You say Quail, I Say Quayle.

A thirty minute downpour this morning over Burton Marsh was enough to sap the spirits of all the local birdlife save a few determined, singing Sedge Warblers. A juvenile Starling, feathers absolutely sodden, didn't even attempt to fly into cover as I approached it along the path, merely staring at me in resignation.

There were very few birds on the marsh this morning. It is approaching that time of year, when it passes into recess in order to ready itself for a new intake of residents in September.

It is the fag-end of passerine migration too. Only later arrivees such as Turtle Dove, Nightjar, Spotted Flycatcher and Quail are coming in any numbers now - all species under serious threat.

The reason for the decline in numbers of these birds is probably multiple, but heavy hunting of Turtle Dove and Quail in the Mediterranean cannot help. It is probably getting to the stage now when the number of shotguns is going to exceed the number of birds! I always wonder if they are in competition with fishermen to see which body can bring a species to extinction first.

Unlike many birders I do not completely disagree with hunting provided it is done sustainably and with minimum disruption. I know this is heresy to many, but I eat meat - including duck - and I'd much rather they had lived in the wild for a few years as opposed to a cage for three months.

It's always funny how things can sometimes run full circle. In using the picture of Dan Quayle - he of the 'potatoe, not potato infamy' - I thought of former US vice-President Dick Cheney. His most famous blunder was to accidentially pile lead in to a fellow hunter: whilst out shooting Quail in Texas.

Well, I never.

Until later.