Definitely a fail this time, I’m afraid – I have missed Day 11 by nearly 30 minutes!

Completely different territory covered too, as I was helping my daughter look for somewhere to live, and visiting a livery yard where the horses enjoy a wonderfully quiet and stress free life.

Horses do not really count as ‘wild’ in these circumstances, but as they are extremely photogenic, they get a place here anyway:

The fly masks are essential at this time of year, and often a body sheet too, as the flies, which are definitely wild, drive the horses crazy otherwise.

So what did I find that was really wild today? Birds, obviously: blackbird and crow looking for food:

And then the creator of the pretty impressive burrows that are very common around the yard:

One of the very many to be seen:

Will do better tomorrow – or make that today!

I thought today might be the day that defeated me, for the very best of reasons. I was honoured to be invited, along with my husband, to the service of thanksgiving in St Paul’s Cathedral to mark Her Majesty the Queen’s 90th birthday, and then to a lunch at the Guildhall. We left home at the tail end of the morning rush hour and got back late in the afternoon.

I had almost reconciled myself to a post about the support the Royal family has given to environmental projects over the years. But that really would have been cheating.

I need not have worried. Getting off the train on the way home, I paused by the second pond at the station. A young crow was digging around for whatever it could find in the rocks at the back. But flying low over the pond were at least two of these:

and five of these:

 

Aren’t they just wonderful? And just think how many  people would get a regular splash of wildness in their lives if more stations did their best to give nature a home.

 

 

So, having gone beyond the suburbs this morning, I came back to a long wander around our area and a little more time in the garden.

The first point of reference once more was the stream on the way to the station. When I went past this morning, at a rush, no time for a photo, the female mallard was sitting in the same spot as yesterday, wings held slightly drooped, clearly with young underneath them, so I set off happily. But when I got back there was no sign of her. As we have a thriving population of urban foxes, which are very partial to duck and duckling, I thought the worst. However, learning from past experience, I went to the other side of the stream and could just about see, if I crouched down and squinted, this little lot:

The camera gave me a slightly better view, and I think there are 7 or 8.

Tomorrow’s challenge is to actually manage a shot of these little ones which is in focus. Which brings me to the second question I’ve been mulling over today: what are pictures for?

These past 9 days, when I have been consciously trying to take pictures to illustrate the blog, have proven beyond doubt what I already really knew, that wildlife photographers require immense technical skill with their cameras and related equipment, detailed knowledge of the wildlife they are trying to photograph, and boundless patience. A good dose of luck also seems to help.

As I have none of these skills or attributes, apart from, occasionally, luck, is it worth even trying to take my own pictures, or should I use stock images from free access sites? There is no doubt that they would be technically better.

But the answer to that question seems to come down to why the pictures are in the blog in the first place. I want you to have an impression of what I have seen seeing and a glimpse of how it has made me feel. I’m not trying to teach anyone anything, but to share my experience. However rough these pictures, they remind me of a moment which gave me a great rush of pleasure. And, on that basis, I think they add something, even when, as here, they are technically awful.

But I will still try again tomorrow – just in case it’s my lucky day!

 

Well this is a first: today’s blog is going to have to come in two parts as I’m struggling to contain the things I want to say – and ask – about what I’ve concluded from the first week of really going out to look at the natural world around me.

So I’m going to start with ‘beyond’ the suburbs, but by going into the city, not out of it. This morning I was meeting a friend for coffee in central London and decided to spend some time in St James’s Park with the tourists and joggers and lovers and readers and small children and short-cut-takers. Entering from Birdcage Walk, the first thing to strike me was how many areas have been left uncut. This might not be the view you’d expect, lying on the grass in a Royal Park, but it is delightfully common.

And the trees have the quiet dignity of age and stability (I’m working on that myself):

Whilst the park is full of nest building and new life, some of the latter scoring more highly in the ‘cute’ stakes than others:

A heron demonstrated the importance of proper deportment (I need to work on that too):

And then there were the squirrels. Now, this is my first real challenge. how ‘wild’ does ‘wild’ have to be? Many of the squirrels in the central London parks will take nuts from the hands of visitors. They do not run when parents arrange children alongside them for photographs. They ‘pose’ on the backs of park benches. They are by no means as ‘wild’ as the squirrels I encounter on my suburban woodland walks, which chitter at me from the trees as I pass by. Yet is their behaviour really so different?

