From May to June

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May is nearly over, and I haven't blogged in a while. It doesn't mean nothing is happening, it means I've been busy. Busy playing with Hannah and Sheena at the local beer festival (at the Rumburgh Buck), busy working and preparing for our biggest event of the year (#RedforRuth), and busy gardening!

Of all the busy things I do, gardening is the most calming. I have a lovely  polytunnel set up in my little veg area, and my greenhouse is full of young plants. I've claimed another bit of garden for another veg bed, and have had to put bamboo canes up to deter the plant nibbling peacock who visits regularly.

Percy peacock

Sheena loves cabbages so I am growing them in the polytunnel and in the veg bed under netting. We have so many beautiful butterflies (including white admiral whose caterpillars feed on the wild honeysuckle) and many of them rather fancy my brassicas! (And the older geration might just be saying 'Ooooh matron!' to themselves).

Watering is a very relaxing activity, as is deadheading. Weeding, not so much, but still necessary. We have one weed in our garden that just appeared this year in the lawn. The good folk of the Gardeners Question Time Facebook page assure me it is 'miner's lettuce' - an edible plant. But I won't be putting it on my salad - not with three dogs in the garden. I may try growing some elsewhere just for tasting purposes though.

My next big gardening project is reclaiming the borders at the dog training centre and putting in some plants that will thrive (given that dogs are everywhere, the border is in heavy shade, and it's not regularly watered). 

Meanwhile, I will continue gardening and feeding the birds. We have a cuckoo nearby, regularly hear the nightingale, and have blackcap, wrens and robins. The feeder is visited by greater spotted woodpecker, marsh, great, long and blue tits, goldfinch and chaffinch. And under the feeder - a couple of stock doves, wood pigeons, dunnock and Percy. 

I'm hoping we have lots of fresh produce from my efforts this, year. I will no doubt post pictures of cabbages and tomatoes in due course.

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• A walk on the wild side
• Ramsey Canyon
• Pond life

Doves and cuckoos

Yesterday morning I heard my first cuckoo - today I heard it several times! Good to know they are back, and though they are a parasitic bird (poor little reed warblers!), they are a bird in trouble in the UK, so good to hear them at all.

The other nice visitor to our garden is the turtle dove - though I heard them regularly last year, I never saw them. This year, a pair are actually visiting our bird feeders! The siskins, tits and woodpecker all make a real mess when they grab the sunflowers out of our feeders, so the ground feeding birds (chaffinch, dunnock, pheasant and pigeons) love clearing up for me.

These are a rarity now, and such a treat to see them. 

Useful links:

RSPB - cuckoo

RSPB - turtle dove  

Lil' Boomer

Back in July, during lockdown,  Sheena's business premeses were left unattended for some time and became a bit overgrown. Waggytails Dog Training Centre is in the hamlet of Weston, and is adjacent to farmland. The car park is next to a huge maize field, and the astroturf and grass areas are separated from the car park by a hedge made of dead lelandii and other miscellaneous growth such as elder and nettles. Further in, behind the grass and next to the astroturf, is a large sandy area full of weeds. If you are a partridge, this is lovely foraging ground. The astroturf was full of little mossy weeds too and the grass was so long you'd lose your dog in it.

We worked hard mowing, clearing, cutting, brushing, sweeping, painting ... all those things that were needed for when the Centre could open again. The hall was tidied, social distancing for dog training implemented and barriers bought and the whole place given a deep clean (and a new kitchen).

One afternoon we were sitting having a rest in the astroturf area, in the shade near the hedge. Peep peep. We looked down to see a baby partridge pottering about. I put him back in the hedge where, hopefully, his mother was hiding. A few minutes later, peep peep. He was back. I put him back in the hedge the other side, deep in the undergrowth behind one of the outbuildings. I went back to painting.

Peep peep. He came back. No sign of mother. Peep peep. He was looking a bit tired. I picked him up, warmed him, and put him back in the hedge. Didn't see him for a bit until - peep peep. He was sitting on my foot.

By the end of the day it was clear mother had scarpered and this little chap was our responsibility. I took him into the sandy area and helped him find some tasty bugs (tapping the ground with my finger, he followed and snapped up the little protein packets). 

That evening we took him home and put him in a box - after learning that he mustn't get wet (which he did after diving into his water bowl) and having to warm him up in my hands, we left him overnight fully expecting him to have passed away. 

