined by another cyclist,
one that looked the part dressed in skin-tight Lycra. One for the ladies, a
William’s furniture man! “Could we help his brother?” Another cyclist with a
puncture but one with no repair kit. Of course we could and did.
It was a lovely day weather-wise, warmish with cloudless skies and
almost no wind. Perfect day for cycling. Before reaching the reserve proper, we
stopped several times to look at birds; mainly finches and winter thrushes but
also a lovely bright yellow male Yellowhammer and a Jay. At the quarry Dave
told of the manager being up on manslaughter charges. A driver working there
had gone down into the depths of the water still within his lorry as it sank due to
an accident.
On the opposite side of the road to this stretch of water was another
huge old quarry lake covered with hundreds of birds, Tufted Duck and Pochard
with some gulls and a couple of Little Grebes. An old, battered Land Rover
passed us and turned to greet us. It was the warden of Cliffe Pools.
Pleasantries exchanged; it was always great to meet the sunshine RSPB people.
In through the back way to Cliffe Pools RSPB Reserve, or so it seemed to
me but a large car park was there with a large RSPB sign. I had been to the
reserve a couple of times before but had entered via a long pot-holed dirt road
via Cliffe village. The first visit back in 2005 had been to dip on my bogey
bird, a Terek Sandpiper. I have still to see one of those snobbish Common
Sandpiper types with their upturned bills but one day I will latch onto one,
won't I? What a sweltering day that had been and an insect bite on my shin that
went septic caused a problem for a couple of weeks. The infection spread down
the leg, creating a long deep red scar. A course of antibiotics luckily cleared
it up.
My other visit here at Cliffe had been a couple of years later when I had called in on the way to Dover for my then annual ferry ride over to Dunkirk and my extended
summer holidays spent travelling, birding, exploring and mountain walking in
France and Spain.
Cliffe Pools turned out to be a superb and extremely large reserve, 230
hectares made up of massive old saline lagoons, freshwater pools, grassland, saltmarsh
and scrub. Yet when I had visited the reserve on those previous occasions the
talk had been of so much more. The RSPB's hope had been that it would become a
new ‘Minsmere', another Titchwell for the south. A working partnership with
Westminster Dredging PLC would create a Flagship nature reserve and the focus
for visitors to the RSPB's Northwest Kent reserves. Unfortunately, funding had
recently been pulled and the reserve at this moment had few facilities other
than a car park and a couple of notice boards.
We soon cycled around to where a small crowd had gathered up on a sea
defence wall all trying to see the reported Shore Larks. Not on view so we
chatted. To my right the nearest bloke, David Rolfe, was a cyclist. He was soon
discussing my broken back brakes and noticed that a small spring was missing.
"What's this small bird with a yellow face?" said Dave Saunders.
Dave had found four Shore Larks [95] on a muddy shore. Good old Dave. Good one to get as well and onto the year list they went along with Grey Plover [96] and Knot [97]. The visit to Cliffe ended with a list of forty-eight birds, the previously named birds together with Goldeneye, Pintail, and Black-tailed Godwits being the highlights. Yet, as usual, the real highlights were the birders met. Richard Cockerill, who had come from Hemel Hempstead (!) to see the Shore Larks. What a coincidence of meeting a birder from my not so long-ago place of sanctuary from the worst winter weather for decades. Then there is the two Dave’s; Dave Saunders with his kind hospitality and Dave Rolfe, who offered the same a couple of nights later and helped with the bike. When you are at a twitch you strike up conversations and immediate bonds are made, the shared love of birds making for an understanding of where another is coming from. You can talk about past birds and with rarities other birders met will recall them and know that your love is genuine.
