Late Afternoon Walk To Check On The Crows

Time of day makes a huge difference to what is seen in the countryside. Earlier this week I wrote up on my hour or so walking and looking for corvids at lunchtime. Today I headed off on the same route though as the sun began to dip. My aim this time was to try and follow where the jackdaw head to at dusk. Their main jackdaw roost here is at Worlebury Woods about a mile away towards the sea. however a sizeable number of jackdaw head in the opposite direction at dusk and I've never managed to discover where they actually go. So with my work finished for the day half an hour before sunset I headed off into the cold. First corvid an obliging magpie.

As usual once I reached 'Rogers' farm, the rook were loafing about. Earlier in the week the pairs were on the grassland today however they were paired up and loafing about on 'artificial trees'. I noticed a couple of single birds, but on closer inspection most rook were sitting tête-à-tête so to speak, simply enjoying the last of the sun on what had been a bright sunny but bitterly cold day. 

I could feel the temperature dropping with the sun and even at this late hour of the day, last night's frost remained gripped in shaded areas. The ground was hard. Difficult foraging conditions even for rook with their dagger like bill. If the ground is frozen even if they can stab through the surface, invertebrates will have retreated further down into the soil avoiding the frozen conditions. Luckily we don't get too many deep penetrating frosts here and the farm has many rhynes and waterways with exposed banks as emergency foraging areas. Just the other side of the farm more rook and jackdaw were arriving at favourite pre-roost trees, framed by the familiar bulk of Crook Peak on the Mendips in the distance.

There was a lot of activity in the countryside though this was of a fleeting and noisy kind. I could hear carrion crow, rook and jackdaw busily contact-calling as they flew to and fro but very few stayed put on the grassland for very long. And that is the time of day. The days foraging will be over and by 4pm in mid-January it is all about preparing for the long night ahead, social calling, interactions and resting before flying to the roost. I walked on, past the chainsaws buzzing at the dew pond, and onto the church in the village. Only two jackdaw there when I arrived, and only one obliging enough for a half decent image.

The sun was starting to set quickly now and I was beginning to feel the cold entering my bones. Cold sunny days have long fascinated me. Many is the time I'd look out of the house at the clear blue skies and think I'll head out for a few hours to watch wildlife. But really to observe wildlife involves being stationary for a long time and, even at these not that cold temperatures, a chill quickly will set in. Time to keep moving and wander back slowly in the hope the jackdaw will entertain me at around 4.30pm 

The low light was fabulous and by a newly installed footbridge I noticed half a dozen winter gnats flying, their delicate bodies picked up by the sun's rays. These probably were the males, buzzing about trying to attract a female, and are commonly seen in the winter months even on cold days as long as there is a nice sheltered area warmed by sunshine. A nice reminder life carries on all year. Other than the gnats and a mallard pair there wasn't much else about.

Further along the lane however a very obliging wren flicked and flitted through one of the lane hedges. I stood for ages watching this diminutive bird calling, each time its whole body would shake and shudder as it ushered that enormous song of theirs.

And while watching the wren, I noticed more rook coming in onto the favourite tree of theirs in the village. Light levels were really starting to fall now with the sky behind me turning a lovely salmon pink and blue colour. A light that signifies a cold night ahead for the wren then.

Those low level dusk hues are a photographer's dream and while this silhouette magpie is not making the most of the colours, I found the sepia background quite pleasing.  However although there were small groups of jackdaw milling about it was already 4.30pm and the main flocks had not materialised. Presumably they've taken a different flightpath today. I carried on walking until a feature I've been observing for a few years caught my eye, again.

If I'm honest, I've no idea what is making these tracks, but they've been here for years.  I'd love this to to be otter as the track goes from the River Banwell next to the barn top right, across the field, under the fence, down the ditch, before they disappear over the lane, before re-emerging opposite, down another ditch and into the river again. A sort of semi-circle from river bank to river bank avoiding the bridge which is mid point. But I'm certain it isn't otter. While otter do cross open areas as a shortcut, and I've seen many such otter tracks before, they would probably use the river or bank itself. And I've never seen spraint by the bridge. 

On closer inspection today there isn't any obvious footprints or tail marks either, in fact there's very little to go on at all.  It could be badger, though I can't find any hair on the fence or through the brambles on the opposite ditch, plus I don't know of a sett around here. Fox is a real possibility as this is very close to where the dead fox I spotted last week was, and there are a lot of foxes around here. Or even, and I wonder about this more and more, cat, as there is a large black cat often in the field hunting. What it needs is a trail-cam to solve the puzzle but as it is in a public area next to a lane I'm not sure the trail-cam would last very long. Food for thought, though thinking this through I'm going for fox without any evidence m'lud. 

