Long Buckby Wildlife

Land of my Fathers

With a name like Roberts, it was no surprise when my recently retired father informed me that we hailed from half-way up a small mountain somewhere in mid-Wales.

He had, for a long while, promised himself that he would trace our fathers and produce a family tree.

Roberts is a fairly common name, but after months of patient digging and sifting, he discovered a fascinating family history, and evidence that my Great, Great, Great Grandfather was the first Roberts in Northampton, appearing on the population census around the start of the 1800s.

At that point in time the Northampton connection ends, and the trail heads reassuringly west. One theory on why ‘we’ left Wales and didn’t return relates to the Napoleonic wars and the need for well-shod troops. The story goes that my forefathers possibly drove cattle from their distant mountain homelands, across the Midlands and into the shires. I don’t know how many times they did this over the years, but it was obviously getting a bit of a drag, and when they saw the earning potential in the blossoming boot and shoe manufacturing ‘industry’, decided on a career change.

I can image the man Roberts standing there facing the setting sun, and the daunting walk home. I bet he thought “Sod it, boy-oh, why should I bother to slog all the way back to that land of Druids and Dragons?” (So much for the women then?)

“All I have is a damp shack, leek soup twice a week, and a space on a cold chapel pew, think I’ll sell my cows and stay put”.

Thus, here I am 200 years later, knowing where I’m from, and beginning to realize who I am.

If fact, the above information explains quite a bit about Nick Roberts, for example,

I’ve a need, unexplained ‘till now, to spend time walking on the land, and can walk for miles over relatively mundane countryside.

I have chosen to live in a house on a slope, in a village in the west of the county, which I suspect is nearer to Wales than most.

And this village is, by the way, surrounded by lots of hilly bits, and even has the odd Gorse bush.

I mysteriously married a sheep farmer’s daughter, work occasionally with sheep and if I see a cow when I’m wondering about, normally say hello.

I don’t seem to mind rain or fog, though admittedly, I prefer to still be in bed when it occurs.

And just to make the profile complete, ever time I look up, I see welsh birds!

I have been stumbling around Long Buckby for ten years or so, and have witnessed an incredible ‘Welshification’ of the wildlife.

First off there has been the subliminal invasion, and continued success of the Buzzard, probably the most prolific bird population movement the county has ever witnessed. I still find them engaging, and on a suitable late winters morning, regularly see four or five of them displaying, from my garden.

Arriving at a similar time, though much less obvious, was the Polecat, still being seen after dark, mainly in late summer, with the occasional, unfortunate road-kill to inspect.

There’s the regular magical, passage of Redstart’s, Wheatear’s, and Meadow Pipit’s, which is a real birdwatchers treat, along with a notable increase in Grey Wagtail records.

Peregrine and Merlin have gone from zero to two plus records annually, and Red Kite’s were seen three or four times in 2004, and at least six times last year, with probable breeding in two areas either side of the parish. (Ok, so they might not be from the west).

The most recent welsh invader to grace the skyline of Buckby has been the Raven.

Again, only one record from the 80s, a couple from 2004, but at least five records, mostly involving two birds, from 2005/6/7, including one that flew past my Bedroom window, croaking away to itself, December last.

Of the handful I’ve seen, it’s worth mentioning that I only ever hear them first, and then see them. They are incredibly vocal, and surprisingly agile, and manoeuvrable in flight, upsetting and hassling the clearly bewildered Rooks and Crows of the parish, whenever they meet.

There are also old records for Wood Warbler and Pied Fly from the local covert,

(The Covert being owned by Mr Evans, isn’t it) and having seen both at the nearby Borough Hill in recent years, it’s only a matter of time before they appear in the parish again.

So if you want to experience the wild and enigmatic birds of Wales, but, like my road-weary ancestor, can’t face going all that way, just pop over to the west of the county, and with a bit of luck and patience, the birds of Wales will come to you.

Nick Roberts of Long Buckby.