urban wildlife Archives

Ladybirds in Newcastle

Keen to further explore Newcastle’s ladybirds as part of the North East Ladybird Spot, last weekend I set off for two local sites that I seldom visit. The first, Newcastle’s Great Park, a new suburb of the city located four miles from the city centre, and the second, the well-known Havannah Nature Reserve near Dinnington.

Arriving at the Great Park, I soon set off for the series of small, well-vegetated pools situated close to the sprawling housing estate. With the margins here chock-full of Bulrush, Common Reed and an assortment of sedges, it looked like a great spot to finally catch up with one of the North East’s scarcer conspicuous ladybirds: the Water Ladybird. Sweeping the margins here, it wasn’t long before I encountered my first – the insect in question now beige in colour, as opposed to red, as is the norm later in the year.

During an hour-long search of the pools, a further six Water Ladybirds were found, though each was difficult to find and spotting them absent aid of a net would have been a challenge, to say the least.

Water Ladybird, *Anisosticta novemdecimpunctata*

Opting for a poke about some nearby grassy areas, it was nice to find a variety of other ladybirds tucked away in various hidden corners. 7-spot Ladybirds were of course the most numerous, followed closely by the smaller 14-spot Ladybird. Several non-native Harlequin Ladybirds were also encountered disguised within the fading blooms of Wild Parsnip. On route home, a duo of 22-Spot Ladybirds were also good to see.

7-spot Ladybird, *Coccinella septempunctata*

Whereas Water Ladybirds had been an ‘expected’ find at the Great Park, on this occasion, they found themselves eclipsed somewhat by another interesting discovery. Exploring the grassland close to the aforementioned pools, the rather small ladybird below was also noticed. Resembling at first a miniature 7-Spot Ladybird, it took a short while to identify this as Adonis’ Ladybird, a scarce species up North that seems especially fond of wasteland sites. A new species for me, no less!

Adonis’ Ladybird, *Hippodamia variegata*

Fast forward a day and on Sunday, Matt and I set off for Havannah Nature Reserve keen to build on the previous day’s bumper haul of ladybirds. We were not disappointed…

Starting out with a search of some of the lusher areas on site, it didn’t take long to find both of the small yellow ladybirds commonly associated with grassland. A single 22-Spot Ladybird was soon found, followed by a number of 14-Spots. 7-Spot Ladybird was encountered here too, this time sheltering among the browning seedheads of Common Knapweed.

22-Spot Ladybird , *Psyllobora vigintiduopunctata*

It was only upon reaching the heathland area of the reserve when things picked up drastically. Here, the small conifers colonising the heath were crawling with ladybirds. Indeed, we counted over seventy individuals during an hour-long search and the diversity on show here was wonderful.

It didn’t take Matt long to find our first 2-Spot Ladybird of the day, while both 7-Spot and Harlequin Ladybirds were numerous. All noticeably tucked away among cones and buds in an effort to escape the weather. More interesting still was the presence of a good number of Pine Ladybirds, a species I haven’t recorded locally since April this year. Small, black and boasting a characteristic flange around the base of each elytron, it was great to see these in any sort of quantity.

A single 10-Spot Ladybird was also encountered here, though this was quickly forgotten as we caught sight of a rather chunky ladybird moving speedily up the trunk of a mature pine. Potting this for closer inspection, it was revealed to be Eyed Ladybird, our largest species of ladybird and a real beauty if that. A species strongly associated with pine and known to specialise in pine aphids, it was little surprise we encountered this striking species here.

Whilst the wetland habitats at Havannah are far more limited than those of the previous site, the good-sized pond here and the riparian vegetation surrounding it looked good for Water Ladybird. Perhaps slightly emboldened by our previous encounter, we soon set about searching and though it took far longer, were rewarded with a single Water Ladybird scooped on this occasion from Gypsywort.

This has been a year of firsts on the ladybird front. Perhaps I am simply paying closer attention, though whatever the reason, the species listed above join Kidney-Spot and 11-Spot Ladybirds, as well as the tiny Rhyzobius litura, to make 2021 a fantastic year thus far.