This one, with a large nut of some kind in its mouth, was looking for  a place to bury it. It saw me, and stopped to look.

Then bounded over the grass with much the same movement as a stoat or weasel carrying its young from burrow to burrow (thank you, Springwatch).

And solemnly buried its prize in a patch of grass and went on its way.

So that behaviour is surely more wild than not. And, as a way of introducing children to nature, absolutely captivating.

In the same way, it is not ‘natural’ for a range of water fowl to live together in the middle of a city, pelicans and all, lying happily a few inches from the feet of hundreds of camera-wielding passers-by. But it gives many of those visitors a chance to see the birds at close quarters and appreciate their colours and variety, in a way that is rarely possible elsewhere. And they are clearly not ‘tamed’ or ‘domesticated’. Are they?

So are they wild enough for my 30 Days? I think so – don’t you?

I thought today might be a challenge, as I had meetings morning and afternoon, and a fair amount of train travel.

I was lucky to have time to look about me whilst in Salisbury this afternoon, and found some very beautiful trees:

Incredible bark textures:

And a bank of daisies growing at a very interesting angle!

But I didn’t feel that I had really engaged properly until I arrived home and spotted a shawl of wild roses on the exit from the station:

And then, looking to see whether the little egret might still be in residence, I spotted a female mallard settling down in the gravel by the stream, with her wings covering something that was clearly wriggling wildly. She was very protective:

And there was definitely something there:

And eventually, and fuzzy in the extreme, at least one little one appeared:

So I made my way home with a spring in my step yet again. There is plenty of wildness in the suburbs!

 

Classic British weather today. lovely in the morning, when I took the dog out and then had another go at photographing insects. Still pleasant when I set off for a meeting in town and watched a family of crows at the station. Full on thunder, lightning and torrential rain for about an hour and a half during the meeting. OK again by late afternoon. Hey ho!

So far I have managed just three pictures of bees in the past two days which are anywhere near sharp enough to share: the first is turning its back:

 

The second is hiding its head:

But the third is just showing off!

The crows were rather easier to catch today. They were great to watch, and completely unfussed by travellers and trains: another benefit of the efforts of our wonderful volunteer station gardeners. This is the second pond on the site:

One member of the family was using it to bathe and drink, whilst others strutted around or snuggled amongst the daisies:

And although they are almost as large as the parent birds, the young ones still expected to be fed:

Just as my train arrived, one of the birds decided to try using the feeder for itself, swinging wildly around, as it was pretty much the same as large as the feeder itself. Great fun to watch.

PS: Decided to use my old Nikon D50 for insect shots rather than the Lumix – not sure how much difference it made. Will keep switching between the two until I’ve decided.

 

 

 

Today I have been in the dining room, working away at laptop and papers, with the door open to the garden. Apart from the occasional train on the line behind the house, and some far distant planes, what has been the overwhelming soundtrack to the day?

Birdsong, overlaid by the very specific sounds of the pigeons nesting on top of the chimney – again. (They don’t learn. Last year we had to rescue a fledgling that had come down rather than going up). And the occasional alarm calls of the smaller birds when the magpies are marauding through the trees.

Bees: a constant background buzzing that, from time to time, lures me out with the camera and the optimistic conviction that this time I really will manage to get a sharp image. This is the best so far, but clearly the geranium bud is the star of the show:

And the wind: in the leaves of that overgrown beech tree, in the grass which can no longer be politely described as a ‘lawn’, and in the variety of leaves which rustle and tap so differently according to their age and size.

One thing has really struck me: it is never, ever, silent. Something, somewhere, is always singing, shouting, shimmering, or shaking. (A bluebottle has just buzzed in to make the point). But how much more appealing these sounds are than the rumble of traffic, unnecessary fireworks (that terrify the dog), or radios played at top volume.

Give me those naughty magpies any day!

 

 

 

Today we’ve been to Dorking, for a lovely lunch and long walk with extended family. Company on a walk is wonderful. Conversation flows and meanders in a different way. And each member of the group spots different things.

