Thursley Common (originally published 11/06/15 in wordpress blog of same name)

Just come back from a fantastic couple of hours at Thursley Common, at first there wasn’t much to see but as I walked along I found myself listening alert to eh sounds of the common, the birds, bees and insects, the breeze brusquely swooshing through the trees and grasses, from a distance a curlew called first its  coor -wee call  then its bubbling trill- a sound evoking an eerie, lonely, timeless feel that fitted with feeling of the open skied heathland space. As I listened it brought me to thinking about one of the recent episodes of Springwatch unsprung episodes where they interviewed Simon Scott who composes music using and integrating the sounds of the landscape.  Now I thought about the sounds around me and began to appreciate just how much that these sounds contribute to the essence of the place and how on a personal scale they make me feel and relate to the landscape.

There were a number of people out with cameras mainly photographing birds and in this instance I am guessing that many were taken of the Hobby. At first it perched for some time on an old dead tree in the open mire, then it began to  hunt, swooping up in the air heading for a couple of dragonflies its talons reaching out as it plucked one of the  dragonflies decisively out of the air. This I watched  for around an hour, it was amazing to see its aerial agility, it almost skimming the open water then swiftly turning back up on itself, shooting up in the air, gliding a little then rapidly dashing back across the common. Today was quite breezy and it appeared that when the wind was at its strongest the Hobby found a suitable perch, waited for it to die down then took flight again.

I also saw a Curlew, Tufted ducks, Stonechat and thanks to another photographer a little further round the common a raft spider consuming its prey of damselfly. If I had been a couple of minute’s earlier I may have seen it hunting, capturing and killing its prey.  I saw a couple of common lizards too but not as many as I had done in the past and no sand lizards which again are normally present however I did go in the middle of a hot sunny day and maybe if I had been there early morning I may have been more successful.

RSPB Minsmere - Waders, Terns and Sand Martins (originally published 29/06/15 in wordpress blog of same name)

After an extended long journey, courtesy of a couple of accidents on the A12 I finally arrived at RSPB Minsmere just after 2 o’clock on 26^th June.  This is the first time that I have visited here and after seeing it recently on Springwatch was inspired to pay it a visit.

On entering the reserve via the visitor’s centre I was first greeted by a sand bank to the left of me, potted with burrows dug out as nests by the Sand martins that were speedily and agilely skimming and turning and twisting though the clear blue sunny air  around us chirping cheerily as they passed.  I continued along the Coast trail towards the first hide, past a man who was excited at having just spotted his first Dartford warbler-though sadly it had disappeared off by the time I had reached him.

As I reached the sea edge, having past the warbling, chattering and twittering  reedbed, the air was filled with the noise of the scrape situated to the right of me, reminiscent of the noise of a school playground with the chattering, calling and caterwauling of birds across the water all sounds merging into each other with the occasional call standing out identifying its caller.  The North hide provided me with my first glimpse of the scrape where Oyster catchers, Avocets and other waders waded whilst terns dived into the water.   The Oyster catcher in front of the hide had a couple of young who were independently exploring the area close by to her, a little later this oyster catcher was calling in distress looking for its young who were not to be seen, though it was not obvious what had happened to them as this was all straight in front of the hide and no-one had seen anything happen to them- hopefully she was reunited with her young later.

I stopped at a couple of other hides along the walk watching and listening, at one a lone Black-tailed godwit stood asleep,  its beak and head tucked into its russet breasted body  oblivious to the hustle and bustle around him, whilst close by a Little egret stalked the shallow water for fish delicately and gingerly stepping  through the water, intermittently stopping, tilting its head and eyeing up its prey then with a stab of its beak into the water it grabs and grasps the fish lifting its head  to manoeuvre the fish with a couple of quick jerky head movements around in its sharp pointy black beak till the fish was the right angle to swallow through its long narrow neck. Later a flock of Black-tailed godwits took flight from the left of the hide and landed over to the right of us visible clearly only through binoculars. I watched as they landed like a small squadron together on the waters edge, never seeming to entirely stay still, one would open their wings, make a short almost balletic jump to the front or to the back of where it stood creating a subtle wave of identical behaviour through the flock.

Due to the elongated journey to Minsmere I had only a couple of hours to enjoy our visit but I will definitely be visiting again and next time I intend to spend the entire day.

A May Bank Holiday Walk along the River Wey (originally published 09/06/15 in wordpress blog of same name)

It was a warm, cloudy with a hint of sun late May bank holiday, walking the three and a bit miles along the banks of the River Wey form Guildford to Godalming- people sauntered and cyclist trundled past on the uneven tow path, A duck and it ducklings floated by whilst a shire horse plodded past pulling behind him a colourful narrow boat full of sightseers up the river.   Pond skaters and water boatman skedaddled, skated and slid across the water whilst above the water small flies, their long thin two pronged tails trailing behind, flitted up in the sky, dropping intermittently only to flit back up again. These flies were abundant above the river but more so above the hedgerows and the trees that bordered the river. These flies, as you may have already guessed, were mayflies (Ephemeroptera).

