Vitamin Sea

March 17, 2020March 16, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

Last week there was a film screening event at the Scottish Dolphin Centre in Spey Bay. I didn’t know anyone there but soon found myself chatting to an elderly couple whose fierce pride of Scotland was immediately clear. We chatted about the Moray dolphins and the house that they planned to build with a view out to sea. It was the sort of life I was looking for myself.

The film was “Vitamin Sea”: an hour long documentary that followed ocean advocate and veterinary surgeon Cal Major as she attempted to be the first person to journey from Land’s End to John O’Groats by Stand Up Paddleboard. Cal was raising money for Samaritans and Vet Life in memory of her best friend who lost her battle with depression. I didn’t realise there is a high suicide rate among vets and not enough is currently being done to support them. Cal was also raising awareness of plastic pollution – scooping up hundreds of plastic bottles along the way – and showing how beneficial nature, and the ocean in particular, can be for our emotional wellbeing. If we spend time in an environment and form a relationship with it, Cal says, then people will want to protect it.

What I love about Cal is her positivity. While topics such as plastic and climate change can often bring doom and gloom, she discusses positive solutions and encourages us all to do little things that bring great benefits. Throughout her 900 mile journey Cal meets countless people who donate to her cause, help out with litter picks and show their support in so many other ways. Even in places like Manchester, where plastic pollution was at its worst along Cal’s route, spirits were high and people clearly showed their passion for protecting their natural environment.

At times the film was very moving. Cal revisited a place where she spent a holiday with her lost friend, and at times broke down from the combination of finding so much litter and experiencing sheer exhaustion. The constant struggles and exertions only made reaching the finishing line more emotional. After two months on the water with a sole purpose, it seemed almost anti-climactic when Cal touched land at the end of her journey. Overwhelmed with emotion, she debated staying with nature at sea and letting it continue to “heal” and “wow” her.

What resonated with me was the “profound sense of joy” that comes with being on the ocean surrounded by natural beauty. Many of us feel an undeniable pull to the ocean – that beautiful, unpredictable element of nature that compels our love and respect. Seeing so much litter clogging beaches where seals and birds roamed was difficult, but knowing that people like Cal are raising awareness with a positive message is so refreshing.

As we watched a drone’s eye view over mountains and stretching ocean at the end of the film, the man beside me leant over and asked, “Do you think you’ll go back again?”

I really don’t think so.

My Top Wildlife Sites

March 10, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

Last night I had a lovely meal at the Grant Arms Hotel in Grantown-on-Spey before seeing a talk by Iolo Williams. Despite current news and hysteria, the lecture room was full to the rafters and extra chairs had to be squeezed into gaps.

Iolo’s new book is called “The UK’s Top 40 Nature Sites” and highlights natural gems up and down the country from the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall all the way up to the Shetland Islands. Naturally, Iolo said that every site in England, Scotland and Ireland paled in comparison to those in Wales, “God’s own country”.

Iolo is such an inspiring speaker, sharing his stories with the confidence and laid back attitude of someone chatting in a pub. His passion is palpable and easily transfers to his audience. As well as golden eagles and puffins, Iolo was keen to highlight smaller and lesser known species. I learnt what the lion’s mane fungus looks like, and discovered just how beautiful the marsh fritillary butterfly is.

As I sat listening to Iolo’s favourite wild places, I realised that I’d actually been to quite a few of them myself. It gave me the idea of gathering my own list. Some of them are in Iolo’s book but some are my own additions. I’ve chosen places that offer almost guaranteed sightings of a particular species or the opportunity to get lost in secluded wildness. Either way, I hope people discover and fall in love with them as I have.

Anagach Woods

Iolo included Anagach in his book but I had to as well. I visited a few times when I was staying at the Grant Arms for the Wildlife Book Festival last spring and was absolutely captivated. I’ve never been in such a vast area of woodland. Although you will often see dog walkers at the edge of Anagach, as soon as you press further in and choose one of many winding trails, you quickly forget about cars, roads and people. Anagach is full of wildlife, from common coal tits and relatively easy to spot red squirrels to far rarer Scottish icons such as pine martens. Listen for crossbills flying over and look for the elusive but gorgeous crested tit, which is only found in the Caledonian pine forests of Scotland. One of my favourite sounds is a trickling stream running through a forest and I indulged my love for it in Anagach – perching on a rock watching water bubble past me between the trees. Unsurprisingly, it is easy to get lost in this sprawling forest, but that’s half the fun.

