
Sun ghost
Nice sun ghost while I was out on my post work cycle this evening…

Wandering from my doorstep
From my bedroom window, looking through the gaps between houses, I can see the open, flat fields of the Cheshire Plain and, in the distance, the sandstone ridge that dissects the west of the county. In all the time I have lived in my house in Wistaston, well over a decade now, I have only once walked the public footpaths through those fields. I’m not entirely sure what’s been stopping me from wandering around my neighbouring bit of countryside – it’s only two or three minutes walk away, after all – but I’ve finally been to explore. Last weekend I was stuck at home without my car, so I thought I would go out and have a look.
There’s a network of footpaths through the fields and a good loop walk which takes me out from the houses and deep into the fields and round into a shallow valley, through an area of country park (which includes Joey The Swan), and back onto the local residential roads. Taking about an hour for a slow wander, the route I have found takes in two main habitats in the form of the wide, open cow fields (cow-less at present) and a wooded valley. There’s plenty of water present, with a stream running through the valley and small ponds dotted around the fields (very typical of Cheshire). The fields themselves are also very wet at present after significant rainfall recently – a pair of wellies is a must at present!
I’m sure there won’t be any wildlife spectaculars as I wander around these footpaths but I’ve already recorded 29 species of bird, and a couple of mammals; the fields are much better for wildlife than I first thought. I have had a couple of nice sights too, with a good-sized flock of meadow pipits passing through on migration yesterday and a total of nine buzzards seen today, including a mating pair near their nest and a group of seven circling in the rising thermals. The sounds and sights of spring were very evident down in the wooded valley with willows coming out in flower, the chiffchaffs calling, a great spotted woodpecker drumming and a peacock butterfly feeding on some early blooms.
It’s quite ridiculous really, that it has taken me so long to find a local walk, straight from my doorstep, but now I’ve found it, I’m going to keep on using it.
Falkland Islands – Saunders Island: Wildlife Out on the Edge
Saunders is the fourth largest island in the Falklands archipelago and was also the fourth place I stayed during my trip last year. Whilst technically it is around 13 miles long and about the same wide, this is rather misleading as it’s an oddly shaped place. It has three parts joined by low isthmuses and if the sea levels were a little higher, Saunders would split into three. The largest section of the island has the only settlement, called Saunders Settlement, funnily enough! The island has mountains, open moor, marsh and grassland, and, at its edges, beaches and steep cliffs.
After landing on the island aboard a FIGAS flight, visitors are picked up by the island’s owners and transported from the landing strip, through the settlement, and out to the accommodation. The settlement is a typical jumbled collection of buildings, both the home-like and the agricultural, from sheds and shacks to houses and barns.
In amongst the buildings is the island shop – something of an experience! It’s a barn-like Aladdin’s Cave of food with high wooden shelves of packets and tins, in amongst a jumble of boxes across the floor and freezers with home-made ready meals. There’s no chance of going hungry there but a bit of self-catering provides a break from the great and hearty meals laid on elsewhere.
Whilst visitors can stay in the settlement, there seems little point as the most important sights are some distance away and there are two places to stay nearer to them. I stayed at the Rookery Inn on the north coast of the main part of the island, which is about an hour’s drive from the settlement. The other accommodation is at ‘The Neck’, by the north-western isthmus, which is one of the few places where visitors to the Falklands can find king penguins.
When first arriving, the Rookery Inn doesn’t seem all that inviting – it looks like a shipping container with windows. However, inside, it’s a comfy, clean and warm cabin, with an open-plan kitchen, lounge and dinning room, two bedrooms and a shower room. It’s actually a little calm, metal-box oasis in the middle of nowhere. It was the simplest of the accommodation I stayed in but that was very much part of its charm. The white wrinkly-tin walls set off by the luminous red wrinkly-tin roof, it stands out in its surroundings but any building would do there. It looks out over the cliffs to the South Atlantic, the wind blowing straight into its face.
I arrived in the morning and was at the cabin by lunchtime. I spent the rest of the day walking up the nearby Rookery Mountain (422m) and then down towards the nearby beach. On top of the mountain the winds off the ocean have scoured the rocks and boulders, leaving strange carvings, almost like solid lenticular clouds.
Writing of clouds, the afternoon would have been almost cloudless except that the island was making its own weather. The brisk wind blowing in off the ocean was lifted as it hit the land and rose up the steep mountainside. As it reached the ridge, the air condensed and clouds formed, cloaking the tops in a fog which reached out across island.
