30 Days Wild: My journey

Norfolk Wildlife Trust's Head of People and Wildlife, David North signed up to the challenge of 30 Days Wild and got in touch with his inner wild child this June.  Close encounters with nature and priceless memories ensued.

Star gazing, moon watching, fire making, sea swimming, bee following, poppy field wandering, opening my eyes and ears for lots of looking and listening: 30 Days Wild has been an adventure.  Too many highlights to list, but I would like to share just some of my 30 Days Wild moments with you and just a few images that hopefully capture some of my special wild June moments.

Baby muntjac with 'Mum' and Swans with cygnets by David North

Waking on June 2 to look out of the window and spot a baby muntjac, still wobbly-legged and spotty-coated, and no bigger than a puppy, accompanied by its mum was a definite ‘isn’t nature amazing moment’ and the swans on Felbrigg lake later that day with nine cygnets scored high on the ‘cute factor’.

Yellow flag, bee orchids and dandelion clock by David North

I had resolved during 30 Days Wild to pay more attention to plants. After all June is peak-flower, both in my garden, and along the lanes and byways where I walk my dog, Rohan. 

Rohan enjoying the poppies

My June started yellow; with buttercups, dandelions and yellow flag iris. The middle of the month brought those stars of the plant world, orchids, into full flower, with both common spotted and bee orchids gracing my local walks. It ended in a blaze of scarlet, with a visit, accompanied by Rohan of course, to a Norfolk speciality, poppy fields in all their mind-altering crimson glory. Like stepping, Alice in wonderland like, into a different and brighter reality.I think Rohan liked it too.

Taking advice from my 30DaysWild pack I decided on several occasions during the month to try following bees. My preferred version of this was lying on my lawn in the sunshine watching countless bumblebees visiting white clover flowers and idling an hour trying to capture that perfect image. Well, no perfection, but one or two just about in focus images resulted!

I resolved with my wife to spend more time out outdoors, so gathering sticks and several outdoor cooking attempts in the garden left me, and the food, well-smoked.  I love the smell of wood-smoke but not sure how my colleagues at work took to my new smoky perfume aroma.

A curious Roe Deer by David North

During June a roe deer adopted us, spending much of its time either in the barley field we look out on, or the grass field next to our entrance. A field of waving Yorkshire Fog I’m proud to say – you see I’ve been learning my common grasses this month helped by the Norfolk Wildlife Trust’s County Wildlife Action project!  I got a lot of not very good photos of this particular roe deer, which had the early morning habit of eating the roses in our garden, but how could you not forgive such a soft-eyed, elegant, beautiful and gentle creature?  This image of her on the edge of the barley field is one of the better ones. 

Swallowtail detail by David North

 30 Days Wild, and there’s still a few days left as I’m writing this, has seen me adventure out to NWT Hickling Broad where in the hot sunny weather swallowtails were dancing over reeds and fen.But dancing fast enough to blur all my photos. This image I rather liked in an arty kind of way! I hope you do too.

Gossamer threads by David North

Hot days also brought vast numbers of tiny ‘money’ spiders to our garden, tickling hair and face as we ate our evening meals outside. This made me walk at sunrise the next morning to see if a could spot ‘gossamer’ in  the local fields – one of nature’s many miracles, when the usually hidden abundance of spiders is revealed by thin silk strands shining silver across whole fields. Spiderlings release these strands of silk to catch the wind and fly, but its only when   the sun is low in the sky at early morning, or near sunset, that these gossamer strands catch the light and are revealed.

Hoverflies enjoying the nectar on thistle head

What have I liked about 30 Days Wild? 
Well just about everything!  Like most people I need a reason to look and listen just a bit more carefully and to spend a little more time each day enjoying the extraordinary diversity and beauty of nature.  

What has impressed me most?  Probably my ignorance, for as I write this inside virtually every flower in my garden is a unique small  ecosystem teeming with life that seems extraordinary but about which I know almost nothing. Pollen beetles beyond count; small, black and perfect in every way; hoverflies in shades of marmalade- orange and black, with huge eyes that take up most of their heads. They queue in perfect hovers await their turn at my garden flowers.  Hoverflies in a holding pattern waiting for the larger bumblebees to leave some landing space. 

