Thirty years ago I started working for the RSPB on a six month upland bird surveying contract – with the additional challenge of helping to protect England’s only regular nesting hen harriers. The Forest of Bowland was the only stronghold for hen harriers in England in 1982 – it still is. I’ll be contributing a series of guest blogs over the spring and summer and tweeting in real time on @andrefarrar
Ringing birds remains an important part of monitoring their fortunes, still true today although now there are many other techniques such as the satellite tracking work that has uncovered the travels of harrier 74843 - a method that will no doubt reveal much more about the lives of hen harriers, where they go and what happens to them. Thirty years ago I accompanied Keith, a licensed bird ringer, on his visit to a nest full of plump harrier chicks. One of them was clearly in the middle of a meal as a meadow pipit foot was sticking out the corner of its beak.
The young harriers were now nestled in their own heather-covered spaces away from the nest platform.
It was noticeable now that female harriers were hunting – spared their stay-at-nest duties – that grouse remains were becoming more noticeable at the nests I was monitoring. This wasn’t much of surprise as the larger more powerful females are clearly capable of tacking larger prey than their males.
My days, while not exactly lazy, were not quite the endless hike of my first months; lots of watching sheep-buzzing harriers and swishing away midges.
With a roar of wings (nay even a murmuration) a thousand young starlings passed my hiding places, for a few seconds putting me in the heart of their flock.
A sudden summer downpour (unusual in the glorious summer of 1982) turned the upland streams into torrents of tea-coloured water, a distressed common sandpiper’s urgent calling probably showing that the deluge had overwhelmed her nest.
And as summer took hold, eight golden plovers passed overhead – a gathering that told of the turning of the year.
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