Gull cull? No thanks

The last few days have seen an infuriating surge in the rhetoric of those calling for the control of Britain’s gulls; as campaigners clamour for the lethal action, red-faced MP’s bluster and the national press embarks on yet another misinformed wildlife witch-hunt. It has all been rather depressing, at least for those, like me, rather fond of our gulls. The situation made even worse by the horrendously bias coverage of the issue on television; by shows such as Good Morning Britain who appear content to make light of the situation and further inflame tensions, doubtless to the detriment of our wildlife.

Yes, tuning into ITV this morning – as I do most days – I was left appalled by the incredibly one-sided coverage of the issue by GMB. The relevant segment, presented by Ben Shepard and Susanna Reid (thank the lord Piers was not involved) and including an interview with Oliver Colvile MP, serving little other than to vilify our gulls through the endless use of scaremongering language, incriminating footage and unnecessary exaggeration. With said MP apparently forgetting that all gulls, as opposed to simply the Herring Gull, as stated, are protected to a varying degree by British law; and Susanna painting the natural process of predation – on this occasion between a gull and a sparrow – as some sort of grossly offensive crime. The whole segment was preposterous, in truth,

Given the level of coverage the gull issue has received of late, you would be forgiven for thinking that it represents one of the great wildlife management conflicts of modern times. And for believing the antics of gulls, particularly the larger species contained within the Larus genus,  paramount to those of other problem species;  to rabbits, rats and badgers that attribute to a significant amount of economic damage each year. Or perhaps  to invasive mink or squirrels, both highly detrimental to conservation efforts. They are not, and our grievance with gulls stems from little other than ignorance and mild inconvenience, as opposed to necessity. Our dislike of these birds born of human laziness and a reluctance to coexist with another successful, adaptive species. For this reason, I find the proposed cull of gulls utterly offensive.

There is no doubt in my mind that humans are directly responsible for the gull problem; by providing them with ample opportunity to misbehave. Something we achieve through our tendency to leave rubbish outside or place it in land-fill, providing an irresistible food source for gulls left hungry due to the continued human depletion of natural resources and the erosion of traditional habitats. The same applies when it comes to direct contact with the birds themselves: with many people content to offer titbits to hungry gulls when approached and others going actively out of their way to do so, thus habituating the birds to our usually frightening presence. Is it little wonder then that they return for more? Or that this behaviour has become widespread as more and more animals learn to exploit a new, inexhaustible food source? Surely this is common sense, or perhaps that is just me?

If you have not gathered already, I quite like gulls: big ones, small ones, rare ones, common ones, it matters not. To me, the piercing vocalisation of gulls is the quintessential sound of our seaside, and now, our cites. One I am content to revel in, and seldom annoyed by – a trend not shared by the residents of some urban areas it would seem. Though noise is hardly an appropriate reason to sanction a government lead cull, in my opinion; and those voicing such could easily save themselves the ear-ache by investing in double-glazing, or perhaps some earplugs.

My own, personal love of gulls is not, however, the reason I find myself opposed to the idea of a cull. No, that stems from the nature of Britain’s gull populations – with species such as Herring Gull and Lesser Black-Back, two of the more problematic species, currently declining at an alarming rate. So much so that both species now find themselves of conservation concern; with Herring Gulls removed from governments flawed general license for that very reason. The killing of gulls in our cities, or indeed, the proposed destruction of nests – as advocated by the not so honourable Oliver Colvile – would surely place yet more pressure on these already embattled populations; leading to further declines in the future. This cannot be allowed, and it does not take a genius to see that any such move would be folly.

What is the answer to our gull problem? Well, I do not quite know; though a change in human behaviour would be a step in the right direction. We need to clean up our towns and cities, invest in humane deterrents and, for gods sake, stop the deliberate sharing of food. More importantly, however, we need to adopt a more tolerant mindset – something regularly preached in regards to people but often forgotten when it comes to wildlife. Gulls, much like pigeons, are one of the few, hardy, creatures able to adapt to life in the present day – where natural habitats find themselves replaced by the endless sprawl of concrete and habitation.  A fact which should be celebrated; not condemed.

