Snow Scenic By Train

21 Wednesday Mar 2018

Posted by in Nature of Wales, North Wales

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Thursday, March 1st 2018

The first day of meteorological spring, but with temperatures falling as low as -11C (12F) in parts of the UK, winter was not giving up easily. Now we had another storm rolling in from the Atlantic, Storm Emma, which joined forces with the ‘Beast from the East’ from Siberia to bring about further widespread snowfall and temperatures that dropped as low as -16C (3F) last night. Fortunately for us here on this North-East stretch of the coast of Wales we were not as badly hit as much of the rest of Britain, but those of us that live up here had a family ‘do’ planned in London tomorrow that we didn’t want to miss. The plan had been to drive down there today, but reports of just how bad the weather and road conditions were in the Midlands caused a rethink and we decided to take the train instead.

Friday, March 2nd 2018

I travel this route every few weeks to visit family, so not an ‘everyday trail’ it’s a fairly frequent increasingly familiar one, but seen through the seasons, I never tire of the amazing scenery along the way. Beginning on the north-east coast of Wales across and travelling down through the West Midlands to the south-east of England, the railway slices through no less than 10 counties, so I anticipated this journey would be a great opportunity to see the pattern of snow cross-country between here and there. It was bitterly cold with a strong wind blowing in off the sea this morning, but we’d had no further overnight snow here, so everything crossed we set off to nearby Colwyn Bay railway station to catch the 09.47 Virgin Holyhead to London direct train. It was on perfect time.

0948-Porth Eirias

The train we would be boarding had started at Holyhead in the north of Anglesey, crossed the Menai Strait into Gwynedd (formerly Caernarvonshire) then into Conwy County where we got on at Colwyn Bay station.  For the next forty minutes or so the railway line sticks closely to the coastline and unfolds not only glorious scenery but also presents a picture of the wider geography and gives glimpses of several significant landmarks. Minutes after leaving the station we were passing our newest landmark building, Porth Eirias on Colwyn Bay. The tide was high, the sea rushing in wildly  and despite the proximity of all that salt, snow coated the Promenade and grass verges.

View to the Little Orme from the Viaduct

A bit further on waves were crashing over the sea wall, flooding the Promenade and the road alongside. This stretch of road will probably be closed off if it hasn’t been already – the sea spray often holds stones & pebbles delivered at force that could easily break a windscreen or cause injury to a person!

Stormy Irish Sea splashing over the wall

Ten minutes later we’re approaching Rhyl, crossing over the river/afon Clwyd in full flood. This tidal river flows mainly through Denbighshire and forms the border between Denbighshire and Conwy County here at its mouth.

River/afon Clwyd flows into the Irish Sea at Rhyl

Next to the mouth of the river is Marine Lake, a 12 hectare man-made recreational lake. This is the only salt water lake in North Wales.

Snow surrounds Marine Lake, Rhyl

We stop at Rhyl station, then six minutes later we are passing the dunes at Talacre, an important ecological area for a number of reason, not least of which is for its protected population of Natterjack Toads. They also serve as protection for a colony of not-so-rare holiday homes. There is still only a light covering of snow.

Taking photographs through the window of a moving train is a hit-and-miss affair. No time for focusing, just point, shoot and hope for the best! I rather like the effect of this view through a tree  which wouldn’t be a view at all when it has leaves. You may have noticed I leave marks & highlights on or caused by reflections from the glass of the carriage windows: this is deliberate as a reminder that I was on a train!

We stop again at Prestatyn then cross into Flintshire and pass the alien-looking Point of Ayr Gas Terminal.

Still following the coastline the next stop is the county town of Flint.

Here is the wild, flat coastline of the Dee Estuary, where receding tides expose vast mud flats that attract huge numbers of wading birds. Not exactly a place you’d expect to see a beached ship! Undoubtedly the most curious local landmark this is the Duke of Lancaster, at Llanerch-y-Mor on the River Dee, near Mostyn Docks. It has been re-purposed several times since it ‘landed’ here in 1979, but has been abandoned long since.  

The dry powdery snow didn’t settle as a uniform blanket like wetter snow does. It settled into hollows and against furrows and ridges and was caught in drifts along hedges and banks accentuating every contour of the landscape. Usually full of birds, there wasn’t a single one to be seen today, hardly surprising!

Sheep, looking a rather grubby white against the brilliance of the snow were doing their best to graze on the snow-covered salt-marshes. The raised bank between the sea and the sheep field gives some protection and is also the line of the Wales Coast Path.

Sheep on snow-covered salt-marshes

At Connah’s Key there are two power stations – I think this is the Deeside Power Station as the other one only has four chimneys. Don’t take that as gospel though, my sense of what’s north and south is not always reliable, especially when travelling at speed.

Another iconic landmark is the Flintshire Bridge, it is the largest asymmetric cable-stayed bridge in the whole of Britain and when seen properly is elegant and impressive, not at all like my hasty photograph. The bridge spans the Dee Estuary, linking Flint and Connah’s Quay to the shore north of the River Dee at the southern end of the Wirral Peninsula. It carries part of the A548 road and is known locally as ‘the bridge to nowhere’. 

At 10.30 we were at Chester. This is a lovely old station with some fascinating features, but today for some reason I was drawn to photograph the old iconic red phone box. A lot of people got on here, so we probably weren’t the only ones not wanting to risk the drive. Some would be leaving the train at Crewe, a major hub station, to get connections to Manchester and other parts of the country.

1030-Chester Station

As you will have worked out, we were now in England and already in county number 4, Cheshire of course as we’d just left Chester and travelling towards Crewe. Not so much snow here, just a light scattering but enough to highlight the textures and patterns of the fields.

10:41 – Cheshire

From here on there are some great views of sections of our nationwide network of canals, in parts paralleled along their route by the railway line. It gets a bit confusing up here as there are several waterways that join into one another, but I think this is probably part of the Shropshire Union Canal that runs between Chester and Crewe. Still not a lot of snow evident, but the surface of the water is clearly frozen.

Frozen canal

10:54 – We arrived at Crewe station where a lot of people did indeed ‘de-board’.

10:59 – Cheshire

From Crewe the train doesn’t stop again until we get to Milton Keynes, so I’m not altogether sure which way we went, but possibly towards Stafford, which is straight down going directly south. From there the line goes off at what looks like a 45° angle in a straight line directly to London. There are other permutations, but all end up in the same place and we pass through county number 5 – Staffordshire.

11:04 – More frozen water

I have noticed this yellow brick building almost every time I travel this way and I’d love to know what it is! I thought it might be a crematorium as it has that really tall chimney, but this is the best photograph I’ve managed and it clearly isn’t. It has that odd bunker-looking building on this side of it and the plain white van has some kind of aerial on top of it, so I’m more intrigued than ever now. If anyone knows or has a clue, please let me know!

11:05 – Mystery building

Now in the West Midlands it became clear we’d made a sensible decision in deciding not to drive. There was a significant amount more snow and cloudy skies warned more was imminent.

The next county, number 6, is Warwickshire, where we pass through Rugby station.

11:12 – Reed-fringed pond frozen around the edges

Then we cut across the south-west corner of Northamptonshire,county number 7, the county in which I was born and grew up. More canal views here – now the Grand Union Canal and I believe we pass close by Stoke Bruerne, home of the Canal Museum. Barges weren’t moving, probably frozen in place!

11:15 – Barges frozen in place

11:54 – It’s snowing

Another canal view.

11:55- Barge on canal in the snow

From Northamptonshire we cross into Buckinghamshire, county number 8 and one of the five Home Counties that surround Greater London.

Approaching Milton Keynes you see can a church tower on the horizon. I’ve no idea where it is, but it’s big and I wonder if it could be the cathedral-like St Paul’s Church at Bedford.

12:00 – Big church on the horizon

12:03 – We arrive at Milton Keynes, the final stop before London Euston station. An announcement informs us we are 12 minutes behind schedule.

It was snowing heavily now and there wasn’t much to see as the weather closed in and obliterated much of the landscape, so no more photographs today. Parts of the remaining 40 minute journey are usually scenic – from Buckinghamshire we cross briefly into another of the home counties, Hertfordshire, county number 9, and pick up the Grand Union Canal again, passing through the towns of  Berkhamsted and Hemel Hempstead. Then we are soon into Greater London, county number 10, passing by the iconic Wembley Stadium shortly before arriving safely and not too far off schedule into London Euston station. 

From here I was on my own to make my way across town to Surrey in the south-west. We’d already been warned that train services in that direction had been affected by snow and stormy weather, and indeed arriving via the Underground at Vauxhall to pick up the overground train to Surbiton, I saw several trains were delayed or cancelled. Buying my ticket I was told the station would close at 8pm tonight! It was freezing cold here and snowing, but lucky for me, I got more or less straight onto a train that had been delayed by 20 minutes and reached my destination in good time. Later on in the day many people were stranded in the City or had to find other ways home.

Thanks be to the Travel Gods!

Following a river to a Fairy Glen

15 Thursday Mar 2018

Posted by in Fairy Glen, Local Nature Reserves, Nature of Wales, North Wales Path, Old Colwyn, Rivers of Wales

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The myriad of little rivers and streams that run from our mountains and hills come alive following prolonged rainfall or when filled with melted snow. Many of them are inaccessible and flow through privately owned land, so we are privileged here to be able to enjoy close access to the sights and sounds of one such waterway: the river that flows through the village of Old Colwyn and ends at Colwyn Bay, both of which take its name – the river or in Welsh afon, Colwyn.

