When the red, red Robin comes mig, mig, migging along.. alo-oong

All those county bird reports we foot soldiers like to read often have a nice, short statement on each species that we tend to take as Gospel, something akin to this for the humble Robin:

"Common and widespread resident, passage migrant and winter visitor."

And I used to believe that. Along come the textbooks where such statements get repeated:

"..large numbers of the nominate race from northeastern Europe occur here on migration and in winter.." ('Birds in England', Brown and Grice)

Trouble is, when you start to read more analytical texts, firm evidence for winter visitors in any number becomes a touch wobbly.

"Ring-recoveries support the idea that a few (nominate race) rubecula winter in Britain and Ireland.."(Migration Atlas, Wernham et al)

So. Large numbers? Or a few?

Of course, I always used to believe the 'big numbers overwinter'. I used to go do talks on garden birds, on migration, for a past employer, to local WIs and the like, and spend my time spinning charming little tales that 'their' Robin they see in the back garden each winter probably had a Polish accent. Argh! Now? I believe this to be well off the mark.

I'll try to explain, and as I keep saying, I'm no scientist, but.. (Open minds everybody!)

We'll stick to Kent. The BTO's wonderful website has a cumulative ringing recovery report for every county, well worth a visit. Kent is oft visited by me, and today I (statisticians close your eyes, this will hurt) just grabbed a sample of their sample of encounters with known foreign Robins here in the county. The list is a bit of a pain, containing as it does just other countries where encounters occurred less than five times in each direction, but you can see trends in both those ringed abroad and those ringed here and encountered overseas:

A lot of autumn movement there.

Now, lets overlay (well, underlay) the main migration periods, based on the excellent 'Migration Atlas' and 'Birds of the Western Palearctic:

Suddenly the spring encounters show up as being after the supposed peak passage period through the UK. Just a handful can be felt to have been at their overwintering areas- the others more likely birds that have wintered further south in Europe. And probable that the vast majority of the autumn passage Robins passing through the south-east of England are not now staying in Blighty, they're making for Iberia and the like.

Another small consideration. The concept that not all coastal Robin 'influxes' will be continentals. Let's alter the charts further, by adding in moult finishing periods. For adult Robins, depending on when breeding finishes, up to end September (dark blue), their later broods ending post-juvenile moult as late as mid September (light blue). Most longer distance dispersal of 'resident' UK Robins happens at this end of the moult period. Adults have territories to defend, first, second broods have had to find somewhere to defend and now any third broods, and the (small!) number of overwintering continentals add to the disputes. Most Robins might not go far, less than five kilometres for a winter territory, but a number now wander a little further afield. In a county with northern, eastern and southern coastlines quite a few could pitch up on the coast. Why if a ringer looks back through their records, they might find a lot of local 'resident' Robins get ringed in October.

We want these Robins we see in the migration period to be migrants. We want Robins fighting on the seawalls in mid-September to have crossed the North Sea. Our mindset is skewed towards it. Here, we go down the estuary to Horrid Hill, find a few extra about and think 'Polish', when more likely both singing with a Medway Towns accent; our impoverished gardens can only hold so many, and these youngsters have been kicked out. Ah well, a man can but dream.. Dream all you want, but those Robins on Horrid will have mainly come from points north of Twydall.

In that same BTO report is a tally of Robin encounters, based on UK (by counties) and overseas (by country):

Now, for all those s-e birders who get excited by falls at the likes of Spurn, and moan 'why don't we get the same here?', I'll point out, once again, Spurn might as well be another country, we're so different. Look closely, we encounter very few Robins from other counties beyond a line from the Wash to the Bristol Channel (just three from east Yorkshire). We don't register as being on that North Sea route. Even when we hope for birds to filter down, migrants arriving north of the Wash have little reason to filter via Kent because they can go due south or south-southwest as they leave, or just make the short flight over us and the Channel straight back onto the continent than touch down again in Blighty.

And we mustn't draw straight lines when looking at ringing data. Those Scandinavians we've had in Kent will have, statistically speaking, most likely used the main passerine flyway of southern Scandinavia to Denmark to Low Countries.

