I pull the arm chair up against the glass balcony doors. Sitting down, I rest my feet against the glass. I take a sip of earl grey before dunking a milk chocolate hobnob, taking care not to hold it in for too long. Rachael joins me for morning tea, looking out over the crashing waves of the English Channel beyond the small patch of shrubs and trees below. Greenfinch flutter between branches. A blue tit begins taking nest material into the box that it has claimed. The wind pushes the cumulus across the sky. Sunlight spills through gaps between the clouds, creating shimmering pools of light that cruise across the surface of the sea.
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| Morning tea |
I do love being by the sea, and long for the day I can spend more than just the odd weekend or week away at the coast. Before we set off, we had checked for bird sightings on the island. Conveniently, a subspecies of bluethroat, the white-spotted, had been hanging around, attracting box tickers from all over the country to come and tick another rarity off of their list. We made this our second port of call, particularly because it was an opportunity to see a fairly rare bird, that, more importantly, is an extremely good looking one. Wintering in Northern Africa, these normally only migrate north as far as central and eastern Europe.
But first, being in the Isle of Wight means one important thing - red squirrels!! Borthwood Copse, an ancient oak woodland, a mysterious and charming place to explore. Every turn through the wood was greeted with another more magnificent tree than the last. The bark providing the rustic and wrinkled appearance of something that has lived on this earth for centuries. Plenty of rotting fallen branches and old trees retire their resources to an array of insects within the woodland.
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| An ancient oak in Borthwood Copse |
Stopping to watch the life within the woods revealed lots of bird activity. Goldcrest, the UK's smallest bird, and treecreepers moved from tree to tree.
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| Goldcrest |
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| Spot the tree-creeper! |
The first summer migrant to make an appearance; rummaging amongst the spindly branches in the more open area of the copse.
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| Wonderful little willow warbler! |
A jay called from the canopy tops, whilst buzzards soared high above the wood.
Just as we thought our luck had ran dry, and our lips had turned blue with cold despite the glorious sunshine, Rachael spotted a red squirrel dashing behind the bushes behind a clearing into the woods. We followed and found. Rich, rusty red, the squirrel climbed up an old oak, stopped for a groom, ran back down, leaping with great agility through the air across onto another tree, using that great bushy tail to balance beautifully.
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| Hanging on |
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| The tufts on the squirrels ears are still long at this time of year |
The next day, after another dose of tea, biscuits and the crashing sea, we headed over to St. Helens Duver. This was where the bluethroat had been spotted. If anyone has seen the film 'The Big Year', you would have immediately been familiar with the sight that greeted us at this wonderful national trust site; small groups of binocular cladded people in their dark olive-green attire, slowly moving between the tufts of bushes, hunting the bird down.
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| A pied wagtail forages in the grass |
We joined them, and as we moved around the edge of a bush, it was there. Right in front of us. Casually foraging in the undergrowth along the edges of the bushes. Wonderful looking little bird.
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| Bluethroat; with a white spot under its chin |
My enjoyment of the bird did not extend far beyond the fact that it is really good looking. Even its call was rather dull. And its behaviour rather ordinary. Yes, I enjoyed the fact it is quite rare in this part of the world, but I can honestly say that I would have been just as happy, if not happier, watching the blue tits collect nest material, or dunnocks flirting with each other before the male cleans the females vagina out of other males sperm before mating. I can not deny the fact that I did enjoy the moment, the bluethroat is attractive, but feel that it just reiterated my feelings towards actually enjoying nature, opposed to the cold sport of ticking off how many species you can see.
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| Ticked off! |
After about 20 minutes, the interest in the bluethroat dwindled, and we headed around along the coast to the woodland on the beach.
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| Beach at St. Helens |
Suddenly, the black-headed gulls settled onto the water, whilst the larger gull species took to the air, rising well above the woodland. A peregrine, head into the wind, silhouetted motionless against the bright sky. If I was a gull, I know where I would rather be with a peregrine around!
