Today witnessed the launch of New Nature Magazine, the new e-magazine written, edited and produced entirely by young people. And what a launch it was.
When I clicked the metaphorical launch button this morning, I did not envisage New Nature going down half as well as it did, in truth. I had hoped that people would enjoy it, of course, though what transpired today has been nothing short of thrilling. And a little dumbfounding. The magazine read and shared hundreds of times and by hundreds of people. The response to our publication nothing short of humbling.
Browsing social media, barely a minute has passed today without chancing upon a positive comment about New Nature. Comments which have flooded in from writers, conservationists, ecologists, gardeners, birders, botanists and everyone in between; including some very notable organisations and personalities to whom I am exceedingly grateful. With the greatest amount of praise directed – as it should be – at the plethora of dedicated young naturalists who have contributed to our inaugural issue. It has been marvelous and I am sure each contributor is as thrilled by the response as I am.
The aim of New Nature, during its development, has always been to promote and support the diligent efforts of young people striving for a career in the environmental sector. From our initial feedback, this is exactly what I feel we have done. Apparently while creating something “professional, enjoyable and marvelous” at the same time. I could not be happier, and would like to thank, once again, everyone who has supported our efforts or contributed thus far! I feel nothing short of motivated to take New Nature to new heights in the future and to attempt to bolster the confidence of young people along the way. Of course, not all liked the magazine, and a minority chose to belittle it out of nothing more than dislike of myself. Bah humbug, you’re not popping this bubble.
Heading forward from today, all I can say on the matter is that you can expect more of the same. You can expect news, opinion and creative writing from Britain’s marvelous young people; you can expect interviews with familiar faces willing to mentor and support them and can certainly – given the skill of our creative director – expect a colourful, fresh and enjoyable read delivered to your inbox each month. Without fail. As things progress, I hope that word will spread; and as it does, that more young people will feel emboldened enough to express themselves in the magazine – ultimately helping New Nature grow into something permanent. Though, in this regard, only time will tell. Though the horizon looks bright and the youth nature movement continues flourish.
For those looking to read the magazine it can be found here.
A few months ago, toying with the idea of starting up an online magazine written and produced entirely by young people, I had hoped a few people may rally to the notion. I had hoped that some may be interested in reading such a document and others, particularly a few notable figures in the environmental field may like the idea enough to support it. Well, as we countdown to the “official” launch of ‘New Nature’ on January 2nd, I can safely say that all expectations have been exceeded. Tenfold. And that I am incredibly grateful to the support we have received thus far.
The logic behind ‘New Nature’ centers on showcasing the natural world through the eyes of the next generation, and, perhaps more importantly, providing said young people with a supportive, open-to-all, outlet for their views. With this in mind, I was delighted when so many people expressed an interest in getting involved and bringing the magazine to life. And as such, must offer resounding thanks to Alex Pearce, Alice Johnson and Alysia Schuetzle for flinging themselves in at the deep end and dedicating an awful lot of time to creating our first issue. It really is appreciated.
The next round of thanks goes to our contributors: to the exceptional young people who, thus far, have contributed no end of passionate writing, excellent photography and other interesting titbits for inclusion in the magazine. Among these, many exceptionally dedicated young nature lovers I am familiar with through membership of A Focus on Nature, but also many more! Reading your work has proven nothing short of inspirational and has filled many usually dull Winter nights of late. I hope that all involved so far will enjoy the magazine and continue to submit articles long into the future!
Finally, I must also offer a huge thank you to all those who have supported ‘New Nature’ thus far. To each and every person who has drawn attention to our efforts on social media, reblogged articles and helped by alternate means. This includes Chris Packham, who has very kindly offered to provide signed copies of his fantastic new book ‘Fingers in the Sparkle Jar” as prizes to our contributors. But also to BSBI, The Wildlife Trusts, AFON and the BTO for helping promote our cause. I hope that, someday, we can repay the favour…
Really, I cannot stress enough how grateful I am for everything that has transpired so far. And I know I speak for the rest of the team when I say that I hope we live up to expectations. Of course, it is going to be hit and miss for a while until as iron out the kinks associated with a venture of this kind but, with your support, we are confident that in the long run, we can create something that is not only enjoyable but supportive and beneficial to our contributors.
I heard a Tawny Owl last night. A nocturnal foray to my local store interrupted by an eerie, frightfully abrupt, yet oddly soothing shriek from the branches of a Sycamore in the local churchyard. A sound which I hear often, both in the countryside and closer to home, amid the houses of Bedlington, that never fails to stop me dead in my tracks. Haunting, to such an extent that it must surely have raised a few eyebrows in prehistory – when our ancestors, absent the comforts of modern life, still had reason to fear what lurked in the dark of our woods and other wild places. I am quite fond of the Tawny Owl.
