Author: James Common

A botanist and invertebrate enthusiast from North East England

Another week in Northumberland

This week has been a jolly good one; one jam-packed with exquisite encounters, cold fingers, early mornings and, of course, some brilliant birds. Each day taking me somewhere new in the local area as I attempt to get the year list off to a decent start and reacquaint myself with the local wilds from which I have been woefully far removed of late. I blame university and the general tedium of life at present.

Where to start? Well, the obvious highlight of the week has to be the Pacific Diver currently languishing on Ladyburn Lake – a little further up the coast from me. This individual, a juvenile, representing a county first; expertly identified by Alan Curry after a few days spent touring various coastal sites, including my own local patch at Blyth. I won’t live that one down in a hurry.

The diver itself really is a sight to behold: ridiculously obliging, distinctively marked and generally rather lovely. A visit to Druridge Bay earlier today providing the perfect opportunity to scrutinise the bird in greater detail. A welcome occurence given my first encounter with the bird a few days past at East Chevington; where I, along with others viewing it that day, wrongly labelled it as a Black-Throated Diver. Enjoying it and moving on absent much thought. The differences between the two species becoming much clearer today, with better views. My second visit, while conducted solely for educational purposes, also providing opportunity to silence the disparaging Twitter grumblers quick to pick up and comment on my misidentification. An added bonus, though the bird itself was well worth the trip and I even caught sight of the chin-strap!  Just look at these pictures.

On a more familiar note, my earlier trip to Chevington also came up trumps with delightful views of the seven Shorelark currently wintering near the burn mouth. A lovely species and always one to be savoured. The experience here made all the better by the appearance of 35 Twite, 19 Pied Wagtail and numerous Sanderling; all of whom seemed equally keen to exploit the festering piles of Bladderwrack here. A scan offshore here, a little later, providing a pleasant surprise in the form of 5 Scaup – four females and a rather dapper drake – as well as 13 Red-Throated Diver and a good haul of other winter goodies.  The only “new” bird for the year here consisting of a Water Rail doing its bestsquealingg stuck pig impression from the Southern reedbed.

Shorelark – East Chevington

Further south; Druridge Pools held the usual suspects – Shoveler, Tree Sparrow, Red-Breasted Merganser and some c2100 Pink-Footed Geese the best to be seen here. Though I am 99% sure I had a Tundra Bean Goose at one point too. Cresswell was quiet, the best bit coming in the shape of a female Peregrine harassing Woodpigeons in view of the Drift Cafe. Viewed and enjoyed while sampling some mighty fine carrot cake and a large Latte. A soggy trip around a flooded Stobswood later on producing little: a few Snipe, Fieldfare, Redwing and five Whooper Swans the best to be seen, while the walk home from the country park this morning yielded two separate Willow Tits and a large flock of some 100 Siskin.

Further afield, yesterday found me roaming around inner city Newcastle in the company of the significant other. Attempting to shake off a port-induced hangover with a trip around first, Jesmond Dene – where we failed to unearth the hoped for Parakeets but contented ourselves with nice views of Dipper and Jay, and, later, the housing estates of Heaton. Where perseverance paid off and we found ourselves gazing briefly at a very mobile flock of Waxwings. I do believe I am gradually converting Matt to birds…

Back home on the local patch, the winter continues to provide. Three visits proving incredibly enjoyable despite missing Glaucous Gull, Slavonian Grebe and, of course, the diver. A half hour stint at North Blyth coming up trumps with nice views of the wintering Black Redstart – at long last – in the company of a few Rock Pipit, Grey Wagtail and Linnet. And a seawatch proving enjoyable, despite the biting wind and resulting rosy cheeks. Common Scoter, Red-Throated Diver, Gannet, Eider, Razorbill, Guillemot and others all helping build this years Patchwork Challenge tally. Which reminds me, PWC have a cool new website which is well worth a visit. See here.

The estuary remained busy on Thursday: new species here for 2017 including Wigeon, Knot, Little Egret and Black-Tailed Godwit. A count of 19 Grey Plover representing a personal record, the plover ogled breifly before the birds (alongside everything else for that matter) fled upon the arrival of a male Peregrine. The outskirts of the site, later, providing nice views of Kestrel and Sparrowhawk, in addition to a wealth of common yet no less interesting passerines. The vibrant tones of Yellowhammer, Bullfinch and Greenfinch a welcome balm for eyes wearied by grey onslaught of winter.

A little further back but un-blogged, as of yet, and a trip out with Jack culminated in convincing views of the Goswick Black Scoter – at long last – with a drake Long-Tailed duck also welcome. Our journey home broken up by a trip to Prestwick Carr; where the Great Grey Shrike showed well at the top of a forlorn looking Beech and at least four Willow Tits were seen.

As you can see, I have had a whale of a time of late.

Cover image: Pacific Diver http://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/pacific-loon

The Waiting Game

Sometimes it is nice to just sit still; to abandon the urge to chase nature and allow wildlife to come to you. To wait; a moss-clad boulder, park bench, bank or fallen branch the ideal perch from which to watch the natural world go by, and from which to admire the myriad secretive creatures set to creep into consciousness as the minutes dwindle in quiet solitude.

This is exactly what I found myself doing yesterday evening; opting for an uncharacteristically patient approach to wildlife watching along the weathered banks of my local river, the Blyth. My seat for the duration of my stay – a mere half an hour – a fallen birch; her trunk slick to the touch and crumbling as a result of the trees prolonged and unrelenting decay. This particular tree, a favoured seat of mine for many years now, located midway through the Half-Penny Wood: a cherished childhood haunt that I discuss quite frequently on this blog, and one of only a scant few designated nature reserves in my local area. A rather nice place, in truth.

Waiting, as the light faded and the washed-out tones of the Winter day faded, gradually, into crepuscular darkness, all remained quiet. At least at first. The pronounced trickle of the Nesquick coloured river, rife with sediment, and occasional rustle in the jaded leaf-litter the only sounds to be heard. Abiotic notes, only noticed in my more quiet moments, soon cast into obscurity with a series of shrill screeches from the yellowed riverside grass. A vole, though who knows which species. The rodent clearly perturbed at the presence of some unseen being; voicing its displeasure from deep inside its fortress of rotten foliage.

