Traditional Flora of Yule

December 21, 2021March 7, 2023 | Rebecca Gibson

I’ve always loved winter the most. It might be because I’m a December baby, or because I love snow, ice and winter wildlife – there’s just something special about the dark half of the year. After a summer slump, my motivation begins to grind again in autumn and by winter I’m raring to go.

Today is the winter solstice, which marks the longest night of the year. From now on the days will start to lengthen. I know a lot of people struggle with these short, darker days, but with the winter solstice come exciting prospects for the new year and a clean slate to begin again. For me this is a time of possibility. There may be darkness now but the light is slowly returning.

I’m interested in the pre-Christian traditions surrounding the winter solstice, or Yule. Many of these old traditions are still familiar to us today, in particular those associated with wild plants.

HOLLY

One of several protective evergreens, holly has been a significant part of Yule tradition for thousands of years. The Druids regarded it as the sacred king of winter – while other plants withered during the cold months, holly continued to flourish.

As a result, the prickly plant became a symbol of renewal and rejuvenation, maintaining high spirits through winter. Many ancient Europeans brought holly into the home as protection – its spikes were said to repel unwanted spirits and bring good luck.

red berry plant — Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

IVY

The Druids considered ivy to be the queen to holly’s king. Also an evergreen that endures challenging environments and keeps its colour all year, ivy is symbolic of endurance and promise.

Thought to possess magical qualities, it was hung in the home to bring luck in the spring. Ivy is especially significant because it grows in a spiral, reflecting the Wheel of the Year.

green leafed plant — Photo by Lum3n on Pexels.com

MISTLETOE

This plant is typically hung from the ceiling and its magical properties come from the belief that it exists between two worlds: sky and earth. It is cut carefully to ensure that it doesn’t touch the ground.

Mistletoe has long been regarded as a symbol of freedom. Ancient Europeans believed it was a sign of peace, and any time warring Celtics found it in the forests, they would honour the plant and drop their weapons. Today, mistletoe is less of a white flag of surrender, but we still honour it with compassion by sharing a kiss!

four pine cones on top of brown wooden surface — Photo by Jessica Lynn Lewis on Pexels.com

YULE TREES

Evergreens such as fir and spruce were seen as signs of eternal prosperity. They were symbols of optimism and freshness even in unforgiving environments. By bringing their branches – and more recently, the whole trees – inside during Yule, it was believed that evergreens could enliven and invigorate the home in preparation for the coming year.

Yule is a time to rest and reflect, which is especially important after a year like this one. I hope you have a warm and restful time with family and friends!

Autumn Colours

September 11, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

I was back in the wood this week, helping Joan and John with their restoration project. The forecast blatantly lied about there being no rain all day, but luckily we timed our visit with a brief spell of sunshine! The breeze brought the added benefit of whisking the midges away. After topping up the feeders we had a slice of Joan’s delicious homemade ginger and sultana cake and watched the chaffinches and great tits up in the trees.

One good thing about the rain is it brings up all sorts of fungi – with so much soggy soil and plenty of log stumps I knew there would be loads to see in a few days’ time. For now though, I amused myself with tiny sprigs of yellow stagshorn fungus that were just starting to emerge. I’ve been lucky enough to see several fly agarics already this year but I’ve got my fingers crossed that more will be popping up in the wood soon.

The autumn colours are really beginning to pop. Ling heather is still dominating the woodland floor but a lot of the saplings are shining in the sun too. The rowans are beginning to brown, the oak leaves are turning acid green and the wild cherry leaves are burning a vivid pink. It’s an excellent place to learn tree ID and with Joan’s help I’m already picking up on some of the common species.

As I watched a buzzard gliding overhead, Joan ventured off to pick the first blackberries and the last raspberries. There were a few apples which were ready to be plucked too. I’m in love with all the rich colours and can’t wait to see what the true autumn will bring!

My Top Wildlife Sites 2

March 31, 2020May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

After sharing four of my top wildlife sites in the UK I began to think of more and more, so here are another set of places that everyone should visit. Read on for dwarf pansies, red squirrels, white-tailed eagles and a particularly spectacular murmuration.

Isles of Scilly

It sounds like an exaggeration but the Isles of Scilly really are incredible. I chose Scilly as the location for my final major project during my undergraduate degree and spent six days wandering through remote and near-tropical landscapes. Despite only being 28 miles from Cornwall, Scilly is so separate from mainland life that many of its species have evolved differently. The blackbirds have blood orange bills instead of their usual tangerine, wrens sing different songs and some plants are found nowhere else in the UK but on those few scattered islands.

