Friday, 18 May 2018

Celebrating Yorkshire Day at Paxton Pits.

I’m always amazed by the number of ex-pat Yorkshire-folk I meet at Little Paxton. Why do the most devout Yorkshire-men not live in Yorkshire? The answer is marriage. Finding a partner outside of Yorkshire is more or less mandatory so that we increase the gene pool and expand the Yorkshire Empire. 

Trevor Gunton came up to me last winter and said: “Now then. Dus't tha the knaw it’s Yorkshire Day on August t' first?”

“ I know nowt about that” I replied, “but it sounds like a reet good idea.”
Yorkshire flag.
And so a plan was hatched. We would celebrate Yorkshire Day at Paxton Pits. Well, when I say “hatched” it was "nobbut-just a notion” at that point, and it still is really.  

Yorkshire Day isn’t new but it's getting bigger. It started back in Viking Days. The top men in York would go out through the North, East and West gates of the walls and read out a “Declaration of Integrity” to the people of the three ridings. It was basically an oath of allegiance. The ritual was revived in the early 90s as a protest against the local government reorganisation that created South Yorkshire. (We see the word South as an insult. Southerners are reet soft.)

So why celebrate it? I’ll tell thee why. 

If you drive North up t' Great North Road from Little Paxton, there isn’t much to see until you get to Yorkshire. There are no roundabouts after Buckden all the way to Scotland so it is a much quicker journey than in’t old days. You cross the Trent and see nowt but great cooling towers at the power stations, but soon you become aware of the Pennines off to your left and then the North York Moors and the Cleveland Hill's off to your right. Proper scenery. That's the Yorkshire I love: dry stone walls, curlews, market towns, abbeys, castles, parkin and Theakston’s Old Peculiar ale. There are other Yorkshire’s though; the cliff-and-bay coast from Scarborough through to Whitby and Staithes with seabird cliffs and the best fish and chips in the UK (officially); the great cities of York, Leeds and Sheffield and the old mill and mining towns that huddle along the Don, Aire and the Calder rivers. 

That diversity of topography and industry has produced not one culture or dialect but a huge diversity of them, making it feel more like another country than an English county. Yorkshire-folk still have a strong regional identity that most English counties can only envy. We even have our own international football squad. We have our own iconic foods, such as Wensleydale cheese, curd tarts and of course Yorkshire puddings. There are treats like black-bullet sweets and Pontefract liquorice cakes and Yorkshire tea. I can’t help picturing those Sri Lankan ladies dressed in anoraks and scarves while leaning into the wind to pick tea on the Pennines above Harrogate. It must be a tough life, akin to the shepherds who tend black-faced Swaledale sheep on the high tops. Perhaps they will intermarry over time and grow rhubarb and liquorice together.

Whalebone arch at Whitby
Our celebration at Paxton will not overdo the cloth-capped, wise-cracking stereotype, but we will pay homage to the humorous side of the Yorkshire character with a few anecdotes. There will be some tasty treats too, if we can get them through customs. 
Swaledale, near Gunnerside
The heart of the event will be two illustrated talks that focus on Yorkshire’s natural history. Trevor Gunton will talk about the Eastern bit of the county including the great seabird city at Bempton Cliffs. Then Jim Stevenson will talk about the flora and fauna of the northern Dales around Swaledale and Wensleydale where he grew up.

We look forward to seeing you theer, wherivver tha's from. 



 

Wednesday, 9 May 2018

Cormorant: The Dark Fisherman at Paxton Pits Nature Reserve


By Trevor Gunton

Cormorants are related to pelicans but they lack that big beak and “shopping bag” that the true pelicans have. Instead of scooping up fish, they dive for them and grasp them with the sharp nail on the end of their bills. They can stay under water for a long time because they have feathers that soak up water instead of repelling it, making them less buoyant. This explains why you so often see them standing about with arms outstretched to dry their wings.

Non breeding cormorants.
Note the absence of white patches.
Here in the UK we have traditionally looked upon cormorants as sea birds, but this is not typical in Europe.  Norway has cormorants breeding on sea cliffs up to the Arctic Circle, but elsewhere they share the same tree nesting habitat as Paxton Pits.  Large colonies exist from the Danube Delta in the East to The Netherlands in the West, where colonies can reach over 1,000 pairs.

