This month has seen a bit of a change in the New Nature team. Due to the success
of previous issues, we now have three new team members. We have Lauriane Suyin, our Outreach Manager, and Emma-Jo Pereira who is our new Social
Media Manager. I (Scott) am also new and I will be part of the editorial team. We
are all very excited to be part of New Nature and look forward to working here.
We’ve got a very full edition this month with a lot of great content and many new contributors which is fantastic to see. Our regular pieces still remain though, and Adam Canning reminds us what a great month this is for wildlife with his piece on “What to watch for” in September (Page 6). We also have Alix Zelly focusing on red squirrels in “Species Focus” (Page 24) and our very own Elliot Dowding presents the field maple tree as an underrated species (Page 10). Dara McAnulty and Isla Dawn Hodgson have both written excellent pieces on the plight of the hen harrier (Page 16 & 18) whilst Antaia Christou and David Bassett have provided this month’s opinion piece, arguing
both sides of the hunting debate (Page 20).
All those articles combined don’t even make up half of this month’s issue though so we owe a huge thank you to everyone who has sent us articles this month. It has been a pleasure to read your work and we hope you enjoy seeing it in print. Remember to follow us on social media and drop us an email if you would like to be a contributor as we are always looking for new people and new ideas. From the whole team here, thank you for your continued support and we hope you enjoy this edition!
Check out New Nature issue 8 here: goo.gl/SNsmhw Scott Thomson Content Editor
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.
It has been nothing short of a pleasure to work on New Naturemagazine over the past six months: to read and publish the work of our marvellous young contributors and labour alongside the various, incredibly diligent, individuals that currently reside on our editorial team. Each of whom, through thick and thin, have given their time voluntarily to create what many feel is both an enjoyable and appealing publication. This six-month summary providing the perfect opportunity to bid a begrudging farewell to Alysia Schuetzle – our designer – who has done a meticulous job at piecing the magazine together each month; but also to welcome Harriet Gardiner to the team as her replacement. Good luck, Harriet!
It has not been an easy six months, truth be told: the associated workload far surpassing our earlier expectations – leaving many of us scrambling to fit magazine commitments in alongside university, paying work and additional voluntary commitments. Equally, the sporadic flack we have received due to our age limit has been frustrating at times, and outright off-putting at others; though this has not yet proven sufficient to deter us. Nor, I suspect, will it – we do, after all, believe wholeheartedly that a magazine written solely by young people is much needed in current times. These hiccups aside, however, the publishing process has been delightful: the kind words of readers and organisations boosting morale and providing ample motivation to continue long into the future. Indeed, it is starting to feel like we are achieving some of the things we set out to do from the start.
What exactly have we achieved so far? Well, the obvious one would be that we have brought the thoughts and views of over 100 young naturalists into the public eye – with each issue downloaded and read over 1000 times and our online traffic – namely, on our blog – growing daily. This, in turn, has lead to a number of our contributors being picked up by publications elsewhere, thus boosting their portfolio and allowing them to develop further in their chosen fields. This was our main motivation for starting the magazine – to promote and embolden young people – and it is wonderful to see those featured getting noticed elsewhere for their hard work and determination. They really do deserve it, and while many outlets may shy away from publishing inexperienced, younger writers, we will continue to do so for as along as we can.
Our other achievements are more difficult to assess, though with a growing readership and increasing social media presence, I, personally, believe that we are doing our bit to promote important environmental topics and instigate discussion among our readers. Something we hope to build upon by launching our first official campaign in the coming weeks. More on this to be revealed shortly, however, though rest assured, it involves a call to action on behalf of our readers and is something that we feel may make a positive, physical difference for wildlife across Britain. Think small-scale rewilding…
Campaign aside, what can you expect from New Nature in the future? Well, we hope that with the aid of some as yet unsourced financial sponsors, that will be able to promote the work of our contributors further than ever before – something that can only be achieved by increasing our readership. We also hope to build upon our recent success to transform New Nature from a simple online publication into more of a community – a hub where young writers can interact, form friendships, share opportunities and, generally, have a blast. A Facebook group for this has recently been established (see here) and we hope to utilise this more in the future. Finally (and again, this depends on our ability to secure relationships with outside bodies), we hope to offer something more than simply publication for our writers. We hope to provision young people prizes, opportunities and, perhaps at some point in the future, funding, as an incentive to keep up their fabulous work. As you can see, we are not short of ideas…
As with any publication, our ability to bring our ambitions to fruition depends greatly on improving our stats, building our following and increasing our general readership. This is unavoidable, and we hope that by continuing our work, these things will happen naturally. With the way things are going at present, and with more passionate individuals joining our team, it is definitely worth watching this space – who knows where we will be in another six months.