A Dipper came next – though, as is often the case, I missed it. The electric call of the bird as it passed unseen, a painful indicator as to an opportunity missed. My head, on this occasion, turned the other way; the call heard once more above the soft rumble of water as the small bird, obscured by a bent, passed further upstream. The blow of its departure softened somewhat by the sight of another sought after woodland denizen. It’s arrival marked by a brief serious of maladroit notes as the bird – a bullfinch – dropped into the lower branches of a denuded alder. Watchful yet content at the far side of the river.

 Bullfinch have always been one of my favourite birds – so much to that, to my shame, I once considered a tattoo of one. The sight of the splendid little bird before me – plump, rosy red and sporting a delightfully glossy cap – a sight for Winter-weary eyes. A bird table regular whose appeal cannot be overstated: the birds themselves, resplendent in their vermillion finery (the males at least), surprisingly shy and reclusive for such a stocky songbird. Prone, at this time of year, to traversing the wood in small groups, or pairs; and rarely as single birds. The presence of the lone bachelor on this day, in this sense, somewhat surprising. Did his mate fall victim to the Winter weather? Mild though it has been. Or was it the local hawk? Maybe she is just waiting, pink feathers obscured behind the bottle-green veil of needles shrouding the nearby Yew.

Minutes pass after the finch departs, calling once more as it lifts, flying overhead and out of sight in a series of undulating motions. Gone, for now; biotic silence returned to the river and wood once again, albeit momentarily. Broken again with a sharp “zrik” and the familiar sight of a white/brown blur hurtling towards me from upstream. It is the Dipper again, flying back the way it came; seemingly having hit the invisible yet clearly defined force-field that separates his territory from that of the adjacent bird. The unseen territorial barrier than splits this small stretch of river in half – a barrier whose crossing, for the Dipper at least, carries the threat of retribution. Or, at the very least, a serious scolding courtesy of his peeved neighbour. Ready and willing to fight to maintain his borders and thus ensure his dominion over any nearby aquatic invertebrates.

The Dipper passes by in a flash; enjoyed briefly before it fades, once more, from sight. I follow suit, heading home in the same direction. My evening concluded in enjoyable fashion absent the need for far-ranging adventure nor physical excursion. The patient approach, when applied here, as with all places, forever fruitful.

Cover photo:  © Francis C. Franklin / CC-BY-SA-3.0, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=37675952

Beauty amid the breakers

The jaded sun shone, the air felt warm, spring-like even, and a Robin uttered its charactaristic, spritely song from the rusted pinnacle of a nearby fence. It did not feel much like Winter this morning, despite the month. The only tell-tale signs of the season coming in the surf; where the white-horses of the North Sea galloped ever closer to shore before breaking upon the algea clad rocks of the beach.

Here, amid the bubbling white water, purple sandpipers fed. Conspcious yellow feet working two to the dozen as they scurried to-and-fro over the jagged rock, dainty bills pecking and prying incessantly. Their vigour matched only by the black-headed gulls who, further out, danced swallow-like in the surf. Pale wings rising and falling in rapid succession as the birds snatched invisible titbits from the waters surface. Occasionally pausing; their bodies still momentarily, before upending – faded heads obscured as the birds dove deeper in search of food.

The waves kept coming; one after another, their arrival proceeded by a shower of saline spray. The birds did too: turnstones, cryptic colours blending seemlessly with the taupe rock underfoot and, later, ringed plover, masked and petite. The sight before me, one of pleasant coastal familiarity, accompanied by the ever-present chortle of gulls. Herrings and black-backs, the larger members of the Larus genus, far more imposing than the graceful black-heads foraging nearby. Their laughter ringing in my ears as I sat, watched and waited.

Waiting which, eventually, yielded fruit – a pale spectare falling, subtly, into line alongside the silver-grey bodies of its pre-assembled kin. Another gull, yes, but one of alien beauty; of elegance and a softer, much more diminuative appeal. A gull I have not seen here before, nor anywhere else of late: an iceland gull. A scarce visitor to our shores that, like the frost that adorns the ground by night, or the redwings that traverse the hedge in straggly flocks by day, occurs predominately in winter. Pale plumage setting it apart from bodies of its more boistrous cousins positioned nearby – the black-backs – like a lonesome pearl amid dozen shards of jet.

I am rather fond of iceland gulls, and always have been. Birds such as this – white-wingers – adding a touch of the exotic to many a walk in Winter; much as this one, a juvenile, did today. Admired until it lifed, white-primary feathers splayed in the flight, drifting slowly and carelessly from sight. Above the heads of the purple ones, still feeding in the spray, and that of the heron stood motionless in the shallows but a few feet away.

I follow suit, departing my watchpoint. Eyes wandering, breifly, to another winter visitor – a red-throated diver; rising and falling with swift repetition on the more tumultuous expanses further offshore. Far less appealing now than in summer – when its namesake throat flushes a delightful crimson – yet beautiful nonetheless. A sight which, much like the gull, dispels the decitful springlike aura brought about by the sun and the singing songbirds. Reminding me that winter still reigns, and will do for some time now; with the potential for treats such as these set to continue for another few months, at least.

Header image: By Andreas Trepte – Own work, CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=716747

Martin Hughes-Games is wrong about Planet Earth

For clarities sake, let us get this out of the way first: I, personally, am a fan of both the Planet Earth series and presenter Martin Hughes-Games. More fond of the former than the latter, in truth, but boasting a positive perception of both. This post is not at all intended as an attack on Martin. Though, with that said…

I was a  taken aback somewhat this week when MHG took aim at Planet Earth II; setting social media ablaze as he accused natural history broadcasters of lulling viewers into a false sense of security by glossing over the woes of the natural world in favour of an enjoyable viewing experience. Openly, and rather bravely, lambasting the producers of the wildly popular BBC show for painting a false picture of the natural world and, ultimately, contributing little to the conservation of the embattled species it brings to our screens.

If the purpose of Martin’s piece was to generate debate, it was certainly successful; with many and more environmentalists discussing the Guardian piece over recent days. It was interesting and I enjoyed reading it. If only for the brief period of soul-searching which ensued upon its completion. Searching which, ultimately, did little to alter my stance on such shows; my adoration of Planet Earth and other, similar, documentaries, utterly unphased. I disagree with Martin (and others) most strongly on this matter.

In his article, MHG makes reference to a line commonly touted by broadcasters: that through showcasing the natural world in all its beauty and thus generating interest in wildlife, that more people at home will be inclined to conserve the species seen on their screens. A justification Martin labels as nonsensical yet I buy into hook, line, and sinker. For one reason alone: because of the profound effect shows such as this have had on my own life.