This walk follows a length of the river Colwyn upstream from where it reaches the sea  at Colwyn Bay at the end of the Promenade, takes the scenic route through the oldest part of the village of Old Colwyn then continues to the far end of the wooded dingle of Fairy Glen and back again. It’s not a long walk and mostly fairly easy going. It follows a section of the North Wales Path and is also part of the Old Colwyn Heritage Trail so combines a bit of local history with nature and wildlife, which ticks all of the boxes for the perfect winter walk for me. 

Splash Point of the river Colwyn into Colwyn Bay. Snow-capped Clwyddian Mountains on the far horizon.

The last few metres of the river’s length are contained and manipulated by stone and concrete to direct its waters under roads, bridges and the viaduct, then finally a culvert beneath the Promenade channels it to its end at a Splash Point from where it cascades into the sea.

The viaduct was built in 1847 as part of the Chester-Holyhead railway line engineered by Robert Louis Stephenson. The bridge behind it carries the A55 North Wales Expressway

Beneath the viaduct, know locally as ‘The Arches’, the surface of the water is textured as it rushes over its stony bed and its sound amplified by the stone walls that contain it, still audible above the noise of traffic and the occasional train passing overhead.

Once beneath the bridges and on the path past Myn y Coed woodland calm is restored and the sounds of the river and birds singing fill the air.

I stopped on the footbridge to listen and to check for Grey Wagtails that sometimes hunt along this stretch of the river; none here today but I know they have other favoured spots.

upstream from the footbridge at Myn y Coed

The path upstream curves around the corner to run parallel to Beach Road, passing in front of the building that was once the Coachhouse to the Myn y Don Mansion. The river races down the slope here, carrying with it bits of shrubbery from somewhere along its path.

Lovely to see a few Spring wildflowers here.

Near the beginning of Tan y Bryn Gardens is a weir with blocks of stone either side that look as though they may once perhaps have had sluice gates?

There’s an interesting variety of native and more exotic trees here with an under-storey of shrubs and plants that is perfect for birds. Today Blackbirds seemed to be everywhere, singing from variously elevated spots or rummaging around in leaf litter. There were at least three males in close proximity to one another, resulting in much chasing. The one in my photograph had been singing until I arrived and put him off his stroke.

Carrying on through the gardens there were robins singing from several spots too and I finally caught one in action.

Almost at the end of the Garden path I was thinking I still hadn’t seen a Grey wagtail and that sometimes I’ve had better luck seeing them hunting on the nearby rooftops… then a bird skimmed past just over my head making that familiar rattling call. A wagtail that, lo and behold, carried on over the water to the very rooftops I was standing looking at. Although some distance away, it was a lovely colourful one with bright yellow breast and rump, that stood out nicely against the blue-grey slates and patches of lichen.

I had reached the tunnels beneath the buildings that allow people and the river to pass through them.

The tunnel is short, lit artificially and its walls are decorated with colourful professional-looking graffiti. It’s not my favourite part of the walk though, especially when as today it was littered with rubbish and doggy deposits. Such a shame as the path to here was spotless.

I usually walk through here at speed, admiring the wall art out of the side of my eye as I pass it, but today I stopped to photograph my favourite part of it. It depicts the buildings above where they front onto Abergele Road, harking back to the days when the tram was running. Next to that image is one of the viaduct before it was obscured by the Expressway bridge.

At the other end of the tunnel a sign indicates the way back to the beach and the North Wales Path logos are beneath it.

The path stays by the river through this attractive little area, named Llawr Pentre which is the oldest part of the village, then leaves it for a short while as you take the steps you find on your left. At the top follow the signs that point right to Fairy Glen and the North Wales Path.

FAIRY GLEN

The Local Nature Reserve of Fairy Glen in Old Colwyn is one of several places locally known as ‘dingles’. Dingle is a charming and evocative noun used to describe a small, narrow or enclosed, usually wooded valley or a deep hollow or dell. Fairy Glen was once more manicured and a much favoured place for holidaying Victorians to take in the fresh air on a leisurely riverside stroll. Today the pathway is on the route of the North Wales Path, but is mostly used locally as a shortcut to the village centre or by folks walking their dogs. It may not appear as groomed as it once did, but this fragment of a once-extensive ancient woodland is cared for and appreciated and it provides a habitat for a good variety of wildlife, particularly woodland birds. There are some lovely big old trees and shrubs here, but the greatest draw and asset for wildlife is surely the fresh clean accessible water. 

At the base of a tree I found golden-yellow Lesser celandines, some of them already ‘going over’.

Most of the length of the path is fenced allowing flora and fauna to remain undisturbed. The fence rails are a great place to spot birds too; many use it as a perch and some as a place to forage for insects amongst the ivy.

There were a number of Blue tits foraging in the trees around and overhead me and I heard Great tits singing. The songs of Robins rang out at regular intervals, each one pausing occasionally to listen to others nearby then responding. I always thought that this might have been why the ’round Robin’ style of singing we learnt at school was so-named, but apparently not – it relates to much more boring things like circularised documents. I prefer my own version! There were Blackbirds all over the place here too. This one took to the fence while I passed but soon resumed his hunt for worms in the leaf litter below.

Wild garlic is growing fast and the warm sunshine was already drawing out its distinctive aroma.

The damp shady conditions here are perfect for ferns.

I had a lovely close encounter with a small flock of charming Long-tailed tits.

Rainwater channels into the river at this weir adding to its volume creating a considerable foamy ‘race’ down its length.

This stand of tall old pine trees is a good spot to look out for Coal tits; I’ve seen them here on several occasions, but not today.

At the base of tree a collection of new Spring greenery of varying shades and leaf forms; ferny Cow parsley, elegant Arum and the round leaves of some pervading Winter heliotrope which seems to be popping up all over the place lately. There are also a few leaves of Nettle and the ubiquitous Ivy.

The path through the Glen ends at Pen y Bryn Road. As at the beginning of the path at Myn y Don there is a plaque commemorating a local man named Cliff Prout who did a tremendous amount of work improving the public local green spaces on behalf of this community. The world needs more Cliff Prouts – he did a great job.

THE WAY BACK

There’s much to be said for a circular walk, but I find it can be just as interesting to go back the way I came. I often see things I missed on the way through being distracted by something I spot; the perspective is different, the light is different and of course the time is different. I tend to ‘save’ things that aren’t likely to move for a closer look on the way back too, such as these trees. I liked the contrast of shapes and shades of the evergreens seen through the more delicate catkin laden Hazel in the foreground and all set off beautifully by that beautiful deep blue winter sky.

I met the Blackbird again, still hunting worms successfully, he’d just swallowed one as I took his picture.

I had a closer look at this felled tree which I think from the bark may be a Sweet chestnut. It’s wood has been left to integrate into the fabric of the woodland floor to provide habitat for invertebrates etc. I hope it gets left alone and is not purloined by someone with a wood-burner to feed.

This was a huge tree, a section of its trunk would easily make a small dining table.

A flowering Dandelion and more shoots of Wild garlic.

This enormous Oak tree near the entrance/exit to the Glen fascinates me. It has stabilised itself in an almost-perpendicular position with a complex network of roots that are as thick and sturdy as branches, right on the edge of a steep bank. Beneath it are hollows you can see straight through. Perhaps this is where the fairies live.  

A last look at another stand of elegant, pale-barked trees whose top branches turned silver in the sunlight.

And then the river on its way out of the Glen.

Leaving the Glen and walking back past the cottages I stopped to watch Jackdaws  gathered on the chimney pots. I’m not sure what they were doing, possibly checking for any insects or spiders that may have been hiding in them, or maybe prospecting for nest sites; whatever they were doing they were disappearing right into them.

 

Back in the Gardens I stopped to admire  the flowers; clumps of snowdrops, daffodils and a stunning display of richly coloured hellebores all enjoying the sunshine. No insects yet  though.


I couldn’t resist taking this shot of a perfectly matched couple walking hand in hand ahead of me. I hope they don’t mind.

The view towards the end of the gardens with the Coachman’s cottage in the bottom left corner.

All overlooked by the tower of the Folly up on the hill.

I am ever in awe at the size of some of the pine trees that grow here

so I was sad to see that the foliage of one of them looks has turned brown as though it may be dead.

A Robin checked out a dramatic dried seed head

while a Wood pigeon investigated a mossy rooftop.

Then to finish, a promise of imminent Spring: a Wild Cherry tree with new green leaves and blossom buds about to burst.

 

Shades, Sounds and Scents of the Woods

22 Thursday Feb 2018

Posted by in birds of Wales, Nature of Wales, woodland birds

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February 18th-Bryn Euryn-Woodland Path

A bit fed up with dull drab winter days, a sunny start to the day inspired me to go out and seek signs of the coming Spring and hopefully some colour. A Robin sang from a tree branch at the beginning of the Woodland Path, then minutes later the delightful and uplifting sight of a bank of Snowdrops in full flower made the perfect start.

Our Snowdrop display may not be on the scale of that of those boasted by our local National Trust gardens, but it is no less beautiful and uplifting; and I didn’t have to drive anywhere to see it. 

