Birding Ups and Downs - 1st July 2026

I indulged myself with a morning up on Aston Upthorpe Downs above Blewbury, wandering with no particular purpose other than to enjoy the sense of peace and space that this area always imparts.Once past the racing stables I followed the permissive path, no more than a chalky track really, undulating away in a straight line between straggling hawthorns, towards the distant Ridgeway.

Butterflies were here in profusion, fussing over the many cerise pink heads of  Greater Knapweed. Marbled Whites, Painted Ladys, Red Admirals and Meadow Browns were all feasting on the nectar rich flowers along with my first Gatekeepers of the year and most surprising of all a Hummingbird Hawkmoth.

At the end of the track I came across a family of Corn Buntings, the parents mildly agitated by my intrusion into their isolated domain,  perching in the tops of hawthorns and calling their simple chizz alarm note.

Turning to leave the buntings in peace, from afar in a vast field of barley came a distinctive call. Just once and then silence. Had I imagined it?

I stood and waited. Five, ten minutes passed and then there it was again, a long way off but unmistakeable, the whip like 'wet my lips' call of a Quail, a summer migrant that arrives in variable numbers, some years being good, others not so.This year is an exceptionally good one although they are never present in large numbers, so it was nice to hear this individual, bringing me a sense of discovery of this very secretive bird that you rarely get to see but rather only hear. It called three times and then fell silent and I never heard it call again so considered myself very fortunate.

There was no chance of seeing such a tiny terrestrial ,bird hidden in a field of inaccessible barley. The only Quail I have seen in Oxfordshire took forever to locate, even though at one point it was calling literally at my feet. It flew only when I  was about to unwittingly step on it and in true game bird fashion erupted from its hiding place and flew off on surprisingly long wings, never to be seen again. 

I got a text from Phil who was at Farmoor Reservoir, telling me that he had seen a Black tailed Godwit on the causeway earlier this morning and sent me an image taken  on his i phone showing it was an adult in summer plumage and judging by how close he had got to it, really confiding. He added that when he had left it was still present amongst a gathering of Coot and Greylags that were sunning themselves on the concrete apron at the water's edge .

I cursed my luck as I had over a mile to walk back to my car parked at the stables and then a half hour drive to get to the reservoir but such an opportunity was too much to resist and taking a huge chance I decided to go for it knowing full well that there was every chance the godwit would have flown off by the time I got there.

The reservoir was surprisingly quiet for such a pleasant day which I took as a good sign. Phil had told me the godwit was at the 'wrong end' of the causeway i.e the furthest from the car park so I headed for the far end of a deserted causeway and at first it appeared my fears were to be confirmed as I could see little sign of the godwit but then in a gap amongst the many Coots and geese, there stood the godwit looking thoroughly relaxed, taking its ease on the concrete shore.

It was an adult in full summer plumage which it will soon moult into a much duller greyish brown winter plumage. 

Black tailed Godwits are a scarce passage migrant to the reservoir, recorded annually at the peak migration times of April to May and July to August, usually as single individuals.This adult being so confiding was truly exceptional and being in summer plumage was a heaven sent opportunity to 'fill my boots' camera wise.

There are two races of Black tailed Godwits found in Britain. By far the most numerous is the race Limosa limosa islandica which spends the winter here and also in southern Europe as far south as The Mediterranean but migrates to breed almost exclusively in Iceland.The other race is Limosa limosa limosa of which approximately fifty pairs breed in eastern England, the majority breeding in France, The Netherlands and Denmark and wintering in Spain, Portugal and Morocco, even sometimes south of the Sahara.

By examining the breeding plumage one can identify the two races and judging by the extent and breadth of barring on the flanks and belly and amount of chestnut orange on the Farmoor bird it was of the race islandica, which was to be expected.

They are for me a supremely elegant bird, tall with a pleasing symmetry, their long legs balanced if you will by the counterpoint of a long bill. I am no expert but judging by the extent of chestnut orange on its breast and flanks this individual was a male. Females tend to show paler and less extensive colouring on the breast and seldom on the flanks.

Sitting on the wall of the causeway in a moment of whimsy I wondered from whence this bird had arrived. It seemed for the most part disinterested in feeding but more content to just loaf and indeed went to sleep in the sun,lifting one leg and pushing its bill into the feathers on its back.

Was it tired after a long flight from Iceland and indulging in a spot of R and R as it crossed middle England, perchance on its way to the south coast or beyond to prepare for winter.

We will never know. 

More of the Purple Persuasion - 27th June 2026

Today I made my third visit to Bernwood Forest hoping for yet more encounters with HIM (His Imperial Majesty) and to assuage my obsessive tendencies. This year is promising to be a good one for this magnificent butterfly at Bernwood and I encountered no less than five males during a pleasant morning in the forest. Rather than write yet more about this charismatic insect I will spare you and let some images taken on the day do the talking.

Now you see it

Now you don't - the purple that is!

An image to show how effective a camouflage is the Emperor's underwing patterning.
Can you see HIM?

Not so obvious with wings closed

A Red Admiral (top right) photobombing my image of HIM (bottom left)

Only at certain angles is the purple iridescence revealed

Returning to the car park I found HIM on my car's
rear tyre.A not uncommon occurrence at Bernwood 

The Emperor in the car park was determined
to settle on anyone in the car park to imbibe
salt from the sweat on our arms and legs and 
would not take no for an answer!

