Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Tiger tiger!


2010 is 'International Year of Biodiversity' and also the Year of the Tiger. For my colleague, Rob, it was fortnight of the tiger.

Rob works in our office in Cambridge and had the unique opportunity to visit FFI's project out in Indonesia where they are working to protect the rare and exquisite Sumatran tiger. There is a huge national park called Kernici Seblat and Rob went to stay with the FFI head of the project, Debbie (click here to read her tiger blog).

So why am I blogging about it? Because Rob just gave us a 'download' at lunchtime, where he talked about the project and the amazing bit of luck he had in actually seeing some tigers in the wild, and his admiration and enthusiasm for the team out there. The Tiger Protection Unit are local people, all with a real passion for conservation. Poaching is still a problem - but it's not poor local people who are poaching, it's rich businessmen who fund highly dangerous teams to go and snare and shoot tigers for the skins and body parts.

Rob's exploits (highly edited) are on the FFI website, but you should also check out the info on the site about the Tiger project, then I highly recommend it.

Photo (C) Fauna & Flora International

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

From Shamrocks to Daffodils

This week saw St Patrick's night - and Shani and I had a gig at a local village pub. Bryan said he may come and play some tunes with us, but not if there was just 'two men and a dog' in the audience.

Don't you just hate flip comments that turn out to be accurate predictions?! OK, at one point there really was just two men and a dog - the pub dog and the two landlords, but at the most I would say there were probably only 8 people in the bar.

This did not stop us having a grand evening though! We played and sang and generally enjoyed making music. At 11pm two ladies came in and, up for a grand evening (it was the birthday of one), we played and they danced. The two ladies and the landlords all dancing round happily whilst we sang some hackneyed Irish songs and a few other standards, for good measure (they loved our rendition of 'Let me Entertain you').

The birthday girl asked us if we'd play at her birthday party on the Saturday night, and we turned up but the way things turned out we didn't actually perform (apart from three and a half songs).

Sunday, however, was Thriplow Daffodil Festival and we played to a nicely full tea tent on a sunny, English spring day. The daffodils, however, were reluctant to perform (given the cold and long winter) but that didn't spoil what is a quintessentially wonderfully English village festival.

We played our set, then were asked for more (not with raucous encore shouts, but because there was more time to fill) and had a thoroughly pleasing little afternoon gig.

Next? Well, there is talk of a beer festival at the village pub ...

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Toad Charmer

Did you know the toad belongs to the anuran family? No, nor did I. But as these engaging creatures seem to be attracting my attention a lot recently, I thought I should look up a little more about them.

The common toad is not particularly rare, but less common than good old frogs! The natterjack toad, though, is not only rare but endangered. I have had three encouters with anurans recently (hey, isn't that a great name for an alien in Dr Who?). The first was a frog. (see my previous Frog Blog for more froggy tales and my own pictures.)

It was a rainy night a few weeks ago, I was walking back from the station along a main road. It was dark, drizzly and I was thoroughly fed up. Winter blues in full swing. Next to the pavement I was walking on was a wall, atop the wall an old metal railing fence. Behind the fence was a hedge, part of the garden of a house. I was looking down, keeping the rain out of my eyes, when I noticed something unusual. A huge frog! He was gorgeous - green and brown and shiny in the rain. But on a pavement next to a busy road he was likely to get squished - either by unnoticing pedestrians or, should he(she) venture the wrong direction, by unseeing traffic.

I stooped to pick him up and he scrambed towards the wall. I held him in my hand and he settled immediately (perhaps the warmth of my mammalian hands was actually rather nice to a cold frog). I lifted him to the top of the wall where the greenery poked through and the earth and safety beyond beckoned.

I held my hand flat on the wall. He turned, and instead of leaping off, just looked at me. "Go on" I said. I swear he winked, and then he hopped onto the wall, and then off into the undergrowth.

The other day, cycling back from the station (instead of walking in the rain), I came via the Heath and as I trundled over the earthy heap that separated the open paths of Therfield Heath from our road, I noticed that at the side of the path one of the brown leaves was the wrong shape. I swerved the bike so as not to squash the toad who, nicely camoflaged, had chosen a pedestrian pathway to sit upon.

I picked him up and gently set him down further in the leaves, off the main path, so that he should not get squished. Hopefully he took the hint and stayed clear of the cold tarmac. He didn't seem to object to me picking him up. Toads excrete a rather nasty substance from their skin making them unpalatable to most predators. Perhaps that's what gives them their confidence when being handled?

That was encounter number two. This morning, however, the toad came a-knocking at the door. Well, not literally, but pretty close. I opened the front door to head for the annual Thriplow Daffodil festival and there upon the doormat was a huge, swollen bellied toad. Yellow, brown and with bright eyes, it looked at me. And then continued as if to enter the house.

Now I know that yon toad would not have had such a warm welcome from other, more squeamish, members of the family, so I picked her up. Again, totally unconcerned at my touch (she didn't even puff herself up, as some do), she settled in my hand. The answer was obvious - I took her round to the back garden and set her down on the greenery next to the pond.

Toads return every year to the same pond if they can, I just hope ours was the pond she was heading for. I am sure we will be able to tell as our little pond fills up with skaters and other wiggly pond life, and -without doubt - it's annual quota of frogs and spawn. I'll keep my eye out for the strings of spawn which mean our garden toads have decided to bless us with their warty, pleasing presence once again.

Photo from BBC, more info on toads: http://www.herpetofauna.co.uk/common_toad.htm

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Spring?

Spring raised it's head briefly yesterday, uncurled from the frozen brown earth to take a breath of sunshine, then disappeared again today under the coverlet of clouds.

The birds are silent today, yesterday's enthusiasm dampened by grey skies and chilly air. But there are small white buds on the magnolia, and the primroses are struggling to open. Snowdrops, white and green against black, hard earth, are trembling in the rush of wind caused by the speeding, dirty busses that trammel the brittle tarmac.

Spring is on its way, reluctantly. But we are eager with anticipation, and optimism. The slightest bit of blue sky brings a smile, the instant of sunshine warms more than its thin heat radiates.

On the train, in the evenings, the sky is a riot of reds. Scudding clouds are daubed with vibrant colours, and the sunsets cast dramatic silhouettes of bare trees, farm buildings and scrubby fields that are slowly, slowly challenging the winter to turn green.

And this morning, as I came in on the train, into the city, the arms of a huge yellow spider clawed their way from the mound of earth that is the rebuilding of CB1. Three diggers looked like arachnid limbs, and the devastation surrounding their industry is like another spring - the bare field soon to sprout the concrete shoots of new buildings.

Change is a constant, and the cycle of the seasons and the cycle of development is as unstoppable as each sunrise. Though some days start grey, there will be sunshine one day. Remember that the sun is coming, that the wreck of land will soon be something new and shining, that the broken earth will soon blossom. It's hard to keep a positive attitude sometimes, but all we have to do is look around. And remember.