Once again, I would like to thank everyone who has given their time to write for the magazine. This includes the big names in conservation, writing and media who have generously given their time to be interviewed and offer advice to the next generation. Equally, I would like to thank each of the organisations that regularly share New Nature with their following – we really couldn’t do it without you. Most of all, however, I would like to thank each and every individual that reads, downloads and shares the magazine each month. I, for one, am incredibly grateful for your support. I will leave you with a quick quote from presenter and naturalist, Nick Baker:
“I read your first magazine and I love it, I think what you guys are doing is bloody brilliant and I back it wholeheartedly”
After a pretty tedious day of rain, menial work and more rain, I was delighted to receive two loads of good news this evening. The first coming from my University who kindly informed me that I received 71% for my final taught Masters module. This grade taking me to within striking distance of an overall distinction should my thesis go to plan. More exciting, however, was the news that I have been shortlisted in the something different category of the Northern Blogger Awards 2017.
The event itself takes place in Manchester during September and promises – due in no small part to the free booze and grub – to be a blast. Bringing together social influencers, media personalities and, of course, bloggers from across Northern England, the event looks set to be a snazzy one and, in a similar theme to the Living North awards I found myself lucky enough to attend last year, it looks as if I am going to have to unfurl my best suit for another outing.
I am incredibly grateful to whoever it was that nominated me for said award and win or lose, I am delighted to be considered alongside the popular figures in my category. I do not (and have never) considered myself an influencer nor do I profess to do anything other than waffle about nature on this blog, thus I am honoured to have been considered.
Have you heard of New Nature yet? Given the social media storm surrounding our launch and the positive feedback still appearing regularly on Twitter and Facebook, you may well have. If not, rest assured that there is still plenty of time to familiarise yourself with the magazine and the fabulous young naturalists, writers, scientists and ecologists who have helped bring it to life. And who continue to supply us with intriguing articles to be posted online, for your reading pleasure, each month.
The response to New Nature thus far has been nothing short of humbling. With the kind comments of environmental professionals, conservation organisations and, of course, young people allowing us to build up a modest social media presence and, more importantly, a large (and growing) reader base. From our initial feedback, it would seem that many feel we are living up to our initial aim: to promote, embolden and celebrate the myriad dedicated young people working to protect the natural world. And many more feel we have at least produced something eye-catching and enjoyable. This, of course, has left myself and the rest of the team smiling profusely.
With the magazine now in its fifth issue and more popular than ever, it is clear that we are doing something right. With a number of our young writers recently snapped up by paid publications and interest now filtering in from far larger and more renowned bodies, things are looking rosy; though it has not all been plain sailing and, at times, running the magazine has proven outright difficult. With myself and the rest of the team each squeezing in editing, admin and promotion where we can, between full-jobs, degrees, volunteer work and other pressing personal commitments. It has been difficult to stay on top of things; difficult to maintain the high standard set by our first issue and even more difficult to keep up with the plethora of emails, tweets and Facebook messages from aspiring contributors, supporters and external bodies. We are managing, however, and intend to keep managing for as long as we can.
The fifth issue of New Nature has been one of my favourites to date. Perhaps this is due to the fabulous photography included within – including our cover image by the incredibly talented Oscar Dewhurst – or perhaps this is down to the articles. With this month’s interview, featuring the wonderful Lucy McRobert, certainly one of our more memorable to date. Instead of me waffling about it, however, please take a look for yourselves here: goo.gl/N94fUC
For those (under 30) looking to contribute to New Nature you can contact the editorial team at: editorial.newnature@gmail.com – we would be delighted to hear from you.
Before Christmas, while mulling over the idea of starting a youth nature magazine, I did not expect such to ever become reality. Three months back, I would not have dared dream that my idea would ever take shape or that, with the help of a team of gifted young writers, we could produce something others would find both enjoyable and actively beneficial. Well, it looks like I was wrong; at least if this recent post by the ever-inspiring Dara McAnulty is anything to go by.
As we approach our third issue, New Nature looks to be going from strength to strength; with each of the volunteers working on the magazine inundated daily with emails of support, pitches and offers of assistance. All of which are greatly appreciated. The support and advice we have received thus far – from conservation NGOs, societies and individuals young and old – have left us thoroughly reassured. Both in the sense that we, as a group, are capable of producing something worth reading, and that we are doing exactly what we intended to do from the start: supporting, promoting and emboldening the next generation of British naturalists. Yes, we are only a magazine (a virtual one for the time being) but it looks as if people feel there is both a niche and need for this sort of thing. Hooray!