In keeping with the season – when owls begin to vocalise more frequently as they sure up their territorial boundaries ahead of Spring – and with recent promises made on this blog to talk more of nature, and animals themselves. I thought I would put together a list of facts about this abundant yet seldom seen nocturnal hunter. For fun, mainly, but also as a brief tribute to what is, without a doubt, one of Britain’s most eye-catching and truly fascinating species.
Mistaken identity. The famed and often (wrongly) cited “twit twoo” call of the Tawny Owl does not actually exist, stemming instead from the work of Shakespeare. Who cemented the myth in popular culture with his renowned ‘Love’s Labours Lost‘. The sound actually comes from the back and forward conversing of male and female owls: from the sharp “kewick” of the female and the longer, more drawn out, hooting of the male birds.
A violent streak. Unlike the flimsier Barn Owl and the much more reclusive Long-Eared, Tawny Owls are not a bird to be trifled with. As shown by their ability to oust other species from nest boxes; from widely discussed territorial attacks on people and their ability to take prey species up the size of a rabbit. A violent streak renowned wildlife photographer Eric Hosking experienced first hand when, in 1937, he clambered up to a welsh bird hide and was blinded in his left eye by a particularly feisty owl.
Liquid aversion. Unlike Britain’s migratory owls – our “eared” species, principally – Tawny Owls appear to show an aversion to water. And are rarely observed crossing any substantial water body. This being the reason that the species stands absent from many of our islands – from Shetland, Orkney and the Isle of Wight to name but a few – and, more famously, why they remain absent from Ireland. Where in their absence, the Long-Eared Owl has become particularly abundant.
Copycat. It is incredibly easy to mimic the call of a Tawny Owl by simply blowing through cupped hands. With a study finding that almost 90% of male owls can be tempted into responding this way. Note: Jays too have been known to copy the characteristic call of the Tawny, with some suggesting that they do so as a means of locating the birds during the day, in order to mob them.
Avian assassins. We commonly associate the diet of owls with voles, mice and other small furry creatures, though the diet of the Tawny Owl is, in fact, an incredibly broad one. In urban areas in particular, birds form a large portion of owl diet; with species such as Starling and Blackbird taken frequently. Although birds as large as an adult Mallard and Kittiwake have been reported taken by owls. And tawny owls have also been known to kill and eat both Little and Long-Eared Owls. Often persecuting their smaller kin to such an extent that the species cannot coexist within areas of suitable habitat.
Bad tidings. Historically, the Tawny Owl (and other owl species) was viewed as a harbinger of bad tidings. Associated with everything from witchcraft to the looming threat of death. This negative view of owls continuing for some time, demonstrated by the following, rather breif, verse by Sir Walter Scott: Birds of omen dark and foul, Night-crow, raven, bat, and owl, Leave the sick man to his dream, All night long he heard your scream. An owl, likely a Tawny Owl, also featured as an omen of death in Shakespeare’s “Macbeth“.
Surprise finds. Recently, a ring from Tawny Owl was recovered in Iceland – something which, at a glance, appeared to contrast with usually sedentary nature of the species. However, it later turned out that the ring had been collected from a dead owl by a birder who, in keeping with the quirky style of those of an avian persuasion, then attached the ring to his binoculars. Before traveling to Iceland, where the strap on his equipment broke and the ring was lost and later recovered. Source: BTO.
Turning tables. The Tawny Owl may rule the night here in Britain, but the species has been found to feature in the diet of a number of other creatures. Among these: diurnal raptors such as Buzzards, Goshawks and eagles, as well as Eagle Owls, Foxes and large mustelids. With the eggs and chicks of owls also vulnerable to predation; from rats, squirrels, and even domestic animals. Life for a Tawny Owl is not at all easy.
Hill Hooter. Across its range in the UK, the Tawny Owl goes by a host of different names. With comical terms such as “hill hooter” and “screetch owl” commonplace, and others such as “ivy owl” and “beech owl” used to describe the bird at roost during the day. Derived from the tendency of owls to conceal themselves amid tangles of leaves or within trees in order to disguise themselves from predators.
Kinslaying. Tawny Owls boast an incredibly high level of juvenile mortality, due to a host of factors including prey shortages and predation. Many young owls, however, are also killed by their own parents – as resident owl pairs, desperate to hold on to areas of suitable habitat, attempt to drive out their young. Some studies have shown that up to two-thirds of owls die this way in some years.
