Environment & conservation

The LBJ, the app, and the frustrations of birdwatching

Posted on by Platypus Man

Mrs P and I have been birdwatching for nearly 40 years. It’s a great way to pass the time, one that allows us to escape temporarily from the pressures of modern living and instead get up close and personal with nature. But it’s not without its frustrations, of which the most frustrating thing of all is the LBJ. And in case any Americans reading this are wondering, that has nothing at all to do with Lyndon Baines Johnson – aka LBJ – the 36th president of the US!

For the uninitiated, in the British birding community LBJ stands for “little brown job”, which Wikipedia tells us is “an informal name used by birdwatchers for any of the large number of species of small brown passerine birds, many of which are notoriously difficult to distinguish.” The problem is compounded by the fact that your average LBJ never sits still for long, instead flitting hither and thither between bushes, briars and other forms of cover. As a rule, you only get a fleeting glimpse of an LBJ before it goes back into hiding. LBJs are a birder’s worst nightmare.

IMAGE CREDIT: “Cetti’s Warbler” by Mike Prince is licensed under CC BY 2.0. Sourced via Openverse

An alternative approach to identifying LBJs is via their songs. Unfortunately Mrs P and I haven’t been listening carefully enough over the last four decades, with the result that the number of species we can identify by their song alone can be counted on the fingers of one hand. But – much to my amazement – modern technology has come to the rescue, in the form of an app on my mobile phone.

A casual discussion with a bird enthusiast last year first brought the Merlin Bird ID app to our attention. It’s dead simple, which is fortunate as mobile phones aren’t my thing. When a bird is singing just fire up the app, which will analyse the song against its database and tell you which bird you’re (most probably) listening to. Simple but effective, as we discovered last week, when it led us to identify our first ever Cetti’s Warbler.

The Cetti’s was heard – and briefly seen – just a few metres from this spot. Unfortunately Mrs P was unable photograph it, and I’m grateful to Mike Prince for the image of the illusive LBJ at the top of this post

Mrs P and I were at Straw’s Bridge – aka Swan Lake – a local nature reserve that I first wrote about nearly three years ago. We go there mainly to enjoy the wildfowl, but were intrigued this time by glimpses of an LBJ that we couldn’t identify, moving between a series of bushes by the edge of the lake. It proved typically illusive, but just when we were about to give up and move on the bird started to sing in short, loud bursts. I whipped out my phone, and in a just a few seconds we learned its identity.

For confirmation I cross-checked with other information provided by the app. Its photo of the Cetti’s clearly matched the brief glimpses we’d had of the bird, and the textual description of its appearance and behaviour was bang on: a “dumpy and broad-tailed warbler, warm brown above and pale grayish below, with a narrow eyebrow…favours tangled vegetation near water, including reedy marshes with bushes and scrub. Often heard but rarely seen. Explosive, rich staccato song often draws attention.” Follow the link below to hear the song of the Cetti’s Warbler’s.

I found this recording of a singing Cetti’s Warbler on YouTube, courtesy of Birdfun.

The species is a new arrival in the UK, first breeding here – in the south-eastern county of Kent – in the early 1970s. Since then its range has slowly expanded northwards, but until our LBJ encounter last week we’d no idea the Cetti’s warbler had reached our home county of Derbyshire. Without the help of the bird identification app we would probably never have known.

In principle, I would rather leave the modern world behind when I’m out in nature. Mobile phones have their place, but a birdwatching trip isn’t one of them…or so I thought until Merlin Bird ID helped us identify our first Cetti’s Warbler. Having seen that 21st century technology can help us vanquish one of birdwatching’s biggest frustrations – the LBJ – I guess I might need to revise my opinion.

Let’s all celebrate International Polar Bear Day!

Posted on by Platypus Man

Today, 27 February, is International Polar Bear Day. Established by Polar Bears International, the day seeks to increase awareness of the plight of these iconic creatures and to raise funds to help with their conservation. The organisation was born in 1994, the brainchild of a group of wildlife enthusiasts who’d enjoyed great views of polar bears near Churchill in the far north of the Canadian province of Manitoba. Coincidentally, Churchill is also the place where Mrs P and I were thrilled by views of wild polar bears over a decade ago.