I was there to try and find the dwarf pansy, a flower so tiny that the petals barely cover a little fingernail. By some miracle I found it, but Scilly also surprised me with its dramatic geology, impressive bird life and scorching temperatures. I didn’t have time to visit all the islands, but Bryher was by far my favourite. As well as the dwarf pansy, I found the furious waves of Hell Bay (the name is no coincidence), swarms of dog violet blooms and beaches impossible to describe without using clichés. I’ve promised myself I’ll go back to Scilly, not only to tick off the other islands but to just spend time in a place with barely any roads, air so clean that lichens bloom on almost every tree, and plants so special that crazy students travel hundreds of miles to find them.

Eskrigg Nature Reserve

My mum had never seen a red squirrel before I took her to Eskrigg Nature Reserve. I’d been spoilt rotten there; after only two visits I’d seen about ten squirrels foraging six feet in front of me. Eskrigg is an exceptionally special place, managed by an exceptionally special person. I made a short documentary about Jim Rae for a university assignment and learnt just how much he has done not only for the reserve but also the community in Lockerbie.

As well as red squirrels, I have spent hours watching bramblings, great-spotted woodpeckers, siskins and even a female mandarin duck on a rare visit. When my parents came to see me I took them straight to Eskrigg. While Dad occupied the dog, I sat with Mum outside the hide (no need to sit inside with such laid-back wildlife) and waited less than twenty minutes before squirrels were bounding and chasing right under our boots. My mum had the same look of complete adoration on her face that I did the first time I saw them. There are certain animals that make a person’s mouth fall open and demands all their attention. Red squirrels do this effortlessly.

Isle of Carna

I could write pages about Carna. I went there in 2016 on an expedition with Wild Intrigue to leave technology behind and rewild myself. Carna is situated in Loch Sunart on the west coast of Scotland. We spent five days staying in one of two cottages on the entire island, which is let out to people looking for a break in complete seclusion. Even the deer have to swim to get there, which is certainly an unusual sight.

This was my first real foray into Scottish wilderness, and I couldn’t have asked for better guides. I didn’t know Heather and Cain well then, but they have since become good friends who have not only taught me most of what I know about wildlife, but have given me amazing opportunities, not least a year long internship as their Creative Content Developer.

During my stay on Carna I saw my first otter, cuckoo, golden eagle and white-tailed eagles. You know you’re in a truly wild place when white-tailed eagles become a regular occurrence after the first couple of days. We found common blennies, butterfish and dog whelks in rock pools, caught a female wood mouse in a live-capture Longworth trap and recorded foxes, roe deer and voles on trail cameras. It was a crash course in wildlife fieldcraft that showed me just how diverse Scotland is, and will always be remembered fondly as my first true wildlife trip.

Avalon Marshes

Before our trip to Avalon Marshes, my time in Somerset had been windy, soggy and cold, so I wasn’t feeling particularly inspired when we arrived just as more rain was spotting my face. We headed along the river and took our position looking out over a reed bed. Forty minutes later, I was trying not to fall backwards as I watched 250,000 starlings swirling over my head. I’d never seen a starling murmuration before, and I was being thoroughly spoilt with my first experience. Not only starlings but a merlin, marsh harrier and peregrine falcon trying to snatch a meal, as well as a grey heron that chose the wrong time to take flight and found itself in a starling storm.

As majestic as murmurations look on TV, they are nothing compared to the real thing. The sound of that many starlings flying over your head is like soft rain, which is amplified by cupping a hand around your ear. I had my mouth hanging open like a cartoon character the entire time, scarcely believing the swarming shapes I was seeing. It was like a static screen come alive. Eventually, the starlings swooped down to roost, almost at the same time. The reed bed became a seething frenzy of voices and the sky was empty again.

A Charm of Bramblings

February 4, 2019February 7, 2021 | Rebecca Gibson

With the bitter cold of winter often come unexpected and welcome surprises. Two years ago, flocks of waxwings graced us with their presence as they passed through from Scandinavia. The following year, hawfinches could be seen crunching hard seeds with their formidable bills. In 2019, it seems to be bramblings that are turning heads as they gather en masse across the UK. While they have been known to breed in Scotland in previous years, this is very rare. However, bramblings often visit the UK during the winter months, with this year being no exception.

