James Chubb

Don’t be fooled by sunny skies

sally.fairbrother@archant.co.uk — Thu, 11 Mar 2010 09:03:00 GMT

Periods of cold, clear, settled weather are such a treat at this time of year. It feels like spring is on its way when you find a sheltered sunny spot but, when you feel the full force of the cold wind, you quickly realise that its still very much early days!

Summer is not just around the corner. I find these are the days where I am caught out by the cold, more often than not.

Last week, I spent a few hours in the bird hide at Colyford Common. Even though I was wearing a short and long-sleeved fleece, it took me the full half hour drive back to get the feeling return to my hands. I’d left my gloves in the car, thinking they would not be needed - how wrong I was!

The trouble was, there was so much to distract my attention while on the Local Nature Reserve, I didn’t realise that my hands were becoming stuck in a claw-like rictus.

It was spring tides last week, which meant that, even with the strong northerly winds, the Axe estuary flooded and Colyford Common was a lake when I arrived. The boardwalk causeway led me across the water and to the viewpoint, from where I had an excellent view of the estuary birds, all of which were confined to very little dry land and so fairly easy to watch.

Firstly, a pile of gulls contained five different species, with a potential sub species to boot. Common gulls mingled with the largest of their number: black headed gulls. Despite their name, common gulls are not frequently encountered by many people, but are a very pretty little gull.
Look for a miniature herring gull with a jet black eye and the chances are its a common gull.

Standing next to a juvenile herring gull, an immature great black-backed gull towered over the throng, and when compared to the lesser black-backed gulls roosting next to it, the sheer weight and power of its beak was clear to see.

Among the lesser black-backed gulls was a very similar bird, which stood about two centimetres taller than the other lesser black-backs, but as it didn’t move as much as a feather while I was there, it was impossible to tell if this was just a trick of the telescope.

On the reserve, three pipits displayed the marked plumage difference between rock pipits and water pipits that is so hard to communicate in a book. The rock pipits were a dark, dusky brown while, at this time of year in comparison, the water pipit was a distinctly blonde version of the rock pipits, soon to moult into its pink-tinged summer plumage, what a treat!

A spoonbill fished for a short while on the large saltwater lagoon that the bird hide overlooks. With such a stiff breeze buffeting the bird, it was not long before the appendage which gives this bird its name was safely tucked beneath its wing.

In cold weather, spoonbills seem to spend a great deal of time with their bill under a wing, and I have a theory about this. My suspicions are that the bill is either so sensitive or has such a rich blood supply that the bird is physically uncomfortable in cold weather and secretes its head below a wing to protect the beak and provide a little respite from the icy chill. It’s only a theory, but I will do a little digging and see if this holds up to scientific scrutiny.

A few hundred wigeon took off in a whistling flock of flashing white wing patches. The numbers may be well below the seasonal high of over two thousand birds, but this was still a wonderful sight to behold.

Snipe jumped excitedly in the reed beds, being pestered by a mob of four crows, which seemed to be systematically herding the snipe, in short bursts, up river. If I was prone to sentimental outbursts, I might suggest they were playing with the nervous, stuttering snipe. But I’m not, so I won’t.

A merlin was the highlight of the morning, flashing through on short, stiff wingbeats. This is our smallest falcon, and indeed our smallest raptor. Merlin are another bird which goes largely unnoticed outside the birding community, living a secretive life chasing small birds, and looking, in flight, a little like a miniature sparrowhawk with slightly pointier wings. As merlin move to their upland breeding grounds, so we will begin to see winter visitors leave and the summer birds return. Sand martins are the first of the swallow troop to arrive and birds have been seen along the south coast already this year - keep a look out throughout the district over the coming weeks, on rivers and estuaries.

Wheatear are the bird which possibly heralds springtime, with the brightest flash. This robin-sized bird has a bright white patch at the top of its tail, and it flashes this rump as it takes off in fright. They are relatively approachable and will allow you to walk quietly to within a few metres of them, before flitting off along a fenceline or path, normally only a few metres ahead of you.

Spring is in the air, but then again, so is a viciously icy breeze. So, if you are going to head out into the countryside this week, don’t let sunny skies fool you; wear an extra layer and don’t leave your gloves in the car!