Time looks to be running out this year but I’ll definitely be setting my sights on other species likely to be encountered in the nearby area. Foremost among these, the eye-catching Striped Ladybird, though Larch and Hieroglyphic wouldn’t go amiss either.

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.

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

Bringing the wilds home: a backyard experiment

The problem with living in any city, whether that be London, Manchester or, like me, Newcastle, is that space is often at a premium. Large expansive gardens and idyllic personal grottos are few and far between and, more often than not, residents are forced to make do with small, confined and often uninspiring spaces.

Living in Heaton, a large urban district of Newcastle, our terraced flat comes with very little land. A small back garden, walled on all sides and entirely covered in concrete the sum of the area we have to work with. Our mundane little plot lacked even a small patch of soil in which to grow something, anything green. Far from ideal for someone who yearns to engross himself in nature whenever possible.

Tired of staring uninspired at bricks, steel and concrete, back in the Spring, and my partner set ourselves a small challenge: to attempt to ‘green up’ our little corner of urban Tyneside. In doing so, aiming to make our space as appealing as possible to as many different species as possible. The sum of our garden wildlife sightings, until this point, consisted of little other than a handful of moths and the odd wandering Magpie.

Starting out…

The cornerstone of any garden the first thing we needed to add in order to make our space wildlife-friendly was, of course, soil. And so we set about buying planters of all shapes and sizes – long and shallow, round and deep, hanging, you name it – collected with the aim of growing as many plant species as possible. Including, we had hoped, at least a few edibles, alongside pollinator-friendly blooms and a few ornamentals. Within a few weeks, these initial pots and troughs had been filled: Honeysuckle, Lavander, Thyme, petunias and Bay Laurel representing the first living organisms to grace our plot.

A few weeks later, and lacking space for any substantial body of water, we opted to add a container pond, planting the admittedly rather unattractive plastic tub with a handful of native water plants – Marsh Marigold, Hemlock Waterdropwort and Flag iris. A mini-project closely followed by another with the addition of two mini-meadows – pots planted with Seedball wildflower mixes – and next, a raised bed suitable for our edible produce. The latter soon filled to bursting with chillis, lettuce, Bok Choi and later, a few more varieties of cabbage. Following this, more plants were added. Taller wildlife-friendly options – Raspberry and Blackcurrant – and a range of low-lying species.

Getting there (I promise Matt did not do ALL of the work)

Fast-forward to the end of Summer and, at the time of writing this, the garden – I finally feel comfortable using this word – looks altogether more pleasant. Looking out of the window this morning, I see pleasant green, not grey. And all in all, our space feels altogether different: uplifting as opposed to depressing. The results of our exploits can be seen below for those interested.

The current state of play…

But what of the all-important wildlife? Did it descent on our humble space en masse, as we had intended? Well, yes. To date, we have recorded no less than 66 new species for the garden. The pollinators arrived first, Tree, White-tailed, Red-tailed and Garden Bumblebees, Honeybee, Common Wasp, Common Carder, Marmalade Hoverfly and Large White butterflies representing a few of the more obvious visitors. Among the more common denizens, a few surprises were to be had too – the unlikely discovery of a small, metallic bee deceased in our new bug hotel heralding the arrival of a species which, before its occurrence here, I had never even heard of: the Bronze Furrow Bee. A species with a patchy national distribution; poorly recorded and not overly abundant.

Next came the Red Mason Bees – now in residence within a crack in our neighbour’s wall – while moth numbers to have increased also. Silver Y, Angle Shades, Setaceous Hebrew Character, Heart and Dart, Light Brown Apple Moth and Large Yellow Underwing respecting just a few of our nocturnal records. A more surprising record coming from a Six-spot Burnet found during the day on our Runner Beans in July – not a species I would often associate with the less than wild streets of Newcastle.

Heart and Dart, Angle Shades, Slug-fest, and a bumble rescue.