Of course, many things attributed to my current fascination with nature – family members, the beauty of my home county, even books – though I would be lying if I said that the sight of tigers, orca, elephants and other iconic creatures on my TV did not influence me. The beauty of such things, coupled with the unparalleled enthusiasm of Attenborough, Irwin and other childhood favourites, igniting the spark of curiosity for the wonders that lie beyond my front door. For the beauty of nature and the weird and wonderful creatures with whom we share our world. Curiosity which, later, lead me to explore the natural world for myself – propelling outwards to enjoy such things first hand; towards enjoyable encounters with wildlife which, later, attributed to a growing will to protect it. I agree fully with the BBC logic on this and I suspect many other young conservationists will too. At least in part.

That said, and while I boast sincere admiration of such documentaries, I agree with Martin that greater air-time should be dedicated to conservation. That we must present a realistic picture of what is going on in the world beyond our own ignorant bubbles. I would certainly watch shows dedicated solely to the topic of conservation and I suspect many of those reading this blog would too. Most being ecologists, nature writers or others already inspired to take up arms in defense of nature. This willingness to listen and learn does not, however, extend to all. And I suspect the vast majority of people would be turned off when faced with an hours worth of stern-faced preaching courtesy of a troubled TV naturalist.

For the vast majority of people, documentaries must “light” if they are going to have any lasting impact. They must be fun, exhilarating, breath-taking if they are to build curiosity and, almost certainly, must showcase splendor if they are to spark any sort of interest in wildlife. Something which is particularly true for younger viewers seeking thrills and action-packed spectacle – more and more of whom are currently tuning into such shows.  I know that, in my youth, had I been presented with drier, less uplifting material, as opposed to the sight of hunting orca or displaying birds of paradise, my enthusiasm would have burnt out rather quickly. In this sense, I find it hard to fault Planet Earth; it provided all of this by the bucket-load, and I cannot begrudge the BBC for favouring such material. Better to inspire through spectacle, in keeping with what I mentioned above, than bore the nation senseless with a prolonged bout of worried grumbling.

 Reading Martin’s rather eloquent article, another thing also sprang to mind: centered on his portrayal of Planet Earth as little other than a beautifully filmed soap opera. You would be forgiven, after reading, for believing that the show had given no mention to conservation at all and that it failed, entirely, to mention the myriad problems facing the world’s wildlife. I am pretty sure it did, and recall Sir David, on a number of occasions, highlighting the woes of the species shown during the show. Were we watching the same show Martin? The end of episode segments, in particular, giving mention to climate change, habitat loss and other problems caused by mankind. Something which goes without mentioning the sight of those turtles floundering amid the blights of human dominion over the world. I could be wrong, but surely such things count as an honest portrayal of the threats facing our wildlife?

I feel Planet Earth did dedicate time to conservation – perhaps not enough to satisfy the experts, but more than enough to inform the general public that there is, indeed, a problem. With such information presented in such a way that it did not appear preachy, nor tedious; secreted amid the uplifting sight of majestic creatures in all their glory. In a similar manner to what Springwatch does, no less, when it blends fun and serious discussion – amalgamating talk of declining hen harriers with the sight of a wood mouse deftly navigating a maze. Presenting vital information in a much more palatable manner, rife with fun and appeal. I will, however, resist the urge to point out that Martin himself works on a show that, arguably, does equally as “little for conservation”.

Ultimately, Planet Earth (and similar shows) provide a vital link to the natural world for millions, many of whom lack a great deal of nature in their daily lives. They have the potential to inspire, greatly and on a number of different levels, and remind each and every one of us, through no end of breathtaking sights, just what it is we are fighting for. Alternating between beauty and honestly in such a way to keep viewers hooked and in doing so, maintaining their potential to alter lives. Often motivating people to such an extent that they delve head-first into conservation, or, at the very least, build sympathy for the plight of our wildlife. In this sense, I feel shows such as this are important, vital even, and very much disagree with Martin Hughes-Games’s dismissive and wholly negative stance.

Image: By Jo Garbutt – Flickr: Chris, Michaela and Martin, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=33044524

New Nature: the launch.

Today witnessed the launch of New Nature Magazine, the new e-magazine written, edited and produced entirely by young people. And what a launch it was.

When I clicked the metaphorical launch button this morning, I did not envisage New Nature going down half as well as it did, in truth. I had hoped that people would enjoy it, of course, though what transpired today has been nothing short of thrilling. And a little dumbfounding. The magazine read and shared hundreds of times and by hundreds of people. The response to our publication nothing short of humbling.

Browsing social media, barely a minute has passed today without chancing upon a positive comment about New Nature. Comments which have flooded in from writers, conservationists, ecologists, gardeners, birders, botanists and everyone in between; including some very notable organisations and personalities to whom I am exceedingly grateful. With the greatest amount of praise directed – as it should be –  at the plethora of dedicated young naturalists who have contributed to our inaugural issue. It has been marvelous and I am sure each contributor is as thrilled by the response as I am.

The aim of New Nature, during its development, has always been to promote and support the diligent efforts of young people striving for a career in the environmental sector. From our initial feedback, this is exactly what I feel we have done. Apparently while creating something “professional, enjoyable and marvelous” at the same time. I could not be happier, and would like to thank, once again, everyone who has supported our efforts or contributed thus far! I feel nothing short of motivated to take New Nature to new heights in the future and to attempt to bolster the confidence of young people along the way. Of course, not all liked the magazine, and a minority chose to belittle it out of nothing more than dislike of myself. Bah humbug, you’re not popping this bubble.

Heading forward from today, all I can say on the matter is that you can expect more of the same. You can expect news, opinion and creative writing from Britain’s marvelous young people; you can expect interviews with familiar faces willing to mentor and support them and can certainly – given the skill of our creative director – expect a colourful, fresh and enjoyable read delivered to your inbox each month. Without fail. As things progress, I hope that word will spread; and as it does, that more young people will feel emboldened enough to express themselves in the magazine – ultimately helping New Nature grow into something permanent. Though, in this regard, only time will tell. Though the horizon looks bright and the youth nature movement continues flourish.

For those looking to read the magazine it can be found here.

New Nature: thank you all!