Wonderful header image credited to Andreas Trepte, www.photo-natur.net, under the wiki creative commons.
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?
The haunting call of the Curlew is one of the most iconic, and enjoyable, sounds in nature. Especially in Britain: where rippling trill of our largest wading bird evokes images of heather clad, misty moorlands and windswept coastal estuaries. It is a sound that ensnares many, myself included; though one that, sadly, is heard less often these days. With Britain’s Curlew population currently plummeting and the endearing birds spiraling ever close to extinction on our shores – the Curlew subject to a 46% decline in numbers between 1994-2010 alone.
The factors attributing to the decline of the Curlew are not widely known, though a number of explanations have been put forward. Among these, it is thought that climate change, afforestation, changes in farming practice and an increase in generalist predators such as foxes and crows may be to blame. All of which, through a decrease in suitable habitat and an increasingly low rate of nest success, have placed our breeding Curlew under substantial pressure. The situation facing the Curlew in the UK is not bright, nor hopeful, though while the causes of their woeful decline remain open to speculation, the importance of the British population of these endearing birds lies clear for all to see: Britain holds 28% of Europe’s Curlew population, and more must be done in order to protect them.
Thankfully, more is being done. In the form of vital research and monitoring courtesy of the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO). The body working to better our knowledge of the species and provide a sound, scientifically valid basis for future conservation work. Something undertaken through an extensive (and costly) program of ringing, GPS tracking, remote tracking and research. Work which, now more than ever, is vital if we are going to bring the Curlew back from the brink which cannot take place absent public support. This is why, following no end of brainstorming, myself and good friend Sacha Elliott have decided to do something positive and actively support the BTO’s recently launched Curlew Appeal.
When toying with ideas on how to raise funds for the appeal, both myself and Sacha wanted to do something a little out of our zone of comfort, thus something energetic seemed like the obvious choice. We are, after all (and by our own admission), not particularly fit. The reason why we have opted to commit to the Yorkshire ‘Three Peaks Challenge‘ during June 2017. To challenge ourselves physically and a fund-raise for what we feel is an incredibly important cause. We all cherish our Curlew, right?
The challenge takes in the peaks of Pen-y-ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough and involves some 40km of hiking over often challenging ground: accomplish-able in around 12 hours. This is easily the most walking that either of us have done before and will surely prove testing. Especially for moi, a beer-bellied former smoker with a particular aversion to anything that vaguely resembles exercise. It will not be easy but we are determined to see it through.
Prior to undertaking the trip next Summer, we have set up a Just Giving page to raise money for the BTO and have broadcast an open offer for others to join us in our venture. If you too would like to take part, and thus raise both funds and awareness for the fight to protect our Curlew, you can join our fundraising team. While equally, and perhaps more importantly, you can support our campaign both financially – if you can spare the change – or by sharing it with friends, family or anyone else you feel might like to donate. Every little really does help, and if we are to reach our team target of £1000, we will certainly need your help. And would be incredibly grateful if you would consider supporting.
If you would like to donate, or indeed, learn more about the project. You can visit ‘Just Giving’ through the link below. Though Sacha will also be distributing links to her fundraising page on social media too.
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.
The last few days have been hectic; passing in a blur of feathers, arduous bus journeys and exciting new experiences. With countless miles traveled for the purposes of both education and enjoyment, and a newly formed dent in my bank balance as a result of our nations horrendously overpriced services stations (£4.00 for a small coffee, gasp). They have, however, been some of the most enjoyable to date, and as such, I thought I would post a brief summary of recent antics here.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday found me – and the other attendees of my masters course – whisked off to deepest, darkest Gloucestershire to spent time in the company of those behind the UK’s longest running badger study at Woodchester Park. Where a team of experts – I seldom use that term but it is surely justified here – have been working tirelessly, for many years, to better our knowledge of everything from badger ecology to bovine tuberculosis. It was enthralling. The talks and demonstrations we enjoyed, eye-opening, and the dedication of those involved, both to badgers and the betterment of the knowledge surrounding the tenacious mustelids, wholly inspiring. We even had the opportunity to see some badgers first hand, which was nice, as ever. While also being provided with the chance to get out in the field and examine the various signs indicative of the presence of badgers. The beautiful location and a supporting cast of raven, red kite, roe deer and some extremely confiding marsh tits, only adding to the appeal.