Of course, with a range of tasty edible crops planted, it was inevitable that ‘pest’ species would follow at some point. And sure enough, they did: our cabbages were besieged by the larvae of Small White and Diamond-backed Moth; our Honeysuckle fell victim to aphids; we lost an entire crop of Swiss Chard to Cabbage Fly and Yellow Cellar Slugs and Garden Snails were quick to find any seedlings. Interesting species in their own right which, in turn, have sparked an increase in other, much more welcome creatures: 7 and 14 Spot Ladybirds, colourful members of the Ichneumonoidea family, Harvestman, centipedes, beautiful Garden Spiders and fearsome-looking House Spiders. Now, equilibrium has been reached and plants remain relatively damage-free.

For the last few weeks, new additions to our growing ‘garden list’ have followed thick and fast. A fortnight back, we were delighted to discover no less than 9 Painted Lady at roost beneath one of our hanging baskets. This morning, they’re still there; although numbers have dwindled somewhat. Elsewhere, Matt discovered a Buff Ermine caterpillar ravenously consuming our small Buddleia plant and today, a glance in our container pond revealed a few new colonists: water fleas and hoverfly larvae.

Now, I will not go so far as to claim that our little urban garden looks all that nice. Nor does it compare to the micro-rewilding efforts often shared on social media – those wonderful tales of gardens transformed into makeshift nature reserves, gorgeous and incredibly biodiverse. We are definitely proud, however, to have created something beneficial to local wildlife and enjoyable (and useful, taking into account all our veggies) to ourselves. We stand content to watch and enjoy for the remainder of this year and already find ourselves looking forward to amending our space further in the future, so to make more of a difference. Perhaps we will invest in a creeper to cover some of the remaining walls, or just maybe, we’ll expand on our mini-meadows with another of our bargain grow beds. We will see!

On a final note, I must apologise for the quality of the photos used in this article – it seems there has been a problem uploading photos from my phone to the computer. Not that this presents too much of an issue, they still get the point across.

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.

The exotic heart of London

Hailing from the North East of England, to me, a visit to London is much like a visit to a dystopian future. One where geographical boundaries blur and species which naturally should never have encountered one another, stand cheek by jowl in an odd assemblage of the tropical and tenacious. From squirrels, birds and fish to the very trees that make up the backbone of the city’s parks, wildlife watching in London is a queer old affair.

Killing some time between professional commitments upon a recent trip ‘down south’, it would have been rude of me not to visit at least a few of London’s many sprawling parks. And I did: calling first at St. James’s to enjoy its otherworldly assortment of wildfowl – both captive and wild. Admiring the numerous Egyptian geese, hamstringing passers-by for a free meal in the company of feral Bar-headed Geese – originally from Asia – and the odd free-flying Black Swan. Whether or not the latter were part of the parks extensive collection remains open to speculation. Coupled with the odd Mandarin, these helped set an altogether tropical tone to our stay in the capital.

Egyptian Geese

The collections at St. James’s were interesting too, of course. Paramount to any zoo and providing a great opportunity to brush up on my exotic waterfowl ID – with Ruddy Shelduck, Hooded Merganser, Red-breasted Goose, Fulvous Whistling Duck and Ross’s Goose present to name but a few. Not to mention the world-famous Pelicans doing their utmost to delight the amassed crowds. I confess, I was quite taken by them.

Famous pelicans, with bonus Ruddy Shelduck and Red-breasted Geese

Departing St. James’s, we headed for Hyde Park – brandishing an apple so to [hopefully] gain a closer look at one of the capitals most prolific alien residents: Ring-necked Parakeets. We were not disappointed, and after almost an hour of hearing the characteristic, piercing shrieks of this species from high in the canopy of London Plane – another non-native species – soon found ourselves covered head-to-toe in lurid green birds. The characterful parrots just as confiding as the countless pictures posted to social media had suggested: adorning head and arm alike as they squabbled for prime, fruit-stealing position. With some even going so far as to deliver a short, sharp bite when not immediately pandered to – impatient Southerners.