The success of the magazine to date – downloaded over 7000 times already – has set me to thinking. My spare time (and that of Alex, Alice, Alysia and Emily) now occupied by brainstorming as we contemplate just how we can advance the project in the future. Much of which, ultimately, comes down to the prospect of getting New Nature published in print at some point – though we are aware this takes viewing figures and financial clout beyond what we possess at present. It is, however, an aim of ours and we hope to take steps to provide a print version of the magazine in the future.
Obviously, there are questions about how we would fund such an endeavour; especially as we believe that New Nature should be entirely free to read and enjoy. Something which, in itself, seems incompatible with our hopes of getting the magazine into print; although stranger things have happened and I would love, one day, to use the magazine to generate funds. Perhaps via sponsorship, perhaps through donations, or maybe through a mixture of both. Not so the team can make money – both myself and the girls are content to do this on a voluntary basis – but to cover the costs of the website, promotion and so forth. But also, and much more importantly, to reinvest in our incredibly diligent young contributors. Paying contributors may not seem feasible, at present, but I would love to be able to provide prizes, fund adventures and contribute towards important projects undertaken by young people. It is all very pie in the sky at present, in truth, but given the overwhelmingly positive response to the magazine so far, I suspect that with a little graft on our part, and maybe some luck, we may be able to make this happen. And thus encourage young people to do more than just write.
Whatever route we go down in the future; whether we stick to virtual realm or set out sights higher, I feel there is great scope to develop New Nature. To transform the project into something that actively benefits young people; on par or perhaps in cahoots with other wonderfully supportive organisations. It has certainly been rewarding to hear your views on the magazine so far and I would be delighted to receive any advice regarding how we can grow and expand in the future. Please get in touch, but more importantly, please continue to share the magazine with other like-minded people. Tweet it, blog it, email it to your colleagues; it is only with your support that we can make this work, sustain the project and, I hope, meet our aspirations of giving a voice to young nature lovers long into the future.
Sometimes it is nice to just sit still; to abandon the urge to chase nature and allow wildlife to come to you. To wait; a moss-clad boulder, park bench, bank or fallen branch the ideal perch from which to watch the natural world go by, and from which to admire the myriad secretive creatures set to creep into consciousness as the minutes dwindle in quiet solitude.
This is exactly what I found myself doing yesterday evening; opting for an uncharacteristically patient approach to wildlife watching along the weathered banks of my local river, the Blyth. My seat for the duration of my stay – a mere half an hour – a fallen birch; her trunk slick to the touch and crumbling as a result of the trees prolonged and unrelenting decay. This particular tree, a favoured seat of mine for many years now, located midway through the Half-Penny Wood: a cherished childhood haunt that I discuss quite frequently on this blog, and one of only a scant few designated nature reserves in my local area. A rather nice place, in truth.
Waiting, as the light faded and the washed-out tones of the Winter day faded, gradually, into crepuscular darkness, all remained quiet. At least at first. The pronounced trickle of the Nesquick coloured river, rife with sediment, and occasional rustle in the jaded leaf-litter the only sounds to be heard. Abiotic notes, only noticed in my more quiet moments, soon cast into obscurity with a series of shrill screeches from the yellowed riverside grass. A vole, though who knows which species. The rodent clearly perturbed at the presence of some unseen being; voicing its displeasure from deep inside its fortress of rotten foliage.
A Dipper came next – though, as is often the case, I missed it. The electric call of the bird as it passed unseen, a painful indicator as to an opportunity missed. My head, on this occasion, turned the other way; the call heard once more above the soft rumble of water as the small bird, obscured by a bent, passed further upstream. The blow of its departure softened somewhat by the sight of another sought after woodland denizen. It’s arrival marked by a brief serious of maladroit notes as the bird – a bullfinch – dropped into the lower branches of a denuded alder. Watchful yet content at the far side of the river.
Bullfinch have always been one of my favourite birds – so much to that, to my shame, I once considered a tattoo of one. The sight of the splendid little bird before me – plump, rosy red and sporting a delightfully glossy cap – a sight for Winter-weary eyes. A bird table regular whose appeal cannot be overstated: the birds themselves, resplendent in their vermillion finery (the males at least), surprisingly shy and reclusive for such a stocky songbird. Prone, at this time of year, to traversing the wood in small groups, or pairs; and rarely as single birds. The presence of the lone bachelor on this day, in this sense, somewhat surprising. Did his mate fall victim to the Winter weather? Mild though it has been. Or was it the local hawk? Maybe she is just waiting, pink feathers obscured behind the bottle-green veil of needles shrouding the nearby Yew.
