Drumming Hearts and Dartford Songs: A Birding Weekend

 Friday – A New Hope

As February faded in a blaze of glorious sunshine, my soul seemed to awaked from its winter permafrost like a Snowdrop bursting into the new season. It truly felt like Spring was finally on its way at last. The winter months have been super tough for me this year, but the sights, smell and sounds of nature have kept me going as always.

As I finished work on Friday, the late winter sun was beaming down on me, I couldn’t resist stopping at one of my favourite places nearby for the first of what I hope is a great many, evening nature walks! I pulled into the little car park of Buriton Chalkpits on the Southdown’s and eagerly hopped out of the car. I was greeted by the explosive, repeated song of a Song Thrush echoing through the valley from the ancient woodland above me. A Blackbird added its flutey notes to proceedings and the two Thrush species continued with their serenade as I got my bins out the car and put my coat on.

With the light dropping, I walked down into the trees of the chalkpit site. The clay lined pond that had been repaired last year, now has a fence surrounding it to keep people and pets out, vegetation is starting to emerge from its depths and around the margins and banks. I cant wait to see how this grows and matures. A pair of Mallard sat on the still water watching me closely as I passed. Bubbles issued from the deeper parts of the pond and a small silhouette wriggled to the surface for a gulp of air, a newt! Great to see them recolonising this habitat again. No frogspawn yet, but no doubt this will come!

Entering the forest loop, the leaves of Lords and Ladies were springing up everywhere, Wild Garlic(ransoms) are also pushing forward with their spring growth, although markedly behind those in other parts of the country. On a recent visit to Slimbridge WWT, the ransoms are already well established around the Zeiss hide and the heady smell is delightful. A mixed flock of Tits with Blue, Great, Marsh, Coal and Long Tailed, marauded through the low canopy looking for food and chattering loudly. Only the Coal Tits stopped to sing though, the others all buzz and churring with alarm and contact calls to each other. A treecreeper found itself mixed up with the gang and was happily feeding away amid the flock, its high-pitched contact call higher than all of the Tits it was associating with. Another high pitched call and I spun around to come face to face with a singing male Firecrest in the Ivy that had wrapped itself around a Birch. These diminutive woodland sprites are, happily, regular breeders now in the south and I am aware of at least 2 possibly 3 territories in this woodland alone from previous years.

Its sad to see that the Forestry commission have had to remove so many large Ash trees from this wood due to Ash Dieback. The signs have been creeping in for a number of years and another area within the vicinity, has been cleared in recent years. Thankfully, the underlying scrub and young Hazels have grown up rapidly in the space and light left by the felled Ash trees and much of the wildlife has moved back into that area. It will be interesting to see the change in dynamic in this new area of work, something I will be monitoring and documenting in the coming months and years. This particular stand is dominated by Ash and so the work seems particularly stark and destructive. Time will tell how it affects the ecology though.

Thankfully, the Spotted Flycatcher territory nearby has not been massively affected. The nest tree and its accompanying Ivy growth are untouched as are many of their favourite perches and hawking spots. Mercifully the nest has been on the back of an old Birch for the last 4 years and many of the afore mentioned perches are old oaks and as such have avoided the chainsaws.

Walking back up the hill towards the car, a Green Woodpecker was yaffling in the distance, and I chuckled to myself. I find it incredible the lift I get from light evenings and from sunlight. I felt like I had finally made it through the dark months and today was the turning point. That promise of renewal, hope and better times on the horizon!

Saturday – Woodland Nymphs and Siberian superstars.

Saturday started much as Friday had ended and with it came March. Dawns rosy fingers crept over the horizon, painting everything it touched with fiery orange. The temperature did not match the suns hues however and the mercury stayed firmly in the blue end for much of the day.