In the five minutes I'd spent looking at this animal track I was beginning to get quite chilled. The jackdaw hadn't materialised either, though a number of redwing and long tailed tit were a pleasant diversion. I decided to head home happy in myself that the nature of this area of North Somerset continues to entertain me. Just being out on a cold frosty day is enough to lift the heart.

And then when I was almost home they appeared as if shapeshifters in the gathering dusk. The call came first of course, that jak - jackty- jak as they maintain social bonds in flight. Alerted to their arrival I managed a couple of quick images of groups of maybe a dozen or more birds flying quite high right over me in fairly quick succession. I checked my watch, 4.38pm. Of course, the days are lengthening and sunset is later by around 2 minutes a day now, so their 4.30pm passing the house on Tuesday was eight minutes later today. Lovely to observe as they sped overhead but I still don't know where they go from here. That's for yet another day of watching and waiting. 

I can't wait, but I must remember time of day does make a difference to what is seen in the countryside.

Lunchtime Walk To Check On The Crows

A beautiful day. 

Here in Somerset we had thirty days of rain from the 17th of December until this weekend. It has been truly grim. But all that has finally changed. As with the rest of the country a northerly airflow has developed and ushered in much colder but thankfully brighter weather. Last nights frost was hard but here we've been spared any snowfall. Simply a crisp and beautiful day dawned.

Working from the home office these last two days I've been distracted by the corvid activity hereabouts. Jackdaw continue to use our garden as a flightpath, as they have done for years, flying in the morning and evening at eye level between our bedroom window and the fir tree at the bottom of the garden. I try and grab images of these birds as they noisily shoot by at almost hand-grabbing distance but the result is always a blur. One day, and a faster camera. 

Yesterday at dusk I noticed a jackdaw flock of around 100 birds heading to roost flying over the back field, very low and hedge hopping, presumably a peregrine or other such raptor was hassling out of sight. Safety in numbers for the smaller jackdaw, the larger rooks and carrion crow carried on as normal with their flightpaths at some height in small groups or pairs.

Today though lunch beckoned and I fancied a walk to see what's happening to the rooks up by the village. It is still very early in the breeding season, but I fancied a bit of a reconnaissance before the main event unfolds in February. I had about an hour for lunch and as it is about a half hour walk to the trees I keep an eye on in the village where rooks come each year and rebuild their rookery, I had bags of time. 

Although I live in a modern estate, I overlook unspoilt countryside. It is also very flat around here, we're on the Somerset Moors, on a flat headland jutting out into the Bristol Channel. At around 3 meters above sea level the area is hedges, isolated trees with farming mostly sheep and cattle on permanent grassland. Perfect for corvids and views. The view above is from the Chinese Take-Away not 200 meters from the house - it has to be one of the best such views anywhere while awaiting the prawn crackers, lovely sunsets in the summer. 

The first corvid I spotted was this carrion crow. I still can't work out what it has in its bill (maybe a Chinese cracker), but whatever it was this bird swooped down from a height, grabbed it and was off.

Ebdon Bow is the first place I meet on the walk after about 5 minute, a couple of farms along the banks of the River Banwell. Sometimes along the river you can see a kingfisher or heron. Today though nothing other than a pair of mallard. This is a tidal river and today it was full, the tide was obviously in. On my return journey the levels had dropped and the river ran fast and true back out to sea a mile away. Despite this being mid day it was still cold, frost lay untouched wherever the sun had failed to reach. One sad sight however was a dead fox by the bridge itself. Being the good member I am I reported the sighting to the Mammal Society on their sightings app as a road kill, but as the fox was covered in frost it had been there a while so hard to be 100% sure it was a fatality.  

Turning left at the T junction and past 'Rogers' farm, first view of the village and the first birds. A party of redwing with a few pied wagtail were gorging themselves by some cattle troughs in the field. winter thrushes are always wary, the best image I got was rubbish really. But looking across I could see my quarry in the fields and the trees. And very vocal they were too.

Wick St Lawrence is no more than a hamlet, but I've called it home since 1998. And in all those years I've kept an eye on the rooks and jackdaws. Some years are good, thirty or more rook nests, a raven nest one year, and jackdaw omnipresent.  Some years less so. I fear this year may be a lean year. While on the surface the village looks the same year in year out, there has been a lot of development recently. Trees grubbed out, old buildings converted into homes and just a general tidying up of unsightly areas.

An example of this caught my eye at one of the newer rookery sites on a bend in the lane. Last year there were half a dozen nests here in what it has to be said are not very tall willows. On today's walk, half of those trees have now gone. I'll try and find out what's happening, but this dew-pond which was impenetrable to all but a few moorhen has been opened up. My guess is that now Roger's son has taken over running the farm and converted it from dairy to beef and sheep he's opening it up for drinking water. To be fair it's not a clear fell, with some nice marginal slopes having been scraped out and a willow pollarded (those trees that have been removed looked quite rotten), but for the rooks, they've lost three taller trees leaving just two standing. I think the work has been done well so I'll keep an open mind and see what effect all this has on the overall numbers of rook in the village.