Up-close and personal with London’s parakeets

While some find themselves conflicted regarding Grey Squirrels [we saw an ungodly amount of these in London too] I, like many others, find myself torn on Ring-necked Parakeets. On one hand, they are potentially damaging invasives: killing bats, extirpating native birds from nest holes and plundering food crops. They are noisy, brazen, disruptive and at the base of things, should not be here. On the other hand, they are rather beautiful, and for many in the city, provide a much-needed link to the natural world. One they are familiar with. Honestly, I could not help but feel charmed by the birds and, with their permanent status in Britain all but assured, see no harm in celebrating them for what they are: adaptive and resilient colonists. Much like ourselves.

Parakeets, waterfowl and invasive squirrels aside, I would like to say that I also noted an abundance of native species in London. I didn’t. By large, most of the species seen and enjoyed were colonists – each impressive in their own way. Something which, if little else, serves to help me understand the difficulties faced when we conservationists openly and fiercely discuss the need to control, limit and destroy non-native species. For some, species such as this – the parakeets, grey squirrels and Egyptian Geese of this world – are all the wildlife they know. Little wonder then that some choose to defend them so vigorously. I might not agree, but I do understand.

Chris Packham’s UK Bioblitz comes to Newcastle

Have you heard of Chris Packham’s UK Bioblitz? If not, it’s essentially a ten-day tour of 50 wildlife sites scattered across Scotland, Northern Ireland, England and Wales, conducted in an effort to highlight the extent to which our nation’s wildlife is under threat. With all data collected on the whirlwind tour being used to create a benchmark that will help measure the rise and fall in numbers of different species in the future.

On Wednesday I had the pleasure of attending one such bioblitz as a representative of the Natural History Society of Northumbria and, after a most enjoyable day in the field, can safely say that I had a blast. Sure, it was lovely to meet Chris himself – he may well be one of the most courteous and knowledgeable media personalities I have ever met – but the real joy was watching myriad people, young and old, wholly engrossed in the natural world.

The event itself took place at Havannah and Three Hills Nature Reserve: a remarkable swath of woodland, lowland heath, meadow and wetland located on the fringe of Newcastle. An urban site boasting a spectacular array of wildlife, Havana is both accessible and incredibly diverse and it was delightful to delve a little further into its ecological makeup. With personal highlights including rare Stags-Horn Clubmoss, Willow Tit, Red Squirrel, a glut of Small Heath butterflies and my first Mottled Grasshopper – a common species yet one I have previously overlooked.

Elsewhere at Havana, diligent recorders of all ages sported smiles as they foraged for fungi, ogled Nursery-Web spiders and netted a host of invertebrates ranging from opulent looking froghoppers to familiar Six-spot Burnets. Roe Deer were seen, buzzards mewed overhead throughout our stay and both clegs and ticks made much less welcome appearances throughout. Including one of the latter found lodged on my knee upon my return home.

Bioblitzes are always good fun; though, beyond that, they serve two incredibly vital purposes: they facilitate the submission of vital ecological records to Environmental Records Committees – used to track natures pulse and advise on decisions likely to impact upon the natural world – and they engage and enthuse the public. This event did both, and while I do not yet know the total species count for the day, I do know that many people had a whale of a time. Learning from experts in a plethora of fields in a wonderful outdoor setting, it doesn’t get much better than that, does it?

Staying sane in the heart of the city

Growing up in semi-rural Northumberland, I have long been accustomed to residing in scenic and ecologically diverse areas. I am used to the presence of bustling nature reserves a mere stones throw from my front door and green-fringed streets ringing with the chirrup of Tree Sparrows; I am accustomed to having a garden, complete with frogs, visiting squirrels and jampacked bird feeders; and, above all else, am accustomed to my daily life being wholly intertwined with nature. Never, not once in my lifetime, have I taken this for granted, but such things have long been the norm.