Farne Islands

The Farne Islands off the Northumberland coast are notorious for grey seals and I had the privilege of snorkelling with them in June 2018. It was during this visit that I had a seal swim up to me and wrap its front flippers around my leg, which is something I wish I’d photographed but will still never be able to forget.

But despite the excellent views of seals, I’ve chosen the Farnes for their astonishing bird life. Moments after disembarking from the boat we were carefully weaving around nests positioned just off the path, our ears slammed with the onslaught of squawking from razorbills, guillemots, cormorants and everyone’s favourite, the puffin. I’d seen glimpses of puffins between waves before, but on the Farnes you can watch from a front row seat as they go about their business of hunting sandeels and dashing into burrows. For anyone wanting to see their first puffin, the Farnes are the place to go.

Burghead Backshore

It is only recently that I’ve discovered just how special the Burghead Backshore is for wildlife. In just two weeks of living on this small peninsula jutting into the Moray Firth, I’ve seen plenty of cars parked along the bank with binocular-clad birders clambering out to scan the shore. People come from all over, including paying customers on Highland Safaris from Aviemore.

I can’t speak for every season, but so far during late winter I’ve had almost daily sightings of goldeneye, long-tailed duck, eider, red-breasted merganser, turnstone and redshank. For such a small area, the Backshore is bursting even during the lean winter months.

And of course, there are more than birds to be found around Burghead. The Moray Firth is one of the best places in the UK for bottlenose dolphins, and basking sharks and minke whales have also been seen, as well as grey seals. I can’t wait for the proper dolphin season to kick off in May, as I haven’t managed to spot any yet. This weekend I’m going to Inverness to become trained as a Shorewatch volunteer for Whale and Dolphin Conservation, so I can carry out official cetacean surveys in Burghead. I can’t wait to learn more about my local marine wildlife and contribute to conservation.

Isle of Cumbrae

In May 2018 I attended a Field Studies Council weekend course on the Isle of Cumbrae in Ayrshire. It was a jump into the unknown that I didn’t fully appreciate until I was standing spread-legged in the shallows peering down into rockpools and glancing at a sheet of paper I didn’t really understand. The course taught us how to identify biotopes – the combination of a physical habitat and the biological community that lives in it – and although I certainly enjoyed staring down microscopes and poring over textbooks that weekend, the highlight for me was spending two full days on the beach looking for creatures in rock pools. We saw beadlet anemones, a stunning dahlia anemone, acorn barnacles, hermit crabs and common prawns. Every rock revealed a different discovery. Despite spending plenty of summer days at the beach in the past, I’ve never done so much rock pooling before and the FSC course started a new fascination for marine wildlife that I’m hoping to return to now I’m living on the coast.

Arrival

February 25, 2020December 16, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

I’ve finally done it. After feeling for the past year that I’ve been in the wrong place, and experiencing a far greater satisfaction every time I visit Scotland, I’ve finally moved there. Last weekend I drove 568 miles and upon arrival collapsed exhausted, filling the house with bags and suitcases. But over the past few days it’s finally started to sink in that I live here now.

The reason I can tell I’m in a much better place is I already feel a connection to the landscape, so much so that I’ve assigned myself a local patch for the first time. Back in Hertfordshire I never felt closely attached to any wild place, and even if I had there was nothing within walking distance of where I lived. Now I can walk for less than two minutes and reach the sprawling north side of the Burghead peninsula, known by the Brochers (Burghead residents) as the backshore. This is my new patch. Not only is it teeming with birds – attracting twitchers from across the Highlands as a result – but it is home to many species I don’t know, which will make the process of monitoring my patch even more rewarding. Having never been in regular contact with marine and coastal habitats before, my knowledge of gulls, ducks and waders is almost non-existent. I’ve been visiting my patch for three consecutive days now and have already learned to recognise six new birds: turnstone, redshank, rock pipit, goldeneye, curlew and long-tailed duck. When I stand on the bank scanning the waves, I think I see around a thousand dolphins breaking the surface, but the ocean is known for playing tricks. As the old saying goes, the harder you work the luckier you get. There are around 130 resident bottlenoses in the Moray Firth, and I’m determined to see some on my patch soon.

