The bright sunshine urged me out of doors this Sunday morning, and I pulled on boots and a raincoat in readiness for a walk. Long-standing readers of this blog may recall I previously wrote about experiencing nature in the city. Living in the midst of a built-up area, surrounded by blocks of flats and busy roads, I tried to notice beauty everywhere I went and this would make a routine walk much more interesting, as well as raise my spirits. Earlier this year I left London for the Surrey Hills. It’s wonderful to be here, but I still feel the need to see and celebrate nature. I’d argue many of us do. So here’s what I noticed on my winter stroll.
I walked to the edge of town and found a footpath sign pointing the way. The path wove along the backs of houses, climbing gently through thick mud. I was on the north side of the town, with Denbies Vineyard stretched out on my right and wooded slopes in front. The path was bordered on one side by spindly sticks of hedgerow that silhouetted beautifully against the blue sky. Around the bare twigs curled the soft, silky flowers of old man’s beard, still intact despite the battering they must have had from the rain. Further up, the hedge filled out with evergreens and I noted pyracantha, holly, and brambles still with the odd shrivelled berry. The path now edged round a copse of beech trees. A bullfinch flew across my way, pausing just long enough in the uppermost branches of a silver birch for me to notice its colourful plumage. A blackbird hopped from twig to twig on my left-hand side, and the trees were now leaning towards each other, over the path, to create an arboreal ceiling. The trees in the copse had shed many of their leaves and, after the downpour the previous night, the copper carpet glistened in the sunlight. Over the crest of the hill, th
e path turned into a muddy track that led into the vineyard. Despite not feeling that I’d climbed very high, I had views across to the east, west and north; if I looked due west towards Ranmore I could follow with my eyes the North Downs Way, which came down the hills, around the vineyard, and on across to Box Hill and beyond.
Being outside on this bright winter’s day felt good, and after looking up at the many shapes of the trees covering the hillside to my left, I stomped forward on a path between the vines. The tyres of a tractor had formed troughs in the mud, and these had filled with water, creating a series of similarly shaped puddles that reflected the light. I reached the edge of the vineyard and, as I looked for a way out, was drawn towards a rose that had gone rouge over a wire fence. A stem covered in rose-hips had arched itself over the top wire, and made a beautiful feature of an otherwise purely functional barrier. I hadn’t been feeling very festive, and the bright sunshine and clear sky were almost spring-like, but I was suddenly inspired by what I’d noticed on my walk. Nature’s festive decorations were out here, bringing splashes of beauty in a mixture of shape and seasonal colour. I wouldn’t be bringing any home, of course, and, like others, I still like to light up my window with fairy lights in December. But getting closer to nature had, again, invigorated my spirits and set me up for the week ahead.
Dawn broke overhead as I took my first, adrenaline-fueled steps into the reedbeds of Gosforth Park Nature Reserve, the grey-blue sky, a vestige of the previous frigid night, soon yielding to pleasant silver as the day got underway. The only lasting remnant of the darker, colder hours before coming from the veil of fog lingering above the water and creeping over the browned stems of Phragmites like pale milk over cereal; although soon, this too was banished.
From the maze of twisted stems fringing the boardwalk, a Water Rail called. A piercing, unsavoury shriek oft compared to the sound of a pained hog, though too a welcome note of wilderness. Behind, in a riparian thicket, the harsh call of a Willow Tit, a grating cha bem bem bem, burst forth. A scarce sound these days – the species falling silent across the length and breadth of Britain – though thankfully, one that can still be heard, and savoured, here in the North. A surprisingly jarring sound for such a small, seemingly reclusive bird.
The notes of Reed Bunting and Blue Tit and the whistling of Wigeon serenaded me as I made my way to the hide – fresh morning air and the allure of place ensuring that any remnants of the Christmas stupor were dispelled. The vision of tranquillity observed while peeping out from the narrow, wooden windows like something from a card received days earlier: calm, blissful, serene. The water’s surface awash with the scattered forms of Teal, Gadwall, Shoveler and Tufted Duck, as well as the Wigeon, heard earlier, entrancing to such an extent that I almost missed the furtive character breaking cover to my left.
