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.