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| Lt Boyd Alexander - enthusiastic observer of Dotterel, Stone Curlew and Kentish Plovers in his home county |
Lieutenant Boyd Alexander (16 January 1873 - 2 April 1910) was an officer in the British Army, an explorer and an ornithologist. Born at Cranbrook in Kent and educated at Radley School and the military college at Sandhurst, he was on a bird-recording mission in Central Africa when he lost his life, aged only 37, in a dispute with natives. On home turf, he was an expert on the birds of his home county, Kent. Below is a colourful and revealing article on the birds of Romney Marsh that Alexander wrote for one of the 1896 editions of a short-lived magazine, The Ornithologist.
“TIMES are not what they were” is a saying that might well be applied to Romney Marsh and its neighbourhood as regards the numerical distribution of species now breeding there as compared with formerly.
Disturbing influences of one kind and another have come about, which have sadly thinned their numbers.
Indeed, in the case of the Kentish Plover and Thicknee (Stone Curlew), it well nigh approaches extinction since the Lydd Beach, the breeding resort of these species and of several others besides, has long been threatened.
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| Lydd - one of the area's principal settlements |
This locality can hardly, at the present time, be described as a wilderness or the home of many rare birds. The direct causes may be attributed to the increased firing of both artillery and small guns during the height of the breeding season, and also to the Dungeness railway which has opened up a considerable portion of it.
On the other hand, there are portions of the shorelines between Pevensey and Dungeness quite as rich as they were in the visits of summer migrants that pass northward to breed.
On May 9 (1896), a Temminck’s Stint, female, was obtained in the Pevensey levels, and, during the following day, a number of Bar-tailed Godwits appeared near Rye Harbour.
Several were shot.
The last of the godwits was seen on May 28 when a party of five immature birds alighted on the sands at low water.
One of these, a male, was shot.
This bird was still assuming the pale plumage.
Several Grey Plover with black breasts were obtained on May 10, and individuals of this species continued to arrive, off and on, up to June 13 when I saw two birds in company with a knot on the Midrip (a series of shallow ponds on the Lydd Beach).
By the next day,however, all these had disappeared.
On May 22, a flock of six passed over my head. They were making in a northerly direction.
A pair of Black-tailed Godwits appeared on the Pevensey levels on May 13.
This seems somewhat a favourite spot for these birds.
A pair were obtained in the same place on May 11 last year.
From May 15 onwards, a number of young herons, covered with undeveloped quills, continually invaded the dykes and shallow pools here in search of eels.
This is frequently the case during a dry season, like the present one, when the water has become low.
These birds must chiefly hail, I think, from the heronry at Brede.
On these partial migrations in search of food, many are shot by the farmers, who esteem them good eating.
The breeding numbers of the Redshank have decidedly decreased here.
Increased drainage and the dry weather of the last two summers have done a great deal towards the banishment, not only of this species, but especially of the Coot and Little Grebe.
The Little Grebe is locally known as 'Spider Diver'.
Many parts of the large dykes and pools, that were, only a few years back, favourite breeding resorts of these three species of birds, have dried up, and are now nothing more than thick reed beds.
In these reedy places, the Reed Warbler has found a home.
Any sudden noise will cause this bird to sing vehemently, while the footsteps of a passer-by invariably draws from him a song.
When considering the decrease of the Redshank, the taking of their eggs for eating, by the country people, must not be lightly disregarded.
The immediate locality of the nest is soon discovered, for no bird, with the exception of the Lapwing, betrays the whereabouts of its nest more readily than does the Redshank.
It flies overhead in concentric circles, uttering alarm notes, which are for all the world, in tone, like a string of plaintive sobs that become wilder and more heart-rending as the nest is approached.
A short search will soon find the eggs.
On May 22, a pair of Thicknee Plovers appeared on the Lydd Beach.
After carefully watching them for some days, I was rewarded in finding their two eggs.
They had been laid amongst some flowering foxgloves - altogether a pretty site, but, all the same, unhappily selected, since the locality was continually being subjected to artillery fire.