Header Image: Michael Mulqueen licensed under Flickr Creative Commons

Birding Northumberland Absent Wheels: January

The year start on a characteristically chipper note; my annual 1st of January foray with Sacha kicking off the year list with a decent 84 species. Though not before a dawn wander around my local patch – the Blyth Estuary – saw the usual commodities, Robins and what not, added in droves. Back with Sacha and the highlights of the day comprised ringtail Hen Harrier at Low Newton, 6 Shorelark at East Chevington, drake Pintail on Druridge Pools and a superb Peregrine on my old patch at Widdrington. Stag Rocks proved exciting, as always, with a dozen Long-Tailed Ducks close to shore in the company of the usual Red-Throated Divers, Guillemots and Common Scoter; while a mixed flock of Twite and Linnet fed in the nearby game-cover during the duration of our stay. Kittiwake and Gannet, provided nice winter ticks here, with Red-Breasted Merganser and Eider also new, though our attentions soon wandered and we set off South; noting Whooper Swans at Chevington and Woodhorn, Tree Sparrow and Little Egret at Cresswell and, finally, a flock of 8 Goosander at QEII County Park.

The ensuing week provided little of note on the run up to the county bird race; a juvenile Iceland Gull on patch at North Blyth the only exception to the rule. With Rock Pipit, Dipper, Grey Plover and Razorbill likewise new around the local area. The bird race proved much more exciting; a fantastic day out with Jack, Dan and Michael ending in victory with an impressive tally of 120 species. The highlights of the day including the discovery of a Glaucous Gull at Warkworth, a drake Scaup on East Chevington, White-Fronted Goose and Spotted Redshank at Budle Bay, Slavonian Grebe and Great Northern Diver at Stag Rocks and the Iceland Gull again at Blyth. Early morning found us adding not one but two Barn Owls near Bedlington, followed by Woodcock, Red Grouse and Tawny Owl further North; while belated year ticks included Kingfisher at Cullercoats, Pochard at Widdrington, Grey Partridge, Great Crested Grebe, Purple Sandpiper and Mediterranean Gull. A trio of Tundra Bean Geese at Hemscott Hill were also nice to see – a long overdue county tick for this limping Northumbrian birder – and a Chiffchaff near Amble came as somewhat of a suprise.

Outings over the following week were scant due to university, though a day out on the 12th with Jack came up trumps with distant views of the Cheswick Black Scoter and, towards dusk, Great Grey Shrike and Willow Tit at Prestwick Carr. The next tick coming on the 21st with exceptional views of Druridge Bay Pacific Diver as it fished on Ladyburn Lake, mere meters from amassed ranks of its admirers. Water Rail was likewise new here while a Willow Tit and an impressive flock of c100 Siskin entertained on route home. The next day finding me picking up Little Owl at Blyth Links and Brambling at Northumberlandia – the latter conveniently landing outside the window during a meeting with Northumberland Wildlife Trust.

The month wound to a close with the sight of 17 Ring-Necked Parakeets roosting in Newcastle – a queer sight up here in the North but one I suspect we will be seeing more of. A later trip around Morpeth allowed for the addition of Marsh Tit and Green Woodpecker – both difficult county birds in my opinion – while the female Black Redstart was finally unearthed at North Blyth. Two separate Waxwing encounters were also had this week; with c60 at Bedlington and a smaller group of 3 at Exhibition Park, Newcastle.

As it stands, January ends on a respectable (for a full-time student who does not drive) 136 species. My biggest omissions coming from Lesser Redpoll and Velvet Scoter; and some frustrating misses including Bittern, Short-Eared Owl, Long-Eared Owl and Merlin. The latter of which being the only one I am particularly worried about, for now at least.

