Those Last Warm Days in October

After a summer heatwave, the UK was hammered by torrential rainfall from Storms Ali and Bronagh. Next, the British Isles experienced a very warm and settled autumn, a phenomenon known as an Indian Summer. An Indian Summer was defined as a warm, calm spell of weather occurring after the first frost in Autumn, especially in October and November. A large area of high pressure had brought plenty of dry and fine weather with sizzling temperatures. What a sunny, warm welcome for the students to the start of the new academic year.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to enjoy the fine weather. I started October being off work for 3 days. I even had to re-schedule my flu jab appointment. I was furious with some of my colleagues who came to work spluttering, coughing and sneezing their heads off. Why oh why??? For the sake of their own health and everyone in the office, it was best if they called in sick and just stayed home. I followed my own advice and stayed at home armed with cough syrup, Paracetamol and vapour rub. I’d a Great Spotted Woodpecker drilling in my head. It was that bad. I spent the whole day in Babe’s reclining chair with the patio door open to let in some fresh air. Even the birds weren’t at the feeder cos they don’t want to catch anything from me

Once I got my mojo back, we went for a very long walk at Bradgate Park, just in time for the rutting season. October was always 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 set about bagging themselves a harem.

The male Fallow deer was known as a buck, the female was a doe, and the young a fawn. 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 with rutting odours developing..

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!!!

Outside the rut, bucks lived in small bachelor herds, separately from the does and fawns. Only bucks have antlers, which were broad and shovel-shaped. In the first two years, the antler was a single spike. The Fallow was the only British deer with palmate antlers. These increased in size with age reaching up to 70cm long when the adult was 3 - 4 years old. It was found that males with larger antlers had higher mating success, while asymmetrical antlers did not. Large bucks may stop feeding completely during the rut and lose condition as a result, whereas younger bucks hanging around on the fringes continued to eat as normal.

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 seemed 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.

We were walking  to one of our favourite corner of the park, when we heard the familiar roars and grunts that sounded like ‘a cross between a chainsaw and a burp’ and something thrashing the branches. We walked slowly and quietly towards the noise. We hid behind a tree and watched this handsome stag  having a go at the branches. We stood there watching him doing his neck exercises, full of testosterones coursing through every vein. Although a small stream divided, we kept a very safe distance, still behind a tree watching this spectacular behaviour. We’d to be extra careful as stags were aggressive during the rutting season.

Then it crossed the river and trotted off towards the hills. It stopped in the middle of the field and threw back its head to roar and showed off the thick neck and manes to its best advantage. The main vocalisation was bellowing, often several times a minute, combined with low grunts. These deep, guttural bellowing weren’t war cries but were seduction calls to the hinds. The sounds was suppose to bring the viable hinds into heat in readiness for mating. In the world of the Red deer, the most attractive stags were the ones that roared the loudest and the most often.

He kept on calling and calling, while marking his territory, creating rutting stand and thrashing the grass, before making his way up the hills. We also watched another stag thrashing the ground so that the vegetation was caught up in his antlers and made them looked larger. He seemed content to do  his work sitting down, allowing his heavy bellows to announce his presence. After more bellowing, he went off to sleep. What an anti-climax.

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. On the way back, we spotted these ladies having a quiet moment in the sun.

There was also wedding celebration being held at Lady Jane’s Grey chapel. Bradgate Park wasn’t licensed for weddings but The Trust worked with a celebrant company that could write and conduct a ceremony. The well-dressed guests walked for about 20 minutes towards the Chapel while the beautiful bride was cycled in a well-decorated rickshaw. This was the first time we saw a wedding being held here. The 16th century Bradgate House was a ruin but the chapel was still intact, containing a tomb effigy to Henry Grey, 1st Earl of Stamford and his wife.  We wished the couple a lifetime of love and happiness.

I took a day off work to go fungi hunting. Autumn was the season to be amazed by the myriad of fungal fruiting bodies that were on show. We were lucky that our favourite playground had erupted and came alive with these fantastic fungi and I do not want to miss any sightings of them. No matter what the season, dry conditions were not good times for fruiting fungus. Most mushrooms appeared soon after rain. The moist condition quickly triggered the fruiting process and that was why so many seemed to ‘pop up’ overnight. The reserve was buzzing when someone had found Earthstar in the grounds.

