Spotted! - flycatcher

For all my time living at this house I’ve marvelled at the airborne agility of the swallows, however this year those ‘red arrows’ may have a dog fight on their hands...

            For several days I have seen a bird from the window but have dismissed it as ‘just another warbler’- brown colouration, fairly small -  and I’ve never got close enough to identify it properly. Yesterday an opportunity arose, as it perched  conveniently on the car aerial. Bird book in hand, I watched for ten minutes and worked my way through each warbler, discarding them in turn. It was only when I turned the page onto flycatchers that I saw a photo jump out at me.

            A spotted flycatcher. At close range you can see the streaks on its head and breast that seems less pure than most warblers. And this bird was more captivating than the warblers, rather than hiding in trees or reed beds this was out in the open and its large black eyes were constantly turning, tilting and taking in the surroundings. Sure enough I was shown why it gets its name. Whereas the swallows dart around in constant flight the flycatcher is like a guided missile, from its perch - the aerial -  it locked onto some prey, darted off and returned in a single swift movement. Sadly the spotted flycatcher is declining - between 1980 and 2005 numbers fell by 79% - so I’m very privileged to see such a bird at such close quarters. The real moral of this story, however, is never make assumptions. Nature is full of surprises and is constantly out to trick us: if I had lazily assumed and called the flycatcher ‘just another warbler’, I may have never spotted the spotted flycatcher

Swallow that!

I’m reminded of Blue Planet – a swirling mass of mackerel whipped into a ‘bait ball’ by speeding tuna - as I watch the fifty or so swallows wheeling, circling and diving over the pond. At around 2:00 pm - even in the most terrible of conditions – they gather, swooping and skimming the water, in their hunt for the newly hatched flying insects.

            It is those insects I went in search of today. Faintly inspired by Springwatch I went pond dipping, something, rather like rock pooling, guaranteed to bring out the kid in everyone. With every net load you get a new trophic level – the entire pond pecking order from hydra and bloodworms to water fleas and great diving beetle nymphs. If you never break the surface of a pond, you never really see this diverse and hugely important ecosystem. And by temporarily transferring them to a plastic container, you get to witness their interactions firsthand. It is the nymphs that interest me the most, though. From the strangely familiar, large eyed and long tailed damselfly nymphs to the transparent body of the phantom midge larvae. It is these animals that link the pond to the sky - providing vital roles in both ecosystems.

Bluebell Beauty

An annual pilgrimage to Helmeth Hill, some fabulous spring woods. Before I even get there the track takes me through a mass of flowers – stitchwort, vetch, red campion, soapwort. Soft foxglove leaves and unfurling bracken fronds bring future promise.  Knarled hazels and alders mark the damp ground, and marsh marigolds tumble down the path of a stream. Delicate wood sorrels colonise the moss of fallen trunks; there’s a wiff of wild garlic on the wind; my pace is measured by the drumming of a woodpecker.

            Once inside the wood, birdsong takes over, drowning out the woodpecker, the lambs, even the ravens on the hills. The path rises steeply and I take it slowly: there’s so much to see. It’s mainly ash and coppiced hazel, open enough to allow the anemones, bluebells, violets, sorrel and garlic to flourish: a tapestry of blues, pinks, white and green. Mossy trunks and decaying stumps have their own beauty, many home to bracket fungi. Honeysuckle scrambles over others. Hollies add a dark, wintery note.

            Later, the oaks take over. It’s more enclosed here, the steep slopes so densely awash with bluebells that little else has a chance. Today is dull, but even so they radiate light. In sunshine, the iridescent combination of violet blue and emerald spring green is dazzling. I’ve waited longer than ever this year. Now I simply stand, and enjoy.