Pheasants, etc

As we fast approach the end of yet another shooting season and,once again, the fields and woods will fall silent until it all starts again in the autumn it occurred to me just how much things have changed in the shooting world.

Today many shoots are run on a business basis which means the guns pay to shoot and the payment is calculated by the bird shot. So, what this means is, for example, if a group of guns buy a two hundred bird day it will cost £8,000 based upon a figure of £40 per bird. On average there are ten guns so the day costs each of them £800. Well, actually, it works out at a bit more than that as it is the custom to tip the gamekeeper at the end of the day and I am reliably informed that the expected tip from each gun is £50. Apart from the day's sport each gun has his gun cleaned at the end of the day and takes home a brace of pheasants, two birds. That, for the most part, is how things are done in the modern shooting field. When one considers that some shoots are shooting six days a week one begins to get an idea of the scale of the business. Not only is it a huge part of the rural economy but shooting produces sales in terms of clothing, ammunition, hospitality and so on. But most of all it produces huge numbers of pheasants and, to a lesser degree, partridges and duck. 

To go back to a former age most shoots were conducted by landowners for the benefit of themselves and their friends, numbers of birds were not the main consideration as profit was not the aim, quite simply sport was the most important element. Good high and testing birds were the order of the day, numbers would then have been considered to be of less importance and for a gentleman to complain about the number of birds would have been considered wholly inappropriate, just not the done thing. 

Of course it is also the case that the people who shoot, and can afford to do so, have also changed. Once the members of a shooting party would, almost exclusively, have been members of the landed gentry, nobility and generally the great and the good. Today the mix is far more diverse. Yes, there are still a fair sprinkling of the above groups to be found but also lots of small business men, pop stars, film stars,bankers, hedge fund managers, builders and all manner of other people. Some of the behaviour one sees in the modern shooting party would not have been seen, let alone tolerated, in earlier times. Of course, as might be expected many of the people from these groups are not country people but come from the towns and cities to shoot. Good manners were always expected of the guns and it was the norm for the guns to express their thanks to the beaters at the end of each day. They always said good morning and expressed their delight when things went well. Sadly, that is no longer the norm, many modern guns will walk past the beating line as though the beaters were not there and not a word is exchanged. In fact, I heard, only the other day of a shoot somewhere in mid Dorset where, so called, pop and film stars shoot, where the gamekeeper tells the beaters that they are not to engage in conversation with the guns, they are not to look at the guns and generally must be seen and not heard. 

Frankly, I don't understand why anyone would bother to go there. If I were confronted with such a situation I would tell the keeper in no uncertain terms that I was at the wrong place and the guns could go beat for themselves. Fortunately, this behaviour is the exception and not the rule. But, in general terms, "old money" is much more user friendly having been brought up in a manner which respects tradition and is fully conversant with good manners and etiquette. 

Undoubtedly, alcohol and drinking have always had a place in the shooting field. It is traditional to have a nip of something before the day begins, usually sloe gin. It is also perfectly normal for members of the shoot to carry a hip flask in order to have the odd swig during the day, especially in cold weather. Also the odd port or glass of wine at lunch has always been acceptable and added to the delight of the day.Unfortunately many modern guns seem to have the idea that a key component of the day is to get … well, ratted, to use a modern term. I strongly believe guns and booze do not mix and it is high time keepers started sending people home when they have gone over the top with drink. If they want to have a drinking session that should be done at the end of the day and not at lunch time. However, all is not lost, I notice increasingly that shoots are beginning to "shoot through", what this means is they don't stop for lunch. They do all of the shooting for the day and lunch at the end. A much better idea as, quite apart from the drinking aspect, it also means the beaters get home earlier as they are not sitting around for nearly a couple of hours whilst the group of guns enjoy a longish lunch. 

Long may the shooting traditions continue but, if they are to some taking stock will have to occur and good behaviour and good manners will have to be at the heart of any such considerations. 

Sparrows

Ain't It A Shame Sparrers Can't Sing, the words of the title song from a Barbara Windsor film from 1963.

Isn't it amazing how the mind works? I was watching a flock of sparrows on my bird feeders the other afternoon and the words of that song just came floating into my mind. I didn't see the film but the title song was very popular at the time and obviously stuck. And, of course, sparrows don't actually sing they chirp and babble on in all sorts of ways but none of their utterings could remotely be described as song. Not withstanding all of this, sparrows are quite entertaining to watch. They are nothing, if not, quarrelsome. I have a large colony of them, apart from the fact that I feed the birds I also have a very large clump of thick trees and plants. A couple of apple trees have been taken over by a Clematis Montana and a Russian Creeper, together, these two climbers have entangled themselves in and around the trees to form an, almost, impenetrable mass which is huge. This mass of vegetation serves to provide a roosting place for the sparrows, they also build nests within it. I suppose it pretty much provides everything they could hope for in a roosting site. Being so dense, even when the leaves have dropped, the vines ensure a wind free location and the centre of the tangle is so dense that, save for the very hardest downpours, it remains dry, the rain running off in a way similar to a thatch. This mass also attracts a number of wrens which spend hours creeping around within it like little mice.In fact when I first saw one I actually thought it was a mouse. 

