Tag: Wildlife

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.

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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 latest New Nature Magazine is out!

It is nothing short of delightful to see New Nature Magazine going from strength to strength following its conception in late 2016. It’s exquisite design and fabulous content are testament to the young volunteers who dedicate their time, freely, to amplifying the voices of the next generation. It is with great pleasure that I can announce the launch of our March-April edition, available to download free here:

A description of what you can expect in this issue can be found below courtesy of Editor-in-Cheif, Alice Johnson.

The sun shines stronger now, down on deciduous trees that feel the warmth as their buds begin to open; snowdrops adorn woodland floors, as winter turns into spring. Many of us have patiently waited for the moment that signals the season has finally changed – a flutter of an orange tip butterfly as it floats through the air, or the first glimpse of a swallow dashing through the sky.

In this spring issue of New Nature, we urge you to get outside and enjoy the first joys of the season – some bird species, like common crossbill and raven, have already begun the task of rearing young, find out more from Elliot Chandler on p8. Take inspiration for a springtime walk from Lucy Hodson’s book review of Kate Humble’s Thinking on My Feet (p48), a must-read for any lover of the outdoors. If the day still holds the chill of winter and you want to stay wrapped up warm inside, then take a literary walk along the Sefton Coast with Hannah Branwood (p10), or discover the joys of skylark watching on the South Downs from Sophie May Lewis (p16).

As always our conservation-minded contributors have penned their thoughts on some interesting and sometimes concerning topics – Ryan Deal considers the effect of artificial lighting on wildlife (p35), while Carla Broom evaluates conservation grazing (p33). Harry Househam from the Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire Wildlife Trust also shares with us the Trust’s new project, ‘Nature Stewards of the Future, which is aimed at young wildlife lovers and conservationists – learn what it is all about on p26.
For readers looking for advice on how to turn their plot into a wildlife haven, go to p22 where I speak to Brigit Strawbridge about gardening for bees and the importance of pollinators. If you want to marvel in some inspiring art and photography, then we have it covered, too! Alex Pearce chats to the incredible artist Rob Arnold who uses plastic litter to create thought-provoking pieces (p38), and Matt Roseveare shares with us his
fantastic wildlife shots from the New Forest (p42). We are also excited to announce the New Nature writing competition is back, this year judged by Dominic Couzens! Find out how to enter on p46.

Thank you to all of our fantastic contributors and our readers as always, and remember to share your springtime wildlife moments with us on our social media channels for a chance to have them featured in the magazine.

– Alice Johnson, Editor-in-Cheif

Moles apart: a sorry sign of a split in our attitude to wildlife

A week passed, I had the pleasure of spending a full day in the uplands of Northumberland. A thoroughly enjoyable affair marked by the energetic courtship flights of returning waders, the go-back, go-back calls of innumerable Red Grouse and even the sight of a black cock or two. It was a joyous day, truth be told; though the collective, rather jubilant mood soon soured upon discovery of a grim sight: a stretch of fence adorned with the carcasses of countless moles. A sight witnessed again at a further two sites in close proximity to public roads during the remainder of our outing.

This is a sight I have seen before across the length and breadth of my home county. Mostly in remote upland areas it has to be said, but also in the lowlands – the practice of stringing up the corpses of deceased moles widespread across agricultural areas both here, in the North East of England, and elsewhere, right across the nation. It is something that I have always begrudgingly accepted, turned a blind eye to even, until now. This in spite of its tendency to turn my stomach.

Dead moles, lowland Northumberland – Hazel Makepeace ©

Now, it is no secret that some in the countryside sport a strong dislike of moles. While the practice of mole-catching is not as widespread as it once was, gardeners – peeved at the unsightliness of molehills on their perfectly manicured lawns – still do it, while farmers do so on a much larger scale. The latter, supposedly, in an effort to combat the spread of listeriosis bacteria into silage and to prevent the loss of arable land and grazing to molehills. Indeed, some sources claim that moles cost the UK economy some £27m each year through their subterranean antics.

This post is not intended to lambast the control of moles to protect human interests – although, on that note, I would urge restraint from some parties, particularly gardeners. No, I accept the need to manage wildlife in some circumstances and, quite frankly, do not know enough to pass comment on the sustainability, justification and overall impact of mole control. What I would comment on, however, is the ugly practice of suspending the bodies of unlucky moles from fences – a practice which reeks of the same Victorian disregard for wildlife that we, as a nation, have been trying (unsuccessfully in some cases) to escape for decades.

