Sleigh Bells ring, are we listening

It seems ominously prescient that in the week that global leaders are meeting in Copenhagen to discuss the climate change agenda, the UK comes out of a period of weather that would make Noah shudder. Rain has hammered much of the country, and especially the South West, for the last fifty days; the biblical accounts which found Noah franticly constructing his ark, only deemed it necessary to rain for forty days to obliterate all life on earth not safely tucked up in the boat. I’m no theologian, so that’s as far down that particular route as I am prepared to venture, however it does give some pause for thought as to what we have just been through. If you think back to the early eighties, all pressurised aerosols, fridges and foam packaging contained a very useful group of chemicals called Choro-fluoro- carbons. It was fabulous stuff, seemingly inert and useful for a range of purposes. Then we found that these chemicals, when floating about in the atmosphere were ripping the guts out of ozone and creating a big hole that let in harmful UV rays that could cause us to die. Globally, we acted swiftly and decisively.To begin with products marketed themselves as CFC Free; a badge of ecological honour. These days it would seem pointless to have such a label, the change is complete. Possibly one of the reasons we in the UK are finding it difficult to adjust to the notion of lifestyle change to combat climate change is that there is some glimmer of hope we might actually come out of the process with a balmy Iberian climate. I fear the more likely scenario is more of what we have just been experiencing: Wet wet wet, and no one wants to see the return of that monster. At a time when Lewis Pugh is able to complete a one kilometer swim at the North Pole, SWIM - and only in his trunks - then its time to sit up and pay attention. People are naturally resistant to change, and I am counting myself in all of this I assure you, but that is when leadership is at its most valuable. Anyone can sit in lofty high office and make decisions that are easy. Its when the difficult calls have to be made that these people earn their status, I really hope things distill from Copenhagen 2009 that have a bit more urgency than previous summits, a little more focus on doing rather than strategising. Otherwise we may all have head to B&Q for large quantities of 2x4. But what effect has all this rain had on the local wildlife, after all that’s the focus of these columns. Animals that live on or around rivers, riparian wildlife, will obviously be impacted. However most species that have evolved to live in and around water have also evolved to be able to withstand flooding. Otters, water voles and other mobile critters can move to higher ground, although this has its associated hazards now we’ve put bridges and roads in their way. While the majority of riverside plants are flood-proof. One local favourite that will have been hard hit are barn owls. These beautiful birds have been making a bit of a comeback in recent years, thanks to habitat improvements, and the efforts of various conservation organisations. However, wet weather is a barn owl’s least favourite thing. They can tolerate cold, heat and dry, but wet and prolonged wet at that, is potentially fatal. The trouble is that a barn owl’s plumage isn’t very waterproof. Instead it is adapted to silent flight so each feather is soft, downy and in the rain acts like a very pretty sponge. Barn owls tend to stay inside when its raining. Fine for an evening or two, but eventually they are forced out in search of food. Not only does the rain very quickly waterlog their feathers, but it also effects their ability to hunt. Silent wings have evolved in barn owls as much to allow them to hear what is going on around them, as to allow them to creep up on little voles. Barn owls hunt with their ears, which are so well developed they have what can only be described as 3D hearing. When its pelting it down, these sensitive ears are deafened, rendering the barn owl ‘blind’ to what is going on in the rough grass below. Lets wait and see what comes from the Copenhagen summit and, until we get a handle on things, buy a very good brolly.

A Winter Warmer

When it comes to wildlife, setting yourself specific targets only leads to disappointment. Focus your attentions on a single subject and you limit your chances of striking lucky, and no matter how much experience, feildcraft or knowledge you have, so much boils down to luck.

With that in mind, I set off to put myself in exactly that position last friday morning. An early start before first light saw me struggling to drag myself out from under the covers, knowing full well the futility of what lay ahead. I was in for a pleasant surprise however.

The subject of my early morning foray were otters, and the destination was Colyford Common Local Nature Reserve, on the Axe Estuary. I have mentioned in this column recently about the otters that have been seen on the estuary recently, and my exasperation at being left out of their particular loop. It would seem everyone in the team who spends any time out of the office, which in fairness is only Dave and Fraser, have both caught glimpse of the pair, cavorting in the water, fishing in the ditches or galloping over the grass. I am being left out and I don’t like it!

So I examined the forecast, looking for the prime opportunity to seek out the elusive mustelid. That approach failed as every day looked as bleak as the next, so I plumped for the morning I was on the Axe Estuary anyway. I got up before dawn, threw a hot coffee down my neck and got to Colyford as the sun was just rising.

Trudging down the frosty track, the previous evening thick mud mortified into ankle-threatening runnels, my breath erupted in the sharp morning air. This was a good morning, what luck. A clear night had spun crystals of hoar frost on the surface of the gates and fences, and the early trickles of light were already playing on these tiny surfaces. Goldfinches chimed in the hedgerow, while a wren gave it both barrels from beside the path, blasting out the announcement of my arrival.

I got to the reserve entrance and was taken aback by the spectacle. This was worth the early start in itself. The morning tide was just beginning to ebb away off the saltmarsh, but the flat calm conditions meant that the vast saline pools were like mirrors, steaming gently in the first light of day. A little egret burst into the air from the left of the gate, not accustomed to such early morning disruption.

Gangs of meadow pipits flocked from tussock to tussock, making the most of what little grass was left uncovered by the tidal flood water. In amongst them was bound to be the occasional pink-flushed water pipit, but I could not get a clear enough look at them, so dazzling was the light.

I crunched my way across the boardwalk, and soaked up every crisp step. The waters surface which had on my arrival been a dark violet was now tinted with pink and yellow hues as dawn got into the swing of things. A matter of minutes later and the landscape around me looked almost martian, the centre of pink water reaching an almost crimson tone, reflecting the full moon sky above.

Five green sandpipers scooted around the water edge, not used to having this embarrassment of shallow riches. They whistled and sang at each other, as they picked off tiny isopods from the water surface and bounded on in front of my approach. Two mute swans were visible through the mist on the marsh, gliding on their own private pool at the southern end of the reserve. A cascade of chacking made me look upwards as a flock of jackdaws, glossy black and blue like crude oil, flew across the pink sky in perfect colour combination.

There were no otters to be seen on the reserve, but to be honest I had moved on from this singular quest and was too enthralled in the morning to pay it much heed. It was impossible to get to the bird hide as the tide was too high, so I set off across the reserve using the network of secret little ranger bridges to have a look at black hole marsh. This is definitely the ultimate perk of this job, knowing that in the course of “keeping an eye on the reserve” I get to ignore the polite ‘no access’ signs and explore like a six year old! Apart from a flock of greenfinches hungrily chomping away on sunflower seeds from the feeders nothing was spooked in my off-piste ramble.

Standing in the gateway on stafford marsh, the golden sunlight warming my face just the tiniest amount, I took a moment to remind myself how fortunate I am to count this as my office. Sure, the otters don’t seem to want to let me catch sight of them, but on a morning like this I honestly let it slide. I had my spirits lifted by a magnificent sunrise and the freshness of the common left me breathless.

Group Decisions

A few years ago, I reported back from an introductory meeting of the Finding Sanctuary Project. In the intervening time much progress has been made and I caught up with the project last week to see how things are developing.

There are seldom times when you get a totally fresh start at something; a clean slate, virgin territory. In terrestrial conservation things have been done a million times before, there are established methods and several thousand kilos of enlightened writing on those methodologies. Sure enough, the tried and tested is often not particularly suitable or effective, but its the way things are done and there’s nothing more comforting than conformity.

Look out to sea however and the landscape is very different. For one thing its much wetter and much of what conservationists seek to protect is hidden from view. On the plus side however, you are starting form scratch.

Finding Sanctuary was initially a pilot project, when the Marine Act was no more than a glint in a politician’s eye. Over the past two years the success of the project has spawned three other similar schemes operating in regions across the country. All of the projects are looking to achieve the same goal, to preserve and enhance the wealth of marine wildlife to be found off our coasts.

The scale of the task facing the project team is so immense as to make it virtually impossible to appreciate, but if you simplify things, it can become tangible. The thing which really stands out about the Finding Sanctuary process is its role as a facilitator; not an enforcer, a lobby group or a specialist advisor. The decisions will be made by a group of people involved in all things marine - fishermen, divers, yachtsmen, potters and the like - and their decisions will be based on the best possible information collected and presented for them by the project.

So the project officers arrange workshops where people’s use of the sea, for both business and pleasure, is mapped and recorded. They also collect all the best known data for locations of marine habitats and species and record this. By comparing the two, it should be possible to see where biodiversity protection can be implemented easily, and those areas where things will be slightly more difficult.

Protecting areas at sea is much more difficult to the same exercise on land. No matter how remote or inaccessible a location on land, the chances are you won’t need to put on a special suit and breathing apparatus to get there. At sea you can’t fence things in, and enforcing almost 40 thousand square kilometers of ocean is a massive task, and that’s just for the South West operation. This makes it most important to get the right solution from the outset.

Its a political reality that these protective measures are being brought in, fact, but what this process has allowed people is the chance to influence where these Marine Conservation Zones will be placed and what level of protect each will enjoy. By engaging with the process, everyone has had the ability to influence it.

Of course it would be naive to think that all business and recreational users of the sea can put their lines on a map and the space in between be put to one side for ‘nature’. Inevitably there will be occasions when one interest and another will come into direct conflict and the steering group will not be able to reach a consensus. Then it will be a political decision to be handed over to an elected member of government, so lets hope as few of these scenarios slip though as possible.

Guidelines for all the regional projects will come from a central body, to ensure continuity across the regions. This group will confirm details like percentage protection for certain key habitats, or what level of protection is necessary for each site to be protected. There are some fragile locations that will require total protection from all activities, while others merely need a seasonal closure to certain activities or a speed limit to ensure their biodiversity value is safeguarded.