Babe went looking for it and called me to find out where it was located. Via the Twitter feed, I was able to assist him to the exact location. Whoop…whoop. When he showed me the photograph that he’d taken, I really wanted to see it before the news got around. It was quite hard to spot because it was well camouflaged among the fallen leaves. But once seen, it was easy to see the distinct, star-like appearance. It was an interesting fungus that sat on a platform consisting of four to ten plump, pointed plants that gave them the star-shaped features. The central puffball or sac, was smooth, while the pointy arms had a crackled appearance.

While searching for fungi, Babe had spotted a whole field of my favourite fungi, the Fly Agaric, popping along the damp banks of the ditches. Even Babe was impressed at the stunning display as either side of the mossy bank was sploshed with scarlet. We’d never seen so many Fly Agarics in one place. It was more magical of the sight of them, nestling amid the dead leaves, caught in the shaft of autumnal sunshine, smouldering in all its scarlet beauty.They were the quintessential fairy tale toadstool, a home for woodland sprites and we were surrounded by them. It was indeed, magical.

There were many fully formed caps with the bright red and white spots in variable size and forms. Some picture-book perfect hemispheres, others were ranging from golf balls to dinner plates, a few inverted into bowls. The scarlet caps were speckled with flakes of popcorn, the remnants of the universal veil, a membrane that covered the fruiting body as it emerged from the ground looking like white eggs. As it grew, the red colour appeared through the broken skin and the warts became less prominent. They do not change in size, but were reduced relative to the expanding skin area. The cap changed from globose to hemispherical, and finally to plate-like and flat in mature specimens. Fully grown, the bright red cap was usually around 8–20 cm in diameter. The red colour faded after rain and in older mushrooms.

It had been a glorious autumn for fungi hunting as we went round in search for more. A hot summer, followed by a mild, moist autumn had helped to usher in a bumper crop. The forest had played host to a diverse fungal flora because they needed  moist and shady environments due to their simple vasculature system. It smelled deliciously damp and decaying that you could hear everything recycling itself. Nutrients returning to the soil, bacterial activity busy at work. There was a substantial body of evidence that fungi were fruiting earlier as a result of climate change. Various reasons had been suggested, including one that mycorrhizal fungi which formed symbiotic links with tree roots were receiving more nutrients from the host trees that had a longer growing season. Another was that decay rates in forest soils were increasing as the average temperature rose.

The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants -
At Evening, it is not
At Morning, in a Truffled Hut
It stop opon a Spot

As if it tarried always
And yet it's whole Career
Is shorter than a Snake's Delay -
And fleeter than a Tare -

'Tis Vegetation's Juggler -
The Germ of Alibi -
Doth like a Bubble antedate
And like a Bubble, hie -

I feel as if the Grass was pleased
To have it intermit -
This surreptitious Scion
Of Summer's circumspect.

Had Nature any supple Face
Or could she one contemn -
Had Nature an Apostate -
That Mushroom - it is Him!

~Emily Dickinson ‘The Mushroom is the Elf of Plants’~

We also checked out the hides to see what the natives were up to. At Baldwin Hide, we noticed this pair of Mute Swan was displaying the classic image of devotion, with their curved necks entwined in a perfect love heart. This was part of a courtship ritual, in which pairs faced each other and, with a ruffle of feathers and lifted wings, bow gracefully. Their courtship "dance" was accompanied by a range of hissing and grunting sounds. Once courtship was completed, the pair were bonded for life.

We also watched a swim of Cormorant fishing together in the corner of the lake. They looked a bit eerie as they adopted a communal feeding strategy. They herded shoals of fishes, forming a broad front to drive them into the corner,  catching them by diving from the surface, chasing their prey underwater and seizing them with their hooked bills. After diving for food, they flew back to the posts and island to dry their plumage. The Cormorant’s feather had absorbed the water and they all adopted an outstretched wings posture.

Then we headed to the very busy East Marsh Hide. As soon as we sat down, a Water rail was dashing across the reed-bed. The chestnut brown and black upperparts with black-and-white barred flanks were visible as it whizzed past on its long powerful legs.  They were highly secretive inhabitants of freshwater wetlands, more often heard than seen with their wide range of loud and snorting calls, traditionally known as ‘sharming’. They were omnivorous, mainly feeding on small fishes, snails and insects.

In the water, a single female pintail was busy dabbling and upending to feed on the seeds and nutlets of moist-soil and aquatic plants along the shallower edges of the lake. Unlike the male with a signature white stripe down their chocolate-coloured necks, she was intricately patterned and pale-faced with a dark-brown upper body with a buff head and lower body. The bill was blue-gray blotched with black, and the legs and feet were slate-grey.