Picking friends up at 0630, we headed into the New Forest for a yearly pilgrimage. A annual audience with one of the forests speciality species and a real life woodland nymph, the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker. Coats done up high and gloved hands clutching steaming cups of coffee, we headed down the gravel path towards the traditional alter, the drumming tree!
This bare, dead and almost entirely hollow tree, rises like a beacon from the surrounding forest, but it is still the drumming that gives away the males’ presence way before you clap eyes on his perfect, dainty form. We took up our vigil in a clearing that had a great view of the tree and settled in to wait as the bird had flown moments before we arrived. The wait wasn’t that long and within 10 minutes in he bounced again, that undulating flight, unmistakeably Woodpecker! He alighted just below the top and sat preening for a moment, before turning his head, pausing and then drumming. The 2 second burst of percussion filled the still morning air and seemed to reverberate off every tree like 5.1 surround sound. A smile cracked my face, big toothy grin as I turned to my companions and made a heart gesture with my hand, as I did, I noticed each of them had the same cheesy grin on there faces too! No matter how many years we come back for this spectacle, its still incredibly special and fills our hearts every time!

The bird stayed for 10-15 minutes, drumming in the sun, backed by the powder blue sky. In between his percussion solos, he sat, listening for any reply, calling now and again with the high pitch ke-ke-ke-ke. After 15 minutes in swept another Woodpecker, not the female our drummer was hoping for, this was the much larger Great Spotted Woodpecker! Although a great comparison of the two species side by side, it was not to the liking of the male Lesser and after some aggressive wing stretches and calling, he flew off into the forest. A distant drumming confirmed he was trying his luck elsewhere!

We headed to the east of Hampshire next, where, for the last week, a Russian and Siberian breeding Thrush, a Black Throated Thrush, has been happily feeding in the extensive gardens of a house in Linford. The homeowner had graciously allowed people to enter the grounds to see this ‘first for Hampshire’, and with the help of local birders had decided to start a collection for a local hospice as payment for access. I really enjoy arrangements like this, as it feels like we can give back to the local community while still thoroughly enjoying our hobby!

Naturally, it was a veritable who’s who of Hampshires birding community and it was great to catch up with some friends I haven’t seen for a while. I have heard afterwards that over £500 was raised for the charity which is awesome.  The Thrush was a beautiful male with the black throat really evident even in the mist that was hanging over the area. Redpoll, Siskin and several other finch species all feeding on sunflower seeds at a well stocked feeding station also added even more enjoyment to what was, already a pretty awesome morning!

After the Thrush, we shifted down a few gears for the afternoon. We spent it at Thursley Common, just over the border into Surrey. This stunning Lowland Bog and Heath reserve is famous for its Dragonflies in summer as well as some speciality heathland species such as Dartford Warbler, Woodlark and Nightjar as well as some other awesome species in and around the woodland fringes such as Tree Pipit, and Redstart in Spring and Summer. With migration not yet underway for many of these species, it was the two resident species, Dartfords and Woodlark that we were keen to see, as well as keeping our eyes peeled for Lizards and Snakes enjoying the sun. As we walked down the hill from where we parked, all of us quickly realised that the temperature had climbed and the coats we were all wrapped up in, we were all baking! We shed these and they got tied around waists or tripod carriers for safe keeping.

The reserve was quiet in the early afternoon still, a Wren broke the silence with its machine gun trill and explosive song as we passed close by. Stonechats called quietly, like two pebbles being gently tapped together, but the birds remained stubbornly out of view which is unusual. Five Buzzards and a Red Kite drifted lazily in the thermals over the woodland in the distance, calling as they circled relentlessly higher before heading off over the horizon and out of sight. I was the first to pick up the call we had been waiting for, the creaking contact call of a Dartford Warbler just down the track a little, we paused and looked around through our bins, no sign of the bird on any of the gorse or small pines, but they were nearby. Out on the open heath, we could hear the distant song of a Woodlark, very hard to pinpoint at this range, but clearly coming from the direction of an area known as Parish Field. We headed over towards the area the song had come from, but still couldn’t see where the singer was.

On the path that runs parallel to the field, I noticed some movement in the grass and what was clearly a Lark species, flying low over the bird on the floor. A glimpse of song and three Woodlarks took to the wing, all singing and calling at once, goaded on by the bird that had flown over. We stood and watched them for a good 20 minutes, seeing them foraging, singing from the top of anthills and occasionally scrapping with another bird. A Dartford Warbler was singing from just outside the field, so we returned back to the path and scanned the heathland. There he was, sat in typical Dartford pose, on top of a gorse bush, throat quivering with the movement of the beak, long tail held up behind him as he belted out that scratchy song!