Churchill has been described as the Polar Bear Capital of the World. OK, it’s true that the ones saying it mostly have a vested interest in that they sell wildlife viewing tours to people like me and Mrs P, but they’ve got a point. If you’re determined to see a polar bear in the wild, the Churchill Wildlife Management Area is the place to go during “bear season,” which lasts for a period of five to six weeks each year. Polar Bears are big business in Churchill!

The signage leaves you in no doubt what to expect – or at least hope for – on a trip to the Churchill Wildlife Management Area.

The little town of Churchill, which has a resident population of fewer than 900, lies on the shores of Hudson Bay. To put it politely the place is bloody remote, being more than 1,000 miles north of the provincial capital of Winnipeg. Churchill is inaccessible by road; to get there you must travel by air or rail.

Its primary source of income is tourism, with thousands of visitors making the journey north every year to view the polar bears (in October and November), beluga whales on the Churchill River (in June and July) and the Northern Lights throughout the winter months.

During bear season the occasional polar bear will make it past the security cordon and end up wandering through downtown. For this reason, residents are said to leave their doors and cars unlocked at all times in case someone urgently needs to retreat to a place of safety. But for guaranteed – and safe – sightings, tourists take trips outside town on tundra buggies. These are big, bespoke vehicles with huge tyres, vehicles specially designed to cope with the challenging terrain of the Wildlife Management Area.

Our buggy was remarkably comfortable, bordering on luxurious. The cabin was heated, had an onboard loo (for any North Americans reading this, that’s a restroom!) and, most importantly of all, was totally bear proof.

To the rear of our tundra buggy was an open-air viewing platform, enabling great photographic opportunities without any windows to get in the way. The platform had a corrugated steel mesh floor through which we could watch bears as they passed beneath. One bear even stood on its hind legs to sniff curiously at the feet of the awe-struck passengers, with just a couple of inches / centimetres of perforated metal separating the two parties. That, my dear friends, is why there’s onboard loo!

The person standing on the rear viewing platform gives an indication of the size of this tundra buggy.

The views we enjoyed of polar bears during our tundra buggy rides were truly extraordinary, particularly when two of the bears were sparring with one another. These were, without doubt, some of the best – and closest – wildlife encounters of my life. We also took a helicopter trip out over the Wildlife Management Area one day, and saw several bears from an entirely different angle. In addition, helicopter vision helped give us a better appreciation of the bleak terrain that the polar bears inhabit.

Yes, the four white blobs are indeed polar bears, all chilling out in a bleak tundra landscape!

There was a range of other wildlife to be seen, but polar bears were the undoubted stars of the show. It was an absolute privilege to see them, and hopefully – if we, as a species, can get climate change control – similar opportunities will be available to future generations of wildlife enthusiasts.

Some of the other wildlife that we saw on the tundra around Churchill. Clockwise from top left: Red Fox; Snowy Owl; Arctic Hare: Rock Ptarmigan

Polar bears are magnificent, iconic creatures, and to lose them would be a tragedy. All power to the good folk at Polar Bears International for fighting the good fight on their behalf. Here’s wishing them, and anyone reading this, a wonderfully happy International Polar Bear Day.

The Big Garden Birdwatch breaks my heart

Posted on by Platypus Man

It’s that time of year again, the time when the UK’s dedicated nature lovers take part in the RSPB’s (Royal Society for the Protection of Birds) Big Garden Birdwatch, a national survey that has been running annually in one form or another since 1979. It is also, sadly, the time when I have to confess that once again Mrs P and I have failed miserably in our attempt to attract a wealth of birdlife to our modest suburban back garden.

The Woodpigeon was one of just two species to visit our garden over the Birdwatch long weekend

The first event, in 1979, was aimed at children and was a good deal more popular than anticipated. For over two decades the Big Garden Birdwatch continued in this form. Eventually the RSPB must have realised that the buzz created by the Birdwatch every year would be even bigger if anyone could take part, so in 2001 participation was opened up to adults as well. It worked: last year over half a million people took part in the Big Garden Birdwatch, and between them they recorded a massive 9.1 million birds!

The RSPB is understandably very proud of its Big Garden Birdwatch, which it claims is “the world’s largest garden wildlife survey”.  The benefits are wide-ranging: media coverage helps raise the profile of birds,- and environmental issues more generally – with a wider audience; those taking part get to focus their attention on nature for a while and enjoy consequential benefits for their mental health, and the RSPB collects a wealth of data on which species are thriving and which are struggling.