Lesser Periwinkle- Vinca minor

Nearby, peeping out shyly from beneath a bramble, the bright blue face of a Periwinkle.

A Barberry shrub arches gracefully over the pathway, its golden-orange flowers not yet quite open. I thought it was a bit early for it to be flowering? Barberry- Berberis vulgaris is a native plant, but it is scarce in the wild although widely naturalised.  This one, or an ancestor of it may have been planted when this woodland was part of the grounds of the house that used to stand where our apartment building is now. Either way it’s pretty and a splash more colour to add to my collection.   

Another shrub I found flowering, Mahonia, has also likely arrived here from a garden. Its bright yellow flowers also look good and smell lovely.

Barberry-Berberis vulgaris
Mahonia-Mahonia japonica

Of course green is still the predominant colour, but there are splashes of bright fresh shades breaking up the dark evergreens. Mosses are at their best at this time of year, brightening the shady woodland floor, smothering rocks and the bases of tree trunks with patches of vivid green. I have yet to learn to identify the different species, so for now I think of this one as ‘looking like a forest of miniature pine trees’!

Although I walk this path often I can still see things I’ve not spotted before, like this pretty clump of Navelwort. Its pretty round leaves, dimpled in the centre and with  frilled edges look a bit like green flowers.

Navelwort-Umbillicus rupestris

There are a number of Spurge laurel plants in this part of the woods and they too are flowering now. The flowers are a subtle lime green-yellow colour but they are pretty and in common with those of other members of the daphne family they are deliciously scented, with an aroma that really is like warm honey.

Spurge laurel-Daphne laureola
Fully opened flowers

It’s wonderful to hear the woods full of bird sounds again. Throughout most of this walk I was surrounded by the sounds of birds, mostly the cheerful chirps and chatter of tits keeping contact with one another. Blue tits were everywhere, up high in trees and lower down in the shrubs, investigating every nook, cranny and leaf for potential food. They are bright colourful little birds, but still blend surprisingly well into the woodland background.


Great tits are also about, but their favoured place is around the Scots Pines where there are often several. They are more easily heard than seen and have a huge repertoire of calls and phrases at their disposal. Years ago I learnt from a bird-watching master that if you hear a bird sound you don’t recognise the chances are it will be a Great Tit!

I stood and watched them there for a few minutes until my neck ached from craning upwards.Thankfully I was distracted by a Treecreeper up in a big sycamore tree nearby.

It was exceptionally well-camouflaged against the shaded, heavily textured bark and hard to see when not mobile and flashing its white undersides. It was fascinating to watch as it contorted itself, using its tail to steady itself to probe its beak into its deep fissures. From this spot I also heard the screeching of Jays and caught a glimpse of one before it sped off through the trees.

I passed by the remains of the Scots Pine that was sadly felled in a storm two years ago. Much of it has been sawn and removed; what’s left is being gradually absorbed back into the fabric of the woodland. I liked its rich colour and texture.

Looking across the boundary fence here the colours of the landscape in general are still predominantly brown and green, but taking time to look properly you appreciate the are a myriad of shades of those colours. And I’m sure the grass is getting greener by the day!

I usually concentrate on the more scenic aspects of this view, but zooming in and down onto an edge of the far landscape reveals an interesting slice of a community. An interesting juxtaposition caught my eye – Modern Industry and a Final Resting Place separated by a field full of sheep turned out to eat turnips!

On the field-woodland boundary is more colour. Gorse is blooming bringing forth its warm golden glow. I think this line of gorse was probably planted here as a boundary hedge. This was a common and effective practice in Wales to prevent animals wandering and remnants of such hedges can still be found in the countryside, particularly in Anglesey.

I heard a Robin singing and noticed bird movement amongst the Gorse. Zooming in I found the rusty-red of two Robins there, one being the source of the song. I wonder if they were mates prospecting for a nest site or rivals claiming territory?

Two birds in a bush

Honeysuckle twining up the wire boundary fence has well-grown fresh leaves already; quite surprising in this exposed spot.

Honeysuckle leaves are well-grown

Amongst leaf litter, ivy and feathery moss, Wood Sorrel has shown some of its bright green shamrock-like leaves throughout the winter. It will be flowering soon.

Leaves of Wood Sorrel

The top end of this path is becoming increasingly lined with Alexanders’ plants. Most are well-grown now, particularly those sheltered against tree trunks. They will flower soon; last year their flowers were much appreciated by some of the earlier hoverflies.

Alexanders-Smyrnium olusatrum

Woodland – Summit Trail

Emerging from the beneath the canopy of the woods onto the  open Woodland Trail the first colour I noticed was the blue of the sky!

Heading towards the track that leads up to the Summit Trail I heard a Woodpecker tapping. I’ve had several good sightings of Great Spotted Woodpeckers in the past few weeks, the latest one just this morning as it came down almost as far as our bird feeders. I scanned the trees for a sight of it but no luck. A Raven flew overhead, ‘cronking’ as it travelled to alert all to its presence.

Surprisingly there were a few bright red berries left on the big Holly bush; there are so many Blackbirds about I thought every last one would be gone by now. Perhaps they can’t reach those left at the end of branches. Many holly leaves have been ‘mined’ by insects so display bright pale splashes where there is now no chlorophyll.

As I said earlier, Blackbirds were numerous and have turned their attentions to the Ivy berries, many of which are finally ripe. Everywhere there were berries there were birds from low down to the tops of trees. They rustle noisily around seeking the bunches of berries using a variety of techniques to reach the fruits. Their familiar scolding and alarm calls ring out from almost every tree as they chase away competitors.

 

Hazel catkins have been present since the autumn, gradually lengthening and maturing. Now their soft golden tassels are long and fluffy, resembling the ‘lamb’s tails’, which gave rise to the old country name for catkins.

Common Hazel (Corylus avellana)

Catkins are the male flowers of the plant, producing pollen to fertilise the tiny red female flowers that sit tightly on the twigs.

I heard the Woodpecker again, this time drumming loudly on a tree trunk. It was too far away to try to locate it, but was good to hear. The males don’t have a song with which to claim ownership of their chosen patch of woodland, so they use the tool they have, their powerful bill to drum on dead trees. They can be clever in their choice of drumming spot, often choosing a site where the sound is amplified by surrounding features. A Thrush was singing nearby too, so I stopped to listen. Then two birds making sounds I didn’t recognise at all crashed into the top of a tree in front of me on the other side of the track. With the sun behind them they were drained of colour, but there was no mistaking their outlines – two Woodpeckers! I have no idea if they were a pair or two rivals chasing, but they left without a sound, one behind the other.

After the activity of the woods the almost-summit was surprisingly calm. This must be the first time for months that there has been not even a breath of wind and it was actually enjoyable to be up there! The sea of Colwyn Bay seemingly flat calm and mirroring the sky, now sunless, was a most unusual shade of blue-grey.

Swinging around to my right the snow-capped higher peaks of the Carneddau mountains rising above the river Conwy show remind that there is some Winter still to go.

Continuing up to the Summit you pass thickets of blackthorn; they take on a completely different appearance in the winter as their leafless black twigs and branches are richly encrusted with gold and silver-grey lichens.

Crossing to the North-facing side of the hill the view is down the coast along Penrhyn Bay to the Little Orme; the sea is still calm but more blue. The field (on the opposite side of the road to the golf course) has a lot if standing water and I could see there were gulls and Oystercatchers feeding there. This is the ‘Curlew field’ that I’ve mentioned many times. I couldn’t make out if there were any Curlew there, but I did hear one and the tide appears to be in, so there most likely were.

Below is a panoramic view starting from past the Little Orme on the right of the image and travelling along to the hills at the end of the Carneddau. Anglesey lies on the horizon behind the stretch of water which is the Menai Strait. It would have looked better if the sun had still been out, but it’s still pretty spectacular.

click for bigger image

Going down, the Gorse on the hillside is in full golden flower. It was only planted in recent years but has quickly thickened and grown taller.

I walked home across the field where a Long-tailed tit flew in front of me: it was so close I could almost have touched it. They are so pretty. It was one of a party but the others took a more cautious route around the field via the trees rather than the direct crossing.

I completed the circuit of the Bryn walking back along the Woodland Trail. It was much quieter now but I did get one last look of two Great Spotted Woodpeckers together, so fingers crossed they are a pair. I’ll be keeping an eye out.

A Window on the Woods-Winter 1

09 Friday Feb 2018

Posted by in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Nature of Wales, woodland birds

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My kitchen window looks directly onto a short section of the edge of the woodland on one side of Bryn Euryn, my local ‘patch’, that has been the subject of many of my blog posts. Perhaps it’s a bit scruffy-looking, but the good variety of species of trees and shrubby undergrowth offer a habitat that seems to suit a good mix of bird species and gives me the privilege of some close-up everyday bird watching. I have my own personal woodland ‘hide’ with the benefits of central heating and tea-making facilities within arm’s length. I’ve seen a wonderful array of birds on a fairly regular basis this winter thanks in part to their endless quest for food, with the added bonuses of clearer, longer sightings and have had the chance to gain fascinating insights into their habits and behaviour first-hand.

