Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Kingcombe Meadows and Centre

  

It must have been around the same time I first visited Toller Porcorum that the nearby Kingcombe Farm was coming up for sale.

The farm was part of the lands which made up the Lower Kingcombe estate, which had been granted to Lord Sandwich by Henry VIII. It had never been on the market until 1985, following the death of the then owner Arthur Walbridge. At this point the 640 acre (259 hectare) farm and buildings were semi derelict, the heavy clay land had never been improved. These wet meadows, sunken lanes, and billowing hedge country were known for its species rich diversity, it provided a unique natural habitat which was, despite much of it being a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), at risk of agricultural improvement. 

Despite conservation bodies best efforts to secure enough funding the purchase the farm, it was bought privately and then re-marketed as fifteen smaller lots in 1987. The call went out once again and after what would today be known as crowdfunding several of the lots totalling 300 or so acres came into the ownership of Dorset Wildlife Trust [DWT]. Likeminded individuals additionally secured other lots and in the intervening years further land has come into the DWT remit. Today the Kingcombe Meadows National Nature Reserve covers almost 450 acres (180 hectares).

That is the potted history of the site, somewhere I've passed by many times but never properly visited. Until now, making this the fifth reserve to visit this year.

I had not planned to visit this part of west Dorset this early in the year, however on reading the latest DWT members magazine an article mentioned the lesser known areas of Kingcombe which were especially worth a visit in early spring. The sun shone brightly, the forecast heralded the warmest day of the year, my wife and I headed down the M5 where after a cup of tea we headed off to the first of those areas mentioned in the magazine, Neal's Hill. It is a steep climb.

Exiting the Centre we first had to cross over the River Hooke. In reality no more than a wide stream, this wonderfully atmospheric river provides a soundscape to the valley. I did not see any fish under the bridge but in a calm area away from the eddying water a large number of pond skater (Gerris spp.) were, well less pond, more river skating. From here it is a short walk up the public lane before turning into Butt's lane which begins its ascent up the valley.

I simply love holloways, or sunken lanes if you prefer. There is something magical about them, many are those feet who have passed this way over the centuries, each footfall leaving an impression. As we walked up Butt's Lane it was also doing a fair impersonation of a running river. Run-off from the adjacent fields cascaded across the chalk and flint rubble we now found ourselves stumbling over. At various points 'mini-valleys', no more than a dozen or two feet long, luxuriant in ferns and mosses disgorged their tinkling water into the lane, as they had no doubt done for years. It made for a spectacular walk, which as the sun rose also made for a warm walk. The first bluebells were coming into flower, and primrose was everywhere. Brimstone butterflies too floated back and forth disturbed by our travels. 

Before too long the gate we looked for appeared and we entered Neal's Hill field, to be greeted by a peacock butterfly. Unfortunately, I don't know who Neal was, but this, the largest of five fields (the others being Five Acres North, Five Acres South, Neal's Ground and Wally Ground) which make up a rectangular outlier of the main reserve, provide absolutely breath-taking views. At our feet there was evidence of a rich wildflower grassland, from which cattle had only recently been removed, evident by the heavily pockmarked surface waiting to trip the unwary visitor.

Images can never replicate the views we see while standing a-top a hill, below us in the valley the whole of the Kingcombe reserve was visible in a wide arc. Around to the left of my vision the monumental hillfort of Eggardon dominated the south, and to the right the estates of Hooke and Mapperton completed the landscape. Behind,  stood an impressive beech tree clump. For southern England this felt an empty quiet landscape, and the arrival of a cronking raven to perch on one of the beech's confirmed this feeling. Interestingly there were few other birds about. I'd set my mind on seeing, or more likely hearing, a yellowhammer, but to no avail. A chaffinch, blackbird and a number of great tits provided the only song during our climb up. It was mid morning after all, maybe at dawn or dusk the bustle of territorial calls increases. Buff-tail and 'red' tailed bumblebees zoomed about and on the gorse, its flowers now dazzling in the sun, attracting a myriad of solitary bees to forage. 