Everyone is invited to participate in the process, either by attending one of the face to face sessions run by Finding Sanctuary or by feeding into the interactive map. I know it all sounds a bit like iConservation, a bit buzzwordy, but this map is interactive, so why not call it such. Log on to the Finding Sanctuary interactive map and you can see all the current data displayed on screen, as well as submit your own information for consideration.

And therein lies the motivation for everyone getting involved, there was a fear that some sectors might sit on their hands and not identify areas - for whatever reason. The danger would be that the final map might end up with a gaping hole in it, apparently unused and superfluous to socioeconomic needs. If this area also contained a critical wildlife location then it would seem to be a neat fit and a MCZ drawn up for it. To make sure that all interests are observed, all interested parties need to be open and honest in the process.

So there’s the process in a very simplified nutshell, at which resolution it seems perfectly logical, verging on simple even. In the real world of course things are never as clean and simple as one may like. From this information gathering process areas of the sea will be identified for protection as Marine Conservation Zones, and eventually we will become as complacent about living on the coast next to a Marine Conservation Zone as we are of living in the shadow of Dartmoor National Park. It will become part of the scenery, albeit a highly valued part.

Compromise is never 100% satisfactory to any single group, that’s why its called compromise and not capitulation. It would seem that in this model a potentially robust method of reaching meaningful compromise might be achieved. I for one will follow the rest of this fascinating project with great interest.

Let the Kids do the Talking

Last week I was fortunate enough to lead a number of groups from Brixington Primary School on sessions to explore the school environment gleaning inspiration for creative writing. This was part of an intriguing venture they are calling “Real men Read”, to encourage the students to take an active interest in books, words and writing.

Aside from the title of the scheme making me blush a little, I found the idea so compelling that I just had to get involved and I am proud to publish the fruits of our day in this column for you to enjoy. The sessions lasted about an hour, with three or four pupils joining me for an explore of the grounds followed by a creative writing session in the outdoor classroom, a space which couldn’t fail to inspire!

Handwriting, spelling and neatness was categorically put to one side for these sessions, the emphasis was about exploring language and transferring ideas and thoughts to the page. Suffice to say I was astonished by the results. Perhaps its because I don’t normally get to see young people develop a piece of writing – clipboards and worksheets are banned from my outdoor sessions! Whatever the reason, I was mightily impressed with the talent on show from these young people, all of which embraced the concept of the day and behaved impeccably.

Enough of my rambling, here’s what they came up with:

The slug’s eggs are like crystal-clear diamond; sticky like a wet lollipop, sucked and stuck to wooly jumper.

Crows are a black as the night sky, stalking the worms under the grass. Their beak is as sharp as the teeth on a saw, cutting through the turf.

Walking towards us while we’re the size of a pea, the spider’s face surprises me. Hairy, grey, honey brown and blue eyes.

Perhaps he wasn’t hungry, I’ve not been eaten, but that scary look scared me.

If you are out in the wild, or out for a walk you can look at tracks and see what animals you might find.

They show you where the animals been, where its going; they show you the way to explore. Tracks are nature’s signposts, if you are lost explore more.

Bug’s Life – the honey bee and me

Honey bees come in different shapes and sizes and they have fascinating colours. Their eggs are quite strange too, they look like green balloons.

Their honey in the nest looks like candle wax. So go and look for these amazing facts.

As we were out with James Chubb, we found a rare lesser stag beetle in a piece of log that was rotting away and we brought it to our log cabin and put it in a see-through container.

As we put it in the container t tucked its legs in and stayed so still to protect it and if a spider came up to it wont attack because it’s a vegetarian. So it will just work and carry on what it was doing.

The Lesser Stag Beetle

The lesser stage beetle is very slow, its nearly slower than a dead snail and that’s slow!

To protect itself from the cold, it would dig a deep hole in wood for its home. They could fly for miles, and two legs move at a time.

Slug’s eggs look like a ball of marble floor, shiny, glittering like the moon in the night sky. Precious like diamonds. So valuable they contain the slug’s future.

Cool, singing, muddy and hairy, lovely, fab, slow and long. Good fun, cuddled up deep in the wood.

Lesser stag beetles, they are slow, they are cool, they are the best.

Frogs

Frogs eggs are transparent like a crystal glass window. Frogs eggs are precious like a platinum ant. Frogs like to eat flies, my eyes glitter on frog eggs.

Like a hedgehog I the middle, curled up, the chocolate millipede.

Lesser stag beetle – 6 legs, sharp teeth, like 3 bodies wings crack in the middle, antenna that it smells with.

Birds singing in the wind, blackberries on the trees that the birds were eating. Good nature, worms make tracks which turn into dry mud. Worms make compost.

The leaves turned different colours because it is autumn, and the leaves fall off the trees. We wouldn’t have leaves if there was no sun.

If you out at a place and you see tracks of a mysterious beast, explore instead of wait and minibeasts could pop out of anywhere like a beetle, and not just any beetle, a lesser stag beetle.

Wind rushing, wind rushing is all I can hear from the highest branches where the leaves fall from the trees. I stomp through them as they gracsay. The sky is blue with misty cloud, filling autumn sky like  blanket.

Credit Where its Due

There are times when you are required to recognise a fabulous achievement and give recognition to those who deserve it. This is just such a time, and this column is the perfect space for just such an acknowledgement.

All too often conservationists seem to be in conflict, but on this occasion co-operation and shared ambitions have led to a mutually beneficial solution that seems to be working. I refer of course to the voluntary exclusion zone on the Exe Estuary, something which I started work on three years ago with the watersports community at large and which has seen a tangible success this autumn thanks to the efforts of a few key local individuals.

There was some degree of scoffing, cynicism even, about the value of a ‘voluntary’ agreement, and yet it would seem to be working; take a look for yourselves. The initial problem was having a credible voice within the group I needed to communicate with, and this credibility came with the support of Eric and Steph Bridge of Edge Watersports and Pete Manfield of Waterfront Sports. Both these businesses helped spread the message of the zone and critically the need for the zoning, throughout the various water users. Their vocal support carried a weight I couldn’t hope to.

But the real trump card came this September, when Eric strode manfully out into the mud to put four yellow marker buoys in place to mark out the exclusion zone on the water. A simple, yet very effective solution. Even though kitesurfers, windsurfers, kayakers and a host of other people enjoying the water knew about the area, with nothing to tell them where on the water it started, it was very hard to adhere to.

Now the Local Nature Reserve has its four lovely yellow buoys bobbing in the water, and I would like to say a very big “Thank You” to everyone who is observing their presence. They will disappear at the beginning of January, as the brent geese will have theoretically finished feeding in this part of the estuary and everyone can relax and get back to normal, and will reappear in September 2010 to ensure another critical period proceeds without disturbance.

The best thing about this solution is that the birds are visibly benefitting from the extra space afforded them by the zone, and are tolerant of kites on the water as long as they remain outside the zone. So the two things – watersports and birds – can co-exist at the same time, as long as they are in different spaces. How about that?

The need for this space comes from the fact that the Estuary is Internationally important for its winter bird numbers and disturbance can have a catastrophic impact on bird flocks. Repeated flushing of a flock of water birds can show no visible effect, until it’s too late. The accumulated effect of repeat disturbance can lead to widespread death of birds as they succumb to the combined effects of energy wasting and loss of feeding time. These effects are particularly pronounced in periods of extreme cold weather, but can happen at any time with enough impact. So to make sure that people’s enjoyment of our stunning estuary was not leading to the unnecessary death of wild birds, the seasonal perimeter was drawn up and came into effect.

Whether you happen to enjoy bird watching or are totally disinterested in these particular brent geese, I would hope that the reasoning behind safeguarding them is not lost on you. A small inconvenience at a certain time of year will ensure that Exmouth continues to provide a winter home for these International wanderers.

There aren’t many towns which can boast a winter spectacle of this significance, protecting it is our collective responsibility. What an impact we can have if we all pull together, well done Exmouth!

The Eye of the Beholder

Beauty, as we all know, lies squarely in the eye of the beholder. Good news for those of us who wouldn’t grace the pages of ‘Hello’ or ‘Tatler’ when it comes to attracting a partner! But enough of such self-deprecation, we’re talking weird wildlife this week.

There are plenty of animals that invoke a strong response in people, but no group polarises people more than parasites. It’s a perfectly understandable human instinct to find them repulsive, and I use the word very carefully in this context. There are some schools of thought that suggest that the phenomenon of evolution stems from the principals of parasite-host interplay. As the parasite develops and gets better at something, so the host is forced to evolve to outfox it, which in turn pushes the parasite to step its game up once again, and so on. Combine this competitive progression with a few million years and you get from a starting point of molecular goo, to what you see today. The good news is that as long as we don’t really muck things up, this shouldn’t be the end point - it all depends upon how clever we are at parasitizing the planet!

Now, as this isn’t a vetinary column I am not going to go into (pardon the pun) internal parasites, but just linger on those creatures which make their living by living on other animals.

Firstly, what is a parasite? An animal which lives on another animal, but which takes nothing from it either directly or indirectly is a symbiant – rather like a barnacle on the fin of a humpback whale. When an animal living on, or in, another animal begins to have a damaging effect on the host or takes something directly from it like pre-digested food or blood, then it can be termed a parasite.

Ticks are an increasingly familiar part of the countryside and an almost daily part of life for dog owners who like to exercise their animals in woods or on the heaths. They are widely disliked, but even here there are fascinating life histories playing out. Ticks are arachnids, belonging to the same family as spiders, but they have vastly different life cycle. The larval tick only has six legs and, in most species, needs to feed before it can progress into a nymph and then on to an adult.

The only way to distinguish between a nymph and an adult tick is to check for genitals, and as these are microscopic I will not be encouraging anyone to venture that far into their world!

Unluckily for some, there are 13 species of tick found in Britain, with an associated 27 diseases transmitted by them, the best known of which is Lymes disease. Of the thirteen species, many are host specific; such as the sand martin tick, or the locally misnamed tortoise tick, which in our country fares rather better parasitizing lizards! In fact the dear little tortoise tick is the only species in this country to not be responsible for any domestic or human disease. Ahh.

