The Great Bustard experience

You have probably happened upon this blog via Twitter, or perhaps through a Google search. However you got here, it was the magic of the world's heaviest flying bird, a gorgeous, stately and inspiring creature, that brought you to this page.

On Saturday (9th May 2015), I was guiding a client photographer on Cranborne Chase, near Sixpenny Handley. I had left the photographer in a good position watching a group of hares (for more about hares, see some of my other blog posts) and had gone for a good scout around. The location to which I had taken the client is an excellent farm for birds: raptors, farmland birds and lots of unusual species abound there. I was watching lapwing as I scouted forward. The lapwings are either sitting on eggs or will have young chicks: either way, I needed to be careful that our activities did not disturb them. If we were to drive a lapwing of a nest or away from a brood, the ever-watchful crows and ravens would be quick to take advantage of undefended young.

Suddenly, a massive white and brown form rose into the air about 150 meters in front of me and flew away across the wide arable fields.

My heart leapt, I clapped my hands in delight as it flew powerfully for about 1/4 mile before landing. I was not so excited that I forgot to throw up the camera and, with the aid of the 300mm f/2.8 and 2x converter, snapped a few record shots. An object lesson in why one should always carry the camera with known settings that are ready-to-use: you never know what is about to pop up in front of you!

The bustard is back after going extinct and doing well. It was always a bird of the wide open sheep walk, along with the blue butterflies, stone curlew and skylark. The Breckland of East Anglia, the Suffolk heaths, Yorkshire's East Riding, the South Downs and the great expanse of Salisbury Plain were it's home range in Britain. Such is the natural grandeur of the bird that it has always invited comment. Rev Gilbert White, WH Hudson and William Cobbett describe it on the South Downs and Salisbury Plain. As they became rarer, so the chase began to kill the last one: everywhere they went, people chased them to their death. Rarity made then prized as stuffed specimens that would glorify the collector. It is a sad tale of human greed and disregard for life. The last breeding is known from Swaffham, Norfolk in 1838 and within a few years the last native birds had been killed. Especially galling for me is that migrant birds would occasionally arrive in Britain and the last of these were shot very close to where I live. In 1871, two birds were seen at Berwick St James, a few miles from where I sit now. One was shot by an oaf called Lindsey, leaving another bird to flew towards Chitterne. These were the first bustards seen in South Wiltshire for 50 years. Another was shot within two weeks at Yarnborough Castle. If you use the A303 across Wiltshire, then you have driven past one of the last places where wild bustards tried to survive.

So, it is a source of great local pride that the bustards of Wiltshire can be found in real life and not just on our flag. Thanks to the hard work and determination of the Great Bustard Group, supported by the RSPB, bustards are back in the county, breeding and now we shoot them with long lenses rather than long guns. For more information about these inspirational birds, have a look at http://greatbustard.org