Having a local patch is a great way to get to know an area intimately. By regularly recording not only the species but also the weather conditions, time and date of visits, you begin to detect changes and ultimately learn wild animal behaviours. On Sunday I went at 4pm and watched waders and gulls foraging amongst the rocks. Yesterday I went at 11am and the tide was completely in, so the waders were absent but there were still ducks and cormorants diving in the shallows. A marine patch is particularly intriguing because it changes drastically in a short space of time. In just a few hours the habitat is transformed, and new birds appear to take advantage of the conditions.

I’ve already met other birders at the backshore, including Steve Reddick from Highland Wildlife and Birdwatch Safaris, who had the added benefit of a scope. He was keen to see purple sandpipers, which are often here during the winter. I learnt most of my six new birds from Steve, and now wish he could help me with a mystery diver I keep spotting. It’s too far away to make out clearly through binoculars, and to my untrained eye the three species of diver seen here – red throated, black throated and great northern diver – all look very similar in winter plumage. Hopefully with a few more sightings I’ll learn the differences and be able to identify them with confidence. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing their summer plumage, which is not only easier to recognise but also stunningly beautiful!

Turnstones are notorious for fidgeting, but it would be nice if they all looked up every now and then!

It’s fantastic to have my passion for birdwatching renewed. I’ve been in a slump for months, so to finally be in a place that inspires and challenges me is both a relief and a privilege. I can’t wait to discover new species this year, not only on the backshore but all over the Moray coast.

Avian Meditation

February 14, 2020February 14, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

I’ve never been able to meditate. I’ve tried it before, frustrated and envious of those people who can sit still and completely disengage from the distractions around them. For a start, I can’t even sit up straight without getting uncomfortable. I know you can meditate lying down, but then I just fall asleep. If I finally do find a comfortable position, I inevitably can’t stop thinking. “Focus on breathing”, all the books and videos say, and I focus on the first three inhalations wonderfully, but soon my mind wanders to my shopping list, deadlines, or reminding myself to put the bins out. I’ve discovered that meditation is just something that not everyone can do, in the conventional way at least.

The other day I went to Rye Meads Nature Reserve in Ware, Hertfordshire. I have quite a lot of things to do at the moment with my MA and the move to Scotland later this month, but I needed some time outside. I find it a real challenge to make time for walks, so I fought my better judgement and put work on hold to sit in a hide and watch birds. I don’t do this much – when I’m out and about I’m either on my way somewhere or keeping an eye on the dog to make sure she’s not getting into mischief, so it was a real indulgence to spend an entire morning ambling around a nature reserve.

I sampled each hide in turn, following muntjac prints in the mud as I walked, and eventually settled in one that overlooked a lake speckled with birds. A group of thirty lapwings were soaring over the water, swinging in a single mass from left to right. Each time they twisted the sunlight caught their backs, illuminating that iridescent green also concealed in magpies and starlings. I watched their display through the binoculars, captivated by the pendulum-like movement. Unlike a lot of wings that end in sharp points, these birds have wings that are loosely shaped like tennis rackets.

Eventually one bold individual decided that was quite enough flying, and as it swooped down to the water its companions followed until the air was empty again. They settled on the rocks alongside a pair of shelducks, shovelers, gadwall and a lone cormorant. The strips of pebbles cut the lake into wedges, separating midnight blue from slate grey. Ripples from bobbing coots sent tiny waves onto the shingle.

“Have you seen the green sandpiper?”

The voice made me jump after such a long silence. It was a member of RSPB staff, brandishing both binoculars and an impressive scope. Shimmying along the bench, I peered down the scope and watched the wader as it scoured the shingle for food on its skinny green legs. I’d have never spotted such a well-camouflaged bird without help. In fact, the green sandpiper was a species that I may have looked at but not noticed many times before.

The man with the scope carefully lowered the window cover and hitched the scope onto his back, heading back out into the sunshine. I carried on watching the lapwings, now foraging with their spiky hairdos fluttering. It occurred to me then that birdwatching was a form of meditation. You have to sit still, as quietly as possible, and often go for hours without speaking. My phone was on silent, buried at the bottom of my bag underneath gloves, sketchbooks and biros. The only connection I had was with the birds. Sure, I was hoping for bitterns, kingfishers and otters (none of which showed), but I found satisfaction in the more common residents. There is undeniable beauty in a young blue tit’s downy feathers, the tight curl of a cormorant’s dive and the vibrancy of a mallard drake’s head, which almost shines yellow in the right light. Maybe I’d denied myself the pleasure of birdwatching too long, but sitting in the hide looking out onto calm water felt like meditating. My work was back at the house and I was in the reserve sharing space with birds.

