Review: ‘The Stranding’

We’re told not to judge a book by its cover but we all do it, at least in the literal sense. Why else is Waterstones full of vibrant, juicy covers begging to be picked up and admired? So, when I saw a whale on the front of this book, it enticed me enough to read the blurb. And what a hook: “Far from home and with no real hope of survival, Ruth finds herself climbing into the mouth of a beached whale alongside a stranger.” Without wanting to sound like a T-Bird, tell me more.

Ruth’s life has become a hamster wheel of alcohol, bed hopping and a sense of something missing. When her latest relationship becomes claustrophobic, she decides to break the monotonous cycle she’s found herself in and travel to New Zealand. Here she hopes to fulfil a childhood dream of working with whales, but apocalypse strikes as soon as she arrives – don’t you hate it when well-laid plans get disrupted? Together with a stranger she meets on the beach, Ruth climbs into the mouth of a beached whale just before the blast hits. This saves her life, but now she has to figure out how to continue living.

This is only half the book, though. Alternating between chapters set in post-apocalyptic New Zealand are fragments of Ruth’s old life and the events that led to her trip. Somehow, there were close parallels between a dystopian world and the everyday routine of a young woman living in London, made sharper by the interwoven timelines. Like all good protagonists, Ruth has many flaws, and this makes her feel real. She makes human mistakes, and despite also building a shelter from whale ribs and making clothes from dried deer hides, her story resonates.

For me, part of this connection came from the book’s setting. I’ve never been to New Zealand, but “the breeze from across the water” and pulling “the salt-stiffened collar of the fleece towards her ears” were familiar sensations. Rather than obvious seaside description, Kate Sawyer uses thoughtful observations of a coastal landscape that essentially apply to any sandy beach in the world. Although my life in England wasn’t nearly so troubled as Ruth’s, I know exactly how being pulled somewhere feels; in her case it was to the whales she’d studied as a child in London’s Natural History Museum. The wonder of that place is something I can definitely relate to.   

Dystopian stories have never interested me much, but I loved The Stranding because it was so much more than that. In fact, the apocalypse element was a back-seat theme for me. I felt that the backbone of the story was a woman’s pursuit of happiness and finding the courage to break a cycle and start a better life. And in Ruth’s case, it’s a life she could never have predicted.


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How to Rest

I’m always looking for ways to restore my wonky work-life balance. We’re all capable of working too hard, but I often teeter on the edge of burnout and as a freelancer I really feel the pressure of having all my responsibilities on my own shoulders. Also, when your home and office are the same place, it’s far too easy to blur the boundaries between work and rest spaces, making switching off even harder.

My mental state is constantly lifting and dipping and this winter has been one of the dips. I’ve struggled to be inspired and have felt exhausted at times, despite sleeping well. I throw myself whole-heartedly into my work, but then it ends up taking over and my body has to force me to stop.

I was messaging my good friend Jeni about this recently and she sent me a post by Nicola Jane Hobbs, who’s a stress and rest researcher. Nicola defines rest as “anything that makes our nervous systems feel safe enough to switch off our stress responses so our minds and bodies can move into a state of recovery, restoration and growth.”

There are many different types of rest and Nicola says we should match them to the kind of stress we’re feeling: “I like to ask myself: What type of stress have I experienced today? What kind of rest do I need? If we’ve been in a loud, overstimulating environment, we can offer ourselves sensory rest with loose clothing and gentle music. If we’ve been busy all day working through our to-do lists, playful rest – romcoms, board games, making pizzas – will help us recover.”

This really resonated with me because my concept of rest had been purely physical. I consider myself lucky that I’m a heavy sleeper, but sleep is only one of the ten distinct types of rest that Nicola outlines in her post:

  • Physical rest – sleep, stretching, mindful movement
  • Mental rest – non-thinking activities eg baking, gardening
  • Emotional rest – crying, journaling, sharing rather than suppressing
  • Psychosocial rest – hugs, solitude, intimacy
  • Sensory rest – soothing scents, loose/cosy clothes, silence
  • Spiritual rest – meditation, prayer, rituals
  • Creative rest – drawing, reading, cake decorating
  • Playful rest – anything fun and unproductive eg watching films, board games
  • Ecological rest – walking, wild swimming, car-free days
  • Altruistic rest – giving without expecting anything in return eg volunteering, random acts of kinds

As much as I try to move away from my to-do list and take breaks, it doesn’t happen as often as it should. Rest isn’t indulgent. It’s not generic either, and should be tailored to our needs.