At a quick glance, bramblings could easily be mistaken for a male chaffinch; these birds are of the same size and have very similar colouration, if a little more diluted than our more common garden inhabitants. Both male and female bramblings have an attractive orange blush on their sides and a white belly. In summer, males have black markings on their head. Bramblings can be found in beech woodland and close to other wooded areas, often joining flocks of chaffinches to look for food. Like many finches, bramblings prefer seed, so providing a good seed mix could attract them into gardens. There are several collective nouns for finches, including a “charm”, “company” and “trembling”. I couldn’t find a specific term for a gathering of bramblings, but as the birds themselves are so charming to look at, a “charm” seems appropriate.

It is thought that the reason behind this year’s explosion of bramblings is beech mast, or fruit, that falls from the trees, dispersing seeds for the birds to eat. If the beech mast fails in European countries such as Scandinavia, species including bramblings will move south and west in vast flocks to find more food. While impressive gatherings of five hundred bramblings can currently be seen in areas of the UK, earlier in January there was a flock of around five million in Slovenia. This number of birds could seem difficult to comprehend, but even that pales in comparison to the flock seen in Switzerland in the winter of 1951, which was up to 70 million strong.

As with all winter visitors, the bramblings’ time here could be short. Despite the plummeting temperatures, wrap up warm and head outside to find some of these beautiful finches. For more information on wildlife winter sightings, check out the BBC Winterwatch page. I for one would love to see a charm of bramblings before the winter wanes.

2018 Wrapped Up

January 3, 2019December 24, 2019 | Rebecca Gibson

December was quite a dry month for me in terms of inspiration, so I apologise for the distinct lack of posts over the past few weeks. It is high time for some fresh writing, but before beginning anything new in 2019, I wanted to reflect on the progress I made in 2018.

Last year began with my first breakup. After having seen and spent time with a person almost every day and now suddenly being faced with the possibility of never seeing them again, I suffered quite a knock. My inspiration took a significant slump at a time when I needed it most: the launch of my final major assignment at university.

Determined not to let a relationship affect my work, I applied for a grant to help fund an expedition. I had a whacky idea about going to the Isles of Scilly, which at the time seemed a very far-off venture and logistically challenging to say the least. However, after presenting to a panel of judges I was granted enough money to completely cover travel and accommodation. It took a while to come to terms with the fact that the Scilly expedition was really happening.

It was just the solution I needed for my slump. Spending six days in near-complete wilderness with a list of images to take was a perfect and rewarding distraction. I was filled with exciting ideas for my project – a study on the rare and unique flora of Scilly, including the dwarf pansy which is the size of a baby fingernail and found nowhere else in the UK. I was so fascinated by Scilly’s diverse wildlife and intriguing ecosystems, and I never wanted the trip to end. It is a place I will now treasure, as it helped me through a very difficult time, not to mention providing a huge boost to my confidence. I had funded, planned and carried out a full expedition single-handedly, and returned with a great story to tell. Following the trip was my last exhibition at university, and my project was received well. I even made some money from my photographs, which was an unexpected bonus.

Before I knew it, it was time to finish my degree. I picked up my life in Cumbria and brought it back home to Hertfordshire, where I (foolishly) thought that I would land a job straight away. This wasn’t to be the case, but what followed instead was a truly life-changing experience: an internship in Florida.

I didn’t really know what to expect when I was invited for a two-month internship in America to work with SEZARC. I knew they worked with zoos to monitor their animals and help facilitate breeding, but I didn’t know where I would fit in with a media background. I went simply with the aim of learning as much as I could about a completely new field and enjoying the opportunity to contribute to wildlife conservation.

I’d never been abroad on my own before, nor had I been outside of Europe before. Upon arrival, I was hit by extreme panic triggered by a strange new place, having to drive a car in a strange new place, and the fear that this had all been a terrible mistake. However, after a very careful car journey from the airport and arriving unscathed at my accommodation, I was filled with perhaps a disproportionately large sense of achievement. My small victory spurred me on, and after a few more shaky days, I found my rhythm.

Two months later, I was torn between wanting to see my family and friends back home, and wanting to stay a little longer with my new friends in Florida. I had loved the work I did with SEZARC, which was varied and fascinating. I also fulfilled a dream of mine, even if just for a little while: I’d learned to ballroom dance, and met the most kind and welcoming people. Back home in England, I truly realised what an incredible time I’d had in America.

And it wasn’t over. Later in the autumn, I caught up with my friends at SEZARC and was asked to produce their annual report of their progress this year. It is work that I thoroughly enjoy, and I’m so pleased that SEZARC want to keep me involved.