Barley turning gold by David North

As I write this the barley in the field next door is turning gold, and tonight, most likely, I will hear the hoots of tawny owls from a nearby wood and perhaps the barking of deer already thinking of the rutting season to come.  Yesterday my 30DaysWild action was to tempt the rabbits, which live in the brambles at the end of my garden, to come out into the open. I bribed them with a carrot. Small payment for permission to photograph them and to spend a happy half hour watching and smiling at their antics.  

One thing 30 Days Wild has taught me is that if you sit quietly and watch then wildlife may soon lose its fear of coming close.  Definitely true for these young rabbits!

Young rabbits by David North

Norfolk is extraordinary. Nature is extraordinary.  And my resolution, come the end of June, is to make ‘Wildfulness’ practice - simply spending time in, and with, nature, part of my every day and to share nature moments with friends and family. After all, whether we notice or not, we are part of nature and nature is part of us.

‘We are all, bird and human, part of the earth, of its time and its matter, impelled by the mechanisms within, the ones that order our responses to days, months, years, to light and darkness, the rhythms, circadian, circannual, that regulate what we are and what we do.' From: Esther Woolfson, Corvus. A life with birds.

30 Touches of Nature

The month of June is fast approaching and it's a great time to get outdoors and enjoy nature - it's good for your health and wellbeing.  Why not take up the 30DaysWild challenge?  Here Norfolk Widlife Trust's Head of People and Wildlife, David North explains how going wild in June can make you feel good.

'One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.'  (William Shakespeare)
 

 There is much talk today of the benefits of ‘mindfulness’ as a way of coping with the seemingly ever-increasing stresses and strains of modern life. But ‘wildfulness’, simply spending time in nature, can also bring great rewards.

Bar-tailed godwits by David North

I was lucky enough over the recent Bank Holiday weekend to spend time walking on the Norfolk coast beneath the wild, eroding cliffs of Mundesley. It was a windy day, windy enough to blow your troubles away, and as the waves crashed against seaweed-encrusted, wooden groins masses of bubbly sea foam was flying into the air then bouncing along the beach in foaming masses. In my book, time spent walking along our wonderful Norfolk coast, with its diverse wild landscapes of sand, sea, shingle, mud and marsh, is never wasted.  A walk along the shore is a great place to gain a sense of perspective, to see things both literally and metaphorically in a new light.  And as with any walk in wild places there are always surprises: on this walk winging their way through the flying foam came a small flock of bar-tailed godwits.  They rested briefly on the beach, just long enough to see some were in full ‘red’ breeding plumage and others, perhaps non-breeders or younger birds, still winter grey. With them flew one, extremely smart, black and white spangled, grey plover. What a delight. Today Mundesley beach, next stop, perhaps the Arctic circle! 
 
Spending quiet time in nature, sitting or walking, listening and looking, without rushing or getting distracted by thoughts of jobs I need to do, not only helps me see details in the landscape and natural world that I would otherwise miss, it also helps me make sense of my life.  How often do we simply give ourselves time to ‘tune-in’ to the sounds, smells and textures of nature around us? But at least for me this time is vital: vital to health, happiness and sanity.

Perhaps you need an excuse to simply spend a few moments outside allowing yourself to connect to nature around you?  Well the good news is the Wildlife Trusts are offering the perfect excuse.  It’s free, like the wild world around us, and it’s called 30 Days Wild.
 
The aim is to get as many people as possible to do one small thing – one Random Act of Wildness – which could be as simple as going outside on a clear night and spending a couple of minutes star gazing, find a wild space in a lunchtime and sitting quietly for five minutes tuning in to the living things around us that we share this world with, or getting up early and listening to bird song, really listening so that all your attention is attuned to what you are hearing. It’s happening in June but if you visit the website now, we will send you a pack (by email or post) full of ideas for Random Acts of Wildness to try out in June.  These small actions – walking for a minute barefoot though grass on a dewy morning, taking time to touch the rough bark of a tree, following a bee or butterfly for a minute and observing its life – may sound trivial, but give it 30 days and I suspect you will be surprised at the power that spending time connecting to nature has to change the way you feel.  It should of course come with a health and happiness warning. After 30 days you may well have formed a lifetime habit!