The following morning I went to check. Peep peeeeep. He was still with us, just, so I fed him some water on my fingertip and took him back to Waggytails. He was soon pottering about the sandy area, gobbling up the bugs and - in a humungous effort for such a little chap - ate a whole caterpillar! This was perfect timing, his stomach would be full as I popped him back into his box and took him to a rehoming expert.

Last we heard he was gobbling up waxworms and mealworms and snuggling under the breast of a broody hen. I hope he/she made it. A little fighter who had a tough start.

PS we called him 'Boomer' - because he kept coming back like a little boomerang.

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Field day

Suffolk lullaby

Pond life

Photos (C) Sheena Stebbing

Desktop birdwatching

Working at home has some advantages, such as having my desk by the front window, next to the bird feeder. Today I put my camera on my desk, and thought I'd see what I might catch with a quick snap or two.

Here's some recent garden visitors:

Male greenfinch

Male chaffinch

Long tailed tit

Blue tit

Robin

George

Coal tit

Gus

Suffolk Lullaby

Oh my, I haven't written my blog since October last year. How remiss of me! Who cares? I do. Why do I care? Because I love writing and I am letting other things distract me. Oh yeah, I'm busy with work and fun, but I'm lazy too.

So this little blog is about something really simple, about the wonderful place I live - near Dunwich, a small village on the East Coast of the UK.

At night I can hear the roar of the sea, and the soughing of the wind in the trees. I call it the 'wind giants' - I imagine them striding through the pines, shaking the trees as they march through, thoughtless for all else but progress from land to sea. I go for long walks with the dogs when it's dark - and I hear the calls of tawny owls, and the frantic flapping of disturbed pheasant and pigeon as the big dog goes chasing them hell for leather.

We hear the bark of the deer - muntjack and red, and the sharp call of the fox, who we often see using our road as his own convenient highway.

When it's damp, the woods release their scent; a fresh wood mould, and the tang of fungi. There is a sharpness when the ferns open, uncurling their fronds and turning the brown undergrowth into a deep carpet of green.

When we sit in our lounge, looking out of the window, we see the squirrels try and defy our latest 'squirrel proof' feeder, and watch the woodpeckers, long tailed tits, marsh, blue and coal tits, swaying as they enjoy the sunflower seeds and peanuts. And sometimes, swooping with deadly speed, we see the sparrowhawk and mourn the loss of one of the smaller birds.

Some Sundays we go to Southwold and walk across the marshes - in summer weather the grass in lush and green, and in the winter we need wellingtons and a careful sense of balance as we negotiate foot-deep swatches. Geese, ducks, lapwing - all circle and land, startled by our presence and the over-enthusiasm of the pack of dogs we and our friends have brought with us to enjoy the exercise.

At home we light the wood burner, and it smokes like a grumpy dragon before sending it's warmth through the room, and through the house. We watch the flames dancing - hypnotised by their colours, their patterns, and the mysteries they suggest. The wood is pine, oak, sycamore - wood that we have cut, that we have split and stacked. Each log is a small testament to our hard work, and we see it go up in flames, delighting and warming us.

Late at night, lying in bed, the wind giants precursor the rain, and the drumming of drops on the window, on the roof, on the grass outside - is a soothing Suffolk lullaby.


Photos: (C) Carolyn Sheppard

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How life changes
The gift of snow
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Adelong Morning

Adelong morning

It’s cold in the mornings. Rain clouds the skies and floods the roads. Sometimes the frost prickles the grass by the roadside. It’s a world away from waking in Adelong, where the musical, haunting song of the magpie heralds a blue sky day. 

The scale of distance in Australia seems different. To get a long view here, you have to go high. In Adelong, just look out the back door.  Rolling scenery draws the eye onwards, into a vanishing point that diminishes with the curve of the earth.

The clatter of timber trucks rolling by – full one way, empty the other – echoes against the tin roofs of the last houses in the town.  Crimson rosellas, loud and raucous, shoot past at speed.  Galahs, the rowdy boys in pink and grey, gather in the field and browse – feathered and feisty. The dogs bark,

Galahs

attention seeking. 

The air is warm, spring promise a comfortable temperature as the day grows and the light, clear and bright, contrasts the grey of the trees against the verdant green and almost blistering blue of the sky. A few clouds, white and distinguished, sometimes graced the scene, promising some relief, yet reluctant to do so.

