To make the break between the working week and the weekend, yesterday evening we had a sunset wander at one of our usual spots in the Brampton Valley. Almost immediately after getting out of the car we spotted a white shape flying low over the rough grass area amongst the now empty arable fields. Looking through our binoculars it was instantly recognisable as a barn owl. We slowly made our way along the farmland track to get a closer view and a second owl a popped up. We watched the pair for about half an hour as the light faded until they both flew off towards a nearby barn.
We’ve been visiting the spot often since we moved into the area two and a half years ago but only in the early days did we see barn owls there. So this was a delight and we’ll go back more often at sunset to see if we can find them again.
Despite the weather remaining warm, today felt like we’re finally transitioning into autumn and approaching the return leg into the colder and darker seasons.
This morning, we first went to gather some blackberries from an abundant spot I noted on my cycle yesterday. It was quite strange that the location hadn’t been picked-out already as it was just on the side of a quiet lane and not far from a village. We collected enough to go into a Kilner jar to make some hedgerow gin and into the first homemade pie of the season to follow the first post-summer roast beef Sunday dinner.
After collect that good crop, we went for a walk around our nearest reservoir at Ravensthorpe. On the drive there we could see the leaves starting to turn and even a few already fallen to the ground. The duck and geese numbers are starting to build but there were still signs of the breeding season with cygnets and young great-created grebes. One of the adult grebes has an enormous perch and was being noisily followed by a squeaky chick. The perch eventually went down it’s throat but only after a long struggle.
Now home, the blackberries are already in the jar with the gin, which has turned a lovely dark burgundy…
I’m sad summer is over but I do love the autumn. The cosiness of the darker nights, an occasional log fire, the changing colours of the countryside, the richer and more comforting food, and a slowing down of the pace of nature.
We’ve got a week in the Forest of Dean in October and I’m hoping it will be a time to delve into all that autumn brings.
Before that, as it gets dark this evening, perhaps there might be a tot of what remains of last year’s hedgerow gin before we tuck into that dinner.
A visit to the RSPB’s Ramsey Island reserve at this time of year has to include watching the Atlantic grey seals. September is the prime time for pupping and Ramsey has around 600-700 pups born on its beaches every summer and autumn. Given an afternoon off from my volunteering tasks this week, I spent a few hours sitting above the largest of the pupping beaches, Aber Mawr, taking in all the activity unfolding below me.
The tide was just turning to come back in as I sat down and made myself comfortable. At low tide, and this was a particularly low one, the retreating sea reveals areas of sand, which are in contrast to the shingle beneath the cliffs that give way to boulder-fields slightly further out. All was serene on the beach. The female seals were lying out in groups sleeping in the warm sunshine. Others were nursing their pups or bobbing around in the water. The pups slept too, mostly on the shingle or in amongst the boulders. They occasionally let out short cry but otherwise there was little sound, save for a chattering flock of chough passing overhead. There were adjustments on the sand as the water slowly started to make its way in. The females shuffled every so often as the water encroached on their patch, but overall there was very little going on.
However, as the tide rose and hit the boulder field, all hell broke loose. The pups that has been sleeping in amongst the boulders were thrust forward by the waves, washed through the gaps and into pools. They were completely as the mercy of the water. As one wave retreated they would try to scramble to a safer spot but their weak flippers could give them little support on the slippery rocks. When another wave came they were tumbled around again and at times dragged back out into the deeper water as the waves withdrew. Some of the mothers were there to support their pups but could be seen attacking the pups of others if they got too close; those pups running a gauntlet of both sea and seals. As the water forced the seals closer together, fights broke out amongst the mothers, protecting their patch on the beach. The air was now filled with the calls of distressed pups and the racing and crashing of the waves, the serenity of earlier, now shattered by the advancing tide.
I returned to the spot later on into the evening and the tide had now left only a narrow band of shingle between the waves and the cliffs. The pups were pressed tight against the cliffs’ stone walls or were still fighting in the surf, struggling to stay on the shore at the thinest parts of the beach. The scene continued into the darkness with the cries of pups rising up the cliffs and following me and as made my way back to the comfort of the Bungalow.
I’ve written before about the seals of Ramsey Island (here and here) – I’d almost forgotten and nearly wrote similar posts again.
