Biking Birder I February 18th 2010

 

18th February 2010 

Windy Miller 

Camberwick Green

 

Out to Garston Wood in Wiltshire, reached via the back roads through rain varying from drizzle to downpour with slaphead-hurting hail getting through the slots in my cycling helmet. Ouch! I met a lovely OAP couple, Lois and Sheila, whose front and back gardens were totally taken over by a fabulous selection of windmills. 

All of them were made by recycling practically anything and I had to photograph them and have a natter. Bicycle wheels, Snoopy toys, plastic bottles, United football action figures, cats, balls, all made a brilliantly creative scene in both front and back gardens. I wondered what the neighbours thought. If you want to see them then go to Bishopstone on the minor road off the Salisbury to Blandford Forum main road and they will be on your right.
              Another excuse for a rest a little later was for another natter with a local. This time with Wes, a trout farm owner who told of Blackbirds taking his young fish.

Two young ladies at a bus stop warned of a coming hill. "You won't cycle up that," one said. She was not kidding yet the ride down the other side was worth the climb, for the road went down to yet another RSPB reserve. 

Garston Woods RSPB Reserve lacked the soon to be there bluebells but there were closed up flowers of Lesser Celandine; the first I had seen this year. Also there were my first daffodils in flower away from a garden.

It was sad to see a dead sheep in the field opposite. It looked as though it had died giving birth to a lamb. I took photos of the RSPB noticeboards and went for a walk along a section of conifers next to deciduous, mainly Oak trees. I thought that I could not wait for the Spring to bring the woods into their own for at that moment, with the weather so wet and cold, things were quiet. Mind you I do love winter trees, when the shapes and silhouettes can be seen before being lost in the green cloak. When each species of tree can be discerned by their individual characteristics and here there was a beautiful selection.

In the past I have had trees at this time of year as beacons of love. When walking to Stourbridge town centre as a child less than ten years old, I would always look out for the large Silver Birch tree at the top of a hill above where there used to be the town library. 

When driving to Stourbridge from Bromsgrove, along a fast dual-carriageway, After the Fairfield roundabout I would always glance to my right to see what I considered a perfectly shaped Sycamore tree alone at the far side of a field.

      Down in the southern corner of this latest RSPB reserve, a worker was coppicing hazel but as it was downhill and the rain was particularly heavy, I cycled past on the way to Wimbourne.

              Next stop was at a place where I had hitched-hiked to back in 1977 in order to see breeding Montagu's Harriers. High on a hill, along one of the best Roman roads I know, I remembered being there on an extremely hot sunny Summer's day to see the pair of Monties with, if I remember right, two flying youngsters. I met the gamekeeper whilst there who had helped protect the birds. I wonder if Montagu's still breed in the area?

              To Wimbourne and into the Minster I cycled next. Inside there were impressive tombs and 'Moses'. The chained library was closed, unfortunately until April.

 

34.42 miles

1006 feet elevation up and 1170 feet down                                                                   

Biking Birder I February 17th 2010 Ancient sites, RSPB Reserves and Memories of the BEST FRIEND ever! GORDON BARNES

 

17th February 2010

Hanging on the Telephone

Blondie

 

The unexpected makes the Day sometimes. The plan for the day had been to cycle to Figsbury Rings, a superb iron age hill fort NE of Salisbury.

 After seeing this I hoped to find Winterbourne Downs RSPB reserve; cycle to Stonehenge and marvel at the stones then continue the day looking over Normanton Downs RSPB reserve and finish at Old Sarum, another amazing historical site. How did it all go? Unexpectedly.

               Figsbury Rings were magnificent, an almost circular hill fort system and so large with a brilliant deep surrounding ditch. Winterbourne Downs RSPB Reserve, well I did not get there until 12:30 p.m. because I was the wrong side of Porton Down. The road to Porton was closed for total re-surfacing. There's only one 'B' road across through the Porton Down defence area and the workers would not let me push the bike over the muddy grass adjacent to the road because of 'health & safety' reasons. They were very apologetic over it but intransigent to my saying that I would have a ten mile detour because of this.

Later, after negotiating a new route around Porton, I had just had some sort of fighter jet come extremely noisily low over my head when my mobile phone rang.

“Will you visit the Great Bustard Group?”

“No Way. It is miles away!” came my reply.