Most ticks will be picked up by dogs or people without their knowing, when out and about and the tick will make it their business to find a nice warm spot away from the light to start to feed. This means that they will usually attach themselves to a bit of the body with a good blood supply and engorge themselves, swelling to 8 or 9 times their original size. They will then drop off and can remain in a state or well-fed torpor for many months.

If you find a tick on your dog or, horrors, yourself there is a very simple way to remove them. The trick to removing a tick is in getting the mouth parts out of the skin. Simply pulling the offending ectoparasite from your body will inevitably leave the mouth or capituli in place which can lead to secondary infection. Old fashioned methods to remove the whole tick range from burning the thing in an attempt to shock it into loosening its grip, to smearing it with butter to ‘suffocate’ it out. A better solution is available. Most outdoor pursuits shops, garden centres and vets will stock tick hooks, which are like tiny bent plastic forks. By following the instructions with these little gadgets, you will remove the tick with no fuss and without leaving any of the unwelcome personal guest behind! If you do remove a tick from yourself and in the intervening few days start coming down with flu-like symptoms, it’s worth getting checked out by a doctor and mentioning your recent visitor’s removal.

The reason why parasites have been on my mind, figuratively, this week follows a photograph sent to be from Peter Vernon with an identification plea attached. This thing had emerged from his hair after a visit to the woods and he was very keen – to say the least – to find out what he had given a lift to! I recognised it as a flat fly, however another email recipient, Phil Parr sent back this very interesting response, from a friend of his in Warwickshire.

This is a deer-fly, Liptoptena cervi, a true fly in the Family Hippoboscidae. They suck blood and the females give birth to live larvae which pupate immediately, thus the normal egg and larval stages are eliminated. The new adults emerge in autumn, fly onto trees and then drop onto passing animals. Once on a suitable animal, they shed their wings.

Now, that story reminds me of some of the most shockingly fantastic science fiction I have ever read or watched, the difference being that this is science fact! A beast that flies up onto tree branches in wait of passing victims, falls into place and then gets rid of its wings – presumably to make themselves even harder to dislodge. It may not be pretty, but it really is fascinating!

Just My Luck

So much of being successful in life comes down to being in the right place at the right time. I have been fortunate enough to be largely at that place at that time, and I recognise just how fortuitous I am in that regard.  However, there are times when the meandering flow of luck runs a little dry;  Last week was definitely one of these occurrences.

There’s one species of native mammal which I would dearly like to catch up with and I feel a little irked, and somewhat sheepish,  that I have yet to see it in the wild. I’ve seen all our native deer, some of them quite regularly in the course of my work; I’ve done the crepuscular stakeout of a badger set to see the inhabitants playing at the mouth of the burrow. The little stuff, like voles (including water vole) mice (including dormice) and shrews (including pygmy shrews) are all there on my tick- list of species seen, weasels: check; stoats: check. Foxes... galore. But otters, I seem to have a jinx when it comes to otters.

I’ve been the District’s Education Ranger for six years now, how the time flies! This means that some of the really little people I met in primary school in my first summer of rangering are now in secondary school, it makes me feel quite old! During the course of those six years I have had some magnificent wildlife moments and have caught sight of most of what our District has to offer. And yet those darn otters continue to elude me.

Its probably my fault. Otters are shy, but they are far more numerous than they once were and I have seen evidence of their activity - spraints and footprints - in many of the riverside habitats I have worked in. If I had really been minded, I would have sat tight and waited like a patient ranger ought. The trouble is that I don’t have the time! There’s columns to write, events to organise and arrange, and only so many hours in the day.

Up to this point I have been satisfied that, apart from a single occasion, my lack of otter sightings was lack of good luck and nothing personal on the part of the mustelid. Until last week that is.

A couple of years ago I was following a local birder along a narrow path through a reedbed on the Axe Estuary. Reeds of over six feet were to either side of us and the path itself was narrow, with the reeds tight to our shoulders on each side. Suddenly Steve stopped in his tracks, hopped from foot to foot for a couple of seconds as if the ground below him had suddenly got terribly hot, and then turned to face me, grinning madly.

“Did you see that?” he enquired.

“No, what?” I asked, “your head was in the way, what was it?”

“An otter just jumped out of the reeds in front of us and ran along the track,” Steve informed me, still grinning.

My face must have been pretty glum looking, as the smile soon slipped from Steve’s face as he realised I had not, in fact, seen the aforementioned animal. Oh well, I thought, better luck next time.

It would seem that Steve had all the luck the next time too.

I received a text message late last week from Steve: Just been watching two otters fighting in the Borrow Pit - AMAZING!

Oh thank goodness, I thought to myself, some people deserve a lucky break! Steve was good enough to send me a full account via email when he got back to his computer.

At 9am on Tuesday 27th October, my birding day began at East Devon District Council’s Seaton Marshes LNR, this is rather late for me - I'm usually out the door at dawn, but not today, I needed some rest! 

I walked straight into the Borrow Pit - a large pond surrounded by small trees with plenty of vegetation which is jointly managed by EDDC and Axe Vale and District Conservation Society. 

I had spent about ten minutes here, and was standing at the water's edge on the western edge of the pond.  My naked eye noticed a movement in the water along the southern edge of the pond, beside the pond-dipping platform.  On looking through my binoculars I was stunned to see two Otters rolling around in the water! Unbelievable! 

One seemed larger than the other,  but as they were so intent on fighting neither of them saw me!  Each time they rolled over a tail would rise out of the water, along with an arched back.  Then one of the Otters would drop entirely under water.  The larger Otter would wait and look around, then as soon as the other re-surfaced it made a bee-line for it and the fight would continue.  Most of the time they would just roll over and over with their bodies locked together, but now and then they would square up to each other, face to face above the water, before trying to bite the other's neck.  

On two occasions, the smaller Otter climbed out of the water and rested on the bank behind, but again, the larger one would jump straight back on top of him/her, then they'd return to the water and continue the fight. 

After five minutes of watching this sensational sight, they both submerged and seemed to go their separate ways, and that was the end of it! 

I suspect they were an older and a younger male, though I guess it could have been a male and a female.  The fighting certainly looked pretty serious though, there was nothing 'fun' about it!  I feel so lucky to have observed this - my third sighting of Otter on the lower reaches of the Axe since moving here in 1992.  I just wish I hadn't left my camera in the car though...

What are the chances? The same friend who physically obscured my view of the otter two years ago, now manages to glimpse two cavorting otters at Seaton Marshes... I was only there the day beforehand! I can’t complain though, there are very few people wh spend more time in the East Devon countryside; he really puts in the hours.

At least, I thought to myself, it was a freak occurance and not something to be that gloomy about. Wrong.

Two otters have been seen on most days since that first sighting by Steve. They seem quite happy tearing about in the daytime, and were last seen by a large group of birdwatchers from the Colyford Common bird hide, who had arrived for a Meet the Birds event I was meant to be leading. I was the other side of the District cooking at an event at Darts Farm. Otters really don’t like me!

So, if you are keen to see an otter, get yourself down to the Axe estuary and spend a little time in either of the bird hides. Keep your eyes peeled and make sure you phone the Countryside Service before your visit and make sure I am safely tucked away in the Council offices or on the other side of the District!

Silent Assassins

The thing with sharing one’s enthusiasm about the natural world, is that those profound “Wow” moments are often all-too brief and lose something of their impact through interpretation. The mental picture and the associated story may well be vivid and compelling, but as we have all become so accustomed to the privileged insights of programmes such as BBC1’s Life, we need a bit more the really whet our appetite.

The great thing about digital photography is that is makes capturing those precious moments more convenient. Not easier, just a bit more expedient. I continue to receive images from across the District and they create a tapestry of incredible natural wonder in my email inbox.

The most recent stunner once again came from the lens of Peter Vernon, who captured this image of a hapless small white butterfly pupae being attacked by an ichneumon wasp. A moment such as this reveals a grizzly and utterly compelling aspect of natural history and such a vivid image helps bring it into sharp resolution.

Ichneumon wasps (pronounced ick-noo-mun) are members of the largest insect group the Hymenoptera. Meaning “membrane-wing” the Hymenoptera include bees, wasps and ants and is a group I am very fond of. Ichneumon wasps are typified as parasites, and often possess a gruesome looking appendage which is often misconstrued as a “stinger”. The long, thin needle-like structure is in fact an ovipositor, which is how the female wasp injects her eggs into a host. The term host conjures up images of conviviality and hospitality, in this instance a parasite’s host is a lot less reciprocal in nature.

Parasitic wasps with the longest ovipositors use them for injecting an egg into a grub inside a rotting log and therefore have to be very long and very mobile to negotiate their way towards the host. How she knows there is a little white larvae within the rotting log in the first place, I’ll leave to another article!

Back to our photo. The shot shows the female injecting a pupa, what looks like a seventh leg there is actually the ovipositor being manoeuvred directly down, positing the ova, or indeed ovum. As it is very difficult to tell categorically which wasp this is caught in the act, it is similarly tricky to say with any degree of accuracy exactly what ecology is being enacted, is one big egg being laid, or a collection of smaller ones? Suffice to say that what happens next is anything but pleasant.

The egg or eggs will sit in the soupy gunk inside the pupa as it overwinters. This ingenious use of a host to get your eggs through the worst the British winter possibly hints towards the evolutionary origins of the behaviour? The caterpillar continues to metamorphose and when spring comes and it’s time to emerge, the wasp’s grub leaps into action. Firstly it consumes its fill of semi-butterfly, metamorphoses within the pupa and emerges by eating its way out.

If the butterfly was free of the parasite and continued with its development unchecked, the pupa would split along a line of weakness at the front of the case when the butterfly emerged; a parasitised pupa will look discoloured and have a more clumsy escape route; anything from a small hole to the entire head end being chewed off!