The first inland tree nesting in England occurred in 1981 when 9 pairs nested at Abberton Reservoir in Essex.  This eventually rose to c500 nests before dropping back to less than 250 pairs in 2016.  Our first nest at Paxton was noted in 1988 and the following year 9 pairs nested, of which some were successful.  Our colony peaked at 218 nests in 1996, only to drop to 180 nests in 2005, to just 50/60 nests in the last 2 years.  The number of young raised per nest has averaged two and a half.  How do you count half a cormorant ?

Winter roosts are also of great interest, with our roosts containing birds from many parts of Britain and even from the continent.  Once, in hard-freezing conditions across East Anglia, we recorded a high of 1,153 on January 4th.  This was an amazing sight !  Recent Winter roosts have averaged between 100 and 180 birds.  So what is happening ?

Our birds are moving away to form new smaller colonies – there is some evidence for this in Cambridgeshire.  Grafham is now being stocked with larger fish, making it more difficult for cormorants to feed there. It must be impossible to fly back to the nest with a three pound trout on board.  Are cormorants being shot or otherwise destroyed locally?  We see no injured birds, so probably not. 

We are clearly in an age of considerable change in the status of many of our local breeding species.  We have some winners like egrets, large and small, red kite, buzzard and common tern but many more are in real trouble and are showing dramatic declines.  Let us hope that the dark fishermen of Paxton Pits will remain an important feature of our visits to the Reserve for many years to come.

The world's greatest songster.

Trevor Gunton sent me this text and I thought this would be a good time to share it. We seem to have 8 to ten singing males on the whole site; half on the Reserve and the others up in the quarry near Stirtloe. That is better than last year. I have just heard that we have some real competition from Castor Hanglands (near Stamford) where they have 17! 

The world’s greatest songster to perform at Paxton Pits this Spring…

No, it’s not Katherine Jenkins or Alfie Bow, but the iconic nightingale direct from its wintering grounds in West Africa.  Having spent almost three quarters of its year in the humid riverine forests and dry scrublands of Senegal and The Gambia, the nightingales’ urge to breed begins to dominate and by early March the 4,000 mile migration north begins – and what a journey it is!  Crossing the Sahara, then the Straits of Gibraltar, over the daunting Pyrenees, across France, and over the English Channel, our nightingales make landfall in Sussex and Kent.  Other nightingales which winter in Central Africa will enter Europe via the dangerous route through Malta, Italy or Greece.

Many nightingales will stop to nest in Southern Europe. For our birds, breeding at the northerly limit of their range, the trek can take three to four weeks, depending upon weather conditions and wind direction.

Usually, the first Paxton Pits nightingales are recorded around the first week of April – the earliest being the 4th of the month.  We understand that the males arrive first and establish a territory, and the females normally arrive some 10 days later.  This is the best time to enjoy the famous song as the males will sing all day and night to attract a female.

Once paired, the nest of mainly dried leaves is constructed quickly, usually within a week.  The nest is usually on, or very near to the ground, which makes it very vulnerable to predation from cats mink, stoats and weasels.  Once the female is sitting, the male is much quieter, to avoid advertising the location of the nest.

The song is the nightingales’ greatest glory. The plumage, identical in both sexes, is a dull brown with a red flashing tail in flight.  The size is just about one third larger than the robin.  Traditionally a bird of light coppiced woodland and tangled overgrown hedgerows in the South East of England, here in Cambridgeshire where such habitat is rare, the bird has adapted to take over damp scrublands around gravel pits – Paxton Pits being typical.  Ideal habitat is close to water, with open glades where nightingales hunt out insects, small worms and spiders.  Later in the season they also feed on hedgerow fruits.

It is a short season in the North, and by mid June, most song is over, and the nightingale becomes a bird of mystery once again.  The southerly migration is less understood than Spring arrivals – but migrating birds are recorded from late July on our South Coast.

The decline in numbers remains a matter of great concern, and even at Paxton Pits numbers have fallen from 28 to just a handful of singing males in the last few years.  Local issues include habitat destruction by deer and rabbits, and internationally, drought, hunting, change of land use and loss of insect life are all cited as reasons for the decline of nightingales.  Numbers seem more stable in some areas of Southern Europe.

So, come and visit Paxton Pits in late April or early May to enjoy this glorious songster at its best.  Please support your local nature reserve to ensure that the nightingale – and about 60 other breeding birds will always have a place to call home.

Trevor Gunton.

Remember, admission to our reserve is free – as is car parking – and you can look forward to a warm welcome at our Visitor Centre, where a selection of light refreshments can be purchased.  See you there !

