tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16546919642326730962024-03-18T13:08:39.850+00:00THE WESSEX REIVERAn adhoc forage into natural history, the rural scene and related topics based on personal observations, professional encounters and informative associations.
I'm on Instagram as @nature_out_dawesThe Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.comBlogger532125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-80925910366788437882024-03-17T09:27:00.027+00:002024-03-18T06:12:37.760+00:00A Portrait of John Moore<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS309w3N71wS77IsgUhRkjFSw01cJwADIWpt58PJgPCeGZDtHjdnsNotwdfEU8GxeUSh75VxO_DRcTuja63Cff1z2N3Q2XkyBfGd7jiDRE4WDJeIGmktEPDZJLCxvm-U1KUCxLVijTuQU4Krsuy_ETG2aunDlAKU1SOnjUyN0RNYG_g1ifOCxQmw6UCYx8/s4608/IMG_20240316_090927586.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS309w3N71wS77IsgUhRkjFSw01cJwADIWpt58PJgPCeGZDtHjdnsNotwdfEU8GxeUSh75VxO_DRcTuja63Cff1z2N3Q2XkyBfGd7jiDRE4WDJeIGmktEPDZJLCxvm-U1KUCxLVijTuQU4Krsuy_ETG2aunDlAKU1SOnjUyN0RNYG_g1ifOCxQmw6UCYx8/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_090927586.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Gloucester Services on the M5 (Northbound) is as good a place as any to begin to explore the writer John Moore. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After an early start from Somerset I'd stopped here for breakfast while travelling up to Tewkesbury, or Elmbury as Moore referred to his home town in his Brensham Trilogy. While forking in the nourishment I took time to plan my day. This was to be a relaxed general discovery day, the second of my ad-hoc project to visit the graves and landscapes associated with rural authors I admire. Tewkesbury Abbey, John Moore's grave, John Moore Countryside Museum, Tudor House and finally the village of Kemerton. First though the Abbey.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKjJ92x24sqqF29aEvrvg3_X0thCBGO6d-rRwL42t58rumrj6a3XZxUyTAQCRm8k0S0UVQSmoUgKZ2yF3sPWvBTFyHqsokO49C3B8cnimMxbtvclOwDPj-5aDTDq0sz0hH1V19FBeHdRwxFJCK75iN8RVKcdygltpSPPFNYw82lS7Hl7122m3xnJv1NYT/s4608/IMG_20240316_101650531_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAKjJ92x24sqqF29aEvrvg3_X0thCBGO6d-rRwL42t58rumrj6a3XZxUyTAQCRm8k0S0UVQSmoUgKZ2yF3sPWvBTFyHqsokO49C3B8cnimMxbtvclOwDPj-5aDTDq0sz0hH1V19FBeHdRwxFJCK75iN8RVKcdygltpSPPFNYw82lS7Hl7122m3xnJv1NYT/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_101650531_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Between the wars John Moore was tasked with fundraising by the then vicar of the Abbey, Edward Gough. At this time the fabric of the Abbey was crumbling and Moore, who was working for Gough, had the not inconsiderable job of trying to raise £25,000 for the repairs. To raise such a large sum Moore organised a Tewkesbury Festival and to his credit the money flowed in allowing the repairs to occur. Nearly a century later this would be my first visit. And it is beautiful.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaZRJSkEkQ-WudxL7_BdLilwW_wN0YwoqxRvNUrnmkFL2y6NQCm-UwmHGhLQC6YRH5FlDKwboAshc30UT-NPnNgYUVbMGgJc-fnt6J6NEmkhuu0_wnvGT9rv7q_3F9L90S5Ocylg1tgcc9LXIDGhQQ_VFfTlHiqQ1YFB2cFUkEgvZLfDUlrgM8uq_KspZ/s4608/IMG_20240316_102241909_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmaZRJSkEkQ-WudxL7_BdLilwW_wN0YwoqxRvNUrnmkFL2y6NQCm-UwmHGhLQC6YRH5FlDKwboAshc30UT-NPnNgYUVbMGgJc-fnt6J6NEmkhuu0_wnvGT9rv7q_3F9L90S5Ocylg1tgcc9LXIDGhQQ_VFfTlHiqQ1YFB2cFUkEgvZLfDUlrgM8uq_KspZ/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_102241909_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When I arrived it was still early, meaning I had the place virtually to myself. I sat for a while thinking of Moore, who despite not being religious in the traditional sense loved this monument to religion. I can understand why as I gazed ever higher at the craftsmanship and detail. If I did nothing else today seeing this interior would have been worth the drive all on its own. However I'd come to the Abbey to find Moore's grave.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ERgJqb3kkuH94iDAcjubZhjbARfdPIqTum6e0-1wdiFsjcBmfz5R-sHWp_CYap62qskFtmcPM7Wm5GAieq1B3X19jXxBPIMr74QwobMS9Z-NcVh6nLhbizUNqmVbkizw6N2NPWMNAWtsNcKa6dxSRBs_KAeI3sNzC1QMqUmOq8rbq7wK8fCX02MqwgTW/s4608/IMG_20240316_103309967_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ERgJqb3kkuH94iDAcjubZhjbARfdPIqTum6e0-1wdiFsjcBmfz5R-sHWp_CYap62qskFtmcPM7Wm5GAieq1B3X19jXxBPIMr74QwobMS9Z-NcVh6nLhbizUNqmVbkizw6N2NPWMNAWtsNcKa6dxSRBs_KAeI3sNzC1QMqUmOq8rbq7wK8fCX02MqwgTW/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_103309967_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm not sure what the correct description of Moore is. Writer and broadcaster possibly, campaigner for certain. His biography by David Cole is titled True Countryman. I think then for me Countryside Writer fits a large swathe of his output over the years as it wasn't just nature he wrote about. His interests were many, ranging from the rural scene, changes to the social fabric of the countryside, the people and characters he encountered, conservation of buildings in the town he loved and customs and ways in farming. He also wrote about his time abroad and his World War 2 experiences as a pilot. He was also outspoken on topics that interested him, sometimes bringing him into conflict with those he opposed, or opposed him.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPhk19t6AroDPWbdBPfA4txBqD4muR103kIi22obGJjurFXAKvZHdkUoj4cf-OuNhcqXoCW-Ed7G7fwGqoRB7vOL2lREOB_bkh9Fer6u3sDbpn3HZYdioz8P0_Z2EM13k6CNtvBmni1nLYzY68u9gojbHCBYyBuGFlsqXwq-m_seI18KtPYukN3qjVpUY/s4608/IMG_20240316_105049800_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdPhk19t6AroDPWbdBPfA4txBqD4muR103kIi22obGJjurFXAKvZHdkUoj4cf-OuNhcqXoCW-Ed7G7fwGqoRB7vOL2lREOB_bkh9Fer6u3sDbpn3HZYdioz8P0_Z2EM13k6CNtvBmni1nLYzY68u9gojbHCBYyBuGFlsqXwq-m_seI18KtPYukN3qjVpUY/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_105049800_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I asked the lady managing the Abbey gift shop if she knew where Moore's grave was. She didn't and confessed she'd heard of his name but had no idea who he was, before suggesting I ask a verger. "<i>Oh yes" </i>the verger said<i>, "out the north door, then head to the left over the grass and it is over there</i>". I thanked her and headed outside, to the area of the Abbey grounds she'd mentioned. There were a number of graves here but after a fruitless search I couldn't find Moore's. I'd been informed by the Chair of the John Moore Society that his grave had recently been cleaned. None of those I searched through were what I'd call clean. Maybe I'd misheard the verger, was it was located at the left of the Abbey as you entered. No, nothing. Checking an image I'd seen of his grave on my phone it had what looked like a gravel path next to it, and where I stood only grass was visible. I knew it was here, I wandered off to another part of the Abbey grounds.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhog2Z0cPbTaJPs_7YrMGcH9KzfVGa1PI54rskJOFub1qDwZ5TT1YtohmrfsQx6xDmaTu70-Ce8uAPhlo0CVFDT4xRnYk7Oxy7wJ9A0yPqN4vhDMETdWcjiYsSnCY8QIhZq03ePkVhd6vk-2MY5eQiKV1m1I2b6Hq3_fUYDYTXTlWbkEsGQgu49OQHhQx-/s1416/IMG-20240316-WA0006~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1416" data-original-width="1053" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhog2Z0cPbTaJPs_7YrMGcH9KzfVGa1PI54rskJOFub1qDwZ5TT1YtohmrfsQx6xDmaTu70-Ce8uAPhlo0CVFDT4xRnYk7Oxy7wJ9A0yPqN4vhDMETdWcjiYsSnCY8QIhZq03ePkVhd6vk-2MY5eQiKV1m1I2b6Hq3_fUYDYTXTlWbkEsGQgu49OQHhQx-/w298-h400/IMG-20240316-WA0006~2.jpg" width="298" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I eventually found it nestled in near the south side of the Abbey, in the exact opposite direction to my instructions. It is a lovely spot to rest in, overlooking the river and with a little sitting area somewhere for the living to also rest a while. I sat on a bench next to the grave to reflect on a man who did so much for Tewkesbury and the Abbey, but who is almost forgotten today. If that is not a metaphor for life I'm not sure what is. My reverie was interrupted by a screeching and a low cronk cronk. A peregrine - they nest on the Abbey I was later told - was circling a pair of raven flying along the river. Other birds, chaffinch, goldfinch and robin especially were singing nearby. It all seemed apt, a peaceful spot to be enriched by nature, in the centre of a very busy town, a town which houses a museum in Moore's name.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6v0A-LBprJEeXyG6bfjNlF643fUgoJUFnfZdLP-HDcksIjXZfeTxHMveHQN7aIfQSLPU8-BlN77uEohe2GZC5OnqtaEYqaDhPGSEHdXr9acnpGsOWNbyCIEQVyGlc1_bIenkq0tKPw4_Zf2MuOdjer24e0ZLt1UoHiJ4dYgRzk9MZCPSftD5UAF5yMTvA/s4608/IMG_20240316_113820390_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6v0A-LBprJEeXyG6bfjNlF643fUgoJUFnfZdLP-HDcksIjXZfeTxHMveHQN7aIfQSLPU8-BlN77uEohe2GZC5OnqtaEYqaDhPGSEHdXr9acnpGsOWNbyCIEQVyGlc1_bIenkq0tKPw4_Zf2MuOdjer24e0ZLt1UoHiJ4dYgRzk9MZCPSftD5UAF5yMTvA/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_113820390_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've been to the John Moore Countryside Museum once before, about eight or nine years ago. One of Moore's campaigns was to prevent the demolition of the timber framed and old buildings of Tewkesbury after the War. Many to be fair were in a perilous state and the Town Council wished to modernise the town as there had been a plan to make Tewkesbury an overspill town for the West Midlands. Some buildings were lost, but through Moore people rallied to the cause including his friend Sir John Betjeman adding weight to the fight in writing of the need to preserve this unique heritage. As a result of which around a hundred buildings avoided the wreckers ball. The Museum is housed in a row of buildings preserved by their efforts </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7efCYpDh6a-pg3imdP4SwefKf4CQ92qnA4jS2R3c45joyvw5zETzugqPzWAwWotn8IIeY6yazGBog0DfBzytbwrqvgVR25-t3GWYxvAJnwNVq_7YpSCt1eo4IwFXVfvQ7cPKBo4F-A1xcUOHiC_PbKF1Yv2eYxxd9dEk57LuDibcI63ITmFTwMwHVkKz/s4608/IMG_20240316_120545684_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7efCYpDh6a-pg3imdP4SwefKf4CQ92qnA4jS2R3c45joyvw5zETzugqPzWAwWotn8IIeY6yazGBog0DfBzytbwrqvgVR25-t3GWYxvAJnwNVq_7YpSCt1eo4IwFXVfvQ7cPKBo4F-A1xcUOHiC_PbKF1Yv2eYxxd9dEk57LuDibcI63ITmFTwMwHVkKz/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_120545684_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I chatted for over half an hour with the knowledgeable gentleman at the desk. Not just about Moore but a wider ranging chat about writers in general. The Museum itself is quite small and concerned mostly with education and information on the countryside. Display cases of stuffed animals are well presented and the information is up-to-date, such as the role the return of the pine marten would play in grey squirrel red squirrel fortunes. It has had a revamp since my last visit, now feeling less cluttered. Outside the museum is a lovely garden and next door a restored Tudor Merchant's house. I didn't visit either of these this time as there was a tour taking place and I didn't wish to tag along. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Interestingly my conversation with the custodian touched on the similarities between Moore's legacy with that of Richard Jefferies' legacy. Both wrote about the rural scene, both campaigned for causes they felt warranted their attention and both have museums named after them. However in the opinion of the custodian although the two writers are sometimes favourably compared to each other, Moore himself was no fan of Jefferies' output, thinking it too anthropomorphic and fanciful, written by a dreamer. Which could explain why I almost never see references to Jefferies in Moore's writing. I left the Museum, with a first edition copy of Moore's September Moon, and headed to the home Moore lived in as a child, at the other end of the main street.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Cja1mOwCSRhVqJDcnmJHz-mYxMgR3jaRmsOjT6y0hG1vDlfAK-XzcQtjsXHO-m1OcAx6NE0jZAp0hEIF7h4rgcWymJ84zz2rWtD6fd_q5VnPAt6VbW8E4a977_emjtIVc2Ra_tyAcnZFLxS5O1dsqGh2euPWDPPYcOQGyq6dAqJS6zk07D74KGfPuwfH/s4608/IMG_20240316_130807218_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Cja1mOwCSRhVqJDcnmJHz-mYxMgR3jaRmsOjT6y0hG1vDlfAK-XzcQtjsXHO-m1OcAx6NE0jZAp0hEIF7h4rgcWymJ84zz2rWtD6fd_q5VnPAt6VbW8E4a977_emjtIVc2Ra_tyAcnZFLxS5O1dsqGh2euPWDPPYcOQGyq6dAqJS6zk07D74KGfPuwfH/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_130807218_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Tudor House as it was in the early part of the last century was where Moore lived in childhood. His family were part of the long established Moore & Sons auctioneers business. John Moore himself worked for the family firm but it was a vocation he never enjoyed and by all accounts wasn't very good at either. Today it is the Tudor House Hotel an imposing timber framed building, which despite its name actually dates from the 17th Century. On this visit I didn't go inside but the rooms from which Moore looked out from over the busy street (and slum alleyways in his time) are bedrooms to stay in. There is however a plaque outside to commemorate his time here. I'd now visited Moore's grave, his home town and his childhood home, my final destination was the nearby village of Kemerton where Moore lived before his untimely death aged 59.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrwA8m3I3olYsxtZjpOvk7YH-zWGEgOpei_4cfzHCuvXdprHynaJ2MBiPPgXMxKy2s-ApAO_LYLbqk7ThDO4391H1DwinrYi2FLKzfet44qtVRvwU_YZzVtO40Zo1YMThMEBGHLYUdl_-fwQbLu24MVPMT-8OJ_G2TaTGAHv1Tws-hOneCJnSDDvbsTFj/s4608/IMG_20240316_130849684_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkrwA8m3I3olYsxtZjpOvk7YH-zWGEgOpei_4cfzHCuvXdprHynaJ2MBiPPgXMxKy2s-ApAO_LYLbqk7ThDO4391H1DwinrYi2FLKzfet44qtVRvwU_YZzVtO40Zo1YMThMEBGHLYUdl_-fwQbLu24MVPMT-8OJ_G2TaTGAHv1Tws-hOneCJnSDDvbsTFj/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_130849684_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Kemerton is a picturesque village, a hotchpotch of architecture-Midland style. From timber buildings to Cotswold stone, Georgian brick to individual modern. Moore and his wife Lucille first moved here in the late 1940s, first to Chapel House then Lower Mill Farm where finally Moore had the space to develop his interests in creating a natural environment surrounding the house he could enjoy. It's not a large village to explore so first I'd have a tea in the village cafe and look at the map.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFwUGaRPdOuSOrQbwfNlZ8oKlKC9xexES3m9ylMo_HF6xteaQoUlIQHwiDqdyuRQ5XD9f2WWoIphcqZaTKqoiMiD9dCLYZCItIM6Wl83x1btG_NWWePwcHG9lEd8f2yt6-mJdlaD6lIYgWlRo1u67nHXhGD-lv_HLHnxoj69zV7oEuKta6PzvfKICM9VC/s4608/IMG_20240316_141754132_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLFwUGaRPdOuSOrQbwfNlZ8oKlKC9xexES3m9ylMo_HF6xteaQoUlIQHwiDqdyuRQ5XD9f2WWoIphcqZaTKqoiMiD9dCLYZCItIM6Wl83x1btG_NWWePwcHG9lEd8f2yt6-mJdlaD6lIYgWlRo1u67nHXhGD-lv_HLHnxoj69zV7oEuKta6PzvfKICM9VC/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_141754132_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Chapel House is a beautiful Georgian brick building on Hill Lane. Running the length of Hill Lane is a culvert stream. As I walked up the gentle slope the trickling sound of water filled the air. This is middle England in its purest sense and I could imagine why Moore and his wife loved this village. On my visit grass was being cut, a hedge was being trimmed into shape, everywhere there were spring flowers. People out for a walk or working in their gardens said hello, while birds sang. After leaving busy Tewkesbury only 5 miles away Kemerton seems a calming peaceful place. I didn't loiter for long outside Chapel House, it is after all a private dwelling, but on this visit the garden was full of primroses and spring bulbs. I wonder if in Moore's time it was just as beautiful.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KXG0R8Rcyjny0YsvbPytCOvBYrmWfn5MW5EwrBA3kPZ0CkI6ciy1Us7Z8ZFi1YOTn3-OSqeT-TvMMPcXh1Uo6-rjJcrPi4genDUJVuemgHFnLnxk7D_vh9HJqSD6iflNXmm-w4NIijKXIvJlbIuV3YhjG18_udYZdoJt30ij_fRSn2JdHdh4Mjpx1qIW/s4608/IMG_20240316_142311730_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2KXG0R8Rcyjny0YsvbPytCOvBYrmWfn5MW5EwrBA3kPZ0CkI6ciy1Us7Z8ZFi1YOTn3-OSqeT-TvMMPcXh1Uo6-rjJcrPi4genDUJVuemgHFnLnxk7D_vh9HJqSD6iflNXmm-w4NIijKXIvJlbIuV3YhjG18_udYZdoJt30ij_fRSn2JdHdh4Mjpx1qIW/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_142311730_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lower Mill Farm is at the opposite end of the village tucked down a side lane leading only to the farm. This was Moore's final home and although his health was beginning to fade it was a place he threw his energies into to create what he'd always craved, a house within nature. As I walked through the village song thrush and blackbird song seemed to be everywhere, a nuthatch too. Rook and jackdaw squabbled in the mature trees. Here it seemed nature ruled village life and I could imagine Moore walking around the village absorbing the best that the natural world had to offer.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg7HqF2PFY90DN_sTFMa5kpuBIKidHVjU5mtAGlV7A8KsBJQubRVLRoUx8FClLCLvKIRXnHEEqWKCLugAobqVlJAorrHqjdRjFT0G1OEdntbMFdDrDnVHlDFdux4oGOgQTChN9FyHOeyvDTH60r_BeYT1njp6FwCchWr-bL5DjCsieVa8lBrbdPy1Dwzy/s4608/IMG_20240316_144345408_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWg7HqF2PFY90DN_sTFMa5kpuBIKidHVjU5mtAGlV7A8KsBJQubRVLRoUx8FClLCLvKIRXnHEEqWKCLugAobqVlJAorrHqjdRjFT0G1OEdntbMFdDrDnVHlDFdux4oGOgQTChN9FyHOeyvDTH60r_BeYT1njp6FwCchWr-bL5DjCsieVa8lBrbdPy1Dwzy/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_144345408_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">My visit to John Moore's land was drawing to a close. Before I left though I headed into St Nicholas Church. And that proved a revelation. Largely rebuilt in the Victorian era this hides an amazing artwork on the ceiling and behind the alter by a Miss Hopton. Sadly she was killed not long after completing this masterpiece in a dog-cart accident while out cycling. I discovered this information talking to the two church wardens, there to clean the church.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When he was a child one of the church wardens, as it turned out, said he knew and could remember John Moore. His father knew Moore but it seems they fell out over the collection of water charges. The story told to me being that the lower end of the village then had a private water supply and Moore was charged with collecting the usage fees. This chap's father refused to pay (why this was wasn't offered) causing his father and Moore to not speak. An interesting end to my visit. As I set off this morning I'd never imagined meeting someone who knew a man who died in 1967. By all accounts Moore and Lucille were very happy here, though ironically a year after his death a rare flood of Lower Mill Farm destroyed a lot of Moore's archive and letters.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As an aside St Nicholas Church is planning a fund raising evening in the autumn. As a result of our chat they suggested readings from John Moore may make an interesting addition to commemorate Moore's time in the village and maybe draw in extra people. I said I'd let the chair of the John Moore Society know this was happening and will try and attend this event myself if I can.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DTZJWi-TsKM14-4aRzuiksB8HBiTbL-QktdkFOHFJhT_FXH_7i-NUdncHpQrN4RaMdbiB1p3nSJF2Ut1JCv9iUPeX2-f00cl9LqIGpwelMJBpyah8RO0Yt8i4s740-V1PVWwyUZy7M1gDZFaw7aRbMJrzY5ID-qfLoBKFOjsWLNeX7O_YwO4hzldFFTd/s4608/IMG_20240316_151123006_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5DTZJWi-TsKM14-4aRzuiksB8HBiTbL-QktdkFOHFJhT_FXH_7i-NUdncHpQrN4RaMdbiB1p3nSJF2Ut1JCv9iUPeX2-f00cl9LqIGpwelMJBpyah8RO0Yt8i4s740-V1PVWwyUZy7M1gDZFaw7aRbMJrzY5ID-qfLoBKFOjsWLNeX7O_YwO4hzldFFTd/w300-h400/IMG_20240316_151123006_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There is still more to discover about Moore, but for this my first visit I've expanded my knowledge of this complex writer immeasurably. Would I have liked to meet Moore? Most definitely, though he wasn't one to suffer fools gladly and had a long memory. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Moore wrote many times about the villages surrounding Bredon Hill, as did farmer and author Fred Archer whose home was nearby Ashton-Under-Hill. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">They were contemporaries writing of the rural scene in this small part of the south Midlands. Chatting to the church warden he said some of the characters and stories in Fred Archer's books were also chronicled in Moore's output. Their styles were different but it seems the landscape and inhabitants of this rural place got under the skin of both. I can feel that, as on my visit I felt the draw of this area, there's something comforting about it. And as the church warden said "<i>It is a shame Moore didn't live longer, otherwise we could have seen Moore and Archer in conversation together celebrating their love of the rural scene</i>"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now that would be a fund raising event I'd have liked to be part of and see.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div>John Moore Society <div>https://johnmooresociety.org/<div><br /></div><div>John Moore Museum </div><div>https://www.johnmooremuseum.org/</div><div><br /></div><div>Fred Archer Trust (now defunct I think) </div><div>https://www.fredarcher.co.uk/society.htm</div><div><br /></div><div>John Moore True Countryman (2007) Cole, David, Blacksmith Publishing (Available from the Museum)</div></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-14500495319892854312024-03-10T13:45:00.042+00:002024-03-12T04:30:39.213+00:00Bittern by the SEO's <p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgAMdFFfSOuV-5YqbV7rTKmzWPO-06wNo7FoYU6xFDfVvJzIH6Gfb7LwjHV9fyLyZlnIJUMpnxVJby9qjvXiFg_C5pldyJoF9X4iulx4YYesE9RvoKU4h69SOUHRCjQ3KfKhABfFA6_15vqjplravbKFpE61y5BudWyThW0cR545bpljzm2gtYvTPDz0j/s1408/IMG_9811.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrgAMdFFfSOuV-5YqbV7rTKmzWPO-06wNo7FoYU6xFDfVvJzIH6Gfb7LwjHV9fyLyZlnIJUMpnxVJby9qjvXiFg_C5pldyJoF9X4iulx4YYesE9RvoKU4h69SOUHRCjQ3KfKhABfFA6_15vqjplravbKFpE61y5BudWyThW0cR545bpljzm2gtYvTPDz0j/w400-h300/IMG_9811.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">There is a lot to be said for going that little bit further, further away from the madding crowd. As happens every year March arrives and the urge in me to get outside more and more comes along. Especially so after the endless relentless wet weather this winter has been less than conducive to outdoor pursuits. However as the forecast for Friday looked fair of face, I booked myself a day of annual leave. The aim was to go and do some sound recording while also birdwatching. The reality was somewhat different.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Due to serious traffic problems on the M5 my planned early departure dissolved into gridlock chaos meaning my plan then became an 11am start. Not ideal, but the sun was shining. My aim was to visit the Catcott Complex, where a hide that is very rarely used as it involves a bit of a walk, has the peace and quiet I needed to set up some recording equipment. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">What I had not bargained for was the recent arrival of a male hen harrier at Catcott (there has been a female here all winter). Walking to the hide we passed a few 4x4 vehicles parked on the track up to the hide. I began to worry as no one should really be up here in vehicles. I was greeted at the gate to the hide by a man in full camouflage fatigues standing outside. Next to the entrance of the hide a collection of equipment trolleys were neatly arranged. I really worried now. As I walked up the path the other chap walked back into the hide and shut the door in front of me. That sort of behaviour never stops me and I opened the door. The hide was full to the gunnels of camouflaged clad photographers who all looked round at me as though I'd stood in something unpleasant. In all the 20+ years I've been coming to this hide I have never ever met anyone else inside. Of course I could have barged in between them but wanting to do some sound recording that'd have been pointless. I turned tail and exited.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">That curtailment however provided the catalyst for what was to become a much better day, though I'll maybe gloss over the sound equipment debacle in any detail. That reason being the microphone kit I wanted to test, a shotgun microphone and a figure of eight surround sound microphone combination, known as an M&S set up, requires something called phantom power. In other words the microphones are powered by the field recorder batteries, rather than having their own internal batteries. Normally I would use something like a Narga recorder which has eight AA batteries. Today though I wanted to test the quite capable hand-held Zoom H5 recorder. This affordable kit copes well with a parabolic set up and the batteries will last a good eight hours. However as I was to discover today, using an M&S configuration drained both of the recorders AA batteries in ten minutes. And guess who forgot to bring replacement batteries which he'd left at home. Shall we move on?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I mentioned to Mrs Wessex Reiver who was with me that from this hide there's a nice track into the less well visited part of the reserve, let's wander up there. Not long into this walk a male tawny owl hooted, not unheard of in daytime, possibly a disturbed owl, or it had seen us and was voicing its displeasure. This came from a little copse by the track which produced a chiffchaff calling, also calling were wren, dunnock, blue tit and long tailed tit. [Ed. If only you'd brought some batteries to power the sound recording equipment with you].</p><p style="text-align: justify;">There were quite a few gnats and bees hovering about too in the now warm sunshine. March does surprise like this, cold mornings can become very pleasant days though not warm enough today to get brimstones in the air. The noisy chattering of fieldfares rising from a clump of trees caught me off guard as we approached, a flock of about thirty, reminding me that winter has only recently released its grip. I think I heard a redwing with them but only saw the flash of feldgrau grey as they wheeled out, up and over the trees. They'll be gone from this landscape soon, leaving our shores as the first summer migrants arrive. Some already have. I heard later in the day that wheatear are now in Devon and previously read that sand martins have been along the south coast for a week. In the fields each side of the track the regular resident birds were around, robins were plentiful, a number of corvids hopped about, groups of magpie, some rook, and a few carrion crow. No raven overhead today which is unusual though a small party of jackdaw jak-jak'd as they passed over. This was turning into a proper nature ramble.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Eventually we made it to a dead end. I believe one day soon this track, or maybe another one nearby will be opened up further as there is a plan to create a 20km, or is it 20 mile? circular walk around the entire Avalon Marsh Super-NNR. I can see the real advantage of such a circular walk, though I also enjoy dead ends as no one passes through without reason. We stood in a gateway, taking time to look over the fields where Mrs Wessex Reiver had spotted some roe deer. I then heard a piping call. Peep-Peep, Peep-Peep. Kingfisher. Not just one kingfisher but a male and female flying at speed and in unison along a ditch, then out over the fields in a wide arc to then return to the far end of the ditch and fly fast and low over the water towards us, before the male alighted on a branch. I lost the female after that. A spectacular encounter we'd have missed if we'd been sitting in the hide. The male then flew off through some trees but not long after a Peep-Peep alerted us to the fact he was now behind us, perched on a branch over another ditch. He then flew off and despite our best efforts to see them again neither birds returned. Those efforts though were rewarded by a beautiful male sparrowhawk flying leisurely by just a few yards from us, quietly scanning the treeline for unsuspecting prey. Standing still and remaining quiet really does bring dividends even in an unremarkable landscape. I didn't manage any photographs of any of these encounters, but that is of little importance and the image below is simply a reminder of how an unremarkable looking habitat can offer so much. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvIkcFOHhgjnI0GQhi_ttMWJltekDsx4xDQNbgiV7Gl-d0aUz_HdLf4S83BwjWdQPSA_q036d27K7kqtCQ9qlfBQ2cIS2oT12d09ptmblhaBuJb04tfj6Xs5SUxLGAjbXzc9ozpg7Ye09qSOpfiXbdOHeAKY3okMOjIdbLy2hY8OBxGfNEXY1MWS7U3gf/s1844/IMG_20240308_142909137_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJvIkcFOHhgjnI0GQhi_ttMWJltekDsx4xDQNbgiV7Gl-d0aUz_HdLf4S83BwjWdQPSA_q036d27K7kqtCQ9qlfBQ2cIS2oT12d09ptmblhaBuJb04tfj6Xs5SUxLGAjbXzc9ozpg7Ye09qSOpfiXbdOHeAKY3okMOjIdbLy2hY8OBxGfNEXY1MWS7U3gf/w300-h400/IMG_20240308_142909137_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">After that excitement we retraced our steps and headed off towards the 'tower hide'. I like this hide as, as its name suggests, it is high up, maybe 10 metres? It is a bit of a slog along boggy paths to get here but well worth the effort as it looks down over the reeds and because it's a bit of an effort to reach here it is a quiet part of the reserve. We had the hide to ourselves for a good half an hour, a half hour that yielded a marsh harrier flying by at our elevated head height. That spooked a flock of teal to noisily erupt from the reeds. I do like teal, they may be common but their plumage is stunning. A couple of Canada geese, a pair of mute swan, mallard, coot and a great white egret were here too. Then Mrs Wessex Reiver called out, what's that flying towards us? Lifting the binocular revealed a bittern, flying lazily across open water towards us, then past us, then away from us before dropping into the reeds some distance off. In the strong sunshine we had fantastic views from this elevated position for a good twenty seconds if not more. In flight the stippled browns and blacks look like striped lines of colour, which of course is why they blend in amongst the reeds so well. I've seen bitterns flying many times but that was a good one and for Mrs Wessex Reiver this was a first. She was thrilled.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99zBjc9CpavBZ7yirF2Lm_M8I4A1Mma9fgI7SI4TeqVb6q_EOKMpdDJKhBQHawB4U3welljlKKb-gwUpjIOBwFqY_yS2CCeiZ2JPJSQOP9KTiXbxKugyvPyBE8qt1f-Ea6M_eWjxFUutz017Qu7uzAKLGSGGt9oD1EBn24Bwxf3SGreaW1uSS6i8Y4IO4/s1408/IMG_9816.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj99zBjc9CpavBZ7yirF2Lm_M8I4A1Mma9fgI7SI4TeqVb6q_EOKMpdDJKhBQHawB4U3welljlKKb-gwUpjIOBwFqY_yS2CCeiZ2JPJSQOP9KTiXbxKugyvPyBE8qt1f-Ea6M_eWjxFUutz017Qu7uzAKLGSGGt9oD1EBn24Bwxf3SGreaW1uSS6i8Y4IO4/w400-h300/IMG_9816.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">View from the tower hide, where the bittern flew top right to bottom left </div><p style="text-align: justify;">Retracing our steps as we walked back past the track up to the first hide where a ragtag line of camouflaged men were walking back to their 4x4's, pulling behind them trolleys bristling with equipment. I wonder if they'd had as much success photographing a male hen harrier, that may or of course may not have appeared, as we had with our encounters.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'll come onto a conversation about this topic of photographers later. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Following Friday's glorious weather and even better encounters, on Saturday we went to the Steart Marsh complex. Rain was in the air, though not falling with any real effort. Steart is a strange place for me as I come here and rarely see very much and given the weather I wasn't hopefully today either. However the place was virtually empty, just how I like it. Upon arrival Mrs Wessex Reiver headed off for a five mile walk and I readied myself to visit the three main, and very upmarket, hides here. If nothing else I'd avoid the rain and the brisk wind. The Mendip hide was my first stop which produced absolutely nothing. There was a magpie by the entrance, but from the huge picture window looking over a vast salt marsh, not a bird stirred, though coltsfoot was already in flower outside. I had a cup of coffee and a biscuit.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT_4n9_gAxqcGMS_uicX4GkbdENQ0pDRhuYiU6rv7rQ7w94IAik-YflEqLBoXW0dUG_KzSOO6gY6x2ucIg8kv4LKwGDdqnMAtYNAcmvPo5RtUuIcx7uwWuaoglyqCUDE3IYfh0TQYGq7Jo-wY2ow8q5ts3hLpZZ6W3FM6ku7aQk6v87-ekvvCKlqVx8YG/s2304/IMG_20240309_125336078.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbT_4n9_gAxqcGMS_uicX4GkbdENQ0pDRhuYiU6rv7rQ7w94IAik-YflEqLBoXW0dUG_KzSOO6gY6x2ucIg8kv4LKwGDdqnMAtYNAcmvPo5RtUuIcx7uwWuaoglyqCUDE3IYfh0TQYGq7Jo-wY2ow8q5ts3hLpZZ6W3FM6ku7aQk6v87-ekvvCKlqVx8YG/s320/IMG_20240309_125336078.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Quite posh the hides here...</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Ten minutes walk away is the Parrett hide which, as you may surmise, looks out over the river Parrett, a main drain out from the Somerset Levels into Bridgwater Bay. It was low tide exposing huge areas of mud showing a smattering of Canada geese, redshank, what looked like gadwall, but they were a long long way off plus a single curlew plodging through the mud. The biggest high tide of the year was due the next day that will overtop the Parrett and flood the whole site, as it is designed to do through an engineered breach. Today though the river was still sea-bound and very low. A lovely male stonechat was singing as I exited the hide, a female close by listening. Stonechats, a favourite bird of mine, are best known for their chak-chak alarm call but their song is a melody of soft whistles and single notes, almost like a dunnock but softer. I've probably only heard this a half a dozen times. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcWG0S2qGPjMh5Upa5Bcpjfco2ukCNr9kjYW2xRSCuUqKoLCmoxz26Jz7fG29-tzqG9FZySIzGRFJg1OAcPLNybXaAaF74VKeh5S9ZOXCX-Y1uXJ27cWrkp1nYY-QZoNh-3sSFv8G00P4pulYqljbEIfL864MSu8xClFOMamavrPMH2PysYJz8l24Bqu9/s1408/IMG_9823.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfcWG0S2qGPjMh5Upa5Bcpjfco2ukCNr9kjYW2xRSCuUqKoLCmoxz26Jz7fG29-tzqG9FZySIzGRFJg1OAcPLNybXaAaF74VKeh5S9ZOXCX-Y1uXJ27cWrkp1nYY-QZoNh-3sSFv8G00P4pulYqljbEIfL864MSu8xClFOMamavrPMH2PysYJz8l24Bqu9/w400-h300/IMG_9823.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">View from the Parrett hide on a dull day, at low tide</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Next stop the half mile walk to the Quantock hide. I could hear the teal and wigeon as I approached, though I decided not to enter the hide but instead look out from the screens. Quite a few redshank, shoveler, shelduck, mallard, little egret, and of course the aforementioned ducks. On one of the shingle islands a pair of greater black backed gulls, their backs looking almost jet black in this light, were resting. I'd like to know, are they are nesting here? These really are huge birds when you compare them to say teal. I like them but they can wreak real havoc in a nesting colony. I then noticed some pied wagtail noisily flying about in tight circles over another island, males chasing females, males chasing males, I couldn't rightly tell. I was hoping they would stop and do some courtship display on the ground as I've never seen what some observers refer to as a wagtail dance. However after a few minutes of frenetic activity they flew off towards the far fields where up on the ridge a very noisy rookery was also in full swing. I scanned the rookery and counted at least fifty nests. There was a lot of activity, individuals flying to nests with twigs, pairs of rook shadow-flying overhead, groups of rook just flying about enjoying the wind and despite the rookery being a good half a mile away their raucous calls filled the landscape. There was one odd sight though as I scanned the trees, a great white egret flying past the rookery, who'd have thought that twenty years ago this would be an everyday sight in Somerset.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My final highlight of the visit occurred was while ambling back to the car park. To my left I heard a commotion, a flock of linnet noisily flew overhead and a group of teal flew rapidly in all directions. I could see something light brown flying with purpose, half obscured behind a hedge so I stopped to try and see what is was. What it was, was a short eared owl. I had the binoculars on this bird immediately, what a stunning view of this top predator. As it flew towards me it casually looked left and right with those piercing eyes, and with a gentle flap and glide it flew towards me and then out of sight. There has been an influx of short eared owls into Britain this winter, especially along the North Sea Coast. Smaller numbers have overwintered here in Somerset but to see one in mid March is, while not unusual, a little late in the season. But what a lovely surprise ending to the day and as I got back to the car park I popped into the estate office. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">Yes they knew about the Short Eared Owl, though they are no longer publicising rare or unusual sightings, as WWT who manage the site have been having trouble here with a minority of photographers who disregard blocked off tracks or gateways and sometimes are found in restricted parts of the reserve looking for that perfect image. I'm glad though I popped into the office as I had a long chat about the reserve and its management and more importantly I learnt that WWT have taken over the management of the entire Bridgwater Bay NNR from Natural England. And that has to be a very good thing.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPL3L3rb6rRpSiLk-y0WMX7q0lCLrjsFF6zSJnTcQ6fdhEEnF166k4p1TYJMRTPnWqywJ-PsCgX_tJgCQXKkPXCLTagk03n5n9WzH-gTkyamE660g49qGYwAtvyRWduQMxE0YV0EUW0Yl7n12i1bcP212WAYcXnSrIY3OMeWMDKQ6Dd9z57GPEUgyyV_Ub/s1408/IMG_9817.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPL3L3rb6rRpSiLk-y0WMX7q0lCLrjsFF6zSJnTcQ6fdhEEnF166k4p1TYJMRTPnWqywJ-PsCgX_tJgCQXKkPXCLTagk03n5n9WzH-gTkyamE660g49qGYwAtvyRWduQMxE0YV0EUW0Yl7n12i1bcP212WAYcXnSrIY3OMeWMDKQ6Dd9z57GPEUgyyV_Ub/w400-h300/IMG_9817.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Short Eared Owl landscape - well in this part of Somerset at least!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">How fortunes have changed for many species in recent decades, some losers like the turtle dove, but we often forget the winners. That flypast of the bittern on Friday was a point of note, as I can remember when they were extremely rare, as can the writer Richard Jefferies in his 1879 book Wild Life in a Southern Country..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;">"Once, some five-and-twenty years ago, a sportsman startled a great bird out of the spot where the streams join, and shot it, thinking it was a heron. But seeing that it was no common heron, he had it examined, and it was found to be a bittern, and as such was carefully preserved. It was the last visit of bitterns to the place; even then they were so rare as not to be recognised: now the progress of agriculture has entirely banished them."</span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Through tireless work by the many agencies developing the Somerset Super-NNR now covering an area from Glastonbury to the coast we can see hen harrier, marsh harrier, bittern, great white egret, and short eared owls with relative ease once again. And that has to be a good thing. I just need to bring some batteries with me next time.</span></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-970885474964385072024-03-03T20:58:00.013+00:002024-03-06T06:19:03.387+00:00The Song of the Cirl Bunting<p style="text-align: justify;"> Not that long ago, most lowland farms south of a line from the Humber across to Blackpool would have healthy populations of cirl bunting feeding on spilt grain and chaff. Then as agriculture cleaned up it's act, literally, and as the land became industrialised, the decline in farmland seed-eating species has been meteoric, and the cirl bunting range contracted to an unviable, in the long term, population in Devon. A poster bird for this decline, the turtle dove, is a species we'll probably lose as a breeding species in Britain soon, but the cirl bunting, with it fantastically exotic species name of <i>Emberiza cirlus</i>, a species naturally at the very northern extent of it's range, is returning from the brink, thanks to decades long conservation efforts. And I've now seen these birds return to Somerset. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbv542Zx_72ay6limOVMJg7VXddp92H-yRBrxswbspaSOj65BHtOxpstmOQ_NCHFTrL6VFawobIJW5CMTtDr6I2npsHUyX5XxnLdM1Y2KaR42_26U0Z-178HUiJYvyoIZcrgKHQO-fluEvemo4WPtBvKLPfsiI0ayNHrIRwHVGj93FpvnFwBpy_kOWnRw/s2112/IMG_9763.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQbv542Zx_72ay6limOVMJg7VXddp92H-yRBrxswbspaSOj65BHtOxpstmOQ_NCHFTrL6VFawobIJW5CMTtDr6I2npsHUyX5XxnLdM1Y2KaR42_26U0Z-178HUiJYvyoIZcrgKHQO-fluEvemo4WPtBvKLPfsiI0ayNHrIRwHVGj93FpvnFwBpy_kOWnRw/w400-h300/IMG_9763.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I had to look it up. It has been fourteen years since my one and only sighting of a cirl bunting. Back then, on a very snowy day in winter 2010 I headed down the scarily snowbound M5 to Labrador Bay in Devon to record a piece with the RSPB for the Radio 4 series Saving Species. Thankfully when I arrived there there hadn't been any snow falling in this warm part of Devon and better still the cirl buntings appeared at the windswept and steep project management site. On that day the issue as always with sound recording for the BBC was that I was concentrating on capturing the interviews rather than out for a day birdwatching. At the time I did make a mental note to return to Labrador Bay. I've never been back.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Today however I set off for a closer destination Stolford Beach, forty minutes by car.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4wAum_rUjW1oIpr3iKGWeFDrMdTXoES1h-bh1GmZ8GHVGv4N5Y82TVbKWkMGK58wWVWfNvZEWChKgj3IadHePFXzrJqYkZZ6W8ldzdTKEhA1ryEEmyapWuqiKmV-KyMzYAaUt75AKksXmkmah3btVR37wuO1ZU_KBvparIxHWNueIvTzj-eK_00SHhsy/s2112/IMG_9764.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4wAum_rUjW1oIpr3iKGWeFDrMdTXoES1h-bh1GmZ8GHVGv4N5Y82TVbKWkMGK58wWVWfNvZEWChKgj3IadHePFXzrJqYkZZ6W8ldzdTKEhA1ryEEmyapWuqiKmV-KyMzYAaUt75AKksXmkmah3btVR37wuO1ZU_KBvparIxHWNueIvTzj-eK_00SHhsy/w400-h300/IMG_9764.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">How I found myself here involved reading a newly discovered blog to me, so new I only discovered it at lunchtime. The blog writer, Jeff had spent a day in Somerset on Saturday the 2nd of March and in his write up he mentioned seeing cirl buntings which have overwintered at this Bristol Channel site. The weather was perfect and I'd been meaning to visit Stolford Beach this summer anyway after reading it is a butterfly hotspot. No butterflies probably on the wing in March, a little too cold for brimstone, therefore if nothing else I'd treat this as a pleasant reconnaissance, a walk in the sun and if I saw a cirl bunting that would be perfect. Out on the Bristol Channel the tide was out, with a number of shelduck on the mudflats. This part of the Bristol Channel is known as Bridgwater Bay and is internationally important for shelduck, and other waders such as curlew which were calling out there too.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNILDc01KRNU6OVqHtxVzOOaYk3fLuoKWfNO3_RL6mCWICqwQmh6nzkoEhiBPigjxfDtKqARYdujxISokPmW5htdkZTy9SolIndzecoW-CC6-lCb9TRRlL5IIoVQe3dqP2jFbUiGJSGch1ozjkykjou8ZqKpLJirzT_rLSzyPVQCuflomBkJwZIBJwf8C/s2112/IMG_9767.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPNILDc01KRNU6OVqHtxVzOOaYk3fLuoKWfNO3_RL6mCWICqwQmh6nzkoEhiBPigjxfDtKqARYdujxISokPmW5htdkZTy9SolIndzecoW-CC6-lCb9TRRlL5IIoVQe3dqP2jFbUiGJSGch1ozjkykjou8ZqKpLJirzT_rLSzyPVQCuflomBkJwZIBJwf8C/w400-h300/IMG_9767.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Stolford Beach is a stones throw from the largest engineering site in Europe, Hinkley Point. I'd not realised how close this nuclear site was until arriving and looking west saw it looming into the sky just a couple of fields away. However look the other way and the landscape feels wild and remote despite the proximity of thousands of workers. I'd come here today only to see the cirl buntings and on arrival didn't really know where to go but a photograph accompanying the description on Jeff's blog showed a pond and a track. To the east there was indeed a pond in the distance, I walked along the path which runs a-top the sea wall. Within five minutes I noticed what looked like millet on the track. Again the blog had mentioned supplementary feeding was taking place. Hopefully then this was the right location and not a horror moment from a passing family spilling their granola.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EO3FjnHFtSAT-7hrucqUfCHqo1vUrDFX49qq9nSmEyendkph3Iilan7Goz01X1E9mWuCqNsxjlvNdTuQHx4-qNW9PjhNVdp5vfH-vJI7TR8fw8ZhYmMx5TmOVuYdynlkoQ7d2SEnU81ggIbQN41S-2Yvl3gpjQz-jP5hJ81DtsbFHtP3Yp4r27eiAShd/s1408/IMG_9769.