Just stepped outside of the Bungalow on RSPB Ramsey Island to see the blue supermoon. It wasn’t quite visible but the light and clouds provided quite a view over St Brides Bay…
As spring turned to summer, our trip to Sweden in the second half of June once again revealed the richness of the country’s wildlife. Our stay in a summer house in the Swedish countryside enabled us to wander locally and further afield in search of birds, mammals and insects in a variety of landscapes.
The summerhouse is located about a third of the way up the country and around 125km north-west of Stockholm. It lies in an area where southern Sweden transitions into the north, a region of forest, lakes, meadows and bogs.
As always, the gardens and forest around the summerhouse provided a lot of wildlife watching. The warblers were a constant throughout our stay with willow warbler perhaps the backing soundtrack to each day. However, the other warblers were also prominent with blackcap, garden warbler and chiffchaff frequently heard. During the trip we also saw common and lesser whitethroat on our travels.
The area around the summerhouse is also good for a range of small birds including tits (blue, great, coal, willow and, my favourite, crested), nuthatch, treecreeper, house sparrow and tree sparrow and quite a few finches including chaffinch, greenfinch, bullfinch, goldfinch and siskin (in the image below). The garden also had frequent visits from both pied and spotted flycatcher as well as the occasional roding woodcock.
Mälaren, the great water body of interlinked navigable lakes that reaches inland from Stockholm, is about 55km south of where we stay and there are two lovely nature reserves reaching inland from the shoreline, one either side of the large town of Västeras. We visited both Asköviken, to the west, and Ängsö, to the east, for the first time. Both reserves have reedbed and grass marshland against the coast with old oak woodland behind. Oaks are not typical of what we might imagine Scandinavian woodland to be. However, in Southern Sweden, oaks in mixed woodland can be found in many places, and I’ve been to a few.
Both visits to the nature reserves provided rich pickings for birdwatchers, with Asköviken particularly memorable. Walking out to the bird tower on the water’s edge we came across tree pipit and red-backed shrike, and as we approached the tower heard a call somewhat like a parrot but it turned out to be my first ever icterine warbler. Normally, these birds are very hard to see and it seemed this one would live up to that reputation, however, once we were at the top of the tower, it flew into the top of a nearby tree where is stayed and called for quite a while (picked out in the image below).
The bird tower gave us views out into Mälaren over the shallows and small, low islands. There were plenty of greylag geese and a few different ducks. The only waders we saw immediately were lapwings but after a while we saw two summer plumage spotted redshanks in the distance. Even further out, we saw the unmistakable silhouettes of two white-tailed eagles. They were both hunting and eventually dived down to an island and didn’t reappear. On the way back, I had another first as we walked through the woodland. A bird flew up from the ground and into a track-side tree. At first, I thought it was a thrush but looking again it turned out to be a wryneck, and a pretty grainy photo (below) confirmed it.
Amongst other woodpeckers we saw during the trip we green and great-spotted, and we heard a black woodpecker. We also saw a lesser-spotted woodpecker at Ängsö, the first I’ve seen since a winter trip to Poland in 2018.
One of my favourite places to visit within an easy distance of where we stay, is Färnebofjärden National Park and we took another couple of trips up there for to look for wildlife. We had intended to go to grill sausages at one of the riverside fireplaces but the lack of rain over the preceding months had led to tinder-dry conditions and a fire ban. However, we went anyway and we’re rewarded with a short view of a goshawk as it disappeared into the forest after crossing the water. On a second visit to the National Park we saw another white-tailed eagle from the bird tower at Skäkersbo as well as crested tots high up in the surrounding trees.
The trip overall was quite good for raptors. On top of the white-tailed eagles and the goshawk, we saw buzzard, kestrel, sparrowhawk, osprey (including three in one view) and hobby. I do usually see marsh harrier and sometimes red kite but not this time.
We also found a new spot to look for wildlife, to the south of the National Park, at Österbo, where there is a 700m boardwalk crossing what is usually a wet water meadow. On our visit there was little sign of water and little wildlife, but I suspect it’s a good location for migration stopovers for wading birds, waterfowl and cranes. We’ll have to go back in spring or autumn to check.
On the way back to the summerhouse, we very fleetingly saw a third and final ‘first’ in the form of a hazel grouse which flew in front of the car and landed on a track as we drove down a fast main road; unfortunately we couldn’t stop.