Then a Muntjac walked along Wigeon bank. This path was the super highway for these animals as they moved from one end of the reserve to another. The Muntjac was the smallest deer found in Britain but it wasn’t a native species as it originated from China and India. Active by day or night, they were mostly seen at dusk, but we often see them using this path at any time of the day. They were notorious browsers, munching on the grass as they walked past as well as eating the shoots from shrubs, saplings and Brambles.

Muntjac were generally solitary or found in pairs (doe with kid or buck with doe) although pair-bonding does not occur. Bucks defend small exclusive territories against other bucks whereas does' territories overlap with each other and with several bucks. Bucks had short (10 cm) antlers growing from long pedicles. Antlers were usually unbranched but a very short brow tine was occasionally found in old bucks. They had visible upper canines (tusks) suggesting that they were primitive species. Muntjac had two pairs of large glands on the face. The upper pair were the frontal glands, whilst the lower glands, below the eyes, were called sub-orbitals. Both glands were used to mark territories and boundaries. They had a ginger forehead with pronounced black lines running up the pedicles in bucks, and a dark diamond shape on does.

Babe had photographed a Hobby dashing across the sky chasing after grasshoppers and other large insects, earlier in the week. It looked like a giant swift with its long swept back, scythe-like wings and square tipped tail. It was capable of high speed manoeuvres and accelerating rapidly in flight. The Hobby had a dark eye ring and moustache stretching below the beak and a white throat leading down to bold dark streaks on the breast, the back was dark grey. On closer inspection the adults could be seen to have brick red ‘trousers’ and undertail (vent) – a feature that was missing on the juveniles.

Preys were caught in their talons and ate in flight, passing the food from the talons to their beak while still in the air. Soon these summer visitors will be flying off for its autumn migration, as it was the only British falcon that spent the winter months south of the Sahara Desert. Their main prey here were the flying termites. Hobbies were listed as a Schedule 1 bird on The Wildlife and Countryside Act. I kept on scanning the skies but I guess, they’d already flown back to their wintering grounds.

We also made a trip to Slimbridge WWT to celebrate Babe’s birthday and also to see what the natives were up to. The place was buzzing with the opening of a new attraction, a giant Bionic bug trail. The trail offered visitors to get up close to a host of 6 gigantic bugs that included a 6-foot long dragonfly, 4-foot buzzing bee, 6-foot wingspan butterfly and a 6-foot long hopping grasshopper. They were brought to life with state-of-the-art animatronics and incredible sound effects which was a hit with the kids. There were also themed activities such as pond-dipping, minibeast hunts and making a mini bug house.

Clutching their free bug book, the young and not-so-young went hunting for these bugs which they couldn’t miss because they were huge and then received a sticker for each one they found. They explored The Spinney and North American zone to see what was hiding, peered under branches, through leaves and down murky holes to see these creatures up close.  It was a n interesting way for the visitors to find out fascinating facts about the minibeasts that inhabited our wetland world. Meanwhile, we preferred keeping our eyes peeled to the ground and snapping the real-life bugs as we did our usual walkabout.

Out first pit-stop was Rushy Hide which was very quiet. The highly gregarious Northern Pintail were fast asleep by the shore of the lake. They were all winter visitors, flying from the more northern and eastern breeding areas in Scandinavia and countries bordering the North Sea. They must be resting after the long journey or had just been feeding. Their winter diet was mainly plant material including seeds and rhizomes of aquatic plants. I found it ridiculous that these elegant masters of the air were ‘quarry’ species which meant that they could be legally shot in winter.

On the water, the handsome males were happily dabbling away, feeding at the water’s surface. They looked stunning with a chocolate brown coloured head and a thin white stripe running down from the back of its head to its neck. They had black stripes on their backs, a blue-grey bill, grey legs and feet. Another striking feature was the long tapering tail. The females were more subtle and subdued with drab mottled light brown feathers. The males call had been described as a tooting two-toned whistle while the females had a Mallard-like nasal quack.

From here we checked out the next hides but didn’t stay long as there was nothing much about. Even the water-rail didn’t make an appearance at Willow Hide. It was that quiet. Thankfully, these family of White-fronted goose kept us occupied at Robbie Garnett Hide. These Geese that winter in Britain were from the Baltic/North Sea population which bred in European Arctic Russia and northwest Siberia, and winter predominately in Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxembourg. Britain was on the very western edge of the population’s wintering range hence only small numbers were seen. The adults had a large white patch at the front of the head around the beak and bold black bars on the belly. The legs were orange and Siberian birds had pink bills, while Greenland birds had orange bills.

