The Downs, The White of Snow and Broom Lakes...

Working up near Dunstable Downs, I hope to be able to get out and enjoy the incredible scenery and wildlife. A rich chalk grassland, the highest point of Bedfordshire, an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, numerous Sites of Scientific Interest, and two scheduled ancient monuments definitely make it worth a visit (sold it to you?!). My first walk across the top of the downs to take some panoramic shots proved successful. A red fox weaved its way through open fields, dodging the crows, and continuously got hassled by the magpies. The fox squatted on occasions, scent marking the fencing and leaving its feces across the downs.

The Downs on an overcast day - you can see five counties on a good day!

Watching fox on the Downs!

A 360 view from the top of the Downs

 A few weeks back, I posted about how incredible our world can become when covered in the bright white of frozen water, chaotically fallen as snow. Momentarily, spring looked like it might be on the way; as the snow drops finished flowering, and began to decay, daffodils started to spring up across grass verges and under hedgerows.

Death of the snow drops

Daffodils by the river

Not quite. As I am sure you are aware, more shocking weather, more snow, and more ice engulfed the country. Which has meant news reports packed with horror stories and a great deal of moaning from pretty much everyone I have spoken to.

Snow showers!

Icy water of the River Ivel

The problems snow, ice and freezing temperatures cause are clearly an absolute burden on peoples lives. Yet, there is no denying its beauty. Seeing the ice on the river, and then the light, white snow fall from the sky, I could not help but wonder what it was that makes snow white. Essentially both snow and ice are frozen water molecules. Yet while ice is clear, snow is white. The difference is in how the water is frozen. Snow contains air gaps, tiny bubbles of air pockets. And it is within these air pockets that light is reflected back in all directions, with no preference to any particular wavelength of light. The sunlight is therefore reflected in its natural colour, containing all wavelengths, which appears white.

Hefty chunks of snow, floating down to earth

Collapsed shed of Stotfold

Unfortunately for Sky, she has just moulted... 

A new car has allowed me to spread my wings slightly. My first day after picking it up, Haz and I took Sky and Ellie over to Broom lakes. The wind cut across the open fields where the sand is currently being extracted before the land is turned into more lakes, and what could potentially be a wonderful area of natural beauty. A standalone tree, bare and battered, overlooks the icy lake of coot, grebe and wigeon. Like a skeleton, the naked tree defines the essence of winter. Stagnant, waiting for spring.

Tree against the Sky

Siskin!

After a harsh winter, I look forward to the burst of new life spring brings; the sunshine scattered with heavy showers. I then look forward to the warmth of a summers evening, sitting in the garden with tea and biscuits watching the garden birds work furiously to bring up their young (with the exception of my bodies insistence that pollen is some kind of alien virus attacking my body, and needs disposing of through a constant stream of tears and snot). After the hot, sticky summer days, I long for a cold snap, where I can wrap up warm and feel invigorated after battling the wind and ice. After our first lot of snow and ice, I felt ready for spring. But this extended winter is hanging on. I love a cold and snowy winter, but I also love the sun and spring. I do not know about you, but I am about finished enjoying this coldness and am ready for some spring action.

Looking forward to more of these: sunsets from Dunstable Downs

Squeezing in! Sky and Ellie in the boot of the Micra

Until next time... 

Signs of Spring, a Barn Owl, and the Skinless Shrew...

I lay in bed thinking. The half moon glows through the open curtains, faintly lighting my room. I wonder whether the great hunter has had any success since our meeting a few hours before. I wonder if it is still quartering the fields, perfectly focusing its senses onto finding its prey. Its deep steady wing beats as it silently moves through the air. Suddenly, the owl banks, spreading its wings. It sweeps sideways and plummets into the reedy undergrowth. Effortlessly, it lifts itself up, with a small mammal hanging in the grasp of its talons. There is something magic about the Barn Owl. I stumbled across one whilst I walked with Ellie at dusk earlier in the day. Initially, I had been enjoying the partial cloud cover, as the setting sun lit their undersides with pale pinks and deep oranges. The air was still. And the scent of river water hung in the air. 

The sun begins to set over the Ivel

Hanging over the River

And then, the Barn Owl. Impossible to miss; with their huge wingspan, bright white and a steady flight. I caught a glimpse as it dived for prey. Missing after its first attempt, the owl took a second dive only seconds after its first. Its moments like this where the excitement, adrenalin and pure joy at such an encounter takes over. I crouched myself into the ditch, no longer worrying what people might think coming across a man crouched in the reeds, and watched as the owl turned and flew straight towards me. I can be fairly self-conscious sometimes, especially nowadays. It can not always look good, creeping around bushes with a camera in hand. Thoughts of having my photo library searched by police to prove that I was not photographing the school kids in the playground, but instead the charms of goldfinch feeding in the hedgerows, occasionally happen. My mind digresses, as it often does.

The Barn Owl after two unsuccessful dives

The owl then crossed the river, and disappeared beyond the woodland. Continuing on its quest to sustain its bodies energy demands. Later on, from the ditch beside the track, no more than three or four feet away, the owl lifted itself up and flew away, before turning across the field and, once again, disappearing into the diminishing light. Incredibly, a Barn Owls sense of hearing is so good, that they can catch small prey in total darkness, without the need for their vision (which also happens to be excellent as well). One ear is positioned slightly higher than the other, a bit like Sloth from the Goonies, to enable them to pinpoint sounds exactly. Although, I do not think Sloth benefited in the same way...

Into dusk

Hunting at dusk, under the watchful eye of the Moon - about 384,000 km away

Snowdrops. Or snow piercers as they are known in France. A sign that spring is soon to be arriving here in the UK. Mistakenly thought to be British, these flowers are non-native invaders, thought to have been brought over from mainland Europe in the sixteenth century.

Piercing their way through the Earth

Like an army of small spears, the flowering stalks grow upright in clusters spread across woodland floor.

Drops of 'snow'

Eventually, the flower heads open up and drop. Hanging in a sober fashion, they carpet the woodland floor with bright white. And, despite being non-native, they are a very attractive plant that lifts the British spirit. They are a sign of brighter, warmer and longer days, with an air filled with the sex driven sound of bird song. Already excited!

This woodland has been well and truly pierced

Making the most of the recent sunny weather, here are a couple of shots walking in the river with Sky...

Trying to hunt moorhen, like something out of The Deliverance...

Light on the river

The Barn Owl seems to be reliably hunting the same patch, and I hope to return in the days to come. I promised some photos of the taxidermy effort of the shrew I found whilst walking Sky. Instead of posting them here, I have decided to dedicate this blog to all things wild and alive; and all things dead and taxidermy here:  http://tomstaxidermy.blogspot.co.uk/.

Also, it was National Nest Box Week recently. Check out the website http://www.bto.org/nnbw/index.htm, and give some birds a safe place to lay some eggs this year !