The encounter was over in an instant: the Bittern lifting upwards from the reeds absent sound, the intricate pattern of the bird’s plumage visible momentarily as, wings splayed and stilt-like legs dangling, it passed above the channel before blending seamlessly into the reeds once more. Vanishing completely in a split second as feathers and fronds became one once again. A momentous sight – a first for me here, no less – and a fitting precursor to further encounters to come. Indeed, for half an hour afterwards, I enjoyed tantalising views of some three Bitterns.
Bittern breaking cover – if only I had been quicker off the mark
Departing the cover of the softly quivering blanket of reeds, I opted to follow a muddy trail through the wood. My steps mirroring those of the countless Roe Deer who had trekked this way prior – the evidence of their morning march present in the slot marks crisscrossing the ground, each way I looked. Overhead, in the branches of a denuded oak, a Great Spotted Woodpecker peered down, cautious but unmoving and, as I eventually quit dawdling and departed, another passed overhead in undulating flight – heading like a guided-missile towards the woods makeshift cafe.
Having only chanced upon a handful of people during my morning at Gosforth, the visit certainly made for a pleasant change to the hectic ‘meet and greet’ of the past few, festive days.
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.
So you want to start a blog. A nature blog, no less.
Hats off to you for taking some steps closer to creating one. There is always room on the web for another voice for the natural world.
This article is all about how to blog about nature. What format and style to choose, the structure and word-count that work best, and what to remember in the face of feeling nervous about writing. There’ll also be some help on what to blog about, to spark some ideas, or organise the ones you already have.
Firstly, I want you to shelve those notions of blogging as a passive income or becoming an international celebrity blogger. Not only is this a mostly delusional goal for the majority of bloggers (think dime a dozen travel blogs, for one), in the fields of nature and the environment you have to be really exceptional to grow an enviable audience. Even then, it will be nothing like the success achieved by celeb-bloggers such as Perez Hilton or Darren Prowse of Problogger. Articles about the natural world just aren’t as sexy as those about London Fashion Week or bitcoin investment. Sad but true.
Hopefully, you’ve come here because you want to write a blog for your own noble reasons instead: self-development, sharing opinions, teaching others, spreading awareness. And we could all do with more of that on the world wide web (with some real-world action to follow, of course).
How to write your blog
Whatever your reasons for deciding to write a blog, the most important thing to remember is (cue corny lines) write from the heart. Be yourself. Follow and share your passions. Clichés aside, your blog will be richer, more honest and more relatable if you do this. Being authentic is what will make you more appealing. Why write something that’s a carbon-copy of what others are doing, anyway? There’s no sign of the neoliberal celebration of individualism coming to an end any time soon. Embrace your uniqueness. Be weird and proud of it.
Diary style
A good angle for a nature blog is to write it like a journal.
Remember the old days, when naturalists only had a pencil and paper-based fieldbook to take out into the wilds? Try doing this yourself. Connecting our minds through our hands by using a real pen with real paper helps us to process and articulate information better (scientific fact[1]). Head out on a hike and observe, record and draw. Let nature be your inspiration.
After your wanderings in the wilds, grab your keyboard and transfer your handmade notes to digital format. Type up your observations. Upload the photos. Scan your sketches. And don’t forget to add the location, date, time and weather. Details make a difference. Once the raw data is on your computer, it’s ideal material to add to compilations of stories, thoughts and feelings.
People love reading personal diary-like accounts, especially when they include interesting facts or images from a trip out into the field. It’s worth noting that if it weren’t for the old journals of past-naturalists, much of our knowledge about species (particularly extinct ones) would never have been gathered. You can be a part of the global accumulation of data about our natural world.
Your blog will also serve as a record for you to refer to time and again, whether for research or reminiscence. And you’re sure to have a following of folks who love to have a nosey in other people’s diaries.
