Back to the Birds

On the evening of June 19th, I headed up to Tarrant Rushton Airfield, once used for glider operations during World War II. I was hoping to hear and maybe record the song of a small, secretive migratory bird that winters in Africa, spending most of its time hidden in crops and tall grass. Parking off the Wimborne to Blandford road, I started the long walk toward some barn buildings. The warm evening breeze carried the jangling calls of Corn Buntings along the field edges, while Skylarks sang high overhead—a sound I always enjoy. At the first farm buildings, I spotted a Kestrel on a roof, scanning for prey. Moving past more crops, I listened for a Quail but heard only Skylarks and Linnets. Before long, I reached the familiar Sawmill area, but still no luck. Curious about what lay beyond the big bend in the road, I kept going, passing grassy fields and tall grass. I paused to scan toward Badbury Rings for an early Barn Owl, but instead spotted a pair of hares in the short grass—a treat in itself. Reaching the bend and seeing the harvested field ahead, I turned back, realising how far I’d come as the first farm buildings appeared as tiny dots in the distance. Near the Sawmill once more, I suddenly caught the faint call of my target bird, the Common Quail—“Wetmelips, Wetmelips”—growing louder.

A young Kestrel

Some Wonderful Hares

# Corn Bunting 149

# Quail 150

June 20th

Lytchett Fields;  

Walking down the aptly named Watery Lane (especially in winter), I was met with the sweet scent of lush greenery lining the edges and a small stream, while mighty oaks stood like sentinels among holly and hazel—oh, the stories they could tell. Overhead, the cheerful chatter of house martins followed me all the way to the viewing points. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be much about, but once my eyes adjusted, I spotted shelducks, black-headed gulls—including a Mediterranean gull—and some lesser black-backed gulls, along with a few black-tailed godwits and redshanks on what’s called Frenches Pool. After scanning the area, I wandered next door to the Sherford Pools viewing space, where teal, mallard, and a couple of gadwall were resting. Then, out of nowhere, an osprey appeared, heading toward Frenches; I dashed back just in time to see it joined by another, both making for Lytchett Bay. Watching them vanish over the bay was pure joy—until a marsh harrier arrived, gliding effortlessly above the reeds in search of prey. Back at Sherford Pools, I noted a couple of little egrets, a grey heron, and a lapwing. At first, nothing unusual, but on a second scan, there it was: a little ringed plover—then another—running along the edge of an island, a lovely addition to the Dorset list. As the tide began filling the pools, I decided to call it a day, when yet another osprey crossed from Frenches, soared over Sherford Pools, and disappeared over the heathland—perhaps to Morden Bog or maybe looping back toward the water by the Cordite Way. I’ll never know, but a sight it was.

The Osprey

Some insect life along the Watery Lane

Beautiful Demoiselle

Rutpela maculata

# Osprey 151

# Little ringed Plover 152

I’m a bit confused about my Dorset list. I use BirdTrack to record my bird sightings and Bubo to keep a list. On BirdTrack, the Dorset Recording area shows 153 species, while the Dorset County shows 146. To add to the mix, my Bubo list has 152 recorded species.

 

A Double Encounter with the Crowned Weevil

Badbury Rings: Dorset

On the afternoon of the 18th June , I found myself traversing the historic Iron Age earthwork of Badbury Rings. Mid-afternoon the weather became delightfully warm and increasingly sunny. As the breaking sun baked the chalk ramparts filling the air with the scent of herbs it seemed to stir the insect world into sudden  vibrant activity  with butterflies on the wing of all sorts Marble Whites, Common Blues, Large Skippers and the likes.

As I walked along the bare, white chalk track that cuts through the  vibrant green grass on top of one the ramparts. My attention was drawn to by not one ,but two magnificent specimens of the Crowned Weevil, Liparus coronatus. At first these appear to be black shiny beetles but on a close look they were robust roughly 12mm long the body an intense ,glossy jet-black, beautifully ornamented by a distinct crown of bright golden-yellow scales at the base of the throax.

Liparus coronatus.

What struck me the most beside their long elephant trunk like snout was their situation .