The practice of ‘stringing up’ wildlife is not a new one and with regards to moles, is conducted so that the landowner may gauge the success of the person(s) employed to control wildlife on their land. Supposedly, the practice exists so that those concerned receive just payment for their efforts; although, in the modern age, you would think a photo would suffice – I’m sure those responsible own smartphones. If not, perhaps a box of moles deposited on the threshold of those who sanctioned the killing would be a better way of going about things? There certainly is little need to parade your ‘success’ in the manner discussed. Besides, that is, to antagonise the odd “townie” who may stumble across your grizzly showcase of rotting bodies.

Like a great many people, I find the brazen display of slaughtered wildlife repulsive. An opinion which, when voiced, will doubtless result in the same tired old claims of nimbyism, animal rights fixation and detachment from the ‘real countryside’. Fair enough, perhaps I am guilty of all the above. Perhaps I am even guilty of hypocrisy for accepting the need, in some circumstances, to control moles but by voicing concern at the final result. Roll on the comments…

What bothers me most about such displays, however, is not their gruesome nature, rather the example they set. As a society, we are rightfully moving away from our traditional disregard for wildlife. An increasing majority of people now genuinely care about the natural world. We concern ourselves with ethics, sustainability and encourage the next generation to take a stand for and respect nature. Even rural folk, those often subject to the ire of conservationists, profess to ‘care’ about wildlife despite the need, in some circumstances, to manage it. These claims appear empty as long as some continue to parade (and seemingly celebrate) the destruction of that same wildlife.

I do not think wildlife management should be conducted in the shadows, rather openly, honestly and with justification. Equally, however, it should be carried out with respect. Something sorely lacking in this case.

Welsh Angels, by Hannah Rudd

Within the past week, scientists have observed one of the worlds rarest sharks alive and well off the Welsh coast.

Prior to these observations, it was believed that the Canary Islands were the last remaining stronghold of angel sharks globally, yet recent evidence suggests that they have a secret refuge in Welsh waters.

So what exactly are angel sharks?

Angel sharks (Squatina squatina) don’t really look like the stereotypical image of a shark at all – closer resembling a ray in shape – and as a result, this can cause confusion amongst record keepers and fishers, with catches sometimes being misidentified.

Belonging to the angel shark family (Squatinidae) – the second most threatened family of elasmobranchs (sharks, skates and rays) worldwide – angel sharks are large, flat-bodied demersal (bottom-dwelling) sharks listed as Critically Endangered on the IUCN Red List of Threatened Species and can reach 2.4 metres in length.

Typically inhabiting continental shelves to depths of 200m, angel sharks can also be located in estuaries and brackish waters and have recently been spotted off Cardigan Bay, the Bristol Channel and near Holyhead.

Once upon a time, angel sharks were vastly abundant, with a historical distribution from Norway to the West Sahara and the Canary Islands, including the Baltic, Mediterranean and Black Seas.

Angel sharks are exceedingly rare and are one of the most endangered fish in European waters. In fact, worryingly they are listed as the fifth most Evolutionarily Distinct and Globally Endangered (EDGE) sharks in the world, representing a potential loss of a distinctive branch of the tree of life.

Under the Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981) it is illegal to intentionally disturb, kill, injure, or kill angel sharks within 12 nautical miles of Welsh and English coastlines and for commercial fishers, it is illegal to target, retain, tranship or land angel sharks for all EU and third country vessels in EU waters.

However, before becoming a protected species, the angel shark was a prized catch by Welsh fishermen in the 1970s and 1980s, which may be the leading cause of a population crash from which they have never been able to recover.

Like many shark species, angel sharks have a low fecundity and a late maturity age resulting in a slow recovery rate, if any recovery, from population pressures.

Major threats to the continued depletion of angel shark populations include the intensification of demersal fishing practices, disturbance by divers and beach users, habitat degradation via pollution and coastal developments – particularly within their nursery grounds and aggregation areas – alongside lack of appropriate and enforced legislation for their protection.

Hope, however, is on the horizon.

The Angel Shark Conservation Network and the Angel Shark Project in the Canary Islands are two of the flagship projects that the Zoological Society of London (ZSL) funds, incorporating integral conservation and outreach work to safeguard the future of the angel shark.

In July 2018, Angel Shark Project: Wales was launched with the aim of establishing a clearer idea of where angel sharks are located within the Welsh coastline and recognising their role within Welsh maritime heritage.

Last week the Angel Shark Roadshow began in Nefyn on Friday 25th January and will be progressing on to Milford Haven, Swansea, Aberystwyth and Holyhead during February and March.

With the mission of accumulating community memories and fisher records of this elusive fish, conservationists hope to build a more consistent picture for the historical record of one of the world’s most threatened sharks.