Putting it together
What puts off a lot of wannabe bloggers is how to word and structure their posts. Assembling a readable, engaging and enjoyable blog post isn’t as difficult as you’d imagine, however. There are tried-and-tested formulae, as well as structures and styles you can employ to be sure your site visitors stick around and enjoy the show.
Style
Consider the voice you want for your blog. By voice, I mean the way your blog reads in the eyes and minds of your audience. This is the difference between “punchin’ keys like a pro to serve up some flamin’ hot content” and “eloquently crafting prose that produces magnificently alluring subject matter”. Informal vs. formal. Slang-filled casual text or loftier, more lucid wordsmithing.
Who you appeal to can depend on the way you write.
Most folks don’t want to learn stuff while poring over jargon-heavy text that reads like an audit for a law firm. However, if you’re writing among circles of scientists and other academics, your blog posts should include much meatier, more complex vocabulary. Again, the adage “Be yourself” applies here. Use the language you’re most comfortable with, to avoid sounding pretentious (or out of your depth) but don’t be afraid to research and employ new words too – blogging is a voyage of discovery in many ways.
Fortunately for bloggers everywhere, the sweetest read tends to be an informal, conversational tone, like you’re listening to a friend describe their day in a chatty email or diary entry. If you can write in a friendly yet informative way, you’ll be on to a blogging hit. Just don’t create an extreme version of an informal article; a dumbed-down post that sounds more patronising than personable (clickbait articles that have as much substance as a jellyfish fart are prime examples).
Structure
Whenever you create a blog post, the layout and structure of the piece is just as crucial as the content. Conscientiously organising writing on a page is something a lot of bloggers overlook, to the dismay of their readers.
Imagine chancing upon a marvellous title on a topic you’re passionate about, only to find it is written as a single, gapless, wall of words. A huge block of intimidating text. To the reader’s eye, it’s the visual equivalent of a brick in the face. All but the most determined (or possibly dullest) readers will skip it for a lighter read.
By paragraphing your article, you divide the information into bite-sized chunks. Now, instead of trying to force-feed someone a bullion bar of 97% dark chocolate, you’re presenting them with a tray of appealing, cocoa-filled dainties they can pick at one by one.
Adding titles, like the ones in this post, will also make for easier reading. Images inserted between sub-topics also have the same effect, breaking up huge areas of text and leading the reader onwards within the article.
Single, isolated sentences are another device that writers use to maintain engagement.
Like the one above.
Or the one you just read.
They act like a snap of the fingers to grab attention and are especially effective for spurring someone into action or helping them retain some information.
There’s a lot of contention about word count in online content. Some say 200-400 words is ideal because most people only have the opportunity to read something in the time it takes to boil a kettle, or else have as much concentration capability as a cat with ADHD. Others insist that search engines like Google favour articles which are longer than 1000 words because these ample reads contain more value for readers.
In my humble opinion, a blog post written for the joy of writing – not just for increasing eyeballs to your website – can be as long or as short as you bloody well like.
If you want to appeal to an audience of trigger-happy perpetual-surfers whose attention spans are as long as the autoplay timer between YouTube videos, you should keep posts under 400 words and cram in plenty of images to keep ‘em happy.
But if you want a following who desire a hearty meal of a read that’s brimming with information and insights, you can pour out a 2000-word essay without fear of inducing blog-jumping boredom. Incidentally, a blog post of 1700 words constitutes a 7-minute read, which is the optimum length of reading time according to the popular publishing platform Medium. So perhaps reports about creating sizeable articles are true.
If you’ve made an effort, your audience will too.
Professionalism
Writing a blog can be daunting, especially when we have plenty to share and say, but believe we lack the language skills to do it.
If your spelling and punctuation leave a lot to be desired, or your grasp of grammar is tenuous at best, there’s a risk that your readers won’t have faith in what you say. Your facts could be spot on, your stories compelling and inspirational, but if your reader continually stumbles over misplaced commas and blunders into dangling participles (say whaaat?), they’ll be so jarred by the experience they’ll have missed what your post is really about.
