Tag: Local Patch Reporters

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.

Half-Penny: signs of the seasons

Traversing the sunny (yet surprisingly cold) depths of Half-Penny this morning, one thing struck me above all else: the bounty of Autumnal fruit. This year, each and every fruit-bearing shrub appears laden with berries, much more so that usual. The stand of Blackthorn that grows, spindly and unkempt, by the entrance to the wood abounds with deep blue berries that grow purple when touched, as the queer powdery substance that adorns them is swept aside. Add to these no end of glorious red Hawthorn fruits, damsons, crab apples, rose hips and slowly fermenting blackberries, and the wood is starting to resemble a rather decadent fruit salad. Ready and waiting for the imminent arrival of migrant birds.

Some migrants have touched down in the past week, another sure sign of the shifting season. The most numerous of these being Redwings, with some twenty noted on the passage in recent days – the distinct seep of roaming flocks audible by dusk, as the thrushes pass overhead, shrouded in darkness. Their larger cousin, the Fieldfares, have yet to materialise; though both blackbirds and song thrush have shown a distinct upwards trend of late. Joined by an apparent arrival of robins (I counted 22 ticking from the shrubbery the other day) and diminutive goldcrests. Of course, given the nature of the season, Summer migrants have not departed entirely, just yet at least. A few Chiffchaff and Blackcap still loiter, while the occasional Swallow can still be seen; though these look set to vanish in the coming days, yielding the skies and treetops to more typical winter fare.

Another sure-fire sign of the not so subtle shift from Summer to Autumn has come from Half-Penny’s Jay population – many of whom can now be seen flying high between the wood and nearby town, as they transport acorns between favoured feeding sites and their Wintertime hoards. This processing of caching – storing food for the harsh days of Winter – is not limited to the sites corvids however, indeed, the many Nuthatches that dwell within the wood have begun to do the same. As have the Grey Squirrels – those glaring icons of invasive tenacity which first colonised the wood back in 2013. Now, they scamper and dig, squeak and chew, as much a part of the wood as the reds that resided here during my childhood. I do, however, have some interesting news on that front to be revealed at a later date.

Finally, we come to another, much more subtle sign of the Autumnal shift in nature: the behaviour of the sites resident passerines. Indeed, tits (blue, great, long-tailed and coal to be precise) have begun to amass into impressive flocks, scouring the wood in search of food. This behaviour thought to be born equally of increased vigilance with regards to predators – sparrowhawks mainly – and the greater ability of a flock to find food, as opposed to a lone individual. Elsewhere, the resurgence of the elusive Willow Tit in the wood provided equal indication of the advancing calendar this week – they only ever appear here around Autumn – while, by the river,  both the Kingfishers and Grey Wagtails appear to have departed the riparian abodes they favour, doubtless off to the coast ahead of the predicted chill. I will miss them. Though the sense of loss that coincides with their departure will doubtless be soothed by the arrival of Winter migrants in the coming weeks. Who knows, maybe this year will once again see Half-Penny graced by the presence of Waxwings, or the river by a wayward Goldeneye.

A not so subtle hint as to the news I mentioned earlier…

Half-Penny: aliens and interlopers

There are many words used to describe species which, through human intervention, have found themselves existing far outside of their historic, natural range. Terms such as invasives, aliens, invasive aliens and nonindigenous species are quite familiar; while a glance at social media often reveals myriad more unflattering phrases: pest, nuisance, menace, vermin – I particularly loathe the latter. Regardless of the terminology applied to them, however, such species have become a figment of daily life in present day Britain: intermingling with and, in some cases, out-competing many of our native creatures. Some are unwelcome, some are accepted and others are ignored entirely; though for many, myself included, aliens and interlopers have quickly become a fact of life around our respective local patches. So much so, in fact, that they appear rooted in the very foundation of the places we know and love. My local patch, Half-Penny, is no different.