We were also visited by two male Blackbirds

Unhappily, the picture painted by the Big Garden Birdwatch is not encouraging, with the number of birds plummeting over the decades since it began. For example, House Sparrows are down 57% since 1979, while the number of Song Thrushes has collapsed by 80%.

Our own experience echoes these dismal findings: the results of this year’s count at Platypus Towers were, as expected, absolutely abysmal. The Big Garden Birdwatch 2024 ran over a period of three days, during which participants had to record the birds landing in their garden in a one hour period of their choice. In our garden, the number of birds seen throughout the whole three days – not just one hour! – was four. 

NOT SEEN! – Robin
NOT SEEN! – House Sparrow

Yes that’s right, we saw a measly four birds in our garden during the entire Birdwatch long weekend! OK, I admit that we weren’t watching every daylight minute of all three days, but the room where I work on my laptop overlooks the garden. In addition we spend every tea break in our “garden room”, watching what’s going on out there (and remember, we’re Brits so we have LOTS OF TEA BREAKS!) Not much passes us by, meaning the count of four birds is sure to be fairly accurate.

I’d been topping up the bird table for weeks to get the local birds in the mood for food, and on the first morning of the Birdwatch it was groaning under the weight of the goodies we’d provided. But they went largely ignored. The birds simply stayed away.

NOT SEEN! – Long-tailed Tit
NOT SEEN! – Wren

It wasn’t always like this. We’ve lived in this house nearly 40 years, and back in the day we welcomed a variety of avian visitors. Starlings, House Sparrows, Blue Tits, Long-tailed Tits, Robins, Wrens, Goldfinches and Dunnocks have all been seen. Memorably, for a few days one winter, a Pied Wagtail and a Grey Wagtail called our garden home. Once we spotted a Sparrowhawk sitting on the roof of the garden shed. A little later we found the remains of what we reckoned to be a Collared Dove on the path, and without doubt the Sparrowhawk was the guilty party. Even a Pheasant, hopelessly lost of course, once dropped in to say hi.

But in recent years, the number and variety of birds in our garden has fallen drastically. I last blogged about the Big Garden Birdwatch in 2020, under the title Birds Don’t Come Here Any More. That year, we saw just one male Blackbird! This year, between 26 and 28 January, the only birds to visit our garden were two woodpigeons and two male blackbirds. 

OK, we did better in 2024 than in 2020, but there’s nothing here to celebrate. I wish I could believe it’s simply because all the local birds got a better offer, a garden with tastier food (Mrs P’s theory) and fewer visiting cats, but I fear it’s worse than that. All the evidence suggests that bird numbers are declining right across the country. It breaks my heart.

NOT SEEN! – Pied Wagtail
NOT SEEN! – Grey Wagtail

Next year, of course, we’ll do the Big Garden Birdwatch again. Maybe we’ll do better than this time. We could hardly do much worse.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Update, 5 February 2024

A week has passed since I wrote this post at the end of the Big Garden Birdwatch, and as expected the birds are back in numbers. As well as the Blackbirds and Woodpigeons, over the last seven days we’ve been visited by a Starling and a Dunnock, and three (yes, that’s right, THREE) Robins. It’s almost as if they know and are taunting us. Huh!

Updating the update!

No more than 20 minutes after writing the above update two Blue Tits arrived and started inspecting the nest box we’ve put up on the side of the shed. They seemed interested. Things are definitely looking up, and my broken heart is beginning to mend…for now at least.

One year on …

The 2025 Birdwatch was marginally more successful: Two Woodpigeons, two male Blackbirds, two Robins and a Magpie. Typically, however, the Wren didn’t turn up until 48 hours after the count had ended. It was ever thus …

Highland Wildlife Park

Posted on by Platypus Man

For many years we had planned – but failed – to call in at the Highland Wildlife Park while driving north through Scotland on our way to visit the Orkney Islands, our favourite place in the whole world. At last, earlier this year, we finally got our act together and visited the Park for a few hours. And what a treat it turned out to be!

Red deer in the foreground, dwarfed by the landscape of the Cairngorms National Park

Highland Wildlife Park is located outside the town of Kincraig, in the Cairngorms National Park around 120 miles (193 km) north of Edinburgh, Scotland’s capital city. It was the brainchild of land-agent Neil Macpherson (1933-2017), who wanted to share the wildlife he encountered every working day in the north of Scotland with a wider audience.

