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~

Mad as a March Hare

 

“Then you should say what you mean, ‘the March Hare went on. ‘I do,’ Alice hastily replied; ‘at least—at least I mean what I say—that’s the same thing, you know.”

~Lewis Carroll~

March was almost at the end and what a very busy month it had been especially towards the end. There was an abundant of activities that we managed to cramp in. Mother nature had truly woken up from her winter slumber and I felt a bit of spring energy enthusing me at the moment. Life was flowing.

We checked out Ashlawn Cutting to see if the boys were back. As we walked down the very muddy zig-zag path, we noticed that the snowdrops had just finished flowering and the leaves were dying back. Soon they will disappear into the ground into a dormant phase, waiting for the autumn rains and the lowering soil temperatures in order to commence growing again. They were now being replaced by primroses and budding bluebells.

We walked towards the pond under Ashlawn Bridge and saw more clumps of frog spawn. Whoop…whoop. We were mesmerised by these clumps of jelly when we heard soft purrings and felt as if we were being watched. We looked carefully and among the pondweed, several pairs of eyes popped out. It was quite dark under the bridge. The boys were back. Double whoop…whoop. 

We’d missed the breeding season, again. Frogs bred between 2-3 years old. They returned to the pond where they were spawned, and males attract the females by croaking. There was heavy competition amongst males for females, involving much croaking and wrestling. Breeding involved the male attaching himself on the back of the female by grasping her under the forelegs, where he stayed until she laid her eggs. As she spawned, the males fertilised them by spraying over them. It was possible that more than one male can fertilise a female’s spawn.

During the breeding season, the throats of the males became brighter and more luminant, a sign to other males to stay away from male-male mating. The more males there were, the more aggression, and the greater the likelihood of amplexus interruptus. If females were in short supply several males attached themselves to one female, drowning her. Thankfully, we didn’t see any but there were quite a few males on males.

Females laid their spawn in well-vegetated, shaded, shallow ponds. As the eggs matured, the clusters of spawn swelled and floated to the water surface. Around 2 weeks, the embryos inside each egg developed a head and a tail. Once the gills were formed, the tadpoles hatched out from the jelly surrounding it. It uses its gills to get oxygen from the water.

It was a tough life for a tadpole. They had a number of natural predators and were susceptible to various amphibian diseases, Because of this, females laid thousands of egg each year and only a tiny fraction of them survived to adulthood. Fingers-crossed, this pond will contain a big mass of writhing tadpoles.

I wanted to go to Aberystwyth on my birthday. Unfortunately, the weather had been rubbish and so we had been regularly looking at the forecast for the weekends. Finally, towards the end of the month, the sun came out and we were on our way. It was 12C when we left the casa. We came across road-works on the M6 for 7 miles. Then it was miles upon miles of yellow flowering gorse, intercepted with white flowering hawthorn and fields of yellow rapeseed.

Our first destination was Bwlch Nant yr Arian and the place was buzzing. We managed to find a parking space and carried our cameras to the visitor centre. After using the facilities and freshened up, we treated ourselves to the famous Mary Farmhouse ice-cream. We made ourselves comfortable on the veranda by the bird-feeder. It was teeming with Sparrows, Siskins and Chaffinches. I was hoping to see the Redpolls but they were AWOL.

From time to time, the birds made a sudden dash for the undergrowth. There was a raptor around and we spotted a Sparrow-hawk disappearing into the bushes. It was so quick. When the coast was clear, they returned back to feed and amongst the first were the Siskins, which were small, greenish yellow finches with dark wings and yellow wing bars.

They were messy eaters with very sharp narrow beaks, adapted for feeding on conifers, extracting tiny food items from tight spaces. They were aggressive too, chasing away the larger Chaffinches from the feeder. We were so close that we could hear their sweet twitterings and trillings, a pleasant sight and sound.

Then we made our way down Barcud Trail walking past a magnificent sculpture of a Red Kite. We weren’t too sure why it was fenced off. We joined the hundreds of people getting ready for the feeding session while the main attraction was soaring above us. It was amazing to watch them circling the skies and yet never collided. While waiting for the party to started, we scanned the waters and saw 4 males and 2 females Goosanders.

