West Midland Bird Club

Breedon Hill Flycatcher Gang.

RSPB member John Clarke added a new dimension to village life last summer

In the Cotswolds, the spotted flycatcher is still locally quite common, despite 80% of the UK's spotted flycatchers being lost in the last 30 years. They have, even here, gone from most wood- lands and orchards, yet in the village where I live they still return to nest each summer.

The spotted flycatcher is a favourite of mine. Charming, and unassuming, somehow it seems comfortable with people. In my area, most nest in gardens, usually in creepers on house walls. In spring, other birds loudly and brashly announce their presence, fiercely competing for mates and territories. Not so the flycatcher, which arrives from Africa after most birds are nesting: often at the end of May. You open the door one morning and there it is, perched on the clothes prop, the telephone wire or a dead branch in the apple tree, more or less where last year's bird sat — and catching flies.

Seeing it sitting there so quietly, it is almost impossible to imagine the tremendous ordeal that it has endured since leaving southern Africa in February. It has flown over war-torn African states, survived the rigours of crossing two deserts and countries where men shoot and trap little birds, and crossed the Mediterranean and English Channel.

Flycatcher enthusiasts pass around the news — 'They're back!' Flycatcher enthusiasts? Yes, there are quite a few. I felt there was potential for a flycatcher census in the local Cotswold villages, scattered around the southern slopes of Bredon Hill in Worcestershire. I had to ask people to help, which is how the 'Bredon Hill Flycatcher Gang' started.

I printed a leaflet and handed a few copies to people in three other villages, so the original gang numbered four. I wrote a few notes about the census in two church parish magazines. I felt that if we found around 10 pairs in the four villages, we would be doing well. In the event, I received enquiries and information from nine villages. The telephone rang most days. We four spent hours walking the villages searching for flycatchers. One member found that retirement was much busier than working, and a lot more fun.

Each day a new name was added to my file, as people invited me to 'see their flycatchers' and introduce me to neighbours who had a pair. I sat sipping tea in beautiful gardens of old cottages, former farmhouses and grand manor houses, meeting people from all parts of village life. We watched their flycatchers, hunted for nests and discussed changes in the countryside and beyond. By the end of the season the 'gang' boasted almost 70 members. Because people were so helpful, I expanded my original 'census' and monitored many nests.

What did I find? First the bad news. The largest village and two small ones had lost their flycatchers in the last two or three years. Better news was that 30 pairs were definitely breeding, plus two 'possibles': 25 were in just three villages. Often pairs were close together, with two pairs 10 metres apart and six within a hundred metre stretch. Some that failed tried again, some that succeeded tried a second brood as well. I found 33 nests. Failures were apparently due to cats, rodents and tawny owls: hard on the birds and their hosts, who tended to grow attached to them. The flycatcher is that kind of bird. But many successes were rewarded by one, two or four fledged young.

Detailed information on eggs and breeding success was sent to the British Trust for Ornithology and added to its data- base. Concern for the birds was very strong and enthusiasm gratifying: barely had the season finished before I was asked if we could 'do it again'.

One morning in late August, all the perches were deserted. The flycatchers had melted away to begin their two or three month journey south, repeating all the rigours of the spring migration. This summer, perhaps another house, another village, on Bredon Hill will lose its flycatchers.

My 'gang' has disbanded but the white streaks of flycatcher droppings on the clothes prop and the dead branch on the apple tree will take time to fade, serving as reminders of my summer visitors. They will shorten the waiting until this May when, suddenly, one day the telephone will ring and a voice will say, 'Is that the flycatcher man? They're back…'

John Clarke hopes to expand his flycatcher studies around Bredon Hill this summer.