That said, in the blogosphere (yes, it’s a real word) most people understand that no one is perfect, and people can be very forgiving if they read material that has clearly come from the heart. What’s more, writing is a skill like any other and improves the more you do it. Perseverance and practice will make perfect.
And with online assistance in the form of spellchecking software, websites and forums on grammar rules, and professional writing coaches for hire, you can develop your penmanship in tandem with your blogging journey.
Before publishing posts, be sure to scan your text for errors and readability. If you’re still in doubt, have it proof-read by another set of eyes. Sometimes, leaving a freshly-written piece for a while, then returning to read it again, can often highlight mistakes you would have otherwise missed.
As a writer, editor and English teacher by trade, I’m biased in opining that a human eye is far more reliable for checking work than a machine. Perhaps the software is advancing faster than I can type this article, but almost all grammar-checking programmes currently on the market still can’t identify word-choice errors, suitability and tone of voice, structure, flow or formatting. Nor can they give constructive feedback about someone’s writing ability.
Rise of the robots…?
Not just yet.
What to write in a nature blog
Many bloggers falter at the thought of what to write about. Again, the rule of thumb here is to draw from what fires your imagination the most; what do you feel most passionate about? Choosing a niche, or a blending of a few niches also brings an interested audience to your blog.
You could focus on places you love to visit, perhaps your local area or a regular twitching haunt. Describe the trips you’ve made and your excursions to areas of natural beauty or sites of special scientific interest. It could be a blog solely dedicated to national parks, river walks or wildlife in the urban jungle. The choice is yours.
Another option is to showcase animals in your blogs, from broad coverage of entire families of animals to a focus on single species. Consider what to include about each creature: scientific information; hilarious, strange or astounding facts; stories inspired by their habits and habitats; tales of your own encounters with the species.
When I was writing for the Dorset Wildlife Trust, I presented several stories that happened to feature facts about the unbelievable genitalia of some marine species. Did you know that a barnacle has the longest penis of any animal in relation to its size?! Fascinating and wonderfully risqué at the same time. What can I say? Sex sells.
Why not write a blog filled with practical advice for naturalists and nature enthusiasts? We all have knowledge and expertise to share – from what equipment to take out into the field, to where to spot corvids in the UK – your blog could be a mine of information for others.
And if you feel you don’t have any tips or advice to share, opt for your opinion instead. Your blog can be a sounding board for your views on conservation, land use, species extinction or pollution… the topics are limitless. Throw in a forum and you could generate a whole new wave of ideas in your very own online community.
Take a journalistic stance and publish posts that report on environmental, ecological and social issues. In a world plagued by greedy corporations, fake news and unscrupulous authorities, independent journalism is a worthy and much-needed field to enter these days.
The marvellous thing about blogging is the sheer variety and scope you have as a self-publishing author. All manner of topics can be covered in the same blog. Your nature writing could include wild foods and foraging tips, places to do rock-climbing, how to photograph invertebrates with a macro lens, plus a report on a silversmithing project you’re undertaking.
Combos and cross-fertilisation of concepts make the most captivating blogs.
So, what are you waiting for?
Grab your pen and fieldbook, do up your boots and start some online literary trail-making of your own. Our natural world needs our voices more than ever before.
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.
We all have days when everything feels like just a little bit too much: like myriad tasks are mounting up uncontrollably while motivation [and self-worth] are cascading downwards. Slumps and spells of low creativity as we bemoan mounting pressures but do little to combat them due to persistent, nagging and quite frankly, irritating, doubts. Yes, it has been one of those weeks – fine and dandy at work, and in public, but strangely deflated at home.
For some obscure reason, I have found myself demoralised of late. I wouldn’t go as far as to say “down” but definitely lacking the energy and incentive to do the things I usually love: writing, blogging, even birding. All of which has culminated in prolonged spells of sitting and staring vacantly at my laptop screen. Hoping for the miraculous resurgence of inspiration yet getting nowhere fast, until this morning that is, with a prolonged bout of ‘curtain twitching’.
