Plovers provide a ready answer to the annual bird question

THE golden plovers that arrive at this time of year on the hill near where I live on west Dartmoor, are such a regular autumn sight and so distinctive in their behaviour that I know they are back long before I get to see them.

That is because at this time of year people in my village who spot them on the grassy slopes or circling above invariably ask me what they might be.

“I have seen an interesting flock of birds on the hill and...” they begin.

“Plovers,” I tell them before they finish their first sentence.

“There are about a hundred of them, maybe more.”

“Plovers,” I repeat.

“Bigger than pigeons, with pointed wings that are white underneath.”

“They’re plovers.”

“And they fly together in formation making a sad whistling kind of sound. Any idea what they are?”

“No idea,” I laugh. “Actually, they’re plovers. Golden plovers.”

I finally wandered up this week to a spot where they tend to gather to roost at dusk, and sure enough there they were. I didn’t see them at first, but as I neared they took to the wing, rising in a rush of wings from the ground and circled above before coming back in to land.

I estimated there were more than 200, and some years the flock can grow far larger.

In mild weather they remain – some through the entire winter – before returning to breeding sites further north. But if it gets too cold they head off the high ground and end up in the lowlands or around coastal estuaries.

At one time they bred on Dartmoor, but have been lost as nesting species along with fellow waders the curlew and lapwing.

Reassuring to see the autumn plovers are back – and to know I wasn’t mistaken in what I was telling people so confidently.