We could have stayed here for a long time, a great place for a picnic and relax, but there was a lot more to see, so, we made our way back to the Centre and after a quick lunch in the lovely café, headed off to explore another of these afore mentioned least visited areas, Mary's Well Lane.

Walking here a very confiding goldcrest hopped through coppiced hazel, stopping regularly to sing. It made a welcome distraction for a number of minutes. Who Mary was I'm not sure (later research failed to uncover any facts) but this was yet another fabulous holloway. The lower half, like Butt's Lane, was a sparking rivulet burbling over flint rubble, higher up it narrowed into a muddy thoroughfare. Surprisingly above us sat a grey wagtail, some twenty or so feet above the path. It wasn't fazed by our passing underneath, presumably intent on foraging in and around the water running down the lane; there were a lot of insects on the wing on this warm afternoon.

The higher we climbed the more hazel dominated each side of the holloway. Some had been coppiced, some had been lain. In the bright sun during this visit the cross-over shadows in the bright light made for an atmospheric veil in which to look beyond into the wider landscape. In summer however, in full leaf, this would be a dark and mysterious tunnel to venture along, watched over no doubt by the dormice which this area is a stronghold to. For now though, primrose and bluebell dominated out attention.

Kingcombe Meadows is a large reserve, and materially different to the smaller reserves I have so far visited. Reaching the top of Mary's Well Lane it was around 1.30pm. We'd been walking up and down the valley for a couple of hours and really had only scratched the surface. Would we have enough time to make our way, in the opposite direction, to the Pound Plots and Redholm Coppice, the two other areas mentioned in that article of least visited areas. Possibly, though on reflection they could wait for another visit. I'd like to come back and stay here in one of their cottages, when a dawn or dusk walk would be simply wonderful.  

Thus as we returned to the centre a decision was made (not least as we fancied a flat walk). DWT's Powerstock Common was just a couple of miles away, as we're here in the area, why not make that the sixth reserve to visit? After all we had the whole afternoon ahead of us. 

We headed off. But that said, I absolutely loved being at Kingcombe, a place I've known of for decades, yet never visited until now. This is a lovely part of Dorset.

Date of Visit: Wednesday March 18th - approx. 10.30-13.30 (including lunch)

Species noted: Lesser celandine, primrose, bluebell, various ferns, lords and ladies (arum), dogs mercury, mosses, ivy, hazel in catkin, robin, chaffinch, blue and great tit, great spotted woodpecker, raven, buzzard, kestrel, grey wagtail, goldcrest, blackbird, chaffinch, beech, gorse, blackthorn, peacock and brimstone butterfly, buff tail bumble bee and 'red' tailed bumblebee, pond skater, solitary bees. Sadly no yellowhammer.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Broad Oak Orchard

As Dorset Wildlife Trust's (DWT) smallest nature reserve, at around 0.2 hectares (half an acre) in size, this orchard remains one of only a few orchards left in the area. It now adds to its notoriety in being the fourth reserve I've visited. 

I know this surrounding area well, though to the best of my knowledge I had never visited the hamlet of Broad Oak just across the river from Sturminster Newton. A few houses make up this hamlet, (not to be confused with Broadoak hamlet near Bridport), at the edge of which can be found the orchard hard by a lane. Since 1997 this has been a community reserve managed by DWT. Knowing this was one of just two orchards on my project list I scarce thought of a target species to encounter, other than apples. However one species that is here is glow worm. 

 

Interestingly the orchard was featured in the Guardian's Country Diary on Armistice day 2003. John Vallins laments in this article the loss of traditional orchards and his quest to find a precious half acre to preserve. Thus found and secured, he continues that 'as a community orchard it is open to anyone from the village who wants a quiet place to sit, an apple to pick, or a job to do, such as pruning or hedge laying'. I may not be from around these parts, yet I entered, and sat with my lunch at a lichen encrusted picnic table. It is diverting to say the least. Quiet too.