Explore the boundaries between land, sea, sky, earth and nature. In doing so you may begin to discover your own connection to the timeless cycles of nature which in reality, without or without our conscious awareness, we are all participants in.  Is that wildness inside us or outside? Are we part of nature or separate from it?

If ‘one touch of nature makes the whole world kin’ just think what 30 touches can do for you!   To join in visit www.wildlifetrusts.org/30dayswild  You are never too old or too young to enjoy the nature around you and if you are a family and would like to interest your children in wildlife then taking part in 30DaysWild is a great way to start. 

Do you want some help in reconnecting with nature?
The Wildlife Trusts have a saying, ‘All our lives are better when they are a little bit wild’ and have developed hundreds of ‘Random Acts of Wildness’ which are easy and free to do and can help you engage with nature wherever you are. For details visit 30 Days Wild.
 
The Wildlife Trusts believe that people are part of nature; everything we value ultimately comes from it and everything we do has an impact on it. We believe that each year, there should be more wildlife and more wild places, and people should become closer to nature.

Sedge warblers return

Naturalist and Norfolk Wildlife Trust volunteer Chris Durdin welcomes the return of the sedge warbler as spring is much in evidence at Norfolk Wildlife Trust’s Thorpe Marshes reserve on the edge of Norwich in Thorpe St Andrew.  

Sedge warbler, Derek Longe

April 8th and my first sedge warbler of the year at Thorpe Marshes is singing, half-hidden, in last year’s reeds. It makes me wonder why it’s an exciting moment. The scratchy song has a relentless energy, which appeals to me, though that description also applies to the wren singing close by.

It’s looking like an advanced season for nature with the recent warm weather, for now at least. It’s certainly a good time to visit NWT’s reserve in Thorpe St Andrew on the eastern edge of Norwich. As well as spring bird song, marsh marigolds are in full flower and lady’s smock is coming out, too. Around the latter are orange-tip butterflies – for both nectar and as it’s a larval food plant – which also means the start of the survey season for some of the reserve’s volunteers. For a third year we are counting orange-tips (essentially in April and May) and Norfolk hawker dragonflies (June and July). So if you see someone on the reserve with pen and paper it may be Derek, Susan or me – but feel free to stop us for a chat, we can all multitask!

Orange tip butterfly on cuckoo flower, Derek Longe

My focus on the sedge warbler is for two reasons. One is simply as it’s a new arrival from sub-Saharan Africa, a reminder of the miracle of migration. The second links, I think, with keen birdwatchers’ constant search for the new or different. Yes, they’re back – like seeing an old friend after many months of absence. I haven’t heard a sedge warbler for ages.

What strikes as noteworthy is framed by both timing and place. For example, at Thorpe Marshes in 2017 to hear a Cetti’s warbler is routine, the strident song of this resident species much in evidence through much of the year. But go back a couple of decades and this bird would have been the surprise and across the UK – including in spring at Thorpe Marshes – it’s still scarcer than a sedge warbler. So unusualness depends on where and when.
 

Marsh marigold, Chris Durdin

I start to think: if I’d been there yesterday or the day before, could I have recorded an earlier sedge warbler? This train of thought, on reflection pointless competitiveness, is broken by the sight of male marsh harrier, with tri-coloured wings, flying low over the marshes. The harrier flushes a snipe, twists over the reeds where the sedge warbler was singing and heads up the valley towards Norwich. Moments later the call of a lesser black-backed gull encourages me to look upwards to where the gull is harrying a buzzard. 

Chris Durdin leads monthly wildlife walks at NWT Thorpe Marshes. Details of monthly walks on http://www.honeyguide.co.uk/thorpemarshes.htm

Winter wildlife magic at Hickling Broad

Wildlife enthusiast, blogger and NWT Volunteer Barry Madden braved the bitterness of the east wind on a February evening to watch the spectacular wildlife at Stubb Mill Raptor Roost at Hickling Broad.