The Scottish Wildcat (aka the “Highland Tiger”) is a unique sub-population of the European wildcat, on the brink of extinction after hundreds of years of persecution and habitat loss, followed by hybridisation with domestic cats. The Wildlife Park participates in a major captive breeding project.

Neil’s dream came to fruition in 1972, when the 260 acres (105 hectares) Park opened its gates to the paying public for the first time. It was a source of great pride and pleasure to him, but perhaps not as successful as he had hoped. In 1986 the ownership and operation of the Park passed to the Royal Zoological Society of Scotland, which also runs Edinburgh Zoo.

Przewalski’s Wild Horse is the only living true wild horse. It was once totally extinct in the wild, but captive breeding projects have enabled successful reintroduction programmes.

Controversially, in 2007 the Park’s theme was expanded from Scottish wildlife to focus instead on species from tundra and mountainous habitats around the world. So today, as well as animals from the local area – including Red Deer and the critically endangered Scottish Wildcat – visitors can enjoy views of a variety of more exotic fauna including Snow Leopards, Turkmenian Markhor, Przewalkski’s Horse and Vicuna.

There are estimated to be less than 2,500 Turkmenian Markhor remaining in the wild. Conservation initiatives in Pakistan are showing some signs of success.

The Royal Zoological Society of Scotland is a wildlife conservation charity whose vision is “a world where nature is protected, valued and loved.” Unsurprisingly, therefore, Highland Wildlife Park places a strong emphasis on education, as well as the captive breeding of endangered species.

Vicuna were hunted almost to extinction for their wool and meat until the 1960s, when Chile and Peru created protected national parks and stopped trade in vicuna wool. Since then, the population has steadily increased.

When we visited we were particularly pleased to get good views of the Park’s five Snow Leopards, parents Animesh and Koshi, and their cubs – born in May 2022 – Maya, Padme and Yashin. Being almost exactly 12 months old when we saw them, the cubs had lost much of their kittenish “cuteness”, having matured into impressive animals with exceptional appetites!

Several factors – including conflict with farmers, reduction in the population of prey species and the demands of traditional medicine – threaten the survival of Snow Leopard in the wild. Various conservation initiatives are being enacted to help reverse the decline.

In an ideal world the Highland Wildlife Park would be unnecessary. But our world is far from ideal, and it’s good to know that places like this exist to help protect species and spread positive messages about wildlife conservation. I’m sure we will call in again, next time we are on our way up to Orkney.

Reclaiming the landscape: Poolsbrook Country Park

Posted on by Platypus Man

The eastern part of my home county of Derbyshire has a long association with coal mining. Limited production took place during the medieval period, but it wasn’t until the Industrial Revolution that large-scale mining began. When the coal industry was nationalised in 1947, there were 68 deep mines in Derbyshire. Now there are none, but their legacy lives on in a surprising way at Poolsbrook Country Park.

Great Crested Grebe

The area now occupied by the Park once consisted of farmland set in a rural landscape. Large-scale mining, which began in 1875, changed the place beyond recognition: mine shafts were sunk, massive colliery buildings were erected, and vast, ugly spoil heaps were dumped wherever seemed convenient at the time. When the Ireland Colliery finally closed for good in 1986, the whole area had been transformed into a bleak, dystopian eyesore that offered little of value either to local people or to the natural world.

Eurasian Bullfinch (male)

Luckily the local council had the vision to realise that with time, effort and resources, the site could be reborn as a valuable community amenity and wildlife habitat. Under its ambitious plans the mining infrastructure was dismantled and the old colliery spoil heaps were landscaped to mimic a natural lake/river valley, which was then planted with trees and wildflower seed.

Close-up of Mute Swan.

Mute Swan

Today, the 165 acre (67 ha) site is home to a mosaic of habitats including lakes, wet grassland, wildflower hay meadows, woodland and hedgerows, all carefully managed for the benefit of wildlife. Good visitor facilities are also provided, encouraging local people to abandon the stresses and strains of urban life for a while and instead explore a small corner Derbyshire’s magnificent countryside.

Grey Heron.