Goosanders were streamlined long-bodied ducks with thin pointed wings. They floated gracefully across the lake and often dived underwater to catch fish. The males were striking with clean white bodies, dark green heads, and a slender, serrated red bill. The elegant grey-bodied females had rich, cinnamon heads with short shaggy crests on the backs of their heads. I think they were waiting to join the party.

At 2 pm, the warden walked in with a wheel barrow onto the grassy patch across the lake. He pulled out a bag of chicken pieces and started scattering them on to the grass. And then the party began as these magnificent birds came sweeping down with talons out to snatch a piece of morsel. They quickly flew away for a clear airspace where they felt secure to feed. With their 1.8 metre wings spread out for stability, their heads turned down to meet their forward lifted legs, Then only they started feeding but still keeping an eye for other marauding kites. 

We had never seen so many Kites before. They were literally filling up the airspace above our heads. There were a few airborne squabbles as a few were flying low, waiting to snatch food from unsuspecting birds. High-pitched prolonged excited screeches accompanied their aerial prowess and combat.

A few flew quite close to where we were sitting that we could see the pale grey head and striking almost translucent white underwings patches and black tips on the primaries contrasting with arm orange or russet coloured feathers on the body and upper tail which appeared to glow like red embers giving them an ethereal appearance. With twisting deeply forked swallow-like tail and long slightly angled wings, they turned this way and that soaring and spiralling skyward catching the unseen breath of wind or an uplifting warm air thermal. We watched their golden orbed eyes surveying below for food.

A few pieces of meat had fallen into the water. I loved watching them swooping down with their legs outstretched, and taking the meat in their needle-sharp talons in a fast, sweeping dive. It was a beautiful sight when the water sprayed as they flew off. You can see how powerful the outstretched wings were as they maintained their balance and stability.

Forward on my way,
No wish for noisy streets
or bitter crying
Stride without delay

To breathe the wind and watch
the red kite flying,
Till sun fire meets
far hills and drops away.

Up the rising lane
Feel no pain, forget
long nights of sighing,
Sad heart, lift again,

Behold in open skies
the red kite flying
above bracken red
and golden broome aflame.

Forward on my way,
Underfoot is love betrayed
Those rages of the heart
They push me on,

Red wings of passion
Keep swooping and rising
Dipping and gliding
Soaring, till, out of sight
Lift me away.

Across the gorse and heather
No fear of judgment day
or thoughts of dying

Fine in any weather
Is Radnorshire to watch
the red kite flying.

~Adrian Williams ‘Red Kite Flying’~

Then we made our way back to the car to continue the drive down to Aberystwyth. The promenade was buzzing as the seaside town bathed in the sunshine. We drove straight to the South side near the harbour trying to find a parking space. But it was too far away from our favourite chippy shop. Having fish and chips seemed to be a tradition for us. We drove up to Penparcau and bought fish and chips from there. Since we got an all-day parking ticket from Nant yr Arian, we drove back and had our lunch overlooking the lakes. We decided that it was the best fish and chips we ever had. Then it was a 3 hour long drive home.

The next day, we needed to stretch our legs and headed to our favourite playground. It was a good place to be to celebrate the British summer time which meant the clocks went forward an hour and it was also Mother’s Day. I hoped everyone had a lovely day with their Mum, their children and their grandchildren. My mother would have been 78. Sadly she died just 2 years ago. Love and missed you so much. Al-fatehah…

As we walked through the visitor centre, we saw a stuffed hare (first photograph) on a table surrounded by brochures encouraging visitors to join the Wildlife Trust. Not a good advert, I think!!! We continued into reserve and spotted this Reed bunting pulling the fluff from the Bullrush reeds. We weren’t sure whether he was collecting it for nesting materials or pulling them out to feed on the seeds.

We stopped on the bridge to check for the Tree creepers but they weren’t around. Fingers-crossed, one of them was sitting on the nest. We were pleased that we’d Baldwin Hide to ourselves. A pair of Oystercatcher flew in showing their wide white wing-stripes, black tails and white rumps that extended as a ‘V’ between the wings with their loud ‘peeping’ calls. I think they wanted a quiet place for some togetherness.