Previously called dayflies due to their ephemeral lifespan length of a day, the Mayfly species, of which there are approximately 50 in Britain, and contrary to its name, can actually be seen across most months from spring through to autumn.

They start their life as Mayfly nymphs, living and feeding off detritus, algae and   in the river for up to 2 years, within this time shedding their exoskeletons up to as many as 40 times, before they emerge       from the water to shelter under leaves along the river bank. This is where they shed their last exoskeleton before they then return en-masse to flitter above the water to mate. Once mated the females then returned to the water where they lay their eggs, die and give themselves up to the water- feeding fish and birds alike. The males retire to the leaves to die.

Which is where on the walk we saw a Great Tit perching in the bushes and branches on the edge of the river focused on pecking off the expired Mayflies, then  flying off to the safety of  a nearby tree at the last minute as us walkers trod by, returning quickly and confidently to its original spot- apparent danger passed.

It was this mass emergence and mating swarm, this madly flapping swirling air, which we happened upon on this cloudy May Bank holiday.  I have seen this event many times before but for some reason today was the day for me to really see them, to see the delicate transparent wings, their 2 long thin tails twice as long as their body streaming out behind their short comma shaped bodies    and marvel at the spectacle of their dance of flight in their last remaining hours of life.

A spectacle, an emergence that has occurred in abundance over and over again for over 300 million years, but, as is the way  of so many of our insects nowadays, the  days of abundance, of Mayfly mist above the water has passed, their numbers  declining.

Mission Accomplished (originally published 03/0615- migrated from wordpress blog of same name)

After a frustrating work day yesterday setting up my new blog, I decided today to get outside to and to help refocus. Today’s  aim was to spot a Dartford Warbler on Caesars Camp, an old   fort and heathland area owned by the army and managed by Hampshire wildlife trust  situated on the edge of Aldershot.  I had briefly seen my first Dartford warbler on this very site only a month ago on a dusk walk as it flitted out from gorse bush bordering the path next to me into the denser undergrowth .I have never been disappointed on my walks here, an area of woodland, heathland, sandy areas and small lakes there is always something to see or hear.  Today was no different.

I headed up through the woodland that edges the heathland from the entry gate to the path that takes me along the heathland edge which provides a view to the hill that is the focus of this area.  Starting to feel little brighter for being outdoors, I began to walk steadily along the stony, rutted track looking up at the trees and sky. As I walked l listened to the Chiffchaffs the warblers, the  Blackbirds, a Green Woodpecker and a Pheasant that croaked in the distance away,

On reaching the hill I stopped briefly looking out over a surprisingly leafy Farnborough and Aldershot, the Hogs Back and out onwards to the Surrey Hills. One of my favourite local views.

I continued on inadvertently disturbing a Sparrow hawk from its perch as I went, watching as it swooped off out away across the heath. Just before I had startled the Sparrowhawk I had been deliberating which way to turn,  ,I now let the Sparrowhawk decide and I followed in its direction, though I hasten to add I had already lost it at this point!,  On  turning down this route an excited puppy came romping up towards me jumping up and down on me trying to befriend me-  its muddy paws now printed on my jacket-  it wasn’t the muddy paws that worried me- as it is at this point that i shall mention that I am very anxious around dogs-not a great attribute for someone who loves being outdoors.

Once the puppy had left with its apologetic owner in the opposite direction, with my heart still pounding I meandered slowly down the track and was not disappointed at my choice of route.   Only 50 metres down the path I was stopped by noisy chattering, singing and      in the trees, gorse and ground around me. Getting out my binoculars I spotted a male stonechat sitting a short way off on the top of a gorse bush making the unmistakable flint on flint tapping sound.  I stood on the spot watching for a long while the male sing, flit from gorse to gorse then sit preening himself, at which time he was joined by the female who sat only a few branches away facing the male.   At the same time I was also watching another bird that was warbling away in the gorse behind me, my bird identification skills are still in need of improvement so I  was frantically trying to look it up in my bird book, watch the Stonechats and watch  this bird and multitasking is not a strong point of mine, and consequently I only succeeded as much as narrowing  it down to a  pipit of some sort- as a result I think I will head back another day soon to have a second shot at identifying it.

I passed through a small woodland where more Chiffchaffs were calling and on the ground just out of my sight on the ground in front of me a rapid scuffling movement and a flash of a  small light brown mammal rushed across my path into the undergrowth, I stood for a while to see if it would come out so  see what it was, unfortunately not this time.

As I returned to the heathland, I was resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t see a Dartford Warbler today, when, to my left, I heard a warbler. I stopped, brought my binoculars to my eyes focusing as quickly as I could and yes, there before me was a Dartford Warbler, its small fluffy black headed body warbling happily away on the top of some tall bracken.  I watched for a good minute or so, before, just as quickly as I had spotted it, it flew abruptly into a nearby gorse bush ceasing to warble. Mission accomplished- spirit raised and Dartford Warbler spotted. I smiled slightly smugly to myself turned and headed home.    It was time for lunch,