So, moving forwards. The past year has taught me so much, not just about work but also about myself. In all honesty I have no idea what 2019 will bring. I’m hoping a job, but in the meantime I want to continue writing and learning new things (next up is the guitar!) I have the tendency of being anxious without a strategic plan, but after this year I’ve discovered that you just can’t know where twelve months will take you. A year ago today, I had no idea I would soon be journeying to America by myself, nor was I remotely aware that my relationship was about to end. All through school it’s easy to know what’s next: the following year up. There is no mystery, not even after you finish school. For me, the choice was easy and I was going to university. Now that’s over too, and I’m trying not to be daunted by the unknown because as I’ve found out this last year, the unknown can be incredible.

Exhibition Launch!

May 31, 2018May 3, 2022 | Rebecca Gibson

The past few weeks have been fairly frantic, with preparations for my final showcase in full swing. Campus has been a buzz of activity as we all work on exhibiting our major projects and making them look their absolute best. After creative brainstorming and purchasing countless items and decorative pieces, I have finally finished my display and couldn’t be more proud of it.

The exhibition will be held at the Vallum Gallery in Carlisle, Cumbria from the 1st to 8th of June. It’s a beautiful space to display work, especially photography where good lighting is so important. As the main part of my project was a printed photo book, I have also mounted a collage frame of snapshots from my expedition to the Isles of Scilly. To find out what I got up to during my time on Scilly, have a read of the start of my journey to this stunning archipelago.

If you are interested in purchasing a copy of the photo book, or perhaps a few greetings cards of my photography, please don’t hesitate to get in touch with me at contact@rebeccaonthewing.com and I would be more than happy to provide more information.

Signs of Spring

February 3, 2018February 1, 2018 | Rebecca Gibson

Here is a piece I wrote for ‘A Focus on Nature’, the UK’s Youth Nature Network, where I’ve already met some really interesting writers, photographers and artists. I’m also very proud to say I’ve just been shortlisted for the AFON Pictures of the Week 2017. If you’d like to vote for my photography, follow the instructions on this link. Thank you!

“It is a moment of quickening, of rebirth. The old, lovely story: life surging back, despite everything, once again. However spring finds you – birdsong, blossom or spawn – it is a signal: the earth turning its ancient face back to the sun.” Melissa Harrison

One afternoon as I arrived home from a university lecture I stood at the living room window and peered out into the garden as I always do. As usual, the birdseed I had put out the evening before had already gone, polished off by jackdaw and sparrow alike. Today, however, there was a crucial and very welcome difference – the appearance of the first snowdrops of the year. They were very young, still curled up tight in stiff buds, but I knew before long they would be hesitantly opening, their petals tiny white flags signalling the slow beginning of spring.

As January draws to a close, the temperature lifts and although the winter rains usually persist, our gardens are brightened by the tentative emergence of wildflowers. Bold snowdrops have led the way, but soon to follow are yellow and early (purple) crocuses, bringing a splash of colour to the repetitive greens of the lawn. Amongst all this emerging beauty is perhaps the true star of spring: the bluebell. A delicate flower more violet than blue; even one alone is a welcome sight after the biting winds and downpours of winter, but a carpet of bluebells is enough to take your breath away.

Two years ago, back home in Hertfordshire, I was stood in a patch of woodland that had long been heralded as a haven for bluebells. I surveyed the scene from a respectable distance, knowing I’d cause significant damage if I strayed from the worn path. The ocean was vast, spanning far in each direction. Together, the bluebells looked like a single blue blanket coating the tree roots, but up close each bell waved independently, and my romantic imagination gave them the quiet tinkling chime of their namesake.

Aside from wildflowers, there are plenty more indications that spring is almost here, from birds to bees to rather odorous plants.

The gathering warmth of February rouses overwintering insects, such as the greenbottle fly, whose unappreciated beauty is something quite wonderful to see up close, even if they’re not always welcome buzzing around indoors.
Early breeding birds such as rooks will be seen gathering nesting material in preparation for the arrival of their broods. The first eggs will appear around early March, so be sure to look out for rookeries high up in the trees and listen for the constant chatter of busy parents-to-be.
One of my favourite spring sounds is the buzz of a busy bumblebee. As wildflowers expose their nectar, bees are quick to make use of the opportunity to gather it in the early part of the season.
The heady scent of wild garlic will soon be filling the air. A walk through my local park often includes a good whiff of this pungent but flavoursome plant. Note: wild garlic is similar in appearance to lily of the valley, which is poisonous, so if in doubt please do not forage to eat.

Spring is undoubtedly a time of rejuvenation – an opportunity to shake off the January blues and be inspired by the emerging life outside. As many of us live in towns and cities, it can be difficult to notice these subtle changes in such busy urban environments. This only emphasises how important it is to stop and look, just for a moment, and you’ll notice that however our world changes, nature will always persevere.

