The Greenway

September 10, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

The Egan’s Greenway is an unexpected jungle in the middle of smoke-belching industry and deckchair tourism. The mundane sounds of traffic are deafened by the furious chatter of cicadas – enormous insects that seem prehistoric. Their strange call is like the sound of angry water sprinklers, growing louder and faster until it reaches an alarming tempo, then abruptly stops.

At first light the Greenway is sharply divided into light and dark. The dense, impenetrable forests are still cool – the trees in muted greens – but out on the marsh the grass is alight with fiery golds and oranges. Naked trees poke the sky with sharp limbs white as bone, while beside them sway lush evergreens. It is a land of stark contrast, a spectrum of vitality and decay. Time passes here with the tick of the cicadas.

The day warms up, throwing a shimmer onto the surface of the creek. Here there be dragons, some cruising between reeds on transparent wings, others scrambling up trees with long claws. A flash of movement and then a disappearing act, they blend seamlessly into their surroundings. Just a flick of the beady eye will give them away, and then they will shoot off into the undergrowth.

Other beasts can be found higher up. Perched on the skeleton fingers are ospreys, scanning the creek in every direction. One takes to the air and its mate follows. Together they wheel in deep circles, overlapping in smooth figures of eight. A wood stork, large enough to be unfazed by the raptors, joins their sky with dark wings barely flapping.

Then, a real dinosaur. A creature that survived what forty-metre sauropods could not, almost unchanged for millions of years. This one is only small, an arm’s length perhaps, but even so it floats beneath the water’s surface with the stealth of an adult, startling green eyes always watching. A glance away and back again and it has disappeared, moving across the creek without a sound.

Where is mum? Perhaps it is best not to stay and find out.

Searching for Spoons

September 3, 2018March 11, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

After so much excitement, I’ve neglected my camera recently and wanted to finally spend some proper time searching for Florida’s wildlife. I’d been told about a good spot for wading birds, and knew that the inhabitants included my new favourite bird, the roseate spoonbill. I set out before sunrise and reached the water just as the sky was beginning to lighten; pinks and oranges blending with blue.

My first sighting was almost immediate. Perched on a branch overhanging the lake and peering curiously as I wound down the window was an anhinga. With both heron and cormorant-like features, anhingas spear fish under the water with their long, sharp bills. The name originates from the Brazilian Tupi language and translates as “devil bird”. I don’t quite see the devilish resemblance – I found the anhinga delightful, especially when it shook out its striped wings. Like cormorants, anhingas hold out their wings after swimming to dry them. This one looked like either a female or a juvenile, as males are jet black with silvery streaks.

Soon the anhinga was joined by a yellow-crowned night heron, shoulders hunched down as if with cold. With a white cheek patch and a pale crown of feathers that looks more white than yellow, the yellow-crowned night heron is actually nocturnal, so I must have been really lucky to catch a late glimpse just before the sun emerged.

Elsewhere in the tree was a green heron, who was more brown than green so was perhaps a juvenile. Apparently, green herons are known to throw insects into the water to encourage fish to the surface, which is genius and must look amazing to see.

Suddenly a snowy egret burst into view, legs dangling and panicked wings flapping. There was a deep, kronking call as more birds surged upwards. Puzzled, I glanced around for signs of a raptor, when a disturbance in the water caught my eye. There, gliding without a sound, was an alligator. My first alligator! I could hardly contain myself. All I could see of it was a pair of eyes and nostrils, so I had no idea how big it was, which was perhaps more nerve-wracking than seeing the whole animal. Even from the safety of the car my paranoia imagined the alligator leaping headlong at the open window, but it just cruised out of sight and the birds soon calmed down.

I wandered further on to try and find a spoonbill. There was a loud rustling above and I looked up to see the trees absolutely covered in white ibis; wading birds that gather in large groups all across Florida. I was spoilt for choice for photos. Although they’re not the prettiest of birds, their long, red bills still looked impressive, especially when they all took off in one simultaneous swoop. In the absence of car engines and people this early on a Sunday, the only sound to be heard was the wind in their wings which sounded so magical.