Spurn? Forget 'em. Passage migrants through Kent are often using a completely different flyway. (Trust me, just checked that BTO site again; in comparison to us E Yorks has Robin just one exchange with Poland, none with Russia, none with the Baltic States.)

You catch a ringed bird here in Kent, the ring might say 'Norway' but you can't claim a direct flight. So why do some counties nowadays report ringing encounters as 'origin' and destination' in their annual reports? They're usually neither. Unless ringed as pulli in nest, you can't claim an exact origin. Any juvenile/adult might have been ringed some distance from their true origin. And you must appreciate you can't claim UK as the destination for vast majority of foreign ringed birds encountered here. Just as likely a stopover. These are the sort of well-intended errors that lead to such urban myths as large numbers of wintering conti Robins in the first place.

(All why I'm hoping to live long enough to see the European Migration Atlas published. Bring it on.)

So how would I describe Robins?

We do get a small number of coming in from continental Europe to overwinter. Really not enough encounters yet to confirm origins, yet alone prove intra-seasonal European arrivals such as on a 'cold weather movement'. Nowadays, if you tell me you have 'your' Robin comes to your garden just for a few months each winter, and that it has an eastern European accent I'll say more likely it speaks fluent estuary English. And it'll be a new bird each year, a youngster, that if disappears by February, it's not made it. Roughly, three out of four youngsters won't make it to breeding. But if it disappears after that, it's gone to look for a half-decent territory because your garden really isn't quite good enough. Your neighbour's artificial grass and paved front garden really aren't helping town Robins.

Now that's a bit more like the real picture.

Oh, and let's knock 'in the field' claims of Conti Robins into shape. Gurus like the great Chris Mead spent time poring over skins at British Museum, ringed tons in the field, and came to the conclusion the plumage differences are slight and on a spectrum; even if you've just seen a couple of dozen closely in the past half-hour, you'll as likely not be able to correctly claim a nominate race Robin. So, best treat majority of in field 'conti' claims as unproven, along with a lot of in-hand as well. They *might* be, but more likely not. We like to see what we want to see.

There's a lot more evidence reflected in ringing papers; things like studies of passage migrants holding temporary feeding territories whilst refueling, and the suchlike. But you're safe for now, I'll save them for chats in the field when I need to bore someone..

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PS for my BTO chums: that Kent summary, check those two Norwegian rings 956611 and AS956611- they're the same bird. You're welcome.

Why my bird pics will always be poor record shots

"Record shot my ****" is one of my favourite comedy twitterfeeds. We've all seen them, those excellent images that 20 years ago would have made the photo of the year competitions that, for some reason, the poster feels the need to say is a just a very poor image because not pixel sharp, or similar.

They might well mean that sincerely. The kit does so much of all the hard work the old school pro' togger sweated over a 'togger can now, if they wish, focus on achieving picture nirvana. But their poor images are still ones to make an audience drool.

Besides, they'll never be poor, because I'll always be posting rubbish shots. Here on a something-like 45 sq Km estuary with an extreme lack of bird hides getting up close and personal isn't often possible. And I'm not looking to take those sort of quality pics in the first place. When it comes to bird specks, my shots are a personal 'sketch book' and back-ups for counts, a chance to tot up flock numbers back home in front of the computer screen. I also love a tiny image in an expanse, I think they're context shots, all because I fell in love with them a quarter-century ago, thanks to one book that still holds a place in my personal top ten.

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It was back in 1993 that a slim, bright, book, 'Birds at Falsterbo', landed in my life. It was like nothing I had read at the time.

A book full of vividly coloured pictures of a faraway place, full of species I (mostly) knew, where the birds moved in nigh-mythical numbers.

And within the colourful mix, a number of small images, with incredibly small birds, that hooked me. Falsterbo came alive, thanks to the locations. These settings helped me imagine Falsterbo, and dream of similar numbers flying in-off and past me at the Grain foreshore (I was watching the mouths of both the Thames and the Medway back then). This was 'my' Falsterbo.

