WEST CORNWALL: Almost every evening, towards dusk, a flock of curlews passes overhead on passage from Nanjizal to Gwenver. If the wind is in the south-east it carries the mournful and penetrating call of the birds ahead of them as they fly across the narrow tip of the Land’s End peninsula. The curlews have increased in numbers over recent years. The valley of the stream leading down to the sea at Nanjizal is thickly brambled with patches of lush fern, and it is a refuge for a rich variety of bird life. We have always been able to depend on seeing curlews around this valley, but previously, in only small family groups. This year the flock passing overhead at dusk is up to a dozen birds. I am at a loss to explain the regularity of this flight across the same stretch of territory, but a local naturalist confirms it from observations throughout the year.
Sitting in the valley gives sightings of many of its inhabitants. The grasshoppers set up a chorus which rivals the crash of the surf on the narrow beach below. The sweet smell of escallonia perfumes the air. Greenfinches and wagtails dart about the brambles and, above all, the valley is continually quartered by a pair of kestrels that keep up their patrolling and hovering for hours on end. They are fine birds to watch through a glass, for their protracted hovering with the head sunk to scan for prey gives a splendid pose for the watcher. Kestrels too are regularly found here and, since they rear young successfully, I conclude that the food supply of the valley is enough only for a single pair and the successive generations seek their base and food supply along less accessible stretches of the granite cliffs.