In between bouts of badger study, Tuesday also found us paying a visit to WWT Slimbridge, where we received a talk on the threat posed by H1N8 avian influenza. It was exciting to hear about the virus from the horse’s mouth, lets say, though the talk filled me with no end of worry. The prospects following a full scale outbreak of “bird flu” – should it happen – seem bleak, if you are a swan or goose. Though on a more uplifting note, Slimbridge also provided us with the chance to get out and about: to ogle the sites wildlife and admire their extensive captive collections. Hand-feeding Hawaiian geese and various other assorted critters, while enjoyable, coming second to the appeal of the wider reserve. And during our stay I was left feeling altogether giddy by the sight of Bewick’s Swans – a year tick – and Pochard, Pintail and other wildfowl species in numbers far surpassing anything I have seen before. It was great, though I still have not seen a crane in the wild…
Fast forward to Thursday and arriving home in Newcastle, word greeted me that a friend was heading south in an effort to catch up with the Dusky Thrush currently delighting crowds around Beeley, Derbyshire. I couldn’t resist – setting off early in the morning and soon finding myself nestled amid the crowd of camo-clad birders swarming around the Siberian vagrant. The bird itself was delightful, showing intermittently for the duration of our stay. It’s plumage knocking me aback a little, far more pleasing that what I had expected based on the photos of others. The encounter made all the better by a catch-up with a number of birders I had not seen in many years, and a few faces recognized from Twitter. Dusky Thrush – only the 13th record for Britain – concluding the year in style, following many more fantastic rarities observed during 2016. But I will post more on that later.
Back home, the garden Wood Mice continue to delight…
Last week I posted with regards to aspiring conservationists, offering some advice towards those seeking a career in the environmental sector. Part one proved somewhat popular and can be found HERE for those interested. And, following on from this, this post will cover the remaining points not included within last week. For those who have commented that my last post was rather aggressive, I stress, again, that these are my own views and are not intended to insult nor offend anyone. And any gags are intended firmly tounge in cheek.
Read
This links in rather well to a few points mentioned in part one but deserves a place of its own nonetheless. Flicking through the Powerpoint slides from a recent lecture or halfheartedly scouring a scientific paper to help with a troublesome assignment is not near enough to provision you with the knowledge necessary to advance in conservation.
Reading is a key skill, and whether you favour journals, field guides, conference proceedings or indeed, creative nature writing, it is a great way to broaden your horizons. Through time spent engrossed in the pages of a book you can find motivation, inspiration and even learn a thing or two (who would have thought eh?). You also show an interest outside of what you have been instructed, under duress, to do. Thus making yourself look “passionate” and rather knowledgeable. The lack of aspiring who read, outside of lessons, is scary. And while the internet is fast becoming the go-to resource for all things ecological, you still cannot beat a good book for enlightenment.
Abandon The Monochrome Mindset
From an early age nature lovers are actively encouraged to think in black and white. To view select groups of people, whether they be poachers, gamekeepers, developers or farmers, as the metaphorical bad guys. Those people who, through their own “selfish” actions, work to the detriment of our wildlife. On occasion.
Many progress to university and beyond still boasting this mindset. And while we do, from time to time, have to do battle with the aforementioned “bad guys”, it sometimes pays to be compassionate, or at least understanding, as to the plight and requirements of others. In many cases, very little is achieved through antagonising people you view as the enemy, and more often that not, you will have to compromise and work towards a solution that benefits both man and beast. The ability to engage with and talk to those of an opposing view is an essential skill in conservation, particularly when trying to persuade someone to stop a particular action. And reasoned debate has a habit of bearing fruit where counterproductive slanging matches do not. By all means, stand by your guns, but please be willing to engage productively with those of contrasting mindsets. We conservationists are a minority in modern society after all and cannot fight on all fronts.
Anyways, most of us will, at one stage or another, find ourselves working alongside these people from time to time, thus it pays to be civil.
Think Critically
Critical thought is one of those things every self-respecting lecturer, professor and teacher drums into their students from an early age. It is an important skill in most jobs, and about as vital as they come in the environmental field. The ability to not take research, press releases or other forms of information at face value, and to question, internally, every from the findings of scientific reports and survey methodologies to legislative decisions. People are often disingenuous, even in conservation, and even the best of us are prone to telling the odd porky to achieve our individual goals or back up an opinion. It pays to be cautious.
No matter what you are reading, or who you are talking to, approach the issue absent bias – listen to what is said and think about how you could do it better. Question the motivations of said people, ask questions and critique. The only way to improve on existing knowledge is to identify flaws and work to rectify them. Do you know of a better way to gain data on a certain topic? Work on it, accepting the status quo in conservation is a sure fire way to achieve nothing. And sometimes it pays to take a risk, think big and challenge the big wigs in your particular field. But please, bare in mind the fine line between critical interest and being a pain. No one likes a know-it-all.