Just beyond this pond work, and nearer the village, the number of rook were increasing in the fields. In taller trees by the village they were loafing about on and around nests. I'd spotted rook on nests in Devon in late December, and again a week later alongside the M5. Whether these birds I watched today have eggs already in the nest I don't know. It is still a little early even for these early nesters. However it's obvious the nests there are substantial and well cared for after the winter winds. 

In the field in front rooks were very much paired up. Courting couples were dotted about, relaxing in the sun and even taking part in a little allopreening to strengthen the pair-bond. I watched a dozen or so rook pairs for a while. Each close to its partner, oblivious to my voyeurism, in beautiful condition too. Such a good sight to see. It's still very much winter so I only hope we don't get strong winds in February and March as we did last year which blew many of the nests out of the trees just at the wrong time.

Just a little way further on I arrived at my destination, a not that large pair of trees which for a decade now have provided the hub of the half a dozen rookeries of Wick St Lawrence. It is an odd place to build a nest site but it must work. Adjacent to a number of houses the tree canopy leans over the road where milk tankers, tractors and daily commuters trundle by. But they seem to like it and as I walked towards them there was a lot of activity from two or three dozen birds both in the tree and flying around.

However when I got to the trees they all flew off leaving just a bare branch landscape. Until November last years nests clung on to the upper branches, wind and rain since then have taken their toll and not a single nest remains. It is like this most years, these trees sway too much in the stronger winds. Come nesting time though a dozen or more nests will festoon these branches. Given the activity in and around the trees I'd expect rebuilding to begin soon, I'll notice when this begins as I drive underneath on my way to work. But for now though, simply a place for Corvus frugilegus to rest and relax in the sunshine.

I'd now been messing about looking at these crows for forty minutes, I was behind schedule and I needed to get back home and back to work. There is always a cross to bear. No time then to go and look at the jackdaw in the church tower. A trio of quick long lens images then of my favourite corvids. I'll return soon and have a proper look at what they're upto, but they are nicely paired up I see.

The return walk was quicker, but not uneventful. A pair of raven shot over me cronking madly, a species that is daily now here. And a great spotted woodpecker made passing use of a GPO telegraph pole as I still think of them. No drumming or calling from him today but a wonderful example of a right place at the right time encounter.

Finally I found myself almost back at the Chinese Take-Away when a small flock of starling made use of a couple of poplars planted decades ago in what had been the farm yard. We don't get the big murmurations of starling here but most winters we'll see at least one flock of 500+ wheeling and zooming over the house en-route to somewhere. 

That ended my walk with a flourish, just over an hour in the end and I have to say, it was not a bad  lunchtime walk at all.

RHS Rosemoor - Eventually

Way back in 1995 when I found myself living in East Brent in Somerset, my then landlady Mrs Jean Williams, visited what was then the newest Royal Horticultural Society garden Rosemoor in Devon. I remember her returning and knowing of my interest in gardening said I should enjoy it suggesting maybe we could go together regularly and watch the garden, which opened to the public in 1990, develop over time. Sadly none of that suggestion happened and it took me nearly three decades to finally make the hour and a half drive to north Devon and finally visit. It has also taken over a week to write up this visit. A pattern of delay is emerging.

How had it taken me so long to visit? I'm not sure, life just gets in the way, but over the Christmas period despite the weather being so dire the effort was made. To be fair the weather wasn't awful, just perpetually wet, very dark during the day and basically a smorgasbord of grey enveloped the landscape. Each time I ventured outside I seemed to return like a wet rag. Two days before Christmas our walk around Cheddar Reservoir was, well quite wet. Christmas Day saw Julie and I down on the Somerset Levels as has become a little of a Festive tradition now, and we were soaked through. On Boxing Day we simply abandoned another walk before it began as the rain started to fall heavily and never stopped. However on December 29th the forecast for Devon was for heavy blustery rain blowing through quickly overnight followed by sunshine and showers during the day, before more rain would arrive before midnight. A dry window of opportunity then, and I'm so pleased it allowed the visit.

Back in 1995 when Mrs Williams visited RHS Rosemoor the garden was still very much in an on-plan development stage. RHS Rosemoor is still developing, despite the garden and adjacent pastureland being gifted to the Society in 1988 by Lady Anne Berry (1919–2019). This mini estate had been her family home having been bought in 1931 by her father Sir Robert Horace Walpole as a salmon fishing lodge. Its then 8 acres of gardens were of standard Victorian inspiration, lawns, formal flower beds and it was not until her mother installed the stone garden just before World War 2 that any semblance of garden design began to take place. Lady Anne herself is credited as having caught the garden bug in the late 1950's having met the well respected ornithologist and plant collector Collingwood Ingram. He received a moniker 'cherry Ingram' for his knowledge of Japanese cherry trees, he also knew quite a bit about Asian bird species. I digress.