Setting out with the express intent of documenting the variety of exotic species thriving, or merely surviving, within the wood, I arrived just before dawn – the bright yet deceivingly cold sunlight just beginning to percolate down to the woodland floor. Bouncing off the palmate leaves of Sycamore and transforming the carpet of native Butterbur and Ground Elder beneath into a mosaic of jaded and rejuvenated greens. Sycamore – a non-native species introduced by either the Romans or the Tudors, depending on the source, so familiar that is often hard to imagine the tree being anything other than a time-honored resident. One alien down.

Further into the wood, an assortment of plump, white berries shone by the side of footpath – a beacon of unfamiliarity, far removed from anything else found within the depths of Half-Penny. I am, of course, referring to the ivory fruits of Snowberry Symphoricarpos albus – a North American species which here, in my wood, has spread like wildfire, now representing the dominant shrub species across at least half of the site. An appealing species, boasting delicate pink flowers earlier in the year that, reluctantly, I have come to accept as a permanent feature of life here. Indeed, it would take a considerable effort to halt its creeping but clearly apparent advance.

Moving forward, the smell of Himalayan Balsam caught my attention long before first glimpse of the the sea of swaying pink blooms that dominates the mid-wood in late Summer. A species familiar to many that needs no introduction: balsam is a blight to native flora yet a handy source of nectar for various pollinators, many of which, today, could be seen hovering deftly around the bell shaped flowers. The internal jury is still out on this one; though less so on the small stand of Japanese Knotweed uncovered further into the tangle. A species which, due to a combination of education and personal experience, I find it hard to look upon with even a hint of appreciation. I doubt said stand will remain small for long, given the tendency of this species to spread like measles. It may have a hard job competing with the already established balsam, however. May the best (or worst) plant win.

Stopping briefly to admire the hulking frame of a Turkey Oak – a much more welcome invader which, year after year, provides a reliable source of delightfully hairy acorns for woodland residents to savor – my attentions soon turned to a yellow bloom protruding conspicuously from amid a riverside depression. Monkeyflower Mimulus guttatus, another invader of American origin which, rather oddly, is the county flower of Tyne and Wear. This species, much like the Turkey Oak, does not appear to be causing much of the problem in the wood; and like the oak with its comical, fuzzy fruit, provides a handy resource for local animals. Demonstrated by the Carder bee buzzing hastily between flowers as I watched, intrigued.

Less conspicuous than the botanical interlopers yet equally as prolific, it was not long before I caught sight of my first Grey Squirrel of the day. An unwelcome arrival which, more so than any other, cuts straight to my heart despite its altogether cute appeal. You see, during childhood visits to the wood, native Red Squirrels were a familiar sight, common even. A trend which lasted right up until 2013, when, to my surprise and distress, I sighted my first grey in the area. An ill omen of things to come later as the latter increased and the former decreased, fading from existence by 2016 – the same time as I began work as a Grey Squirrel control volunteer.

Grey Squirrels are one alien I find it hard to tolerate; not because I see them in a particularly negative light – they are rather endearing, in truth – but because of the damage done to a much-loved local species. I suspect this makes me a frightful hypocrite given my begrudging fondness for balsam and the plants impact upon native flora, though none of us are perfect. Though I wish we didn’t, we all place varying amounts of significance on certain species, often at the expense of others. It’s human nature.

Today I appreciate the squirrel for what it is, a highly adaptive and incredibly successful species. With more evidence of the rodents continued success in Half-Penny uncovered upon my departure. A pile of gnawed hazel shells: a small but stark testament to the changing nature of Half-Penny which, in spite of human interference, appears set to shift further in years to come.

Half-Penny: by the riverside

Today I thought I would try something different and, forgoing the urge to travel in search of nature, opted for a more relaxed approach to observation. Choosing to simply sit, watch and wait in a setting that, more so than any other, has enthused me since childhood: the Half-Penny Wood.

It was the river which held my attention this morning: the water, cocoa brown and flecked with uneven patches of creamy foam, washing past at middling pace as I took up position on a nearby rock. Carrying with it a whole manner of oddities: delicate, fairy-like seeds born of dandelion and thistle, blushed leaves already extirpated from the canopy above and, occasionally, a stonefly – latticed wings glinting in the sun as the insect hitched a free ride downstream. The only sounds to be heard here, at first, coming from the quaint bubbling of the water as it snaked its way around the many boulders dotting the channel, and the mew of a Buzzard circling vulturine overhead. A good start.

