If you are no newcomer to my blog, you will have a fair idea of how much I obsess over spring. I yearn for those verdant, sun-dappled days surrounded by that frantic mash-up of birdsong and buzzing insects. This year however, has been a little different in terms of the usual spring awakening of life and re-emergence. Since my Dipping into Spring post, spring up north has been a lethargic, intermittent slow starter with a constant yet consistent pattern of sun, sleet, hail and frost. Rain, thankfully has just recently arrived for the first time in weeks, but with it, the sunshine seems to have finally transpired. Following the series of interruptions, it was surely time for a comeback.
All of this upheaval can’t have helped our already struggling wildlife, but the last few days have been shaping up just as they should be and I have stumbled across some of the typical vibrant colour palettes and cacophonies of sound that you’d expect to experience at this time of year. This, coupled with some thrilling wildlife encounters from County Durham to the Scottish borders has prompted me to share some of my favourite seasonal highlights to date with you.
Survey season at work is now in full flow and I have been involved with Willow Tit, Otter and Newt surveys recently. The latter are truly fascinating little creatures, and it has been an absolute joy to spend time identifying our three native species - Great Crested, Smooth and Palmate throughout this breeding season. All uniquely different in the detail, their colours, behaviours and intricacies are wonderful to watch. They have been worth every minute of the early morning rises! When the survey season draws to a close in a couple of months time, I aim to write a piece based solely around these extraordinary amphibians and their captivating life cycle.
A weekend of late April, early morning Otter surveys not only provided an assortment of tracks and signs (see my recent youtube video for more on this) but it also gifted me with an unexpected encounter with a snoozing Roebuck, several hurtling Hares, a Greylag Geese gaggle and one of my favourite passerine birds - the Treecreeper.
Deer in the headlights.
Early morning Newt surveys.
Brown Hare standing proud.
Greylag Geese congregating near the river.
Roebucks drop (cast) their antlers over winter, and they will grow back over the subsequent months. This bucks (above) antlers are covered with a furry skin known as velvet, which stays on the antlers until they are fully grown. As the antlers grow, the velvet becomes increasingly itchy, and you may often see the male deer rubbing at them as a result. The bucks will usually have ‘clean’ antlers by April, and as this one doesn’t, this could signify a younger buck, as older males tend to drop and shed their antlers earlier than others. We are just coming into the period where young Roes (kids) are born, so keep your eyes peeled!
A recent walk in county Durham showed me a clear sign of Roe Deer presence, and a fairly easy one to look out for. Following a track along a wire fence, I noticed a tangle of hair caught in the wire coils. There aren’t many animals that can jump a fence line like this, but a Roe can do so with ease. Close by I found a pile of the hair, which will no doubt be the remnants of a springtime moult. The light, then dark hair with buff-coloured tips is a distinct giveaway as to who has been passing through here on a regular basis.
Continuing with the rambling theme, next I found myself wandering along the Alwin in Northumberland, and managed to see my first Sand Martins of the year. I love watching these birds. After overwintering in Africa, they return to our shores in early summer to nest in their burrows along river banks. Their flight patterns are strangely reminiscent of a bat and it is a real treat to observe them hunting over the water. Along this patch I was lucky enough to come across Reed Bunting, Grey Wagtail, Meadow Pipits, Oystercatchers, and much to my absolute delight, a pair of nesting Dippers. I could watch them all day, and as I sat on the riverside watching the pair collecting nesting materials I was able to truly just be in the moment, fully immersed in the nature around me. A nesting box had been put under a small bridge on the river. It is always amazing to see land owners being nature friendly. Birds are nesting everywhere at the moment, pairing up, squabbling and displaying, and it is an absolute wonder to behold. Nothing says spring quite like this. I had been given the quiet reassurance that I was after - now in the know that my favourite season was beginning to tick along nicely again, despite the vastly temperamental northern climate.
Blue Tit (Cyanistes caeruleus) nesting in an old tree wound.
A helping hand for the Dippers. An open-fronted box fitted under a bridge. Just needs a lining now.
