Tag: Nature Blog

Chasing Urban Orchids

Few wildflowers capture the imagination quite like our orchids. They’re beautiful, of course, but also sufficiently scarce to provide a little jolt of excitement whenever you happen across one. They are also the only group of plants – to the best of my knowledge – that manages to unite all natural history enthusiasts, whether they be birders, lepidopterists, mammal-watchers or anyone else, under a single banner of botanical appreciation.

I stumbled across my first urban orchid of the year a fortnight past in my local park – a towering and luscious Northern Marsh Orchid rising skywards from the rough grass that adorns the peripheries of my local pond. Inspired, for the past fortnight, I have set about checking the various local sites to which I make annual pilgrimages in search of these vibrant little flowers.

First up, a trip in search of what is usually the most abundant species around me during mid-June: the Common Spotted Orchid. Well, this year, they appear far from common, with only a handful observed at a regular site and none at all at another. Perhaps they have been delayed somewhat by the unseasonably dry spring we have endured? Regardless of the reasons behind their reduced numbers, those we did see looked wonderful, their pointy, lilac flowerheads adding a welcome splash of colour among the alternating greens of the Juncus.

Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii)

If Common Spotted Orchids appear scarce this year, Northern Marsh Orchid appears to be doing rather well. Following the initial sighting in the local park, I have encountered these much sturdier-looking orchids at three sites this week, and in good numbers. Many appear stunted and small compared with the towering spikes familiar from previous years but all maintain their lurid, purple appeal.

Northern Marsh Orchids may seem uniformly ‘purple’ from a distance but, looking closer, the repeated pattern of deep purple ribbons sat atop a violet backdrop makes for quite the beautiful sight.

Northern Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza purpurella)

I have written before about my fondest for Bee Orchids, perhaps one of our most iconic and sought after native wildflowers. Keen to seek out this year’s fix, this week I set off to a favourite local haunt where, in 2019, upwards of sixty stalks of this much-celebrated bloom were observed. A familiar trip which, unusually, ended in disappointment.

Three visits to Silverlink Biodiversity Park over recent days failed to yield a single orchid across what is usually a fairly productive area of flower-rich grassland. Despite the recent rains, the ground here remained baked dry and I couldn’t find a single leaf, never mind a flower.  Here, even the abundant Birds’-foot Trefoil seem suppressed and stunted due to the reason drought and, in the closing minutes of our third trip, we eventually gave up hope.

It was only when my partner decided to look once again at the margins of one of the nearby ponds did our luck change. Here, among the marsh orchids more characteristic of such damp places, two bee orchids stood proud, determined to buck the wider trend on site.

Bee Orchids need little exposition: they’re sublime, intricate and a little intoxicating, the very reason so many seek them out each year. Savouring the sight of the two pioneering blooms, I was simply happy to have enjoyed them for another season.

Hopefully, next year, Bee Orchids will once again rise en masse across this one small meadow. We’ll see…

Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera)

Excitement in the wildlife garden

Wildlife gardening has become somewhat of an obsession of late as we attempt to make our urban ‘yarden’ as appealing as possible to all forms of life, from flies to visiting birds. Hand in hand with this, we have increased the time spent monitoring our little plot, with positive results. Already this year, we have recorded 68 species in our yard!

Now, 68 species may not seem overly impressive, at least when compared to the sky-high numbers achieved by other naturalists in the news recently. For us, however, its a wonderful starting point and provides ample inspiration to soldier on and keep counting! The diversity of life sharing our space now, following a few positive tweaks, contrasting sharply with what came before. The odd bluebottle, magpie and garden snail were replaced by a veritable hotchpotch of wild delights.

Here are a few new visitors observed and enjoyed over the past few weeks…

Fork-tailed Flower Bee

Spurred on by some pollinator-friendly planting, bees have continued to flock to our little assemblage of pots and plants. So far, we have recorded twelve species here with two interesting additions coming in the last fortnight. The first of these an entirely new species for me.

Fluffy, dumpy-looking yet wonderfully agile, the Fork-tailed Flower Bee looks (at least to the eyes of this inexperienced hymenopterist) somewhat like a cross between a bumblebee and one of the smaller, solitary bees. Seemingly scarcely recorded in my area, it came as somewhat of a surprise to catch sight of a male bee zipping about the flower bed one morning.

Boasting a distinct yellow face, these energetic bees are a delight to behold and, fast forward a few days, are becoming increasingly frequent in our yard. The aforementioned visitor quickly flowered by 4-5 more seemingly fixated on plants of the Lamiaceae (nettle) family. I must plant more mint…

An in-depth fact sheet for this species can be found on the BWARS website and is well worth a look.

Fork-tailed Flower Bee (Anthophora furcata)

Patchwork Leafcutter Bee

Just like the former bee, this garden visitor provided a welcome surprise. Roughly the size of a honey bee and boasting a striking clementine underside to it’s abdomen (the females at least), numbers of this delightful bee have built steadily over recent weeks.

Known to favour roses for their leaf-cutting antics, I live in hope that we may soon notice distinct, circular holes in our two garden plants. A few tatty looking leaves a small price to pay for hosting these intriguing little bees.

Perhaps they may even stick around to use our bee box? Fingers crossed.

Patchwork Leaf-cutter Bee (Megachile centuncularis)

Pied Hoverfly

Having recently acquired the incredibly detailed and accessible Wild Guide’s guide to Britain’s hoverflies, I’m slowly getting to grips with this tricky group, and greatly enjoying the hours of frustration as I find myself forced to scrutinise near-invisible wing-loops and ever so slight differences in patterning.