A few months ago, toying with the idea of starting up an online magazine written and produced entirely by young people, I had hoped a few people may rally to the notion. I had hoped that some may be interested in reading such a document and others, particularly a few notable figures in the environmental field may like the idea enough to support it. Well, as we countdown to the “official” launch of ‘New Nature’ on January 2nd, I can safely say that all expectations have been exceeded. Tenfold. And that I am incredibly grateful to the support we have received thus far.

The logic behind ‘New Nature’ centers on showcasing the natural world through the eyes of the next generation, and, perhaps more importantly, providing said young people with a supportive, open-to-all, outlet for their views. With this in mind, I was delighted when so many people expressed an interest in getting involved and bringing the magazine to life. And as such, must offer resounding thanks to Alex Pearce, Alice Johnson and Alysia Schuetzle for flinging themselves in at the deep end and dedicating an awful lot of time to creating our first issue. It really is appreciated.

The next round of thanks goes to our contributors: to the exceptional young people who, thus far, have contributed no end of passionate writing, excellent photography and other interesting titbits for inclusion in the magazine. Among these, many exceptionally dedicated young nature lovers I am familiar with through membership of A Focus on Nature, but also many more! Reading your work has proven nothing short of inspirational and has filled many usually dull Winter nights of late. I hope that all involved so far will enjoy the magazine and continue to submit articles long into the future!

Finally, I must also offer a huge thank you to all those who have supported ‘New Nature’ thus far. To each and every person who has drawn attention to our efforts on social media, reblogged articles and helped by alternate means. This includes Chris Packham, who has very kindly offered to provide signed copies of his fantastic new book ‘Fingers in the Sparkle Jar” as prizes to our contributors. But also to BSBI, The Wildlife Trusts, AFON and the BTO for helping promote our cause. I hope that, someday, we can repay the favour…

Really, I cannot stress enough how grateful I am for everything that has transpired so far. And I know I speak for the rest of the team when I say that I hope we live up to expectations. Of course, it is going to be hit and miss for a while until as iron out the kinks associated with a venture of this kind but, with your support, we are confident that in the long run, we can create something that is not only enjoyable but supportive and beneficial to our contributors.

Thank you and happy new year to all!

2016: Birding in Review

I have always been a birder, of sorts. Though one who, traditionally, prefers to watch birds on my local patch: formerly at Stobswood, now, Blyth. Content, for some time, to revel in the antics of the more common species that persist in our countryside and, historically, giving little thought towards twitching. The thought of traveling huge distances in search of birds an entirely alien prospect until 2014 when I began to dabble more frequently. Dabbling which, a few years down the line, has resulted in a growing interest in the pursuit, and a growing urge to bolster my presently,  minute list. A list which, as of today, stands at 258 species for Britain.

In this post, as is tradition on this blog, I will recount a few of best birding moments of 2016: giving mention to this years ‘lifers’ and special encounters. Both of which have gone some way to reminding me just why it is I spend so much time in the company of our feathered friends. And have solidified my determination to get out and about more frequently in the future.

The glaring additions

2016 has seen 21 new species observed, many of which are birds that fall into the “should have seen by now” category. Species common enough elsewhere in the country but not here, in Northumberland, where I spend the vast majority of my time. That said, among the ranks of the more familiar species observed this year there have been some rather startling rarities – most of which I was able to see solely due to the kindness of other birders. Those content to ferry me around. Thanks Sacha, Jack, and others…

Siberian Accentor is the obvious one to mention here: the bird present for some time at Easington showing delightfully during our visit in Autumn. A splendid little creature but dare I say, not half as appealing as the years undisputed highlight: the Lindisfarne White’s Thrush. A bird which, due to my tendency to avoid birding hotspots such as Shetland, I never thought I would see. Yet one that turned up close to home regardless, allowing for great views during a delightful stay on Holy Island. Matched only in the scarcity stakes by the most recent lifer, the Beeley Dusky Thrush. Which likewise put on a fine show, yet in truth, was nowhere near as appealing. You cannot beat the scaled beauty of a White’s Thrush.

Elsewhere, other highlights this year included Cou’s Arctic Redpoll at Birling Carrs, Warkworth; Baird’s Sandpiper at Newton Pools and, of course, the Saltholme Penduline Tits. The latter of which far surpassed expectations by flaunting themselves directly out of the hide as myself and Sacha watched with wide-eyes.

The best of the rest

Of the other “less rare but still rare” species seen in 2016, one of my favourites has to be the drake Ring-Necked Duck observed on Islay – a species, given my fondness for things duckish, I have wanted to clap eyes on for quite some time. The years only other new duck coming in the form of an immature male Surf Scoter back in January, at Filey. Noted on the same day as I finally picked up Richard’s Pipit at Swillington Ings – though this represents perhaps my least favourtie twitch of the year. Due, solely, to the difficulty of finding the bird. And the cold…

Elsewhere, 2016 saw the addition of two new gulls: Ring-Billed Gull and Bonaparte’s Gull respectively. The first noted on the Black Isle back in March and the second scoped from my patch in Northumberland. The same trip to Spurn that nabbed us the Accentor also providing ticks of Dusky Warbler – three of which were seen during the course of the day – and Pallas’s Warbler. And the trip home that day adding Siberian Stonechat to the mix.

Of the more regular British species I laid eyes on for the first time in 2016, Lesser Spotted Woodpecker is an obvious highlight. They really are delightful little birds. Though Quail, Corncrake, Mealy Redpoll and Red-Crested Pochard were also new.

Truth be told, I quite like the ambling pace at which my list is advancing at present – it means that each year should, hopefully, see me ogling something new and exciting. I intend to build on the good start provided by 2016 next year, though I fear my attention should focus, first and foremost, on catching up with those more embarrassing omissions  So, if anyone wishes to facilitate the viewing of Hawfinch, Nightingale, Golden Pheasant, Woodlark or Dartford Warbler, I would be most grateful. I guess I will have to head South eventually…

All in all, 2016 has been a rather exciting year, despite the wider woes it has brought. I will be keeping my fingers (and other extremities) crossed that 2017 continues along a similar trajectory. But who knows, in the world of birding, not much can be predicted…

Header Image: By Martin Mecnarowski (http://www.photomecan.eu/) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=12691826

Top 10 Facts: The Tawny Owl

I heard a Tawny Owl last night. A nocturnal foray to my local store interrupted by an eerie, frightfully abrupt, yet oddly soothing shriek from the branches of a Sycamore in the local churchyard. A sound which I hear often, both in the countryside and closer to home, amid the houses of Bedlington, that never fails to stop me dead in my tracks. Haunting, to such an extent that it must surely have raised a few eyebrows in prehistory – when our ancestors, absent the comforts of modern life, still had reason to fear what lurked in the dark of our woods and other wild places. I am quite fond of the Tawny Owl.

