From just -8°C a week ago to 12°C as I am writing this today, winter’s final swan song has really been something. In the North East of England, we have have had days on end of deep snow and ice, which has gifted us with a magical land of marvel and awe.
Working outdoors is special, no less so at times like this. Surrounded by frosted pines, snow-dusted winter fungi and frozen ponds is breathtaking, and has been a bonny addition to the hours of snow ploughing and shovelling that I have been involved in over the past few weeks. There have been many highlights, along with the occasional, inevitable affliction that these rather extreme conditions can bring. Let me begin though with an amiable floral sighting from a few days back.
A walk along the riverside path at work provided me with the welcome and slightly surprising detection of a flowering Butterbur. Surprising, mainly because when you are surrounded by sheet ice and snow, it is all too easy to forget that spring is indeed just around the corner. This plant gets its common name from its uses in the middle ages - pats of butter being wrapped in its large leaves to keep it cool in warmer weather. Its reddish, violet flowers beginning to burst through are really eye-catching, and the damp river bank habitat is perfect for them to prosper. This was a prominent indicator of the current tussle going on between winter’s curtain call and spring’s opening act.
Butterbur emergence (Petasites hybridus).
A couple of weeks ago at work, I was dealing with a large fallen branch from a stunning, droopy Deodar Cedar, located right at the pond edge. As I was carrying some of the brash away from the margins to create a habitat pile for small mammals and invertebrates, I was awe-struck by the most vivid crimson buttons protruding from the moss and snow. The first of the this year for me - the Scarlet Elf Cup mushrooms are always a delight, but on this occasion the frost certainly added an extra visual dimension.
Scarlet Elf Cup (Sarcoscypha austriaca).
The frozen pond.
One thing that I absolutely adore about this type of weather, is that you can discover so much about the habits of the animals around us. I was finding tracks everywhere - wood pigeons, foxes, hares, grey squirrels, roe deer, badgers and stoats to name a few. A visit to the bird hide proved the point that animals will do pretty much anything for a feed when they need to. A rabbit sized opening in the wire fencing had somehow gave a keen badger the idea that it could squeeze and struggle its way through to get to the peanuts. I had followed its tracks along the field boundary to the gap, at which point you could clearly make out from the smooth snow, the ordeal that had taken place for it to get into the bird feeding area. After a few laps, off it went!
Hind and fore paws of a Badger.
The final day of full snow cover.
As we all know, nature can be a cruel beast at times. Throughout last year on the main avenue of oaks and lime trees, I had watched a pair of Kestrels nesting. Sadly, this nest failed, but there has been a busy Kestrel roost in the nearby chapel portico for quite some time, judging by the quantity of pellets. Last week though, I came across a female Kestrel who unfortunately had succumbed to the sub-zero temperatures and likely lack of prey. A find that was unequivocal in both beauty and sadness.
The sombre, but stunning sight of a female Kestrel (Falco tinnunculus).
This week brought a truly astonishing observation of winter wizardry, but first, as I ambled down to the bottom of the dene, I noticed some clear feeding signs and footprints of the Woodcock, thanks to one of my colleagues.
Woodcocks are nocturnal, wading birds and will probe the ground with their bills for beetles and worms. They had left some clear evidence of their presence here along the stream bed. They are a charming bird, but due to their severe shyness, I am yet to photograph one. Watch this space though! They are top of my list for future escapades.
As I looked up from the field tracks of the Woodcock, I was instantly captivated by the entrancing effervescence of a wall of suspended icicles, frozen in time. The rock face had been encased by mosses, ferns and the gigantic teeth of winter’s farewell. I had never ventured to this precise location of the estate, but I am certainly grateful that I did. Clambering up the bank, I listened to the waterfall cascading behind me as I looked at the various plant stems fully confined in the surrounding ice. I could pick out a Red Kite calling as it glided on above. Nature really is magical.
The wall of ice.
Frozen flora.
Friday this week, was the biggest sign yet that spring is coming. Temperatures rising, wild garlic, snowdrops and lesser celandine beginning to show, and a gently emerging crescendo of bird song. The smell of spring is literally in the air.
But it was as I glanced to the sky that I saw it best. The ‘rollercoaster’, albeit a subtle one, of two Common Buzzards and their courtship display in the blue yonder.
Not long now until the return of the Swallow, the first glimpse of an Orange Tip Butterfly and a Bluebell-carpeted ancient woodland.
I for one, cannot wait.