Now that is why I go birding

Yesterday found me bound for North Yorkshire, for the second time in less than a week. The intended target of this particular jaunt; the rather eye-catching male Pine Bunting that has been thrilling (and frustrating) spectators for quite some time on the outskirts of Dunnington. A bird which, after an uncomfortable four-hour stay, we laid eyes only briefly; for all of thirty seconds before it disappeared, once again, into the stubble of a nearby field. Not exactly fair recompense for a day spent frozen in place, battered by the wind and perpetually frustrated by a number of misidentifications and near-misses, some may say. I would say differently, however.

With a grand total of nine hours spent staring at the same, rather uninspiring, patch of hedgerow, the Pine Bunting twitch was not a comfortable one. Neither was it consistently enjoyable. It did, however, remind me exactly why I dedicate so much time to the pursuit of our feathered friends. The burst of elation upon actually seeing the bird and the ensuing adrenaline rush quickly banishing the negative thoughts accumulated throughout the day. The sight of the bunting attributing to a gratifying sense of victory; a reward bestowed based on patience and previous exertion. The giddy feeling of delight, the kind that bubbles up when you finally track down your long-awaited quarry: that is why I go birding. The ascetics of the bird itself an added bonus, on this occasion, though this is not always the case.

Of course, there is more to the hobby than the birds themselves and, for me, the places play their part too. From idyllic areas of rural wilderness to sites of urban sprawl, each venture brings something new and unfamiliar. I have, of course, been to many beautiful places in search of birds – from the rugged highlands of Scotland to no end of gusty headlands – yet places such as Dunnington, humble and unassuming, appeal equally. Yesterday’s venture complete with no end of additional sightings; from yellowhammers feeding in urban gardens to tree sparrows, stock doves and, on a more exciting note, a good few Corn Bunting. All of which, at times, fed together in one enormous flock on the town’s edge – a new experience for me and an unprecedented delight to see so many red list birds in one place. A place that I would not necessarily venture too absent cause that was discovered and thus, enjoyed, due to one particular bird.

And then there are the people. While many favour birding for the solitude it can bring – there is nothing wrong with this – I am not one of them. I love the people the hobby brings me into contact with: the locals, the birders, the curious onlookers and the one guy who always gets too close to the bird. For me, each new bird presents a new social occasion; one where you may laugh and joke with friends – such was the case yesterday during the prolonged bouts of nothingness – and share experiences with other like-minded individuals. Of course, I dislike the egotistical listing talk that breaks out sporadically at any such event – comparing numbers is not for me – but for every one such person, there are fifty more willing to divulge useful tips and exciting stories. I learn equally as much listening to birders as I do watching birds, and yesterday trip was no exception.

There are, of course, myriad more reasons why I, personally, go birding. Among these; the constant reassurance provided by a post-dip McDonalds stands foremost among them, though this post gives a good idea of my main motivations. Yesterday’s twitch set my mind to thinking it seems; the experience warranting some thought as to why I engage in a hobby that other people think mad. Well, I believe I have answered that internal question.

Header image: Pine Bunting, courtesy of Francesco Vernosl, Flickr Creative Commons.

 

A quick life update

I have been rather quiet on this blog recently, at least by my usual vocal standards. I can assure you that this is because I have been incredibly busy – with work, writing and university – and not because my interest has waned. For those who follow this blog loyally (to my surprise, there are a few) and for those who actually possess some sort of interest in what I get up to, here is a quick update of recent happenings in the world of James…

