My RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch 2022

 

The nationwide results of the RSPB's Big Garden Birdwatch at the time I entered my own results (Image is a screenshot of RSPB webpage)

Friday, 28 January, 2022

I didn't sleep well the night before, but I still found myself awake not long after sunrise. And so, with the day free before me, and well aware that this weekend is the weekend of the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, I took myself from my bed and dressed. I dressed in the layers that I thought a January morning, the sun not long risen, would demand. I took up a notebook, a pen, and my pocket guide to British birds, just in case I saw something unfamiliar.

It became apparent as I settled in the garden that I was right to wear my layers and my warm winter hat; the cold biting at my nose, my fingers, and even my toes - I had decided on my Converse canvas sneakers for footwear, not very sensibly perhaps.

I sat upon a rolled up cheap blanket, the kind you might use for the beach or a picnic, in a corner of the garden where I thought myself least conspicuous to the birds. And I sat, waiting and watching, with my notebook in my lap. To my left, the sun was still low in the sky, climbing.

The lawn was in front of me, the ivy choked borders at the edges. When I turned my head to my right, slowly and with as little noise as I could, my eyes fell on the birdfeeder station, standing about twenty feet away. Suet and seed mix. A window feeder stuck on the french doors holds seed mix too. When I turned my head to my left, I saw the porcelain feeder, shaped like a hollow cactus, hanging amongst the ivy, suet pellets inside. 

My cactus feeder (Image from personal collection)

The first birds I see are House Sparrows (Passer domesticus),a bird that has undergone a decline and is now on the 'Red List' of endangered British birds. I recall seeing them in greater numbers last year, when I did Big Garden Birdwatch 2021. But that might be because I did the survey later in the day last year. And I was better concealed then too. I know that we have quite a few House Sparrows visiting the garden - we see them all the time.

A male House Sparrow sat on a slender branch, one rising above the ivy, and gave a few chirping and chattering calls. And I listened, suspecting that he might have seen me, and be chattering about my presence. Three females had flown into the ivy, but they seemed to be remaining silent.

As I sat, I could hear other birds too. I heard a Robin before I saw one, its melody familiar and a favourite. And, when the Collared Dove flew in, it did so with little high pips, before it flew off again with a flap and a fuss.

The Collared Dove (Streptopelia decaocto), we usually see in a pair, but this time it was a solitary visitor. But I could hear the call, even when I couldn't see them. Who-hooo-ho. Who-hooo-ho. Who-hooo-ho.

Collared Dove; scientific name - Streptopelia decaocto (Image from personal collection)

The morning air was cold and clean. It didn't yet carry anything offensive to the senses; none of the thick and greasy takeaway smells; none of the monotonous and heavy bass from music that just seems to go on, and on; none of the screams and whoops from late night party goers; no sirens. Not yet, but it was the weekend, and at least some of that would rear up over the next couple of days.

I miss the countryside, where I grew up.

Dunnocks (Prunella modularis) are a regular sight beneath the feeders, and I saw three of them during my Birdwatch. Apart from the Robin, they were the bird least bothered by my presence. There was distance between us, but they did not seem quite as wary of me as others. They just shuffled around on the ground, picking up bits and pieces of food where they found it.

Dunnock; scientific name - Prunella modularis (Image from personal collection)

From the ivy, now and then, came a Blue Tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) or a Great Tit (Parus major). They both seemed to prefer the suet over the seeds, and would visit either the suet log hanging from the feeding station or the cactus feeder containing the pellets. Like the Dunnock, these two birds are regular visitors but, unlike the Dunnock, they are not quite so calm and relaxed in their visits - they flit onto a feeder, take what they need, and flit away.

As the sun kept rising, it got to a point in the sky where, when I turned to my left, the glare from its light blinded me. I shifted my position a little and all was fine.

In the direction of the rising sun, I saw a Magpie (Pica pica) - I think it was the same bird - flying back and forth with twigs in its bill. But, as per the RSPB's instructions about only recording birds that visit, not birds that fly over, I didn't record the sighting.

Some vilify the Magpie, blaming it for declines in the populations of other birds. But there isn't any evidence that this corvid is really responsible for those declines. In fact, a study, referenced on the RSPB website (https://www.rspb.org.uk), "found that songbird numbers were no different in places where there were many magpies from where there are few. It found no evidence that increased numbers of magpies have caused declines in songbirds and confirms that populations of prey species are not determined by the numbers of their predators."