 So next spring, keep an eye out for empty or emptying butterfly pupae and perhaps you will be lucky enough to see the results of this fascinating natural history.

And finally a quick email:

James,

My son and I were walking around the Hawkerland area and passed some ploughed fields and were amazed to see at least 10 buzzards on the ground in one field and a few more in another field.  Is this usual?  I have never seen it before although my son says he had seen it before when out cycling a couple of years ago.

Fiona Shaw

Hi Fiona,

While the practice of buzzards scouring ploughed fields in search of earthworms is well known, I have not heard of a group as large as this one!

Despite their size, buzzards will make up a large proportion of their diet with  small prey such as worms, as they are poor hunters and prefer to either mop up carrion in the countryside or find easy pickings such as worms.

Best wishes
James

Feeding the Passion

As much as I love to hear from people who enjoy reading my weekly waffle, it’s even better to receive news from people about wildlife they have come across. When the wildlife in question is a personal favourite I really do find it difficult to not jump out of my seat in excitement like a younger Bruno Tonioli. Imagine my joy when I received the following email from a reader, which neatly encapsulates all three scenarios! The square brackets are an approximation of my reaction when reading the email.

Hello James [Hi]

Read and enjoy your column every week  in the Exmouth Journal [excellent stuff] and following on from your comments about trapping flies only to release them into a waiting spiders web, my children have enjoyed a similar macabre experience [jolly good] with a wasp spider  [What!!] currently residing in our garden [In your GARDEN?!].

We came across her late last month and to begin with were horrified as to what she was, my 7 year old son George thought that she was a garden spider who had eaten a wasp!! I[You’ve known about it for a month!]

So we took a couple of pics of her and looked on the internet for any information where we found out her name but not a lot else about her. She had made a fantastic web fairly low down near the ground [yep, it’s a wasp spider] and was feasting on grasshoppers that were landing in her web, something that my 10 year and 7 yr old  loved to help her with [oh, the lucky things!] by catching grasshoppers in their hands and releasing them by the web with the hope of them jumping onto it and then would sit mesmerised watching her skillfully wrapping them in silk. My daughter had been studying mummification at school and this was the next best thing for her!! [First best thing for me] We noticed that under the web were all the discarded old grasshoppers and there were loads of harvestmen picking over any remnants.[Wow!]

I don't think my photos do her justice as she is the most striking spider I have ever seen and I would never of expected to see one in our garden.[Wow!]

We couldn't find out what the male looks like so if you have photos or links to a site to see one we would appreciate it.[I’m on it!]

Many thanks

Mrs Andrea Smale

I obviously sprang into action and sent a photo of the requested male wasp spider to Andrea immediately. So as not be accused of bias, I should point out that I would have provided the exact level of service had she begun her message “Although I can’t abide your dreadful articles...’

But, when it comes to wasp spiders I find myself in a state of mesmeric enthusiasm.

Wasp spiders are thought to have been introduced to England in the 1920s, but may have been here longer. Natives of southern Europe, their natural continental range extends as far as Scandanavia, and their UK distribution has a heavy southern bias. They build a very large orb web, low down in the grass, with a characteristic zig-zag silk pattern called a stablimentum. The precise function of the stablimentum is not known, however theories range from deterring birds from flying through the web to, as the name suggests, a stabilising function in this large silk structure.

The ground level web is specifically constructed to catch grasshoppers, which this large spider is more than capable of overpowering. Andrea’s email graphically illustrates how effective this technique can be, with the spider maintaining her web in a single location rather than moving about the garden.

I, of course, thoroughly endorse the children’s game of feeding their wild pet, and am particularly heartened that the family were unsure of the spider to begin with, but were won over by the beauty and charisma of this stunning invertebrate. Perhaps the wasp spider will be the first step into a lifetime interest in spiders for Andrea and her children, perhaps it will merely become a vague summer memory, either way I am deeply envious of them having this superb minibeast in their garden – what a wonderful find!

Keep sending me your wildlife finds and I will keep being totally wowed by how lucky you are to live in such a wild town.

The Pitter Patter of Tiny Feet

Some encounters are hard to forget, especially those which feature someone or something special. It probably won’t come as much of a surprise to those of you who have read one of these columns before, that my best loved, most cherished encounters normally involve wildlife... or food!

I remember clearly the first wild snake I ever found, a grass snake trapped in a water culvert; I must have been about 9 and I have maintained a close vigil over these latent pitfalls whenever I come across them ever since.

One such encounter sprang to mind this week as I received a couple of unconnected inquiries about this particular species, let me recount the story.

I was wandering home late one Friday night after an evening of socialising in my student pub of choice in Cheddar - the Galleries. It is still there in the Gorge, but in the context of this wildlife column I would only urge you to visit as there are water voles living in the river gardens opposite the pub. I digress; I had just bid farewell to Andrew Bedford and turned for home, walking up Venns Gate, into the stretch of road with almost no street lighting.

Scratch-scrape-skip. The sound of claws rasping on the asphalt carried easily over the still night air. What wind there was must have been blowing in my face as I had consumed one or two Guinness and the sensitive nose of the approaching badger had obviously not picked that up.

The badger ran into a pool of light cast by a single streetlamp and immediatlely skidded to a halt when it realised it was being watched by someone. It chased off back down the road, claws clattering on the surface, and bolted into a thick hedgerow. I had seen plenty of badgers at their sett, as I would often sit and wait on summer evenings to watch them emerge, but this was the first one I simply happened upon by accident.

All of which meandering, brings me to the topic of badgers. It’s a subject which requires a circumventive approach, as there is one aspect which tends to dominate in recent years. I am not going to touch upon the TB debacle as it is largely an economic debate: Should the agricultural policy be to totally destroy a herd that react to the TB test, when it is a disease we are able to treat with medication? As I said, this is a simple debate but ask an economist not a naturalist.

The sort of things I get asked about badgers are typified by this week's pair of stripey-faced queries. Firstly, and most commonly, holes in lawns. Lawn perforation can occur at the hands/paws/beaks of a variety of wild and not so wild protagonists. Rabbits will tend to dig narrow but deep holes in the summer to access the thirst-quenching roots of the grass. Jays and squirrels might leave small, messy holes in lawns from their hoarding habit with nuts and acorns. Badgers on the other hand will often dig at lawns to find earthworms; their favourite food and staple diet. These holes are normally about 10-15 centimetres across and about the same in depth. There really isn't much one can do about the problem other than fill back in the hole and hunt around for the sod of turf. Just check the bottom of the hole in case its a latrine, as replacing the divot can be a messy business if this is the case! Badgers will normally move on and target a neighbour's lawn in a few nights time.

The problem with badgers arises from their tenacity, which is why it is a far more simple solution to wait for them to tire of your turf and move on than attempt expensive and normally fruitless exclusion methods, which brings me to the second frequently asked question.

A colleague at the council found me at my desk at an unguarded and rare moment recently and described a scene which seemed to point towards badgers. He has a chicken run at the bottom of his garden and in the previous few nights it was being broken into by an unknown assailant.

The description was the handiwork of a badger I was sure: holes dug under and latterly through chikenwire, nothing molested on the other side, but a few chickens in the neighbour's garden much to the children's delight. Back-filling, infilling, no amount of perimeter reinforcement seemed to put the badger off. I suggested the only course of action was to wait it out. Keep repairing the fence, remove all possible food sources at night away from the munching brock and in a week or two he should have moved on.

I've heard no more on the subject, so I presume this is what has happened.

Pink, Black and Gold

It’s been a week of colour in the East Devon countryside as we finally enjoyed a little balmy weather; I hope you were all able to enjoy it?

Firstly to a National super star which was found at Seaton Marshes. It was a meteoric rise to fame from total obscurity to broadsheet and tabloid column inches literally overnight; I refer, of course, to the pink grasshopper. If the media melee has passed you by, allow me to give you the definitive track on this enigmatic little insect.

Found by 11 year-old Daniel Tate on a guided walk at Seaton Marshes, this neon invertebrate was snapped by local photographer Ben Lee as it was something of a novelty. Axe Wetlands Project Officer Kate Tobin then included the photo in a press release about the event and the phoneline lit up! Calls from photo agencies, web sites and newspapers demanded news on the ‘mutant’, angling for a tasty, edgy, chemical-induced Frankenstein freak it was a little bit like an X-Men comic strip.

Sadly the truth couldn’t live up to the hyperbole and this was merely a pink colour morph of the common green grasshopper, a genetic curve-ball, perhaps but a mutant? Sadly no. Colour variety lies within something called alleles in the genes of every living thing, and sexual recombination of DNA allows for these alleles to be mixed up and exhibited in all manner of different permutations. The pink form of this grasshopper is presumably a recessive gene, hence it is only seen occasionally, but they are seen and in other species aside from the green grasshopper. However, the image of a pink green grasshopper was strong enough to secure its page space, and so I will take the opportunity to insert the photo here too. I might not have been leading the bug hunt (drat) but I’ll crowbar it in somehow!

And so to the black & gold; once again our Dulux colour chart of animals leads us to the Axe Estuary, with a seldom-seen black tern turning up at Black Hole Marsh. Come to think of it, there was probably a much cleverer pun to be found in where it was found! Black terns are a one-or-two a year sighting, but this report from Black Hole Marsh is especially exciting as the saline lagoon is a new feature which might, in years to come, be something this species takes a particular interested in – I will keep you posted.

I am reliably informed by a designer sister-in-law that “black is the new brown, which was the new black”, how about a couple more black specials for this autumn collection? Beer Head is fast becoming the East Devon autumn haunt for birders, with a few stunning pied flycatchers being seen here this spring. There was also a gorgeous wryneck and an Ortolan bunting, but as these are both brown birds they are sooo last year. Pied flycatchers are a woodland specialist, breeding in mature woodland such as Yarner Wood National Nature Reserve, and wintering in West Africa. The males are clad in a natty black and white outfit, hence the ‘pied’ element of its name. It’s a thrill to see them in familiar haunts such as Yarner, and I venture out of the Shire annually to see them, but to spot one on home territory is an extra special achievement and congratulations to the committed guys and girls who scour the Head for these birdie bounties.