In keeping with the season – when owls begin to vocalise more frequently as they sure up their territorial boundaries ahead of Spring – and with recent promises made on this blog to talk more of nature, and animals themselves. I thought I would put together a list of facts about this abundant yet seldom seen nocturnal hunter. For fun, mainly, but also as a brief tribute to what is, without a doubt, one of Britain’s most eye-catching and truly fascinating species.

  • Mistaken identity. The famed and often (wrongly) cited “twit twoo” call of the Tawny Owl does not actually exist, stemming instead from the work of Shakespeare. Who cemented the myth in popular culture with his renowned ‘Love’s Labours Lost‘. The sound actually comes from the back and forward conversing of male and female owls: from the sharp “kewick” of the female and the longer, more drawn out, hooting of the male birds.
  • A violent streak. Unlike the flimsier Barn Owl and the much more reclusive Long-Eared, Tawny Owls are not a bird to be trifled with. As shown by their ability to oust other species from nest boxes; from widely discussed territorial attacks on people and their ability to take prey species up the size of a rabbit. A violent streak renowned wildlife photographer Eric Hosking experienced first hand when, in 1937, he clambered up to a welsh bird hide and was blinded in his left eye by a particularly feisty owl.
  • Liquid aversion. Unlike Britain’s migratory owls – our “eared” species, principally – Tawny Owls appear to show an aversion to water. And are rarely observed crossing any substantial water body. This being the reason that the species stands absent from many of our islands – from Shetland, Orkney and the Isle of Wight to name but a few – and, more famously, why they remain absent from Ireland. Where in their absence, the Long-Eared Owl has become particularly abundant.
  • Copycat. It is incredibly easy to mimic the call of a Tawny Owl by simply blowing through cupped hands. With a study finding that almost 90% of male owls can be tempted into responding this way. Note: Jays too have been known to copy the characteristic call of the Tawny, with some suggesting that they do so as a means of locating the birds during the day, in order to mob them.
  • Avian assassins. We commonly associate the diet of owls with voles, mice and other small furry creatures, though the diet of the Tawny Owl is, in fact, an incredibly broad one. In urban areas in particular,  birds form a large portion of owl diet; with species such as Starling and Blackbird taken frequently. Although birds as large as an adult Mallard and Kittiwake have been reported taken by owls. And tawny owls have also been known to kill and eat both Little and Long-Eared Owls. Often persecuting their smaller kin to such an extent that the species cannot coexist within areas of suitable habitat.
  • Bad tidings. Historically, the Tawny Owl (and other owl species) was viewed as a harbinger of bad tidings. Associated with everything from witchcraft to the looming threat of death. This negative view of owls continuing for some time, demonstrated by the following, rather breif, verse by Sir Walter Scott: Birds of omen dark and foul, Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl, Leave the sick man to his dream, All night long he heard your scream. An owl, likely a Tawny Owl, also featured as an omen of death in Shakespeare’s “Macbeth“.
  • Surprise finds. Recently, a ring from Tawny Owl was recovered in Iceland – something which, at a glance, appeared to contrast with usually sedentary nature of the species. However, it later turned out that the ring had been collected from a dead owl by a birder who, in keeping with the quirky style of those of an avian persuasion, then attached the ring to his binoculars. Before traveling to Iceland, where the strap on his equipment broke and the ring was lost and later recovered. Source: BTO.
  • Turning tables. The Tawny Owl may rule the night here in Britain, but the species has been found to feature in the diet of a number of other creatures. Among these: diurnal raptors such as Buzzards, Goshawks and eagles, as well as Eagle Owls, Foxes and large mustelids. With the eggs and chicks of owls also vulnerable to predation; from rats, squirrels, and even domestic animals. Life for a Tawny Owl is not at all easy.
  • Hill Hooter. Across its range in the UK, the Tawny Owl goes by a host of different names. With comical terms such as “hill hooter” and “screetch owl” commonplace, and others such as “ivy owl” and “beech owl” used to describe the bird at roost during the day. Derived from the tendency of owls to conceal themselves amid tangles of leaves or within trees in order to disguise themselves from predators.
  • Kinslaying. Tawny Owls boast an incredibly high level of juvenile mortality, due to a host of factors including prey shortages and predation. Many young owls, however, are also killed by their own parents – as resident owl pairs, desperate to hold on to areas of suitable habitat, attempt to drive out their young. Some studies have shown that up to two-thirds of owls die this way in some years.

Wonderful header image credited to Andreas Trepte, www.photo-natur.net, under the wiki creative commons.

Walking in a Winter Wonderland

I have not ventured outside much recently: due to Masters work, plotting for New Nature and various other, more tedious tasks. All of which, combined, has lent a distinctly special feel to recent ventures. The first of which, taking place in the company of the lovely Sacha Elliott, found me dashing off up the coast, towards Druridge Bay, and the second, ambling about closer to home at Blyth. With both forays yielding fruit (albeit of the feathered kind) and solidifying my fondness for my native Northumberland in Winter.

Our visit to Druridge started well, albeit on a rather familiar note: with skeins of Pink-Footed Geese raining down like confetti and scores of flashy ducks. The floods at Druridge Pools holding a pleasant assemblage of Wigeon, Teal, Gadwall, Shoveler, Tufted Duck and a particularly handsome drake Pintail – ever one of my favourite birds. Here too a female Long-Tailed Duck, delightfully monochrome, gave good views and other waterfowl on show included a group of Red-Breasted Merganser and veritable legion of Canada Geese. Species, each and all, whose numbers swell in Winter as a result of their annual migration or, as is the case with the geese, much more localised movements.

Ducks aside, the morning began to progress quite nicely as we made moves to depart: a close encounter with a Sparrowhawk signalling the beginning of what was to be a rather excellent morning for raptors. The hawk soon followed by a Kestrel – the first of four noted during the morning – two Buzzard and, better still, a Merlin. The latter making a brief pass through a Starling flock before whizzing off, with characteristic speed, never to be seen again. The high derived from the Merlin soon amplified: with a tantalisingly brief encounter with a female Hen Harrier – a scarce occurrence these days – and, arguably better, a superb female Peregrine watching the world go by on the shores of a nearby lake.