A big problem area for me is my eyes. If I’d been born a century earlier, I’d have written my book on a typewriter or even by hand. Instead, I spend the majority of each working day staring at a screen and have the headaches to prove it. Using Nicola’s model, I should increase the amount of sensory rest I get, so one of my resolutions for 2023 is to take more breaks with my eyes closed, use a heat mask, and write more by hand. It’s slower, but kinder to my eyes and so much more fulfilling.

Mental health is as important as physical health and I’m pleased it’s gaining more awareness in mainstream media, but there’s still not enough. Making little lifestyle changes like focussing on different types of rest is a way of integrating mindfulness into our daily routines.

I hope you find these tips as useful as I did. Some day maybe I’ll take my own advice and look after myself a little better. One step at a time!

3 Tips for a Healthier Work-Life Balance

I’ve struggled with work-life balance a lot in the past. Freelancing has many advantages, but it’s difficult to leave an office when you live in it. My living and working spaces are blended together and I find it hard to switch off. Weeks have gone by where I haven’t taken a full day off, and sometimes I work long into the evening just to get another job done.

After following this pattern for the past two years, it’s no surprise that I often teeter on the edge of burnout. Earlier this year it got particularly bad. I was exhausted and lost control. Wildlife filled me with dread, not joy. It became almost a chore, linked to deadlines rather than passion.

I realised that wildlife was overwhelming me. I couldn’t even switch off with social media – Facebook and Instagram were plastered in birds. I finally started paying attention to self-care, which up until then had been a luxury rather than a necessity. My work-life balance was shot, but once I was aware of that I could work on sorting myself out.

I kept my little crisis mostly to myself. I certainly didn’t share it publicly – I thought it might make me look unprofessional. But the truth is, mental health is as important as physical health and I knew I shouldn’t bury it. I wouldn’t be alone in this and I thought maybe other freelancers might benefit from my experience.

I want this blog to be honest, and for the past few months it’s been sporadic and a little rose-tinted compared to how I’ve been feeling. As well as the adventures I get up to around Scotland, I want to share tips and advice that might resonate with others. So here goes: three tips for a healthier work-life balance.

1. Celebrate your successes

Freelancing can be lonely. I spend almost all my working week alone and the majority of my projects are my sole responsibility. It’s easy to get swept up in struggles and stresses, but dwelling on the negatives is damaging.

I found this idea on a post by Sarah Townsend from @thecopywritersday – all you have to do is write a list of things that are going well. It can be successes at work but it can also be a great book you’re reading or a morning ritual you enjoy. I tried it and ended up writing more than I expected. Here’s my most recent list:

Some are more frivolous than others, but it doesn’t matter. Concentrating on those wins shifted my perspective and the things stressing me out suddenly looked less intimidating.

2. Find an unrelated hobby

Part of the reason I was burning out was because I was overwhelmed by work. Wildlife is my greatest passion, but it reached a point where I couldn’t go for a walk without taking photos for Instagram. My enjoyment of wildlife was at risk because it had become my entire existence. I needed to do something unrelated so I started embroidery and wild swimming. One is a new skill, the other is great exercise, and neither requires a screen.

Embroidery is naturally repetitive and takes a lot of time, but seeing a piece of art come together one thread at a time is so rewarding. As for swimming, I get a rush of energy every time I take the plunge and it puts me in an entirely new environment. Watching waves ripple at eye level and feeling kelp brush against my stomach were totally new sensations and I was addicted straight away. After each swim or embroidery session, I return to work refreshed and with my love of wildlife still intact!

3. Declutter your surroundings

This is the trickiest of the three for me but it’s something I’m really trying to do more. The most obvious form of clutter is physical. Because I work on lots of different projects at once, I have an unfortunate habit of stacking books, papers and boxes on the floor around my desk and before I know it the carpet’s disappeared. ‘Tidy home, tidy mind’ is a cliché for a reason – it’s pretty accurate. Nowadays I try to work on one project at a time, so there’s less stuff around me at once and I can concentrate more effectively.