The sounds of nature descended and disappeared as I waited by the river, unsure of what exactly I was waiting for yet oddly full of hope. The shrill hweet of a Chiffchaff concealed amid the riparian vegetation and the sharp, singular flight call of a passing woodpecker delivering welcome music to my ears. These initial signs of life followed, in turn, by the varied notes of Robin, Nuthatch and Great Tit and, later, the soothing purr of a Woodpigeon watching suspiciously from the twisted upper limbs of a Wych Elm. Wonderful sounds, each indicative of my love of the wood and her verdant reaches yet all forgotten as a piercing whistle found my ears. A familiar precursor to joys to come as, within seconds, a sapphire blur crossed my line of sight. The bird, a Kingfisher, disappearing as soon as it arrived leaving nought but a smile and a vague sense of accomplishment. I would not have seen it had I opted to walk.

Equally as appealing as the blue of the Kingfisher today was the flush of pink engulfing the river bank to the left of where I sat. The combined result of an amalgamation of the countless blooms of Himalayan Balsam and daintier flowers of Herb-Robert. The flushed portion of the bank, rife with bell-shaped and vibrant blooms, eventually instigating my departure as I set about combing through the jungle of brittle stems in search of life. Life that was soon found in the form of myriad bees and wasps painted white by the pollen of the waterside invader.

To my surprise, most of the bees observed today were Honeybees – buzzing too and fro between flowers boasting a conspicuous dusting of what almost looked like icing sugar. The sight of a few Common Wasps was equally welcome, however, given news of recent declines. I know that, as a conservationist, I am supposed to loathe balsam, and to an extent, I do begrudge the damage it causes. To floral communities, to riversides and human interests. Today, however, with more insects seen around this tiny portion of the bank than during the rest of the outing combined, it was hard to scorn it. This alien botanical may be problematic, but the bees certainly like it and I, personally, quite like the sickly-sweet smell of ombrophilous balsam growths too.

Departing the wood in a hurry, only two more sights gave cause to pause. The first, a conspicuous pile of gnawed, green hazelnuts a telltale sign of another, much more damaging, invader thriving in the wood at present – Grey Squirrels – and the second, a sign of illness. Rhytisma acerinum or Tarspot, as it is commonly called, is a fungi which infects the leaves of Sycamore – turning previously chlorophyllin foliage into a mosaic of black-brown lesions, bordered with yellow. It is quite harmless and does not do too much damage to the tree it infects; though it does make for an interesting picture.

Soaking up Spring on the local patch

Spring is well and truly here and the the last few days have been nothing short of glorious. Invertebrates emerging from hibernation, migrant birds fresh from Africa and a surplus of beautiful wildflowers bursting into bloom – the tedium of winter has been well and truly banished it seems. Of the plentiful wildflowers on show, it has been the yellow ones that are most apparent – Gorse, Broom, Dandelion, Colts-Foot, Lesser Celandine and, of course, Daffodils providing a true feast for my winter-weary eyes. Not to mention the first Ramsons and Bluebell blooms of the season.

My time this week has been split equally between the three habitat types that make up my humble Northumbrian patch; the Blyth Estuary, the dune system between Blyth and Cambois and the cracking stand of deciduous woodland that is Ha’Penny Woods Local Nature Reserve. There has been an awful lot to see here of late so I thought I best jump right into it with a not so brief summary of this weeks antics. I apologise in advance for the prolonged bird-based waffling..

Starting out at the coast and things have proven rather lively of late – each trip accompanied by a light passage of hirundines heading North with some haste. Sand Martins have been most numerous, a good dozen passing by and a further ten now back at a favoured nest side. With these perhaps a dozen Swallows and four House Martins, my first of the year. Wheatear seem to have tailed off after their initial arrival though Meadow Pipit and Skylark remain numerous and a good c40 Linnet have now materalised, seemingly from nowhere. Elsewhere here three pairs of Stonechat added a welcome touch of glamour, a Mistle Thrush foraged amid the wrack – weird right – and a walk around the adjacent scrubby areas provided a hearty mix of common passerines; Bullfinch, Long-Tailed Tit and four Song Thrush perhaps the most noteworthy. A Water Rail here came as somewhat of a surprise however; this individual struggling with a rather large food item which later turned out to be a newt! That is certainly a first and, despite the untimely demise of said newt, was quite interesting to see.