I had chalked my recent slump up to a lack of time in nature, something I suspect many of us need to function properly as human beings. Perhaps I was correct; although gazing outwards from the window, I quickly came to realise I had been ignorant, and that one need not be galavanting in the countryside to enjoy, and seek motivation from the natural world.
For those unaware, my bedroom window looks out directly on to a busy street – the only perk being the bird feeders tactfully positioned outside in our minuscule yard. These attract a good range of species given our position in central Newcastle: house sparrows (over 70 at times), goldfinches, starlings, woodpigeons, doves, dunnocks and the occasional tit and Robin. All of which I fear I have overlooked in my current self-reflective grump.
Today, the feeders thronged with sparrows – around forty of them – jostling for position and making an ungodly mess, all to a persistent soundtrack of high-pitched chirrups. The testosterone-fueled jostling of the male birds, clad in their dark masks of alternating hues – a sign of dominance, I was once told – bemusing, and the boldness of the entire folk in the face of passing dog-walkers and cyclists, outstanding.
Above the sparrows, a pair of visiting Goldfinches raided the Nyger; appearing almost snobbish as they watched the scrum beneath. On the ground, a plump Woodpigeon waddled through the mass of small, brown birds, dispersing them in its wake as it mopped up fallen fragments of sunflower and wheat. From the pot which holds our now decrepit Cotoneaster, a Dunnock tentatively emerged, far too polite to engage in the frenzy and content to pick off stray morsels from the peripheries.
I confess that it took me a while to realise I was feeling better; mood building as I observed the fray until begrudgingly, I returned to my screen. Now, three hours later, I have obliterated my ‘to do’ list: answering emails, writing a reference, drafting a post for a notable NGO, proofreading a magazine and quickly producing a few snippets of overdue copy. Hell, now I even find myself writing this post – the first piece of genuine writing I have submitted to this blog in weeks.
It really is remarkable what a brief spell in nature can do for you. I should take five, sit back and watch more often – even when commitments render me unable to travel further afield.
A late afternoon in the final week of summer and I found myself taking a detour along the edge of woodland on my local common. The place was bathed in a vivid light, bright enough to illuminate the trees in their various shades of green, and there was a strong breeze that whipped around my shirt and played with the fallen leaves beneath my feet. Although still warm, I could feel the chill that the darker evening would bring. It was enough to make me sense the gradual decline of Summer and the encroaching tide of Autumn.
A speckled carpet of pink and white caught my eye and I noticed cyclamen beneath the branches of a horse chestnut. The confetti-like colours made a great contrast to the browns of bracken and fallen leaves on the woodland’s floor, but I couldn’t help wondering if this was an unusual sight at this time of year. I’m used to seeing these at Christmas time and remember them brightening the shelves of the garden centre where I worked as a student. They do flower throughout the year but I had never seen them here and my guess is that their appearance at this time was hastened by the unusual weather conditions this year. The cyclamen flowers were hosting a number of bees, which were clearly being much more industrious than me, standing as I was and pondering the seasons. As I walked through the woodland I passed silver birch, beech and oak, all playing host to various eco-systems, the inhabitants of which were mostly too tiny for me to see as a passerby.
On the Common, the grass had been harvested and bales of hay were dotted at various intervals in a very pastoral scene. On an impromptu visit to Morden Hall Park last month I came across workers gathering the hay entirely by hand and then loading it onto a cart pulled by two shire horses. The scene could have come straight out of a painting by Constable. The manpower was considerable and was made up of National Trust workers and volunteers, but the horses were a wonderful sight to see, and there was little noise other than the calls of the workers and the stomping of the horses’ hooves as they pulled the cart.