I always believe that, before we condemn a wild animal, we ought to check our own impact and ask ourselves what we can rectify in our own behaviour. When it comes to songbirds, we might endeavour to put back some of the hedgerows and shrubs that have been removed from the countryside. We might volunteer our time at a local nature reserve. We might rewild our gardens a little bit - garden space in the UK is thought to amount to more green space than all the nature reserves, by about three times as much. There is plenty that we can do about our own intense impact upon the habitat and lives of these birds, before making a villain out of the magpie.

The Robin (Erithacus rubecula), the single Robin that I saw this year, came into the garden and visited my cactus feeder. It looked proud and handsome; its orange-red breast full, and containing the promise of song. And it did sing. It sang its melancholy melody, and I was too stupid to understand it, but I loved it anyway.

European Robin; scientific name - Erithacus rubecula (Image from personal collection)

Two female Blackbirds (Turdus merula) visited the garden. One, a little unsure, took itself to the cactus feeder. She flitted around it for a while, eyeing it with caution. Then she flew into the ivy, close to the cactus and still obviously interested in its contents, but still unsure as to how she should make her approach. She went from the ivy, down to the ground, back up into the ivy . . . Eventually, she flew up quickly, from the ground to the cactus feeder, and knocked a suet pellet or two down to the ground. She flew quickly back down to the ground, picked up her reward, and was off, back into the shrubbery.

Blackbird (female); scientific name - Turdus merula (Image from personal collection)

Time passed. The cold that had been biting to start with became numbing. More birds came and went, and I tried to spot each visitor to the garden. Though they moved so quietly, many not arriving with flaps and flutters, but almost silently. 

I don't often watch for birds like this. I prefer to spot birds as I stroll a footpath, rather than sitting and watching for them. But when you do, when you stop and watch for them, it's like meditation.

Some might sniff at the idea of spending an hour like this, just watching and waiting, but that hour didn't stretch and drag. My attention was fixed on my environment and my senses. I was immersed in each and every moment, and I am grateful to each and every visitor that came into the garden. And the others that will come.

My results, submitted to the RSPB's website (Image is a personal screenshot)

I hope that your Birdwatch is a joy. 

Thank you for reading. You can support this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps my eyes open, when I haven't slept well, so that I can spot birds in the branches! Thank you to all supporters!

RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch 2022

 

Banner from RSPB website; image sourced from rspb.org.uk

Disclaimer: this blog is not affiliated with the RSPB, I just believe that they do good work.

This weekend, between 28 and 30 January 2022, the RSPB's Big Garden Birdwatch will take place. Volunteers up and down the country will be spending an hour, in their gardens, on their balconies, or in local parks, watching and counting the birds they see. This citizen science project is very useful. It provides a picture of the ups and downs of bird populations throughout the country. I have signed up, and would encourage anyone who cherishes our British birds to do so as well.

There is a wealth of research and studies out there, revealing just how much nature does for us, in a number of different ways. Events like this give us the opportunity to give something back. Be generous, do something mindful, and sign up to take part in this year's Big Garden Birdwatch at www.rspb.org.uk

Falling in love with birds

My childhood home was a wonderful place in a small countryside village. Why is that important? It's important because it was in that countryside village, that countryside home with a little countryside garden, where I fell in love with British birds. Growing up there, I saw a variety of birds visiting the garden. It's there that my fascination for these winged wonders bloomed into being. Yeah. Because they are winged wonders. The tiny little animals, the ones that flitted back to the feeders, that could fit easily in to my human hand, but that face struggles and troubles the likes of which I would never know. Or the raptors, symbols of power and stealth, that could stop me in wonder, my craning upward.

They sang or called to each other, and I just listened and watched; an audience too stupid to understand the song, but in thrall to it nonetheless.

Protecting what we love

According to the RSPB website, the UK has lost 38 million birds in the last fifty years. So it is vital that we do all that we can to understand the state of bird populations from year to year. And where in the country birds are doing well, and where they are suffering. It tells us much. Projects like the Big Garden Birdwatch are necessary!

Our nature and wildlife is often relegated to the bottom of political agendas. We see it time after time. And so it is left to charities, non-profit organisations, and generous volunteers, to do what they can. As time goes on, and the crises that our natural world is facing become more and more apparent, perhaps the more monied and powerful will be compelled to do more. But until that time, a time when more than words and promises are given, maybe, it's still on the campaigners and volunteers and activists to hold back the tide.

In my life, the moments that have been the calmest and happiest have been very clear, like those childhood summers when I would watch birds and butterflies in our garden from the window of my bedroom. 