As the raptors dwindled, more delights followed: Tree Sparrow, Yellowhammer, Stonechat, Snipe and yet more geese keeping us entertained until we made the decision to head a short way North, in search of a much more sought after seasonal scarcity – Shorelarks. Six of which we enjoyed in solitude after a brief saunter over the sands at Chevington. This flock not half as confiding as other birds I have seen elsewhere this year, yet no less enjoyable. Their characteristic yellow and black markings providing a welcome change from the varying shades of taupe currently setting in across the area as the season advances.

Back home, on the patch, things were far less thrilling: no brightly coloured larks or majestic harriers here. Not to say that the avian signs of the shifting season were not abundant – the estuary now brimming with a plethora of waders. Curlew, Dunlin, Redshank and Lapwing the most numerous this day yet interspersed, in places, by a few others: with Grey Plover, Black-Tailed Godwit and a lone Sanderling. The channel too holding life: with Teal numbers having increased to a modest c130 and Gadwall to 14. With Goldeneye present too –  represented by a pair of handsomely iridescent drakes – and other goodies including Little Egret, Eider, Goosander and a wayward Guillemot. The real treat coming later, on route home.

Heading back along the bridleway, the hedgerows teemed with life. Redwing, Fieldfare and Mistle Thrush, those habitual signs of the season, common-place, and finches awfully abundant. A trend stretching, surprisingly, to two of the scarcer species here: with both Greenfinch and Bullfinch plain and obvious amid the fray. Both soon forgotten as, moments later, a small flock of Waxwings – nine in total – dropped in to exploit the few Hawthorn berries not yet snaffled by the thrushes. A familiar sight this year – I alone have seen over 300 this winter – yet no less beautiful as they feasted. Their vibrant colours uplifting in the jaded sun and their crests buffeted by the building breeze.

At home, the Grey Wagtail which, rather oddly, appears to have taken up residence on my street remains in evidence, and a quick peek into the summer house revealed an impressive hoard of seeds. Sunflower kernels pilfered from next-door’s feeders no less: the Wood Mouse currently residing among the pillows who rendered the shed unusable some weeks ago, still quite at home. To my delight, and the annoyance of other family members.

Introducing ‘New Nature’ Magazine

For quite some time now, environmentalists have lambasted the perceived lack of interest that young people possess for the nature: branding us lazy, disinterested, and often rather detached from the wonders that lie in the outside world. This could not be further from the truth, though, in the eyes of many, the view of ignorant, social-media obsessed young people, shut away from the nature, persists regardless. Despite such things standing utterly detached from the truth.

The youth nature movement is a thing of beauty: rife with promise, potential, quirky characters and, of course, phenomenal talent. The pioneering steps taken by organisations such as A Focus On Nature now developing into a tsunami of interest from across Britain. As fresh talents emerge and an increasing number of young people, from all backgrounds, poke their heads above the proverbial parapet and take a stand for the natural world.  Each and all utilising their individual talents – whether in conservation, writing, speaking or campaigning – to better the world in which we all live. These people, the up and coming heroes in conservation, ecology, and communication, deserve a resounding applause, and recognition for their deeds and abilities. As do the intrepid few who set the wheels of change in motion – yes, I am referring, again, to the AFON team.

Despite the ample successes of the movement, one thing, thus far, has been glaring in its absence from the proceedings: a media platform dedicated to prompting, supporting, and encouraging said young people. This is something that through the creation of our new e-magazine, we hope to rectify.

The idea behind the e-mag came to me recently, while browsing a popular natural history magazine. Springing to mind as I noticed the distinct lack of young writers gracing the glossy pages. Writers whom, whether due to a lack of confidence or opportunity, find their passion unrecognized and their voices unheard. Not to fault the magazine – rarely does one start out with the talent necessary to successfully pitch an article to a renowned outlet. That comes later, of course, with nurturing and support.

With a team of incredibly dedicated young naturalists in place, and after careful planning, we are now proud to announce the launch of New Nature – the only natural history magazine written, edited, and produced entirely by the next generation. A magazine we hope to release monthly, for the foreseeable future, set to contain everything from opinion pieces and traditional nature writing, to reviews, research summaries, trip reports and conservation news. All from the horse’s mouth, so to speak, and in addition to interviews with and careers advice from prominent figures and organisations in the environmental field. It is going to be jolly exciting, if a little difficult to get going.

The support for our idea, thus far, has been nothing short of inspiring. From groups, such as BSBI and Conservation Jobs, and prominent figures in the realms of television and social media. Clearly, there is an available niche for this sort of thing. One which we hope to occupy; by highlighting the work of young people to a wider audience, and by offering support, guidance, and a place for the next generation to express their passion absent worry. We hope, through hard work and perhaps a little blind luck, to turn New Nature into a hub for young people with an interest in nature, while providing the youth nature movement with the platform it so desperately requires, both to instill hope in the older generation and bring the work and views of the younger to a much wider audience.

Interested? If so, there are a number of ways to get involved. Foremost, by contributing your articles, images, illustrations, and other interesting tidbits to the magazine. Or by offering advice and support if you are passed labeling yourself as a “younger naturalist”. We intend the magazine to launch on the January 2nd, and would appreciate all help in raising a clamor beforehand. Something which you can do easily: by sharing our Twitter and Facebook pages, by talking to friends, by emailing acquaintances and, of course, sharing this blog. Ultimately, however, we hope that you will read the magazine – which will be made available online on our blog, and emailed out at the turn of each month.

For those of you interested in being added to our email-list and receiving future issues of New Nature direct to your inbox, please email us at editorial.newnature@gmail.com, or get in touch with myself or another team member (details can be found on the blog). It is not going to be easy, starting something such as this on a voluntary basis seldom is, but we predict this initial idea to flourish, with your help.

Wild Resolutions for 2017

I posted last week with regards to just how fabulous 2016 has been for me, both as a keen naturalist and aspiring nature writer. It has proven educational, at times challenging and altogether exciting. With that in mind, and in keeping with tradition on this blog, I thought I would set myself a few “wild resolutions” to keep me on the right track during 2017: scrapping the urge to be overly ambitious like I did last year. These are things I hope to adhere to, or achieve, during the coming twelve months and I am writing them here, in public, so I cannot back out of them at a later date.