The air is clean around here, evidence of which was the picnic table and benches encrusted with foliose lichen. I've never been good at identifying these to species level, but these are possibly common greenshield lichen (F. caperata) or others in the Flavoparmelia genus. It wasn't just the benches that were encrusted, every branch of the labelled apple trees was host to oakmoss lichen (Evernia spp.), yellow wall lichen (Xanthotia parietina), powdered ruffled lichen (Parmotrema perlatum) and many more I failed to register.

For such a small area there was a lot to see, and read. The orchard boasts a small summerhouse within which is contained a lot of information and this lovely piece of descriptive artwork. I picked up a leaflet which highlights 26 different points of interest. Most noted are the fruit trees but also a log pile, grass cuttings pile and a black poplar. The orchard is surrounded by a lain hedge, which I also read were, at various locations around the site, laid in Midland style, Dorset style or Southern style.

Tree 24, was a Belle de Boskoop apple, which is a mid 19th century variety from the Netherlands, and, although it had fallen over still bared fruit. Before leaving the orchard I had to pay my respects.

Lunch over it was time to leave this delightful community orchard, one which for years I've passed close buy but never visited. I should imagine in spring with the blossom, or on a still autumn day with the fruit glowing, it would be stunning. I'd like to add to its many charms that it is easy to imagine being here at night, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by the fluorescent light of the resident glow worm in the grass.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Girdlers Coppice

 

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

So penned Oscar Wilde in his wonderfully farcical comedy, The Importance of Being Ernest. Was there romance in the unravelling uncertainty of my visit to Girdlers Coppice at Fiddleford near Sturminster Newton? I'd like to think so, but this, the third Dorset Wildlife Trust (DWT) reserve I've visited during this project of mine, became a farcical comedy, of errors. Why so? Adroitly, I came, I looked for and I failed to conquer. I think I've randomly mixed my theatrical metaphors here.

As the name suggests, Girdlers Coppice is an ancient woodland which is managed for wildlife using coppicing techniques. It is also an interesting site in that DWT rent these 7 hectares from the Hinton St Mary Estate, owned by the Pitt-Rivers family. Doing my research beforehand an article in Dorset Life mentioned 'April is an excellent time to visit Girdlers Coppice in order to enjoy the openness of the canopy, the bird song and the spring flowers and insects.' 

Excellent, except I was here in early March and subsequently failed to find my way in, though I think I did make it after all.

I'll explain. Access to this reserve is from the car park attached to the 14th century Fiddleford Manor. The instructions are simple, from the car park walk towards the manor, however go through the pedestrian gate on the left, cross a field, keeping the fence to your right and ahead of you will eventually see a gate into the reserve. The first pedestrian gate was chained and padlocked, presumably as there were horses in the field. Close by was a second gate, which my wife and I went through, into a smaller field. This field had the river Stour as its boundary, which I knew from earlier reading marked the northern edge of the reserve, and the river was fenced off, to my right. So far, so good. 

 

There was a path of sorts leading to an unmarked ramshackle gate hanging off its hinges. Odd I thought, but maybe it had fallen into disrepair during the winter storms. Once I'd squeezed through the gap the meadow as I'd expected to see was ahead of us. Except it had no obvious path, was mostly herbage not grass and looked as if no one had ever been here. Was I in the right place? Doubts loomed.

I could see woodland to our left, and a rodent tube suspended on a branch, suggesting that was the reserve. Between us and that however was a wire fence. Not wishing to crash and career through this area - it is a wildlife reserve after all - we returned to the gate and had a discussion. It felt like we were almost at the reserve, but somehow not in there yet. 