Minutes pass after the finch departs, calling once more as it lifts, flying overhead and out of sight in a series of undulating motions. Gone, for now; biotic silence returned to the river and wood once again, albeit momentarily. Broken again with a sharp “zrik” and the familiar sight of a white/brown blur hurtling towards me from upstream. It is the Dipper again, flying back the way it came; seemingly having hit the invisible yet clearly defined force-field that separates his territory from that of the adjacent bird. The unseen territorial barrier than splits this small stretch of river in half – a barrier whose crossing, for the Dipper at least, carries the threat of retribution. Or, at the very least, a serious scolding courtesy of his peeved neighbour. Ready and willing to fight to maintain his borders and thus ensure his dominion over any nearby aquatic invertebrates.
The Dipper passes by in a flash; enjoyed briefly before it fades, once more, from sight. I follow suit, heading home in the same direction. My evening concluded in enjoyable fashion absent the need for far-ranging adventure nor physical excursion. The patient approach, when applied here, as with all places, forever fruitful.
The jaded sun shone, the air felt warm, spring-like even, and a Robin uttered its charactaristic, spritely song from the rusted pinnacle of a nearby fence. It did not feel much like Winter this morning, despite the month. The only tell-tale signs of the season coming in the surf; where the white-horses of the North Sea galloped ever closer to shore before breaking upon the algea clad rocks of the beach.
Here, amid the bubbling white water, purple sandpipers fed. Conspcious yellow feet working two to the dozen as they scurried to-and-fro over the jagged rock, dainty bills pecking and prying incessantly. Their vigour matched only by the black-headed gulls who, further out, danced swallow-like in the surf. Pale wings rising and falling in rapid succession as the birds snatched invisible titbits from the waters surface. Occasionally pausing; their bodies still momentarily, before upending – faded heads obscured as the birds dove deeper in search of food.
The waves kept coming; one after another, their arrival proceeded by a shower of saline spray. The birds did too: turnstones, cryptic colours blending seemlessly with the taupe rock underfoot and, later, ringed plover, masked and petite. The sight before me, one of pleasant coastal familiarity, accompanied by the ever-present chortle of gulls. Herrings and black-backs, the larger members of the Larus genus, far more imposing than the graceful black-heads foraging nearby. Their laughter ringing in my ears as I sat, watched and waited.
Waiting which, eventually, yielded fruit – a pale spectare falling, subtly, into line alongside the silver-grey bodies of its pre-assembled kin. Another gull, yes, but one of alien beauty; of elegance and a softer, much more diminuative appeal. A gull I have not seen here before, nor anywhere else of late: an iceland gull. A scarce visitor to our shores that, like the frost that adorns the ground by night, or the redwings that traverse the hedge in straggly flocks by day, occurs predominately in winter. Pale plumage setting it apart from bodies of its more boistrous cousins positioned nearby – the black-backs – like a lonesome pearl amid dozen shards of jet.
I am rather fond of iceland gulls, and always have been. Birds such as this – white-wingers – adding a touch of the exotic to many a walk in Winter; much as this one, a juvenile, did today. Admired until it lifed, white-primary feathers splayed in the flight, drifting slowly and carelessly from sight. Above the heads of the purple ones, still feeding in the spray, and that of the heron stood motionless in the shallows but a few feet away.
I follow suit, departing my watchpoint. Eyes wandering, breifly, to another winter visitor – a red-throated diver; rising and falling with swift repetition on the more tumultuous expanses further offshore. Far less appealing now than in summer – when its namesake throat flushes a delightful crimson – yet beautiful nonetheless. A sight which, much like the gull, dispels the decitful springlike aura brought about by the sun and the singing songbirds. Reminding me that winter still reigns, and will do for some time now; with the potential for treats such as these set to continue for another few months, at least.
I posted last week with regards to just how fabulous 2016 has been for me, both as a keen naturalist and aspiring nature writer. It has proven educational, at times challenging and altogether exciting. With that in mind, and in keeping with tradition on this blog, I thought I would set myself a few “wild resolutions” to keep me on the right track during 2017: scrapping the urge to be overly ambitious like I did last year. These are things I hope to adhere to, or achieve, during the coming twelve months and I am writing them here, in public, so I cannot back out of them at a later date.