We wandered around the rest of the reserve, enjoying the peace and the sunshine, when we got to the moat car park at the far end of the reserve, Matt and I offered to go and get the car, while Jo and Emma sat in the sun by the lake. We had an awesome ‘therapy walk’ chatting about our mental health and various things in our lives, I really appreciated Matts candour and love that we can talk like that to each other! Men don’t talk enough to each other about things and this is so good for us!

Sunday – Coastal birding aboard the struggle bus!!!

Sunday morning I was boarding the struggle bus. We had a few drinks on the Saturday night and apparently I had a few too many for my head to cope with on Sunday. Matt and Emma were picking me up at 10:30 so I stayed in bed until 10 to gather in as much sleep as possible! When they arrived, I was ready in full hangover attire, an oversized hoody, hood up and a pair of dark glasses! To be fair, I just felt very tired as opposed to actually hungover so a day on the New Forest Coast was an excellent idea to blow the cobwebs out and enjoy the incredible weather.

No target species as such, just a nice days birding with friends, although the New Forest always delivers with incredible wildlife! 16 Spoonbills, 4 Slavonian Grebes, Spotted Redshank, Red Breasted Mergansers, Greenshank, Merlin and Eider were just some of the 76 species we saw around Pennington and Keyhaven. I have come to realise that the Hampshire coast, more than rivals North Norfolk in terms of the variety of species we see even if we don’t have the same propensity for attracting unusual migrants during passage. The sun shining, Wigeon whistling and Brents cronking made for a very happy James as we mooched around the coast. On leaving the coast, we headed back via a known Little Owl territory to see if the birds were sunning themselves in the warmth of the setting sun, alas, they were not but there will always be another day to see them!  

 

 

 

World Wetland Day: Celebrating our wild wetlands

 

Farlington Marshes NNR

February 2^nd each year, marks World Wetlands Day, a time to appreciate and celebrate the vital function these landscapes play not just ecologically but also economically. Covering around 6% of the Earth's surface, wetlands store a disproportionate amount of global terrestrial carbon at c35%. With the growing climate crisis, this makes these habitats critical in mitigating some of the disastrous effects humans have wrought through our addiction to oil. In an increasingly human shaped world, wetlands remain pockets of resilience, filtering heavy metals and other contaminants from water, absorbing carbon, mitigating floods and sheltering an astonishing array of wildlife. The UK’s wetlands, from vast muddy estuaries to tucked-away marshes with whispering reedbeds, are teeming with life, and thanks to conservation efforts, some of our most iconic species are making a comeback.

The Return of Lost Voices

Once rejected as wastelands and drained for more practical uses, our wetlands are now proving their worth as strongholds for returning species. The evocative boom of the bittern, a species that, in the 1870s, was declared extinct in the UK due to habitat destruction and hunting, now echoes across reedbeds where conservationists have worked tirelessly to restore their habitat. 1997 saw only 11 males recorded in Britain, but due to extensive habitat management, their population has risen to over 200 calling males by 2020. A real ‘Boom’!

The spectral form of a great white egret, a large heron species, once confined to the Continent, is now a common sight in the wetlands of Somerset and East Anglia and is expanding its range year on year. The first recorded breeding in the UK occurred in 2012 in the Avalon Marshes, and their numbers have since expanded steadily. Even the majestic white-tailed eagle, a bird that once soared over our coasts before being hunted to extinction in Britain by the early 20th century, has found its way back to our shores. A reintroduction programme began in Scotland in the 1970s and was followed by releases on the Isle of Wight in 2019, with the birds now carving out new territories and breeding successfully.

And then there’s the common crane, a bird that vanished from our landscape over 400 years ago due to wetland drainage and hunting. A reintroduction programme sought to bring them back, WWT (Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust) and the Pensthorpe Conservation Trust, devised the Great Crane Project, to reintroduce cranes to the Somerset Levels, but incredibly a small pioneer population, thought to be from German or Dutch origin, stole a march and slowly started colonising [the fens of East Anglia. Between the pioneers and the reintroduced birds, their numbers have now exceeded 200 individuals in the UK! They are back, stalking through our wetlands with a grace that harks back to a bygone era. Their bugling calls ring out across the Somerset Levels, the Broads and the fens, a sound that has been missing for centuries.