Back in the field I walked up the hill. Ahead of me was an electric fence, but with an opening at one end allowed me to walk further up the hill. Scanning with my binoculars I could see it, I could see what looked like the reserve entrance some distance away, very close to the A357 which provides the reserve southern boundary. Between me and the gate however was another fence, wood and netting this time, with no gate or style. Was I in fact in someone's field wandering about aimlessly? Are those baying dogs being unleashed yonder I can hear? At a push I could have maybe climbed over the fence, but that just didn't seem the right action for entering a reserve. I had to be in the wrong place. So far, yet so near. This entry uncertainty was somewhat diluting the very essence of the romance of my visit. 

My wife, who I'd left by the river waiting for me to resolve this dilemma, eventually joined me up on the hill. Another discussion occurred and, feeling a little crestfallen, the decision was made to walk back down the hill to our car. Once there I asked a fisherman, and a lady out for a walk if they knew how to get into the reserve. Neither were local, they didn't know. 

 

Funny that, neither do I!

As a postscript to this the following day I contacted the DWT office. Being English I apologised for being a bewildered naturalist, I asked them if I'd missed something, some subtle marker, a different gate perhaps. It seems I hadn't. My query has been passed to the reserves manager who has said he'll investigate on site and be in touch. 

I'm perfectly happy to find out that that first, albeit padlocked, gate was actually the way in, though how those horses might react to me puffing away as I walked up their field in my wellingtons, I'm not sure. I'm perfectly happy to be told the dilapidated gate I actually went though was the correct route, maybe with instructions on how I can access the wood itself from there. I'll wait and see. A summer return maybe. The reserve is adjacent to Piddles Wood, a much larger ancient woodland, thus Girdlers Coppice benefits in sharing habitat suitable for silver washed fritillary, purple hairstreak butterfly and hazel dormouse. 

 

I will be back! 

 

Date of visit : 10th March 2026, 13.15 to 13.50 (mostly being lost in those fields)

 

 

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Mill Ham Island

 The unmistakable sound of spring resonated across the valley. The reciprocating hum of a chainsaw, impersonating a monstrously sized hornet, virtuoso notes accompanying the percussion drumming of a great spotted woodpecker at some distance off. I was near Child Okeford.

During the winter while researching all of the reserves for this, my self-imposed project, one place stood out for me. I really wanted to visit Mill Ham Island, for reasons I did not quite understand at the time. Mostly I believe this was due to the description on the Dorset Wildlife Trust's website,

"This little visited area offers a retreat for otters on a small 'island' bordering one side of the River Stour. A pleasant spot for river watching."

And sure enough, as I approached the reserve walking through the fields bordering the River Stour, I observed a well defined otter track leading to a pool. One could quite mistake this muddy route for badger, sheep, even deer, however on closer inspection it plummeted 2 metres or so from the field into the water. I'd seen otter slides before and this had all the hallmarks of one. Unfortunately I could not get to the water's edge, or the roots of the adjacent tree, to look for spraint, but I'm sure it will be there somewhere. It was a good start.

I like finding little visited areas and this small, close on 1 hectare in size, reserve was not the easiest to find, lying a few fields away from where I'd parked my car. Looking at the detritus clinging to the top wires of the fence as I entered the field I could see this whole area had recently flooded. And to a great depth too by the look of it. Not that this should be surprising, as the Stour meanders it's way through this flood-plain valley on it's way from its source at Stourhead to the sea at Christchurch. The fields themselves showed evidence of standing water but were drying well, herbage was growing, predominantly buttercup which would erupt into a sea of yellow in the weeks to come. Teasel and dock were also well distributed. But this was a mere sideshow to my visit, which I reached after a ten minute walk.

The island in the reserve's name gives it away. From the field access is across a narrow bridge, I felt like I was entering a child-like adventure, all very Bevis by Richard Jefferies. 

"What river is it?" said Mark.  "Is it the Amazon, or the Congo, or the Yellow River, or the Nile-"

"It is the Mississippi, of course," said Bevis, quite decided and at ease as to that point."

The reserve is known for two plant species, which I'd made my target find during the visit, arrowhead (Sagittaria sagittifolia)  and our native black poplar (Populus nigra). I looked for the first emergence of the former as I crossed the bridge, but nothing was obvious. After all it is still early March and possibly a little early to be emerging given these aquatic plants are flowering from June. 