Grey Heron

So, rather than simply return the land to its pre-mining status as an unremarkable piece of farmland, the planners and environmentalists have significantly enhanced it. In doing so they have created a big attraction for lovers of the natural world, particularly birders like Mrs P and I. The photographs that illustrate this short post show just a few of the birds we’ve spotted at Poolsbrook Country Park since the easing of the Covid lockdown.

Female mallard and two chicks.
Female mallard and chicks
Eurasian Coot.
Eurasian Coot

Casual visitors unfamiliar with its history would struggle to identify Poolsbrook Country Park as the site of a colliery that was in operation for over 100 years. This, in my view, is very encouraging, an illustration of just what can be achieved if we are ambitious about restoring our natural world. It offers real hope that with effort and resources we can put right at least some of the wrongs perpetrated by previous generations in the name of “progress.”

Conservation through education – The British Wildlife Centre

Posted on by Platypus Man

The UK doesn’t have many animals running wild through its countryside, and most of them are in any case rather difficult to see. While Grey Squirrels unashamedly flaunt their presence, most of our mammals keep their heads down. This, often combined with low numbers and a limited geographical distribution, means that few people in this country are well acquainted with the species that call these islands home. The British Wildlife Centre, located near to the village of Lingfield in the county of Surrey, is seeking to put this right.

The Centre was founded by former dairy farmer David Mills in 1997. At the age of 50 David reluctantly came to the realisation that he could no longer face the prospect of milking his herd twice a day, and decided to change the direction of his life by indulging his other great passion – British wildlife. His aim was to build an attraction specialising in UK animals, with the goal of educating ordinary members of the public about our native species and the challenges they face.

Although it strives to offer visitors a good time simply by allowing them to get up close and personal with British wildlife, education is at the heart of the Centre’s mission. Its website explains that

“In term time we specialise in school visits …We can then focus on teaching children to appreciate and respect Britain’s own wonderful native wild species, so that they may develop a life-long interest in their protection and survival. Our philosophy can be summed up as ‘Conservation through Education’.”

British Wildlife Centre website, retrieved 10 February 2023

During our visit to the Centre a few months ago we were pleased to get good views of one of the resident polecats, an animal I’ve never seen in the wild. Once common throughout mainland Britain, they were driven to near extinction in the middle of the last century due to persecution by gamekeepers.

By the late 1930s all that remained of British polecats was a small population in north Wales. Thankfully, the species is now bouncing back, and polecats can be found throughout rural Wales, and growing areas of England including parts of the Midlands, the South and the South-East.

Another member of the weasel family to put on a show for us that day was a stoat. These animals are widely distributed across the UK, but unpredictable and difficult to spot. I have been lucky enough to see stoats in the wild, but only rarely and for just a few fleeting seconds before they hurry away into the undergrowth. At the Centre we were fortunate that one of the animals ceased its relentless dashing and posed for a couple of seconds, enabling Mrs P to capture its image for posterity.

Perhaps the most exciting encounter during our visit to the Centre was with a Scottish wildcat, which looks similar to the domestic tabby, but with more stripes and a bushier, blunt-ended tail that boasts several thick black rings We refer to these animals as Scottish wildcats, but in fact they were once widely distributed across the whole of the British mainland.

However, they disappeared from southern England around the 16th century, and the last one recorded in northern England was shot in 1849. They are now confined to parts of the Scottish highlands, but survival of this outlier population in the wild is threatened by interbreeding with feral cats.

The Centre has many other wildlife treats in store for the visitor, from foxes and badgers – which are invariably dead on the road whenever I see them – to pine martens and otters, animals I rarely see either dead or alive. The Centre’s guiding philosophy of “conservation through education”, the work it does to improve awareness of British wildlife, and its support for captive breeding programmes and scientific research, is to be applauded. I hope that, before too long, we’ll be able to make another visit.

Chilling out with Nature

Posted on by Platypus Man

We’ve booked to go out for lunch, and with a couple of hours to kill before our appointed time, we decide to treat ourselves to a spot of birdwatching. Straw’s Bridge Nature Reserve was once home to a sewage works and an opencast mine. It doesn’t sound promising, but in recent decades the local council has done a good job of restoring it as a wildlife habitat and local amenity. The locals call it Swan Lake, but the Reserve has plenty more besides the eponymous Mute Swan to tempt nature lovers.