Strangely, I never wanted to go see the real thing back then; it made me work harder at home. And never finding much of a wanderlust, this was how Falsterbo has always remained; a place I've never been to, never wanted to go, and probably never will.

Blue Tits on bare bushes, Coals Tits on tide lines and Jays on fence posts had never made me so excited before. Woodpigeons over waves, Woodpigeons high above, Woodpigeons at Lighthouse light height, helped seal that species as a firm favourite of mine. Of course the text embellished the images, in some ways it felt simple, being a straight translation, no verbosity, just simple explanations of migratory trends and timings, but it was always those 'context shots' that captivated me. There were loads of other images that stayed with me. Starlings in the sand dunes, a Buzzard over the beach huts, bare trees full of Bramblings.

On it went. A raft of Smew in an icy canal. The 'May evening's star turn', a Thrush Nightingale sat out in full throaty flow. An evening gathering of Swifts at the light. A golfer-less golf course speckled with Yellow Wagtails. Eye-height Sparrowhawk whizzing along the shoreline. On and on and on and on, one small grainy picture after another, all images that would be deleted by today's toggers, but the best (for me) there was.

Karlsson's book was completely revamped after some years, the new (blue) guide still extremely good, and, thankfully still pre-digital age so having many similar shots, but not 'my' inspiration. They say you always remember your first.

I knew I loved the book, but it was only a couple of years back I sussed how much it had subtly influenced me. The new Poyser 'Bird Observatories' had just come out, and (with apologies to both editors, whom I know personally) it just didn't enthuse me like Falsterbo did. It didn't capture the essence. I wondered if it could be because I knew some of the observatories but, no, accounts of strange places such as Spurn did nothing for me (still no wanderlust, never been, never will at this rate).

Birds at Falsterbo was in my blood. And I was, unconsciously, trying to take pictures that matched the book. It helped I didn't have the patience for photography, that I loathed the idea of lugging a long lens around, and had developed that view that of a camera as being just a poor sketchbook and poor notebook combined.

Of course, it wasn't just the bird photos. Silhouettes of ringers at dawn stayed with me. How much that helped convince me to try ringing I'll never know. One small photograph of a 'viz-migger', in his own personal blind that I was sure could be easily copied with a wallpaper pasting table, who not only counted, he sexed and aged.. it spurred me to always stay on an extra fifteen minutes whenever I felt like giving up after seeing nothing in the previous thirty.

And, as I've thumbed through it whilst writing this I can also see where I got my love of arrow-covered maps and dinky little graphs. Never sussed that until today(!)

So, thanks for everything Falsterbo, I ruddy well love you.

Here's to a speck-filled 2018(!)

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Postscript

If I've failed to convince you as to why I'll never probably go, that's okay, I have tried and failed to explain this before. Once, to a birder, a world lister with more than 6,000 notches on the birdtable post, who just looked at me, bemused, and said 'Falsterbo really, really can't be inspiring you that much if you've still never bothered to go see it for yourself'.

I had a flashback, to Texas, November 1994. A solo trip, out of season and on a whim (I was still dealing with the loss of my mum the year before, who never once in her life got to go abroad, but had always wondered what 'abroad' was like.). That birding trip had very, very few migrants (though I did find a first for Texas, another story). But my abiding memory was the bucket list trip to tick off High Island, to just sit in the empty bleachers and see... absolutely nothing. Instead I just sat there and imagined the amazing fallouts I'd read about, and found myself quite content.

"Simple" I replied. "The point of a journey is not to arrive".

Talking turkey

Back in 2011 the RSPB issued a statement advising us not to put out turkey dinner juices/fats for the birds. Six years on you still read tweets from birders claiming to know better.

Simple chemistry really. You heat it, it mixes with blood, mixes with any other additives, mixes with salt, all of which create a toxic combination for birds. The mix doesn't harden properly either, causing even more problems.