However, I did find the increasingly rare to our landscape black poplar, most readily characterised by the red catkins of the male tree littering the floor underneath. As with other poplars, black poplar comes as either a male or a female tree. This sexual division is known as dioecious, which I read is derived from Greek for "two houses". To be honest I didn't check for any of the female trees as I was enchanted by this miniature reserve, as was my wife who accompanied me, and took the images.

I loved being here. It reminded me of my childhood, aimlessly wandering around nooks and crannies, exploring mud, splashing in water, climbing trees, damming streams. A rope swing hung loose from a willow over the Stour, which forms one boundary edge of the reserve. Possibly few people venture here for the wildlife, but children from hereabouts seemingly visit regularly and mess about on that swing on summer days. Sadly my swinging over river days are long gone, not without a trip to A&E later, but the mind is willing at least.

It didn't take that long for the two of us to explore this reserve. The understory was in that fresh, low, new spring emergence form, lesser celandine and nettle were everywhere, I read, and noted, the vegetation grows tall and nettle takes over in the summer. A few drier areas hosted wild garlic. A chaffinch, wren and woodpigeon created the only birdsong while I was there, though I did hear the peep peep of a kingfisher as it flew along the Stour, some rooks were noisy across the fields, plus of course that drumming woodpecker some distance off.

I had two other nearby reserves to visit today but I'll maybe come back here one day in the summer to hopefully find arrowhead or see Banded demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens). At which time I'll combine it with visiting the Countryside Regeneration Trust's 92 acre Bere Marsh Farm which borders this reserve, they host a wonderful pop-up café in the barn on a Friday throughout the summer. What's not to like.

It was time to go, retracing our steps across the narrow bridge, I looked beyond towards Hambleton Hill in the distance. I know from experience that is a climb and a half but worth the effort.

Date of visit : 10th March 2026, 11.45-12.45 (including walking there and back over fields)

 

Species encountered : Black poplar, willow, elder, ash, lesser celandine, nettle, wild garlic, buttercup, cow parsley, chaffinch, wren, woodpigeon, blackbird, kingfisher, and can I include the otter slide?

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Hibbitt Woods

 Storm Ingrid positioned herself off the coast of Cornwall, hunkered down and unleashed rain and wind across South West England. Maybe not an obvious day then to begin my Dorset Wildlife Trust (DWT) project, but an inclement day would be perfect for a muddy boots experience. Hibbitt Woods, just into Dorset,  a few miles south of Yeovil, was to be my destination, accompanied by my wife, with the hope of seeing a bullfinch in our mind as a target species.

 

 

I've been getting it wrong for weeks by calling this 7 hectare (22 acre) reserve Hibbitt's Wood. I'm not entirely sure why it is called Hibbitt Woods as this reserve comprises an ancient wood and meadow (known as South Clarkham Copse) lying to the south of a quiet lane to Halstock and  two parcels of woodland (North Clarkham Copse and Harper's Hill Copse) now merged into one wood to the north, on the opposite side of the lane. Who or what Hibbitt was shall remain a mystery.

 

  

Wet doesnt really do justice to our time here. To be fair the rain had eased from torrential to steady, but underfoot on entering the reserve, it was a sodden squelchy affair. Wellingtons were a necessity, yet even on this challenging winter's day I realised this was a special and uplifting place. A cursory glance as we crossed over the small meadow revealed a stand of mostly oak and ash with beech, hazel, blackthorn and holly, the latter providing an extensive understory.

 

 

 From the meadow you enter the wood via a gate and then cross a bridge over a small stream. Just a few footsteps but you enter another world. 

 

 

 Above us the roar of Storm Ingrid made herself known through the bare branches heralding, even on a dark midwinter day with the rain falling, a green oasis. Everywhere there was moss, over the ground, up tree trunks, dangling off branches, stumps and fallen trees. The colour was startling.