A fly past of common crane at Hickling Broad Nick Goodrum

It is cold here. Bitterly cold. A raw easterly wind whipping in from the North Sea a mile or two away; the boundary between the flat lands of eastern Norfolk and the miles of cruel grey water marked by a line of raised dunes seen as a smudge of dull green on the horizon. The scene before us a patchwork of reed bed, course grazing marshes and fen, interspersed with twisted and stunted hawthorn. The closest you can get to a barren wilderness in this part of the world for there are but scant traces of human activity: a forlorn and long abandoned wind pump, its skeletal sail arm pointing defiantly skywards; a single distant house rendered almost invisible by its light-coloured walls blending seamlessly into the gathering murk. Nothing else, just the wild open landscape unique to this Broadland haven at Norfolk Wildife Trust’s Stubb Mill Raptor Watchpoint at Hickling Broad. 

Us five friends have trudged to this spot, nothing more than a raised bank bordering a drainage dyke, to witness one of nature’s most thrilling and humbling spectacles; the winter roosting of the harriers. We are quite early, 90 minutes before true dusk, but already the leaden, squall-laden skies are casting their shadows over the marshes. Light is poor, visibility far from ideal, but we know the birds will come to seek out this quiet sanctuary to spend another bitterly cold night. And we don’t have long to wait before harriers sail in. First a dark marsh harrier, then a brighter male both gliding on slightly raised wings, buffeted this way and that as they cruise low over the boggy ground. Then delight; a ringtail hen harrier, its bright white rump shining as a beacon through the gloom. A flock of fieldfares appears in a nearby tree and jinking parties of smaller birds, perhaps finches or maybe yellowhammers, are flushed by a buzzard which perches atop a bush before joining another pair of harriers purposely heading towards their roosting zone.

Whilst our attention is focused on the raptors, a pair of common cranes glide over us, dropping down into a hidden pool where they are instantly consumed by the tall ranks of thick reed; lost to sight. These birds are doing well here, naturally arriving as a party of 9 nearly 40 years ago they found the place to their liking and took up residence. Slowly and painfully, with many false starts, the birds began to breed until we now have over 40 gracing the rich and fertile acreage around Hickling and Horsey. In recent years maybe 10 or so pairs attempt to raise young with varying degrees of success, allowing the birds to expand their range into other Broadland reserves and further afield into neighbouring counties. This success story owes all to the sterling efforts of NWT, other local conservation bodies and landowners. Cranes have recently been artificially reintroduced to Somerset, but it must be remembered that in this remote corner of Norfolk where the harriers circle over the reeds and the bittern still finds refuge, we have had majestic cranes for decades. And they always manage to thrill us.

Hen harrier by Elizabeth Dack

Things begin to hot up now with more harriers drifting into view, amongst them a simply beautiful, ghostly grey, resplendently perfect, male hen harrier. What truly gorgeous creatures they are, these birds of wild open spaces. This one drops to the ground seemingly finding his supper, an unlucky pipit perhaps, before he reaches the roosting zone. Through my telescope I can just make out his head tugging at the flesh of the prey he has caught. Such rare birds these and we are privileged to be able to see them in such a setting.

On past visits, on milder, sometimes even bright, winter evenings, the harriers, merlins, barn owls and cranes can put on a wonderful show with massed spiralling as a new bird joins the throng. Merlins arrow into the roost and will happily harass the much bigger harriers, chasing them across the vast open sky in sport. They choose to spend the chill of the night perched atop small hawthorn bushes whereas the larger raptors will roost on the ground or on low branches of dead and broken willows. The owls quarter the fields silent and relentless whilst the sky slower darkens and the stars come out to play. Not today though; the wind chill is numbing our hands, cutting through coats, hats and gloves and making our eyes water. We decide we have seen enough and head back along the narrow, lonely lane to the reserve centre where it is evident much activity is taking place to update and refurbish ready for the coming summer season.

Before this place became more well-known, I used to walk back alone along this lane, bordered by high dark hedges, with all kinds of ghoulish fancies running through my mind. I defy anyone to make this lonely journey and not look over their shoulder every 100 yards, just in case there may be something following; a darker shadow amongst the gathering gloom, an echo of footsteps or an unnatural rustling in the bushes. Hard not to speed up against all reason to reach your car before darkness falls complete. It is the workings of M R James; the fleeting glimpse of something unholy, for nobody knows you are here and your screams will be lost amidst the howl of the wind.