Can’t attend the Angel Shark Roadshow?

Additional ways you can get involved with the conservation of the angelshark include volunteering as a citizen scientist, participating in Dive for Angel surveys and giving angelsharks a voice on social media.

Find out more here – https://angelsharknetwork.com/wales/ https://angelsharknetwork.com/

References

Compagno, L. J. V., Dando, M., & Fowler, S. (2005). Collins field guide: Sharks of the world. London, UK: Harper Collins.

https://angelsharknetwork.com/

https://www.zsl.org/conservation/regions/uk-europe/angel-shark-conservation

https://angelsharkproject.com/

Cover image: By greenacre8 – Angel Shark 6 Nov 06, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6379759

Winter walks in the city, by Frances Jones

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

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

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

New Nature Magazine – January edition

The latest edition of New Nature magazine is now live and can be downloaded and enjoyed (for free) here.

It has been exactly two years since we published the first issue of New Nature. In that time, we have brought you nature writing, art, photography and myriad environmental stories from those at the heart of the youth nature movement. Truth be told I have loved every minute of my involvement with New Nature and it is fantastic to see the e-zine continuing to deliver under Editor-in-Chief, Alice Johnson. See below for this months introduction courtesy of Alice herself.

The arms of the clock simultaneously point to the sky – a new year has begun. It is the perfect time to step outdoors and appreciate what the natural world has to offer and to start planning your wildlife adventures for the year. Do you imagine watching the glorious flight of swallowtail butterflies on the Norfolk Broads, the mighty dorsal fin of a basking shark escaping the summer ocean, or the clash of antlers during an autumn red
deer rut?

Whatever your nature dream for the year, you can start appreciating the wildlife outdoors now – just wrap up warm and you won’t be disappointed. Our resident ‘What to watch for’ author Elliot Chandler suggests searching for black redstarts, or looking for secretive deer (p8), while Sophie Lewis contemplates the glorious goshawk in her enchanting Sussex Field Notes column. This month we also have a special underwater focus – discover all about our curious cover star on p22 from Roisin Maddison. We also urge you to take a walk around the coastline this winter, with Asia Roberts-Yalland inspiring us to visit Norfolk in pursuit of snow buntings and overwintering waterfowl (p10), while Hannah Rudd encourages us to search the shoreline (p14).

The year may be new, but there are many conservation problems that continue to worsen and must continue to be tackled; we speak to the inspiring young conservationist Bella Lack about raising awareness of important issues (p24). We also learn about the difference one person can make for conservation in their local area, as Max Woods shares with us his inspiration behind starting the Sussex Stag Beetle Initiative (p26). New Nature’s Alex Pearce also caught up with Bird Watching editor Matt Merritt to discuss all things feathered, check it out on p38.

We hope you find inspiration is this issue of New Nature as it marks two years since the launch of our first issue! Thank you to everyone who has contributed, shared the magazine and helped us over the years – the team is very grateful for your support.

Happy New Year!

– Alice Johnson, Editor-in-Chief

Adventures in Conservation, by Andrew Gorton

Moving to the North Norfolk coast from London in 2007, I realised how little I knew about the beautiful countryside I found myself in. Fortunately, this part of the country is not lacking in opportunities to explore and develop a burgeoning passion for conservation and wildlife. I’d also begun a degree in natural sciences with the Open University, and the various projects I took part helped me decide on an environmental focus for the degree, as well as providing lots of practical experience.

In 2010 I was handed a flyer by my step-mother, produced by a group run by the Trust for Conservation Volunteers (or BTCV as it was then). This group, the North Norfolk Workout Project (NNWP), carried out habitat management such as clearing rhododendrons and other invasive species, wildlife surveys and planting trees, all at a number of sites around the county. The group was partly funded by BTCV, the NHS and the local district council, with the aim of improving the physical and mental health of the volunteers taking part, while doing construction work for the environment and the community. The work certainly benefitted me, as the low mood I was suffering from at the time really began to improve.

One of the first sessions I did with the NNWP was clearing bracken some public woodlands outside North Walsham, in an effort to encourage wildflower meadows to develop. This kind of work would be a mainstay of the NNWP over the years I was involved with – the removal of invasive plants to create or improve habitats such as meadows, heathland and woodland. A particular favourite of mine was tree planting at various during the winter to improve biodiversity. It is a nice thought that after an afternoon of this there will be a patch of woodland that will hopefully be around and growing after you are gone.

As rewarding as the work was, I also had the pleasure of working with a good crowd of people, both the two paid members of staff on the project and the volunteers who came from a wide range of backgrounds. We also worked with several different site owners who were knowledgeable and passionate about their particular patches and were glad for our help in realising their goals for the site.