The beaches on Saunders are like many of those elsewhere in the Falklands – bright light-coloured sands washed over by turquoise waves. Standing on top of Rookery Mountain towards the beaches, with a stunningly deep blue sky overhead made for an equally stunning view.
Saunders is another of the Important Bird Areas designated by Birdlife International in the islands and the wildlife has got to be the main reason to visit. Around 50 bird species have been recorded on the island with around 40 breeding or probably breeding. All five species of penguin found breeding in the Falklands can be seen at Saunders. Of particular note are the 7,000 pairs each of gentoo and rockhopper penguins and 4,000 pairs of magellanic penguins, as well as 11,000 pairs of black-browed albatrosses. The Rookery Cabin is a great place to stay to see all of these species with the breeding cliffs for the albatrosses starting almost outside the door and the large rockhopper colonies (rookeries) being just a 25 minute walk away along the cliff tops. The magellanic and gentoo penguins can be found down at the beaches with the former nesting in burrows just behind the sand and the latter wandering further inland to their colonies.
Sitting at the top of the cliffs near to the cabin, I watched the albatrosses for hours as they glided past on the stiff ocean breeze and came into land – another place where they could skim just over my head. The cries of the birds reverberated along the steep rocky edges, all mixed in with the sounds of the ocean below and the wind whipping across the ground. The view laid out in front was of miles of cliffs dotted with the white birds sitting on their nests with others coming and going – a true wildlife spectacular.
Further along the cliff top was the rockhopper rookery – I first found it during the first evening as night was starting to fall. After cresting rise after rise, I eventually started to hear and smell them, some distance before topping the final ridge and seeing the round colonies in an open cliff top valley. The penguins form several large breeding groups in the short-clipped grass above the tumbling cliff which these diminutive penguins bounce up and down. This was the location where the BBC filmed parts of its ‘Penguins – Spy in the Huddle’ series – this clip shows their troubles getting up the cliff!
For the only full day on the island, I spent more time with the rockhoppers and wandered along the cliffs amongst the albatrosses, and then walked down to the further beach, back towards the settlement. There was plenty of time to watch the Commerson’s dolphins playing in the crashing surf and to wander amongst the gentoo and magellanic penguins.
The original British settlement in the Falklands, Port Egmont, was established on Saunders in 1765. Yes that seems a long time ago and the tumbled down remains of the first buildings lie there true to that but there is a sense of continued history on the island that is perhaps stronger than elsewhere because of their presence. The links from that first settlement to the events of 1982 and on to now are in the aura of the place and almost tangible; in fact, they are. You can touch the stones of those first buildings, you can touch the Argentinian landing craft now lying derelict on the beach and you can touch the ‘there and now’ in everything. Throughout my stay amongst the islands, there was a true sense of an ongoing history, of people living it and of a place touched by it. Yet, what is obvious there is that our impact on the land is but a tiny scar in its history; the natural history is so much more, so much richer.
Like elsewhere amongst moors, bays, mountains and beaches, the people are the link to the past and the future. In my hour long journeys to and from the cabin, I learned a little more about the experiences of those living there both now and in 1982. The views were strong but considered, robust but practical, and above all else, there was a sense of being in tune with the land.
Saunders is where I felt the most like I was on the edge of the world and that’s what made the cabin all the more homely – comfort on the edge. With seeing no one for 24 hours, with the exception of a passing ship, and a view out into the harsh South Atlantic, there was nowhere else I stayed quite as remote or quite like it.
I wrote previously that Pebble Island was like the Falklands in miniature; I don’t quite think the same can be said for Saunders. However, Saunders does typify the Falklands in some ways – it is what it is, the place has a ‘take us as you find us’ kind of way about it and it is no pastiche of itself, made softer or gentler for outside eyes. Will I go back? Almost certainly!
S is for Spring, Song and Surveys
As I have mentioned in previous posts, I undertake wildlife surveys for both Cheshire Wildlife Trust and the British Trust for Ornithology (BTO) and this makes spring a very busy season. I undertake Breeding Bird Surveys (BBS) for both organisations, using different methodologies but both types require spending early mornings wandering around in the Cheshire countywide, listening to bird song, counting individual birds and making notes.