Give it some thought chaps; not all fat is 'fat', just as not all chocolate is 'chocolate' (why you buy special choccie drops for dogs)- and enjoy your Christmas.

The sum of all parts of the quarry (5): the sum of the other passerines

This December, the two roost counts at Berengrave are far apart, thanks to surgery. Time to muse on what gets counted. OCD muppet that I am, I try to count everything. Results? All 'normal', but all fascinating, and helping to refine my personal views on the local populations.

This is just one small relatively insignificant, often overlooked, reserve. But look hard enough and there's enough question to keep a birder (even a bed-ridden post-op one) happy.


The remainder of the most common roosting passerines

Jay
I'll spend this entry apologising for going on about Magpies so much. For not charting Rook, who only chose to roost here for one winter, for not charting Crow, as several often pre-assemble here but then move further south-southwest, and for not charting Jackdaw, infuriatingly intermittent in their drop ins. Even this chart is duller than it looks; only about half this number fly in; the other half are calling birds dossing around the pit.

Goldcrest
Always a joy to see, always pleased when numbers remain close to the previous count as always sure they're too frail to hold out all winter. How many are migrants, not sure; possibly not many. The numbers of breeding tetrads along the southern Medway is well up on the last Atlas, with eight additional tetrads holding at least one pair each year since 2013.

Blue Tit
This is a perfect example of why I say I don't count for a number, I count to understand. I have a precise methodology for exact timings. Limited viewing means I can never see the whole area. Yet I often get asked how many 'X' are there. I really have no idea! And if I say a figure for any species, some leave ignoring any such caveat, to horsetrade the counts. Squinting to see I've counted up to 19 birds isn't the point of that graph- stop it, stop it right now, and look at those beautiful curves.

Going back to the late eighties, and an invite from a local ringer to see what really goes on. One short net up, hoping for a handful of winter thrushes. A golden rule of ringing is never overstretch yourself, and this chap, effectively working alone (I hadn't started training at this point) was prepared for the Parus express* to pull into Berengrave central. Rush hour. So. Many. Birds. More than I could ever hope to count. Tit flocks enter that chalk pit low. This sort of study could never hope to produce a realistic figure. But a representation of what happens? Probably getting that right.

(*Yes, I'm fully aware that train franchise no long runs. The operators are now Cyanistes South-east.)

Great Tit
Seriously, did you not just read Blue Tit? Go back, re-read. Then start to ask why the curve isn't really appearing in this graph. Fun, isn't it? I keep saying I'm no scientist, nor am I a statistician. I keep coming up with alien abduction for this one. See if you can do any better..

Long-tailed Tit
Oh the shame. I can never resist pishing LoTTis if they come close enough. Those peaks really shouldn't be quite as high, but they're soooo cute, and I love it when they look at me from eighteen inches. Please imagine a smoother lower early curve, dropping to those breeding numbers, and you'll be there. I'm sorry.

Chiffchaff
Really? Checking winter roosts into April? Well, yes, part of confirming that main roost I watch, the Magpie, is well and truly finished. That early spring peak is probably more indicative of arrivals than winterers showing more. The most disappointing thing is not to have a higher count- yet.
(Really? Not checking your winter roosts from post-breeding dispersal? Have you seen how dense the canopy is in the chalk-pit at that time?)

Blackcap
I blame Wilkos and their ilk. Just up the road, selling their cheap and tasty fat balls at low, low prices. Most Berengrave sightings are fence-hoppers. There's one spot along the chalk pit boundary footpath where, if you strain on tippy-toes, you'll find Blackcap on the fat balls. But that's outside the recording area, and bearing in mind the good people of Chalky Bank Road actually have decent-sized gardens, these central Europeans living on hand-outs can just doss down among the ornamentals.
(Up in the north-east corner of Berengrave, several allotmenteers run feeding stations. My own allotment is here, and while I have breeding Berengrave Blackcap on my boundary, I've yet to see a Blackcap in the allotments at this time of year. Go figure.)

