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~

Under Ophelia’s Red Skies

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.  This selection was for the morning break. More cakes came out for the afternoon break. Nom…nom..

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)~