A New Wave of Colonisers

Little Egret

Some species are writing their own comeback stories, arriving under their own steam due to changing climate conditions and improved habitat quality. Spoonbills, once a rare visitor to the UK, now breed in colonies, particularly in Norfolk, Suffolk and Kent, where protected wetlands have provided ideal conditions. Their distinctive spatula-shaped bills sift through the shallows in search of fish and crustaceans. Delightfully their young are known affectionately as teaspoons, a name that endears them to birders and non-birders from the outset!

Of the Egrets, Little Egret was the first to swell the ranks of our breeding heron species, in 1996, birds bred for the first time at sites in Cornwall and in Dorset, where the Littles dared, the Great whites have followed suit, their elegant profiles now a regular feature in wetland reserves. Their smaller cousins, the cattle egret, have also expanded their range across the country, first breeding in the UK in 2008. These birds, which were once considered a southern European species, have adapted to our shifting climate and are thriving.

Beavers: The Keystone Architects

No species symbolises wetland restoration quite like the European beaver. Hunted to extinction in Britain by the 1600s for their fur and castoreum, an oil produced by beavers from special glands and used by humans in scents and flavourings. For the last decade or so, these ecosystem engineers have once again been shaping our landscapes with their ability to create wetlands through constructing dams and slowing the flow of water. In doing so they are also reducing flood risk downstream and improving water retention during droughts. Studies from the River Otter Beaver Trial in Devon have shown that beaver-modified landscapes store more water, reduce peak flood levels by up to 30%, and improve biodiversity by creating habitats for amphibians, fish and invertebrates.

Beaver dams help to filter pollutants, trapping sediments and improving water quality. In places like Scotland’s Knapdale Forest, beaver reintroduction has resulted in greater habitat complexity, supporting a wider variety of wildlife. In 2022, the government granted legal protection to beavers in England, recognising their role in habitat restoration and flood prevention.

The Lost and the Longed-For

Dalmatian Pelican

It’s impossible not to dream about what else could return if we continue to restore our country at a habitat level. Could the black stork, a rare vagrant to Britain, one day nest in our quiet wetlands? In 2022, a juvenile black stork spent weeks exploring various British wetlands, raising hopes of future colonisation. Could the Dalmatian pelican, a species known to have once inhabited prehistoric Britain, reclaim its place among our reedbeds? A study conducted in 2017 suggested that Britain’s wetlands could support a breeding population of these magnificent birds.

There is romance in the idea of these lost giants gracing our wetlands once more, but more importantly, there is ecological sense. Reintroducing these species could restore lost interactions within our ecosystems, enriching biodiversity and strengthening resilience against environmental changes. Every species that returns is a sign that we are moving in the right direction, that we are learning to work with nature rather than against it. However, reintroductions also gloss over some glaring issues. Habitat scale restoration is needed, not just vanity species, without large scale habitat restoration, all these projects are reduced to mere gimmicks. If we want to see the return of some of these iconic species and have them thrive as they colonise, connected and healthy ecosystems are paramount. The North Norfolk coastal partnership is a great example of interconnectivity, as is the Avalon Marshes in Somerset! Isolation and nature do not go hand in hand, everything is connected and that is the same for habitats.

A Future Worth Fighting For

World Wetlands Day is more than just a date in the calendar. It’s a reminder that these landscapes are worth fighting for. Wetlands cover just over 3% of the land area in the UK, yet they store significant amounts of carbon, act as natural flood defences and provide habitats for a vast array of species. From the salt marshes that buffer our coasts against storm surges to the floodplains that hold back rising waters, wetlands are our natural allies in the fight against climate change and biodiversity loss.

However, wetlands remain under threat. The UK has lost approximately 90% of its wetlands since Roman times, with drainage for agriculture, urbanisation and infrastructure development taking a devastating toll. Their future, and the future of the species that depend on them, is in our hands.

This is not just about conservation. It is about restoration, about rewilding, about rewriting the story of our landscapes. And in that story, wetlands are not just survivors. They are the beating heart of a wilder, richer Britain.