Decluttering can also include less tangible things. Scrolling through Instagram is a good example. I’m certainly not trying to suggest boycotting social media, but limiting its use is a good habit to get into. Recently I’ve started having a look at lunchtime and again in the evening when I’ve finished work.

An article on Becoming Minimalist uses a swimming analogy. It’s the idea that when you swim in a river, it’s impossible to catch up with all the water that’s already gone downstream. You simply enjoy the water that surrounds you at that moment, and the same can be said for social media. Have a paddle, then get out of the water. And if you can, have a paddle in actual water because that works wonders!


Freelancing on my own was a huge step up from studying with the support of tutors. I’ve always worked well by myself, but I didn’t realise I’d need to adapt my lifestyle like I have. It’s a constant learning curve, but I’m working on it.

I hope this blog was helpful! Do you have any tips for a healthier work-life balance?

Sixth Birthday


Six years ago today I started On The Wing. In some ways it feels even longer than that, especially when I rummaged through the archive and found my first ever blog post – I was still in school! I had my whole BA ahead of me and little did I know I’d then go onto an MA and move to Scotland.

Here’s the first post from 16th March 2015:

Hi there.

My name’s Rebecca Gibson. I’m currently in my last year of school, hoping to get myself a clutch of A levels so I can go off to university. I’ve accepted Cumbria and plan to study Wildlife Media there. The dream is to be a wildlife photojournalist. Up until this point I’ve mainly worked with still image, but I would love to be a part of a nature documentary one day. I’d also love to contribute images for a magazine like BBC Wildlife and accompany them with written text, hence the journalism side.

I wanted to start a blog for several reasons. The internet is such a fantastic way of showcasing work, especially for a photographer. In seconds we can share our best images with millions of people across the globe. I also wanted to create a public domain so I could express my thoughts on wildlife conservation. For me, photography is a key medium in communicating wildlife issues; it enables the viewer to see exactly what is going on in the world. I think this is a much more effective way of encouraging action when we can see real-life events through the camera lens, instead of written words. The saying really is true: a picture speaks a thousand words.

On this blog I will share images that I take and record any wildlife adventures that I embark on. I will also give my opinion on articles published in BBC Wildlife magazine, which I am subscribed to. I’d love to connect with other keen naturalists and wildlife photographers, both amateur and professional. The best way to evolve your craft is to learn from others. I hope one day to inspire other new photographers.

I want to document my experiences in a journal format and look back on what I achieve in years to come. I’d love to see my work evolve and improve as I learn, not only from my degree but also from the world around me.

I’ll sign off for now, but I can’t wait to get this blog up and running!

Rebecca

Some of the first photos on the blog!


It’s a little cringy to read now – I certainly wouldn’t use “hence” or “embark on” in a blog post anymore, or refer to A Levels as “a clutch”. Although, it’s very satisfying to read that I dreamt of having my work featured in BBC Wildlife magazine, seeing as I now contribute to both the magazine and website!

I’d forgotten just how much my interests have shifted in six years. In my last year of school my main focus was photography. That passion for taking pictures hasn’t left me, but now I would predominantly consider myself a writer who also takes photos to support the articles. Also, photojournalism is the last thing I want to do now! It was during the BA that I grew more towards writing, which is strange because I was one of only two writers amongst a large group of photographers and filmmakers.

My undergraduate degree steered me towards writing, and my postgraduate degree (in Travel and Nature Writing) has helped me narrow my skillset into areas I didn’t anticipate. While most students on the MA are interested in the genre of nature writing that includes Robert Macfarlane, Patrick Barkham and Helen MacDonald, I’m finding myself drawn to a strange combination of fantasy fiction and factual, almost textbook, writing.

Being commissioned to write for Blue Sky Wildlife was a real turning point. As someone whose main focus has been British wildlife for about a decade, I realised I knew next to nothing about the wildlife of Canada, Australia, South America… The list was endless. Writing for Blue Sky gives me the opportunity to discover amazing things about species I’ve never seen. For example, did you know that at the base of a koala’s spine is an area of strong cartilage that acts like a cushion for when sitting on tough branches? Or that brown bears prepare for hibernation by eating as many as 20,000 calories – equivalent to about 30 kilos of apples – in a single day? I certainly didn’t, and I also didn’t know just how much I’d enjoy factual writing until Blue Sky.

