A Great White Egret recently spent a few weeks in south Warwickshire, the initial discovery made by a birder who does not live in the county and was visiting somebody at Walton Hall where the bird had taken up residence in a section of diverted river bent in to service as a makeshift moat, or ornamental lake. I had an interest as it is a locality I very occasionally check and so far as I knew I was pretty much unique in that regard. I popped over with Dan Watson on 11/07 and spent a very pleasant couple of hours in the sunshine there with Gus Ariss two days later (these two having tracked down the locality from the initial report).

Great White Egret, Walton Hall.

Great White Egret, Walton Hall.

I remember (just about) driving an 1100 cc Mk 2 Ford Escort all the way to Dolgellau in 1982 to see my first Great White Egret, which was a big rarity in the UK in those days. Now it breeds in Britain and there are a handful of records a year in Warwickshire where I have even been fortunate enough to find one. I also recall hot-footing it to Thrapston in neighbouring Northamptonshire to see my first Little Egret. They now breed in my home county and are present at Draycote Water all year round in numbers varying from a couple to the low teens.

Little Egret, Toft Farm.

Little Egret, Draycote Water.

I still regard these species as exotic and it recently struck me that I mourn the loss of what I regard as ‘traditional’ British birds far more than I enjoy the appearance of newcomers. It also struck me when considering recent colonists that I have a very snooty attitude, shared by many birders, to reintroductions and I positively loathe feral populations like the apparently ever-expanding cohorts of Greylag Geese with which I must now contend in the Leam Valley. One bird which recolonized Warwickshire in recent years and which I do love having around is Common Raven. When I was at school this was a bird I only encountered in the Black Mountains and once I left and began my twitching career one I most often met with along the wild and rugged Cornish coast. I will I think, forever associate those glorious kronking sounds with the most ‘wild’ of places and have a soft spot for the raven as a result.

Common Ravens ‘tumbling’ over Napton-on-the Hill.

Common Raven, Napton-on-the Hill.

Common Raven, Napton-on-the Hill.

They are widespread in Warwickshire and even nest in my landlord’s garden but they are recent arrivals, as are the Common Buzzards and Common Polecats which I also thought of as denizens of the Welsh borders and both of which are now resident in the Upper Leam. Yet whilst I like seeing them I do not have quite the same affection for the Red Kites which joined the aforementioned species in crossing Offas Dyke. Except of course they didn’t and therein lies the source of my favouritism, the kites were reintroduced and due to the snootiness about reintroduced animals I conceded to feeling earlier I don’t regard them in quite the same way as the others which made it here under their own steam.

Red Kite, Shipston-on-Stour.

This attitude is illogical, they are all conservation success stories and there are far too few of those to be getting all superior about any of them really. Not only that but I am entirely inconsistent with my prejudice. I don’t really feel the same way about Little Owls though their ancestors were originally released from the collection of Lord Lilford on to his estate  near Oundle in Northamptonshire. I began my birding life in that county and grew up with the Little Owl which, unlike the Greylag or Ring-necked Parakeet (the latter of which is still mercifully rare in Warwickshire) just ‘feels’ like a ‘regular bird’.

Little Owl, Upper Leam Valley.

That though is the point I make here, birding, God help us, is an emotional business. I simply hate the fact of losing species. It pains me that European Turtle Dove has almost gone, not just from the Leam Valley but from the country and that Corn Bunting and Grey Partridge appear to be following a similar trajectory to the vanishing point.

European Turtle Dove, Upper Leam Valley.

There was an old man in my childhood village who remembered Corncrake (a species for which a reintroduction programme has now been established on the Nene Washes) breeding around there, I would listen to him talk about that often and the entire notion had me spellbound. It is in part that same romance of the past which drives me in to hellish tracts of rainforest in search of birds so hard to see it feels like a ghost hunt. These are often, though not always it should be recognised, species whose entire global range has been reduced to a handful of surviving fragments of a habitat which would once have covered thousands of square miles. They probably have one foot in the grave and making contact with them has a resonance stretching back across time to the initial discovery of the animal by someone who may well have been honoured in the species name.  It also reaches forwards across time as a function of the powerful knowledge that future generations may be denied the opportunity you currently enjoy. It is worth taking some time to think about what makes you tick? You may be surprised at some of the answers.

Rufous-crowned Pittasoma, endemic to the Chocó rainforest of NW Ecuador and SW Colombia. Photo by Jonás Oláh, Birdquest.