After watching them leave I wondered what had scared them off. Once again I scanned the trees for signs of a raptor and this time I found one: a stunning osprey with a fish in its claws! I’d only seen ospreys once before in Scotland, all the way across a loch that made taking photos quite the challenge. This osprey, however, was a tree’s height away and sat in a perfect patch of sunlight that made its yellow eyes dazzle. It spotted me straight away and watched as I took photo after photo. Eventually it gathered up its breakfast and took off, just as the first dog walker came into view.

At 9:30am it was already getting too hot to be out without a hat, and my hastily eaten bowl of cereal at 6am seemed far away. I’d loved to have found my spoonbill, but having seen a bonus osprey and alligator I was far from disappointed. I’d just got back to the car and was fumbling for my keys when I glanced up, and by some miracle there was a spoonbill perched at the very top of a tree. It was the pink cherry on an incredible cake.

More to See, More to Zoo

August 25, 2018October 6, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

Meeting the giraffes of Jacksonville

Last week I visited Jacksonville Zoo, which boasts “more to see, more to zoo”. And it certainly delivered, with a broad range of exhibits including some very special ones that I’d never seen before. A particularly unique exhibit was Wild Florida, a collection of species native to the state. I discovered just how big alligators are (which only confirmed my decision not to go anywhere near a river during my time here) and caught a glimpse of a manatee as it glided underwater. Manatees are the state marine mammal of Florida but threats such as collisions with boats, habitat loss and the devastating red tide have now made them endangered.

In response to these threats, Jacksonville Zoo is in the process of making the first manatee critical care centre in northeast Florida. This will allow more injured animals to be rescued and cared for, and minimise travel distance to other centres such as the ones in Miami, Tampa and Orlando. To make the experience as natural as possible for the manatees, they have a very large tank, which can only be viewed from one side. They are only seen occasionally when they swim close to the tank’s edge, giving them much needed privacy.

Elsewhere on the site was the Emerald Forest Aviary, where I met my new favourite bird: the roseate spoonbill. Native to Florida, this extraordinary wading bird is candy floss pink in colour and sports a magnificent bill that it waves from side to side underwater to sift through the mud. There was a group of them in the aviary, perched on branches overhanging a deep, dark pond. I positioned myself to put this dark pond behind a particular bird who had stood beside some very photogenic foliage. After just a little editorial tweaking, I was pleased with the dramatic result.

Although I always love seeing the star animals of the zoo, some of my best moments from the day were the wild individuals that had snuck in uninvited. As usual, I fell in love with some new lizards, including one that posed for me with an over-the-shoulder glance.

However, the most incredible moment came just before I left. I was wandering past the lions and admiring the wildflowers that were attracting all sorts of butterflies and dragonflies. Then, I saw something larger than an invertebrate zooming around and was thrilled to discover it was a hummingbird!

I fumbled to get my camera ready, and for a while took lots of blurry pictures of flowers. Eventually, I got used to the hummingbird’s pattern of flying and managed to capture the animal in frame. I stood watching it for ages, as usual receiving looks from passers-by wondering what I was so interested in. For me though, it was an amazing sight and one of those perfect surprises.

Meet the Neighbours

August 17, 2018August 17, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

After a busy week getting to grips with my new routine in Florida and getting stuck into all sorts of exciting work at the SEZARC lab, I was invited onto a tour of the White Oak site. Having only had glimpses up until now – mainly the white rhinos whose enclosure runs alongside the road to the lab – I was eager to see all of the animals that live at White Oak.

Our first stop was the greater one-horned rhino, and I was thrilled to see one of the females had a calf. The clue to the most immediate difference between these individuals and white rhinos was in the name; white rhinos, from Africa, have one more horn than the greater one horned, and they’re typically larger. To compensate for a shorter horn, these rhinos – from India and Nepal – have very long lower incisors that are used during fights and can grow up to 8cm long in males.

The armour-like skin gives these rhinos the appearance of a prehistoric creature. It is deeply folded to increase the surface area for water absorption, and especially thick around the neck to protect this vulnerable area. Greater one-horned rhinos have a prehensile lip that they use to forage in scrub and foliage.

White rhinos, on the other hand, are known as square-lipped rhinos and shed grass like a lawnmower. As we watched them graze we saw they were surrounded by cattle egrets, a common sight at White Oak. These white, gangly birds follow large mammals around their enclosures, as their weighty footsteps disturb insects hidden in the ground below, which the egrets take full advantage of.