For us five folk though, chatting as a group, we had no such concerns. We instead were lucky enough to see three more cranes, a family party probably, fly towards the broad before we sought welcome refuge ourselves in the warmth of the local pub. Back to civilisation, cosy and comfortable, whilst close by there were the harriers roosting in the reeds, steeling themselves silently against the chilling bitterness of a moonless February night.   

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Help us protect Hickling Broad – the heart of the Norfolk Broads

Please donate today:

•  Call: 01603 625540

• Visit our website: www.norfolkwildlifetrust.org.uk/support-us/hickling-broad-land-purchase-appeal

• Or, Just Giving: www.justgiving.com/campaigns/charity/norfolkwildlifetrust/hickling  

Gathering gadwall

St Andrew's Broad with tufted duck and gadwall Chris Durdin

Regular NWT blogger, local resident and wildlife enthusiast Chris Durdin puts the seemingly 'dull' and overlooked gadwall in the spotlight. Norfolk Wildlife Trust’s Thorpe Marshes reserve is in the Norfolk Broads, yet on the edge of Norwich in Thorpe St Andrew. Local resident Chris Durdin writes.

I’m in two minds. The mild winter means that there has been no big hard weather influx of wintering ducks at NWT Thorpe Marshes. That must be good for the birds’ survival.

On the other hand, the birdwatching on St Andrews Broad, the gravel pit, is therefore largely routine: tufted ducks, teals scattered around the edges, an occasional shoveler or wigeon alongside the many gulls, the regular great crested grebe and a cormorant or two.

A constant, though, is that the most obvious dabbling duck species on St Andrews Broad is the gadwall, with some 50 or so regularly present. They like to feed by waiting for coots to surface with waterweed and then snatching it. But coots are relatively scarce so this bullying tactic is the exception and mostly they feed for themselves.
A new birdwatcher’s first impression of gadwalls is often that they are dull-looking. Then a close view, perhaps through a telescope, causes a conversion to admiration when much of the grey plumage is revealed as rather dapper black and white mottling. 

Gadwall by Elizabeth Dack

Flashes of white when loafing or swimming expand when gadwalls flap or fly: the distinctive white speculum, part of the trailing edge of the wing. Not that identification at Thorpe Marshes is a challenge: mallards all but disappear here in winter.

Normally a wintering bird at Thorpe Marshes, last year gadwalls also bred with young seen in spring and summer. The highest count of gadwalls on the reserve in 2016 was 114. These are two of many nuggets of information in the NWT Thorpe Marshes Wildlife Report for 2016, which is now online at on www.honeyguide.co.uk/thorpemarshes.htm along with details of monthly wildlife walks.

Summer at Ranworth

Barry Madden, NWT Volunteer

It always takes me by surprise how quickly the year turns. We enter January full of optimism, plummet down to earth through long, cold February nights, have a brief flirtation with the sun during early spring when everything emerges fresh and eager, only to plod through this cool, cloudy often wet and windy summer. Before you know it the solstice has come and gone and people are talking of their hope for an Indian summer. Another year has well and truly matured. 

The visual evidence of how the season has sped by can now be seen very clearly at NWTRanworth Broad. Here a walk along the boardwalk will take you through lushly vegetated wetland where head high reed sways in the breeze, their ranks speckled with pastel pink valerian, purple spikes of marsh thistles, white umbels of milk parsley and yellow spires of loosestrife. In the wet swamp carr, woodbine, perfumed sweet, entwines with woody bittersweet and the Royal fern thrusts its spore laden fingers skyward. Rich summer profusion.

But it is perhaps the activity of the birds that indicates how we have moved from the frantic urgency of spring; the chasing, screeching, posturing and skirmishing, to the more focused task of fledging this year’s offspring. And the most obvious species to be encountered as you look out over the broad from our floating visitor centre are the grebes, terns and the swallows.