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6EO3FjnHFtSAT-7hrucqUfCHqo1vUrDFX49qq9nSmEyendkph3Iilan7Goz01X1E9mWuCqNsxjlvNdTuQHx4-qNW9PjhNVdp5vfH-vJI7TR8fw8ZhYmMx5TmOVuYdynlkoQ7d2SEnU81ggIbQN41S-2Yvl3gpjQz-jP5hJ81DtsbFHtP3Yp4r27eiAShd/w400-h300/IMG_9769.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A number of birds were moving each side of the path, chaffinch, blue tit, house sparrow, wren, robin, starling, meadow pipit and above them all a skylark high up in full beautiful clear song. What a fabulous place, why have I not been here before? But as yet, no cirl bunting. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Mrs Wessex_Reiver who'd accompanied me headed off for a walk along the coast path leaving me watching and listening. I'm no expert with birdsong, but after years recording bird calls, I can recognise the more common ones. Cupping my hands around my ears to produce a sound listening receiver I swivelled myself left then right. A chaffinch pink-pink, a blue tit angry chatter, meadow pipits twittering over the field, and the fluty tinkling of goldfinch, out on the mud a curlew again and some cawing corvids. But no cirl bunting. Their call is similar to its relative the yellowhammer, but without the bread, cheese or flourish. I tried again, yes, there, back in the direction from where I'd come, definitely a cirl bunting call. But where was it? </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-lumXfTDMQLkpjZ-BlL1K6MJPQGEx_dbjOnDuf6nhSW3jDC7w4A_6LHEccyq1AA_R-dq39ZLCXQIzyfGr0ERT7Aq4r1UYm8ga9Xs8Vx33zVXnHWPCqX2Dzslga53ttXgpo9e1P2Cim-Hxp4ktJDqC_pp_CRZUGgPo4CLI13B1kudG8yyxIMeP66OrzdGj/s1972/IMG_9770.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1479" data-original-width="1972" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-lumXfTDMQLkpjZ-BlL1K6MJPQGEx_dbjOnDuf6nhSW3jDC7w4A_6LHEccyq1AA_R-dq39ZLCXQIzyfGr0ERT7Aq4r1UYm8ga9Xs8Vx33zVXnHWPCqX2Dzslga53ttXgpo9e1P2Cim-Hxp4ktJDqC_pp_CRZUGgPo4CLI13B1kudG8yyxIMeP66OrzdGj/w400-h300/IMG_9770.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A good couple of hundred meters away a bird flew to a hawthorn and perched... before calling. Despite this bird being a long way off, through the binoculars the yellow striped head gave it away, a male cirl bunting. I shot off a quick record photo thinking at least there's proof if it flies off, and then I tried to walk slowly back towards the shrub for a better view. As I approached the bird dropped down into the main part of the shrub and for the next ten minutes it played cat and mouse with me as it was visible but always a little obscured by the tangle of branches. Looking through the binoculars though really showed that from behind these could be easily mistaken for a sparrow, reed bunting, even maybe a dunnock if on the ground, given their chestnut brown, black and grey back, though with a noticeable cleaner definition. From the front though the male is a riot of lime-green-yellow with dark stand-and-deliver highwayman stipes across the head.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZrRPsi4ZeIHDe0IBnkMOLNkzSSTGIwN8vGi0meuKZ6kuht-2vqahDfVN1CTyvVLAW51_AzMidTyl7kaQI-bOtBltC9MVfpE7FYlhuev6SLEVve8u2jBJ7KobH6djNj0ehqlLXQKU6YMdsVF956C-5Kn9mcWIXhOjaA1Pg3mswYxG_WCMI9Pkx2Vf-b-n/s1690/IMG_9776.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGZrRPsi4ZeIHDe0IBnkMOLNkzSSTGIwN8vGi0meuKZ6kuht-2vqahDfVN1CTyvVLAW51_AzMidTyl7kaQI-bOtBltC9MVfpE7FYlhuev6SLEVve8u2jBJ7KobH6djNj0ehqlLXQKU6YMdsVF956C-5Kn9mcWIXhOjaA1Pg3mswYxG_WCMI9Pkx2Vf-b-n/w400-h300/IMG_9776.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually after about ten minutes this male flew off and I was left on my own, alone but elated. I never thought for one minute I'd be lucky enough to find this stunning looking bird without any local help, though of course I had a good idea from Jeff's blog. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajmp65Ei3q3kiC-ALnfgF4us3lbsRtNwZGLW25t9zWchJwo3Az5eb-_qYhx9BmqFh-dulzvODv2uZDhdZxEemfzjDtFbXYx1e1iMTGfHsNRg73NBLZYr_zgUE98HBiugFhPrT9NNyuhAeWRSdcu4EGfmYPOmuwdNRU0ClrRxa4BLN-bQf52nR5xY-4nOb/s1972/IMG_9778.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1479" data-original-width="1972" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiajmp65Ei3q3kiC-ALnfgF4us3lbsRtNwZGLW25t9zWchJwo3Az5eb-_qYhx9BmqFh-dulzvODv2uZDhdZxEemfzjDtFbXYx1e1iMTGfHsNRg73NBLZYr_zgUE98HBiugFhPrT9NNyuhAeWRSdcu4EGfmYPOmuwdNRU0ClrRxa4BLN-bQf52nR5xY-4nOb/w400-h300/IMG_9778.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Turning around to catch up with Mrs Wessex_Reiver, now well out of sight, there were some birds feeding on the grain on the path almost where I'd stopped to listen earlier. No, it can't be, it was. An easy to distinguish male and a drabber female nearer to me, who were joined at various times by a robin, chaffinches and house sparrow. I was way too far away to get any closer to them without spooking them into flight so I contented myself to watch through the binoculars, both the birds feeding on the path and regularly scanning the gloriously untamed field they all flew in from, to the right of me.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8lo2Z93G7oypEvA6eI0-kk5Nf9dfK7UjPs-Bq9KnEBfujsukRrPUFlQYmc0MZ3es1oRJBszJXFjgy5V-pw9xADTQB6LftxwTiEV0p2bfNfXye6et_E0vV2EjOFhGSS1C6TLB_N_Pbe6JNVME-08aaCl4eiR45utMau7yfLhVuzqEL6hhrkn2pFo8vsXI/s1408/IMG_9781.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS8lo2Z93G7oypEvA6eI0-kk5Nf9dfK7UjPs-Bq9KnEBfujsukRrPUFlQYmc0MZ3es1oRJBszJXFjgy5V-pw9xADTQB6LftxwTiEV0p2bfNfXye6et_E0vV2EjOFhGSS1C6TLB_N_Pbe6JNVME-08aaCl4eiR45utMau7yfLhVuzqEL6hhrkn2pFo8vsXI/w400-h300/IMG_9781.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKEqnnlrHB5nUcCHCfr5Kw9qO18lhB0JnL7WMI6P8KvJdIXGYQBU9JzMgQhpnPBIl9mifA6vKxW8lwR3_40aRtcxU7fqK7iTSOIBwLrlaFP0nm5C3FCh3XMTTcnmXCzLDhLnq2abXcK-MSGKjO-RCA5Yyx1KrVXEPJdtyOeOhazTnMrLOEZPDsTs1z3rP/s1690/IMG_9787.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDKEqnnlrHB5nUcCHCfr5Kw9qO18lhB0JnL7WMI6P8KvJdIXGYQBU9JzMgQhpnPBIl9mifA6vKxW8lwR3_40aRtcxU7fqK7iTSOIBwLrlaFP0nm5C3FCh3XMTTcnmXCzLDhLnq2abXcK-MSGKjO-RCA5Yyx1KrVXEPJdtyOeOhazTnMrLOEZPDsTs1z3rP/w400-h300/IMG_9787.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">While scanning this field I noticed a different bird fly into a thicket of brambles, whereupon checking what this was, it was another male. Difficult to spot, virtually impossible to photograph as it was in shade and I had the camera lens pointing directly towards the sun. It is thought there are four cirl bunting here, they arrived naturally but I guess the supplementary feeding, from whoever is doing that, is helping them stay. Will they breed here, only time will tell? However it is a quiet corner of Somerset and if there is enough seed it's highly possible. The habitat is right for breeding, however more stubble fields nearby would be needed to sustain any meaningful population.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxd8fb_HwlBqQlJXeqqUFipCrdEopnCRMTH0jJYiMrTc-GLMiUrxrG4sQ3h_xMx1NgURXcZibkFpvv1bGIBjOii1M7_Pj2SqgR45erHazoQRwBl7uYezJE092QTxdL6YDoPAVXbliJkGsAwa3iGXaCC-tuZHfvZhAbkUhk7TIicJo_oY_9il9Q1Wjw0dHd/s1972/IMG_9790.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1479" data-original-width="1972" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxd8fb_HwlBqQlJXeqqUFipCrdEopnCRMTH0jJYiMrTc-GLMiUrxrG4sQ3h_xMx1NgURXcZibkFpvv1bGIBjOii1M7_Pj2SqgR45erHazoQRwBl7uYezJE092QTxdL6YDoPAVXbliJkGsAwa3iGXaCC-tuZHfvZhAbkUhk7TIicJo_oY_9il9Q1Wjw0dHd/w400-h300/IMG_9790.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually after a number of minutes watching this male he flew back towards the sea wall and into a shrub behind me, the one on the left. I was now only fifty meters away or so and able to get good views, well slightly obscured but decent views for a good five minutes until that is a dog walker walked past the shrub and the cirl bunting was gone. I'd spent a good half hour or more in their company and they didn't disappoint. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLrzR2oavxCIcqj6RobNaaqvmuD7ROkG6bPSnRpE41D0fJkBexSvzuMgYKZG4GVhQLMi0VjVGs9y5Ihq-_izblpKUivpBUGnGXpbA79ukFcnEXXlO5LmVe0EFNcKDWo8Hlgcd-YpWmINl9Yype6VEMf6NamQYQZuofkAut1RjXOrr_Aqwtg3eNXghDuMW/s1690/IMG_9800.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgLrzR2oavxCIcqj6RobNaaqvmuD7ROkG6bPSnRpE41D0fJkBexSvzuMgYKZG4GVhQLMi0VjVGs9y5Ihq-_izblpKUivpBUGnGXpbA79ukFcnEXXlO5LmVe0EFNcKDWo8Hlgcd-YpWmINl9Yype6VEMf6NamQYQZuofkAut1RjXOrr_Aqwtg3eNXghDuMW/w400-h300/IMG_9800.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFAAmuv_CXf0qzh14Soh0cvIBQwHW_7_BGDITUO5FflVQJ5wyNZWvLzQqNyFwkcuHjsiOCc0ZphEckgr_vBrLuSRIS3TcF3szZ9mU4by6LIuhqcJA_3j6hruM_4LQaBNkMLJIr3KqCjFXOxMxpVw05Wej97dgLpNbdzHOVnaVAlX8L7yWGqUfQUoBF_ey/s1690/IMG_9795.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFAAmuv_CXf0qzh14Soh0cvIBQwHW_7_BGDITUO5FflVQJ5wyNZWvLzQqNyFwkcuHjsiOCc0ZphEckgr_vBrLuSRIS3TcF3szZ9mU4by6LIuhqcJA_3j6hruM_4LQaBNkMLJIr3KqCjFXOxMxpVw05Wej97dgLpNbdzHOVnaVAlX8L7yWGqUfQUoBF_ey/w400-h300/IMG_9795.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhaRj7EfLNuvpY8IcfPXNRSlvfX1lt6WlmQzKobqvXpVfe-xXp4Y8VSe0P3w2OUfOHEF0e-_POmHy18AubIojvUcxiAPDyfcgqAAQispuZPKcdDjp4hTMWQRS-yx8Lw7LMPf5kfZuPWQYMkwu5tOBBdO_Yp0R0e4imZJN9KNOUNyMPfHnyZHHX5PeAy8n/s1690/IMG_9799.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPhaRj7EfLNuvpY8IcfPXNRSlvfX1lt6WlmQzKobqvXpVfe-xXp4Y8VSe0P3w2OUfOHEF0e-_POmHy18AubIojvUcxiAPDyfcgqAAQispuZPKcdDjp4hTMWQRS-yx8Lw7LMPf5kfZuPWQYMkwu5tOBBdO_Yp0R0e4imZJN9KNOUNyMPfHnyZHHX5PeAy8n/w400-h300/IMG_9799.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIi_OeXf_Otk7wMfaTyKJdORmI0R9YC_EU8LK_IsCV6Mio1bOH5IwICpCUrdjmrob6-adXzNZVPsnGFO-HPrPSeOGojJI6nJCMGYDobqN5Yp93-u5dxNmpKu8CNtD_zOhZ1xwUO67D4CAakA7XviiAyEfpGpATeAVbC5ojlVxc5PRfB2rlAAJbUlj-Wlq/s1690/IMG_9801.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1690" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAIi_OeXf_Otk7wMfaTyKJdORmI0R9YC_EU8LK_IsCV6Mio1bOH5IwICpCUrdjmrob6-adXzNZVPsnGFO-HPrPSeOGojJI6nJCMGYDobqN5Yp93-u5dxNmpKu8CNtD_zOhZ1xwUO67D4CAakA7XviiAyEfpGpATeAVbC5ojlVxc5PRfB2rlAAJbUlj-Wlq/w400-h300/IMG_9801.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I really enjoyed today. A spontaneous decision made at lunchtime while sitting in the garden wondering what to do in the afternoon, and everything worked out famously. The weather was perfect, the location is somewhere I'm definitely coming back to in the summer looking for butterflies (Wall, Small Heath, Small Copper, Common Blue and Brown Argus are possible along the coast path I've read), and the cirl bunting were easy to see. I hope they stay. </div><br /><p><b>References:</b></p><p><b>Jeff Goodridge blogging site (Somerset Day March 2024)</b></p><p> https://thefinancialbirder2.blogspot.com/2024/03/an-amazing-day-in-somerset.html?sc=1709492370750#c8858072077053806649</p><p><b>Saving Species 2010 - Radio 4 involving the cirl bunting </b></p><p><span style="text-align: justify;">https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00t1xt1</span></p><p><br /></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-5553933872511833302024-02-24T21:37:00.004+00:002024-02-24T23:54:30.148+00:00B...is for....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCALkt73TzU9GsExUvMYB0qj-pncQ-DfSL3kaB8yf2vwf8PSjyhlZBiRrXvinOWhzmJ8bcQ3Kt-lRwyJCMJK25uFJkul49qrrfh9CWOUXQJZa6lQq894ODy55H_pw8w-s8JsKNrBUTA-7sWv_LCLBAa4ZrAaDwryXslF3q03-6VLbM-WNOjfAirM37Jx5/s4608/IMG_20240224_124018571_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlCALkt73TzU9GsExUvMYB0qj-pncQ-DfSL3kaB8yf2vwf8PSjyhlZBiRrXvinOWhzmJ8bcQ3Kt-lRwyJCMJK25uFJkul49qrrfh9CWOUXQJZa6lQq894ODy55H_pw8w-s8JsKNrBUTA-7sWv_LCLBAa4ZrAaDwryXslF3q03-6VLbM-WNOjfAirM37Jx5/w300-h400/IMG_20240224_124018571_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">It was a chance phone call yesterday that saw me down at the RSPB's Greylake Reserve in Somerset this morning. That call from my friend and erstwhile colleague Brett Westwood involved a well overdue and quite long gossipy catch up, which ended with a discussion over the Baikal teal which has been at Greylake all winter. This bird should be in East Asia but somehow made its way to Britain possibly two years ago, given a handful of sightings across a number of areas in southern Britain, of what is thought to be the same individual. This bird has now been accepted as a bone fide British record by the BOC and as such is now added to the official list of British birds. Brett mentioned he's keen to see this vagrant from the Far East, however living in the Midlands it's a long drive down, and it wasn't visible when he led a birding walk to Greylake recently. I said I'd have a look over the weekend and report back to him.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I woke up to heavy rain on Saturday morning despite the forecast promising sunshine. Should I go, or stay indoors and sulk? In the end I went. It's about twenty miles to Greylake and I arrived around 11am just as the sun began to break through. My heart sank however as the car park was packed, I managed to squeeze into the last space with a feeling of dread. Images of camouflaged middle-aged men with huge lenses fixed to cameras, tripods be-topped with telescopes and the general chaos of twitchers came to mind. However I was here, there was nothing for it, I headed towards the hide and viewing screen.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">My fears were borne out. I couldn't get anywhere near the viewing screen for what looked like a traffic jam of green shopping trollies loaded with paraphernalia. I tried to get near but a dozen birdwatchers were well dug-in and definitely not moving any time soon. Massive scopes pointed outward through the gaps, cameras too, various bits of equipment littered the floor, flasks and sandwiches in evidence, and, the owners glued to their phones oblivious of what was happening on the reserve.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1wZkn6NVIdJxCeRb8fxU0pBL236YxVzgl8csxVTwQ_2CJPsjkGEouiO1AT6uTqvMTWI8vtPBeHRNggHjpKGdEigQdkfinptpFP-1uDBBxdaq8O40_ZoyJBoCPvLcyiyyi80psJaecns8njy9uXh8BNhCaTn8YPztT_dLR5M7Iq_4kkR-5u8a8navAc82/s2816/4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL1wZkn6NVIdJxCeRb8fxU0pBL236YxVzgl8csxVTwQ_2CJPsjkGEouiO1AT6uTqvMTWI8vtPBeHRNggHjpKGdEigQdkfinptpFP-1uDBBxdaq8O40_ZoyJBoCPvLcyiyyi80psJaecns8njy9uXh8BNhCaTn8YPztT_dLR5M7Iq_4kkR-5u8a8navAc82/w400-h300/4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">Failing to push my way to a viewing place, I turned tail and headed to the nearby hide itself. That was a little better, still burgeoning with birdwatchers but I managed to find a suitable corner to peer out of. I looked around, not one birdwatcher was actually watching birds, they were all either in huddles around a scope chatting (and moaning there was nothing to see) or on their phones looking for something, from which the constant pinging would suggest they had found. Do birdwatchers not watch birds through binoculars these days?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I don't mind any of this at all but they do tend to stay in one place for hours hoping for that elusive photograph, in doing so preventing the casual visitor access to their inner sanctum. I'm big enough and ugly enough to barge in but it is intimidating I feel for those less robust.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPRw2fCh2H4iw4FR4JH2Dg20Xmgb_eYlszZk6sH3G05j-iROv7DNmNhe_d6n0jAVTHTwMHUiZ_8qnMGQOlgHfdCiGKcUeYZMURTa3KZhJXsO3_zpW8CykBOPIuRVEx4fKnRGhgK3rxwnF1lTmWGAQccl60FSJPkctxx_XtNoX2zDzcxSN3WbBCwAQO2Wu/s2816/1.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZPRw2fCh2H4iw4FR4JH2Dg20Xmgb_eYlszZk6sH3G05j-iROv7DNmNhe_d6n0jAVTHTwMHUiZ_8qnMGQOlgHfdCiGKcUeYZMURTa3KZhJXsO3_zpW8CykBOPIuRVEx4fKnRGhgK3rxwnF1lTmWGAQccl60FSJPkctxx_XtNoX2zDzcxSN3WbBCwAQO2Wu/s320/1.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">I settled down. Beautiful views of snipe just outside the hide, Greylake is a good reserve for these lovely waders. Beyond the snipe hundreds of teal, wigeon and mallard, some shoveler, a lot more snipe and a handful of other birds such as moorhen and gadwall. A good number of lapwing too with their lovely call regularly piercing the landscape. Beyond the main scrape great white egret, little egret and grey heron plus the usual smattering of corvids perched on fence posts. It's been a while since I've visited Greylake and the one thing a birdwatcher must do here is scan the pylons which march across the wetland. No perched peregrine this time but a lovely kestrel right on the top in the sun.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3K10BpXHOktwQBZ2-e3Uc4a7llfsjvpjCjbK__Mn9_T74uf0yLJnitpOYrU6YxlGJl9zOAWFmSg7zUWBnT0UbcA-Qt4joXdrCYbTg6RnhY0-R6fyy_JwLawW7UkVn50clsTqq6rtqNJzXEO5E2b2tr8dcR8dp9GH7V3ZpSh3xuklio5me3RQl-CN0k_q/s2816/2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU3K10BpXHOktwQBZ2-e3Uc4a7llfsjvpjCjbK__Mn9_T74uf0yLJnitpOYrU6YxlGJl9zOAWFmSg7zUWBnT0UbcA-Qt4joXdrCYbTg6RnhY0-R6fyy_JwLawW7UkVn50clsTqq6rtqNJzXEO5E2b2tr8dcR8dp9GH7V3ZpSh3xuklio5me3RQl-CN0k_q/w400-h300/2.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXmi4Hqve1klTCRwXgaB98eAhy-V3kya_5RIwrE3vcKLDjfJQo3BlDifVVsczYiPjDbN2YKgUoyUWn06LV2TgdO0k_sV1oAW82pMHAvgmoHY5roZPb82paVEwjxF6osWlbs2WgKSrhub59GLfxgOr_NB4Mz1-YWq4-nQlq9yoq97hhXj-TaUIib7QbWgj/s2816/3.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVXmi4Hqve1klTCRwXgaB98eAhy-V3kya_5RIwrE3vcKLDjfJQo3BlDifVVsczYiPjDbN2YKgUoyUWn06LV2TgdO0k_sV1oAW82pMHAvgmoHY5roZPb82paVEwjxF6osWlbs2WgKSrhub59GLfxgOr_NB4Mz1-YWq4-nQlq9yoq97hhXj-TaUIib7QbWgj/w400-h300/3.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">It was at this point that a conversation struck up between my nemesis birdwatchers over how few birds there are to see from these hides these days? One bemoaned that "[at Greylake] it's the same birds I see every time I come, it's the same at Catcott, it's just wigeon, more bl##dy wigeon everywhere". I refrained from adding to their discussion and so having had enough of all this I got up and left the hide to escape the conversation bemoaning common species. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">As I exited the hide however a 'chip chip' sound caught my ears. Bearded tit, or moustached reedling as the phenomenal birdwatcher and photographer Carl Bovis referred to them a few years back. Given the males sport a moustache rather than a beard, I like that name, better than bearded reedling. Now, I've learnt a technique when watching these beautiful birds, as they are ventriloquists. That call never seems to come from anywhere near the bird and so what you do is watch for a reed stem in the surrounding area to begin wobbling and then look down to about a foot or so above the water. There, if luck is with you, you'll find the bird, as it creeps along in a direct line foraging from reed to reed. I followed this one for a good ten minutes but it never gave me a good enough view for a photograph. Interestingly not one birdwatcher passing me, as they exited or entered the hide, asked what I was doing peering intently into the reedbed. Eventually the bearded tit flew off, in doing so startling a Cettis warbler into its exploding song.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">While watching this activity my ears picked up that the air was being filled with what I can only describe as 'snap, crackle and pop' to use a well known rice based cereal slogan. It took me a while to tune in before I realised it was individual reed stems either drying out in the sun or expanding in the sun and as they did they popped. I've not heard this before but as a sound recordist it fascinated me. I should imagine however if I turned up with a microphone to capture it, all would be silent.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkTevkGtEE7MP6X0fMHIhSqr9VoTsd46r3WLqDvWJrx148WG6-sB3RQUVAzIvdGL0CBek5yop2tpxIjaZ6ESpmG6reqstIPL0p5xzef_Uc_sRo_S7UTzPi1bx2jf6AY1MGjb66xdf2-PiSUSIh2TgFM4KRn8GeWedi4F9VckaEKX4DiVfWNNCol54vmqx/s2816/5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNkTevkGtEE7MP6X0fMHIhSqr9VoTsd46r3WLqDvWJrx148WG6-sB3RQUVAzIvdGL0CBek5yop2tpxIjaZ6ESpmG6reqstIPL0p5xzef_Uc_sRo_S7UTzPi1bx2jf6AY1MGjb66xdf2-PiSUSIh2TgFM4KRn8GeWedi4F9VckaEKX4DiVfWNNCol54vmqx/w400-h300/5.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">After this immersion into that reedbed soundscape I fancied a walk, therefore retracing my steps I joined the waymarked reedbed-walk where once again I heard the 'chip chip' of bearded tit, this time however they were invisible. In this part of the reserve people too were invisible, just one chap out looking for grey heron. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7BlcQnsYP2clcJJ9fqX0WCXyntm5UEejZzu3UcxZueqIhyphenhyphenbmu0VnausXYTTQWoALT8qU3tNjmv9SC4URisLBIqlF4bk64gvf8q_UeQ-GkYKgZthebclcKVdsPo6Shj-SqZke1pnxrq8_QPycmcOWi6XSxwlML-J58hWDpwGkbB79P_pMjAIze3TKEJek/s2816/6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7BlcQnsYP2clcJJ9fqX0WCXyntm5UEejZzu3UcxZueqIhyphenhyphenbmu0VnausXYTTQWoALT8qU3tNjmv9SC4URisLBIqlF4bk64gvf8q_UeQ-GkYKgZthebclcKVdsPo6Shj-SqZke1pnxrq8_QPycmcOWi6XSxwlML-J58hWDpwGkbB79P_pMjAIze3TKEJek/w400-h300/6.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">The twenty minute walk terminated in a willow screen which offered some cover from the few birds visible out here, great white egret, four greylag geese, mute swan and a marsh harrier. At my feet however a pond skater caught my eye. The sun was warming the water in a ditch by the viewing screen where I then noticed a swarm of winter crane-fly scudding over the water surface. There are around ten species of <i>Trichoceridae</i> flying in the winter in the UK, they're poorly recorded so there may be many more species yet to be discovered in the landscape. Some observers call them simply winter gnats, I'm amongst that body of observers, lacking the knowledge to identify down to species level. It then struck me that despite the aforementioned conversation possibly still going on at length in the hide, Greylake was providing a number of interesting things to see. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAgWi1JagCllUcOT3wrepDR0ub0wrhK-wDo3jmjwMT4DxZuMmalH3l95y_FtEOUQ26ontD3FTwylKmns3gWNF7xaiyd4YHHGTjK9Aaop7gkkcQp7d85YzBTvKipJp1qcwHAruG-pkO21uPV4Y1tl0Fg8kFwl86Gi90cf4zIsl6sKFMM88YcwuCw9cLQ0U/s2816/7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXAgWi1JagCllUcOT3wrepDR0ub0wrhK-wDo3jmjwMT4DxZuMmalH3l95y_FtEOUQ26ontD3FTwylKmns3gWNF7xaiyd4YHHGTjK9Aaop7gkkcQp7d85YzBTvKipJp1qcwHAruG-pkO21uPV4Y1tl0Fg8kFwl86Gi90cf4zIsl6sKFMM88YcwuCw9cLQ0U/w400-h300/7.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">Many years ago when the social media platform Twitter was gaining popularity I organised a 'Tweet-Up' of like minded natural history buffs. We spent a day on the Somerset Levels, including coming to Greylake where a superb entomologist Richard grubbed around in the undergrowth and in doing so discovered a number of species not known on the site at that time, including a freshwater snail which if my memory serves me well, was new to Somerset. These were good events to be part of, and those species we recorded were submitted to the relevant biological records office. Citizen science in action. It's sad these events fell by the wayside after a few years, not least as today I'd have enjoyed having someone as phenomenally knowledgeable as Richard alongside me to put a species name to my 'winter gnats'.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I'd been here now for three hours and whilst enjoying being out in the fresh air and sunshine, it was time to call it a day. However on my way back to the car park once again I heard the 'chip chip' of a moustached reedling. This time I took some time following the wobbling reeds as they shimmered along a ditch, and after a dozen or so images of empty reed stems and nothing else, I was finally rewarded with a photograph of the male reedling as it appeared, all too briefly, into the open. This was the icing on the cake for me watching this bird, a species now becoming established in Somerset albeit still with small localised populations.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4nVqwrnk4rEzyub_hpC6touQfTpApaKIJtELq4m_XWZ9DqnbfZguXvdr35gbkR-pl7AVk3_sv9p8DvGKJD58_OlwPvMpQPbUnlB4m8B8hgM40i_RBkrf6FG9gUL_DlMozM1x8FX_tO-JyNNFsFiN7JZrrzL9NGCp1IteXvebXZX1tGtXdhMNlqq3yN21/s2816/8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjq4nVqwrnk4rEzyub_hpC6touQfTpApaKIJtELq4m_XWZ9DqnbfZguXvdr35gbkR-pl7AVk3_sv9p8DvGKJD58_OlwPvMpQPbUnlB4m8B8hgM40i_RBkrf6FG9gUL_DlMozM1x8FX_tO-JyNNFsFiN7JZrrzL9NGCp1IteXvebXZX1tGtXdhMNlqq3yN21/w400-h300/8.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;">I had one final B to add to my list of B's I'd collected today, Balkai teal (reason for visit, absent), Birdwatchers (many), Bearded tit (lovely) and finally Beetle. This green ground beetle was crawling across my rucksack as I packed it up. I tried to key it out as a Harpalus affinis, the right size and shape, but this species is one of dry sites, a wetland seems a little too moist a habitat for it. Then I thought maybe Carabus spp. but they are much larger. Once again my lack of knowledge is letting me down with beetle identification. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">There's so much to learn, or in my case, forget, but I'll not forget this wonderful visit to Greylake. As for the Baikal teal, well it was on the reserve today, though not somewhere the public had access to.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94EWqSAqtQyeUbb2XkYaJW4omz4DviU8rL9zvjc7YPFZ3ZdUIkKaI147Sfliqxhnhll8WAZRcuQwPlLF1qtPbdxiRjTXVhpVTQCennHby4aPu8SOoheu4cIYw06qWKC3wtDHV_kINT4dwTTP0CWpQxRCbRP43a-mdhW1FhT0U9jPUUCrXEMmiqRcwOhuZ/s1331/9.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1117" data-original-width="1331" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi94EWqSAqtQyeUbb2XkYaJW4omz4DviU8rL9zvjc7YPFZ3ZdUIkKaI147Sfliqxhnhll8WAZRcuQwPlLF1qtPbdxiRjTXVhpVTQCennHby4aPu8SOoheu4cIYw06qWKC3wtDHV_kINT4dwTTP0CWpQxRCbRP43a-mdhW1FhT0U9jPUUCrXEMmiqRcwOhuZ/w400-h336/9.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-77175748111763125242024-02-18T13:34:00.004+00:002024-03-16T22:04:55.786+00:00James Allen; Snowdrop King<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As days go, a thick fog across the Mendip Hills, dark clouds without energy blanketing the sky, and a half light creating a scene of dullness across the countryside, is not on everyone's list as perfect conditions to venture outdoors on a late winter exploration. But venture out I did to visit the Shepton Mallet Snowdrop Festival, and even in such desolate conditions as this that visit uplifted the spirits. This Festival, which I believe is now in its seventh year (it began eight years ago but I understand it didn't run during the Pandemic) has amongst its objectives to promote both James Allen and the town of Shepton Mallet to a wider audience. In a small way then it has achieved this goal as after a 45 minute drive from home, myself and Mrs Wessex Reiver found ourselves in this mid-Somerset town looking for snowdrops. For over thirty years I've driven through or around Shepton Mallet, this visit would be the first time I'd actually stopped and looked about the town on foot.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxRY5jQXcgjWH9cGQtaNMrOxj2oy9QBLwP38KC8mMsNv5Y1uLaFr9BX0NVYUMRAXsYUyyULoTq0o-mqdqCY6zryzceCe2Rg13ufAhUMWFE6NoS4sFHNRsVKNDRoOf8koJx6jkN2PLuZ1KX56a4fBuVKp10UfvE2FWAEjZK13Ox-qcl1QS0vLK_1HP0HFO/s4608/IMG_20240217_110252472_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghxRY5jQXcgjWH9cGQtaNMrOxj2oy9QBLwP38KC8mMsNv5Y1uLaFr9BX0NVYUMRAXsYUyyULoTq0o-mqdqCY6zryzceCe2Rg13ufAhUMWFE6NoS4sFHNRsVKNDRoOf8koJx6jkN2PLuZ1KX56a4fBuVKp10UfvE2FWAEjZK13Ox-qcl1QS0vLK_1HP0HFO/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_110252472_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As strangers to the town we had no idea where anything was, however spying the church tower of St Peter and St Paul's, thrusting itself into the gloom, that seemed a good a place as any to begin. Walking along a cobbled alleyway I asked a lady "How far is the school?" I particularly wanted to find the school as within its four walls, according to the events listed on the Festival website, were plant stalls selling snowdrops. This lady was very helpful, and as we discovered later in our visit, we were actually speaking to Amanda Hirst, the Festival Director, who couldn't have been more helpful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In many ways the Festival could be called the James Allen Festival, yet most of the population will not know of this exceptional plantsman. Born in 1830 to a wealthy mercantile family in the town, Allen would go on to be dubbed the <i><b>Snowdrop King</b></i> for his drive and enthusiasm for the humble snowdrop. By the mid 1870's and 1880's Allen had built up an enviable reputation amongst fellow Galanthophiles through the sourcing of new varieties, bulb swaps, breeding and the sharing of knowledge taking place both here in Britain but also across Europe, with Allen as something of a hub from which this activity revolved. He wrote many articles, initially under the journalistic pen name of 'Hesperus', only finally writing under his own name in 1885. Allen's collection was believed to number hundreds of varieties yet today only two remain that are purported to be directly attributed to his collection, Galanthus 'Magnet' and G. 'Merlin'. It was an outbreak in 1889 of grey snowdrop mould, <i>Botrytis galanthina</i> which over the following years wiped out virtually all of his collection. One can only imagine how distraught he must have felt in losing his life's work.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq2SxTmu5mldg7BK9AfdceK0PYMW8M82kj3FRKpHS0ojQyN9PJjTrbMihWAB0e8gZb_P0GdbDfpRFoE8nqpdsPsIWRIrj2_lPVm0QnxtOR0JJqnCI5KGy2o1f7-WeESayuf16kQr4PvusUDBB1yZcw3gSNkdgrRsBPUKQpYAfw64Bf4d8zoTGBpeia8pm/s4608/IMG_20240217_110314460_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlq2SxTmu5mldg7BK9AfdceK0PYMW8M82kj3FRKpHS0ojQyN9PJjTrbMihWAB0e8gZb_P0GdbDfpRFoE8nqpdsPsIWRIrj2_lPVm0QnxtOR0JJqnCI5KGy2o1f7-WeESayuf16kQr4PvusUDBB1yZcw3gSNkdgrRsBPUKQpYAfw64Bf4d8zoTGBpeia8pm/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_110314460_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We received a very warm welcome from the volunteers within the church, it was physically warm too which was welcome on such a damp dark day. Ahead of us at the end of the nave was a most eye catching display of 'common' snowdrops against the matt-black pyramid of wooden crates. I've seen similar displays of auriculas, sometimes succulents many times, but I think this is the first time, for me at least, seeing a stunning indoor display of snowdrops. Elsewhere there were snowdrop based poems by local children, a storyteller, leaflets to browse through and craft stalls selling snowdrop-themed artworks. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Many snowdrop events take place outdoors, either walking through snowdrop filled landscapes or as we experienced recently at specialist gardens such as East Lambrook Manor. Shepton Mallet's is mostly an indoor Festival which, having begun in 2017 as a much shorter event, is growing year by year so that this year it runs across a full week. There were a couple of walks around the town during the week but it is not an event to come and see drifts of snowdrops, well not yet, as I've read the Festival volunteers have now planted over 500,000 bulbs around the town. That will be a stunning sight in years to come. I can't remember where I'd first heard of this Festival, a couple of years ago I think, then quite recently I'd read about plantsman Alan Down's visit in 2022, which spurred me on to actually put my coat on and go and visit.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">From the church we headed to St Peter and St Paul's school, where the serious business of plant sales was taking place. For a while now I've had an inkling to add G. 'Fly-Fishing' to my small collection. Avon Bulbs who were in the school hall discovered and cultivated this variety, sadly though they didn't have one in stock today. Neither did another stall, Elworthy Cottage Plants from near Stogumber, who did have an impressively large number of other varieties. It is a garden I'd like to visit next year when it is open under the National Garden Scheme. Mrs Wessex Reiver also had a long and fascinating chat with Juliet Davis the owner of Kapunda plants near Bath. She is a hellebore specialist and only opens her garden twice a year in March. This year it is March 3rd or 10th, I have a feeling we may be going there in a couple of weeks.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurvIyLXz8VFGuyGtqfjEgBOAJyWj6oQSSULm6gHI-iHiUuSskUqClNx9xC3OvMbFhWEJRwiEgoj12QO_7SkzbK-XN-7QsiiNw1tjdNUUhEVt07cj26HeGo40Xx4eOsLVdVHA8SaLvKaVqxgG7tgmuwC4YXqb7biMcvFQjihbq82VumZyuvHMnlT-X5pvT/s4608/IMG_20240217_120507399.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgurvIyLXz8VFGuyGtqfjEgBOAJyWj6oQSSULm6gHI-iHiUuSskUqClNx9xC3OvMbFhWEJRwiEgoj12QO_7SkzbK-XN-7QsiiNw1tjdNUUhEVt07cj26HeGo40Xx4eOsLVdVHA8SaLvKaVqxgG7tgmuwC4YXqb7biMcvFQjihbq82VumZyuvHMnlT-X5pvT/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_120507399.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">From the school, our penultimate stop was the Baptist Chapel, mostly as this was where the teas and coffees were to be found, a display board of Allen's life and work, plus a memorial tablet to James Allen with a nice simple snowdrop display in front of it. Entirely run by volunteers I do think this is an impressive feat to bring this Festival off successfully, an awful lot of hard work has taken place. In another venue in the town pre-booked art and craft workshops were taking place. We were just looking through the window when the aforementioned Amanda Hirst came out. We had a long and fascinating conversation with her, she really seems to be someone who gets things done.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I wanted to end my visit by visiting Allen's grave, which I'd previously been informed was in the town's cemetery about five minutes walk away, and not at St Peter and St Paul's church where I'd first thought. We set off into the mizzly weather.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovsNkiTTzZgXrkNXxMkp6XcPBfII_w-9h3MhTmrQc21X3nDANrHoTRKCjJyQ9zpYyHGBWk-UoWwc1vSqH9kmiWcUo06qWNIUTxhSqdfmt9IchVKOw-na9abCADMsIiI_Apw40skg1a39frLnz-PCK8K0egEAI1RndSIFnPbpVVBwe3CnH5mH99mzzdTTF/s4608/IMG_20240217_124321520_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgovsNkiTTzZgXrkNXxMkp6XcPBfII_w-9h3MhTmrQc21X3nDANrHoTRKCjJyQ9zpYyHGBWk-UoWwc1vSqH9kmiWcUo06qWNIUTxhSqdfmt9IchVKOw-na9abCADMsIiI_Apw40skg1a39frLnz-PCK8K0egEAI1RndSIFnPbpVVBwe3CnH5mH99mzzdTTF/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_124321520_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I walked right past it. I'd been told to look for a newly created obelisk erected in 2022 by the Festival. In my mind I was looking for a bright sandy-coloured gleaming piece of stonework although as I walked by this huge memorial right by the entrance I did wonder if that might be it, aged prematurely by the damp weather in this part of the Mendips. I should have looked, as it was Mrs Wessex Reiver who spotted it after I'd wandered off. A simple beautifully carved obelisk, detailing the plants Allen was known for, on top of the original memorial base from the Edwardian era. The original obelisk fell to pieces some years earlier. Apparently on the day of Allen's burial in 1906 there was a tremendous snowstorm, swirling around the spring flowers brought in pots and tubs to accompany the funeral cortège. That must have been one impressive sight for a man who devoted his life to these snow-piercers of spring joy. It was nice too to visit an important grave to find it not festooned with information boards or garish tributes, just a simple resting place in a small town in Somerset.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAX3nL9iuAvU61assB2juhMnq_KVFbp2mpvzPQaituQlwjLvRUeGSeuOcx1VKZrO5cpGP3SY-cBupiMJ0yDKfV6KEOils_CA8psYnwxsBtrayFJu6IOBGzGFJJqLtjeu2WJmFxdRLowMKIP21edZQ2-MHZrgI3FpNlkGZ8sbfbz8lBu73Ic3g9GQZFtnt/s4608/IMG_20240217_124340481_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPAX3nL9iuAvU61assB2juhMnq_KVFbp2mpvzPQaituQlwjLvRUeGSeuOcx1VKZrO5cpGP3SY-cBupiMJ0yDKfV6KEOils_CA8psYnwxsBtrayFJu6IOBGzGFJJqLtjeu2WJmFxdRLowMKIP21edZQ2-MHZrgI3FpNlkGZ8sbfbz8lBu73Ic3g9GQZFtnt/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_124340481_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtB1tKoJ9FnBaFF56z3flSXOCvSAOlgBotS8M34pDvr3JnMp_qPcdWn-hjw67sF4a2jkaqWdgsXr2XTXlqKto7oJG3xDdpTs1F-udeLTar_BjF_EKCff9SA2ucnGbcgr7xmwm1Sbg3xVDODzYMKaJa7tkZRqBqfkolQQEfLvjRSIKk-yRtDCCnsNm8MlS/s4608/IMG_20240217_124411945_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOtB1tKoJ9FnBaFF56z3flSXOCvSAOlgBotS8M34pDvr3JnMp_qPcdWn-hjw67sF4a2jkaqWdgsXr2XTXlqKto7oJG3xDdpTs1F-udeLTar_BjF_EKCff9SA2ucnGbcgr7xmwm1Sbg3xVDODzYMKaJa7tkZRqBqfkolQQEfLvjRSIKk-yRtDCCnsNm8MlS/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_124411945_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd not finished my day however. While in the school one of the stalls, which I can't recall the name of, was selling freshly-dug-up G. 'Merlin' for £10. As one of the only two of Allen's varieties still in cultivation it seemed apt to buy it here, in Shepton Mallet, only a stone's throw from where Allen lived and is buried. Now finding myself back home it needed potting up quickly. During the week I'd actually bought some terracotta pots, John Innes No.3 compost and grit to pot up the snowdrops I'd bought at East Lambrook earlier in the month. Despite the torrential rain now settling in for the day I popped into the greenhouse. Merlin, with its inner segments entirely green, is now safely potted up in its new home. Only next year will I know whether this and my other pot grown varieties, (part of a new plan), will be successful or not. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I may need help though, I think I'm fast becoming a Galanthophile.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYATpn9wWlNAq-kgJKXmnUz5bQIg-vtHhrPRyYgQtL4J9gIAFvqPzhZfwefbtyp7zUF8FGOOq08Cs5l7aOSAzGqK0T_q1ksWQQn-CCeXFXqeu7JXqM9v0jpi9X1MiNuF4MNGDCM280nSk7BIWhIblGVP01NITwXTRHM5mrpe6Psj8Xrmb62n-7FSaEJe1/s4608/IMG_20240217_155047500_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYATpn9wWlNAq-kgJKXmnUz5bQIg-vtHhrPRyYgQtL4J9gIAFvqPzhZfwefbtyp7zUF8FGOOq08Cs5l7aOSAzGqK0T_q1ksWQQn-CCeXFXqeu7JXqM9v0jpi9X1MiNuF4MNGDCM280nSk7BIWhIblGVP01NITwXTRHM5mrpe6Psj8Xrmb62n-7FSaEJe1/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_155047500_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrk9l_9I6iKScqrah0DZs9PoIDxSctZOTKexJpH4ak1O9YRl44nkTlpzKkCDoYFbvw8-oMx01ZUAxPkA9HT_Y9CCW1DUpTL388vn-M2k3_gU0xTXi09V752CRDLMamGkPzKU6rYfXyqA7RguBvI6qdevRjwOa4pMgSKVNSt0rubV4XFxtUQXGD-T9sAfMv/s4608/IMG_20240217_155249678_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrk9l_9I6iKScqrah0DZs9PoIDxSctZOTKexJpH4ak1O9YRl44nkTlpzKkCDoYFbvw8-oMx01ZUAxPkA9HT_Y9CCW1DUpTL388vn-M2k3_gU0xTXi09V752CRDLMamGkPzKU6rYfXyqA7RguBvI6qdevRjwOa4pMgSKVNSt0rubV4XFxtUQXGD-T9sAfMv/w300-h400/IMG_20240217_155249678_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div> <p></p><div>References : </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Shepton Mallet Snowdrop Festival</b> : https://www.sheptonsnowdrops.org.uk/</div><div><br /></div><div><b>James Allen Biography</b> : https://www.sheptonsnowdrops.org.uk/james-allen-snowdrop-king-galanthophile/</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Alan Down's Blog</b> : https://down-to-earth.co.uk/bulbous-plants/shepton-mallet-snowdrop-festival/</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Kapunda Plants</b> : https://www.kapundaplants.co.uk/</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Elworthy Cottage Plants</b> : www.elworthy-cottage.co.uk</div><div><br /></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-86601999641861178912024-02-04T22:17:00.048+00:002024-02-25T17:14:49.494+00:00Snowdrops. I wonder when an interest becomes an obsession?<p style="text-align: justify;"> Snowdrops. Almost exactly a year ago we visited the East Lambrook Manor gardens in Somerset. Then having read later in the year the Manor was up for sale I thought that may have been my final ever visit. However as the Manor is still for sale, it was a joy to know the gardens were open again for another snowdrop season.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouN_UwvrGA5Y50_D958noIUs1td3b5rl4bJwLsnzvHXlAaI6onqn3Ck9_8cHjjcHNuWwbiIjFfKeAPglW_Qou5kma3XbnYvK32dl7QN3vmTsqQrsP6rIaGww1jY8WcoHbu_bXYlaYP9H-2hjCv6nkn2YsCIa2sTgoy7pcuI9CfWOhMQi3rcigdxzSjX-b/s4608/IMG_20240203_132935435_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiouN_UwvrGA5Y50_D958noIUs1td3b5rl4bJwLsnzvHXlAaI6onqn3Ck9_8cHjjcHNuWwbiIjFfKeAPglW_Qou5kma3XbnYvK32dl7QN3vmTsqQrsP6rIaGww1jY8WcoHbu_bXYlaYP9H-2hjCv6nkn2YsCIa2sTgoy7pcuI9CfWOhMQi3rcigdxzSjX-b/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_132935435_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We were not meant to come here on Saturday, it just happened. Earlier Mrs Wessex Reiver had an appointment to see a new client near Mark, after which we ended up at the Avalon Marshes Hub for a coffee. It was while sitting there that the conversation turned to snowdrops and when shall we visit East Lambrook. Why not now, the briefest of discussions concluded, and so half an hour later we were walking through the gate.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZgeBHQRUxglCU0GPtWFbqxuzxt1xoPbGlefA4_hHVRTI_mNrOt408dxkYzvN8h3dWKZZCj1mIuoV3x9S4xsw8gi7jZ0Qk-54Z0GCwiMfaL-SY78RhHyOkryHFgZuUeSGss09A7Wt8058EpK6X9nxsmC2RIkFiVE8aAzYlGawVV6cQLO25GVKwe-wTTn9/s4608/IMG_20240203_132946557_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgZgeBHQRUxglCU0GPtWFbqxuzxt1xoPbGlefA4_hHVRTI_mNrOt408dxkYzvN8h3dWKZZCj1mIuoV3x9S4xsw8gi7jZ0Qk-54Z0GCwiMfaL-SY78RhHyOkryHFgZuUeSGss09A7Wt8058EpK6X9nxsmC2RIkFiVE8aAzYlGawVV6cQLO25GVKwe-wTTn9/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_132946557_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Chatting to the person taking the £7 entrance fee I discussed how nice it was to actually be here this year as I feared the sale may have prevented another visit. It turns out it's all to be discussed. No buyer yet, but whoever buys this Grade 1 house with a Grade 1 garden will be required to maintain the garden as Margery Fish planted it, however there's no requirement to open the garden to the public. Will I visit again next year? I hope so as I've become fascinated by snowdrops.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWb2ly59VFROC_Kufn8vXSDDXJ1Inj43iFCbmHwN3qQJ_3rvenzfF99QPHLPfSGLXL7WR-U9PgvW9E7js1eVtGcO3Fa-MePh5fOcCBearZMqojZvAAw1aUhxFKPl7S3k0pFT6wHm8dzAN_5zBfodmR3RaXkaP84LNSKHJkH3amqqG-2qC2nKyw7t10UwH/s4608/IMG_20240203_133311702.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWb2ly59VFROC_Kufn8vXSDDXJ1Inj43iFCbmHwN3qQJ_3rvenzfF99QPHLPfSGLXL7WR-U9PgvW9E7js1eVtGcO3Fa-MePh5fOcCBearZMqojZvAAw1aUhxFKPl7S3k0pFT6wHm8dzAN_5zBfodmR3RaXkaP84LNSKHJkH3amqqG-2qC2nKyw7t10UwH/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_133311702.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Like many I suspect I've enjoyed the arrival of these white beauties forever, without really taking any notice of what snowdrops are. I wrote about their history and presence in 2023 on this blog, therefore I'll not repeat myself. But that visit in 2023 changed my view. Most of the snowdrops I'd seen up until then were in woods, lanes, gardens and churchyard, these are often Galanthus nivalis, the ubiquitous form found across the British countryside. Yet there are around twenty species and now upwards of 2000 cultivars and varieties, many of which can be seen at the National Snowdrop Collection curated by Margaret and David MacLennan in Cumbria. Next to East Lambrook Manor is Avon Bulbs which has been the source of many new cultivars due to the unbelievable work by their senior plantsman the late Alan Street.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkmJiTc6t8ssxOPCWd9sKTrdHYGm4ndRZ_rWI6TwvTpi3pkgoEuE9TCFRXsEsM-2nA1Nc13he0BrLmggA2YAZUJt4yGYvBg4xTFBszNHWaOX3mV7NytHcXIIm2yNMl93eumHMX5s0vX_Jrrrs4W3TPW5ojM_9Hhioe9B-cZBBlic4jVp7Kw8iwxTIGMghP/s4608/IMG_20240203_134740944_HDR~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkmJiTc6t8ssxOPCWd9sKTrdHYGm4ndRZ_rWI6TwvTpi3pkgoEuE9TCFRXsEsM-2nA1Nc13he0BrLmggA2YAZUJt4yGYvBg4xTFBszNHWaOX3mV7NytHcXIIm2yNMl93eumHMX5s0vX_Jrrrs4W3TPW5ojM_9Hhioe9B-cZBBlic4jVp7Kw8iwxTIGMghP/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_134740944_HDR~2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In that Avon Bulbs setup there is a copse of mixed woodland which was planted up with hundreds of varieties as a security bulb-bank of cultivar type away from the nursery. That copse has subsequently produced tens if not hundreds of new, naturally self-seeded, snowdrop sports, discovered, cultivated up commercially and named by Alan Street in over three decades of dedicated botany. Many of the varieties on sale at East Lambrook on Saturday had come from next door so to speak. Sadly not Galanthus 'Fly Fishing' which I had on my shopping list during my visit, a variety Street spotted naturally in the copse and through the intensive process of twin scale cultivation brought it on to general sale.