Winter Flora

December 15, 2017December 13, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

Chances are, everyone has seen that Christmas is coming. Holly adorns the cards, wreaths hang on the front door and trees are being dragged into the house. Christmas traditions have been part of our culture for many years, but why do we follow them? I wanted to find out, so get yourself another mince pie and discover why exactly certain flora have become such icons of the festive period.

Holly

Holly has been a significant part of Christmas tradition for many thousands of years. The Druids regarded it as the king of winter. It was sacred; while other plants withered during the cold months, holly continued to flourish. As a result, the prickly plant became a symbol of renewal and rejuvenation, maintaining high spirits throughout the difficult winter. Many ancient Europeans brought holly into the home as protection, to ward off ill omens and bring good luck.

Holly also has religious connotations. Early Christians associated the prickly leaves as a crown of thorns and the bright berries as drops of the blood of Christ. According to legends, holly berries were originally white, but were stained red when Christ was crucified.

Ivy

The Druids considered ivy to be the queen to holly’s king. Also an evergreen that endures challenging environments and keeps its healthy green all year, ivy is symbolic of endurance and promise. Thought to possess magical qualities, it was hung in the home to bring luck in the spring.

For a time, ivy was banished by Christians during the festive period because it was able to grow in shade, which was considered a symbol of secrecy and deceit. However, this tradition soon wore off and ivy became a firm part of Christmas culture again.

Mistletoe

Mistletoe has long been regarded as a symbol of freedom – perhaps why it’s suspended rather magically in mid air. Ancient Europeans believed it was a sign of peace, and any time warring Celtics found it in the forests, they would honour the plant and drop their weapons. Today, mistletoe is less of a white flag of surrender, but we still honour it with compassion by sharing a kiss!

Christmas trees

Once again, Christmas trees (typically fir) are evergreens, so were seen as signs of eternal prosperity. They were a symbol of optimism and freshness even in unforgiving environments. By bringing its branches – and more recently, the whole tree – into the home during the Christmas period, it was believed that the evergreen could enliven and invigorate in preparation for the coming year.

So as you are decorating your home with beautifully smelling natural plants this December, remember why exactly they are there and how long these sacred traditions have endured!

Bike Ride in the Woods

September 29, 2017September 28, 2017 | Rebecca Gibson

Another visit to one of my favourite wildlife places: Watchtree Nature Reserve. Zahrah and I hired bikes and set off through the reserve, taking a leisurely ride away from the hubbub of the café and car park to the quieter open fields and woodland.

The lake was fairly busy. A pair of Mute Swans and their two cygnets glided silently to and fro in one corner, shaking heads and rustling feathers. The youngsters were almost fully grown, their juvenile grey foliage blending to pristine adult white. When one stretched his wings, bright white armpits showed. Elsewhere on the lake, three Tufted Ducks were feeding, golden eyes blinking as they came up for air. A lone Little Grebe dived under the water and popped up again several metres away. As agile as a fish, the tiny bird curled its body and slipped silently beneath the surface.

Suddenly, as I was scanning the feeders for any birds joining the Tree Sparrows already tucking into the feast, my eye caught on a brown shape nestled amongst the grass. From my vantage point on the top storey of the hide I could see the Brown Hare perfectly as it chewed, hunkered down. I called in a hushed whisper to Zahrah, who’d been watching the pond from the bottom level, and she darted up to see.

The hare was beautiful, with rich, brown streaked fur and piercing eyes. Its ears were pinned tightly to its nape, in an attempt to remain as inconspicuous as possible, but the creature was still brave enough to forage out of the cover of the long grass. We watched it for a few minutes, before it turned and hopped back into the grass. After waiting a while to see if it would re-emerge any closer, we accepted our hare was long gone.

Leaving the lake behind, we looped around the reserve and cycled back through the woods. Once again, I was distracted by fungi, and Zahrah amused herself while I crawled around on the floor with my camera. Today, as always, there was plenty to see. A huge troop of Stump Puffballs (Lycoperdon pyriforme, the only British Lycoperdon to grow exclusively on wood) stood to attention on a fallen log, their portly bodies stood side by side.

**Stump Puffball** *(Lycoperdon pyriforme)*

The delicate Candlesnuff fungus (Xylaria hypoxylon) stretched out of the wood, tiny black spindles dipped in white. Just as I had finally put away my camera and climbed back on the bike, I was greeted by three Shaggy Inkcaps (Coprinus comatus) stood on either side of the path like security guards. I hadn’t seen this fungus since autumn last year so it was a treat to photograph them again, and provided a satisfying end to our cycle in the woods.