Emerging just as the afternoon heat peaked and the sun broke through, they were out in the open,

marching across the exposed chalky path, making their way directly to shelter of the grass margin of the pathway. The species is entirely flightless, so are true pedestrians of the insect world. I believe they were utilising  the bare chalk path  to travel along. The dense tangle roots of the surrounding grassland must be arduous and slow, yet the open pathway warmed by the afternoon sun they could travel with relative ease and speed to find out new feeding grounds or mates.

In my readings of the great naturalists ( namely Charles Darwin and Alfred Russell Wallace), I have learned that the distribution of animals is never accidental. And here in Dorset I believe that  Liparus coronatus is localised and possible scares and bound to the carrot and parsley family upon which its larvae feed upon underground. To find two individuals on such a fine summer afternoon a 1st for me . It proves with out doubt the ancient chalk grasslands of Badbury Rings supports a healthy breeding colony of these scarce creatures. How wonderful its to think right here on a pathway trodden by human feet for thousands of years, these patient little beetles continue their quiet struggle for existence, perfectly adapted to their ancient Wessex home. I left them to their journey and over joyed at finding these beetle.

Liparus coronatus.

The Invisible Botaurus and Dancing Harriers of Lodmoor

 June 14th: Journeyed to the extensive freshwater/brackish reedbeds of Lodmoor, with the primary objection of trying to see the Bittern ( Botaurus stellaris).The day was clear with blue sky and some cloud, warm but with a nice breeze. Though the dense Phragmites presented an almost impenetrable barrier to the eye.

The Dense Phragmites

I positioned myself for several hours at the margin of the marsh scanning with the utmost diligence. Not a reed stirred to betray the birds presence . Yet the trip was not without reward, even if the depths of marsh remained a closed book. The sky above was a theater  of magnificent animation, three Marsh Harrier (Circus aeruginosus) engaged in an exquisite aerial display of dancing and looping through the heavens with a buoyancy that defies description. At one time the ponderous form of a Buzzard ( Buteo Buteo) patrolled over the reeds.

Above the Western Marsh Harrier (Circus aeruginosus)

Buzzard ( Buteo Buteo)

 While a solitary Spoonbill (Platalea leucorodia); that most peculiar and specialised of waders was sleeping on the the Postbox Pool with the occasional preen.

Spoonbill ( Platalea leucorodia)

Finding myself entirely satisfied even though I did not see the bird, I rested by the path having my lunch while listening to the rhythmic sighing of the wind through the reeds a melody that has played unaltered since prehistoric times.

I was frequently distracted by flashes of vibrant predatory life close to hand. The magnificent Norfolk Hawker dragonflies ( Aeshna isoceles) with there bright green eye and coppery bodies hawked aggressively along the margin of the reeds. It was a joy watch this dragonfly . Historically confined to the eastern fens making its home in Dorset. I retraced my steps back to the car thoroughly satisfied with the beautiful struggle of existence that quietly goes on in Dorset.

Norfolk Hawker (Aeshna isoceles) Also known as the Green-eyed Hawker

# Spoonbill 147

A Surprise Wildlife Encounter

 On May 30th, South West Lakes Trust held an open day at my local patch, Longham Lakes. My good friend and I volunteered to lead wildlife walks around the larger of the two lakes. Technically reservoirs, the smaller one, known as North Lake, was completed in 2002 and opened for fishing in 2009. Then in 2010, the larger South Lake was filled, quickly becoming a haven for wildlife. I began calling it my local patch in 2017 when I decided to see how many birds I could record between January 1st and December 31st. That year, I counted 112 different species simply by walking the gravel paths around the lake.

Before the event opened to the public, we took a preliminary walk to plan what we could show groups joining the tours. The lake was alive with Painted Ladies, a few dragonflies, plenty of Common Blue Damselflies, and some Banded Damselflies, things looked promising. Near the end of the walk, I spotted something unexpected. As we rounded a corner among the daisies, I noticed a large, coarse, hairy creature. It seemed too big and too grey for the rabbits usually seen around the area. Raising my binoculars, I was astonished to see a badger! What an incredible moment to watch this marvelous animal feeding peacefully among the daisies; I was thrilled.