Six months ago now, I moved to the city: Newcastle Upon Tyne, to be precise. A city which, despite its merits, is just like any other: complete with traffic, concrete, artificial lighting, pubs, clubs, shops, bustling high-streets and transport links – all the factors that have come to define human dominion over the land. The soundtrack to my days here made up of anthropogenic sounds, as opposed to natural ones: the hum of engines, the screeching of brakes and rumble of passing metros where once, birdsong and swaying leaves reigned supreme. No longer can I nip out and lose myself in fields, wetlands or woodlands – a culture shock, to say the least, which has uprooted all that I have grown pleasantly familiar with.

Like most cities, Newcastle poses a real challenge for those living within its reaches who aim to create a life built around nature. Here, the rhythm of life is more hectic, commutes are more tedious and less scenic, quiet moments are few and far between and nature, as a whole, appears muted – diminished somewhat by myriad distractions thrown up by daily life. So much so that those who seek wilderness and harmony in nature are forced adopt new habits, routes and tendencies so to sate there lust for a wild-life. Or else risk going entirely mad.

While I have lost touch with the wild spaces I encountered daily prior to my move, I have come to realise that wilderness does exist in the city. Albeit scattered and defined by a new set of rules – far from the undulating hills, sprawling woodlands and shimmering wetlands present elsewhere but here and alive, nonetheless. Of these, our parks are the obvious candidate for adventure, though they are not alone. And wilderness, in its modern form, exists all around, ready to be snatched and savoured in the forlorn space separating railway lines from civilisation; in flowerbeds tended less than half as often as they should be; and in the overgrown, tangled grounds of offices, stores and public amenities. Wildland present among the gravestones of cemeteries, between pavement stones, in window boxes, gardens and lone, roadside trees. Places I would have ignored previously which now keep me sane during my time spent living and working in the midst of this churning sea of man and his creations.

Perhaps we celebrate wildlife more when it is obscured or in short supply? Perhaps we notice nature more when expectations are diminished by circumstance and ecological horror stories about the urban realm? Either way, I now find myself able to delight in the simplest of wild sights: in the pioneering Dunnock nesting in the base of an overgrown roadside Fuschia, in the bumblebees which visit the ornamental blooms adjacent to my house; and in the vibrant flowerheads of Oxford Ragwort poking up through cracked pavement slabs and home to countless, vibrant Cinnabar caterpillars. Small snippets of natural beauty in the heart of the cold, grey city, snatched on my daily ventures which now, after the initial upheaval, balm worry and yearning.

Now, while wilderness in its traditional sense is denied to me by daily life, I have been forced to rethink my definition of the wilds and alter the ways in which I seek them. Here, I must look harder and appreciate all life, regardless of scarcity or grandeur, and in doing so, visit places I would have bypassed, ignorant, a few short months ago. The forgotten places, the “wild” places, home to species who deserve respect and admiration for their resilience, if nothing else – etching out a living in spite of the wholesale changes thrust upon the landscape here.

Staying sane in the city is a matter of optimism and observation. And life here is not all that bad when you alter the way in which you view nature. I could, if I wished, venture forth to the empty, beautiful places I yearned for previously during moments of free time but now, after all this, I am not sure I want to. The intrepid Mistle Thrush nesting in the grounds of Newcastle’s Civic Centre and the fox that prowls the streets of Heaton by night are far too entertaining.

Oh, and erecting a few bird feeders certainly helps too…

An update from the birdtable

It won’t have escaped your attention – at least if you follow me on Twitter – that, just over a month ago now, myself and my partner erected a new feeding station in the front ‘garden’ of his home in the centre of Heaton, Newcastle. Big woop, you might say; though please bare in mind that this is not exactly your typical garden. Rather a 2x2m stretch of cold, grey concrete boasting one measly shrub, positioned right next to a busy road and, worse still, outside and adjacent the front doors of multiple student abodes. Indeed, before this, we were yet to see a bird in the garden. Not a single one. Little wonder really given the constant noise and clamour.

