A wild walk - and love is in the air

Which animals are just waking up – and which are pairing up?

You’re joining me back at Broom this week – not for the big skies, the range of habitats or the chance of a lifer though. We’re back because from here, I can see the lazy swoop of the blades of the turbines I lived underneath a few months ago. It’s familiar, and not overly taxing, which is just what I needed.

A Peacock butterfly, and my first Comma of the year.

The weather is so dramatically changeable that you’ll look a fool whatever attire you choose. I went for ‘sweaty fool’ in a big coat as the sun dashes in and out of dark clouds. My hat is on, off, on, off and my thumb flies over the exposure wheel on my camera as I try to keep track of the lighting.

For one charming little diving duck, the Tufted Duck, it doesn’t matter how you set your exposure. They are half brilliant, dazzling white and half deep, dark black with a green and purple sheen. Some of their beauty is always lost in the transition from the wild to the screen.

The Red Kites, however, look radiant in the sun. This is, I believe, the male. Smaller than the female, he is gathering nesting materials for their enormous, messy nest that is probably constructed from a combination of these sticks and plastic rubbish.

This framing of this female Gadwall catches my eye; so pretty and dainty opposite the Mute Swan that comes over to ‘see me off’ from the water’s edge.

I capture my first Chiffchaff photo of the year; this little one is saying ‘dweep, dweep’ to itself as it works the trees for insects. When it breaks into song, it gets its chiffs and chaffs all muddled up – no wonder they seem to spend most of the year incessantly practising the notes.

Out in the field, these Crows look suspicious. They’re watching as another Crow dismantles something a few metres away… or so I thought.

But there is a reason they are keeping a healthy distance, which soon becomes clear when the ‘Crow’ raises its head. That enormous heavy bill is a dead giveaway – the Crow is in fact a Raven.

Not long ago, a Raven would have been a very rare sight in my area. Now, they are making up for lost time and appearing in any open, wild landscape they can find. I love hearing their hoarse ‘kronk-onk-onk’ overhead.

Another ominous sound has returned to the skies - bees! I have encountered a few trees in pollen that are positively buzzing, audible from a few metres away. My face has had more than one close encounter with a haphazard bumblebee this week.

Having processed these photos and found myself wanting more, let’s head to Fowlmere. It’s a misty morning so my hopes aren’t high, but we can always pretend we only wanted a nice walk anyway – birds are a bonus.

One of the stars is not a bird, however, but a big Brown Hare.

If male, he will be feeding up in preparation for boxing season. They are powerful creatures, capable of running at almost 45mph (>70km/h). Also thinking about courtship, the Muntjac pair look pretty cosy. The male has his tongue out, attempting to detect the pheromones that will tell him the female is in heat.

If, like me, you’ve ever wondered where their name comes from, it’s a latinised form of the Dutch muntjak, which is borrowed from Sundanese mencek, and unsurprisingly just means ‘little deer’.

I hate to end on a rubbish photo, so before I get to the end let me share this most unlikely of geese. Two circuits of the reserve in, it’s time to go home without a hint of the supposed Russian White-Fronted Goose in with the Greylag.

As I drove up the track towards to exit, one last gaggle of Greylags is resting in the field. I pause to check them for imposters and just before I pull away, defeated, this one wakes up to poke its telltale beak out for a moment. Not just a visiting rarity for the area, but a lifer for me.

Lastly, another cosy couple: pair of Little Grebes. If you aren’t already familiar with their call, I recommend googling it and playing it loud, in a public place, without explaining yourself. (Let me know how that goes.)

Male and female Little Grebes

Thank you for joining me on these walks. Fingers crossed for a little bit more sunshine next time around! I’d love to hear what you’ve spotted over the past few weeks – has the change of seasons brought you anything new and exciting?

Gem