Dear Readers, apologies for this truly terrible photo, but at least it proves that I was visited by a very fine fox this morning – he (for I’m pretty sure it was a he) had a magnificent bushy tail, not a trace of mange, and  a fearless expression. I’ve been hearing foxes calling to one another for the past few nights, but this one had clearly had a night on the tiles, and was deciding whether to dig up the few bulbs that the squirrels have left (sigh) before heading off.

Another David Attenborough-quality wildlife photo.

What interested me, however, was where he went. The foxes in the garden have traditionally come from a path to the right of the garden, but the six-foot fence that was recently put up seems to have caused some changes – the fox looked left, looked right and then jumped into the garden of the house to the left. From there, though, it’s another very high jump to get out into the next garden. The ‘friendly fences of East Finchley’ are becoming something of a rarity – historically, these are high next to the house, for a bit of privacy while people are in the kitchen, but lower in the garden itself so that folk can chat over the garden fence, but the fashion now seems to be for higher, less permeable fences. My neighbours, fortunately, are open to getting some hedgehog doors so that at least the little prickly folk will be able to go through, but it will still present something of a barrier to foxes. 

Research shows that foxes have a very clear 3D map of their territories, and are often found sleeping on shed roofs or even running along scaffolding, so a fence alone will not necessarily deter those that are young and fit. On the other hand, one of the commonest injuries that I’ve seen in urban foxes appear to be sprains of one or more limbs, so I wonder how many are caused by having to climb or jump from an unexpected height? If animals can’t make their way safely between gardens they will often end up on the road, where the hazard from cars is the main danger – the average age of an urban fox is only eighteen months, and the casualty rate is largely due to road accidents.

How I love to see the foxes – it’s always such an unexpected pleasure to see such a large animal in an ordinary suburban garden. I hope that this one comes back soon so that I can get you all a better photo. In the meantime,  here’s a fox who visited regularly a few years ago. What a handsome boy he was!

The Christmas Narwhal

Dear Readers, our Christmas decorations went up on 1st December this year, which is early even for us – we’re going to be away for a few days before the big day, so it felt as if we needed to do it now or it would be too late. It’s the first Christmas since Mum  died that I’ve managed decorate the house without tears – Mum loved the festive season so much, and latterly Mum and Dad would spend the holidays with us, so getting the tree decorated was a welcome break from organising wheelchairs and the stairlift and the reclining chair for Dad and getting them registered with the local doctor. Mum died in 2018 and  we had a few Christmases at Dad’s nursing home, before he died in March 2020. Since then, it’s just been my husband and I (touch of the Queen’s speech there), and although it’s been more restful and less anxiety-inducing, it’s also felt a little bit empty. But this year, after breaking my leg and having an ‘interesting’ time, I just feel very grateful for all the love I’ve been shown, and was able to really pay attention to all my ageing decorations and bits and pieces.

My tree is covered in animals. I’m very partial to the Christmas narwhal (above), and the Christmas brontosaurus…

This rather ragged robin has been with me for about forty years. No wonder he looks a bit shell-shocked.

The artificial Christmas tree is at least thirty years old, and every year bits drop off, but I’m sure it’s good for a few years yet.

The blue tit comes from the Wetlands Centre in Barnes…

This amazing creature came from an exhibition about Persepolis at the British Museum many moons ago…

And this spotty creature was made in South Africa, and was bought on my first ever trip to the continent when I was an IT training  consultant back in the mists of time.

But these are my favourites. The cross-legged Santa Clauses belonged to Mum, and when we were children we loved to rearrange them to see if she’d notice.

But the snowman in the middle is my absolute favourite. He was our Christmas cake topper for years, and I inherited him from Mum. Last year two of the branches with the robins broke, and I was heart-broken. But I’d reckoned without the healing power of superglue, and so here he is, restored. I love his cheeky little face.

My tree is somewhat overburdened (and indeed has to be duct-taped to the floor because otherwise it will fall over) but I couldn’t possibly leave any of the decorations in the bag when it’s their only chance to see a bit of daylight. Not that I’m anthropomorphising or anything. I’m sure Mum would have done the same – she always found room for everyone and everything at this time of year, however tired or overwhelmed she felt.

So, Readers, is anyone out there popping up the Christmas tree, or are you all waiting for a bit? Do you have decorations that mean a lot to you? Sending a big hug to everyone out there who needs it at this time of year. I know it isn’t easy for many people.