The gold refers to a glut of yellow wagtails which have been seen feeding in the wet pastures alongside the river this season, gaudy but gorgeous.

Yellow wagtails are a real joy to find and this time of year they are passing through on migration, so its great chance to venture out to try and see them. On a recent ‘Meet the Birds’ morning at Seaton Marshes seven were saw in the neighbouring fields.  The trick to spotting this yellow beauty lies in knowing its feeding habits. They are insect eaters and habitually follow large grazing animals as they disturb small flies and insects in wet grassland. These days ‘large grazing animals’ means cattle, so scan the grass beneath the feet of cattle in a field by an estuary near you and see if you can be lucky. The juvenile birds and females are a pallid yellow-grey colouring, while the males are resplendent in bright golden!

East Devon Snaperazzi

There was once a time when the equipment needed to capture really decent wildlife photos was very specialist, very hard to get hold of and very expensive. Even if you were willing to invest in your hobby, the chance of snapping that elusive prize-winning frame was remote to say the least. Weirdly, get this, you couldn’t tell what the photo was like immediately; you had to wait for up to a fortnight for the prints or slides to come back from the lab! How primitive.

Things have changed. Often the mindboggling speed of technological progress brings tears to the eyes, but on some occasions it is a real boon, and photography is definitely one such area. I remember as a jobbing young PR photographer, holding my cherished EOS10 to my eye or lovingly loading Fuji Sensia transparency film, thinking “They’ll never better this!” I almost pulled a face at the thought of digital photography being able to get anywhere near the colourfulness of my beloved film. Looks like I was no photography Nostradamus!

Digital photography has revolutionised how many people enjoy the countryside and its wildlife, and it makes some parts of my job easier too. Rather than receiving a vague description “I’ve seen this greyish fly-thing... what was it?” I now get an email attachment with an image (of varying merit) to seal the deal. Sometimes it’s easy putting a name to a face, other times it can be as hard as not having a photo to work with!

So, I thought I would share a few of the really interesting and stunning images which are sent my way, and hopefully encourage more of you to get snapping!

Two photos this week, with more to come as and when they hit my mailbox.

The first is from a very prolific wildlife photographer who recently photographed the world-famous pink grasshopper of Seaton Marshes, Ben Lee. The photo shows a greenbottle fly resting on a fleabane flowerhead. No great rarity there, greenbottles are ten-a-penny and fleabane is common in the right habitats. What is so nice about this shot isn’t so much the subject matter as the composition.

A volunteer with the Holyford Woodland Trust, Peter Vernon, has recently developed a passion for macro photography and his invertebrate photos whizz through the ether to me on a regular basis. Not only does Peter find some really beautiful wildlife to photograph, but he also manages to catch them in a variety of interesting situations. Take this shot for example: a common garden spider or garden tiger. Potentially quite a familiar species to photograph, but when caught in the act of wrapping a fly in silk, in a shot where you can see the silk exuding from the spider’s spinnerets, it transforms the photo into a really interesting subject. Fabulous.

If you are a budding wildlife photographer and you would like to send me some of your images, please do. I am always keen to receive photographs, they often prompt an interesting article and, if I receive enough, perhaps I’ll compile a nice wildlife calendar for 2010?

Return of the Wandering Minstrels

This is the week that our wild winter residents make their long-awaited return. Yes, it may seem crass to be talking about the winter so soon after the gloomy, wet and thoroughly disappointing “summer” we’ve enjoyed this year, but facts are facts and the estuary is decidedly autumnal already.

The birds in question are brent geese, of the dark bellied persuasion to be precise. About 1% of the entire world’s population of these geese spend their winter on the Exe Estuary, after a manic summer raising young in arctic Siberia. They flock to our mild climate to see out the winter scoffing nitrogen-rich eelgrass on the mudflats of the estuary and, at this time of year, with a little knowledge, they reveal the secrets of the north.

As minstrels go, they are not the most musical, giving no more than a snuffling grunt or honking croak at the best of times. But they do indeed wander – with a round trip of over 7,000 miles a year between summer and winter grounds. They are easily identifiable geese, being small stout fellows with dark plumage and a bright white collar. As the name suggests our local population have dark feathers under the belly, making them the Siberian race; birds that breed in Iceland display a pale plumage under the chest.

And it’s the pale feathers we must look towards if we want to discover this bird’s big secret. Young brent geese, in their first year, have a white flecking on the wings and lack the distinct white neck collar of their parent birds. By counting the proportion of these first year birds in relation to the adults, it is possible to get a very good idea of brent goose breeding success for that year, without setting foot outside Exmouth!

We tend to see cycles of prosperous breeding success, known as ‘recruitment’ in the dry world of ecology, which are due to natural boom and bust years in the high north. Who would have thought that the fortunes of our little black geese are closely linked to lemmings?

In years when lemmings are abundant, these are the favoured food of arctic foxes and other Siberian predators, and so the geese tend to escape attention. Predator numbers build on the glut of lemmings and every three or four years the lemming population experiences a crash. The knock-on effect is that predators turn to geese chicks to supplement their diet and we witness a few poor years in brent goose recruitment.

We’ve had a few bad years recently, so I will be particularly interested to see what numbers of adults and juveniles make it back this year. If the trend continues to decrease, this could be a warning sign that all is not well in the Arctic and perhaps things are more amiss than just a lack of lemmings.

Try a little tenderness

This is one of my favourite times of year for watching wildlife silliness, and by that I mean people’s silliness around wildlife rather than squirrels on “You’ve Been Framed”. You know the score: sunny autumn lunchtime; nice pub garden; pint; ploughmans and suddenly the table next to you explodes like the seats are electrified.

The reason? A small black and yellow insect. For some reason most people’s reaction to seeing a wasp is completely counter-productive; take a moment to consider the facts. In the cooler autumnal months wasps are on the lookout for high-energy meals, sugary liquids in particular, hence their appetite for beer and cider – strangely enough this is my seasonal excuse too. As well as their alcohol consumption, they are also sluggish due to the drop in temperature. Wasps will sting if provoked or entangled, so why is it that people seem compelled to flap and swat at them?

Sure no one likes to be stung, so keep an eye on the little colourful character, but unless you have someone with known sensitivity to histamine, or a very young child in your party, try ignoring the little chap for a change. I predict it will have a bit of a sniff about, before moving on.  If it doesn’t, I owe you a pint!

It’s at this time of year that wasps tend to wander into houses too, as they search for warm places to hibernate. If this happens to you, why not trap it in a dry glass with some card and transfer it back outside. These creatures are a vital part of our local biodiversity, so not squashing them – or worse, using dreaded insect spray – is a benefit to your local biodiversity.

Totally Wild and Not Too Wet!

Seaton Marshes’ annual fun-fest was another barn-storming success this year. Although the weather wasn’t as balmy as 2008, the rain held off and over 600 people enjoyed a wetland experience. Events ranged from the elaborate such as bushcraft skills, where friction fire lighting was the order of the day; to the joyously simple pursuit of catching sticklebacks in a net.

What pleased the team the most was the number of people who turned up on the Friday, Saturday and Sunday to participate, largely in the same activities each time. I’ve always known you can’t tire of pond dipping – these guys served to confirm my belief.

It’s the same with bird watching. The reason why individuals visit the bird hide at Seaton Marshes, (and other bird hides too of course) is that there is always the exciting sense of the unknown, especially at this time of year. Birds make such fabulous subjects for hobbies, pardon the pun, largely due to the unpredictability of their movement, coupled with their tendency to be just overt enough to keep us interested. For the individual with a passing interest in birds, there is enough colour, flamboyance and drama in a charm of goldfinches to satisfy our curiosity.

For the person with a bit more interest there’s the innate satisfaction of lists and creating targets for finding previously unseen species.

And for the true fanatic there are leaf warblers. But beware: that way lies madness.

Autumn is the time of year to amaze yourself with a visit to a bird hide, so make a note to explore one of the District’s estuaries at some point before the end of September, you won’t be disappointed!

I was pleased to receive two emails from readers of the column this week, one of which drew me up on a point of grammar. Knowing full well how disappointed my grandmother would have been on a grammatical error creeping in to my copy, I’ll publicly admit to my mistake here and take it on the chin! But, before that, a correspondent seeking advice about snakes... advice I am always very happy to offer:

Subject: snake advice please

Hi James,
I was turning my compost heaps this afternoon when I disturbed a beautiful grass snake (at least 24" I would say).  While I share your enthusiasm for these creatures I don't have the same knowledge about them!
 
This heap is nicely warm with plenty of brandlings round the edges.  Is my snake likely to be a female looking for somewhere suitable for her babies?  If so, how long should I leave the heap undisturbed?
 
At that size, I would say your specimen is a female – what a wonderful animal! At this time of year, the eggs have been laid and I would say she was finding some convenient warmth in this particularly cold summer!

That’s not to say that your heap might not have harboured grass snake eggs earlier in the year, look out for activity around late spring and hatchlings by the beginning of August. If snakes are there now, I would suggest there is no need to change the compost regime you currently follow – it seems to be doing the trick. However if you do uncover leathery cream/off white eggs in future years, make sure you cover them back up again to allow them to incubate. Snakes in this country need all the friends they can get.

Best wishes

James

Subject: Finding snakes in the rain

Thanks for your email Brigitte, I put a deal of importance upon  good grammar, however being a student of the 80s and 90s there are bound to be instances where the rot creeps back in. Thanks for drawing my attention to this, and I hope it doesn’t detract too much from your enjoyment of the article.

Best wishes

James

Wet and Wild Weekend Fun!

Good news everyone, this weekend will be wet and wild. For once I’m not referring to the weather either! For the last few weeks the climate has been decidedly changeable, and we have indeed put up with a few wet and wild days, but in this instance I’m talking about family fun on Seaton Marshes.