Friday, 20 April 2018

Ground-nesting birds.

Where do birds nest? In trees, obviously: everybody knows that! Except, it’s wrong.

Low down---in dense cover.
Rooks' nests are really conspicuous because they are built in groups in the very early spring in the tops of bare trees. It’s the same for the big stick-ball nests of magpies, carrion crows, herons and cormorants. You just can’t miss them. Some birds definitely and undisputedly nest in trees.

By the end of April the trees are clothed in greenery and it is no longer easy to count the big nests of those common birds. In hedges and bushes, our most familiar garden birds such as robins, thrushes and blackbirds will have nested unseen, low down, in dense cover. At the same time, every available hole and crevice will have been occupied by starlings, blue-tits and great tits.

Chiffchaff. Sings in the trees....nests on the ground.
Leaving our leafy gardens for a drive into the largely treeless and hedge-less East Anglian countryside we might still find birds. Skylarks, pipits, lapwings, and partridges all nest on the ground. If we visit a lake to see ducks, geese, swans, moorhens, coots, gulls, terns, snipe and oystercatchers; that whole wetland tribe of birds will nest on the ground.

Even in the oak and ash-woods with their carpet of bluebells, many birds nest on the ground. Chiffchaffs and willow warblers, black caps and nightingales will be singing up there in the boughs, but they will nest with the woodcocks and pheasants among the ferns, sedges, nettles, dog’s mercury and brambles. 

Almost all of our birds in the UK and across Europe are in steep decline, especially the ground nesters that are most prone to disturbance and predation as well as having to face the gauntlet of migration.  On nature reserves like Paxton Pits, our job is to produce a surplus of birds and other wildlife to repopulate the largely deserted countryside around us.

That’s why we ask dog owners to keep dogs on leads in those areas where we know we have ground nesting birds in summer. Your dog is your friend but also your responsibility and even the most friendly, well behaved dog will disturb wildlife.  Imagine that your dog is snuffling around the shore of a pond and a moorhen flies out, leaving it's nest unprotected. The dog won’t steal the eggs, but a crow may have been waiting for this very opportunity.

Please help us to increase our breeding bird population by keeping to the paths and having your dog on a lead where the signs request it.

Monday, 5 March 2018

Book Week

World Book Day 2018 didn't go too well in the UK. Roads and schools were closed and the country came to a halt as temperatures plummeted and strong winds blew the dry, powdery snow off the fields onto our roads and railways. Almost no-one turned up to buy books. That's why many schools renamed the event as Book Week, and so did we.

World Book Day was aimed at giving children a taste of the magic, so I thought it might be appropriate to examine what got me started.

It is often said that the magic of books starts with the pictures. If you couple that with your mother's voice reading to you, then you have the best start of all. But is that really correct? My Mum told us stories without the books, always starting with "Once upon a time......"  so it was the stories that came first for us, then the pictures and the books.

As I learned to read I remember that I always read things that I was not totally ready for, so I often missed the point. One day, after reading several Rupert Annuals, I finally realised that the captions under the pictures were always written in rhyme. Of course, Rupert was a cartoon strip, but you had a choice to read the captions under each cell, or the longer version at the foot of the page. From Rupert I progressed to Toby Twirl, Sam Pig and Beatrix Potter. In Primary school, the teachers would read to us and the Enid Blyton Adventure books were a big hit.

I spent a huge amount of time with my Grandmother in the Yorkshire Dales. Her cottage had no electricity so we listened to a huge, wooden, battery-powered radio that glowed, whistled and hummed in the corner whiled we played dominoes. She had some magnificent books on natural history that she had collected in serial form and then had bound. I have them now. On rainy days, I copied the pictures and read about the creatures that fascinated me.

My Gran read a lot and we would sit up in adjacent beds late into the night. The books came from a library-van that somehow made it up the rough rocky track to her house. At first I just picked up one of her books and read it, then she gave me a ticket and I could chose four books of my own. We binged on crime and science fiction.

Half a crown would be the equivalent of 25p today but it was a decent amount of pocket money in the late 1950s. It would buy you an Airfix kit and some paint, or a Dinky car, or a book.  I soon had quite a collection of a plastic aircraft hanging on fishing line from the bedroom ceiling. My brother and I would target them in our flashlight beams, wailing like sirens and shooting them down, "Ak-ak-ak-ak-ak!"