I’m one of a handful of amateur surveyors undertaking these surveys across Cheshire Wildlife Trust’s sites. I’m particularly privileged to be undertaking them at the Trust’s Blakenhall Moss and Bagmere reserves as I’m the first person to do bird surveys at these sites and I’m really starting with a blank piece of paper as far as bird records go. Hopefully, my records will give the Trust some useful information with which to help plan the management of the two sites over the next few years.
The BBS programme for the BTO is of a completely different scale with thousands of people undertaking surveys across the whole of the UK. I’m fortunate with my involvement in this survey too, as my site (a one kilometre Ordnance Survey map grid square) is in one of the nicest spots in the county, around the village of Bulkeley, just below the sandstone ridge that dissects the Cheshire Plain. The two one kilometre transects (survey routes) cover a surprisingly wide range of habitats, from roadside hedges and country gardens, to wide open dairy pasture and hay fields, and from horse paddocks and small ponds to hillside woodland and open heathland. There’s even a good pub slap-bang in the middle of the grid square – one of my favourite habitats!

The Wildlife Trust’s surveys are undertaken once per month during March, April, May and June, and over the first couple of weekends of March I decided to get a head start and did the first of surveys at ‘my’ two sites. At Bagmere, I recorded 24 species; not a bad number for the site, but some way short of the 41 in total recorded over the course of the four spring surveys last year. It was disappointing not record willow tit this time, as it is a local rarity and I have recorded them there before a number of times. However, water rail are becoming a regular and were recorded again.
The Blakenhall Moss survey was more successful with 31 species recorded during the visit; this compared to a total of 35 recorded across the four spring surveys last year. This good total helped to bring the site bird list to over 50 – thats the total number of species I have so far recorded over the course of two sets of Winter Bird Surveys and this and last years’ BBSs (and this year’s has only just started!). Of particular note again at Blakenhall were the marsh tits, very similar to willow tits and also a red list species, but also a good sized group of wintering teal and one or two pairs of lapwing.

The BTO’s surveys are undertaken during two visits, one in April/May and the other in May/June. I did a recce visit for the BTO survey last saturday to check for any changes to the transects including any alterations to the habitats (e.g. changes to farmland uses). It was a lovely, bright spring morning and I recorded (unofficially as this wasn’t the survey itself) 25 bird species including raven, the first time I had heard them this year, and quite a few chiffchaffs, a sure sign that spring is here! It was also interesting to note that winter migrants to these shores were still around with one big flock of redwings and fieldfares making their way northwards; spring is here but winter may still have a few last gasps to come.
I have mentioned before that undertaking these surveys has significantly improved by ‘ear’ for bird song. I seem to lose some of my memory for these songs and calls between seasons but soon get back into the rhythm. Whilst this improving ear has certainly helped with the surveys themselves, it has also increased my pleasure of going about my other activities; even the walk from the station to my office in Manchester city centre is brightened by the bird song I sometimes hear along the way. However, the real difference I have noticed this year is how the dawn chorus changes over the weeks, with some birds starting to sing earlier in the season than others. As spring first started to stir, I was still leaving home in the dark, but the song thrushes were already singing. As the mornings got lighter, other birds started to slowly join in, with the robins next and then the blackbirds. Now, I am leaving almost as the sun has risen and the birds are belting out their songs, with the wrens, blue tits, great tits, starlings and others adding to the sound and giving it their best.
It’s going to be a busy time over the spring months, and into the summer, and the surveys are just the start – I’ve also got shifts across at the Glaslyn osprey protection site and two weeks on Ramsey Island – can’t wait!
That’s one, now where’s the other?
Today the Glaslyn female osprey returned to her nest after spending the northern winter in West Africa – now we just have to wait for her other half to turn up (hopefully).
So much effort has been put in by the volunteers at the Bywyd Gwyllt Glaslyn Wildlife community interest company to get both the protection and visitor sites ready for their arrival. Yet, there is no certainty at all, each year, that they will make it all the way back to North Wales.
So, it’s so far so good…and fingers crossed!
‘Flying into the Sun’
Sunrise on the way to work
Red sky in the morning…

…and yes, it was pretty miserable today.
From Spring into Winter and Back Again
Out I drive, across the flatness of the Cheshire Plain and on towards the Welsh Border; the startling sun shining down, my shades reducing the glare. Up into the low hills I go, the road no less winding but certainly more undulating. The open skies and the warmth inside mask the wind on which a buzzard floats, just above the neighbouring ridge. Onwards I press, wanting an open-topped sportscar not an Autobahn saloon; maybe that’ll be another day!