Then at the complete opposite end of the spectrum, I’m also drawn to fiction. Philip Pullman and Stephen King in particular have provided a huge amount of inspiration. However, I soon discovered that sharing a fiction idea with anyone before you’ve written it is a sure fire way to sabotage the idea and dry up all creative thought. Now I keep all my fiction close to my chest, but I love having those flickerings of ideas that are so different from my writing commissions.

I enjoyed looking back on that somewhat cringy first post because it’s a reminder of how much has happened since I started the blog. I’m sure a whole lot more will happen in the next six years too, and I can’t wait to see how my writing and photography continue to develop.  

One Year


Today is a special day for me because it’s exactly one year since I moved to Scotland. And what a year it’s been! When I arrived last February I obviously had no idea what was about to go down. Still, I feel so fortunate to have had such a fantastic first year in my new home despite the pandemic. Luckily for me I would choose a forest walk over a pint any day, although I must admit I’ve missed having a good browse in the library.

‘I’ve been in a slump for months,’ I wrote this time last year. ‘So to finally be in a place that inspires and challenges me is both a relief and a privilege.’

Time moves strangely sometimes. It feels like I’ve been here a lot longer than a year and yet the 568 mile drive sticks vividly in my mind. Almost as soon as I crossed the border into Scotland it began to snow. I’d just joined the motorway and every car slowed to 20mph while the world turned white. I interpreted that as some sort of baptism of fire. Or snow I suppose.

When I got here I started making all sorts of plans: volunteering at the Scottish Dolphin Centre, training to be a Shorewatch volunteer for Whale and Dolphin Conservation, joining a writer’s group, finding out about local art exhibitions. But a few weeks later the first lockdown began and we all know how it goes from there. Despite all of that, I’ve still tried to make the most of my time here. I’ve seen loads of new birds, my photography’s come on leaps and bounds and I’ve been making steady progress with writing commissions too.    

This morning I took my dog out for a walk and found myself wandering up to the headland. When I arrived in Scotland this quickly became one of my favourite spots and before long I was watching dolphins, basking sharks and loads of different birds from up there. Today I sat there again and admired the blue blush of sky reflected in the water. It was completely calm – perfect conditions for spotting dolphins. It’s still a few months before dolphin season kicks off though. I love that I know that. After watching and studying the place this year I’ve started to align myself to its natural rhythm. If I glimpse a distant bird on the backshore I know what it is before lifting the binoculars to check. A year ago I hadn’t even heard of turnstones or redshanks – now they’re familiar and welcome sights.  

There’s still a lot of progress to make. I don’t know exactly where I’d like to settle yet, but it won’t be far from where I am. This place has got under my skin in the best way. Although it wasn’t the first year I’d planned, it’s still been one of the best of my life so far and I can’t wait to see what the second year brings.

2020 Wrapped Up


Well that was an interesting one. I always like to write a little summary at the end of each year, reflecting on what I’ve achieved since last Christmas. This year is no exception, but like everyone else on the planet I couldn’t have anticipated what was about to happen when I wrote in my last yearly summary: “I have a great feeling about 2020.”

The truth is, despite the obvious uncertainty and difficulty that came with COVID-19, I’ve actually had a really productive year. I count myself very lucky to have been able to continue plugging away at my writing during lockdown, where I had little choice but to open the laptop and type something. I combined my daily exercise with photography and took some of my best images so far.

It was so much fun keeping a species list for the first time this year, which has since become my “nerd list”. I planned to just keep a record of the birds I saw on the stretch of shoreline by my house but the nerd list soon became a record of everything I saw wherever I went. Now, at the end of the year, I’ve seen 156 different species of bird, mammal, amphibian and fish, including 55 lifer species! If you’re also a nerd then you can see the full list at the end of this post…

My favourite photos of 2020 – all taken in Scotland apart from the orcas in Norway!

The most significant change this year was the move to Scotland. I’d been considering it last year, but it took the company I worked for going into administration and being made redundant to force me to take the leap. And that was the best decision I could have made. I’ve been in Moray for ten months now and I’m here to stay. I could see myself settling a little further south in the Cairngorms National Park – those ancient pinewoods are way too tempting – but living by the sea for the first time has been so special.