Dear Readers, after being Debbie Downer yesterday with my blog about the decline in Britain’s wader species, it cheered me up so much to read about a remarkable rewilding project close to Perth in Scotland. The 90-acre site was originally used for barley, and had undergone years of pesticide and herbicide use and soil degradation. When the field was surveyed before the project started, only 35 bumblebees were counted on the whole site.

The original site in 2021

Within two years, the number of bumblebees had increased to a staggering 4,056 individuals, and the number of species of bumblebee had increased from five to ten. The Bumblebee Conservation Trust always needs volunteers to walk particular area routes (transects) to record the insects every week, and how useful that data can be is clearly shown here.

The site wasn’t reseeded, interestingly, but seeds in the seedbank came through and thrived – although some would describe the plants as ‘weeds’, they are extremely useful for pollinators, and this particular field seems to be golden with hawkbit, a favourite with bees of all kinds.

The same field in 2023

A number of techniques have been used to increase biodiversity – the field was grazed by a small herd of cows, which help to fertilise the land naturally and create ‘mini-habitats’ as they feed. There is an orchard, and I saw with interest that volunteers are trying to encourage a meadow amongst the fruit trees by planting up yellow rattle. I hope they have more luck than we did in the Coldfall Meadow last year, but fingers crossed for our yellow rattle seed planted this autumn.

And back in June, a Northern Marsh Orchid popped up, where there had previously been barren soil.

Photo from Rewilding Denmarkfield – Northern Marsh Orchid

Goodness, it’s easy enough to despair these days, but what gives me hope is that, all over the country, small groups of local people are working to preserve, regenerate and protect their green spaces be they woods or parks, meadows or coast. And I have the sense that a groundswell is growing. This is a spectacularly successful project, but it’s not the only one! Let me know if anything exciting is going on in your area, and let’s give one another something to put a spring in our step.

You can find out more about Rewilding Denmarkfield on their Facebook page here or their Instagram page here. Well done those people!

Grey Plover (Pluvialis squatarola) Photo by By Chuck Homler, Focus On Wildlife – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=151390421

Dear Readers, I have been a bit remiss on the subject of Red List British birds just lately, but the task of keeping up is getting harder and harder. Earlier this year I reported that a number of seabirds had been added to the List of Birds of Conservation Concern (the Red List).This month, the British Trust for Ornithology have added four wading birds to the list. First up is the Grey Plover (Black-bellied Plover in North America) (Pluvialis squatarola). A large population of Grey Plovers spend their winters on estuaries right around the UK, but globally their population has declined by 30 per cent, moving them from the IUCN’s category of Least Concern to Vulnerable, a jump of two categories.

Then there’s the Dunlin (Calidris alpina). This little bird has a variety of complicated migratory routes but British estuaries are key, often as stopping off points on their journey further north. Numbers visiting the UK have declined by 20 per cent since the 2000s, and the bird has been moved one category from Least Concern to Near Threatened.

Dunlin (Calidris alpina) Photo by By Jevgenijs Slihto from Riga, Latvia – Dunlin, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=42966339

The Ruddy Turnstone (Arenaria interpres) used to be a common sight, running  along the tideline looking for small invertebrates (and often, literally, turning over stones). My Crossley Guide describes it memorably as ‘the sausage dog of waders’. This bird has declined by 20 per cent since the mid 2000s, and has moved from Least Concern to Near Threatened.

Ruddy Turnstone (Arenaria interpres) Photo by By © Hans Hillewaert, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=15222118

Finally, there’s the Curlew Sandpiper (Calidris ferruginea). This was already a scarce migrant in the UK, but has declined by over 30 percent globally, meaning that it has moved from Near Threatened to Vulnerable.

Curlew Sandpiper (Calidris ferruginea) Photo by By JJ Harrison (https://www.jjharrison.com.au/) – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=24360331

For those of you wondering what the different categories mean, there’s an explanation here,

So what’s going on? A lot of the usual things: pollution, development along the coastline, possibly light pollution. Climate change brings sea level rise, which changes the profile of coastal areas, making them unsuitable for particular species of birds – the coast provides many different precise niches, of varying water depths, types of mud, communities of invertebrates etc, and these can be easily disrupted.

The UK is also affected by short-stopping – migratory birds don’t bother to come as far north as our shores if they can get what they need further south. Sadly, these wading birds have seen global declines, not just declines on our shores, so this is a much wider problem.