We walked back into the grounds and headed straight to Hogarth Hide which was surprisingly busy. We waited for a few minutes to get an empty seat. Out in the dried mudflat, a pair of Common Crane was busy preening. The slate-grey plumage, enhanced with black or bluish-black on primary and secondary flight feathers, gave to them a proud pace. The fairly long feathers fell on the short tail, and “dance” while the birds were moving. Later, we found out that they were 5 year old Oakie and 4 year old Sherbert. In May this year, they’d successfully raised a chick together.  Fingers-crossed, they do the same next year because the Common Crane were monogamous and pair bonds lasted for life.

While the Common Cranes continued on with their preening, Babe and I played counting the Common Snipes. They were skulking in the reed-beds, well camouflaged among the sleeping Teals. Both sexes were cryptically patterned mottled brown above, with paler buff stripes on the back, dark streaks on the chest and pale under part. They had a dark stripe through the eye, with light stripes above and below. They were usually shy and concealed themselves close to ground vegetation and flushed only when approached closely. When flushed, they uttered a sharp note that sounded like scape, scape and flew off in a series of aerial zig-zags to confuse predators. They foraged in the soft mud, probing or picking up food by sight, using their greatly elongated bills. We left when the Common Cranes flew off.

I ended the month by taking part in a Halloween Scavenger hunt organised by Warwick Sports with my colleagues. It was a campus-wide hunt for about 10 pumpkins including a golden one that was hidden in different locations in the university grounds. We collected the map of where they might be hidden, with a unique challenge card. We walked for nearly 2 kilometres around the campus searching for the pumpkins and was chuffed that we managed to find all. We took turns to have a selfie with the pumpkins as proof that we have found them. Unfortunately, we didn’t win the main prize but we got loads of chocolates and sweets, instead.

When black cats prowl, and pumpkins gleam, may luck be yours on Halloween

~- ~Author Unknown ~

Halloween originated with the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, when people light bonfires and wore costumes to ward off ghosts. The day marked the end of summer and the harvest and the beginning of the dark, cold winter, a time of year that was often associated with human death. Celts believed that on the night before the new year, the boundary between the worlds of the living and the dead became blurred. On the night of October 31 they celebrated Samhain, when it was believed that the ghosts of the dead returned to earth. But, over the centuries, Halloween had transitioned from a pagan ritual to a day of parties, costumes, jack-o-lanterns and trick-or-treating for kids and adults.

In the United States, pumpkins go hand in hand with the fall holidays of Halloween and Thanksgiving.  Pumpkin was used to make soups, desserts and breads, and many Americans included pumpkin pie in their Thanksgiving meals. Carving pumpkins into jack-o’-lanterns was a popular Halloween tradition that originated hundreds of years ago in Ireland. Back then, they were made out of turnips or potatoes. It wasn’t until the Irish immigrants arrived in America and discovered the pumpkin that a new Halloween ritual was born. We bought a lot of pumpkins because they were so cheap but not for carving. I have made soups, pie, bread, cupcakes and had them roasted. And there was still loads left. Thankfully, if stored properly, they lasted ages. Bon appetit.

"When witches go riding, and black cats are seen, the moon laughs and whispers, ‘tis near Halloween."
- ~Author Unknown

March month of many weathers

The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.

~William C. Bryant~

March 1 marked the first meteorological spring season which will end on May 31. Meteorological seasons were based on the weather and the calendar, while astronomical seasons depended on the Earth’s orbit of the sun. Meteorological seasons remained the same every year and were also based on annual temperature cycles. The seasons were split into four periods of three calendar months each, which made it easier for forecasters to compare seasonal and monthly statistics. So spring was made up of March, April and May; Summer was June, July and August  and Autumn was September, October and November.

March 1 was also a very special day in the Welsh calendar. Wales celebrated the feast day of St David, their patron saint on the same day every year, as the day also marked the date of his death in 589 AD. It was the first day of the year that Britain honoured one of its four patron saints - the others being St. Patrick for Northern Ireland, St. Andrew for Scotland and St. George for England. The feast had been regularly celebrated since the canonisation of David in the 12th century by Pope Callistus II, though it was not a national holiday in the UK, which was a shame. Bright green leeks and yellow daffodils were turned into accessories as the Welsh celebrated their national day.