I received my first writing commissions at the end of 2019 and this year my portfolio has continued to grow. I was thrilled to be asked to write two book reviews, a TV review and a website article for BBC Wildlife magazine and several of my photos were featured on their social media and online articles. I have also been invited back to the Wild Intrigue family as Writer in Residence and I can’t wait to get more involved with this in 2021.

One of my paintings that accompanied a Wild Intrigue blog

I first met my friend Steve while I was admiring a group of waders on the backshore and he hurtled by in his van shouting “Look up there are dolphins!” Since then we’ve gone on lots of wildlife excursions and I got my first experience of van life. I love the nomadic nature of living in a van – eating breakfast in one place and then being somewhere completely different by dinner. My favourite trip has to be when we journeyed to the west coast in October (between lockdowns) to see the red deer rut. I’ve wanted to hear stags bellowing for ages and this year I succeeded. Friends of ours have a beautiful wood cabin on the edge of a loch, which was the perfect base for a deer photography trip. As well as that, we were visited nightly by badgers and pine martens!

One of my most treasured highlights of the year was Norway, which very nearly didn’t happen but after lots of nail biting I managed to get there. Norway’s restrictions meant we had to quarantine for ten days and get a COVID test that involved a cotton bud going way too far up my nose… It was all worth it though and I’ll never forget the experience. After an incredible first half spent watching northern lights and white tailed eagles soaring over the house, the second half featured my first humpback whales and orcas. I was very happy to have my article and photos from the trip published by Oceanographic magazine too.

Winter is probably my favourite season and I’ve been in a particularly wintery mood this year. As they say, there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothes! I loved wrapping up and seeing both local wildlife and a couple of special visitors. In early December I was very lucky to see some waxwings that had arrived in my local town. I was also fortunate enough to see redwings and fieldfares this winter. My plans to photograph mountain hares in the snow were put on hold when Scotland went into Tier 4 on Boxing Day, but hopefully there will be an opportunity next year.    

After the year we’ve had, I’m a little reluctant to make any New Year’s resolutions but there are some things that are luckily still in my control! Last year I had a real buzz for art and started a nature journal and the Instagram Inktober challenge to keep it up. Sadly these fizzled out and although I still love drawing and painting, it’s my photography that’s really soared this year. When I was living in Hertfordshire I went for months without taking any photos, but since moving to Scotland I’ve used my camera almost daily. I’ve vastly improved my portfolio and take great pride in some of the shots I’ve taken.

Sadly, my trusty old Canon DSLR bit the dust on Christmas Day! So it was time to upgrade. I’ve deliberated over what camera to get next for ages and whether to go mirrorless or not. When Steve recently bought Canon’s latest professional mirrorless – the very swanky R5 – I can’t deny I was won over. The quality is incredible but perhaps the clinching factor was the silent shooting. No mirror means no click, and when it comes to capturing the shyer animals such as deer and otters, camera clicks can spell disaster.

So this week I ordered my own R5 and I can’t wait to see just how much it can improve my work. Although writing is still my main focus, photography has developed into an even greater passion this year and is such a great visual accompaniment to my articles. While I have no idea if I’ll be able to achieve this in our current climate, in 2021 I aspire to photograph my first otters, British orcas and pine martens. No pressure!  

There are some other (some might say more realistic) things I’d like to achieve in 2021:

  • Learn to recognise at least ten tree species – my tree knowledge is pretty shameful and considering I spend all my time in forests this needs to change!
  • Write morning pages every day – lots of writers swear by morning pages and I’d love to try free writing each day and see how it affects my work
  • Have all my writing notes in one place – I have an awful habit of jotting down notes and observations in a dozen different notebooks, so finding something again is hopeless. I want to get more organised and put all my writing in one place moving forward.   

As I write this, snow is falling in quite a dramatic fashion and I’m like a little kid all over again. I’ll probably pass on making snowmen this time, but I can’t wait to see all my furry and feathery neighbours in the new white world. Who knows what will happen in 2021, but all we can do is carry on. The word I chose for myself last year was “improve” and I can say with confidence that I’ve done that. I’ve found where I want to live, earned some money from what I want to do and seen some incredible wildlife.