There are various things that could be done in the UK – more protected coastal areas would at least limit development, plus putting pressure on water companies to clean up their act is already happening. Sea level rise is a more long-term threat and if COP29 is anything to go by, the global will to do something about climate change is, to say the least, not a priority.

I’ll be having a further look at individual species over the next few weeks, but for now, have a listen to the calls of these declining seabirds. Whenever I hear them I can practically smell the sea, and hear the waves.

Grey Plover

Dunlin

Ruddy Turnstone

Curlew Sandpiper

Orca wearing salmon’ hat’ (Photo by Jim Pasola of the Orca Network via https://nypost.com/2024/11/28/us-news/orcas-spotted-wearing-salmon-hats-for-the-first-time-in-37-years/)

Dear Readers, back in 1987 a female from a pod of orcas off Puget Sound in Washington State, USA, started wearing a salmon on her head. One could be forgiven for thinking that this sounds rather too much like some teenage TikTok craze, and indeed,  it ‘went viral’, with the whole pod wearing ‘fish hats’ within six weeks, and whales in other pods taking up the trend. Then the orcas stopped doing it, and life returned to normal, until this year when fish hats are all the rage again. As orcas can live for decades there’s a good chance that some of the animals doing this have seen it all before. But why are they doing it?

“Your guess is as good as mine” says scientist Deborah Giles, in a very refreshing burst of energy. However, there are a few theories.

One is that there are so many salmon about (and indeed, it is apparently a bumper year) that the whales are storing the fish on their heads for a quick snack later on. Orcas have been known to tuck a fish under their ‘arm’ (pectoral fin), but salmon might be a bit small for this, so maybe the head is a better option.

But for me, I wonder if this is a cultural thing? Different pods of orcas have very different habits, from seal-eating as opposed to fish eating, and I blogged a while back about the orcas who are attacking boats in the Bay of Biscay. I suspect that they are not only hyper-intelligent but that, like humans, they might be subject to social contagion. I remember being a small child and looking around our playground to see that every single child was involved in some kind of ‘clapping’ game. Except me, who never saw the point, but that’s another story.

Anyhow, it appears that we might get at least some answers, as with the advent of drone technology it’s a little easier to follow an orca with a fish on its head to see what it does with it eventually. If it eats it, then maybe the carrying theory is correct, but if it just leaves it, well maybe it is just ‘playing’. Who knows? These are some of the most enigmatic animals of all. I wouldn’t put it past them to decide to wear ‘fish hats’ just to confuse the scientists.

You can read the article here.

Dog Rose (Rosa canina) – great for short-tongued bumblebees

Dear Readers, as I was leafing through my Bumblebee Conservation Trust newsletter this week, I read that a bumblebee with a full stomach is still only 40 minutes away from starvation. Yikes! No wonder these Einsteins of the insect world have learned a number of techniques to maximise their nectar uptake. But first, let’s have a quick think about the differences between different species of bumblebee.

Plant preference is all down to the length of a bumblebee’s tongue. There are short-tongued species, whose tongues are only 6- 8.5 mm long, and these bees love open, easily accessible flowers like the dog rose above. Species include our old favourite the buff-tailed bumblebee (Bombus terrestris) and the newcomer the tree bumblebee (Bombus hypnorum)

Buff-tailed queen bumblebee on winter flowering honeysuckle, with teeny tiny tongue…

Other species, including my favourite the common carder bumblebee, have much longer tongues (up to 20 mm) and they can access nectar in plants such as foxglove, comfrey and thistles.

Common Carder Bumblebee on Cirsium atropurpureum

But I’m sure you’ll have seen bumblebees on plants that they’re not ‘meant’ to be on – I’m sure I’ve seen buff-tails fighting their way into foxgloves, for example. The point is that bees waste energy trying to access nectar in plants that they aren’t ‘designed’ for, and so some of them cheat, by chewing a little hole in the base of a deep-throated flower and then ‘nicking’ the nectar without a fight. Furthermore, Dave Goulson (who is undoubtedly one of the world’s most knowledgeable bumblebee experts) has found that bumblebees can learn how to nectar rob by observing other bees doing it. Amazing!

