A passion for nature

Tag: Wildlife

Haven on our doorsteps

A queen buff-tailed bumblebee hovering low over the ground in search of a nesting hole, while on a nearby ash, a treecreeper spirals its way up the trunk, before flying over in a short undulation to an adjacent tree.

Wonderful and so relaxing to watch; nature going about its business and brimming with spring abundance. But this is neither wooded glade nor forest edge – instead, I’m sitting on a seat in my garden, soaking-up its wildness and beauty.

For those of us lucky enough to have a garden during the coronavirus lockdown, then it is a wild sanctuary we must all appreciate for the sake of our mental wellbeing.  In many instances, a garden can contain more diversity of life over a small piece of ground than a similar area of wild land. If you don’t own a garden, any local park or urban green space will hold a similar variety of wildlife to enjoy.

Think a typical garden, then think open lawn, flowering shrubs, perhaps a hedge, and certainly numerous nooks and crannies in the paving stones for invertebrates to seek shelter. A blackbird could be nesting in that laurel, or a dunnock in the berberis. And then there is the miracle of those daisies that keep on popping back into their white-flowering magnificence each time the lawn is cut.

My garden is small, but I love it like no other place in the world, for there is so much to see. In recent days, I’ve seen comma butterflies with their vibrant colour and scalloped wing-edges, blue tits prospecting a nest box, and a little bee-fly with an impossibly long proboscis hovering in the air.

As dusk takes hold, I prowl the garden like a restless soul looking for flitting bats and scuttling hedgehogs. And, as night falls, I’m reluctant to head indoors, such is the peace and tranquillity of this gentle blanket of darkness.

One garden bird which has become a great favourite of mine over the last few weeks is the woodpigeon. They are so charismatic, and it is wonderful to watch their courtship. Sometimes the male flies above the garden in a wide looping flight, clapping his wings together on the highest part of his trajectory, as if to say to a nearby female – look at me, I’m the perfect mate.

At other times, the male and female sit together on the bough of a sycamore as he gently nibbles her neck. They have now built a nest in the neighbour’s ornamental conifer, and every so often, the female will appear by the edge of its green embrace, to watch the world’s happenings down below whilst having a short rest from the chores of incubating eggs.

Woodpigeons are ubiquitous and one of those creatures we tend to take for granted, but by taking a closer look, a most fascinating bird is unveiled that enthrals at every turn.

Opportunity knocks

It’s all about finding the right opportunity – and this pair of red-breasted mergansers fishing close to the shore at St Cyrus had certainly found that.

Despite the air being still, rolling breakers were crashing into the shore with some ferocity. But the power of the surge had created a small protective sand bar a short distance further out, which in turn provided a calm channel close to the beach.

It was here the mergansers fished, a good spot for catching small flounders, and where gulls had also gathered close to the water’s edge. I’m not a regular enough visitor to St Cyrus to know whether this narrow channel is always there, but I suspect not, for the coast here is such a dynamic environment, constantly scoured by the tidal currents, wave-topped seas and the outpourings from the nearby River North Esk.

I was here bright and early, the sun just having risen above the far horizon and there was not a soul about. The mergansers fished for several more minutes, the pair frequently diving together in unison. I wondered if there was teamwork going on here, with both sweeping the shallow channel in a broad front so as to flush out flatfish buried in the sand.

On the distant cliffs, fulmars prospected their nesting ledges and a short while later a stonechat alighted on the branch of a washed-up tree trunk right in front of me, before flitting away across the sand-dunes.  This was wildness at its best, but it was time to go, for I was keen to explore nearby Johnshaven.

Bur shortly after drawing away from the St Cyrus nature reserve visitor centre, I brought my car to a juddering halt. A grassy field adjacent to the lane was full of curlews, their long-curved bills silhouetted against the low winter sun. It had been a while since I had seen so many of these wonderful birds together at one time, content in the company of their own kind as they busily probed for worms.

Curlew numbers are in freefall, resulting in the bird being described as ‘the most pressing bird conservation priority in the UK’, and as I drove away once more, I pondered for how much longer it would still be possible to witness such large groups as this.

Just as how the mergansers had found opportunity at St Cyrus, then so too had a pair of turnstones I discovered  soon after on the quay at Johnshaven. Turnstones adore fishing harbour quaysides, presumably because there is shellfish detritus left behind by fishers after landing their catch.

These attractive little waders breed in the Arctic, and are clearly opportunists too, seeking out good places to forage in winter before embarking upon their daunting migration back north. But then again, many creatures are opportunists in their own way, but as the plight of the curlew shows, that doesn’t always ensure survival in a rapidly changing natural world.

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