It turned up to be a Red October as Storm Ophelia brought warm winds from Southern Europe and broke the record for the hottest October as it steeped swatches of the country in an eerie and yellow glow. Dust from Sahara, with debris from wildfires in Portugal and Spain, partially blocked the sun for hours. There was a strange red tint in the air and the sun glowed an angry red. Because the dust was so high, light from the sun was scattered in the longer wavelengths, which was more of the red part of the spectrum, so it appeared red to our eyes. Ophelia had originated in the Azores where it was classed as a hurricane
October was also Black History month. It was the month where we highlighted and celebrated the contributions that black people have made to the UK. This was because throughout history, black people had been discriminated against and treated badly because of the colour of their skin. Black History Month was refashioned which gave meaning and teeth to the Race Relations and Equality Acts in the UK. It was the institutional recognition and propagation to the contributions of people of African descent to the value systems and way of life of British society that made black life to matter. It was the assertion and affirmation that ‘Black Life Matters’. This year we finally managed to set up a small exhibition to celebrate its 30th year with books from the Sivanandan Collection which I’d catalogued.
Our first outing for October was a walkabout around our favourite playground, Brandon Marsh. As we walked along the path, the green leaves of the deciduous trees and shrubs had changed colours to many shades of russet, red, golden, yellow, purple, black, orange, pink and brown. It was a time of outstanding beauty, when the natural world treated us to a last burst of colour before the onset of winter. As summer turned into autumn, the shorter days and cooler nights triggered major changes in the leaf which had consequences for its colour. Cold nights, dry weather and sunny days led to a more intensely coloured autumn leaves.
In the damp woods, under the leaf litter and on dead wood, where the fallen leaves oozed moisture underfoot, clusters of fungi rose out of the decay. They were the ‘fruiting bodies’ of mushrooms and toadstools, producing spores from which new fungi grew. They were the colourful manifestations of subterranean fungal webs or mycelia, which comprised the real engine room of our woods.The familiar smell associated with autumn woodlands was all down to fungi working their way throughout the soil. They were busy turning the dead and dying into nourishment for those germs of life. There were tiny caps, and thick hand-sized caps, patches of fiery mushrooms and brackets on old wood and tree trunks and deep in the cracks in the soil.
Overnight, very
Whitely, discreetly,
Very quietly
Our toes, our noses
Take hold on the loam
Acquire the air.
Nobody sees us,
Stops us, betrays us;
The small grains make room.
Soft fists insist on
Heaving the needles
The leafy bedding,
Even the paving.
Our hammers, our rams,
Earless and eyeless,
Perfectly voiceless,
Widen the crannies,
Shoulder through holes. We
Diet on water,
On crumbs of shadow,
Bland-mannered, asking
Little or nothing.
So many of us
So many of us!
We are shelves, we are
Tables, we are meerk
We are edible,
Nudgers and shovers
In spite of ourselves.
Our kind multiplies:
We shall by morning
Inherit the earth.
Our foot's in the door.
~Sylvia Path ‘Mushrooms~
It was cake day at work, a time when all the fantastic bakers showed off their creations. It was for a very good course. They were baking for charity raising money for the University of Warwick Cancer Research Centre. The Centre was established in 2016 with the purpose of providing a focus for cancer research in the Midlands, where cancer clinical trials and clinical services were fused. I didn’t bake anything but ate a lot of cakes on that day
We made a trip to Bradgate Park to check out the deer. It was autumn which meant the rutting season. October was the most exciting time of the year to watch the deer as they engaged in fierce mating battles. As the foliage changed colour into the russets, oranges and yellows of autumn, the sounds of amorous males could be heard. It was interesting to watch them because their behaviour changes as the rut progressed. With testosterone coursing through every vein, the male deer jostled for position and display their virility to potential mates in a variety of different ways including, marking territories, calling, creating rutting stands and sparring.
Starting in early October, the fallow deer rut lasted for 3-4 weeks, although bucks’ rutting physique started to develop earlier when velvet, the layer of initially soft, hairy skin that covered the growing antlers, died back and was rubbed off as the bone hardened ready for the battles ahead. Their Adam’s apples began to bulge and bulk increased, particularly around the neck and shoulders; and rutting odours developed.
