Winter had arrived with temperatures plummeting overnight. Ice gripped the landscape. Frosted white, minute crystals clung to every blade of grass and any leaf that dared remain on dark branches. Standing water had become locked under a lid of ice that was clear like a mirror, a miniature world trapped beneath, and opaque where it … More Snow ‘drops’, fire ‘crest’ and ice ‘everywhere’
It felt like history repeating, and I had an ominous feeling of de ja vu. It is mid-September and the first storms of the autumn are sweeping across the Atlantic heading for the UK and Ireland, and once again I am heading out on the ferry to Santander across the Bay of Biscay with the … More Changeable Bay
Minsmere: 1,000 hectares of nature reserve managed by the Royal Society for Protection of Birds. A mosaic of habitats from woodland and open grassland which gently slopes to extensive areas of rustling reed beds and marsh, opening out into pools and shallow coastal lagoons with exposed areas of mud, to a shingle beach onto which … More Minsmere
The river moves slowly, its dark surface broken by the occasional ripples, swirls and eddies created by the unseen current. Trees, in full brilliantly green foliage, stand on its banks shading the water, their leaves trailing and branches creating a tangled trap for any debris floating by. On the near bank stinging nettles and grasses … More The Not So Ugly Ducklings
Last week our little corner of the world, along with almost all of Britain and Ireland, froze as the ‘Beast from the East’ swept in. Temperatures plummeted to well below freezing and then snow fell. And then fell again, building up to a few inches, covering the landscape in its soft white blanket that delighted … More The Beast, Emma and Thaw
The weather was as it has been for the first few weeks of the year, dull and grey. A monotone sky that seemed to sap colour from the surrounding trees. It was cool but not terribly cold, just grey and dank. Here in Santon Downham the river winds its way through blocks of forest before … More Parrots in the tree tops
I can see why it is called World’s End. The steep slopes round out to extensive moors covered in reddish brown heather, dark green gorse and pale tussock grasses. As far as the eye can see there is nothing but a seemingly desolate undulating landscape, dropping into gullies and valleys, before rising steeply once more. … More At World’s End
The wind tears through the reeds and tall grasses along the margin of the pool. Their heads, heavy with seeds, buffeted one way and then the other as blasts of frigid air sweep through the chilly fen. Inside the hide the wind is a muted roar, the large windows and heaters providing a most comfortable … More Wonderful Whoopers of Welney
Storm Alieen was barreling into the UK and the Bay of Biscay between Spain and France was feeling it’s effects. Waking after a delayed start from Portsmouth and a rather bumpy night through the English Channel the group of intrepid whale watchers from the marine charity ORCA were out on deck at first light, albeit rather murky and damp, … More Stormy Bay
A keen, rather cool sea breeze blustered in through the open wooden windows of the hide, rippling the water and bending the tops of reeds and grasses of the lagoons. It was another of those days where the weather cannot decide what it wants to do. Out of the breeze it was warm, especially when … More Happy ‘Bird’ Day
