Another big walk today, and on day one-hundred! Again driving up to north Norfolk. This time to Hunstanton on a breezy, changeable day to start the North Norfolk Path. First leg, around 20km from Hunstanton to Burnham Deepdale.
Five get over-excited.
We parked the cars at the destination and got the coastal hopper bus to the start. Face masks ready for public transport; it feels very strange.
The start of the walk at Hunstanton beech. The two sedimentary rock layers of the cretaceous period; limestone (lower) with chalk (upper).
Five members of the Gentleman’s Film and Leisure Club made the walk that hugged the coast through Holme Dunes then detoured inland through Thornham. Then came back to the beach at Titchwell. Finally, along the beach again to Brancaster.
Heading inland slightly.
A packed lunch on the remains of a Roman fort to the backdrop of thunderclaps. Jupiter was obviously not impressed by my ham and cheese sandwich.
The Cinnabar (Tyria Jacobaeae) named after the red mineral. It is a daytime moth.
As usual, we talked about everything from moth hunting to online degrees. From the uses of rape-seed oil to the benefits of lawn bowls.
Common Evening Primrose (Oenothera biennis) found behind the Holme Dunes.
Ten thousand acres of sky provided enough room for sunshine, clouds of all types, timid showers and even a rainbow – with a visible end! It was another incredible Norfolk backdrop.
Thank you, Mark. For this stunning picture. There must have been something in your cider, Mate.
The cast of players in front of this breathtaking scenery included a Marsh Harrier, a Buzzard, a Kestrel and a chorus of gulls, skylarks and warblers. There was no plot, no real storyline, but amazing performances nonetheless.
A young-ish Common Beech tree with it’s bark grey and generally smooth. Often referred to as the queen of British trees. Oak being the king.
The best thing about this was that the tickets were free and social-distancing did not impact on the audiences enjoyment one bit. Here’s to stage two, but wearing more comfortable boots.
It is blowing hard outside, more like Autumn than mid-Summer. Really different to the past few weeks and a welcome break in my opinion.
I’m lying, feet up on the leather sofa, finishing my book. Just read a wonderful passage that has resonated with me. It made me sad. That surge of love for the natural world that affects the spirit. It pulls my core to the ground, anchores my heart to the earth. I find it hard to explain how or why it does that to me.
But then, why do we have a compulsion to try and explain our connection with nature. It’s in our DNA, I guess, to always seek answers. Either through neurological or biological science, history and geography, even through religion? But I think some things just don’t need explaining. Just accepting and appreciating. Be thankful and enjoy it.
Just popped to the shops and queuing everywhere. This will turn more people away from shopping on the high street. Then went into the supermarket, no queuing and social distancing was non-existent. The trouble is, I don’t know which approach is right. This is will lead to confusion, anger, resentment and conflict. He should have sacked Dominic Cummings.
Walking this evening was a challenge as it was so windy. But another amazing moment, I saw the Little Owl again. Who knows if its the same one that I chanced upon each night during my post-match walks two summers ago during the world cup. It doesn’t really matter. He/she was sat in the branches of one of the familiar trees. We shared a momentary glance and parted with wings and feet. Our eyes as wide as each other.
Field bindweed (Convolvulus arvensis) is a common roadside plant. It can be dangerous to cereal crops as it climbs and pulls it down. It is rigorous.
What a very different morning? Cool, overcast but equally as pleasing as the bright, warm mornings of late. The distant backdrop sound is a shallow rumble of an electrically charged sky.
I heard the rain through the open bedroom window before droplets started to spot it. A subtle sound like someone rubbing a flat sheet of cardboard with an open hand. A really satisfying sound. Then, when the rain actually arrives, another fabulous sound, that of the water butts refilling themselves.
When the weather takes a change in direction my senses feel more alert. The sounds and smells in particular appear to offer more than normal. The aroma of rain drops cooling warm grass, shrubs and stone is unmistakable and the temporary sound of bird silence is also stark.