Diversify! As a lifelong birder and butterfly enthusiast, my knowledge and identification skills associated with those groups are quite sound. While I am also quite at home with mammals, dragonflies, reptiles and amphibians, through both academic and professional work. A good naturalist, however, boasts a broad knowledge of the natural world and thus, in 2017 I intent to diversify my interests to include groups I am shaky with at present. While I have dabbled in the realms of botany, moths and fish before, these are perhaps the groups I am least familiar with, and as such, where I will focus an increased amount of attention during the coming year.
Citizen Science! I have always contributed to citizen science schemes: most notably the BTO’s Birdtrack recording system – on which I have now logged some 60,000 records. I have not, however, given such things the attention they rightfully deserve – stupid really, given how much time I spend in the great outdoors. In 2017 I hope to up the anti, so to speak, on my Birdtrack recording, but also to venture further into the recording of additional taxa. Having set myself a easily-achievable target of contributing, also, to the Mammal Societies ‘Mammal Track’ scheme and targeting Lepidoptera through IRecord. May as well use my time in nature for something productive, right?
Write this bloody book! Under the “you don’t know until you try” pretense, I have been toying with the idea of a book for sometime now. And, at present, have drafted my first two chapters and an introduction I feel sounds half decent. My efforts have, however, waned somewhat of late – due in no small part my Masters degree and no end of personal projects. In 2017 I hope to change this, and give said book the time and effort it deserves – it may be in vain, in the long run, if no Publisher will touch me with a barge pole, but who knows. I am enjoying writing nonetheless.
Return to “proper” nature writing! When I started this blog, quite a few years ago now, the majority of my posts consisted of sightings, site-visits and creative descriptions of the creatures with which I spend my time. This seems to have changed during the course of 2016: giving way to opinion pieces, informative posts and frustrated outpourings. While I will undoubtedly continue with the latter during 2017, I feel it is necessary to go back to my roots and work to develop my skills as a true nature writer. Hopefully, next year will see this blog teeming with more lyrical descriptions of wildlife and wild-places. I also intent to proposition a lot more media outlets this year and, ultimately, work further towards my goal of becoming a published writer.
Give birding a boost! Now, this one is just for fun. And, partially, to keep me from going insane as I try to complete the other, more serious resolutions above. In 2017 I intent to bolster my birding efforts: to see more species, build my stagnating list and, when all is said and done, visit more fantastic places. I hope to catch up with the British species I have not let laid eyes upon – *cough* Hawfinch, Nightingale and Woodlark, foremost – and make a concerted effort to Twitch a little more. Spurred on by fabulous encounters with rarities during 2016. What is life without a little fun, eh?
It has become somewhat of a tradition on this blog to, near the turn of the year, dwell momentarily on the high-points of the months past. To look back over my experiences and attempt to rank them based on my own enjoyment – if only for a spot of personal amusement. Truthfully, 2016 has been brilliant year (my best yet): jam-packed with wonderful sensory experiences, great wildlife and memorable moments. It has seen me progress a little further towards goals, involved no end of travelling and, at times, has left me both dumbfounded and reeling. For those interested, here is this years reflective post.
1 – A Scottish Summer
As in 2015, 2016 once again found me in the highlands of Scotland: working as an ecological field assistant for a consultancy firm. A great little job, in truth, and one that saw me living and working in one of the most beautiful settings in the UK. Providing yet another chance to better my identification and surveying skills and, more importantly, allowing me to, once again, immerse myself fully in the best of Scottish wildlife. It really was rather fun.
Here, at various locations, I enjoyed Golden Eagles, Ospreys and Hen Harriers: some of the most enigmatic sights in British nature. I had up close run-ins with Ptarmigan, Mountain Hares, Red Deer and Adders; enjoyed the sight of hunting Merlin and the sound of “bubbling” Black cock. In addition to no end of Crested Tits, Crossbill’s and other highland wonders. It was delightful, though one sight here trumped all others in the splendor stakes: that of an immature White-Tailed Eagle skirmishing with an Osprey over a rather unlucky Trout. The eagle won, of course, and I left feeling thoroughly fulfilled, my love of the Northern wilds reaching new heights – as if that was possible.
Mountain Hare
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2 – Fuerteventura Press Trip
On a surprising note, and due to a kind recommendation from TV’s David Lindo, February found me jetting off to Spain: to the unparalleled region of Extremadura as part of a press-trip involving no end of wonderful, accomplished individuals. It was quite strange to find myself in such esteemed company, more so when the grandiose nature of the trip is considered, though the week was undeniably fabulous. Here we enjoyed Cinnerous and Egyptian Vultures floating on the thermals above us: in addition to Spanish Imperial Eagles, tropical looking butterflies and no end of exquisite scarcities. The experience only amplified by a trip to the Spanish Bird Fair, an interview for their promotional video and, of course, the fantastic cuisine the region has to offer. My inclusion on the trip giving me hope that, despite a few slip-ups, I am on the right lines as far as my career goes.