Conservation Is Not Rosy
If you think a career in conservation consists of little more than frolicking blissfully in the woods or hugging fluffy animals, then the chances are, it is not for you. Many, many people seem to lump conservationists and animal rights activists, but while ethics are, of course, rather important, conservation often involves a great deal of seemingly brutal acts. Acts which, while distasteful, ultimately work to the betterment of the natural world. We shoot species to protect others, trap invasive species, orchestrate exterminations and much more. This may disillusion some, but in our current turbulent times, killing is part of conservation. Whether we like it or not. And whether you are working abroad, trapping rats on a far-flung island or exterminating Cane Toads, or at home, shooting Grey Squirrels or deer, it pays to think objectively at all times. And not to throw a tantrum when asked to do something that goes against your better nature – most of the time at least, it really is for the greater good.
Also (and I have, believe it or not, encountered this) if you are afraid to get wet, dirty or otherwise, the chances are, a job in the field is not for you. There is a reason most successful conservationists spend 99% of their time looking dreadful…
Have Fun
Despite the at times grievous, soul-crushing lows, conservation is one of the most enjoyable, heartwarming, amazing careers around. It is fun, plain and simple. And one of only a select few jobs where you can say, without a doubt, that you have contributed to an important cause. It is a career of soaring highs – as you watch creatures thrive as a result of our dedicated work – and resounding successes. As we stamp out the evils that imperil the creatures we hold dear. It is educational, each and every day providing something new and exciting: uplifting, rewarding and fabulous. You will see amazing things, witness spectacles few others could possibly dream of and reap the rewards of a life in the outdoors. It is well worth the effort, once you get past the frustration, anger and perpetual bouts of hopelessness. I really would advise everyone interested to commit.
With the world and its wildlife in an altogether precarious state at present, never before has there been a greater need for people to protect it. The enduring decline of biodiversity and the prophesied collapse of our natural environment, mercifully, coming at a time when a career in conservation appears rather fashionable. Now, more people than ever are jumping through the hoops of education with the ultimate aim of working in the environmental field. A trend which should be celebrated by all.
That said, for every successful young conservationist, many more find themselves floundering in the dreaded post-university abyss. Frustrated, and unable to progress in the direction they so desire. This itself really is not all that bad – we have, after all, all been there at one stage or another. Though when I hear students (and graduates) complaining about the “competitive” nature of sector and the lack of available job opportunities, I do find myself getting a little frustrated at times. Particularly when some of those complaining do so only after sailing through their respective undergraduate degrees in a giddy haze of booze, inactivity, and poor decisions. Below are a few things I often say to such people – intended with all due respect, of course.
It’s not all about Pandas.
From my experience as an undergraduate, the majority of people enroll on conservation courses because they desire to work overseas: because they wish to give their all in the pursuit of Pandas, Tigers, Elephants and other grandiose species seen regularly on TV. This is all well and good, but you cannot expect such opportunities to fall into your lap. To get there you are going to have to work with bats, birds, fungi, lichen, snails and even moss – you are going to have to get your hands dirty with species seemingly less desirable than those that feature in your ecological wet dreams. Realistically, given the sheer volume of people currently working on the larger, charismatic animals, you are going to have to start small and show your dedication elsewhere. Sulking or, worse still, quitting when things do not immediately go your way is a sure fire way not to achieve your dreams. It pays to be realistic.
Anyways, sometimes it is possible to do the greatest good by thinking “outside of the box”. Many and more species need our help, from bees and worms to no end of embattled red-list plants. These creatures are equally worthy of our attention and by considering them you broaden your horizons and ascertain a niche. Individualism is often a bonus when trying to get noticed amid a crowd.
Stop volunteering “with” animals.
Now this one really annoys me at times. Just because you have volunteered alongside animals does not necessarily stand you in good stead for a job in conservation. Voluntary placements abroad are all well and good, but given the dubious ethics and questionable value of some opportunities – whether you’re working within a sanctuary for Sloth Bears or petting Elephants in Thailand – such things may not actually benefit you in the slightest. Work with animals does not necessarily provide you with the skills you need for a life in the workplace, and many employers see such experience as irrelevant, at best. Particularly if you are applying for a job in Britain, as many of us have to at one point or another.