Earlier during the week, Babe had spotted one of them prospecting for nesting site. The nest was usually a depression or scrapes in the ground which may be lined, and in a spot with good visibility. A single nesting attempt was made per breeding season, which was timed over the summer months. Fingers-crossed, they will be able to breed successfully.

Above us, the air was filled with screaming hirundines wheeling and criss-crossing each other in flight. With their swept back wings and aerial manoeuvers, it was a challenge to identify the Swallows, Sand and House Martins. These were the first migrants of the year for me, which was always a moving sight no matter what the species. Enjoying their acrobatics, I marvelled at their abilities to fly all the way from Africa, across the Sahara to overwinter. All hirundines migrated south in winter to maintain access to their diet of flying insects.

Traditionally viewed as a herald of spring, these birds had returned to their birth areas and nesting sites. They were also checking out the artificial nesting sites that was specially constructed for them. A new earthwork structure was put in place to replace the old crumbling site. Hopefully, they would be impressed. After viewing their homes, they flew out en-masse, hawking low after insects above the water.

A pair of Great Crested Grebes swam past. I waited in anticipation if they were in the mood. But, they kept on swimming and diving close together. I’d missed their mating dance again. In Spring, they put on a spectacular display. Both sexes grew black and orange facial ruffs and black ear-tufts known as tippets, which they used to establish their bonds in the breeding season. Babe was very lucky to have witnessed it when he was here. I’d seen the dance a hundred times but I would love to see it again and again.

The proceedings began with one bird sending out its braying advertising call and looking around for an answer. It received a reply in kind from not far across the lake. They started floating inexorably towards each other, but giving the impression of doing nothing special at all, like spy-movie protagonists heading for a clandestine meeting. Then, one broke cover and dive, a ripple dive – not a deep, fish-chasing dive, but a way of approaching almost unseen, its advance given away only by the merest ruffle on the glassy water.

When the grebe resurfaced, it was within the personal space of the other bird and its intent was now clear. The grebe reared up out of the water almost to its belly, yet with its neck arched down, holding this posture – known as the ghostly penguin display – for a few moments. It had declared itself.

The reaction of the other grebe was crucial. If it performed the cat display by half-opening its wings and ruffling its feathers, extending the frills on its cheeks, much of the tension was defused. Now, at last, the male and female had established a partnership. They were ready to dance.

Next was the famous water ballet. First, the grebes faced each other, shaking their heads from side to side (a human ‘no’ is a grebe’s definitive ‘yes’). One bird’s head went up, bopped and the second mirrored the steps. This happened several times. With utter elegance, they occasionally turned around to flick their back feathers with their bills. This was called bob-preening, yet had the grace of the best curtsey. The head-shaking ceremony that followed was the birds’ tango – all intimate and sultry – which led to the climax of the show: the weed or penguin dance.

The grebes dived deep, resurfacing with water-reeds in their bills. They rushed towards each other and met breast-to-breast, rearing high up out of the water as they did, paddling wildly with their feet to keep their balance. They remained thus ‘embraced’ for some time, showing off their waterweed with sideways shakes of the head. Though the water was frothing below them during the ‘weed dance’ they remained remarkably poised.

If the dance was successful, they formed a lasting bond. They mated on land and began building a raft out of reeds, weeds and other vegetation to support the nest. Between 1-9 eggs were laid, which took 27-29 days to incubate and both parents were involved. After hatching, the stripy chicks were carried around on the backs of their parents. Looking forward to that.

 

Out of water, I am the Arsefoot; I waddle

Worse than a duck, flopping

Haphazardly across the mud

Like a geriatric in outsized slippers,

Tripping over obstacles.

Let me convey you to the river,

My lover; there we shall dance.

We shall be cheek to cheek, my love,

First this side, then the other;

It is the only way I can gaze into your eyes –

One at a time. I shall smooch you sideways,

My crest shall rise to say, “I love you.”

Shall I raise my white breast for you,

To prove my amorous intent?

We were meant for each other;

Our necks twine well together.

