I will start off with a confession. I have without doubt been absolutely hopeless with this blog recently! Life has been super busy of late, and still is. There’s not much sign of anything changing just yet, but there have been some certain goings on very close to home that I was determined to keep you all posted on.
Just this month, I have been fortunate enough to move into the stunning Derwent Valley area of north east England. It has been a lifelong dream of mine to have a garden, of any sort really, not to mention one with broadleaf woodland out the back of it. Well, here I am and although the garden is nowhere close to the wildlife haven I’d one day like it to be, there has been some flabbergasting encounters with the local fauna even in this very short space of time.
The winter up north this year has been hugely impacted by storm Arwen, with a colossal amount of trees down, and as I write this, a new storm - Malik has brought its gale force winds right back to my doorstep. I’m not sure which is more surprising, the fact that the Ash lining the burn beyond the garden are still standing, or that the numerous Red Kites above are today managing to hold steady in the brutally strong winds, looking as elegant and kite-like as ever.
The snow-dusted cone of a fallen Cedar of Lebanon limb brought down by storm Arwen.
The Lower Derwent Valley was one of the original reintroduction sites for the Red Kite way back in 2004 and they have flourished in the area ever since. To see them swooping down past the house and perching in the Beech tree at the bottom of the garden is frankly incredible. Never did I think I would be writing these words about my own home.
I am yet to capture this majestic, rusty-red raptor by lens, but I am hell-bent on doing so. Their ‘whistle’ call resonating through the deciduous trees is an enchanting sound, and it is has been fascinating to observe the sheer lack of interest shown by songbirds in the garden as the kites soar above. The Red Kite is a scavenger and mainly a carrion feeder and our garden birds have evolved to recognise their far larger relatives are of virtually no threat. Red Kites can often be seen pulling up the humble earthworm from the soil, much like some of our common songbirds like the Blackbird.
A brighter than usual winter walk this year.
Being surrounded by woodland is a dream come true for me and I have been insistent on making the most of it, despite being preoccupied with the house renovation. Recent discoveries have included some truly enigmatic invertebrates - a Bronze Ground Beetle and one of my absolute favourites (although, I accidentally woke this one up from its overwintering) the Black-spotted Longhorn Beetle. For anyone who feels that they would like to pay bugs a little more attention and respect, look no further than starting with these two.
Phenomenal specimens!
A flamboyant Bronze Ground Beetle (Carabus nemoralis).
The striking anatomy of a Black-spotted Longhorn Beetle (Rhagium mordax).
I am very much hoping that critters like this from the nearby woodlands will amble in the direction of my garden, and to aid this I have constructed a large pile of deadwood stumps and stems in a shaded corner. Birch, Oak, Beech and Hazel have been stacked and dug into the ground to give a good mix of habitat for a whole host of invertebrates as they slowly deteriorate and decay.
Some of the first additions to the house, and I am not expecting anyone to be remotely surprised here, revolved around wildlife. I have planted apple, cherry, Guelder Rose and Rowan trees, put up bat boxes just beneath the eaves, a swift box with another to follow, tit boxes, Robin nesting habitat in one of Beech hedges, a dead-hedge and a couple of bug hotels for good measure. Not to mention the all important hedgehog hibernation shelter. The intention is to make this patch of land a perfect blend of native flora species, bustling with an array of incredible wildlife. My plans for the spring are to convert around a quarter of the inherited lawn into wildflower meadow. If that works, there will be more! There will be no mowing of this grass down to a millimetre of its life, that is for sure.
Today though, amongst the madness of storm Malik, this morning as I went outside to pick up a few smashed plant pots, a small white gem caught my eye. A single, solitary Snowdrop stood almost motionless, unperturbed by the swirling winds. Certainly a sign which I welcome each year without hesitation.
The times they are a-changin'.
One of my new bat roost boxes, with a hedgerow running from it to the woods.
A defiant Snowdrop.
Since yesterday lunchtime, I have been taking part in the RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch and if you have anytime tomorrow at all, I would encourage you to have a go yourself. Not only is it great fun, it provides valuable data and is a wonderful example of just how effective citizen science can be.
So far I have recorded Nuthatches, Dunnocks and Tree Sparrows to name a few, and I am still holding out for a Long Tailed Tit or Great Spotted Woodpecker, but just as I was kicking back with a brew and binoculars I remembered that last night I set my trail camera on a stump near the pond.
We decided to dig in a pond a couple of months back, mainly just to get a head start for spring so that we can watch it evolve when the time comes. Whilst I was quietly confident that birds would use it fairly quickly for bathing and preening, there was one visitor that I could never have really expected to show up, nor so promptly. The visitor in question arrived almost immediately after the pond was first filled and frequently returned for refreshment in the forthcoming days. However, I know all too well just how unpredictable wildlife can be at times, especially when you are really trying to see it. I actually hadn’t managed to see him for a little while now.
But guess what. I’ve just checked the footage, and here it is.
If you build it, they will come.
