• Brampton: Autumn and the Michaelmas arrivals

    Over the last few days the evening has arrived with golden sunset. It feels like a time of change – the last Swallows skimmed the last stubble of the harvest a few days ago, before heading south. The autumn migrants have arrived from the north.

    It was last Wednesday evening, whilst accompanied by a post-hopping Barn Owl, that we heard this year’s Golden Plover. Their plaintive whistling calls carry to us, above even the traffic noise along the Buxton Road. It was twilight, the sunset had been spectacular and darkness was falling fast. Every year flocks of Golden Plover rest for a few days on tawny arable fields above the old Roman Road. We could hear their calls but their restless flocks were invisible.

    This morning’s clear skies, after a light frost, rendered the chance of seeing them altogether better. Looking south we soon spotted the flock of about fifty birds, their silhouette unmistakable – on knife-shaped wings they wheeled and turned, in synchrony their colours alternating dark and pale as they flew. Flying for fun, circling and settling before setting off again. All the time their whistles carrying down to us, earthbound.

  • Brampton Spring: a flock on the start the start of a journey north

    6DCDB21E-E520-4F76-8D1C-DBFDB12440D2A small flock of Golden Plover brighten up and otherwise nondescript morning. At first we nearly missed them as we walked along the old track, but then we noticed them; 26 Plover milling about quietly in a field of Winter Wheat. They took no notice of us – confident in their security. The light was too low for a decent photograph – I managed a grainy image that looks more like a watercolour than a photo (see above).

    A few low whistling calls came from them, but as we continued to walk on they gradually merged into the background and disappeared from view. I like to assume that they are simply stopping over on their Spring migration north, although they may have wintered here.

  • Brampton Autumn – the Golden horde

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  • 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.

  • Flocks

    The movement of birds in flocks is becoming more marked as we reach late October. The daily commute of Rooks and Jackdaws seem to fill the shorter daylight hours. Arrowing groups of Starlings head somewhere with purpose. Finches raid the bird table in noisy clusters. Golden Plover continue to stop over mid-migration. As we walk to the allotment on Sunday morning, a flock of a hundred or so circle overhead calling with a light whistling call which drifts on the breeze. The ocassional clear starlit night will assist their onward progress southwards.

  • Visitors from the Arctic tundra call in to Brampton

    This morning a plaintive whistling drifted down from a hundred-strong flock of Golden Plover. They circled over the Town Field and banked towards their favoured ground. Each Autumn and Spring they call In for a brief respite on their migration from the Arctic tundra to their African wintering quarters. Always the same place. Nearly always at the same time. Their contact calls can be heard on clear starlit nights as they reconvene in ever larger flocks. A little piece of the wild north drifts through the village with a promise of cooling air.

  • Calls from the north

    The Brampton fields take on the soundscape of the tundra. The plaintive flight calls of the Golden Plover are detectable, often in the immediate post dawn light and at dusk. Their flights in loose v-formation circle, merge and demerge. In the morning the notes make a strange counterpoint with the early traffic. Each year they stop off at the same very localised group of arable fields. What attracts them is difficult to determine, but they punctuate the year with their visits at Spring and Autumn.

  • Wildlife crossroads

    I count eighty eight House Martins and Swallows on the telephone lines near the Common. The gathering continues until, at some hidden signal, they will depart and leave us and take the summer with them. When that moment actually arrives is hard to spot, but by Sunday evening they have dispersed. The village really is on the cusp of the seasons this week. The convergence of the river, its valley, rail lines and roads seeming to combine to create a meeting place for the moving migrants. That evening we stumble across two Fallow Deer, not the usual Roe or Muntjac, both of whom were moving with intent – their own small scale migration in search of new territory.

    The next morning the unmistakeable call of the Golden Plover drifts down as the first flock arrives at their favourite stopping off point on the way south from their tundra breeding grounds. As always they centre themselves on the same arable fields which must have become ingrained as the traditional rest on their long journey south. We hope to hear them during their night time flights as the moon becomes full late in September.

  • Golden flock

    Early morning on Monday. The wind still gusting, but on the breeze came the whistling calls of Golden Plover. Every year a reasonable number pause here, en route to their breeding grounds near or in the Arctic Circle. A flock of 70 or so weaves and circled over the fields as the commuter traffic started to buzz along the Aylsham Road. A contrast between the mundane and the wild.

  • Winter solstice

    Even as another smear of rain blows in our faces and the Winter mood appears to darken further, there are signs of life and the hint of preparation. The Ash’s black buds glisten and promise something for the future. Bullfinches work the new hedges at Low Farm and the contact calls of a distant group of Golden Plover drift through the murk.

    In the village, the scent of wood smoke drifts along the Street. Cottages are decorated and floral decorations have appeared in the church for Christmas, everyone clings on to the light on the shortest day.

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