Will you dance with me? The foreplay

Is much longer than the consummation –

Be patient. I am wooing you.

We are graceful, you and I. I give you

Waterweed. I shall feed it to you

With my own bill.

And only a carp, a chub,

A perch or pike,

Shall see the flurry

Of arse feet below.

Above, we shall be

Sublime.

~Giles Watson ‘Great Crested Grebe~

Then we headed to East Marsh Hide. A Common Sandpiper with contrasting brown upperparts and white underparts was feeding near the bank. It habitually bobbed up and down, known as ‘teetering’ while foraging for insects, molluscs, crustaceans and annelid worms. It retrieved them by meticulously pecking and probing with their short bills.

On Willow Island, male Lapwings were constant calling as they performed the crazed tumbling display flight in the air with twists, turns and somersaults. These displays were accompanied by loud swishing of their wings and noisy calls. They made wheezy ‘pee-wit, wit, wit, eeze wit’ cries which was why they were also known as the peewit in imitation of their display calls. In reality, their proper name described their wavering flight. Their rounded wings making the lazy wing beats.

The common name ‘lapwing’ was thought to come from the Old English word ‘hleapewince’ which meant leaping with a wink in it. They made an impressive sight with their iridescent green and purple plumage shimmering in the sunlight. Males and females were similar, except the males crests were longer and they had blacker breasts and whiter faces.

Then it was time to head back to the car. We walked through the woods and kept our eyes peeled to the ground. This time we spotted Morel, our first ever sighting. This distinctive mushroom had a pitted honey-comb-like fruit body, due to the network of ridges with pits composing  their cap. It was hollow inside with a creamy white stem and a conical cap. Although Morels were prized by gourmet cooks, particularly in French cuisine, we left them alone.

This month I attended my first AMARC Spring meeting at the University of Leeds. I took the 7.30 am train from Coventry. Although I’d reservations, the train was packed and since it was only a 20 minute train ride, I preferred to stand. Then it was a rush to get to my next train to Leeds. It was pouring in Leeds and I took a taxi to the university.

The meeting was held in the impressive Treasures of the Brotherton Gallery. The Gallery was opened in February 2016 as a showcase for Leeds University Library’s Special Collections. The registration desk was empty when I arrived and I joined a few lost-looking delegates. We were chatting when a Porter came over and told us the meeting was held in Parkinson Court. We went there and introduced ourselves and was immediately ushered for coffee.

Fifteen minutes later, we were seated in the seminar room. There was about 40 delegates in the room and we introduced ourselves to those sitting next to us. We were welcomed by the Chairman of AMARC and the Head of Special Collections from the University gave an introduction about the agenda of the day which was on opportunities for public engagement with research collection. Then it was straight to the agenda.

The Collections and Engagement Manager for Rare Books and Maps from the University gave us an insight on how the collection from Lord Brotherton came into place. He was the Library’s greatest benefactor. Then the archivist from the West Yorkshire Archive Service gave a hilarious account of moving their archives to the new building which was just a mile away.

Next was the one I was looking forward to by the Leeds Russian archivist. The Leeds Russian Archive consisted partly of papers of Russian emigres to the West since the Revolution and partly of papers relating to British people living and working in Russia before the revolution. Unfortunately, he just listed the items that was curated for an exhibition which we would be visiting later.

After a networking lunch, there was a show and tell about the use and abuse of early printed books. I didn’t handle any because the binding was from pig’s skin. There was a tour of the Gallery which included a rare copy of the first folio containing Shakespeare’s plays, original materials written by the Brontes, a Tudor cookery book printed during the rule of Elizabeth, unique medieval illuminated manuscripts and the artistry of beautiful books from the Kelmscott Press of William Morris.

The manuscript library at Holkham Hall was next. The collection was among the most significant private collections in the world. They included manuscripts made in Italy in the Middle Ages and the age of humanism. 127 Italian manuscripts which included biblical and liturgical codices (notably a lavish illuminated Book of Hours made for Lorenzo de’ Medici), patristic texts, and exceptional collection of Latin classical authors collected by Thomas Cook (1697-1759. Unfortunately, due to successive settlements of death duties, some of the collection was acquired by the state and kept at the Bodleian Library and the British Museum.