Winter flocks and extra socks

sally.fairbrother@archant.co.uk — Thu, 21 Jan 2010 11:49:00 GMT

As the weather continues to hold the East Devon countryside in an icy grip there is a little warming cheer to raise the spirits of any countryside visitor at this time. While the winter chill is something of a shock to us, our relatively mild climate has brought untold wild riches to our midst.
Record numbers of birds have flocked to the Axe Estuary this winter, as ferocious frosts and snow brought the country to a standstill. As the countryside froze to the North and East of us, so the birds were forced further and further South west to find feeding opportunities.
Probably the most notable single bird of the winter was a bittern, a wetland bird famously scarce and elusive. Bittern are not birds that appreciate icy conditions. When your method of feeding is to stand very still with your feet in the water, you can appreciate their dislike of the cold. Freezing water also hampers their finding of food, as they prefer to fish in the shallow area amongst reeds, which are the first places to ice over when a chill hits. The bittern was seen on several occasions as it searched for feeding spots on the estuary.
I heard a rumour that someone was overheard proudly claiming that he had managed to flush the bittern three times while looking for it on the Axe wetlands. This raises a very important issue at this time of year: disturbance. Disturbing birds at any time is not desirable, but when the mercury drops it becomes even more important to leave birds unmolested. Any waste of energy; flying off in fright from a berk with binoculars, for example, can rapidly reduce the energy reserves in a bird and lead to its swift demise. It baffles me that people with an interest in birds can take such a casual approach to their welfare, sadly this behaviour seems particularly rife in a few self-styled ‘twitchers’ to whom the viewing of a bird for selfish ends is the over-riding importance.
You can tell this riles me somewhat, and I apologise for my ire, but as it is my job to encourage people’s interest and understanding of our fabulous wildlife, it saddens me when people behave irresponsibly towards our wild neighbours. Fortunately, this behaviour is restricted to a very few individuals and I for one always step in if I see such a cavalier attitude. Its interesting to note that the Devon Wildfowlers Association stopped shooting on the Exe during the worst of the weather, recognising that to carry on shooting in those conditions would jeopardise the whole population. Well done them!
Anyway rant over, and back to the encouragement to don an extra layer and enjoy the winter spectacle!
Throughout the Axe there are a number of very useful bird viewing opportunities to be had from hides and platforms which the birds are accustomed to associate with people. The view from the Colyford Common bird hide last Friday was staggering!
A record number of wigeon were to be found on Colyford Marsh, feeding with an appetite honed by the cold weather. These little ducks use open water as a refuge, feeding on grass of the surrounding marshes. I like to think of them as a herd of little winged cattle, grazing their way across the open fields. If danger is sensed they will take off in a single cloud of birds, and fill the air with their piping alarm calls. White flashes on the wings mark out the male birds in the air and most flocks will be largely a 50:50 male female split as these birds pair for life and seldom stray far from their partner.
Wigeon are the most handsome ducks. The males have a russet head with pale cream stripe down the front, their blue bill is very smart and the look is finished off with a grey marl on the back. What a dandy! The female duck is far more drab, but both birds have an endearing call, a gentle whistle which keeps the pair in constant communication.
The record flock of 1,800 ducks were munching their way across the tussocky marsh in front of the bird hide, and the combined volume of 900 whistling calls being answered by a second 900 was enough to mute the sound of the Axmouth road on the other side of the estuary. A haunting winter sound of the wetlands.
Snipe are a favourite bird of mine. They have elaborately long beaks, three times as long as their heads, which they use to probe into soft earth in search of invertebrates. When the ground is frozen solid they have a very hard time feeding and flock to the estuaries where the salty influence tends to keep the freeze at bay. This winter we saw ice forming on the brackish estuary water, it was that cold, so snipe would have been pushed to breaking point in search of a feeding location.
Which was why it was so nice to see the marshes covered with snipe, all busily feeding in the recently thawed ground. Snipe are so well camouflaged that you normally spot a single bird before realising after about 15 minutes that you are looking at a field containing hundreds of them!
The snipe were feeding amongst flocks of tiny teal, another beautiful duck, and were displaying some curious behaviour. When two snipe came within a few metres of each other they would happen to notice each other, and make a dash forward. Dipping the head down and raising a fanned tail in the air, they would momentarily joust their long beaks before one or other of the birds would retreat away from the dominant individual.
Perhaps this behaviour was induced because of the extreme temperature and food shortage stresses, but it served to remind me that things have been extremely difficult for wild birds in recent weeks and we should be doing all we can to ensure their survival as the thermometer begins to climb back to a more comfortable temperature.

Difficult time for birds

sally.fairbrother@archant.co.uk — Tue, 19 Jan 2010 14:54:00 GMT

Look at all this snow! Or, in case we’ve had a much-needed thaw by the time this article gets printed, remember all that snow!