  1. Masters degree. I have enjoyed some fabulous lectures of late, including enthralling (and eye-opening) talks from the likes of GWCT and Natural England, and am currently engrossed in my favourite module to date: policy and licensing. I have also secured some time on the fabulous Farne Islands to carry out my postgraduate thesis and, quite frankly, I cannot wait!
  2. Squirrels – I am continuing my voluntary work with my local Red Squirrel action group. Work which centres, specifically, on the control of greys in my local area. This is not an enjoyable task but it is rewarding; more so given the continued presence of Reds in the area.
  3. Other voluntary work – Following a recent meeting with some wonderful representatives from Northumberland Wildlife Trust, I have scheduled a second meeting with their marketing team in the coming weeks. It looks like I am going to be gaining some experience in communications in the future, while also helping out, where I can, with their social media and publishing efforts.
  4. New Nature – the magazine is ticking over nicely. We have recently taken on a voluntary web editor and are all set to publish our second issue on February 6th; with fabulous contributions from a host of talented young writers and some more familiar faces. Please stay tuned.
  5. Writing. Nothing published of late, sadly; though I have send off some pitches. I was, however, lucky enough to be featured in The Countryman today. Specifically, in a fine article by the magazines editor entitled “The New Young Naturalists” – Please check it out.
  6. Curlew. To date, I have raised a total of £435 for the BTO’s Curlew Appeal and will be partaking in the Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge later this year, while attempting to raise more money along the way. I have also managed to quit smoking (well, vaping) and am starting to feel like the process may not actually be the death of me…

I do hope it all pays off in the end…

Here, there and everywhere in between

A busy week in the birding stakes with numerous trips around dear old Northumberland – as I attempt to stay true to my county year list promises – and a few jaunts further afield. This week’s haul of avian goodies taking my “Northumberland 2017” list up to a respectable (I think), 136 species for January – it would seem that I am on track, though I doubt that in the long-run I will be able to keep pace with the others attempting the same. Due to both my complete reliance on public transport and my unwillingness to hold my cards almost selfishly close to my chest. Though it is all for fun in the end and thus far, I am enjoying it.

Where to start? Well, last weekend found me dashing off for another look at the Pacific Diver languishing, at the time, at Druridge Bay Country Park. A short bus journey culminating in fantastic views of the vagrant as it fished, unphased by its admirers, some 10m offshore amid the assembled ranks of the local Tufted Ducks. The views obtained here far better than on my previous two trips and the experience amplified as the grating call of a Willow Tit emanated from the lakes scrubby peripheries. Later, a good sized flock of 80+ Siskin were noted on route home while a second Willow Tit was at Hadston.

The next (and less arduous) bus journey found me heading to Blyth; to a spot not far from my home in Bedlington where, after a few moments of gazing eagerly at some ramshackle farmland ruins, a Little Owl hopped politely into view. The first individual of this species I have seen in some time and a personal favourite to boot, despite their perpetually perturbed appearance. The trip home, after an hour alone with the owl, coming up trumps with a surprise flock of c60 Waxwing at Bedlington. The birds perched in a roadside Sycamore a mere 1/4 mile from my front door. Always nice to see and followed by a dusk jaunt to Northumberlandia where, despite missing my target species, a female Scaup and a few dozen Brambling were seen.

Next, a wander into the murky depths of Newcastle with the significant other in search of what has, for quite some time, been my nemesis species in the region: Ring-Necked Parakeet. Seventeen of which were quickly noted following a kind tip-off. The green-ones showing characteristically well as they jostled for position in their “favourite” tree, occasionally making breif flights over the nearby houses. A delightful sight in truth and always one I look forward too, despite the alien nature of the birds themselves.

Finally, the fourth bus of the week, today, took me to Morpeth; where an enjoyable few hours were spent combing through the various patches of woodland that line the banks of the River Wansbeck as it approaches the town. A dozen Brambling were nice to see here, as ever, and good counts of other common yet endearing species were obtained, with Jay, Nuthatch, Treecreeper, Bullfinch and Siskin present en-masse. Though these soon fell into obscurity when the sneezing call of my target species – Marsh Tit – was finally heard from the gnarled branches of a riverside oak. Followed, in quick succession, by an altogether surprising addition to the day’s haul: a Green Woodpecker. The bird heard on a number of occasions but giving only the briefest of views as it flew between trees. Not an easy bird to come by up here.