Dave and I cycled to Northward Hill RSPB Reserve, via narrow country lanes. The weather was being kind to us with little wind and no rain. Along the way we passed an impressive set of castle walls which Dave explained was the house of Jules Holland, the musician, Cooling Castle. A beautiful castle, it is just a shame that one cannot look around it because of Jules. Maybe you can but the house gates were locked and heavy curtains were drawn. How New Year's Eve would be missing something wonderful when Jules finally stops his Hogmanay celebrations of cool music on TV.
Nearby was Cooling Church and there were the 'nine lozenges', the graves of Pip's brothers in Great Expectations according to Dickens but there are actually a lot more children's graves in two rows, thirteen in all.
The cycling was slow and easy as we made our way to Northward Hill RSPB reserve and on reaching there, we were invited into the offices. We were given coffee and the site manager, Julian, was an Arsenal fan which meant that immediate fun ensued with football talk. Being an Aston Villa fan, I had to discuss the incident between our thug-like centre forward from many years ago, Sammy Morgan and the Arsenal goalkeeper, Bob Wilson. I was in the Clock End of Arsenal's ground, Highbury for a F.A. Cup tie when Bob pretended to have been kicked by Sammy. Sammy was sent off and the Villa fans that day were close to the deception and showed their displeasure vehemently. We all saw that Sammy Morgan had leapt over the prone cheating goalie but Clive Thomas, the ego maniacal referee saw things differently that day. The match ended 1 – 1 and the replay at Villa Park attracted a full house. Maybe the massed Winston Churchill salutes by The Holte End masses directed at both Bob Wilson and Clive Thomas were not too friendly but the final score of 2 – 0 to the Villa was justice done. Sadly nowadays cheats do prosper in football. My love for the game has dissipated over the years, I see shirt pulling, diving, abuse to referees and ‘my ball’ cheats too often now to enjoy the game as once I did. How many times do you see players feigning injury?
Northward Hill RSPB reserve
was a large reserve that had extensive low grazing grasslands to the north of
the road and newly planted tree areas on hill slopes yet we were heading for
the large old broadleaf woodland to the east. It was getting late in the
afternoon as we walked across the reserve and I had just one thought; how come
no one else was here to see the thousands of corvids that is Carrion Crows,
Jackdaws and Rooks, coming into roost? Surely (don’t call me Shirley) Corvids
coming to roost numbering in the tens of thousands is one of the avian wonders;
a spectacle to be enjoyed, not only to be viewed but heard.
When we arrived at a small
viewpoint the sun had gone down and four Tawny Owls were calling. A large owl
came overhead but I could not get any detail on it in the growing gloom. We had
been told that Long-eared Owls were around but I could not honestly say it was
one so it did not go onto the year list. It was almost silent as we looked at
the thinnest of crescent Moons and the nearby Jupiter through Dave’s telescope.
The four Galilean Moons were easy to see. Then we heard it, a distance sound of many cawing, chacking and calling birds, coming closer and closer by the second. Eventually over they came filling the sky, thousands of Rooks, Jackdaws and Crows and what a cacophony! Many times they landed on the trees in front of us only to rise and circle repeatedly. Truly a wonderful spectacle and all just for Dave and I. Nine Grey Heron came over in a ‘v’ formation and fourteen Woodcock [98] came zooming out; a couple so close that features could be seen. This was one of the most wondrous, beautiful evenings of my birding life. Who needs rarities for birding magic? Do yourself a favour if you live close by, go and see this wonderful avian event.
In the dark we cycled back
to Strood and after saying goodbye and thanks to Dave, I made my way to an
uncomfortable 'hotel', which was overpriced at £18! I will not dwell on it too
much but the landlady's request for me to name the place when I was interviewed
by the local press the next day was a bit too much for her to expect. No luxury
this. The small room was in the attic, six floors up and no lift. The mattress
on the single bed had exposed springs and the dripping tap from an old sink in
the room, may have constituted water torture except for me placing a sock under
the tap to stop the noise. Now I may be sounding ungrateful and snobbish,
especially considering what happened later in the year but this was early in
the year and I still had visions of being comfortable most nights.
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