 

Mindfulness in Nature: A Path to Better Mental Health

 

In today’s fast-paced world, stress and anxiety have become familiar, leaving many of us searching for ways to rebuild balance. Mindfulness, a practice of focused awareness and presence offers a powerful tool to navigate life’s trials. When combined with nature, its benefits become even more profound. I want to explore, intertwining mindfulness with the natural world, how that can nurture mental health and uncover the scientific evidence that supports this.

What is Mindfulness?

‘Begin at the beginning’ said the King in Lewis Carol’s ‘Alice's Adventures in Wonderland’ so let’s first look at what it is we mean by mindfulness.

Mindfulness is the practice of being fully present in a moment without judgment. It enables and encourages awareness of our thoughts, emotions, and physical sensations, promoting a deeper bond to ourselves and everything around us. Originating in Buddhism, mindfulness has gained widespread recognition as a scientifically backed, therapeutic tool for mental wellbeing.

Jon Kabat-Zinn, a pioneer in mindfulness-based stress reduction (MBSR), has demonstrated its effectiveness in reducing symptoms of depression, anxiety, and chronic stress in his research. On his website he suggests

The Role of Nature in Mindfulness

Natures rhythms offer a perfect backdrop for mindfulness practices. Its ability to engage all our senses at once, grounds us in the present moment, making it easier to disengage from retrospective thoughts. The act of observing a butterfly in flight, feeling the crunch of the autumn leaves underfoot, or listening to the rustle of a reedbed in the late summer breeze instils a sense of calm and connection.

Spending time in nature is not only grounding but restorative. Biologist Edward O. Wilson coined the biophilia hypothesis which suggests that humans have an innate affinity for nature, and engaging with it can enhance psychological well-being.

The Benefits of Mindfulness in Nature

Combining mindfulness with nature amplifies the mental health benefits of both practices. Here’s how:

1. Reduced Stress and Anxiety:
   A 2015 study published in Landscape and Urban Planning found that participants who engaged in a 90-minute nature walk showed reduced activity in the subgenual prefrontal cortex, a brain region associated with deep thought. When paired with mindfulness, these benefits are enhanced as attention is drawn to sensory details of the environment, reducing mental clutter.
2. Improved Focus and Clarity:
   The smallest observations while immersed in nature, from the ripple of water, the contact call of a bird, or the sway of branches, naturally encourages mindfulness by presenting myriad stimuli. A 2019 study in Frontiers in Psychology found that forest bathing, or shinrin-yoku, improves attention and cognitive function.
3. Enhanced Mood:
   Published in Environmental Health and Preventive Medicine (2010), research revealed that time spent in forests significantly lowers levels of the stress hormone, cortisol and increases levels of serotonin, often styled the “happiness hormone.”
4. Deeper Emotional Connection:
   Mindful nature practices encourage us to feel part of a larger whole. This sense of interconnectedness combats loneliness and fosters emotional resilience. Studies in Ecopsychology highlight how nature-based mindfulness practices improve emotional regulation and foster positive social interactions.

 

How to Practice Mindfulness in Nature

You don’t need a dense forest or remote wilderness to begin. Here are some simple practices to integrate mindfulness into your time outdoors:

1. Grounding with the Senses:
   Notice the texture of bark, the sound of the breeze, the scent of wildflowers, the colours around you, and the taste of the air. Put simply, engage all 5 senses! This sensory awareness anchors you in the present.
2. Mindful Walking:
   Take slow, conscious steps, noticing each movement, how your feet make contact with the ground, the pace of your breath, and the flowing weight of your body.
3. Observation:
   Choose an element of nature a bird, tree, or flowing stream and observe it without judgment. In essence, remove your personal opinion from the equation and just notice the details: patterns, movements, colours, and sounds.
4. Breath Awareness:
   Sit in a natural setting and focus on your breath. Sync your inhales and exhales with the rhythm of the environment, such as waves lapping against the shore or wind moving through trees.
5. Gratitude Practice:
   End your time outdoors with a moment of gratitude. Reflect on the beauty you’ve experienced and its impact on your state of mind.