  1. Diversify!  As a lifelong birder and butterfly enthusiast, my knowledge and identification skills associated with those groups are quite sound. While I am also quite at home with mammals, dragonflies, reptiles and amphibians, through both academic and professional work. A good naturalist, however, boasts a broad knowledge of the natural world and thus, in 2017 I intent to diversify my interests to include groups I am shaky with at present. While I have dabbled in the realms of botany, moths and fish before, these are perhaps the groups I am least familiar with, and as such, where I will focus an increased amount of attention during the coming year.
  2. Citizen Science! I have always contributed to citizen science schemes: most notably the BTO’s Birdtrack recording system – on which I have now logged some 60,000 records. I have not, however, given such things the attention they rightfully deserve – stupid really, given how much time I spend in the great outdoors. In 2017 I hope to up the anti, so to speak, on my Birdtrack recording, but also to venture further into the recording of additional taxa. Having set myself a easily-achievable target of contributing, also, to the Mammal Societies ‘Mammal Track’ scheme and targeting Lepidoptera through IRecord.  May as well use my time in nature for something productive, right?
  3. Write this bloody book! Under the “you don’t know until you try” pretense, I have been toying with the idea of a book for sometime now. And, at present, have drafted my first two chapters and an introduction I feel sounds half decent. My efforts have, however, waned somewhat of late – due in no small part my Masters degree and no end of personal projects. In 2017 I hope to change this, and give said book the time and effort it deserves – it may be in vain, in the long run, if no Publisher will touch me with a barge pole, but who knows. I am enjoying writing nonetheless.
  4. Return to “proper” nature writing! When I started this blog, quite a few years ago now, the majority of my posts consisted of sightings, site-visits and creative descriptions of the creatures with which I spend my time. This seems to have changed during the course of 2016: giving way to opinion pieces, informative posts and frustrated outpourings. While I will undoubtedly continue with the latter during 2017, I feel it is necessary to go back to my roots and work to develop my skills as a true nature writer. Hopefully, next year will see this blog teeming with more lyrical descriptions of wildlife and wild-places. I also intent to proposition a lot more media outlets this year and, ultimately, work further towards my goal of becoming a published writer.
  5. Give birding a boost! Now, this one is just for fun. And, partially, to keep me from going insane as I try to complete the other, more serious resolutions above. In 2017 I intent to bolster my birding efforts: to see more species, build my stagnating list and, when all is said and done, visit more fantastic places. I hope to catch up with the British species I have not let laid eyes upon – *cough* Hawfinch, Nightingale and Woodlark, foremost – and make a concerted effort to Twitch a little more. Spurred on by fabulous encounters with rarities during 2016. What is life without a little fun, eh?

40km for Curlew Conservation

The haunting call of the Curlew is one of the most iconic, and enjoyable, sounds in nature. Especially in Britain: where rippling trill of our largest wading bird evokes images of heather clad, misty moorlands and windswept coastal estuaries. It is a sound that ensnares many, myself included; though one that, sadly, is heard less often these days. With Britain’s Curlew population currently plummeting and the endearing birds spiraling ever close to extinction on our shores – the Curlew subject to a 46% decline in numbers between 1994-2010 alone.

The factors attributing to the decline of the Curlew are not widely known, though a number of explanations have been put forward. Among these, it is thought that climate change, afforestation, changes in farming practice and an increase in generalist predators such as foxes and crows may be to blame. All of which, through a decrease in suitable habitat and an increasingly low rate of nest success, have placed our breeding Curlew under substantial pressure. The situation facing the Curlew in the UK is not bright, nor hopeful, though while the causes of their woeful decline remain open to speculation, the importance of the British population of these endearing birds lies clear for all to see: Britain holds 28% of Europe’s Curlew population, and more must be done in order to protect them.

Thankfully, more is being done. In the form of vital research and monitoring courtesy of the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO). The body working to better our knowledge of the species and provide a sound, scientifically valid basis for future conservation work. Something undertaken through an extensive (and costly) program of ringing, GPS tracking, remote tracking and research. Work which, now more than ever, is vital if we are going to bring the Curlew back from the brink which cannot take place absent public support. This is why, following no end of brainstorming, myself and good friend Sacha Elliott have decided to do something positive and actively support the BTO’s recently launched Curlew Appeal.

When toying with ideas on how to raise funds for the appeal, both myself and Sacha wanted to do something a little out of our zone of comfort, thus something energetic seemed like the obvious choice. We are, after all (and by our own admission), not particularly fit. The reason why we have opted to commit to the Yorkshire ‘Three Peaks Challenge‘ during June 2017. To challenge ourselves physically and a fund-raise for what we feel is an incredibly important cause. We all cherish our Curlew, right?

The challenge takes in the peaks of Pen-y-ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough and involves some 40km of hiking over often challenging ground: accomplish-able in around 12 hours. This is easily the most walking that either of us have done before and will surely prove testing. Especially for moi, a beer-bellied former smoker with a particular aversion to anything that vaguely resembles exercise. It will not be easy but we are determined to see it through.

Prior to undertaking the trip next Summer, we have set up a Just Giving page to raise money for the BTO and have broadcast an open offer for others to join us in our venture. If you too would like to take part, and thus raise both funds and awareness for the fight to protect our Curlew, you can join our fundraising team. While equally, and perhaps more importantly, you can support our campaign both financially – if you can spare the change – or by sharing it with friends, family or anyone else you feel might like to donate. Every little really does help, and if we are to reach our team target of £1000, we will certainly need your help. And would be incredibly grateful if you would consider supporting.

If you would like to donate, or indeed, learn more about the project. You can visit ‘Just Giving’ through the link below. Though Sacha will also be distributing links to her fundraising page on social media too.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/James-Common2

2016: A Wild Year In Retrospect (Part 1)

It has become somewhat of a tradition on this blog to, near the turn of the year, dwell momentarily on the high-points of the months past. To look back over my experiences and attempt to rank them based on my own enjoyment – if only for a spot of personal amusement. Truthfully, 2016 has been brilliant year (my best yet): jam-packed with wonderful sensory experiences, great wildlife and memorable moments. It has seen me progress a little further towards goals, involved no end of travelling and, at times, has left me both dumbfounded and reeling. For those interested, here is this years reflective post.

1 – A Scottish Summer

As in 2015, 2016 once again found me in the highlands of Scotland: working as an ecological field assistant for a consultancy firm. A great little job, in truth, and one that saw me living and working in one of the most beautiful settings in the UK. Providing yet another chance to better my identification and surveying skills and, more importantly, allowing me to, once again, immerse myself fully in the best of Scottish wildlife. It really was rather fun.