I’ve said before on my blog that my greatest interest in wildlife is actually in mammals rather than birds. Sweden’s is much richer in it mammalian life than the UK is, showing how our islands once were, a long time ago, and perhaps could be once again (but probably not in my lifetime).
We didn’t have any real standout mammal moments on this trip but we did see a few; albeit some being on our trail cam. We put it the camera out at night, both at the front of the summerhouse and in the forest immediately behind it. We recorded roe deer, red fox, red squirrel and badger but unfortunately, unlike our last stay, we didn’t record a passing European Elk. We also saw brown hare in the area around the summerhouse. As in 2022, we got good views of beaver at the nearby lake, but unlike last year, these weren’t every night and we didn’t get as close views.
There were reptiles too with two types of snake. We saw a grass snake as we swam in the lake at the summerhouse and an adder as we walked along the forest tracks. We sometimes see slow worm in the garden but not this time.
We also spent a little time looking for insects and specifically looked out for one type of butterfly, finding a poplar admiral along a Dalarna forest track. On our first evening at the summerhouse we also saw a swallowtail. We were also pretty amazed by the sheer number of dragonflies and damselflies as we swam in the lake. Mating pairs would be hounded by packs of followers around our heads.
While seeing some birds for the first time is always nice, these weren’t the best wildlife memories of the trip. There were the swifts racing overhead as I swam in the lovely warm lake, there were the haunting calls of the black-throated divers as we relaxed by our waterside tent and, finally, the bugling of cranes echoing around the forest as we sat outside one evening. These were all quite magical moments that you get only from immersion in nature, even just for a few minutes.
All in all, we saw or heard 95 species of bird over two weeks, which I think must be a record for any holiday I’ve had except for guided trips to Africa.
Moving to Northamptonshire from Cheshire has made the east of England much more accessible than it was. This has put many of the wildlife sites and reserves within easier reach of an hour or two’s drive. So far we’ve had some great trips out that way including to the Ouse Washes, the Nene Washes, the Great Fen Project and much further into Norfolk. Late this spring we went to one of the reserves I’ve been wanting to visit for many years, Wicken Fen.
The Natural Trust reserve is large at 255 hectares and consists of a fenland landscape of wet meadows, sedge and reedbeds that has been lost from most of its former area. It has navigable channels, boardwalks and grassy paths on which to see the site. As well as walking, we took a 50-minute out and back electric boat ride which gave us a very different perspective to walking around the paths.
Being springtime, one of our main aims was to see and hear some of the typical fenland birds in their prime and we weren’t disappointed. We saw 45 species during the day but with some real highlights. The warblers, as would be expected, we very prominent with cetti’s, grasshopper, reed, sedge, willow, garden, chiff chaff, whitethroat and blackcap all in abundance. The raptors were led by marsh harriers but also included red kite, kestrel and buzzard. However, the real star of the show were the hobbies, with up to five in one view catching dragonflies and eating them on the wing. The other bird of note, which I always long to hear, and hopefully see, was the cuckoo. We heard one a few times as we sailed and walked around the reserve but then we got a great view as it sat in one tree calling and then flew across a meadow and called from another tree, all with the hobbies circling overhead.
The visit was lovely in the warm spring sunshine and the birds alone made the trip very much worth it. However, there was another target species for the day which at first we only had a very distant, hazy view of. Like the not too far away Great Fen Project, Wicken is a generations-spanning project to restore the fenlands at a landscape scale. To support the process, the plans include not just supporting birds but bringing back large herbivores to the land. So far this has included both highland cattle and wild Konik ponies.
After that distant view of both the ponies and cattle, we didn’t expect to see them close up during our visit, despite going to the area closest to where they would be. As we headed back to the car, we had almost given up the hope but then we heard a commotion in the distance as we walked past the area we had previously looked. We suddenly saw a small herd of ponies coming into view across the meadows and shallow lakes. Rushing to get a better look, the view opened up to reveal a stream of ponies in different groups cantering across the landscape and getting closer and closer until they were right in front of us.