On arrival we’re surprised to see that the Straw’s Bridge lakes are frozen in places. Instead of swimming elegantly across wide expanses of open water, the Mute Swans are reduced to an ungainly waddle and appear in mortal danger of ending up flat on their beaks at any moment. Meanwhile, Black-headed Gulls huddle together miserably on the ice, as if bemused by the sudden meteorological change that has turned their familiar surroundings into an unwelcome skating rink.

As we set off to walk a series of trails around the lakes we spy a robin sitting atop a rubbish bin. Like many of his species, our red-breasted friend seems unperturbed by proximity to humans, even as Mrs P creeps ever-closer in pursuit of the perfect, full-frame photo. She snaps away merrily, the robin sings lustily and I take a bit of video footage. Contentment reigns supreme!

A bit further on we watch an unexpected face-off between a Grey Heron and a mob of Mute Swans. The heron has staked its claim to a section of ice, and although they have a whole lake to choose from the swans evidently decide that the ideal place for a family gathering is the precise spot on which it’s standing. They close in on the heron, which eyes them warily. I train my video camera on them all, expecting to see feathers fly. But the heron clearly thinks better of it, and goes slip-sliding away from the mob in search of a swan-free life. Good luck with that at Swan Lake, my friend.

We continue our stroll around the lakes, revelling in the golden colours of the winter reedbeds. Despite the glorious sun beaming down at us from a clear blue sky, it’s a bitterly cold morning. But we’ve come prepared, wearing so many layers of thermal clothing that we feel comfortably toasty. In the leaf litter beneath a small stand of trees, a solitary redwing – a refugee from Scandinavia, where winters are much colder than our own – searches energetically for anything edible. Meanwhile, in the far distance we spot a flotilla of mallards and coots circling in a patch of open water, while a buzzard scans the landscape hopefully from its vantage point at the top of a nearby tree.

And finally, we happen upon the star of this morning’s birding expedition. It’s another Grey Heron, this one sitting amongst the dead vegetation at the edge of an ice-free section of the lake. The bird is indifferent to our presence as we creep ever closer, and looks majestic in the soft midwinter light.

Thoughts inevitably turn to my Mum. After Dad died in the mid-1990s, we started taking her out on birdwatching excursions with us. She got to love it, and the bird she loved most of all was the heron. The tall, long-legged, long-billed wader fascinated and enthralled her, and was her highlight of any outing to a wetland habitat. Such happy memories!

Far too soon, it is time to head back to the car and drive a couple of miles down the road to where we will be taking lunch. There’s one final surprise in store – in the lakeside car park we see a Pied Wagtail cavorting across a car bonnet, presumably in search of its own lunch of splattered insects.

It’s been an uplifting morning. As reserves go, Straw’s Bridge is hardly spectacular, its list of regularly occurring species totally unremarkable, and yet this is a truly wonderful place to chill out with Nature. We’ll be back again very soon, although next time I hope we can manage without the thermal underwear!

Scouting for squirrels

Posted on by Platypus Man

Last Saturday, 21st January, was Squirrel Appreciation Day. Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure, until it was mentioned in passing on Winterwatch, the BBC’s seasonal wildlife programme. I think the presenter referred to it as Red Squirrel Appreciation Day, because – and let’s be brutally honest about this – nobody here gives much thought to grey squirrels. Reds, however, are an iconic species in the UK, universally loved and widely regarded as a national treasure.

Grey squirrels are everywhere, impossible to miss and, for some, difficult to love. Red squirrels, however, are altogether more elusive. Brownsea Island, located in Poole Harbour on the south coast, is one of the few places in England where a sighting of red squirrels is pretty much guaranteed. Also guaranteed, if you visit at the right time, is a sighting of Boy Scouts, a reflection of the island’s special place in the history of the scouting movement.

Background

The origins of Squirrel Appreciation Day lie in the USA. In 2001, wildlife rehabilitation specialist Christy Hargrove founded National Squirrel Appreciation Day in Asheville, North Carolina. Her aim was to encourage positive attitudes towards, and practical support for, her local squirrels. It’s perhaps ironic, therefore, that it is American squirrels that are responsible for the collapse of our own native red squirrel population.