Then, after a short while, the birdsong returns. The rain glides away. Normal daytime conditions return. The air temperatures start to rise and those amazing smells subside. That special, albeit brief, sensory shake-up is history. So starts another warm and sunny June day.
After a sweltering day, we waited for the temperature to drop before taking Mabel for a walk. A cloud each of midges above our heads, following us along the lanes. We looked like Pigpen from Charlie Brown (I loved Charlie Brown, and Scooby-Doo). Rain is due tomorrow morning again and slightly cooler too. Phew.
It’s been a day of sounds and smells today but there were a couple of sights that brought that awe and wonder.
This mystical sky at around 10pm this evening took my breath away. The moon was out and the clouds started to accumulate. It felt like a sign for something.A Common Blue Damselfly (Enallagma Cyathigerum) munching on a small spider. The fruits of taking time to look a little closer.
So, a few things this evening. First of all, the first beer when you get back home? Perfect. The second? Disappointing.
Next, got into the car this evening and this little chap fell on to my seat belt through the window.
A Sexton Beetle (microporous vespilloidies) is a pretty remarkable creature. They bury the bodies of dead birds or mice, copulate and lay their eggs into the corpse. The lavae hatch and feed on the rotting flesh. Nice.
The vine in our back garden is getting some proper attention this summer. Normally, it has been allowed to just do its thing which has not only frustrated our next door neighbour but has also led to a right blooming mess.
Getting some real attention this year. No grapes this season but maybe next.
Then, my heart skipped when I saw the Heybridge Kestrel again. Again, I was heading to my car after work. This is the second time I have encountered her there. I think she has a nest in one of the trees on the school grounds. I know the video quality is awful and my phone camera was on full zoom. But I don’t care, it was a connection of sorts. She was on the grass much nearer to start but with a couple of flaps and a low swoop took herself to the edge of the picnic area. Then up into the tree. I can’t help but hope to see her more regularly. We’ll see.
It’s awful quality but it doesn’t matter. I was there and so was she.
Finally, I went on a longer walk with Mabel this evening. The first in a week as she has been recovering from her operation. We heard a flutter in the hedgerow and noticed a crow trapped by the chicken wire fence. I managed to rescue it and set it free. That was quite magical. All in all, not a bad day.
This old-timer was caught up in the chicken-wire fence in the lanes this evening. A wonderful feeling to hold it in my hands and feel its heartbeat on the tips of my fingers. Even better yo release it and watch it fly off across the field and into the oak tree.
Today has been the hottest day of the year so far. 28°c in the car this evening when we took Mabel down to Mistley for a walk along The Walls.
After I arrived home, I made straight for a cold beer and headed to the bottom of the garden. A moment of tranquility, sat facing the Silver Birch with the sun flicking its warm light through the branches. I looked up thinking I heard the Buzzards but realised it was my own breathing! Asthma is playing up with all this hot, dry and pollen saturated air.
My little bit of bliss. In the middle of winter, I want to look back at this and think, “I was there
Whilst out I saw this little wonder. I think its a Yellow Shell moth. It’s going to be another great year for butterflies and moths. The spring and early part of summer has been dry and warm.
Evolution is the most amazing Creator. Sat on that leaf. Those shapes, the colours, the textures. Can something be anymore perfect? The Yellow Shell moth (Camptogramma bilineata).
There were so many people out on the grass alongside the Stour this evening. Many feel that the lockdown has been lifted to soon, others that it hasn’t come soon enough or gone far enough. Swimming pools and gyms are to remain closed for the time being.
This is becoming yet another topic for the nation to split over. It was about being in-or-out of Europe, now its in-or-out of your own home? Meanwhile, the tide of the Stour keeps coming in and going out, and the sun will pop up again in the morning, through the branches of our Silver Birch. And today is set to become the years second hottest day so far.
This passed near our house this evening – but not near enough. I have decided to only use my phone to take photos, video or audio for this blog. Bugger.
