Tag: Autumnwatch

Autumn in Suburbia, by Frances Jones

I was returning home from work along the scenic route, having been tempted by the sunshine to prolong my journey. I followed the path along the river, which was a busy, but pleasant, highway with cyclists, runners and pedestrians, some pausing and taking a slower pace than they might otherwise in cooler weather. The trees overhanging the Thames were illuminated by a rich, warm light and the water sparkled like lights in a Christmas window. Long boughs dipped and swayed. Rowers directed their boats through the water leaving waves that lapped the shore in a gentle rhythm. I looked ahead; the path led through a corridor of different shades of greens and yellows, the trees glowing in the sunshine with all the presence of an opera diva; the stage is theirs at this time of year as particular species give us a brilliant show of colour. Acers, or maples, are wonderful trees for colour in the Autumn, and any walkthrough beech woods will provide a canopy of oranges and yellows.

I lingered momentarily to survey the scene and then turned up the path away from the river. Peeping through the blue diamond fencing were clusters of rose-hips, bold beads of crimson in a green tangle of foliage. Brambles with shrivelled fruit reminded me of the summer’s harvest; foragers had needed to be earlier than usual this year. A  great tit dived in front of me, closely followed by another, and I listened to their call, sheltered from the traffic in this patch of green.

On the other side of the path the blousy white flowers of bindweed decorated the railings of the playing field. If left to its own devices, the weed will have covered these metal bars by the end of the year. I passed holly trees standing tall with bright red berries, perfect for use in decoration in a couple of months time. A little further on and the autumnal colours appeared again in a burst of exuberance. A well-established Virginia creeper had enveloped the railings between two houses, covering the metalwork and adjacent bricks with deep reds and vibrant yellows. I liked the fact that nature had been allowed to run riot in a small way, in this little corner of the city.

As I crossed the common on the home straight, I paused to look at the trees lit up by the late sunshine. The differing oval-like shapes of oak, silver birch, and many others lent a softness to the scene that contrasted with the rigid lines of the houses I had just passed. Children lingered, using the last hour of daylight, knowing it would soon disappear. At my feet were the first scatterings of this year’s fallen leaves and the mist in the mornings reminds me that the seasons have changed. Summer has bowed out, despite the temperature trying to tell us otherwise. The glorious colours of Autumn brightened my walk home and the slow setting sun provided a fitting finale to a beautiful day.

The next morning, the pavement was covered with a spectrum of colour from the leaves that had blown down overnight. Shades of reds and yellows from a Japanese maple covered the ground so completely that they almost created a tessellation on the tarmac. I found myself peering down to look at the beauty of a single leaf. The heavy rain had turned the leaf-festooned pavement into a slippery route, however, and I trod carefully. A splendid rowan lit up the grey morning with its bright red berries, and its leaves had already formed a pattern on the pavement. I am lucky to live in an area where trees grow on residential streets and I took extra notice of them on this blustery Autumnal day.

 

 

Half-Penny: a woodland ablaze

Upon my latest visit to Half-Penny, it was not that birds that, as usual, occupied my undivided attention. Despite both the local Kingfishers and Dippers performing admirably. Nor was it the sites mammalian inhabitants, despite a Red Squirrel putting on a mighty fine show as it collected hazelnuts from the riparian shrubbery. No, today it was the trees – those towering, leafy cornerstones of Half-Penny – that held the most allure, entrancing in all their seasonal glory.

Structurally, Half-Penny is a very odd woodland – falling into the bracket of semi-natural woodland yet boasting a number of distinct transitional areas, each characteristic of other woodland types. For example, there are two growths of mature Beech trees, open and spacious, as well as dense riparian areas of willow, Alder and Hazel. Midway into the wood, there is a spacious area dominated entirely by three species of oak – Sessile, Pendunculate and the non-native Turkey – while elsewhere, spread between these patches, the majority of the wood is comprised of a delightful blend of Wych Elm, Sycamore and Ash, dotted in places, with the odd Yew and Horsechestnut. It is this charming blend of species, native or otherwise, which makes Half-Penny the place to be come Autumn, when chlorophyll retreats and formerly vibrant leaves begin to turn.

Today, the variety of colours on show in the wood was nothing short of spectacular: from the pure, golden hue of fallen Beech leaves to the radiant yellow of Field Maple. Syacmore leaves, grey/brown and dotted with the characteristic black spots of Rhytisma acerinum , blanketed the footpath, blended artistically with lemon yellow foliage of Wych Elm and the elongated leaves of ash which, by now, have turned myriad colours ranging from sickly, diluted green to outlandish purple. Indeed, everywhere I looked my eyes found themselves besieged by colour: from the marvellous crimson of the sites scant Wayfaring Trees and the auburn of crisped oak leaves. Colours contrasting remarkably with the that of the curled, purifying leaves of a whole manner of woodland titans cast downwards weeks before. Most of which, by now, have blended with conker shells and wilted grasses to form a tricoloured mulch of ominous black, mouldy grey and fading brown on the woodland floor.