White Stork
3 – Writing picks up
2016 has also seen me take a few more tentative steps into the realm of “true” nature writing, due in no small part, to the wonderful opportunity to contribute to not one but two of the delightful ‘Anthology for the Changing Seasons‘ books by Melissa Harrison. With my writing here – regarding the Chiffchaff and the Farne Islands, respectively – leading to chance contributions to other outlets including the Harrier and Dragonfly News. The initial feedback from which has gone someway to bolstering my confidence with regards to written word and provides substantial hope for the future.
Blogging efforts also found themselves doubled this year, here, on my own website and elsewhere. With my weekly column on Conservation Jobs going down a treat and opportunities presenting themselves to write for both Blasting News and Environment South Africa, in addition to guest posts for a host of wonderful online content creators. The year also marking my first full 12-month period at the helm of the Wildlife Articles blogging platform, which continues to grow nicely,. What will 2017 hold I wonder? I am hoping for more of the same.
4- Masters Degree
I am not quite sure why, at the start of the year, I decided to undertake a Masters degree. Or, indeed, whether the decision was the right one for me in the long-run. Whatever the reasons behind this choice, however, I am fully enjoying my current course at Newcastle University. Due, in no small part, to the wonderful staff, fantastic course mates and the extremely engaging lectures – really, I have learnt a monumental amount in the first three months alone. Wildlife management is a thrilling topic and, whatever I choose to do in the future – even if I opt for a career elsewhere – I am sure the knowledge gained throughout the program will be a huge asset. And a few extra letters after your name cannot hurt, right?
5 – Living North Awards
2016 also saw me receive my first true award nomination, and found me finishing as a runner-up in the ‘promise and potential‘ category of the annual Living North Awards. A rather esteemed ceremony aiming to highlight and celebrate the phenomenal amount of talent that resides in the North-East – contrary to popular belief. I am incredibly grateful for the shortlisting here, and, of course, my invitation to the ceremony itself – it was divine – having been left feeling incredibly motivated by the whole ordeal. My shortlisting coming off the back of a combination of local conservation work and writing promoting the natural beauty of the region. And, when all is said and done, providing a much-needed pat on the back just as period of self-doubt had begun to set in. It was delightful.
Writing, tweeting and generally posting anything into the public domain is a sure fire way to stress yourself out, though it is thoroughly rewarding. 2016 has been a wonderful year in truth: it has helped refine my career ambitions, seen a number of gains on my part and provided me with a number of fantastic opportunities to better myself. From the chance to contribute to the delightful “seasons” books by Melissa Harrison; to the Living North Awards and my first magazine articles. It has also, however, been incredibly frustrating. Due, in no small part, to my own naivety and, at times, stupidity. I make no excuses, I am still learning, though, I have taken a lesson or two from 2016. Lessons I hope to carry over into 2017, and far beyond that.
Holding an opinion, regardless of the motivations behind it, means that there are always going to be people who disagree, and a great many people who simply do not like you. Often, for simply holding a view that differs substantially from their own. This is fine, providing, of course, you do not rise to counterproductive disputes and remove credibility through rather silly bickering. These people are entitled to their opinion, and sometimes, trying to change that is impossible. You cannot appease everyone, so there is little point in trying such. Being honest is far more important than being liked.
That said, fear of the repercussions associated with holding a view can often lead you to think twice about voicing such, which is folly. You should not be afraid to poke your head above the parapet once in a while, if, of course, you believe wholly in your cause. Even if your views amount to little other than scorn and woefully busy message box. When doing so, and taking a view, it is, however, important to ensure that you broadcast such with clarity. So that your motivations become clear, and you leave little room for speculation (and misinterpretation) on behalf of those who, as mentioned above, do not like you. Or others boasting disguised motives. Do not inadvertently provide others with ammunition and, for the love of god, explain things in detail as opposed to being overly vague. Too many times this year have my words landed me in trouble due to this.
When expressing a view, in text or online, be aware that others will attempt to twist things for their own ends. On occasion, turning a reasonable (if a little naive) article or post into something supportive of their own cause – this is a lesson I must learn, fast, but ultimately comes down to a tendency to take people at face value, as opposed to thinking critically with regards to their motivations. I must also shake the tendency to allow said opinions to be influenced by the sob stories of others, or, indeed, the views of those I perceive to be my betters – whether due to title or experience. Stop being so impressionable, James.