“Stop looking at other people’s trees, Dad.” Adora can be very direct and I love her straight, no-nonsense approach. Out on our dog walk this evening, she had clearly had enough of me staring up at the tops of trees. Especially one’s that are in our neighbours’ gardens.
The reason for this visual frisking was that the Song Thrush, that sings poems (see Day 81), had moved temporarily across the wheat field and orchard to take up a high point on top of a silver birch in the front garden of number 1.
He had been in his usual tree on the lane but obviously fancied a bit of a change. And why not? Especially as he would seem to have not been particularly successful with the ladies to date (I maybe wrong). I now refer to his usual tree as the singing tree for obvious reasons. By giving names to our local landmarks I feel, as a family, we can recount events and journeys using clearly identifiable locations.
“Where did you take the dog this evening?”
“Oh, we just went up past the dead-fox ditch to the singing tree and back.”
It’s special that these names only really mean something to us. The rest of the world is not part of our club.
I drove to Heybridge again today in the beautiful summer sunshine. The A12 continues to get busier but no ‘weight of traffic’ hold-ups as yet. Turning up there this morning, after writing yeaterday’s post, I was reminded again that there is something special in the air. It is an almost mystical locality and I am going to learn more about it through a combination of research and simply walking around it. I might even get the Gentleman’s Film & Leisure Club to do a walk.
Found this tiny bit of natural perfection sat on a leaf in the hedgerow enjoying the last rays of sunshine this evening.
A good friend of mine, now living north of the border, recommended a book to me a few years ago. The memoirs of an ordinary man from Chelmsford who repeatedly, obsessively, tracked Peregrines across the countryside from his home down to the Blackwater estuary. He did this across the Autumn and Winter months of the mid to late 1960s. A very different time.
The book affected me and the way I now view the natural world. It also changed the relationship I have with this region. Not just Essex but the whole of East Anglia. I feel part of this region and much more a part of the natural world as a result of this book.
Here’s a link to the BBC’s serialisation of J A Baker’s masterpiece of nature writing ‘The Peregrine’. Narrated by Sir David Attenborough.
I am so rubbish at starting the week. Monday mornings are an enigma to me. When I look back on any week, I can never recall anything that occurred on any Monday morning. I try not to book anything too important for Monday mornings (other than to get-up) as I am fairly confident that I will mess it up or, at best, not be achieve.
Then I hit 11ish and a strong coffee and my yoghurt-granolla-fruit-honey combo and BAM! I arrive. I’m there. Ok, so not quite ‘bam’ but things are improved.
I arrived at work today and drove through to the rear car park. It is such an amazing location for a school. Last week, I watched a kestrel perch on the tree, casually looking down to the meadow below her for supper. She was definitely female, a larger bird with a glowing chestnut-tan chest. She elegantly glanced over her shoulder towards me a couple of times just to check I was no threat – she knew all along that I wasn’t.
A wood pigeon egg shell. Many birds remove and dump the shells from their exposed nests to detract predators from the newly hatched young.
When I stepped out of the car this particular Monday morning I found a pure white eggshell on the grass next to the car park. It’s either a collared dove or wood pigeon, not totally sure. So, actually, not a bad start to the week.
The school is wonderfully located in Heybridge, adjacent to the town of Maldon. It has the rich tidal mud and silt of the Heybridge basin to the east (its rear). To the west, once you are through the built up (but not overly so) town, there is a mixture of agricultural land, wild countryside and woodland all the way inland to the A12 and Chelmsford. The Blackwater River and estuary is where the river Chelmer empties. Just round the corner is where the famous Maldon Sea Salt is harvested.
The school has a constant background ambience sound of bird song, craw, quack and chatter. It is a migratory haven for so many birds at this time of year. It’s heavenly and we need to make the most of it. We will.
Our family of house sparrows under the eaves of the school roof.
That said, we have dipped our ontological toes in the rich waters. The school’s tech department (what a top bloke) gets the students to hone their woodworking skills annually making birdboxes. They also wired up a home made camera rig in one of them. This year a very grateful family of house sparrows used it and the loyal adult pair raised and successfully fledged three young.