I can spare an hour to give back to that nature which still gives me those moments of peace and joy.

Taking part

So, this weekend, clean your birdfeeders, fill them with nuts and seeds and suet, and sit for an hour and watch for feathered visitors. Or, take yourself to your local park, with a flask of something hot and a notebook, and find a bench to watch from. 

Wherever you watch from, don't forget to submit your results. Again, you can sign up to take part here.

Thank you for reading. You can support Monsta Wild with a coffee on ko-fi.com - the support means that I can keep writing, so thank you!

A quiz to see who can tell the bramblings from the brambles!

 

Brambling (Fringilla montifringilla). Image sourced from rspb.org.uk

Below you will find ten descriptions. Each is either the description of a British bird or a wildflower. See if you can figure out what exactly is being described, make a note of your answers, and check them against the solutions at the bottom of this post.

Leave your score in the comments!

Questions

1. This grassland plant can be found on embankments, in meadows, and roadsides. It is quite a bit taller than a true daisy, it's got stiff, branched stems, and white and yellow flowerheads that are up to 5cm wide. It grows up to 80cm in height and the flower has a yellow central disc.

2. This is one of Europe's most recognisable wildflowers and common to farmland. The petals are large and scarlet in colour. The hairy flower bud nods on the end of a stem with fine hairs of its own.

3. No. I didn't say pigeon! This is a very attractive dabbling duck, and a winter visitor to many parts of Britain. It's a bit smaller than a Mallard and has a pointed tail, and a small pale blue-grey bill with a darker tip. 

4. Table top football game anyone? Or, shall we go birdwatching instead? This handsome little falcon with bold white cheeks eats dragonflies on the wing, but will also make a meal of small birds. Often hunts near water and is active in the evening.

5. A bit of a misnomer, since this bird is outnumbered by its Arctic relative. In the summer, this black capped seabird comes to visit, but winters in Africa. So, it's your turn, over to you - do you recognise this graceful relative of the gulls?

6. Right, let's have a chat about this! This little bird is about the size of a robin and has a call that sounds like two stones being knocked together. In the summer, the male has a dark head but a white collar. Both the male and female have a peachy-orange chest.

7. A flock of these birds is a real 'charm'! In fact, they're worth their weight in gold! This little bird might be red-faced, but it has nothing to be embarrassed about. 

8. This is a wild ancestor of beetroot and sugar beet, and is found on coastal shingle and dry, salty ground close to shore. Sometimes the whole plant has a reddish tinge. A slightly fleshy, glossy leaf.

9. Another coastal plant, with fleshy leaves and tall clusters of yellow flowers. The wild ancestor of cabbage, broccoli, and other cultivated vegetables. The fleshy, undulating leaf has a thick midrib.

10. This wildflower can be found on field edges and in grassy spaces. It's flower is a lovely and brilliant blue. A wonderful sky-blue. Sorry, I don't mean to be corny. There are garden varieties of different colours.

Solutions

1. Oxeye daisy. 2. Common poppy. 3. Wigeon. 4. Hobby. 5. Common tern. 6. Stonechat. 7. Goldfinch. 8. Sea beet. 9. Wild cabbage. 10. Cornflower.

How did you do? Let us know in the comments!

Thanks for playing! If you'd like to support this blog, you can do so with a coffee on ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps quizzing! Thank you to all supporters - you keep me writing!

Do you know the difference between naturalism and naturism?

 

Chris Packham and Michaela Strachan. Image sourced from mirror.co.uk

In today's post, I want to talk about the people that have changed my life, particularly as it relates to nature and wildlife (appropriate, since this is, for all intents and purposes, a nature and wildlife blog).

And, as I write this blog - and hopefully, you read it - let's all be thankful that I found inspiration in the naturalists of this world, rather than the naturists. Much better that I use this platform to share words and pictures about my love for nature and wildlife, rather than that lifestyle choice.

Each to their own but, trust me, nobody would want to hear from me if this were a naturist blog!

And now, now that I've had my fun with words, let us begin . . .

The people that have changed my life

Firstly, and foremost, I should thank my parents, for raising me in the countryside. It is there that I was introduced to nature and wildlife.

From the windows of the house in which I grew up, the house where my parents still live, I saw all sorts of animals that captured and intrigued me. That fascinated me. There were hedgehogs, deer, foxes, house martins, and many others. 

To this day, I can still see and hear animals of different kinds from the windows when I visit my parents' house. The last time I was there, for the festive season, I stopped still for a moment when I heard the call of  a tawny owl coming over the fields.