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWlkv5iH6YnXv9iSTfPROBUPbepCaNl3ASGJ3W9NsrwlyyQnWxpm_2V9t0ZSvc4b2WsEK1DnB7juUYTvNcEZEefJCalzgqMKhz9lGv-sl3hnRoHbJpYWklmIqH87-vbG83uwa5Xve3PN7AzpJgyTe695Jk2uPxztR23VG0a0FOpeDvriERmM0qBq2lq-L/s4608/IMG_20240203_140551903_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvWlkv5iH6YnXv9iSTfPROBUPbepCaNl3ASGJ3W9NsrwlyyQnWxpm_2V9t0ZSvc4b2WsEK1DnB7juUYTvNcEZEefJCalzgqMKhz9lGv-sl3hnRoHbJpYWklmIqH87-vbG83uwa5Xve3PN7AzpJgyTe695Jk2uPxztR23VG0a0FOpeDvriERmM0qBq2lq-L/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_140551903_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Somerset could in some ways be thought of as a snowdrop centre, historically at least. Just thirty miles to the north one James Allen in Victorian times brought snowdrops to the general public through cultivar scaling up from natural characteristics he noticed in the Shepton Mallet area. There is some discussion that Allen was the key driver in the development of Galanthophilia which continues a pace today. Margery Fish who developed East Lambrook Manor was a plantswoman who used snowdrops in her planting, many are still grown, and that attracts the visitors.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNrIpcClFnYHcosU1a260KdOf6_VBcOwohc5MXO7wyhLbeddueMv7iSHLKLUACvbCJdC-hBRYWqyDcBe7qCiwL60PIzVseA_7eOx9_OFypqyj_6g374QSYhl_jHHa0gJJXV-22bqh4bHG_oqDdElAfixpCKE198ug3SnS1u41a-HchFJ3h8MI_2f4egbDy/s4608/IMG_20240203_143202040_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNrIpcClFnYHcosU1a260KdOf6_VBcOwohc5MXO7wyhLbeddueMv7iSHLKLUACvbCJdC-hBRYWqyDcBe7qCiwL60PIzVseA_7eOx9_OFypqyj_6g374QSYhl_jHHa0gJJXV-22bqh4bHG_oqDdElAfixpCKE198ug3SnS1u41a-HchFJ3h8MI_2f4egbDy/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_143202040_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">That garden today, in the centre of the village, is not large but it is a mecca for gardeners. Chatting to one of the team there they mentioned how important the garden remains to the horticultural visitor but is possibly less known to the wider public. Which is to be expected for a specialist garden. At this time of the year, throughout February, this is a must-visit site for lovers of these delicate snow piercers, so named due to a hardened leaf tip allowing the bulb to push through frozen soil. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Something else I'd learned recently is how snowdrops attract early insects. It seems within the petal 'bell' of each flower the air temperature can be one or two degrees warmer than outside the flower. These micro heat islands thus attract pollinators, during the cold days of late winter, to come and warm themselves for a while and in return pollination is initiated. Plant-insect associations and adaptions are remarkable.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiib5DM-GGMuXIPDJ8UkjMUykOOiKgtUDHSp45x7KjlKRrLDXaza2Xj2DAFLI1fvoC6v7qN-zZPTYqSzkogoacon7HVS0ltFxE-yQXtEpXb8HC6pqh7GKfSg10jPkqwoluqRPwWa2HKWSKEh_7LGwAZHlNnVP1jBOrdZJDlWviy2LWRZ5uut0JJ37KYSsfz/s4608/IMG_20240203_143645119_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiib5DM-GGMuXIPDJ8UkjMUykOOiKgtUDHSp45x7KjlKRrLDXaza2Xj2DAFLI1fvoC6v7qN-zZPTYqSzkogoacon7HVS0ltFxE-yQXtEpXb8HC6pqh7GKfSg10jPkqwoluqRPwWa2HKWSKEh_7LGwAZHlNnVP1jBOrdZJDlWviy2LWRZ5uut0JJ37KYSsfz/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_143645119_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Many varieties here are growing naturally in soil, some of the more interesting varieties are on display in terracotta pots and by the sales area a wonderfully raised display of type snowdrop in absolutely perfect condition are there to see, allowing for a close up inspection of the subtle differences within essentially hundreds of varieties of a white flower on a green stem. Why then the recent obsession with snowdrops, fast becoming the 21st Century version of tulipmania?</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn9ep7GWZNJfUz1p46e68hpXyRk_lvCOAvTZui5LA_wwlQcYp92zv7pds5nA94icVEC811tacc4CGBwBsX0vs-h0u7Okf-lYoFJwv46OWw8lAqbCBMGxlh3zge0l_NCd3wkyhNW1DEQfi7kvyjxYcWo7F3qmNaheLHaHidkAZdlrHd8ZjXKhyQ3alavxB/s4608/IMG_20240203_143753022_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLn9ep7GWZNJfUz1p46e68hpXyRk_lvCOAvTZui5LA_wwlQcYp92zv7pds5nA94icVEC811tacc4CGBwBsX0vs-h0u7Okf-lYoFJwv46OWw8lAqbCBMGxlh3zge0l_NCd3wkyhNW1DEQfi7kvyjxYcWo7F3qmNaheLHaHidkAZdlrHd8ZjXKhyQ3alavxB/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_143753022_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I wish I could answer this. I now look at snowdrops with a different eye to only two or three years ago. I'm not yet becoming a Galanthophile, but I do worry I'm getting too interested in the minuscule colouration or form that can split one variety from another. Sometimes I can't tell the difference but with some single bulbs now fetching around £2000 someone does and will pay handsomely. Looking at the many visitors buzzing around the bulb stock at the plant centre, where a roaring trade was taking place, I'm not alone in this interest developing dangerously out of control.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbP9dvLqX29ZEoFCJ62BTDhqPi02GFt3Aww_zrrjgHkMjd8ioyPTjl4svtrtR0UeH0zTeCHz5cR8ZLMq4xw4cFtsxk4FbSCL2BjeyIXC_jp9KRsVBNSOYHOdRN1KFsJEQxABnZro_05yC-VxmyGFannNit7pVC50YkrPrXkxs2oV0hv6TIG1x_o8lo380I/s4608/IMG_20240203_144540377_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbP9dvLqX29ZEoFCJ62BTDhqPi02GFt3Aww_zrrjgHkMjd8ioyPTjl4svtrtR0UeH0zTeCHz5cR8ZLMq4xw4cFtsxk4FbSCL2BjeyIXC_jp9KRsVBNSOYHOdRN1KFsJEQxABnZro_05yC-VxmyGFannNit7pVC50YkrPrXkxs2oV0hv6TIG1x_o8lo380I/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_144540377_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm glad then I can still step back and pick up on reality, and feel joy at seeing this snowdrop poking through these steps, I saw this same snowdrop last year and I love the fact it's still thriving in that tiny gap. As is a clump of 'Natalie Garton' which I saw last year, and the clump that said to me 'snowdrops are interesting' and not just a beautiful sign of the passage of winter.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMKXwqfplbo68zoXBiNIvtZZcM18S1hQ6VfgwXzWJBSx1_JwF6D6zOfn1UKQKRYZd-AShCaolz4Mv0rwr89si9FEWCex2wa2evh8YHifwCyd1HcyBX0oCnHzLbC5kvlbskLyd8uKuDLQoZS5Q4ywrU0q-x9YahbO1pO6Q_7wX2DKONFS-cS4Whq6wsPZZ/s4608/IMG_20240203_144652737_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMKXwqfplbo68zoXBiNIvtZZcM18S1hQ6VfgwXzWJBSx1_JwF6D6zOfn1UKQKRYZd-AShCaolz4Mv0rwr89si9FEWCex2wa2evh8YHifwCyd1HcyBX0oCnHzLbC5kvlbskLyd8uKuDLQoZS5Q4ywrU0q-x9YahbO1pO6Q_7wX2DKONFS-cS4Whq6wsPZZ/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_144652737_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not everything during this visit obsessed on snowdrops. I did mess about with some arty photography and a little bit of wildlife watching, a queen buff tailed bumblebee was lazily quartering the ground, or like this, I think, white lipped snail one metre up a Miscanthus.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidypgCoidYFLx5zdSPGeZ2Gc_zVZ6FmOhSgNEYF7O6hskquFjR7aauQHiCX5o4Nwr-xlifoqp303ICR1DmIjjGD4wx9VqSKZZ0_3_ZtNlelSksqcAUJmjX1Zef4JeXtpG2x2rfIoX_3idnHxotsacT2TTeuREx55x2BDTX-Asm_ek44Hj6IYupq2DlTjn/s4608/IMG_20240203_145232571_HDR~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgidypgCoidYFLx5zdSPGeZ2Gc_zVZ6FmOhSgNEYF7O6hskquFjR7aauQHiCX5o4Nwr-xlifoqp303ICR1DmIjjGD4wx9VqSKZZ0_3_ZtNlelSksqcAUJmjX1Zef4JeXtpG2x2rfIoX_3idnHxotsacT2TTeuREx55x2BDTX-Asm_ek44Hj6IYupq2DlTjn/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_145232571_HDR~2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9J4v_l_oHSlIp4aJNC2kkKENAI0XSI_PiioVHkx0BBYUBqtfHLUKP2p7q69nNWthILR-esVXXT3Zc61FWgYq0J7FceaXb22TBorRbxtaBrCIF8xE2i0OIl2i_HPDIpeL0TM1IwfJWlgyPzTuel2KWcFiTreKyEJgG8MtEgrkUT5tiROWh4BHfLl163jfE/s4608/IMG_20240203_145432778_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9J4v_l_oHSlIp4aJNC2kkKENAI0XSI_PiioVHkx0BBYUBqtfHLUKP2p7q69nNWthILR-esVXXT3Zc61FWgYq0J7FceaXb22TBorRbxtaBrCIF8xE2i0OIl2i_HPDIpeL0TM1IwfJWlgyPzTuel2KWcFiTreKyEJgG8MtEgrkUT5tiROWh4BHfLl163jfE/w300-h400/IMG_20240203_145432778_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I was also fascinated by the hellebores for sale at the nursery area. Most of those for sale had flowers in the maroon, purple, brown and red spectrum. One variety though 'Harvington Yellows' is as its name suggests, a buttermilk yellow. I watched the early flying insects coming to these yellow flowers in preference to other colours. There were Harvington Yellows in two different areas and I watched as one bee flew between these two areas of yellow flowers while ignoring the darker colours. Why these yellow hellebores are preferred I'm not sure but I'm assuming it has something to do with just colour, in which case Mrs Wessex Reiver succumbed and bought three for our garden.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtm9YjMf18ZrYVTyY790PchRn4gYUyp06_ytJWe7jqwObmVVMNLSN1eRM9cQx-F9SSySwTVgBhVOgxLV88kPHOWugRWKBviSsaUncJbWwLr0WAnh7_o4ENUa7bTW0SxD4G-CURv6IiSoeSNetBtPN15d9rSqeA-wzuhYgcc6JoZHTtLTgy7nnlwJkhO4xG/s4608/IMG_20240204_115940041_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtm9YjMf18ZrYVTyY790PchRn4gYUyp06_ytJWe7jqwObmVVMNLSN1eRM9cQx-F9SSySwTVgBhVOgxLV88kPHOWugRWKBviSsaUncJbWwLr0WAnh7_o4ENUa7bTW0SxD4G-CURv6IiSoeSNetBtPN15d9rSqeA-wzuhYgcc6JoZHTtLTgy7nnlwJkhO4xG/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_115940041_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Back to snowdrops however. I did succumb myself to three new varieties for my developing collection, increasing my varieties by 100%, to six.. Last year I bought three snowdrops, two cultivars, 'Marjorie Brown' and 'Natalie Garton', and a species Galanthus, gracilis. On this latest visit I succumbed despite the price to Galanthus plicatus 'Madeleine', Galanthus Phillipe Andre Meyer (which was on my shopping list) and Galanthus Elwesii 'sickle'. Seen together the subtle differences are obvious. I'm hooked but this is becoming very expensive.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwO5Y6rw0sLw0kfvMqgwEXkZKMljrNvAfx-n0okye6KNw4T5u9To3o-aYboCZO9Pvlz54feWt0As-0A7po3FhjAR3FnkBmdu6UbPmSKwsHTnhKHWoDuFkjCnGmINOjAj7c4X1eaNtYH3R6-1vuKANnHdLpEVXiJx2KBHT5UNz3wGMlBcjnXbgTp2xFFqR/s4608/IMG_20240204_103940502_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCwO5Y6rw0sLw0kfvMqgwEXkZKMljrNvAfx-n0okye6KNw4T5u9To3o-aYboCZO9Pvlz54feWt0As-0A7po3FhjAR3FnkBmdu6UbPmSKwsHTnhKHWoDuFkjCnGmINOjAj7c4X1eaNtYH3R6-1vuKANnHdLpEVXiJx2KBHT5UNz3wGMlBcjnXbgTp2xFFqR/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_103940502_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZJN18Fb8g7_m9QduXVdO40t9o5vFaTTsul_nTgw7anIgsm2t70Xnr7CslMaA8NBo9gCmOqGaMKjmo8vdmM0fUfzaYIVDi-EVLVMToX9459IY6_Dx1bMNoCPtlYmufOEgIM8H53avxXJ-xqFL6fD8aZEukmkxcxW7kId5mK5iZWOlWhJDBkSUYvveXd_k/s4608/IMG_20240204_104010987_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRZJN18Fb8g7_m9QduXVdO40t9o5vFaTTsul_nTgw7anIgsm2t70Xnr7CslMaA8NBo9gCmOqGaMKjmo8vdmM0fUfzaYIVDi-EVLVMToX9459IY6_Dx1bMNoCPtlYmufOEgIM8H53avxXJ-xqFL6fD8aZEukmkxcxW7kId5mK5iZWOlWhJDBkSUYvveXd_k/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_104010987_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-3RWxLurew-KOUsH6hXKuYu5qkVKXTZ4UifpVOuA1dJXUbGYl0I85SnRjrk5zD2Se8263mhxjSla_BnfaR2k7OH8YAVJzIrvgPyno3EBcpEFzRhhcCxWGctzV0LWVvoawKx6aYn69hPbEIQiQuWwK6k_6ZCdXNkn-5rNy40ypwsRnvErfIaNiqNZpPOy/s4608/IMG_20240204_104039401_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-3RWxLurew-KOUsH6hXKuYu5qkVKXTZ4UifpVOuA1dJXUbGYl0I85SnRjrk5zD2Se8263mhxjSla_BnfaR2k7OH8YAVJzIrvgPyno3EBcpEFzRhhcCxWGctzV0LWVvoawKx6aYn69hPbEIQiQuWwK6k_6ZCdXNkn-5rNy40ypwsRnvErfIaNiqNZpPOy/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_104039401_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So what next? Well I'm keen to grow these on in containers, to show them at their best, alongside last year's purchases. The books will tell you snowdrop don't grow well in containers as they suffer if they dry out or are subject to heavy frost. Yet I experimented last year with 'Natalie Garton' in a pot. It is flowering exceptionally well, better than 'Marjorie Brown' planted in the cutting bed which is just emerging, or G. gracilis which is in a border but not flowering, suggesting it isn't happy.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQeYZwlZqDRrHLEFrBEYf_oR12N1_jzGGFDxTYVKN2QOZzuYpqYZ6zlcnr3xBW-mI4p3aTeKohTc1M02d0glWD1a7BuqHelmAsMxmNbFGAda8VT3e3ht4U-0-z0mhpgKtF8OZa3lBgHiaklOiA6MroM70lkoQVXxH0IbE_J_ce_6lQXrO6NohyJwI3DnET/s4608/IMG_20240204_104251977_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQeYZwlZqDRrHLEFrBEYf_oR12N1_jzGGFDxTYVKN2QOZzuYpqYZ6zlcnr3xBW-mI4p3aTeKohTc1M02d0glWD1a7BuqHelmAsMxmNbFGAda8VT3e3ht4U-0-z0mhpgKtF8OZa3lBgHiaklOiA6MroM70lkoQVXxH0IbE_J_ce_6lQXrO6NohyJwI3DnET/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_104251977_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">G. Natalie Garton </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgap7muBvr_Ne8-M6POBHjLb88_qtMxOy5Rxa98n_gd8vGxB6Uu2DwJgfFXKW9kOsumW6_zY11i5_iallG8Tx8SjorNqljP90xNSKtgCbEzUkMtr-v_9bHOv80vAgB_DDLLjH5_G2iGhJRcA_FwY81hdqMxEY-hHvyi2SVRPJm0CGafExzHcDy3R_3vXOGU/s4608/IMG_20240204_104317962_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgap7muBvr_Ne8-M6POBHjLb88_qtMxOy5Rxa98n_gd8vGxB6Uu2DwJgfFXKW9kOsumW6_zY11i5_iallG8Tx8SjorNqljP90xNSKtgCbEzUkMtr-v_9bHOv80vAgB_DDLLjH5_G2iGhJRcA_FwY81hdqMxEY-hHvyi2SVRPJm0CGafExzHcDy3R_3vXOGU/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_104317962_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">G. gracilis</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtOcT4LW2WwmXAEu_WlhQfcKCEufWwJRRO5drtBtdNfRoaQFKrpEuj1GdlPRP_VkeqF1_dUZgiGAvoa3TInpLgjw7qUqDPkzbtjfm8McE4-LrtBjU3PEAN_84n6BZmPmECwtBgXrMR8V-qpVyHYnVAZWTznjGHFZLBJQzttqExlJIZR7IVaguZNoADDdt/s4608/IMG_20240204_104431768_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtOcT4LW2WwmXAEu_WlhQfcKCEufWwJRRO5drtBtdNfRoaQFKrpEuj1GdlPRP_VkeqF1_dUZgiGAvoa3TInpLgjw7qUqDPkzbtjfm8McE4-LrtBjU3PEAN_84n6BZmPmECwtBgXrMR8V-qpVyHYnVAZWTznjGHFZLBJQzttqExlJIZR7IVaguZNoADDdt/w300-h400/IMG_20240204_104431768_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">G. Marjorie Brown</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've been reading around container growing, it is possible, but the snowdrops need repotting every May and throughout the year, even when dormant, the compost needs to be kept watered but not waterlogged. In addition if a period of heavy and prolonged frost is due the pot will need protecting. The leaves and flowers are tough, the bulbs however less so. I'm looking forward to cracking this over the coming year. Am I simply interested or truly becoming obsessed?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And I'm already thinking about next year. I mentioned earlier the National collection is in Cumbria. Last August 300 bulbs were sent from there to Thenford Arboretum near Banbury. This year more will arrive nudging the Arboretum's collection to 1500. This new southern collection is now under the curation of the owner, one Michael Heseltine, the politician, who has spent over four decades creating this stunning garden. Sadly their snowdrop days are sold out this year, but already bookings are possible for February 2025.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Am I becoming obsessed, or simply interested? Discuss.</div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-84900689462064759952024-01-27T20:17:00.019+00:002024-02-26T06:42:43.715+00:00Spring is not quite here, close though...<p style="text-align: justify;"> There is always a sense of great excitement in me at this time of the year. I'm like a child sometimes. Yes it is still winter, yet spring is very much beating it's own emergent path towards winters closing door. After weeks of rain followed by a lovely but very cold spell, today felt almost no coat weather. I said almost.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbIxTGUxMu_aH4fM32IORr8k725XyEC9vZ0EaQFIRUgZIXGjE1q0hCUfF1SkmnioC749Ee96FY4cXB7iIYicO3V7C_6TwgA-ftSi9_YfHhx9FH2GezQS-E5ZjXRfnnP9fcL17IHyytO6HTL744b6kVm4Q2BWchlBLrR0eBJhnGhV0LFx2CW4oA7UPbzEE/s2304/IMG_20240127_125507722_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkbIxTGUxMu_aH4fM32IORr8k725XyEC9vZ0EaQFIRUgZIXGjE1q0hCUfF1SkmnioC749Ee96FY4cXB7iIYicO3V7C_6TwgA-ftSi9_YfHhx9FH2GezQS-E5ZjXRfnnP9fcL17IHyytO6HTL744b6kVm4Q2BWchlBLrR0eBJhnGhV0LFx2CW4oA7UPbzEE/w300-h400/IMG_20240127_125507722_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I was on the Avalon Marshes area of the Somerset Levels, Shapwick Heath to be precise. I've not been here for months, and today Mrs Wessex_Reiver and I had not started out in the morning to come here. It just happened by chance, and as that chance would have it I didn't' have any binoculars with me. More on that later.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Following an errand in Weston super Mare we decided on the spur of the moment to visit Shapwick. After the obligatory drink and snack at the Hub, it was simply lovely having a walk along the central path, the former route of the railway line which once carried peat dug hereabouts to the rest of the country. A bit of fresh air and some gentle exercise. There were some visitors about but for once it was fairly quiet. Not having my binoculars with me meant I had to use my other sense, hearing. First up a few fieldfare were raucously chak-kak-ak-ing in a nearby shrubbery, silhouetted against the sky but unmistakable with that call. As I listened a song thrush beyond gently repeated its phrasing adding a songster's lead vocal to the fieldfare's rhythm. A nice start.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SiT6NWJoAfqvV_JDYuNEsYwXSXvAeTCVA089Xl6-WtpvDaY0bbcxGitTbte8q2uP329UXECXPvHhGuicrO9SVRKD27TeQFIbcphwwcOYUuLHCCFNHZbBW3-_KOYMSruuywPXvK82yu1tgaikAPlY_QLXsGvJcopqgrK5bBrlNHMAbWsUtKSZ54STc7qy/s2304/IMG_20240127_125626862_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SiT6NWJoAfqvV_JDYuNEsYwXSXvAeTCVA089Xl6-WtpvDaY0bbcxGitTbte8q2uP329UXECXPvHhGuicrO9SVRKD27TeQFIbcphwwcOYUuLHCCFNHZbBW3-_KOYMSruuywPXvK82yu1tgaikAPlY_QLXsGvJcopqgrK5bBrlNHMAbWsUtKSZ54STc7qy/w300-h400/IMG_20240127_125626862_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Other sounds emanated as we walked along. The ubiquitous mallard quacked away, or at least the females did, a flotilla of Canada goose honked as they flew over. Great tit called, not the classic teacher call, but the two note contact call, repeated before falling silent. Not everything made a sound, over the reeds at some distance a male marsh harrier quartered silently, its blue-grey wings flashing its presence to a number of duck species who rapidly rose and fled as it arrived. A great white egret stood silently at the edge of a pool. I find this amazing as it is now almost impossible to visit the Somerset Levels without seeing at least one great white egret or a marsh harrier within a few minutes. In truth on the walk back an hour later, three marsh harriers were together in one eye line. Having no plan for the day, my destination was Mere hide, simply because after 30 minutes walking I needed a sit down. I said goodbye to Mrs Wessex_Reiver who went for a longer walk. Crossing a bridge, the approach to this hide is through a small wet woodland, from which two jays erupted with their harsh call and flew over my head. I do love jays. In many ways the expectation of wildlife watching can overshadow the reality, and today Mere hide lived up to its reputation, for me at least, for having absolutely nothing to see, well not upon first entering it.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEm4jhF6-Nj59WEXPbWO2REsWbyoJvdvLF6JbGCBZqfimjzNmU-KtpiTjSkSbkbEUkNgRCAvKIdpWRATVXmvxkMb1R8jJPDFk06HP3fVbSLgRT1oxPUUFX-KYuZhhOOkT8qSU60Bk0f7NEy71ABrrvNgUQFjVo_O5bgbrDhpQ8TCZ-Z72tJF_VrV6S5Ed5/s2304/IMG_20240127_125816468_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEm4jhF6-Nj59WEXPbWO2REsWbyoJvdvLF6JbGCBZqfimjzNmU-KtpiTjSkSbkbEUkNgRCAvKIdpWRATVXmvxkMb1R8jJPDFk06HP3fVbSLgRT1oxPUUFX-KYuZhhOOkT8qSU60Bk0f7NEy71ABrrvNgUQFjVo_O5bgbrDhpQ8TCZ-Z72tJF_VrV6S5Ed5/w300-h400/IMG_20240127_125816468_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I was lucky as a family and then a couple were exiting the hide as I arrived, presumably they'd seen me coming. I always do this, but on arriving at the door of a hide I open it very slowly, gingerly even, as if a demonised phantom was within waiting to scare me. I love hides, they have a unique atmosphere but they are mysterious. One never knows who, or what will be found when the door is opened. Fling open that door with a loud crash followed by a 'Hello I'm Here' boomed out in a thundering voice and the volley of 'SHH, SHH, SHH's' from camouflaged middle aged men will return to you like machine gun fire, at which point you are trapped. Which leaves a dilemma, do you find a seat and carry on as if no one has noticed your entrance, or turnaround and exit the hide quickly. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The one aspect of hides I find quite bothersome is when I'm seated quietly in there and someone comes barging in and immediately asks "anything worth seeing?". My immediate thought is to suggest some rare vagrant in a nearby tree and then enjoy the chaos as the they unpack all their gear in readiness to take that award winning photograph of the greater striped zebra-sparrow. It happened today, a couple who were visiting the Levels for the very first time, before they'd even come through the door said, "anything interesting". I wish I'd said I was from the north and not being able to afford binoculars I was counting the number of reed stems which I found helped my mental problems while I am on day release. I didn't, just mumbled something about it being quiet, and actually they were a charming couple (complete with campervan from Exeter). But why don't people just come in and sit quietly and look out the hide windows for themselves. Tribal acceptance I suppose. Sometimes visiting a hide is hilarious.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I once entered a hide on the Catcott complex nearby. With me was my friend Rob, we were on a between Christmas and New Year escape the indoors day and had walked here from Shapwick hoping for a quiet few moments scanning the wetlands. Not to be, as I opened the door we were greeted with a sea of late middle aged ladies surrounding a bemused gentleman in a fedora hat. "Come in, come in, there's not much room, but you can sit on our knees though" one lady said with a giggle, with another adding "we don't bite.....much". My friend and I found a space no larger than a postage stamp and squeezed in between our new friends, who I'm sure reduced the space as we settled. "Would you like a wine gum" one said. We took up the wine gum offer, fearing refusal may find us kidnapped and turned into domestic slaves, never to be seen again outside. We needn't have worried as in the end we had a riotous time. It turned out they were a ladies nature and birdwatching group from somewhere near London on a girls mid-winter weekend in Somerset complete with binoculars. Once they found out we knew what some of the birds were, the questions came thick and fast. "what's that duck there?" "Is that a pigeon?". The fedora hat wearer feeling somewhat miffed and ostracised I suspect said loudly "Ladies there's a garganey over there...". Given this was mid winter Rob and I sprang into action, "really? where?"... "there" fedora said pointing to a gadwall. We didn't say anything to avoid a possible lynching and death by wine gum, but ever since then Rob and I have called gadwalls, GargGadanywalls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Today however as I peered around the hide door the building was empty, save for the new logbook. Hide logbooks are another fabulous item of birdwatching culture. If well used, they invariably contain within their pages at least one, if not all of the following; </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">a) a three page seriously compiled list of all birds seen, including taxonomic grouping, recorded during a three hour visit, signed and dated by someone called Kevin, self proclaimed ornithologist and RSPB love-child</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">b) a note in capitals that someone has pinched the pen - AGAIN, with the writer having to resort to his or her own pen to write this complaint</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">b) the word DUCK, TIGER or COW written in three inch letters, often in green ink, often with a drawing of something which may resemble the said animal, but the jury is out</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">c) or some lovelorn teenagers, outpouring of passion complete with words of Anglo Saxon origin relating to hoped for recreational activities later that evening</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I love logbooks, though sadly this one was reasonably new, and sensible, with just a few species listed as having been seen today. Sadly no cows or teenage lust. I settled down then to gaze across the reedbeds and listen.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZ5vsT4v39PocQUgfd7L4aTtk3y9TKZyB88t4J6RGgCBWbyQgaukhxq7oY6PCsPBJ_9F43u5OnrUTKStdr5EZVsEKjwCt95fd0Roybn7LeSacRRoCRGzHPzErXjnQG8gcDkpbl2rjoPvimoWKNaXmSYP1FDUtZ5CVYMhHTb3MGVGg5Cyh34UN-4uhSlPm/s2304/IMG_20240127_125951973_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoZ5vsT4v39PocQUgfd7L4aTtk3y9TKZyB88t4J6RGgCBWbyQgaukhxq7oY6PCsPBJ_9F43u5OnrUTKStdr5EZVsEKjwCt95fd0Roybn7LeSacRRoCRGzHPzErXjnQG8gcDkpbl2rjoPvimoWKNaXmSYP1FDUtZ5CVYMhHTb3MGVGg5Cyh34UN-4uhSlPm/w300-h400/IMG_20240127_125951973_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">To my amazement I could hear many invisible species, and without the aid of my binoculars saw a number too. A couple of marsh harriers were simple, a cormorant too. In the distance some ducks alighted, by their size and flight teal were among them, and wigeon confirmed by their whistling calls once they'd resettled. Then as I sat I heard the unmistakable drumming of a great spotted woodpecker, that's a first this year. Then the squeal of a water rail. Not having binoculars was sharpening my hearing, a coot called somewhere, to my right a wren's song erupted, more quack quack from a passing flock of mallard. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was while listening that I noticed movement at the bottom of the reed in front of the hide. Two birds, one following the other skulking at the base of the reeds but in the open. Brownish grey nondescript plumage, pale grey underneath and looking quite 'warblery' if that's a word. I couldn't be 100% sure but immediately I thought Cetti's warbler - I've not seen one for years, although I have heard them many many times, they're fiendishly difficult to see. Quickly checking the ID via my phone somewhat confirmed my suspicions, but by the time I'd looked this up, the birds had disappeared back into the reedbed and as they never called absolute confirmation remains sadly elusive. I'll mark this as probable, possible, well I think maybe so. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The remainder of the listening and watching took place to the right hand side of the hide within some wet woodland. Blackbird, blue and great tit, wren again, a chaffinch 'pinking' away somewhere and flitting along delicate branches high in the trees what I'm assuming were chiffchaffs, if only I had my binoculars to see these a little closer. A grey squirrel wafted about on the ground and a moorhen messed about in a water filled ditch which was nice to see, a much overlooked bird. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not too many species, but sitting there quietly watching and listening was a real joy. The sound of the breeze through the reeds was especially evocative. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jyuidga0nehyphenhyphendSPibR_K33Bzl4klK0s8Z4AHnbJgBtqEwMj6j4JaoR6a6MslrEFZ0BX_nFewjXzEJWeoHwjGgOzQ-Lyb6rDjpRge6Rz5CQ6Z409IGbZuIjTisIbVmonoHooi1vLf9AaJ_CgdADWk6ep3sQOwEbrpB7TeiKbNKm_JyaSPrwveFqJU3eeI/s2304/IMG_20240127_131751904_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7jyuidga0nehyphenhyphendSPibR_K33Bzl4klK0s8Z4AHnbJgBtqEwMj6j4JaoR6a6MslrEFZ0BX_nFewjXzEJWeoHwjGgOzQ-Lyb6rDjpRge6Rz5CQ6Z409IGbZuIjTisIbVmonoHooi1vLf9AaJ_CgdADWk6ep3sQOwEbrpB7TeiKbNKm_JyaSPrwveFqJU3eeI/w300-h400/IMG_20240127_131751904_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Retracing my steps the only additions were a long tailed tit, a male stonechat, a few starling, rook and carrion crow, a grey heron and somewhere over in the far distance a bittern was clearing its throat and ushered out two half hearted 'ho_oo_ops'. I've often heard them boom here at the end of January but it is in February that they'll really begin, when if you visit the Levels they are everywhere to be heard, a real success story.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeYFvFbM0Ox7hXf8Lwuk3z86fTKVzkS-AWoa9jlDVYTASe3dVmFmX-pkyfGM0brRaMZaCTssOWWKm1aK8yOLHH83bhWmSYsM4rP8hNLO22wIIEGbQpRzMO6PkUSV9WX8yNUP9Cvf_5pxmwXESxlYZlHLqWrkAAWrTWbzrZ3xDtl1h7rS6E0lstb_4qL16/s929/IMG_20240127_160035542.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="885" data-original-width="929" height="305" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSeYFvFbM0Ox7hXf8Lwuk3z86fTKVzkS-AWoa9jlDVYTASe3dVmFmX-pkyfGM0brRaMZaCTssOWWKm1aK8yOLHH83bhWmSYsM4rP8hNLO22wIIEGbQpRzMO6PkUSV9WX8yNUP9Cvf_5pxmwXESxlYZlHLqWrkAAWrTWbzrZ3xDtl1h7rS6E0lstb_4qL16/s320/IMG_20240127_160035542.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p>So spring has not quite arrived, but all the signs are gathering, not least this thrown-out-of-the-nest starling egg I spied on my neighbour's path when I got home. Not long now.</p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-36115468333230409012024-01-09T14:11:00.002+00:002024-01-09T14:11:28.565+00:00Firecrest in the garden<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJcqUz5AnbSRjccVfMrrjisBGzxD4O6Liys9Mg7oiHQVGg0ao8F8GofGJLrfFEZoc33afga9qpa_jJQKJy7UoEE67h7aAHvamyPnpRXkQ1l4lN9iUKT2-NyjTKtqQybwWJcxqiFRB9OfrJI8MeEGPs2goyAQFzPbEXUaKynHoKwnaIs6M0RQZEKoFrEdD/s4608/IMG_20240109_093614908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpJcqUz5AnbSRjccVfMrrjisBGzxD4O6Liys9Mg7oiHQVGg0ao8F8GofGJLrfFEZoc33afga9qpa_jJQKJy7UoEE67h7aAHvamyPnpRXkQ1l4lN9iUKT2-NyjTKtqQybwWJcxqiFRB9OfrJI8MeEGPs2goyAQFzPbEXUaKynHoKwnaIs6M0RQZEKoFrEdD/w300-h400/IMG_20240109_093614908.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">An unexpected encounter. I found myself idly looking out of the kitchen window this morning when I spied what I initially thought was a goldcrest flitting through the standard hollies searching for food. As I watched it flew into the greenhouse. Imagine my surprise then when upon going to rescue the bird from there I discovered it was the much rarer firecrest. We get a few along the coast each winter but I've never seen one in the garden before. A very nice start to the birding year indeed.</p><p></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-82256759529339898392024-01-08T13:38:00.040+00:002024-03-16T22:05:23.123+00:00Siegfried Sassoon, Edwin Lutyens and the village of Mells<p style="text-align: justify;">Sometime way back in the final quarter of the last century I read a book, that book was <i>Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man</i> by Siegfried Sassoon. Ostensibly a novel, the book has very little to do with the Master of Hounds and is more a loose semi-autobiographical account of life's stepping stones encountered by the hero, one George Sherston. Given the book was based on notes and records of Sassoon's own life it could be easy to put two and two together and call it his own story, especially with the follow up novel <i>Memoirs of an Infantry Officer</i>, of which Sassoon was himself, with honours and distinction during WW1.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">But we'll not dwell on that. Save to say when I read the <i>Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man</i> as a teenager it really spoke to me for reasons I was then too young to fully understand. Although Sassoon is possibly now better known for his First World War poems and arguments against conflict, and I have since discovered many other authors to admire, Sassoon remains somewhere in my background knowledge of written works of merit. Then, more recently, Sassoon popped back into the foreground when a couple of years ago the film Benediction was released, which I thought was a mesmerising performance recapturing his friendship with Wilfred Owen. At the time I did a little reading around and discovered (or possibly re-discovered) that Sassoon had been laid to rest in St Andrew's churchyard in the village of Mells in Somerset, just thirty miles from me. I had to visit and pay my respects. </p><p style="text-align: justify;">The sun was out, the rain had finally stopped and on a Sunday morning Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I drove over the Mendip Hills to discover more about Mells, a village I'd never been to but had long known about for its daffodil festival each Spring.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIEFT_DIniNWS6nWw86K2wdQK_IvU9GreB0T1ejSJxxqvdevBQ6WZ1jimXT3x21YR2n-YNBOp3S2V9CpI4wXqDqzqz-yDnOGiKXJPSmzPtwSMVFXgkvvL2e1RexZHHqQdz32Bkc6kiJQcuo0onE8S0VDlZX9EwmFn-qqw5prQ24CrnyCJ-nITU83Wr189/s2304/IMG_20240107_125815752_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfIEFT_DIniNWS6nWw86K2wdQK_IvU9GreB0T1ejSJxxqvdevBQ6WZ1jimXT3x21YR2n-YNBOp3S2V9CpI4wXqDqzqz-yDnOGiKXJPSmzPtwSMVFXgkvvL2e1RexZHHqQdz32Bkc6kiJQcuo0onE8S0VDlZX9EwmFn-qqw5prQ24CrnyCJ-nITU83Wr189/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_125815752_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We arrived to a very beautiful but rambling spread-out village more in character, due to its nestling along a steep valley, to a Cotswold village and it took a while to actually locate the centre happily delineated by a Community shop and café, which is open every day of the week. Despite the cold weather and post Christmas lull the village was quite busy which made me consider what must it be like when the daffodil events are on? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As ever our first port of call when arriving somewhere new is to go to a café, this one is small and was full of people, many seemingly local, but we managed to squeeze onto a tiny table and take in the atmosphere. I also spied a Village Guidebook for sale at 75p, perfect. The guidebook contained a 2.5 mile ramble around the village but we opted for a shorter wander up to the church, which was after all why we'd come here. Mells is not just a very pretty village but as I was about to discover one that for a while just over 100 years ago was the centre of a lively arts, crafts and philosophical society, thanks to the inhabitants of Mells Manor at that time Sir John & Lady Frances Horner. Their connections brought into the village such luminaries as Edwin Lutyens, Eric Gill, Edward Burne-Jones, William Morris, Rex Whistler, William Nicholson and Alfred Munnings. And of course Siegfried Sassoon.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhivZv6GxrRU_lbcvW8nSA6wSa4Cr3ofoeUm2__QPLxd2Gi4YDdKV4DeRDAgMenhLjJYR1pdXl7F9zu_AWIymLrNO_Kofq7P9nrsOLqvn2y3WQptUrh4hzsORM5FSJMsB4tQ5OIifPx9rInLxqohizaCu4hb6De05q2PHNhRpZipBuKw7AwW-soq4XRjq/s2304/IMG_20240107_130603069_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZhivZv6GxrRU_lbcvW8nSA6wSa4Cr3ofoeUm2__QPLxd2Gi4YDdKV4DeRDAgMenhLjJYR1pdXl7F9zu_AWIymLrNO_Kofq7P9nrsOLqvn2y3WQptUrh4hzsORM5FSJMsB4tQ5OIifPx9rInLxqohizaCu4hb6De05q2PHNhRpZipBuKw7AwW-soq4XRjq/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_130603069_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Exiting the café we headed up hill past an 18th Century (possibly earlier) cloth merchant's house and on to the War Memorial designed by Edwin Lutyens. As I discovered, Lutyens was commissioned to do a lot of work around the village, which is possibly why the village felt timeless, an English idyll captured and frozen in the 1920's. As a lover of fine architecture this fitted me very well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWjdwCbfH7n2p6_2suKv43kDbK10CUALe8RhK3RsJ9GXY4E-V8nYwdC6_Gu54F1HaootD7muRZeq74fpQ8lfu1Dq-582OwgPWZ-L3qBGQUHKgMqudJoeO_YuHfGvJzDs6Ho8brp0MsD50HMcSMc7H6dAn7J_BIX4SnnaxY2ARFgmdQlX-QedpAu77rWln/s2304/IMG_20240107_130746526_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrWjdwCbfH7n2p6_2suKv43kDbK10CUALe8RhK3RsJ9GXY4E-V8nYwdC6_Gu54F1HaootD7muRZeq74fpQ8lfu1Dq-582OwgPWZ-L3qBGQUHKgMqudJoeO_YuHfGvJzDs6Ho8brp0MsD50HMcSMc7H6dAn7J_BIX4SnnaxY2ARFgmdQlX-QedpAu77rWln/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_130746526_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A short walk beyond the War Memorial we chanced upon New Street. Despite its name New Street is the site of some of the oldest houses in the village and was actually part of an unfinished 18th Century plan to create a crucifixion cross shaped street plan leading from the church, sadly the longer street part of the cross never materialised. The buildings here are superb, this one below flanking the church gates being medieval in age, though many houses in Mells can throw foundation roots back to the 13th Century.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRgMNu-4lGioKxFKWNRpVt2H63w4Od4n7ftEN9h0OH8c8WUxwPhRx0N3Obh3NaxLIbsyOHYrLk4HzqvnvQmj-hqTSBeWWG1MZB3obHazahR6Bm3W_HLvgn1utf_0jqvmrABNFncR4o0AjjSR6LmNLk_jxsLzgVDcgbb7hWXlGjeUlhKG9xpfUBcRl2Dtp/s2304/IMG_20240107_131321895_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIRgMNu-4lGioKxFKWNRpVt2H63w4Od4n7ftEN9h0OH8c8WUxwPhRx0N3Obh3NaxLIbsyOHYrLk4HzqvnvQmj-hqTSBeWWG1MZB3obHazahR6Bm3W_HLvgn1utf_0jqvmrABNFncR4o0AjjSR6LmNLk_jxsLzgVDcgbb7hWXlGjeUlhKG9xpfUBcRl2Dtp/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_131321895_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Entering St Andrew's Church it is impossible to miss a huge memorial to Edward Horner, son of Sir John & Lady Frances Horner, killed in action in 1917. The bronze horse and rider is by Sir Alfred Munnings with the stone plinth, which itself is about 6 feet high, by Lutyens. It is a remarkable piece of artwork, even more so as it depicts in a huge way the grief his parents must have felt at his killing. And this is what struck me in the church, money, privilege and famous connections did not prevent sons and fathers being slaughtered in the battlefields of France. The War Memorial visited earlier lists the many villagers of this small rural oasis who lost their lives, and it made me think, for what? Maybe as I became closer to the grave of Sassoon his thoughts on the desolate pointlessness of war were beginning to permeate towards me.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wt_JDCbgliUjsQUTbgmcxcyMIraoOOGucQfiMjPfGfgmOClzkHPBNBjcbPaBXFE-pkaDF0TcFeN9_F-9T5fdeTjzJ9iUhyQtj-qpTfeAOvaptoGRtcgYCxepbumw_fgOsdsB-cbRA9-LLLhwJ8cTerHI9zNtzTh7L7q03G7FxbIsFiJVMRFiRFX_Uwi0/s2304/IMG_20240107_132124628_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8wt_JDCbgliUjsQUTbgmcxcyMIraoOOGucQfiMjPfGfgmOClzkHPBNBjcbPaBXFE-pkaDF0TcFeN9_F-9T5fdeTjzJ9iUhyQtj-qpTfeAOvaptoGRtcgYCxepbumw_fgOsdsB-cbRA9-LLLhwJ8cTerHI9zNtzTh7L7q03G7FxbIsFiJVMRFiRFX_Uwi0/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_132124628_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Close by, underneath the church tower, there is another memorial, that of Raymond Asquith, who was the son of the Prime Minister Herbert Asquith and the husband of Horner's daughter Katharine. Raymond Asquith was killed in 1916 while his father was in office. By all reports Raymond was shot in the chest and although mortally wounded lit a cigarette to hide the seriousness of his injuries, his relaxed pose giving his company the courage to continue fighting. He died later that day. The memorial is a wreath designed by Lutyens with lettering by Eric Gill.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNP0QbB5M9XqtHgpRbqFrV9Svs5wJb_8CpoO8HM_Jl-9P8WGWnxgVTMbMX46Z1hlsOvyipgq9z6DyvfSg1j6fczq31ShEjikBpcxQ6tI8s9rUkOAv1Rm2x0mQQCdc25RZE6X9DBNROffUNH4Teg-18kV_NAl-LgGf2GIRkVYZe19vpbPVKqfLZgg_AhCo/s2304/IMG_20240107_132555429.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCNP0QbB5M9XqtHgpRbqFrV9Svs5wJb_8CpoO8HM_Jl-9P8WGWnxgVTMbMX46Z1hlsOvyipgq9z6DyvfSg1j6fczq31ShEjikBpcxQ6tI8s9rUkOAv1Rm2x0mQQCdc25RZE6X9DBNROffUNH4Teg-18kV_NAl-LgGf2GIRkVYZe19vpbPVKqfLZgg_AhCo/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_132555429.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Opposite is a striking memorial to Laura Lyttelton by her close friend Sir Edward Burne-Jones, himself another regular visitor to Mells. Laura Lyttleton died in childbirth in 1885 and while she is not buried here, this stylised peacock representing resurrection is a thoroughly captivating image. Laura was part of the 'bright young things' set that circled this village, she was a good friend of Lady Frances Horner.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH0r8WIpSAKh541ZXMIJC6I6XF_7u_v6LXOPAi-wAJOEXTggE3BJhu0YIPzGFQbXm6CFLKUUTK9jZcW3QMEaUXonjGkFl9kMnOCE-bQlNC-Bwu2Aw68f4d0h_8dG74cei7JK6nymxI1Z6IhMg4J-HWuvEt5CSQWcLEhDz3UCsqmObfP4ANJ57e6KUBFHF/s2304/IMG_20240107_132705606_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqH0r8WIpSAKh541ZXMIJC6I6XF_7u_v6LXOPAi-wAJOEXTggE3BJhu0YIPzGFQbXm6CFLKUUTK9jZcW3QMEaUXonjGkFl9kMnOCE-bQlNC-Bwu2Aw68f4d0h_8dG74cei7JK6nymxI1Z6IhMg4J-HWuvEt5CSQWcLEhDz3UCsqmObfP4ANJ57e6KUBFHF/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_132705606_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There was a lot more to see inside this church, I only briefly looked at William Nicholson's stained glass window, but it struck me how many connections there were to so many well known and well respected people in this seemingly out of the way village church. I shall come back on a summer's day and really take in what this village has to offer. But on this visit it was time to head outdoors and look for the grave of Sassoon.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDw5rPbkCfMS_kq6X4XhWZf7k7yTV1BvZOPlk9Sy68z3N7YpWYzgCGTsbWwNyV5HsJAaGQjcQ4iT2keoKPOqwH-5KAJsSxF9uPFPODBmhHZlPKQ5op3JRoekn_QAqSOsJPRAHlaOCdMwwRHbU1Cyhtm7an1-e7lr-jAg-ztCWi-EAX5PWpYiZVYVFphyphenhyphen9/s2304/IMG_20240107_132730672_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyDw5rPbkCfMS_kq6X4XhWZf7k7yTV1BvZOPlk9Sy68z3N7YpWYzgCGTsbWwNyV5HsJAaGQjcQ4iT2keoKPOqwH-5KAJsSxF9uPFPODBmhHZlPKQ5op3JRoekn_QAqSOsJPRAHlaOCdMwwRHbU1Cyhtm7an1-e7lr-jAg-ztCWi-EAX5PWpYiZVYVFphyphenhyphen9/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_132730672_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The wind was bitter in this churchyard which in many ways suited my quest. There are a lot of graves here and it took a while to find Sassoon's. In fact it was Mrs Wessex-Reiver who found it from behind, which was amazing. Such a simple headstone to one of the greatest poets England has produced. Just his name (Loraine being the surname of a vicar his mother admired) and dates. Possibly had Sassoon been killed in WW1, as many people think, the Horners may have erected a large memorial. However Sassoon survived the war and died in 1967 aged 80 in Heytesbury, Wiltshire. But why here? Why is Sassoon buried in a village where he frequently visited but did not live? Well close by there is another grave to Father Ronald Knox.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdiDWz-tOpcuvAgp29oVLe_v4WprRn3fbf-2wtoFn7H4ZKQyOPL6R0dXA4b8UlgWg-hkaK_-NYhVrrudP2QA22tzOi5tpPLcn1OsjkxjQHTU3-lw_MAhAGF1Polpcbj-Ti1QBALdjjlX_kFbI5De0qGhDyewYyLxWQSC0pZZvH1qnQPCzRxp1PjDqvucJg/s2304/IMG_20240107_133243587_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdiDWz-tOpcuvAgp29oVLe_v4WprRn3fbf-2wtoFn7H4ZKQyOPL6R0dXA4b8UlgWg-hkaK_-NYhVrrudP2QA22tzOi5tpPLcn1OsjkxjQHTU3-lw_MAhAGF1Polpcbj-Ti1QBALdjjlX_kFbI5De0qGhDyewYyLxWQSC0pZZvH1qnQPCzRxp1PjDqvucJg/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_133243587_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Sassoon was a big admirer and friend of Knox who died ten years before him in 1957. Knox moved to Mells in his latter years to complete his most ambitious work, the translation of the bible into English from Latin, no mean feat at all. I also discovered, aside from his religious works, Knox wrote detective novels and spoke regularly on the BBC. Until this week Knox was unknown to me, then reading around his life I then discover Evelyn Waugh knew him well, and had himself lived in Mells for a short time to write a novel. Coincidentally I'd visited Waugh's grave last summer, also in Somerset. Waugh wrote the biography of Knox. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As I stood by Knox's grave, with Sassoon's only few feet behind, I wondered if Sassoon himself had stood exactly here while his friend Knox's coffin was being lowered. Sassoon said he wanted to be buried close by his friend and mentor in a quintessentially English country churchyard. I can understand that. After everything Sassoon would have witnessed during the First World War, his longing for everlasting peace in a quiet out of the way location seems a small thing to ask. Interestingly right next to Knox's grave is a double burial of Lady Violet Bonham-Carter and her husband Sir Maurice. Lady Violet was the daughter of Prime Minister Asquith and the sister of Raymond whose memorial I'd earlier seen in the church. She is also the grandmother of the actress Helena Bonham-Carter.