Last year’s wetland event was such a resounding success that the Countryside Service here at East Devon District Council has organised another long weekend of events, activities and things to do on the marshes. There’s a small charge for a couple of the activities, but by and large, its a free weekend of outdoor fun, suitable for children of any age from eight months to eighty!

Things get started on Friday morning at 10 o’clock, and as I am on holiday, its the only day I won’t be taking part in myself. Which is a shame as there are so many exciting activities planned – I would have a whale of a time! Pond dipping, bird watching and treasure hunts will run continually through the day, so there’s plenty of chance to meet the bugs, birds and a myriad of other creatures and features of the marsh.  There will be a muddy history event, looking at core samples from the marshland which tells a fascinating story of the evolution of the marsh. There will be a water vole walk and otter spotting guided walk too. At the end of the day there will be an evening bat walk, which last year proved incredibly popular with over 80 people trooping down to the marshes to meet the nocturnal inhabitants of the Local Nature Reserve with a bat expert.

Saturday will kick off early, in case you are caught in two minds whether to set the alarm, I am cutting my holiday short by a day to be here for Saturday morning, so I can state categorically that if the weather is fair this early start is a must! Moth breakfast is the draw for those early birds, but you will have to make do with a bacon butty to eat, as the moths are purely for observation and are not on the breakfast menu. A trapping session will have been running through the Friday night and the live-caught moths will be on show the following day. If you are unfamiliar with the staggering world of moths, this is a very sociable way to become acquainted without sitting up all night long!

To put moths in context with their more familiar cousins, the butterflies, there are 50 species of butterfly in the UK, but over 3,500 species of moth! Butterflies by no means scoop all the glamour awards either, as species like the elephant hawk moth, swallowtail moth and buff tip more than compete with day flying butterflies in terms of good looks.

There will be wildlife art workshops running though the day, willow weaving, and storytelling sessions will be on offer morning and afternoon too. Of course you will also be able to dip a net or borrow a pair of binoculars to go bird watching at any point in the day too.

Sunday gets started early too, this time to meet birds close up by joining the local bird ringing group for a demonstration ringing event. If you’ve only ever seen the fleeting glimpse of a kingfisher, or caught the song of a reedwarbler and not seen the perpetrator – then make sure you attend this session as seeing the local birds this close up gives you a whole new perspective on them. They are just so tiny!

Always a firm favourite with hard to please boys at that ‘tricky’ age, Sunday will have a host of bushcraft activities to get involved with. If you have never attempted to make friction fire with a bow drill and hearth board then pop along to give it a go. Martin Prothero is our expert bushcraft guide for the day and I was fortunate enough to spend a day with Martin earlier in the year and took part in his fire lighting session.

Regardless of weather conditions, this weekend will have something interesting for everyone in the family to participate in; proof if proof were needed that there’s so much more to the marshes than just birds!

All Going Smoothly

Last week’s article focussed on a real passion of mine, snakes. For all you ophidiophobes I apologise, as it is once again to this group which I turn in this week’s column.

Heathland is a habitat which is globally rarer than rainforest. Typified by low ericaceous shrub growth, dominated by heather and gorse, heaths are the most amazing man-made wildlife feature of the northern hemisphere. Woodbury castle is a very good symbol of man’s influence in this particular biotope.

Before the discovery of metal, and its implications for tool making, deforestation of the ancient wild wood which once covered the British Isle was a slow affair, hampered by the flint tools and the nomadic lifestyle of hunter gatherers. However, during the Iron Age, people settled to live in communities and trees were felled at an increasing rate. On areas of acid soil, removal of the woodland canopy and grazing of livestock produced the conditions in which what we now think of as lowland heath, thrived.

I mention this as I am sure not all of you managed to make it along to Heath Week 2009 and so might have missed this salient point about this fabulous habitat. For all the heathland’s importance for biodiversity, it is for one group in particular which I particularly value them, as it is the only habitat in Britain to support all six species of reptile.

As far as lizards go we have three: Slow worms, the legless lizard commonly encountered in wilder gardens through the District; common lizards – less common than their name suggests but still found throughout East Devon; sand lizards, very rare but expanding thanks to conservation efforts.

Snakes, again three: grass snakes are often found in association with water and are sometimes seen near garden ponds; adders tend to specialise on heaths and coastal grassland but are relatively common in the District; smooth snakes, extinct in Devon for the last 50 years.

However, smooth snakes have been given a helping hand recently, thanks to a project to reintroduce Britain’s rarest reptile to the pebblebed heaths between the RSPB and the charity, Amphibian and Reptile Conservation.

Smooth snakes are a tiny grey snake, totally harmless to people, which has suffered historical declines through habitat loss and persecution. Their diet consist mainly of lizards, with a few small mammals taken also, and this specialist diet means they only thrive where lizards thrive too. Loss of heathland habitat, especially in the 60s, 70s and 80s when it was a habitat viewed as prime development land across much of its expanse, also hastened this little snake’s demise.

Once isolated the smooth snake, which seldom grows over 60 centimetres in length, struggles to recolonise new locations and so finds itself trapped on certain sites. Currently if you wanted to meet a smooth snake you would have had to visit a Dorset or Hampshire heath, and cross your fingers as they are incredibly difficult reptiles to see being both small and very secretive.

However, in a project which will run for several years, individual snakes from stable populations in other counties are being collected and relocated in East Devon, to attempt to establish a breeding population here once again. Ten individuals have been released in 2009 and this number will be added to next year, so as not to deplete populations elsewhere in an attempt to re-establish them here.

This is great news, as not only will it mean the UK’s only constrictor will be living here in Devon once again, but that the diversity of our heathland fauna is extended a little further and our deleterious actions of the last 50 years are being counteracted at long last.

The chances of stumbling across one of the ten pioneers is so fantastically remote as to make it realistically impossible, but I will keep you posted on the progress of these snakes as they set up home in the County over the coming years and who knows, perhaps one day we will be familiar with their lithe shapes sliding through the heather?

Snakes in the Rain

Samuel L Jackson may have to deal with the perils of giant snakes on an aeroplane, but I’m sure even he would have blanched at the prospect of finding reptiles this past week, so dreadful has the weather been. Last week was Heath Week 2009 and may I take this opportunity to commend all of you brave parents, grandparents and children who pulled on waterproofs and ignored the forecast, to enjoy the Heath Week Festival on Sunday. In previous years we have attracted in the region of 150 – 200 people to this event; in Sunday’s persistent drizzle we welcomed almost 500 people onto the Common!

Such is the mood at present. Its the summer holidays, money is tight; if there’s an event to take the family to we’re going – regardless of the weather! And good on you I say, where have you all been? As has been printed in this column on numerous occasions before: There’s no such thing as bad weather, just inappropriate clothing.

So the festival day, with its host of participatory events for all the family (as was advertised on the posters) was a screaming success. The prospect of leading a reptile ramble in such poor weather, on the other hand, was not something I was relishing.

I love reptiles. I have been interested in herpetology (the study of reptiles and amphibians) since I was a small boy, and my enthusiasm has only grown with time and understanding. It would seem that my enthusiasm is shared too, as the Reptile Rambles I lead are often jam packed. Seventy people on a single morning I think was a record, which in retrospect was a few too many. A considerable number of people had expressed an interest in the Heath Week ramble and so my colleague, Diane, was drafted in to help with crowd control! Then the dreaded Met Office forecast was given and I expected a wash-out.

How wrong I was. In spite of the rain, forty people joined Diane and I to check the reptile traps on Fire Beacon Hill Local Nature Reserve. I gave a somewhat pessimistic forecast of our chances of seeing anything, due to the weather conditions, and we set off. My predictions were indeed pessimistic, as our investigations uncovered a total of three beautiful adult adders, desperately attempting to warm themselves under the leaden skies.

As the conditions allowed, and with a great deal of explicit imploring to not copy my lead, I handled the first adder we came across. The reasons, as I explained at the time, were three-fold: The snake seemed fittingly drowsy due to the cold; I know how to hold snakes safely; and finally I was so relieved to have found something and so impressed with everyone fortitude, I wanted their efforts to be rewarded with a really good view of our most attractive snake. You try getting 40 people a good view of a shy animal which only measures 65 centimetres!

I explained the dangers that the animal possessed, but I also showed that these snakes are not to be feared; only respected. The adder made no attempt to bite me, even when handled, and I returned it unscathed and non the worse for the encounter, leaving 40 people inspired with a new-found admiration for this much-vilified reptile. Some people may accuse me of recklessness, but I think the pros outweighed the cons on this occasion and I stand by the decision. 

I remember having the same concerns when handling a grass snake for a group, as I worried that they might emulate this and get bitten; even worse that they might misidentify the snake and attempt to pick up an adder. But upon reflection, I’ve come to this conclusion. I explain fully the dangers which the snake holds (in the case of the grass snake this just means letting people smell the foul liquid produced when handled) and I insist that people should not attempt to emulate what they see me do without prior training and experience. I also explain that 90% of hospital admissions with snake bite in the UK are located on the hand or heel, where the snake is either accidentally trodden on or recklessly handled. After that, the decision to take the risk – as with other risky things in we are faced with like using a sharp knife  or getting in a car – is left with the individual. After all, my lifelong passion with all things creepy and crawly was underpinned as a ten year old boy by crawling through the woods and heaths picking up anything which took my interest, snakes included.

***

I received a query this week about adders from an Exmouth resident, which considering its connection to this week’s column I have reproduced here below with kind permission.

Dear James

We follow your articles in Exmouth Journal. We've seen an adder in long grass in our garden and are rather worried with grandchildren coming in August.  It's a brown snake, not very big, with a definite V on the head.  Any advice please? we'd be so grateful.

Best wishes, Anna Watts (Exmouth)

Hi Anna,

Your description does indeed sound like an adder, a small brown snake with a ‘V’ on the back of the head. It is very possible for these shy snakes to find suitable habitat in gardens around Exmouth. Before I go any further I must say that due to years of human persecution adder numbers are very low nationally, and they are therefore a fully protected species in UK law; it is an offence to disturb or destroy them or any other UK snake.