Our skeleton staff were able to enjoy watching it but sadly our students couldn’t due to the lockdown. Next year we will improve the camera quality and ensure it streams via our website 24/7.
When our children were younger, I was always a little perplexed that, on Mother’s day, I had the kids to give Lisa a break. Then, on Father’s day, my treat was to have the kids. Saying that, our kids are, and always have been, a pleasure to be with. I am a very, very lucky man.
I’ve decided to take this lazy-hazy opportunity to write this post at stages across the day. I normally do it all before switching the light off at bedtime. But I know that my thinking and mood swirls from hour to hour. I have also got to seriously improve my bedtime routine; no screens, read a book, lights out before eleven. I’ve scheduled this post to publish at 10.30pm. What isn’t included by then won’t get posted.
9.34am. I woke to read that three people have died in a stabbing incident in Reading yesterday evening. I know Forbury Gardens well having lived in Reading for my late teens and early twenties. The thing is I am having more days recently where I just don’t want to engage in the news at all. It does little good for me to know the details and the media seem to scratch the surface whilst relentlessly repeating the same lines. Delve deeper, ask serious questions, explore why these things happen. Don’t just fill the time with ‘eye witness’ accounts or politicians tweets and soundbites.
So, its 11.11am and I’m downstairs, sat next to Mabel, looking out of the window to our back garden. It’s overcast and breezy and I have a book on my lap and listening to some of my favourite music. I am feeling particularly nostalgic and reflecting on the person I was compared to who I am now. What’s different?
The past couple of years I have changed. I’ve obviously grown older (that’s a positive by the way) and far from having a mid-life crisis I feel jubilant about how I am. There has been a lot of shit to deal with – stuff to face up to. Plenty of breath-taking stomach blows too, but I have managed them. I was always told that I was the emotional one, too emotional at times. How can you be too emotional? Emotion is what makes us who we are. Supressing your emotion not only caustically eats away at you from the inside (you have to let it out, good and bad) but it also stops you from acting on what needs doing.
I cry more now, in front of others. I laugh louder. My stomach turns over when I see upsetting scenes or feel the pain of others. When I am joyful, my heart beats loudly in my chest, making me draw deeper breaths.
The past eighteen months or so have brought moments of real sadness but they have made me feel really alive too. I have learnt that always wearing a smile doesn’t mean that you are always happy. Happiness, sadness, joy, sorrow are all part of being human. By welcoming every emotion, and subsequently every event, I am learning more about myself. This brings me peace and contentedness as well as keeping the blood flowing.
It’s a dogs life, and that’s not bad.
11.36am. Mabel has just woken next to me. She has recovered well from her operation and I think she likes wearing her body suit thing that protects the scar from her operation. She enjoys every moment. She loves being outside exploring the natural world. She adores sleep. She eats her food, drinks her water and surrounds herself with love. It’s a dogs life, and I am going to take a leaf out of her book.
1.32pm. I decided a couple of years ago now to stop accessing Facebook and Twitter. I do occasionally check-in if something specific prompts me to but it is very rare. I got to a stage where I resented the time it took from me. I mostly disliked the way it was generally being used. I felt it was a bragging app used to shout about where someone was, what they were doing or who they were with, what they had bought etc. etc. It gave adults the opportunity to behave like kids in the playground again – ‘My house is bigger than your house!’ Was my decision to stop using it fuelled by envy? Maybe. If it was, then I stopped using it because I didn’t like the way it made me feel rather than the things people posted.
But, like I say, I do occasionally go on, usually to follow a link from a website, and saw this great post. How can anyone possibly argue against this?
King Kenny strikes again!
2.24pm It’s currently just me and Mabel in the house. Lisa and the kids have gone food shopping. Walking in the garden I saw this little fella. This hoverfly species is so common that it only has it’s Latin name. I suppose it should be grateful for small mercies, as there is another hoverfly which is ‘extremely common’. He many be common but he doesn’t know it and I am sure he doesn’t care.