I am very lucky that I got to grow up in a small village, and that I could look out over fields towards a river from the upstairs windows. I am very lucky indeed.

I have always been a tad more introverted than I am extroverted, and I hardly ran with a large crowd when I was younger. And today my crowd is even smaller. But I am quite happy pottering along countryside paths. Whether they are baked hard and dusty in the summer time, or making me work hard to navigate their sucking and sloppy churned up mud in the winter, I am happy on those paths.

Away from those paths, for education and inspiration, I turn to the nature and wildlife writers and television presenters. The reason I chose the image with which I opened this post is that those two presenters, Chris Packham and Michaela Strachan, have figured in my love for the natural world since I was very young.

Chris Packham began presenting The Really Wild Show in 1986, the year after I was born. And, when I was eight years old, Michaela Strachan joined the programme. Today I find myself watching them still, on The Watches, on the BBC (Springwatch, Autumnwatch, and Winterwatch). Their chemistry, and passion for their subject, has inspired me, and their work has educated me since my childhood.

For more on these two presenters (and others involved with The Watches), you might want to visit another blog post, here, which takes a little look at this year's Winterwatch series.

Sir David Attenborough. Image sourced form bbc.co.uk

I could, of course, have opened this post with the above image. And when one discusses naturalist television presenters, you cannot close that discussion without mentioning Sir Attenborough.

His voice is synonymous with the natural history documentary. And perhaps he was always meant to be a natural historian, having spent much of his boyhood outdoors, collecting fossils and other natural specimens. There is still innocent wonder in his face and voice, caught on film for us to see, when he explores the wonders of the natural world.

Recently in his career, he has been more overt in his passion for conservation and environmental causes, driven partly by having spent his life in natural history, and having been witness to some of its destruction and loss himself. 

Of course, the documentary films I, and many others enjoy, would not be possible without the filmmakers and everyone else behind the cameras. These people too changed my life for the better. Many of the Attenborough documentaries I enjoy feature an epilogue at the close, taking a little look at how footage is captured and the challenges that are faced by the people behind the cameras.

I've much respect and appreciation for the nature and wildlife filmmakers.

Losing Eden by Lucy Jones. Photo from personal collection.

And where would the keen naturalist be without the nature and wildlife writers? Those who go out into the world, investigating and gathering information, passing their finds on to us?

I've reference pocketbooks purchased from the RSPB online shop, to help me identify flowers and birds that I might spot when I'm out rambling. There are investigative books, like Lucy Jones' Foxes Unearthed, on my shelves. And then there are the poets, like Wordsworth, whose works were inspired by nature, and who, in turn, created works that inspire. My love for nature is, like the books lining my shelves, is driven by something romantic and poetic, but also a fascination for the facts and science.

The people that really changed my life, that nurtured a love for nature and wildlife, and educated me too, were these broadcasters and writers. When I come indoors, it is to them I turn still, looking for guidance and education. 

And let us all be thankful I never got confused along the way, and confused my love for naturalists with a love for naturists, or this might be a very different blog! One that nobody should ever wish to read!

Thank you for reading. You can support this blog and my writing with a coffee from ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me immersed in natural history writing and documentaries, before returning to the keyboard to tap. tap, tap at the keys! Thank you to all supporters!

Discovering peace through nature

 

I might be mistaken, being no fungi expert, but I think this is Blackening Polypore; scientific name, Meripilus giganteus. Photo is from my personal collection.

Those that love nature and wildlife often do so because they find some kind of peace there. It soothes the pressures and pains that weigh on the heart and mind, caused by the day-in-day-out struggles of our lives. 

If you're a birdwatcher or filmmaker, you might know that state of being which requires you to exist only in the moment. Watching, quietly and patiently, with awareness of your surroundings; the drip of water or the wind rustling leaves and grasses. But also with an awareness of your own being. Breathing deeply, like in meditation, aware of how your presence and movements send out ripples, affecting the wild and nature about you. How a creak or cough might hit the ear of some small thing you've waited for, and ruin all that patience.

But, even those of us who simply take to paths, traipsing along and watching for what we might see, or spending time in the garden with plants and the birdfeeders, can tell you something of how nature draws us into the now.

For about twelve years, I used to go walking with my dog in the countryside. I don't mind walking by myself but she was the best walking companion I ever had, and I miss our walks together since she's gone.

We went for long, long walks together. She would often explore the path ahead of me, at the end of her extendable lead, with her nose to the ground or up in the air. A sudden noise from hedgerow or the trees, possibly caused by a squirrel, the sighting of which would cause an explosion of excitement, might draw her attention. But she was never allowed off lead to disturb anything that called those hedgerows or treetops home. That's only polite really.