New Nature magazine

January 28, 2020March 16, 2020 | Rebecca Gibson

A few years ago I had an article published in New Nature magazine about my time in the Cheviot Hills in Northumberland. In autumn last year I pitched another article, this time about my visit to Anagach Woods in Grantown-on-Spey, my all time favourite area of woodland. There was no room in the autumn issue but it has just been published in the first issue of 2020.

New Nature is written, designed and produced entirely by young people. It features the work of ecologists, photographers, ecologists and writers. Its purpose is primarily to entertain, but with an underlying mission to celebrate wildlife and encourage its protection. I feel proud to be part of a project run by the younger generation and know that I have contributed alongside a team of talented and passionate individuals.

To read the latest issue of the magazine, click here.

Relocation

January 17, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

For the past few months, I’ve had a growing sense of being in the wrong place. I’ve lived in Hertfordshire all my life, but since coming back from university in Cumbria, I haven’t felt like I’ve belonged in the south. Throughout my childhood and adolescence, I’ve been lucky enough to spend a lot of holidays and days out in Scotland, and I’ve started to realise that I’m happiest there. Inspiration comes easier, as does my ability to concentrate. There is a wealth of material to write about and the landscape cries out to be drawn and painted. Although I’ve never lived in a city, there is a feeling of congestion in the south that I’ve been more and more affected by. This feeling completely disappears in Scotland. There are fewer people and more animals, which my inner introvert loves.

So, I can now finally say that I am moving to Scotland. I came to the conclusion that I should do what makes me happy and be in a place where creativity and imagination are enhanced by the land around me. I want to walk in woods where there are pine martens and hike up hills where there are golden eagles! I’ve been lucky enough to see some iconic Scottish species already, including martens and eagles, but others are still mysteries. I doubt I’ll ever catch a glimpse of a Scottish wildcat, but just knowing that they are there somewhere is so exciting.

Every time I drive along the A96 during visits to my parents in Moray, often with dense forest pressing in on both sides, I peer into the shadows and imagine what creatures could be lurking between the trees. Of course, there are many beautiful places in Hertfordshire, but none within walking distance of where I live. I can’t step outside my front door and see the ocean hurtling towards the shore. I can’t walk for five minutes and reach a 1700 acre forest, or look into a sky full of stars and hope for the aurora borealis to show. I can do all of this from my parents’ house, where they live at the end of a peninsula jutting out into rumbling waves.

I’m currently staying with my parents for a few days and I can’t believe that this stunning place will soon be my home. I am studying for my MA until 2021, so the plan is to find some part time work or volunteering in conservation to fill my time alongside my studies and keep the CV fresh. I have so many goals for my new life in Scotland, including:

Do the North Coast 500 – an epic road trip around the entire northern tip of Scotland
Properly see otters – so far I’ve only seen a distant shadowy lump at night
See a basking shark
Go wild swimming – I’ll wait until summer for this one
Go kayaking in a loch
Visit all the major islands starting with Skye, Jura and Islay
See the Northern Lights – seemingly equal to seeing a unicorn but it is actually possible!
Learn some Gaelic – I’m fascinated by Gaelic – my favourite discovery so far is the name for the white-tailed sea eagle “lolaire suile na greine”, which translates as “the eagle with the sunlit eye”

Despite having visited Scotland on and off for the past 17 years, there is still so much I haven’t seen, and when I move I will have complete freedom to explore. After my next residential trip for university in February I shall be ready to leave life in the south behind me and begin a new, and far wilder, chapter in the north.

Onwards and Upwards

January 7, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

My last post was all about reflecting on 2019. This one is about looking forward to 2020. It’s easy to write a long list of New Year’s resolutions but a little trickier to stick to them. So, this year I want to develop habits that I already have, starting with my art.

Last year saw a surge in my artistic activity. I can’t remember quite how it happened, but I know that starting a nature journal certainly helped. As well as nature I use my journal for tickets, feathers, pretty page borders and scribblings. One of my new evening past times is sketching whilst curled up on the sofa in my favourite spot. It’s a one-stop shop for all my creative energy and seeing the book get fatter only encourages me more. The journal is particularly useful for making notes on walks, although I still need to kick the bad habit of wanting every page to look Pinterest-worthy. I make title pages each month and have bought a dinky old-fashioned library stamp to date each entry. It’s by no means perfect, but so far it has proven to be a useful tool for getting me drawing and painting again.