 

 

 

The rain added an extra dimension to this habitat. At one tree I watched rivulets of water trickling down through the luxuriant moss, drip upon drip. You could hear it. I posted a clip of it on my Instagram page. 

 

Although open access we kept to the single route around the wood. There was little evidence of other visitors, meaning this place felt unobserved, a small remnant of ancient woodland in a very rural area quietly just getting on with life.

 

  

 

Although for one unlucky woodpigeon life was cut short under the sparrowhawk gaze. Later we saw this predator darting across the meadow where numerous smaller birds flitted through the branches to make their escape.

 

 

 Of course this reserve is not unmanaged but from the couple of hours we spent here I'd suggest DWT are performing a light touch strategy allowing the woodland to exist at nature's, not humans', seasonal timeframe. The reserve is home to the silver washed fritillary butterfly which prefers sunny rides or open woodland edge habitats. Hazel coppicing was in evidence and with selective felling the wood felt open, helped of course by the bareness of winter. 

 

 

 

 Dead wood trees stood in places, fallen trees  littered the ground, slowly decomposing nutrients back to the soil. And everywhere there was ivy which I always enjoy seeing as it spreads over stumps or up trunks, ivy, like bramble, is such an important wildlife resource. 

 

 

 Also in evidence were Parmotrema spp. lichen, I'm no expert in identifying to species level. It was everywhere even happily growing it seemed on fallen branches, a sure sign of an undisturbed habitat with a clean atmosphere.

 

 

Doing my research before visiting, the best time to visit this reserve is in spring. Wild daffodil and bluebell provide a spectacular show I read. But even in deep midwinter life is returning. It is still early in the year and remarkably I only found one violet, host plant to the above mentioned butterfly, however lesser celandine, arum, bluebell and primrose were all showing signs of growth. A flash of pristine emerald amongst the fallen leaves.

 

  

 

That wasn't the only splash of colour on the woodland floor, these scarlet caps, or scarlet elf cups  Sarcoscypha coccinea were common across the reserve, even on the path, another lovely sign of an undisturbed habitat. 

 

 

The more we looked the more we found. A sudden movement showed a mouse, unidentified, as it scurried along next to this fallen branch and out of sight. Taking a closer look the decaying branch provided a well used 'tunnel' for safe passage. Out of the corner of my eye I then saw it exit and scamper off a few feet away.

 

  

 

Further on I noticed this collection of discarded acorns and nuts. The site of a grey squirrel feeding area I suggest, the discards accumulated on the floor over months of feeding on a branch above, or maybe feeding on the ground. The tree in question was thick with ivy all the way up to the canopy. How I'd love to explore what was lurking in there, though sadly my tree climbing days are long gone.

 

 

 

I've not mentioned birds much. In the rush to get out today I'd forgotten my binoculars, normally kept in the car but now languishing at home. Instead I had to rely on my hearing which revealed the woodland was full of song. Great, blue and coal tit were frequent. A jay, chaffinch, great spotted woodpecker, blackbird and robin less so. Woodpigeon flapped overhead. Sadly no bullfinch though, as we sploshed our way through the mud, they'd have heard us long before we'd seen them.

 

  

 

By now we'd been exploring for well over an hour. To be honest I'd have liked to stay longer but the weather was turning against us as was the light. A decision was made not to visit the other woodland to the north of the lane but to return here in the spring. There are two other DWT sites close by, we'll make a day of it on a sunny March or April day maybe. But for now we ended our visit exploring the meadow, which was absolutely waterlogged. I read that adder's tongue fern is found here, though I couldnt see any emerging today. That can wait for our next visit. 

 

 

So I'm off the blocks so to speak. I really enjoyed this reserve, if the remaining reserves to visit sre as good as this I'm in for a wonderful year.