I paused on a semi-sheltered spot on the Common beneath a wonderful old oak, the curvaceous shape of which seemed benign and welcoming. A path wound up through the copse behind me. I knew it would lead to the river after no great distance but a new path is for exploration, nevertheless. A pair of meadow browns danced in the breeze, chasing higher and higher without breaking their helix-like choreography. The bright green oak leaves contrasted with the Mediterranean blue of the sky. Here, for a minute, the seasons had paused and summer reigned still. These patches of green are treasures, oases that make living in a city a joy. A few minutes beneath the woodland branches and I was refreshed and ready to face the world again.
I have written before about the virtues of blogging from a personal perspective and the ample benefits it brings in terms of personal development, networking and general enjoyment. As such, it will come as no surprise to learn that I thoroughly enjoy blogging and, in turn, derive great pleasure from reading the virtual musings of others. Recently, however, I have found myself pondering the value of it all.
I, personally, know many conservationists who also identify as bloggers, and on the reverse, know many bloggers who also call themselves conservationists. It is these people, those who do not necessarily spent numerous hours in the field committing grandiose acts in aid of nature, who are the subject of this post. Can these people, those who spend the majority of their time at a keyboard as opposed to their local nature reserve, call themselves conservationists with a clear conscience? Well, yes, I believe so.
One of the most common questions I receive from individuals curious about my blog is what difference does it make? Well, I do not profess to have the best blog on the internet nor claim to be the purveyor of the most interesting content; though I do believe that blogging can and does make a positive difference. I believe that the webs growing community of eco-bloggers have a huge role to play as we strive to safeguard the natural world, and whatever the particular theme of a blog, believe all forms of virtual commentary are important.
Do nature bloggers make a difference? Well, that depends on the content they produce. Some endeavour to inform the wider public of worrying trends in wildlife populations, highlight practical conservation efforts and generate discussion around pressing environmental issues. All of which help raise vital awareness and may, if done correctly, lead to a shift in reader attitudes, a shift which may itself inspire direct action on behalf of nature. Perhaps readers will feel compelled, upon hearing of the decline of a particular species, to take action on its behalf; or perhaps others, after heeding a particular message, will take the time to rewrite and reword it so to inform their own networks. Thus aiding in the dissemination of vital messages and increasing wider awareness.
The virtues of print in this regard are widely known when it comes to influencing public opinion, but with time progressing towards a distinctly more virtual age, blogging, in my opinion, has become just as important when it comes to getting the message out there. Whatever that message may be. Something which rings equally true for more traditionally dry, educational content. Indeed, the recent surge in #Scicomm bloggers is most welcome as scientific writers begin to make technical content accessible and, more importantly, palatable for the wider online community.
On the other side of the coin, we have those that dedicate their time to highlighting the beauty and allure of nature. These, those blogs that detail personal adventures in the natural world and muse on the appeal of species and wild spaces, are by far the most numerous blogs out there. Just look at the thriving BBC Wildlife Magazine Local Patch Reporters thread. While these people may stay clear of tackling the controversial, they are, in my opinion, of equal importance when it comes to conservation.
By highlighting the beauty to be seen in the countryside and sharing their own experiences in nature, eco-bloggers have the same effect as a well-written book or expertly presented documentary: they foster an appreciation of the natural world. Nature writing in general, online or otherwise, has the power to motivate people to seek out wild intrigue, to visit new places and experience new spectacles. Something which, in turn, gives rise to endless possibility. Perhaps those propelled into the field off the back of an expertly worded article will find their calling and decide to etch out a career in environmental protection? Perhaps they will decide to take with them their kids, their parents, partners or friends, thus sharing the joys of nature with others and instigating a shift to a more sympathetic, appreciative attitude. Is this sense, nature blogging is a vital piece of the puzzle when it comes to combatting nature deficit disorder.
Giving more thought to the matter, the virtues of nature blogging are hard to ignore. Blogs can motivate and inform, just look at the blogs of Mark Avery and RPS, while also generating discussion and bringing underreported issues to the public eye – a prime example of this coming from Thinking Country, managed by Ben Eagle. Blogs can educate, advise and inspire, all while encouraging others to think more, discuss and, more importantly, act on environmental issues. While nature blogging remains, for the time being at least, a niche activity; the possibilities of this particular pastime are limitless.