Well, after kitting out the towering stand of cast iron with myriad tasty morsels ranging from sunflower hearts and peanuts, to suet balls and mealworms, I have been watching the proceedings daily – spurred on by claims on social media that, no matter the location, if you provide, they will come. Something that now, after countless vigils, I know to be true.

Sure, given our location we were never going to attract the sweeping accumulations of your typical, rural garden; though what I have observed thus far has been promising. A pair of Dunnocks were first to arrive, now present daily and looking as if they are nesting in the lonely Privet pictured above. House Sparrows came next, and though their visits to date have been fleeting, they are growing in regularity – with the same being said for the Blackbirds and Blue Tits sporadically gracing us with there presence. Singles of Goldfinch and Magpie and a pair of gluttonous Woodpiegons complete the set.

Now, these scant avian visitors may do little to excite readers of this blog: those accustomed to busy feeders and great gatherings of scarce or appealing species in their gardens. To me, however, they represent a victory. A little slice of the natural world right in the heart of the city that can be enjoyed daily – though most often with a coffee in the early morning.

I wonder what will arrive next? My money is on a Robin, or perhaps a Starling; though I did observe a Collared Dove inspecting matters from a neighbours roof yesterday…

Pigeon and Pie – our two visiting Woodpigeons

An Ode to the City

I’ve dedicated much of my time to urban wildlife watching of late, specifically in and around the city of Newcastle – my home patch for the foreseeable future due to a recent change of circumstances. While previously I possessed only a modicum of interest for the nature here, amid the hustle and bustle, perpetual light and clamorous noise of the city, I have been pleasantly surprised by what she has offered me thus far. Specifically, by the wild intrigue unearthed down each alley and sidestreet, around each corner, on rooftops and wasteland alike.

Newcastle is a wild city: a wilderness, not in the traditional sense applied to the rugged coastline of the Hebrides, the windswept heathlands of Exmoor, or even the open expanses of Northumberland closer to home, but a wilderness nonetheless. An urban jungle whose heart beats to the same seasonal rhythm that natural history puritans hold dear in the wider countryside – the tune altered somewhat by the actions of successive generations dating way back to the time of Hadrian, obstructed but never once extinguished. Here, in Newcastle, the players may have changed, as old residents are extirpated, and new ones arrive to fill the void, but ultimately, the game remains the same.

As with most cities up and down the country, the wildlife of Newcastle is not restricted to the rats, pigeons, gulls and geese so many of us have come to associate with urban life. We have all four in abundance, of course, but here too foxes and hedgehogs roam in the shadows, starlings mimic car alarms atop the lofty pinnacles of radio antennae and red admirals sap goodness from windfall apples in carefully manicured gardens.

At the peak of Summer, roadsides and rooftops alike are painted lilac and white by the blooms of buddleia and house martins feed ravenous young in the eaves of the decrepit student houses. In Autumn, the leaves of oak and beech redden and fall; while by Winter, as flurries of snow tumble down in quick succession and ice forms, wildfowl gather on diminishing lakes – ready and willing to exploit the bread fed to them by local children.

The species mentioned above are, more or less, those one would associate with a typical city – adaptive natives and tenacious colonists. In Newcastle, however, surprises lie around every corner. Here, in Winter, Snipe feed on abandoned land too boggy to build on; while common terns haunt the air over parkland ponds, gliding over the heads of fishermen and unwitting walkers alike. Here too Stock Doves share the air with their feral kin, otters move by evening under the glaring light of quayside restaurants and the world’s most inland colony of kittiwakes thrives in the face of adversity and occasional human ill-will. Hidden gems each and all who, alongside their more conspicuous counterparts, form the foundations of the urban ecosystem.

Life for urban wildlife is fraught with difficulties: development, disturbance, degradation; the loss of traditional feeding sites and breeding abodes. There are new predators to evade, invasive competitors vying for scant resources, roads, pollution and, occasionally human ignorance to contend with. Yet, despite all this, opportunity also exists. New food sources, habitats and homes to exploit, generous humans ready and willing to offer a helping hand and, in certain areas, forgotten zones, abandoned by man, providing a home away from home for species of a more rural inclination. The clingers on – relics from a far greener and more pleasant time.