Next we headed off to find the Somali wild ass, a species I had never heard of but fell completely in love with. Found in East Africa, Somali wild ass are the smallest and also the rarest wild horses (equids) in the world, with fewer than 2000 left in the wild. They have a beautiful grey coat that almost appears purple in a certain light. Reminiscent of their relative the zebra, these wild ass have characteristically striped legs. Due to competition with domestic farm animals for grass and water, these animals have become critically endangered. In response, White Oak obtained a herd in 2008, and since then have raised twenty foals.

Nearby to the Somali wild ass was another species I hadn’t come across before: the gerenuk, meaning “giraffe-necked” in Somali. These slender antelope are golden in colour with extraordinarily large necks, ears and eyes. Interestingly, these antelope rear up onto their hind legs to get to even higher places.

One of the final stops on our tour was an unforgettable moment for me: the giraffes. I’ve always had a soft spot for giraffes, and today I had the extraordinary surprise of being told I could hand-feed one. His name was Griffin, and as soon as the bus stopped he came striding over, keenly peering in through the window. One by one, we took a piece of browse and lifted it high, and Griffin gently took it. It was such a treat and a moment I will treasure for a long time.

As we got back onto the bus and made our bumpy way back to the car park, I felt honoured to have seen first-hand what an amazing place White Oak is for conserving and protecting wildlife. While I commend many zoos for their conservation work, I was so pleased with how much space these animals had, giving them the freedom to behave as naturally as possible. It made me so excited to continue my internship and I looked forward to getting even more involved as the weeks progress.

Volunteer Interview

July 27, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

I have now completed six volunteer shifts at Paradise Wildlife Park and although at times it’s been challenging, especially in the recent 30 degree scorchers, the experience so far has been extremely rewarding. I’ve worked on three of the six sections – paddocks/farmyard, small mammals and primates – and each has offered me new experiences. In just a few days’ work I have fed tapirs by hand, helped weigh a group of meerkats and been pooed on by Nam Pang the red panda as I cleaned his enclosure. This wasn’t the sort of gratitude I was used to but it’s something not everyone can say has happened to them.

Now a member of the Paradise Park volunteer Facebook group, I saw a post asking for volunteer interviews for the website’s blog. Eager to get involved, I submitted an interview and in a few days the final post was published. I’d been told that due to the high number of responses, the post would feature quotes from several volunteers not just from the Animal Park but across all areas of Paradise. The following are my answers in full, but the final post can be found here.

Why I started volunteering at Paradise:

Having just graduated from university studying Wildlife Media, I’ve spent the past three years photographing and blogging about wildlife. Now I want hands-on, practical experience working with animals. Volunteering at Paradise gives me the opportunity to be part of a fantastic organisation that is passionate about celebrating and conserving some of the world’s most beautiful species.

I’ve been visiting Paradise since I was a child, and have fond memories of watching the talks, reading all about the zoo’s occupants and taking ride after ride on the dinosaur train. Returning as a volunteer, I can see it is still just as exciting, if not more so.

Best parts of the day:

While I enjoy many aspects of work as a volunteer, one of my favourite parts of the day is walking across the park, to and from the enclosures. During this time I get to see so many different people of all ages getting excited about and inspired by the animals. I’m frequently stopped and asked questions, and while I’m still no expert, I’m so happy when I can answer them and enhance the visitors’ experiences. My walks across the park also allow me to glimpse the large carnivores that I’m not allowed to work with just yet!

Most challenging parts of the day:

I began volunteering almost at the start of the heat wave, so have found it really challenging to lift heavy muck buckets and scrub floors clean while the sun beats down on my back! While volunteering at Paradise is physically demanding it’s also incredibly rewarding, and I savour the chance to work hard. I come home with aching arms and legs but know I’ve had a successful day!

Would you recommend other people volunteer (either at Paradise or in general)?