The Observer's Book of Birds was a sort of bible for me, but I don't remember buying it myself, so I guess it was from my Dad. They cost 5 shillings each at the time so I needed to forgo the kits and the Dinky cars to start collecting Observer's Books. I won't list them all, but if you know them yourself you will appreciate how it felt to have a collection of books with matching spines on your own shelf; your own, personal library. Some of them made very dull reading and I probably never finished reading half of them, but I learned a lot along the way. My entire knowledge of aeroplanes comes from the 1968 "Observer's Book of Aircraft."

Around 1960 in Southampton, my weekly ritual became a walk down to Portswood to the Saturday morning cinema club (the ABC Minors), then a visit to Woolworths or WH Smiths and finally the Library. I chose big books, some of which I would renew over and over again. One was "Tidelines" by Keith Shackleton about life on an estuary. I don't think I ever read the whole thing but it had full-page paintings of mud, water, birds and huge skies. Another book was about Native Americans and a third was about a whaling ship on which a crew member carved a seagull from whalebone; an ivory gull in fact.


Reading and writing go together and the books I read inspired me to write. As a schoolboy I would send letters to the Southern Evening Echo and a team of us produced our own school fishing magazine. I wrote dozens of stories about the Yorkshire Dales but they are all lost now due to the ritual burning of exercise books when we left our primary school.  The highlight of my writing career was to win the BBC Wildlife Magazine "Nature Writer of the Year" award  for a story about bullheads and sticklebacks. To be any good at writing you have to be a good reader too.

Second-hand bookshops were a happy hunting ground. I bought a few classic children's books like Treasure Island, Tom Sawyer, Kidnapped, Coral Island and Uncle Tom's Cabin. One of my treasures is the "1984 Empire Youth Annual" which contains stories of travel and adventure across the world to Africa, India and beyond. I wonder if that drove me towards the wander-lust that developed later.

On the day of my interview for the RSPB warden's job at Kinross, I spent the evening in St Andrews where I found a wonderful second-hand bookshop, but it was closed. In the window was a book that I just had to have, but I didn't know when I would be back that way so I wrote a note and put it through the letterbox. By the time I had driven back to Sussex the book was waiting for me. I still treasure it because it was a compendium of all the best nature writing at the time, from both sides of the Atlantic. The editor was Roger Tory Peterson, it was published in 1957 and it was called "The Birdwatcher's Anthology."

There's another book that I often show to people. "The Birds of the West Indies" is way out of date now, but it is special for one reason and that is the author's name on the spine. When Ian Fleming was in Jamaica he was trying to find a good name for the hero of his first spy novel. He looked along the bookshelves in his bungalow and one name jumped out at him, Bond. James Bond.

After I left teaching, I worked for the Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust, the RSPB and BirdLife International all of which gave me a discount on buying books. I had yards of expensive bird and wildlife books that I spent a fortune on, most of them signed by the authors and illustrators. I can now buy the same books for a couple of pounds from Paxton Pits Nature Reserve. It's all very tempting but I've had to make a rule that no book comes into my house without another going out. There's a good reason for this......

I have a friend called Iain who recently retired from the Foreign Office. His hobby is writing encyclopaedias and he is almost never seen without a carrier bag full of old books.  One evening his family was gathered on sofas around the living-room fire while entertaining Iain's head of department when they heard an ominous deep rumbling sound followed by an avalanche of books. The attic floor had collapsed under the weight of all the books in there. I really worry that this might happen to me too.



Friday, 20 October 2017

Where are all the bugs?

Believe it or not, this is a flying insect. So are most beetles.
I think that all of us are aware that there are less "bugs" about than there used to be. Back in the '60s a family trip from Southampton to Yorkshire would require several stops to clean flattened insects from the windscreen of our old Austin. Today we travel much faster and acquire almost no "splats" on the way. That's on our highways, but what about the wilderness, or the nature reserves where we try to create space for insects?

A study of 63 nature reserves in Germany involved trapping flying insects and weighing the biomass caught. Scientists and volunteers have been doing this since 1989, so they have a really good run of data. There was no attempt to identify the species caught, which would be very interesting too, but the numbers speak for themselves.

Over the last 27 years, their average catch has dropped by 76% meaning that they only have about a quarter of their insects left, but are still losing them at 6% a year, assuming that the decline is steady, which it probably isn't. I'm rubbish at maths but it doesn't look like we have very much time to turn this situation around.