The magpie warbles, the galahs chatter, the rosellas squawk and the European goldfinch – familiar and yet strangely out of place – sings his syrupy song from the telephone wire.  The air is clean, the day bringing promise of exploration.  A wood fire burns, to chase away the last of winter’s chill from the stone floors and walls. 

And now at home, the fire burns constantly, for winter has come crashing in after a false start; warm October missed as I spent weeks at the other side of the world. Now it is cold, dark, wet, and the world closed in on itself both by proximity and the need to pull close, keep warm, and shut out the weather and each other.

Photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard

Links:

Adelong

Crimson rosella

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A lovely day out
Yarrongabilly

A night on the Brecks

A spiders nest in the lichen at the forest edge

It’s cold, damp, dark. I’m standing at the edge of Thetford forest with a group of people, most of whom I don’t know. We are listening – and after a short while the ‘churr’ of nightjars fills the air.  We are quietly excited. A noctule bat swoops overhead, and the sharp ‘tweep tweep’ of a woodcock alerts us to its passage as it flies across the clearing in front of us.

“Two on the path!”  The whisper goes up, and all binoculars are trained on two long black blobs that we can just about see in the dim light of the moon. They flit upwards, a flash of white indicating that one is male. I’ve seen my first nightjars!

It wasn’t a good view, but it was good enough for me.  Seeing the nightjars was the culmination of an interesting evening on the Brecks – a unique habitat in the East of England.  I was lucky enough to be with a group of conservationists and forestry commission staff who have some interesting challenges. In listening to the discussions about what could be done to conserve some beautiful river habitat, I learned so much about the hands-on side of conservation. One of the discussions was about whether they could re-flood a now dry flood plain; The ideas for how this could be done had to be in context not just of what can happen now, but in consideration of what conditions might be like in 50 years’ time. Sea level changes may affect the water table as our climate changes, but in the shorter term, upcoming housing developments may further reduce the water flow.  There are never any simple fixes such as building a dam or creating a culvert – not if you want long-term, realistic changes whose benefits will last. It will be interesting to see what they decide to do.

A bright moon over the Brecks

Change in human behaviour has a real impact on our wildlife and even in our woodlands. Around the flood plain, for example, were lots of dead poplars. These trees were planted to provide wood for the matchstick industry, but as that disappeared rapidly with the invention of the lighter.  The trees have just been left to die naturally over their long lifetime. So the actions of man many decades previously have left their mark – especially given that Thetford Forest itself is a commercially planted forest.  Even the clearance of land by the nearby holiday park has meant that some endemic plants are actually flourishing in the car park! 

 

Balancing the needs of the commercial and the natural world are always challenging, but in the Brecks they have a unique habitat that has some amazing birds, insects and plants.  Wildlife is in crisis not just in Africa and Asia, but in our own backyards – our woodlands, heath and moorland, and even our back gardens.  I enjoyed my dark and chilly night on the Brecks because I learned so much, as ever, about our amazing natural world.

Useful links:

The Brecks 

Nightjars (BTO)

Forestry Commission at Thetford Forest

Noctule bats (Wiki)

Woodcock (RSPB)

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Photographs (C) Carolyn Sheppard 

 

The City of Cats

Little heron, spied on my walk into the city

I have just a few days holiday to enjoy some leisure time, and I chose to fly over to Borneo. I landed in Kuching and found my accommodation (a privately owned apartment). Once settled in, the owner left for work (he’s a chef) and I went to the kitchen to get some water. Plop! As soon as I opened the door a very surprised little green lizard landed at my feet. He took one look at shot off, and has been staying out of sight ever since.

I explored a little nearby – it’s a fairly rough and ready, fishing dock area. There was a man with his daughter fishing for crabs, and the most amazing aerobatics by the barn swallows. I slept reasonably well and today I began to explore Kuching – the city of cats.

Crossing the river

Apart from the feral cats (which are in abundance), there are cafés, statues and even a museum dedicated to cats. First off I needed some breakfast. It was raining, but maybe it would ease off quickly like it had in KL. Wrong! I was drenched, through to the skin (despite my raincoat) in minutes. I had breakfast and headed back to the apartment to dry off, passing the market where I bought a watermelon and saw pig nosed turtles for sale (illegally). I went back into the city and spent the rest of the day walking round. I wandered along the river front and an elderly man in a small motorised boat waved. I joined the queue for the boat and we crossed the river. The tradition is you cross the river to buy cakes. I did – but instead of turning right, I went left to the ‘fort’.

Cake!