“Yes, but they've got your friend's bird.” “What?”

A phone call from the wonderful Lynn had me in tears as it turned out that my dear late friend Gordon Barnes' Great Bustard, one that he found whilst a crofter on Fair Isle, was at the Great Bustard Group's site at Winterbourne Gunner.

Back in 1970 Gordon found the female Great Bustard and had looked after it for much of that winter, feeding her mice and cabbage as the bird regained her strength. The bird was then taken to be part of the first attempt at Great Bustard reintroduction on Salisbury Plain. Indeed it became such a celebrity that the great cartoonist Giles featured it in one of his creations.

The failure of the first attempt prompted Gordon's bustard to be captured and put into Whipsnade Zoo, where she ran into a fence and died! That was the last that Gordon ever heard of the bird. Giles' comment on his cartoon, about it being bad news for a bird to look like an overgrown turkey being around so near to Christmas, was not to be the fate of the bird. Instead it was given to a taxidermist and stuffed in quite a different way! Somehow, after so many years, the stuffed female Great Bustard had found her way to the Great Bustard Group on Salisbury Plain and went on display there. I just had to see her!

With such serious motivation to go the extra mile, I started to cycle towards their centre as fast as my legs would go. It seemed to take forever but eventually I made it. Gordon was a fabulous person and I was so lucky to have known him and to have been able to call him friend. Gordon sadly died a few years ago after a holiday birding with his wife, Perry in Luxor, Egypt. I wanted desperately to see Gordon's bird.

On the way down the stony lane to get to the caravan and huts that made up the centre,  a huge male Great Bustard flew over me, landed on a hill to the left and joined four other bustards strutting around on the hillside. In fact I was so enamoured by the sight of such magnificent birds, one of the heaviest flying birds in the world, that I almost fell off when cycling into a very deep puddle. I was told later that the bridleway was actually an old riverbed and flooded frequently.

Well, I only had eyes for these birds and at the end of the lane I wondered where the Great Bustard Group centre was. I phoned and received a reply, “turn around and have a look!” I had cycled past two very obvious land rovers and the Great Bustard Group centre. There were also two obvious people waving in my direction.

 I returned up the track to meet Alasdair Dawes and Lynn, two charmingly fantastic people and together we pieced together some of the story of the stuffed female bustard. Photographs were taken, especially ones of me with Gordon's bird. I do not think the tears in my eyes were too noticeable but they flowed as I remembered my dearest of friends.

There was the promise of Gordon's photographs of him with the bird to be sent for display. Then it was pressie time. I particularly treasured the Great Bustard Project mug they gave me as a souvenir. I have it still, unused and special; a reminder of a wonderful day and of a fabulous friend.
               Now here is the question - could I count the eventual seven Great Bustards on my non-motorised year list? It would make it 141. I said that it was still considered 'plastic'. That is rather an unkind way of saying that birders did not count it as a true wild bird yet. Here are some comments from friends whom I contacted via text to discuss such an issue:-
"No way - are you counting plastic stuff now?"
"Can you count things with wing tags?"
"You have no morals - you'll get an extra fifty species at Slimbridge at this rate."
Alasdair wanted me to make it bird number 141. I did not! I could not.

Eventually I got to Stonehenge just as the light was fading and I rode as far as I could along the western edge of Normanton Down RSPB Reserve. Red-legged Partridge, Pheasant, Lapwing and Little Owl were all calling but really it was too dark by now to see anything but the beautiful crescent Moon, Orion with the Dog Star and Mars amongst the stars.

It is a shame it was not light as a map of each released Great Bustards, given to me at the centre, told of two stationed on the Downs. Once dark though, cycling became impossible along the bridleway so pushing was the order of the day until the main road was reached about a mile or so further on.

On making the road, with the bike clogged up with thick mud, I had a quick rest and ate the last of my evening meal comprising a couple of slices of malt loaf.
              On getting back to the Youth Hostel in Salisbury at 8:10 p.m. I drank a cup of their hot chocolate, I talked about and I reflected on such an unexpected event, Gordon's Great Bustard. A great bird found by a great man almost forty years ago to the day. Tears flowed as I thought about the dearest of friend I had lost. As always with a death, it is the sad thought that the conversation has finished, never again to hear Gordon’s soft Brummie voice.
                

50.64 miles

2155 feet elevation up & down