Remember that this study was conducted in Germany which is a country that takes the environment very seriously. Despite being part of the same Common Agriculture Policy that we are, their countryside looks to me to be in much better shape than ours. Remember too that this was done on nature reserves, so the landscape as a whole would reflect an even worse situation.

Many of our insects breed in water.
Of course, we want to know what the causes are and what we can do about it. We also want to know if the situation is any different in the UK.

The causes are really not known, but we can make guesses. If the country was a person, the reserves would be its liver. Nature reserves exist to produce a surplus of biodiversity, including insects and plants, that can spread out and (re) colonise the surrounding areas between reserves. We try really hard to do this but, what if the surrounding area is so toxic that they all fail to come home? Many bee species have declined by 30% in recent years and this is directly linked to pesticides on crops like oilseed rape that attract bees from miles around. Pesticides and pollution are certainly involved, but that's not the whole problem.

Imagine that you are an insect that only hatches when conditions are just right. The temperature and humidity are perfect, but your food plant is over, or has not yet flowered.  "That's OK", you say, "I'll just fly upwind until I find my plant, or an alternative." But the (largely wild) plants that our insects evolved to live with (and evolved to live with them) are themselves in trouble. Take a look at a farm near you. How many "weeds" can you see? Those missing common wildflowers once fed our insects and their seeds fed our once-common birds like partridges, sparrows, buntings and finches. And that's farmland. Maybe the neighbourhood is now a new town with concrete parking bays, astro-turf yards and densely packed "town houses" with neither parking or gardens. It's impossible to argue that these changes haven't happened in the last 27 years, isn't it?

But here's another factor; climate change. If we just stay on our nature reserve where, on the surface, things haven't altered that much, we can see some pretty amazing changes such as very early springs and winters with no frost. Rivers no longer regularly flood in winter and lakes no longer freeze. Flowering dates may be all out of sync with the emergence of insects. And what about all the new species that are arriving? Many of them are predators like Asian hornets and harlequin ladybirds. There are new parasites too but these newcomers are a minor factor in my view.

The survey looked only at flying insects, many of which have their larval stage in water. We tend to think of a river or lake being a pretty stable environment, separate from the land around it, but of course it isn't. We have had acid rain, over abstraction, siltation, and eutrophication. If the main cause was to be pesticides, they would surely be in our waterways too, and where do we think all those medicines and chemicals go that we tip down the drain or the loo? A lot of upland rivers have never really recovered from pesticides used in sheep dips years ago and drainage of the uplands has created a rapid run-off situation which results in multiple short spates with droughts in between.

Paxton Pits Nature Reserve. Looking good on the surface.
The average temperature in our ponds has risen, and this can have a huge effect on the sensitive creatures that live there. Warm water dissolves less oxygen and has more algal blooms. It can become like a thick soup in summer with floating mats that prevent the sunlight from reaching the bottom, killing off the underwater plants. As it's biodiversity declines, the pond loses its ability to recover from shocks like these.

Studies have been carried out over the years on many of our waterways and lakes to see changes in in the insect species that live there. Anglers have had concerns about this all of my lifetime ass the hatch of mayflies has all but disappeared in many rivers. I used to use a trout fly called the March Brown but the early season fly that it imitated is no longer around.  Lakes and Lochs that once boasted prolific hatches of mayflies and caddisflies now only contain silt-loving midges that emerge in smothering swarms on summer evenings. Now it seems that even they are declining.

Red Admiral Butterfly
Does the German study reflect our situation in the UK? The numbers may not be exactly the same but my bet is that they would be really close. One indicator is the decline in butterflies which are monitored every year by the charity Butterfly Conservation. 2016 was the worst year on record with 40 of the 57 species monitored in decline. Interestingly, some species have increased their ranges, probably because of climate change.

Moths are also in trouble. "Studies have found the overall number of moths has decreased by 28% since 1968. The situation is particularly bad in southern Britain, where moth numbers are down by 40%. Many individual species have declined dramatically in recent decades and over 60 became extinct in the 20th century." (Butterfly Conservation website)

I have worked on Nature Reserves for over 30 years and I studied butterflies and moths on Salisbury Plain in the 70s. I can tell you that insect decline is real and has arrived at a nature reserve near you.

The story get's worse. It's not only insects that are declining, on and off our reserves, insect eating birds are in trouble too. Shortage of insects in the breeding season means that chicks starve in the nest. The adults may only have a couple of years to reproduce themselves in and every failure contributes to a fall in the population. Is this what happened to our Nightingales?  Swallows are declining across Europe, but seem to be stabilised in the UK. They are helped by having a long breeding season and may attempt to raise three or even four broods in a year, whereas many warblers only have one brood. Overall, our bird population is down 6% since 1970, but some species fare much worse than others.