I wandered along a road that seemed to go nowhere, to nothing.  I think I missed the main attraction. As I retraced my steps, I saw glossy starlings, sunbirds and more swallows. Having finally purchased a very colourful cake, I went back across the river again and continued exploring the city.

I navigated my way to Reservoir Park. As I approached, passing the ‘Kuching Pensioners Club’, a charming, elderly man stopped and spoke to me. He had worked in the medical core when Malaysia was under British rule. He introduced me to his daughter who was about seven years old. If it was his daughter and not his granddaughter, then I am mightily impressed! Oh, and he had a cat. We shook hands, instant friends. I wish I had photographed him.

Welcome to the city of cats

The Reservoir Park birdlife was vocal, but elusive, though I was lucky enough to spy a collared kingfisher. In the water I saw several turtles surface and disappear quickly; very smart move given what I’d seen that morning.

I eventually walked back to the apartment with aching feet and sore ankles, having covered several hot, sticky miles during the day. Supper concluded with cake for dessert, of course. Tomorrow is another day!

PS - at least the torrential rain cleared the haze for a  while!

All photos (C) Carolyn Sheppard.

Of geese and goslings

Last summer I enjoyed the company of geese. The Canada geese and, sometimes, Brent geese, would come to the lake and spend their days enjoying the peace on our science park.

One afternoon I decided to share my lunch with the Canada geese and the ducks. They enjoyed it with gusto, so I brought in proper bird food - seeds and grain - which they also partook of very happily.

The Canada geese had their youngsters with them, and I very quickly got to know one family rather well. 'Hissy Momma' was a very assertive goose who would let her goslings come and eat from my provisions, whilst hissing loudly at every other goose, duck or passer by who dared even suggest that they may interrupt her youngsters repast. She would race after other geese, chasing them into the water and snapping at their tails - every other goose on the lake was terrified of her. She was partnered by 'Pop' who, though as big as his wife (and I am assuming gender here, I must admit), would just stand guard and watch me and the kids, whilst Momma was chasing away all others.

I named a few of them - my favourite being the littlest, Ranzo. After him I liked Brutus - he was the boldest of the goslings. Brutus and Ranzo eventually let me stroke them - yes, wild geese! Hissy Momma of course announced her disaproval, but as long I was dishing out the grub (which she sometimes stopped hissing enough to eat herself), she would accept my presence. If I had offered even a hint of threat, I am sure I would have been in serious trouble with her!

Hissy Mommna

The others would take food from my hand, and I would always approach and talk to them so they got to know my voice. This probably had two outcomes - firstly potentially none whatsoever because who knows if geese would recognise my voice and secondly, my colleagues and other passers by probably thought I was nuts.

Either way, I felt privileged to have those geese as company - even if just for a season. Good luck this summer my friends, I am sure Ranzo and the gang will be bringing their own brood back to the lake again this year.

Hesitant Brent Goose

Ranzo

All photos my own copyright. No downloading or use without express permission.

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The best morning's birding

Sleepy barn owls

This morning I woke in good time to head off to our local RSPB reserve, Fowlmere, before 10am. It's a popular place on a Sunday, and though I love to see whole families enjoying this lovely reserve, a herd of people does tend to fright the wildlife a bit more than a few individuals.



Chiffchaff
 

I was lucky enough this morning to meet the reserve Warden, who was out and about doing some general maintenance and also on the lookout for anything interesting. The first thing he pointed out to me was some bullfinches - I could hear them but not see them. A quick fly-past and that was it, but at least I saw them. I haven't seen them since I was 16. Then, some redpoll, hopping around a bush above our heads.



Water rail

I was given a delightful display by a family of long-tailed tits, heard my first chiffchaffs (they are two weeks late coming to the UK this year, and who can blame them with our weather this year) and - most exciting for me - the water rail. We (the warden, myself and some others) were in the reedbed hide and a pair of snipe, really close, were pointed out to me. I looked across to see the moorhen strutting about in the sunshine, but it wasn't a moorhen at all - it was the water rail! I've been to Fowlmere many, many times, and this was the first time I have even seen one and in brilliant sunshine, in the open.  I also saw a tree creeper, chaffinch and a party of jays.