 

Peer-Reviewed Evidence Supporting Mindfulness and Nature

The scientific community has increasingly recognised the relationship between mindfulness, nature, and mental wellbeing.

• Mindfulness and Mental Health:
  A meta-analysis in JAMA Internal Medicine (2014) found that mindfulness meditation programs meaningfully reduce symptoms of anxiety, depression, and pain, with beneficial effects comparable to standard treatments like medication and therapy.
• Nature and Mental Health:
  A 2019 study in Nature Scientific Reports showed that spending at least two hours a week in nature is associated with improved psychological well-being, with participants reporting greater life satisfaction and reduced mental distress.
• Mindfulness in Nature:
  A study in Psychological Research (2021) found that mindfulness practices conducted in natural environments are more effective in reducing stress and improving mood than those done indoors, suggesting a synergistic effect between mindfulness and nature exposure.

 

Embracing Mindfulness in Your Daily Life

Mindfulness and nature don’t have to be reserv

ed for dedicated sessions. Small moments of awareness during a stroll in your local park or garden can make a significant difference. Try incorporating mindfulness into your ordinary daily tasks like gardening, birding, or simply sitting outside with a coffee.

Conclusion

Mindfulness and nature are a strong combination that, added to your usual routines, can transform mental health. Whether you’re taking a meditative wander through a forest or simply stopping to embrace the sunset, the practice encourages you to slow down, breathe, and rewire the relationship not just with yourself but  with the world around you too. The evidence is speaks volumes: nature and mindfulness together offer a restorative refuge in our increasingly busy worlds.

 

In the shadow of chaos

The following is a collection of thoughts I wrote following a panic attack I suffered at Bird Fair last year. My own insecurities borne from my ex wife's infidelity, mixed with alcohol and some silly comments from someone unseen, lead to the perfect storm in my head. I spiralled and found myself alone, admittedly by choice, as I didn't want to derail anyone else's evening. I fell deeper and deeper into my brains quagmire and experienced my first ever panic attack. I tried to capture the feeling of the experience for those who have been fortunate enough, not to have been through it before, I truly hope you never have to!

Since the event, I have undertaken a large degree of self reflection, I have embarked on a journey of healing via therapy and to a large degree, reduced my alcohol intake dramatically. I realise that my own insecurities and trauma lead to this and am determined to put those demons to bed forever! 

Please, never belittle a panic attack, it's not something that someone can just 'Get over" as I was told to do. It is irrational, it can't be helped and is 100% based on deep seated and often subconscious insecurities and genuine fears. If you know someone that suffers, reach out, validation and reassurance are basic human decencies in these moments and cost nothing. Ultimately, be kind!!!

It started as a whisper, a faint tremor beneath my skin, like a distant storm gathering on the horizon. My heart began to race, a wild, uncontrollable rhythm that I can’t slow down, no matter how desperately I try. Each beat felt heavier, louder, as if it was trying to break free from my chest. I felt its thudding in my throat, a pulse that tightens and constricts, making each breath shallower than the last. 

Panic gripped me before I even had a chance to name it, creeping up, slowly at first, until it swelled into a torrent that sweeps away all sense of safety. My mind, a blur, spinning too fast to catch a single coherent thought. I try to breathe, to ground myself, but it’s like drowning in open air. My lungs seize, desperate for breath, but each inhale feels thin, unsatisfying, as though the very air has turned to vapor and slipped through my fingers. My hands trembled, fingers twitching uncontrollably, as though my body has lost its tether to the earth. The world around me warps, sounds distorted, sharp and distant all at once, while light becomes too bright, too overwhelming. My skin prickles, flushed with heat and cold all at once. Every nerve feels frayed, exposed to the elements. I feel untethered, weightless, as though I might drift away into the void if I let go for even a moment. There’s no logic here, no reason. 

Panic isn’t rational, it doesn’t answer to words or thoughts. Instead, it surges through me like a flood, its current pulling me under, sweeping me into a place where nothing feels real anymore. My mind swarms with the impossible, with the worst-case scenarios that bloom unbidden, each one more terrifying than the last. My heart races faster still, like a bird trapped in a cage, slamming against the bars in a desperate bid for escape. My body curls in on itself, muscles clenched, as if trying to shrink from something unseen, something within. My chest tightens, pressure building and building until it feels like I might shatter. I want to scream, but the words are trapped inside me, stuck behind the lump in my throat. 