During my time at university I did a lot of volunteering at various places including Oxfam bookshop and the Lake District Coast Aquarium. As more and more people my age have degrees, it’s essential to also carry out plenty of work experience, and for me volunteering is invaluable. Not only can you pursue your interests, but you can gain so many different skills that can be brought into almost any working environment. Even in a few days volunteering at Paradise I have developed skills in communication, self-confidence and learnt so much about how much work and commitment it takes to run a successful zoo. I couldn’t recommend volunteering enough. I believe it brings an essential edge when applying for any job.

What are your ambitions and/or long term hopes for volunteering?

I am hoping to pursue a career in animal conservation and believe that volunteering at Paradise will help me develop my skills and learn what it takes to be successful in such a competitive field. I hope that some day I can be a permanent member of the team and have the opportunity to share my passion with the public. I welcome the responsibility of caring for wild animals and want to encourage a greater interest in conservation, particularly among young people.

Funniest volunteering story:

It was a scorching hot day and I was out in the reindeer enclosure removing old bedding and scrubbing the floors. As I was concentrating on a particularly stubborn piece of dirt I nearly jumped out my skin at the sound of an almighty roar from behind me. I spun round, expecting to come face-to-face with an escaped white lion, but instead saw a family gazing up at the Triceratops, whose audio had just been triggered by the motion sensor. I felt incredibly sheepish and hastily got back to scrubbing. Surrounded by reindeer, red deer and red foxes, I had not expected to also be spending the afternoon in the Cretaceous period!

Favourite animal at Paradise and why:

It sounds so predictable but like many visitors, I love the unique white tiger, adorable red pandas and equally sweet Asian short-clawed otters. However, for me the most charismatic animals so far have been the ferrets in the Farmyard. Each morning, once I’ve cleaned and fed the rabbits and guinea pigs, I wait for the keeper to remove the group of six male ferrets from their enclosure so I can clean it. This sounds simple, but opening the gate wide enough to grab one ferret is enough for all six to jump out, so catching them is no easy task. Ferrets are notoriously feisty, and once they’re shut safely in their boxes I can see their tiny faces watching me. They are a treat to watch, and easily as entertaining as any tiger.

Unforgettable moment at Paradise:

Although I’m still very new at Paradise and will undoubtedly have many more great memories, my most treasured moment so far happened on my very first morning. It was my trial day and I was sat in the Discovery Centre feeling very nervous about the day to come. Suddenly, I heard the sound of a white lion stirring from sleep – its deep, guttural roars echoed across the park. The sound made the hairs on my neck stand up. It was at that moment I knew why I was here, and I put my absolute all into my trial day and was thrilled when I was invited to return as a volunteer.

Fresh Inspiration

July 18, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

Recently I’ve become a writer who doesn’t write much. I have ideas, many a day, of what to write, but somehow I never get round to making them a reality. I’m blaming this latest case of writer’s block on my new occupation, so I’ve decided to write about that. I have been accepted as a volunteer at Paradise Wildlife Park in Broxbourne, Hertfordshire. It was the longest application process for a voluntary position I’d ever experienced, but after interview, induction and trail day I was successful.

Volunteering in a small aquarium in Cumbria could not have prepared me for work in a zoo. Although far from large with only around 400 animals (in comparison with Chester Zoo’s 20,000), Paradise Park still requires plenty of hard work and for me it’s a physically demanding and challenging role. I anticipated this beforehand and should have been ready, and yet I still came home from my first day with aches in every limb, rashes on my arms from the hay and mysterious scratches from the day’s manual labour. As is expected of all volunteers, I spent most of my time with what the animals left behind (you cannot believe how heavy camel poo is) and in the July heat I worked up a significant sweat.

And the funny thing? I loved it. Three years of university has been a mental workout but not so much a physical one. My arms are little more than jointed matchsticks, and just as strong. Volunteering at a zoo will be such a great opportunity to build up some strength. There is also something immensely satisfying about scrubbing a paddock clean, even though the moment the animals are let back in they completely rearrange the fresh bedding and christen it with droppings.

If I had a pound for every time I’ve been asked “So what’s next?” since I came back from university, I could retire without having started a career. I still don’t know what I want to do or where I want to be. While I still love writing and photography, I feel a pull in a new direction – the daily grind of contributing towards a successful and high quality zoo. There is something very appealing to me about caring for wild animals in a place that values them (that’s the important bit) and sharing my passion with other people. I watched the Small Mammals keeper giving a talk as she fed the red pandas and I had an urge to join her, but my knowledge of red pandas is really quite limited. I want to study them, I want to know everything there is to know about these animals, and share that with people. And I believe I can do that by writing but also by being there among them.