Wildlife watching is the city is not what it seems: confounding and about as far from boring as you can get, contrary to popular belief. Walks here, much like anywhere else in the countryside, accompanied by a sense of quiet anticipation, wonder and hope for things to come. Simply put, it is intriguing, in the finest sense of the word, and truly, you never know what you will find in the gardens, green spaces and grey areas of this Northern municipality.

Scrutinising the wildlife of the city over the past few weeks has taught me a few things: the virtues of patience and an adventurous nature foremost, but also to not accept the norm in life or nature. Not to form my opinions and plan my outings based on the experiences of others, those who extoll the praises of the wilderness and wildland in their traditional sense. As such, and with a certain degree of trepidation – it could all go horribly wrong – I have made myself a promise ahead of the New Year.

In 2018, I will largely abandon the countryside. Forsaking the fields, woodlands and coastal dunes of my regular haunts in favour of a new kind of wilderness – the urban one. In doing so I hope to uncover the secrets of Newcastle, a place I have visited often since birth but fear I have never truly understood, through which natures pulse flows unchallenged throughout the seasons, much as it does anywhere else on our small, crowded island.

Stay tuned…

Waxwing. A city treasure photographed earlier this year. What will 2018 hold I wonder?

The country hawk and the city hawk

In a groundbreaking study on sparrowhawks, scientists have found that city birds in Scotland are more successful than their country cousins. In this study, researchers from RSPB Scotland and the Scottish Raptor Study Group examined differences between populations of the birds in Edinburgh and in the Ayrshire countryside over four years from 2009 to 2012.

They found that territories in the urban environment (Edinburgh) were occupied far more frequently than those in the rural study area (Ayrshire) and that the city hawks also had significantly higher breeding success than the country hawks.

Of the twenty breeding attempts that failed throughout the study, only two were recorded in the urban study area, the rest in the rural. The number of nest desertions was also much higher in the latter. It was this complete failure of numerous nests that caused lower breeding success in the rural sparrowhawk population.

In total, 195 sparrowhawk pairs were located in the two study areas across 117 separate sites or ‘territories’. The paper has been published in the journal Écoscience.

Michael Thornton, lead author of the paper and member of the Lothian & Borders Raptor Study Group, said: “This study clearly shows that urban green spaces, such as parks, gardens and golf courses provide both suitable nest sites and an abundance of prey species to support high breeding success in this charismatic predator, and it is important that we protect these areas for urban wildlife and for our own health and wellbeing.”

Staffan Roos, Senior Conservation Scientist with RSPB Scotland and one of the authors of the paper, said: “Urban environments offer a huge variety in quantity and quality of natural habitats, particularly for bird species such as house sparrows, starlings, oystercatchers and, as this study shows, sparrowhawks”.

“The availability of food appears to have played an important role in the differences observed between sparrowhawks living in the city and those in the countryside. Gardens and parks hold large numbers of songbirds, which these raptors feed on, and the structure of urban landscapes in Edinburgh and other European cities, with parks and woodlands right next to private gardens, provides an ideal hunting environment for sparrowhawks.

“We would like to see further studies carried out, with nests being monitored by camera, to learn more about the impacts of food abundance on these birds in different parts of Scotland. The more we know about various wildlife species, the more we can do to protect and conserve them in future.”

Sparrowhawks were one of the first raptors to colonise urban areas across Europe, in the UK this happened in the 1980s. The European sparrowhawk population is estimated to be up to 582,000 pairs with the UK holding around 35,000 pairs, 12,000 of those in Scotland.

A copy of the paper ‘Breeding success and productivity of urban and rural Eurasian sparrowhawks Accipiter nisus in Scotland’ can be found online here:

http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/11956860.2017.1374322

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