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismAB3kAeFHCVKmo2AsuR6fgdsTWKLMVv-1mALWCyagG3fpCML9c4jTB42GPpYiIhyLyajroMGIviThz1-zHWOWgOk5qrGT7IDvpav4SgO1nbpk1jPgN30tCJmlsEWn31cK7hw03pkxeEj0MFGL8NpWo4kMuRK3Fv7bKTUM7JuEssQgaMHj0xZmzyDjDl0/s2304/IMG_20240107_134114388_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEismAB3kAeFHCVKmo2AsuR6fgdsTWKLMVv-1mALWCyagG3fpCML9c4jTB42GPpYiIhyLyajroMGIviThz1-zHWOWgOk5qrGT7IDvpav4SgO1nbpk1jPgN30tCJmlsEWn31cK7hw03pkxeEj0MFGL8NpWo4kMuRK3Fv7bKTUM7JuEssQgaMHj0xZmzyDjDl0/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_134114388_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6vVhqmqsO1Fk4IXpuFKO09YCFeJSjJdpXYVcLjpQn3nMEhcMEyHfXvUXazHiX98synYO10xKjxIIJa7mXB9vdzeY-MLACaZslL62VZXKm0u6RUzGBcVeVzNe2L4bWoLZCtj6IkwGChYnUH5BZQgnXaTnZUx8925icoIgGvq41SBYl60NcbzexgQQKNkD/s2304/IMG_20240107_134206611_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL6vVhqmqsO1Fk4IXpuFKO09YCFeJSjJdpXYVcLjpQn3nMEhcMEyHfXvUXazHiX98synYO10xKjxIIJa7mXB9vdzeY-MLACaZslL62VZXKm0u6RUzGBcVeVzNe2L4bWoLZCtj6IkwGChYnUH5BZQgnXaTnZUx8925icoIgGvq41SBYl60NcbzexgQQKNkD/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_134206611_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By now with the temperature was only 2 degrees and with the wind whipping across the churchyard in earnest we'd both had enough of trying to keep warm, thus after saying our adieus to Sassoon we walked back to the café taking in a short detour to look at Mells Manor from the road, the house where all this artistry emanated from over a century before. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtG41oUZwZUGp4uJqnrq12JgLqfNxVLMVe8U8I6JcnFwyr4l84KqDlLuaD8XLBY6HBWYs1-nlaZ6gOVE8Y1zZ_wbUhqp8Z4wgPPFmc5MvBaTc2Lg1iz9bchudcm_B8HU1vco09onTcBcwdnmJRxeOdknb3Ywbh4EbPNj5LuzVtOMxJuZOJFb-FVA-v-xZ/s2304/IMG_20240107_135114022_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwtG41oUZwZUGp4uJqnrq12JgLqfNxVLMVe8U8I6JcnFwyr4l84KqDlLuaD8XLBY6HBWYs1-nlaZ6gOVE8Y1zZ_wbUhqp8Z4wgPPFmc5MvBaTc2Lg1iz9bchudcm_B8HU1vco09onTcBcwdnmJRxeOdknb3Ywbh4EbPNj5LuzVtOMxJuZOJFb-FVA-v-xZ/w300-h400/IMG_20240107_135114022_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Visiting Sassoon's grave left me in somewhat of a quandary. Why did I want to visit a grave? In its purest form it is simply a piece of stone in a graveyard. The man himself, the physical himself, no longer exists other than presumably some remnant bones six feet below. It is about remembering, and his soul is here, this is where he wanted to be. Why? For me, and people of my generation Sassoon, Wilfred Owen, Prime Minister Asquith and Edwin Lutyens were near history when I was growing up in the 1960's and 1970's. Just a little prior to my grandparents' generation, that era from the end of the Victorian age and into the 1920's seemed relatively recent history to me. I have an abiding memory from my own childhood of listening to my grandparents, great aunts and uncles recounting their younger days in that era, it was their living memory. Yet now as we nudge into the second quarter of the 21st Century, it seems a very long time ago. No-one is now alive who fought in or even remembers first hand the First World War. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Children being born today will not know of these people. History moves on but we should not forget who walked before us. Yes books, poems, sculptures and memorials are a physical reminder of these people, but soon their memory will simply be as that of Elizabethans, or Romans, printed names on an information sheet with no real connection to the modern day. Yet like the Elizabethans and the Romans, these people who gathered at Mells lived, breathed, fell in love and yes died in the name of their Country. Therefore standing by a grave in a biting wind brings it full circle, well to me at least. I wish to know more, especially about this privileged arts, crafts and philosophical group that came to this remote part of Somerset to exchange ideas, and yes, share grief, when they were unashamedly 'bright young things'.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Thank you Siegfried Loraine Sassoon, there is much more to discover hidden behind the picturesque façade of this village of Mells.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p>References :</p><p>Mells Village website : https://www.mellsvillage.co.uk/</p><p>Munnings Horse Memorial : https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Equestrian_statue_of_Edward_Horner</p><p>Raymond Asquith memorial : https://www.iwm.org.uk/memorials/item/memorial/1390</p><p>Laura Lyttleton memorial : https://www.artandthecountryhouse.com/essays/essays-index/memorials-at-mells-an-emerging-story-of-remembrance</p><p>Laure Lyttleton : https://www.londonremembers.com/subjects/laura-lyttelton</p><p>Ronald Knox : https://classicsforall.org.uk/reading-room/ad-familiares/ronald-knox-1888-1957-wittiest-classical-versifier-twentieth-century</p><p><br /></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-22641087684327758012023-12-31T19:50:00.008+00:002024-01-01T08:13:01.926+00:00Christmas On The Move<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It has, for want of a better phrase, been a mad-dash Christmas week. Those of a pedantic disposition could argue it was nine days rather than a week, but I for one am not counting the days, just the season. However I did do a lot of driving.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And so it began on December 23rd.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPJMTilQ1ftOLOg0dgLvlAs_8k2m-xWVtrhlUhwR3oYK8Z62VU0_SLWpo_Om3NPL9-4c669LmMWXBSuuFhvXbU5cB2_SE_awYBUFpdKM6J_e9YA4wNQkkvqiBJL9a5dclK49X0QrF2n3HrJwnrbxQPLr2xDvPADA5C1vdqod8myxSNKfYxlotZCMYHpxS/s4608/IMG_20231223_151806182_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNPJMTilQ1ftOLOg0dgLvlAs_8k2m-xWVtrhlUhwR3oYK8Z62VU0_SLWpo_Om3NPL9-4c669LmMWXBSuuFhvXbU5cB2_SE_awYBUFpdKM6J_e9YA4wNQkkvqiBJL9a5dclK49X0QrF2n3HrJwnrbxQPLr2xDvPADA5C1vdqod8myxSNKfYxlotZCMYHpxS/w300-h400/IMG_20231223_151806182_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Sunrise was almost two hours away as we set off from Somerset at 6.35am. By the time we reached this road up to the village of Slaley in Northumberland it was half an hour to sunset and getting dark. Not only dark but wet and quite windy. That wind would accompany our week in this remote cottage, all of which added to the atmosphere of festive escapism.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nvO9ZBuapMCkIW6Qj4R3eylCeFyC9J-pOay5yBQDX4nMnt_iO4ZAjCNsxPwS4bf2xHJCiKzGbQ9WlyqRBYR_uRYDUBsQpeTNBNbsAKuT2iI4NcHe8s73hvENAxS4cNQykjxcLDgVUMCWTxoEU8aJ3AzB69HLcpjrr5l7Y3MMsPkrU3pbJViHJ9VE4Mcl/s4608/IMG_20231223_154925971_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8nvO9ZBuapMCkIW6Qj4R3eylCeFyC9J-pOay5yBQDX4nMnt_iO4ZAjCNsxPwS4bf2xHJCiKzGbQ9WlyqRBYR_uRYDUBsQpeTNBNbsAKuT2iI4NcHe8s73hvENAxS4cNQykjxcLDgVUMCWTxoEU8aJ3AzB69HLcpjrr5l7Y3MMsPkrU3pbJViHJ9VE4Mcl/w300-h400/IMG_20231223_154925971_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Our home for the week sat in splendid rural isolation hard by Slaley Forest. So rural at one point a flock of crossbill flew over the garden and on Christmas Day the sad remnants of a woodcock slain by a passing vehicle interrupted our visit to Tyneside with the fatted goose. Located on a hill farm of suckler cattle and sheep (plus four alpaca) the landscape was alive with wildlife, even in December. Rook roosted in the Scots pine shelter-belt, with the usual garden species on the feeders. A kestrel was a daily visitor but due to the volatile weather proper observation was tricky, however over the woods a regular scrap took place between a buzzard and carrion crow. Fieldfare, redwing and a single mistle thrush added variety to the huge gull flocks heading to roost each evening to what I assumed was to Derwent Reservoir about four miles away. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYS6hYlqEWFb9czRVF8KS-qnaDb7prR0DIIBGvfd19DS5p2uZXvkCyjxXjVP70PNK6y-cDoNNVfbpn8QYsRUQgI3SZdh2p1MefYR7s9hN1sLqDopxoc7Nz_q4Zzcpv4kx1DsnIKcKFfGskKR5JgAcb_0RboKVQOQchnTmdHkvrNIbqQ40Pvv1-oagJ-giG/s4608/IMG_20231224_090333714_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYS6hYlqEWFb9czRVF8KS-qnaDb7prR0DIIBGvfd19DS5p2uZXvkCyjxXjVP70PNK6y-cDoNNVfbpn8QYsRUQgI3SZdh2p1MefYR7s9hN1sLqDopxoc7Nz_q4Zzcpv4kx1DsnIKcKFfGskKR5JgAcb_0RboKVQOQchnTmdHkvrNIbqQ40Pvv1-oagJ-giG/w300-h400/IMG_20231224_090333714_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not everything involved wildlife. We managed to stagger down to Hexham a couple of times taking in and enjoying the Christmas atmosphere of the Abbey and catching up with friends.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI6be6Fu4QKMoMSCC_ASWD8y8A8qRdzD_lbcKBnAq2VDCluEpBT5Upnz60DTwC9HqgCRZG_2OoHM1XOgxEMgK5srhK9KecKlE0sTZ0B1Kjpzd-Q4Jk9QiBpTMPFv9izbaUinu2KCPtZofZkLXE4GChcN6BUzx5WLu86ZvZSokalif1WPR7ENOvxeBlvsm/s4608/IMG_20231224_111657894_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOI6be6Fu4QKMoMSCC_ASWD8y8A8qRdzD_lbcKBnAq2VDCluEpBT5Upnz60DTwC9HqgCRZG_2OoHM1XOgxEMgK5srhK9KecKlE0sTZ0B1Kjpzd-Q4Jk9QiBpTMPFv9izbaUinu2KCPtZofZkLXE4GChcN6BUzx5WLu86ZvZSokalif1WPR7ENOvxeBlvsm/w300-h400/IMG_20231224_111657894_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We were fortunate to be staying during a full moon period. This is dark skies country and on Boxing Day morning at 4am I couldn't resist a short walk in the moonlight, moonlight which was strong enough to read a book by. It made for quite atmospheric walking too. Of course what this image does not show is the wind. Without exception every day provided strong winds, on a couple of days gales with sustained windspeed nudging 50mph, gusting higher. It simply never stopped blowing and as the farmer said they'd had three weeks of what the weather forecasters called volatile, I'd call it stormy, and rain, the rain was a frequent accompanying phenomenon with occasional breaks often at night. The last time I'd been in such relentless wind was on Orkney, very similar.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfnSsW2zFVrDheV94nJ-FbqEXAAdJgz3GZPuCliGefUJy9S18r9ELcQqwiEniKqtvGYyaOD89eskzYTs221nLxthGZXFzowdycDlj-u-1rL388nsoC6MP6fcdoyANFcEdDWi0m0HtqDnjPzfdkEGrU3gdjEqG76rp1mTErr9QTavxdJ41jUt-K7vUJCW1/s4608/IMG_20231226_035230926.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyfnSsW2zFVrDheV94nJ-FbqEXAAdJgz3GZPuCliGefUJy9S18r9ELcQqwiEniKqtvGYyaOD89eskzYTs221nLxthGZXFzowdycDlj-u-1rL388nsoC6MP6fcdoyANFcEdDWi0m0HtqDnjPzfdkEGrU3gdjEqG76rp1mTErr9QTavxdJ41jUt-K7vUJCW1/w300-h400/IMG_20231226_035230926.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZ5m5G5RQW7yBsF1SLK-TwQFuKmUgFJlFXOqeLwnd74SM5fqKAXAkZgfJCsvp5EA8EiPFU6zrel5_s-LpV-96q_3p7Lo6zT7bSTLM7vk3lBieWth5ITtOqnDq0Q1ToMcA3qfKfcRzFBPD5xb662R6bjJYvX7CpjA3tLuQ6DpQ_672eqVKcgnxMVwxuv4E/s4608/IMG_20231226_040944444.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkZ5m5G5RQW7yBsF1SLK-TwQFuKmUgFJlFXOqeLwnd74SM5fqKAXAkZgfJCsvp5EA8EiPFU6zrel5_s-LpV-96q_3p7Lo6zT7bSTLM7vk3lBieWth5ITtOqnDq0Q1ToMcA3qfKfcRzFBPD5xb662R6bjJYvX7CpjA3tLuQ6DpQ_672eqVKcgnxMVwxuv4E/w300-h400/IMG_20231226_040944444.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We also had snow. Admittedly this was wet snow, not enough to make a snowman but as with the Met Office's definition of a white Christmas, on our cottage one snowflake fell confirming a white holiday stay. How we realised it was snowing came by chance. Mrs Wessex-Reiver was looking out the bedroom window while it was still dark. I looked to where she was and thought the light coming in looked odd but then the moment passed. It wasn't until half an hour later when some daylight had appeared that we realised snow had fallen. Not crisp and even sadly as by mid morning it had mostly turned to rain.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89yHDAzSLWY-niZeHLwkpRzIc-EmIqWO3OkxCi9QxangUA9Arpr6z_5vSvMAu8F0iYBZThhNhlJ71MuTWGVU-vv1ssBoslvLj4mrKSKcecmI4jrB3HEQVI_OvqxOgK3R9WsPAUxOe20EXjWyp1_CcdxQ32RsDDLB1W4IGf1pBET33_yZqRnhg_B3e_vwD/s4608/IMG_20231227_082421177_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89yHDAzSLWY-niZeHLwkpRzIc-EmIqWO3OkxCi9QxangUA9Arpr6z_5vSvMAu8F0iYBZThhNhlJ71MuTWGVU-vv1ssBoslvLj4mrKSKcecmI4jrB3HEQVI_OvqxOgK3R9WsPAUxOe20EXjWyp1_CcdxQ32RsDDLB1W4IGf1pBET33_yZqRnhg_B3e_vwD/w300-h400/IMG_20231227_082421177_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DUB_a-q-q9xfEMM6dugXgR0s9Zi5cv-rZbk8KD41Q5Qr8U3daSYs6h4jWfREp3IZ6QdJBaHr0wOTSOku2FgpHFRLoopge6fGsSY0pGYZFCyLldpFnoLKWj8x7mhHBEIvozW-pU-voYprSIdxLr8Tlr75B-fM-7lEfkk3cUFHXdYfldN4qsKU_ND9Qo6o/s4608/IMG_20231227_082428157_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-DUB_a-q-q9xfEMM6dugXgR0s9Zi5cv-rZbk8KD41Q5Qr8U3daSYs6h4jWfREp3IZ6QdJBaHr0wOTSOku2FgpHFRLoopge6fGsSY0pGYZFCyLldpFnoLKWj8x7mhHBEIvozW-pU-voYprSIdxLr8Tlr75B-fM-7lEfkk3cUFHXdYfldN4qsKU_ND9Qo6o/w300-h400/IMG_20231227_082428157_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWomb1jbg4q0pvxOKp2m4pYWQrRnHQIxKr2-8DDingBw1vWR8vIRgjXNdcUrKaobgFwJ6-bQRgUog06yWd7OCcEBwnEZTh7XgrQ4jdnJPvXnWUKucaOPS93Kr7u0OjYbjxWu_dNrettSOdM-OkMBxtmX5CuUeCUcMEQd6NBXBxmqnmFsGalasdPeOSHOfo/s4608/IMG_20231227_145403084_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWomb1jbg4q0pvxOKp2m4pYWQrRnHQIxKr2-8DDingBw1vWR8vIRgjXNdcUrKaobgFwJ6-bQRgUog06yWd7OCcEBwnEZTh7XgrQ4jdnJPvXnWUKucaOPS93Kr7u0OjYbjxWu_dNrettSOdM-OkMBxtmX5CuUeCUcMEQd6NBXBxmqnmFsGalasdPeOSHOfo/w300-h400/IMG_20231227_145403084_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was the same day as the snow fell that we headed to Tyneside to see my father for a second day, the first being Christmas Day. On the North Sea coast by Whitburn we still had the wind, the sea was rough, however it was 11oC (7oC by the time we'd returned to the cottage). Quite a contrast to the morning.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-v70_mIDQsi64szz3FFITZG2iRcc8JzaPQx409454INmA_8SznSsfVF6gPhNgObzVvGbGCdv6VrMmj3nr_CbIZIU98-11Tquq63T6KiT4R7w2ekB2krIr2pDn_bBsJXpdljnPVbdJx6S_5bIjPPPkF9hPk0cjHAjS3Ze3vs6wQUBhyphenhyphenxI1O0MofZCG-3c/s4608/IMG_20231228_144418592_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm-v70_mIDQsi64szz3FFITZG2iRcc8JzaPQx409454INmA_8SznSsfVF6gPhNgObzVvGbGCdv6VrMmj3nr_CbIZIU98-11Tquq63T6KiT4R7w2ekB2krIr2pDn_bBsJXpdljnPVbdJx6S_5bIjPPPkF9hPk0cjHAjS3Ze3vs6wQUBhyphenhyphenxI1O0MofZCG-3c/w300-h400/IMG_20231228_144418592_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">All too soon our week was over, possibly as we'd had enough of the weather and returned south a day early. Not before another visit to Hexham where we not only discovered a fantastic independent bookshop where we could have spent hours perusing their stock but quirky little asides such as this advertisement for a clock restorer - these clocks are all broken but used in an alleyway display. And, as in many places these days the post box had a knitted hat. Hexham is a lovely market town.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQdaW7MMv7VJTbCAZeUGpJft-su3Xf-SQ_vkvsRy_0__tHxS2ZMTKKiN2BTJ4YLnQP4Re1r5tzrQEKOpAbjhFgf31U2poSE746uTmo0f_zNoBVtzHej1foUizpA-yqXjERYK3ukL_jBC5V2vP37KZAFVMzCbmvPQkHUDWwsnkQlk78TsEbWiZlJCbdQ5N/s4608/IMG_20231228_144701925_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQdaW7MMv7VJTbCAZeUGpJft-su3Xf-SQ_vkvsRy_0__tHxS2ZMTKKiN2BTJ4YLnQP4Re1r5tzrQEKOpAbjhFgf31U2poSE746uTmo0f_zNoBVtzHej1foUizpA-yqXjERYK3ukL_jBC5V2vP37KZAFVMzCbmvPQkHUDWwsnkQlk78TsEbWiZlJCbdQ5N/w300-h400/IMG_20231228_144701925_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By Saturday the 30th we were back in Somerset and after the eight hour drive the day before a quiet morning was required. We stayed local in Weston Super Mare having brunch at the Revo Kitchen which now occupies the former Sealife Centre. A bustling place a million miles from the remote area around Slaley and remarkably in the garden we have three daffodils in flower and a snowdrop almost about to open. Springtime in December.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nEhWuiL0eUsInSGsiGnREBeCUUbTMEtJCwNgwjMLRWOINvwoukRijzUghMEGdvDJTV0qMSbFkdT4pawe6KkiD30lllKPkuwV2fvIkc8o_UJFMZ1y0SYHW2W0pfze3mcruIqP4OplQosxuk49EnLZ_CBHaDKwc0gImVykYZTQprSoy_X5tg8UjFhPyHkG/s4608/IMG_20231230_120355799_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8nEhWuiL0eUsInSGsiGnREBeCUUbTMEtJCwNgwjMLRWOINvwoukRijzUghMEGdvDJTV0qMSbFkdT4pawe6KkiD30lllKPkuwV2fvIkc8o_UJFMZ1y0SYHW2W0pfze3mcruIqP4OplQosxuk49EnLZ_CBHaDKwc0gImVykYZTQprSoy_X5tg8UjFhPyHkG/w300-h400/IMG_20231230_120355799_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Which all neatly brings me to New Year's Eve. We needed to stretch our legs so where better to head to than the Hawk and Owl Trust reserve on the Avalon Marshes. I'd heard short eared owl were here before Christmas, though on this visit despite there being plenty of other activity, no SEO's were to be seen. I'm fond of this reserve having watched it develop from arable farmland and peat workings. On our short four mile walk I realised I'd not been here for about a year, and therefore witnessed many changes including the maturity of the dragonfly pond which I'd last seen newly dug. Some nice hedge laying going on too. And the sun was out.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfcbWhJZQGRkna_7VWFFM1Nbi5MoRwJnAWKD0c65mmuU18y9wSpw0fxpPS5CFPuk1JiylswxGeUalFicQHw6-Et3W1VH0QDTqcsaSLaNm21P1DT5Gi9upzHVk73xJlrRMPZddt_YS9tyriL-8QWxDhVYRMWgTjh7Smj8iVdZKX9ICTWkQJ3yfsqy4rLMm/s3456/IMG_20231231_130857757_HDR~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3437" data-original-width="3456" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNfcbWhJZQGRkna_7VWFFM1Nbi5MoRwJnAWKD0c65mmuU18y9wSpw0fxpPS5CFPuk1JiylswxGeUalFicQHw6-Et3W1VH0QDTqcsaSLaNm21P1DT5Gi9upzHVk73xJlrRMPZddt_YS9tyriL-8QWxDhVYRMWgTjh7Smj8iVdZKX9ICTWkQJ3yfsqy4rLMm/w400-h398/IMG_20231231_130857757_HDR~2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7N3_p1R3aC9XVl9ZXM7a3-b88KrgxihKniEuyMRIYIlN7s6696QBYJgETs_59Nz_rEe7dwpP8RUbkR7115pMAIxyBkbJJfitSswZyh5u4zJXtASDOBY1hijK3KHF9B_h-5Q9vn0wYpTDSZw7fF_G5qWLXtfJ8zBUuQAZmRX89VnaxZruzcOwKgUx26SXB/s4168/IMG_20231231_130950789_HDR~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4168" data-original-width="3180" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7N3_p1R3aC9XVl9ZXM7a3-b88KrgxihKniEuyMRIYIlN7s6696QBYJgETs_59Nz_rEe7dwpP8RUbkR7115pMAIxyBkbJJfitSswZyh5u4zJXtASDOBY1hijK3KHF9B_h-5Q9vn0wYpTDSZw7fF_G5qWLXtfJ8zBUuQAZmRX89VnaxZruzcOwKgUx26SXB/w305-h400/IMG_20231231_130950789_HDR~2.jpg" width="305" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVNUIYRP7CaP0JR-JGeOzI7R1mrlSp1RnXt0mQ169WWXn52pjfUjieQxHCHhXssvw7i0mh4EKVVbEU8ZqsZkdS83QsMPPOshDkQQ7xE8ojmvFgABsXbAqIqrS7mir_pqhEOnJJeTJQQ7hGQugbIxxBFWtkTk41Ko0uhg-hxnoOwbYfIzwpqaKf7vL_rKt/s4608/IMG_20231231_131808507_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSVNUIYRP7CaP0JR-JGeOzI7R1mrlSp1RnXt0mQ169WWXn52pjfUjieQxHCHhXssvw7i0mh4EKVVbEU8ZqsZkdS83QsMPPOshDkQQ7xE8ojmvFgABsXbAqIqrS7mir_pqhEOnJJeTJQQ7hGQugbIxxBFWtkTk41Ko0uhg-hxnoOwbYfIzwpqaKf7vL_rKt/w300-h400/IMG_20231231_131808507_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI8JAH2FvYuIcw1jVj4d47ofr5P6EHkmTUsGZNU-f3vtlAKJGJm7fG_JopokLuLTCbhlgO5C52WWr_A9C8lzalcB9z_9LrFlx3eG8Dbi-T9OjokiqndNsDFF4CPRHD9uNgfoHD9ZOj8CKZnsvNb3cTGlskAAfv7LHpkLpl1TmfElzZGtY4tjk9HEK1f64/s4608/IMG_20231231_133054173_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHI8JAH2FvYuIcw1jVj4d47ofr5P6EHkmTUsGZNU-f3vtlAKJGJm7fG_JopokLuLTCbhlgO5C52WWr_A9C8lzalcB9z_9LrFlx3eG8Dbi-T9OjokiqndNsDFF4CPRHD9uNgfoHD9ZOj8CKZnsvNb3cTGlskAAfv7LHpkLpl1TmfElzZGtY4tjk9HEK1f64/w300-h400/IMG_20231231_133054173_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cYXywZqIs_f5vjX-CbSPjZCkWrXgOeg21wZCvu1c_xVTibyDMvslnu_pvCB2cHRPc0ZK-d6hFO-boGjqJM1IxylSoQYB3TFDLN6SQMUzQvI1foFF-Kj0sEpMwcsgUKq0dOGtlTnXeWVqCUsEdKgGtbxbdf25RD4xiRFPi5weEGy2w3xTRXhoFk5K_0IZ/s4608/IMG_20231231_133223981_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2cYXywZqIs_f5vjX-CbSPjZCkWrXgOeg21wZCvu1c_xVTibyDMvslnu_pvCB2cHRPc0ZK-d6hFO-boGjqJM1IxylSoQYB3TFDLN6SQMUzQvI1foFF-Kj0sEpMwcsgUKq0dOGtlTnXeWVqCUsEdKgGtbxbdf25RD4xiRFPi5weEGy2w3xTRXhoFk5K_0IZ/w300-h400/IMG_20231231_133223981_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And so we reached the end of our walk, and the end of the year. A year in which many wildlife watching trips were curtailed due to other commitments, something I plan to rectify in 2024. How on earth we got to the year 2024 is beyond me. I'll be sixty in April and so need to rekindle the childlike naturalist spirit of encounter as I become Wessex-Reiver the sexagenarian. In fact it's starting tomorrow in earnest as I'm off to Slimbridge to kick start the birding year with some friends, I can't wait.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Happy New Year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kk2jUiNGj9AW6breVE7RqbVsbN8SLO4FtizNcXpeD_ikKIK6VFm75itcHw6xnjlkWVdEPH5zFiJsvzeAWUmBQOgCbwWXvJXXVVgBNK443pr1qJiK4MmIPtTUTsrqtCPmDJ805OFl58rQVnL_reDW8wk0fjcyoU5bmp0EoyeQ48_txn9E-SC5whOt2vx7/s4608/IMG_20231231_134011930_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-kk2jUiNGj9AW6breVE7RqbVsbN8SLO4FtizNcXpeD_ikKIK6VFm75itcHw6xnjlkWVdEPH5zFiJsvzeAWUmBQOgCbwWXvJXXVVgBNK443pr1qJiK4MmIPtTUTsrqtCPmDJ805OFl58rQVnL_reDW8wk0fjcyoU5bmp0EoyeQ48_txn9E-SC5whOt2vx7/w300-h400/IMG_20231231_134011930_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-51874306694747523992023-12-20T12:48:00.009+00:002023-12-20T15:32:45.141+00:00Excluding Christmas at Steart<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWLyqZmxuo6Esr-ieifZCCwzjtBL310FlbOKqdHrfMulsu2xSsDwbsGePXrZrW-fVbMmiTk0SRHLl1jGPwmQKJJSGWjL2isHotZLf45KwmT611T5tTjnXw39L3yb9dL4IjTooC3Z2HtpqcHRi2ZpMiI-IbWKresGZl1mDeUUqUwoUEVZyOsLfQHCQiTiT/s2304/IMG_20231216_122124887_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbWLyqZmxuo6Esr-ieifZCCwzjtBL310FlbOKqdHrfMulsu2xSsDwbsGePXrZrW-fVbMmiTk0SRHLl1jGPwmQKJJSGWjL2isHotZLf45KwmT611T5tTjnXw39L3yb9dL4IjTooC3Z2HtpqcHRi2ZpMiI-IbWKresGZl1mDeUUqUwoUEVZyOsLfQHCQiTiT/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_122124887_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Last weekend in a serious attempt to avoid the Christmas melee in town centres, Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I opted instead for some nature inspired walking led spirituality. For this, our chosen destination was the fairly recently opened Steart Marshes abutting the internationally important Bridgwater Bay. In September 2014 the sea wall was breached here and since then this landscape has gradually changed from farmland to estuarine grazing and extensive wetlands. Only at the very highest tides does the whole landscape flood with the incoming water, however for the rest of the time it is a magnate for water and wildfowl in particular making use of the various new wet areas that have been created.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj31j5xyxX5rV7KteIAiOvm6xwGu6haMQ7GqWLo36sbF0HeQpwVgtTIfSM8EcRUCdYGUAUoiMIgPJyr5rchehkrKuPlek8vOSt6kbW_XF_VMZzJPBtAIjwu3sjzAEQF_jddd441LX34TWcqpH_aD4ZAQltDCuQsJfYOOBhwKbFWn4Kr0p8WkU5kKnI8i-r/s2304/IMG_20231216_122155257_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj31j5xyxX5rV7KteIAiOvm6xwGu6haMQ7GqWLo36sbF0HeQpwVgtTIfSM8EcRUCdYGUAUoiMIgPJyr5rchehkrKuPlek8vOSt6kbW_XF_VMZzJPBtAIjwu3sjzAEQF_jddd441LX34TWcqpH_aD4ZAQltDCuQsJfYOOBhwKbFWn4Kr0p8WkU5kKnI8i-r/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_122155257_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I used to occasionally come here well before the creation of this super-reserve was conceived. Then you'd simply park on the roadside and having wandered down to the beach scan Bridgwater Bay for passing birds, or turning 180 degrees observe the fields for the more typical farmland species such as skylark, linnet and of course corvids. It is a site that is best visited at high tide.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">It is also an odd place to get to from our humble abode. If I wandered out from the house and over the fields to Sand Point I can see it, about 10 miles away as the curlew flies, but by car, it is a 45 minute drive south down the M5, passing Steart when we're level at Burnham-on-Sea then at Bridgwater we do a loop to Cannington before heading back north until we reach the carpark. And that is what I like about headland landscapes jutting into the sea, they take on an other-worldliness I find fascinating, bit by bit as the road narrows towards the inevitable dead end the sense of isolation grows. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGat4fHmc-jdbRXOBrP8dPEAhtagD6VhR3vmdy0E39-jTblkqAOR-IeN79F37g-RunxfTp8BrfbHSqeUQLGPiful_xKOijwNUpKxGQmpPRxxyD_X79Mheh_V47K6vNO14Jv67pkwspO9hsrUL1UkT7x__15Nsw5YIYSFOMRw83ooh4A-cfk9pKPRs5NkS/s2304/IMG_20231216_123547139_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUGat4fHmc-jdbRXOBrP8dPEAhtagD6VhR3vmdy0E39-jTblkqAOR-IeN79F37g-RunxfTp8BrfbHSqeUQLGPiful_xKOijwNUpKxGQmpPRxxyD_X79Mheh_V47K6vNO14Jv67pkwspO9hsrUL1UkT7x__15Nsw5YIYSFOMRw83ooh4A-cfk9pKPRs5NkS/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_123547139_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">What I also find fascinating about Steart is I never see any birds here. Of course I do notice the robins by the carpark, the skylarks, meadow pipit and linnet on the banks, I hear the Cetti's warbler and curlew, and observe a passing mallard or egret, but I never seem to be here when large numbers of birds are visible. Mostly this is down to operator error as I only seem to be able to visit when the tides are ebbing or low. We did once come here for high tide, and after waiting for the appointed hour, absolutely nothing happened other than Mrs Wessex-Reiver sketching some reeds around a hawthorn to pass the time.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">However it is also the sheer scale of the place which makes it troublesome for the casual observer. As Britain's third largest super nature reserve covering some 6,140ha none of the reserve, other than the perimeter path, has public access. Viewing is from raised screens off these perimeter paths or from a few hides overlooking lagoons, but in essence the birdlife is buried deep within the vegetation. And for me that is vital. If this is to be an internationally important reserve for species like curlew, then what it doesn't need are legions for day-tripping tourists wandering aimlessly about disturbing everything. Observing from half a kilometre away is near enough.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdCCBDyITEenHiIuuGkNpfv2lEJ3ALM9uq-zt_3yRg069rGSOdbiTGZFEVbrFtaRX-q029ssHR_gmygrMGkMCseuwbMFSddfyHm7ldLBqSq7N6igCNZMX3zVmqRTYfpePs90orlDxId_PF9K4rc9t867NL4MLrG6ppGoz91WAvAcsnRikRdY1-rdmxPgG/s2304/IMG_20231216_124019305_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEdCCBDyITEenHiIuuGkNpfv2lEJ3ALM9uq-zt_3yRg069rGSOdbiTGZFEVbrFtaRX-q029ssHR_gmygrMGkMCseuwbMFSddfyHm7ldLBqSq7N6igCNZMX3zVmqRTYfpePs90orlDxId_PF9K4rc9t867NL4MLrG6ppGoz91WAvAcsnRikRdY1-rdmxPgG/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_124019305_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was why on this Saturday, as we went simply for a walk, I didn't even take my binoculars. Though I wish I'd taken my proper camera as the static weather was producing some astonishing cloud formations. These were dark non-rain-bearing clouds moving very slowly in the near still air, it suggested a menacing feel to them which in a way matched the bleak flat landscape on this December day. As someone commented on my earlier Facebook post at the time, from the images I took they were expecting Magwitch to appear from the mud and ask for a pork pie. I like this type of landscape, and at Steart it is made all the more austere given only a couple of kilometres away rising from the swamps is the construction site of Hinkley Point C Nuclear Reactor looming like a giants gravestone dominating the horizon.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In 2009, for work, I spent a week at Dungeness recording sounds and sights of the shifting gravels of that part of Kent. I stayed in the Bird Observatory observing their work as well as capturing some of the sounds of this unique landscape for the Natural History Unit's sound library. During the day there was a constant hum from the Dungeness Nuclear Reactor, greatly enhanced at night by an orange glow, a glow so bright that we could walk about without torches. Such a fascinating experience to be there, but I'd not wish to live there. The same with Steart, it is beautiful in an austere way, but I could imagine it would take a certain mindset to wish to live here. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiO-ZA59T4d8l5TMyDcVwT1qO3eL8OloeexvmLIx8W6_R8jkH7Derdp-6bDFWD5YKky3b-EnQ17LEUz4Q1srrRranbuNrCMVZ4lS9APBc1pX9MH5ZOoMctvj17ExAr2cnnhyyJdmt3Xhlkjo4eVJOFHpUGyctyuSDtYFb71AfSTj_9ZeUy52uQcXspysR9/s2304/IMG_20231216_124058191_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiO-ZA59T4d8l5TMyDcVwT1qO3eL8OloeexvmLIx8W6_R8jkH7Derdp-6bDFWD5YKky3b-EnQ17LEUz4Q1srrRranbuNrCMVZ4lS9APBc1pX9MH5ZOoMctvj17ExAr2cnnhyyJdmt3Xhlkjo4eVJOFHpUGyctyuSDtYFb71AfSTj_9ZeUy52uQcXspysR9/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_124058191_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Steart isn't quite as bleak as Dungeness, it reminds me more of being near the Wash in East Anglia. These flat landscapes, with their far reaching views, are creatively inspiring which today meant I had an inkling to take black and white photographs to reflect the mood well suited to this half-light near monochrome world we found ourselves walking through.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog7a2XrfQub06QYuJyPOjAMfEYYcoX8dnj2Qd4Z2a52qq7ToUMc19ct2bBaxhpNOpeMM5WRUM7Zj3xhTMKEW3clrgCAuTAKfhcTB7A3zk5d-IM2BGyi5b3ZzLpBMpO5NkAqTRyaRguFZgU2srde_swfhO0QDrwV8Z0PDRw1EFrUyLiEg5-fjMFNI-NOtG/s2304/IMG_20231216_124419467_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgog7a2XrfQub06QYuJyPOjAMfEYYcoX8dnj2Qd4Z2a52qq7ToUMc19ct2bBaxhpNOpeMM5WRUM7Zj3xhTMKEW3clrgCAuTAKfhcTB7A3zk5d-IM2BGyi5b3ZzLpBMpO5NkAqTRyaRguFZgU2srde_swfhO0QDrwV8Z0PDRw1EFrUyLiEg5-fjMFNI-NOtG/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_124419467_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Quantock Hills to the left and Hinkley Point C to the right on the horizon. The latter is much closer in real life.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuVbP4npq5_8P_dkRIVNINsEghWW3uoXgMmMHcdMDVDcxA1X_loHm_bDI5HuIYHxdo9a8Ool7uEn5jLotNF444jg3BTPY0cHU4Ps6MIjoGjDP0rReyrZomvlQNOMMbQN1FlSyXU2L-AQVzosuXj-1L1gIVRYqvweMloFYJS_o-pq22PdW1X9vBr-7v6AF/s2304/IMG_20231216_125453822_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZuVbP4npq5_8P_dkRIVNINsEghWW3uoXgMmMHcdMDVDcxA1X_loHm_bDI5HuIYHxdo9a8Ool7uEn5jLotNF444jg3BTPY0cHU4Ps6MIjoGjDP0rReyrZomvlQNOMMbQN1FlSyXU2L-AQVzosuXj-1L1gIVRYqvweMloFYJS_o-pq22PdW1X9vBr-7v6AF/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_125453822_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Light bursting through the thick cloud over the reserve. This happened frequently and provided some stunning eruptions of brightness in the half light of this December's day.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM-znLWRJOGEH9kaONFbiZh-ZjJUMb35m3-t_WUJtIa7dy_FF5LY1uEb-SBJ4lTL8aR-o7-jwbZuhii0FN9TdWarb28bEzXoWVOekFHdsxB4_HkjhL6MBXchmqT76kmL3ZMMSu62ND9mfAu7b5uijul5wLRVfZ4wGawfgT6ELrK3khiERGOM494UcmYPq/s2304/IMG_20231216_131548118_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM-znLWRJOGEH9kaONFbiZh-ZjJUMb35m3-t_WUJtIa7dy_FF5LY1uEb-SBJ4lTL8aR-o7-jwbZuhii0FN9TdWarb28bEzXoWVOekFHdsxB4_HkjhL6MBXchmqT76kmL3ZMMSu62ND9mfAu7b5uijul5wLRVfZ4wGawfgT6ELrK3khiERGOM494UcmYPq/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_131548118_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Which way now, winter route, or summer route?</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3NAvpLNzjw4X_vWlJtFW85tVGE0OLA4qw8fQT0xEznI6fi8-QcaqVx6_mFKfBifLgScOGe2k0Hyy7Rnw6F6rNbYz5BNbAgFH-IkGBl2jbRT98_CUVtIX84WIBvp_ShQ8_W-HIn3Ue7mV__0zCO7FtB8cBeBrEfNhVSpo0D4AT70KnU0qwMQQttVz_iwT/s2304/IMG_20231216_132442332_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn3NAvpLNzjw4X_vWlJtFW85tVGE0OLA4qw8fQT0xEznI6fi8-QcaqVx6_mFKfBifLgScOGe2k0Hyy7Rnw6F6rNbYz5BNbAgFH-IkGBl2jbRT98_CUVtIX84WIBvp_ShQ8_W-HIn3Ue7mV__0zCO7FtB8cBeBrEfNhVSpo0D4AT70KnU0qwMQQttVz_iwT/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_132442332_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually after about 3 kilometres we arrived at The Breach viewing platform. During the highest tides the Bristol Channel rushes into this landscape, swallowing up the pools and water filled ditches and in doing so flushes waterfowl and waders to higher ground. That said from chatting to WWT staff here previously nothing is ever guaranteed, as we found last year sitting waiting for something to happen. Even if the sea does come in through the breach, how far it travels depends on the weather, pressure and windspeed. It will be nice to witness a full avian spectacle here one day.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bmGKzR7iZgVwg7gdUtXZ94hykWUdDy5qjuYnAbee_9QsjvWwfzJdDou9VzZ_A6k4bh2njdiL_auK12PsR8uaki-2XaWRcjZegllEdea86o86ACqSfJYO7mqL8kmOMSXbAcy23s1MHX1qRfFvsSpPWgmpmBn7kQvXsBHcgiOsl4apta6eOICtSjb2Qq5P/s2304/IMG_20231216_132517667_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bmGKzR7iZgVwg7gdUtXZ94hykWUdDy5qjuYnAbee_9QsjvWwfzJdDou9VzZ_A6k4bh2njdiL_auK12PsR8uaki-2XaWRcjZegllEdea86o86ACqSfJYO7mqL8kmOMSXbAcy23s1MHX1qRfFvsSpPWgmpmBn7kQvXsBHcgiOsl4apta6eOICtSjb2Qq5P/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_132517667_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But for today we were simply happy with the walk and a ten minute rest before the 3 kilometres walk back to the car, after a refreshment too of course. By the time we returned it was 2.30pm and starting to get dark, these dark days before Christmas really are short. Despite pretty much walking continuously we did observe some interesting birds along the way, a number of curlews calling, as were the redshank, Cetti's warbler and interestingly great tit with their 'teacher teacher' call. At some distance a skein of geese flew along the river. An obliging kestrel hovered over the path as we walked underneath him, a sizeable number of little and great white egret, mute swans, grey heron, coot, mallard everywhere, and a single little grebe yaffling away, but there would have been a lot more out there if I'd sat longer (and had a scope). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By the farm on the way back, and around one field only, the hedgerows and trees were covered in starlings, noisy black snow chattering away to themselves ahead of going to their roost. As I watched them I'd failed to notice about the same number of starling in the grassland who suddenly lifted en-masse and flopped lazily over into the next field. Another good day then of not setting out to observe anything but just enveloping ourselves in the landscape for a few hours and we didn't see more than a half dozen people during this three hour visit. I just need to return when there is a high tide I feel.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewxFtFhLShop7X3DisoQL3eh9M9cgpdv14bpRyDZyDX7bvup2CaoduOKZ5UQGo3KXSgjFg4ODbQ2yo6-ad2cUcg6jK3XUgrTcYkrsPxJT9ui640KSvMB5e_xnz_TXKjUtpZMWRDQ0lOULQwWqSseyeFY5nAiffLbWrsXb-lCJ8_dLtYcARybfrJBuOJfq/s2304/IMG_20231216_132811064_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewxFtFhLShop7X3DisoQL3eh9M9cgpdv14bpRyDZyDX7bvup2CaoduOKZ5UQGo3KXSgjFg4ODbQ2yo6-ad2cUcg6jK3XUgrTcYkrsPxJT9ui640KSvMB5e_xnz_TXKjUtpZMWRDQ0lOULQwWqSseyeFY5nAiffLbWrsXb-lCJ8_dLtYcARybfrJBuOJfq/w300-h400/IMG_20231216_132811064_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-15797101120278528092023-12-10T22:56:00.007+00:002023-12-12T04:07:31.639+00:00Little Orchard Alpacas<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfivt2c_GatyC1QYVsIGiPBPT8SqWZN6TPScfn7tsCHAs6umSj5-4XrBroLftRtebUH9wqc6mOAsE4-nIGJuytPWwnmhec2-fMkKqgUgTtEBe0wW0ZjgQZauk-9BpAml5znZ-CfR1VSP1jA5uIawrYDlFy08MMAu6NPRpPxDZzZyhKwggT6yvv5VrnWuTK/s4208/IMG_20230719_114849089_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4208" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfivt2c_GatyC1QYVsIGiPBPT8SqWZN6TPScfn7tsCHAs6umSj5-4XrBroLftRtebUH9wqc6mOAsE4-nIGJuytPWwnmhec2-fMkKqgUgTtEBe0wW0ZjgQZauk-9BpAml5znZ-CfR1VSP1jA5uIawrYDlFy08MMAu6NPRpPxDZzZyhKwggT6yvv5VrnWuTK/w296-h400/IMG_20230719_114849089_HDR.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;">This story actually began around twelve months ago. Wondering what to buy Mrs Wessex-Reiver for Christmas last year I stumbled across a lovely small alpaca setup near Axminster in Devon. The package I bought as a gift was a walking morning with their alpacas through woodland. To cut a long story short by the time we visited this July the woodland walking was permanently closed off to this enterprise so we and half a dozen other people on that day walked through the small fields and the orchard of the aptly named Little Orchard Alpacas. As a result Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I are completely hooked on these wonderful animals. I especially bonded with the alpha male Yorvik. Roll on five months then to last Tuesday when we visited again.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6k387C9Nni1kOzgHhUYZ359kkBaq3cjcw3l__vBVv39dXMBnayHZKRNyczh96fbpPEOGFlELDScx5N8x8EOYJUWiG97LjFInb1AkpSqbawFO9DwHERiWtE3c6lETmBM7QJgrQ5NixB2pmPjPsNOjY213Tve9Ay21tLaGC-ZJhldRfV_MgSBkAC4udDYjQ/s4608/IMG_20231205_094317761_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6k387C9Nni1kOzgHhUYZ359kkBaq3cjcw3l__vBVv39dXMBnayHZKRNyczh96fbpPEOGFlELDScx5N8x8EOYJUWiG97LjFInb1AkpSqbawFO9DwHERiWtE3c6lETmBM7QJgrQ5NixB2pmPjPsNOjY213Tve9Ay21tLaGC-ZJhldRfV_MgSBkAC4udDYjQ/w300-h400/IMG_20231205_094317761_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I had come to take part in an alpaca keeping session. There is a full day session, we however opted for the half day, four hours, and just the two of us this time. We learnt on the day the keeper course is mostly for those wishing to, you guessed it, keep alpacas. A kind of taster day before they buy if you will. I'm not sure what Vic the owner made of two people paying her for the privilege of picking up alpaca 'berries' on a winter's day. But we absolutely loved it and I caught up with my old friend Yorvik too.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNuTqSkgZVJ7NvfwjvFa9KOJAXK9Df05kPcbtYEgJ6ty6UVa0h2BDlLrFadQBtd4LXqZYmjelA9kaX9txKpEbxqsdYyC-ZhtHvRB0PzHR5bmu3JsBmKnPy3pcEnGPXOeeNg3WBjKY4u82HWQL6NLaIq7qmLV8Xk4bl-iOW71-2rAdDW8kKpz5hclNcp3Zs/s4208/IMG_20231205_120137834_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4208" data-original-width="3120" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNuTqSkgZVJ7NvfwjvFa9KOJAXK9Df05kPcbtYEgJ6ty6UVa0h2BDlLrFadQBtd4LXqZYmjelA9kaX9txKpEbxqsdYyC-ZhtHvRB0PzHR5bmu3JsBmKnPy3pcEnGPXOeeNg3WBjKY4u82HWQL6NLaIq7qmLV8Xk4bl-iOW71-2rAdDW8kKpz5hclNcp3Zs/w296-h400/IMG_20231205_120137834_HDR.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After arriving our first job was feeding not only the alpacas, but two Vietnamese pot bellied pigs, and a couple of chickens (who kindly provided 5 eggs in return). And then as all good stock people do, we had a cup of tea and planned our chores. New bedding, poo pick (berries) the field shelters, clean out water buckets, body condition testing of the males, then the two key jobs, checking eyes for signs of worm infection and last but the most vital job, applying vitamins orally to the males out in the fields. More on that later.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2wRb9WrN-hN_qC07t67OhkBjuRycZfudw-GQSoIM2NVEPNLSdrt72Mj0RKmQPZZgdpKgJqllfwJ6V-CRuCfyHmutSYRIv88C617kqtVoHxDrO87rTE-U-00xLEDyeFt8wU9WkRDOHao4U-x43Dm916qOtRBQFBssfYvmvli7EOLLEOsTa3lKge16g37S/s4000/20231205_094633.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2wRb9WrN-hN_qC07t67OhkBjuRycZfudw-GQSoIM2NVEPNLSdrt72Mj0RKmQPZZgdpKgJqllfwJ6V-CRuCfyHmutSYRIv88C617kqtVoHxDrO87rTE-U-00xLEDyeFt8wU9WkRDOHao4U-x43Dm916qOtRBQFBssfYvmvli7EOLLEOsTa3lKge16g37S/w400-h300/20231205_094633.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It brought it all back to me, working outdoors with animals. I spend far too much time sitting Infront of a computer in my job. This session in the lovely Devonshire countryside was such a tonic and a perfect de-stress for a few hours. Of course if we did this every day of the year with wet snow running down our necks the novelty might wear off, but I doubt it. Berries cleaned up, water buckets thoroughly cleaned next it was to round the boys up for the testing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSDPG7Kg14Q9bobVTik4t3t2D9lgOhK_49vpUKyiTblbJgxB1MzqMWtEWHaSULt0awTfzGG020cW-4xJreGFsdSvyxPDP_t_TluYaAys2HPCbRjZon_1peLT-pTFhl3mhlgQxGGmJzvjyGNXB0LtbMTHYE9RPbLmPPkdcwqanMWHb5AwTR8myCfJyxkFe/s4000/20231205_095314.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFSDPG7Kg14Q9bobVTik4t3t2D9lgOhK_49vpUKyiTblbJgxB1MzqMWtEWHaSULt0awTfzGG020cW-4xJreGFsdSvyxPDP_t_TluYaAys2HPCbRjZon_1peLT-pTFhl3mhlgQxGGmJzvjyGNXB0LtbMTHYE9RPbLmPPkdcwqanMWHb5AwTR8myCfJyxkFe/w300-h400/20231205_095314.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Getting them in the pen was, while slow and like herding alpacas, relatively easy. Checking their eyes for signs of worm infections (pale or white membrane rather than bright pink) was something I found quite difficult. We did three tasks on one animal at a time. Eyes, fat, vitamins in that order. Firstly if you ever try pulling down the eye lid of an uncooperative alpaca you'll understand my trouble, Actually Mrs Wessex-Reiver was far better at this than I. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsbCaYrIhqQygUQOtd6BCtQp1K1EDIfjv98gpQC7MP7WpjOCJbIsfqCgw1BLsp9Ov0yj4l3L02U4gHn5nbLrvKufeBmQ9yzA30p4KUKMWVkYisdln3iKLSFgAQ0al9DyupH3Ijta3ZpB6NXJQ2eCQVh43BdMLZp1HBJvkig_CCAWIORppC8nejyzi9pYB/s4000/20231205_105802.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCsbCaYrIhqQygUQOtd6BCtQp1K1EDIfjv98gpQC7MP7WpjOCJbIsfqCgw1BLsp9Ov0yj4l3L02U4gHn5nbLrvKufeBmQ9yzA30p4KUKMWVkYisdln3iKLSFgAQ0al9DyupH3Ijta3ZpB6NXJQ2eCQVh43BdMLZp1HBJvkig_CCAWIORppC8nejyzi9pYB/w400-h300/20231205_105802.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Next it was the body conditioning, much simpler, simply putting a hand over the back and gaugeing how fat or thin they are on a scale of 1-6 with 6 being tubby. Next the vitamins. Until recently Vic has injected vitamins but today she wanted to trial a vitamin gun, in essence a similar contraption to a grouting gun used in DIY. Each squeeze of the trigger dispensing 15ml of bright pink goo. Sounds simple. But trying to widely open an already lively alpacas mouth and getting the goo in the right place while the animal is wriggling was very entertaining. Vic had tried doing this herself before today and had more pink goo on her than in the animal. Even with two of us it was a bit of a hit and miss affair which is making Vic reconsider. But eventually we got all the boys checked and let them out into the field again, though what was funny was that each boy after treatment looked like they had pink lipstick on.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1Xgbl1FB1JjqVMxNXNYpiFBaryZD16iuZfU9fEzi4I1hBeRlgs6O2fkMoIS9TGvIfZ0Rg1MvPyqGTKlZA9sbdoRAi8h0ke-eLD6Cd6XktfiuZ_rFYgFCibaixm-X6O3E6nDd3T063U2_WCiTP1x1oxKvcp2FlNLaBReEGZ9PmbdBhmzLu2LFsBIcjWaC/s4608/IMG_20231205_102906832_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ1Xgbl1FB1JjqVMxNXNYpiFBaryZD16iuZfU9fEzi4I1hBeRlgs6O2fkMoIS9TGvIfZ0Rg1MvPyqGTKlZA9sbdoRAi8h0ke-eLD6Cd6XktfiuZ_rFYgFCibaixm-X6O3E6nDd3T063U2_WCiTP1x1oxKvcp2FlNLaBReEGZ9PmbdBhmzLu2LFsBIcjWaC/w300-h400/IMG_20231205_102906832_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Main jobs completed, time then for a festive break, before we took three boys out for some much needed exercise around the orchard, where windfall apples were a welcome treat, with me taking Yorvik of course.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Lj44xv6k2ZeTnrn4ZIo5mWHs9KBm1m_1g8_zwpKDya48jQ2VrAEa6OlPLWVnZMSVKpZZZp4nc4A_k10TPJ_8VDiqCaiwt7z6v8B6ftClk6gh-aHQRT-JBYY9GrsgCR3M3bjx7JfVGyIyVRQrOyY21DqsdDVa8EKX2tAXGJhiw4jJoyHdHPR5L59xihCc/s1600/IMG-20231205-WA0062.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Lj44xv6k2ZeTnrn4ZIo5mWHs9KBm1m_1g8_zwpKDya48jQ2VrAEa6OlPLWVnZMSVKpZZZp4nc4A_k10TPJ_8VDiqCaiwt7z6v8B6ftClk6gh-aHQRT-JBYY9GrsgCR3M3bjx7JfVGyIyVRQrOyY21DqsdDVa8EKX2tAXGJhiw4jJoyHdHPR5L59xihCc/w300-h400/IMG-20231205-WA0062.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17ezpCCNAtOS_ptoZhSfYelqAz6vn1oG3IIpOAvao2K_3MCPsHCuuCdc9VUKPI20aTt33-6az-DBN_eMMeNsuqzmJfOXxC0W0B3ovv7H2717U-NZxEDJANnGKCs__jUNXioEmkGjLAoEu3Pght08-ow7Jx6eVL6yDHaCNFGYs_WJ3W3cQtkNDeKZJ5O5q/s1600/IMG-20231205-WA0046.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj17ezpCCNAtOS_ptoZhSfYelqAz6vn1oG3IIpOAvao2K_3MCPsHCuuCdc9VUKPI20aTt33-6az-DBN_eMMeNsuqzmJfOXxC0W0B3ovv7H2717U-NZxEDJANnGKCs__jUNXioEmkGjLAoEu3Pght08-ow7Jx6eVL6yDHaCNFGYs_WJ3W3cQtkNDeKZJ5O5q/w400-h300/IMG-20231205-WA0046.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">Walk over, the final task was to let the girls out of the barn for the afternoon. As Vic said often she'll let them out but after ten minutes they're back indoors where it's warm.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvq-_aZxYoaqQ-wJM247K5wZ-ljuOXwy-4-4s-883qg4vI7k52vOO4PBE7h0kMicauVS4R1zJEf_NSdwspCW9B9FMxhT7UIpWXpwq6dPQSnPuhawRId1ROzPdtGoYcj1nMk5M8YtIbrIHBbA9n4Zcqp4cewsJHzPSGDz-NiEsce5gkTWUYW1-5ccIseCWD/s4000/20231205_124618.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvq-_aZxYoaqQ-wJM247K5wZ-ljuOXwy-4-4s-883qg4vI7k52vOO4PBE7h0kMicauVS4R1zJEf_NSdwspCW9B9FMxhT7UIpWXpwq6dPQSnPuhawRId1ROzPdtGoYcj1nMk5M8YtIbrIHBbA9n4Zcqp4cewsJHzPSGDz-NiEsce5gkTWUYW1-5ccIseCWD/w400-h300/20231205_124618.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">After four hours we'd finished. Actually we also made some alpaca fibre nesting material cages while having our hot chocolate. Those four hours passed in an instant and as Mrs Wessex-Reiver remarked we were smiling from arrival to departure. Alpaca have that effect I feel. They're very strong but very gentle and very inquisitive. I'm not thinking of having a smallholding just yet, but spending time with them down there is making me think about what's important in life. Yorvik is a great mentor for life, fascinating too and I recommend everyone should spend a few hours with these charming animals, I guarantee you'll not regret it.