Wren
I rather like this one. If I produce similar for one of my reed-bed sites, then the late autumn peak dispersal is even more pronounced, with a nice wintering curve. These birds in the Berengrave might well end up half a mile away along the Motney ditches, coming back to check for nest site availability in the early spring.

Robin
Individual territories during the winter. Pretty straightforward. The only thing I'll add at this stage is it also reflects the findings of the Migration Atlas, in turn just a repeat of the BWP narrative; we *don't* have birds come here from the continent to overwinter (at least not in big numbers). The vast majority that arrive in autumn are passage migrants, continuing down the continent. Even though I've known that for years now, I still find it hard not to trot out the idea we're joined by hordes from Europe each winter. Most adult Robins don't move very far to adopt winter territories, their offspring usually move less than a kilometre as well. The urban myth that will not die.

Dunnock
My uber-favourite (where the monicker DunnoKev comes from, after all). A pretty perfect representation of a sedentary species.

But the humble Dunnock still a part of this sum of all parts. Berengrave is a small outpost in an infilling urban sprawl. Already, some letters appear in local publications bemoaning the lack of recreational resources there. Until that happens, until the concrete sprawl turns it into an ecological sinkhole, then I'll make the most of it.

The sum of all parts of the quarry (4): non-passerines

This December, the two roost counts at Berengrave are far apart, thanks to surgery. Time to muse on what gets counted. OCD muppet that I am, I try to count everything. Results? All 'normal', but all fascinating, and helping to refine my personal views on the local populations.

This is just one small relatively insignificant, often overlooked, reserve. But look hard enough and there's enough question to keep a birder (even a bed-ridden post-op one) happy.


The non-passerines

Grey Heron
A conversation with one of the rangers a couple of years backwent something along the lines of 'Grey Herons roost in the pit, for a part of each spring.'
'So, they're breeding? Great record.'
'Nope. Show absolutely no interest in that sort of thing. I'm guessing first-summer birds that aren't being tolerated at the main heronries. or Scandi winterers hanging on- the first summer birds go back late.'
Quiet. A sad look, clearly wanted breeders. Well, one of those is right, for sure, but this sort of thing is something the most guidebooks don't really cover. Not all first-summer Grey Herons breed. Small numbers just coming in on dusk, a little squabbling, a chase now and then, but no pairing/courtship seen. Only for that period before hatching and active nesters tolerate congeners in the roost again. I try to make myself think they could be continental birds getting ready to return, but can't quite bring myself to favour that theory- yet. They usually spend the year away from their natal grounds. These birds disappear after a short period. Of course, they could wander I suppose? It pains me not to know (but that could be this is the first write-up of the morning and the meds haven't kicked in yet). Roll on February and March.

Sparrowhawk

This is a bit of a cheat, so I hang my head in shame. I can't really be sure these all stayed in the quarry after dark, but they sure were hunting roosters, and if they had any luck, went to trees on the edge of the pit. Early high counts might represent migrants, perhaps more likely local dispersals. Mid-winter peaks a concentration on prey, similar to numbers hitting a more open Starling roost; flight activity on low count evenings often suggests local residents.
So, yup, perhaps a cheat, but the doctors said I need some incentives to get back on my feet as soon as possible, and seeing if the recent high counts hold up is a good 'un.

Green Woodpecker
Doesn't say much except for there's usually a couple of pairs breed in and around the quarry. Most feeding takes place in the open field around the pit, so inbound flights are relatively easy to pick up. GreWos already present often announce an arrival as they make a territorial announcement, so I'd almost say they were guaranteed- except for that midwinter drop-off. Will this pattern continue?

Great Spotted Woodpecker
Although an odd call alerts you to a bird hidden in the pit, this species is also really easy to pick up flighting in, more often than not from all angles south, presumably from venturing to Rainham's garden feeding stations.