At that first session at North Walsham, I also took part in an OPAL soil and earthworm survey. The results would be added to a national database of soil types and earthworm numbers. We didn’t actually find any earthworms that day, but in science, not getting a result is still a result. The survey did inspire me to carry out a number of different OPAL surveys such as water quality, insect surveys and examining the biodiversity of hedgerows. As with any citizen science project, it is good to know you are contributing actual data to a scientific project.

In the last couple of years, I have begun focusing in species ID and monitoring. Alongside national surveys such as the Wider Countryside Butterfly Survey, I have been taking part in the fairly recently established Norfolk Bat Survey with the British Trust for Ornithology. This involves picking a 1km Ordnance Survey grid square from the survey website and booking a bat detector from one of a number of bat centres around the county (my nearest is National Trust Sheringham Park). You then set up the bat detector overnight, for three consecutive nights at different locations in the kilometre square. Bat calls are recorded on an SD card in the detector, which is then sent back to the BTO headquarters in Thetford for analysis. They are able to determine the number of bat passes recorded as well as the species present. Participants are encouraged to repeat surveys every year to detect any changes in bat numbers. One of the sites I have surveyed – Sustead Common – is run by the Felbeck Trust, a small conservation charity in Aylmerton. This dedicated group has been carrying out habitat restoration at Sustead and a number of other sites. I carried out a survey in May 2017, and 124 bat passes, split between six species, were recorded. A survey at about the same time the following year detected 280 passes (more than double last years’), split between eight species. We hope this is the result of bat boxes put up between the survey dates, and of habitat restoration activities increasing the number of prey insects. It will be interesting to see what further surveys reveal.

A third major project I’m involved in is the Norfolk Ponds Project, part of University College London’s wider pond restoration programme. This project aims to restore ponds, especially in areas of farmland, to provide biodiversity hotspots in otherwise species poor landscapes. In 2017 I joined a small group in Bodham, focusing on four ponds in the farmland there. These marl pits were initially dug to extract the calcium-rich clay (marl) for use in stabilising the surrounding soil to better grow crops. Over time, water levels rose in the pits, and soon well-developed aquatic ecosystems developed. However, trees and other dense undergrowth have grown around the ponds, blocking out the light. Falling leaves have also created thick layers of sediment, reducing the biodiversity there. To begin with, my group were taking readings of the water quality, including pH, alkalinity, conductivity and temperature every two weeks. Any wildlife seen during the surveys were also recorded. Towards the end of 2017, the trees and undergrowth on two sides of two of the ponds were removed by chainsaw teams, helped by my group with loppers. The sediment was also dredged with JCBs, providing some free fertiliser for the nearby patches of farm field. The two other ponds were left as controls. In the spring and summer of 2018, we repeated the water measurements and wildlife recordings over the spring and summer and sent the results to UCL. It will be interesting to see if the restoration will have any effect.

I’ve had the privilege to take part in a (bio)diverse range of environmental projects over the years, and it has been a great experience, and hopefully of benefit to the wider environment.

Andrew is a Natural Sciences graduate with the Open University, and has several years experience in the voluntary sector, in areas as diverse as wildlife conservation, habitat management, heritage and maritime safety with the National Coastwatch Institution.

Another ‘wild’ year in retrospect

2018 has been a year of ups and downs; although, thankfully, mostly ups. The year marked by a great deal of personal and professional opportunities, myriad wonderful wild encounters and a whole host of new experiences. As is customary on this blog, I thought I would dedicate some time to knocking up something which vaguely resembles a summary. If you’re not all that interested in ‘personal’ posts, please look away now…

The undisputed highlight of the year has to come from my employment with the Natural History Society of Northumbria. I have aspired towards a job in nature communications for as long as I can remember and, to that end, have dedicated a great deal of time to building a CV deserving of such. In April, I was lucky enough to be appointed as NHSN’s communications officer and, truth be told, I have not looked back since. This is an organisation I have looked up to for years – ever since my first visit to the Hancock museum as a child – and thus far, I have enjoyed every minute of the role. Sure, it has involved a great deal of learning and I would be lying if I said there had not been hiccups; though working with an incredibly knowledgeable, supportive bunch of people for a organisation that supports the issues I care most about – wildlife and conservation in my local area – I can’t help but smile. I am having a blast.