The world narrows, closing in around me, a dark tunnel where there’s no light at the end. Time stretches, warps each second feels like an eternity, and yet it’s over in a moment. The panic subsides eventually, not because I’ve conquered it, but because it has spent itself. I am left hollow, like a shipwreck washed up on a shore. My body, once taut with fear, feels drained, limp. My muscles ache from the tension, my heart still beats too fast, but it is slower now, the echoes of the storm retreating. But even in the aftermath, there’s a lingering fear. A shadow that tells me it will return again, unbidden, unpredictable. I am left raw, my mind buzzing with exhaustion. 

I close my eyes and breathe, the weight of it all pressing heavy on my chest. And yet, beneath the fear, there is something else. A faint whisper of hope so small, so quiet, I almost miss it. It tells me I have survived this storm before, and I will survive it again. Though the panic tries to isolate me, tries to convince me that I am alone, I know deep down I am not. There are hands waiting to pull me out of the dark, to help me stand when I no longer can.

Carried by the Wind: Lessons from the Shearwater Migration

Mid-August and I find myself sat on the rugged cliffside that supports the red and white tower of Pendeen Lighthouse, gazing out into the incomprehensible expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. I have come to witness an incredible yearly migration event. Today, Manx Shearwaters are passing this headland in a steady stream. At approximately 700 birds every minute, it was as if the sea itself was alive with birds dancing across the water surface, the sleek black and white forms cutting through the air with effortless grace. They headed south with purpose, skimming or shearing (as the name suggests) the waves on stiff wings, starting a journey of unbelievable magnitude that will see them cross hemispheres. Among them, a few Balearic Shearwaters. A close relation of our Manx but a bird of the Mediterranean rather than the Atlantic, they are duskier in appearance, not the crisp black and white of the Manxies. Fulmars pass by on their stiff, thin wings like miniature Albatross and the occasional small group of Gannets flapping clumsily in comparison to the refined beauty of the Shearwaters. But it was the Manxies that dominated the scope view, their numbers seemingly endless.

Just a few weeks ago, I'd experienced a panic attack at global Birdfair, an overwhelming flood of fear that had left me shaken and struggling to regain control of my thoughts. Because of this, I'd restarted therapy, trying to rebuild my mental well-being and deal with the root cause of my depression and anxiety, rather than relying just on tablets to mask the symptoms. Starting therapy was terrifying. It left my brain feeling overwhelmed and incredibly vulnerable. This is why I had headed to Cornwall. Some time for me to sit and take stock, A chance to be still with no other people around me. Sitting watching the seemingly delicate Shearwaters with the contrasting backdrop of the rugged North Cornish coast, I found something incredibly profound about the sight of their determined flight.

Manx Shearwater

The Manx Shearwaters had been breeding throughout the summer on remote islands around the West of the UK just North of where I sat, the windswept slopes of islands like Skomer, Rum and Bardsey. These places far from the disturbances of human life, provides safe Burrows for them to raise their young. They nest in the dark, hidden away during the day, only emerging undercover of night in order to avoid predators like Gulls and Skuas. With the seasons moving headlong into Autumn now, it was time to leave. Parents that have raised their chicks and fledglings that are headed off from the only place they have ever know so far, all taking to the air and following the instinctive pull of migration. These birds, which had spent the summer on the cliffs and islands of Britain were now embarking on a journey that would take them into the unknown, a pelagic odyssey that puts Odysseus to shame. 

Their ultimate destination was far to the South, in the rich, cold feeding grounds of the Argentine Sea where they would spend the winter months. It's hard to imagine the distance they would cover flying from their breeding grounds in the North Atlantic to the southern hemisphere. It's one of the most remarkable migrations, a journey they undertake every year, guided by instinct. And the pull of survival.

The significance of that journey wasn't lost on me. These birds were driven by an unbreakable connection to the cycle of life. To breed, to feed, to survive. They didn't question their path. They simply moved with purpose. In that moment, watching the birds disappear over the horizon, I found a parallel in my own struggles. I too had a journey to make. Therapy is my map helping me to find my direction again.