Mixed species feeding flocks

Mixed-species flocks, or ‘feeding parties’ of small birds roam the woods and we seem to be one of the regular re-fuelling spots for at least some of them. Flock sizes and the numbers and the different species of birds travelling within them varies, but their core elements are invariably Blue tits. Usually at the forefront they are first to the feeders, with no hanging back.

Blue Tit – Parus caeruleus

Blue tits are by far the most numerous visitors to the bird feeders. Most mornings they are the first birds I see and also the last in the late afternoon when it’s almost dark. Their numbers vary at different times of the day according to which of the roaming tribes they are allied to.

Blue tit – Parus caeruleus

At first glance one Blue tit appears much like another, but with regular watching and focussing in closely to take a lot of photographs, I know that although there is a ‘blue print’ for the perfect bird, (Blue tit print?), there are a lot of individuals about that deviate from the norm. A surprising number are affected by melanism or leucism (more dark or white feathers than the norm) in varying degrees which has helped me recognise individuals. A couple have leg rings, one of which looks ‘normal’, while the other has a band of darker feathers above its beak. A selection of some of those I see regularly enough to recognise on sight now are shown below:

Blue tit with white in crown & freckled face
Blue tit with white ‘nostrils’ above beak
Blue tit with dark feathers on right side
Blue tit with dark ‘frown’ above bill
‘Normal’ Blue tit with leg-ring
Blue tit with severe feather problem

It seems that several of the distinct ones arrive together, so I imagine that may mean they are related. When I finally get around to collating my photographs I’m hoping it will show which families or flocks they belong to or travel with.

Great Tit-Parus major

There are a good number of Great tits too; occasionally appearing alone they are more often in twos or in small family groups. Sometimes there are as many as 6-8 at any one time in a party with other tits. There’s quite a bit of variation in their appearances too, mostly regarding the extent of the dark stripe down their breasts and continuing underparts. One or two are so heavily marked with black it makes them instantly recognisable, another has something odd about one of its eyes.

Great Tit – Parus major

Coal Tit-Parus ater

There are a small number of Coal tits; I’d say I might be seeing four at the most. Their visits are less predictable; sometimes one will appear on its own, most often one arrives together with a party of other tits and occasionally they have been here all together.

The smallest of our British breeding tits, Coal tits behave quite differently to other tits. Initially they’re not quite as bold in approaching feeders and then once food is taken they take it a distance away to eat it.

Coal tit-Parus ater

A couple of times I’ve been amused by one individual who rather than come forth and take his own food innocently approached blue tits with food, sat close by them, then dashed in and snatched their meal from their claws! The photographs below are of the tiny thief.

Coal tit with Blue tit

Coal tit approaching blue tit with intent to rob

Coal tit snatching food from Blue tit

Long-tailed Tit-Aegithalos caudatus

Then there are the delightful fairy-like Long-tailed tits, they arrive in a small family group most often following behind the rest of the mixed party they have allied to. Oddly though there is one that travels alone but in the company of a party of Blue & Great tits and a Coal Tit. It’s very unusual to see a Long-tailed tit alone, so I can’t begin to guess why this one is, unless it is the only surviving member of a family?

The Long-tailed tits mostly stay slightly higher up than their travelling companions, foraging amongst the tree branches while the others visit the feeders, but occasionally they give me a treat and come closer.

Goldcrest-Regulus regulus

Goldcrest-Regulus regulus

I see Goldcrests around and about fairly often, more particularly from my front window where they favour the big conifer trees. On a few occasions though  I’ve spotted them travelling along with mixed flocks too. They don’t often make their way down as far as their companions that are here for the food on offer, preferring to forage for themselves in the evergreen shrubs such as holly and laurel. I’ve had  some lovely views of them, but taking good photographs of these flitting flickering little birds is tricky, so I’ve resorted to one I took in the right place but back in November 2017.

Treecreeper-Certhia familiaris

Treecreepers are the final regular members of our travelling mixed flocks but from my kitchen window vantage point I have seen one only once. It wasn’t a particularly good close sighting, but I did manage to get a photo of it arriving at the same time as one of the flocks, although it stopped at one of the trees further up the slope.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Winter Promenades

22 Monday Jan 2018

Posted by in birds of the seashore, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Rhos Point, Wales Coast Path

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January 2nd 2018 

The Promenade runs unbroken from Old Colwyn at one end to Penrhyn Bay at the other, following the contours of Colwyn Bay, Rhos Point and the seashore of the aforementioned Penrhyn Bay. It is well-used, particularly so in the warmer seasons and weekends, but also on sunny days throughtout the year; it’s also a part of the Wales Coast Path and is both a walking and a cycling route. The section I walk most often these days starts close to the tiny St.Trillo’s chapel, passes Rhos Point and continues into Rhos on Sea village.

St Trillo’s Chapel, Rhos-on-Sea

This strip of coastline is fascinating. The Promenade and the busy road that runs alongside it form a corridor between land claimed for human habitation, travel and recreation and a rugged seashore and mussel bed, regularly washed over by the Irish Sea, that provides for a variety of species of wildlife, including large numbers of over-wintering wading birds. There is also an interesting ‘cross-over’ by some birds that have learnt to utilise the opportunities offered on both sides of the corridor.

This morning I’d visited my daughter & grandchildren who live just a couple of hundred metres from the Prom and I thought while I was this close I’d check up quickly on a very special winter visitor – a Purple Sandpiper. I knew there was one here as I’d found it in the same spot on the rocks frequented by one lone individual last winter. (I posted about it earlier last year as The Lonely Purple Sandpiper.) The times whilst the tide is high and for a short while as it begins to go out again are the best times to get close-up views of them.

23/12/17-1432-Purple sandpiper

Walking down the slope near the chapel I couldn’t fail to notice a huge photographic lens fitted to a camera on a tripod angled down onto the rocks below, with a man standing behind it. I guessed all would be aimed at the Purple sandpiper, and so it was, but rather than there being the one bird I’d expected to see, there were six. Four were out in the open, tucked up and fast asleep, but the photographer said there were at least two more a bit lower down behind rocks. These lovely little winter visitors are famous and people travel here from miles around in hope of seeing them. This guy had come from Wigan and here on his third visit in recent weeks to attempt to see them. There was no way he was leaving until he’d got shots of them doing something more interesting. He  was also willing the sun to come out to light them up better against the dark rocks. You really do have to catch these birds at high tide when they rest up on the rocks of the rip-rap, as once the tide goes out, so do they and you’ve lost them.

2/01/18-1105-Rhos Point-Purple Sandpipers

Great Crested Grebes regularly cruise the bay and there was one out there now. Although not appearing to be travelling at speed, they are tricky to catch an image of; you just get them in focus and they dive. I get a lot of images of  empty sea. They can travel good distances underwater in pursuit of fish so you can’t predict where they’ll pop up again.

Following last night’s Super Moon, there was a Spring Tide this morning, at its highest at 10:40am (the Spring Tides are the highest ones). It was windy here as it is at most high tides, but not blowing in across the sea, so its surface was barely rippled. At just past 12 noon, the water was beginning to recede but it would be a while before the sandpipers responded and became active; they’re used to arctic conditons, but it was way too cold for me to stand still. I wondered about the lone bird I’d seen before Christmas. Was it now part of this little group? Surely it was, but I walked the short distance along to where I’d seen it before to make certain. No sign of it, but I did see the biggest jellyfish I’ve ever seen stranded on top of a rock by the tide. It looked a bit battered but don’t know how you tell a live one from a dead one when they’re out of the water.

I walked as far as the steep concrete steps that go down to the shore that are becoming increasingly smoother and their edges more rounded year on year. They were wet right to the top showing how high the water level must have reached earlier on.

Now I’d seen the Sandpipers and knowing I could come back and see them again I thought I’d get into my car out of the cold and go home. But then there might be more to see, I was here now and at least it wasn’t raining like it was yesterday. I also had the luxury of being able to walk here without a grandchild in a pram as I often do, so could stop as often as I liked without protest from a little companion. I walked on towards the village.

It’s not only birds that have ‘crossed-over’ to the wild side of the road. The huge, predominantly limestone rocks of the rip-rap support an increasing variety of plants too. They are mostly garden escapes such as buddleiah and michaelmas daisies and just past the chapel is a bushy shrub. This established bush is sometimes full of one of the local House sparrow tribes adding their cheerful chirping to the more expected sounds of the seashore. There are often House sparrows foraging amongst the rocks of the seashore, especially when they’re nesting and have young to feed. They come after it’s rained too, to drink from small pools of fresh water briefly held by the limestone rip rap.

1/10/17-Rhos Point-A bush full of House sparrows

The bush has shed its leaves now and there were no sparrows today. Someone has put up a bird feeder filled with nuts, maybe for them or maybe for the Robin that is also often around here.

The sea had begun to recede here on the Point, so I began to walk down the  ramp to see if any birds had arrived to forage in its wake and was surprised by a Dunnock that popped out from the base of the bush.

2/1/18-1218-Rhos Point-Dunnock

It moved back down to the rocks beneath

and was joined by a Robin.

The big patch of Winter Heliotrope on the grassy embankment is flowering prolifically now as it has been since last December. This is another plant that started out as a garden plant that escaped and is now also accepted as a wildflower. It’s widespread around the village but this location, facing straight out to sea is not its usual habitat; it’s supposed to go for damp shady places, often under trees. It is thriving here though, this patch is now huge. It’s perhaps not the most beautiful of plants, but it’s a joy to see anything in flower at this time of year and the flowers have a delicious scent, heliotrope is widely used in the perfume industry, but you have to get down to their level to check that out!