With this in mind, it is important to think objectively at all times, and not to be influenced by mass opinion. Even if taking an alternate path renders you unpopular in the long run. You should not be afraid to take a different opinion, providing you present such in a reasoned manner, and certainly should not be afraid to take the middle-ground once in a while. Especially when you understand both sides of an argument. Though in the eyes of some, this is often worse than picking a side – do not let that phase you. Although, changing your stance, from time to time, is not actually a bad thing. Standing by your guns is all well and good, at times, though pointless when presented with new information. Life is a learning curve and opinions do change.
I spend the majority of my free time outdoors: birding, writing, taking pictures, recording, watching and, occasionally, ambling absent any particular aim. For me, the wilds that lie beyond my front door are a second home. On in which I can be myself, think, muse and hide away from the tedium of modern life. From social media, work, deadlines, noise, concrete and the judgmental eyes of others. The outside world provides respite, plain and simple, though I do, at times, wonder just why – beyond wildlife and my choice of career – I spend so much time caked in mud and surrounded by leaves. With the results of said pondering shown below…
Creativity
As a writer, time outside is vital to my creativity. It inspires, greatly, on so many levels that the virtues of such cannot easily be put to word. New behaviors witnessed and new locations explored providing sensory experiences to warbler about and the colours, sights and sounds of nature providing ample ammunition for my work. With such things providing the basis for further reading and exploration and thus the discovery of facts that broaden both my horizons and knowledge. Something which, in turn, often leads to the discovery of new ideas: from new means by which to watch wildlife, to new places requiring exploration. With nature, ultimately, increasing both my focus and motivation levels beyond that of anything else.
Relief
Some people head for the spa when tensed or stressed, while others simply shut themselves off and engross themselves in a good book or movie. I head for the wilds: to my local woodland – Half-Penny – or to the beach. For me, nothing helps you wind down and forget the woes of daily life quite like a walk in nature. Where the menial problems of life find themselves eclipsed by life and death dramas far greater than our own. The outdoors are therapeutic, almost medicinal, and have a habit of generating that “feel good feeling” that so many of us crave when tensions build and everything seems that little bit too much.
The stress relieving qualities of nature have also been scientifically proven, with those spending time outdoors boasting a lower level of cortisol – the hormone used as an indicator of stress. It really is rather good for you.
Concentration
Everyone is surely familiar with the regular lapses in concentration that coincide with life indoors – when your attention to detail wavers as a result of monotony and boredom. For me, regular forays into the outdoors help rectify this. The intricate nature of our wild spaces – comprised of so many facets it beggars belief – almost always warranting closer investigation, and thus encouraging no end of scrutiny. Training the eyes and mind, so to speak, to peer past the obvious and into the finer aspects of what lies before you. A trait which, proceeding time outside, carries over into daily life. Of real benefit while proof reading, writing, reviewing or any other task requiring a critical eye. With time spent away during such excursions also providing a break from the norm and a change of scenery, making unsavory tasks just a little more bearable when you are forced to face them once more.
Health
Time outside is good for you on a cellular level, we all know this – it helps you stay in shape. Though, for me, the main health benefits of a life in nature center more on the mind. With this point linking in more with the second yet deserving of a place of its own.
Anxiety and depression have a habit of creeping up on you – when things out of your control occur and leave you feeling thoroughly downtrodden. These things are, at times, inevitable. Though the blow can be softened somewhat by nature – which has a habit of putting things into perspective. The hardships faced by our wildlife, humbling and the beauty of the natural world, wholly uplifting. The outdoors provide a place to think in quiet solitude – where one can dwell, cry and vent away from prying eyes – and deliver on the quaint nothingness than so many of us crave. Simply put, nature keeps me sane, and has a knack for greatly increasing my sense of optimism when faced with troubling scenarios.
Belonging
I suspect this is a trait shared with many who enjoy the outdoors, but nowhere do I feel more at home than when out and about in nature. Perhaps this is the suppressed hippy in me talking but I truly feel myself outside. Something which manifests itself in my choice of career, education, hobbies and later, may influence my choice of home. The troubles facing the natural world – besieged on all sides by the fruits of human ignorance – solidifying my resolve and motivating. To such an extent that I feel I must dedicate my time to protecting the places I hold so dear. And, ultimately, gifting me with the quiet satisfaction that in doing so, in standing up for nature, I am part of something far greater.
