Brampton, Norfolk

  • Brampton Spring: Easter Sunday – departures and arrivals

    The morning of Easter Sunday is clear and bright. The fresh southerly breeze of yesterday afternoon has delivered change. This morning Spring migrants have arrived. Only last Thursday the Winter Thrushes, Fieldfare and Redwings, were gathering on the freshly ploughed Church Field. By Good Friday they had left for the tundra.

    This morning a single Swallow swooped around Fern Cottage, vibrant chattering call announcing its arrival. The garden near Pear Tree Pyghtle echoes to the persistent call of a Chiffchaff. A flock of Golden Plover drift around on the strong breeze directly over the village; their melodic, almost mournful, whistling calls gently shower down. The flock numbers forty or so, perhaps more. They stopover for a few days in Spring and Autumn – centring on the same fields and occasionally setting off on circular flights around the parish calling as they go. To me this is the real sign that Spring is here.

  • Mild weather, but for the birds, hedgerow food supplies start to run low

    The weather may be mild, but the winter thrushes are rapidly working their way through the hedgerow reserves. Two weeks ago they targeted the Hawthorns – the red berries were stripped over a couple of days. Flocks of Fieldfares and Redwings worked systematically from bush to bush, their rasping and piping calls filling the air as we disturb them. This morning the self sown apple tree in the railway cutting was the target – the apples soften on the branch or fall easily making them the favoured fruit. The bullet hard and bitter Sloes remain untouched; except of course by their human harvesters who have started their gin concoctions.

  • Chill February wind – Winter prepares to leave

    Sunday morning and a chill westerly wind cast a thin veil of ice on the puddles. After yesterday’s glimpses of sunshine the weather had reverted back to a gloomy chill-ridden morning. On the stubble field, alongside the railway line, a large flock of Fieldfares – perhaps a hundred strong – fled at our approach. Flying low and for a short distance they kept a respectable distance from us. Their ‘chuck-chuck’ calls revealing their nervousness.  I wondered whether the flock size was a pre-migration gathering, but their leaving is probably some time off yet.

    The wind whipped along the river Mermaid. A few Woodpigeon, curved their aerial path against the breeze. A Buzzard set its wings and soared just above tree height; a relaxed but string-less kite. Its rich rufous plumagewas illuminated in the thin morning light. After a short while, with a barely perceptible adjustment it alighted in the old ash tree. A Magpie landed nearby a mobbed the Buzzard from a branch a few yards away. Further on, another flock, this time Redwings, fled at our passing. The Winter, we feel, is slipping away.

Cookies For Comments Image