One pair of grebes are busy looking after a pair of humbug-striped chicks quite close to the observation windows where they can be observed catching fish to satisfy the incessant hunger of their prodigy. Great-crested grebes are good parents that in the early stages of the chicks’ development will keep them very close, warding off any potential predator. Unlike the mallards that let their ducklings scatter and swim wildly hither and thither: easy prey for herons, gulls and marauding marsh harriers. The parent grebes are now finding quite large fish to offer to the eager young ones who will raise their heads skywards to gulp the fish down head first. A couple of weeks ago one over optimistic parent gave a very large fish to one of the small chicks that gamely tried but ultimately failed to force it down its gullet. Being able to watch these dagger billed aquatics in such intimate detail is a true privilege.

The swallows enliven the immediate vicinity of the Visitor Centre during the summer months with their breath-taking aerial ballet. They nest under the eaves where they are totally protected from the rigours of the northerly wind and sheeting rain. Three pairs have taken up residence this year and can be watched hawking insects over the broad which they cram into the mouths of their well grown brood. They will breed again once the current nestfuls have fledged and may well try for a third time during August. 

And then there are the terns; feisty, screeching, aerodynamic perfection.  After a late start these graceful wanderers are now nesting on the specially constructed rafts, the adults making regular trips to Malthouse Broad to catch small fish for their newly hatched young. It is worth spending a while watching these sharp eyed birds swooping through the air, plunging into the water to remove a fish with clinical precision. For me they embody the spirit of this place.

Norfolk Wildlife Trust run lots of beginner and family events at Ranworth during the summer from pond dipping to moth trapping Have a look to find one that suits you.

Read more of Barry’s wildlife observations at www.easternbushchat.blogspot.co.uk

Event Review: David Lindo, the Urban Birder

Ellie Howell, Cley Marketing and Engagement Intern

Yesterday at the Forum for our Wild in the City event, naturalist broadcaster, writer and birder, David Lindo, spoke about his encounters with wildlife in urban habitats. David was poignantly introduced by senior education officer, Annabel Hill, who noted that we have become disconnected with nature, but also that we have an inherent need for nature in our lives. I was excited to see how David negotiated this dilemma through his passion for urban birding.

David Lindo, photo by Susana Sanroman

As David walked on stage, I noticed his friendly countenance, which the audience warmed to immediately. He even saw me at the back scribbling away, joking that someone was already taking notes on his talk.

He began by contesting the media’s presentation of nature, of countryside programs which are unlikely to excite younger audiences. He mentioned exotic shows in places far away that might not be accessible for urban residents, calling them the ‘jaws and claws’ programs. Of course, such media is very important for enthusing and informing people about nature. But what can be done and seen within our own cities, towns and back gardens?

David started to speak more about his experiences and feelings around birding. He’s had experience of birding in Norfolk, and Cley in particular. He mentioned how profound it was to wake up to the sound of oyster catchers, and the waves lashing upon the shore in the early morning. For David, birding isn’t only about lists and numbers, but also about having a real connection to nature – especially in unlikely places. What was very unlikely, and of course what makes David so interesting, is that his experience of birding started in North London. He told us about a book of birds he got out of his local library at the age of eight, which he read from cover to cover, and almost memorised. It reminded me of a worn book which sits upon my parent’s bookshelf about British birds that I often read when I was younger.
 

Robin, photo by Elizabeth Dack

David was responsible for the Britain’s National Bird campaign. At school, he created a poll so that he could discover the favourite bird of his class. It was the sparrow that won. Years later, in 2015 the poll was taken and it was the robin that won. He wanted to get people talking about birds, and I certainly think he succeeded.

The challenge, then, is not finding birds for people to talk about, but actually making people more aware of them. For David, it is having an open mind, and the attitude that anything can happen, anywhere. For example, in his travels to Belgrade, the capital city of Serbia, he saw in just one urban park 22 long eared owls, as well as kestrels and rooks. He and several tourists gained access to the top of a high-rise building, and sighted white tailed eagles and Caspian gulls. In Kolka, Latvia, in a marshland just behind his hotel, he spotted cranes, stalks, and chaffinches. He said it was ‘like a slideshow’ of many types of birds all flying around him.

He concluded the talk by speaking about his local birding area, which he referred to as his ‘patch’, his inner city Fair Isle. He said that Wormwood Scrubs was in great danger of encroachment, and stressed the importance of protecting your own patch. It reminded me of the importance of not only protecting our own Norfolk land, but getting excited about it too.