Anyway. She's been gone now since the twentieth of December, 2019. I still miss her. She is, I'm afraid, the dog by which I judge all other dogs.

Monsta. She was my best friend for the duration of all the years that we had together. Photo from personal collection.

Now, when I am able to do so, I walk dogs for a local rescue. Funnily enough, it was because of Monsta that I met the lady who runs that rescue. 

When I used to go out walking with Monsta, we would sometimes stop at one of the pet stores in town, where I would buy a treat for her. On one of those occasions, the local rescue with which I would later become better acquainted had a stall set up in that pet store, and I stopped longer to chat with them a while.

It is sort of fine to believe that it was Monsta, my old friend, that brought me into contact with this rescue. It's almost like she introduced me to this rescue before she had to leave. 

Some time went by after Monsta's death before I began to walk dogs from this rescue. But I now find a little bit of the joy there that I had with my old friend.

There is a lot of peace and joy in walking with a dog in woods and fields.

Still, a lot of my walking is now done alone. But I'm not sad. I am really quite happy on an isolated country path, surrounded by trees. Happier than I am on a busy town pavement, surrounded by concrete and brick, the smell of takeaway grease on the air rather than the sound of birdsong.

I also find some peace in the garden. The birdfeeders and plant pots are a great source of joy. 

The other day, towards the evening, after refilling a feeder, I stopped and watched for a moment. I happened to spot a blue tit, then a great tit, flitting around in the foliage that lines the edges of our small garden. The great tit flew into the feeder I had just filled, picked up one of the suet pellets there, then flitted away into the ivy leaves.

I took my phone from my pocket, opened up the YouTube app, and searched for blue tit calls. And then, after the video started playing, more blue tits appeared than I had thought were there. The sharp sing-song call penetrated the cold winter evening. And the little blue and yellow birds appeared from amidst the leaves of ivy and took to the tops of branches, going from one to another. Where I had thought there was only one before, then there were four, trying to locate the source of the calls I was playing from my phone. They responded with their own singing calls. But, there was only me.

The video lasted only just under a couple of minutes, and I didn't play anything after it ended. I felt bad for disturbing them. But I also enjoyed having interacted with them for a while. It made me smile.

How do you find peace in nature?

Thank you for reading. You can support this blog with a coffee from ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me out and about, and awake when I am at the keyboard! Thank you to all supporters!

5 ways to get the most out of Winterwatch 2022

 

Winterwatch 2022 presenters, Chris Packham; Michaela Strachan; Iolo Williams (photo sourced from Wales Online).

At eight o' clock this evening, Winterwatch returns to our screens on BBC2, with Chris Packham and Michaela Strachan presenting from Wild Ken Hill, Norfolk. 

In today's post, we take a look at five ways viewers can get the most out of the series.

1. The series itself

The first and foremost means of enjoying the series is to settle in and watch each episode during the week for the next fortnight. Set the timers on your televisions for 8pm on BBC2!

This year will see the return of presenters Chris Packham and Michaela Strachan, who will be situated at Wild Ken Hill, Norfolk for the duration of this year's Winterwatch. 

Iolo Williams will also be returning to the series, broadcasting from Isle of Mull. And Megan McCubbin will be based at WWT Castle Espie in Northern Ireland.

The Presenters

Chris Packham is a naturalist, nature photographer, television presenter, and author. He has been working on nature and wildlife television since the early 1980's, and in 1986 he stepped in front of the camera to present the children's programme, The Really Wild Show. Chris is also very involved with conservation; he lends his time to a number of charities and nonprofit organisations, and he is also a president, vice-president, or patron for a number of them.

Michaela Strachan is a television presenter and, since the 1990's, has worked on a number of nature and wildlife programmes, including the BBC's Orangutan Diary. She and Chris Packham worked together on the children's wildlife programme, The Really Wild Show, and are a favourite presenting pair on The Watches. 

Iolo Williams is a naturalist, writer, and television presenter. From 1985 until 1999, Iolo worked for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) as a regional co-ordinator. It was through this work that he came to make appearances in the media as an expert on birds. Since the late nineties, he has worked on a number of wildlife programmes, and has been presenting on The Watches since 2019.

Megan McCubbin is a zoologist, conservationist, naturalist, photographer, and presenter. She has worked on wildlife programming for the BBC since 2017, when she worked on Undercover Tourist, in which wildlife activists travelled to some of the world's most popular holiday destinations to investigate illegal wildlife trade. She has since worked on a number of other wildlife programmes, including The Watches since 2020.