Elsewhere this year, I found myself appointed to the publications committee of the Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland (BSBI). A leap into the dark if I am honest – I have never been all too knowledgeable on plants – but something I hope to embrace. It is also great to observe a blooming relationship – forgive the pun – between BSBI and New Nature Magazine, and I can only thank the Society for their support of our humble e-zine. A publication which I am immensely proud of which now is going from strength to strength under new Editor in Chief, Alice Johnson, and the rest of our gifted team. You may have noticed that we’re now publishing bimonthly – a decision intended to boost the quality of the publication and to give all involved in its design and production time to focus on other endeavours. New Nature is entirely voluntary, after all.

What else has happened in 2018? Well, I found myself coming in at second place in the UK Blog Awards for this blog, no less, while New Nature scooped first place in its category (hurrah). In a bizarre twist, this resulted in a rather terrifying first appearance on TV this summer as I featured in an episode of BBC Countryfile – chatting to the fantastic Steve Brown about blogging, squirrels and the youth nature movement. As someone who finds speaking rather terrifying – I much prefer writing – this was difficult; though I am glad I did it and hope I did not embarrass myself too much.

This year’s recognition and trembling media appearances would not have been possible without those who read this blog and, as ever, I am incredibly grateful to all those who have tuned in and taken note of my waffling over the past year. Though it beggars belief, more people than ever before – 26,500 to be exact – visited Common By Nature in 2018 and while meaningful writing has been scant due to commitments elsewhere, I hope all found at least one article of interest. I will do my best to keep at it over the coming year, although free time appears to be becoming increasingly scarce.

A quick thank you also to everyone who cast a vote for me in both categories of the coming, 2019, UK Blog Awards – I won’t hold my breath but will keep you updated should things progress.

All in all, I have had a grand old time in 2018. I may not have committed to as much as I have done in previous years and indeed, have had to evaluate just how much I  can do before the pastimes I love begin to lose their appeal, but all in all, things have been good. Personal reflection aside, however, cutting down on commitments has allowed me to get back to basics and observe and enjoy a remarkable array of wildlife in 2018. As such, I will leave you with some photographic highlights…

A few confiding rare birds, some sensational mammal encounters and my first ever White-letter Hairstreaks and European Hornets certainly helped ensure 2018 was anything but boring.

A once in a lifetime encounter

Before yesterday commenced, I had only seen three Red-necked Grebes in my lifetime. Two as distant apparitions amid undulating heat haze on a vast swath of Estonian marshland, and the other, as an equally uninspiring spec on the horizon here in the UK. The latter being tossed astray by the tide around half a mile out from a well-known watchpoint on the Northumbrian coast.

I must confess that these encounters, while enjoyable, did little highlight the appeal of this species at their heart. They provided little opportunity to admire and scrutinise. Standing as polar opposites to yesterdays encounter – a prize find by some local birders allowing me to enjoy the species in full, at point-blank range.

Views of this species – Britain’s rarest regular grebe – are seldom so good. Indeed, I could not quite believe my eyes upon catching sight of this particular bird as it fed in a shallow, salt marsh channel mere inches from the feet of the few birders assembled in appreciation. The sight of the surprisingly delicate waterbird was unbelievable, inconceivable almost, as it hunted for small fish within touching distance. So close that its antics underwater, as it twisted and rived in pursuit of prey, were equally visible. A Red-necked Grebe, under any circumstance, is a sight to treasure; though under these circumstances, is quite the treat.

The reason for the grebes confiding nature remains a mystery to me; although speaking to those in attendance, inexperience seems most likely. It was a young bird, so perhaps it had simply never encountered man before – migrating from the species breeding grounds in the far North or East has never stumbled across a single human. It certainly showed little fear of those in attendance and here, at least, it has little need to fear.

I dare say I will never view this species under these circumstances again and, as such, this experience will go down in the record books as a one-off. An encounter to be treasured.

If you enjoy reading this blog, I’d really appreciate it if you would cast a vote for Common By Nature at the UK Blog Awards 2019 by clicking here or/and here – all you need do is select the small love heart beside the title of this blog. It only takes a second.

Top 10 Facts: Waxwing

Winter visitor. Waxwings are winter visitors to Britain, migrating here from their breeding grounds in the boreal forest belt that stretches from Scandinavia, through Russia and across parts of North America. The numbers that reach the UK depend on the availability of berries on the Continent. In years where berry crops fail, birds are forced to migrate greater distances in search of food, often reaching our shores en masse.

Irruptions. Given that the winter movements of waxwings are dependent on the amount of food available on the continent, the UK can receive anything from a few dozen birds to as many as 12,000 each year. Most years, Britain hosts at least a few birds; though, during irruption years, many more can arrive on our shores. Eastern and northern Britain tend to receive the highest number of waxwings during the winter due to their proximity to the North Sea crossing points.

