South Foreland

It was a pleasant spring morning so we went looking for spring gentians on the St Margarets cliff-top. We didn't find any (they are probably now consigned to the sea after one of the cliff falls) but there was consolation in a sudden arrival of raptors around 11am.
Firstly a red kite was seen being mobbed by the local jackdaws and crows, and this might have been the same bird seen by the Bockhill birders who were probably gazing skywards by the monument in the picture at the time.

Then my sharp-eyed companion saw a spiral of raptors riding a thermal overhead, with more joining to benefit from the lift. We counted three more red kites and eleven common buzzards.

But even this number was small compared to the numbers counted by the Bockhillers across the bay.

The Bockhill website compliments Robert Sonnen of the National Trust on the good work he has done on the clifftops between Dover and Kingsdown, and we would echo the praise as much of the scrub has been cut back and the sward has been improved by the Dexters and Koniks over the winter. We look forward to recording the butterflies on these areas this year.

Then..... refreshments at Mrs Miggins pie shop (aka Mrs Knott's tearoom) where tea and scones are served in bone china crockery, and an air of refinement is all around. And where I have been known to don a pinny to help out in the busy times.
From the top there is a marvellous view, and eye-level views were had of kestrel, sparrowhawk and peregrine, with ravens flying along the cliff-edge.

This brought to mind a most enjoyable book by local birder (ringer and taxidermist) Norman McCanch, who describes the enviable lifestyle of lighthouse-keeping as a birder. Each page is fascinating as the changing seasons bring different species to the safety (or danger) of lighthouses.

And finally an autumnal photo (since we've given up on spring and summer) taken this week at St Margarets.

Snakesheads

Today I started to wake, opened my eyes, sought out the sunlight and stretched my back.
Maybe it's nearly spring - nearly time to to shed my skin and feel good again.
Nearly, because it's only warm out of the relentless chilling starvation wind.

The sequence of renewal has started but it progresses only slowly.  The coltsfoot is first, as usual in the shelter of the cliffs.

A lesser stag beetle is found under a log, comatose but alive and waiting for its time to strut and fret his hour upon the woodland stage.

 

 

 Moscatel raises a tentative bud, and a rare patch of wild daffodils remains furled, unwilling to greet the uncertain sun.

 

In a garden, a lawn of snakeshead fritillaries is dotted with pink, the start of a glory that should already be here.

And an early chiffchaff chimes the birds into life, "as if every note had been the hammering of a tiny nail into winter's coffin".
Edward Thomas wrote this towards the end of In Pursuit of Spring, a work that seems all the more poignant in this slow chilled season.

Snakesheads

Today I started to wake, opened my eyes, sought out the sunlight and stretched my back.
Maybe it's nearly spring - nearly time to to shed my skin and feel good again.
Nearly, because it's only warm out of the relentless, chilling, starvation wind.

The sequence of renewal has started but it progresses only slowly.  The coltsfoot is first, as usual in the shelter of the cliffs.

A lesser stag beetle is found under a log, comatose but alive and waiting for its time to strut and fret his hour upon the woodland stage.

 

 

Moschatel raises a tentative bud, and a rare patch of wild daffodils remains furled, unwilling to greet the uncertain sun.

 

In a garden, a lawn of snakeshead fritillaries is dotted with pink, the start of a glory that should already be here.

And an early chiffchaff chimes the birds into life, "as if every note had been the hammering of a tiny nail into winter's coffin".
Edward Thomas wrote this towards the end of In Pursuit of Spring, a work that seems all the more poignant in this slow chilled season.

The Drellingore runneth once more

Three years ago, I posted that the winterbourne stream, the Drellingore, was running along Alkham valley.
Accompanying the photo was a phrase from Leland saying that 'ones in a vj or vij yeres brasted owt so abundantly that a great part of the water cummeth into Dovar streme'.

Unsurprisingly this year, one of the wettest on record etc etc, the stream has risen again (after only iii yeres), and has flooded the fields and Russell Gardens further downstream. At Kersney Abbey the river, now named the Dour, is rushing nicely too.

This reminded me of a film taken of two boys trying to canoe down the river Dour in 1969..... a valuable historical record of how different the town was just a few decades ago.

There have been reports of the Lydden Spout pouring through the chalk cliffs and into the sea at Shakespeare Cliff, which must be a good sight - has anyone seen it?

And a Happy New Year to You Too (2)

The sun came out (and stayed) on the first day of 2013. A reasonably early start contributed only a few species to the new year list, and the scoters were too far offshore to distinguish. Eight Stumpies were on the pier, however.

Next up Sandwich Bay, and I don't know if this grey partridge was more welcome than the good chat and cuppa at the observatory. Or the mince pie.

Through Pfizer with an eye open for waxwings....... but all I saw was this mistle thrush admiring itself in the reflective window.

A garbled shout of "waxwings!" at the roadside....... ten feeding on hips and twittering nicely. They haven't all gone to Sussex then.

Little at Pegwell due to late arrival and a very high tide, so inland to Seaton Pits for duck. A lovely place in the winter sunshine, and a pleasing addition of goldcrest and little egret.

And then on to Stodmarsh for the setting of the sun, and a great close view of a ringtail hen harrier, flying out of the reeds by the path. Redwings and fieldfares piled in across the lake and on to their roost, and strange noises emerged from the marsh..... squealing water rails, pinging beardies, strident Cetti's and unidentified contact calls.



Since announcing the winding up of Kingsdowner I have been inundated by an email, so I'll keep it going for a little longer, while setting up another slightly different blog (as if the world needs more) and changing the old posts to a more Kingsdown-related display.

May the sun shine through 2013 for you.

And a Happy New Year to you too

We look to the next year without the hopes of previous years......


..... permission for fracking has been given despite apparent good reasons to refuse it.....

.....decades after many of us campaigned under the No Nuclear Power No Thanks banner, it seems that it's now the green energy of choice.....

 ...... planning permission has been granted for houses on part of one of the best habitats of Kingsdown, an irreplaceable home to small blues, scarce plants, rare moths, with a mealey-mouthed ecological report to support it.....

.......... the "most sustainable solution" to aviation expansion in the South East with the "least adverse impact" is just offshore....... it may have the least impact to those near London.

There was another Goodwins plan 20 years ago, with an airport and international port too, which fortunately disappeared.



Good grief, where are we going?

Britain, we need to understand that ours is a declining economy, and it would be better to plan for a sustainable future based not on growth but on reduced wealth and consumption. A misguided belief in a continued demand for air travel will not assist us - the next generations will not be able to afford to fly in the same numbers as at present, so investing in more runways would be foolish.


So a Happy New Year to all - putting the past year behind me I can now look forward to 2013 -
Kingsdowner will be consigned to history and like all history will be revised, rewritten and distorted into something approaching a guide for the use of future.