Here, at various locations, I enjoyed Golden Eagles, Ospreys and Hen Harriers: some of the most enigmatic sights in British nature. I had up close run-ins with Ptarmigan, Mountain Hares, Red Deer and Adders; enjoyed the sight of hunting Merlin and the sound of “bubbling” Black cock. In addition to no end of Crested Tits, Crossbill’s and other highland wonders. It was delightful, though one sight here trumped all others in the splendor stakes: that of an immature White-Tailed Eagle skirmishing with an Osprey over a rather unlucky Trout. The eagle won, of course, and I left feeling thoroughly fulfilled, my love of the Northern wilds reaching new heights – as if that was possible.

Mountain Hare
????????????????????????????????????

2 – Fuerteventura Press Trip

On a surprising note, and due to a kind recommendation from TV’s David Lindo, February found me jetting off to Spain: to the unparalleled region of Extremadura as part of a press-trip involving no end of wonderful, accomplished individuals. It was quite strange to find myself in such esteemed company, more so when the grandiose nature of the trip is considered, though the week was undeniably fabulous. Here we enjoyed Cinnerous and Egyptian Vultures floating on the thermals above us: in addition to Spanish Imperial Eagles, tropical looking butterflies and no end of exquisite scarcities. The experience only amplified by a trip to the Spanish Bird Fair, an interview for their promotional video and, of course, the fantastic cuisine the region has to offer. My inclusion on the trip giving me hope that, despite a few slip-ups, I am on the right lines as far as my career goes.

White Stork

3 – Writing picks up

2016 has also seen me take a few more tentative steps into the realm of “true” nature writing, due in no small part, to the wonderful opportunity to contribute to not one but two of the delightful ‘Anthology for the Changing Seasons‘ books by Melissa Harrison. With my writing here – regarding the Chiffchaff and the Farne Islands, respectively – leading to chance contributions to other outlets including the Harrier and Dragonfly News. The initial feedback from which has gone someway to bolstering my confidence with regards to written word and provides substantial hope for the future.

Blogging efforts also found themselves doubled this year, here, on my own website and elsewhere. With my weekly column on Conservation Jobs going down a treat and opportunities presenting themselves to write for both Blasting News and Environment South Africa, in addition to guest posts for a host of wonderful online content creators. The year also marking my first full 12-month period at the helm of the Wildlife Articles blogging platform, which continues to grow nicely,. What will 2017 hold I wonder? I am hoping for more of the same.

4- Masters Degree

I am not quite sure why, at the start of the year, I decided to undertake a Masters degree. Or, indeed, whether the decision was the right one for me in the long-run. Whatever the reasons behind this choice, however, I am fully enjoying my current course at Newcastle University. Due, in no small part, to the wonderful staff, fantastic course mates and the extremely engaging lectures – really, I have learnt a monumental amount in the first three months alone. Wildlife management is a thrilling topic and, whatever I choose to do in the future – even if I opt for a career elsewhere – I am sure the knowledge gained throughout the program will be a huge asset. And a few extra letters after your name cannot hurt, right?

5 – Living North Awards

2016 also saw me receive my first true award nomination, and found me finishing as a runner-up in the ‘promise and potential‘ category of the annual Living North Awards. A rather esteemed ceremony aiming to highlight and celebrate the phenomenal amount of talent that resides in the North-East – contrary to popular belief. I am incredibly grateful for the shortlisting here, and, of course, my invitation to the ceremony itself – it was divine – having been left feeling incredibly motivated by the whole ordeal. My shortlisting coming off the back of a combination of local conservation work and writing promoting the natural beauty of the region. And, when all is said and done, providing a much-needed pat on the back just as period of self-doubt had begun to set in. It was delightful.

 

Writing: Life Lessons From 2016

Writing, tweeting and generally posting anything into the public domain is a sure fire way to stress yourself out, though it is thoroughly rewarding. 2016 has been a wonderful year in truth: it has helped refine my career ambitions, seen a number of gains on my part and provided me with a number of fantastic opportunities to better myself. From the chance to contribute to the delightful “seasons” books by Melissa Harrison; to the Living North Awards and my first magazine articles. It has also, however, been incredibly frustrating. Due, in no small part, to my own naivety and, at times, stupidity. I make no excuses, I am still learning, though, I have taken a lesson or two from 2016. Lessons I hope to carry over into 2017, and far beyond that.

Holding an opinion, regardless of the motivations behind it, means that there are always going to be people who disagree, and a great many people who simply do not like you. Often, for simply holding a view that differs substantially from their own. This is fine, providing, of course, you do not rise to counterproductive disputes and remove credibility through rather silly bickering. These people are entitled to their opinion, and sometimes, trying to change that is impossible. You cannot appease everyone, so there is little point in trying such. Being honest is far more important than being liked.

That said, fear of the repercussions associated with holding a view can often lead you to think twice about voicing such, which is folly. You should not be afraid to poke your head above the parapet once in a while, if, of course, you believe wholly in your cause. Even if your views amount to little other than scorn and woefully busy message box. When doing so, and taking a view, it is, however, important to ensure that you broadcast such with clarity. So that your motivations become clear, and you leave little room for speculation (and misinterpretation) on behalf of those who, as mentioned above, do not like you. Or others boasting disguised motives. Do not inadvertently provide others with ammunition and, for the love of god, explain things in detail as opposed to being overly vague. Too many times this year have my words landed me in trouble due to this.

When expressing a view, in text or online, be aware that others will attempt to twist things for their own ends. On occasion, turning a reasonable (if a little naive) article or post into something supportive of their own cause – this is a lesson I must learn, fast, but ultimately comes down to a tendency to take people at face value, as opposed to thinking critically with regards to their motivations. I must also shake the tendency to allow said opinions to be influenced by the sob stories of others, or, indeed, the views of those I perceive to be my betters – whether due to title or experience. Stop being so impressionable, James.

With this in mind, it is important to think objectively at all times, and not to be influenced by mass opinion. Even if taking an alternate path renders you unpopular in the long run. You should not be afraid to take a different opinion, providing you present such in a reasoned manner, and certainly should not be afraid to take the middle-ground once in a while. Especially when you understand both sides of an argument. Though in the eyes of some, this is often worse than picking a side – do not let that phase you. Although, changing your stance, from time to time, is not actually a bad thing. Standing by your guns is all well and good, at times, though pointless when presented with new information. Life is a learning curve and opinions do change.