Badger the 1st in 9 years of Patch Watching

Unfortunately, the badger was no longer in view when we led the first group of nine around South Lake. The group, like the others, was friendly and keen to see what we could find. Our first stop was on the causeway, where we spotted two Oystercatchers with two chicks, hopefully able to survive the many Herring Gulls and Lesser Black-backed Gulls. As with the other groups, they were thrilled to see the Greylags and Egyptian Geese with their goslings, and some were especially pleased to spot the 20 spikes of Southern Marsh Orchids and Bird’s-foot Trefoil.  

Our last walk was at 3 pm, the fourth circuit around South Lake, bringing the day’s total to about 4.8 to 5 miles walked. It was a lovely day spent with wonderful company, sharing wildlife sightings and birdsong. Songs from the Blackcap, Cetti’s Warbler, and Song Thrush were well received, as some had heard these calls before but didn’t know what they were. It was a joy to explain that the scratchy call from the reeds came from a small bird called the Reed Warbler, which had flown from Africa across part of the Sahara Desert to breed here. A fabulous day, and hopefully some went home with a greater appreciation of the birdlife and wildlife around Longham, and how important places like Longham Lakes are.  

 One of the better spikes of Southern Marsh Orchid

One of the very many Painted Lady's seen

One of hundreds of Common Blue Damselfly

Black-tailed Skimmer

other dragonflies, damselflies and butterflies seen

Emperor Dragonfly

Lesser Emperor-possible

Banded Damselflies

Green- veined White

Common Blue

Red Admiral

 

Lunch Time News Flash

 May 20th,  

I had just sat down in my car to have lunch at work, and one bite into my delicious cheese and pickle sandwich, my phone burst into life. Swiping to answer, I saw it was my good friend George Green and instantly thought, “What’s he seen now?” I answered with, “Hello, George,” and he replied, “Red-footed Falcon on the heath!” My first thought was, “Oh bugger, I’m at work.” George explained where the bird was and told me to give him a ring if I came up later so he could meet me. My mind raced would it still be there at 5 p.m., or should I go now? “Sod it,” I said to myself, “I’ve got to go now while I’m on lunch break.” Off I went, racing to the location but driving carefully.  

After parking the car, I ran down the track, past the house and gate. I paused when I heard a Curlew calling, spotting it in the sky as it chased a Buzzard out of the area. Picking up my pace again, I rounded the corner and saw George, who signaled for me to slow down. “The bird still here?” I asked. “Right in front of you, in the dead tree,” came the reply. Lifting my binoculars, I saw him ; a magnificent male Red-footed Falcon, in full view. I wished I had my camera. I’ve seen RF Falcons before, but never a male, and what a stunner he was, with shades of blue-grey. After soaking in the sight and chatting with George, I figured it was time to get back to work.  

Unfortunately, on May 21st,  

I recently read some upsetting news on Facebook about people leaving the paths to see the RF Falcon, and I’m very disappointed in those who’ve wandered off the paths. Yesterday afternoon, I had great views of the bird perched on a dead tree, all from the path. Having known the heath and its birds for many years, I urge everyone to stick to the paths. Part of me feels like suppressing such news, even if it made me unpopular, but I also want people to enjoy seeing birds as I have from reports by others. The heath is deeply special to me in many ways.