Thankfully, not all hoverflies are a pain to identify and a few days past we were lucky to catch sight of a large, monochrome individual in the yard. A quick skim through the aforementioned publication and the critter was revealed as a Pied Hoverfly, a distinctive migrant from mainland Europe.

Pied Hoverfly (Scaeva pyrastri)

Leafminers

For weeks now we have been noticing the distinct tunnels of leafminers on a range of garden plants, from ligularia to Silver Ragwort. While these remain a mystery, for now, a brief stint in the greenhouse revealed two potential culprits temporarily trapped inside.

Now, if I am a novice when it comes to hoverflies, I know absolutely nothing about flies that do not hover. Browsing a few online resources, however, I have made a tentative attempt to identify the minute beasties in question. The result? Tephritis formosa, a species known to feed on sow thistles, and Trypeta Zoe, a colourful little fly known to favour plants in the Asteraceae family. I am by no means confident in these identifications but it is good fun to step outside your comfort zone now and again.

Trypeta Zoe and Tephritis formosa, possibly!

Chaffinch

Now, I suspect few will share in my excitement over the humble Chaffinch but, having fed birds in our garden for almost three years, this is the first time this species has paid a visit. Recurring visits by a male bird each morning for the last few days providing a welcome touch of the ‘exotic’ among the more regular House Sparrows and Goldfinches.

As I write this, the bird in question is singing from the TV antennae atop my neighbour’s house following a brief stint pecking at his reflection in the bay window this morning. His continued presence makes me very happy indeed.

One of the great things about wildlife recording at home is definitely that the commonplace can equally as exciting as the rare.

A handsome garden visitor…

More tales from the urban jungle

In line with the government guidance, this week, time in nature has been squeezed and condensed. A  few short forays to my local park and innumerable laps of our eerily quiet street the best I could muster while sticking to the law.

Outside, the seasons advance regardless of the turmoil unfolding in human society and the lives of the plants and animals continue as they always have, unchanged by the pandemic hamstringing their human admirers.

The big change observed this week on my local patch was the emergence of insect life. A few sunnier days, a marginal increase in temperature and the floodgates have well and truly opened. Butterflies have been conspicuous, the most numerous of which being Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock. Their presence adds a much-needed touch of colour to life here. They were not alone, however, and Comma too have emerged, brown yet far from dull; while yesterday brought my first Small White of the season.

Much like their more glamourous counterparts, bees to have dramatically increased this week. The few intrepid Buff-tailed Bumblebees now joined by Tree, White-tailed and Red-tailed bumbles, as well as my first Common Carder of the year. The greatest concentration of these furry pollinators being found on a stand of blooming Blackthorn in the centre of the local park – the setting for yesterdays allocated thirty minutes of ‘exercise’. The small white blooms, splayed and smiling, together form an irresistible draw to invertebrates of all shapes and sizes.

Also worthy of a mention on the invertebrate front was my first (ever) Dark-bordered Bee Fly; while a brief solitary bee, likely a Tawny Mining Bee, proved far too quick to photograph. As is often the norm with small, winged beasties.

Walking multiple, circular loops of the park, it was exciting to note at least four singing Chiffchaff. Their repetitive, maladroit song quite literally, music to my ears. Less so the sound of shrieking Ring-necked Parakeets, which seem to be growing more abundant by the day in my neck of the woods. Give it a decade or so and their population here may well mirror that of London.

What of the plants? Well, befitting January promise to educate myself on local plant life, I have continued to keep my eye to the ground. Locally, the fine weather this week as seen many more species set about blooming, and it was nice to note a few firsts for the year in the form of Greater Stitchwort and Cowslip. A small patch of Honesty blooming on the outskirts of the local allotment, clearly an escape from cultivation, was also pleasing to the eye.

But what of new species for current exercise in species diversity? Well, there were a few actually, including Henbit Dead-nettle, Charlock and Garden Grape Hyacinth found growing in cracks and crevices along the neighbouring street. On the slightly more mobile front, Daddy Long Legs and Garden Spider made up the arachnid haul; while I think I have successfully identified my first bryophyte here: Wall Screw Moss, Tortula muralis. How exciting, I hear you say!

All in all, that’s 114 species identified on my urban patch.

Tales from the urban jungle

It certainly feels like Spring has sprung in my little corner of Newcastle: garish daffodils of all shapes and sizes adorn the roadsides, House Sparrows emerge from beneath the slates of terraced homes and cool yet brighter mornings are marked by the fluted notes of Song Thrush and the caterwauling of returning Lesser Black-backed Gulls.

In the small park at the end of my street, the regulars are busy. Blue Tits make tentative inspections of nestboxes lovingly placed by local volunteers, plump Woodpigeons haul twigs back and forward and each tree, whether Ash, Oak or Sycamore, seems to sport at least one bird in full song. On today’s walk, it was the Robins that sang the loudest; although the song of Greenfinch, Dunnock and Goldfinch was audible during the lulls.

There have been a few new arrivals on the local patch this week – new species to adorn the growing list of critters with whom I share my street. Among these, the oystercatcher was the loudest – shrieking at dawn as it circled the wasteland a stone’s throw from home. Doubtless, a suitable breeding site for a pioneering wader. Slightly more demur was the reed bunting – a handsome male – that turned up on the parkland pond, singing amid a stand of reeds no bigger than your average office. Not a bird I had to expect to see in the city when I set out to record the wildlife here.