Looking closely at the trees, it was clear from my latest excursion that it has not been a great year for nuts. Few acorns adorn the sites oaks and both beech masts and cobnuts remain scant. A trend, I fear, which may have a knock on effect on the species reliant on the crop at this time of year and I suspect that, over the coming weeks, both Jays and squirrels will become scarce as they are forced to seek food elsewhere. Unless they turn their attention to berries that is. It has, after all, been a bumper year for fruiting Elder, Hawthorn and Dog Rose – something not lost on the weary Winter thrushes currently traversing the depths of Half-Penny in noisy, roving flocks. The sight of sixteen Redwing on this visit giving considerable hope for things to come, as the season creeps forward and numbers of these vocal travels swell ahead of the continental chill.

Autumnwatch: why I never miss a beat

The three watches’ have become somewhat of a national institution over the years, loved by many for bringing the best of Britain’s wildlife into our homes, whatever the season. Something which they do, reliably, through an enthralling mix of both education and entertainment – seldom falling short in terms of breathtaking imagery, intriguing facts and loveable gags courtesy of the show’s presenters. They stand as a show for everyone, regardless of viewers prior knowledge and I, for one, adore them. And have rarely missed an episode since first tuning in as a lad – even finding a way to watch in monochrome while working in the depths of the Scottish highlands.

As with any TV show, however, for every thousand positive comments I see on social media, there are also negative ones. Usually centered on the show’s depiction of the countryside and its unwillingness to tackle controversial issues. Both opinions I disagree with, though points that have caused me contemplate just why I tune into the shows with such dedication. Thoughts which have given rise to a number of explanations, some of which I thought I would set out here.

Education value. Sure, the show does not bamboozle viewers with a torrent of incomprehensible scientific facts and data –  that would surely alienate a large portion of viewers who, like myself, do not boast roots in the scientific world. It does, however, manage to educate regardless. Making science palatable, when it is tackled – usually by Chris and his graphs – but also through other equally important means. The show helps with the identification of British wildlife, it provides an insight into their daily lives seldom seen by the general public and highlights the very real threats faced by said species. Whether it is discussing the plight of our Hen Harriers – as seen last night – or stressing the negative implications of Edible Dormice. All of which come in addition to a wealth of interesting facts, regarding everything from the migratory habits of our favourite bird species to the number of compounds in a droplet of mouse wee (Fascinating surely?). Having watched these programs since childhood I can say, without a doubt, that I have learned an awful lot from them. And I am sure many others have too.

Inspiration. I am unashamed to admit that last night, following the segment showing Martin eavesdropping on migrant birds, I set out and attempted to do the same – I failed, though I did hear a Tawny Owl on route home. Hooray! Whatever your thoughts on the shows, the watches’ are, without a doubt, highly inspirational. Encouraging viewers to get out and about and try new things – whether this involves developing a new means by which to enjoy wildlife, or visiting a new and previously unfamiliar setting – Who fancies a visit to Arne? I certainly hold the show responsible for my current infatuation with camera trapping and, over the years, have been inspired to visit innumerable far-flung reserves showcased by the shows.

More important than this, however, is the shows potential to inspire on a much more fundamental level. By bringing wildlife into our homes, Autumnwatch and its kin have the power to instill action on our behalf. Action that may, on occasion, directly benefit the nature at the heart programme. Whether this involves the promotion of citizen science projects or the great work of conservation charities. But also, through the direct inspiration of the next generation. The watches’, by making nature accessible and increasing our understanding of it, almost certainly contributing to our desire to protect it. Igniting the spark of curiosity in people young and old, and providing the basis from which many may the plunge into a life in conservation, ecology or education. Viewing in the early days of Springwatch certainly helped set me on my current course of action.

Awareness. Now this one links in with both of the former points but, ultimately, deserves a spot of its own. While the BBC and thus, the watches’ must remain impartial, they do have a knack for drawing our attention to important issues. Providing the basis for future reading and research and thus, the formation of opinions associated with topical issues. Take the segment on harriers shown last night – the show mentioned, absent bias, that the species is suffering greatly from human persecution. While not pointing fingers, this will undoubtedly encourage others captivated by the footage of the birds, to look further into the issue. People who, once satisfied, may then choose to act on behalf of said species. Education and inspiration often lead to environmental awareness, and this in turn, in many cases, may lead to action. Action which is sorely needed in our current, rather turbulent times.

Entertainment. Above all else, the watches’ are some of the most entertaining shows on TV, and I, for one, know that I would rather spent my week nights watching the dramatic hunting display of a Peregrine, than someone baking a cake. Autumnwatch provides all the elements essential in must-see TV – drama, intrigue, feel good moments and, occasionally, surprises. All of which is not merely conjured up for our amusement, but comes from a natural source. The natural world. You cannot get more entertaining than that, and the enthusiasm of the shows presenters goes a long way to amplifying the experience. Furthermore, who does not appreciate a good game of innuendo bingo? There have been some crackers already this season.

In keeping with the Autumnal theme of this post – Waxwing!