Red-footed Falcon pictures by George Green

                                                         Red-footed Falcon ©George Green

 Red-footed Falcon ©George Green

# 143 Red-footed Falcon

Birding in May

I’ve been trying to think of a title for my new blog, which is really a mix of my birding adventures in May. A bit about me—recently I read an Instagram post from someone at Birds of Poole Harbour, describing how she grew up as a young birder without knowing anyone who shared her passion, and how discovering the BTO changed everything for her. It took me back to my own childhood in Birmingham in the 70s, when I was fascinated by birds but knew no one else who was. I’d wander through fields and along canals near home, chasing butterflies and catching red-breasted sticklebacks, dragonfly larvae, and caddis-type creatures. I didn’t have binoculars back then, and my only bird book (which I still have) was Garden and Field Birds, a 10th birthday gift from my mum, brother, and sister. I soon learned to identify Blackbirds, Song Thrushes, and in summer, Swifts, Swallows, and House Martins, though I still wonder what more I might have known. In 1978, Mum, my sister, and I moved to Dorset. Starting a new school and making friends was daunting, and again, no one I knew was into birds or wildlife; though fishing was popular. Then came an embarrassing moment at school around 1979 or 1980. Gazing out the window, as I often did, wishing I was outside, I spotted a large bird flying toward the building. As it got closer, I could make out its shape but couldn’t identify it. Excitedly, I blurted, “Miss, there’s a stork flying over the playground! I need to phone the RSPB!” I was told off for staring out the window and informed that storks don’t come to this country, while classmates teased me with silly comments. Later, I read in the Evening Echo about a White Stork sighted near Ringwood. After that, I stepped back from birding for a while, spending more time fishing with friends, though I still loved spotting kingfishers, coots, and moorhens.

My first bird book

Jumping ahead to 2011, I gave up fishing as birds began to draw me in again. This time, with the internet at my fingertips, I discovered Blashford Lakes, the BTO, and the Dorset Bird Club, all of which boosted my confidence. It wasn’t until I found the Birds of Poole Harbour that my confidence truly grew, thanks to bird walks led by Paul Morton. Paul would guide small groups across heathland and around the harbour, sharing his knowledge about the area and its wildlife. It was thanks to him that I saw my first Great Northern Diver, a bird I never thought I’d spot in Dorset. I’ve had quite a few firsts on those walks, but one I’ll never forget was a day on Morden Bog in May 2014 what an experience.  

So, what’s my point? Without people like Paul and the Birds of Poole Harbour, the Dorset Bird community offering help with IDs and encouragement, I’m not sure where I’d be. For any young and aspiring birders or birdwatchers out there, I would say get involved with the BTO youth programs and the Birds of Poole Harbour youth events. It’s a fantastic time to be a young naturalist, with so many resources available, and I hope it only gets better from here!

  

A Bird Walk

On May 9th, 2026, I joined a good friend for a bird walk around our local heathland. It’s not my first time helping with such walks and won’t be the last, with a Nightjar walk coming up soon and a wildlife walk at Longham Lakes on May 30th. We met at Whitesheet car park at 9:30 a.m. for a leisurely stroll, keeping an eye out for birds and plants. Right after leaving the car park, we heard a Blackcap singing and Goldcrests calling, spotting two of them flitting about in a pine tree. Further along, we came across a Lapwing, which sprang into action to chase a low-flying Buzzard. George mentioned a good spot ahead for Tree Pipits, and sure enough, one perched atop a small birch began singing. Just as I hoped it might parachute down, it did so, landing on a dead tree stump. Along the way we also noted Jay, Whitethroat, Skylark, and while some heard a Nightjar and a Woodlark, I unfortunately missed them. We spotted Lesser and Greater Stitchwort, Tormentil, and Speedwell Germander. A Chiffchaff was heard, and the sight of two Dartford Warblers in a dispute, topped off by the call of a Cuckoo, made for a truly delightful walk.

Tree Pipit

May 16th 2026

Durlston Country Park

I visited Durlston with my son to see the Guillemots and Razorbills, and they didn’t disappoint. There were around 100 Guillemots, with rafts of them on the water and many more packed onto the ledges it seemed there was barely enough room for them all. Among them, the Razorbills stood out with their dark black backs and stout bills. We stayed for a while, watching and listening, as Fulmars glided in and out from the cliff face on stiff wings; a real delight to see. Reaching the lighthouse and gully, we soon heard singing Whitethroats and spotted another target bird for the County List, the Rock Pipit. Four Swallows came in off the sea just before drizzle moved in from the west, and two Gannets headed west into the mist; an adult followed closely by what I took to be a second-year bird. With little else spotted, we hiked back up the road to the sounds of Chiffchaffs, Blackbirds, and more Whitethroats, heading for the car and home after another pleasant walk.