It was immediately apparent that these weren’t just some tame hacking ponies from the local livery yard but very much their wild cousins. There was a dynamism in their lives you don’t see in horses grazing domestic fields. They weren’t just passively nibbling at the grass and lazily swishing their tails to swat flies. Instead, they were living real lives of herd animals. The mares we’re staying close to their youngsters, guiding them as they splashed through the water but with the older foals gaining confidence and rushing around in groups. The stallions were the stars of the show. Their strength and energy was obvious as they rushed around their harems, warding off the advances of others. Squabbles and fights would break out, with biting and kicking, and occasional face-to-face thrashing of limbs and hooves as they stood high on their rear legs. There was a constantly whinnying and snorting as the males tried to keep hold of their mares.
The last group of ponies, a bachelor pack, galloped from the distance over harder ground with their hooves filling the air with a rumble and their cries growing louder. As they entered the water, they chased and bickered amongst themselves but slowed down to a trot as the water deepened. The stallions closest to their route were agitated by their advance and turned towards them, only for the group to halt their approach. Individually they stopped and dropped into the water, rolling to cover themselves in dark, watery peat-laden mud. They stood up and shook themselves, now blackened and dripping, their bedraggled manes plastered think against their necks.
This was a wild herd acting as wild animals. All of this was laid out in front of us in a landscape that is being transformed by their presence. It stirred something visceral, a feeling of wilderness and something long lost from the country. There are no true wildernesses left in the UK but at times a sound or view can bring a momentary link between the modern UK and its former more wild past. For a moment, a window opened to provide a view into what has been and what could yet be again.
Searching through the pages of my blog, I’m not sure I’ve really given enough space to my favourite bird – the swift. I aim to change that and I’ll start with a post about yesterday when I had the chance to get up close to some of these birds. Having spoken to one of our fellow villagers, John, a few times since we moved here in 2021, last year he kindly showed me his swift nest boxes and the video feed he has from them. We spoke again recently and this time he invited me around to see the swift chicks be ringed.
John, the two ringers, Neil and Michelle, and I made our way up to one of his bedrooms where he can gain access to two of his nest boxes. The birds from one of the boxes had already fledged but there were two chicks still in the second. Unfortunately, on inspection, the chicks were too close to fledging to ring; it would have risked them flying out of the nest too early. We therefore had to abort the ringing but instead walked up to the church to inspect the nest boxes high up in the base of the steeple.
Three of us went up the three steep sets of ladders to gain access to the steeple and then John and Neil clambered over the bells to check on the two boxes. More chicks were found, revealing a very successful breeding year for John’s nest boxes with five boxes in total producing 10 chicks.
Over the previous two summers we have lived in the village, we have frequently seen swifts but not often at low roof-top level around our house. However, during this third summer in the village, we have seen quite a lot of swifts flying close around our house and the neighbouring ones, hopefully, indicating not only that there may be more nests in the village but that they may be in the surrounding houses or out-buildings.
I could talk and write for hours about swifts, and I aim to write some more, but I’ll keep this post short but just say that there is something rather nice about hearing a party of screaming swifts as I sit at my desk in my home office on a warm summer afternoon. It’s a sound I look forward to throughout the autumn, winter and spring.
We’ve been having a quiet weekend after quite a few busy ones over the last couple of months. Not wanting to be stuck inside, despite the pretty poor weather for July (is it ever going to stop with the endless stream of showers and heavier rain?), we made a short trip to the nature reserve at Pitsford Water. As we made our way to the first larger hide in Scaldwell Bay, we met a birdwatcher who said he’d seen a black-necked grebe. After a little looking around with our binoculars, it couldn’t be seen, so we wandered off. A few hundred metres further on, we stopped and scanned the water’s edge some more, and there it was floating and diving in an area that had been hidden from view earlier. As my first black-necked grebe, this was a good return on a quick trip to the reservoir.
However, we wandered on to the hide and saw a big group of cormorants on the old tree stumps at the edge of the water and small numbers of black-headed gulls, with their summer plumage starting to fade. Sadly, we didn’t see many common terns at all, and I wonder whether they have been hit by bird flu this breeding season, as there were many more when we visited earlier in the spring. Hearing their calls has become one of my favourite sounds of the summer when visiting Pitsford.
As we left the hide we came across a nice patch of brambles and thistles with really good numbers of butterflies feeding on the flowers – peacock, gatekeeper, painted lady, comma and large white – as well as large numbers of damselflies. Just as we turned to leave we also heard a marsh tit calling from the trees beyond – I still haven’t seen one this year but heard quite a few now.
As we headed home, it began to rain again, still no sign of a settled spell of summer weather.
Daft Mumblings 