I’m fully aware that becoming a zookeeper is an incredibly gruelling and challenging process. I’m also aware that my current academic background will not help me in that mission. Every keeper I’ve spoken to so far has begun by volunteering, and worked their way up the ladder. So I have joined Paradise at the very bottom, and the only way to go is up. I’m inspired by this, and know that I have to pursue it.

The Farne Islands – Part 2

June 12, 2018June 9, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

After sharing the waves with a herd of very curious seals, it was now time to get changed on a boat with thirty other people. This was a challenge, especially as getting a wet wetsuit off required the flexibility and strength of a contortionist. I teamed up with another girl to make a temporary changing cubicle, which made it somewhat easier.

Once everyone was back in dry clothes, the boat headed to Staple Island for a spot of birdwatching. On the approach, all we could see and hear was guillemots, a blanket of birds completely covering the rock. People were dotted amongst them but vastly outnumbered. It was the kind of ratio I liked to see.

On dry land, it was impossible to decide where to start. I was used to choosing a spot to sit and wait for the wildlife to appear. Here, we had joined a metropolis of seabirds all going about their business without blinking an eye at what we were doing. Red posts were stuck into the ground at places, and as we passed I notice each one signalled the presence of a nest, some situated almost on top of the path that threaded through. Shags watched nonchalantly as we passed, eyes half closed.

Some of the guillemots looked different to others. While most had completely brown heads, a select few had bright white rings around their eyes. I asked Cain, who told me they were bridled guillemots. Back at home I looked them up, and discovered that these individuals are an example of dimorphism. Usually relating to variety in plumage colour, dimorphism is the existence of two distinct forms within a single species. This is different from two subspecies, as both guillemots and bridled guillemots have the same Latin binomial: Uria aalge. Were they subspecies, they would have an additional subspecies name. Furthermore, subspecies tend to be permanently geographically isolated from one another.

After watching the guillemots for a while, I found where the puffin clique spent their time. Away from the larger birds, there were countless burrows in the grassy banks, and after a while puffins would pop into view or land and duck inside, sometimes carrying large mouthfuls of sandeels in their vibrant bills.

I had been so excited to see my first puffins on the Isles of Scilly, and while I still treasured the memories, those had been distant sightings compared to now. Here on the Farnes, puffins sat twenty feet from two-tiered photographers, lying on the rock or glancing from side to side with their sad clown eyes. They were a joy to watch, and so much smaller than people think!

Sadly, the time flew by and before I knew it I was back on the boat and leaving Staple Island behind. When we arrived into Seahouses, I caught the irresistible smell of fresh doughnuts on the breeze. Tired after the swim, I made a beeline for the van and bought a bag to sit and eat on the bay. A group of very tame eider ducks approached, eyeing my bag with enthusiasm. Unfortunately for them, I wasn’t sharing my doughnuts with anyone, but I did make use of the opportunity to photograph the beauties so close.

I was thrilled to see ducklings accompanying some of the females, perhaps one of the cutest baby animals there is. As the females lowered their bills into puddles of seawater, the ducklings copied, mirroring the adults’ every move. Watching such intimate family behaviour while I devoured my doughnuts was a perfect way to end such a dramatic and unforgettable day at sea.

The Farne Islands – Part 1

June 9, 2018October 6, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

Our trip to the Farne Islands was looking like it would be a day of unforgettable wildlife encounters. We boarded the boat at Seahouses kitted out in wetsuits, boots, hoods and clutching snorkels in gloved hands. The clouds were light in colour and I had faith that the sun would soon break out.

En route to the boat (Photo: Cain Scrimgeour)

There was a buzz of excited conversation as we moved out into open water, scanning the surface for wildlife. Cain, sharp-eyed as always, spotted the first puffin, as well as razorbill, guillemot, and a Manx shearwater. I twisted in my seat to spot everything he pointed out, but as usual, I was perplexed how Cain could identify such small, distant birds with immediate certainty. I could easily see the gannets though, a group of four that glided low over the water past the boat. I’ve said it many times before, but gannets are one of the best birds out there, and I never tire of watching them.