My walk round was punctuated by the rattle of a woodpecker, the laughter of a green woodpecker in the fields, and the 'yak yak yak' of a bird I have yet to identify. The woods and the reeds were alive

Snipe

with birdsong - spring is truly here. The robins, dunnocks and blackbirds were singing full belt, the greylag geese arguing in the fields and on the lake, and the gadwall, Canada geese, mallard and swan serenely enjoying the sun on the water. A small muntjack deeer watched me cautiously, a grey squirrel shot across the path, and the sound of fallow deer moving through the reeds provided animal variety.

This, for me, was the perfect way to be alone, because how can you be alone when surrounded by so much amazing wildlife, and the odd enthusiastic birder as well.

The birdwatcher in me

I was thinking today, about my love of birdlife. Where did it come from? My father was a nature lover, but not a birder. And I thought back, to an old gentleman sitting in a big blue chair – Kensitas cigarettes (I used to run to the shop to buy them for him when I was 10) and Mosaic sherry by his side.

Alexander F Long, RAF

My grandpa, ‘Bones’ Long, was the birdwatcher in our family. I remember his excitement at seeing a collared dove on his way home one day (perhaps in the early 60s), when they were new immigrants to this country.  Or do I remember being told about his excitement? Memories are often constructed, but I do know he inspired in me a fascination in birdlife.

Furthermore, my love of dinosaurs (originally enjoyed as a child, and revived when I had a son) was manifested in their modern descendants – birds. Well, I believe that to be the case, anyway. Take away the feathers, put some teeth on those beaks – voilà! Dinosaurs are still here.

Why birds? Because of their variety! A big old pheasant can be phenomenally stupid, whilst a bird a quarter of the size is extremely intelligent. Members of the crow family (they aren’t just black, they are a multitude of blacks), for example, are amongst the smartest of the avian species on the planet – inventing ways to crack nuts and solve problems that would leave an orang-utan puzzled.

Oh, I love orang-utans too, but I don’t get them in my garden (if you do, you are very lucky). I can see birds at any time – day or night – in any country I live or visit. And they all have different ways of attracting my interest. From huge flocks of starlings executing the spectacular murmuration, to that cute little pied wagtail hopping about on my lawn – they intrigue and entertain.

He’s been dead many, many long years; a man who fought in two world wars, rowed in the Olympics for his country and won Bobsleigh and Tennis medals. I have not inherited his courage or physical prowess, but his simple passion and delight in birds.

Thank you grandpa. 

A walk around Fowlmere



Tree creeper



What better way to spend a sunny October Sunday than to take a walk round my favourite nature reserve? Fowlmere is run by the RSPB and I go as often as I can. I've seen mink there before but today I spotted a weasel hopping across the path with his dinner in his mouth. Tasty for him, unfortunate for some small creature.



The lazy heron



The reserve was really busy - there were lots of cars and plenty of people. There were very few birds though - the lake was deserted apart from four ducks and a lazy heron. I did have the pleasure of seeing a tree creeper. I tried to photograph it but only got a backside view (my speciality it seems).



Fungus



As I wandered round the reserve, sitting quietly in some of the hides, or wandering slowly along the sun-dappled path, I didn't just keep my eye out for birds. There was a deer, the aforesaid weasel, and lots of bugs. The gnats danced over the water in formation, a cloud of insects that seemed to love the feel of the sun just as much as everyone else.

Being autumn, it's also a wonderful time for fungi and I saw bright orange spongy stuff on rotten wood in the river, mushrooms in little circles and some lovely ones on a tree. I have no idea what kind of fungi they are, but the deep red one was particularly striking.

Old man's beard

There was talk of the kingfisher having been seen (though it has eluded me every visit so far), but I am almost sure that the grey feathers I photographed through the reeds was a water rail (or a pidgeon learning to swim). The long-tailed tits, who I have been trying to photograph without success, put in a quick performance. I managed to get another butt-view, but not very in focus unfortunately. Patience is the key, and I will keep trying until I get my perfect photo of these delightful little birds.

Of course, it's also a great time of year for plants - the changing of the seasons brings out a riot of different colours to the brashness of summer. Deep red berries, ochre-tinted leaves, purple blackberries and the lush greens of watercress, reedbed and evergreen. 



Long tailed tit

The barn owls have nested and there are young too - I took a long-distance photo of the nest box and can see, on close examination, a sleepy owl's head. I need to go back at dusk one day to get a good look at these wonderful ghost owls.

If you've never been, then do take a walk around Fowlmere one day. It's not too long a walk for young and old alike, and there are plenty of benches and hides.

http://www.rspb.org.uk/reserves/guide/f/fowlmere/