I had hopes of being able to see the young, but after four days of sitting the birds deserted the nest.
The extraordinary sense of smell possessed by the Thicknee renders a near approach to the nest, without disturbing the bird, difficult.
Of the two species of Tern breeding here, the Common and Little, the latter is by far the most numerous.
But the numbers of both have sadly diminished of late years.
Both species keep separate in their breeding haunts, the Little Tern preferring rather the close proximity of the sea.
The restricted breeding area taken up by the Common Terns is distinctly prejudicial to the safety of their eggs.
The children of the fishermen and coastguard officers soon discover these spots, and the eggs are robbed right and left for purposes of eating.
Over these places, sheep have invariably been feeding, and where they have poked their noses, forming small stone-padded hollows, the eggs are more often than not deposited.
On May 21 a nest of the Common Tern was found containing the unusual number of five eggs.
They were of the reddish-buff variety.
On May 23, I was fortunate enough to discover, with the aid of my field glasses, a pair of Sandwich Terns breeding here.
The birds, however, deserted after the first egg was laid.
I am inclined to think that the Common Terns must have driven
them away.
A pair of Black Terns were seen on May 24 following the seaboard.
The sandy portions of the Rye Coast attract, now and again, a certain number of Oystercatchers.
When going northwards to breed, the Oystercatcher makes a rapid journey, rarely tarrying by the way for any length of time like other members of the Scolopacide.
On May 29, six of these birds appeared here.
They shelved into the sand and immediately made for safety along the nearest groyne.
They bunched themselves up together and remained almost motionless for nearly an hour after which they aroused themselves and began to dabble in the nearest pools.
Shortly before seven o’clock, one of the birds, presumably the leader, uttered its call-note, whereupon the little flock formed once more into close order and got up like one bird, making in a north-westerly direction.
A solitary pair of these birds may be found breeding annually on the beach, not far from Dungeness, but it is doubtful whether any young are ever raised.
The presence of the Wheatear here can hardly escape the notice of the most unobservant.
The curious sites chosen by these birds for their nests, and especially is this the case down here, is no safeguard against intrusion, but rather, if anything, the exact opposite.
It seems to linger in the memory of the bird-nesting boy, with the result that every tin can, kettle or empty shell are zealously turned over and examined, wherein the Wheatear’s treasure is very often found.
Though the first nest be taken, it is not uncommon to find the same site occupied again for the second lay.
I came across a nest on the Lydd Beach this summer under a disused pig trough which had been turned over.
The hole by which the bird gained access to its nest was no larger than that of a mouse.
Another was found in an empty 4-pounder shell - a pretty example, truly, of peace and war.
The crevices in the gabion casemates here are also frequently chosen.
Again, it is not unusual to find the Wheatear’s nest in a depression on the beach.
In a case like this, dry grass alone is used, the nest resembling then a large edition of the lark’s.
The normal feather lining is absent, and, in this way, conspicuousness is nicely avoided.
If not disturbed, the Wheatear returns annually to the same nesting site.
The Ringed Plover breeds on the Lydd Beach in fair numbers, and seems to be the least affected of its genus by the artillery practice.
These noisy little birds course over the beach all day long, uttering their whistling cries.
Even the Skylarks of the locality have caught their plaintive notes, and they reproduce them amongst their own with startling accuracy.
Four pairs of Kentish Plover bred this season on the beach, not very far from Dungeness Lighthouse.
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| Kentish Plover used to breed in the shadow of Dungeness Lighthouse |
The nest of this species is, to my mind, by far the most difficult to find of all the plovers.
The bird seldom makes any demonstration in the way of a call-note.
It creeps away like a mouse through the dry beach grass, which it resembles so closely in colour.
To lie down flat on the beach, armed with a good pair of field glasses, is the only chance of success, and then one may be rewarded, after a considerable period of watching, by seeing a little brown thing wending its way back to its nest, stopping now and again, and, when in close proximity of its treasure, standing motionless for many minutes.