Also new this week were the frogs – not that I have seen one yet. City amphibians appear far too savvy for that. No, instead I must make do with the leftovers of their nocturnal antics – several globs of spawn deposited around the margins of the pool. A promising sign that, despite everything, frogs still persist here.

Earlier, I mentioned daffodils – the flower of the moment and everyone’s favourite springtime bloom. Not mine, I’m afraid, my efforts this week focused on unearthing (figuratively speaking) other treasures along the path sides and fractured walls of the street. A successful mission, with a few new species for the patch: Green Alkanet, adorned with gorgeous, deep-blue flowers; fuzzy Common Mouse-ear and, perhaps most exciting of all, what I think could be Danish Scurvygrass. A salt-tolerant species now flourishing along the perpetually gritted motorways of the UK, growing here (ironically) outside the local salt storage depot.

Green Alkanet, Danish Scurvygrass and Common Mouse-ear

Plants need not be new to be exciting, however, and this week, the dainty white blooms of cherry plum have reigned supreme. A naturalised species in the UK, this eye-catching member of the prunus family is one of the first trees to spring to life, blooming even earlier than our native blackthorn with which it shares many similarities. Blooms which, at present, are painting my local park a beautiful white, all while providing a welcome source of nectar to the few intrepid pollinators willing to brave the chill and venture out.

The blooms of Cherry Plum in the local park

Well, that’s just about a wrap for this weeks update. Honourary mentions this week go to the Ring-necked Parakeets who, having well and truly colonised the North, appear resident on the street – flying too and fro and never failing to rattle the nerves with their piercing shouts. Somewhat less obtrusive (yet no less colourful), Goldfinches also continue to raid the feeders daily – a welcome splash of colour against a backdrop of aged brick and flaking window frames.

Laying the Foundations of a Wildlife Garden

Our garden (if we can call it that) was a barren old thing. Little more than a few square meters of concrete fenced off and overlooked on all sides by housing. Not exactly what you would call wildlife haven; though things did improve somewhat when we set about making a few small changes last year.

First up, and to compensate for a complete lack of soil, we added planters. Filling these, in turn, with a typical range of garden plants to keep us entertained and a few vegetables to put food on the table. We planted lavender, runner beans, violas and honeysuckle – pretty run of the mill plants which, despite not being planted expressly for the benefit of nature, did entice a few species into the yard. Namely a good variety of pest species (aphids, spider mites, cabbage fly, the list goes on) but also pollinators, and lots of them.

Next came the addition of a 1×1 meter grow bed (for vegetables), and pond in a pot, a few hanging baskets to increase planting space and finally, an as-yet unused bee box. That was that for 2019. A step in the right direction but not what anyone would call a garden suited to wildlife, and something that I hope to change in 2020.

I confess it doesn’t look like much…

Spurred on by a newfound desire to record as many species as possible in my neighbourhood and, of course, do my bit for nature, this year, we’re starting from scratch. The pots will be filled with species beneficial to wildlife and the grow bed given over to native plant species in the hope of creating a small yet mighty meadow. It won’t be long now until we can sow this and hopefully, by summer, we will see a vibrant swath of clover, trefoil, vetch, Ox-eye daisy and perhaps even some more unusual species. If, that is, the seeds of Bladder Campion, Scarlet Pimpernel and Wild Liquorice currently growing in the greenhouse come too much.

Away from the meadow, pot space will also be utilised with nature in mind. A process started in autumn when we crammed every available bit of space with spring bulbs to provide an early source of nectar. Crocus, daffodil, tulip, Snake’s Head Fritillary, English Bluebell, Hyacinth, Snowdrop; they’re all represented and some are even in full flower as I write this. By the time these have passed, it will be allium, Globe Thistle, Buddleia and Lamb’s-ear that take over. Not to mention a plethora of herbs we intend to introduce – thyme and marjoram providing particularly popular last year.

Keen to do as much as possible with a minuscule plot, we’ll also be planting out Red Valarian – ever popular with pollinators and rather beautiful. A slight side motivation for this is the hope of attracting a Humming-bird Hawk Moth into the garden. I did see one across the street last year…

Signs of life in the pop-up greenhouse: Red Valarian, Bladder Campion, Lamb’s-ear and strawberry.

Elsewhere in the yard, the roses, blackcurrant, strawberries and raspberry bush can stay as all boast at least some value to wildlife. Equally, we still intend to grow our chilli and tomato plants but will not be making a concerted effort to ‘protect’ these from pests – all of which, alongside their predators, will be embraced in the hope of some sense of equilibrium forming.

A few other ‘rules’ and ideas for 2020:

  • No pesticides. None at all. Not even an option.
  • Peat free compost only
  • Weeds and botanical colonists can stay- we’ll even leave a few pots vacant to see what turns up naturally.
  • Vertical gardening – we’re running out of space but do have an excess of walls perfect for hanging baskets. More space equals more plants.
  • A sparrow box – a bit of far-fetched idea but who knows!
  • More bug hotels.

As you can probably tell, I am quite excited to see what the new season holds for our little garden (I must start using that word). While our efforts pale in comparison to those of others, I believe it is important to do what you can with the space available to you, in doing so, contributing to the bigger picture of gardens as vital space for nature.

As ever, I’d love to hear any ideas you may have for making further improvements and do hope you will tune in to future blog posts to keep up to date with our progress.

Oh yes, I almost forgot the first few species added to this years garden species count:

#1 Bluebottle, #2 Ivy-leaved Toadflax, #3 Goldfinch, #4 Blue Tit, #5 Robin

Nature has no cue: Our ‘lost’ winters are throwing nature into a state of confusion

As butterflies and newts are spotted in December, earlier than nature intended, scientists warn that species are losing their seasonal cues as winters warm and seasons morph.