Of course, while visiting the coastal expanses of the patch it would have been rude not to put in a few hours seawatching. Two stints on my favoured dune this last week turning up a decent array of maritime species. The best of these was certainly the returning Sandwich Terns; a count of twelve birds today my highest of the year so far. Gannets continue to feature, as of course do Eider while the two Red-Throated Divers still lurking offshore have now morphed into their impressive summer garb – red throat and all. Other highlights here of late include Common Scoter, Guillemot, Kittiwake, Fulmar, Razorbill and Red-Breasted Merganser while today found me squinting to get better views of a very distant group of Skuas heading north in earnest. Probably Arctic but I will never know. Better still, today found White-Fronted Goose added to my every growing ‘patch list’. A small flock of five birds passing high over head  as I packed up to leave – marking my latest record of this species in the UK to date! I honest wouldn’t have been able to identify them if it wasn’t for their unmistakable barring illuminated nicely by the early morning sun. Not a bird I expected to catch up with in late April.

Moving on to the Blyth estuary and the theme of returning migrants continued here also. Two Whimbrel were noted on two occasions – one of which posed for a rather dreadful ‘record shot’ that can be seen above. A pair of Common Sandpiper were likewise new for the year while the surrounding scrub is now bursting with the song of both Willow Warbler and Chiffchaff. Hirundines featured here also, as did two Avocet while a few Black-Tailed Godwit remain, looking undeniably handsome in their rustic summer plumage. Visitors aside; the pickings have been far from slim on the Blyth. The harbour area continues to hold a few Guillemot and Red-Breasted Merganser, as well as a great deal of courting Eider while elsewhere a quick tally of the more regular waders revealed; 72 Redshank, 32 Turnstone, 20 Curlew, 26 Oystercatcher and a lone Lapwing. Wildfowl wise, Shelduck remain the only numerous species – some 70+ still in attendance. A few Gadwall, Mallard and Teal comprising the ‘best of the rest’ so to speak.

Upstream towards Ha’penny woods things remain similarly lively. Blackcap have arrived back on cue – six males noted on my last venture. Their scratchy call a welcome addition to the choir of woodland birds now in full song. Willow Warbler and Chiffchaff proved numerous here also while elsewhere a quiet hour perched amid the sites vast swathes of ‘Wild Garlic’ produced nice views of Jay, Goldcrest, Great Spotted Woodpecker, Nuthatch and the usual medley of tits and finches. Combing the inland reaches of the River Blyth failed to produce my long awaited Kingfisher though two of each Grey Wagtail and Dipper were graciously received.

Of course birds are not the only thing on offer around Blyth and as usual my attentions have wandered to other species. A snoozing Roe Deer proved enjoyable, as did a the surplus of Rabbits that seem to have reappeared of late. With these, a nice mix of Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock butterflies and at least four species of bumblebee. These however conclude this weeks offerings…

Nine nature blogs you all should follow

It is no secret that I love blogging. Writing about wildlife is a great passion of mine, something that has allowed me to meet and interact with a number of highly passionate individuals, many of whom likewise maintain blogs of their own. At present, rarely a day goes by without at least an hour spent trawling the web, updating myself as to the comings and goings of various naturalists, many of whom put my humble little page to shame with their talent and dedication. With this in mind, I thought I would put together a post highlighting some of my favourite wildlife bloggers, pointing out their respective websites so you yourself can take a look. From accounts of day-trips, opinion pieces and creative writing to local patch reporting and educational articles; the blogs listed below are all fantastic and all worth a gander if you find yourself with time to spare.

  1. Appleton Wildlife Diary – Alex White

A wonderful account of the wildlife seen around Alex’s home county of Oxfordshire and occasionally further afield, written wonderfully and adorned with some fantastic photography. I was first made aware of this site through the BBC Local Patch Reporters thread and have been a loyal reader ever since. Alex also recently contributed a cracking piece to the ‘Rants for Change’ blog, touching on an issue all too familiar to many young naturalists. This can be found here. – It feels me with great pride to see members of the younger generation taking such a proactive interest in natural history.