Adders are very shy creatures and it is unlikely for children and these snakes to come into contact, as children's natural boisterousness tends to frighten the snakes off well before they come close to each other. There is nothing you can really do to rid your garden of adders if they are there, but I would urge you that you do not need to!

There are probably tens of thousands of gardens throughout the country in which adders can be found, but in which the garden owners are unaware of their presence and continue with life without giving it a second thought. I would simply warn your grandchildren to look out for adders and if they do see one in the garden, to not approach it!

As responsible adults, I would also pay particular attention if the weather is cold and the snakes might not be as quick to get into cover if disturbed.

But the long and short of it is, if I were lucky enough to have a garden with adders, I would have no concern about my young daughter playing in the garden, as long as she were able to understand not to attempt to pick one up.

I hope this goes some way to reassuring you, please do contact me again for any further information.

Best wishes

James

Messing About on a River

Sometimes, in the course of carrying out my duties to bring East Devon’s stunning wildlife and people together, I find myself in a variety of very peculiar positions indeed. Last weekend was definitely one such occasion.

Eleven o’clock on Sunday morning. I was sat on a gnarled log lodged in the bank of the river Tale, rain cascading over my waxed hat and jacket, feet in the flow of the river looking for all the world like a drenched garden gnome who’d lost his fishing rod. A rather distant look on my face was due to an element of concentration as I was attempting to listen to the long-wave transmission of Test Match Special on a small transistor radio secreted in my pocket. We had the Aussies on the ropes and while the rain was keeping the crowds away, I maintained my riverside vigil in case we got an early wicket! I was interrupted from my cricket concentration by the flash of a kingfisher landing on a fishing post on the riverbank opposite where I sat, and I cursed not having a camera at the ready!

I was at the Wind in the Willow celebration day at Escot House, waiting to show visiting families the wonderful river life of the Tale. An initial sweep of the riverbed had gleaned a variety of fish, including bullheads, minnows, an eel and stone loach. A wonderful haul.

Minnows are the familiar fish of childhood jam-jars and long summer evenings on a misty riverbank, with mayflies scattering the surface of limpid pools. The reality of these diminutive salmonids is a different affair as they are a rapidly declining species in many English river. Sadly the childhood jam-jar is more likely to be a temporary home to an alien crayfish than a sliver darling minnow.

Eels, as with minnows are a species on the decline internationally, an estimated 80% decline since the 1960s and so finding three fair-sized elvers in the course of the day was great. These incredible fish are a favourite food of otters, so their presence in the river means the local otters have a tasty meal, but their life history is one of the most incredible journeys of any animal on the planet. Forget the wildebeest of the Serengeti, or the circumnavigation of the Atlantic Ocean by Arctic terns, eels traverse rivers, streams, land and sea in order to reproduce. They spawn in the Sargasso Sea, in the Caribbean. Once spawning has taken place they die, leaving the planktonic fry to migrate back across the Atlantic in the gulf stream and up estuaries across the country. They move up stream and can move between rivers, streams, lakes and ponds by crossing land if needed. As long as their skin remains wet, they will suffer no ill effects from a quick hop cross-country.

Bullheads and stone loaches are a locally familiar fish, living amongst the pebbles of rivers and streams throughout East Devon. As the stone loach is a species sensitive to pollution and low oxygen levels, its presence in rivers is an indication of good water quality.  The loach has a collection of six sensitive barbells protruding from its lips, which help it find food on the gravelly bottom of the riverbed. These feel amongst the pebbles and find small invertebrates and crustacea which make up the diet of this little fish. Their leopard-like spots make for perfect camouflage amongst the stones, and they are a very pretty fish.

Eventually the rain let up and the families began to trickle in to the event. The trickle of people became a flow and eventually a flood which, considering the event was organised to raise money for the Tale Valley Trust to provide conservation work in response to last year’s October floods, was both appropriate and heartening. In the end nearly £1000 was raised for their conservation efforts. While two performances of Wind in the Willows was the event highlight for everyone attending, many people participated in a spot of river dipping with me on their way back from the play.

Blurring the boundaries between arts and science might be a little avant-garde, but in this instance is worked a treat providing something for all the family. Remember, for those of you who would have liked to bring your family along to this event,  a similar opportunity exists this Sunday at Woodbury Common, with the launch of Heath Week 2009 – don’t miss it!

A Questionable Course of Action

There was an old lady who swallowed a fly, I don’t know why she swallowed a fly, perhaps she’ll die.

This familiar nursery rhyme and folk club staple of the great Fred Wedlock was brought to my mind this morning, remember how the story develops? After accidentally consuming a fly, the eponymous old lady proceeds to scoff her way through a biological smorgasbord, in an attempt to cure herself of the initial dipteran disaster.

After the fly – let’s say it was a bluebottle for the sake of argument; a large, unpleasant fly but in all probability an accidental meal one would live through. Next on the menu is a spider, which as we know wriggled and wiggled and jiggled inside her, as spiders are wont to do on these occasions. I presume this to have been a Tegenaria species as the most likely to be within easy reach in a kitchen when one swallows a fly.

After the spider she really ups the ante, obviously now consumed with fear about what she has embarked upon. She swallows a bird, the good news for all you old lady sympathisers, is that most spider eating birds are small. So let’s assume she plumped for something like a goldcrest, which as Britain’s smallest bird, weighs less than a 10 pence coin. Not a pleasant meal but not harmful... unless followed by a cat. As the reason given for her swallowing the cat is to catch the goldcrest, I have to conclude that the cat is consumed whole and alive. Urgh.

Of course once a cat is swallowed it is only a matter of time before the cliché is completed and a dog follows suit. Leading, no doubt, to acute heartburn. If a small cat, perhaps even a kitten, was eaten then let’s hope that it was a Pug or Pekinese which came to hand for the old lady’s sake.  I should think a Rhodesian ridgeback sticks in the throat like nobody’s business.

Things take a turn into the absurd next as the old lady, presumably by now in a state of elevated hysteria, chooses to eat a cow to catch the dog.  Even if the cow in question was a cute little Dexter this would be virtually impossible to swallow and the effectiveness of a cow in catching a dog is a moot point. She trumps all of this however by eating a horse in an attempt to catch the cow – once again the wrong choice for so many reasons and, as we all know, this was the death of her. Although I am willing to bet she was pretty much moribund at the time of eating the cow.

Why recount such biological nonsense this week? Well, it brought a smile to my face writing it, so there’s one reason, the other is that news broke this morning of a proposal to combat invasive Japanese knotweed and this little story sprang to mind.

Japanese knotweed is a frightful invasive species, with no native predator its spread has been unchecked through the British countryside over the last 120 years. The fact that the plant can cause physical damage to buildings seems to be why people are paying it particular attention; it’s just one of several non-natives which blight East Devon’s countryside, along with rhododendron and Himalayan balsam. In recent years some effort has been put in to attempting to eradicate this plant manually, however its rampant growth seems to have got to a stage where this is futile. So the suggestion has been put forward that a little sap-sucking insect be brought in to do the job for us: Biological control.

There has been a great deal of study, as you would expect, into the feeing, breeding and overwintering potential of the physid Aphalara itadori and results seem to suggest that it is a good candidate to do the job of reducing knotweed while leaving the other plants well alone. However no amount of laboratory testing can replicate what the insect will be faced with upon release into the wider countryside, is the risk worth taking? After all, there are plenty of cases where biocontrol methods have been adopted and unforeseen biological tragedy ensues.

Cane toads Bufo marinus in Australia are a prime example. The toads were brought over initially from Hawaii to solve the problem of beetle grubs eating sugar cane plantations, however the toad populations exploded and northern Australia is now literally over-run with the toads, which busily gobble up native insect life indiscriminately, as well as proving to be a greater pest to the region’s agriculture.

Closer to home, there is currently a bounty upon the head of the harlequin beetle, Harmonia axyridis which was introduced into European greenhouses to control aphids and is now the fastest spreading UK alien species on record. Feeding on a diet of any small insect, rather than the expected catholic diet of ‘pest’ aphids, the impact of this species on UK biodiversity is immense.

Control of fast moving insect pests with another insect is one thing, but to attempt to control stands of pernicious weeds with fast-moving invertebrates seems a very risky business indeed. The scale of the operation would be immense, but with enough effort the knotweed problem could be tackled manually and manually means selectively. Can we run the risk of attempting to cure one ill, by the introduction of a far worse problem? Unlike the old lady, are we better to cut our losses and find a different solution, rather than jump into an irreversible course of action which could leave us in a far worse predicament?

DeFRA are inviting consultation on the proposed project, so if you are concerned about the release of biological agents into our ecosystem, either in favour or against, I urge you to get in touch. Details can be found on the DeFRA website or by emailing: knotweed.consultation@fera.gsi.gov.uk.

Exoploring the Heath

There’s nothing I like better than wildlife watching from the comfort of a grassy tussock or peaceful suntrap. As Winston Churchill said: “Why stand, when you can sit; and why sit when you can lie.” Exploring some of the heathland sites I am lucky enough to work upon sometimes requires this adage to come into practice.

The dry, sandy soils of the East Devon Pebblebed Heaths offer prime burrowing  opportunities for countless species of beetle and solitary bee, and I really enjoy time spent catching up with these diminutive denizens of the District. The ‘Sidmouth Tiger’ or green tiger beetle as it is more commonly known, is one such species. It plays out a drama in miniature, with all the excitement of the African savannah in Lilliputian proportions. Sitting proudly on top of long powerful legs, you need to get down on your stomach to fully immerse yourself in this beetle’s theatrics. From this position I have seen woodpeckers feeding on nearby tree stumps, lizards basking in the sun and have almost been trodden on by a passing roe deer. Get yourself belly-down and wait for the wildlife to come to you!