One must be very careful when choosing where to devote their time abroad, especially as some such placements comprise little other than money-making ventures for the parties involved, and while you may be left feeling rather giddy after bottle feeding an elephant or two, the developmental benefits of such are sparse. If you want to gain applicable experience, get your hands dirty on your local nature reserve or shadow an ecologist while surveying for Newts. These things may not seem as glamorous, but they are undoubtedly more beneficial to your career prospects. This subject has, however, been covered in much more detail by the wonderful James Borrell hereand, as such, I will curtail my waffling on the subject.
Lectures are not enough.
For the love of god, please do not think that simply attending lectures and the odd seminar – however diligently – is enough to make your dreams come true. It’s not. By large, most of the unemployed or struggling conservationists I know are those who relied solely on such things as their go-to source of education, when in reality, they merely provide the inspiration for further exploration. Students, at least at undergraduate level, often have a lot of free time, and it really is worth filling it with relevant activities where possible. Volunteer – whether for one day a week or the entire summer holidays – join societies, give talks, lead trips, tag along on field trips or simply go outside and observe nature. Every little thing you do at this stage builds skills, showcases passion and sets you apart from the thousands of others in exactly the same position.
Show an interest.
Okay, this one links in with the last point but, in my opinion, deserves a spot of its own. And the number of aspiring conservationists I have encountered who harbour dreams of working with Rhinos yet cannot identify a Roe Deer or Vole, is wholly frustrating. Though I find it hard to comprehend, there are would-be conservationists who have never once visited a nature reserve absent forceful persuasion, nor attempted to engross themselves in local wildlife. It baffles me.
One of the most common words showcased on environmental job applications is “passionate”, though how are employers to know you are passionate about the natural world when you do little to show it? Using terms like this can come across as vacuous when you have little experience to back it up, and despite the many ways in which one can highlight their dedication, some choose not to. Thus leaving others, whether they be potential employers or supervisors, guessing as to their commitment.
Whether you choose to fundraise, commit to voluntary work, maintain a blog, contribute to your institution’s newspaper, give time to citizen science or merely maintain a relevant social media account, please be sure to do something. Those who eat, sleep and breath the natural world in their spare time tend to do much better. Just look at the great young conservationists in A Focus On Nature for inspiration.
Network like your life depends on it.
Like most career paths, in conservation, knowing the right people, or at least having them know you, can be incredibly beneficial. And while maintaining a public profile may not be to everyone’s taste, the benefits of such can be enormous. From invitations to conferences and excursions where you may, by chance, be presented with the chance to engage with and impress experts in your chosen field, to national or regional meetings of clubs and societies. All have their benefits, as do groups specially designed for young people. Social media can be as powerful a tool as any when it comes to making an impression, and whether you use Twitter, Facebook or LinkedIN, all can come in handy when it comes to getting noticed. Get yourself out there, loud and proud.
On a similar note, do not be afraid to send direct messages on social media, email or, god forbid, write to those you admire, or people whose work you found to be of particular interest. Ask questions, request further information, praise studies, even criticise – providing you do so in a polite manner. All of this shows passion and, as I stated above, passion is often the deciding factor when it comes to progression.
Today was exquisite: somewhat underwhelming in the rarity stakes, not outlandish in the volume of species seen and bitterly cold, but exquisite nonetheless. A day off from my studies providing the perfect opportunity for an excursion to the coast, to my local patch, where the wildlife to be recorded, observed and of course, enjoyed, appears to have taken on a distinctly wintery feel.
The day started well, though on a somewhat startling note. A short walk through a stand of now naked Whitebeams resulting in near cardiac arrest as a Woodcock burst forth from the leaf litter in a typically startled fashion, right in my direction. This marking the first of these cryptic waders to grace my patch in quite some time. My nerves rattled once again – as I departed the grove – where a covey of Grey Partridge promptly followed suit, rising frantically from the patch of rank grass in which they fed before my arrival. Both delightful birds and both species suffering woeful declines at present. I am glad to harbour them both here.
Onwards, into my favoured stretch of waste ground and yet more signs of the shifting season became plain to see. A charm of Goldfinch, perhaps forty or so, calling as they dropped into the denuded branches of an Alder, promptly joined by a handsome male Siskin – another Winter visitor here. Bullfinch could be seen, as could Lesser Redpoll, while a lone Willow Tit issued its characteristic – and somewhat unmelodic – call from a nearby hidden place. Secreted amid the scrub. The real treat coming later, my attention transfixed by movement in some nearby Hawthorns. Waxwings, I hoped, though proper examination soon dispelled my expectations. And here no less than five species of thrush fed in close quarters, tossing back the quickly diminishing berries with gusto. The best of which, in my humble opinion, comprising a pair of Fieldfare – both of which offered my best views of the species so far this year.