In early September, fallow bucks re-appeared in traditional rutting areas, having spent the preceding months in bachelor parties, separate from the does. The bucks remained for a while in each others company, but increasingly prepared for action. Play fights developed; rutting postures were intermittently assumed; vegetation was thrashed; antlers became burnished; and scrapes and wallows were made in which the bucks churned the ground, urinated in the quagmire and rolled in the resultant mess. It apparently made them more attractive to the ladies!.
Groaning - the fallow buck’s mating call – was best described as a cross between a loud belch, a groan, a snore, a snort and a growl. It was used to attract the does for, unlike red deer stags, fallow bucks generally do not actively round-up and maintain a harem. They depended for courtship success upon the attractions of their groan! With head held not much above the horizontal, lips curled back and pursed, the primeval sound seems to come from deep within the animal's very being.
Noise and posturing was often enough to settle disputes, but when rival bucks were evenly matched and equally belligerent, battle royals occurred. Then the woods reverberated to the sound of bone striking bone as fights commenced. But combatants don’t just stand head-to-head, trading blows – these contests were really battles of strength as, heads down, antlers locked, the deer pushed and shoved, using every straining muscle to gain advantage. It would be lovely to see this but not today.
Rutting activity generally quietened by mid-morning. Then the resident buck sat down in the midst of the stand, whilst does and younger bucks settled around the edge, or feeding nearby. For the bucks, the rut was an incredibly tiring time. By the end of the process, they had lost weight and exhausted, ready to slip into the background where they blended well with the leaves and bracken whilst trying to regain back their health before the onset of winter.
Red deer were usually content to stand and stare whilst visitors walked by, before casually wandering away. But early on autumnal mornings, during the annual rut, testosterone charged stags with thickened manes made a fearsome sight as, muscles rippling, flanks caked in mud, breath billowing white against the darker heather, they were a sight to behold. The biggest stags had the finest antlers, or heads, as they were often known, with as many as 20 sharp, burnished points. Each was a potential weapon in the fight for supremacy, the battle for mating with the hinds. Fights between stags were infrequently witnessed. More often sound, display, posture and chase were sufficient to settle disputes.
Unlike fallow bucks that try to attract females to a rutting stand, red deer stags had less allegiance to a piece of ground, much preferring to try to control the movements of a chosen group of hinds. When engaged in this high energy task, the stags were rarely still, sometimes running, sometimes walking, often slowly, deliberately pacing, but always with obvious intent – to bring wandering hinds back into the fold, and drive off competitors.
Yearling stags, those with single spikes for antlers, often hang around the edge of the group, jousting amongst themselves, preparing for the day when they too will hold a group of hinds. Providing that they do not get too close, their presence was often tolerated, but encroaching animals were chased away, only to return a little later when the resident, mature stag’s back was turned. By mid to late-morning, rutting activity quietened, and the deer settled in the field content to lie-up for the remainder of the day.
We continued walking along the River Lin which flowed through park. From time to time, bellowing from the stags and groans from the bucks echoed deep in the forest. We spotted this clump of fungi popping along the damp river-banks. Fungi lived in moist environments because it was where they produced their best. Due to their simple vasculature system, they needed to grow in places that were moist and dumpy.
I was delighted to have spotted my favourite, the Fly Agaric. You seldom see a fully formed cap with the bright red and white spots. They were always eaten by something due to their hallucinogenic and psychoactive properties. This toadstool had turned up in many fairy tales and was famous in Alice in Wonderland where she was given some to eat. I am sure this beauty will be eaten soon.
Next was our bi-monthly visit to Slimbridge WWT. Since were were members, we tried our very best to make full use of our membership. If there were something interesting had turned up like the Cattle Egrets, Spoonbills, nesting Cranes, Bitterns, etc we would come weekly. It was less than 2 hours drive away. We left the casa at 9am on a very dull morning with the mercury reaching 16.5C. At the entrance of the reserve, we were greeted by the signs of autumn. As we walked on the wooden bridge, we noticed that the green leaves of the shrubs had changed into a pallete of golds, browns, coppers, bronzes and reds.