Before long we reached a widespread rocky outcrop where the boat would stop and let us jump out into the sea. One by one, we pulled on fins and adjusted facemasks. When it was my turn, I waddled ungainly to the back of the boat and took a somewhat hesitant jump off.

Taking the plunge! (Photo: Cain Scrimgeour)

Cold water hit me like a fist and I suddenly couldn’t breathe. I was filled with a very unfamiliar panic that I’d never felt in water before. I was lifted back onto the boat and it was then that the skipper told me my over-sized hood had risen up over my mouth and my mask had filled with water. Feeling very sheepish, I calmed my breathing and tried again. My second attempt was more successful, but I was very unaccustomed to wearing fins when swimming. They were two dead weights on my feet that pulled my legs to the surface and completely threw off my balance. Having only ever worn a swimming costume in the ocean before, it now took real effort to get used to all this additional kit.

I glanced up and saw another of our group bobbing up and down in the water, but then I looked properly and saw it was in fact a grey seal. I experienced a combination of surprise and elation, and when I looked around I realised I was surrounded. Seals were everywhere, gazing with inquisitive expressions. One ducked under the water so I copied, watching it glide out of the kelp with an astonishing grace that it didn’t bring with it onto land. Water seeped into my mask again, and once I’d tightened it and put my face back under, there was a jellyfish right in front of me. I’d seen dead ones on the beach, but to see a live jellyfish propelling itself effortlessly through the water was truly beautiful.

I reached the rocks and rested for a while, watching the snorkels of other students in every direction. Suddenly another seal appeared, an arm’s length away. It flared its nostrils and snorted, staring directly at me, then ducked underwater. Once again, I followed its direction and watched with amazement as it brushed against me. Then, it held out his flippers and wrapped them around my leg. It was a surreal and incredible experience, feeling a wild grey seal squeeze my leg in what the anthropomorphist in me liked to think was a hug. It was nothing like it of course, but the seal reminded me of an excited puppy, and even nibbled my wetsuit like my dog would do. Before long it swam away and disappeared into the gloom, and I was left feeling ecstatic. Any encounter with a wild animal in its natural habitat was special, but to me it was even more exciting to share a completely new world with one, a world I never normally got the chance to be a part of.

As much as I hated to admit it, my hands were beginning to grow numb, so I waved to the skipper and got back on the boat. As I warmed up, I felt niggles of regret that I hadn’t tried to film my encounter on the GoPro I’d brought with me. But as I reflected on what had happened beneath the surface, I was glad that I hadn’t. In that moment I hadn’t been distracted by technology; I’d simply been there.

A Biotope Weekend

May 24, 2018March 10, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

Friday

The trains to Glasgow and Largs and the ferry to the Isle of Cumbrae were all fine. It was when I boarded the bus to the Millport Field Centre that it dawned on me: what on earth had I let myself in for?! I’d booked onto a weekend course run by the Field Studies Council called ‘Marine Species and Habitats: The Biotope Approach’. After volunteering at an aquarium had sparked a new fascination for marine wildlife, I wanted to learn more about what could be found on British shores. I’d done a bit of research using the course’s suggested reading list, and had half an idea what a biotope was, but as I dragged my bags off the bus I wondered if I’d booked myself onto something that would sail completely over my head. I imagined working alongside a team of marine biologists with decades of experience in the field, and here I was with a newborn interest in fish. I was suddenly terrified, and literally marooned on an island for the weekend.

As I was mulling this over in my head, a girl my age carrying a black hold-all asked me if I was attending the Biotopes course. I was thrilled; fate had brought us together on the same ferry and meant I didn’t have to amble around alone wondering where I needed to be. Our rooms weren’t ready yet so we went for a wander towards the town of Millport. Her name was Abbie, and she was currently part-way through a PhD in non-native seaweeds. This was something I knew literally nothing about, but we chatted about uni and wildlife and all things in between. Meanwhile, it was a chance to see where we’d be spending the weekend, and it was beautiful. Of course, almost everywhere is beautiful in bright sunlight, but even so the Isle of Cumbrae promised a fascinating chance to survey marine wildlife.