It is 87 miles from home to the garden just outside Great Torrington in north Devon, and as had been expected the rain never stopped on the entire journey, until that is we arrived and the sun came out. Perfect. A sun kissed visit was in prospect to explore the garden for the very first time. We were not disappointed. Julie is a professional horticulturalist so after the obligatory cup of tea and a bacon butty (for research purposes) we split up for a while to explore the garden in our own ways. Of note Julie said when we reconvened was the exceptional labelling of every plant in the garden, a gigantean task given the RHS have expanded the garden to cover 65 acres today. I studied horticulture with the RHS myself thirty years ago as an amateur interest, today however I simply enjoyed the views and took the photographs accompanying this record.

Even in the depths of winter this garden is beautiful with an awful lot to take in, much too much for one visit if truth be told. The long walk above seamlessly splits the formal garden from the visitor centre. There is something magical in a tightly clipped winter structure I feel. Yet buried amongst the formality nuggets of informality, such as the catkins emerging on to the chaotic structure of this corkscrew hazel.

I've lost so much knowledge of plants over the last few years as I now rely on Julie to identify everything for me while we're out and the home garden is her domain. But despite diminishing memory my love for gardens has not weakened and I am increasingly drawn to the feel and atmosphere of a garden, such as the Winter Garden below one of the many rooms within the formal garden, rather than the individual plants therein. 

The climate in this part of Devon is a moist oceanic influenced one, winters are generally mild with summers warm rather than hot, and not as dry as across in eastern England. Perfect conditions to grow some of the more tender species, that Atlantic derived weather influences air quality too. Everywhere there is evidence of how unpolluted the air is with lichen and mosses covering every structure, even the marker signs.

New structures are still being built around the garden, such as the Cob Shelter which provided the perfect frame for a view back towards the Learning Centre which though it was closed on my visit looked fascinating in its own wooden design. Glorious too to see blue skies overhead adding to the bright winter atmosphere.

The rain almost kept off during our visit, a brief squall when we were in the Foliage and Plantsman's Garden didn't dampen our spirits. Even as the light levels dropped the clever planting here flashed colour into the rain.

That squall soon passed and allowed more time to be spent in what for me was the highlight of the formal areas, the Herb, Potager and Cottage Garden. I loved the centrepiece of a simple round pond with child in repose from which the four main quadrants emerged. The winter structure made this garden a delight to visit in December, yet what this garden would look like in spring or summer is intriguing. I feel another visit is a must this year not least as being an RHS member entry is of course free.

Local Devonian craftsmanship is evident everywhere including this easily overlooked Devon Hedge, this one a drystone wall with the traditional chevron design with herb and potager planting on top. A nice touch indeed.

The Cottage garden has a lovely permanent structure, which on the map is shown as simply 'shelter'. It is so much more. I sat there for a while just enjoying the peace and quiet, on this day we visited there were only a handful of other visitors. In the near silence I could hear birdsong easily, great and blue tits, a robin and somewhere behind me a wren. A gloriously restorative moment here.

A sculpture exhibition was taking place, with this cat on a ball taking my eye, albeit with an eyewatering price tag. Not this year I fear. 

It may be midwinter but the signs of spring were pushing through - by the Wisteria Lodge drifts of snowdrops were already in flower and these daffodil 'Rijnveld's Early Sensation' bursting through the grass were a welcome site.

Outside the formal garden the Lake is apparently regularly frequented by otters so the sign said. Not today sadly but the blue skies reflected well the birch planting on the opposite bank, flanked by various cornus species looking as if they were on fire in the weak sunhine.

Further into the less formal areas of the garden, this display of colourful squash in the 'shelter' of the Fruit and Vegetable garden also brought a fiery brightness to the well organised and frankly stunning working part of Rosemoor. I was impressed, not least when I discovered later there are only eight gardeners, plus volunteers. 

Though there may be a lot of hard work to keep this garden looking so stunning, there is a fun element too with their recreation of Mr McGregor's garden from Peter Rabbit to entertain the younger visitors, such as myself.

The second tranche of rain during our visit arrived quickly and was beginning to settle in for a longer spell. We'd been walking for two hours and not really explored more than half of the garden. Chatting to a couple and their friend as we all sheltered from the deluge they let it be known that they come regularly and suggested when the rain eased we head to Upper Woodland Walk to look back onto the whole of Rosemoor from the highest point. Watching the rain fall quite heavily now Julie and I made the decision to abandon any more exploration for the day and plan to complete that walk on our next visit. Which I hope won't be in three decades time, late spring this year, maybe?