Whitethroat

Guillemots on the ledge

Razorbill

Two Razorbill with Guillemots

# 137; Tree Pipit

#138;  Jay

# 139; Garden Warbler

# 140 ; Razorbill

# 141; Rock Pipit

# 142; Hobby 17th May Longham Lakes

   

White Spikes and Reedbeds

 A Winning Day at Lodmoor and Beyond

I had planned a trip to Weymouth this weekend, hoping to see Sword-leaved Helleborines. Nature doesn’t often grant second chances, but today it did. After arriving too late last year to catch Dorset’s only Sword-leaved Helleborines, I returned on May 3rd, 2026, with fingers crossed, and they were in full bloom. Eight beautiful spikes stood proudly under the beech tree, and they did not disappoint.

Sword-leaved Helleborine

Bennett's Water Gardens

After seeing the Helleborines, I had to decide whether to head to Portland for the reported Turtle Dove or make my way to Lodmoor in hope of spotting the recent Bonaparte’s Gull. I chose Lodmoor, thinking it would add more sightings to my Dorset County List, which it probably did, even if it was only three extra birds. Not knowing Portland well, apart from the Bill area, I would have been unsure where to go or if I’d find the Turtle Dove.

The first birds I saw at Lodmoor were a screaming party of Swifts, wonderful to watch as they darted through the sky. Their lifestyle is incredible, spending almost their entire lives in the air and only landing to breed. Walking along the track and stopping at various viewpoints, I soon ticked off the first of my three new birds when a Common Tern came screaming past. Further along, I reached Tern Island, where the cacophony of Common Terns and Black-headed Gulls was a delight to hear and watch. Before long, I spotted my second new bird: three stunning Bar-tailed Godwits, one in its breeding colours. It was slightly too far for a decent photo, but the colours were wonderful through the scope. I made my way to the old bandstand to scan the Black-headed Gulls for the Bonaparte’s Gull, but despite staying for a while, I couldn’t pick it out. Another birder told me it might have gone off into Weymouth Bay. The final new bird was a Whitethroat singing from the top of a bush, though it flew off just as I pressed the shutter. It was a wonderful afternoon; simply being out in the midst of nature is great for the mind.

Common Tern

Brick Red Colour of the Bar-tailed Godwit

A Wonderful Bar-tailed Godwit

# 134 Common Tern  

# 135 Bar-tailed Godwit  

# 136 Whitethroat  

Other birds spotted  today included Oystercatchers, Shelduck, five Dunlin, Swifts, Swallows, and many more. As I was wrapping up and heading to the car, a Marsh Harrier was a delight to watch, gliding low over the reeds. A Great White Egret in its summer plumage was also a beautiful sight.

Something Different- Ballooning

 During the week, I got a WhatsApp message from my brother-in-law asking if I’d be up for crewing (following, tracking, and retrieving the balloon). Of course, I said yes and was happy to help. The launch was set for the evening of April 25th from the Barley Mow, which has a great adjacent field for balloon takeoffs.

I arrived at the designated time and waited for my sister Sarah and her husband Shaun to arrive. I was expecting to crew, but when they showed up with a couple of their friends, Shaun asked if I’d like to go up. I instantly agreed, having been up before and knowing how incredible it feels to be 1,500 feet above the ground, floating quietly with the occasional roar of the propane flame.

As we prepped the balloon, a large crowd from the pub gathered to watch. There were gasps of “ah” and “wow” as the cold air filled the envelope and the balloon began to take shape. Shaun lit the burners, filling it with hot air, and soon the basket was in position for me and Shaun’s friend to climb aboard. A few more blasts from the burners, and it was time to release the quick release and we were off, heading toward the Horton Inn area.

The views that evening were stunning, stretching to the Isle of Wight, Poole Harbour, the Purbecks, and the surrounding countryside. While keeping an eye out for power lines, I also scanned for wildlife and spotted deer, pheasants, and hares.

Eventually, it was time to land. Shaun, the pilot, found a suitable field just as the wind was dropping, but a hedge of trees blocked our approach. It was touch and go as the burners roared into overdrive to lift us above the trees. It was a relief when we cleared the top, close enough that I could touch the highest branches with my hand.

Getting the Balloon ready

Getting ready for take off

Up we go

The burner going for more lift

A View of the Barley Mow

Side of the Balloon with the Moon 

Looking up into the Balloon

The Burners 

Horton Tower

A view of the countryside