When the eggs are hatched, the bird is even still more wary.
It often drops the food close to the young without even alighting.
I have found that the male of this species undertakes the sole task of incubation.
On May 29, the first flock of Sanderling appeared.
They were in full summer dress.
The female of this species seems more backward in assuming the nuptial dress than the male.
A female out of this flock was obtained with plumage hardly differing from that attained in autumn.
The last flock of these birds were seen here on June 2.
A pair of Dotterel appeared here on May 29 - a rather late date for this bird.
They remained in a field of young peas, close to the shore, for several days.
On May 30, two pairs of Common Sandpiper appeared along one of the dykes but disappeared a few days later.
I have searched in vain for the nest of this species in many portions of Kent, and have carefully watched the birds, but they never remained for any length of time in the locality.
The breeding haunts of the Common Sandpiper must be looked for on higher altitudes than are to be found in Kent and Sussex.
June 3 saw a number of Dunlin, with black breasts - a somewhat late date.
As far as my experience goes, none of the adults remain here during the entire summer.
When feeding, the Dunlins seem convinced of the justice of the rule, 'share and share alike'.
Extended order is either formed, or, when in flock, the rear portion alternately comes to the front, and in this way each bird partakes equally of what the tide lays bare.
On June 4, I made an expedition to the Hoppen 'petts’ for the purpose of inspecting the colony of Black-headed Gulls.
These 'petts', which lie about four miles south-east of Lydd, consist of two large pieces of water of unknown depth.
They are, furthermore, fringed with treacherous reed beds which possess all the qualities of a dangerous bog.
They are also the home of many leeches.
When within a mile of these 'petts', I could discern numbers of Black-headed Gulls lining the banks and looking like so many lumps of white chalk.
On a nearer approach, they all rose up, full of clamorous consternation - a veritable sea-rookery - and circled above the water.
They numbered about 200, and at least a quarter of these wore the dress of immaturity.
I discovered more than 20 nests, all containing eggs, with the exception of two which had young.
These nests were invariably placed close to the edge of reed bed nearest the water.
On one small reedy promontory there were no less than eight, situated hardly a yard apart.
Of late years, this colony of gulls has suffered much persecution, but the owner - Mr. Samson of Lydd - exercises now a strict surveillance over it, with the result that the colony is rallying.
On June 12, a Spoonbill appeared near the Midrips.
Its appearance created considerable excitement amongst several of the fisher folks.
I have the following records of the occurrence of the Spoonbill in this locality.
May 9, 1889, two adult males were shot by two of the Southerden family.
One of these specimens was subsequently sold to Mr. Gray, of Dover, for £7.
In June, 1890, a party of five appeared, but, to use the words of the fishermen, " we were too greedy, we wanted the blooming' lot and ended by getting none".
On May 24, 1891, an immature bird was obtained.
There is also another specimen, still in the possession of the Southerdens, shot some 20 years ago. This is a very perfect one.
The broad suffused rust-coloured ring at the base of the neck is remarkable for its intensity.
These visits have become fewer and farther between of later years.
The bird now in question was, at the time of its being seen, feeding along with five herons.
I have also observed this species on the sands in company with gulls.
The shoreline, now (June 16), is a perfect blank, save for a few immature gulls of all sorts who are regular attendants at such times when the tide lays bare the mackerel nets.
They are waiting in the hope of seizing some of the small fry which the fishermen may leave.
Terns are also there to swell the company, and it is wonderful with what precision they dart into the nets and carry off their prey, while there are others not so bold, who keep out at sea, hovering all the while upon its surface, watching for the floating remnants of small fry which have been washed by the current through the net-meshes.
After these they dart, falling into the water like so many ounces of lead.
On June 16, two Skylarks’ nests were found in a meadow.
They contained four and two eggs respectively, perfectly white, a variety identical with the texture of the Kingfisher’s egg.
The nest of four eggs were quite good, but the others had been deserted.
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| Appledore, an enchanting village on the edge of Romney, as it was in the 19th Century |