So, here is the BCT’s list of top plants for bumblebees with different tongue lengths:

Short-tongued bees:

Bramble

Goat Willow

Borage

Dog Rose

Borage (Borago officinalis)

Long-tongued bumblebees

Comfrey

Foxglove

Red clover

Spear Thistle

White comfrey

Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea)

And at this time of year, let’s not forget Mahonia – not native, but a very important source of nectar for queen bumblebees emerging for a quick nibble on mild days in winter. There was a huge bee the size of the first joint of my thumb on the mahonia in the garden this week, and I was so glad it was in flower.

Mahonia flowers

Photo by Bryan Alexander at https://www.flickr.com/photos/bryanalexander/148121418/

Dear Readers, it has been very blustery these past few days, as Storm Bert has rolled through wreaking havoc in all directions. But having looked at the list of storm names for the 2024/5 season, my eye falls upon the name beginning with ‘V’, which just happens to be mine (correct spelling too!) Lets’ hope that we don’t get that far through the alphabet, as I’m pretty sure that we’ll be needing an ark if we do.

And here is today’s poem. I find it very relatable – we always seem to want to be somewhere else, looking at something else, rather than where we are. Though as time goes on I find myself happier and happier to be looking at the weather through a window rather than getting drenched or knocked on the head by a falling branch. See what you think!

Lines Composed in a Wood on a Windy Day
Anne Brontë 1820 – 1849

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring
And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze;
For above and around me the wild wind is roaring,
Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

The long withered grass in the sunshine is glancing,
The bare trees are tossing their branches on high;
The dead leaves beneath them are merrily dancing,
The white clouds are scudding across the blue sky.

I wish I could see how the ocean is lashing
The foam of its billows to whirlwinds of spray;
I wish I could see how its proud waves are dashing,
And hear the wild roar of their thunder to-day!

Nordmann Fir outside Tony’s Continental in 2023

Dear Readers, you can tell that Christmas is on the way when you see the first fir trees outside Tony’s Continental. It might seem a little early, but there is something to be said for getting the most out of the Christmas period, especially as the trees seem to have been bred to keep their needles for much longer these days. I have a special fondness for the festive season, as did my Mum and Dad. 26th of November would have been my Mum’s 89th birthday, followed swiftly by Dad’s 89th birthday on 5th of December, so this time of year always brings back memories. In particular, I remember the glee with which Dad enjoyed the week between Mum becoming ‘a pensioner’ and his achieving that exalted status.

You can read all about the Nordmann Fir in a previous post here, but for today I just wanted to share this piece about my Dad, from 2019. Mum had died on 18th December 2018. Reading this makes my heart ache, but it also makes me smile, and that’s the way life seems to go these days.

Dear Readers, I was in Dorchester visiting my Dad this week, and the nursing home is revving up for Christmas. Dad had made me a present – he’d coloured in the drawing above, and had insisted on being given a red pen, because

‘You can’t have a Christmas tree without red balls’.

And who is to argue? Dad had even signed it. He really enjoys doing a bit of colouring in, though I think he regards it as a favour to the carers. After all, how does he find time?

‘I’ve been for tea with the Queen a couple of times this week’ he announced.

‘What’s it like, Dad?’ I asked.

Dad shrugged. ‘It’s a bit boring really’, he said, ‘but I have to keep going because otherwise she gets annoyed’.

Dad is in a good mood today, and is delighted when we get a taxi and head off to the garden centre in Poundbury. The place is like the Tardis – from the outside it looks tiny, but inside there’s a route that goes through a woodland scene with nodding reindeer, a frozen north area with cuddly penguins bobbing up and down, and a whole array of Christmas jumpers. I nearly buy Dad a Christmas pudding hat, but stop myself in the interests of maintaining his dignity, and decide that I’ll get one for me. Dad is, however, pleased with the musical Christmas tie that we get him. He plans to dress up for Christmas lunch, and I hope that this year we’ll all be able to enjoy it a bit more. Last year it was only a week after Mum died, and we were all  shell-shocked.

We head off to the pub across the road, where they are doing pie and mash. Dad rubs his hands together in delight. Unfortunately, it’s a relatively posh pie (i.e. one with shortcrust pastry and chunks of meat) and I think Dad was looking forward to a ‘proper’ pie and mash dinner. As any East Ender knows, you have to have a flat, rectangular pie, with flour and water pastry and a filling of ground beef, with mash that hasn’t got anything fancy like butter in it, and ‘liqor’ – a green parsley gravy made from the water that the eels have been cooked in (for jellied eels). It’s one of those local things that you either grew up with and love, or don’t ‘get’ at all.