 Back at the car while drying off with a flask of tea we discussed how important these lesser known and  isolated reserves are. The large honeypot reserves provide an excellent experience to the visitor but these hard to find reserves, like Hibbitt Woods, are the real gems of the natural world for me. Maybe on a drier day though. 

 

 

Date of visit : 24th January 2026, mid day to early afternoon.

 

Species encountered :  Great spotted woodpecker, great tit, blue tit, coal tit, robin, jay, long tailed tit, woodpigeon, chaffinch, sparrowhawk, carrion crow, blackbird. Primula spp, ivy, soft rush, male fern, harts tongue fern, arum, lichen, moss, lesser celandine, violet, bluebell, holly, hazel, ash, oak, scarlet elf cup, and not forgetting that mouse.

 

 And just as we were about to leave? I heard a bullfinch calling from a cottage garden we'd parked next to. I couldn't locate it without staring into their property, but that unmistakable soft call ticked off our target species for the day. 

Dorset Wildlife Trust project; its all in the planning

These short January days are perfect for venturing outside. I do a lot more walking these days and last Monday spent a fabulous three hours trudging through a muddy Steart Marsh which, while having my lunch sitting on a bench, afforded one of the best views I've ever had of a Cetti's warbler.

I was alerted to it by at least two wrens' erupting their warning calls continuously, and within the same clump of reeds a Cetti's called. At this point the birds, about twenty feet away, were hidden but after about five minutes of watching, three wrens appeared and, taking positions at the base of the reeds, began calling ferociously. Then the Cetti's appeared, balanced on a single reed stem just below the 'feather' about two to three feet above the wrens, where it returned their chorus of displeasure with its own explosive call. The wrens replied, the Cetti's replied. I'd inadvertently stumbled across an avian Ministry of Sound territorial bust-up. The three wrens were not happy and were giving it loud. It gave me about two or three minutes to observe the Cetti's warbler out in the open. I've seen Cetti's warblers many times but usually the briefest of views before disappearing. This one was in full view. Through my binoculars in some ways it reminded me of a bulky Dartford warbler with the tail of, yes, a wren. Then, as quickly as it had begun the Cetti's flew off, the wrens dispersed and I was left in silence, apart from a quartering marsh harrier in the distance. 

Somewhere in this view are three wrens and a Cetti's warbler

But I digress. These short days also allow stay-at-home time for research and planning of my Dorset Wildlife Trust (DWT) reserve visits. On Thursday it never really got light due to heavy rain and thick cloud, so I ventured to our local library to print off my notes, taken from the DWT website, of the near fifty reserves.

 

 

 

I don't have a printer at home but decided for this project I'd go old school, partly as some of these reserves will have patchy mobile coverage. Taking an OS map and those printed notes (along with my flask of ginger beer) should avoid any technological unpleasantness.

 

Researching and then printing these notes and re-reading them in the file has been fascinating. The big DWT reserves I know of, Brownsea Island, Kingcombe Meadows and Kimmeridge for example, will reliably deliver. However I'm now more interested in and wish to focus on the many small reserves in the DWT portfolio. I've noted a few and many are just a few fields or some remnant habitat and under 10 hectares.

 

Broadoak Orchard,  a community orchard with bullfinch and glow worms. Girdlers Coppice, an ancient oak woodland with dormice, spotted flycatcher and silver washed fritillary. Hibbitts Wood, good for orchids in the adjacent meadow. Budgens Meadow, just 2 hectares but a wildflower and invertebrate hotspot. Troublefield, tucked behind Bournemouth airport and good for dragonflies. Kings Barrow Quarries on Portland, chalkhill blue and silver-studded blue, Peascombe, a steep sided hill with stream, home to marsh tit and otter (though I'll not see the latter) and last but not least in this brief selection Mill Ham Island (rarely visited I read) home to willow warbler, banded damoiselle and yes you guessed it, otter.

 

My preliminary research is complete. Pages printed, the days are lengthening, birds are becoming vocal, the time has come to venture out. I wonder which reserve on my list will be awarded the first visit?