This is from a Defra report this year (2017): "Birds associated with farmland, which covers 75 per cent of land in the UK, were down by 55 per cent, woodland birds by 21 per cent and seabirds by 20 per cent."

What can we do about all this? Certainly we must clean up our act and think Bug! When we manage a reserve, a farm or even a garden, we need to think about increasing the number of insects.



Thursday, 5 October 2017

Graveyard

Yew berries.
Every  autumn, when there is a sunny day with a deep blue sky, I head to the churchyard to see what's about. As I get older, I feel a growing affinity for this time of year, but not in any negative way. After the fading brilliance of the summer, I look forward to the crisp, slanting light and glowing colours.

Despite the sun and the blue sky, today is a very windy day, due to the remains of two Caribbean hurricanes that are passing through the UK, bringing a fall of American birds to our west coast and our most far-flung Atlantic islands. There is a cinematic blizzard of golden and brown leaves between the headstones that could denote the passage of time but, because of the strong wind, my chances of catching any small birds out in the open are limited.

A headstone spattered with fallen berries.
I work my way along the south wall, keeping my back to the sun so that the scene is well illuminated, but all I can detect is a small disturbance in a yew tree that has a holly bush growing up through it. A pair of great tits are snatching bright red arils; the scarlet berries of yew trees that are edible, but extremely sticky.

Blue tits hunt spiders in a cedar nearby and a pair of extremely shy blackbirds cluck in the undergrowth. They explode skywards as I approach and I wonder if these are the first winter visitors to the church-yard. After all, unlike their wilder Scandinavian brethren, English blackbirds are not generally bothered by my presence. Two song thrushes flit from a hawthorn bush: definitely song thrushes, redwings are darker in hue and it's too soon for them to be here.
Shaggy parasols, ignored in the churchyard
but very much edible. 
At the back of my mind, I'm hoping for a few early migrants from the east, but the wind has been in the wrong direction. A few goldcrests and yellow-browed warblers have reached the Norfolk Coast, but the main inward migration hasn't started here yet.

In fact, the last swallows and martins are still saying their farewells and the neighbouring wetlands along the Great Ouse valley are still rich in insects such as dragonflies that attract the last few hobby-falcons of the season.

In my graveyard, I watch the last of the summer's butterflies sunning themselves on an ancient sun-bathed wall. A fresh-looking red admiral and a faded and battered speckled wood are attracted to the tendrils of flowering ivy that cling to a memorial stone. They need to keep sharp because predatory hornets are patrolling the sunny glades. Under a faded buddleia, I find a pile of butterfly wings that the hornets have discarded. 

All the conkers on the village green are gone,
but children shun the graveyard. 
It's a rich habitat, this graveyard, with sunny walls, evergreens, deciduous trees and lawns. Ladybirds cling to tombstones. squirrels gather nuts and acorns while robins hunt for worms on freshly dug graves.

In autumn, it's a place ripe with metaphors for death and decay but that's not what I see. It's an ancient man-made woodland habitat that holds it own special mix of residents and attracts a good range of migrants, and that's ignoring the church itself with its hibernating bats.

Etched letters in stone
The yews were planted long ago to provide longbows for our wars with the French. The cedars, pines  and redwoods are Victorian imports from the new world, while the other trees such as holly, alder and elder were brought in more recently by birds. Horse chestnuts and ash trees were planted quite recently, simply to provide diversity, but the oaks were probably planted by squirrels or jays, maybe a hundred year ago.

The great thing about churchyards is that they give you perspective; a long term view. It's not just all those graves with their headstones dating back through the centuries, even though they are so interesting in themselves. Have you ever noticed how few and how localised the names on the stones were only a hundred years ago?

Gargoyle. What animal is this?
Can we re-introduce them?
Graveyards measure time for us. As more bodies are buried, the ground actually rises, so that the church may appear to sink, and, because the stones are dated, we can measure the rate of growth in lichens or the rate of decay in the inscriptions due to air pollution. The graves record wars, plagues and waves of immigration, the infant mortality rate and our own growing longevity.

But all  of this twaddle can be set aside if you like.

The fact remains that graveyards are just great places to see wildlife and to grab a bit of peace, especially in an urban setting.  Visit yours and tell me what you see.


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