While my own blog is very a much a hotchpotch of various varieties of writing – nature writing, press releases, reviews, trip reports and much more – I would like to think that in some small way, I slot into the picture described above.
The August edition of New Nature, the youth nature magazine, has been released and is now available to download online and free. Check it out: https://goo.gl/FeC9Sd
This issue has a definite marine theme and features some fabulous writing with regards to cetaceans, micro plastics and marine wildlife; in addition to an interview with Andy Bool, the head of the Sea Life Trust. As ever, it has been nothing short of a delight to work on this issue and I am incredibly grateful to the entire New Nature team from bringing yet another fabulous youth publication to life.
To learn more about New Nature, please check out our website – I can assure you, you will not be disappointed.
After a pretty tedious day of rain, menial work and more rain, I was delighted to receive two loads of good news this evening. The first coming from my University who kindly informed me that I received 71% for my final taught Masters module. This grade taking me to within striking distance of an overall distinction should my thesis go to plan. More exciting, however, was the news that I have been shortlisted in the something different category of the Northern Blogger Awards 2017.
The event itself takes place in Manchester during September and promises – due in no small part to the free booze and grub – to be a blast. Bringing together social influencers, media personalities and, of course, bloggers from across Northern England, the event looks set to be a snazzy one and, in a similar theme to the Living North awards I found myself lucky enough to attend last year, it looks as if I am going to have to unfurl my best suit for another outing.
I am incredibly grateful to whoever it was that nominated me for said award and win or lose, I am delighted to be considered alongside the popular figures in my category. I do not (and have never) considered myself an influencer nor do I profess to do anything other than waffle about nature on this blog, thus I am honoured to have been considered.
One of the most common questions raised whenever someone stumbles across this blog, particularly from those of a non-environmental background is: why bother? Surely it takes up too much time, provides very little in the way of a reward and is generally rather tedious. A good question, actually, though one I struggle to answer on a regular basis, the issue broached equally as often by nature-lovers, many of whom appear baffled by the notion of writing about wildlife, as opposed to watching it in the field 24/7. Well, I do, in fact, spent a great deal of time watching wildlife. As well as writing about it. Though such conversations have indeed caused me to ponder, let’s say, just why I dedicate so much time to blogging about nature. And, for that matter, aspire to one day make a living from amalgamating words and wildlife.
Nature blogging, for me, is a mode of learning. And, more the case in recent years, my mind now scrambles to make mental notes of every aspect of an animal or place, in order to write about it in detail later. Where once I merely watched wildlife, appreciative yet not learning overly much, I now find myself scrutinising many many aspects of species and habitats in detail. From the behaviour of a Willow Tit at the nest to the variance in bill sizes of the innumerable Dunlin pottering around my local estuary. Such observations, more often than not, raise questions. Questions that will niggle until I head online, to the library or to the pages of other nature writers in order to answer them, thus learning a little more every day. Similarly, when asked or inspired to write on a certain topic, research must be conducted in order to avoid sounding like a babbling idiot. I honestly believe I have learnt more over the years from blogging than I ever did during my three years as an undergraduate.
My blog is my diary. Many people, particularly birders and naturalists, maintain a journal – often a jaded, tattered notebook, treasured above all other worldly possessions. And in which they frequently record anything from seasonal trends in wildlife – the first swallow of Spring, or Redwing of autumn – to memorable encounters and anything else they observed on their travels. Keeping an online diary is no different. Blogging about nature allows me to keep track of my sightings, observe trends in my local wildlife and record the general highs and lows of a life in nature. Even now I find myself looking back, sometimes fondly, other times not so much, on ventures I posted online in the past, and will doubtless do the same for many years to come. If only to reminisce. All of this, of course, goes without stating the more personal aspects of a journal – some of my final outings with my Grandmother, the lady who first introduced me to the joys of wildlife, are recorded online and are deeply treasured. Nature blogging has many perks, but above all else, it is a highly personal affair, not too dissimilar to maintaining a diary. Though this diary lies plain for the world to see.