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| Crashing waves |
Here, the wind forced waves crashed against the sea wall. The sound of stones grinding along the concrete edge. Salty spray showered the coastal path.
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| The remains of the church at St. Helens |
Another of my favourite things to do, is to track animals. And after seeing Ray Mears tracking a 10-metre long reptile off of the coast of the Isle of Wight, I could not resist in giving this a whirl! After sunrise, and breakfast, we headed to Compton Bay.
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| Sunrise from the balcony |
Unfortunately the tides were not the best we could have had, but we managed to find a few of the footprints. Of course, these are fossilised tracks of a now very extinct Iguanodon species. Just the thought of an animal huge enough to leave footprints like this is beyond exciting. To think of one roaming, grazing on tough grasses, keeping an eye out for the odd Tyrannosaurus really does capture the imagination. Memories of my childhood favourite 'Jurassic Park' came flooding back.
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| Iguanodon fossil footprint |
From signs of an ancient and extinct species, to more obvious signs of living and yet even more ancient animals. Shark and ray eggcase hunting! These fish existed long before the dinosaurs, and have survived to the modern day. The washed up, tough collagen egg cases of some shark and ray species wash up along our shoreline, providing evidence of what lies beneath our waves, without having to even get wet.
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| Chick enjoying a good easter egg-case hunt! Includes small-spotted catshark, thornback and spotted ray! |
The following day, the wind howled against the balcony, shaking it on occasions. The grey clouds and chance of icy showers loomed. Sitting slightly closer to the radiator, we enjoyed tea with our chocolate Easter egg remains, and prepared for a trip to Newton Estuary. Another National Trust site I would highly recommend; much more rugged, with a wind swept and excitingly raw feel.
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| The old boathouse at Newton Harbour |
A nationally rare site for its natural transition from ancient woodland to salt marshes and estuarine habitat, making it a haven for birds, particularly as a winter feeding ground for species like brent geese and black-tailed godwits (very handsome birds!).
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| Brent goose |
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| Merganser |
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| Black tailed Godwit |
I was tempted to shame Rachael with a photo of her poking her head out of a hole in an old, dead tree like some sheltering squirrel. But being the kind soul I am, I spared her, and thought I would go for the shot of myself from furthest away. Furthest away so you can not properly see my face looking miserable in a place that should be unbelievably fun. Smiling is hard enough for me normally, let alone with a numb face from icy winds...
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| Cold day inside a tree |
Later that night, we cooked our freshly caught and locally sourced dover sole and pollock, covered in Isle of Wight garlic butter. The skin had crisped perfectly, the meat tender and oozing with juices. Just as I cut into the sole, about a hundred tiny eggs spilled out. Clearly, this was a female, bursting with eggs ready to be fertilised by an appropriate male. My heart sank. Guilt stricken we regrettably removed the two egg sacs running down the length of each side of the sole's body. Packed with probably millions of eggs, we disposed of them and continued our meal, but not before having a good look at these sacs and admiring the effort she had gone to to produce so many.
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| Egg sac of dover sole |
On our last day we decided to ditch the car, and just walk along the coast, back up the cliff through the botanical gardens and through some beautifully daffodil laden woodland.
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| Daffodils in the Woods |
As the ferry pulled in to Southampton in the early evening, just as the sun began to dip behind the clouds on the horizon, the starlings murmerated before steadily settling down to roost. A wonderful treat, and a wonderful way to end a cracking week away in the Isle of Wight.
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| A murmeration coming to roost |
The murmeration left us wondering if there was a similar hierarchy among starlings as there are in corvid species, whereby the more highly ranked individuals get to roost at the top of the structure, while lesser individuals spend the night getting covered in the faeces of the ones above....
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| Roosting hierarchy? |
Hope you enjoyed! Next blog includes toads, badger skulls and a sett inside a car...