Linked to this is a new art challenge: Inktober 52. The original version was a drawing prompt for every day in October, but that sadly didn’t quite happen. Luckily for me there’s a weekly version starting in 2020 – 52 new drawings that I can add to my portfolio. The first prompt was FLIGHT so I drew a dragon with my new Faber-Castell pens I got for Christmas. I really want to stick to Inktober 52 and I can’t wait to get next week’s prompt!

Alas, where there’s play there has to be work. I’m feeling really optimistic about my writing moving forwards. The MA has already provided a structure for developing my work and, perhaps most importantly, trying to get paid for it. The self-led trip in April will be an important test of my ability to pitch to publications. Today I spent many hours poring over Scottish magazines and I was pleased to see that a lot of my ideas hadn’t been featured. There’s still a lot to organise, but I’m so excited to see what happens over the next few months.

Another thing I would like to do this year is establish a better work structure. I have quite a few different types of work including MA assignments, freelance pieces and personal writing, and my long to-do list was getting a little daunting. This year I’d like to try assigning a certain type of work to a specific day, so on that day I only have a few tasks to concern myself with. Blocking out time will hopefully mean I get jobs done more efficiently and make time for the things that get neglected, such as my fiction projects.

Something I certainly need to make more time for in 2020 is exercise. After a fairly consistent feast of mince pies, Yorkshire puddings and apple sauce over Christmas and the uninspiring rainy weather, my fitness has undoubtedly suffered. What’s more insulting is that my monthly gym membership still zips out of my account even when I don’t actually go… Although the idea of jogging makes me want to crawl into a ball and play possum, I want to embrace power walking and forest walking more this year.

Buzzard gliding over Anagach Woods, Grantown-on-Spey

Lots to be getting on with! I’ve seen a few people choosing one word to summarise the coming year so I’ve decided that mine will be “improve”. It may sound simple but it’s what I want to do every year, whether that’s learn something new, develop a skill I’ve already been working on or change something for the better. Basically any small victory that brings me closer to my goals. I hope 2020 will bring lots of improvements!

2019 Wrapped Up

December 24, 2019May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

Christmas is here again, which means it’s time to reflect on what I’ve achieved in 2019. I still have a long way to go before I can really call myself a freelance writer, but I’m so proud of the progress I’ve made this year.

A particularly significant event was the Grant Arms Wildlife Book Festival in April, where I travelled to the beautiful Cairngorms National Park to stay in what is undoubtedly the coolest hotel in the UK for wildlife lovers like me. I attended some fascinating talks, met many established writers and was thrilled to see my first pine marten. However, perhaps the most influential moment was meeting author Stephen Moss, who runs the MA in Travel and Nature Writing at Bath Spa University. We sat down for a chat and spoke about my work so far, and after our talk I began to think seriously about doing a masters. I was sad to leave the beautiful wilderness of Grantown-on-Spey behind, but I was also intrigued by the possibility of further study and what it could do for me.

In the summer I visited Madrid – my first solo trip to a non-English speaking country. I don’t think it occurred to me how daunting that prospect could be until I arrived and realised that my A Level Spanish was a lot rustier than I had anticipated. Nonetheless, despite the language barrier and the most intense heat I have ever experienced, I really enjoyed my stay and learnt a lot about my resilience when travelling alone. Madrid is a beautiful city that I would love to return to some day, just in a slightly cooler season! The highlight was undoubtedly the flamenco show on my last night – that experience will stay with me for a very long time.

Not long after Madrid it was time to drive up to Rutland Water nature reserve for Birdfair, which has now become a yearly tradition. I caught up with good friends from uni, met the lovely Lucy McRobert and finally christened my new tent in the campsite. As always, Birdfair was a fantastic networking opportunity and I met some lovely authors and conservationists who were keen to share their advice. I also saw Stephen Moss again and bought rather too much wildlife art…

September saw some more networking at the AFON conference – I’d never seen so many young naturalists in one place and I felt proud to be part of that community. During the weekend I introduced myself to author and illustrator Tiffany Francis, who is one of the loveliest people I’ve ever met. I swapped Instagrams with lots of inspiring writers and conservationists, many of whom I’ve stayed in contact with since. Events like the AFON conference are such a great way of reaching out to like-minded people and I was so happy to build my network further.