As well as acting as a journal, nature blogs also provide a means by which to inspire others, with this inspiration manifesting itself in a number of forms. From direct actions undertaken to protect nature, to simple forays outdoors to enjoy the beauty that abounds around us. There are a great number of inspirational nature bloggers online, with some of my favourites including Mark Avery, Ben Eagle and Sophie-May Lewis, all of whom inspire me greatly whenever they take to the keyboard. I do not count myself among these people, not yet at least, but hope that from time to time my blog may to cause people to think harder about a certain topic, or visit a new place. The simple act of prompting a person to enjoy and discover wildlife in an unfamiliar setting is highly rewarding in itself.
In addition to the previously mentioned points, blogging also provides a gateway to a vibrant community of talented, incredibly friendly individuals. I mentioned some of my favourite bloggers earlier in this post but there are an awful lot more out there – more every day it seems, hurrah. Writing a blog provides an opportunity to engage with other bloggers, to trade ideas, to promote one another and, above all else, provides an opportunity to make friends. Indeed, many of the people I am lucky enough to know at present first became known to me after commenting on my blog, or when I luckily stumbled across their own. All of these people boast similar interests, thus blogging, for me, has proven a real game changer when it comes to dragging myself out of the reclusive shell familiar, sadly, to many with an interest in nature.
Finally, and I leave this until last because it is the least important, in my opinion at least. Blogging is also a great way to bring about new opportunities for yourself, and a well-written or simply enthusiastic article has the potential to open up a whole new set of horizons. For me, simply sharing my thoughts on my humble online journal has progressed, on occasion, to the opportunity to contribute to magazines, books and, of course, the blogs of other people. It has lead to day trips, volunteer work, links to notable groups and even the odd press-trip. And through these opportunities, each of which I am horribly grateful for, blogging has greatly boosted my confidence. Both as a writer and an aspiring naturalist. It has helped hone my ambitions for the future and given me the reassurance I feel I needed to “grab the bull by the horns” and make things happen for myself.
The reasons set out above detail precisely why I, personally, maintain a nature blog. Obviously, every writer puts pen to paper for a different reason – figuratively speaking, I seldom use a pen – and not all will do so for the reasons listed in the post. I do, however, hope to have answered the question I began with. And moving forward I intend to use this post as a means to appease those who raise such topics in the future.
As many of you will know, I have been rather busy of late undertaking another field season in the Scottish Highlands. Due to this, my blogging efforts have been rather lax of late. It is however, both humbling and rather delightful to see so many people continuing to read my various wildlife-related bits and pieces. I feel 2016 has finally seen me advancing more progressively towards a career in environmental journalism/nature writing and, though I still have a long way to go, I am feeling a little more optimistic. As I am now blessed with an internet connection once more, I thought I would share a quick list of the other places where anyone interested can keep up to date with my antics and various waffling:
Wildlife Articles – I currently write for, and manage the social media for the popular environmental-blogging platform.
Conservation Job – I currently hold a column on the Conservation Job careers portal, covering topical issues in a literature review format.
Wilder – I recently took on the social media operations for Wilder, a new activism organisation aiming to bolster wildlife conservation in the UK. Early days but watch this space for future updates.
Facebook – A new Facebook page where I intend to share blog updates for the forseeable future.
Local Patch Reporters – I will be sharing my local patch based posts on the BBC Wildlife Forum, my thread here has already hit 25,000 views (yikes).
Twitter and LinkedIN – You can, of course, follow me here too should you wish to.
In Print – Two recent forays into the realm of “real writing” include a piece in ‘Summer – an anthology for the changing seasons’, by the wonderful Melissa Harrison and a factual article centered on Willow Tits, in the The Harrier.