</div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGz3fAAXCQZuQfKxUb65e7XbclwgKY6X0obV9sXMrmoKeSbiU-QDq5MfqyBJsZCWkvpcEUv-ZZukoNfS9EHT1vukDZeAv5OOEaUidgZlTqppb1_95PkFqTOxg72Mgqvv9UtajCB0dWiJc_mFt_OYKvOnVwTtPA1q-BWYubPzJfdBR_t6FhM2vOrDaLHNA/s4000/20231205_122907(0).jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvGz3fAAXCQZuQfKxUb65e7XbclwgKY6X0obV9sXMrmoKeSbiU-QDq5MfqyBJsZCWkvpcEUv-ZZukoNfS9EHT1vukDZeAv5OOEaUidgZlTqppb1_95PkFqTOxg72Mgqvv9UtajCB0dWiJc_mFt_OYKvOnVwTtPA1q-BWYubPzJfdBR_t6FhM2vOrDaLHNA/w300-h400/20231205_122907(0).jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-38255183767197801072023-11-26T10:03:00.017+00:002023-11-28T07:59:57.699+00:00The Unpredictable Draw of Nature<p style="text-align: justify;"> As I prepared to upload the images for this posting a large flock of jackdaws has flown noisily past the back of the house. It happens every year. Every day during the winter months in the morning the daws flock noisily from their roost past our house at a very low level, so low I am at daw-level watching them from the bedroom window. Then in the afternoon they return in the reverse direction although they fly much higher over the fields at the back of the house heading to their roost, a roost that I've never actually discovered but suspect it's about 8 miles away in the woods near Clevedon.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxqkufS-vv8RwVXHnA7Q3iip26izHmzT_OUG9B6HgqsVXNIhCjEtpFi_EW_iIIIJuVl6RBw_tbSQ2I9wJaulAG-EE62sWqAXBu6OVDqc8gZBWbG3ktWKYu1x-znEdViHBKTEn53Ic3QEWZ9bjhFKPKqrf4faDhTeUvXv1kVZfN7TORQ3bfSTHDL6iVPSA/s2112/IMG_9660.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoxqkufS-vv8RwVXHnA7Q3iip26izHmzT_OUG9B6HgqsVXNIhCjEtpFi_EW_iIIIJuVl6RBw_tbSQ2I9wJaulAG-EE62sWqAXBu6OVDqc8gZBWbG3ktWKYu1x-znEdViHBKTEn53Ic3QEWZ9bjhFKPKqrf4faDhTeUvXv1kVZfN7TORQ3bfSTHDL6iVPSA/w400-h300/IMG_9660.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I find winter a beautiful season, a season which if I'm truthful is the one time of the year when I have more of a craving to be outdoors observing nature than during the rest of the year. Possibly this is to do with absorbing as much daylight as possible during these short autumnal days as they morph into the very dark days before Christmas. Or maybe it is the arrival of large winter flocks of birds to find food and shelter here away from their northern breeding grounds. Sometimes it is the sunlight light levels bursting through a crystal clear atmosphere such as I observed yesterday illuminating these reed feathers at the RSPB's Ham Wall nature reserve.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8CU-h15-Gaid56II2u-0DHGevo__w8CKiUixpr67JtMB-WyutsztnsGwmxOgT4_4C2v8Gy56-glrz-6SsBPEJ0a3TVszmUGfgZxiHnlpYywbrsviyH-sNwvEMUvvR7JFK69H0CbSmvnTVNfEQxOycggCw5Kwb_VIbRfaTNLAMMRLu_2H30vxcQXaxkg5/s2112/IMG_9662.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu8CU-h15-Gaid56II2u-0DHGevo__w8CKiUixpr67JtMB-WyutsztnsGwmxOgT4_4C2v8Gy56-glrz-6SsBPEJ0a3TVszmUGfgZxiHnlpYywbrsviyH-sNwvEMUvvR7JFK69H0CbSmvnTVNfEQxOycggCw5Kwb_VIbRfaTNLAMMRLu_2H30vxcQXaxkg5/w400-h300/IMG_9662.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We'd arrived at Ham Wall to watch the starlings come into roost. In preference I tend to avoid visits to hot spots of nature watching at weekends as there are too many people about to observe more than the regular incumbents. I made an exception yesterday. After the first frost of the season had blanketed the countryside in an iced dusting, the clear blue sky and surprisingly warm sunshine for the noted 5 degree temperature suggested a good day to see a starling murmuration over at the Avalon Marshes. We'd been there recently and watched a good number of starlings fly in around ten days ago but it had been a very blustery day and the starlings were quick to settle with little of their famed aerial display taking place. I hoped then that the calm but cold weather on this visit might produce a fine murmuration display.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">At this time of the year the starlings come in to roost from around 4 o'clock. We arrived at the car park at 2.30pm and it was almost full, high-viz clad carpark operatives waved us to park sideways on in the carpark - they were expecting it to be busy. It was. Sometimes though the atmosphere of hundreds of people milling about makes for the experience. We began with beverages, Mrs Wessex-Reiver having a hot chocolate and I a filter coffee. We stood by a picnic table, taking in the atmosphere, when we were joined by a chatty lady who like us visits here regularly, but had just come today for a quick visit, though not to see the starlings. During the conversation as we sipped our drinks she and her husband mentioned a huge heronry near High Ham in Mid-Somerset which I'd not heard of before, a mental note was then made to visit there in the spring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Saying our adieus we wandered off into the reserve, and as we did so a lady in front stopped and asked if we'd been here before. She and her husband had come from Oxford especially to see the starlings coming into roost. The Avalon Marshes cover a huge area and I can well understand someone on their first visit thinking "Where do we go". We had a good chat, I pointed out nothing is guaranteed as the birds can change where they roost each day, but I suggested she would be best to stay by Viewing Platform 1 just ahead of where we were talking and she'd be okay, not least as nearer the time the RSPB send staff along there to help people understand this marvellous piece of co-ordinated behaviour. Chatty conversation number two over, we wandered further into the reserve towards where the starlings had come in to roost ten days ago. I spied a vacant bench with a view over the reedbed, and I made myself at home here, joined by a very obliging pair of male robins who devoured the little bits of bread Mrs Wessex-Reiver had with her.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">With 45 minutes before the show began Mrs Wessex-Reiver headed off for a walk while I faffed about with my camera lens which looked a little dirty. Lost in my endeavours I heard "<i>This chap looks like he knows what he's doing, shall we stay here</i>?" I looked up and a family of four plus dog were surrounding me. It turned out they were staying for the weekend in Somerton as the son had bought his father a 'starling weekend' for his father's birthday earlier in the year. They'd never been to Somerset before and thus had no idea what to do, so for the second time in half an hour I passed on what paltry knowledge I could muster. They were a nice family simply having a lovely time somewhere they'd looked forward to visiting for years. The draw of nature watching is strong. As we chatted a crowd began to develop around us so by the time the starlings arrived my once clear view over the reeds had become one of bobble hats, prams, children on shoulders and dogs looking bemused.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYT8RekNUPhlGMK0lxCmBDQuyE70Wa42jQIvBVKFzWRzlusA2AhvqPc090pf7sTQpv0F3jSQTD9tZNhBferO2dqNyp3v99Sgu6DrtVvErP_vQNPSBpEUdMxV4ijXHLagmckseZsBD_ESCGZpEbgio-HzEG9rmUm8J4nSyqvsqLOIAeTi9Lyi_umzFF7jh9/s2112/IMG_9663.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYT8RekNUPhlGMK0lxCmBDQuyE70Wa42jQIvBVKFzWRzlusA2AhvqPc090pf7sTQpv0F3jSQTD9tZNhBferO2dqNyp3v99Sgu6DrtVvErP_vQNPSBpEUdMxV4ijXHLagmckseZsBD_ESCGZpEbgio-HzEG9rmUm8J4nSyqvsqLOIAeTi9Lyi_umzFF7jh9/w400-h300/IMG_9663.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Thankfully for my new found friends the starlings gave a reasonable performance overhead. Not huge numbers of birds but a dozen or so largish flocks milling about in the sky, not murmurating exactly but very pleasant to watch as they drifted about and then into the reeds. Thinking that was the performance over we said our goodbyes and Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I began to wander slowly back to the carpark. We'd only gone a few hundred meters when we noticed a huge flock to our right in a different part of the reedbed. Sometimes the flocks of starlings converge into a single mass of activity, this evening however the various groups had formed and then split into roosting in three different areas of the reedbed. This often happens. This flock in front of us were very restless and were rising and falling into the reeds en masse. My new friends caught up with us and they saw and heard the commotion well. The chap's wife was mesmerised by what was happening and when I mentioned the noise of the wingbeats she couldn't believe it. Afterwards she thanked me for helping them have such a wonderful time. I pointed out it was the birds not me bringing joy, but I can understand having some local knowledge maybe helped their experience. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQ2qHl-T8eq4SsBAjUziSEkChGAvGvBNhzdSmiog1JO4gfziv7_8yGQfM1a6YLQIEfnAqrq4eKhA18VDlydZvX9DU6JttJlCKeSDSbH9F52ixNP4UELQa_8eRt1nJCKbzGMfItUcxDyn1pPA-iClbvnufU_iT0FP0yihrlUHJxrD6hcK_Z1ogHrzGKScQ/s2112/IMG_9666.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeQ2qHl-T8eq4SsBAjUziSEkChGAvGvBNhzdSmiog1JO4gfziv7_8yGQfM1a6YLQIEfnAqrq4eKhA18VDlydZvX9DU6JttJlCKeSDSbH9F52ixNP4UELQa_8eRt1nJCKbzGMfItUcxDyn1pPA-iClbvnufU_iT0FP0yihrlUHJxrD6hcK_Z1ogHrzGKScQ/w400-h300/IMG_9666.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By now it was getting fairly dark so we sauntered further on to Viewing Platform 1 where we joined hundreds of people milling about, families, people on bicycles, couples, individuals unwrapping sandwiches and pouring tea from a flask, it was like a mass wildlife party, everyone enjoying the last of the light with the still restless starlings bobbing up and down in the reeds a few hundred meters away providing the entertainment. We watched this all for bit then I suggested to Mrs Wessex-Reiver we could walk out in the opposite direction onto the viewing platform at the end of the boardwalk and see what might be happening there. And I'm glad we did.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The noise from this third group of starlings deciding to roost here was astonishing. That noise came from the chattering of thousands of birds trying to settle for the night coupled with whoosh-wingbeats of those who couldn't find the right spot and were then agitatedly flying about between the reeds to find a new desirable piece of real estate. So low were some of these starling groups flying, and at quite a speed, that their passing was breaking the water surface and causing ripples and wavelets to form. By now the light was fading fast, seeing individual birds was impossible, it was simply a blur of activity. That didn't dampen the enthusiasm of the large number of people crammed into the viewing platform, no one was moving. It was now 4.45pm. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNaDjxce_gkRiBQ7ULImV2ZBcMamWV3WwtM1mC-vhTwdCjAmO0rGgoW2E6FIQE2gxQYj57XRNSCkZCHAk21PiTHWD77OXo7rmdfPd4nAcvPyZfAtxvzZuTrJS9qb9N47KDYPXifAhU76xQmv5W6Q-3wVynM8XC8zgq5vsqH3bhNmYf_92CBsevufVbtyY_/s2112/IMG_9667.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2112" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNaDjxce_gkRiBQ7ULImV2ZBcMamWV3WwtM1mC-vhTwdCjAmO0rGgoW2E6FIQE2gxQYj57XRNSCkZCHAk21PiTHWD77OXo7rmdfPd4nAcvPyZfAtxvzZuTrJS9qb9N47KDYPXifAhU76xQmv5W6Q-3wVynM8XC8zgq5vsqH3bhNmYf_92CBsevufVbtyY_/w400-h300/IMG_9667.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Forty five minutes of entertainment by nature just doing what it does every day. As we walked back I noticed moonlight reflected on one of the pools. A moment of stillness in a landscape still chaotic with both visitors and nature on the move. Approaching the main path through the reserve those visitors were still ten deep still watching the starlings doing their thing. That's such a lovely thing to see as I suggest most people there were very much like the people we chatted to, day visitors, some visiting for the first time, others regulars but maybe not hardened birdwatchers, families out for a bit of exercise, friends meeting up. Simply people coming out on a Saturday evening to watch nature's own unpredictable version of Strictly Come Dancing. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxao5Xv89AJkT3zT22rWWcMxVHFwjbzk8_jmw7VVng1IfZVAd2QYlCDA5BMf0IJbuV8ShuMVnszrvvp2phatJXm2eYo0gy-KQae059LcNqd7AxHMyBiXEeb5GFdy_1raVTDpeo0MsWm0tOQT18owJmb6GUAmjlwIejQDfxDxZOtB9MkjMYAwkjdyqpGz5Q/s2112/IMG_9673.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="1584" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxao5Xv89AJkT3zT22rWWcMxVHFwjbzk8_jmw7VVng1IfZVAd2QYlCDA5BMf0IJbuV8ShuMVnszrvvp2phatJXm2eYo0gy-KQae059LcNqd7AxHMyBiXEeb5GFdy_1raVTDpeo0MsWm0tOQT18owJmb6GUAmjlwIejQDfxDxZOtB9MkjMYAwkjdyqpGz5Q/w300-h400/IMG_9673.JPG" width="300" /></a></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-27210008683753766312023-11-13T20:40:00.017+00:002023-11-13T23:44:52.873+00:00A Plodge Around Frampton Cotterell's Nature <p style="text-align: justify;"><i><b>To Plodge</b></i> - <i>Verb (intransitive) - to wade in water, esp the sea. Northeast England dialect. </i></p><p style="text-align: justify;">Well, I found myself a long way away from the sea on this Remembrance Sunday, but I and my two companions were definitely plodging - such a great word PLODGE - a word I grew up with and a word which sounds like the very action it describes. And on this visit to Frampton Cotterell we did plodge with merry abandon. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUcgf-y6MDaYpiQIm2dBMk6a_iPdrUbe1xDEvXwspIV-D82MAHsSbi8sEnT51orFg0gy5YTD18yyhMsF_zXl24Lg8vYkPNvsn8rZjIi3EPvRbjnHSiYH6c-Ibc5lroUdaVa1-Oz1xOQvcff50kzIEYIg6qG3m_pNnqsEiDqxZ4rQ22EzEX4JTwIjwgO2Q/s4608/IMG_20231112_130149793_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGUcgf-y6MDaYpiQIm2dBMk6a_iPdrUbe1xDEvXwspIV-D82MAHsSbi8sEnT51orFg0gy5YTD18yyhMsF_zXl24Lg8vYkPNvsn8rZjIi3EPvRbjnHSiYH6c-Ibc5lroUdaVa1-Oz1xOQvcff50kzIEYIg6qG3m_pNnqsEiDqxZ4rQ22EzEX4JTwIjwgO2Q/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_130149793_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A friend of mine has recently become involved with her local nature group<b> </b>in the village of Frampton Cotterell. The village itself is a handful of miles north of Bristol in South Gloucestershire, and as such like many communities across the land which now find themselves hard by major cities, its countryside is under pressure to develop. Partly due to this threat of development and partly to enhance the natural history value of the area back in 2021 a new nature group was formed <span style="text-align: left;"><b>Frampton Cotterell Nature</b>, and my friend Sheena found herself on the committee. Over the months she has mentioned snippets of news from this group while we've supped a coffee or I've read the updates on Facebook, but until yesterday I'd not visited any of the sites they oversee. We therefore arranged to pop up yesterday and as had happened with recent nature rambles this autumn it was raining. Mrs Wessex-Reiver joined me.</span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-W2CsPmW2sZJsj-Yls0z74VlM3QJqj3VpqJmKos6Srd4WSo_nAfCVA1aSBfoVrTLICTyWqdShSmpj4v64qi4LjoWptk99KBMimUpoRG_wm6lWo29k_Rhx3a9nDfBz2uE90HqoQX9i4tB2SwRqzCuzgQ6urMOd1r3qSmhKp7zPhbGrS6r6ONgKG8VHKTV/s4608/IMG_20231112_130156608_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-W2CsPmW2sZJsj-Yls0z74VlM3QJqj3VpqJmKos6Srd4WSo_nAfCVA1aSBfoVrTLICTyWqdShSmpj4v64qi4LjoWptk99KBMimUpoRG_wm6lWo29k_Rhx3a9nDfBz2uE90HqoQX9i4tB2SwRqzCuzgQ6urMOd1r3qSmhKp7zPhbGrS6r6ONgKG8VHKTV/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_130156608_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As Ovid said "<i>Fortune and love favour the brave.</i>" Thus despite the predicted deluge with stout wellingtons now on our feet and a waterproof mackintosh on our backs we set off from Sheena's house, gaily splashing through the village before we joined the Frome Valley Walkway at the first of the sites now managed by the group. Sadly I've forgotten what this area was called but it followed the banks of the river, is open access to anyone and in recent months has seen tree planting and management take place to enhance nature here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not a long river, the Frome winds its 20 miles from a little further north at Dodington and eventually spills itself into the mighty River Avon at Bristol where it ends its days at the Bristol Channel flowing past the aptly named Avonmouth. Here at Frampton Cotterell I was informed it was usually little more than a big stream, though today after a lot of rain recently it was a boiling coffee coloured river in full spate. Kingfishers are resident here though with the river in such force they'll not be able to fish, kingfishers can suffer high mortality at times of flooding for this reason. Further upstream otters are found. A pleasant enough start to our walk though in November the wildflowers have sensibly disappeared for another year awaiting warmer days.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrgIt5vlerlZwsRflB9f72NWPhIOsARZc_6Ig6pUSJDLnm_tYQnLKZi-FKv8ZP5IyZB2dQb5-dPYnlmPa7gDhELdqokDvOzToI2W1kT0BvO2a9lt1lBAkmwLOOwyRxrv_P06L_DU4WEYsqIUqjcaF6vpNxsFm-JTnGZxEZuXVFeeoeUVqFI42F9yv6Qh4/s4608/IMG_20231112_130208804_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrgIt5vlerlZwsRflB9f72NWPhIOsARZc_6Ig6pUSJDLnm_tYQnLKZi-FKv8ZP5IyZB2dQb5-dPYnlmPa7gDhELdqokDvOzToI2W1kT0BvO2a9lt1lBAkmwLOOwyRxrv_P06L_DU4WEYsqIUqjcaF6vpNxsFm-JTnGZxEZuXVFeeoeUVqFI42F9yv6Qh4/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_130208804_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">A little further on we came to a small wooded area where a few weeks ago a working party had been invited to come and do some coppicing one morning. This little parcel of woodland had been coppiced before but not for a long time. On that coppicing day my friend turned up as did the organiser and that was it. However hard they tried two people can not do much coppicing over a morning and as we stood there our discussion ranged on how few people turn out to planned working days despite a lot of people showing interest and enthusiasm. That is a perennial problem with many nature organisations (and not just nature groups) where often it is just a few people who do many of the tasks and become the stalwarts of any group. But where are the rest of the volunteers, especially if as I learnt the nature group have 750 followers on social media? There's also an age issue, many work-party people are retired, which of course is due to working people not having time, so we discussed how the nature group could maybe encourage families, or school groups to come along. Or just anyone. It's a universal problem. Hopefully they'll get a few more helpers on the next coppicing date whenever that is.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U6kSxZDJcZIfXDT_3TPuatYfTxj-9IpG6XoryAJpQWjJ5nuU-H6X3SRtNCM4gR3CQYEX9luv_NoNybFhDGXwL1RhdLuetmehJ9sPubm2NYZNpvs2Vid2SHsF7V3tJKeQaZ2EONX0XA9kmhblvJ_kCKyWXKqiaI4xgY_SRgt-Mt4gh8-iMUdjjUFcBTBr/s4608/IMG_20231112_130502541.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9U6kSxZDJcZIfXDT_3TPuatYfTxj-9IpG6XoryAJpQWjJ5nuU-H6X3SRtNCM4gR3CQYEX9luv_NoNybFhDGXwL1RhdLuetmehJ9sPubm2NYZNpvs2Vid2SHsF7V3tJKeQaZ2EONX0XA9kmhblvJ_kCKyWXKqiaI4xgY_SRgt-Mt4gh8-iMUdjjUFcBTBr/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_130502541.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Emerging from the coppicing woodland the valley opened up again with sodden remnants of flowers hinting at a beautiful wildflower area in the summer, an area which seamlessly transferred into a small orchard where anyone can come and pick the apples (a local jam maker is particularly fond of these). This is exactly what a locally managed site should be, owned by the Parish Council, managed by locals, for locals with specific tasks and need targeted by those locally on the ground. Oddly as we were walking along the river banks of the Frome, here at least the ground underfoot was quite dry, which lulled us into a false sense of security.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV62UDbEQ6MNYW-DnJceUQ-aeMOCdvyg7_gvhrDM40wnEmkZ3eYvgOB3V7HtNKfF7MKhOZFC3BCweeDVy1GiVnpv6C8Z4m3NrqDp7tZsPr6hEIIveW1qsRPeSyuYarVMkm5HwzrcD3HmJ6j0xho3-2cIrblL9t_YXy_ikjFw7jFnhY70g5-SnAX-QDd1t6/s4608/IMG_20231112_130701669_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV62UDbEQ6MNYW-DnJceUQ-aeMOCdvyg7_gvhrDM40wnEmkZ3eYvgOB3V7HtNKfF7MKhOZFC3BCweeDVy1GiVnpv6C8Z4m3NrqDp7tZsPr6hEIIveW1qsRPeSyuYarVMkm5HwzrcD3HmJ6j0xho3-2cIrblL9t_YXy_ikjFw7jFnhY70g5-SnAX-QDd1t6/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_130701669_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Crossing the main road and circumnavigating the boundary wall of St Peter's church we wandered down Mill Lane past some allotments through a kissing gate and into another Parish Council owned site, Centenary Fields. The nature group looks after a dozen or so sites, however this Centenary Fields, which opened in 1994, is arguably the focal point of their operations as aside from its size, it is slap bang in the middle of the village. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3psR9PLKwONWToQJkx59lZUCjNiX4ywEgEEYC4o6_814tzgR2YyaIPDJu2shTeQXBZr01CZt8IcEUg9fyIp8xdzJ_d-mXlbg8ZElbfaQ7QGCpjqnl-vU9xADeGsV5ku4sP7evxt4h8PIMOxtHQ66nbxv-Uzi3X_JUBO7r8tDlg2Mwn7xt-9prnjwBfRpm/s4608/IMG_20231112_131252299_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3psR9PLKwONWToQJkx59lZUCjNiX4ywEgEEYC4o6_814tzgR2YyaIPDJu2shTeQXBZr01CZt8IcEUg9fyIp8xdzJ_d-mXlbg8ZElbfaQ7QGCpjqnl-vU9xADeGsV5ku4sP7evxt4h8PIMOxtHQ66nbxv-Uzi3X_JUBO7r8tDlg2Mwn7xt-9prnjwBfRpm/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131252299_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9wQOFYSnZYLKnc6X7c_Z-T0aqpK3Orft-ui8tq9jsHpdWg-34dojG30t_bzBHkXyS9UJzAG_h_Ek-M9XfIdkXO2-FX_RCzJfVnSaLkq8MW_5dj2fzxKE4bFnsJyzL72H0J0lpLPJePg_LVONOiV81LxjKMfxJAeAjRvZeTFhWC3fkGGjrKAZh6FYXbwU/s4608/IMG_20231112_131412936_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE9wQOFYSnZYLKnc6X7c_Z-T0aqpK3Orft-ui8tq9jsHpdWg-34dojG30t_bzBHkXyS9UJzAG_h_Ek-M9XfIdkXO2-FX_RCzJfVnSaLkq8MW_5dj2fzxKE4bFnsJyzL72H0J0lpLPJePg_LVONOiV81LxjKMfxJAeAjRvZeTFhWC3fkGGjrKAZh6FYXbwU/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131412936_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">In the summer I was told a family music festival takes place here but for the rest of the year it is an open area for dog walkers, families, nature lovers and anyone who just wants to use the space. A lot of tree planting has happened here and on the day before we visited a working party had begun to dig out a wildlife pond (complete with a dead hedge) which despite not being complete was already filling up. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_c68iTrgevB8CyZ33_f-7N-kzMBpkzq4k5kSjjS-8VxS3Ncxr17bDBujjwlYADb8OnPigjf7bmeNoKfODLKqBUkggE660d_ZI82zUO9czrmNfQl2H8JHNeWxoGOfSaWhgOiofXKyvVEMSt-sbn6TuMvwKPWaHxD6zYfmH0_VgImu9r2ZKo70keH0Y41v/s4608/IMG_20231112_131430349_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD_c68iTrgevB8CyZ33_f-7N-kzMBpkzq4k5kSjjS-8VxS3Ncxr17bDBujjwlYADb8OnPigjf7bmeNoKfODLKqBUkggE660d_ZI82zUO9czrmNfQl2H8JHNeWxoGOfSaWhgOiofXKyvVEMSt-sbn6TuMvwKPWaHxD6zYfmH0_VgImu9r2ZKo70keH0Y41v/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131430349_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqdCeZDotHMmqQ4tKsM0ZJFdmQCJrRwTHrI_Is5f06V0dE-pujcaiLTUAepwA4KClzz1pNGiSaLizcjNCX6Zc5VN2MGNQ4kPFM36U9woGJRfOKJQn1a1MApxjFgRXhV7s8HTDH6zK1B6Ak6odQ-TnNfJn0CIZiAcIL_vaxzIDJ_6GbAjjgh5NdSrXEC9c/s4608/IMG_20231112_131458986_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWqdCeZDotHMmqQ4tKsM0ZJFdmQCJrRwTHrI_Is5f06V0dE-pujcaiLTUAepwA4KClzz1pNGiSaLizcjNCX6Zc5VN2MGNQ4kPFM36U9woGJRfOKJQn1a1MApxjFgRXhV7s8HTDH6zK1B6Ak6odQ-TnNfJn0CIZiAcIL_vaxzIDJ_6GbAjjgh5NdSrXEC9c/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131458986_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXK6talbEMot0RfavlXEnuLBQheClv8ymbpVxLQmjn7l1JAiida_yyniVOFGn9-GGGt_gHLepBwbtsHoP3LbE6w60Q8S0rvR78ormCREi-KtqnXpDMvXA1F6VFXc2KCfEsEFPFvkyXXMKElZRuLMcpQcxEdiCBrUpomR0VM_w771walHCrzal07HcWO5C4/s4608/IMG_20231112_131504498_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXK6talbEMot0RfavlXEnuLBQheClv8ymbpVxLQmjn7l1JAiida_yyniVOFGn9-GGGt_gHLepBwbtsHoP3LbE6w60Q8S0rvR78ormCREi-KtqnXpDMvXA1F6VFXc2KCfEsEFPFvkyXXMKElZRuLMcpQcxEdiCBrUpomR0VM_w771walHCrzal07HcWO5C4/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131504498_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Moving from the pond we were shown a newly planted woodland area. This resulted in an interesting discussion about plastic tree guards, something I have a particular loathing for. I spotted a mature tree close by that still sported its tree guard and discussing with my friend, try as we might it could not be removed with the bark now fused into the plastic. It is a true oversight of many a grant application that money is there for planting, often insisting on tree guards but no funds for aftercare or even the removal of the guards after a few years. Not far away a native hedge had been planted by a private landowner without tree guards being used. As if to rub salt into the wound these unprotected hedge saplings looked really healthy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The brilliant naturalist Chris Sperring has a much simpler, and bio-DNA-friendly way of regenerating trees in open public areas - brambles. By encouraging brambles, themselves excellent for many wildlife species a native and locally adapted succession occurs. If left unmanaged he argues grassland first becomes brambles, eventually some shrubs develop both providing super habitat for many birds and mammals before the odd tree seedling from local trees naturally regenerating pokes its head up above the bramble tangle, a tangle which by its very thorniness is protecting the young tree from deer or other browsers thus doing the job of plastic tree guards for free. Eventually these saplings will grow, form a canopy and as they mature so the brambles' vigour is reduced due to reduced light levels reaching the understory and eventually many of the shrubs and bramble disappear leaving a young woodland. No need for planting, tree guards, or fencing, or money being spent, with a natural succession from open ground to woodland happening at a rate other species can adapt to. Sadly though this succession can take 30 years and humans being humans crave an instant hit, so we manage and plant and add tree guards.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1w9jwOHvoyovGiGrzZZbbE7BPBs8rSM2O2e6X4xlf1g539Lfde3ybOQtNpCnXK59mAnsLRI1PKTIkgsci2KB1cf7ZMBVwhp075ZVkYeitkCwq7UOY-E0LhBgmvE_-7GTRU1mjotSyCKj9iWn_e4ZYrPmRRcfjeaxjDT6yZZZdGZUPqeF40sr96eS51PLN/s4608/IMG_20231112_131724589_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1w9jwOHvoyovGiGrzZZbbE7BPBs8rSM2O2e6X4xlf1g539Lfde3ybOQtNpCnXK59mAnsLRI1PKTIkgsci2KB1cf7ZMBVwhp075ZVkYeitkCwq7UOY-E0LhBgmvE_-7GTRU1mjotSyCKj9iWn_e4ZYrPmRRcfjeaxjDT6yZZZdGZUPqeF40sr96eS51PLN/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_131724589_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As we walked on the countryside was beginning to open up into agricultural land. Passing through another kissing gate we came into a pony paddock which would be perfect for many species having shrubs here and rough grass areas there but I learnt it is possibly going to be offered up for development. We walked on towards a local well known spot called Black Rocks where the river Frome was hurling itself around a natural bend through a rock cutting. This is a well known spot in the summer used by people just to come and enjoy a bit of fresh air (and the odd fizzy drink!). </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvJ2Rl8JHzScXvXn4VKxxKa6Z6RMpPMr67nA1nH69-NEFy7ofpYBsTHCd8h8KvL9BEL6o5MgudaAnJcqy29eYEcjxJv-cs-G1NOytrq8LXPSRI5kzlXfjWqireV4igaGgDOPvvDfG2Vvj3er02blQ7BVYoeUJI1c9EBjXHqIds7jBGlCmx3CbSzZVbJgz/s4608/IMG_20231112_133019996_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLvJ2Rl8JHzScXvXn4VKxxKa6Z6RMpPMr67nA1nH69-NEFy7ofpYBsTHCd8h8KvL9BEL6o5MgudaAnJcqy29eYEcjxJv-cs-G1NOytrq8LXPSRI5kzlXfjWqireV4igaGgDOPvvDfG2Vvj3er02blQ7BVYoeUJI1c9EBjXHqIds7jBGlCmx3CbSzZVbJgz/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_133019996_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Onwards we walked now heading into a lovely mature section of riparian woodland where the 'seep seep' of redwing could be heard overhead before crossing a new metal bridge over the raging Frome and onward to the other side where we emerged onto Somme-like agricultural land where maize had just been harvested. We were still following the Frome Valley Walkway and now found ourselves at approximately half way through our planned walk, with our initial plan to walk onto the village of Iron Acton and back to the warm dryness of Sheena's house. However we became bogged down in the quagmire that is the Great British countryside at winter. Welly sucking mud was followed by calf deep puddles, or both, most exciting in many ways but it made onward travel slow and laborious. The countryside around here however was lovely and as it adjoined the Frampton Cotterell nature sites a lovely example of that new thinking of joined up landscapes making for a larger habitat species can move about in. Of course if we stopped developing on land, or reduced the intensity of agriculture we'd not need these refugia areas.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk2i-hRRGx3XD-o3yNig0yiedgq1lTX7ot6Dvng-764LFplms9qgk87qEcGoqtnLne8Fcukl9D9W9S19euihc8xsoOq_vuqokCe7ZT7eMQg9xsRNRBQtVE9EzTqDOt0a13iWguU8iRlNQgbPwv0tLmKltor3rRdFdLuSvgufwIUF51fXBQthwisgd7W2i/s4608/IMG_20231112_134130083_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCk2i-hRRGx3XD-o3yNig0yiedgq1lTX7ot6Dvng-764LFplms9qgk87qEcGoqtnLne8Fcukl9D9W9S19euihc8xsoOq_vuqokCe7ZT7eMQg9xsRNRBQtVE9EzTqDOt0a13iWguU8iRlNQgbPwv0tLmKltor3rRdFdLuSvgufwIUF51fXBQthwisgd7W2i/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_134130083_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Back to the mud. After I'd moved south thirty years ago my late mum was astonished on visiting Dorset many years ago over Christmas. Up until that point she had only ever visited in the summer when dust devils rose from the hot baked earth of Hardy's Wessex. As we three yesterday plodged along this Gloucester footpath I thought of mum all those years ago astonished at the rivers of water rushing down country lanes or spilling down tracks. The countryside is nothing if not muddy in winter. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There is also increasing evidence that being close to mud is beneficial to our health. In her book 52 Ways To Walk, Annabel Streets discusses the benefits of mud, especially a microbiota <i><b>butyrate</b></i> which is meant to be good for our gut fauna. Another substance <i><b>geosmin</b></i> is known to induce feelings of calm according to evolutionary psychologists. But that aside there is however something very satisfying in squelching through mud on a walk, though as we were concentrating so much on where our feet were treading spotting any of the limited wildlife on show was a challenge. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Sheena pointed out she had done this route back in May while on a dawn chorus walk when it was a lot drier. The nature group itself have now counted over 80 species of birds in the area which is encouraging for a farmed landscape. On our visit in the flooded fields to our right gulls were afloat on the temporary lakes while rook, jackdaw and carrion crow circled about, and the chatter of smaller birds helped lift the spirits.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO34HaDWqGktlrc9OPqpYy26PsCOGcQri8GEzNBKm81ZRbSRiqJ9trPn-FiGIQ7-80N1YtPe2qHw2eJQX_-kN-SvZ2bwXl3YbXsxIPT51Yis6XlHXekYh2j9EBwbSKKNSFQQvIGhB31usuo8OJYyoUT7Jw9C_2xgPAZ24r8ACWhEy9V0qXuq4pgukE3gqT/s4608/IMG_20231112_140755998_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO34HaDWqGktlrc9OPqpYy26PsCOGcQri8GEzNBKm81ZRbSRiqJ9trPn-FiGIQ7-80N1YtPe2qHw2eJQX_-kN-SvZ2bwXl3YbXsxIPT51Yis6XlHXekYh2j9EBwbSKKNSFQQvIGhB31usuo8OJYyoUT7Jw9C_2xgPAZ24r8ACWhEy9V0qXuq4pgukE3gqT/w300-h400/IMG_20231112_140755998_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually we reached Hoover's Lane and faced a choice - straight on took us to Iron Acton through more fields or turning right took us back to Frampton Cotterell along the very flooded looking lane. We decided on the latter option, not least as we were tiring a little with all this plodging, had begun to resemble drowned rats plus we craved a light refreshment. The unmade lane back was easy to follow but badly flooded along most of it's length, at one point the water was almost up to the top of my wellingtons. This was becoming quite an adventure, maybe next time I'll wear some chest waders. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The lane though was interesting, a lot of mature hedge trees and at one point I heard the pip pip contact call of a great spotted woodpecker just moments before it flew off, thankfully seen by both Sheena and Mrs Wessex-Reiver. I learnt that all the land to the right of us was under threat of development. Nothing decided yet but the pressure was on, and that is a worry for the nature group. But I can see why this land has potential for housing, large flat fields, next to an arterial road into Bristol, itself only half an hour's drive away as the advertising might say. In reality I discovered even now at rush-hour it can take an hour and a half to reach the centre of Bristol, just 8 miles away.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Onward we walked as the rain really did begin to intensify until finally arriving back in Frampton Cotterell, two hours after we set off and having walked 3.4 very wet miles. The hot chocolate and sausage roll in the village farm shop was most welcome after that.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Despite the rain, the flooding and the mud we had an excellent visit. Admittedly not the best day to take onboard the results of what this local wildlife group are doing, or trying to do, but with those 750 members of the Facebook site onboard, even if just 1% turn their interest into action they'll build up a loyal following and I hope they succeed in improving nature abundance and biodiversity in and around their village. I will come back in the summer when it is hopefully a little drier and see what it looks like when the various shades of brown under a leaded sky have departed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Frampton Cotterell Nature Blog - further reading;</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> https://framptoncotterellnature.wordpress.com/about/</div><p><br /></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-80345232986557831182023-11-05T14:28:00.011+00:002023-11-28T08:40:10.987+00:00A Very Wet Newport Wetlands<p style="text-align: justify;">A streak of mad spontaneity seems to grip our family, and myself in particular. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tdVpwT95j-48qWM-0sgZ0hsi3Es0TXcexAZXRM_nRQx39Qn5e9XN2jILxd9vrtX9gkS-yXvkwSSSxHLbihI_cFjISUv-nxf4bTdWxKayb3M6X8NBuYvyD4fiWPDu1roFhReg1bikjFBRb-qjputxbcn7luAG-_15RP3mgNwCW9-sBzci1Lmq6CGI6YEG/s4608/IMG_20231104_110619741_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3tdVpwT95j-48qWM-0sgZ0hsi3Es0TXcexAZXRM_nRQx39Qn5e9XN2jILxd9vrtX9gkS-yXvkwSSSxHLbihI_cFjISUv-nxf4bTdWxKayb3M6X8NBuYvyD4fiWPDu1roFhReg1bikjFBRb-qjputxbcn7luAG-_15RP3mgNwCW9-sBzci1Lmq6CGI6YEG/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_110619741_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I<span style="text-align: justify;"> woke yesterday to a dawn of half light and full rain. Not just rain but a deluge, though there was no wind which was something to celebrate at least. I lay there wondering what to do while the rat-a-tat-tat of raindrops committing kamikaze death falls against the window confirmed in my mind it was a perfect day to be outdoors. But where? By due process of elimination, too muddy, too exposed, too near Bristol, too far, the RSPB's Newport Wetlands was fixed upon. </span></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0WjjPMCrZ0Oizi3go3nhhtOVyqOMx1C3kob0YCxArq0zVMXrxBMr4NOUhKHjfaerJrTQzvu4NIqq0LszgKFsg4kC9vuNyvZCLglLgDA_qHBKidqmfKMg0rPCjPleE3H0MXIBUpQdJgotA0e5BXYYkAqP5HAhQrfq28M8yQ94RFB_GBtyqeIVxmzg7tEs/s4608/IMG_20231104_110955905_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc0WjjPMCrZ0Oizi3go3nhhtOVyqOMx1C3kob0YCxArq0zVMXrxBMr4NOUhKHjfaerJrTQzvu4NIqq0LszgKFsg4kC9vuNyvZCLglLgDA_qHBKidqmfKMg0rPCjPleE3H0MXIBUpQdJgotA0e5BXYYkAqP5HAhQrfq28M8yQ94RFB_GBtyqeIVxmzg7tEs/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_110955905_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We can almost see the wetlands from the back of our house in Somerset. As the raindrops fly it is 12 miles over the Bristol Channel, as the car drives it is exactly 38 miles. We, Mrs Wessex-Reiver and I, arrived just after 10am in rain. The forecast however was of an improving picture by noon. The carpark was quite full which surprised me but as this was my first visit here maybe this is normal on a wet Saturday morning.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"<i>There's a fungi workshop happening in the woodland this morning, that's why the carpark is busy</i>" the meet and greet lady sheltering under a sodden gazebo informed us. "<i>It's</i> <i>quiet in the reserve</i> t<i>here's no one else here but you two</i>" she added, giving us one of those old-fashioned looks as if to say bless, these old people are game for anything. We chatted for a while, explaining it was my first visit even though I've known of this place for decades. Predictably the conversation ended with an announcement that we'll pop into the café first while it is so wet.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-J0fJVCoIbHtp_-pNj6LsY2gBpqGNeIkECiq_E02l6Oq6b_Uzc07jkMzvaqnNn-ZGEaVk0-KpJsNNnKDAvHID_VVxKFeuJYikUWNcIPJlndSIhLql_ksBEP9vpYxhUa4HMR8T0yqjVy5DXLqCeFSIhg-3eOr4py_2F1zBlX2LWE35RwqdzFfqDuKZt6R/s4608/IMG_20231104_105227540_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjD-J0fJVCoIbHtp_-pNj6LsY2gBpqGNeIkECiq_E02l6Oq6b_Uzc07jkMzvaqnNn-ZGEaVk0-KpJsNNnKDAvHID_VVxKFeuJYikUWNcIPJlndSIhLql_ksBEP9vpYxhUa4HMR8T0yqjVy5DXLqCeFSIhg-3eOr4py_2F1zBlX2LWE35RwqdzFfqDuKZt6R/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_105227540_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">From the café a capacious picture window revealed a sizeable pond devoid of any living creatures, until that is, as the rain eased from torrential to heavy a moorhen broke cover and swam into some reeds ( photographic evidence centre of image). My first tick of the visit. As we're the three camouflaged gentleman having a coffee. Obviously proper birdwatchers in that clothing they did however look suspiciously dry, and seemed to know the café staff, who outnumbered us five customers. It was going well. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually we'd read every RSPB events leaflet on the tables, perused all the Christmas cards, fondled the novelty gifts and examined every second hand book. Running out of excuses, even though it was still raining, we'd best at least show willing and actually go outside. Immediately we became lost. Somehow we'd wandered into the educational area, which was huge. Thinking we needed to walk through this to gain access to the reserve we came to a dead end at the pond dipping platform, which was apt on a day like today. On a sunny day this would be lovely, today it was a blanket of squashy sodden emptiness.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vHFikmcNwWrCrjvEyXeuRt-Sm1sLUQ5bMLBVMy3blkBn2VzeX_ay4nslE7c7S1oUN98-QBvxICBVrboLjGyBkd0x9P7Gvge_JxOaZazWZeHpmM8nX4sMTbjPKmmaAMow4-9V2e5vpT2pdHTfoT-bHZ2tb2TwYS-3uEP3b2rmtYSSXlA2AmLv9cRiH1qI/s4608/IMG_20231104_111207940_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vHFikmcNwWrCrjvEyXeuRt-Sm1sLUQ5bMLBVMy3blkBn2VzeX_ay4nslE7c7S1oUN98-QBvxICBVrboLjGyBkd0x9P7Gvge_JxOaZazWZeHpmM8nX4sMTbjPKmmaAMow4-9V2e5vpT2pdHTfoT-bHZ2tb2TwYS-3uEP3b2rmtYSSXlA2AmLv9cRiH1qI/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_111207940_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Retracing our steps we found a different path which seemed to head off into some woodland, it did, and from which we emerged at the entrance to the reserve itself. It's all quite easy once you know. By now the rainfall was intensifying, the hard path was more lake with stepping-stone islands and we were the only two people for miles around other than two dog walkers whose hi-viz full body wet weather gear allowed for only an eye slit and a muffled '<i>morning</i>' as they splashed past. But we are British, it's just a bit of rain, onwards. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNYjaYGFJhf-SDPG4FDoZ1OL5CcOld877vAX9oIrEzblcwRXU7B2YpkGwwNnwXfHmpgutUl_dy5ODHTvHzrlUbbzc4w7vZoa9CleCgvnsyzse9dcHBqTq83iiZJk5P53DdmPDGefj8k54oXZdUBl8mYi8-Fo4Jg6ZpkIDBZXSl-j6pFlpzzcyRKYxyxTa/s4608/IMG_20231104_112527583_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLNYjaYGFJhf-SDPG4FDoZ1OL5CcOld877vAX9oIrEzblcwRXU7B2YpkGwwNnwXfHmpgutUl_dy5ODHTvHzrlUbbzc4w7vZoa9CleCgvnsyzse9dcHBqTq83iiZJk5P53DdmPDGefj8k54oXZdUBl8mYi8-Fo4Jg6ZpkIDBZXSl-j6pFlpzzcyRKYxyxTa/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_112527583_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Onwards brought us to a viewing platform. The view was of an empty lake and the Newport Power Station. This trip was becoming brilliant, like some art-noir film, I was fully expecting Michael Caine to appear traipsing about in a gabardine mac carrying a sawn off shotgun. But before we left this vantage point a mallard appeared. Tick two then. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We'd been told to head for the lighthouse "<i>it's beautiful over there</i>". It possibly is, but by the time we'd reached this (over a quite scary inflatable pontoon set-up complete with danger of drowning symbols), the clouds were so dark we needed a torch. BUT - out from the gloom the glorious bubbling call of a curlew lifted our spirits. Not one either, a couple of calls at different locations. We'd reached the Bristol Channel.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrfUV4IjbZapapqy9tFngCMC5RHybN5TjZ7mbCCBCjbf5qZdgiw65ErFedcIvfyOdkdjfUrInUXru9qaxzOqgG2QIBb6frnDjzmFs2pNqKkz2nn6rEuwqoFvSUibA030nPAFGGfxDnR84owgAb2sEZ_eFvYCsfEULPLBRDP7wEFx99B4YlCd62xpgMENf/s4608/IMG_20231104_113755987_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtrfUV4IjbZapapqy9tFngCMC5RHybN5TjZ7mbCCBCjbf5qZdgiw65ErFedcIvfyOdkdjfUrInUXru9qaxzOqgG2QIBb6frnDjzmFs2pNqKkz2nn6rEuwqoFvSUibA030nPAFGGfxDnR84owgAb2sEZ_eFvYCsfEULPLBRDP7wEFx99B4YlCd62xpgMENf/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_113755987_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd hoped we'd see Clevedon or Portishead across the water but the weather meant even seeing the edge of the marsh 50m away was a challenge. Emptying the small pond that had formed in the eye piece of my binoculars I scanned the coast. Redshank and curlew, shelduck, mallard, lots of them, and numerous grey things in the marsh vegetation, godwits maybe? To be honest they were so hunkered down, and with the rain running down my neck, I gave up trying to identify them and we decided to keep walking past a very wet stonechat perched on a reed.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHjcKjNmuvoLtKrGEuaQUTxgSN429hnJeFCOYCZFmejeqMUtP-SynFHmi6CZ7hp2p6PU_dQSq9Mv_2dqLSiq3np1xxjg9tPatg2OKAZTLe18XoNswxtqxdCuTS-gucAu3FduffUcCNJYZuwdedUfL-RDU_ZvKhqynbaO8bdTCryMVibpwqrsrxIsWEO5Z/s4608/IMG_20231104_115227276_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhHjcKjNmuvoLtKrGEuaQUTxgSN429hnJeFCOYCZFmejeqMUtP-SynFHmi6CZ7hp2p6PU_dQSq9Mv_2dqLSiq3np1xxjg9tPatg2OKAZTLe18XoNswxtqxdCuTS-gucAu3FduffUcCNJYZuwdedUfL-RDU_ZvKhqynbaO8bdTCryMVibpwqrsrxIsWEO5Z/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_115227276_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I have to say bleak though it was, being the only two people on this bit of coastline in seriously bad weather was brilliant. What an atmosphere it created. Stark man-made industrialisation dominated the skyline behind us, turn 180 degrees and the sound of the waves lapping the shore coupled with the bubbling call of the curlew uplifted our spirits to the point where we forgot it was raining. I loved it and I know Mrs Wessex-Reiver loved it too as she stood for a good ten minutes taking it all in, either that or hypothermia was setting in. I on the other hand noticed something astonishing...blue sky.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsvQXccRolnBBT-kG0_rouK7yc3ijb0RT0QvPGiq6uRbCktzlf_4ybmIkJCJGUhN0uiSkE4YyZZCh-l0ccGld3GJRpNSuOG77NuLIjiadt2MQURvfM8FiSaG1SdxeXSDdGm2l4Z8yw4B7raN6px3DiHcb3CkTE6-1TiuYPtGOc-boIkn_3GfYzUCcJNrz/s4608/IMG_20231104_115237909_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsvQXccRolnBBT-kG0_rouK7yc3ijb0RT0QvPGiq6uRbCktzlf_4ybmIkJCJGUhN0uiSkE4YyZZCh-l0ccGld3GJRpNSuOG77NuLIjiadt2MQURvfM8FiSaG1SdxeXSDdGm2l4Z8yw4B7raN6px3DiHcb3CkTE6-1TiuYPtGOc-boIkn_3GfYzUCcJNrz/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_115237909_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Lord preserve us, finally the rain was easing. After an hour of being deluged it was almost as if a curtain was slowly being drawn across the sky to reveal that much anticipated better and drier day forecast was behind it. And as always happens with the sun coming out the birds appear. More stonechat, reed bunting, starling, redwing, fieldfare and on the water cormorant, mute swan, little grebe, tufted duck and so on. Robins began to sing in competition with numerous unseen wren blasting out their calls. There was even a rainbow.