An excellent year’s progress.

My Top Wildlife Sites

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.

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Goldcrest

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Treecreeper

 

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.

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Puffins

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Razorbill

 

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.

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Cormorant

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Redshank

 

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.

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Beadlet Anemone

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Star Ascidian (a type of sea squirt)

Relocation

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.

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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.

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An Unscheduled Spring

It seems as if spring has come early, and I’m certainly not complaining. For the past few days I’ve been stuck indoors trying (and mostly failing) to write through an infuriating case of The Block. Multiple times I’ve caught myself gazing outside at the gorgeous sunshine, listening to the spring sounds of birds and bees that come drifting through the open window. I decided that it was time for a break, so I arranged to meet my friend Chloé for a walk. Chloé is an artist and writer with a deep love for wildlife like me. She recommended a local patch of woodland that I hadn’t even heard of before. I love discovering new wild places, especially ones I’ve driven or walked past without realising they’re there!

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Heading away from the noise of the road and nearby school, we set off into the park. Chloé pointed out the numerous trees that could be found here, and I was surprised to see such a variety of species in a relatively small area. I’ve always struggled to identify trees, especially during winter when there are no leaves to study, but Chloé said that leaves can actually be a distraction. She showed me the large clumps of hanging seeds that can be found on ash trees, the dark bobbles along the boughs of larches and the vivid red branches of dogwood. There is another delightful clue with dogwood – the buds have two tiny prongs that look a little like Viking helmets. I had no idea that looking at the buds of a tree could help so much when trying to identify it. Hopefully I’ll start to notice these clues more often when I’m out and finally begin to recognise some British trees.

We headed into the open and followed a path that threaded up a hill, giving us a great vantage point over the countryside. A skylark swept across the sky, flying in large undulating dips before settling on the grass. I saw my first cherry blossom of the year: a stunning spray of white blooms that had attracted the attention of dozens of bees. We stood quietly and listened to the steady, buzzing drone as the bees threaded their way between the flowers in search for pollen – an indisputable sound of spring.

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Further down the hill we were just inspecting what we thought was a beech tree when I glanced up and saw a red kite wheeling overhead. We took it in turns watching through the binoculars. It was fascinating to observe the bird’s flight pattern – it moved across the sky in gentle loop-the-loops, following the shape of a tightly coiled telephone cord, all while barely flapping its wings. Its red feathers looked magnificent in the sun, its forked tail silhouetted against the sky.

After the kite had drifted out of sight, we heard a soft clicking noise coming from a nearby evergreen. I started scanning the branches for birds, but Chloé told me that the noise was in fact the pinecones cracking open. It was a surreal sound that I couldn’t quite believe at first. Having always assumed that pinecones opened gradually like flower petals, it was incredible to actually hear them popping as they dispersed their seeds. Apparently, the scales of seed-bearing pinecones flex in response to changes in humidity. When it is warm and dry like it was yesterday, they pop open. In cool, damp conditions, they close up. I found this absolutely fascinating.

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Further on through the park we came across my first butterfly of the year: a stunning comma basking in the sun. With unusual, scalloped edges to its wings, the comma is a master of camouflage, using its mottled colouring to blend seamlessly into dead leaf litter. Its larvae are equally well disguised, with brown and white flecked markings that give them the appearance of bird droppings. This individual was lounging on a leaf with barely a twitch of its wings, allowing us to get lots of photos and observe its beautiful markings up close. Its furry body almost looked iridescent in the sun. After a while it turned round, positioned its rear end over the edge of its perch and released a small black blob before settling again. This was another first, not just of the year but also of my life: watching a butterfly poo!

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Eventually the comma took to the air and fluttered up into the sky. The shadows were lengthening and the warmth was slowly ebbing from the afternoon, so we began to loop back through the park towards Chloé’s house. It was so refreshing to be able to exchange wildlife knowledge with someone. I pointed out birdsong while Chloé helped me with trees. It really is true that walking outside is a form of natural therapy. When I returned home I was inspired to write and reflect on the day. I’ve also been motivated to start up painting again, after seeing some of Chloé’s work. I dug out my watercolours and acrylics and can’t wait to get back outside while spring is here in full force.