Mountain Ash connoisseurs. Experts believe Rowan (aka Mountain Ash) to be the favoured food of waxings; though they regularly feast on other native and non-native Sorbus berries in the UK. Among these: hawthorn, cotoneaster and dog rose. With Spindle and Whitebeam are also taken with gusto. Where berries are in short supply, waxwings can often be drawn to an area with apples, either left as windfall or deliberately placed.

Feeding habits. Fruiting plants are incredibly important for waxwings in the winter as they typically eat 800-1000 berries a day, roughly twice their body weight. This changes during the breeding season, however, when the species feeds mainly on midges, mosquitoes and other small insects. It is therefore not unusual to see any waxwings remaining in Britain during the spring feasting on insects.

Selfless Symbolism. Spiritualists believe waxwings to be a symbol of selfless generosity. The symbolism of the waxwing totem is believed to teach selflessness and the practice of giving to others for their benefit, and not your own. Waxwings are traditionally associated with the politeness you should have when you give away to others the thing you have craved for or cherished for so long.

Selfish, not selfless. It is believed that the association of waxwings with selflessness and giving stems from their courtship habits. When a male waxwing sets out in search of a mate, it often carries a berry – passed to a female bird in an effort to impress her. The female waxwing then takes the berry and returns it to the male, with the gifting ritual repeated many times until, eventually, mating takes place. While some may view this as a sign of selflessness, in reality, the male instigates this ritual in order to spread his own genes; thus the process, while touching, is actually rather selfish.

Waxwing separation. Two species of waxwing have occurred in Britain: the commoner Bohemian Waxwing (Bombycilla garrulus) and much scarcer Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum). The separation between the two can often be difficult; though the colour of the bird provides a good indicator. A Bohemian Waxwing has a grey chest and belly while a Cedar Waxwing has a brown chest with a yellow belly. Additionally, if the bird’s undertail is a brownish-orange, it’s a Bohemian Waxwing. If the undertail is white, it’s a Cedar Waxwing.

Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum)

A rare repeat performance. Having visited our shores during winter, individual waxwings seldom return to Britain – demonstrated by the incredibly low number of successful ringing recoveries. That said, in 2010, one particular bird bucked this trend, returning to the village of Kintore, in Aberdeenshire, almost a year to the day it had first been ringed by the Grampian Ringing Group. This represented only the third confirmed record of a waxwing returning to the UK in a subsequent winter from over 4,500 ringed birds successfully banded.

Global Abundance. While we Brits tend to think of waxwings as a seasonal scarcity, they are actually rather abundant. The global population of waxwings has been estimated at more than three million birds, and the breeding range covers about 12.8 million km2. Although this species’ population, as of 2013, appears to be declining, the decrease is not rapid nor large enough to trigger a change to their vulnerability criteria. The waxwing is classified by the International Union for Conservation of Nature as being of ‘least concern’.

If you enjoy reading this blog, I’d really appreciate it if you would cast a vote for Common By Nature at the UK Blog Awards 2019 by clicking here or/and here – all you need do is select the small love heart beside the title of this blog. It only takes a second.

The latest New Nature Magazine is out!

Autumn leaves drift through the air, caught and propelled in a gust of wind before they touch down to the earth – this season is in full swing now, and winter is creeping ever nearer. The cold mornings will soon see frost cling to the crisped leaves and car windows, as the man-made and natural world are touched by the seasonal
change.

Despite the chill in the air, this time of year is an exciting one for wildlife watchers as there is still much to discover from family groups of choughs to winter roosts – Elliot Dowding tells us more on p8. Take a coastal walk this winter in Devon, as Bryony James shares the places she loves to visit (p10), perhaps you’ll spot a glorious cormorant, our cover star this month (p12), or catch sight of the irresistibly cute seal pups found around the coastline at this time of year – Hannah Rudd explains all about this species on p17. Our ocean focus continues as I discuss plastic pollution and the beauty of our seas with BBC Springwatch presenter Gillian Burke, who also tells us about her career in natural history filmmaking (p24).

The short days of winter and the nearing of the end of the year allow time for reflections about the brilliant conservation projects and the spell-binding wildlife encounters that have occurred this year. Alexandros Adamoulas reveals his experience volunteering with the Little Tern Recovery Project in Dorset (p28), while Ellen Goddard looks forward to the New Year and the BSBI’s annual New Year Plant Hunt (p32). The natural environment has such an important influence on our physical and mental health, and in this issue, Elliott Kelly delves into why this is (p34), while Rebecca McHugh focuses on the importance of our peatlands (p38). We also talk to Jeff Knott, the RSPB’s Regional Director for Eastern England, about how his career has developed, and advice he has for young naturalists, plus his favourite wildlife reserves.

