Last week, I went on an expedition to the Northumberland National Park, where I spent four days living in a bothy and discovering the ecology of the Cheviot Hills. During that time I had several wildlife firsts, including some real rarities!
Stay tuned for the full posts, which I’m hoping to publish very soon. In the meantime, enjoy this little bank vole who paid us a visit each morning.
Due to a lecture cancellation, Zahrah and I seized the day and paid Watchtree Nature Reserve a second visit. As the sun was actually shining, we made haste before the English climate returned to its usual cheeriness.
As we’d found several roe deer skulls at the reserve last time, we headed straight to Pow Wood and began to forage. My first find was a cluster of puffballs (Lycoperdon sp.). I find these little guys are extremely difficult to identify, but they’re always fun to see and remind me of terrestrial sea urchin shells.
Further into the wood I was extraordinarily excited to identify more fungi. This ID lark is slowly getting easier! I found a patch of jelly ear (Auricularia auricula-judae) on some dead wood, and wrestled for some time with said dead wood to get close enough for my macro lens to work its magic.
Shortly afterwards, I found several violent red blooms amongst the green foliage. The only scarlet elf cup (Sarcoscypha austriaca) I’d seen before was the size of my little fingernail, so to see some two inches wide was fabulous.
Finally, my eye caught on a bright patch of yellow as we untangled our clothes and hair from the low-hanging branches of the pine trees and, completely forgetting my wildlife voice, I shrieked “witches’ butter!”. In my defence, Tremella mesenterica is a really intriguing fungus and it’s the first I’ve seen up close.
In addition to our success with fungi, we also did some pretty good tracking. Putting the tricks we’d learned from Alex to the test, we found some deer tracks in the mud. As we found roe deer (Capreolus capreolus) skulls in Pow Wood on our last visit, we deduced that the same species had left these prints. Our suspicions were confirmed when we saw a flash of white and watched as three female roe deer darted into the forest, white bob tails stark against the brown and green of the trees.
Incidentally, I didn’t realise that I was on a walk with Hawkeye. In just a few hours, Zahrah found two roe deer skulls, what we suspect was a sheep skull, and a headless skeleton with beautifully pristine white vertebrae. I guess I’d been too distracted by the fungi. We scooped up the bones into a plastic bag, ready to douse them in hydrogen peroxide when we got back home.
Despite my ineptitude at finding skulls, I did find a collection of pellets at the foot of a tree along with a discarded white egg shell. The combination of these two signs suggested that the tree was home to a nest. After some research, I discovered that barn owls (Tyto alba) are known for their stark white eggs and dark, charcoal grey pellets, so perhaps this was our bird.
Back at the house, I dissected the pellets and in just three I recovered the remains of six rodent skulls, seven mandibles (lower jaws), several loose rodent incisors and a variety of leg bones. I attempted to identify who the skulls belonged to, but sadly they all looked the same. Still, it was fascinating to see how many kills the owl had made; there were at least two skulls in each pellet. This indicates that the bird was hunting regularly, as a barn owl usually regurgitates 1-2 pellets each night (Barn Owl Trust).
In addition, the egg shell I found had no yolk, suggesting the chick hatched naturally and wasn’t predated. If this were the case, the edges of the shell would have been pushed in and parts of the membrane would still be visible.
In short, it was a very successful day’s foraging! It’s amazing how much you can see when you know what to look for.
Every year, the Theatre by the Lake in Keswick, Cumbria, hosts the literary festival Words by the Water, which is a wonderful celebration of words and ideas from a variety of topics including science, art, politics and history.
In parallel to the festival, students from the University of Cumbria produce a magazine publication with pieces inspired by the speakers and their topics. This year, I was asked to be the student editor of the magazine, which was a fantastic experience. Part of the job involved writing articles, so here is one inspired by Eleanor Morgan’s talk on spiders, a subject that fascinates and horrifies me in equal measures. I decided to shun my shivers and find out more about these unfortunate-looking invertebrates. To my surprise, I discovered some truly astonishing things.
It was time once again for a wander in the wild. Kacper had told us about a kingfisher he’d seen on the River Caldew, so Zahrah and I met him in town and we set off. I’ve had two kingfisher sightings both in Cumbria, one with my camera one without. I managed to get the speedy bird in frame for one of my shots, but I wanted to slightly improve on an indistinct electric blue blur this time.
It was so refreshing seeing the first signs of spring. Little pops of colour speckled the green grass as snowdrops and crocuses stretched out of the cold, hard ground – dainty little warriors taking on the end of winter.
We were met at the river by a smoky grey guardian – a feathered old man that stood hunkered up at the top of a tree. The heron surveyed his river with grumpy indifference. Zahrah is under the impression that these birds are beautiful. While I can’t quite agree on that, they are a spectacular looking species that always draw my attention, whether they’re sat slouched on a branch or flapping through the air with spindly dangling legs.