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQ4hXOrt0V4qrvCgqaaJ9pIQ8E5lu2s6V6wJNPTQQZ4IeinO7jvKxpddQhCiBuwGWJL42aSUbMD9kQuVTDii5VIclbgS1BP2G5hkD2GEkw5Gu7DklhE3EGGfBAJhup4bkG2obx4mYiquIeBfMGU-DsRmUWZQd4lkO5C8qXbo9J1zjYgd63xJ5z8GoFASu/s3633/IMG_20231104_115950592_HDR~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3633" data-original-width="3308" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpQ4hXOrt0V4qrvCgqaaJ9pIQ8E5lu2s6V6wJNPTQQZ4IeinO7jvKxpddQhCiBuwGWJL42aSUbMD9kQuVTDii5VIclbgS1BP2G5hkD2GEkw5Gu7DklhE3EGGfBAJhup4bkG2obx4mYiquIeBfMGU-DsRmUWZQd4lkO5C8qXbo9J1zjYgd63xJ5z8GoFASu/w364-h400/IMG_20231104_115950592_HDR~2.jpg" width="364" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By now we were on the path back to the visitor centre and seemed to wander into some lovely woodland, a surprise for a coastal wetland site. Here we met a very friendly robin who Mrs Wessex-Reiver fed some bara birth cake we had left over from the café. Above us a flotilla of long-tail tits flipped through the branches chattering sonorously and then away. Then emerging from this woodland we walked through some very red-berried scrubby areas with fields to our right and above our heads the Aeolian drone of a now strengthening wind blowing through the high-voltage cables slung between two rows of pylons. This is not a pretty site but it is packed with interest, not least as I'd seen, rather than heard, my first redwing and fieldfare of the season.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvojCoAHHSXA5EIuKsvsIrNJ85mzLDyxMtpJdzPSiZLe3yBghUCzhe4SWbYc7esfdnZZdtYnp1rui7hmlxptKj_vx6A6ZQoySbhXZcN395Jjq7wqHWgTP1UuaRXQqPRkLCxeFxvmx8GrlcuWIXcc5wtFxOi7QJHtwoRbeFaYIj4TyMDT8B6r8AKGN-yGj/s4608/IMG_20231104_121506466_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJvojCoAHHSXA5EIuKsvsIrNJ85mzLDyxMtpJdzPSiZLe3yBghUCzhe4SWbYc7esfdnZZdtYnp1rui7hmlxptKj_vx6A6ZQoySbhXZcN395Jjq7wqHWgTP1UuaRXQqPRkLCxeFxvmx8GrlcuWIXcc5wtFxOi7QJHtwoRbeFaYIj4TyMDT8B6r8AKGN-yGj/w300-h400/IMG_20231104_121506466_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After just under two and a half miles we found ourselves back at the visitor centre - predictably in brilliant sunshine. By now sane people were arriving to presumably have a pleasant wander about in warm sunny conditions while waiting for the starling murmuration to begin - from 4.10pm on the board said. The café was filling up so we grabbed a table for a well earned lunch before driving home blinded by the intensity of the sun beating down from a cloudless sky.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But I loved this first visit to Newport Wetlands, first but by no means the last. And after a tot-up I realised I'd seen quite a few birds after all. Not bad for a wet day.</div><p style="text-align: justify;">Blue tit, great tit, woodpigeon, moorhen, rook, carrion crow, magpie, robin, curlew, mallard, cormorant, ducks on the estuary miles away, tufted duck, reed bunting, stone chat, herring gull, black headed gull, little grebe, mute swan redwing and fieldfare both seen, chiffchaff, wren, cettis warbler, jay, blackbird, starling, those waders unidentified, pheasant, long-tailed tit and house sparrow.</p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-26870142097347686332023-10-18T21:02:00.016+01:002023-11-28T08:25:17.474+00:00Storm Babet Birdwatching at RSPB Arne<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoUwGpz0wnN8valU7TqilfHLd3NhyaSRSn5G3_2pGQTrUJ35bL-gMyjLq35_kDjuFqJQxzmY5j2DZ6LXp3fwXmbrc_-v7T_HHYCUYRx-AL47qKUDcVp3ygK8JGwqTXoWyIpBrN3d0I0ykr50XX7WKWzOOf07wc-EHAErUqV9D7np4ZQHJRxCks7SqdqFd/s4608/IMG_20231018_134232605_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHoUwGpz0wnN8valU7TqilfHLd3NhyaSRSn5G3_2pGQTrUJ35bL-gMyjLq35_kDjuFqJQxzmY5j2DZ6LXp3fwXmbrc_-v7T_HHYCUYRx-AL47qKUDcVp3ygK8JGwqTXoWyIpBrN3d0I0ykr50XX7WKWzOOf07wc-EHAErUqV9D7np4ZQHJRxCks7SqdqFd/w300-h400/IMG_20231018_134232605_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There has to be a certain level of insanity in my DNA to come birdwatching at the RSPB's Arne reserve during Storm Babet. Especially as we'd been there the day before in sunshine, though it had been a tad windy. Today however we arrived as the rain lashed down and the roar of the wind through the trees was deafening.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We'd come today as we're in Dorset on a mini break at Studland. With the weather being so bad we'd spent the morning lounging about in the hotel gazing out the window discussing what to do today. Eventually the need to go outside drove us first to Swanage, which was being lashed by sea foam and flooding meaning the sea road was closed. Turning tail we headed to Arne, for a wet walk at least. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Having been met by Gayle at the entrance, I succumbed to the thumb screws and we have re-joined the RSPB as joint members. I used to be a member for years but as I subscribed to many conservation agencies a few years ago I let it lapse. The question did go though my mind today, "why didn't I join yesterday?" after paying my £10 admission. Then I'd have had two free visits. Anyway it's all in a good cause. Today I joined and got in for free. It was nice chatting to Gayle, I think she enjoyed the custom as due to the inclement weather there were maybe only a dozen cars here. Yesterday it was so busy we'd parked in the overflow carpark. We chatted for ages with the rain thundering down around us. There'd been a guided walk in the morning when a hen harrier and Dartford warbler had been seen despite the weather.</div><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I've been to Arne many times, both for work and for pleasure, but not for about ten years. Mrs Wessex-Reiver had only been to Arne once before (with me) before yesterday when it was so cold we only stayed an hour but she had seen avocet for the first time on that visit. Yesterday's species she was keen to see were the sika.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">After a coffee, to see if the torrential rain would relent, there was nothing for it. We ventured out. Actually to begin with it wasn't too dreadful as we walked towards the new Middlebere hide, though apart from a few great tits and a grey squirrel we didn't see another living thing. Which was perfect. It's beautiful here and in the inclement weather it felt quite wild, until vestiges of Poole loomed out from the distant murk. After a mile we reached the new hide.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ayO_orU_-jzJnEYzIEoWB1PZpGnra3HzPw0LlUVPJuYOpimjxinoJwlgrBTAFPsI3AhsQceHVPPsvLiBPm0udAsIZ8StSQ8Rceq8QuYRHBMumyKCJ2249K_1f0v4W5uqidZqkiYsJJikFH6GPPCluC-NU9eixSq4lh85IRzflpODm7o1HFQuaoJv_Awu/s4608/IMG_20231018_142436903_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6ayO_orU_-jzJnEYzIEoWB1PZpGnra3HzPw0LlUVPJuYOpimjxinoJwlgrBTAFPsI3AhsQceHVPPsvLiBPm0udAsIZ8StSQ8Rceq8QuYRHBMumyKCJ2249K_1f0v4W5uqidZqkiYsJJikFH6GPPCluC-NU9eixSq4lh85IRzflpODm7o1HFQuaoJv_Awu/w300-h400/IMG_20231018_142436903_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It's an impressive hide but not a design I have come across before, fully open to the shoreline with tiered seating going back three levels. In normal circumstances this hide would provide perfect shelter, today however the sheeting rain blew into the hide as a result over half of the tiered seating was sodden and soaked. The rain was also keeping the birds at bay. In half an hour we saw a few redshank and oystercatcher, curlew were calling somewhere, a few black tailed godwits flying about, a few flying formations of 6-10 teal and nine Brent geese. And that was it. Everything else with any sense remained hidden. While we were there Babet began to really wreak her power. The wind strengthened and the rain resembled a celestial power shower, it was coming down in a deluge. And we had to move out of this shelter.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA02k_LxX__FMUkfENF0M29u-FtVrIDYUwlCKWLmW7U7MbEtagKIMf6YUWUV7Vgr-DsgBPo_AJB-bgjs4ZuDaOxL3cxV4unPIIkfeJws7VPx3h_gqD4H091VOLdg5ivGtbGOtZZGSQlPKfoezzn9MOv0fkGyfi9fv5tr6wj9ddPw1OpsyG8q-cGnTD-h62/s4608/IMG_20231018_140402606_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA02k_LxX__FMUkfENF0M29u-FtVrIDYUwlCKWLmW7U7MbEtagKIMf6YUWUV7Vgr-DsgBPo_AJB-bgjs4ZuDaOxL3cxV4unPIIkfeJws7VPx3h_gqD4H091VOLdg5ivGtbGOtZZGSQlPKfoezzn9MOv0fkGyfi9fv5tr6wj9ddPw1OpsyG8q-cGnTD-h62/w300-h400/IMG_20231018_140402606_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Moving to the back of the hide I disturbed a female stonechat which looked soaked. It was the only bird in our line of sight. We sat for a while hoping the rain may ease but it didn't and we just had to brave it and head out into the waterfall. By the time we reached the relative calm of the woods we were properly soaked, thank gawd for good waterproofs.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ2buwt96JT9Kp8TyTYsmnNaSuzqh6S7qTnjY8RAnMYoTKbfVqnnRvGv-QpUG0MdEO31UDa5KiKZEjVjDA1YzRpf-z8Jjfe5NWs5WgDZhjpKSJCvgWqY8HmyPf6Aoj7ms0YUlGXdwBKM_b37tlTeYwf8P0ZTuZQq8cEQgaplP-9XLNPx74YczgEvZ5Gjj/s4608/IMG_20231018_144032372_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYQ2buwt96JT9Kp8TyTYsmnNaSuzqh6S7qTnjY8RAnMYoTKbfVqnnRvGv-QpUG0MdEO31UDa5KiKZEjVjDA1YzRpf-z8Jjfe5NWs5WgDZhjpKSJCvgWqY8HmyPf6Aoj7ms0YUlGXdwBKM_b37tlTeYwf8P0ZTuZQq8cEQgaplP-9XLNPx74YczgEvZ5Gjj/w300-h400/IMG_20231018_144032372_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Walking on after catching our breath, the track back to the visitor centre had become a temporary river since we'd walked along it less than an hour before, quite impressive for an area of free flowing sandy soil.</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnP6zr1FTvtFIMbKLgGsKUu7dn3HEar7tbqAW6mvlpZUE5WjgQz-hFNQyLQVOjYDVM6vyKFbcR2ri9dL-leemNVflUQ9Sgh-rTL22cOqYn1WW-sAOPv4qBtXvvnVtfyTgzo0Iq8BAaCyWV3aAm1bI_1rxvoUtCU3vwn1kITZftemEX-Bvx1Q_FLmo4u0O/s4608/IMG_20231018_145030645_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnP6zr1FTvtFIMbKLgGsKUu7dn3HEar7tbqAW6mvlpZUE5WjgQz-hFNQyLQVOjYDVM6vyKFbcR2ri9dL-leemNVflUQ9Sgh-rTL22cOqYn1WW-sAOPv4qBtXvvnVtfyTgzo0Iq8BAaCyWV3aAm1bI_1rxvoUtCU3vwn1kITZftemEX-Bvx1Q_FLmo4u0O/w300-h400/IMG_20231018_145030645_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Such a contrast to yesterday when we came in sunshine. On that visit it was blowing a hoolie but we walked for over two hours in a circular amble to and from the Shipstal hide. En-route we stumbled across a sika group, female and fawn first, stag later with a couple of other females distant. Mrs Wessex-Reiver had really wanted to see sika close and this didn't disappoint as they were at most 10 meters away and quite unfazed by our presence. It afforded a good view of the stag and their frowning face. Mrs Wessex-Reiver was surprised how small these deer are. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">At the hide yesterday all the birds were way out into the harbour mostly sheltering from the wind. There were eight spoonbills, a lot of redshank, lapwing, godwits, lapwing and oystercatcher but to be honest they were so far away I couldn't really see that well. Closer were some little and great egret and a small murmuration of starling. And on the way back from the hide a kestrel.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bJroIZL9rgZTIJrjH1VX_GjYLaVlwKr1rYlNYwAlPQDmj3TbmI41yBetTJF8ln2YCeJW138A0GiHEER9AgGf49LfA4ajwzabTFRa744CHSuhJHSMk0YACRAMEOZ_dRjPWnJop29G0IiHZ-9Z8rivEofU5OKFw3ZPoAZsLPnfZ5LiPpYmucMLMD4YoMwq/s4608/IMG_20231017_143635456_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4608" data-original-width="3456" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3bJroIZL9rgZTIJrjH1VX_GjYLaVlwKr1rYlNYwAlPQDmj3TbmI41yBetTJF8ln2YCeJW138A0GiHEER9AgGf49LfA4ajwzabTFRa744CHSuhJHSMk0YACRAMEOZ_dRjPWnJop29G0IiHZ-9Z8rivEofU5OKFw3ZPoAZsLPnfZ5LiPpYmucMLMD4YoMwq/w300-h400/IMG_20231017_143635456_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Thus these two visits in not too ideal weather came to an end. I have to say walking around today in the rain of Storm Babet was a lovely experience. The trick of course is abandoning all hope of serious birdwatching and just enjoy being out there. When we arrived I was told a rare vagrant was at Arne, at Shipstal beach, a Forster's tern from North America. Well I have to say when I scanned the beach there wasn't a single bird to be seen. It and all the other birds had probably flown to Poole to get out the wind, if it had any sense. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By the time we arrived back at the carpark there were only two vehicles remaining, one being ours. We chatted to Gayle and her colleague who were impressed we'd gone into the reserve during the storm, and not more than 30 visitors had passed through the entrance. That's why we'd enjoyed it so much, just us, Storm Babet and a wild landscape to explore. Perfect.</div><p></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-21173793733552211492023-09-30T12:54:00.016+01:002023-10-01T10:24:17.486+01:00Interesting Times : Loss and Renewal<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The tree has been felled. What do I think? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlf5dUTiEpUHyUw9zCkpkRbdXC7Wix3PjtebXsellX5iAtV5bJ9qQsogikifyCVijsBZwshxXMxAdzTX66DXyFQA1TvXDXHctzZr_bOGJDWkkMuotJTlDc8hm5a4lFYP_FGkzh_1RIPcGFhD2piVA0Mqp0kazQrOD4Tf6CZg-O4Dz7F9Hwbz6hmIBx1EZ/s2521/banner.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="2521" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlf5dUTiEpUHyUw9zCkpkRbdXC7Wix3PjtebXsellX5iAtV5bJ9qQsogikifyCVijsBZwshxXMxAdzTX66DXyFQA1TvXDXHctzZr_bOGJDWkkMuotJTlDc8hm5a4lFYP_FGkzh_1RIPcGFhD2piVA0Mqp0kazQrOD4Tf6CZg-O4Dz7F9Hwbz6hmIBx1EZ/w400-h180/banner.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Like millions around the world I was alerted to breaking news last Thursday at breakfast time. The iconic sycamore tree at Sycamore Gap on Hadrian's Wall had been felled. At that time mis-information suggested it had simply blown over during Storm Arwen. But even I, a man who'd not held a chainsaw in anger for 30 years, could see this felling was at the hands of a much lesser force, Mankind. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Like many I was angry, more angry than I could have possibly imagined. I was upset, it really troubled me that this had happened. Who could be so crass as to have done this to a beautiful landmark. My best friend was on holiday in southern Spain. He lives literally on top of Hadrian's Wall, it runs underneath the kitchen of his converted Chapel, only a stone's throw from Sycamore Gap. I texted him. His replied was immediate and simple "Eh????". Exactly my reaction on hearing this. I couldn't believe what I was reading.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Quite a bit of that reading was hilarious as journalists who had no idea about this tree sprang into action. One copy in the on-line edition of the Daily Mirror had the headline, "Beautiful 300 year old tree planted between 1840 and 1860 felled by vandals". Even with my mathematical incompetence I think they had the dates wrong. It was soon changed. The BBC Website ran a headline for a few minutes "Medieval tree visited by Robin Hood felled near Hadrian's Wall". Obviously that journalist's only fact gleaned from the press releases that speed around broadcast media's newsrooms was that Kevin Costner in the 1991 film Prince of Thieves travelled from Dover to Sycamore Gap on foot in one day. Some copy was even more bizarre. The New York Times initially ran with Sycamore Tree felled near Scotland. I read on, realising how isolated the American press is. Northumberland was mentioned in the third paragraph and apparently Hadrian's Wall is a short drive from Scotland's beautiful capital home of whisky and Robbie Burn's. Of course American's only know about Scotland, so in modern terms it was simply <i>click bait</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But all this smoke and mirrors aside, there is a real sense of anger prevailing over this felling of a single tree. I completely understand this sentiment, for many the tree stood for something, whether that was personal, aesthetic, natural history, a symbol that represented the north east or simply a focal point for a lovely photograph. But why was I so angry? I'd never been there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenulGKJy2zQ5LP6GohQAEwCRrnJPhNhOCb9UlpNta9uKfo3etpLwVChtlAmEWpIyycclLodX8XXTPJ6Za6RfJmJW3Vuc8eA1PIfdH0TFFpnWXbwwhKtWn8ug0mRQJTKv6YG0jH-xwFU3GXww9knnpyX5cH225WACuY3maERZIl3Ps90zwsWFfAcScMWiW/s1600/Download%203%20October%20613.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhenulGKJy2zQ5LP6GohQAEwCRrnJPhNhOCb9UlpNta9uKfo3etpLwVChtlAmEWpIyycclLodX8XXTPJ6Za6RfJmJW3Vuc8eA1PIfdH0TFFpnWXbwwhKtWn8ug0mRQJTKv6YG0jH-xwFU3GXww9knnpyX5cH225WACuY3maERZIl3Ps90zwsWFfAcScMWiW/w400-h300/Download%203%20October%20613.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Northumberland is a beautiful county and littered across this landscape are magnificent sycamore trees such as those I photographed above near Matfen in mid Northumberland a few years ago. Every farmstead, field and village has mature sycamores as a permanent symbol living in and of the landscape. Most, like the one now lying on it's side, are 200-300 years old. They are majestic and I love them, as they remind me of being a child, lazy sunny summer days when I'd be out for a wander near Rothbury and often found myself resting with my back on the trunk of a sycamore while I drank my ginger beer or ate a massive gobstopper. However I'd never been to 'the' sycamore at Sycamore Gap, a name which is itself fairly modern, as it was allegedly just made up by a Lawrence Hewer when an Ordnance Survey team visited and wanted to know what the feature was called. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd driven past the Gap many times while on the 'Military Road', in the same way that many motorists on the A303 pass Stonehenge but don't stop but admire the view. I'd even stopped the car once when my Canadian cousins were visiting on their whistle stop tour of Britain so we could take a quick photo out of the car window. But although I've walked sections of Hadrian's Wall, I'd never got to the tree. And that is what interests me in two ways. Firstly it was a difficult place to reach even in daylight, so how on earth was a hefty chainsaw carried over there in complete darkness? It really is dark up there. But secondly, why did the loss of a tree I only knew of from a distance affect me?</div><p>I think answering that latter point is easy. As we age, loss becomes a larger part in our lives as our own mortality comes over the horizon, and trees themselves are meant to be permanent - we don't lose them - but if we do it matters. </p><p>Take the image below, the oak on the right of this hedge line is known as Julie's tree.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBwscOR2_a5EK3lL0k7EjA8erdDVjmavIB_tB1ve7_m8zQCEn-Kzmazc6BFNZUDloQtuFa3KEB-wEtc5ytX9UhICEQdBdAC6P-maKjAwcZaYZyfHj1YHanMDZ4oxVfsG6BCWGA1oeyOc2llKFkMVpYE7P-temzdYsdElVqmgkmhCFjylTPHC3MthHvoNo/s2560/P1000967.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1920" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbBwscOR2_a5EK3lL0k7EjA8erdDVjmavIB_tB1ve7_m8zQCEn-Kzmazc6BFNZUDloQtuFa3KEB-wEtc5ytX9UhICEQdBdAC6P-maKjAwcZaYZyfHj1YHanMDZ4oxVfsG6BCWGA1oeyOc2llKFkMVpYE7P-temzdYsdElVqmgkmhCFjylTPHC3MthHvoNo/w300-h400/P1000967.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Nobody calls it Julie's tree apart from my wife, the very same Julie and myself. This was a landscape I got to know when we first met, the wide rolling landscapes that surrounded her village in Wiltshire. We walked up here on one of my first visits and while almost identical to every other tree for miles around this tree, (along with another in the village that was fenced off and we couldn't visit anymore), became "our" tree. And that is the answer. Permanence in the landscape grabs hold of the soul and never escapes. Julie moved to Somerset in 2014 and since then we've not been back to 'our' tree. I hope it still stands and hope it is well, but in my mind it is a permanent symbol of a happy time for both of us in Wiltshire.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The image of me at the top of this post is of Blindburn at the head of the Coquet Valley in Northumberland. I love it up here but have absolutely no connection to it other than it means something to me as a casual visitor. But I feel protective towards it. Oddly though, my wife owns a house further down the valley at Harbottle which we have no spiritual connection to. Julie may own it but it is occupied by a long term tenant and his family, a local family with children which is a wonderful addition for the village. But as we don't live there, that full blown spiritual connection will be focussed on those children growing up in this wonderful part of the world, not me. But I still have some connection.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Academic careers have been made analysing what it is to have a memory, what it means to experience spirituality or a Spirit of Place, that historical record of a time and a place that means something in that precise moment of time to an individual when we are there, alive and living. In a similar vein the below image of me as a volunteer warden at the National Trust's property of Cragside in Northumberland in the 1980s is another example. I didn't perform paid work there, I never lived on the estate, but for about six years, I spent every weekend there doing something I absolutely loved, being out in nature, learning how wardens (now rangers) operate and meeting the public. I forged fantastic long term friendships there, but then I moved south and I've only returned a couple of times as a visitor. But if anything catastrophic happened to Cragside, as happened to the sycamore at Sycamore Gap, I'd be devastated. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkm85l75DYHHBb80D0YA_1ZFh_VNsBnxLXKvM2_ZU2jIbPEr4vFSLn-w8xfp3OZFXXGXgeRNParNMs9BQVDsQ5r8lEoqI7tWtfO7565mzaluZksOgrFKdYsM9G2kBphd_TEE6jkHrrzTA1tb5uHvV4CoLIFE_XBQWT-QLWMAdi9FqKvKINc2NGGMPzc0i/s2560/P1060387.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkkm85l75DYHHBb80D0YA_1ZFh_VNsBnxLXKvM2_ZU2jIbPEr4vFSLn-w8xfp3OZFXXGXgeRNParNMs9BQVDsQ5r8lEoqI7tWtfO7565mzaluZksOgrFKdYsM9G2kBphd_TEE6jkHrrzTA1tb5uHvV4CoLIFE_XBQWT-QLWMAdi9FqKvKINc2NGGMPzc0i/w400-h300/P1060387.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The wanton destruction of the sycamore on Hadrian's Wall was an abominable act. Why someone thought it was a good idea to illegally fell a beautiful tree is not something I think anyone will find out soon. But it's gone. Many people are suggesting what happens next. An Anthony Gormley sculpture in its place. I personally hope this doesn't happen. A wooden sculpture of the tree made from the trunk. Maybe, but can this be in a museum or arts centre. I worry the site may become a bizarre shrine to something that was once loved but has gone, eradicated and will never ever come back. Nature carries on if we let it, but what replaces it will never be what was there.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">There was an excellent comment by G<span style="text-align: center;">ary Bartlett I read, who perfectly summarised my thoughts on what may happen to one option.</span> The National Trust and many others are suggesting the coppicing of the stump will preserve the tree. I don't know Gary, but he writes......</div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>" <i>It's a nice thought.... But let's be realistic. I first met this particular tree in 1990 when surveying the trees on sections of Hadrians wall. This Sycamore was in it's unadulterated natural form, three centuries in the making. It had a twin stem which added to it's aesthetic appeal.</i></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Sycamore will respond to hard pruning but a coppice or a pollard never take on the appearance of the natural form... You can go to Sherwood forest and see 700yr old oaks that haven't been pollarded for well over a hundred years... And they still bear the signatures of the woodman's saw. There is a reasonable possibility that this tree will soon throw multiple shoots up from the stump - it will have the appearance of a scruffy thicket for a few years. With careful selection of maybe 2 or 3 dominant stems (& their protection from further vandalism); a new tree may be crafted... After 10yrs of nurture, a new multi-stem tree with a natural habit may be visibly appreciated & in 40 to 50 years it may have the appearance of a reasonably mature tree. It will be 80+ years before it has anything like the stature of what was lost & another 50yrs beyond that until it has any sense of grandeur. In the meantime, the tree will be vulnerable to pathogens - especially fungal.</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>It is exposed to fairly strong winds - and sucker shoots in maple species are prone to tearing out at their union with the stump or stub. This structural weakness will be ever present for the first 20-30yrs at least. Sycamore don't tend to send up daughter plants / clones away from the stump like many Prunus or Poplus species will... So new shoots will be limited to the stump - which will in time decay from the centre... There is a risk that the shock of losing the main stem might kill the tree (at this age), so regeneration is not guaranteed.</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Planting a replacement will be challenging as the site is a scheduled ancient monument - so a planting site would need to be identified for a new tree - agreed by Historic England / English Heritage and the National Trust (whichever have jurisdiction on this section of Hadrian's wall). An archaeological dig would likely be required before a new tree could be planted.</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>The tree that has been lost will never be replicated - it was unique.</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>Northumberland has many tens of thousands of Sycamore trees; many of which are older, taller, broader and arguably more magnificent than this one (I urge you to seek them out - they will warm your soul).</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>But this tree was the iconic "Sycamore Gap" tree... It cannot be replaced by a tribute act. </b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b>This tree seems to have become a metaphor for man's relationship with all trees... From the Amazonian rain forests, to trees being felled for access to building sites or new infrastructure. It's loss feels like the assassination of Martin Luther King or Kennedy... Senseless."</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><b><br /></b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gary Bartlett ended his piece with these words on the desire to coppice.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><br /></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;">[I admire the optimism.... ]... Unfortunately few of us will be around to discuss this by the time this tree may become anything reminiscent of the original."</span></b></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><b><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></b></i></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Other people will have many other views and that is how it should be. But for me now some forty eight hours into the story, this is how I'm increasingly feeling. The anger I felt at that tree's destruction has softened. I'll now never visit the tree, but, and this is important, if it had been such an important part of my life, I'd have made the effort to visit it while it still stood. Now, my mind is focused on change and the future. Let the fallen tree decay at it's own rate into the landscape, help dead wood invertebrates and plants thrive for a few decades in this most treeless of landscapes. Plant something new, maybe not in the same place, but nearby. The loss felt by my generation by this criminal act could benefit generations to come. I remember visiting Kew Gardens while on a botanical course in February 1988, just months after the October 1987 storm had ripped through the gardens. Many much loved trees from their specimen area had fallen. It was while on a walk around the site, then still closed off to the public, with Kew's arboriculturalist that he said something I've never forgotten. </div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">"[sic] <i>Arriving at Kew on the morning after the storm he cried and cried for the lost trees there, many of whom he thought of as family. But then as the weeks passed he realised this was a moment to embrace change and plan for the future.</i>" </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Looking at Kew Gardens now it's almost impossible to imagine the damage caused on that October night. My hope then is the same fate befalls the toppling of this sycamore. Over the months and years we'll see change at Sycamore Gap. We as a society must and can look forward. What can we do as a society to make the landscape better for children being born in 200 years time? We have benefited from a tree being planted in the 18th Century maturing in the age of Social Media. Much like the trees below in the field next to the aforementioned friend's house only a stone's throw from Sycamore Gap which I photographed while on a walk before breakfast last November. They're just trees, no one except the odd walker will notice them. They stand there quietly removed from the consciousness of collective society. Would anyone miss these unknown trees if they were felled one night? I doubt it, a<span style="text-align: center;">nd that is a most sobering thought. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVfnlHP1Ygdy-LiH76P1ja1ocWLlPgogEubEAZ4aiviFDqO4UVN4dKLqg-dTcEaO51fJm47tL1MEcp-vIuoYQRBGtNd3T51Yk5thN7KGDK9E9GxHMuHdc6c0bbhMUDkY0I0Te7kiy_0Z0Ti69yEZnTl7bsB0KPl-4TX1ES0bnjbCXh_3-kYQf9d1NkHHc/s4608/IMG_20221113_095117401_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2074" data-original-width="4608" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmVfnlHP1Ygdy-LiH76P1ja1ocWLlPgogEubEAZ4aiviFDqO4UVN4dKLqg-dTcEaO51fJm47tL1MEcp-vIuoYQRBGtNd3T51Yk5thN7KGDK9E9GxHMuHdc6c0bbhMUDkY0I0Te7kiy_0Z0Ti69yEZnTl7bsB0KPl-4TX1ES0bnjbCXh_3-kYQf9d1NkHHc/w400-h180/IMG_20221113_095117401_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-68400506183024647382023-08-14T17:11:00.014+01:002023-08-16T16:58:35.339+01:00Yatton Moth Trapping : Mid August weekend part 2<p style="text-align: justify;"> As if Saturday's trip out to West Somerset and a wildflower field wasn't enough, at 8.30 am on Sunday I found myself driving the 8 miles or so to a friend of mine's garden in North Somerset, where, despite the rain and the wind the evening before, a moth trap had been set up the previous night. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBxty9ZL46_Ii7Pvym9wCJ-drUEEfdA0SNn-NHWg0fpbW5exfQQtnd7CDGqJG-qMcioQqXTJIs8_MYW-63V5IxgrDhiXvs5TyLaRO8L1l_ax1HaECv9jJeCF_c9DFPD3lpvVwC8JUdXuV-LYvKicAPlJte75HsQ9RVxDX7cFPVdfGwSc7e6vz6QCKmU9R/s1844/IMG_20230813_092116011_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnBxty9ZL46_Ii7Pvym9wCJ-drUEEfdA0SNn-NHWg0fpbW5exfQQtnd7CDGqJG-qMcioQqXTJIs8_MYW-63V5IxgrDhiXvs5TyLaRO8L1l_ax1HaECv9jJeCF_c9DFPD3lpvVwC8JUdXuV-LYvKicAPlJte75HsQ9RVxDX7cFPVdfGwSc7e6vz6QCKmU9R/s320/IMG_20230813_092116011_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Higgy (for he is a man of one name) had long been trying to organise a moth trapping event for the local conservation group YACWAG (Yatton And Congresbury Wildlife Action Group) of which he is a member. This planning had been going on for weeks, but with the recent run of wet and windy weekends all attempts to fire up the moth trap had been cancelled. However this weekend despite the weather forecast being at best 'iffy' Higgy informed me the trap would be lit and come-what-may it is going ahead so come to the garden at 9am when all will be revealed. I arrived at ten to 9 in the morning, the only person at that point.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now, I have been to moth trapping set ups before but in every case I'd been there for work. Fascinating though they were at the time, I was there to record radio programmes so having to concentrate on that I always left having absolutely no idea what I'd seen. This then would be my very first participation moment for the reveal, and I wasn't disappointed, though as 9am came and went for a while I feared no one else would turn up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5N7FYcLlvLDNNHDyUVRSwZHMFjXEBaJziCzLfzgPRoBRIVleswGz-yWoN_2U4fIbvy4hiNiT0qS3gw3zUkFBXt4Luqd9XEt_UEs1BUmbgoKrf6cz7TeVnM1Kt58r8i8_yCGgwtQtMguqZnVv1kJVwxxua9p3C1vOKP5oFujL5XT4tVkH5UyeoHPFk-yD/s1844/Burnished%20Brass%20and%20Swallow%20Prominent.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL5N7FYcLlvLDNNHDyUVRSwZHMFjXEBaJziCzLfzgPRoBRIVleswGz-yWoN_2U4fIbvy4hiNiT0qS3gw3zUkFBXt4Luqd9XEt_UEs1BUmbgoKrf6cz7TeVnM1Kt58r8i8_yCGgwtQtMguqZnVv1kJVwxxua9p3C1vOKP5oFujL5XT4tVkH5UyeoHPFk-yD/w300-h400/Burnished%20Brass%20and%20Swallow%20Prominent.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Higgy's garden is a wildlife haven - the width of a 1960's house, the garden is long, and beyond the fence he also owns a slice of the field at the back. In fact this is where YACWAG are interesting, as not only are they an excellent conservation group who run events, provide advice and can undertake surveys, but YACWAG own parcels of land around the two villages in North Somerset and once in their ownership that land is managed solely for wildlife. That alone makes it a remarkable local conservation organisation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not only had the trap been set up the night before but Higgy had been up since first light emptying the trap and placing examples of the 283 individual moths caught that night into specimen tubes and arranging them for us to peer at. It was now well after 9am and I was still the only person and that made me feel sad for Higgy over the work and effort he'd put in, but eventually we swelled to a group of 4 other plus his daughter who was asked to be chief moth releaser, as all moths were released once identified. Enough people really otherwise it would become unwieldy, and as a group we set to flicking through the books and listening to Higgy's hints and tips while gazing manically at an as yet unidentified brown moth in a specimen tube. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixVKNqQsF7dIUR5yI_UWw7IqIWJhM7K5OUxbi3VgENuEcs25lIoQH6NAKRbgLPqkUXQOu3nPg-b9Lswz7GmvENztFihiK8C5jmm4arljaAD0X6dLsDCN0TfGVGdGOhZgz159uf474VuKtCmIsj0U3dF0FiNOw0dAYXIzMuKVgdK8MZ-GpnIX6GS-KZf4e/s2304/Jersey%20Tiger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhixVKNqQsF7dIUR5yI_UWw7IqIWJhM7K5OUxbi3VgENuEcs25lIoQH6NAKRbgLPqkUXQOu3nPg-b9Lswz7GmvENztFihiK8C5jmm4arljaAD0X6dLsDCN0TfGVGdGOhZgz159uf474VuKtCmIsj0U3dF0FiNOw0dAYXIzMuKVgdK8MZ-GpnIX6GS-KZf4e/w300-h400/Jersey%20Tiger.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Some I recognised immediately like this Jersey Tiger [Euplagia quadripunctaria]. This year has been phenomenal down south for these fabulous looking moths, who seem to be exploding northwards due to climate changes. Five were caught overnight, which is interesting given they are a day flying moth. We quickly got through the easy ones, elephant hawk-moth, box bush moth, and then came the difficult ones. I was hopeless, and at one point resorted to Google Lens to identify a moth. I may end up being ex-communicated for that, but I was intrigued to see how accurate it was - as it turned out 100% and in less than 2 seconds. Impressive. But that's why I'd come, to learn. Everyone was helping each other while helping themselves to scones or flapjack made by Higgy's wife. There were far too many moths to photograph but my particular highlights were....</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLNic9q_b7A7UM6YJRqR1y6loS5TSz9dW31616TAvmFV5aLCkshhMGbQ7sgH3qxbTeO1TwgRKzgOYzUKTmMFvXl_Nx9eGWii37ArLyrlj0yytE8mB76Fqu3JF7n9LqAdqhU4egt8VPB2N4UweF4a7AsWoNR4pTt1lRw_RycjjCFwC4BnD1Z-oG5hOxBPA/s1600/Common%20Rustic.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioLNic9q_b7A7UM6YJRqR1y6loS5TSz9dW31616TAvmFV5aLCkshhMGbQ7sgH3qxbTeO1TwgRKzgOYzUKTmMFvXl_Nx9eGWii37ArLyrlj0yytE8mB76Fqu3JF7n9LqAdqhU4egt8VPB2N4UweF4a7AsWoNR4pTt1lRw_RycjjCFwC4BnD1Z-oG5hOxBPA/w300-h400/Common%20Rustic.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Uncertain moth [Hoplodrina octogenaria] - 45 caught overnight. What a beast to identify for a beginner. Scanning the books there are about a 100 near identical moths. [<i>Update - this is a Common rustic agg. Thanks Stewart - turns out this is also how it was identified on the day - I messed up with my notes</i>] </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaypz9O7FKdBmGuBgze67xF8iiuDnbGP7WFtTwCfZzlHQkEL-XpDLslsYXfykQhVZXiHsMuZpLn77dVLyy_UINd_lL-LKo3R4P0cVQoFobsHF19O6bZZL5SJNwyenfztr8BLotRpmO2KPnoZZ4PoCr_pEXr5-B_GlYaPXhSyWT_p8-7zWxeYEcb-DtMJ2/s1741/Dagger.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1384" data-original-width="1741" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaypz9O7FKdBmGuBgze67xF8iiuDnbGP7WFtTwCfZzlHQkEL-XpDLslsYXfykQhVZXiHsMuZpLn77dVLyy_UINd_lL-LKo3R4P0cVQoFobsHF19O6bZZL5SJNwyenfztr8BLotRpmO2KPnoZZ4PoCr_pEXr5-B_GlYaPXhSyWT_p8-7zWxeYEcb-DtMJ2/w400-h318/Dagger.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Grey Dagger - [Acronicta psi] - 3 caught overnight. I loved this moth, don't think I've seen it before but its markings just say its name. I've long loved moth names, they're so flamboyant.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3NZGoHWbZ-TJFps10Bod8D1eN8H6XLvoQ7oRaHUbjZXYQAITuMtpjcRbcqCOzwpR7nPxIsX3jin9kc_0ov582mCua_6QQQiS7rEaYBxXbfWeFX3MHY8oPf5zrqQWyi_5vbza3B1xq29sKyBOmUVzu1vKqIhkxuIl6WbVybCu8kGhb6_4cFQr_YEbO3DS/s2429/Flame%20Carpet%20Moth.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2339" data-original-width="2429" height="385" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO3NZGoHWbZ-TJFps10Bod8D1eN8H6XLvoQ7oRaHUbjZXYQAITuMtpjcRbcqCOzwpR7nPxIsX3jin9kc_0ov582mCua_6QQQiS7rEaYBxXbfWeFX3MHY8oPf5zrqQWyi_5vbza3B1xq29sKyBOmUVzu1vKqIhkxuIl6WbVybCu8kGhb6_4cFQr_YEbO3DS/w400-h385/Flame%20Carpet%20Moth.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Flame Carpet - Xanthorhoe designata - just the one caught overnight and it took us a good 30 minutes to work out what it was. There are so many similar species, it's going to be a while before I get my knowledge, and eye in.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DfKyNHhpkcHX16AZTvZKzlPMHqezajOmpqBkEkR3ODKHXsyg6ZE6wtBgNw2UyN07sYNSsv1VCJbQXKAcnVeaEAGF3Na-bF6HC8Jvd7-fwHIfWATWQuvHJ31iMFr6zyiQUDShq1Sk8cxJzpPh88cOtYZX5FITc73LSF40bwNIzflfRHZUZulzBEyKFCoK/s1600/Gold%20Spot%20.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8DfKyNHhpkcHX16AZTvZKzlPMHqezajOmpqBkEkR3ODKHXsyg6ZE6wtBgNw2UyN07sYNSsv1VCJbQXKAcnVeaEAGF3Na-bF6HC8Jvd7-fwHIfWATWQuvHJ31iMFr6zyiQUDShq1Sk8cxJzpPh88cOtYZX5FITc73LSF40bwNIzflfRHZUZulzBEyKFCoK/w300-h400/Gold%20Spot%20.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now this was my all time favourite of the day - Gold Spot - [Plusia festucae ] of which 11 were caught overnight. What a moth with it's triceratops looking shoulder plate, and burnished gold spots, it was like an art deco jewel. Loved it.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hMnoiSl4klrwkxQGV2MzBxRmR1bc1-xNL4KjHVf29xSqqq29NUtkKFUUqywhNnGaqb11ryCBOvsKXDyVtYpnP78mMHYNgfaBiGhtoOFMNEDeKWiwn_PdIEykLtn1bhLQoZHMBsIcp-uXasPMoj2RVWHdq72K4f9yO_8N6B0iOMQoNG4PylzKVmIJszz0/s2304/IMG_20230813_095206929~2.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7hMnoiSl4klrwkxQGV2MzBxRmR1bc1-xNL4KjHVf29xSqqq29NUtkKFUUqywhNnGaqb11ryCBOvsKXDyVtYpnP78mMHYNgfaBiGhtoOFMNEDeKWiwn_PdIEykLtn1bhLQoZHMBsIcp-uXasPMoj2RVWHdq72K4f9yO_8N6B0iOMQoNG4PylzKVmIJszz0/w300-h400/IMG_20230813_095206929~2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">These two were interesting - I identified them as September Thorn - [Ennomos erosaria] on the right and a Dusky Thorn - [Ennomos fuscantaria] on the left. Just one of each caught overnight but Higgy was impressed I worked out they were different species of thorn moth, which is why they're photographed next to the book. In a later write up of the day for the YACWAG group I get a mention..</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">" <i>I should mention Andrew J Dawes who is now my official 'September Thorn Moth & Dusky Thorn Moth' expert!</i>"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Which fails to recognise that next week if I saw anything like this I'd fail to even recognise it as a thorn spp.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGdqlnTcRJYj-0ioAcii-ltlZTicWsS6QyOaDD2pm8yx8pwvlbwmivKF3NnRJNm4h-yqq9q4JW3HNCmheaKXSMoVllGdKuQeX76DAxoDa_N8t4FSGXAL3umOozSQQ4AZsWK8_pCYdCVNRkfp3SXcojpfIoLW8PWcTlA87Y8z8X_FKj2jZUlEHkRkg59ua/s1267/Setaceous%20Hebrew%20Character.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1227" data-original-width="1267" height="388" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVGdqlnTcRJYj-0ioAcii-ltlZTicWsS6QyOaDD2pm8yx8pwvlbwmivKF3NnRJNm4h-yqq9q4JW3HNCmheaKXSMoVllGdKuQeX76DAxoDa_N8t4FSGXAL3umOozSQQ4AZsWK8_pCYdCVNRkfp3SXcojpfIoLW8PWcTlA87Y8z8X_FKj2jZUlEHkRkg59ua/w400-h388/Setaceous%20Hebrew%20Character.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now this beauty had us all foxed, I could see Higgy enjoying our discomfort of scratching heads and endless flicking through the identification books. After many attempts (and more than a little help) we finally got to Setaceous Hebrew Character - [Xestia c-nigrum] of which 12 were caught. Another stunning moth. I was getting quite into this.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzkmn4DGz9x-ka6KMo79otAxV6BARrV0iw0adk9iTcqIyZB-qbs5BKTXQ0OCUk8cx4YIO-jpPytBJAcWPQl50hSJSdM4LFUjgvxMKkeCxjYMFKdo_mV4bgS1DzBHDWlIbajOTs6h63CVTNHU0ttQwY8ihMoIhOLfYpPMylUMGdA_4ar8u-xvq9BLvWgS2/s1600/Swallow%20Prominent.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzkmn4DGz9x-ka6KMo79otAxV6BARrV0iw0adk9iTcqIyZB-qbs5BKTXQ0OCUk8cx4YIO-jpPytBJAcWPQl50hSJSdM4LFUjgvxMKkeCxjYMFKdo_mV4bgS1DzBHDWlIbajOTs6h63CVTNHU0ttQwY8ihMoIhOLfYpPMylUMGdA_4ar8u-xvq9BLvWgS2/w300-h400/Swallow%20Prominent.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And finally this one had us all completely stumped. Eventually we gave up and Higgy let us know that it was a Swallow Prominent - [Pheosia tremula] of which there were 2 caught. A lot of discussion took place over whether this was actually a Scarce Swallow Prominent, and in the end why it wasn't, none of which I remember writing this. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But what a fabulous morning, three hours in the end and what I didn't realise until later was this event was being run as part of a YACWAG's "wellness-walks programme" aimed at getting people out into nature. Well we certainly did get involved and I absolutely loved it. In total <span style="text-align: left;">53 species were identified, which Higgy mentioned was quite low for his garden due to the weather, he can regularly collect 400 individuals and near 100 species. Amazing really from a garden that is no bigger than a cricket wicket. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">After everyone had gone Higgy and I had a chat and he invited me back one night to see the trap running and identify the moths as they come in, while having a few beers. Now that sounds like a good moth trapping experience to me. I can't wait.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">YACWAGS website </span><span style="text-align: left;">https://yacwag.org.uk/</span></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-4473298816279117812023-08-14T12:40:00.007+01:002023-08-15T07:12:59.220+01:00Stogumber Wildflowers : Mid August weekend part 1<p style="text-align: justify;"> It's been a hectic few weeks and looking back it is almost a month since I posted anything. In that time I've been to Devon to walk alpaca, Somerset to ride on a steam train, Wiltshire Archives to look through some of the Richard Jefferies archive held there. Then trips to London to view two excellent art exhibitions, at Buckingham Palace (Georgian clothing) and the Tate Britain (The Rossetti's), I had new windows installed at home, spent a glorious evening watching nightjar on the Quantocks for the last time this year, and in-between this tried to hold down a full time job while the rain lashed down every weekend.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">Time to put this absence of wordsmithing to one side and recall two lovely events this weekend.