A vegetarian and drank only water, St David was known as Aquaticus or Dewi Ddyfrwr (the water drinker). Although many associated him with leeks or daffodils, his symbol was actually the Dove, which usually rested on his shoulder. This was why he was the patron saint of doves and also poets. His last words to his followers before his death are thought to have been:

 "Be joyful, keep the faith and do the little things that you have heard and seen me do."

The phrase gwenwch y pethau bychain mewn bywyd - 'Do the little things in life' – was still a well-known phrase in Wales.

Daffodils, which were in bloom around this time of year, became the national symbol for Wales in the 19th Century through a mixture of trends and linguistic confusion. The word for daffodil and the leek were the same in Welsh. Leek was Cenhinen and Daffodil was Cenhinen Pedr. This confusion meant that both had been adopted as national emblems. It was said that the daffodil was encouraged by the British government, as it don’t have the nationalistic overtones that the leek had, with its association with the defeat of Saxons!!!

Shakespeare name-dropped St David in Henry V. When Fluellen’s English colleague, Pistol, insulted the humble leek on St David’s Day, Fluellen insisted he ate the national emblem as punishment:

“If you can mock a leek, you can eat a leek”

~Act V, Scene 1~

My department had welcomed a visitor from Kiel, JC, who was the head cataloguer of a consortium of public libraries. We demonstrated what magic goes on in our department as she specifically wanted to know more about Sierra, the library management system, RDA and our cataloguing procedures. It was a lovely exchange of ideas and we were chuffed to learn that there wasn’t much different in the way things were done. She explained to us a lot on German vocabularies especially the definite and definite articles and the coding in MARC. After a session with us, she was went for a whistle-stop tour of the rest of the library. We met up again for a lovely lunch in the librarian’s office where she presented us with a box of yummy German chocolates as a thank you gift. Danke and have a safe journey home.

Then on the coldest day of the year so far, the fire alarm went off. Thinking that it was a normal fire drill, we followed the normal fire evacuation procedures and headed straight to the allocated meeting area. Thankfully, I had put my coat, gloves, scarf and hat on and followed the rest of my team. After about an hour milling about in the Ramphal atrium with no news, my colleagues and I went to WBS for an early lunch. Standing in the cold really whet up our appetites and the Asian inspired food that we’d really warmed us up. When we headed back it was sleeting down and we were told to wait at the Chemistry concourse opposite the Library building for more news. We waited and waited and waited and were told by different people what was happening. The students were told that the Library was closed for the whole day but not to the staff!!!

We were later informed that we could get our stuff. When we went to the main entrance, the security officer told us that he wasn’t informed and asked us to go to the back door. So off we walk in the sleet to the back door, and guess what, they weren’t informed either . By this time, we were 3 hours in the cold. Luckily, I’d my coat on but not some of my colleagues. We walked back to the main entrance and found out that they’d already allowed staff in, but in batches. We rushed in to get our stuff and then headed back to the very busy concourse. An hour later, we were told that we could go home by a security officer but a senior library manager wanted to have the confirmation from the management team which was nowhere to be seen. By this time, I’d lost my will to live. A few of us rebels decided to go home. We will take annual leave if we’d to.

After that incident, my viral infections flared up again. I was off sick for another 2 days due to standing out in the cold, damp, wintry conditions. I was laid low with a virus, sore throat, non-stop coughing and an aching body. When I returned to work, I was ready to be told off but somehow, nothing was mentioned. I just kept my head down but my ears to the ground. Apparently, there had been lots of heated discussions and conversations and lessons to be learnt from the very unusual circumstances. But the lack of communication and empathy from the top management were the ones highlighted. Hopefully, there will be better procedures when the SHTF the next time.   

I had barely recovered from the second attack of the viral infection when the polar vortex nicknamed "Beast From The East" hit the country. This was a mass of very cold air that sat above the Earth's north and south poles. The dense, cold air was controlled by a large pocket of low pressure, which rotated in an anti-clockwise direction at the north pole and clockwise at the south pole.  Winds from Siberia had pushed in from the east, causing the mercury to plummet. Britain was battered by icy weather as the winds spiralled in from the arctic. The cold spell had been caused by a jump in temperatures high over the Arctic, known as Sudden Stratospheric Warming, which had weakened the jet stream that brought warm air in from the Atlantic to Ireland and Britain. To make matters worse, the Beast from the East clashed  with Storm Emma which caused more widespread disruption across the UK.