After leaving the heron behind I spotted the elusive kingfisher, so we followed it along the river bank as best we could. In the meantime, Zahrah had a play with medium format film, and attracted a couple of inquisitive mute swans.
Despite the slow emergence of spring, it still got bitterly cold and before long the light began to fade. We were just about to head for home when another flash of blue shot across the water. Hurrying across the bridge, we staked out the riverbank and managed to spot the kingfisher resting amongst the scrub. It’s still not the best kingfisher photo ever taken, but it’s a vast improvement on my last – you can even see it’s an animal this time!
I was lucky to find myself in beautiful, beautiful Edinburgh again this weekend, a city I would happily spend every weekend in. As I emerged from Edinburgh Waverley onto Princes Street I was filled with the usual excitement that comes with arriving into Scotland’s capital. Immediately we headed to the City Cafe just off the Royal Mile, our new favourite food haunt. I gorged on scrumptious ribs and sweet potato fries, which refuelled me nicely after the train journey.
Deep down I felt embarrassed looking like the most obvious tourist in the world as I clutched my camera and shivered in what I thought was cold weather. I’ve been to Edinburgh many times, but it still feels new on every visit. There’s always a shop I hadn’t been in or a beautiful building I haven’t gazed up at. I’ll never take this city for granted, so will never tire of photographing it.
As usual the streets were buzzing with noise; bustling shoppers and laughter spilling from the nearby pubs, all accompanied by the steady hum of bagpipes. I’ve asked multiple Scots if they ever get bored of hearing the bagpipes and they’ve all said no. If I were a native I don’t think I would either – the sound reminds me of old holidays and unforgettable days out.
All too soon it was morning again and time to get the train home. My weekend visit was only fleeting, though I’m sure a month-long stay would have felt just as brief. Here’s to the next excuse I get to pay a visit!
It’s time for a little reflection. Recently my blogging has been slacking and in many ways I’m annoyed with myself that I’ve let it slide slightly. I think a blog is such a good way to show people what you’re about on a regular basis, so it’s something I will not let slide too far.
However, in a way I’m glad I’ve been absent for a few weeks because the reason for it is… I’ve finally been relaxing! The run-up to Christmas was manic; an essay and a 20-minute film in close succession, as well as planning a photography exhibition. So when Christmas finally showed up, I completely switched off and spent the next two and a bit weeks doing very little.
Anyone who knows me well will understand that I am very often incapable of not working, much less relaxing. After being questioned on what it is I do during down time, I realised all I did was do a different kind of work. You know, spice things up a bit.
So I think the fact that I relaxed so much over the Christmas break is something of a miracle. I don’t know why it happened during this particular holiday – normally I give myself a project if there’s nothing to do for uni – but this time the chill was real. And I think it did me good.
Of course, when I drove back up and was faced with the prospect of two assignments due in just over a month, all the familiar stress came flooding back and work began promptly the next morning. Although, during those days at home it felt great just vegging on the sofa. I’ve never watched so many films as I did over Christmas this year. Normally this kind of behaviour would have shocked the diligent student that thrives on hard work, but the temporary chill version of me embraced Christmas and all it had to offer.
There are many people who tell me I stress out too much. I only stress because what I do means a lot to me, and if I know I’ve worked hard on something I can rest easy knowing I’ve done all I can. I’m a worker bee; that’s what I do in this hive of life. But at the same time I know that even worker bees can work too hard. So to spend this time relaxing has probably done me a lot of good. Now I can go back to the hectic lifestyle I obviously love and thrive on. Back to work!
Yesterday my lovely boyfriend cooked me sausages and the most incredible fried bread for breakfast because the horrid lurgy that had been lingering menacingly had finally reared its ugly head. For the majority of the day we watched Sherlock and ate the cake we were up until 2am making the previous night, while I wheezed and sniffed.
By evening I was up for a walk, so we decided to head out to Talkin Tarn Country Park in Brampton, Cumbria. It was a spot I’d heard good things about but never been to, and it was truly beautiful. As the day faded and the sun sunk into shadows, the rich blue evening sky illuminated the water, ruffled occasionally by the passing rower. A wind nipped my fingers and I pulled on my gloves with slightly exaggerated enthusiasm; I couldn’t wait for winter to make its appearance so I could dig out my finest wooly scarves and bobble hats. For now though, all I needed was my trusty Berghaus jacket to keep me warm as we made our way round the lake.
The sunset crept up on us. One moment the sky was blue, the next it was a vivid red, like a furious blush across the horizon. The water, now still and smooth as glass, took on a beautiful pink hue as the clouds rolled over it. Ducks, geese and swans alike settled to roost. One Canada goose honked into the silence, finishing his argument before succumbing to sleep.
We wandered on and perched inside a bird hide for a while, craning out the window for creative angles of the paint-splashed lake. In minutes the colours had drained and all that remained were grey water and an ever-darkening sky. We made our way back around the lake to the car, feeling very grateful to have witnessed such a visually stunning end of the day.
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