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><b>Firstly The Stogumber Wildflower Meadow</b>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUv0x0X1_rzcGBxyf4bea2-VjzhRJNPUOSaEQB6pv2n0xTPy5VTIZngXXqvM4onZLSLmThkIDY8I5ApGUQ5THsoN8PPxi5m5CypvWTGsJ9jZVXkLVRqOqfW3hNs7LGzZr-wuFtrayrcES7zVRc5yq9LedrRaIg6eIpPXn_-5ynrxgFZH_rHVpzGdLWf2c/s1844/IMG_20230812_124132465_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwUv0x0X1_rzcGBxyf4bea2-VjzhRJNPUOSaEQB6pv2n0xTPy5VTIZngXXqvM4onZLSLmThkIDY8I5ApGUQ5THsoN8PPxi5m5CypvWTGsJ9jZVXkLVRqOqfW3hNs7LGzZr-wuFtrayrcES7zVRc5yq9LedrRaIg6eIpPXn_-5ynrxgFZH_rHVpzGdLWf2c/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_124132465_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">To be truthful and accurate this isn't a wildflower meadow. It is an arable field which has had annual wildflowers like field poppy, cornflower, corn marigold and linseed sown each year, but not this year. More of that later. This sowing began around eight years ago in the corner of a much larger arable field between the villages of Stogumber and Monksilver. I've known about it for a while and tried to visit before but always thwarted by time or an excuse. A friend of Mrs Wessex Reiver visited on the previous Wednesday and sent some images saying it was still beautiful. Checking it was still open this Saturday we made a bee-line to discover for ourselves on its penultimate day of 2023. And what turned out probably to be its final year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzrw9cZeklFlixooRO2tMhq6xc3I8VeBVo6woDA6ijbeX69d5K-KZLrN8C72hOXIT7dV0nq9CU0OJZIFWDsE6N33x75fvVkTv3t0OgvoKGBmldvz7kHY4NePTOdrJGcvhOOHdR3JcIJmKiQo76Yg3jgfhnIkYqM0DuIk6gHM9pz9XaCgdFtGicLeDFnzD/s1844/IMG_20230812_115707844_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfzrw9cZeklFlixooRO2tMhq6xc3I8VeBVo6woDA6ijbeX69d5K-KZLrN8C72hOXIT7dV0nq9CU0OJZIFWDsE6N33x75fvVkTv3t0OgvoKGBmldvz7kHY4NePTOdrJGcvhOOHdR3JcIJmKiQo76Yg3jgfhnIkYqM0DuIk6gHM9pz9XaCgdFtGicLeDFnzD/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_115707844_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We arrived the same time as what turned out to be the farmer who began all this (seated in the top image). Chatting to him he said it first came about as slugs devastated a crop he'd sown. So to not leave the field empty he sowed some wildflower seed opened up the field for charity and that first year having been very successful, he had repeated this event every year, raising money for a different charity, until this year. However he has now retired and his nephew runs the farm. His nephew has a different philosophy (the nephew thinks these flowers are weeds the farmer said) and this year ploughed and sowed a single crop of linseed. However what happened was the seedbank in the soil had other ideas and this corner of the field once again erupted into bloom and outcompeted the linseed. However in 2024 the field will be under barley and probably that'll be it. But there's still hope given the 2023 bloom wasn't meant to happen - will the wildflowers return in 2024 anyway.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9siHglRgFB73mLBMGbZWOq8IX1VQAn8D_OzKo1KeNj50QGmMZVlqGAhgbN3mWwBjmYk-97y9VpBKTC4RXijlHV_i8-bypozYNbBvq5Oka4vTwavKq0zEo7lMLSQvUlptVCZIaB8XZMYO7nL_iYXZnbhPauV9ire66ZAInKhgIBG_MkH_bIo9ipOEIg7m/s1844/IMG_20230812_120038309_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9siHglRgFB73mLBMGbZWOq8IX1VQAn8D_OzKo1KeNj50QGmMZVlqGAhgbN3mWwBjmYk-97y9VpBKTC4RXijlHV_i8-bypozYNbBvq5Oka4vTwavKq0zEo7lMLSQvUlptVCZIaB8XZMYO7nL_iYXZnbhPauV9ire66ZAInKhgIBG_MkH_bIo9ipOEIg7m/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_120038309_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I absolutely understand both land uses and the changing of the guard. The older farmer said he has received great joy from sowing the seed to opening up the field for visitors, making me think is that an age thing? As we age we look on life in a different way to when we were young. I appreciate too the nephew wanting to farm and maximise his business. All things are born, mature and then wither away, making this experiment and labour of love no different. If this field had been a traditional hay-meadow this would have been a different story. But it is an arable field which through work, time and of course money has been sown and nurtured for nearly a decade. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fNfwWSsX0_Duwy5REmGg0maP59TUjpTmUVLv5StNVraZsigQmXRlKZZqiA2W-LnHsRGx7F_GbLiI7qk2qF7bDKWgIdpzZhYnJZnu6HKUVQ9no6KT2nqdsYtE0KIPBT7WuG2tkDoLnkIjsblBOnar16ZRaMGxKvpCiXaEsOhbnD9IfBPHsR3j4uaMrscP/s1844/IMG_20230812_120046108_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4fNfwWSsX0_Duwy5REmGg0maP59TUjpTmUVLv5StNVraZsigQmXRlKZZqiA2W-LnHsRGx7F_GbLiI7qk2qF7bDKWgIdpzZhYnJZnu6HKUVQ9no6KT2nqdsYtE0KIPBT7WuG2tkDoLnkIjsblBOnar16ZRaMGxKvpCiXaEsOhbnD9IfBPHsR3j4uaMrscP/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_120046108_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">And it worked, it was stunning, and has raised money for charity. Not large, maybe a hectare possibly two, but alive with honeybees. The drone-noise of their activity was everywhere. I learnt that there are hives all around that area and the keepers know their bees head for this field. Oddly though I discovered very little other insect life, albeit without really looking. Large white butterflies were everywhere but the farmer said only 6 species of butterfly have been recorded over the years (he didn't name them), a few dragonflies but mainly bees of various forms. The ecologist in me thinking that is probably due to this being a mono-crop of sorts, admittedly a stunning one, but simply a handful of annual flowers.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4q8qRjYUaX6KKx2uYRCA56l0lVSK-MVp2BHDJP18YMYwkzv2VRQqv2_QA69vO1QgIDzL7NXWnZrO2Zkr3gncuTikbrL3jTdPBhW5hDocqyLPJ1dtLxTRhLReTJ65JFeeYffs5hN8efjZCixRe3NtkHwmIHPgLIjG9wNV0Fu_ow-wzqyMiIOFxZtHnReI/s1844/IMG_20230812_122851860_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk4q8qRjYUaX6KKx2uYRCA56l0lVSK-MVp2BHDJP18YMYwkzv2VRQqv2_QA69vO1QgIDzL7NXWnZrO2Zkr3gncuTikbrL3jTdPBhW5hDocqyLPJ1dtLxTRhLReTJ65JFeeYffs5hN8efjZCixRe3NtkHwmIHPgLIjG9wNV0Fu_ow-wzqyMiIOFxZtHnReI/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_122851860_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As I write this the field is now closed to visitors. Chatting to the farmer before we left I asked what happens next. In previous years they've left the seed heads to ripen then cut them down, ploughed and re-sown with fresh seed. This is why the residual seedbank over seven years of sowings has taken over this year. But this autumn the crop will be ploughed in and winter barley sown. That got me thinking. If it was simply left to grass over, all of these annual arable flowers would die out, though of course they'd be replaced by perennial meadow species. Now that would make an interesting experiment, botanical succession from a ploughed field, through annual botany, then to perennial plants and all that associated species abundance and biodiversity. Could take twenty years maybe?</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HwEhgTM5B4hzBy2CEmjSgk-6mTVcxIS1qDPbKkb361DGAUt--V-orOFAER2SN3Lr3CPDeU-Vqhqh5gN85CEuezxRA5l1Rw-yg7SWVLZA6KxGdFjDPNYoYINw1r4QzJ4_cjsYaj2Y07D6fm8FUuETWzQXiNfm_BUDyO4qk5C6qFDNp45GIPaPrxyEhmHR/s1613/IMG_20230812_124204709_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1613" data-original-width="1210" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-HwEhgTM5B4hzBy2CEmjSgk-6mTVcxIS1qDPbKkb361DGAUt--V-orOFAER2SN3Lr3CPDeU-Vqhqh5gN85CEuezxRA5l1Rw-yg7SWVLZA6KxGdFjDPNYoYINw1r4QzJ4_cjsYaj2Y07D6fm8FUuETWzQXiNfm_BUDyO4qk5C6qFDNp45GIPaPrxyEhmHR/w300-h400/IMG_20230812_124204709_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm glad I made the effort to go and visit this field even on a blustery grey moody day in August. A patch of vibrant colour in a beautiful, but predominantly green landscape. And we never know what may happen in 2024.</div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-76506006459880875532023-07-17T20:40:00.015+01:002023-07-19T19:15:58.843+01:00During Wind And Rain - Watching Butterflies<div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;">To badly paraphrase that well known lepidopterist Jane Austen “<i>It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a Northern man in possession of a good guide book, must be in want of a butterfly.</i>”</div><div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;">I read somewhere that the reason butterfly watching was so popular in the Victorian era was partly due to the lazy hot days of summer when the well clad gentleman in linen knickerbockers (or occasionally a lady in fetching taffeta) would roam the sweet vernal grass meadows near the homestead, swishing a butterfly net with abandon while dreaming of cricket, and a return home on the Penny Farthing to an afternoon tea on the terrace, maybe with the vicar. How things have changed.</div><div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="text-align: justify;">July 2023 has arrived. I look out of the window. Strong winds and grey skies with rain so heavy you could launch a boat in the resulting flood. Not ideal weather for butterfly watching then? Well, yes it is, in some ways it is perfect. </div></div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwZz9wCcXpnC0jcvLiPNeYQT0ULvNJhy7QXINNvtZE6uBXIkRI8v7HJgX_ypJplQ_EJ-SZlOZd96fuUGJFPxTsBgXrKL3ZYW2PpVQtcT6_od3tUnJe5xRPuU9-JX5vggy_tUKK9-r7GcfBYYS3eO2oyeh2x4c1YTTY_E9CjT5hxr3t-Lwf0cKKWyl5oWc/s2816/Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizwZz9wCcXpnC0jcvLiPNeYQT0ULvNJhy7QXINNvtZE6uBXIkRI8v7HJgX_ypJplQ_EJ-SZlOZd96fuUGJFPxTsBgXrKL3ZYW2PpVQtcT6_od3tUnJe5xRPuU9-JX5vggy_tUKK9-r7GcfBYYS3eO2oyeh2x4c1YTTY_E9CjT5hxr3t-Lwf0cKKWyl5oWc/w400-h300/Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: center;">Hodder's Combe - where the sunlit butterflies begin</p><p style="text-align: justify;">As I am that Northern man of Austen's my target butterfly for this July has been the silver washed fritillary. Before dear reader you continue with this narrative I may as well confess to having failed spectacularly to see a single silver washed fritillary all year. Stop now if your only interest is polarised in <i>Argynnis paphia. </i>You will read no account here of this parfumier valentino of the woodland glade. However if I may entice you further, could a white admiral and maybe a large skipper pique your interest to continue?</p><p style="text-align: justify;">I drove down the M5 in Somerset, en-route to Hodder's Combe in the Quantocks. The rain was so heavy that even on the fastest setting the deluge came down quicker than the windscreen wipers could wipe the rain away. Driving half blind we crawled along a flooded motorway where, as I passed by Sedgemoor Services at steady 30mph, I thought to myself "<i>why on earth am I doing this</i>?" The simple answer was the weather forecast suggested rain until noon followed by glorious sunshine for the rest of the day. Given butterflies have to feed and tend to fly only when it is sunny, my thought was they'll rest up in this rain but as soon as the sun emerges they'll be on the wing. I was right, and the butterflies came in good numbers.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPHvGiacO6gbLcj37OuI3VIzsJDw4RmMO49Z9bof5URRfUuMq9gHfdB1EVRTo8MGBz5SL_9uBuPZwuvEVk0c4P7qWy4XrQhSq8Gf_WecahAQcmAcgLLixlOztS3L6fNxoTu9sha4HTruRHkXkfxhUm8chCH3Ij6Y-N5HXxYB05sUajgFBX6dqaSYwP0Yt/s2816/Comma%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKPHvGiacO6gbLcj37OuI3VIzsJDw4RmMO49Z9bof5URRfUuMq9gHfdB1EVRTo8MGBz5SL_9uBuPZwuvEVk0c4P7qWy4XrQhSq8Gf_WecahAQcmAcgLLixlOztS3L6fNxoTu9sha4HTruRHkXkfxhUm8chCH3Ij6Y-N5HXxYB05sUajgFBX6dqaSYwP0Yt/w400-h300/Comma%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Comma : Can you see me?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After a three quarters of an hour walk up the Combe, during which the rain finally stopped though it remained cloudy, I was now in position. I waited no longer than five minutes, not another living soul about, it was so peaceful. The sun emerged from behind the clouds and the butterflies began flying all around me. First the meadow browns who appeared as if by magic, ten maybe twenty of them flying haphazardly with their weak flappy flight. Followed then by a number of large white strongly flying in a purposeful way and then half a dozen comma, again out on the wing enjoying the sun. As the sun intensified out came half a dozen red admiral and gatekeeper, a trio of large skipper and a single common blue flitted and flapped between all this activity heading towards a large mound of bramble. I followed and noted this large bramble patch was a meeting place for the species. As happens when watching butterflies if the sun disappeared even for a short while all the activity would end and those butterflies I'd been watching seconds earlier would simply disappear as if by silent command. When the sun returned, this activity would resume. I became absorbed by this, a special moment to be in and amongst all this activity and behaviour by insects just getting on with their life while simply ignoring my presence. A wistful thought that if I were not there they'd be doing this activity anyway. The World revolves.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I did make an interesting observation though, the role bracken (<i>Pteridium</i>) played in all of this emergence and disappearance. Bracken is much maligned for its invasive and tick laden properties. My observations however showed how beneficial brackens' open domed growth habit is to butterflies, to species who would not normally be associated with this fern. Many individuals landed on the highest sunniest bracken fronds and rested, wings open, stationary, simultaneously warming up and drying out before heading off and out of sight. Every species I saw there on that visit used bracken as a resting site to a greater or lesser extent, often resting there with motionless wings for minutes at a time. There is a risk to all this of course as while they are so conspicuous butterflies are more visible to predation but the benefit of being out in the open while adjacent to dense vegetation they could quickly disappear into must outweigh the risk. In all I spent two hours here exploring what this place had to offer. Sadly the silver washed fritillary did not show though they are here and I'd recently read that brown hairstreak have been discovered here. I'll leave these species for the next time, it was after 4pm now, activity was tailing off, time I headed home.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXnuV7T04CaZzCBn9KKtyaoV5mzqO0u4asYdgL0f4JZd4Z1iUdfyspfLp9PWwP5xgLAZ5ZM_nYmMbRKwYyjLICfdwLNbC6cXuGr14ZG1XPF4AGVIIZBMiXcJ1NJePcfr9W08fMRcAFTPeet5yWZhMCpe_RfFbo2b31PZHUPBq-fFYAV1l3I4vAvghIjKdC/s2816/Comma_2_Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXnuV7T04CaZzCBn9KKtyaoV5mzqO0u4asYdgL0f4JZd4Z1iUdfyspfLp9PWwP5xgLAZ5ZM_nYmMbRKwYyjLICfdwLNbC6cXuGr14ZG1XPF4AGVIIZBMiXcJ1NJePcfr9W08fMRcAFTPeet5yWZhMCpe_RfFbo2b31PZHUPBq-fFYAV1l3I4vAvghIjKdC/w400-h300/Comma_2_Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Comma</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4_nSfxOA7-LuL37L4g7Z9Qeil6W77L03TUOm43BuM_d8r8tA0VXWL05zs1L8MBWDigAPY7hCsICD0GKWfrxCabm4MwaPp74iKp1cFtFWH2uyNZ2vG5qP2IuigKbY8mEAp684aSbl9YiMKTza0zBgMvUEGuGc_tMGiya1oDDTruwFw7uWcOq41e_tl1OO/s2816/Gatekeeper%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU4_nSfxOA7-LuL37L4g7Z9Qeil6W77L03TUOm43BuM_d8r8tA0VXWL05zs1L8MBWDigAPY7hCsICD0GKWfrxCabm4MwaPp74iKp1cFtFWH2uyNZ2vG5qP2IuigKbY8mEAp684aSbl9YiMKTza0zBgMvUEGuGc_tMGiya1oDDTruwFw7uWcOq41e_tl1OO/w400-h300/Gatekeeper%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Gatekeeper</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwtt0CFezL7lJO8ndtkHZwAmUxvYmOmwWC1_WMouPIhuZthM3wNE19-MSdkht0NFgdCM2hyA67H9r2xMD5jICB4i86DtZaBiOjDbGlAfVMVxd1QSgNfCIyhncaWatMfrA1S-ps6QnPF6jGf0r-X9QRuCv03oE9XrKw1w6ZQOFYMEhBaXN2DvRRQJMf0vC/s2816/Meadow%20Brown%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMwtt0CFezL7lJO8ndtkHZwAmUxvYmOmwWC1_WMouPIhuZthM3wNE19-MSdkht0NFgdCM2hyA67H9r2xMD5jICB4i86DtZaBiOjDbGlAfVMVxd1QSgNfCIyhncaWatMfrA1S-ps6QnPF6jGf0r-X9QRuCv03oE9XrKw1w6ZQOFYMEhBaXN2DvRRQJMf0vC/w400-h300/Meadow%20Brown%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Normal meadow brown above and a dark form male with sex bands visible below</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6nR9ghqDvj-iINIzcyjPWsOzbTOOkFXNSYJKqMfKPZ1-fIZePEdpscMrObknNXAc0UHLurpNFfON6Q62BHfv9CVB56QJ95CuVjW26rfOtVyzv4LtW4g_wRH7zeT90I24CiyJ30NaxRuTWKmu70LSGxmgrQvi3VUU3bE-e3T0VwdgYeQ0ljcVOdxcvfSK/s2816/Meadow%20Brown%20Dark%20Form%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy6nR9ghqDvj-iINIzcyjPWsOzbTOOkFXNSYJKqMfKPZ1-fIZePEdpscMrObknNXAc0UHLurpNFfON6Q62BHfv9CVB56QJ95CuVjW26rfOtVyzv4LtW4g_wRH7zeT90I24CiyJ30NaxRuTWKmu70LSGxmgrQvi3VUU3bE-e3T0VwdgYeQ0ljcVOdxcvfSK/w400-h300/Meadow%20Brown%20Dark%20Form%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQbOvPytpQUZ9Tf2vY1cdSWtWDDa_W0P2988UySaU9X6haEYPg6qWeidluh6ldfAA8KT2_AGjvE5c4ONIHUasbLlYW0-6kjMlFHS2BUtziGjMs4VGXL43hlrtnYtCWqyFSPe8q0CuvJy7pdwTQVjeVSDG8haFctTYtymvH6w5KZSx80qnNtL5hCcO8c5C/s2816/Large%20White%20Female%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnQbOvPytpQUZ9Tf2vY1cdSWtWDDa_W0P2988UySaU9X6haEYPg6qWeidluh6ldfAA8KT2_AGjvE5c4ONIHUasbLlYW0-6kjMlFHS2BUtziGjMs4VGXL43hlrtnYtCWqyFSPe8q0CuvJy7pdwTQVjeVSDG8haFctTYtymvH6w5KZSx80qnNtL5hCcO8c5C/w400-h300/Large%20White%20Female%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Female large white. A little like woodpigeons which because they are common and deemed a pest are very much overlooked, though both bird and butterfly I think are stunning.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26uEMI8p3GVP3kWufFBVezeVy9SJ6EEBNCzT7k9XiGszHJSKV36EX3JUEU6n2LM-jlCS5wN70srxDMRNCkPdEO6CEi8kD3jJZchAAZaGCSoTvMPtyJg2N0ieM5TRFRaVcTl1eTuH2TDztInfbc_oWUp6tnzbiI3ADI6qADrzkqEAmRj6RBH5cX9F0n-vY/s2816/Large%20Skipper%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26uEMI8p3GVP3kWufFBVezeVy9SJ6EEBNCzT7k9XiGszHJSKV36EX3JUEU6n2LM-jlCS5wN70srxDMRNCkPdEO6CEi8kD3jJZchAAZaGCSoTvMPtyJg2N0ieM5TRFRaVcTl1eTuH2TDztInfbc_oWUp6tnzbiI3ADI6qADrzkqEAmRj6RBH5cX9F0n-vY/w400-h300/Large%20Skipper%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Large skipper</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyJhdaAI986iZ7G6bIZU3V6VVME-3h0QCgmjWcxlywQ-8rWQjk4Qh0_bacLn3cf8WzNTyoqr84u15VEqRRH6RAMgjdtUU34YCNHmd0ZfCLHj56kWOsCmEKCOOV62m_MyQA0R12FEwIMqUj3M6JgzrbTSoGZV3sCZgq2Ah9bfnYutRGh9ye-kruqsQ4bgS/s2816/Red%20Admiral%202%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRyJhdaAI986iZ7G6bIZU3V6VVME-3h0QCgmjWcxlywQ-8rWQjk4Qh0_bacLn3cf8WzNTyoqr84u15VEqRRH6RAMgjdtUU34YCNHmd0ZfCLHj56kWOsCmEKCOOV62m_MyQA0R12FEwIMqUj3M6JgzrbTSoGZV3sCZgq2Ah9bfnYutRGh9ye-kruqsQ4bgS/w400-h300/Red%20Admiral%202%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Red admiral above and below.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixoMaf3_NpXZOwVsFxsI9iJKH0i21AsMTHzcl9YkVaYiz6P72IKxZNpTf4maVoJ5S4vIr34NDnXMwltlIdG5jLRbxXsVMNmk1kNoodr6lEESOkpHdtsbXnKfifHJ0QhmwMR5Jxznzc7MVSFIl58csi51O4ondNli2gFtV_2Vox15y4iaRlxQtJ5600smg/s2816/Red%20Admiral%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjixoMaf3_NpXZOwVsFxsI9iJKH0i21AsMTHzcl9YkVaYiz6P72IKxZNpTf4maVoJ5S4vIr34NDnXMwltlIdG5jLRbxXsVMNmk1kNoodr6lEESOkpHdtsbXnKfifHJ0QhmwMR5Jxznzc7MVSFIl58csi51O4ondNli2gFtV_2Vox15y4iaRlxQtJ5600smg/w400-h300/Red%20Admiral%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GTIJIzaSBmZC_9qkexK9y6q931Qr1PG5YyLLD4hdrEXrHCl-upY8AsCtIzQ3kUYXJ46SG5-yWpfaEkV7SgsdFM1jsqdy4fMJE91sgIwfPVINZyPfsN5msNO4tHzyx15wTwCr-yZNfUQ2E3bPltukb5Ul9ptWC2fayJIaUk3cZ2TBOVoil9Wb2q3gY3Z_/s2816/Small%20White%20Female%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2GTIJIzaSBmZC_9qkexK9y6q931Qr1PG5YyLLD4hdrEXrHCl-upY8AsCtIzQ3kUYXJ46SG5-yWpfaEkV7SgsdFM1jsqdy4fMJE91sgIwfPVINZyPfsN5msNO4tHzyx15wTwCr-yZNfUQ2E3bPltukb5Ul9ptWC2fayJIaUk3cZ2TBOVoil9Wb2q3gY3Z_/w400-h300/Small%20White%20Female%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Female small white on a nettle above and on herb robert below.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvawN4IxLR1wSpQKgj754W7laOdVUeJadE0wpWGn2CloNGBztdydznmvFzRVVZLp8vukRJOVXlK6G22Hk4C95mB9MaznjOY_Wdd7nbJpkWEGnOSYsqBfrDf_TWLupAWuujhyNlI8EqqsUIDHaRKhSWN4KOfEHRtS7zVPnWrra0vuJcmze5fxZEkQy0ppAe/s2816/Small%20White%20on%20Herb%20Robert%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvawN4IxLR1wSpQKgj754W7laOdVUeJadE0wpWGn2CloNGBztdydznmvFzRVVZLp8vukRJOVXlK6G22Hk4C95mB9MaznjOY_Wdd7nbJpkWEGnOSYsqBfrDf_TWLupAWuujhyNlI8EqqsUIDHaRKhSWN4KOfEHRtS7zVPnWrra0vuJcmze5fxZEkQy0ppAe/w400-h300/Small%20White%20on%20Herb%20Robert%20Hodders%20Combe%2013.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">That was during the week and so following my failure to see silver washed fritillary on the following Saturday I headed into the woodland area of <span style="text-align: center;">Shapwick Heath NNR after recent reports of silver washed fritillary flying. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: center;">This time I was taking a real punt given the weather had turned decidedly autumnal in feel, cool, torrential rain showers but now accompanied by 40-50 mph gusting winds. This weather was so out of season the Saturday Market in the nearby city of Wells, where I'd gone to first thing, had been cancelled. Undeterred my revised plan was to venture into the most sheltered rides of the oak woodland at Shapwick and just observe what if anything appeared as and when the frequent rain showers were replaced with sunshine. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivH4M8Njp2Uy9sB2oSSjLIm-hQbQSILoO109To7PT-fEXDA5EH1ENjLlTZpiv3YJlGGMclpzwYsxAktbqdzKhjbnV-_UCkCDGaWLIkI8dRk85Zu0Cww665M5O29rsqomBEL6BwTovWWoevWoCtiGOoMwbewM0_I-5puTBtt2m1MeoUM6QRgNbm7KLgDTef/s2304/Shapwick%20trackway.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivH4M8Njp2Uy9sB2oSSjLIm-hQbQSILoO109To7PT-fEXDA5EH1ENjLlTZpiv3YJlGGMclpzwYsxAktbqdzKhjbnV-_UCkCDGaWLIkI8dRk85Zu0Cww665M5O29rsqomBEL6BwTovWWoevWoCtiGOoMwbewM0_I-5puTBtt2m1MeoUM6QRgNbm7KLgDTef/w300-h400/Shapwick%20trackway.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Shapwick Heath NNR - white admiral country.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I could not have had a better afternoon. In a similar way to Hodder's Combe if the sun disappeared then the butterflies disappeared. But, when the sun did emerge the rides erupted with life. Not just butterflies but tens or even hundreds of dragonflies and damselflies, hover flies and a myriad of insects I couldn't identify. I could identify unfortunately the hundreds of mosquitoes that also flew in the sunshine, I was covered in them and their bites. A real downside here, not pleasant at all and I still bear the scars.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">While frequently distracted by other insects I kept focussed on butterflies whose abundance was enhanced by energetic activity by the many species now on the wing in the strong sunlight, before it all fell quiet again as the rain returned as it often did. I was getting used to this weather related cycle. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuJv7yeoCNoo3Unl4wFX5p99UG80yZoKR1f6mTK_eDT_mHdxNdQxGqRMI-pUnj5nxLj5towNf9cUoQT2WNuNVzuINJAxs9sJDqFrJlU3ZOlwZtqLk49vetrnWuiMT9p3uzTo_PF03clca24MZgfYskM77HdUICR0vApUXc-WVoMLeBmJQDwf-NSetWCFp/s2816/Brimstone%20Shapwick%2015.07.23%20.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIuJv7yeoCNoo3Unl4wFX5p99UG80yZoKR1f6mTK_eDT_mHdxNdQxGqRMI-pUnj5nxLj5towNf9cUoQT2WNuNVzuINJAxs9sJDqFrJlU3ZOlwZtqLk49vetrnWuiMT9p3uzTo_PF03clca24MZgfYskM77HdUICR0vApUXc-WVoMLeBmJQDwf-NSetWCFp/w400-h300/Brimstone%20Shapwick%2015.07.23%20.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A very obliging brimstone which despite its bright colour blended beautifully into these oak leaves.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcP29do2sAcLjK21-9YiKqFpgUoW9XpujvfNAYP2M_uNJZUxGSM2lVoB62Z6sXkKK8VTmPOy--NS1ibIiIHwLQW8nLBEQVu6u3Cwl2RSDTlTGTp6tJGkYoiviumoXNSZZVYyzw9J12aiDNrZFBY1Uy98kVnwYgo0DnASqbWe6iZk4PffxmlaLlMGZisbh/s2816/Deer%20Fly%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIcP29do2sAcLjK21-9YiKqFpgUoW9XpujvfNAYP2M_uNJZUxGSM2lVoB62Z6sXkKK8VTmPOy--NS1ibIiIHwLQW8nLBEQVu6u3Cwl2RSDTlTGTp6tJGkYoiviumoXNSZZVYyzw9J12aiDNrZFBY1Uy98kVnwYgo0DnASqbWe6iZk4PffxmlaLlMGZisbh/w400-h300/Deer%20Fly%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A beautiful but pestilent deer-fly <i>Chrysops spp. </i>but not sure of the exact species.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkK2AirVjHzBemWwrcO6GYD9mVIRiWmWLVQ9gVoNvQkhVVPIxt9w04APWED2Bdzoz1jq7PNqSu_7dgO4jRZEOKck7C_hJlcEU5mOuk_jwrWw8fmvsf_0ISsH7QNMyodABR-7BUXJ5cQclTv-XCjA81mxgDK9fQga3CqqSoRvPoh6xmRzXgVK4e9tTb2SAu/s2816/Gatekeeper%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkK2AirVjHzBemWwrcO6GYD9mVIRiWmWLVQ9gVoNvQkhVVPIxt9w04APWED2Bdzoz1jq7PNqSu_7dgO4jRZEOKck7C_hJlcEU5mOuk_jwrWw8fmvsf_0ISsH7QNMyodABR-7BUXJ5cQclTv-XCjA81mxgDK9fQga3CqqSoRvPoh6xmRzXgVK4e9tTb2SAu/w400-h300/Gatekeeper%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Beautifully marked gatekeeper underside (above) and a different but equally lovely gatekeeper upper wings (below). The gatekeepers were everywhere, more plentiful than meadow brown.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLsCoVLgT9W_x6nto7CRY9kvzdgWziGkRKVETk-6k1kvXZso3Rk_MRJw_tptHCLs3ouV5k8V0OV7Gt7tvy-0CVfHZl0Z3VhCkvwl39VIZK4wonHz0fbW7bj1-5yBlZ2T9Ar-4p6FQrrxaz8OESu3gusOpmvQe45sT_tcO8f1q9kJOV1AeqAzpVDXqE5qz/s2816/Gatekeeper%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRLsCoVLgT9W_x6nto7CRY9kvzdgWziGkRKVETk-6k1kvXZso3Rk_MRJw_tptHCLs3ouV5k8V0OV7Gt7tvy-0CVfHZl0Z3VhCkvwl39VIZK4wonHz0fbW7bj1-5yBlZ2T9Ar-4p6FQrrxaz8OESu3gusOpmvQe45sT_tcO8f1q9kJOV1AeqAzpVDXqE5qz/s320/Gatekeeper%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzLSQ7chelKpgKoB1dFriwzjtTqJsy5_0QzDxHmTh3CdV1Qr1c9yPF_PrdCq8h6Ot2eTfgLZBHHh9TamRXLrp-y8qjQQxwvY99727ipf42QJM18CfPZlAh17Fj5jD-KSfZYlIBVuUFmS4FIicr-HhEsJYCGahcxkchwXiiV_BUn9I5ybZlb6Ww_JyrSsw/s2816/Peacock%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWzLSQ7chelKpgKoB1dFriwzjtTqJsy5_0QzDxHmTh3CdV1Qr1c9yPF_PrdCq8h6Ot2eTfgLZBHHh9TamRXLrp-y8qjQQxwvY99727ipf42QJM18CfPZlAh17Fj5jD-KSfZYlIBVuUFmS4FIicr-HhEsJYCGahcxkchwXiiV_BUn9I5ybZlb6Ww_JyrSsw/s320/Peacock%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Peacocks were everywhere too, such oddly out of place markings in the English countryside, almost tropical in looks.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mWBFS_nV6mnHubQRymT3WlwUBq0tVyXiDJ50JVzuSGFK-OF76AgSpLWwJIefCpTX4miHBXOfMIt4th_1c8QnMZumvGoXntOhuPATwtImwxwurylPh93YUzdPEgbLMA0sze1cPlSQW-aFqDYSyrgwe6Z1XoLNwg-COOxtoS__dTSde2iLozNqTD8FaUha/s2816/Peacock%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mWBFS_nV6mnHubQRymT3WlwUBq0tVyXiDJ50JVzuSGFK-OF76AgSpLWwJIefCpTX4miHBXOfMIt4th_1c8QnMZumvGoXntOhuPATwtImwxwurylPh93YUzdPEgbLMA0sze1cPlSQW-aFqDYSyrgwe6Z1XoLNwg-COOxtoS__dTSde2iLozNqTD8FaUha/w400-h300/Peacock%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy1HC1YXMACU3QpMqiGJ0JIGBGCPerXQnBHy4iVSqZ84APm0m7Bjv2aAPrIugkkkzKWSTDLcY_fOQ2hx1PzyskxPm6i_TIdqMmZl_nclT_0y_w3WwO3z8MT7jDGqxeqACV9-gsvYVQpJRS7EQdawjVKKN8gY-9YzilIsc3PZh-6QEDPRHfgbT3vgoB0DG/s2816/Ruddy%20Darter%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixy1HC1YXMACU3QpMqiGJ0JIGBGCPerXQnBHy4iVSqZ84APm0m7Bjv2aAPrIugkkkzKWSTDLcY_fOQ2hx1PzyskxPm6i_TIdqMmZl_nclT_0y_w3WwO3z8MT7jDGqxeqACV9-gsvYVQpJRS7EQdawjVKKN8gY-9YzilIsc3PZh-6QEDPRHfgbT3vgoB0DG/w400-h300/Ruddy%20Darter%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ruddy Darter (first thought common darter but I dismissed this or maybe it is)</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt5zjl1Su8WSswyRCCnLAgPQ2CpKgf4QnLXkEg_2i_4n7sKMEh0yogzH-gebaXYyMiaHvqAzCxNGNcUTqaGj23jPv8ood-BiEWVon_AcEKli0QR-pRbxzGv-pOvCtfleXBQyhpiXJj7iUu4XtwuXt1ByfLUKJRYsalmPL7Z6J7KnEef81Gu6ntvVj5SSG/s2816/Southern%20Hawker%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIt5zjl1Su8WSswyRCCnLAgPQ2CpKgf4QnLXkEg_2i_4n7sKMEh0yogzH-gebaXYyMiaHvqAzCxNGNcUTqaGj23jPv8ood-BiEWVon_AcEKli0QR-pRbxzGv-pOvCtfleXBQyhpiXJj7iUu4XtwuXt1ByfLUKJRYsalmPL7Z6J7KnEef81Gu6ntvVj5SSG/w400-h300/Southern%20Hawker%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This southern hawker clung motionless to this honeysuckle branch for fifteen minutes or more. At first I thought it might have been dead but then on my last visit it wasn't there. There were a lot of hawker species about, a few did that spectacular thing of flying right up very close to my face and then after hovering for a while looking at me, decided I wasn't any threat - nor prey - and buzzed off. Fascinating behaviour and I'd love to know what they see and are observing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5_M604D8U_q-uKSTv-eKA9Mung9Ta12fMPZP6Rd0sZPsdLwnE1LgNcH9oEajf9C7m_cpvlJwdL0Y5Y2Q_24__Pz6142p-zbp37utlnxT6UxmFMaiy3gzCjor_za-aWaDd8HA1ZCMvO1N4R8H7j6RDC-yGtKmRtmcjhAvdEnjUi_Qf1wLA0B1VzOEL_Ad/s2816/Speckled%20Wood%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5_M604D8U_q-uKSTv-eKA9Mung9Ta12fMPZP6Rd0sZPsdLwnE1LgNcH9oEajf9C7m_cpvlJwdL0Y5Y2Q_24__Pz6142p-zbp37utlnxT6UxmFMaiy3gzCjor_za-aWaDd8HA1ZCMvO1N4R8H7j6RDC-yGtKmRtmcjhAvdEnjUi_Qf1wLA0B1VzOEL_Ad/w400-h300/Speckled%20Wood%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm not seeing many speckled woods at the moment. This one was one of the few found resting on a fern.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0zUx1UUQ_gNzoFHwTxRqhll017CqiGD6ctQp6MwBQLihOt2XkMSW9P1rep4HexJPkpgCk1R6DYRrl728tY-iT1zhIKIb9qIR7a1TYAgzxS7bTXA97jzrLMfC85dOlNtMy45gEZbCq3_-mAdfyTDJCsPOSZ342ZbHtcY7-vY_k99J_ju-Kzbe6WNwYjCt/s2816/White%20Admiral%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs0zUx1UUQ_gNzoFHwTxRqhll017CqiGD6ctQp6MwBQLihOt2XkMSW9P1rep4HexJPkpgCk1R6DYRrl728tY-iT1zhIKIb9qIR7a1TYAgzxS7bTXA97jzrLMfC85dOlNtMy45gEZbCq3_-mAdfyTDJCsPOSZ342ZbHtcY7-vY_k99J_ju-Kzbe6WNwYjCt/w400-h300/White%20Admiral%202%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now we're getting to the white admirals. In this cooler weather they were flying really well but unsurprisingly a slower flight and much less fidgety than when I'd last seen them a couple of weeks earlier. I'm not sure whether it was just the weather but they were also much lower down perching around head height or gliding for short distances low along the track which is a behaviour many lepidopterists look for. The image below was more typical on this visit, horizontally straight wings on a bramble looking inconspicuous. Despite the quite wild wind in the high canopy down at ground level it was almost motionless. I'd made the correct choice to come here today, the butterflies were within easy sight and once again I had the site all to myself due presumably to the weather. During one of the more prolonged wet spells I stood quietly listening to the pitter-patter of raindrops. It's a sound I've loved since childhood.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eM_ANpKLRmzhYAeUQHCuK3SF5WfgA9NvS3j85xixjQgvDPAo8muGjbQ5qVhn0gBfdw956ldYf8VyzmR_xdus9SmS27L3PRqXspOq2VBZyldKvUQPx_1rEsCozFEARjF7LpbI7chYWTS7s5FEJso33GTx-BRvrkZG_klQ9JQIwMCRbb_-jMt_XVUyN-DY/s2816/White%20Admiral%20and%20Hoverfly%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0eM_ANpKLRmzhYAeUQHCuK3SF5WfgA9NvS3j85xixjQgvDPAo8muGjbQ5qVhn0gBfdw956ldYf8VyzmR_xdus9SmS27L3PRqXspOq2VBZyldKvUQPx_1rEsCozFEARjF7LpbI7chYWTS7s5FEJso33GTx-BRvrkZG_klQ9JQIwMCRbb_-jMt_XVUyN-DY/w400-h300/White%20Admiral%20and%20Hoverfly%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMATpRD7W9gdMzl01LB2Ps8GJnuwxav4qOxsW12c3Nyku3wOMZDg-ijUsknRxniyDV6NY0EpiuBsuqmgD4cGa8RHMQpWZf9SUPHjV5pxDnYn3LZvhG8fqYtBFeqaXCSdar4s2F4y5SZJQAxih9ddsDqhX6EvWSXE4-yb8ULfKybs9hWLL-t_raY0I3HQA/s2816/White%20Admiral%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOMATpRD7W9gdMzl01LB2Ps8GJnuwxav4qOxsW12c3Nyku3wOMZDg-ijUsknRxniyDV6NY0EpiuBsuqmgD4cGa8RHMQpWZf9SUPHjV5pxDnYn3LZvhG8fqYtBFeqaXCSdar4s2F4y5SZJQAxih9ddsDqhX6EvWSXE4-yb8ULfKybs9hWLL-t_raY0I3HQA/w400-h300/White%20Admiral%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">All in all what these two visits to observe butterflies in poor weather has taught me is don't remain indoors bemoaning the inclement summer, head out and see what happens. I'd do that when winter birdwatching, so why not in the summer? Would I have noticed the butterfly species using bracken as a sunning and drying perch if the weather had not been so changeable? Would the eruption of species simultaneously timing their flights with the sun's emergence have been witnessed if I'd stayed at home? I suspect not and it made for a fantastic immersive experience on both occasions. But I'll leave you with this female blackbird.</div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxdH_fhX8Q1lle60Ezc9dqiJtCmK2mkE6k_VU2THQHYTp42TWCtLBsu-eOimQSijiPNzoGPmDBTr9ICWBlGvJZ1dBMpReuquFmEYLcVtJlj29IyyhOF983I9L9-Ejqo8qzPTyWg0V1h6fXHyh3kml_-qqfAGkHtSfbJnq48aBEhcgwyiKR3DZuwAdar84/s2816/Blackbird%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEimxdH_fhX8Q1lle60Ezc9dqiJtCmK2mkE6k_VU2THQHYTp42TWCtLBsu-eOimQSijiPNzoGPmDBTr9ICWBlGvJZ1dBMpReuquFmEYLcVtJlj29IyyhOF983I9L9-Ejqo8qzPTyWg0V1h6fXHyh3kml_-qqfAGkHtSfbJnq48aBEhcgwyiKR3DZuwAdar84/w400-h300/Blackbird%20Shapwick%2015.07.23.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I was walking along a boardwalk back to my car when this female appeared. I stopped and she stopped then, after checking me over, she ignored me and hopped a few feet at a time towards me. I stood motionless watching her for what seemed an age. Then when she was around 12 feet from me she dived into the trackside and speared the fattest slug I've seen for a while, a slug much too heavy for her to fly away with. Transfixed I watched her kill and repeatedly peck the slug for some time until having eaten a large part of it she finally managed to lift the slug remains and fly off, albeit under some difficulty. Whereto she went I have no idea as the torrential rain returned as she flew off, so I the happy wildlife watcher of these two days simply shrugged, pulled my coat a little tighter around me and walked off accompanied by the roar of thousands of raindrops crashing against leaves in the tree canopy. I was alone with my thoughts surrounded by nature at its finest.</div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-61663133765811487322023-07-07T17:56:00.011+01:002023-07-08T06:52:45.943+01:00Meadow Brown with more spots than it needs<p style="text-align: justify;">Looking out of the bedroom window before 9am today a brimstone butterfly could be seen flying around the garden. I headed out to see if I could photograph this probable second brood individual. Of course by the time I got out there it had long gone and in its place a couple of holly blue butterflies were wafting about. We've had these in the garden for around ten years now and it amazes me as the only holly we have are two clipped pom-poms in one border. In the past I've watched them laying eggs on the holly leaves, size of holly tree doesn't matter then.</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyEMKtoVrpKUkUNgCNYWOxzR4IvBlb42gx5_r7ARJ-G-K9xQAxazXT2BpF9GBs-mvdM6RCqFxrQy-mzp2xcQ2sZb5QCTIc-FBhIHhXXeNqI_fQUUd-kTD0HTnEpIVgULA7v82Mj9eQRuKHedZ0pHq0Xz0ePBk46hEBktgWUsEGdoSOlbJ7TNMgzuS5tul/s2304/Holly%20Blue%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiyEMKtoVrpKUkUNgCNYWOxzR4IvBlb42gx5_r7ARJ-G-K9xQAxazXT2BpF9GBs-mvdM6RCqFxrQy-mzp2xcQ2sZb5QCTIc-FBhIHhXXeNqI_fQUUd-kTD0HTnEpIVgULA7v82Mj9eQRuKHedZ0pHq0Xz0ePBk46hEBktgWUsEGdoSOlbJ7TNMgzuS5tul/w300-h400/Holly%20Blue%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23.jpg" width="300" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">While I was out here then I had a wander around and saw a meadow brown feeding on one of the Helenium. Nice, we don't get that many in the garden though they are increasingly being seen. Then I looked again. The black eye-spot on the wing contained two white spots. I did a double take, this was definitely not a gatekeeper, a similar looking species which does have two white spots on its black eye-spot. No this is definitely a meadow brown which should only have one white spot within the black eye-spot. This quite well worn individual was to be honest a little larger than normal. Was that significant? Are meadow browns with two white spots genetically a little larger than their species? Questions. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLkfwdZfSOeq1614E1vUAEd_f-okKEcA9g-OuUW6YTn8lWO-OT-HKNNKeRx_g3J655SKCd4GDXqbgsoqh_ctnsxGBBWrKyTG9IxeerAWXqBrnMef_9vkEE180sr24rKbhTF38GcdHVvxZmggeyfzBiPStA7IOHYIuzbcVV2kT08nCzaP5aBwT38QmrDBJ/s1947/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_1_twin_spot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1676" data-original-width="1947" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvLkfwdZfSOeq1614E1vUAEd_f-okKEcA9g-OuUW6YTn8lWO-OT-HKNNKeRx_g3J655SKCd4GDXqbgsoqh_ctnsxGBBWrKyTG9IxeerAWXqBrnMef_9vkEE180sr24rKbhTF38GcdHVvxZmggeyfzBiPStA7IOHYIuzbcVV2kT08nCzaP5aBwT38QmrDBJ/w400-h344/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_1_twin_spot.jpg" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">At some angles the twin white spot were not visible, though this was simply the wing covering the second spot. I took a few more images then after reading up on the variability of meadow brown spots I confirmed in my mind it was this species but to be sure I got in touch with a friend by email attaching these images. He confirmed this was indeed a meadow brown quoting from the book <b>The Butterflies of Britain and Ireland by Thomas and Lewington;</b></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"<i>in both sexes there is much variation in eye-spot and other markings</i>"</p><p style="text-align: justify;">He even sent me a photograph he'd taken a few years back of what is called a 'blind' ringlet - with uniformly brown wings showing no visible spots at all, a rare aberration on this usually spotty butterfly. A fine example of how variable some individuals can be in all species. I thanked him and left him to head off for the day to hopefully watch many purple emperor butterflies at Grafton Wood in South Worcestershire.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakWH_cf8taU14DMCBThMrx-42j0hTQIcND1b-pXi2iXMNHbczUA3wY-9F1_rzihWethG473sklE1AchU0Z1ZE4Es0sXRlhfEeSkQyd19FIVIs_OZPHRXisc7Cy5n4am-bv0Avv-BAoTppg5sfcJ_YRVzAQLUitidn7JmQzOzw0_ZL7ZDlqFXOLP413qt3/s2304/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_3_twin_spot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjakWH_cf8taU14DMCBThMrx-42j0hTQIcND1b-pXi2iXMNHbczUA3wY-9F1_rzihWethG473sklE1AchU0Z1ZE4Es0sXRlhfEeSkQyd19FIVIs_OZPHRXisc7Cy5n4am-bv0Avv-BAoTppg5sfcJ_YRVzAQLUitidn7JmQzOzw0_ZL7ZDlqFXOLP413qt3/w300-h400/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_3_twin_spot.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">After yet more reading around I discovered that the prevalence of twin white spots on the meadow brown generally increases north of the Midlands. Though that's too simplistic. Of the four recognised sub-species they are localised ranging from the Scilly Isles and Cornwall to Ireland to Scotland and northern England with smaller localised variations elsewhere. Twin white spot meadow browns do occur further south, for example in Dorset these variations are rare but recognised. But this all tends to be localised presumably genetic populations and the spots may be of variable intensity or even missing. What this individual was doing in a Somerset garden I'm not sure. Thinking about this however, we've had strong north west winds for days. Was this individual picked up elsewhere, caught in the slipstream and dropped into the garden? I'm not sure but it is one theory.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd not seen a two white spot meadow brown before and learning something new each day about butterflies is proving very energising and it is keeping me very much on my toes while providing a new impetus to my wildlife observations.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6hrjfErNWN0vC3rlM6Z9wQm7sbucJjeMdpRjcdVRRxE5U2onJ7mpnYEAlZWFyrmCx2sumPw38-Fkxau6mj5nmrs4aNcvFI8Dn2Dx524ycDR8XIbxo6-ivUDRriUnZQe1Zrqd7oufT7YfXC2vO3K7fVIstW3zdobPyVyLJ9VPc-TUMMF8NBNIW7a7deyU/s2304/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_2_twin_spot.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="1728" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia6hrjfErNWN0vC3rlM6Z9wQm7sbucJjeMdpRjcdVRRxE5U2onJ7mpnYEAlZWFyrmCx2sumPw38-Fkxau6mj5nmrs4aNcvFI8Dn2Dx524ycDR8XIbxo6-ivUDRriUnZQe1Zrqd7oufT7YfXC2vO3K7fVIstW3zdobPyVyLJ9VPc-TUMMF8NBNIW7a7deyU/w300-h400/Meadow%20Brown%20Garden%20Somerset%2007.07.23_2_twin_spot.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-66762155539917782582023-07-03T21:26:00.008+01:002023-07-03T22:54:37.097+01:00Saluting the White Admiral <p style="text-align: justify;">I nearly didn't head off to go butterfly watching. After spending a whole day birdwatching at Slimbridge on the previous day I had planned for a leisurely Sunday to reflect, recover and watch a little cricket.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">However the one thing that is a certainty is that nature happens when nature wants it to happen. And so it is with butterflies. They are on the wing when they want to be on the wing not when I am at leisure to observe them. Following a leisurely morning then I roused myself, got into the car and arrived at Shapwick Heath just before 2pm. My quest today the white admiral (<i>Limenitis camilla</i>) butterfly. </p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4USDBYkYn6eCBKaDSuQBPrMsuvf3P1NBcPrEJYpgI3pomEZnqqvMDOGySEXygx_UX5gMO2bcRpPeJeOPjpH5zdVastgHrFLa_-QXXXf_w3q2SMYd1vz8tXIQzFxC5iMEyEtxgJDjAgLXLb2WoEHkUcxeJb6SdnEtfbm0hEBbXxRUwnnQMDDijz57RNib/s1127/2.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="1127" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK4USDBYkYn6eCBKaDSuQBPrMsuvf3P1NBcPrEJYpgI3pomEZnqqvMDOGySEXygx_UX5gMO2bcRpPeJeOPjpH5zdVastgHrFLa_-QXXXf_w3q2SMYd1vz8tXIQzFxC5iMEyEtxgJDjAgLXLb2WoEHkUcxeJb6SdnEtfbm0hEBbXxRUwnnQMDDijz57RNib/w400-h300/2.JPG" width="400" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;">I visit the Avalon Marshes regularly although oddly I've not been down there for a few months. However eighteen months or so ago I took part in a Butterfly Conservation training day here. It was a chance conversation during that with one of the leaders in which she said Shapwick has a good colony of white admirals. White admirals are not common in Somerset as this is the western edge of their British range and so having never seen one before I made a mental note to return later that summer and fulfil that wish. Family and work commitments prevented my visiting last year and as I have weekends planned through to mid August this year, despite my desiring a quiet Sunday at home, I had just this one day available to visit the area in the hope of seeing white admiral on the wing before they stop flying.</p><p style="text-align: justify;">From that conversation last year I had a vague idea where they could be found and my target search was therefore to be within this known area, slowly searching open sunny tracks where honeysuckle and bramble are plentiful - the former for egg laying and the caterpillar stages and the latter for the adults to feed. I set off and after nearly an hour of scanning every bramble and honeysuckle I could see nothing. I did find plenty of other interesting invertebrates to divert me but no white admiral. I had to stay focussed. I did though have time on my side as I'd been informed last year that here the white admiral is most active mid to late afternoon, though that is dependent on strong sunshine. Previous surveys had happened in the morning and for a long while it wasn't recorded until that is, as the story went, a butterfly surveyor was out just for a walk one late afternoon an spotted one</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2d30f5asmE1NGyMZmK9Q0ZpViNQtwierydDXxsfkcTw3NPM3h6SPn-zfzcaFNLRR7_7ucjjtRpEcKlC8bpOqba1uvXFVQMbSz3bFjpRhMt8mwTkBHye4E28JvDhUJt5so9ljoRVJWsn_05GKPuIgfDw7Yl0QrWExp_RNz47BAVCt176jDGivjXRovD7k/s1408/11.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL2d30f5asmE1NGyMZmK9Q0ZpViNQtwierydDXxsfkcTw3NPM3h6SPn-zfzcaFNLRR7_7ucjjtRpEcKlC8bpOqba1uvXFVQMbSz3bFjpRhMt8mwTkBHye4E28JvDhUJt5so9ljoRVJWsn_05GKPuIgfDw7Yl0QrWExp_RNz47BAVCt176jDGivjXRovD7k/w400-h300/11.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Having drawn a blank, I eventually came to a cross-path and while deliberating which way to go I saw a red admiral on some bramble flowers and then a comma. Not what I was looking for but nice nonetheless. I stopped to take some photographs. It was while taking these I noticed a large white butterfly being chased by something which looked sooty grey. Despite never having seen a white admiral before I knew this was it, though I couldn't be sure from this one sighting alone. They both flew very fast and it was the briefest of moments before they spiralled high up into the tree canopy and out of sight. I then spent a good while scanning the trees with my binoculars to no avail, it was nowhere to be seen. But success at last, I was in the right place at least. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRl_KCGb-ujmz03QoShnROkXQzdVlo8Nwj6YyuhsbTdS0MuXU-DVrRe9yHdm8c-j9J54t0SEN4LQlgkUW1Q6yBHdtF4hHs8Yh0DJ3Lc61-YzIX5jvC0kUNa58TZJvqTfvnBzehUa_lPp2OiC_2kn_n0_iGBcA6UZhwWyhxS0WVJzdioC3Faj_7E2-UCQbK" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiRl_KCGb-ujmz03QoShnROkXQzdVlo8Nwj6YyuhsbTdS0MuXU-DVrRe9yHdm8c-j9J54t0SEN4LQlgkUW1Q6yBHdtF4hHs8Yh0DJ3Lc61-YzIX5jvC0kUNa58TZJvqTfvnBzehUa_lPp2OiC_2kn_n0_iGBcA6UZhwWyhxS0WVJzdioC3Faj_7E2-UCQbK=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I stood scanning the brambles and trees for another ten minutes, nothing happened. By now the various bitey things had found me and the mosquitoes were really starting to have a good nibble. I was about to move off when a large white butterfly flew low left to right being chased by, yes, my first ever confirmed white admiral. I got a good look at it this time as it spiralled around the large white before as in the previous sighting they disappeared off into the canopy. I have to say I didn't know white admirals were so aggressive or flew so fast, quite a contrast to the red admiral and comma quietly feeding on the brambles, I'd forgotten about them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Once more I scanned the trees for activity - nothing. Had I imagined this? Well of course not, but two brief glimpses in twenty or more minutes was a little frustrating, exciting and frustrating in equal measure. Two visitors walked by asking what I was looking for and we had a chat but while we did the admiral didn't appear. Eventually (possibly thinking I'd made all this up) they left and I stood for another fifteen minutes being devoured by mosquitoes while absolutely nothing happened. I did note however on both times I'd briefly seen the admiral the sun had come out, it was one of those days of light cloud and sunshine. Time to move on, I turned left onto a wide pathway.