Sorry to be stereotypical but it is almost Winter…
Onwards to sea, my arrival delayed somewhat as skein of Pink-Footed Geese passed overhead followed, seconds later, by an altogether more exciting sight. A female Peregrine gliding into view, overhead and beyond, soon carried out of sight by her powerful wingbeats. Another winter visitor to the patch, endearing yet unfortunately breif. Said raptor contributing greatly to my soaring expectations as I took up my favoured spot in the dunes and set about scanning the undulating water of the bay before me. The usual characters, those that fish close to shore, soon becoming apparent. A Red-Throated Diver, two Red-Breasted Mergansers, a Guillemot and a Razorbill. The latter two species diving side by side, synchronised almost, allowing for excellent scrutiny of their contrasting yet superficially similar winter plumage.
An hour later and things picked up, abolishing my desire to leave. Many and more species now passing North and South in loose flocks, bisecting each other’s paths like determined motorists at a T-junction. Ducks were numerous – Teal and Wigeon the most so, followed by smaller numbers of dabber Common Scoter, Mallard and some twenty-five Goldeneye. Gannets too passed by, mostly dull juveniles but also an adult, its yellow head alive in the growing sun. These followed in turn by tapering lines of Cormorant and the odd Shag, Kittiwake and Fulmar. The highlight, however, coming moments before departure – a final scan of the water before me revealing a conspicuous silhouette tagged to the back of migrating group of Scoter. Quick wingbeats, minute size and monochrome appearance immediately giving away its identity – a Little Auk. One of the most sought after winter visitors (after Waxwings, of course) and the underlying reason for today’s excursion. Sometimes it pays to have expectations.
Oh yes, and yesterday on my way to university I FINALLY caught up with some Waxwings. The below photo was taken last year but you get the picture.
Tales of localised and even global extinctions are, unfortunately, rather common in the amphibian world. Particularly in current times as humans continue to ignorantly erode biodiversity on a global scale. From the endearing Rabbs’ Tree Frog, recently declared extinct after the last known individual died in captivity, to the similarly alluring Golden Toad. Amphibians are in trouble the world over: due to habitat loss, development, invasive species and the spread of deadly Chytrid fungus. You would be forgiven for thinking, that given the somewhat exotic nature of species lost already, that this was, in fact, a tropical problem, though you would be wrong. And Britain’s amphibians too find themselves in hot water.
Perhaps the most topical example of our ailing amphibian populations is the Common Toad, a beloved fixture of the British countryside which has now declined by 70% nationwide. In the last 30 years alone. The cause of this thought to stem predominately from habitat loss – the breeding ponds on which the toads depend drained to make way for the advance of agriculture and human habitation, with their foraging habitat similarly besieged. Traffic too has played a part, with many and more toads squashed on roads as they make their annual pilgrimage to and from the few remaining ponds, and pesticides and agricultural run-off poisoning many of those who do make it. It is all very bleak, with such things, sadly, not limited to Common Toads alone. The similar yet much scarcer Natterjack Toad, a resident of sand dunes and other coastal ecosystems, likewise threatened by the loss of said ecosystems. The species now clinging on in only handful of sites around the British coastline – subject to rigorous conservation measures to stop it sliding further towards the brink.
Even our most abundant amphibian species, the Common Frog is in trouble. Declining by up to 80% in some locations due to the spread of ranavirus, and thought to be declining, albeit to a lesser extent than our toads, nationwide. The loss traditional ponds, both in gardens – where they are often replaced by decking and overly manicured lawns – and further afield. A woeful trend also apparent in our newts with the iconic Great Crested Newt, despite being rigorously protected, still subject to substantial threats. From the destruction of habitats for development, from the introduction of exotic fish species for angling purposes, from the natural succession of ponds to grassland and, of course, habitat fragmentation. The select few sites lucky enough to still hold functional newt populations often separated from one another by miles and a great deal of often impassable roads. Indeed, with the smaller Palmate Newt also suffering declines across its range, only two native species appear to be somewhat stable at present – the Smooth Newt and the Pool Frog. The latter given a helping hand through deliberate reintroductions.
