The Woods Less Seen

You may have walked through your favourite patch of woodland many times, but think for a moment about when you were last genuinely mindful of your surroundings. It is at times when life is busiest that we can go through our same old routine without really appreciating the small pleasures. So, with spring in the air, I encourage you to explore your woods and see if you can notice some of the subtle delights of nature.

Nature does not need to be dramatic to be enjoyable. Taking the time to notice something understated, such as the delicate way that the fresh light dapples through the budding canopy or the gentle smell of balmy hawthorn blossom, can be incredibly gratifying.

If you’re really quiet and look carefully you might even see some of the animals which call the woods home. We have often been surprised by the cracking of a twig in the distance and turned to glimpse a roe or muntjac deer feeding peacefully, unaware of our presence. It is also fascinating and comical to stand and watch the escapades of playful squirrels as they eagerly chase each other.

Even if you can’t see the animals directly, you can often see the signs of their presence. It can be great fun to do some nature detective work by using sightings of tracks and droppings to determine which animals have passed through the woods before you. There are usually dog paw prints along the paths but occasionally these are interspersed with the small, two-toed prints of roe deer.

Droppings provide a wealth of information about the animals that live in the woods and it doesn’t take long to learn how to identify some of the most common types. For example, fox droppings are usually dark with a pointed end and often contain evidence of what they have eaten, including fur, seeds and bones. On the other hand, deer droppings are found in small piles, are very smooth and don’t usually contain bits, but they too are slightly pointed on one end.

In our local woods, one of the most exciting signs of spring is obvious if you are looking for it, but if you were to pass briskly through you might not notice it. Recently, glossy green leaves have been populating the floor of the woods creating a thick emerald carpet which brightens even the shadiest spots. This can only mean one thing. Bluebells are coming! Soon the woods will be colonised by an enchanting tapestry of azure blooms.

Of course, no article about the simple pleasures of woodland would be complete without a mention of birdsong. The choruses of birds are so much more complex than they first sound. What to us might simply sound like a noise could mean any number of things to another bird. It might be a declaration of territory, a flirtatious ballad or a signal of danger. There are a number of birdsongs and calls which you will often hear in the woods which are instantly recognisable once you know what you are listening for. Some of my favourites are those of great tits with their high-pitched, two-syllabled ‘tea-cher, tea-cher’ calls, the varied melodious trilling songs of blackbirds, and the distinctive strident ‘laugh’ of green woodpeckers. I’m going to set myself an aim this month to learn to identify three new bird songs, perhaps you could do the same – there are lots of resources on the internet to help with this, I find the RSPB’s website particularly helpful.

There is an abundance of simple pleasures for each of the senses in the woods, all you need to do is take notice of them. We would love to hear about some of the things which bring you enjoyment on your walks too!

Hide Hopping in the Fens

I think it will be pretty clear to anyone who has read my previous posts that I am incredibly passionate about the fenland landscape. For me, the fens embody a wildness and untamed beauty which is difficult to find in such abundance elsewhere. The range of wildlife that lives in its diverse array of habitats always leaves you guessing what you will see next.

Last weekend, one of Andrew’s friends from his undergrad days came to visit. Matt is renowned for his wildlife ID skills so it seemed like a brilliant opportunity to take advantage of having a third pair of eyes and head out to Wicken Fen for a spot of wildlife watching.

We set out on our walk under a cinereal sky, accompanied by a bracing wind. This kind of weather doesn’t give you the best chance of seeing the marsh harriers that visit this area, but it does give the flat expanse of fens a beautiful atmospheric, otherworldly feel.

As we made our way along the slippery mud covered tracks towards the first hide, we were escorted by the dulcet songs of blue tits and blackbirds. An intriguing rickety boardwalk, flanked by hawthorn and willow, wound its way to the hide’s entrance. Once inside, it was apparent that the weather was not deterring most of the wildlife.

An expanse of reeds unfurled before the hide down to the edge of a lake where we saw gadwalls, coots, tufted ducks, mute swans and mallards swimming and feeding. We caught a glimpse of a barn owl swoop low across the lake and disappear into the trees behind. A cormorant took off from the lake with a grace that appeared all the more impressive because of its size. Nearby, a kestrel hovered, perfectly still, waiting for the perfect moment to strike his prey.

As I sat in the hide watching the elaborate stories of these birds unravel before me, I was hit by the realisation of how much nature we miss in our busy lives. Even for a keen naturalist it sometimes takes moments like these, when we purposefully pay attention, to appreciate that there is a whole world of natural interactions happening right beside us. As I stopped and listened, I realised that a veritable symphony was playing before us. The shrill cries of the coots melded with the ‘pinging’ of bearded tits over the backing track of the tinkling, whispering reeds.

Although I could have stayed there all day listening to the natural orchestra, we decided to move on. We approached the next hide via a long, suspenseful grassy path. As if hides aren’t beguiling enough, this hidden approach really increased the intrigue. This hide, too, looked out over a small lake but we were treated to different species from before.

A little grebe immediately stole the scene with his strident oscillating trill, but this did not appear to disturb the great crested grebe which was sleeping on a bank nearby. A male teal glided on by, his iridescent green face feathers glistening like fresh war paint in the cool wintry light.

However, the real showstopper here was a group of five cormorants sat on an island in the middle of the lake. We noticed that one of them appeared to be displaying to the others. He was constantly bending his neck back and forth in a comical bowing action while releasing vociferous squawks. He then picked up a branch from his side and waved it in front of the others. I’m not sure whether the other cormorants were impressed, but I certainly was! Then, just as it looked like he might be alone in his display attempts, two of the others faced each other and started their own noisy bowing ritual.

Having spent some time engrossed in the cormorants’ comical dancing, we left the hide and continued along the path around the lakes. The path was becoming muddier, which explained why a fellow group of walkers coming in the opposite direction had warned us earlier about how slippery the tracks were.

As we meandered along the track we were accompanied by the shrill bursting calls of a hidden Cetti’s warbler and the mellifluous tunes of bullfinches as they darted in and out of the hedgerows next to us.

Suddenly, something caught my eye on the path ahead. A flash of red and white. It was a fox. With a flick of its tail, it disappeared through the bushes into the fields almost as soon as soon I had seen it. I find foxes fascinating, they are swift, elusive and graceful. Coming face to face with one in the dark and looking into its eyes, even for just a fleeting moment, is an exhilarating experience.

Our last stop on our hide tour was Charlie’s Hide. From here we had a great view over another, larger body of water. Shovelers, coots, little grebes, lapwing and pintails floated on its surface, largely ignoring each others’ presence. A flock of widgeon flew overhead without stopping to take a dip. In the distance we could see a pale brown roe deer with stubby antlers. He fed placidly on the grass, oblivious to anyone watching him.

As we left the hide, we were treated to more deer action. A muntjac was feeding on the grass at the side of the track but he, too, because of the screeching of the wind, appeared to be completely unaware of our existence. We crept closer, hoping to get a better look and perhaps a few photos, but his excellent hearing overcame the cacophony of the wind and he scarpered.

The various wildlife we saw just on this occasion, from timid mammals to assertive water birds, shows the diversity of Wicken. But this is just a small selection of the things it is possible to see here. I can’t wait to come here in the late spring and summer when the paths along the lode will be aflutter with dragonflies and damselflies.