Stock Dove

One of the winter delights for me. Local Stock Dove roosts. I have a couple of regularly-used three figure roosts out in nearby countryside. At both I've seen Stock Doves getting shot at. Sadly, many shooters don't have the discipline of a wildfowler, an appreciation for the subtle differences between the common quarry (Woodpigeon) and the amber-listed off-limits. ("Eh? What's a Stock Dove then?") Sadly, the similar discipline of respect for neighbours is often lacking as well- the shooters are often trespassing.
So, Berengrave being so close as 1,500 metres to highly attractive feeding areas, I've often hoped more would join the Woodpigeons. Not yet to be, the graph reflecting, for the main part, the size and scale of local breeding.
Another example of how such a dull count can help incentivise your birding. Perhaps late December '17 will be the time? (Seriously, I'm on strong medication here.)

Collared Dove

This is a big disappointment. Just over a kilometre north, more than a hundred gather to be fed in the bird-friendliest garden on Motney. A k-and-a-half north-east, similar counts on the local game farm. Collared Doves are known to fly up to seven km to communal roosts, it would seem Berengrave has something going for it, and yet...

a) They want dense cover- thick conifers are used, holly and hawthorn a reasonable choice, and dense ivy another good spot. The first is somewhat lacking, the last something targeted whenever management is thought about. Of course, not every bird does as others, and individual/paired roosting in winter is a norm for many- it seems we have just a few of the local birds showing themselves from time to time.
b) They are wimps. Roosts can often be disturbed by just the threat of potential attack from predators.
c) They readily change sites, and might not return for some time. Where the seven kilometre range comes in handy.
This is the trouble with oft-overlooked species. They make you look harder. This is one species I'd enjoy stumbling on en masse one afternoon, one local roost I'd really like to pin down. (Yes, I write this, post-op laid out in my jimmy-jams, blissfully co-codamal-ed to the point the Bee-Eaters on the cover of Birds of the Western Palearctic are talking to me. But, honestly, I've really wanted that roost for some time now..)

The sum of all parts of the quarry (3); thrushes

This December, the two roost counts at Berengrave are going to be rather far apart. My chance to muse on what gets counted. OCD muppet that I am, I try to count everything. Results? All 'normal', but all fascinating, and helping to refine my personal views on the local populations.

This is just one small relatively insignificant, often overlooked, reserve. But look hard enough and there's enough to keep a birder happy.

The Thrushes

Blackbird
Now, same as for everything I count, the number must never be thought to represent the actual number of birds using the pit; it is far higher than these counts. Blackbirds into roosts are like stealth bombers, zipping over the hedge and dropping fast and low into the scrub. Some call, most don't; those silent ones that whizz past me, head height, shout out 'you're missing shedloads'. Thankfully, the trends do hold up to scrutiny; a strong start to the autumn, bolstered by more arrivals, then a steady drop off into the spring; if only all species trends looked like this I could take a few counts off..

Fieldfare
Absolutely nowhere near the numbers seen back in the mid-nineties when, as a raw ringing trainee, I would join the Reverend for a roost catch; birds everywhere. I would argue that, like this year, the pit just isn't right- Fieldfares like to roost over water, and levels are low. A couple of these recent winters have seen the pit so full of water paths were closed. I have tried to put it down to more birds using the Motney reedbed since Kent Wildfowlers improved the sluices a few years back and certainly they are now always there in higher numbers, just some 600 metres to the north of the pit. However, stand on the seawall and watch to the south and east and you will appreciate there are not as many birds, full stop; the grubbing-out of orchards for paddocks, combined with the 'upgrading' of those that remain to industrial sites, have cut down the local feeding opportunities. I would love a three-figure count here, but I won't be holding my breath. (Even though my counts 'officially' finish 30 minutes after sun down, I do hang on until pitch black though- from experience I know birds can still drop in up to an hour after sundown. Ever the optimist..)

Song Thrush
Probably my favourite Thrush at roost. Certainly not for the excitement levels; that graph shows a resident dropping away to breeding numbers. But because you can always count on a little call as they scuttle about the pit edge, and you can expect a bit of interaction as they try to keep their personal spaces personal. Which makes this year interesting; has there been a local influx? If overwintering numbers are up, you can expect to find more birds out and about on the marshes, but they usually do not travel far to roost. Are these perhaps a few extra from the cleared scrubland a little to the east, dirt levels awaiting development? If so, will the next count stay low, perhaps showing that influx was too much, that the carrying capacity cannot be extended? Who know?! All something to think about, roll on moth end.. 