Winter heliotrope –  

Round about this spot I’d seen a little party of Ringed Plovers on Christmas Eve, when walking into the village with my own family party. There’d been a group of about 15 gathered on the rocks waiting for the tide to turn (birds that is, not family members). No sign of them now, so this is an image I got that day.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Ringed Plovers

There was a single Dunlin there then too, resting with its head tucked under its wing just peeping out to check it was safe to carry on napping.

24/12/17-Rhos Point-Dunlin

Reaching the harbour the calm appearance of the sea belied the fact that it was actually quite windy and with no sunshine still really cold, not a day for sustained birdwatching from one spot. I loved the view though in these misty muted winter shades.

The harbour wall provides the perfect place for birds the sit out the high tides to wait close by for that magical moment when as it recedes it reaches the perfect point for them to make the short flight back to the shore. There are always oystercatchers and often gulls and a crow or two. A couple seeking shelter from the biting cold against a wall were viewing it with binoculars; they’d seen Ringed Plovers there too. At the far end sat a group of Cormorants; in my photograph you can see Colwyn Bay’s sadly dilapidated Victoria Pier behind them.

Across the road is the park which has a children’s play area, a good old-fashioned paddling pool, empty now of course and open grassy areas that is currently wet and muddy, perfect for blackbirds, thrushes and starlings digging for worms. Here with my slightly bigger granddaughter a few days ago there were two Mistle thrushes in addition to today’s blackbirds and starlings.

Starling – juvenile

I watched a Black-headed gull, its head is just beginning to show the beginnings of darkening to the chocolate-brown of the birds breeding plumage. It too was digging successfully for worms in the soft mud. I like these neat little gulls with their red bills and legs.

Black-headed gull

Heading back down the slope to walk back I was pleased to see a rock Pipit hopping and flitting between the rocks and the Prom edge before disappearing into plants on the grassy embankment

2/1/18-Rock Pipit

A Robin popped up too – maybe the one I’d seen earlier further along by the bush. He/she was quite likely warning off the Rock Pipit.

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Robin

Daisies are flowering, only a few bravely showing their faces, but a reminder that despite their dainty fragile looks they are as tough as old boots!

2/1/18-Rhos Point-Daisy

Canny Crows are frequent visitors to the rocky shore and search amongst the rocks for anything edible from scraps of left-over food left by visitors to accessible shellfish.

This one had found the remains of a sizeable crab and that look in its eye says it wasn’t about to share it!

The tide was a little further out now and oystercatchers were beginning to arrive back. They didn’t begin foraging though, instead they quickly settled and resumed their rests.

The two in the pictures below have pointed beaks so would probably be waiting for the softer ground to be revealed in which they probe for their food. Those that hammer away at shellfish have bills that are blunter and more squared off.

The people with the binoculars told me they’d come down here via Penrhyn Bay where it was apparently even colder than here. They reported seeing a Grey plover there on one of the breakwaters, so I decided to go that way home and stop and have a look. I didn’t hold out much hope of seeing anything without binoculars and had no idea which breakwater it might have been on either. It was definitely colder here, and I was not going to hang about, but I was really pleased to discover that this is where the Redshanks come to roost between tides! I’ve often wondered where they go and here they were; dozens of them tucked up in the shelter of the rocks.

Seeing the Redshanks still waiting for the signal to make their move back to the Point made me hope that Curlews would also be in the field they frequent when not on the seashore. They were! And they come with the added bonus that you can stop on the roadside and watch them from inside your car. The brambly hedge on the field boundary gets in the way of the camera lens somewhat, and they were a distance away, but in this setting they are a wonderful sight.

 

Curlew bathing

 

 

Winter Woodland

16 Tuesday Jan 2018

Posted by in Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, Nature of Wales, Wildflowers of Wales, woodland walks in Wales

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January 1st 2018

The early morning was sunny and bright. Perfect for my first walk in the woods of this new year, I thought. Ha! I hadn’t got far when I realised it may not be quite as perfect as I had anticipated. By the time I got outside at around midday the sun had disappeared behind a thick veil of misty cloud, I felt cold despite thermal layers, my new three-way all-weather jacket and walking boots. The track was muddy and a bit slippery; thankfully for once I’d remembered to pick up my pointy-ended light-weight walking stick. This wasn’t what I’d hoped for, but as I want to try to follow the progress of the seasons more closely this year it had to be done. I reminded myself of my double-negatively phrased mantra, “there’s never nothing to see”, crossed my already frozen fingers and trusted that would work.

11:43 – Watching a handsome male blackbird rootling in the ground-covering ivy was a good start; then a grey squirrel with a scruffy sparsely-furred tail made me wonder what it takes to keep them in? It was freezing cold, damp and now getting windy, perfect conditions for a spot of hibernation I’d have thought; they must be too hungry to sleep.

Grey sky through bare branches

I do love to see the sky through the tracery of bare branches and twigs on days like this when they are almost in monochrome.

Holly has a strong presence year-round, but it struck me today that even on dull days it shines out, seeming to catch any available light touching its leaves and reflecting it back. There were a few berries remaining on this plant but I’m sure they won’t be there for long.

Alexanders – Smyrnium olusatrum

Clumps of bright green leaves of Alexanders started to reappear back in December. Here on the edge of the woodland path they are sheltered by the trees and protected by leaf litter. I’m always surprised it doesn’t get eaten. It was introduced into this country by the Romans; having a delicate celery-like taste, they  used it as a culinary herb. Rarely growing more than about four miles from the sea, here it’s at its most prolific on the lower level of the Little Orme and along the Llandudno Road. It’s spreading quite quickly here in this part of the woods too. I wonder how it got here originally?

11:57 – The view from the boundary fence was obscured by the dense misty cloud which seemed to be approaching fast. I could still see part of the River Conwy, but the Carneddau mountains beyond had all but disappeared. The A55, or the North Wales Expressway as it is officially known, is busy with traffic whatever the day. The main route westward and up through Anglesey to the Irish ferry port at Holyhead, it is also heavily used by locals for short commutes and  holidaymakers and tourists all year round. The railway line runs alongside it too. Running along the valley bottom, vehicle noise is amplified and rises up to become the background sound to my walks, even the mist hardly muffles it. It is so continuous though that your mind soon ceases to register it.

The Scots Pines are at their most numerous in this spot. On the woodland boundary and exposed to strong west winds their trunks are angled backwards and branches are contorted and twisted into some weird and wonderful shapes.

Woodland Trail

A sprinkling of golden gorse flowers brightened the greyness of the day and a quick inhale of its gorgeous coconut fragrance gave me a boost and the will to continue! 

It’s less sheltered up on the Woodland Trail, which is for the most part a corridor through the trees, so deciding which way to go was easy; a right turn and then up, back into the closer shelter of trees. I passed by the big holly tree, hardly any berries remained and there were no birds to see there. There are good crops of ivy berries this year, but they seem to be ripening sporadically and slowly. I often come across plants throughout the woods that have escaped from gardens. I hadn’t spotted this mahonia before though – it’s preparing to flower which will no doubt be gratefully received by the red & the buff-tailed bumblebee queens when they emerge in a few short weeks time.

12:11 – It started to rain heavily. I was fairly protected by the trees so decided to carry on. A party of Long-tailed tits flew above me, calling to one another as they moved quickly through the high tree branches. Tiny birds, they clearly have to keep searching for food but surely need to keep warm and dry too; not easy when there are no leaves.

The wind picked up. On the north side of the hill and gradually getting higher, it was noticeably colder too. If I had sense I’d probably have gone home now, but I really wanted to get to the top of the hill today. At least this weather suits blackbirds foraging in deep leaf litter.

I passed the ‘fernery’ – the open slope that is lushly covered with predominantly Hart’s Tongue fern growing between moss-covered stones. If it was warmer it may feel quite tropical. The smudges are raindrops on the camera lens!

I was glad to reach the part of the trail I think of as the ‘Dark Wood’. It is sheltered by the rising bulk of the hillside and some tall old trees, including a good few Yews, which all combine to block out the sunlight and today some of the rain.

At the end of the tree tunnel is a particularly large evergreen tree, one of several that I know throughout the woodland. I’m trying to work out what they are, so any ideas would be gratefully received.

For some reason I can’t begin to guess at, an iron gate stands at the side of the track just past here. There’s no sign of any fencing on either side of it. It’s just a gate to nowhere.

Gate to nowhere

It does stand near to the junction of a track leading up to the summit though, making it easier to remember where its start is. Covered with leaves it doesn’t stand out and is easy to miss.

The muddy leaf-covered upward track is easily missed

12:26 – The upward track was muddy and slippery and I was glad I had my spiky walking stick, otherwise progress could easily have been a painful step forward and a slide back. It was still raining, my fingers were freezing and I was the only person trekking to the top. Can’t think why. The flash of a colourful Bullfinch disturbed from a bramble patch, eating what remains of blackberries really brightened my day. He disappeared into the scrub of hazel and blackthorn. Hazel catkins start growing at the end of the summer or early autumn and are making steady progress; these are the male flowers, the tiny red female flowers will appear a little later on when the male flowers are fully mature.