The common hoverfly (Helophilus pendulum). The patterning behind its head distinguishes it from it’s ‘extremely common’ cousin which is blank. Check out the Raybans!
5.25pm. Just been outside to patch up the patio seat. It’s now more metal than wood with the number of screws that I’ve put into it. A buzzard glided overhead to the soundtrack of a Strauss waltz coming from a radio in the next-door neighbour’s back garden. I’m enjoying a beer and some pork scratchings that the family brought back and finishing off my book, ‘The Salt Path’. The warm smell of the tomato plants on the patio are wafting in on the breeze. Bliss..
Warm tomato plants and a bench full of screws. A view from my happy chair.
I meditated this afternoon too. What a fantastic gift that has been, learning transcendental meditation. I am not doing it twice a day at present but I am trying to do it as often as possible. It feels like deep sleep, but you’re awake.
I love Saturday. Who doesnt? Is it the best day of the week? I would imagine that if a poll was done in the UK for the best day of the week I reckon Saturday would win comfortably.
Today started, like most of our Saturdays, slow, with coffee and sunshine. Adora made American pancakes with maple syrup, fruit, streaky bacon and yoghurt. Mmm.
Then off to McCloghlans farm for pick your own strawberries. The kids are now 16 and 17 and this was the first time we had taken them. I feel like such a bad parent. We had to get a ticket beforehand and remain two meters apart from others. The usual hand sanitizer on the way in and queuing lines to weigh and pay. There is nothing like a sun warmed strawberry, picked straight off the plant. Mmm again.
We picked up some plants on the way home from a stall on the side of the road. We must have got around a dozen plants for about a tenner. Such amazing value and pretty much guaranteed to take to our garden because they are locally grown.
We spent the rest of the afternoon planting up the plants and doing chores in the garden. Then cut the grass, leaving patches untouched. So pleased that bees are now visiting the clover flowers that are growing in this longer lawn. Bumble bees and honey bees. Brilliant.
Our patches of longer grass are allowing the daisies and clover flowers to bloom. In turn, bees and other insects are arriving in their numbers.
It is encouraging to read that the government are expecting all children to return to school in September. At the moment only Years R, 1, 6, 10 and 12 can attend and not all of them are choosing to. The schools operate very differently and, especially for the younger children, the warmth is missing.
The problem is, I have absolutely zero faith in this government. I decided to relax all political affinities during this pandemic. I mean, how political can it get when dealing with something like this? What has angered me though is the very obvious differences between the rich and the poor; and sadly how this government don’t seem to care.
I am involved in planning and delivering the remote learning provision for our learners. We have some of the most vulnerable young people attending our schools. Too many have very limited or no access to technology at home on which you do their work. Many have no broadband. They cannot afford it.
Meanwhile, others attending private schools or schools in more affluent areas are receiving up to five hours of live, online lessons each day. Now, I don’t have an issue with that. I do, however, have an issue that other children get near to nothing because they cannot afford the technology. Our society is fundamentally unfair and it feels, yet again, there is little desire at the top to change things.
The Essex Skipper (Thymelicus lineola) common place in southern England.
I need a natural lift after all that. I’m going to return to the insect photo competition that we had on our walk last Sunday. Mark took these pictures of two butterflies. I confess that when I briefly scanned them I thought they were one and the same but they are clearly different. Another example of why it’s so important to properly look at stuff, especially in the natural world. You are rewarded if you do.
The Meadow Brown butterfly (Maniola jurtina) is easily confused with the Gatekeeper butterfly.
I first thought this (above) was a Gatekeeper butterfly but then saw the Meadow Brown and struggled to distinguish between the two. But I read a little further, and looked a little closer. The Meadow Brown tends to rest with wings closed and only has one white dot in the eye-spot, whereas the Gatekeeper rests wings open and has two dots. Ha!
In my research for these butterflies I found this beautiful set of drawings of the detail of the Meadow Brown pre-butterfly. Exquisite and worth sharing.
The Bald Birder 