A well camouflaged Sand Goby *(Pomatoschistus minutus)*

After a loop around the bay we headed back to the Field Centre and took our bags to our rooms. I had feared with some trepidation what the washing facilities would be like, but was very pleasantly surprised to discover a large ensuite shower, not to mention a bed like a cloud. I hastily unpacked then met the rest of the group for our first briefing. Here I met Emily who worked at the Lancashire Wildlife Trust, and before dinner Abbie and I went for a walk with her to the shore to soak up the last sun of the day.

Dinner was macaroni cheese and apple crumble, perhaps one of the most perfect combinations of courses there can be. Then it was time for our first lecture: an introduction to biotopes. My research had prepared me well – a biotope is the combination of a physical habitat and the biological community found living there. Although some of the lecture’s content was lost on me, I left feeling inspired and ready to face new challenges over the weekend. I’d already met lovely people, and all my earlier worries began to feel very insignificant.

Saturday

Today began early, and by 9am we were down on the beach beginning our first biotope survey. It was a beautiful day for it, and we wasted no time getting stuck in, in my case literally getting my wellies wedged in rock crevices and clinging desperately to my balance. Common species included beadlet anemones, dog whelks and acorn barnacles, but we also found common starfish, hermit crabs, a star ascidian (type of sea squirt) and plenty of seaweed. My knowledge of seaweed species was even smaller than my knowledge of seashore vertebrates, but as Abbie was doing her PhD on them I had a source of very valuable information.

**Star Ascidian** *(Botryllus schlosseri)*

**Common Brittlestar** upside down *(Ophiothrix fragilis)*

Once we’d covered as much of the bay as we could we ate lunch out in the sun (an excuse for some of the group to catch up with the goings on at the royal wedding) and then headed back to analyse our results and try to determine which biotopes we’d found. This was also an opportunity to play with lab equipment, which I haven’t been able to do since A Level Biology. I had good look at the bryozoa I’d found on a strand of seaweed (below). Bryozoa means “moss animal” and viewed up close reveals an intricate lattice of animals situated closely together. I studied these individuals for a while but couldn’t decide between Sea Mat or Hairy Sea Mat.

A cluster of bryozoa: either **Sea Mat** *(Membranipora membranacea)* or **Hairy Sea Mat** *(Electra pilosa)*

After beating the queue and getting served dinner almost first, I went back to my room for much-needed downtime before bed.

Sunday 20th

Today was another early start, and this time we drove the short distance to the northern end of Great Cumbrae to a much larger site. The weather was a little dreary but armed with quadrats, transects and clipboards we began to survey the biotopes. Findings started off slowly but once we reached the rock pools things really got exciting. Our course leader Paula found a slug species called a sea lemon – a very pretty blob – and a butterfish. Abbie, Alex and I found a sand goby, sand mason worm, lots of brittlestars, more hermits and beadlets, and my favourite from today: a dahlia anemone. It was the largest anemone I’d seen before, and had beautiful striated and brightly coloured tentacles that slowly emerged again once we’d calmed down to watch it properly. Just as I was squatting to try and get a decent picture, two common prawns appeared underneath a nearby rock. I didn’t know if maybe these were boring sightings but I recognised them from my volunteering at the aquarium so was thrilled to be able to confidently identify something in the field.

Back at the lab, Abbie got to work identifying her seaweeds and Alex had an ID test to do for his assignment, so I had a bash at identifying today’s biotopes by myself. Once I’d done that, I realised I’d accidentally brought a tiny brittlestar home with my sea urchin shells. With Paula’s help, I identified it as Amphipholis squamata. Later, Paula asked us what we’d found, and Alex and I had got the exact same biotopes! I was so pleased with myself.

Dinner was Sunday roast and sticky toffee pudding. I must have put on about eight stone this weekend – I’ve been fed like a queen and although my brain has been working overtime, my body hasn’t done so much. After dinner we had our last round-up lecture and went to the bar for drinks. I ended up talking to the two guys from Belfast about Father Ted – it was pretty funny talking to Irishmen about it. I would have stayed longer but I was absolutely shattered. So I headed to bed, falling asleep almost instantly.