I decided to try my hand at an atmospheric shot for a change! This was taken in the car park at the
end of a long, hot but exhilerating morning. 

A Shady Experience - 25th June 2026

I returned to Bernwood Forest today in search of another encounter with the majestic Purple Emperors that are now on the wing and will remain so for another five short weeks in the forest. 

As is my custom I parked in the discrete little car park that grants access to Bernwood Meadows well away from the main car park that is forever busy with arriving and departing cars bringing dog walkers and families to walk the main track and various side trails through the trees. Purple Emperors do come down from the trees in both the car park and on the main track but it is rare that they remain for long due to the constant human traffic passing back and fore. An extended audience with His Excellency is one that demands due reverence and respect and that is impossible under such circumstances

As usual the postage stamp sized parking space by the meadows, its unsuspected  entrance  concealed by overhanging blackthorn, was deserted and I took to the 'unimproved' meadows through a metal gate, entering a world that must have been commonplace to my ancestors but now has retreated to reserves such as this. A living, tangible reminder of what we have lost. I stood as I always do to assimilate this joyous panorama of wild flowers for as far as my eyes could see, the whole area bordered by the dark green of blackthorn and beyond the oaks of the forest

And not just flowers but butterflies too were here in their hundreds, Marbled Whites mainly, in endless motion, their chequered black and white wings flickering through the flowers and grass.At one point I was enveloped by a cloud of butterflies rising from the grass as I passed by, an almost unique experience these days as our butterflies become ever more scarce, inexorably declining for reasons both unavoidable and avoidable.

A gentle breeze blew from the east, already warm and for now the morning was bearable but it was going to be very hot later, uncomfortably so. My plan was to walk round the meadow and via another gate that gives access to my favourite ride at.the edge of the forest, stand there in the shade of the oaks and out of the worst of the sun. . 

I stood and waited but there was no sign of an Emperor. Unsurprising as it is never that easy with such a capricious personality. No matter, it was hardly unpleasant standing in the cool shade of the oaks as Silver washed Fritillarys came bustling, one by one, along the ride, occasionally stopping to refuel on  bramble flowers before resuming their frenetic progress.Tiny, ginger, pugnacious Large Skippers zipped around, almost at ground level and countless Meadow Browns and Ringlets, jinked and dithered in the grass.

A morning so alive with abundant life it was sheer bliss to be amongst it.

But the star turn was now required to make the morning complete. Where was he? Would he turn up?You never know but here, on this ride and in this forest provided as good a chance as any of encountering him.

Matthew Oates who probably knows more about Purple Emperors than anyone is of the opinion that it is only fresh males, one to four days old, that come down to feed and after that they retreat to feed on sap runs in the trees. I remained optimistic, an essential prerequisite for the task I had set myself.

Ten minutes later at 11am I found an Emperor on the ground, feeding. Most royalty in our human world, if you look underneath the contrived veil of pomp and circumstance seem to have dark and hidden, unsavoury secrets and butterfly royalty is no exception. The Emperor despite all his magnificence and presence was astride that which issues from the wrong end of a dog, tucking in with gusto to the minerals contained in the excresence. Such a paradox.

No photo then  as I just could not bring myself to take one as he remained in wrapt concentration sucking up minerals from the unmentionable through his lemon yellow proboscis.

I lingered, admiring his underwing patterning and trying to blot out the image of that on which he was firmly ensconced. Eventually, disturbed by a bothersome fly, in irritation he flew but no more than inches from the ground, circling the sun baked bare earth a couple of times before rising and coming to rest, less than four feet up on a shaded blackthorn leaf by the ride.

He appeared to shut down, sliding his upperwings under his lower wings, partially concealing the conspicuous eye on the upperwing. I looked at my phone, it was 1120 and the temperature was 29c. I could withstand the heat for only a few more minutes and then had to seek the sanctuary of the shade as had  the Emperor. I stood on one side of the ride and he dozed on the other. Both of us sharing very different worlds.

I resolved to wait and see and fifteen minutes later he stirred and began to wander on his leaf, extending his yellow proboscis and showing renewed interest in his surroundings. 

Then as he became more active, slowly opened his wings to reveal that celebrated purplish blue iridescence  and then just as abruptly closed them as if  bringing a shutter down. It is so hard to describe the iridescence that transforms their wings. Matthew Oates states .... 'depending on the angle of view and the angle of the light, a single flick of his wings can take the observer through a spectrum from dense black through Tyrian purple, royal blue and several hues of turquoise and back'.....

And so it was here. He flexed his wings again and this time slowly spread them further, spanning them flat across the leaf in its dappled shade and there, revealed  was the coveted double purple iridescence on both wings. The ultimate gift to all Emperor afficionados.

His yellow proboscis continued its exploration of the leaf, then with a flick of wings he descended to the ground, describing a brief circle before settling and striding across the hard earth towards his unappealing food source.

Another feeding session commenced although not so long as the first, before he flew up to perch low on another blackthorn leaf, this time on the opposite side of the ride and again deep in shade.

And here he remained for quite some time before flying down towards the ground but although showing a passing interest in his food source, only circled it low over the ground and then ascended into a nearby oak and that was the audience done and dusted..

It was five minutes past noon and the sun's heat, now in the mid thirties, was ferocious.I retreated to the interior of the forest where the shade and a relative coolness brought some relief..