It was one thing to get a white Christmas for me this year, cold weather and frozen rain is to be expected in the far-flung North. But down here, in the balmy climate of Devon, such a gripping frost came as something of a surprise.

The headlines, and BBC dedicated an entire hour of prime time to broadcast a news special on frozen precipitation, are full of school closures; children sledging; cars stuck on ice; milk shortages; and the general disruption to our automotive-focussed infrastructure. But, on the flip side to this, one of the most fabulous things about a thick snow flurry is how it changes our world.

Firstly, the quality of light in snowy conditions is magnificent. Just the simple addition of uplighting from reflected sunshine is enough to transform the landscape into a clean, bright and uplifting scene.

Then, there is the quality of sound. There are fewer cars on the roads, so things are quieter outside anyway. But an insulating layer of snow seems to mute artificial sounds, whilst simultaneously increasing the volume of natural sounds like bird calls and children’s laughter, as another snowball explodes with a direct hit.

Of course, we are all concerned with our own provisions, with many local shops imposing milk rationing and bread limits to ensure people can’t single-handedly clear the premises with a urgent bout of basket filling. Once these essentials are in place, we can all relax a little and turn our attention to the wildlife which is really at the sharp end of freaky weather like this.

Birds, in particular, bear the brunt of cold, snowy weather. While most mammals can snuggle down and sleep through short cold spells, birds are forced to continue to forage and find even more food than normal to keep their fat stores up. At times like this, the concept of a ‘fat store’ is a misconception, with most birds living a ‘hand-to-beak’ existence. Every calorie consumed through the day gets used just getting through the night; every morsel counts.

The double-whammy, of course, is that foraging is particularly difficult for most terrestrial birds, as the snow cover makes finding food that much harder.
There is plenty we can do to assist, and in return for setting up a backyard feeding station, the chances are that you will be rewarded with a spectacular display of avian gratitude. My little city-centre yard has recently added grey wagtail and chiffchaff to its truncated bird list. We’ve also recently seen lapwing, but they were merely passing overhead, so only count as being seen from the garden, rather than in the garden!

If you can, put out fat-rich food. Seeds and fat balls are preferable, rather than bread which is of little value to birds and should only be offered as part of a wider choice of food. Food scraps can be offered, but only use bacon rind if you can be sure the bacon has not been salted, as salt is harmful to birds. If you’ve got a feeding table, then use this, placed close to hedges or tree cover, if possible, but even if you don’t have feeding equipment, scattered seed on snow-free flat roofs or a patio will work. The essential thing is that the newly put down seed is visible to birds because, unless you regularly feed and your garden is known to the local bird populations, you are going to need to attract a prospecting bird as it passes through your property. A few old apples which are beyond the fruitbowl, but still not mouldy, will attract species like blackbirds and, perhaps, even redwings and fieldfares, if they spot them. However, other food items need a bit more of a practical touch.

Making fat balls is dead easy. Melt some lard gently in a pan and add generous quantities of seeds. Prepare a pot with length of string trailing from the bottom, which will allow you to hang the food. Take the lard mix off the heat and as it re-sets, pour it into the cleaned out yoghurt pot or similar to allow it to form a hangable shape. Once cold, take the filled pots outside and hang them from a tree or wall bracket, visible from a warm window, sit back and wait for the gang to arrive. It might take a couple of days for the food to be found, indeed, the newly proffered morsels might not be found at all, but as soon as the first bird finds the source, ‘word’ will quickly spread and your garden will fill with hungry birds.

Of course, once you have managed to attract this hungry audience, you will be hard-pushed to put an end to the feasting. In which case, there are all sorts of home made alternatives to the expensive bird feeding equipment one can buy in various shops. One thing I would advise, however, is not to skimp on seed quality. While a bluetit will not pass comment on a feeding table consisting of a tea tray nailed to a post, it will suffer if the seeds you put out are contaminated with fungal infections, or bulked out with inedible dried beans or dog biscuits - the only way to ensure against this is to buy approved seed from a trusted source.

If you do get into the habit of putting out bird food, keep it up as birds quickly come to rely on these feeding stations as regular sources of sustenance.
After you’ve gone to all that trouble to attract them in the first place, its easier just to keep on feeding than attract their attention all over again next time the snow falls.

Sleigh Bells ring, are we listening

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Fri, 18 Dec 2009 10:13:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:24:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:23:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:21:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:19:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:18:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:17:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:16:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:15:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:14:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:13:00 GMT

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

JChubb@eastdevon.gov.uk — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 10:13:00 GMT

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?