Next week sees the return of the annual East Devon Heath Week, with its launch festival on Sunday 26^th, between 11 and 3.30pm. If the weather is fine, this is a wonderful day of heathland fun, with a family focus and always well attended by local families and tourists alike. Archaeology digs, Landrover 4x4 trips, reptile rambles, bug hunting, guided walks and pond dipping are just a few of the activities planned to take place from the Woodbury Castle camp which is created and struck within one day.

Getting yourself along to the launch day is the best way to find out what is planned through the rest of the festival week, as all the leaders and guides for the week of heath activities will be on hand to provide information. However, if you are unable to attend the Sunday festival, then further details on all of the events can be found on the East Devon AONB (Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty) website, or from leaflets available at Libraries and Tourist Information Centres throughout the District.

For my part, as well as helping with the smooth running of the launch festival on Sunday, I will be leading two events through the week. On Monday morning between 10am and midday, I will be teaming up with the RSPB wardens to provide a pond dipping masterclass on Aylesbeare Common. This event is a complete sell-out every year, so booking is essential if you want to secure yourself and your pond dippers their places on the tractor ride! RSPB HQ in Exeter co-ordinates bookings for this event so give them a ring on 01392 432691 to book your places for the 27^th.

Later that week I will be back amongst the tiger beetles and digger wasps, with a reptile ramble on Fire Beacon Hill Local Nature Reserve, on the morning of Wednesday 29^th between 9 and 11am. There’s no limit to numbers on this event, and we will be meeting in the far end car park of the Bowd Inn. I’ll guide the walk up to the nature reserve so we can check the reptile traps on the heath and hopefully find some of the wonderful reptiles which call this site their home. Amongst the likely species we may well come across is the familiar slow worm, which inhabit the site. This legless lizard is thought to be one of the longest living lizards in the world, with captive individuals known to reach in excess of fifty years! Finding large specimens of this species is almost certainly uncovering the same few individuals time after time. No wonder they are beginning to get used to my disturbance and allow me to pick them up quite happily!

There are loads more events planned through the week with nightjar walks; night time bike rides; a guided tour of Blackhill Quarry; explorations of various heathland sites across the District and culminating in the RSPB’s heathland fiesta of fun on Friday, with events from 6.30am all the way through until 11pm!

Now, if that little lot isn’t enough to satisfy the most ardent nature nut in your family, I will be amazed!

Let the Flood Gates Open

Next week will see a positive deluge engulfing the Axe Wetlands, as hoards of school children are unleashed onto Seaton Marshes. Through the course of five days, each key stage from Seaton Primary School will be brought down to the Local Nature Reserve and spend the morning investigating a number of aspects of the reserve’s ecology, history and local significance. I simply can’t wait! As you won’t be lucky enough to be joining us on this wetland wonder journey, I thought I’d give you a taste of what is in store for the school.

The week has been organised by Kate Tobin, the Axe Wetlands Project Officer, as the outputs from this education event will not only immediately benefit the students, but will influence the future educational aspects of the Axe Wetlands Project. Better to throw the floor open to the educational recipients and draw from their inspiration in planning the content, than a few of us sit down and muse on education work on the wetlands from the confines of a dreary office!

Kate will be taking core samples of the mud from around the marshes with the children, a fabulous way to visualise the historical layers beneath our feet. By pulling the mud apart and looking closely, you can see evidence of previous uses of this land and smell the past, good stuff.

The District Council’s Water Vole Project Officer will also be on site to talk to the children about these fabulous animals and help them find signs of their presence on the nature reserve. Water voles are now back in Devon thanks to the work of the Council’s Project Officer and the enigmatic ‘plop’ of ratty is set to become a familiar sound for these children as it was for their grandparents, even if their parents missed out on the experience.

The older children will be able to grasp how the work carried out to reintroduce the water voles has had wider benefits to the environmental health of the river and tributaries in the Axe valley, and will even benefit water bathing quality of their local beach! So well done voles.

I will be hosting the wildlife-y bits of the days, and to be perfectly honest the content of each day will remain pretty similar for the 11 year olds as it was for their five year old colleagues! That’s the real beauty of what I get to do, the essence of it lies in its simplicity. Sure, the language will change to allow every age group to fully explore the natural world of the Local Nature Reserve, but the content, the focus, will be pretty much the same and hold exactly the same fascination, as it does for me too! I was giving an interview for an academic project recently and was describing my role.

I found myself realising that the enthusiasm which underpins all events and projects I get to work on, is based upon exactly the same curiosity and wonder I had as a tiny child unable to resist looking under logs and stones to find creatures! There’s a culvert in my childhood home, which every time I return to Cheddar, I always have to inspect and see if something interesting has fallen in. Slow worms, grass snakes and bank voles have been historical finds in that pit and I can’t fail to be drawn to the bottom of the garden as an adult.

The topics I will cover range from the broad “growing plants” for the little ones, to “interdependence and adaptation” for the year sixes. It’s going to be fun. With young minds the trick is to keep moving and keep refreshing the activities as little ones tend to lose focus quite easily. The ‘Magic Windows’ activity is a favourite, whereby you provide the children with a ‘magic window’ on the world and tell them to investigate the plants growing on the nature reserve, in pairs, using this window. The window is nothing more magical than a 35mm slide frame, but it provides a child’s scale window for the world and shuts out all that surrounding noise. By blocking out surrounding stimulation, their minds are focussed on the small world and they see a different plant that they would without the window. It’s simply a lesson in looking, and you would be surprised how many adults could do with that lesson.

When we get into interdependence and adaptation, I often touch upon ecological principals I studied either at A level or degree level biology. And I make sure these children know that’s when I learnt it. They positively beam with pride when you impress upon them that they are soaking up facts that they will only re-encounter years down the line, and it makes the salient points hit home with extra vigour.

But you’ve got to keep things fun too, so we will be creating a literal food web on the reserve, using string to signify feeding links, and getting the children to adopt a plant or animal of the nature reserve. When the web is complete and every animal and plant linked according to who eats what - or who eats who, you can unveil the illustration. One child starts pulling gently on their string, to symbolise their removal from the ecosystem and, if done with discipline, the entire web will be vibrating within seconds. This illustrates how even the most inconsequential grass or moss or bug, found in an ecosystem, is intrinsic to its sustainable success.

That tends to be enough of an answer to the often asked question: “what are wasps actually for?”

They’re not for anything, but part of everything.

The Red List

I witnessed something of an upsetting scene recently. If you are or a nervous disposition, easily offended or eating your breakfast perhaps you should turn away now.

Mid morning, location – the river Coly. I was crossing the main road bridge over this excellent little river, returning from a reconnoitre in preparation for a school visit to learn about river ecology. Birds were singing in the trees and hedges, notably chaffinches; grey wagtails; swallows and sand martins, and all was well with the world. It was then that my attention was caught by a commotion from below. I studied the scene and immediately recognised what was unfolding beneath me.

Mallards, getting up to their reproductive shenanigans the only way mallards know how: en-masse and with a certain degree of, how shall I put this, gusto. A flotilla of about 25 drakes were crowded under the bridge, while five of them struggled to subdue a single female and attempt the tricky manoeuvre of balancing on her back with webbed feet. To do this the mallard drake takes a firm hold of the duck behind the head, pushes the head down and struggles forwards. While doing this on dry land is difficult enough, performing it in water it is a potentially fatal! The drakes have a tendency to clamour at these occasions and a female can be subjected to the attentions of many drakes. It has been known for female mallards to drown under the weight of their affection.

I watched for a little while hoping she would be able to reach the bank, but not wanting to interrupt things, no matter how unsavoury they were to my delicate human way of thinking. After all, these were just ducks being ducks. The number of people who crossed the bridge unaware of the scene below was a little amusing and when the female eventually struggled free and holed up in a crevice between two boulders I was able to carry on back to work with a weight off my mind. This group sex activity may seem astonishing, but it is the combined result of evolution and the inherent drive to recombine DNA, something shared by all life on earth. It just so happens that mallards have developed this behaviour as the most satisfactory for successfully making more of themselves, while we people have by-and-large favoured monogamy.

However, it would seem that this breeding strategy is not as successful at present as it needs to be, as mallard numbers are at an all-time low and continuing on a downward slide. These are the classic duck of ponds, streams and rivers in Britain, and their demise is substantially more shocking than their sex lives.

This species has suffered a decline of 33% since mid eighties, and more worryingly there is very little idea as to why numbers are on the wan. Some thoughts are of poor reproductive success, others look towards warmer winters and more dispersed winter populations. Either way, without a definitive answer to why they are disappearing, there is little we can do to help reverse the decline and we are currently grasping at ecological straws.

The RSPB publish a list of British birds each year, in which they give a ranking to indicate a species’ conservation status: Green for birds with no concern; amber for those with recent declines of up to 49%; and red for those species with an ongoing and dramatic decline in numbers. The mallard sees itself on the amber list; a startling revelation for one of the Country’s most well known birds.

However other family favourites are in even more strife. The Red List contains garden species, such as the song thrush and the starling.

Song thrushes are a short-lived bird, reaching four years on average. They have been recorded as attempting fewer breeding cycles each summer and it is this loss of population productivity that has been cited as the reason for their decline. Starlings on the other hand are a long lived bird, reaching up to 25 years of age! They are a bird which is thought to have been scarce in ancient Britain and reached a peak with farming in a pre-intensive age. Starlings are now finding it difficult to find food in quantities to support large numbers, and their populations are suffering accordingly.

There are arguments to be made as to where the benchmark should be set for the ‘correct’ population size of a particular species and that is an argument too protracted and impossible to go into here. The easier principal to explore in the short term is that we need to stabilise declining populations and remove the possibility of local extinction. Each bird can’t be looked at in isolation, as each is part of an elaborate and intricate food web, which ultimately includes us in every case.

Birds are a very visible indication of the health of a particular ecosystem and as cohabitees in every case it is in our interests to make sure these ecosystems are sound and functional.