</div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjd--q8OaRVj2s30ZBKrIUsfrewFg0PSKHKkN_Q3lMj9420e_2_hWi65x7uIkummLWyj45x2Qt9Wj2BYnPcp2ZvVlI1Ih7ONikLsJ-Bz0N0EvJr79Flbt88Jedf8ABVVJebXNq-M7qZPoVcvHBnZWS4rLKZBQsWazJgTzjBCyMexkNzsqgV55dzskZvfwb5" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="400" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjd--q8OaRVj2s30ZBKrIUsfrewFg0PSKHKkN_Q3lMj9420e_2_hWi65x7uIkummLWyj45x2Qt9Wj2BYnPcp2ZvVlI1Ih7ONikLsJ-Bz0N0EvJr79Flbt88Jedf8ABVVJebXNq-M7qZPoVcvHBnZWS4rLKZBQsWazJgTzjBCyMexkNzsqgV55dzskZvfwb5=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As I'm trying to increase my knowledge of butterflies this year I'd read up a little before coming out. White admiral prefer sheltered sunny glades and trackways. They need bramble and honeysuckle as mentioned but also tall trees as they are used for resting away from predators, and presumably a good vantage point to watch me down below while inwardly laughing at my failed endeavours. I scanned yet more bramble. Even though this is early July many of the flowers had gone over with new fruit developing. I'm assuming this prolonged dry spell has brought forward flowering. Using my binoculars I looked down the ride, up into the trees, back where I'd come; nothing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd been looking for over an hour and a half and by now I was beginning to think of moving somewhere else when at that moment the sun came out and right on cue a large white flew into vision, followed by, yes indeed a sooty grey looking butterfly in hot pursuit - but this time after chasing the large white away the white admiral flew in a wide circle before landing on some honeysuckle in front of me. I grabbed a quick photo before I then spent some time observing it with my binoculars. What a stunning butterfly and my first ever proper view, looking quite chocolate brown at this angle. They are also big, as big as the books say - and why wouldn't they be? Luckily this individual remained in view for a minute or so allowing me time to really take it in. Then as quickly it had arrived it was off, leaving me to inwardly digest what I'd seen.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggfMBG3NJe9hebTYTVZmbcrPCm1FrbYjQmSxlY-ZfmVP2xt35rrJqOsTPXrxyHnflAhVXAatQIPr5sfsa5pPXvetHArXuswMOhh8XXBzMVuyKLxDP7Ix-2G2hqokZbzKlU5nr6oR_kyHfO7DK1ez08ZYmYlposQE4JsLl761wYCD9TTr4Y1yf5oKQejS-s" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="240" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEggfMBG3NJe9hebTYTVZmbcrPCm1FrbYjQmSxlY-ZfmVP2xt35rrJqOsTPXrxyHnflAhVXAatQIPr5sfsa5pPXvetHArXuswMOhh8XXBzMVuyKLxDP7Ix-2G2hqokZbzKlU5nr6oR_kyHfO7DK1ez08ZYmYlposQE4JsLl761wYCD9TTr4Y1yf5oKQejS-s=w300-h400" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd have been perfectly happy with this. Yes a brief view but I'd managed to achieve what I had set out to do. Yet there was more to come. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The ride I was now on looked pretty nondescript, to our eyes at least, but obviously for a white admiral it is perfect. As I loitered hoping for another sighting a party of four visitors ambled towards me, it turned out they were on holiday from Scotland. The two ladies wandered off but their menfolk were chatty and wanted to know what I was doing. I showed them the image I'd just taken and they were quite impressed, even more so when as we chatted a white admiral made a lovely 5 second loop-the-loop flypast right next to us, almost as if it was saying '<i>Ahhahh you're not looking now so I'm going to show off, bye</i>'. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">By now the clouds were breaking a little more and the sunny spells were longer and more frequent. The two men ambled off and I was on my own again thinking of the behaviour I'd witnessed so far. There was a distinct pattern - the sun comes out - a few moments later a large white appears - and not every time but regularly the large white is then pursued by a white admiral and the whole performance ends with a flight into the trees and the admiral disappears. I'd now seen this charade a number of times. On one occasion when flying into the canopy twenty feet above me the white admiral settled on a leaf in full view. I managed to get some lovely views of this individual through the binoculars, and a handful of clear images, not bad considering I was a good 30-40 feet away looking up. The markings are stunning. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUu4Mu4bhxcHzhVm3WEJ8s39bLPn9MsvPKu9UVY-twEEKWGuZM2PUk--tiI0CepYXK4A5odOiKZjHqZRLwNgc9NvbJ02Qe2vbLIB7WcpOyYNHCMLr8EtMoMp_zZgxEfO_Smx4OkzTVogrjTUw8Dt0ZblYsxRzwDTD4ohXE-rzrkJ1hWRJMdMV4SdQoTJB5/s1408/4.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUu4Mu4bhxcHzhVm3WEJ8s39bLPn9MsvPKu9UVY-twEEKWGuZM2PUk--tiI0CepYXK4A5odOiKZjHqZRLwNgc9NvbJ02Qe2vbLIB7WcpOyYNHCMLr8EtMoMp_zZgxEfO_Smx4OkzTVogrjTUw8Dt0ZblYsxRzwDTD4ohXE-rzrkJ1hWRJMdMV4SdQoTJB5/w400-h300/4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k-sBAr5w05H2LGaiwxIUfimMvpSYLfOpzgwg5SN_MTLK_6OmGzZD-kr7gcnNFUQeG_94-W04U8sR9AOEwgmhR_VlQEY2KFsCx9MqCfOMawp8Tug9aBniXUy4kvXn5tuo-6S3tqbI8hW7QUQbXEB7VPobmHxek0ZMLGpvh7XRPriLAH7tA-rzgdK5AQIH/s1408/5.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7k-sBAr5w05H2LGaiwxIUfimMvpSYLfOpzgwg5SN_MTLK_6OmGzZD-kr7gcnNFUQeG_94-W04U8sR9AOEwgmhR_VlQEY2KFsCx9MqCfOMawp8Tug9aBniXUy4kvXn5tuo-6S3tqbI8hW7QUQbXEB7VPobmHxek0ZMLGpvh7XRPriLAH7tA-rzgdK5AQIH/w400-h300/5.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">What I struggled to comprehend though was how many individual butterflies I had actually seen. I was now on my third area where I'd seen a white admiral flying, but was it the same one? I guess not as it was a few minutes walk between each of them. But they do fly over a large area. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Eventually this individual in the tree was buzzed by a dragonfly and off it went. I wandered off further down the track and through my binoculars could see a white admiral low on a bramble. It took me a minute or so to get there just as it flew off and yes, into the tree canopy. Was this the same one as I'd just seen in the tree? I really don't know, though my inward thought is I'd seen possibly four individuals over five sites (one site was close to another therefore it is likely to be the same individual) during my time there.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEjU8OeZiE7wIVK03fFhYgPM2sdkLbR2AJ_tUXylG5X21a3UAQyuGMh7xJwu_1PMjLaZ4_ADLmWUYsQ7uiXIwDaitNsDqEfZBQkNTDPVJk7iIyJT7ImocnzbHn-694v_k51Mf46HfXg72RBWQeelMF1A8RCQe4ODALmABUx4w0EDj8X5IuDk8Y9hBgj39/s1408/6.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQEjU8OeZiE7wIVK03fFhYgPM2sdkLbR2AJ_tUXylG5X21a3UAQyuGMh7xJwu_1PMjLaZ4_ADLmWUYsQ7uiXIwDaitNsDqEfZBQkNTDPVJk7iIyJT7ImocnzbHn-694v_k51Mf46HfXg72RBWQeelMF1A8RCQe4ODALmABUx4w0EDj8X5IuDk8Y9hBgj39/w400-h300/6.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd been here well over two hours and my poor arms were peppered with mosquito bites. Time to call it a day. Retracing my route I was stopped in my tracks by yet another white admiral happily feeding on a bramble in yet another area. I'd looked at this area a few times already, each time however nothing was showing. But now around 4pm the heat really was building, the sun was strong, and this lovely condition individual was very obliging.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YAGNRRqgMTXx3db0Tm0bepyhKqQ1F4mlV_BkyUVaWtHcPTITTv8lccRhyBEZ1TSG4UHaTSzE8P6LOUH5vclHjVu86hxDPlTo0gc9wmQeibdtVAjdpaznutsrnuZyDFdUx0d7KcecnO55xA_ogN7K47HlIzkXGLQq39l5c4QXrhzOkGP1ZililjR159f_/s1408/7.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3YAGNRRqgMTXx3db0Tm0bepyhKqQ1F4mlV_BkyUVaWtHcPTITTv8lccRhyBEZ1TSG4UHaTSzE8P6LOUH5vclHjVu86hxDPlTo0gc9wmQeibdtVAjdpaznutsrnuZyDFdUx0d7KcecnO55xA_ogN7K47HlIzkXGLQq39l5c4QXrhzOkGP1ZililjR159f_/w400-h300/7.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I could have watched it for hours, fascinated too that a meadow brown which was feeding next to it. Not a threat then compared to the large white? I need to read up why white admiral and large white have these territorial scraps. Do white admirals squabble with other species? Does size play a part?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It really was time to go but this wasn't the last of it. Retracing my steps along the Sweet Track I'd been walking for ten minutes and had almost reached the end when a white admiral flew past me and landed only an arms length away on a bramble, giving me yet another wonderful view and this stunning image. That conversation eighteen months ago was spot on - mid to late afternoon is the best time for views in this part of the world. I'm also really getting into this butterfly watching, not least as I can have a lie in, saunter out after lunch and be rewarded in warm weather with stunning natural history encounters like this.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC9X0D9-C4WG3RJf_FNQM2bYc34su17rEIiI7GNTR-qkCCm9ck0LC4GDpCQXDEZoEdoYndW9NSwhzRMCJ9nmUih7GqSbjBLh1QJENNiPkCxL5oaVVQa3kkRrQB2C_d5lZeUHIpHOcCdlFTAxBvNSgo9Ggrv8J8MI6tsAPplmeOZW2tTn_l0ImMJfp43YJ/s1408/8.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGC9X0D9-C4WG3RJf_FNQM2bYc34su17rEIiI7GNTR-qkCCm9ck0LC4GDpCQXDEZoEdoYndW9NSwhzRMCJ9nmUih7GqSbjBLh1QJENNiPkCxL5oaVVQa3kkRrQB2C_d5lZeUHIpHOcCdlFTAxBvNSgo9Ggrv8J8MI6tsAPplmeOZW2tTn_l0ImMJfp43YJ/w400-h300/8.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-57866751211557415542023-07-02T20:55:00.005+01:002023-07-02T21:52:16.880+01:00Bluethroat and Autumn Migration Is Underway<p>It has been a fantastic forty eight hours. A weekend of firsts for me and I'm not really sure which takes pride of place on my excitement podium, they are all equal in my experience and all thanks to knowledgeable friends and doing my homework.</p><p>As choosing a favourite from the weekend is impossible a chronological account seems appropriate. So lets begun with the white-spotted bluethroat (<i>Luscinia svecica</i>).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1oNObo5oUUtaKnXz-hm1DqUYgFUJ0drxk4IKOGWVnPOk_NOtUad8u_JDAH6BWpUJMdvo6uIP5cQgl1W-ggFZUYMmQRliX-X24c1cQjyOYDG0WhlcWQcmNwAxJPaLTe3PEK2aGc5NZvnBP9fzpfS22MWxQy8zdOnDlkF3zPZzhOA7_JBY5PJfgAsNLHlMo/s1844/a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1oNObo5oUUtaKnXz-hm1DqUYgFUJ0drxk4IKOGWVnPOk_NOtUad8u_JDAH6BWpUJMdvo6uIP5cQgl1W-ggFZUYMmQRliX-X24c1cQjyOYDG0WhlcWQcmNwAxJPaLTe3PEK2aGc5NZvnBP9fzpfS22MWxQy8zdOnDlkF3zPZzhOA7_JBY5PJfgAsNLHlMo/w300-h400/a.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Every few month or so I catch up with some of my ex-colleagues from the BBC's Natural History Unit. We tend to choose a different venue each time with Slimbridge being the chosen venue on Saturday. Two reasons for this. One friend is a life member and can get a guest in too and there's been a bluethroat resident here for a few weeks. I'm not a twitcher and so had no idea this subspecies was at Slimbridge, but another friend wanted to see this as he'd only ever seen them in Russia, never the UK. That I found amazing as he is possibly one of the best naturalists in the business (though he is too modest to accept this) and his knowledge is immense. It's why he used to present Natural History programmes and is in constant demand for articles. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The four of us arrived for a 09.30 start. A fifteen minute walk got us to the Shepherds Hut area of Slimbridge where we could see a small group of people peering out from the view point. And there is was, the white spotted bluethroat, 200 metres away. On a twig.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnWMWNdUeJa__H4CjDauhlRMsy_4XkHIqDHg9N6sAORqqJ3AIY9kPCPfemOsjUvYzNRkULj09YiO2ynSU2I_L4zqY8p4bFR7hgGYYFn47hvjbqCF4bOEzGR0gYF533xHA_vPNGZgg2fIckNm8o5V4J65bDx-7keYOq0CNh4JJCGhZ4RT4AYV86TyfmNsL/s1844/c.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifnWMWNdUeJa__H4CjDauhlRMsy_4XkHIqDHg9N6sAORqqJ3AIY9kPCPfemOsjUvYzNRkULj09YiO2ynSU2I_L4zqY8p4bFR7hgGYYFn47hvjbqCF4bOEzGR0gYF533xHA_vPNGZgg2fIckNm8o5V4J65bDx-7keYOq0CNh4JJCGhZ4RT4AYV86TyfmNsL/w300-h400/c.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've got to the stage of my life of not wishing to be weighed down with kit while out and about and so yesterday I carried only my mobile phone and binoculars. The resulting photograph of the bluethroat is as a result, woefully inept. But it is a record. (NB : the arrow wasn't there on the day) </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqMur9PQbY-wZaYIw4eDV57vw4hEoLCKckpGtAUC-_1tahkndU_Wgy-rvdkQSVn9anjfcz6UYZEGQS7fMvUMwM-HdafZV7bxEdYF4kSjDPwIJkmswyN7z5gSTiLfv-2lTT23lcRWwk7QfAEar1YISLxvdfA32lHYs6zn-gykYNIRAuk4zPpGiZF2jC-Zv/s1844/b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1844" data-original-width="1383" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVqMur9PQbY-wZaYIw4eDV57vw4hEoLCKckpGtAUC-_1tahkndU_Wgy-rvdkQSVn9anjfcz6UYZEGQS7fMvUMwM-HdafZV7bxEdYF4kSjDPwIJkmswyN7z5gSTiLfv-2lTT23lcRWwk7QfAEar1YISLxvdfA32lHYs6zn-gykYNIRAuk4zPpGiZF2jC-Zv/w300-h400/b.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">But believe me it was there clinging onto a stick in what was quite an unpleasant wind, honest guv. Through binoculars and telescopes though it was quite stunning, a male, singing well too. But in many ways I found this quite sad. Reading the notice by the viewpoint it is a bird on its own waiting for a mate and has been at Slimbridge for some time. I checked, the last bluethroat confirmed breeding in Britain was in 2016. They are regular passage migrants annually but for one to be holding territory in England is uncommon. That said this is the first time all four of us had ever seen one in the UK, and while I wished it could find a mate, as this is the third year it has been to Slimbridge, there's always hope for next year.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijN89MMkH38Ck4WPiNB_qx6Dy9VpxbaavBvb44gPNBOUbmnV_OobdpCyHyn6eh0kXTt2tYRKpVwNVhDqDCvJSrEAVn2tEb190OW645biKJdmoHv4AVQIfHCm5ON7Ok0jT09f4wSQFbCZLIShytrLSXIaa0QBui5acf8YVRAh0cJHwzUoRTAu_zRttIPnAM/s394/b1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="282" data-original-width="394" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijN89MMkH38Ck4WPiNB_qx6Dy9VpxbaavBvb44gPNBOUbmnV_OobdpCyHyn6eh0kXTt2tYRKpVwNVhDqDCvJSrEAVn2tEb190OW645biKJdmoHv4AVQIfHCm5ON7Ok0jT09f4wSQFbCZLIShytrLSXIaa0QBui5acf8YVRAh0cJHwzUoRTAu_zRttIPnAM/w400-h286/b1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">If I'm honest, and maybe I should not say this, after I'd watched this speck on a twig for five minutes I thought this is lovely but it's so far away I'm bored now. But there was lots of butterfly action going on along the seawall bank, I made my excuses and left the core twitchers to stand around in the gale waiting for the bluethroat to re-emerge. For the next twenty minutes I busied myself with watching skippers (presumed small - chief ID friend suggested could be Essex but we'd need a better view to be certain), gatekeeper, marbled white, red admiral, comma, meadow brown and ringlets.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The bluethroat wasn't the only first bird for me. In total we spent eight hours at Slimbridge and along the way saw many species, one of which was a black-winged stilt, which I don't think I've seen before, but could be wrong there. Remarkably this was standing next to not only a ruff in almost summer plumage (it had lost its ruff) but half a dozen green sandpipers. As my encyclopaedia friend said either the green sandpipers and the ruff were non breeding birds, or they've finished breeding early. Either way they're on migration south already which is a sobering thought given it was July 1st and summer is yet to come it seems.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">One of the friends isn't too knowledgeable a birdwatcher so it was great listening to my two other friends giving her instruction and tips - I re-learnt a lot myself as I've become rather rusty in recent years through lack of time to get outdoors other than snatched hours at a weekend.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">To help her, we also kept a tally of what we'd seen at Slimbridge. Not a place I'd go to regularly as there are too many people visiting but it is fantastic for seeing birds in a well organised way, great for families too. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Birds we saw at Slimbridge. <b><i>BLUETHROAT, BLACK-WINGED STILT</i></b>, ruff, spotted redshank, common redshank, kingfisher, hobby, green sandpiper, common crane, kestrel, great white egret and little egret, shelduck, pochard, teal, coot, moorhen, lesser whitethroat, goldfinch, sedge warbler, reed bunting, stonechat jackdaw, rook and carrion crow, juvenile wagtails, great spotted woodpecker, sand and house martin, swallow (oddly no swifts), house sparrow, starling, woodpigeon, stock dove, curlew, mute swan, greylag and Canada geese, black headed gull, avocet, black tailed godwit, mallard and I'm sure many others I've forgotten. I must carry a notebook!!</div><p><span style="text-align: justify;">A wonderful day and the first time I've done a proper birdwatching day for years. This was followed on the following day, Sunday, with a very different day indeed, on the search for a white admiral butterfly. That's for the next posting.</span></p>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-79701482359863194382023-06-27T22:00:00.007+01:002023-06-28T13:21:28.518+01:00Nightjar a-glow<p style="text-align: justify;">There are some things which no matter how much time is spent, or how many hours absorbed in a task, or how many times a plan is hatched and re-enacted, the end product is zero. Though to be fair although the end product in this case was brilliant, capturing that brilliance on a camera was less than perfect. I'm talking of the European nightjar, <i>Caprimulgus europaeus</i>.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycAYIxsjdDNtTzHY8hJE6sNE0NVXRzhjnloh0tll6fJxKO26oPZL9qWDtEZ0mB5WVGQa1C1KulWjcdrONrpXETIjY3kMBFc8cjshJD_SvL7VRb34_8ZtVM1Ho_S7w9-D7HHjiwLbwqICqiGfV5FuGn2WGxVccd8fT59jtPOeSnb_1T3TgoUB0WCI1OqPf/s1600/IMG_20230624_213505110_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjycAYIxsjdDNtTzHY8hJE6sNE0NVXRzhjnloh0tll6fJxKO26oPZL9qWDtEZ0mB5WVGQa1C1KulWjcdrONrpXETIjY3kMBFc8cjshJD_SvL7VRb34_8ZtVM1Ho_S7w9-D7HHjiwLbwqICqiGfV5FuGn2WGxVccd8fT59jtPOeSnb_1T3TgoUB0WCI1OqPf/w300-h400/IMG_20230624_213505110_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I've watched nightjar for many years now and they never cease to amaze me. For many of those years my preferred location was a well known site on the Mendip Hills in Somerset. Close to twenty five years ago now I visited this site with an excellent naturalist and BBC Natural History Unit cameraman, I was also friends with his partner who joined us. This was my first encounter with the fern-owl or goatsucker, just two of the many country names for this bird. In those days it was deemed acceptable to flick a white cloth in the air to attract a male nightjar intent on booting out any interloper to its territory. And we did just that mimicking the white tail feathers of the bird, though today this is very much frowned upon. However that flick and clap elicited what had been the very best and closest encounter with these deeply fascinating birds. Until that is last weekend which I'll come to.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Another site in the northern part of Somerset provides astonishing nightjar flying and churring but to be honest as it has a precipitous climb back down from the site in pitch darkness it is not one of my favourite locations. And so during the pandemic when we were prevented from going out I did a little research. Which brought me to the Quantock Hills in West Somerset.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCNMOFOWRD6fZDzfdjNIpUnsqzA3-DeXliw3UbGcsrz9OezHQhy1cDF6BPYue8O_pUGTDs9K4siBEy3CackspFzH4LECZmHL-F7PpfUOZzSwFsCeNLApTFOC24Lo46lC3gh2HRirRq-c7m71AQxFrSBNk8P45T1ftuVvD25mrNcC6nSBAtuDIU_uPbHU4/s2816/IMG_9450.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2112" data-original-width="2816" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzCNMOFOWRD6fZDzfdjNIpUnsqzA3-DeXliw3UbGcsrz9OezHQhy1cDF6BPYue8O_pUGTDs9K4siBEy3CackspFzH4LECZmHL-F7PpfUOZzSwFsCeNLApTFOC24Lo46lC3gh2HRirRq-c7m71AQxFrSBNk8P45T1ftuVvD25mrNcC6nSBAtuDIU_uPbHU4/w400-h300/IMG_9450.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'm not going to name the site as somehow I feel the nightjar there will benefit being left to get on with their own world, though I later learnt that regular nightjar-evenings do happen here. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was early last year when Mrs Wessex Reiver and I did a reconnaissance visit arriving two or three hours before sunset. I had some basic instructions but this is a huge site of moorland, woodland, steep valley and everything in-between. With a picnic in the rucksack we wandered about the myriad of pathways aslant the hill. Nothing looked suitable in terms of habitat until we stumbled across a picnic bench. Unpacking the egg and cress sandwiches and ripe apple for desert it struck me while sitting here "this looks as likely a spot as anywhere". In the absence of a better idea we made use of the picnic bench and waited as the sun began to set. Half an hour after sunset we heard a brief churring at some distance, then followed by the contact 'choo-weep' call. There it was again. Walking towards the churring it became louder and clearer. We stopped, the churring stopped then as I'd hoped a clap-clap sound, another 'choo-weep' call and behind us from whence we'd just walked a male nightjar flew over the path silhouetted against the sky and away to churr at some distance. Success.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now knowing where they are to be found we returned three or four times last year and on each visit the same behaviour happened in the same area in roughly the same sequence.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">First there's a low volume short churr just before the sun sets. This is brief and often not repeated. It is possibly the male and female contact churring if they are brooding on the nest scrape, pair bonding as they swap positions. To be honest I don't know for sure. Nothing of real note happens until around 25 minutes after sunset. Suddenly as if a switch is flicked on a churr just begins and lasts for minutes. Then it will stop with a <i>whoop-whee-whoop</i> call like an old fashioned turntable losing power mid track, followed by wing claps and then silence. I now know enough at this site to anticipate this is the male about to take flight. Mostly from the same area, over our heads and into some isolated trees some way off. From here churring can continue for ten minutes, before again a clap clap, <i>whoop-whee-whoop</i> and if we're lucky we'll see him disappear in flight towards the valley. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxTcowlcSkxX4wlYOtpq9_JIM-SU8CVkM7hMBBGAdxgASTGT7Wznd0DDnf5KHQ1VDOE3uYzPkUJ-CmWM1DYMtvUDY4OogQJ9Tsfo7Zvk2AaV9YDqudLBjcO4uQhbvgVUoTiolNVMdtVh-RDi6GUxTQ70_5wWB18N4IBhK6jqU5UANlP5tckBBZRT8CZ8q/s1600/IMG_20230624_214029768_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLxTcowlcSkxX4wlYOtpq9_JIM-SU8CVkM7hMBBGAdxgASTGT7Wznd0DDnf5KHQ1VDOE3uYzPkUJ-CmWM1DYMtvUDY4OogQJ9Tsfo7Zvk2AaV9YDqudLBjcO4uQhbvgVUoTiolNVMdtVh-RDi6GUxTQ70_5wWB18N4IBhK6jqU5UANlP5tckBBZRT8CZ8q/w300-h400/IMG_20230624_214029768_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">That valley is interesting as on most of the occasions we visit we can hear up to half a dozen churring nightjar all around. Not all the time and of course some may be moving about, but certainly a small number are here. On one fine, warm and still evening I took a parabolic microphone to the site and gained some useful audio of the churring, mixed with the bells ringing in the village below. Quite atmospheric as the bells struck eleven.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">On another evening last year unlike Coleridge who was disturbed by a <i>Person from Porlock,</i> we met a dogwalker from Bridgwater. A somewhat surreal experience talking to a stranger in near darkness with nightjar churring about all around us. He was visiting his mother and knew the area well from childhood. He mentioned that in years past the males would lek up on the high moor after leaving their territories across the Quantocks and in the valleys. I've not come across any literature of nightjar lekking but it seems plausible for this elusive and intriguing bird as there is so much that remains unknown about them, such as the infanticide filmed on the BBC's Springwatch this year. A scientific if gruesome first. That lekking however would be something to see and while we had planned to try and see this this year other needs got in the way around the time of the nightjars arrival in mid May. I fear it is too late now in the season.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XskWO33Hw5JwSXM-FZZt0cT07oqPzWRDhpYr8CCsHDQJRiA5aId6Pl5ffzm5xbKA9bXSu-vbh9V2H-K3XCg2TbsFOzMj1f_jdG-bavfTtc6JnV-3LcESqvF6cKm5A8Mn909QopJ0j0f04XFKTVaZVmcqtzEti_huCMtHzY6AaKCQrgjD9lpfm2xkEgjI/s644/Screenshot%202023-06-27%20124457.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="495" data-original-width="644" height="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7XskWO33Hw5JwSXM-FZZt0cT07oqPzWRDhpYr8CCsHDQJRiA5aId6Pl5ffzm5xbKA9bXSu-vbh9V2H-K3XCg2TbsFOzMj1f_jdG-bavfTtc6JnV-3LcESqvF6cKm5A8Mn909QopJ0j0f04XFKTVaZVmcqtzEti_huCMtHzY6AaKCQrgjD9lpfm2xkEgjI/w400-h308/Screenshot%202023-06-27%20124457.png" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Which brings me to 2023. I wrote of our first visit over the May Spring Bank Holiday on this site a month or so back. Our second visit in early June wasn't brilliant for nightjar activity. There was the usual churring and wing clapping but within five minutes all activity moved onto the valley and out of sight. However that did bring one treat in finding a glow-worm. I'd not seen one shining for years, not since Mrs Wessex Reiver moved from Wiltshire where they were common near her home shining brightly between the railway ballast at Little Bedwyn. Interestingly there, and presumably elsewhere, they switched their lights off as a train approached and only relit them once it had long passed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The latest visit was after a hot and bothersome humid day last weekend. Even driving to the site at 9pm the car thermometer showed 22oC. Our arrival coincided with the sunset at 9.30pm, but it was still very light. Moments later we were at our usual vantage spot. Only five minutes or so later the first churring, that then stopped. A few minutes later more churring this time accompanied by the <i>whoop-whee-whoop</i> call.. And then over our heads like a large flapping bat the male flew low over to some often used trees behind us. Churring began. For the following half an hour we were entertained by two nightjar churring and changing position in a wide figure of eight pattern. I'm not sure whether it was the warm weather or the stillness of the night but these birds were very active and kept us on our toes. Brief glimpses of them flying between churring posts were regular. One even perched on a dead tree in a perfect nightjar silhouette. We walked a little nearer but as it flew off it was joined by another nightjar (by now it was too dark to see more than the shapes) and the pair flitted and flapped up and down the ride only a few feet above our heads. Not since that first sighting on the Mendips twenty five years ago have I experienced such a close fly by of a nightjar, and never for so long. In all this activity (I think there could have been three individuals here) lasted for over 45 minutes before they all headed towards the valley. Even as we walked to our valley view-point another nightjar flew over us. Simply magical and we were surprised on checking our phones that it was now well past eleven o'clock.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDBWFeWFgaiXinkV89GwUK-2pkDszozPgNJf1S5GmlyHuS7_4FzzBBxfS2Sqp1CQTE6Ka_3sO4UA4HzMFQgXmlD29HwArdclsx9aXv-uaqIo9NJuG9TWhlZ-gXd7OdZ4l_-olmg8dx0O12wp7xsPE1-H7Ue6QRRizgGIwccLWsyt5ZAu_UsTfxUC-2W7b/s557/Screenshot%202023-06-27%20175234.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="557" data-original-width="440" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibDBWFeWFgaiXinkV89GwUK-2pkDszozPgNJf1S5GmlyHuS7_4FzzBBxfS2Sqp1CQTE6Ka_3sO4UA4HzMFQgXmlD29HwArdclsx9aXv-uaqIo9NJuG9TWhlZ-gXd7OdZ4l_-olmg8dx0O12wp7xsPE1-H7Ue6QRRizgGIwccLWsyt5ZAu_UsTfxUC-2W7b/w316-h400/Screenshot%202023-06-27%20175234.png" width="316" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">We didn't want to leave while the churring in the valley was continuing and churring behind our viewpoint was also continuing. Eventually though fatigue and a 30 mile drive to come made us think of heading home.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was once back home that I looked at a couple of films I'd taken on my mobile phone, mostly taken to record the sound. One however showed a very brief fly past of a nightjar that I'd not noticed at the time, very much blink and you'll miss it. But another film had a longer flight I'd seen but thought I'd failed to capture. The two images above are stills taken from the film. It is hard to see in the first one so in the second one I've circled the nightjar (that feint black speck) and its direction of flight. This second clip is lovely as I've got the churring, the calling, the wing flap and then the flight, ending in the bird perching out of sight and calling 'choo-weep'.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Nothing matches being there in the darkness listening to this astonishing bird going about its business, but the films help me remember the behavioural sequence which is repeated time and time again. We should be able to return a couple more times before they head back to Africa and I can't wait. I never ever tire of standing in a plantation after dark and experiencing this phenomenal bird. I just need a camera that can match that experience too.</div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1654691964232673096.post-21114663914302186432023-06-11T18:12:00.005+01:002023-06-11T23:08:35.157+01:00Large Blue Is On The Wing<p> Despite the forecast suggesting an increasing risk of thunderstorms and thick heavy cloud I decided on the spur of the moment to head down to a butterfly reintroduction site in south Somerset. My quest today was to see if the large blue [<i>Phengaris arion</i>] butterfly was on the wing - I was not disappointed.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFd6-rhDxkINCtGHUns_0irkDjkRxUFRQ6OpnBKjBXrJD1jeEQZs19OcvugSZs0q59dW3JMQlyMbgdXQ8KDvvsEyBh_9298QO8ewgNej2rCh2LWpd_eKUyPNKX09chX0XRibHZin3tI6Ois5djRxI085QmdwUaCnq2PHr3CqCnzJFzO8qZzJxsKqzOQ/s1408/LB_00.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDFd6-rhDxkINCtGHUns_0irkDjkRxUFRQ6OpnBKjBXrJD1jeEQZs19OcvugSZs0q59dW3JMQlyMbgdXQ8KDvvsEyBh_9298QO8ewgNej2rCh2LWpd_eKUyPNKX09chX0XRibHZin3tI6Ois5djRxI085QmdwUaCnq2PHr3CqCnzJFzO8qZzJxsKqzOQ/w400-h300/LB_00.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I last visited this site two years ago when after a sizzling few hours of frustratingly seeing but being unable to photograph large blues, I realised later when at home that I had actually managed to take a photograph of a motley specimen after all. Two years ago it was quite late in their flight season, today however I hoped to be there at the beginning of the season. Looking on-line I had only seen a couple of sightings posted. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">As luck would have it when I arrived it was spotting with rain and quite cool, certainly different to the last few weeks of hot dry sunshine. But that lack of rain shows on the ground as everything here was baked hard, cracks you can get fingers down in the thin soil, and more worrying many of the ants' nests that are crucial to the survival of the large blue looked like they'd been broken open and robbed by presumably badger, green woodpecker, or maybe even foxes. There were intact ants' mounds around but a quick scan revealed at least half of the mounds were broken apart or damaged. One even had a fresh badger tunnel dug into it.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv4RUStGFNzn52QBvbWgwjNuQPInJsGkwnL_MKXrplKcJ80-sedRKLtNAMpV83v3LNlKevbkIM8u6CfnTLwy1_oK5TrtDpYqqo2XeynP7_NxZqh3Kf1Eri4eHzeg3c34xhJZObqYlq61Y2n5iGaOUihHWMpkIQDpx1fLsZJQEN7SGCiwdhrPaKp-3zw/s1408/LB_c.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJv4RUStGFNzn52QBvbWgwjNuQPInJsGkwnL_MKXrplKcJ80-sedRKLtNAMpV83v3LNlKevbkIM8u6CfnTLwy1_oK5TrtDpYqqo2XeynP7_NxZqh3Kf1Eri4eHzeg3c34xhJZObqYlq61Y2n5iGaOUihHWMpkIQDpx1fLsZJQEN7SGCiwdhrPaKp-3zw/w400-h300/LB_c.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was noticeable on first walking onto the reserve that it looked like it had gone back a little since my last visit, with quite a noticeable increase in scrub. The once prominent signs directing people to the site have gone too, did they attract too many visitors? When the large blue were first introduced here the site was kept secret. The then recently installed horse gallops half way up the hill have also been abandoned by the looks of it which is a good thing I'd suggest, as what was mown turf and artificial gallop material on my last visit is now quite overgrown. Not good for the large blue, but reverting to wild for more generalist species, like this small heath, which intrigued me. It was stationed on some sheep's fleece for ages. I'm assuming the fleece lanolin is providing minerals of some form, but I can't recall seeing butterflies on fleece before - I've probably not looked to be honest.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibXBDXC3AdYg_njuUvAdI-X71t6ONElnXdnmW3NJ7vZYQKv5Z5QSJ1BQq7Oj8lMSh6JA2hV84MCpm1NPd1TP_voV3KhCaoZrj3bM0M-2SSC2PHm6IJgDE-VkoEQdWC_jEs0-D455vgkF33RNRk37bhZZAd2lBv4226ASYF45HtpMByI_0DjSMBnKitlg/s1413/LB_a.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1041" data-original-width="1413" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibXBDXC3AdYg_njuUvAdI-X71t6ONElnXdnmW3NJ7vZYQKv5Z5QSJ1BQq7Oj8lMSh6JA2hV84MCpm1NPd1TP_voV3KhCaoZrj3bM0M-2SSC2PHm6IJgDE-VkoEQdWC_jEs0-D455vgkF33RNRk37bhZZAd2lBv4226ASYF45HtpMByI_0DjSMBnKitlg/w400-h295/LB_a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">The main path pushing further into the ancient downland area is now overgrown meaning I had to divert downhill a little where I spied a very familiar object. Either this is for a training day or a transect is about to happen.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvokjb-B8iOQD-tVFCbqxMtupahEBH52cyz5MAsQbaPbjquDe9-jCKqeEOvUVDPck4yhR39yLM7V8u2yrDH3A2MT8zT6Qpev-DGVuAZpZAft_iQy7Wzg6-_8AclH-rbf7UR9dXXULa4Z1eS3Wtb6wYAJyENpFD65XS4CHnNgv6l1mJKjcesSQAL7xfg/s1408/LB_b.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvokjb-B8iOQD-tVFCbqxMtupahEBH52cyz5MAsQbaPbjquDe9-jCKqeEOvUVDPck4yhR39yLM7V8u2yrDH3A2MT8zT6Qpev-DGVuAZpZAft_iQy7Wzg6-_8AclH-rbf7UR9dXXULa4Z1eS3Wtb6wYAJyENpFD65XS4CHnNgv6l1mJKjcesSQAL7xfg/w400-h300/LB_b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Having pushed through the scrub, snagging myself a few times on the dog roses now growing everywhere, my first large butterfly of the day was one or two meadow brown, which proved frustratingly hard to get a decent image of.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofSweUnuvXVW1pYyWV0UB5T7lMsziRW9AWI5-raqOwX9MUD7huyoU22-rDZ0VLd7HxErEqzMiEH6lh2s36JOxyFs2VMGJYSWiCTA0WxSdGCNxYw-FnIpkQawTMkYVLeTFFP3fJngCsY9vgODpUTnhIQ7S6mJG6315iz-cN6uQCSOYUXyObZrvZVzFGQ/s1341/LB_09.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1069" data-original-width="1341" height="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgofSweUnuvXVW1pYyWV0UB5T7lMsziRW9AWI5-raqOwX9MUD7huyoU22-rDZ0VLd7HxErEqzMiEH6lh2s36JOxyFs2VMGJYSWiCTA0WxSdGCNxYw-FnIpkQawTMkYVLeTFFP3fJngCsY9vgODpUTnhIQ7S6mJG6315iz-cN6uQCSOYUXyObZrvZVzFGQ/w400-h319/LB_09.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It was while trying to snap a better image of the meadow brown that a blue butterfly flew past at speed at knee height, a common blue by the lighter colour of it, large blue do look sooty blue on the wing. It was gone before I really registered it, with just my mental filing system dismissing large blue. Spots of rain were still falling and while those species I was now seeing were proving fascinating I did wonder if I'd come too early, on a day with the wrong weather, to see my target species. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Planning to walk on a little along this forty degree slope, I looked down to check my footing and there, right next to my shoe, a large blue.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWknarnviDJmKOkueEeYFhJ3sY9rUxNBVMYJ4kWvVYMJ5gT2w2Q3n1zshr4AVkFeV1qEkWV0CvADygeMJYQ9vXb2SHk7ESlJiXcR0RfYvKm5KazU7hFaOlR545kwmM9m0PJ9EzVqJzMY0ok9ei2rnK0pHCaYOQ8alw53qmljqaSeCBp3gotAHFetPcQ/s1408/LB_d.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuWknarnviDJmKOkueEeYFhJ3sY9rUxNBVMYJ4kWvVYMJ5gT2w2Q3n1zshr4AVkFeV1qEkWV0CvADygeMJYQ9vXb2SHk7ESlJiXcR0RfYvKm5KazU7hFaOlR545kwmM9m0PJ9EzVqJzMY0ok9ei2rnK0pHCaYOQ8alw53qmljqaSeCBp3gotAHFetPcQ/w400-h300/LB_d.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I only had time for a very quick record photograph before this beauty rose and flew off to join what I think were three maybe four large blue quartering the exact same place I 'd seen them two years ago. I now had got my eye in. The cooler conditions were making them less mobile than I feared they may be which allowed for a number of close encounters, (though not too close for this protected species). </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span> </span><span> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jPxRvDzyzFnqS6e2xRzcy4pkyXzK66dQ1dSccagVe6rijp4DAlK5Q_wqOZ-zLTxG0KJMDktmvnqz8xBRoxJ5Wc3bb_lB0bGFhzV0ngwPUlbnIiRgYiqKBRxspXxLxRja9-uBwbwxaNDYP3c9M4htKDFEIe_KhZClF8qQSO6jSO7yMD11LmZ4tLdjng/s1408/LB_07.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9jPxRvDzyzFnqS6e2xRzcy4pkyXzK66dQ1dSccagVe6rijp4DAlK5Q_wqOZ-zLTxG0KJMDktmvnqz8xBRoxJ5Wc3bb_lB0bGFhzV0ngwPUlbnIiRgYiqKBRxspXxLxRja9-uBwbwxaNDYP3c9M4htKDFEIe_KhZClF8qQSO6jSO7yMD11LmZ4tLdjng/w400-h300/LB_07.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">To be honest it was near impossible to know how many were in front of me. Definitely four, but I'd struggle to say more in this first area as they were being both very mobile and quite sedentary once they settled. Those resting on thyme with wings open were really easy to spot, that dark Wedgewood blue really does punch out from the short downland vegetation.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzacwQ8_i18qn4dpqZseadOVCw3tQTGflSFkV2OYzwS2aec56PXr693TEO3qJNRJoadAve0c1Il0MVxmGODuAFS2ANovOGjawbC_Bkm2W2quGQhXNkJgJItfvSlHPbTwz87iGsvdeDgxPoiAaFUWgcROI2BvHc3Wjzj1aH40elzD7u37gojPOOWREpw/s2005/LB_06.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1429" data-original-width="2005" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZzacwQ8_i18qn4dpqZseadOVCw3tQTGflSFkV2OYzwS2aec56PXr693TEO3qJNRJoadAve0c1Il0MVxmGODuAFS2ANovOGjawbC_Bkm2W2quGQhXNkJgJItfvSlHPbTwz87iGsvdeDgxPoiAaFUWgcROI2BvHc3Wjzj1aH40elzD7u37gojPOOWREpw/w400-h285/LB_06.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Once I'd fired off a dozen or so images I relaxed and just watched them going about their business without me looking through the viewfinder. This is the closest I've been to newly emerged large blue and I can appreciate, though don't condone, why Victorian naturalists craved this species for their collections. Newly emerged as these were they are absolutely stunning, a thing of beauty.</div></span><span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLjKdgHhH0qust7fB6bJwDNnGkwFZ3IvMa7t9LCD2oHtxMcfV2hqD-Os_J3mchDfSrDKtqFltuEiZv8PG_njmmTJdvTLbIxdxpKlzs-SlyEMz3xAhdMREvcJQDAuZ4xlCQNz98yV4ezkl_Iy92mFPSOhEp9MB5Ep2dkDMotP3-sawY9BLg6Bnsx1sQA/s1041/LB_05.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1041" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHLjKdgHhH0qust7fB6bJwDNnGkwFZ3IvMa7t9LCD2oHtxMcfV2hqD-Os_J3mchDfSrDKtqFltuEiZv8PG_njmmTJdvTLbIxdxpKlzs-SlyEMz3xAhdMREvcJQDAuZ4xlCQNz98yV4ezkl_Iy92mFPSOhEp9MB5Ep2dkDMotP3-sawY9BLg6Bnsx1sQA/w400-h265/LB_05.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhy9L1d4Ixj3fgCBBXoJhvEn3tyMLLwyPND7APajgZiHSNE8IPInO6_jzIvTR5dMcTisUph1bF8zmSOXfgEDFO19j1MI--3pTNo--Ah1RYtW0Y153v9YxpeVlXARcOYnPEPELQrj3R1sFTSHWHrZPbUUZ0Uh9Ulup4PR62wd-UuxC83Xz_YbVQgCUMZg/s833/LB_04_egg.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="749" data-original-width="833" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhy9L1d4Ixj3fgCBBXoJhvEn3tyMLLwyPND7APajgZiHSNE8IPInO6_jzIvTR5dMcTisUph1bF8zmSOXfgEDFO19j1MI--3pTNo--Ah1RYtW0Y153v9YxpeVlXARcOYnPEPELQrj3R1sFTSHWHrZPbUUZ0Uh9Ulup4PR62wd-UuxC83Xz_YbVQgCUMZg/w400-h360/LB_04_egg.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">This female is egg laying on thyme</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilqMK4r2wb84VgvSWTg8kVVC1c8ggme06sHPEqfEyrZfDRerl2g3XWt5OHZqaOOKas0fGMtdZAJzXQVFOULLYnekS1MIyAc7mfPP4uxpNXJCI2x6FINNo8k7JwcSS0c2I9UKfMu1KreC4f_5phb9AnbFf3yWP9AE11M6CcBYJ01eos04JpM4DdlHaDlw/s1408/LB_03.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilqMK4r2wb84VgvSWTg8kVVC1c8ggme06sHPEqfEyrZfDRerl2g3XWt5OHZqaOOKas0fGMtdZAJzXQVFOULLYnekS1MIyAc7mfPP4uxpNXJCI2x6FINNo8k7JwcSS0c2I9UKfMu1KreC4f_5phb9AnbFf3yWP9AE11M6CcBYJ01eos04JpM4DdlHaDlw/w400-h300/LB_03.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHyx6CH25w-8Hn3LKwdtEWgxlr2A3xZEj72HyN1dxitZfBskXWwwWt7z11VJNdS1xPuw9gM27MEs8UylPVpJCpGIwAg2RpeORWtRZNfDvUl2pBAwgPvJ0wEXmAM68dNW_EnqIkGIG87wwhHgrPzFELZG4nv-wDW_onR12tojmCnJwkHevR3gZLIJP3Nw/s1408/LB_02.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1056" data-original-width="1408" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHyx6CH25w-8Hn3LKwdtEWgxlr2A3xZEj72HyN1dxitZfBskXWwwWt7z11VJNdS1xPuw9gM27MEs8UylPVpJCpGIwAg2RpeORWtRZNfDvUl2pBAwgPvJ0wEXmAM68dNW_EnqIkGIG87wwhHgrPzFELZG4nv-wDW_onR12tojmCnJwkHevR3gZLIJP3Nw/w400-h300/LB_02.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8SlLEeni9etw8mP6orklTy_y9IqUQKiA_ps3puLw_vk9opBw-rtOWiJZvKE3jnVaJR0vnYi1G5KJT3R6-Y9PCl3jPLtZcJ7upQSJZBRjwD4WBZMUHa1prh2sO3L2BcOVgOn8rF_waY_DhyKaXkhFK5RxIXnewGlhGWXlKhnCd4ryVNGcLl5xhB6evw/s1493/LB_01.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1321" data-original-width="1493" height="354" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis8SlLEeni9etw8mP6orklTy_y9IqUQKiA_ps3puLw_vk9opBw-rtOWiJZvKE3jnVaJR0vnYi1G5KJT3R6-Y9PCl3jPLtZcJ7upQSJZBRjwD4WBZMUHa1prh2sO3L2BcOVgOn8rF_waY_DhyKaXkhFK5RxIXnewGlhGWXlKhnCd4ryVNGcLl5xhB6evw/w400-h354/LB_01.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Within half an hour I'd seen more large blue butterflies than in my entire lifetime. As I sat for a while just taking this all in I began to wonder how these now-naturalised 20-30th generation differ from Swedish stock they originated from. Maybe they don't. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">However insect evolution can be rapid due to quick birth-develop-adult-breed-die generations. Yes these blues in Somerset are not from a British stock, but they are the same species as the ones brought over from Scandinavia, yet have these now English emerging adults begun to adapt at all, adapting to survive on a dry south facing slope in Somerset? Is the interaction with the ants identical? It's a thought.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I'd read this week that although large blue colonies are faring well across the UK, this site having previously been the best place in Britain in terms of large blue abundance, has suffered a little. Although there is still a healthy population here, a succession of less favourable winters, wet and cold springs and prolonged periods of drought have reduced numbers significantly. Though, as someone who studied statistical analysis in conservation for my degree all those years ago I ask myself is any of this change statistically significant? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Is it a worry given what I saw today of the desiccated and smashed ant-hills and the concrete hard baked soil? The number of butterflies on the wing today was good, I found more on my way back in another area, counting five at least, three spiralling on the wing. But without some much needed rain, will the ants, the host flowers and the area itself be productive enough to sustain this fragile butterfly at the north-western edge of it's range? I'll leave that question hanging there while I revisit this image of a remarkable and stunning species brought back from extinction.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYmoOmGUqP6QWT_oWuye5BbjZQnu83zwh0aO_bYrNbD3KWLBVNftYSwM6YvTurj9qEDhbk0kRxRrYyCL7MjIoR6ah-HfBDOj79cfuYi2uGzi7H2SilTt9ryTH74RNoNDSIKzztlNjAa1Hpovao_6jOsJh_EcwEDBqwrdNfzpM9KfQx_S0HfIHxqnNYQ/s1861/LB.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1405" data-original-width="1861" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYYmoOmGUqP6QWT_oWuye5BbjZQnu83zwh0aO_bYrNbD3KWLBVNftYSwM6YvTurj9qEDhbk0kRxRrYyCL7MjIoR6ah-HfBDOj79cfuYi2uGzi7H2SilTt9ryTH74RNoNDSIKzztlNjAa1Hpovao_6jOsJh_EcwEDBqwrdNfzpM9KfQx_S0HfIHxqnNYQ/w400-h303/LB.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span></div>The Wessex Reiverhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01781303871936178731noreply@blogger.com4