Wrens may be our most common bird, but they’re still a tick in January. Photo by Phil Sumner
Tick talk
DO YOU HEAR that ticking sound? No? Perhaps they’re all doing it under their breath then, but take it from me - the ticking is real. It’s the sound of birders all over Britain starting their year. Tick - black-headed gull. Tick - pied wagtail. Tick - house sparrow.
Since records began, 632 different species of birds have been recorded in the UK, although scientists tend to focus on the more than 200 species that regularly breed here. Twitchers focus on anything they can fix their bins on, but even casual birders like me keep a running tally of birds they’ve spotted during the year.
It’s not a competition, you understand. No, no way. Not at all. That would be childish. (But did you hear that Dr Rob in Norfolk broke the 200 barrier last year? No? Really? Yes! Two-bloody-hundred!)
The thing is that on December 31, the slate is wiped clean and everybody - even Dr Rob - has to start from scratch. And on the first day of the year, well, that’s when the ticking starts in earnest. At that point, nobody has anything in their birding book - so for a few weeks at least absolutely everything is a year tick: starlings; herring gulls; blackbirds; robins; wood pigeons.
It sounds easy, doesn’t it? But it’s not entirely without pressure. The waxwing irruption late in 2023 may have provided a last-minute year tick for hundreds of birders, but that is already so last year - and irruptions are rare so the big question right now is ‘are they still around?’ A waxwing would be a hell of a tick to start the year with.
It all settles down in February, of course, when all of the common or garden birds have been safely ticked off. Maybe there’ll be a bit of a scrabble to pin down the winter thrushes - fieldfares and redwings especially - and the bramblings before they leave.
After that comes the deep joy of the spring migration in April and May, easily the birder’s favourite time of the year when the warblers float in and the hirundines - the swallows, martins and swifts - reappear along with the cuckoos.
By June, a birder’s list should be well on its way. July and August are awful - the quietest months of the birding year. The spring breeding is over and done and many birds are in moult, migrating birds getting their flight feathers ready for the long haul back to Africa or wherever it is they spend their winter.
September is when the counting birder gets picky. They (to use a non-gendered pronoun) still have the winter visitors on their lists from January, so they’re not that excited about the winter geese or the thrushes - and, if they’re serious, they begin hunting. They might, whisper it, even begin twitching. A purple heron at Stodmarsh, snow buntings at Folkestone … it’s a long way from home, but tempting nevertheless.
This is when even casual birders head for the coast. Sea watching at Dungeness can throw up guillemot, razorbills, skuas, petrels and diverse divers, and you may just catch sight of a black redstart in the grounds of the power station. And Beachy Head is a favourite place for watching the autumn migration as small birds like corn buntings and wagtails gather for the big push across the channel.
Then the year turns, winter sets in and everything quietens down again. But maybe, just maybe, there’ll be waxwings once more … tick.