Sunny Morpeth this morning

 Further afield and I managed a few more prolonged jaunts this week, slotted between university commitments and other more menial tasks. The first taking both myself and Matt to the WWT’s Washington reserve where the adult drake Ferruginous Duck showed particularly well. A charming bird that I have put off going to see for some time whose copper colouring looked simply divine in the low Winter sun. A good rummage around the reserve – it would have been rude not to – turning up Willow Tit, Kestrel, Sparrowhawk, Siskin, Jay and, to my astonishment, 24 Bullfinch. I honestly don’t think I have ever seen so many in one place.

Heading even further South, this time in the company of some friends, yesterday provided another, even more alluring, lifer – White-Billed Diver. A bird that, given my unwillingness to travel to the far extremes of the country, I had accepted I would probably never seen. The quaint Lincolnshire river on which this hulking brute of a bird currently resides on a far cry from its usual abode and the views obtained – down to a matter of feet at times – superb, as opposed to distant and barely discernable. An attempt to end the day on an even higher note resulted in failure as we were outfoxed (twice) by the Yorkshire Pine Bunting; though the sight of 100+ Yellowhammer, c25 Corn Bunting and dozens of Tree Sparrow here was nice. Corn Bunting especially so, given the complete absence of the species in my local area and the woeful state of the UK population.

A few shots from Washington

Young Naturalists on Unpaid Conservation Internships

My views on unpaid, long-term conservation internships undulate substantially. On one hand, and from firsthand experience, I know the benefits such placements bring; in terms of the acquisition of skills, networking opportunities, personal development and, of course, contribution to the great work of our NGOs. I also, however, and again from my own experience, see such positions as exploitative, exclusive and rather detrimental to the sector as a whole. Believing wholeheartedly that volunteer culture decreases diversity in conservation by favouring those with money to flaunt and thus, time to spare.

I am aware that not all agree with my views on internships and that many actively support them, though the topic is one of great interest to me. So interesting, in fact, that a few days past, I put a simple question to a number of young naturalists on social media: what are your personal views on unpaid internships. A question asked absent any mention of my own personal views on the matter and intended to provide a general insight into popular opinion. The topic broached in coorindination with a rather interesting poll I am currently running from New Nature.

I can understand why some internships are unpaid – the field has limited funding, we all want more money to go into conserving habitats/wildlife than overhead costs – but it is unfair for fresh graduates trying to find work, especially if one has a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in relevant fields. Many jobs require at least one, usually five years of experience, but it seems impossible to get any experience without having to pay for it. The salary of higher executives in large NGOs can be quite high, and for interns to be expected to work for free is a discrepancy that blocks the younger generation from entering the field. This trend also disadvantages those of lower socio-economic classes who are not privileged enough to be able to afford to work for no/little money, and limits the diversity of conservationists. If organisations genuinely cannot afford to pay, there should at least be tangible beneficial outcomes for interns such as making an effort to find a job for them subsequently or putting them in touch with other organisations. Unpaid conservation internships exploit the ready supply of fresh graduates who want to do good but seem to be here to stay.

– Jocelyne Sze

Spending time getting practical conservation experience can be great, especially when you’re young and have time away from education to volunteer. However, I think that the feasibility for these unpaid internships, especially ones that require a lot of time and effort, rapidly drops away as soon as your financial responsibilities become a priority. Doing work for free that you know you should be getting paid to do isn’t a luxury that everyone has, and will leave many interested and qualified people unable to apply for these positions. That’s not a sign of a candidate’s commitment to conservation or lack thereof, it’s simply a matter of time requirements and financial burdens. This only makes it infinitely more frustrating when you find that the requirements of some internships are aimed specifically at graduates that will be looking to support themselves fresh out of university. I’m not saying people shouldn’t go for unpaid internships if they have the resources to do so, but employers should think carefully before offering them and consider that applications for unpaid internships won’t be from the most suitable or worthy candidates, but will be from those that are lucky enough to have the time and money to spare.