We headed straight to Rushy Hide walking past the sleeping Caribbean Flamingos. It was very quiet at the hide as most of the natives was feeding on the estuary. We spotted this wader feeding in the shallow water and couldn’t make up our mind what it was. We decided that it was a Ruff as birdwatchers sometimes joked that if you can’t recognise a mystery wader that had dropped in your patch, then the chances were it was a Ruff. We were right because we asked a volunteer who was scanning the lake near us. The reasons why it presented something of an identification challenge were that this bird species had different identifying features depending on the sex, age and season. They were nature’s most gender-fluid bird.
Best known as a passage migrant, Ruff were a medium-sized drab, mottled brown wading bird with a long neck, a small head, a rather short slightly droopy bill and medium-long orange or reddish leg. It was a peculiar bird best noted for its bizarre lekking displays and its eccentric and extremely variable summer plumage. In flight, it showed a faint wing-stripe and oval white patches on either side of the tail. They fed on insects, larvae, frogs, small fishes and seeds.
Then we headed to Martin Smith Hide and was chuffed when we saw a pair of Common Cranes with their undulating flights animating the sky above us.. We could hear the greeting calls ‘krou-krou-krou’ and when we arrived at the hide, there were already a flock of Common Cranes on the tack piece. They were large, impressive birds with long necks, beaks and legs. The plumage was mainly slate grey, with black flight feathers, the innermost of which were greatly elongated, forming a droopy, bushy cloak over the tail, and danced while they were moving. In contrast, the neck, chin and throat were dark grey to black, with a black forehead and a distinctive white stripe that ran from behind the eye, down the neck and to upper back. The top of the head had a red patch of bare skin, and the eye was bright-red or reddish brown.
These Common Cranes were foraging, probing with their beaks or picking up food from both land and water. Their diet included roots, shoots, tubers, leaves, grains and nuts as well as various invertebrates and small vertebrates and the occasional birds’ eggs. Since this was outside the breeding season, they migrated and gathered in large flocks. Their calls were loud, trumpeting and quite penetrating. It could be described like a cawing carrying far, uttered on high-pitched and rough tones such as ‘krouou’, ‘grououj’ and ‘kaerr’. Another group flew in and those on the ground were calling, and those which arrived answering. Then the ones in the air let hang their long legs for landing. We watched them walking slowly in an elegant way as soon as they were on the ground.
The language of cranes we once were told is the wind,
The wind is their method,
their current, the translated story
of life they write across the sky,
Millions of years they have blown here
on ancestral longing,
their wings of wide arrival,
necks long, legs stretched out
above strands of earth
where they arrive
with the shine of water,
stories, interminable
language of exchanges
descended from the sky
and then they stand,
earth made only of crane
from bank to bank of the river
as far as you can see
the ancient story made new.
~Linda Hogan~
Our attention was later diverted from the haunting calls of the Curlews. Their bubbling, weightless calls, swelled to a crescendo and gently died away, a fluted, buoyant torrent of sound. We heard them descanting and watched them wheeling above the tack piece in a graceful, droop-winged flight. When they were flying, the white wedge on the rump was very visible. W H Hudson described their calls as if
“uttered by some filmy being, half spirit and half bird.”
Ted Hughes also described the large, tall wader as ‘wet-footed god of the horizons’. A pity that their desirability as food was caught in the old proverb that a Curlew carried a shilling on its back!!! Their mottled-brown plumage made for effective camouflage against the marshland and tack piece, which meant they could go about their business unnoticed, prying out invertebrates such as ragworms with their purpose built curved bills. We were lucky to have seen them because they were classified as Near threatened on the IUCN red List, in the UK as an Amber List species under the Birds of Conservation Concern review and as a Priority Species in the UK Biodiversity Action Plan.
When we walked through the tunnel, we noticed a sign saying that the voles were out and about. We waited and heard rusting in the undergrowth. We saw it dashed straight into the hole which was too fast for our cameras. We left it alone and checked out Willow Hide which was quiet. Then across to Robbie Garnett hide where the Black-tailed Godwits were feeding close to the hide. They were wading in the water, probing the mud with their bills for worms and molluscs.
Nearby, a hybrid was spotted feeding among the Greylags. Geese hybridised readily and we thought it might possible be a from Greylag and Snow Goose. It had the prominent features of a Greylag with its mottled and barred plumage and orange beak. The belly was snow white instead of the normal black spotting. From time to time, loud cackling calls could be heard. Greylags simply known as Grey geese were large migratory geese with a wide range in the Old World. The ‘lag’ portion of the common name was derived from the fact that they were one of the last geese to migrate ie lagging behind other migrating geese.