On my walk home that evening, instead of walking down St. Giles Street, I decided to stroll through Chapelfield Park. I was open to the possibility that I might see anything, and joyful at the realisation that I was not as distant from nature as I first thought. 

There are two more Wild in the City talks taking place:

Kate Blincoe on Green Parenting, featuring well-known local farmer (and Kate's father) Chris Skinner: Wednesday 1 June, 6.30pm

Nick Acheson on 90 years of Norfolk Wildlife Trust's history and achievements. Meeting bitterns, cranes, stone curlews, rare flowers and the people who have striven to save them. Thursday 2 June, 4.30pm 

Ranworth in May

Barry Madden, NWT Volunteer

There are few better places to spend a sunny May morning than at NWT Ranworth Broad. A week ago the skies were grey, the water turbulent and the air chill with the tendrils of winter still holding sway. Today it was fresh and bright, the water reflectively calm and the endless possibilities of summer hanging in the air.
 

At this season the difference a mere seven days makes can be quite profound. Whereas on the penultimate day of April only a few common terns were hawking over the broad now they are everywhere; chasing each other in courtship, vying with the black headed gulls for nest sites, squabbling over favoured perches and generally gracing the scene with their buoyant passage through air. A week ago the television screens in the visitor centre were trained on empty, forlorn and deserted swallow’s nests; today these so welcome harbingers of summer were fastidiously attending to their fragile cups of dried mud, tossing aside the accumulated detritus of winter ready to rebuild, reline and reproduce. On my last volunteering visit it was hard to believe any bird of the open fen could possibly incubate a clutch to hatching, but today the dedication and resilience of these hardy creatures was evident with broods of mallard, coot and moorhen being attended to by proud and protective parents. A lively scene then and surely one to celebrate.

But there was more to Ranworth today than just the regular resident and seasonal cast. Today was a special day, a day when some rather beautiful and irregular visitors stopped to say hello. The weather is to thank; low pressure bubbling up from the Continent sending spiralling anticlockwise airflows into the English Channel. Birds trying to migrate into the North Sea with the intention of reaching the Low Countries are met with strong breezes which sweep them along our south coast and displace them on our western shores. Black terns, gorgeous, dainty and lost. With the breeding imperative upon them they waste little time reorienting and head swiftly eastwards directly across country. It is at these times, occurring every few years, that we get a chance to see these lovely creatures refuelling over our waterways. The window is slight, perhaps only a day or two, and today was such a day.

Sensing some chance of an encounter, my first action on arriving at the visitor centre was to scan the open water hoping to see smaller, darker birds amongst the milling common terns. And sure enough there they were, three at least, hawking insects from the water surface at the back of the broad. Hoping to get better views, I hitched a lift on ‘Damselfly’ the boat we use for ferrying people to and from the staithe and for running our very popular Water Trail trips. Once aboard this spacious boat, the true tranquillity of the environment can be appreciated. On a day such as this one it was a pleasure to float close to dancing grebes, drift past unconcerned waterfowl and just take in the soporific atmosphere of this wonderful broadland retreat. 

We saw herons diving into the broad for fish, witnessed a kingfisher skimming the dead calm surface a couple of metres from where we sat, watched marsh harriers and buzzards lazily drifting on the warm air and spooked a party of loafing cormorants from their roost site. But we could not get close to the black terns; at least not close enough for me. They were there, tantalisingly present, but too full of life and too far away for satisfying views. Wherever the boat drifted, they would appear on the opposite side of the broad. There we could see them dancing together over the skyline before plunging towards the watery expanse to pick some tiny morsel from the surface. Time and again all morning they would perform in this way, but never close to.  Does it matter that I couldn’t get a close up photograph? Not one jot. What really matters is that they were there, these monochrome sprites that for a few hours on a sunny May morning brightened the lives of all who saw them.