The latest data from Nature’s Calendar, the UK’s largest study of the seasons, shows that active butterflies and newts and nesting blackbirds have already been spotted, months earlier than normal.  This may spell disaster for some species, tempted out of hibernation too soon, as our increasingly erratic weather could yet bring fatal plummeting temperatures. And some birds appear to be breeding too late to capitalise on vital food sources.

Lorienne Whittle, Nature’s Calendar Citizen Science Officer at the Woodland Trust said:

“It seems that last year we almost lost winter as a season – it was much milder and our data shows wildlife is responding, potentially putting many at risk.”

“Our records are showing random events such as frogspawn arriving far earlier than expected, possibly to be wiped out when a late cold snap occurs.’’

The project compiles records of seasonal activity, sent in by thousands of volunteers across the UK, such as the first flowering snowdrop in spring to the first ripe berries of autumn. Final analysis of the 2019 data reveals that all but one, of over 50 Spring events it tracks, were early, but by varying amounts.  This adds to our knowledge of how climate change is having a direct and potentially detrimental impact on the survival of UK wildlife.

This is in line with the MET Office’s analysis of the last decade. Earlier this month it revealed that the last decade was the warmest on record, and 2019 was the second warmest year since 1850 when records began.

Some species appear to be falling out of sync with each other because each responds individually and at different rates to rising temperatures.

Lorianne continues:

“It appears that some species are able to adapt to the advancing spring better than others. Oak trees respond by producing their first leaves earlier and caterpillars seem to be keeping pace. But blue tits, great tits and pied flycatchers are struggling to react in time for their chicks to take advantage of the peak amount of caterpillars, the food source on which they depend.’’  

Danny Clarke, garden designer and TV presenter,  is supporting the Woodland Trust in its call for more recorders. He said:  “In recent years I’ve witnessed undeniable changes to our weather patterns. Gone are the times when a freezing snowy winter would be a certainty. Indeed I can count the toes on one foot, how many severe frosts are encountered at this period during recent years.

“Can’t help noticing how many deciduous trees are hanging onto their leaves for longer and on occasions not shedding them. Also, daffodils and tulips show themselves earlier than expected only to be knocked back by a cold spell. The tree and plant world doesn’t know whether to stick or twist at the moment and that’s down to climate change. I know of clients who continue to trim their lawns through the winter period. It’s bonkers mad!”

The project is now in its 20th year and is calling for more recorders to give an even clearer picture of the impact of climate change on our wildlife throughout the next decade. Its database currently contains 2.9 million records, collected since 1736, which are being used by researchers internationally. To get involved, visit naturescalendar.woodlandtrust.org.uk.

Volunteer Valerie Hurst, who has recorded for nearly twenty years, said : “The changes in the constancy of nature give real clues to climate change and are an indicator of climate change that we can all observe. I would say for me the point of real interest is the first snowdrop which seems to come ever earlier in January and the last leaf on the oak which seems to stay even longer into December.”

Some interesting records from the Woodland Trust:

Peacock butterfly. This overwinters as an adult in the UK. We had a record on Christmas eve (Kent) and another on 31/12/19 (Cornwall). In the past 10 years, we’ve only had 2 other December records. We suspect they have woken early due to mild weather in the south of the country.

Red admiral. spotted on a sunny wall on 30/12/19 in the Channel Islands. Only 4 December records in the past 10 years.

Newts. Active newts recorded on 27/12/19 in Cheshire. The recorder comments that they observe the pond every day so we’re confident it’s a good record. We’ve only had 3 other December records in the last 10 years.

Blackbird building a nest. Recorded on 02/01/20 in Wiltshire. The recorder has since commented that the nest is now fully built. In the last 10 years, we’ve only had 1 December record of blackbird nest building in December and only 4 other records that early in January.

Full records and analysis in full of 2019 can be found here 

A Tale of Two Plant Hunts

The Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland’s (BSBI) New Year Plant Hunt is an annual event in which botanists, experts and amateurs alike, head out to record the plant species bucking the time-honoured trend and blooming in the depths of winter. Now in its ninth year, the four-day survey is both great fun and an important means by which to assess how changing weather patterns are altering the behaviour of our wildflowers. If you would like to take part, tomorrow is your last chance, at least until 2021.

Having enjoyed my attempt in 2019, I was keen to once again take part in the NYPH this year. What I had not anticipated, however, was that I would end up leading a group walk as part of a friendly competition here in the North-East between botanically-minded members of the Natural History Society of Northumbria. A challenge that would see an expert group, led by a former BSBI President, no less, traversing the picturesque dune slacks of Lindisfarne; while a slightly less practised group, led by myself, would take on the parks, roadsides, and front weed-strewn front gardens of Newcastle.

Setting out on New Years Day, it immediately became apparent that non-native species would form a cornerstone of our collective, botanical haul. Indeed, the streets of Heaton, my own district of Newcastle, revealed a kaleidoscopic mix of aliens, each having breached the confines of their garden prisons long ago. Red Valarian, tall and lusciously pink, bright yellow Oxford Ragwort and the star-shaped blue heads of Trailing Bellflower conspicuous against the greys and browns of concrete and brick. Looking closer, other colonists became apparent also: Canadian and Mexican Fleabane, Yellow Corydalis and Snapdragon. Later in the walk, Pru, a member of our group, also pointed out a new species for me, Mock Strawberry, a yellow flowering native of South Asia. Newcastle, it seems, like a great many of our cities represents somewhat of a botanical United Nations, boasting species from almost all corners of the globe.