– Alex Evans

I’ve done two unpaid internships and the experiences couldn’t have been more different. The first was a year at two nature reserves with a major NGO. It provided some good experience but was poorly organised at times and even though some individual staff members were great with career advice it had an overall feeling of a conveyer belt. The second was a short-term placement with a major conservation project and everything was fantastic, the staff went out of their way to provide experience of all aspects of the project and it was a huge boost to my career skills. So overall, I would say that short-term volunteer placements or internships in conservation are acceptable, especially if they allow you to explore a role that in the paid ranks would be well above your current experience level. They are also probably easier for people to commit to with time and money.

With the full year unpaid internship I think the charities running them need a major reality check. I was lucky to be able to fund mine through a previous paid job but they wouldn’t be a viable option for many people for a whole range of justified reasons. We already know that conservation fails to attract people from a diverse range of backgrounds – so do they want to provide funds to create a dynamic and vibrant future staff base or for fancy visitor centres and “rebranding”? Another point to make is the job market – once you have finished the year options are limited – all these warden type internships do is to reduce the number of paid opportunities available once you have finished. It’s time they were consigned to the dark ages and people should be more vocal about it. How can you be expected to work for long periods of time for free to come out into a limited job market and then fund your personal long term security? Common sense suggests that this is totally unrealistic, especially when the organisations doing so pay some people as much as the prime minister!

– James Walker

Background: went to university; joined conservation society (hedge planting, scrub clearance etc.); got hooked; graduated; moved home; volunteered some more; landed twelve month traineeship with Yorkshire Wildlife Trust; twelve months chasing a fantastically knowledgeable man around Yorkshire; bow saws, chainsaws, pesticides, spades, rakes, rain, sunshine, wind, rain (yep, rain again), pond nets, training courses, physical exertion, laughter. There were three main positives for me: -I had a fantastic time -I learnt a lot, about the practical work I wanted to do, in a short space of time -The cliché of ‘networking’ (wink-wink, nudge-nudge, any jobs going?) I wouldn’t say there were any negatives, but just some things to think about: -I was lucky. I could afford it; my parents (and a pub job filling in all the gaps in my diary) supported me. I don’t think it’s possible to go unpaid if you haven’t got someone backing you up -Doing an internship doesn’t guarantee you a job straight away. It took me six more months of volunteering after my internship to get a job in the sector. And that wasn’t a permanent one. I certainly don’t regret it; best time of my life.

– Jonny Walker

I’m of the opinion that unpaid internships are around for a reason; they exist because there is a need for them! Habitat management requires specialist skills and knowledge, which unfortunately for some people, cannot be gained from a degree. At school we’re told to go to uni and get a degree to get a job but are not told what working in conservation actually involves. Graduates start applying for jobs but have no experience of using a chainsaw or spending all day in the pouring rain battling through chalk to install a fence post. Most conservation work is done by NGO’s who struggle for money and they just cannot afford to employ someone who doesn’t have the skills to look after a reserve. Unpaid internships are a way for people to gain this valuable experience and often expensive qualifications to land themselves a job. Maybe if we had better careers advice at school for people who wanted to work in conservation, so they did practical courses and gained skills that could get them a job, rather than spending three years in a lecture theatre, unpaid internships wouldn’t need to exist. Sadly that isn’t the case and if we want our nature reserves to be looked after by competent people then we need them!

– Beth Aucott

I couldn’t afford to do one. I needed paid work during all the holidays and breaks of my undergraduate degree so I could pay my rent. Not only could I not afford to not work for free, I could also not afford to travel elsewhere to do an internship. Would have loved to do one later but with a young family it was doubly impossible! If I could do it again I would have spent a few years working/saving and volunteering in cycles – but how much longer would that delay starting a career? Long, full-time unpaid internships are discriminatory.

– Patty Ramirez

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.