CMO Birding

I apologise for a particularly self-indulgent blog - you have been warned! A family member passed away this week and I’ve struggled to process how I feel.  Not about my relative, who I mourn for and am filled with sadness, but about other family members who are dealing with grief in their own ways.  It’s been an exhausting and difficult few days and I have had to constantly be alert to how others feel and curate my own emotional responses to care for others. In that context, birding yesterday was freeing and illustrative, and I’m grateful to my friends for allowing me the space to let my grief guide part of the day. The birds yesterday seemed to either simply be waiting for us as soon as we started looking, or make us wait hours to put in an appearance, with nothing in between.  Tree Pipit at Wykeham Raptor Viewpoint carpark showing as well as any I’ve ever seen (until the ones we saw at dusk while looking for Nightjar), Crossbill and Spotted Flycatcher at their respectiv...

  “Which is your favourite bird?” Was the question I was asked by my daughter the day before my birthday.  Aware that she was asking in the secretive way that an 8 year old with a surprise in mind asks, I weighed the question up and played for time.  A single favourite bird?  A difficult question at any time, let alone when thinking of a bird that, preferably, can be drawn in a sweet hand made card by a child in single figure years.   My mind went to eagles - but a friend recently said to me that all men choose birds of prey when they’re asked their favourite bird, and that made me shy away from eagles and falcons; I don’t want to be predictable, or conform to a stereotype… I thought of ducks, and the colours and elegance of winter flocks, but the yearning for summer made me look again.   In hindsight, it was obvious that I would pick terns.  What’s not to love?  Contrasting bold colours along with soft transitional plumage; the twisting flight of...

I have come back to birding in my middle age and come to an appreciation of the differences between different types of what is effectively the same activity.  “Looking at birds” is not how most people describe their hobby that they have devoted time, effort, and plenty of money to, but is probably the most accurate description anyway.  And that seems to cover it.  For all our technological advances, all our online effort to learn and discover, at the practical end of the pastime, us birders look at birds. This week I have taken part in my three preferred ways of engaging with seeing birds.  I have watched my local patch, recording and surveying the species I saw via various apps and sites; I have twitched (how I hate the word, but still find it apposite) a Collared Flycatcher; and I have spent time with friends walking in stunning locations I’ve never seen before and seeing a huge variety of wildlife as part of the walk. It’s only human to have a preference amongst t...

I had the good fortune to have most of a weekend free and to myself.  I toyed with the idea of live music, real ale, or a long jaunt south to try for the beautiful Marsh Sandpiper, but exhaustion from work caught up with me.  This meant that instead of heavy metal tinnitus and a hangover, or admiring the elegance of a southern wader, 6am on Saturday found me up on the moors, hoping for Cuckoo (but with no real expectation - I almost always hear my first in the first week of May) and Tree Pipit.  I found neither, but in the cold of early morning I decided I would check the four compass points of my 10km circle and walk in my own company. I have become, in my middle age, something of a loner.  Not that I dislike people, I have written before about friendship framing the experience of birding as a microcosm of life, and the company of others is always a balm that makes Churchill’s black dog walk some distance behind me - but that I find that I like time to reflect on th...