Double pie and mash (Photo one)

One of the main London purveyors of pie and mash, Manze’s, sells frozen pie and mash and liqor, and I have a cunning plan to buy some for Dad in the New Year. They have a microwave at the home, so I’m sure it’s possible!

I often wonder what goes on in Dad’s head these days. Have a look at the picture below, which he painted a year ago, not long after he’d gone into care.

It’s a tree with a Robin in it, and in a way it’s rather beautiful – I love the colours, and the way that he’s stippled the leaves and the bark. But there is something amiss with the angle that it’s been painted at. Unless, it strikes me now, it’s a branch coming out of the main tree, in which case it makes a bit more sense. The scientist in me wonders what can be told from these drawings, and if the art of people with vascular dementia (like my Dad) is different from that of folk with Alzheimer’s Disease. But somehow, while Dad’s drawing and colouring is as bright and lively as it is at the moment, I feel as if he’s doing ok.

Dad was always an uncommunicative man, but somehow, since his stroke back in 2003 and then his dementia, his feelings are much closer to the surface. His delight and interest in things is clear, as is his sadness. We are fortunate that he doesn’t get angry very often, and can usually be helped to feel better. One of his favourite carers tells me that when he starts to get agitated (which is normally when he thinks that he should be somewhere else, or that he needs to do something about the ‘lorries’ that he doesn’t own), she tells him that she is his secretary, and he tells her what needs to happen. Just recently, he wanted to get the lorries sorted out for Christmas, and his carer noted it all down and came back half an hour later to tell him that she’d done it. To be with someone who has dementia, it seems to me vital to have imagination, and to be able to play. I am gradually learning to relax into Dad’s world, to go with his train of thought however otherworldly it seems. It takes so little to keep him happy.

What is hardest is when Dad talks about not being able to see Mum. Sometimes it’s because he’s done something wrong (and I can normally persuade him that Mum loves him and isn’t cross with him). This time, it was because ‘Mum and the kids’ were all so spread out geographically, and it just wasn’t possible to organise transport.

‘So I think I’ll just stay here’, says Dad, and I agree that that would be for the best, what with Santa and two reindeer visiting the home tomorrow.

Sometimes, the nurse rings me if Dad’s getting agitated, and he and I have a little chat. Often I’m not quite sure what’s the matter (it might be to do with money, or with Dad’s non-existent haulage business), but I’ve learned that a calming tone of voice and reassurance works best. I got one of those calls last week, and at the end of it, Dad sighed with relief, and said:

‘It’s good to know that I’ve got you to fall back on’.

And my heart just opened.

‘Yep’, I said. ‘You’ve always got me to fall back on, Dad’.

And so he has.

Photo Credits

Photo One from https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g186338-d6678541-Reviews-Golden_Pie-London_England.html

Dear Readers, the lovely young man who has been helping me out in the garden made his last visit today (you can find him here) and true to form I’d bought enough plants for a garden twice the size. First up were some cyclamen from my friend M’s garden – M used to live in our house back in the 70s, and actually planted the whitebeam tree, which was a tiny sapling then and is now nearly as tall as the house (or was until the tree surgeons were in a few months ago). The cyclamen are now nice and cosy, and I look forward to seeing them in flower at some point soon (the one above is the only other cyclamen that I have!)

Wood anemone (Anemone blanda)

We’ve planted up some wood anemones, to replace the ones that seem to have gone awol over the past few years…

Snakeshead fritillaries

And we’ve popped in some snakeshead fritillaries, some of my very favourite bulbs, and a good choice for a damp, north-facing garden…

Grape hyacinths

And I’ve bought way too many grape hyacinths, some blue, some white, some in the middle….

What happened to my crocuses last time

And I’ve even risked some crocuses, though the squirrels had great fun with them last time.

The biggest excitement, though, is using some woodland and hedgerow seed mix for the first time – goodness only knows what will come up, but we’ve used it along the gap between the houses, and scattered it around generally, so fingers crossed!

One of the big lessons of the past few months has been that it’s ok to ask for help – breaking one’s leg made me realise that I really can’t do everything on my own, nor should I. I am really excited about the garden and about what might happen over the next few months, and I am so excited to have someone to partner with me to create it. Let’s see what happens!