Storm Emma, named by the Portuguese weather service, originated from out in the Atlantic, brought with it substantial snow, blizzards, wild gales and freezing rain. It had brought chaos with heavy snow and strong winds to Southern Ireland, South West England and Southern Wales with up to 50 cm of snow in some elevated areas. High winds had brought disruption to other parts of Great Britain and Ireland. The Met Office had  issued red weather warnings of a danger to life for the first time in Scotland as the storm's 70mph winds hit the polar vortex — bringing deadly snowdrifts and a -15C windchill.

Thankfully, the atrocious weather conditions had calmed down by the start of the working week. When the storm was raging, Babe had caught the viral infections from me. He was hit very hard by it especially when he’d other health issues to contend with. He was out of action and was stuck indoors for at least three weeks which meant that I had to take the bus home. Thankfully, the bus stopped about a 100 metres away from our casa so it wasn’t a major issue. But it meant a short lunch break to leave at 5 pm for the bus.

So far March had everyone feeling perplexed by the current weather conditions. One day, we’d the most perfect sunny, spring day. The birds were singing, bees were buzzing and yellow daffodils were swaying in the breeze. The following day snow was dumped upon us!!! I guessed we’d to ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ as written by Shakespeare in ‘Julius Caesar’. The phrase had long been synonymous with the assassination of the Roman emperor and Shakespeare’s plays solidified the date’s notoriety in history.  ‘Beware the Ides of March,’ Caesar was warned during the feast of Lupercal in the play. ‘He is a dreamer. Let us leave him,’ dismisses Caesar of the soothsayer predictions. One month later, on the Ides of March, Caesar was assassinated at the Roman Senate.

It was also the day I added another candle to the cake. It was a huge cake and I am very thankful for all the blessings that were given to me. Life was filled with so many unexpected twists and turns, pits and peaks, and to made it another year was something to be celebrated. We made many plans but we’d to postpone it due to Babe’s ill-health. I didn’t do any baking but bought 2 of Tesco’s finest cakes for my colleagues. Babe gave me a huge Hedgehog door-stopper that he managed to kept it hidden away until my birthday. I took a day off and went for a shopping spree in town. I didn’t buy much because the heavens opened and the most mental hailstorm tumbled down. For about half an hour, it hailed like armageddon and I decided to head home. The walk to the bus station was peppered with a carpet of white and piles of hail stones.

Following a brief spell of warmer weather, a fresh cold snap nicknamed the "Mini Beast from the East" brought another covering of snow on the weekend. Thankfully, due to the onset of spring, and a higher sun position, it was less severe than on the previous occasion, as the ground was warmer than before so the snow melted more quickly. Snow showers still affected parts of Britain and Ireland, with north-east England, the North Midlands, and parts of southern England experiencing the heaviest snowfall. The snow was accompanied by strong winds, and the Met Office issued an amber weather warning. The adverse weather conditions forced the cancellation of some sporting events, including the Coventry Half-marathon while Ireland's rugby union team, who had won the 2018 Six Nations Championship, cancelled their homecoming "due to heavy snowfall".

Britain was still shivering under a blanket of snow when the first day of spring was ushered in on Tuesday, March 20 and marked officially at 4.15pm GMT. The March equinox was the date used by astronomers to mark the start of spring in the northern hemisphere, signalling the beginning of longer days ahead and, hopefully, warmer weather to come. The spring equinox was also called the vernal equinox, with “ver” meaning spring in Latin. The period was celebrated as a time of rebirth and newness, with many cultural festivals taking place. Spring-time festivals and holidays such as Easter and Passover were the main celebrations across many cultures as the path of the Sun aligned with the Earth’s equator..

To celebrate the day, my colleagues and I took part in an Easter Egg Hunt organised by the Sports Centre. I was very excited because this was the first time ever I took part in an egg hunt. A day before the event, a map was emailed to the participants where the eggs were hidden. Since it was the 21st century, we’d to take a selfie with the eggs as proof that we’d found them. We took turns posing with the eggs. It was about a 1.5 km walk around the university grounds where we located the 7 eggs at the Security, WBS, Arts Centre, PG Hub, The Rocket, Sports Centre and the golden egg at the adult playground. Our highlight was when we spotted Terry the Bear who was the Sports Centre Mascot. We each were given a box of mini chocolate eggs for finding all the eggs and our names were put into a ballot. Unfortunately, none of us was picked for the main prize but we still had a wonderful time..