Hazel catkins

The twiggy branches of the blackthorns are well-covered with lichen, including clumps of the beautiful silver-green ferny one that feels velvety to the touch. It is a lichen, but confusingly called Oak Moss.

Oak Moss-Evernia prunestri on blackthorn

12:42 – Emerging onto the hill top was breathtaking. Quite literally – it was raining hard, blowing a hooley and bitingly cold. I took a couple of snaps while the wind tried to wrench the camera out of my hands and the rain obscured the view further by dropping onto the lens. There was no way I was going to carry on up to the summit proper.

The sea is out there somewhere

12:50 – I turned and scurried back to the comparative shelter of the track, stopping only because I couldn’t resist this gnarly tree trunk decorated with moss and lichen.

Then there was an extremely tall tree painted with both orange and green lichens and daubed with cushion-like moss. I couldn’t resist that either.

I spot a small Elder that already has quite well-grown new leaves.

13:04 – I watched a blackbird that was having great success finding worms in the mud. I watched it pull out and eat two or three.

It had finally stopped raining and the sun was shining through the trees. It was still really cold though and although only early afternoon, gloomy and dark.

I took a slightly different route back to where I started as it’s a higher, less well used and still covered with leaves and much less slippery. It also cuts across the slope that is part of the view from my kitchen window and is a good place to be to see some of the birds that descend from here down to our bird feeders. No birds today, but I did realise that two of the trees up here are big old Sweet Chestnuts. They have beautifully coloured and textured bark.

Sweet Chestnut-Castania sativa
Sweet chestnut bark

13:22 – One last splash of colour – rust-red leaves remaining on a small tree, I’m assuming Copper beech that has found its way here from someone’s garden.

 

13:39 – I’m home, hands wrapped around a mug of  defrosting tea, watching some of the birds I didn’t see whilst out. They’d doubtless think it bonkers to go out on a day like this when you really don’t have to.

 

 

 

Everlasting Green

10 Sunday Dec 2017

Posted by in bird behaviour, Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve, nature of woodlands, North Wales, plants important to wilflife, woodland birds, woodland walks in Wales

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December 3rd-Woodland Path, Bryn Euryn

The deciduous trees of the woodland have for the most part shed their leaves now and they cover the ground in a thick damp carpet, exuding the evocative earthy aroma that characterises this time of the year. Their falling has opened up the overhead canopy, highlighting the evergreen flora that has merged into the background since the Spring.

The amount of  permanent greenery always takes me by surprise. Much is in the varying forms of native trees and shrubs; dark dense Yew that fills spaces from the ground upwards, Scot’s Pines with tall trunks and bristly green crowns, glossy spiky Holly, some sprinkled with shiny green berries and of course Ivy, masses of it. There are other non-native residents too, sprawling Laurel being the most evident.

Laurel at the junction of woodland paths

Fallen leaves of sycamore and oak

Ivy is a much-maligned native evergreen that was thought to strangle trees as well as spoil their appearance. In the days when this woodland would have been strictly managed it would probably have been regularly stripped away. Now left to its own devices it is without doubt the most dominant of the native evergreens here; scrambling to the tops of even the tallest of trees in its search for light and covering large areas of the understorey too. The benefits of ivy to wildlife are enormous; both its pollen and berries can be an essential source of food for many insects and birds and it provides shelter for invertebrates, birds, small mammals and bats. At this time of year it also gives cover to foraging parties of small birds such as tits and treecreepers whilst they search amongst its stems and leaves for hibernating insects and spiders.

Ivy clambers up almost every tree

There’s green at ground level too; Polypody and Hart’s Toungue ferns are both evergreen. There are bright green patches of mosses and grey-green lichen is dusted in varying amounts onto most tree trunks and branches.

I love the little ‘scenes’ I find at this time of the year, full of interesting textures,  shapes and forms and coloured in earthy shades of green and brown.  Here the base of an oak tree has bright green moss and grey-green lichen growing on its fissured bark and tendrils of ivy are beginning their climb up. A polypody fern has found a sheltered spot, there’s a tiny new holly plant and the beginnings of a bramble.  

Nearby the fresh green leaves of Alexanders are already showing through the leaf litter.

Without the dressing of leaves the architecture of individual trees is revealed. I must have passed this tree dozens of times as I’ve walked this path but today it caught my attention as the sunlight turned its remaining dried out leaves to coppery gold.

I was unsure of the species of tree; looking upwards I saw it was tall, and also that its trunk and twisted branches appear bleached and much of its covering of bark is missing. Not helpful, but looking properly at the size and shape of the leaves I’m leaning towards Sweet Chestnut, another popularly planted non-native. There’s been no evidence of the prickly chestnuts though, so I’ll have to check to see if it produces flowers next Spring.

Ivy is creeping up the trunk of the tree and it has a backdrop of dense dark green Yew and shiny Holly.

Holly, ivy and yew

Long-tailed tit

I hear the contact calls of Tits and stand still hoping it means a feeding party are heading my way. It did indeed and now I don’t know where to look first as Long-tailed, Blue and Great Tits swoop and dart around the branches of the nearby trees. Some venture lower down giving me eye-level views. There were less birds in the party than those I saw a few weeks ago, so maybe they’ve split into smaller numbers as the availability of food has diminished. They seem to be travelling faster too, not lingering for long in one spot.

Blue tit

I wasn’t too far from where the Scots pines are gathered. Popular trees with the Tits I wondered if that was where they were headed. The trees are tall and positioned on the edge of the woodland; many have been distorted by exposure to winds and the search for light. With no low branches, their foliage is all on their crowns, so sighting anything as small as a tit is tricky, especially in sunshine. The light is beautiful up there though; I love these upward views of the tree canopy, especially on blue sky days. I’m thinking I would like to see a Coal tit though, haven’t seen one for ages.

Scots pine

A gathering of Scot’s Pines

I always stop here and look over the wire fence that marks the boundary of the private woodland and a small field. Trees on its edge although leafless are greened with ivy and gorse, which may well have once been planted as a hedge to contain livestock, has some golden blossom.

The views across the landscape to the Carneddau Mountains on the edge of Snowdonia are ever-changing with the light and the seasons and are always breathtaking.

Woodland Trail

I reach the top of the Woodland Path, and as always take note of the oak tree here at the junction with the Woodland Trail that marks the boundary of the Bryn Euryn Nature Reserve. It still has some leaves clinging on but they are fewer and browner now than a couple of weeks ago.

Oak tree on November 19th
Oak tree on December 3rd

I turn right, then a few metres on turn left onto the narrow unmarked track that leads upwards through the woodland.

I spot a large holly bush endowed with a generous crop of berries.

Walking towards it I disturb several Blackbirds from their feasting on the berries on its far side. Confident the hungry birds would come back once they thought the coast was clear, I stopped to wait a short way away, lurking behind a nearby tree.

If you’re looking out for birds, staying still in a likely spot is often more rewarding than any amount of walking and the next few moments bore this out. This part of the wood is favoured by Jays and I heard some screeching to to one another close by. At first I couldn’t locate them, but then saw one progress its way down from a tree to some low vegetation then onto the ground where it began searching for its stash of buried acorns. The green plant in the picture is newly-sprung Dog Mercury.

Brilliant to have such great views of two of these gorgeous and notoriously wary birds. I noticed one of them had what appeared to be an injury to its left side where feathers had been lost; maybe it was from the beak of another bird competing for buried treasure. It seemed OK though and was behaving perfectly normally. Then another treat. The little feeding party I’d seen earlier passed overhead and around me, Long-tailed and Blue tits in tree branches above, then flickering movements in the Holly bush alerted me to the presence of a tiny Goldcrest.

The Goldcrest is Britain’s smallest bird

These tiny jewels of birds, (Britain’s smallest), when on the hunt for insects are constantly moving, flitting deftly through dense foliage, hanging upside down effortlessly and even fluttering frantically to hover like a hummingbird, which must use up a lot of energy. They are delightful and fascinating to watch, but tricky to keep in focus and even trickier to photograph.

A Goldcrest can hover like a hummingbird

Holly is dimorphic, which means it has separate male and female plants, and only female trees bear berries. Traditional country wisdom has it that bountiful crops of berries are a sign of a hard winter to come. More scientific modern reckoning is that it is sign of a good summer past; we certainly had plenty of rain to swell berries this year.  I was surprised that the berries were being taken so early in the season though, I hope it doesn’t mean there’s already a shortage of other food available.

Most of the birds I saw appeared to be juveniles and they do seem to have been taking the fully-ripe berries.

Blackbird-Turdus merula

I was also surprised to find flowers on several bushes. They usually come forth around May when they stand a better chance of getting pollinated.

The low sun shines brightly through the trees spotlighting a small spindly tree with golden leaves. Once again I don’t know what species it is but from the size, shape and beautiful colouration of its leaves think it’s fairly safe to say it’s a maple.

“The Holly and the Ivy, Now they are both full grown” …….

Ivy completely covers a tall tree, Holly in front and a still-green Male fern on the ground

Another interesting little ‘scene’ catches my attention…

I’m never sure about the placement of this commemorative bench. It is weathered, covered with lichen and appears to have been there for decades, but the plaque gives a much more recent date. A reminder how nature is quick to move in given the chance.