2. The BBC website

The Watches are interactive and love to get viewers involved. A great place to get started is the Winterwatch pages of the BBC's website. From there can be found links to wildlife blog posts, short films from the series, episodes on iPlayer, fun and informative quizzes, and much more!

If you'd like to get involved, you can peruse the Winterwatch home page here.

3. Getting out and about

As just mentioned, the series loves to get viewers involved, which makes sense since there's no better way to fall in love with nature than to get out there yourself!

There are a number of ways that nature and wildlife can be explored and appreciated. Perhaps you write poetry, blog posts, or essays. Maybe you paint or take photographs. Maybe you're interested in capturing the sounds of nature, or . . . 

Well, as I say, there are a great number of ways that nature lovers can express and explore their passion. And, since The Watches do strive to be interactive, viewers can find their efforts shared on the series!

Fishing on a frosty day; Grey heron, scientific name - Ardea cinerea (photo from personal collection).

4. Social media

The series, and the presenters, make the most of social media to get viewers and nature lovers involved. Social media is a great asset to this series which makes great efforts to interact with viewers, and fans can become something of an online community.

A list of the social media pages can be found below.

• All of The Watches can be followed on Facebook through the BBC Springwatch Facebook page - facebook.com/BBCSpringwatch

• As with Facebook, The Watches on Twitter can be followed through the BBC Springwatch account - twitter.com/BBCSpringwatch

• Chris Packham can be found on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram.

• Michaela Strachan can be found on Twitter and Instagram.

• Iolo Williams is on Twitter.

• Megan McCubbin is on Twitter and Instagram.

You can also find others on social media who have worked on The Watches over the years - Steve Backshall, Martin Hughes-Games, Hannah Stitfall, etc. Just remember to be polite and considerate in the comments, even when you disagree with somebody out there in the social media universe.

5. Projects and giving something back

As has been mentioned, many of the presenters that work on The Watches are also conservationists. And even the amateur naturalist knows at least something of the struggles that nature and wildlife is facing in Britain, as well as globally. 

There are a number of opportunities to volunteer and undertake citizen science projects throughout the country. Indeed, a number of charities and nonprofit organisations rely on reports from citizen science projects to gather data and information on nature and wildlife in the United Kingdom.

On the weekend of the 28th January, the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch will see nature lovers throughout the country watching and counting birds around the country, in gardens and local parks, and submitting their findings to the RSPB by post or online.

The Winterwatch pages on the BBC website also lists a number of projects you can do this month and through the year.

Giving a little something back is perhaps the greatest way a nature lover can demonstrate their appreciation for nature and wildlife.

Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy this year's Winterwatch series. You can support this blog and my writing with a coffee over on ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me researching and writing so you don't have to! Thank you to all supporters!

Photos from the countryside

 

Rosehip. According to a little pocketbook I have for identifying wild plants, these fruits are on bushes from late August until November, but I took this picture in December. 

These are a great source of Vitamin C, for those who like to do a little foraging, and can be used to flavour puddings and ice creams. Though, remember to forage responsibly and take no more than you intend to use for yourself.

I believe that this is velvet shank, or velvet foot, though I am no expert on fungi and will gladly be corrected by anyone that knows better. 

I took this photo when I was out walking in the countryside during the Christmas holiday period. Fungi can be beautiful and this, with the shiny honey coloured caps, caught my eye as I walked a country path. It, and the lichen it shared the trunk with, were growing on a tree at the edge of a field.

A Highland cow in the south-east of England??

This attractive cow was undeterred by the wire and barb wire fence, and was happily sticking its head through to get at ivy leaves growing on the trees, just on the otherside of the fencing. Wasn't too bothered by my presence either.

Thank you for perusing my pictures from the countryside. You can support this blog, buying me a coffee on ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me snapping pictures on my rambles. Thank you to all supporters!

SAVE this post for later, to refer back to when Frozen Planet II airs

 

Image from bbc.co.uk

The BBC nature documentary series, Frozen Planet, took us to the ends of our world, back in 2011. Those sections of the series filmed in the Arctic focused on the struggles of polar bears and Arctic wolves, throughout the Arctic year and its changing seasons. Though other species and storylines about the Arctic are introduced. In the frozen south, Antarctica, the documentary's focus was on the penguin inhabitants but, again, other species and storylines were filmed and developed.