Manx Shearwater taking off

The rhythm of the bird passing began to soothe me. They moved in harmony with the elements. Wind, sea, sky. Carving a path forward with each passing wave. The steady flow of life moving past me without pause began to quiet the restless thoughts that have plagued me since the panic attack. My thoughts, which had felt chaotic and uncontrollable, began to fall into a slower rhythm, much like the birds themselves. 

Healing our minds is very much like migration. It's a long journey, sometimes arduous and with many different routes, but one that's essential for survival. Like the Shearwater, I need to trust the process to move forward, even if the destination feels a long way off. 

Watching them, I was reminded that while the journey might seem daunting, it's one I can make, one step at a time, guided by the tools I have, therapy, nature, and moments like these where I can find peace and perspective.

These birds weren't just passing that headland. They were showing me a way forward, a reminder that even in the face of overwhelming odds, there is a path to follow. And the strength to endure. In the presence of the Shearwaters, I felt a quiet strength, a strength that belied the birds diminutive size and appearance, and a sense too that I, could also keep going.

Dropping the Ball: Why Scrapping the Natural History GCSE Is a Big Mistake

Dropping the Ball: Why Scrapping the Natural History GCSE Is a Big Mistake

The government’s decision to pull the plug on the Natural History GCSE feels like a punch to the gut for anyone who cares about nature and the environment. To use the excuse that it was an initiative by the Tories from the last parliament was outrageous. This initiative got through despite the Tory opposition to it!! This wasn’t just another exam; it was a chance to inspire a generation to connect with the natural world and understand the challenges it faces. And now, that opportunity’s been tossed aside like a political football.

When the idea for the GCSE was first floated, it felt like a breath of fresh air. The plan was to teach kids about ecology, conservation, and the cultural importance of nature, a chance to make sure they actually get why the environment matters.

Jane Goodall rightly said: “How can we expect young people to protect something they don’t understand?” By shelving this qualification, we’re risking an even bigger gap between kids and the natural world at a time when we desperately need them to care.

Mary Colwell, who worked tirelessly to get this GCSE off the ground, shared her frustration with the delays before the qualification was shelved altogether: “The Natural History GCSE has been sitting in limbo… it is frustrating because we need it now more than ever.”

Why This Matters

Let’s be honest young people today are more aware of the climate crisis than any generation before them. They’re worried, they’re angry, and they’re ready to do something about it. But here’s the thing: passion needs to be paired with knowledge. Without an understanding of the how's and whys of the natural world, how are they supposed to make meaningful change?

The Natural History GCSE could have been a game-changer. It could’ve opened doors to careers in conservation, inspired a lifelong love of wildlife, or just given kids the confidence to speak up for the planet. Instead, the government’s decision feels like a message that nature education isn’t a priority and that’s a problem. Because if we’re not helping kids build a connection with nature now, how can we expect them to care enough to protect it later?

A Growing Disconnect

In todays tech driven world, many children spend a disproportionate amount of time staring at screens compared to exploring the outdoors. A recent survey even found that British kids spend less time outside than prison inmates!!

A whole generation is growing up unable to name common birds or trees, let alone understand the role they play in our ecosystems. A GCSE in Natural History could’ve turned that around, giving students the tools to engage with nature in a meaningful way. Instead, we’re leaving them to figure it out for themselves.

So, What Happens Now?

All is not lost, but it’s hard not to feel like this was a massive step backwards. There are still brilliant teachers, schools, and charities doing their best to weave environmental topics into lessons. And grassroots projects are helping kids reconnect with nature.

But it’s not enough. We need something bigger, something systemic. As Jane Goodall puts it: “What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”

It’s up to all of us to keep pushing for change. Whether it’s lobbying for better environmental education, joining local conservation projects, or simply making sure the young people in our lives get to experience the joy of nature, we can all play a part.

The very best thing you can do, is email your local MP, push for change, be the change. Remember that government is supposed to work for us, if enough people raise their voices, it cant be ignored. Find your local MP here: Find your MP - MPs and Lords - UK Parliament