Redwing

Last year, the waters were high. Unlike the previous high years, there were also Redwings about. Perfect combination. Ringing has shown no wintering fidelity- a bird might spend one year here, moving through the season down to Iberia. Next year that same bird might choose the foothills of the Alps before wandering down the spine of Italy. Enjoy them when you can. Last year's mid-winter influx was nerd-birding nirvana, flights of 'wings coming in out of the gloom, screaming as they circled the sallows.
Was it always like that a few decades back. My dullard mind tries to tell me yes, my counts from the time told me no; but there were more peaks, f'sure. End of the month I'll be back in situ, hoping for an influx.

The sum of all parts of the quarry (2): finches

This December, the two roost counts at Berengrave are going to be rather far apart. First half of month was nice and early but, thanks to an operation, second half count will be nice and late. In the meantime, a chance to muse on what else, in addition to all those Magpies and Woodpigeon I keep going on about, gets counted. Yup, OCD muppet that I am, I try to count everything.

Results? All 'normal', but all fascinating, and helping to refine my personal views on the local populations.

How the reserve was promoted 32 years ago. Now? No school visits,
no fieldwork- mind you, no Borough Council, no Police Station.

The Finches

Brambling
Still a close-your-eyes-and-you're-back-there species for me; Berengrave, 1986, more than 200 coming into roost at the southern end around the chalk washing ponds. Snow everywhere, flurries coming down, calling to the left, right and centre of me. Birds staring back at me through the gloom. Wonderful.

Of course, those cold winters were the exception rather than a norm even back then and, although locals always go on about how the regular roosts there have disappeared, were they ever regular?

Certainly a struggle nowadays, in line with sightings for much of the western half of the southern shore- slightly higher around the remaining orchards in the east of the estuary, but a double figure at roost would be something to celebrate. Of course, I now count from the south-west corner of the quarry, so far I've been able to resist checking numbers from the ground in the north-east.

Chaffinch
Those early years of birding (I didn't start until in my twenties) had hundreds of Chaffinch roosting at the southern end of the pit. Today, birds still favour that end, and many arrive from the north and west; a scan of the treeline in the last half-hour of daylight will find numbers perched out, advertising the roost; in the minutes before sunset, they all drop in together; few are late to roost. Small numbers arrive from the south and west of the viewpoint; there are, of course, other local roost sites for townie finks.

The general trend is for fair numbers pre- year-end being followed by a peak at the start of the winter; mid-winters influxes have not been seen the past four winters. By February numbers are dropping off- dead, driven on by weather/food shortages, or when mild, perhaps even heading back toward the continent; by early March it seems to be just a few, most likely local breeders, left.

Goldfinch
All highly irregular. Even in the better years they lead any observer a merry dance, jingling in to the quarry only to jingle out ten minutes later. The deep dip in mid-winter perhaps reflects onward passage during the coldest part of the year. One species for me to watch in the coming years.

Greenfinch
Sadly, I have no recollection of a Greenfinch roost from all those years ago. I have yet to look up roost preferences (got to save some things for the years to come) and can only presume this reflects the population crash in recent years (what, BTO? No 'Birdtrends' webpage for Grefi? I was looking to make a link to there..) Based on ringing, we never see many into the UK each year so that 'monster' count of 16 this autumn may not actually be reflecting passage birds. The biggest hope for local trends is a slow year-on-year increase in numbers. Another good reason to keep dragging myself down twice a month 13 times a year..

Siskin
Finally for the common finches (a species only gets a chart when I've seen it a dozen times to date)
a species that I remember more from the springs than the autumns. A trend not seen now, but as this is an irregular irrupter, why should they? The habitat is just not right, even though they (and Lesser Redpolls) used to like the north-east corner in the days before the birches and alders were routinely removed.