After being stuck indoors for nearly 3 weeks, Babe was getting cabin fever. He needed some fresh air and so we went for a slow walk at our favourite playground. I was chuffed to bits when the receptionist told me that the Great White Egret was still in the reserve. What!!!! We walked as fast as we could to Teal Pool and as soon as we opened the shutters, I nearly screamed when I spotted it flying above the trees, being chased away by a heron. All you could hear were our cameras rattling away. Then it landed in the shallow water, opposite the hide but about 250 metres away. I was grinning from ear to ear, to get this close to one of my sought after birds.

Great White Egrets were large all white bird standing up to 1 metre tall and were only slightly smaller that the Grey heron with whom they shared many common behavioural characteristics. They had yellow bills and black legs and feet, though the bill may become darker and the lower legs lighter in the breeding season. They had a yellow featherless patch between their beak and eyes. Their diet consisted of fish, insects and frogs which were also similar to the heron and that was why it was being chased away by the heron. Prey was captured by either standing motionless or by stalking slowly then spearing with their sharp, long bill.

In the air, the wingspan was impressive between 143-169 cm and was more slender and longer-legged than the heron. It had a slow flight with its neck retracted. On the ground, it walked with its neck extended and wings closed. Although it was being chased off by the heron, we didn’t hear the low hoarse croak when disturbed. From the first record in 1821 until the late 1980s, they remained very rare in Britain. Since then, the species had increased in number, eventually being removed as a BBRC rarity  in 2005. The first successful breeding was at the Somerset Levels in 2012, with 2017 saw a total of 7 pairs and 17 young.

I imagine the great painters of archangels

took the slender wings of egrets,

cut and lashed them to the backs of posing men.

Gabriel alighting at Mary’s side—

the majesty of the task—

the weight placed at her tiny feet.

The lake is a still life. An egret, on one leg,

watches below the surface the flutter of fish

between the subtle sway of bay grass.

I think of Icarus carrying the ambitions

of a race.  The twisted maze on earth.

The father who knew too little. When

something unheard, something in this scene

hiccups, wingtips break

the surface, the egret lifts into the sky

with vast sweeping strokes. The bay

is just a bay again with two concentric circles

dissipating into the stillness.

If I could ask anything, I’d ask the egret

what it is like lifting to heaven

the weight of flesh with the weight of feathers.

~Benjamin Mueller~

Then the clocks had gone forward on March 25, marking the end of Greenwich Mean Time (GMT) and the start of British Summer Time (BST). Britons may felt tired as it meant an hour of lost sleep when the time changed from 1am to 2am. But it was good news for people who were needing some Vitamin D as it meant that the evenings was much lighter until June 21, Midsummer’s Day. I am soo looking forward to the longer, brighter evenings and also saving money on heating the house.

BST first started in 1916 during World War One in a bid to save money and resources such as coal to light the country. It came into existence  with the Summer Time Act. But, it was first suggested by Benjamin Franklin in 1784 who believed getting up earlier when it was lighter would meant saving on candle usage. This was followed by builder William Willett who tried to convince the country that it would be a good idea in 1907, publishing a leaflet titled The Waste of Daylight. He died in 1915, a year before it came into place.

Good Friday marked the start of the Easter long weekend. It was treated as a day of mourning in the UK because it commemorated the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. It was a day of fasting and penance for practicing Christians. Experts believed the event had been coined because the word ‘good’ meant pious or holy. As we don’t celebrate Easter, we spent the day at our favourite playground especially when there was a sighting of a Bewick swan and a Brambling at the visitor centre.

As usual, they were gone by the time we arrived. Even the Robins weren’t hanging around in the usual places. Some of them had retuned back to the continent to breed and the local ones might be sitting on eggs. But as we walked further into the reserve, we were serenaded by a few high up in the trees. The females had stopped singing. But not the males. They continued singing to declare the ‘ownership’ of a joint future breeding territory. Along Grebe Pool, the primroses were beginning to flower on the bank.

We made a pit stop at Baldwin Hide but there was nothing about so off to East Marsh Hide. At first, we only saw the usual Shovelers, Mallards, Tufted ducks, Teals, Cormorants, Lapwings and Gulls. Then we heard the familiar loud piping cries of a Redshank and it landed on the island. As its name suggests, Redshanks' most distinctive features were their bright orange-red legs. In fact, Shank was the old name for leg, so its name was just ‘redleg’. It walked along the rocky shore while pecking regularly for insects, spiders, worms and crustaceans. Occasionally it probed and then jabbing and sweeping through the water with a bill. Another Redshank flew past and it followed, a swift direct flight with steady wing-beats.