Following the success of the BBC's Planet Earth and Blue Planet, this documentary series about the nature and wildlife at the opposite ends of our planet aired with narration being supplied again by Sir David Attenborough. 

At ten years old, and with a follow up series, Frozen Planet II, on the way (though, I am not sure exactly when - but you can bet I am keeping my ears open for that date!), I settled in for a marathon re-watch of the original series at the tail end of the festive season. It is still a beautiful and enlightening watch. And, with Christmas a fading memory, all that snow and pretty ice felt somehow appropriate.

Any documentary series with Sir David attached is more likely than not to find its way on to my watch list. And this series, as with the Planet Earth and Blue Planet series before it, is beautifully shot and informative. 

With a growing awareness of climate change and environmental emergencies around the globe, I can imagine that any follow up to the original series would make comparisons between what filmmakers saw ten years ago and what they filmed a decade later. If so, I can't imagine that it will be a heartwarming and cheerful comparison.

For the original series, an episode was filmed that focused on climate change and its impact. As you can imagine, this drew sneers from some quarters. Particularly in America where a number of networks refused to air the episode because it was seen as politically sensitive and could cause controversy. 

Ten years later, one hopes that we are a little more ready to see what is right in front of us.

If you go back to this series before the follow up airs, watch out for the life and death battle between an Arctic wolf and a bison. It is one of the most beautiful, poignant, and raw moments from the series. It is one of the most memorable moments from any nature documentary series, in fact!

Thank you for reading. You can support this nature and wildlife blog, buying the author a coffee on ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me tapping away at the keys. Thank you to all supporters!

Every time I feel low, THIS is how nature lifts me back up again.

 

Red deer, scientific name: Cervus elaphus (photo from personal collection)

As a boy, growing up in Bedfordshire countryside, an awe and wonder grew in my heart and mind, and it has not diminished since. It is perhaps the same wonder and awe that led to ancient ancestors making gods and objects of worship out of wildlife and nature. Every season of the year in the rural village was a different world, each with its own climate and inhabitants.

In winter, Christmas and New Year were the highlights of the season. Partly because there was a couple of weeks respite from the teachers and bullies at school. But also, there was something about getting off the school bus and, in the pitch black of the village's unlighted lane, seeing the coloured lights in the window of our home. It was something wholesome that lifted me up a little. The various lights, burning brighter than stars, signalled the beginning of a holiday that was all about comfort, family, and striving to goodness.

Mostly, winter was spent indoors. Venturing outdoors meant jumping into a cold bite. Still, there was something pleasant, when dressed for the unforgiving temperatures, in the crinkle and crunch of ice and frost underfoot. Testing icy ground and frozen puddles with a foot just to see what nature can do. Over the fields around our home, the screaming call of a fox (Vulpes vulpes) might be heard. Or the calls of a tawny owl (Strix aluco) or two. When I was older, when my dog was with me and we had snow, she was fascinated by the pristine white blanket. She would run through it and if the snow was still falling she ran around, snapping at the snowflakes, trying to catch them in her mouth.

It bit and was testing, but winter had its charms.

Spring though was easier to love. It promised the long days of summer that were coming, but it also brought life. Trees that were bare in the colder months became heavy with green leaves and birdsong. Verges and woodland that had been dormant came to buzzing life. The blackbirds, robins, and corvids were joined by visitors from other lands.

A best friend on the beach in Hunstanton one summer (photo from personal collection)

Spring intensified, growing and blooming until it burst into summer. The heat of the sun coaxed forth the scents of trees and flowers in the village and, in the long days of the school holidays, I took to the countryside paths that wound through fields and woodland. The paths were baked and dusty. From the grasses came the songs of grasshoppers, and from the trees came the songs of birds that I was too stupid to recognise by their song alone. I am better at this now.

I remember stumbling gracelessly along the countryside paths, exploring them with a sense of adventure and discovery, and disturbing deer and foxes now and then. They would turn and jump into woodland or hedgerow, and I would see the flick of a tail and a backside disappearing most of the time. Then it would be quiet again.

I didn't have to go far to see wildlife though. I could spot wild animals from the windows of my childhood home! I have seen red kite, foxes, deer, hedgehogs, rabbits, sparrowhawks and other wildlife from the windows of that house. My parents still live there and, when I visit, I still stop and stare out the windows. If nothing else visits, there are always butterflies there in the summertime.

When I was quite young, house martins (Delichon urbicum) would nest under the eaves of the house. Their little nest made of mud was fixed to the house, close to the bathroom window. When I could, I remember standing at the bathroom window, open so that I could see the nest, watching just to see the parents flying back and forth. Or a little black head, with shining eyes, at the hole, waiting and watching. 