As I pass Bala and its reservoir, I start to climb up into the mountains and the weather changes. There is a line, a break, between the brightness and a dark, brooding gloom. The hopes of a fine spring day soon fade as I pass under the divide and the cloud encloses the scenery. Above the lake, I take a sharp right turn and forcefully make my way up the hill, cresting the ridge and out onto the open moors, with the slim and twisting quiet road laid out in front. Finally, after turns and straights, and more turns, past sheer plunges, I drop down into the villages and then onto an open, flat plain once more.
I approach a familiar junction and turn, slowing to make the car narrow enough to pass through the gateway. Onto the track I drive, passing between wall and slope to the valley bottom; there are no hints of spring here and the birds remain hushed by the lingering cold and damp. The signs of last autumn remain; leaves still cover the ground and the track is split by a line of fallen twigs and mulch. The bracken, once bright in its closing year rustiness, has withered further and is left almost colourless, like the surrounding landscape, subdued by the monochrome skies. The new season seems a long way off here and it is only the mosses coating the walls and trees that add any pigment to the otherwise washed-out scene.
Surely spring must be here now? I’ve been to the training day for the Glaslyn osprey protection volunteers! As has been the case for the past three years, the season will be dotted with shifts down in the Glaslyn Valley, helping to protect a pair of nesting ospreys, and their precious clutch of eggs, from the backward, childish, and just plain illegal, advances of collectors. Maybe, one day, the actions of a few dimwitted idiots won’t have to be stopped by a group of passionate and proactive people that truly care about the world around them…but that is a slim hope. However, I have to confess (and don’t tell anyone), but I kind of like the Glaslyn Valley, and the attentions of a few egg collectors just gives me an excuse to spend more time there. As long as these idiots continue trying to satisfy their senseless needs, there will be people ready and waiting to stop them.
Yet again, I have been truly impressed by how much a group of volunteers has achieved in such a short space of time. Just over a year ago, the RSPB passed the project to protect the Glaslyn Ospreys to a group of volunteers, who set up a public interest company. Although last year was a big learning experience, the ospreys were successfully protected and fledged three chicks. Even more hard work has been put in since the birds left in the early autumn, which has resulted in big improvements this year with a new visitor centre nearly completed. However, the project can’t be run without a large group of volunteers, either at the protection site or visitor centre, but also without monetary donations. Time given for free only goes so far and the plans in place need financial support. So, if you have a few quid lying down the back of the sofa, or in a jar by the door, perhaps you could give it to a good cause and help to generate a thriving population of Welsh ospreys (by the way, they’re not just Welsh – the offspring of the Glaslyn pair currently breed in both England and Scotland). You can donate via the Bywyd Gwyllt Glaslyn Wildlife website.
On the way home, to my surprise, the break in the weather was in exactly the same place. As I approached Bala, the gloom of the middle of the day was left behind and a bright spring day reappeared. Even better, there were some spectacular lenticular clouds to be seen on the way, making concentration on the road ahead a little more difficult than usual.
So a day started in spring, spent in winter, and finished in spring again – perhaps I was a little too hopeful that the season had changed…and summer is definitely a long way off!
Talking about bird song…I need to learn to love the dawn chorus again!
Whilst winter isn’t over just yet, and it’s still dark when I leave home in the morning to travel to work, spring can’t be far away as over the past week I’ve heard birds singing the dawn chorus for the first time this year. When I say birds, I really mean one species, as it has only been song thrushes so far that I have heard in these early hours, just before 6:00am.
Over course of the spring last year, I had quite a long period of poor sleep, getting less than a handful of hours a night. Most mornings I knew it was pointless trying to get to sleep when the thrush on my roof started singing. The song of the bird, a constantly changing pattern of two or three-times repeated calls and notes, really started to annoy me. It is actually one of the nicest songs of dawn but it can be quite sharp and piercing, and not only made me even wider awake, the pattern of the call disturbed by thoughts too.
Usually, the first calls of the dawn chorus, as winter moves into spring, would be very welcome, but when I first heard that song this week, it took me right back to those sleepless nights last year. It’s strange how sounds (and other senses) can instantly transport the mind back to previous times. I’ll need to shake that association from my head as the down chorus should be something wonderful not something bad. So, I’m going to force myself to get up early one weekend morning and head out into the countryside, to sit under the canopy of a wood and listen as the dawn chorus unfolds around me – that should do the trick!

