While checking out the Redshanks, we spotted a Little Ringed Plover foraging for insects and aquatic insects along the rocky shore. It must have been here all this while, very well camouflaged among the rocks. It was sandy-brown above, white below, with a black chest-band and black bridle markings on the head. The bright yellow ring around the eye was quite prominent. When it flew off, a very thin, pale wingbar was visible. A summer visitor to our shores arriving in mid-March and leaving again in July for the Eastern Mediterranean and East Africa.

Then another familiar call from one of the most vocal waders with their distinct  and shrill piping ‘kleep, kleep’ echoed all around us. At first we spotted a pair, and then 5 turned up. It was mayhem. Historically known as ‘sea pie’,  it was hard to miss as they were large black and white wading birds, with long orange-red bill and reddish-pink leg. During the winter, they were birds of the tidal estuaries and rocky shores. They were highly gregarious outside the breeding season, forming large flocks as they were joined by migrants from Norway. It was only during the breeding season, they flew inland and I think they were pairing up. I hoped the 7th will find a mate soon. We saw a piping display, where in order to establish a territory, the pair ran together side by side, calling loudly.

Babe also spotted a Lapwing making a nest by scraping the ground with its breast, up and down whilst the wings were held wide apart. This was the first part of the nest-building, the making of the nest-hollow. Lapwings needed a good all round view from the nest to spot predators, and nested either on rough or broken ground or in short vegetation to aid concealment of the nest. The  males created many small scrapes on the ground and display these to prospective females by bobbing his tail up and down. Once a female had selected a scrape to use, she lined it with a layer of dead grass. We will definitely be keeping a beady eye on this nest.

I also had my first sighting of a Sand-martin but it was just too fast to photograph. We then made our way to Carlton Hide when a Muntjac crossed our path and quickly disappeared into the undergrowth. That was a very nice surprise. At Carlton, we met R and spent a few minutes chatting. A Little Grebe could be heard whirring deep in the reed-beds. We left R and headed to Ted Jury when Babe noticed that the entrance into the old badger sett had been cleared. We weren’t sure whether there was a new occupancy. We will keep an eye on it. We didn’t stay long at Ted Jury and made our way home.

We ended the month with another trip to our favourite playground again. Unfortunately, we couldn’t go far as the path was flooded from the nearby River Avon which flowed adjacent to the reserve. We went to Steely Hide instead and the path was so muddy as most people had made their way here when they couldn’t access the other hides. I had never seen the reed-beds at Steely Hide so flattened before. We stayed for an hour watching territorial Coots and Moorhens and courting Mallards.

On the way out, Babe met RC and while they exchanged news, I photographed a pair of Long Tailed Tits that had flown to the bird-feeder. It was their familiar ‘tsirrip’ sound that grabbed my attention before I spotted them. They were easily recognisable by their undulating flight, a tail much longer than their small pinkish body and generally flying in a small flock, and were also known as ‘flying teaspoons’. A magpie flew in and off they went, flitting between the branches, chasing one another, tumbling and somersaulting. They joined their family flitting between the myria moss capped branches, their calls still ringing like many tiny, high-pitched electric bells.

I was hoping to get a better view of a Reed Bunting but it refused to come closer. Although they were almost entirely insectivorous during the breeding season, they switched to seeds in late summer, relying on these for the rest of the year. That was why a sizeable flock could be found near the feeding stations of the visitor centre. The males had a black head and throat, white neck collar and underparts, and a heavily streaked brown back. The females were much duller, with a streaked brown head, and was more streaked below. Both had a small but sturdy seed-eater’s bill.

At 8 pm, I wanted to check out the dazzling blue moon that graced the skies for the last time in years. But, a thick cloud had carpeted the skies. It was dubbed the ‘sap moon’ by Native American tribes ‘as it marked the time when maple sap began to flow and the annual tapping of maple trees began’ according to the Old Farmer’s almanac. The rare phenomenon won’t happen again until the year 2020. The last time a blue moon happened on Easter was 94 years ago in April 1923. Blue moons were the second full moon to rise within one calendar month and despite the name, wasn’t actually blue. A pity, I wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of this spectacular moon. Guess, I have to wait in 2 years time.

March, when days are getting long, Let thy growing hours be strong to set right some wintry wrong.

~Caroline May~