Since it was a lovely afternoon, we decided to walk on the summer walkway before it shut down for winter. Along the hedges, we were serenaded by bird songs. There were Dunnocks, Warblers, Robins, Wrens, Thrushes, Blackbirds and various Finches seen flying in and out of the hedgerows. Mid Point was at the end of the summer walkway and a lone, old ambulance stood incongruous now acting as a bird hide or as a shelter from the rain. The ever changing Severn estuary stretched out in front of it, sometimes brimming full, and sometimes like today was just tricking across hectares and hectares of mud-flats.
We were surprised to see that parts of the walkway were tarmacked to open up the parts of the sand-dunes. We walked through the dunes towards the estuary but the very muddy path stopped us. I would love to walk further and investigate the area but not at the moment. As we walked back to the hide, we saw a Kestrel hovering and steep diving, disappearing into the reeds. We sat in the hide, munching crisps and scanning the mudflats. We only saw Shelducks, Gulls and a Little Egret. On the walk back to the reserve, meadow pipits were perching on the fence. In winter, there will be no public access here to give the birds a chance to breed, feed and rest.
We made a pit stop at Robbie Garnett hide again to see if anything new had dropped in. It was a nice surprise when a flock of Greenland White-fronted Geese flew in. They had large white patch at the front of the heads, around the beaks and bold black bars on the belly. The salt-and-pepper markings on the breast was why they were colloquially called ‘Specklebelly’ in North America. The legs were orange with pink bills, They might have been feeding in the field and returning to the lake for a wash and a rest.
Closer to the hide, a Green Sandpiper was busy feeding around the edge of freshwater lakes. Its dark, almost black upperparts, pale underparts and white rump were prominent. The distinctive pale line in front of the eye was clearly visible, too. It frequently bobbed up and down when standing and appeared nervous. It then flew off with a low zig-zagging flight with its characteristic three-note whistle. The presence of a Green Sandpiper hinted at the promise of autumn, that wonderful unpredictable season when almost anything can turn up, as millions of birds passed through Britain on their epic journeys south.
We ended the day with another peep at Rushy Hide, None of the waders had flown in but a few Siskins, Goldfinches and Pied wagtails were taking a bath by the edges of the lake. The Siskins were small, lively finches with distinctively forked tails and long, narrow bills. The male had a streaky yellow-green body and a black crown and bib. There were yellow patches in the wings and tail. It was strange seeing it on the ground because I’d only seen it upside down feeding on the alder trees.
My ex-colleague and I made a trip to London for a celebratory meal with DL who had obtained her phd. Congratulations. We got the cheapest tickets which meant that we’d to stop at every train station. We met DL at Euston and then walked for about half an hour to Mildreds near King Cross station. Since the restaurant had no reservations policy, we’d to wait to be seated. There was a queue waiting when we arrived and the maitre d’hotel told us that we’d to wait for 20 minutes. While waiting we ordered the drinks and before it arrived, our seats were available.
We were seated in the oversized sharing tables among other groups of diners. It was quite hard to have a conversation because we’d to shout above the din to be heard. Also there was music blaring away. I had the Polish beetroot, white bean and dill burger served in a focaccia bun with iceberg lettuce, red onion, mayonnaise, pickled cabbage and gherkin with sweet potato fries and basil mayo. I also had my first ever mocktail, a Passion Colado made of pineapple juice, coconut puree, lime, passion, fruit puree and cardamon seeds. The verdict: everything was fantastically good.
We didn’t linger as the queue outside was getting longer and the noise levels getting higher. We’d a slow waddle back to Euston and happened to come across a film set. We asked the security guy what they were filming. He didn’t indulge anything and casually mentioned to look at the IMDB for next year. We guessed it was the remake of Mary Poppins. When we arrived at Euston, we decided to get on the much earlier train. After hugs and promises to meet again, we made our way home. It had been a lovely afternoon. In the train we were silent. Too full to talk
“Friendship increases by visiting friends but visiting seldom”
~Ben Franklin (1706-1790)~
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