It’s a shame the bench doesn’t face the other way as there’s a lovely display of ferns behind it; Hart’s Tongue, Polypody and Male Ferns are there and there’s pretty ferny moss too.

Past the bench the path continues through what I think of as ‘the Dark Wood’. Here the hillside rises steeply upwards on one side and almost as steeply downwards on the other. On the north/north-west side of the Bryn not much sunlight reaches here and there’s a density of Yew trees that also make it seem darker.

A spreading Yew

There are a lot of Silver Birches here too, which you would think would lighten the place up, but at their lower level trunks have darkened and on a few the bark has become strangely thickened and fissured.

From the lower downward slope a mighty tree trunk rises, by far the biggest tree here and that I’ve always assumed was a mighty pine, a Redwood or Sequoia or such-like.

But today I noticed some large fallen leaves that could only have come from it. It would seem then that it’s another Sweet Chestnut, but here a properly magnificent specimen. What a shame to have only restricted views.

On the opposite side of the path a sheer cliff of exposed limestone towers and adds to the atmosphere. I wonder if it was once part of the defences of the ancient hill-fort that was located on the summit.

Water often leaks from fissures in the porous rock and moss thrives on its shaded damp surface.

Having a closer look at the moss I found another fern amongst it, a tiny delicate one I’ve not noticed here before; a Maidenhair Spleenwort.

(I’m working on identifying mosses!)

 

Maidenhair spleenwort-Asplenium trichomanes

Past here there are more darkly-ivied trees. Today a movement caught my eye – another sighting of a foraging Goldcrest!

I watched it for what seemed like ages trying to keep it in sight as it flitted from branch-to-trunk-to-branch, in and out of the ivy, now doing its hummingbird impression – and then demonstrating a behaviour I’d read about but never seen; it climbed up the thick ivy stems like a tiny treecreeper. What brilliant little birds they are. I wish I’d had better light for better photographs.

A short way further on you are back out onto the wider brighter more open Woodland Trail.  Going down the wooden steps takes you to the car park, or as I opted, to loop around onto the lower part of the trail to get back to where I started.

As I stood deciding which way to go, one more treat, a Treecreeper making its way up another ivy-clad tree close to the path.

Treecreeper-Certhia familiaris

 

To The Summit of the Great Orme

30 Thursday Nov 2017

Posted by in Great Orme, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wales Coast Path

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November 1st

From April this year I have spent almost every Wednesday afternoon working as a volunteer in the NWWT shop situated within the Visitor Centre on the summit of the Great Orme. Meeting visitors from places all over the UK and beyond has been interesting and enjoyable, I have loved learning where they were visiting from and found I have a particularly soft spot for the older people who tell me they came up here as children, some several decades ago. It’s good to hear that the place has stood the test of time and still lives up to their happy memories. A fair few people came in seeking information too, most relating to the Great Orme itself and some regarding the local area, things to see, places to go etc. Initially I had to research things, now I feel I can give enough information for the average day visitor’s needs and in the process have learned a lot about this iconic headland.

The shop’s opening season ends this weekend, so today was my last day until next April. I am going to miss my weekly journey to and from the Summit, which have been highlights of my weeks, it’s been a real privilege to have had such a scenic drive to and from work! Today’s drive was particularly stunning as it was one of only a handful of fair weather Wednesdays this season; most have been cool to the point of cold, wet and extremely windy. The shop has sold boxes full of gloves and woolly hats to unprepared visitors!

Marine Drive

There are a number of ways to reach the summit of the Great Orme but my route of choice is via Marine Drive, also known as the Toll Road as there is a charge to drive this way (currently £3 per car that includes free parking at the summit). You can walk this route too and the length of Marine Drive is an inclusive section of the Wales Coast Path.

Approaching the toll house

Leaving the toll house you are soon confronted with this dramatic view; I love the zig-zag of angles created by the road, the limestone cliff and the stone wall.

There are a few spots where it is possible to pull in and park briefly to admire the views such as this one looking back over Ormes Bay to the ‘good’ unquarried side of the Little Orme.

A limestone cliff towers high above the road level blocking out the low sun

 casting its shadow onto the rippled surface of the sea.

Looking ahead to the tip of the headland and down onto a rocky cove.

Eventually the road forks and I take the upwards route which winds its way via a series of hairpin bends to the summit. The trickiest of these bends is just past the beautiful little St Tudno’s Church where there are stone walls either side of the single track; with no forward view of anything oncoming it helps if you can reverse your car accurately.

 

Unless I am running particularly late I pull into the small parking area opposite the church. On wild days I contemplate the view from my car but on days such as today I get out, breathe in the air and generally take in the glorious landscape and beyond it across the Irish Sea. The shape of the hawthorn trees here gives you a clue as to the regularity and strength of the prevailing wind.

Two sheep were ambling along the road in front of the church wall. Not an unusual sight, but what was unusual was that both had their long tails and also seem to have escaped this year’s shearing. I wonder where they’ve been hiding?

The National Trust famously took over the farm on the headland a few years ago and the farmer has since built up sizeable flocks of a variety of sheep breeds. Carefully chosen for their differing grazing habits they are free to wander and help maintain the conditions needed for the special flora and fauna that grace this special place.

Some are Herdwick sheep, a breed of native to the Lake District of North West England. Herdwicks are prized for their robust health, their ability to live solely on foraged food, and their tendency to be territorial and not to stray too far from their home base.

A Herdwick sheep smiling for the camera

A sighting of some of the herd of resident Kashmir goats is always a highlight of the drive. They too are free to wander and graze on the tougher vegetation and they can and do, pop up almost anywhere. I was happy to see a little party in the same field as the sheep; a couple of ‘Nannies’ (females), with this years growing kids.

A sign of fair weather is to see the cable cars gliding quietly high above you to and from the summit. This cable car system, opened in June 1969, is famously the longest passenger cable car system in Britain and I’m assured the panoramic views it offers are truly amazing. I’ve yet to try it myself, but it is on my list of must-dos. Needless to say it hasn’t run frequently this year due to strong winds; not surprising when you learn it travels about a mile and its highest point is about 80 feet (24.3 metres) off the ground!

Another way to reach the summit is by tram. Much more reliable it can travel up in most weathers, although it was forced, (in compliance with insurance requirements), to stop a few Wednesdays ago when winds were gusting at 48mph! I remember it well as that day I could hardly open the car door and almost got blown off my feet in the car park. The tram route is a journey in two parts, requiring a break at the aptly named Half-Way Station where you swap cars to continue to the Summit.

The Half-Way Station  

Reaching the road junction by the Half-Way Station I turn right to carry on up to the Summit (left takes you back down into town following parallel to the tram track). I pass the entrance to the Bronze Age Mines. I haven’t been down there either and may not. I can do heights much better than closed-in depths, no matter how fascinating.

From the car park the view is stunning. Not entirely clear but the sun shining through clouds had turned the lightly rippled sea to molten silver.

Although not obvious from the sea’s surface it was still windy enough to support this young Herring gull allowing it to hang in the air and parachute down to make a soft landing.

I’m coming in and there’s another one behind

The shop closes at 4pm since the clocks went back. The summit was almost deserted and the last tram departed as I left. The sun was already setting behind Anglesey and veiled by light misty cloud was casting a glorious soft golden glow over the entire landscape, even colour-washing the white-painted summit building.

In the gathering dusk I drove back down the way I had come to the junction with Marine drive, which from this point once again becomes a one-way only road leading down to the West Shore side of the headland. The road passes by the old Lighthouse, the subdued light suitably accentuating the gothic-castellated building perched bleakly on this exposed point of the headland.

The Lighthouse, now a ’boutique’ b&b, was originally constructed in 1862 by the Mersey Docks and Harbour Company who built the fortress-like building using “dressed limestone and vast bulks of Canadian pitch pine”. The beacon remained as a continuous warning to mariners until March 22nd 1985 when the optic was removed. It is now on view within the Visitor Centre on the summit. 

Past the lighthouse I just had to stop and get out of the car to photograph these pink-washed limestone cliffs before continuing on down. Then stopped again to take in the view out over the West Shore and the Conwy estuary. On a clear day you can see Conwy castle and the road bridges and follow the curve of the river back way beyond to the mountains of Snowdonia.

A few minutes later I am almost home, driving along the Llandudno sea front and admiring the almost-full moon in the darkening sky.

This must surely be one of the most scenic routes to and from a workplace that a person could wish for.

The Windhover

09 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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September 15th – Little Orme – Angel Bay

15:00 – Walking towards Angel Bay, it was sunny and eye-squintingly bright but as always of late it felt cool as there was a strong wind blowing in off the sea. Heading for the cliff edge to see if there were any seals about, I was distracted by the sight of a Kestrel hovering almost motionlessly at the edge of the cliff peering intently down. I have had some of my best views of these charismatic little falcons here on the Little Orme, but it’s not every day that you’re graced with such a close presence of one that was clearly totally absorbed in hunting mode and seemingly oblivious to the small audience gathered beneath it. 

As I got closer the bird swooped away to land on the rocky cliff to the right of the bay.  I tried to get some shots of the landed Kestrel, failing to get the images I’d have liked as I was distracted by a lady asking if I would use my zoom lens to check out the details of a far distant ship! If only I was better at saying no! I did see that the bird had a chestnut head though, which is the colouration of females of the species; males have a blueish-grey head.