In October there was a very big change: beginning the MA. The week-long residential in Corsham was a chance to meet my fellow students and be introduced to the way the degree was run. I’m sharing the year with a diverse and enthusiastic group of people and I already feel close to them after so little time. An unexpected achievement has been my rekindled love for drawing and painting, which has proven to be a great tool for inspiration. So far I have submitted two assignments for the course and have been really pleased with my results. The second term will begin in the new year and I can’t wait to tackle the next module – a trip completely organised and funded by me where I need to try and get writing commissions from professional publications. Naturally I’m apprehensive about it, but I’ve done this before with the Isles of Scilly so I know once I begin my research I’ll be away.

Finally, the end of 2019 saw my first official commissions – two for Blue Sky Wildlife, two in Hertfordshire Life magazine and the completed annual report for SEZARC. The team in Florida loved what I’d done and have now asked me to make the next report for 2019, which I can’t wait to get started on. In fact, I’m excited to announce that I shall be visiting Florida again in 2020. Not only will it be a chance to see my friends and work colleagues, but also a fantastic opportunity to gather new images to use in the next report. I don’t know when it will be yet, but I’m so excited to get the details in place.

Hertfordshire Life Magazine

I began this year feeling a little shaky and unsure of exactly where I planned to go. I still don’t have everything figured out, but the commissions have given me a real boost of confidence. It has been great meeting other naturalists including young women like Tiffany Francis and Lucy McRobert, as well as everyone on my course who are all making amazing contributions to wildlife writing. I have a great feeling about 2020, and I can’t wait to see where I am this time next year.

Nature Journal

December 8, 2019 | Rebecca Gibson

I can’t believe I’m already two assignments into my master’s degree. Both have been based around the theme of “Writing in the Field” – writing outside as opposed to a typical office environment. This was really useful for me, as up until now I’ve mostly written brief notes outside and then typed them up later at my desk. While this worked for jogging memories, it occurred to me that I was losing out on a lot of detail this way. Photos reminded me of things I saw, but I was glossing over other sensations such as smells, sounds and textures. By paying attention to these senses I found I could create a fuller, more immersive piece of writing that really put the reader in the field with me.

Art 10 — Inspiration for a fantasy fiction piece

For my first assignment I decided to start a nature journal that I planned to take with me whenever I was out in nature. This would be the basis for my essay in the first assignment. During my research I discovered that many writers use journals to enhance their writing experience. Charles Darwin kept perhaps the most well known example during his voyages on H.M.S Beagle but there are numerous others. Author and artist John Muir Laws said that “journaling will slow you down and make you stop and look.” American author and scientist Aldo Leopold’s nature journals were so significant that the resulting essays became valuable contributions to the field of phenology – the study of seasonal natural phenomena. I also found several studies indicating that being outside is beneficial to creativity, so it made sense to do more writing outdoors!

Art 8 — An illustration for a piece of scientific writing about roe deer

I found that my nature journal not only benefitted my writing but also enabled me to concentrate more on my art. I was keen to make the pages pretty and yearned to have a journal that would be cool enough for Pinterest. I’ve always loved drawing and painting but it’s often taken a back seat. My usual excuse is that I have no time, but over the past few weeks I’ve started to create quite a large body of work just by snatching a few minutes here and there to make a sketch. I bought a travel watercolour palette with a brush containing its own water which has been a lifesaver. Now I can pop my paints in my bag and take them anywhere, and I’ve really got on well with it so far. I deliberately bought a journal with a ring binder, so I can remove and insert the hole punched pages wherever I want them. A lot of my conventional notebooks have failed so I think having the freedom to go back and add pages in later has helped to keep the creative flow going.

Art 7 — Burghead Harbour, the scene of a reflective piece about night walks

Writing and illustration go well together, so I decided to create a small drawing or painting for each piece in my second assignment – a portfolio of nature and travel writing from the field. I’ve loved setting art projects for myself again, which I haven’t done since school. Not only does it bring some variety to my writing, but it’s enhanced my observational skills by forcing me to note the fine details of my environment. I’m really looking forward to seeing how my nature journal progresses and I hope I can maintain it until the end of my course and beyond!