It’s difficult to believe that here in the UK grey squirrels were once regarded as an exotic species. Some wealthy landowners thought it would be a great idea to brighten up their estates with wildlife superstars from across the Atlantic, and grey squirrels seemed like the ideal candidates. Adaptable, resourceful and tougher than the native reds, the greys soon began to out-compete them. Worse still, the greys were carriers of a disease – squirrel pox – which did them no harm, but was lethal to the reds.

The first recorded release of grey squirrels in the UK was in 1876, at Henbury Park in Cheshire. They thrived, as did other greys that were released elsewhere. Before long, the red squirrel population was in steep decline as greys spread rapidly across the country. Today, Brownsea Island, which is protected from a grey invasion by the waters of Poole Harbour, is one of only a couple of places in southern England where red squirrels still run wild.

Brownsea Island

Brownsea Island is tiny, just 1.5 miles (2.4 km) long and 0.75 miles (1.2 km) wide. It consists of around 500 acres (200 ha) of woodland and heathland, and a brackish lagoon. The island is owned by the National Trust, and much of it is actively managed for the benefit of nature. As well as squirrels, the island is home to a wide variety of bird species, including dunlin, kingfishers, common and sandwich terns and oystercatchers. A major conservation project is currently underway to improve habitats for wildlife, focussed on woodland management, heathland restoration and the removal of invasive plant species.

The island is also notable for having played an important part in the development of the International Scouting Movement. In August 1907 Robert Baden-Powell, its founder, held a week-long camp there to test out his ideas. The experiment was deemed a success, and the following year he published his seminal book Scouting for Boys, thereby kick-starting a ground-breaking organisation which thrives to this day.

Boy Scouts and Girl Guides continue to camp on the island, but none were evident when we took a trip out to Brownsea a few years ago. But that didn’t bother us, as the purpose of our visit was to go scouting for squirrels. We were not disappointed. The red squirrels for which Brownsea is justly famous were present in large numbers, and not at all camera-shy…I guess the feeders, well-stocked with tasty and nutritious nuts, probably had a lot to to with that. Mrs P snapped 335 pics of squirrels that day, some of which are featured in this post. Oh, the joys of digital photography!

Over the years we’ve been lucky to watch red squirrels in several parts of the UK where they are still gamely hanging on, but nowhere have we ever had such wonderful views as those we enjoyed that day on Brownsea Island. I think it’s probably time for a return visit!

Back to nature – a day at Pensthorpe Natural Park

Posted on by Platypus Man

Finally, after more than two years confined to barracks by the pandemic, we’re back on the road again. Not overseas: the timing still doesn’t seem right, and in any case the burning desire to visit far off foreign parts has cooled a bit. Maybe the passion will return in due course, maybe not, but unless and until our outlook changes there’s plenty to keep us occupied here in the UK.

Created by the gravel extraction industry, the lakes at Pensthorpe are now managed for wildlife. This shot shows only a small section of one of the reserve’s lakes.

The county of Norfolk is one of our favourite English destinations, and it was the obvious place for us to take our first proper UK holiday (that’s “vacation” to you guys in North America!) since summer 2019. And every time we visit Norfolk we make a point of spending a day at the wonderful Pensthorpe Natural Park.

Mandarin ducks are one of the more exotic species found at Pensthorpe

Pensthorpe started out as a large gravel extraction enterprise, with over 1 million tonnes being dug out and carted off to who-knows-where. But instead of becoming a permanent scar on the landscape the site has been sensitively transformed into something of real value to the local community, and to visitors from further afield like Mrs P and I. Today it’s a bit of an oddball mixture, part old-fashioned waterfowl exhibit, part nature reserve, part conservation hub, part sculpture park, part kids’ activity centre. There’s something for just about everyone at Pensthorpe Natural Park.

We were pleased to get good views of this Four Spotted Chaser

The Park is run as a business, which in principle sits a little uncomfortably with me. In practice, however, the owners – Bill and Deb Jordan, top dogs in a family-owned breakfast cereal company – appear genuinely committed to the restoration and protection of the natural world. There’s nothing to suggest they put profit ahead of sound conservation practice, and I’m therefore relaxed in saying that they get my vote.

“Wild Boar” by George Hider (2014), one of the eye-catching sculptural pieces dotted around the Park.

Bill and Deb win further brownie points from me for setting up a charitable trust, the Pensthorpe Conservation Trust, to work with their commercial operation. Established in 2003, the Trust aims “to establish a centre of excellence, habitat management and restoration alongside conservation of wetland and farmland bird species through captive breeding programmes in national conservation partnerships.” Corncrakes, cranes, red squirrels and turtle doves are amongst the species currently benefitting from the Trust’s activities.