There is much to love about the transition of autumn into winter, a time when the branches are not yet entirely bare, the frost not yet completely severe, and there is plenty of wildlife to see, too. We hope that when you come back home to warm up from your outdoor explorations, you sit back with a cup of tea and enjoy reading this issue of New Nature. Continually striving to provide you with a great read, we would love to hear your comments, so drop us an email with your thoughts, or if you would like an article featured. We look forward to hearing from you.

Alice Johnson, Editor-in-Chief

You can download the latest edition of New Nature Magazine free and easy, here.

If you enjoy reading this blog, I’d really appreciate it if you would cast a vote for Common By Nature at the UK Blog Awards 2019 by clicking here or/and here – all you need do is select the small love heart beside the title of this blog. It only takes a second.

The Maple, the Beech and the Lime, by Frances Jones

Last week I bought a book. A slim book, with a green and white cover. It was called ‘The Tree’ and was written by John Fowles. I didn’t know anything about it, except that I liked the title and the soft colours on the cover, thereby ignoring the oft-quoted advice on how not to judge a book, or anything else, for that matter. I shamefully haven’t read it yet, but it’s there waiting for me. And I know now it’s about more than a tree.

I mention this because trees seem to be taking an ever more present role in my life. The Japanese maple outside my window provides a riot of colour each autumn and is gradually losing its canopy of bright red leaves, leaves that have carpeted the ground for several weeks.  I took a stroll up the lane near my home yesterday, looking up at the yellow leaves, made all the more dazzling by the phenomenal downpour that had just ended. Around me were London planes, a horse chestnut, and the russet red leaves of cherry. Frustration hit me as I tried to identify the tree with bright yellow leaves. (I later identified it as a small-leaved lime, a familiar enough tree but one I hadn’t recognised until now.) Distraction came in the form of a crashing flutter of feathers as a pigeon fell out of a bush. A few minutes later I watched as the pigeon did the tightrope on a thin twig in the midst of the branches; it was intent on harvesting the bright orange berries of the pyracantha. I passed the rusty red of copper beech and walked over another neon-like carpet of lime sheddings. I reached the end of the lane and decided to walk through the trees on the other side of the road. Walking on the pavement and following a path through woodland are two very different experiences. Wet leaves were underfoot and I stopped to look at the different forms, the leaves glistening in the sunshine, their moisture causing them to shine despite the shade of the branches. Starlings sat high in the treetops across the road, filling the air with sound. I turned into my road with the rhythmic clutter of the birds in my ears and my heart filled with the cheerful brightness of the blue sky and the rather cool bite of the autumnal air.

On Saturday I was invited to a meeting to outline plans for the planting of an orchard near my home. The prospect of filling a bare patch of land with trees, condemned for other uses because of toxins from the railway, was wonderful and I listened with full support. Whilst they contaminate roots, the particular toxins concerned here are apparently not passed on to the fruit of the trees, which makes an orchard an ideal outcome for this small urban patch.

At the end of November, all things arboreal will be championed in National Tree Week. There are several tree plantings organised in my local area; look up The Tree Council to see what’s taking part near you, if you’re not already involved. We need trees. Let’s celebrate them.

Common By Nature at the UK Blog Awards 2019

I’m thrilled to announce that Common By Nature has been nominated for the latest round of the UK Blog Awards! 

It is a privilege to find myself competing in a category jam-packed with the best and brightest environmental writers and bloggers in the UK today, and I would like to thank each and every person who reads this blog for making such possible. Without your support of the content published here, I very much doubt I would have made the cut.

This blog has grown extremely quickly in the years since I first hit the big blue ‘publish’ button, and now incorporates a greater range of content than ever before. I aim to provide writing that appeals to a broad cross-section of people and, as such, it is fantastic to have been nominated in both the ‘Green and Eco‘ and ‘Wildlife and Nature‘ blog categories. 

There is no need to choose between Monbiot and Attenborough: the ways of both are vital.

I am part of a generation that idolises David Attenborough and, like many younger conservationists, have long extolled the virtues of his breathtaking documentaries for their stark impact on my life. From the Life of Birds to Planet Earth, these are the shows that ignited and then nurtured my passion for the natural world and, truthfully, I owe them a great deal. As do many others, I suspect.

It is little wonder then, that like the vast majority of people on my timeline, I cringed this week when Guardian columnist, George Monbiot, chose to berate Attenborough [and the BBC] in a recent, incendiary article. One claiming that the veteran broadcaster had, through years of inaction on environmental issues, betrayed the living world he loves. A bold claim, and one which takes a great amount of courage to make, I will admit, which also appears to have triggered many people to align themselves one way or the other.