Of course, native species also featured as part of our foray. Mainly the tenacious ‘weeds’ that are widely known to persevere throughout the winter months: Shepard’s Purse, Groundsel, Hogweed, Feverfew and the omnipresent Annual Meadow Grass. That said, it was surprising to find the delicate white blooms of Wild Strawberry clinging on in the relative shelter of Jesmond Dene, a local woodland, and the minute, octopus-like female flowers of Hazel greatly brightened up our morning.

All in all, our merry band of urban plant-hunters finished on an unseasonally high total of 40 species. As did the team roving on Lindisfarne, it turns out. With a great day had by all, it would be rude to scoff at an amicable draw.

Mock Strawberry, Wild Strawberry, Hazel and Feverfew

Fast forward to Thursday and keen to head out with my newly acquired hand lens and Collin’s guide to British flora, and a jaunt to the coast beckoned. What transpired was a lovely (and uncharacteristically sunny) three hours at Tynemouth, ultimately culminating in a grand total of 43 flowering plants. The highlight of which had to be Alexanders in bloom – a regionally scarce species abundant at this site due, I am led to believe, to the culinary taste of the monks who once inhabited the long-abandoned Tynemouth Priority.

Elsewhere, I chanced upon two new species for me: Seaside Daisy and Buck’s-horn Plantain. The former, a native of California persevering along a small stretch of stonework near the priory, and the second, a pretty cool native species whose leaves (at least in my mind) resemble more the serrated bill of a Sawfish, as opposed to the horns of a buck. I am unsure how I have overlooked this plant until now – it’s pretty distinct.

Left to right: Alexanders, Seaside Daisy & Buck’s-horn Plaintain

All in all, this year’s New Year Plant Hunt provided a great opportunity to get out and about and appreciate the diversity of local flora. While also providing an opportunity to learn from and socialise with a number of local botanists far more knowledgeable than I. A win-win!

If you would like to cast your peepers over the results of this year’s hunt or, like me, keep a watchful eye on what others have seen in your area, you can check out the BSBI results page here: https://nyph.bsbi.org/results.php

Winter Walks in the Vineyard, by Frances Jones

The bright sunshine urged me out of doors this Sunday morning, and I pulled on boots and a raincoat in readiness for a walk. Long-standing readers of this blog may recall I previously wrote about experiencing nature in the city. Living in the midst of a built-up area, surrounded by blocks of flats and busy roads, I tried to notice beauty everywhere I went and this would make a routine walk much more interesting, as well as raise my spirits. Earlier this year I left London for the Surrey Hills. It’s wonderful to be here, but I still feel the need to see and celebrate nature. I’d argue many of us do. So here’s what I noticed on my winter stroll.

I walked to the edge of town and found a footpath sign pointing the way. The path wove along the backs of houses, climbing gently through thick mud. I was on the north side of the town, with Denbies Vineyard stretched out on my right and wooded slopes in front. The path was bordered on one side by spindly sticks of hedgerow that silhouetted beautifully against the blue sky. Around the bare twigs curled the soft, silky flowers of old man’s beard, still intact despite the battering they must have had from the rain. Further up, the hedge filled out with evergreens and I noted pyracantha, holly, and brambles still with the odd shrivelled berry. The path now edged round a copse of beech trees. A bullfinch flew across my way, pausing just long enough in the uppermost branches of a silver birch for me to notice its colourful plumage. A blackbird hopped from twig to twig on my left-hand side, and the trees were now leaning towards each other, over the path, to create an arboreal ceiling. The trees in the copse had shed many of their leaves and, after the downpour the previous night, the copper carpet glistened in the sunlight. Over the crest of the hill, th

e path turned into a muddy track that led into the vineyard. Despite not feeling that I’d climbed very high, I had views across to the east, west and north; if I looked due west towards Ranmore I could follow with my eyes the North Downs Way, which came down the hills, around the vineyard, and on across to Box Hill and beyond.

Being outside on this bright winter’s day felt good, and after looking up at the many shapes of the trees covering the hillside to my left, I stomped forward on a path between the vines. The tyres of a tractor had formed troughs in the mud, and these had filled with water, creating a series of similarly shaped puddles that reflected the light. I reached the edge of the vineyard and, as I looked for a way out, was drawn towards a rose that had gone rouge over a wire fence. A stem covered in rose-hips had arched itself over the top wire, and made a beautiful feature of an otherwise purely functional barrier. I hadn’t been feeling very festive, and the bright sunshine and clear sky were almost spring-like, but I was suddenly inspired by what I’d noticed on my walk.  Nature’s festive decorations were out here, bringing splashes of beauty in a mixture of shape and seasonal colour. I wouldn’t be bringing any home, of course, and, like others, I still like to light up my window with fairy lights in December. But getting closer to nature had, again, invigorated my spirits and set me up for the week ahead.

Winter wildlife doesn’t come much better than this

It’s shaping up to be a good year for Bohemian Waxwings (Bombycilla garrulus). Sure, the much anticipated ‘waxwing winter’ – an irregular spectacle marked by the mass arrival of these colourful birds to our shores – never quite came to fruition, but there is still a good number around. Hundreds, as opposed to thousands, yet more than enough to delight those, like me, who await their arrival with bated breath each year.

Locally, waxwings are fairly abundant this winter. A few larger flocks of between sixty and one-hundred birds feasting on berries in urban areas, and smaller groups appearing just about everywhere else: in villages, industrial estates, rural areas and city centres. As of last weekend, one such large flock appeared to have taken up semi-residence in a small, Whitebeam-laden park only a few miles down the road from my front door. It would have been rude, therefore, not to make the short journey to North Shields to seek them out.

