Egypt Bay and Northward Hill 1/11/14

Out there on the marsh, beneath the hill already ominously shadowed by the last minutes of light in the day, comes one of nature’s grandest curtain calls. It is a smattering at first, of lone cries and polite applause, before the sky turns a shade darker than dusk with the sight of a mob approaching. Dressed impeccably and quite perceptibly in black, the rooks are returning to roost.

The noise is incredible and it feels like the whole landscape of the Hoo Peninsula trembles with it. In the bushes some blackbirds shriek and a tawny owl hoots nearby, but all else is indecipherable. On the marsh, after a bright autumn day spent probing the lumpy, grazed turf, the sound is a quarrel; overhead it becomes a glorious riot. The birds stream in in their hundreds. In the glowing dusk their shapes swarm together before they slowly descend into the hill and the trees there become full of it. In the dark, amid the flash of wings and the endless cries, it would be easy to think that chaos reigns. But they know exactly what they’re doing; they've been doing it for centuries.

Rooks at Northward Hill, 1/11/14

The rooks were the final act of a good day out at Egypt Bay and St Mary’s on Saturday. The walk out from Swigshole brought a pair of stonechat, a green woodpecker and numerous blackbirds and chaffinches in the track-side bushes. At Egypt Bay I checked out the workings for the planned breaching nearby and found a colour-ringed adult lesser black-backed gull already settled in. Unfortunately its details were too far to read. On the river was a pair of great crested grebes while the swathes of exposed mud held an assortment of waders and wildfowl. There were small numbers of wigeon and shelduck along with many curlew and dunlin. Crossing over the water from Coryton, I picked out a bird moving fast and low with pointed wings which, banking into the light, turned out to be a kestrel. Nearby, I watched a small flock of knot feed hungrily alongside some watchful grey plovers. I was surprised to see several butterflies still on the wing, including a small tortoiseshell and several clouded yellows - the latter clinging to dandelions in a final, defiant grip of summer. The highlight of the afternoon however was a female merlin perched on a fence post briefly before taking off and having a swipe at a meadow pipit. It missed, but like the rooks and all the rest, it played its part on a truly epic stage.

There ain't no mud like estuary mud: Wigeon near Egypt Bay

Brent Geese over St Mary's Bay

Links:

Northward Hill