A talk on R.E.Hart Collection highlighted the value of hiring a professional cataloguer, Dr. Ed Potten, to process the diverse nature of the collection. Then only did the Blackburn Museum knew exactly what was in the collection and where they’d them. He also traced the complete line of ownership of Hart’s copy of Chaucer‘s Canterbury Tales, [London]: Richard Pynson, [between June 1491band 13 November 1492] from its original buyer, Roger Rathbon, all the way to Robert Edward Hart and hence to Blackburn Museum.

We ended the day on student engagement with the archival collections in the University. It had been full-on day and after saying our goodbyes, it was a mad rush for taxis to get to the train station. It was still raining when I left the city. On the train, I contemplated on the day. My first bug-bear was that wi-fi wasn’t provided to delegates which was a big no-no. The meeting wasn’t about public engagement. It was mostly about showing what they’d in their collections. I wanted to know how the public can get involved and how to demonstrate why the collection was important to them. Hopefully, it would be answered in the next meeting.

After such a long, hectic trip, I needed to stretch my legs and gather my thoughts. What better way than a long walk at Middleton nature reserve. I was also hoping to see the Great Egret which had been sighted for a couple of days. We weren’t surprised to see the car-park full when word got out. The Heronry was very quiet although a few herons were seeing flying in and out. We stopped by the farm where a flock of chicken kept us entertained.

As we meandered along the bridleway, Orange tips, Whites and Brimstones fluttered past. They didn’t settled for photographs. Along the ancient woodland, Bluebells were beginning to peep from the undergrowth and Lesser Celadines brightened up the floors. The air had a heady garlic aroma as Ramsons or Wild garlic were in abundant especially by the tiny stream. A tree-creeper caught my attention as it scurried up a trunk.

While I was busy following the Tree-creeper, Babe was eyeing a Great Spotted Woodpecker. The striking black-and-white bird was clinging to the branch with its stiff tail feathers used as a prop and its toes were specially arranged with two pointing forwards and two backwards. It then flew off with an undulating flight as it completely folded its wings against the body between each series of several flaps.

We stopped by Pooh Stick bridge where visitors put seeds and mealworms for the birds. Chaffinches, Robins, Great and Blue tits were taking turns to feed. I was hoping to see a Nuthatch but not today. A Pheasant came running, A gentleman gave me some seeds and asked me tostretch out my hand. Guess what? I’d hand-fed Robins before but never a Pheasant!!! Thank you, kind sir. I think the Pheasant was very familiar with this guy

We stopped by the Fisher’s Mill bridge  to watch a canal boat cruising slowly on the Birmingham and Fazeley Canal. Then we walked towards the first screen with a pit-stop at Fisher’s Mill Pool which was full of screaming Black Headed Gulls. Some were on nest and some were mating. We then had a rest at West Scrape viewpoint but, apart from a pair of Great Crested Grebe, it was empty.

We walked towards Jubilee Wetlands North and was entertained by a Chiffchaff, singing its name out loud in a simple ‘chiff chaff chiff chaff’. A small olive-brown warbler, it actively flits through the trees with a distinctive tail-wagging movement. From time to time, it flew out to snap insects in flight. They were summer visitors and were among the first migrant songbirds to arrive after wintering in the Mediterranean and western Africa.

We were hoping to see the Konik ponies that were often seen feeding around here but they must have been moved to another part of the reserve. We headed for The Lookout hide and cooled down for about half an hour. There was nothing much on the mudflats. We then walked back following the River Thames. We noticed new hides on Dosthill Nature Reserve and we planned to check them out later. We stopped at East Scrape when we saw a pair of Avocets feeding.

Then it was a long walk back to the car. I stopped at the stream to pick a handful or two of the young Ramson leaves. My hands smelled of garlic for days. When we were in the car-park, a Heron waved us good-bye as it made its way back to the heronry. At home, I snipped the Ramsons tender leaves into a wok of egg fried rice. It was a wonderful meal to welcome Spring and a lovely end to a crazy March.