Arriving at Laurel Park, a small, urban green space marked by an impressive (and somewhat creepy) statue of Stan Laurel, it wasn’t long before the birds descended. Their chiming, merry calls arriving in advance of their physical form. Filling the ears of the amassed observers – the birders, photographers and bemused locals that materialise wherever waxwings touch down – and heralding the arrival of a mid-sized flock of around thirty birds. All of which quickly took to the treetops, casting a wary eye over the kaki-clad, tripod wielding humans below.

It wasn’t long before the niggling urge to feed eclipsed the apparent cautiousness of the birds and, moments later, the flock descended en masse into the branches of a particularly bountiful whitebeam. Each individual doing their best to toss back as many plump, red berries as possible before the alarm sounded, and the birds returned to their swaying vantage point.

I enjoyed the North Shields Waxwings for a good half-hour, keen to make the most of the spectacle while it lasts. Before this particular band of nomads continue on their berry-fuelled journey elsewhere. Further south perhaps, or inland, where hedgerows and parks are yet to be plundered.

Winter wildlife doesn’t come much better than Waxwings.

An out of focus feeding frenzy

A tree-full of waxwings. Who needs baubles, eh?

Nets Down for Nature: when people power works for wildlife

There is rarely any cause for hope in the environmental field. Indeed, everywhere we look, habitats are being erased, ecosystems dismantled and vulnerable species pushed ever closer to the brink of annihilation. It can be grim, at times, and outright depressing at others.

Every once in a while, however, something bucks the trend – the airwaves this week rife with positivity and triumph, as opposed to shock and sorrow. I am of course talking about the successful campaign launched against the damaging bird netting used all too frequently by developers and local councils to spare them the inconvenience of nesting birds.

The uproar centred on this issue has been unprecedented, taking the airwaves and internet by storm in little over a week. In that time, 330,000 people have signed a petition demanding the netting of trees and hedges by developers be made illegal; countless individuals have bombarded the inboxes of MP’s and councillors [to great effect], and others have resorted to direct action – to the tracking, reporting and even removal of nets – in order to spare nature this latest bout of agony. People across the country have rallied together in disgust and concern and, thankfully, it seems to have worked!

All across social media, examples of people power successfully landing a victory for nature have been apparent. First, there were the tweets of numerous MP’s, including the Environment Secretary, keen to hop aboard the bandwagon and support the campaign. Next, there were the developers, leaping into action to spare themselves the wrath of the infuriated public: nets came down, apologies were issued and promises with regards to best practice were abruptly made. Finally, there was the resounding defeat of North Norfolk Council who, after a failed attempt to justify the exclusion of Sand Martin’s from a large expanse of breeding habitat at Bacton, backtracked remarkably and set about removing nets.

All of this may not seem particularly important in the long run – netting is, after all, a relatively small issue in the grand scheme of things, at least when compared to habitat loss, agriculture, pesticides, persecution and the like. However, like these, netting is a symptom of our societies widespread disregard for the natural world – a sorry sign of the low-value we place upon nature and our tendency to bend it to our will whenever it poses the slightest inconvenience. With that in mind, a victory for those at the heart of the #NetsDownForNature campaign is a victory not just over greedy developers and ignorant councils, but over the prevailing attitude towards wildlife.

The recent uproar over netting has displayed people power at its finest and represents a triumph for those seeking to alter the collective mindset with regards to the natural world. All involved should be immensely proud and I, for one, am grateful to those who took a stand.

 

Common By Nature commended at the UK Blog Awards!

Common By Nature, the blog you are perusing at this very moment in time, has taken the ‘Highly Commended’ position in the nature and wildlife category of tonights UK Blog Awards, and it looks like I owe readers of this blog a whopping great thank you!

Truth be told, I haven’t published much in the way of content this year. That’s mainly because I now write, tweet and read for a living as a communications officer, and therefore, can’t quite face the prospect of spending yet more hours stuck to my screen upon returning home. That said, what I have published throughout late 2018 and early 2019 has clearly been well received and, as ever, I am incredibly grateful to everyone who stops by this blog from time to time.

This blog has been many things over the years and has focused on many different kinds of content. I have ranted and raved, complained and praised, shared sightings and trip reports and, ultimately, endeavoured to communicate my love of the natural world to anyone who cares enough to listen. Just as I was beginning to doubt that I have the time, energy and motivation to keep doing so, this welcome news has changed my mind. It seems some people like reading this blog; thus I’ll continue to post as often as I can! Promise.

Huge thanks once again to everyone who cast a vote during the earlier stages of the competition, and to the marvellous Kate on Conservation who cast the final vote.

An hour in the company of aliens

Britain’s cities have served as the epicentre for countless invasions over the years. Landing sites, if you would, where species from far-flung destinations – East Asia, North America and closer to home, in Europe – gain first a toe-hold before beginning their creeping advance across the land. Here, in the city, the wheels of countless vehicles transport seeds, tenacious pioneers breach the walls of their manicured garden cells and unwitting homeowners provide an endless supply of food, sustaining some feral beings on their quest towards colonisation.

Yesterday, I decided to pause and look. To take a moment to seek out the non-native species with whom I share my street  (a small area of no more than 300m). I must confess, I was quite surprised – many, it seems, find the urban realm much to their liking.