Like them or loathe them – bonkers but some do – our amphibians play an important role in many ecosystems, comprising a vital link in many food chains and acting as an indicator of ecosystem health. Their decline, and in some cases, predicted loss, does not bode well for our countryside. Though, mercifully, said populations have not declined to such an extent to fall beyond hope, and there are a number of things everyday people can do to help combat the trend. The obvious option being to build a garden pond – for frogs, toads and smooth newts – the size and extent of which is of little consequence, with all such water bodies providing a valuable oasis for our embattled amphibians. Allowing your garden (or at least a portion of it) to grow wild also helps, providing habitat for the various species on which amphibians depend for food, while a humble log-pile can also provide a valuable resource. Indeed, a quick check of my recently refurbished mound resulted in the discovery of all three common garden species – it really does work. Withholding the use of damaging pesticides, particularly in the vicinity of known amphibian populations, is also vital.
Of course, if you are unable to commit to any of the above, or indeed have already done so and wish to do more, you can help fund the great work of conservationists working to protect our amphibian friends. Froglife are a good place to start. There vital work to protect our frogs, newts and toads entirely dependent on the generosity of the public. So please, whether you choose to actively fund conservation measures or install your own, be sure to do something. Many of the species listed above are suffering, largely due to our own actions, and need all the help they can get. That is if they are to survive to croak and delight for another day.
Sadly, I have not been able to get outside half as much as I would have liked to over the past week. Largely due to Masters commitments (it is proving slightly more difficult than expected) and other, more menial tasks. I have, however, managed a few brief ventures into the great outdoors and what I have seen has delighted – comprising a smorgasbord of seasonal delights. With the vestiges of Summer now banished entirely and Autumn advancing towards Winter full throttle. It has all been rather lovely in truth, though it is the birds which given the greatest cause for celebration.
The most obvious sign of the shifting season has been the resurgence of waterfowl around my local patch. Wigeon, Gadwall and Teal – absent from the estuary during the warmer months now beginning to return in small numbers. With them, a handful of delightfully iridescent Goldeneye – all drakes so far – and a noticeable increase in the number of Mallard. Indeed, I sometimes forget that, like other ducks, Mallard move in winter. Geese too have been a firm fixture of the past week and barely a day goes by now absent sight of racuous skein of Pink-Feet passing high overhead. Though there have been Barnacle Geese too, fresh from Svalbard perhaps, and a handful of Brent Geese heading South with some haste. I am still awaiting my first Whooper Swans of the Autumn however…
Change is certainly afoot elsewhere in the avian world too and it has been almost a fortnight since I noted my last Summer migrant. The Chiffchaffs and Blackcaps that combed the hedgerows and thickets a short time ago now replaced by a ceaseless torrent of Goldcrests and, of course, Winter thrushes. With Redwing in particular, proving numerous over the past few days: tossing back the plentiful Hawthorn berries that, at present, stain the hedgerows a pleasing glossy red. These “seeping“ flocks interspersed, occasionally, with a few Fieldfare and Mistle Thrush. All very nice to see though perhaps the most enjoyable sight this week came from a mixed flock of thrushes, as no less than five species descended on a local growth of Spindle. Polishing off the petite pink berries with glee, rendering the area much less appealing to my prophecised Waxwings. A species which is missed here only last week. Though who knows, given the sheer number of the crested beauties spilling into the country at present I would be very suprised not to see one soon.
What else? Well, as ever, finches have proven a good indicator of the season. The Brambling that first descended in early October dispersing, except for a few individuals, only to be replaced by a great deal of Siskin and Redpoll. In the wood, in my garden and even on the beach – noted as passed overhead on route to their favoured wintering grounds. Flocks of Linnet and Goldfinch are swelling too, feasting on Thistles in dunes and wasteland areas, and Greenfinch have become much more conspicuous, much to my delight. Their chlorophyllic hue a welcome sight given the woeful state of the British population at present.
Finches, thushes, dabblers and geese, however, have not provided the only indicators as to the advancing calander. And this week has seen my first Red-Breasted Mergansers back on the River, as well as the first returning Little and Great Crested Grebes. The local Kingfishers appear to have set sail downstream, as often they do in Autumn, and are now in residence amid the harbour, while the resident Dippers too appear to have moved. Yielding their favoured spot upstream in favour of more saline reaches towards the coast. Elsewhere, tit flocks have formed, Jays continue their hourly acorn-fueled flights across my town and my first Little Gull of the season was observed from my favoured seat in the dunes – dainty wingbeats and sooty underwings leaving it plain to see among the countless bodies of its much more numerous kin.
Summer has gone, Autumn is here and, if the birds are anything to go by, Winter will soon be upon us. I look forward to the sight of Little Auks bobbing in the surf, Long-Tailed Ducks, Divers and, of course, Waxwings. Though, for now, I am happy to watch, wait and engross myself in the finery of the season.