Pensthorpe is a partner in a captive-breeding conservation project to boost numbers of wild corncrakes

Our return visit to Pensthorpe last month did not disappoint, even though the management has yet to erect a commemorative plaque at the spot where I broke my ankle in a fall on a snowy winter’s day in 2013! The lakes and woods teemed with wildlife, and although there was nothing exceptionally rare to be seen on this occasion it was great to get back into natural world after the miseries of Covid.

Lucky visitors to Pensthorpe may stumble across a muntjac deer

It was also great to bump into a former work colleague, albeit totally unexpected given that we were around 120 miles (nearly 200 km) from the office and had not seen each other since she moved on some eight or nine years ago! Amanda is a lovely lady, passionate about sport, physical fitness and wellbeing, and – as I now discovered – birdwatching too.

Great Spotted Woodpecker, an unexpected Pensthorpe bonus

Amanda explained that she is currently working on the government’s Green Social Prescribing project. The initiative enables doctors to help improve mental health outcomes and reduce health inequalities amongst suitable patients by prescribing “nature-based interventions and activities, such as local walking for health schemes, community gardening and food-growing projects.”

Families of Egyptian Geese wander the Park, helping to keep the grass short!

I was previously only vaguely aware of Green Social Prescribing. But hearing Amanda talk about the initiative as we sat together in a bird hide, gazing out over a tranquil lake where ducks, geese, and swans were going about their daily business and squadrons of swallows whizzed happily overhead, it now made perfect sense.

A large walk-through aviary allows visitors to get close to Bearded Tits (aka Bearded Reedlings), birds that are tricky to see in the wild

I felt more at peace on our day at Pensthorpe, and during the visits we made the same week to several other Norfolk nature reserves, than at any time since Covid hit. For me there is no doubt that getting back to nature – close to wildlife and wild places, distant from the stresses and strains of 21st century urban life – revives the spirit and nurtures the soul.

“Stag” by George Hider (2017)

Before our visit last month it had been around three years since our last trip to Pensthorpe. But guess what – we’ll be going back real soon!

So, follow our example and get back to nature, guys. You know it makes sense!

The goose that never was

Posted on by Platypus Man

Here’s a question that I know has been on your mind for ages: when is a goose not a goose? The answer is, quite simply, “When it’s an Egyptian Goose.” Despite its name and goose-like appearance this bird is actually a type of duck, most closely related to the Shelducks. And to complicate matters even further it’s not strictly Egyptian either, being native to large swathes of Africa and not just the land of the pharaohs. The Egyptian Goose is plainly a bird suffering a full-scale identity crisis!

This non-goose species appears to have got the first part of its name because it featured in the artwork of the ancient Egyptians, who considered it sacred. It was first brought to the UK in the late 17th century, when its pale brown and grey plumage, with distinctive dark brown eye-patches, made a striking addition to ornamental wildfowl collections.  Some of the captive birds soon made an understandable bid for freedom, and the escapees established a small feral population in the county of Norfolk on the east coast of England.

Numbers remained tiny for centuries, the British climate proving to be a bit of a challenge for a species that is native to sub-tropical regions and habitually breeds in January. The bird remained stubbornly confined to Norfolk, so when we encountered one at Rutland Water – just 50 miles (80km) from Platypus Towers – around 20 years ago I refused to believe that the creature in front of us could possibly be an Egyptian Goose. Mrs P stuck to her guns, however, and was eventually proved correct, something I am never allowed to forget!

Indeed, this sighting was a sign of things to come. After being static for so long, numbers of Egyptian Geese in the UK have expanded rapidly in the last three or four decades. The reason for this sudden change is uncertain, although the finger of suspicion inevitably points at climate change.

While Norfolk remains the Egyptian Goose’s UK stronghold, it has now spread widely – and is breeding successfully – across eastern and southern England. We regularly see them at the nearby Attenborough Nature Reserve in Nottinghamshire, and have encountered them at several other wetland habitats in our region. The RSPB tells us there are now around 1,100 breeding pairs in the UK, with an overwintering population of around 3,400 birds.

Plainly, the Egyptian Goose – the goose that never was – is here to stay.