Read Barry's blog at http://easternbushchat.blogspot.co.uk   

Ranworth in winter

Barry Madden, NWT Volunteer

Ranworth, a small and pleasant village in the heart of Broadland is a lovely place to stroll around on a bright winter’s day. I visited earlier this week savouring the blissful peace of the season. Gone now are the pleasure craft jostling for a berth at the busy staithe, the cruisers, canoes, day boats, and dinghies. Gone too are the steady stream of holidaymakers keen to take a short adventure through a freshwater swamp and visit the NWT Broads Wildlife Centre sited at the terminal point of a 500 metre Boardwalk. Gone are the screeching terns, the arrowing hobbies, the chuntering reed warblers and twittering swallows. But all is not still: a new cast of characters has moved in to take advantage of the tranquility. Birds of all kinds are using the unmolested waterways and wet woodland as a winter sanctuary; somewhere to rest and feed to survive another day. Come with me for a walk through this wildlife haven and together let’s see what we can find.

Our first stop is to search through the massed assemblage of twigs and branches forming the canopy of the swampy carr, lichen encrusted and bare of leaf. This matrix plays host to many small birds: blue, great and marsh tits busily fuss through the tangle searching tirelessly for small spiders and insects hidden from winters chill; robins, wrens and chaffinches occupy the lower tier where they root around in the undergrowth for small invertebrates, snails, and fallen seed; a few goldfinches twitter amongst themselves as they raid the topmost branches of an alder, their vibrant red faces adding a touch of the exotic. As we reach the transition from woodland to more open reed fen, blackbirds flush from a guelder rose clucking sulkily at our unwelcome intrusion. Fieldfares chuckling overhead in search of bright hawthorn berries to plunder remind us that winter has truly arrived despite the brilliance of the blue sky and the vibrant scarlet of the guelder fruits.

The open broad holds large rafts of wildfowl; showy shoveller, timid teal and grey-glossed gadwall, whilst all the time the piercing whistles of wigeon echo across the misty water. A buzzard spirals in from the south it's brown and white chequered underside catching the light from the mid afternoon sun. It drifts across the broad causing mass panic amongst the ducks and coots that take to the air on a multitude of flickering wings. But this raptor had no designs on them, it is intent only on quartering the farmland on the far side for carrion or perhaps an unlucky rabbit: easier pickings by far. A marsh harrier that appears a few minutes later is a different story and loiters with intent above the milling throng of startled water birds. It too is unlucky on this sortie and eventually moves into the distant reed beds in the hope of surprising more isolated prey.

As we stand close to the visitor centre a lone bullfinch flies above us uttering its distinctive mournful ‘phew’ and a small flock of siskins dance above the alders wittering excitedly to each other. The reason for the appearance of these hitherto well-hidden finches soon becomes clear in the form of a sparrowhawk that glides low across the channel moving silently and swiftly from one patch of scrub to another as it hunts with deadly purpose. It seemed such a short while ago that we could watch hobbies hawking dragonflies here, but their winter absence helps us to appreciate their summer presence; their return next April will be all the more welcomed for it.

The explosive song of a Cetti's warbler shakes us from our reverie and turning we catch the massed heads of dancing reeds set ablaze by the lowering sun. A dazzling spectacle and one that seems to typify this Broadland landscape; a Living Landscape of diverse habitats, fen, woodland, open water and farmland weaved together to form a rich tapestry where wildlife can find sanctuary.

Before returning home we can take a diverting stroll through the churchyard where blackbirds and songthrushes are busy gorging themselves on the berries of ancient yews. These birds, quite possibly migrants from Scandinavia or further east, swallow the berries whole allowing the nutritious succulent red flesh to be absorbed whilst the poisonous seeds pass through without being digested. They seem intent on stripping the bounteous fruits with maximum haste. Competition is fierce and they are all engaged in a race against time and each other.

But Ranworth hasn’t quite finished with us yet, for as we gaze up into a roadside ash a lovely kestrel peers down at us unafraid and unfussed. He is soaking up the last mellow rays of the afternoon sun; his rich buffs and brick reds glowing, his black eye sparkling. This bird like all others lives from day to day, unknowing of what the following dawn will bring. Today with bright blue skies and an unseasonal mildness comes relative easy living; tomorrow with bitter winds, rain and cold could come starvation.

Ranworth has done us proud and our visit at this quieter time of the year has shown real beauty and an escape, albeit temporary, from the rigours of our modern world. The wildlife is grateful for the wildness and so, I hope, are we.

All images by Barry Madden