We walked through the station and up to the community orchard. This was an interesting case study for me: the original planting had been a Millennium project, which then fell into a poor state and has been rescued by the commitment of local people. The new planting and rescue of existing trees began in 2010, and the site is now looking great. It is wonderfully situated above the Ranmore Allotments with great views and seats from which to enjoy them. Find more here: https://dorkingcommunityorchard.wordpress.com/  or follow on twitter @dorkingorchard .

A general view to whet your appetite:

And another example of something I mentioned yesterday: I was aiming to capture the developing apples, and subsequently discovered that I also had procreating ladybirds:

From the orchard we walked on paths through fields of tall grass, past a mill-pond:

 

and a quintessentially English view:

 

And we were hot . I don’t know if it comes across from these pictures, but we were really hot. The dogs were looking for patches of shade and regretting their earlier enthusiasm for a good walk.

It seems as if, in a matter of days, we have moved from wet and chilly fields with insects struggling to find food, to great sweeps of buttercups, ox-eye daisies and cow parsley.

On the way home, we slowed beside a golden verge A perfect end to our day beyond the suburbs:

 

 

 

Properly wild today: a walk around the National Trust’s land at Hawkwood. Concentrating on flowers, as a leaping, shaking, racing dog doesn’t do a lot for other kinds of quiet wildlife spotting.

But first an aside: I hadn’t really thought before about the difference our resident parakeet population makes to the sound of the woods. Of course there are the usual woodland birds singing away and going about their daily business in the trees and bushes all around us, but the parakeets bring the sounds of an over stocked pet shop. It is quite disconcerting. And this chap was also adding his voice:

So, what did we find? Well, firstly, the general foliage has grown incredibly in the past week or so. Brambles, nettles, grass,  all well above head height now. Everything is so lush and green it feels as if nature is indulging herself.

The flowers, on the other hand, tend to be relatively small. The path was covered with a confetti of tiny white holly and hawthorn flowers. The colours are also relatively muted as this time of the year: white, pink, pale blue and – the obvious exception – bright yellow.

I’ve noticed how often I get home to find that when I thought I was taking a picture of a flower,I was also capturing an insect. See the rosa above, and this:

Although sometimes the insects are the intended stars – and none of them ever seem to stay still long enough for a really sharp shot :

So maybe my challenge for a later Day is to have the patience to  try for one really good insect shot.

I might also have to try fish: today there were  a fair number darting around in the very clear, shallow water of the stream, but the closest I got to a photo was this (just about visible, top right hand corner):

Incidentally, although today’s walk was definitely in the woods, it was a 20 minute walk from my front door – so I’m still counting it as ‘in the suburbs’!

I thought Day 3 might be a problem. I had a meeting in central London which I knew would take out the middle of the day. So as I walked to the station I was wondering what I could use as a focus. Above me in the trees there was much inelegant stomping about from, I think,  a young magpie, and a blackbird screaming warnings. And then, out of the corner of my eye, a flash of white, below the level of the path. From the stream. The stream in which I had previously seen a little egret.  I turned back and hoped for more, but was  too heavy footed and disturbed the bird. As a consequence, I had a perfect view of its flight along the path of the stream, yellow feet stretched out behind.  I had, inevitably, decided not to take the camera, as I was off to a meeting – and would probably not have been quick enough to capture it anyway – but it was a wonderful image, which sent me on my way with a real spring in my step.

 

(And a song in my heart. I spent much of the journey singing ‘Wild Thing, you make my heart sing’ to myself – in my head, I hasten to add. The Troggs, 1966, for those too young to recognise the reference).

 

As I came back from the station, several hours later, I was sure the egret would be gone: but caught another glimpse beneath the bushes. I headed home for the camera, telling myself that it would definitely be gone by the time I got back. And when I looked again in the same place it was, indeed, gone. So I took a consolation snap of the empty water.

 

But the stream reappears on the other side of the road….And there it was.

So I went for something slightly less grainy:

And one more for luck:

Now, I do know that little egrets are no longer in any sense a rarity. But this is about the suburbs. The suburbs! And those yellow feet have really made my day.