Rising triumphantly between the pavement slabs that line the street adjacent to the fractured glass of the bus stop from which I make my daily commutes, the obnoxious yellow blooms of the day’s first invader add an unseasonal touch of colour at a time when little if anything, should flower. Oxford Ragwort, a native to the lava fields of Sicily, so named for the botanical gardens where the plant was first grown in the 1700s, clearly at home in the cracks and crevices provided by splitting concrete and crumbling wall.

Oxford Ragwort and Red Valerian growing side by side

So prolific is the ragwort here that it is easily the most frequently encountered ‘wildflower’ on the street, rivalled only by the less widespread yet thriving swaths of Red Valerian – another Mediterranean immigrant – which likewise finds the degrading stonework here to its liking. Both do well here, despite an annual dose of herbicide courtesy of the local council.

The invading botanicals here appear to have organised themselves quite well into some semblance of a natural, tiered community. While ragwort and valerian dominate at ground level, Buddleia prevails at altitude: standing tall in neglected gardens, atop walls, on rooftops and even chimney stacks. The dominant species in the sparse canopy of the street which, brick-breaking tendencies aside, I actually find myself gazing upon fondly. This invader, perhaps more so than the others, provides a boon to insects [and those who enjoy them] throughout the summer months.

While I see Buddleia everywhere I look on my street, some new arrivals are just beginning to gain a toehold. Along the railway lines some 25m from my front door, patches of much-maligned Japanese Knotweed have now appeared. In cracks and crannies on the sunnier side of the street, Trailing Bellflower – a native to the Alps – has begun to creep gradually from garden to garden. Each plant set to paint the stonework here a pleasant blue later in the year. There are others too: a passing glance at the exposed soil at the base of nearby lampost revealing a small, nondescript holly-shaped plant. Not our native Holly at all, in fact, but Oregon Grape – a spiny import from Western North America where, in its natural environment, it forms a dense understory in the shade of towering Douglas Firs. It will find no fir trees here – not that it will be deterred.

Heading to the local park, keen to seek out something, anything, which truly belongs, a piercing shriek and a series of gleeful whistles herald the arrival of another uninvited guest. Sure enough, moments later, a lurid green parakeet emerges atop a budding sycamore. A bird hailing from East Asia, perched in a tree of Eastern European origin looking out across a street laden with arrivals of North America, Italy and China… all in one tiny corner of Britain.

Say what you will about invasive species, they do, in my opinion, deserve some degree of respect for carving out a home in what are often entirely unnatural settings. Some are damaging, some are relatively harmless, but all are interesting.

Winter walks in the city, by Frances Jones

I’ve been making a conscious effort, since January 1st, to notice nature in the grey bleakness of the city in winter. One morning last week, buttoned up against the irrepressible sleet and the bitter cold, I was walking fast through an industrial park in South London, having deposited my car at the mechanic. Following my nose, I headed for a gap between two walls, where, sure enough, there was a footpath that cuts through the buildings and then came out, completely unexpectedly, alongside a river. Three long-tailed tits bobbed from twig to twig in a bush in front of me and a robin manned a post on the footbridge. The red, straight twigs of the dogwood brightened the riverbank and the swish of the water over the little weir was a pleasant sound. By the time I reached the bus stop, the sun had come out and the streets glistened after their cold shower.

The following day was a windy one and I took a walk along the river. On impulse, I turned right through a small gate and into the nature reserve that lies between the Thames path here and the road. There’s a steep incline as you scramble a few paces up the bank to join the footpath that follows the edge of the reservoir. I reached the top and caught my breath. For a moment, I felt as if the entire population of ring-necked parakeets had arranged a party in the branches above my head. They were perched at all levels in a plane tree, holding animated conversations with each other. The squawks weren’t going to stop soon so I walked on, the river to my left and reservoir to my right; I was walking through the water, with the security of knowing I was on dry land. Three herons, sitting on three different bundles of twigs, surveyed the world from their watery look-out posts. Two Egyptian geese flew over my head to settle in a plane tree, from where they produced deep honking squawks to rival those of the parakeets. I came down from my river road and through the gate back onto the path, the greyness not bleak, but beautiful in a subtle way.

On Sunday I visited an exhibition at the William Morris Gallery in East London. It centred on the depiction of the garden, of cultivated nature, in paint and textiles. Light shone from the works, not only in the sun-filled skies of one or two but from the greens of the leaves, the lawns and the vines enveloping the brick walls. A painting by Pissaro epitomised the sense of light oozing from the paintings, in which there was often just as much green as yellow. This was a bright, colourful collection and we left inspired by its cheerful optimism. After a mooch around the rest of the gallery, where nature is a constant inspiration in Morris’ designs, we headed out to the gardens behind the house. Despite the bitter cold, a spontaneous desire to be in nature, however, cultivated, seems to have prevailed; we were now really amongst the green, the birdsong and the floral designs that were yet to appear in the formal beds. The light, in the clear sky of the late afternoon, though faded to sunset by the time we reached the road to go home, had lit up every branch and shrub with its brightness. Nature imitating art, imitating nature.

10 Tips for Nature Bloggers

I started this website as a place to express my interest in the natural world and to share sightings and photographs from my local ventures. Truth be told, I never planned to start writing; although five-years in, here I am, waffling regularly about myriad environmental topics and thoroughly enjoying myself.