Fortunately it didn’t fly far away, just headed for the other side of the bay, now mostly in shade. It suddenly looked small and fragile against the bulk of the cliff, but despite being buffeted by the strong wind it held its position, hardly moving.

Another brief landing then it rose again into the air, hovering in front of us at not much more than eye-level. Perfectly beautiful and an amazing opportunity to see the bird from all angles.

The bird dropped down slightly, showing off the lovely rich chestnut-brown plumage of its back. A similar shade beginning to colour its tail feathers further confirmed this was a female, a young one I think. Young males also have a chestnut head but grey tails and adult males then have both a grey head and tail. Females are slightly larger than males.

Common English name: Kestrel, Common kestrel Scientific name: Falco tinnunculus Welsh: Cudyll coch Local and other names: Windhover, Hoverhawk, Standgale, Creshawk.

The scientific name is taken from the Latin falco = falcom, which translates as sickle, referring to the birds’ hooked talons and the Latin tinnulus, which translates as shrill-sounding. The old country names Windhover, Hoverhawk & Standgale all acknowledge the birds’ unsurpassed mastery of the hovering technique.

The next image is not sharply focussed but I love the way the bird is looking back over her shoulder as if to check if we were all still watching.

HUNTING AND HOVERING TECHNIQUE

A hunting Kestrel typically flies along until it either spots prey or a spot where it is likely to find something. It pauses, then hovers with deeper wing-beats and tail fanned out and pointing downwards for stability; they always keep their head into the wind when hovering. For a few moments the bird remains perfectly motionless in mid-air except for the rapid vibration of its wings. It may then shift its position by a few metres and hovers again, intently scanning every centimetre of the ground below for the slightest movement that may give away the presence of a small rodent; little escapes its telescopic vision. Once prey is detected the bird drops down in stages before making a final pounce and grasping its target with its talons.

During the course of my watching the Kestrel was harassed several times by Jackdaws attempting to drive it away and even by a pair of larger Crows, but she was undeterred and held her position, barely flinching.

CONSERVATION STATUS

Apart from the Game Laws, no measure for the protection of wild birds in Britain existed before the year 1880. Prior to this date, gamekeepers and farmers were responsible for destroying all kinds of birds they suspected as being injurious in any way. Kestrels, along with Barn Owls and Tawny Owls, all of which would have been doing far more good than harm in their controlling of rodents, were accused of taking young Pheasants and therefore on the ‘hit list’ in areas where game birds were reared.

Even twenty years ago the sight of a Kestrel hovering over a motorway verge used to be a fairly common sight, but sadly not so much these days. Drops in Kestrel population figures caused concern in the late 1950s and 1960s when they were reduced to low numbers: changes in farming practices are believed to have been the primary cause. Their numbers have subsequently recovered somewhat and according to the British Trust for Ornithology(BTO), the Conservation Status of the Kestrel in Britain is now Amber and their breeding population is currently estimated at 45,000 breeding pairs. Across the rest of Europe numbers are greater and generally the Kestrel population is currently of ‘Least Concern’.

Kestrels are to some extent migratory. Other than during the breeding season they  move from one part of the country to another, and large numbers cross from our southern coasts to Europe and beyond during the winter to be replaced by others that come here from farther north. Despite being a protected species, Kestrels are as vulnerable as any other species of bird on migration that passes over countries still permitted to shoot certain wild birds. As recently as 2015, the hunting season in Malta was brought to an end three days early when a man shot dead a Kestrel.

Maybe the one I watched was here feeding up to make such a journey herself, in which case I wish her safe passage and a safe return next Spring.

 

 

Michaelmas Day

29 Friday Sep 2017

Posted by in Nature of Wales

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September 29th

Today is Michaelmas Day; the feast day of Saint Michael and All Angels. For many of us the significance of this date will most probably have faded into the mist of times past, but there are ancient customs, traditions, festivals and folklore surrounding it that I find fascinating.

The Archangel St. Michael is the patron saint of the warrior, who Catholics have designated as the protector of those who strive to preserve security, safety and peace.

Michaelmas Daisies

HARVEST

In the British Isles the harvest season used to begin on the first day of August, which was called Lammas, meaning ‘loaf Mass’. Farmers made loaves of bread made from the first of their new wheat crop which they then gave to their local church. This custom ended when Henry V111 broke away from the Catholic Church and instead it became tradition to hold Harvest Festivals at the end of the season close to Michaelmas Day, which traditionally marked the last day of the harvest season.

QUARTER DAYS

Michaelmas Day is one of the four “Quarter Days” of the year. They are spaced three months apart on religious festivals close to the solstices or equinoxes: Lady Day is the first on 25th March, then Midsummer on 24th June, Michaelmas is on September 29th and the final one is Christmas on 25th December. These four dates marked the days on which rents were due and bills had to be paid up. Michaelmas, or Goose Fairs were ‘Hiring Fairs’, attended by both those seeking employment and to hire new staff. On the day after Michaelmas every year, agricultural labourers presented themselves, along with their tools, at the nearest market townto offer themselves for hire for the coming year. Here too Geese were brought to market for sale and tenants seeking a delay of payment traditionally bought a goose as a present for their landlord to help seek his indulgence.

GOOSE DAY

The old saying goes:

“Eat a goose on Michaelmas Day, Want not for money all the year”.

Michaelmas Day is sometimes also called Goose Day, when particularly in northern England and Ireland, it was thought that if you ate goose at Michaelmas you would have good luck for the rest of the year and a fat roast goose was the traditional Michaelmas treat. This was supposedly the best time of the year to eat goose, when the birds had feasted on the stubble of the harvested wheat fields but had not yet put on the fat they needed to get them through the winter. Goose was eaten to protect against financial need in the family for the next year another saying is:

“He who eats goose on Michaelmas day shan’t money lack for debts to pay”.

Goose Fairs

Goose Fairs are still held in some English towns, but geese are no longer sold. The most famous Michaelmas fair is the Nottingham Goose Fair which was originally held in September on St Matthew’s Day, but moved to early October in 1752. The Goose Fair goes back so far in history that no one knows for sure how it got its name, but it’s probably from the hundreds of geese which were driven there from all over Lincolnshire to be sold in Nottingham. Most historians agree the fair probably started just after 1284 when the Charter of King Edward I referred to city fairs in Nottingham.  Goose Fair started as a trade event, although nowadays it is better known for its fairground rides and games.

OLD MICHAELMAS DAY or ‘DEVIL SPITS DAY’

After the calendar reform of 1752, some activities traditionally associated with Michaelmas Day (29th September) moved forward eleven days to October 10, which is sometimes called ‘Old Michaelmas Day’. Old Michaelmas Day used also to be called “Devil Spits Day”, which according to old British folklore, is the last day that blackberries should be picked. It was said that the Devil was kicked out of heaven on St Michael’s Feast Day, falling from the skies onto a blackberry bush. Already rather cross, he then proceeded to curse the fruit, scorching them with his fiery breath, then according to where you’re from, he either stamped on them or spat on them, thus ensuring they were unfit to eat! Legend has it that he renews his curse annually on Michaelmas Day and therefore it is very unlucky to gather blackberries after this date. An old Irish proverb says:

“On Michaelmas Day the Devil puts his foot on blackberries”

This particular piece of folklore certainly persisted into my Northamptonshire 1950s-60s childhood, when we were warned by my mother to be sure not to pick or eat blackberries after the end of September as “the Devil spits on them”. I wouldn’t have dared risk it and I’ve told my children the same thing! I do hope they remember and pass it on. I must remember to tell the grandchildren myself, and will keep the date as I know it, even though I now know that it’s safe to pick and eat them for another ten days. Although in my experience they’re usually past their pick-by date by now anyway, being a bit blown or mouldy or even maggoty.

MICHAELMAS DAISY

Late summer and early autumn wouldn’t be the same without Michaelmas Daisies. Ours have been flowering in the garden for a few weeks now and as always at this time of year are doing a brilliant job of supplying pollen and nectar to a range of insects still out seeking it.

Michaelmas Daisy-Aster amellus with Common Carder bee

Michaelmas daisies were first introduced into Britain from North America around the beginning of the eighteenth century. The Victorian’s love of wilder gardens encouraged their wider planting and from there they escaped into the wild, becoming naturalised in an array of habitats.

The Michaelmas Daisies, among dede weeds,
Bloom for St Michael’s valorous deeds.
And seems the last of flowers that stood,
Till the feast of St. Simon and St. Jude.

(The Feast of St. Simon and Jude is 28 October)

In the language of flowers, the Michaelmas-daisy symbolizes a farewell or a departure.The act of giving a Michaelmas Daisy symbolises saying farewell, perhaps as Michaelmas Day is seen to say farewell to the productive year.

MICHAELMAS WEATHER-LORE

‘If St Michael brings many acorns, Christmas will cover the fields with snow.’

If the breast bones of the goose are brown after roasting the following winter should be mild, but if the bones are white or have a slight blue hue then the winter will be severe.

‘A dark Michaelmas, a light Christmas.’

The Victorians believed that trees planted on this day would grow especially well.

Curfew

Michaelmas used to be a popular day for the winter night curfew to begin – the first hint that winter was on the way. Curfew took the form of a tolling of the church bell, usually one strike for each of the days of the month that had passed in the current year and was generally rung at 9pm.