Another incredible jaunt up the coast to the Scottish Borders this week emphasised just how quickly the colours will come, with just a little sun. Spring flora has well and truly sprung, flourishing along the woodland paths and riversides. A lot of trees aren’t yet in full leaf, which gives certain plants the perfect opportunity to harness as much energy as possible, before the ground is shaded out in the very near future. The woodland rides were swarming with Red Campion, Greater Stitchwort, Forget-Me-Nots, Violets and White Dead-Nettle. Blankets of viridescent Dog’s Mercury as far as the eye can see and the smell of Ramsons and Hedge Mustard in the air was unmistakeable. Tens of Orange Tip butterflies flitted about along with the occasional Green-veined White and Hoverfly all adding to the magic. An enchanting sight if ever there was one.
Greater Stitchwort (Stellaria holostea) flowering en masse.
A Green-veined White (Pieris napi) Butterfly perching on Red Campion (Silene dioica).
An iconic sign of spring - the Orange Tip Butterfly (Anthocharis cardamines).
The trip continued at St. Abbs in the borders with a coastal meandering along the rugged outcrops, which at this time of the year are packed to the rafters with Guillemots, Black-Legged Kittiwakes and Razorbills. On the wind up to a prime viewing point, I took note of the paths lined with striking pink Thrift, Sea Campion and Bird’s-Foot Trefoil. The abundant Gorse was as golden as ever and bustling with red-breasted Linnets, Chiffchaffs and stunning Wheatear pairs - a real bonus.
The grasslands were full of Rock Pipits and sitting quietly I had the chance to snap this super-camouflaged avian. I struggle to differentiate the Rock Pipit from the Meadow Pipit at times (I’m no birder), but the ‘smeared’ markings and darker legs cemented my initial gut feeling. Little brown birds can be really trying at times!
Finally managed a glimpse of the aloof Rock Pipit (Anthus petrosus).
The male Northern Wheatear (Oenanthe oenanthe) amongst the Thrift.
As I drew closer to the lighthouse at St. Abbs Head, the song smell of guano was dominating the warm air. Not quite ‘Farne Islands dominating’, but strong enough nevertheless! The hubbub and commotion in the distance became louder as I traversed the ridge. As I reached the cliff edge, I stood in front of a pandemonic but gripping sight.
All around me, occupying every ledge, nook and cranny were thousands of Razorbills, Guillemots and Kittiwakes. There were even a few majestic Gannets adorning the rock peaks - a huge bird that can reach speeds of up to 60 mph when diving into the water for prey. Seabird colonies migrate here every year to breed and raise their young on this epic stretch of coastline. Colossal numbers of Guillemot and Razorbill were present, and the Black-Legged Kittiwakes were constantly gliding past with their bills stuffed with nesting materials. What a spectacle, and something which imagery will never really do justice.
Gannets, Guillemots and Guano.
Razorbills at St. Abbs.
Guillemot colony.
The pleasure of rubbing shoulders so to speak, with some superb spring wildlife has however, been pipped at the post. My most prized encounters of the season so far come down to two mesmerising chapters.
A visit to my favourite nature watching spot near Blanchland acquainted me with a species that I haven’t yet seen before, and one which I certainly won’t forget in a hurry. Passing the river, I noticed a flutter of wings just above the Gorse bushes. Three birds all bickering and chasing each other with gumption. As I grabbed the binoculars, I saw the most stunning flashes of bright orange and slate grey contrasting with the yellow Gorse flowers.
The male Common Redstart. Three of them. A real wow moment. Back from North West Africa to breed, they only visit our shores in the summer and I felt blessed to see them. Took me a while to come back down from that one. What a bird!
I hinted at the start that the strange weather patterns of the north have been slowing down the emergence of spring. I hadn’t yet cast my eyes over what is in my opinion, the most quintessential English countryside spring scenery there is. An ancient woodland carpeted in native Bluebells.
This Monday I visited the most remarkable site in Northumberland near the Twizell bridge, full of amazing ground flora, riparian woodland and stunning veteran trees with their jungles of countless lichens.
That morning as I walked along the Till to meet the Tweed, I wholeheartedly found what I was looking for.
Nature at its chromatic best. Magic.