Happiness
Now, this is the main reason I venture outside, and I suspect it will be for the majority of people who do the same. Outside, I feel happy. I enjoy what I do and gain great pleasure from observing the daily lives of the creatures with whom we share our world. It can be exciting – often overwhelmingly so – as you ogle life and death battles for territory, food or a mate. Nature is thrilling – more so than any TV soap or documentary. While also educational, for those, like me who like to learn, and seldom repetitive. Each day providing something alien and new. With smiles appearing frequently and the warm feeling generated when witnessing something altogether magical, as is often the case in nature, lasting for some time afterwards.
Okay, I confess, I have been a little vocal with my excitement over attending the Living North Awards this week, and over my shortlisting in the ‘promise and potential’ category. I have mentioned the awards quite a few times on this blog and now, having attended the ceremony on Saturday, I am going to mention it once again, for the final time.
The ceremony, held in Newcastle’s St. Nicholas Cathedral, was exquisite. Far surpassing anything this humble nature lover has attended before. And it was both dumbfounding and amazingly gratifying to find myself in the company of so many wonderful, accomplished people. From those committing to outstanding feats of charity to those who manage some of regions most iconic tourist attractions. Everyone in attendance had done something wonderful, for other people or the region itself, and to say I felt out of place would be a whopping understatement. Truthfully, the event was phenomenal: flowing drinks, live music, and amazing food. Indeed, two days later and I still find unable to move courtesy of the sheer amount of venison, pheasant, scallops, pate and champagne I wolfed down during the night. Best to make the most of it though, eh?
On a serious note, however, being nominated and, better still, shortlisted in this category has done wonders for my self-esteem. And while I did not win – the winner, Brandon Bailey, deserves every second in the limelight – it was extremely rewarding to find myself in such company due to my passion for the outdoors. Being praised for doing something you love is a real pleasure, and I am very grateful to Living North for a much needed confidence boost at time when I had begun to doubt my myself and my capabilities ever so slightly. I now feel motivated, perhaps more so than ever before, to double my efforts and solider on with my writing and, more importantly, more desire to do something meaningful for British wildlife. It really is amazing what a pat on the back can do for you from time to time.
Congratulations are definitely in order to Northumberland National Park, for taking home the award for ‘Contribution to the North-East’ and to my partner for making regular forays to the gin bar as I sat and fan-girling over the various award winners.
Anyone who follows me on social media may have noticed the incessant waffling about a new “project” of mine. Well, said project is now coming along nicely and, as such, I thought I would post a quick summary here. Both to drum up support and assess the reaction of the many lovely eco-minded folk I have the pleasure to know online.
Truthfully, I have been toying with the idea of starting an e-magazine for quite some time, but due to other commitments have been unable to progress. Now, however, with the help of a number of fellow A Focus On Nature members, the idea appears to have taken off. And I am pleased to announce that January will, hopefully, see the launch of ‘New Nature’ – a brand new electronic magazine written, produced and edited entirely by young people in the environmental field. Hooray!
The ‘Youth Nature Movement’ really is a thing of beauty and one need only read this recent guest blog by Ben Eagle to see that it is gaining momentum, fast. Groups like AFON and Next Generation Birders have created a vibrant community of young conservationists: offering support, advice and wonderful opportunities for those seeking to forge a career in the field. They have worked wonders for the prospects and even the self-esteem of young people. And, as such, more and more aspiring environmentalists are involving themselves annually. The movement is gaining steam, but, aside from the highly interesting AFON blog – which I really advise you to visit and enjoy – lacks a serious media outlet. This is something that alongside Alex, Laura and Connel, I hope to rectify.
In New Nature, we hope to collate the fabulous work of young people (between the ages of 13 and 30) and broadcast it far and wide on the internet. We hope to create a hub for news and exciting revelations and highlight the passion, dedication and talent of young naturalists in the eyes of potential employers. As well as offering said young people with interesting and, in some cases, useful information themselves. Based on our initial ideas, the e-magazine looks set to contain a huge variety of topics. From conservation news, creative writing, opinion and good news stories from younger writers: to trip-reports, careers advice, interviews, promotions and photography. We hope to highlight the great work of those involved in the YNM: their research, practical conservation work, artwork and much, much more. And while we may have our work cut out for us – creating something of this sort was never going to be easy – the initial tidal wave of submissions and interest has given us hope. It can and will be done.
New Nature will be released online, and made available on our various social media channels (see Twitter and Facebook) – and we hope that it will be shared far and wide on the web. It will, of course, be free and will be easily accessed by anyone with an interest in the work of young people. We sincerely hope that the idea will catch on, and hope that anyone interested would be so kind as to share the magazine -upon its completion – and draw attention, where possible, to our social media accounts. We will also be running a blog to coincide with our release, which should be up and running very soon.
Stay tuned for updates here too, the next few months look set to be jolly exciting…