Blogging, ultimately, is about finding your voice and learning things for yourself, although there are a few things I wish I’d known when starting out. Simple snippets of advice that would have made a real difference throughout periods of uncertainty. To that end, I am thrilled to announce a new collaboration with the wonderful Kate Stephenson, author of Kate on Conservation, bringing you a collection of our ‘top 10’ tips for emerging nature bloggers. I hope at least one may be of use…

1…Research

It takes a lot of dedication and commitment to keep a fact-based blog and, sometimes unwittingly, you may find yourself becoming a trusted source of information to others. If people look to you as an expert on your topic (which is surely the goal, right?!); you better know your stuff. You and your blog can lose a lot of credibility if you write things that turn out to be inaccurate or unreliable. My top tip for keeping credibility is to cover the gaps in your knowledge by interviewing others who do know the bits that you don’t. Guests posts from other professionals work well too — especially if there’s a topic you think you SHOULD cover, but don’t quite have the expertise!

2…Never overlook context and background

Sure; we can’t explain every detail of every issue affecting a species in each and every blog post – but if your aim is to help raise awareness, it’s important to explain the basics at least. For example, those of us well versed in conservation issues are likely to be familiar with terms such as ‘NGOs’, ‘CITES’ or ‘canned hunting’, but if you’re wanting to reach out to a new audience, or to educate those who may not already be a part of this ‘conservation world’, simply explaining: NGOs – Non-governmental organisations; CITES – the yearly Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species of Wild Fauna and Flora; or canned hunting; the shooting of lions for trophies in an enclosed space, known as ‘the can’, can make a huge difference to how effective your writing is.

Also, never take for granted that your readers will have chronologically followed each of your posts! Just because you explained something in a previous post, it doesn’t mean the readers of this particular piece will have seen it, or even remember what it means.

3… Be daring and, dare I say it, controversial

Blogging is a great way of addressing contentious issues and there is nothing wrong with stirring the pot a little, providing you don’t overdo it. It’s a risky business but addressing the polarising issues in the environmental field – hunting, land-use and invasive species, for example – is a great way to bolster traffic and increase engagement. Of course, many of those commenting may disagree with you, but providing you conduct yourself well, there is no harm in addressing sensitive issues. Blogging, in the purest sense, is about generating conversation.

4… But remember, be accountable

Addressing the controversial aspects of conservation is all well and good but it is worth remembering that whatever you share on your blog will reside in cyberspace for years to come. Avoid misquoting or exaggerating for impact and make a point of being able to justify the words you publish. We all must be accountable for what we write, and truly, you never know when your previous posts might remerge to bite you, or at least instigate an interesting conversation in a job interview. If in doubt, don’t do it, but please do not be deterred – there is nothing wrong with holding an opinion.

5…You’re likely to rock the boat

Wildlife conservation can ignite strong emotions; especially as you inevitably end up having to wade into politics (e.g. by the mere mention of Britain’s badger population); culture (you can’t mention illegal wildlife trade without a reference to Chinese traditional medicine) and lifestyle practices (from reducing plastic waste to ethical food choices). These can be very sensitive topics and evoke strong reactions. It’s important to consider all of your responses to negative comments and feedback (if you decide to give any response at all) and to not take personal attacks to heart. Having a strong support network will help here!

6… Remember the blogging basics

Nature blogging may be a niche field and while it is true that our work will never garner the same attention as those in other fields, there is no reason for us to remain invisible. Remember the blogging basics: master the use of keywords and learn SEO best-practice. Learn to use social media like a pro, adapting your content for each platform, use effective hashtags, find relevant Facebook groups and search constantly for new and emerging sources of traffic. Blogging involves an awful lot of time and effort and there little point writing if no one sees it. Don’t be afraid of self-promotion.

7…Network and collaborate

All things wildlife conservation seem to work better when you collaborate with others — blogging is no exception! There are so many brilliant and active wildlife bloggers out there, that are truly making a difference. Together we can only be a stronger voice for conservation!

Whether you’re entering into awards, going to blogging meet-ups, or finding the right people in your field to interview for posts — collaborating with or linking to other bloggers increases your audience numbers, but is also invaluable for gathering inspiration and taking away the loneliness of sitting behind a keyboard! It’s also a good chance to find out how audiences see your blog and to see what other things are happening in the world of conservation.

8…Be persistent 

Blogging is a long game and it is not uncommon for emerging bloggers to feel disheartened by low traffic. When I started out, barely anyone read my blog and fewer still chose to engage with it. Slowly, however, things started to take off. Keep sharing engaging content and give people time to discover your blog – you never know when someone might pick up an article, or when a certain piece may go viral. Keep chipping away, post by post, word by word, eventually, things will start to happen.

9… Don’t dwell on views

Doubtless, all bloggers keep a close eye on their stats: we all like to know that our work is being read, and all love that warm, fuzzy feeling that comes when something we write grows in popularity. That said, none of us is motivated solely by popularity, and ultimately, we all write because we care. We publish content because we have something to say and because we want to achieve something, whether that be education or public awareness. If you have something meaningful to say, say it. Ignore the stats and get writing. To hell with ego…

10…Have your cause at the heart of everything you do

When you’re positioning yourself as a voice for conservation or wildlife welfare, it’s very important that you always come across as sincere. It can be tempting to work with big brands or be enticed by charities and organisations with lots of clout — but do they really reflect your message? I would suggest always looking into the finer details and backgrounds of any companies that you partner with or promote. For example, on my personal blog, I always stand against trophy hunting and have written about this topic on numerous occasions. For this reason, I’ve had to steer clear of certain well-known charities who quietly advocate trophy hunting away from public view. It can be a minefield out there, but research certainly helps!

If you liked this post, please consider casting a vote for me in the UK Blog Awards 2019 by following this link. I’d really appreciate the support of fellow nature bloggers.