I find this intensely frustrating. For decades, Attenborough has created a false impression of the health of the living world, and repeatedly *failed* to highlight the realities. Now he makes a doctrine of this failure. pic.twitter.com/MbyWSwNKYa

— GeorgeMonbiot (@GeorgeMonbiot) 4 November 2018

I confess, upon reading this article, my first thought was “you can’t say that, he is David Attenborough“. The precursor to a mental scramble to justify my undying devotion to the man as the worlds most prominent natural history broadcaster, as an inspiration to countless people [young and old] and a purveyor of spectacular, educational documentaries. I fell into the trap of being precious about a “national treasure” absent consideration, as is often the case when criticism falls on one we hold in high regard.

Curiosity peaked, I re-read Monbiot’s article shortly after. More carefully this time and trying, difficult as it may be, to keep an open mind – only to find that by doing this, disagreement surged. What exactly has David Attenborough done for the natural world he holds so dear? Well, that’s easy: he has educated the masses, inspired multiple generations of conservationists, brought nature into the homes and lives of millions and doubtless, triggered further thought in some people previously unconcerned about the fate of biodiversity. He also did a fine job of bringing to light the problem of plastic pollution (Monbiot would disagree here) and has preached, on a number of occasions, the threats posed by a surging human population. Few in this world boast the deeds or moral high ground to cast shade in his direction.

In my opinion, David Attenborough has done more than most in defence of the natural world. Thus, to claim betrayal seems like a frightful exaggeration. Although, when one changes the assertion and asks “has he done enough for nature” the lines begin to blur somewhat.

Attenborough has an almost unprecedented platform from which to express his views. He boasts unimaginable clout and influence and, although he alone is not responsible for the content of his documentaries [the BBC come into play here], has both the support and heft to alter his broadcasts on a whim. With all of this comes power: the power to speak up and make a real difference. Has he used this to whip up a storm about environmental issues? No, he has not. Blue Planet II aside, you seldom see Sir David on the campaign trail and rarely do his documentaries depict the ugly state of nature in the modern-day.

In one sense, Monbiot is right. Attenborough has not done all he could to hammer home the plight of our planet, for reasons he recently discussed. He has not attempted to instigate protests, has shied away from lobbying ministers and never, not once, has attempted to turn public opinion against individual organisations, companies or people. All of this sits fine with me, for Attenborough’s power has been used to great success in a far softer, less abrasive, but no less significant manner: to inform, educate, inspire and yes, entertain. We cannot all do everything and the broadcaster has undoubtedly done a great deal with the talents he possesses, as we all should.

To dismiss the contribution of David Attenborough outright is incredibly ignorant for one simple reason: there is room for both the Attenborough and Monbiot approaches to nature conservation. Both are equally important and each hinges on the success of the other. To reach the stage of direct action, as Monbiot and others advocate, you first need to be interested. You need to boast an affection for nature prior to delving into the serious, technical and often bland ins and outs of environmentalism. To reach the point of action, you need to be inspired, plain and simple, and no one inspires quite like Britain’s most trusted broadcaster.

Absent Attenborough and his efforts to highlight the beauty and diversity of nature, few people would give a hoot about the fate of our planet. Okay, some would – those privileged enough to be exposed to nature from an early again –  but not nearly the number required to make any real difference. The conservationists, naturalists and environmentalists who work to achieve great deeds in the field and yes, tirelessly support the causes championed by George Monbiot and others, would be fewer in number absent, Attenborough, as a catalyst for their devotion. Sure, he has not single-handedly brought about the salvation of our planet [no one can do so alone] but he has put boots on the ground in defence of nature.

Once you look past the potshots and sniping generated by this article, you will see that we desperately need both approaches to nature conservation. We need the Attenborough approach to ensnare, captivate and pave the way, and we need the Monbiot approach to bring about the next steps. Both are dependant on one another, and both are equally vital.

It would have been easy to rebut Monbiot’s article, as others have, by asking what difference he and the approach he advocates have made for nature. It would have been easy to give in to the comparison of feats and achievements but, in my opinion, doing so would be reductive. We need both the Monbiot’s and Attenborough’s of this world to make any real difference.

If activists such as George Monbiot are the engine that drives change for the natural world, then educators like David Attenborough are the gasoline – their work and influence the fuel that powers the whole vehicle. No campaign can succeed absent public affection for the natural world and without doubt, no one fosters affection quite like Sir David. 

If you liked this post, please consider casting a vote for me in the UK Blog Awards 2019 by following this link. All you need to do is select the ‘love heart’ beside Common By Nature.