2. The Reremouse – Morgan Bowers

Easily one of the most eye-catching and attractive blogs I have ever seen but also jam-packed with informative posts regarding everything from bushcraft to species identification and even cookery! Morgan’s site is easily one of the more educational pages in this list and is definitely worth a visit. You may even learn a thing or two, I certainly have. Oh, and if you are a badger lover like I am, this is certainly the blog for you.

3. Barcode Ecology – Megan Shersby

Megan’s blog, much like my own, focuses predominantly on her personal experiences in nature and is simply bursting with exciting trip reports among a number of other things. It has been lovely to follow Megan’s adventures though perhaps more interesting is her tendency to challenge herself each year through her ‘wildlife resolutions’, something I do not see all too often on other sites. Barcode Ecology is also fairly interactive, the occasional quiz popping up to keep readers on their toes from time to time.

4. Kingfisher Blog – Warren Price

Warren’s blog is unique in the sense that it revolves predominately around a single species, the Kingfisher. Both educational and enjoyable, it is possible to follow the lives of Warren’s local Kingfishers through informative updates and superb photography. Seriously, the vast majority of the photos included here are enough to leave you weak at the knees, pin sharp and perfect. Well worth a read.

5. Wild South London – Will Harper-Penrose

Before saying anything about the blog itself, I must first point out that it is Will’s writing style that keeps me glued to his updates. He has an unbridled knack for painting a very vivid picture of his adventures, so much so that it almost feels like you have enjoyed the experience alongside him. Like many of the best blogs, ‘Wild South London’ is an account of the author’s adventures and explorations in nature, coupled with excellent photography and absolute dedication to natural history. A recipe for success in my book.

6. Birding With Gus – Gus Routledge

Another firm favourite of mine, this blog courtesy of Gus Routledge combines very educational posts with accounts of local adventures and is nothing short of a pleasure to read. Anyone with an interest in botany (or birds) should certainly take note of this one. By my own admission, I usually drift off into a stupor whenever plants are mentioned, Gus’s blog, however, keeps me hooked for some reason and strangely, by my standards, I find myself reading about (and enjoying) posts centred around mosses and liverworts!

7. Self Titled – Dan Rouse

It is actually quite surprising that I have made it most of the way through this list without including a blog by another birder. Well, here one is. Dan’s blog comprises the right mix of trip reports, informative pieces and occasional opinion articles and really is a gem. I am familiar with Dan though ‘Next Generation Birders’ and know first hand just how enthusiastic she is when it comes to the natural world. All of this shines through on her blog and it is certainly worth hitting the follow button on this one.

8. Self Titled – Tiffany Imogen

Tiffany is without a doubt one of the most creative and gifted writers I know and each post; whether centred on cooking, various adventures or the dissection of owl pellets is a treat to behold. This is perhaps the only blog on this list that also includes occasional elements of poetry and creative writing, a refreshing change from the scientific mumbo jumbo that dominates some sites out there. Likewise, Tiffany’s flair for art and photography shine through and I cannot stress enough just how much I enjoy keeping up with her various comings and goings. She is also another BBC Local Patch Reporter and I would advise anyone to follow, browse and subscribe to their heart’s content.

9. Daily Nature Blog – Connel Bradwell

*Squeal* Killer Whales – That alone should give you more than enough reason to follow this blog. Connel’s fantastic ‘Daily Nature’ site is unique in the sense that is one of the only international blogs that I follow with any sort of dedication. Combing informative posts from across the pond with tales from the East Midlands, this blog is both entertaining and educational and really is worth a look. Connel is also the only “vlogger” to feature on this little list of mine, his Youtube videos a sure fire way to brighten up even the most tedious of days. Connel was recently highly commended in the BBC Wildlife Blogger Awards 2015, a just reward for a fantastic member of the online blogging community.

Of course, should you find yourself with some free time, you could browse the range of articles contained on this site too…