House martins don't nest there anymore.

For me, autumn was the loss of summer and readying for winter. The days were getting shorter again, plants and other life were retreating, and temperatures were dropping. No streetlights lined the roads of the village, and when the days drew shorter darkness reclaimed the evenings. Still, I would have resented the presence of lights with their sick yellow luminescence robbing the birds of the night. I hope that the village remains dark at night for a long time yet.

If I hadn't grown up in the countryside, surrounded by nature and wildlife, maybe I wouldn't care for it all quite as much. Maybe I wouldn't read about it and watch documentaries and blog about it and join social media groups and follow people and organisations that work for it . . . I don't know. I can only tell you what is. And, from growing up in a little rural Bedfordshire village, surrounded by examples of nature and wildlife, I can tell you that I have been gifted with a love and appreciation for our nature. It does lift me when I am down. Because it reconnects me with memories that I have from my younger years, but also for the beauty and strength and fragility of it in itself. There is a lot to wonder at in a bird that can fit comfortably in your hand but that faces death and struggle undertaking journeys the likes of which we will never know.

Thank you for reading. Writing is both easy and incredibly difficult. It takes time and consideration, and I hope that I deliver something worth reading. If you would like to support my writing, you can buy me a coffee on ko-fi.com - it's pretty gosh darn hard to make money from writing and all support is much appreciated.

Don't forget, the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch is coming! You can sign up to take part here!

(This blog is not affiliated with RSPB, I just think the Birdwatch is a fun and worthy activity)

Who else thinks this little bird is the star of winter?

 

A robin red breast. Scientific name: Erithacus rubecula. (Photo from personal collection)

Winter days in this small countryside village where I grew up are short and bracing. The sky is a cold sheet of blue, grey, and white overhead. Almost every public footpath here is a track of churned up dark and wet mud, dark and dead leaves  littering the way where the routes are tree-lined. January - the start of a new year; the festive season is on the wane and, hard as it might be to believe right now, in a couple of months, spring will be blooming and buzzing across the country.

When trying to find my footing - and not slide on to me bloomin' arse - as I have made my way down some of those slippery and muddy paths this winter, I have looked forward to the warmer months. "Oh," I think to myself, "In the summer months, hopefully, paths like these will be baked hard, and much easier to walk on!" And I am not the only one that appreciates the warmer months. The spring and summer are a time of life and abundance, when not only native animals exploit what nature has to offer, but visitors from distant lands make their way here too.

There is one little native bird though, a national favourite, that has become the star of winter. So much so, that it features on the cards and decorations that we use to celebrate our festive season. The little robin red breast.

When out walking today - through village, fields, and woodland - it's the song of the robins that dominates from trees and hedges. That brief bright and light flow of notes. Then a pause. And then another robin responds from somewhere with its own pretty little pattern. And I stop, underneath a tree, and try to find the singer up there, somewhere, amongst the bare branches. I gaze up, my eyes searching and ears listening, too stupid to understand what is being said, but in awe of the little bird anyway. Because, oh, that something so small can make a sound like that!

On another path, one of those country paths that are really just a stretch of mud with a few ankle deep puddles thrown in for variety, I spot another robin perched on a twig protruding form the hedgerow. It is only a few feet in front of me. I can see it quite clearly and it must be able to see me, as big and graceless as I am. But I stand still, and I just watch. It's a quiet path and there isn't much else to disturb the robin, so it just perches there, a few quick movements of its head and feathers, watching me back, I suppose. The bird doesn't fly away like others might - the robin is a brave little thing - and so I make the first move, trudging off along the path, and the bird flits deeper into the hedge.

(Photo from personal collection)

The robin has earned itself a reputation as the gardener's friend, the little bird that will sit atop the gardener's spade and wait for the chance to pick up fat little grubs from overturned soil. And there are plenty of videos out there, floating around on social media, of robins flying into the hands of bird lovers, attracted by a handful of seeds or nuts. I find them to be friendly and attractive little birds. They are definitely worthy of being a national favourite and, in my opinion, they are one of the stars of winter. For giving us beautiful song, even in these cold months, if for nothing else.

For more information on the robin, you can visit the RSPB website here (and, while you're there, don't forget that the Big Garden Birdwatch is on the way!)

Thank you for reading. You can support my writing with a cup of coffee on ko-fi.com - the caffeine keeps me spotting birds and writing all about them here! Thank you to all supporters!