The number of sparrows, I suppose like many other species of birds, have declined significantly in recent years.Once again we have the dramatic changes in agricultural practices to thank for many of these declines and, not least the widespread and, I am afraid, indiscriminate use of chemicals upon the land. But in the case of the sparrow, I suspect, the improved machinery of today has also had an impact. The modern combine harvesters do not drop or fail to collect anything like the amount of grain which the old techniques and machinery did. In the old days, threshing, bagging up grain into sacks, and winnowing, (which was the process of sorting grain from the weed seed mixed with it ), all served to provide lots of grain being spilled onto the ground in and around the farmyard. This, in turn, provided lots of food for seed eating birds like the sparrow. I well remember the huge flocks of sparrows which, for example, could be seen on Dean Farm especially during the harvesting period. It should also be remembered that the grain harvest in those days was not completed in a few short days as it is now. The harvest, depending upon acreage, could then have taken two or three weeks to complete.

The sparrow and rat populations were then such that sparrow and ratting clubs were a common rural pastime. Men and boys would devote lots of spare time in the pursuit of both these species.These clubs were generally supported by the farmers and I suppose helped to keep losses down and damage to grain down a bit. Ratting was pursued with packs of terriers in the fields and hedgerows and in barns and shed etc. They were also shot at day and at night, I have spent many hours at Dean Farm, as a boy, rat shooting. Lights would be rigged up and when the rats came out to feed we would shoot them with air rifles. A very popular past time it was too.Rats quickly become used to lights and, of course are eager feeders. Together this meant we always had lots of targets to shoot at. Sparrows were also shot and caught in bigger numbers by a variety of home -made traps. These were usually wire netting structures with trap doors. They were bated with grain which enticed the birds to enter. The trap doors would be held up by a peg which had a string attached to it. When a sufficient number of birds were in the trap, the string would be pulled and the door would drop enclosing the birds within. 

The village church in Kingsley also provided nesting sites for sparrows, the large metal, funnel like tops to the drain pipes were of particular favour and provided a rich source of sparrows eggs for little boys who, legally then, collected birds egg as a hobby. I wish I had a pound for every time I have scaled up the drain pipes of the church. 

The trees in the church yard also provided nesting sites for the, now rare, tree sparrow. They particularly liked the holly trees which was a bit of problem as accessing their nests usually involved getting badly scratched. I wonder if there are still tree sparrows nesting in the holly today? I would like to think there are.

Of course, egg collecting became illegal in 1954 when I was nine, I have to say, country boys were not impressed by that piece of legislation. Personally, I don't think that egg collecting, in it's then form, did a great deal of damage, for a start, money was not involved. But nothing stays the same and life moves on. In general terms politicians spend a great deal of their time banning things and continue to do so, but has life improved as a result? I somehow doubt it.   

Butterflies

It hardly seems possible but the butterfly transect walking season is fast reaching its end for another year. The weekly walks begin at the beginning of April and go on until the end of September. So it looks to me as though there are about five left to do. How time flies. The transect walks have been conducted each year for some thirty years and provide all sorts of valuable information, not least, the winners and losers in terms of species each year. This year started slowly due to the rather dismal weather throughout April and into May. However, things did pick up and I am very happy to be able to say, as of last week, numbers of butterflies counted were up on last year by eighty one percent. Of course, I am talking Dorset, I don't, as yet, have the nationwide figures. I imagine this increase is, if not totally, partially due to the very long, hot dry spell we had last year. This would have provided ideal conditions and, no doubt, enabled a successful breeding season. 

One of the big disappointments last year was the sudden collapse in numbers of the, previously, abundant Tortoiseshell butterfly. It really was incredible how suddenly and significantly the numbers of that species dropped. However, I am glad to say, this year once again my Buddleia bush is covered in Tortoiseshells feeding on the nectar. Red Admirals, a favourite of mine, have had a very good year and they too are regular visitors to my garden. Readers may have seen in the press the articles regarding Painted Ladies which are a migratory butterfly. In any event, this year they have come to these shores in great numbers. This would appear to be an event which occurs every few years and this year is one of them. Here in Dorset they have turned up in good numbers and have featured on the transect counts for several weeks now. They also have a liking for my Buddleia and most days there are two or three of them to be seen.

On the transect walks, which I do in two of The Woodland Trust woods, numbers of Speckled Woods, Meadow Browns, Gatekeepers and Marbled Whites have been good. Silver Washed Fritillaries have remained much the same. There has been an increase in several of the blue varieties of butterflies which is pleasing as they are such beautifully coloured specimens. 

One of the woods, Duncliffe, which I look after and do the transect walk in has a flower meadow on the approach to the wood. This has been deliberately created from wild flower seed sourced locally. It provides superb feeding for all sorts of butterflies, bees, grasshoppers and crickets and all manner of other insect life. If ever there was an example of the benefits of not using agricultural chemicals on a piece of land, this flower meadow is surely it. The amount and range of insect life it supports is quite amazing. It is a sobering thought that once upon a time, and not that long ago, certainly within my lifetime, most of our fields and meadows were like the Duncliffe one. How sad we have lost so much habitat. The good news is most of it could be reclaimed in equally short time if only the will was there to do it. I firmly believe what goes around comes around and there is growing evidence that farmers are beginning to come around to using less or no chemicals. If only there was a payment for doing so the trickle would, no doubt, become a rush.  

Photos and things

A few days ago I was going through an old box of photographs, mostly in black and white, when I came across a series of pictures which I had taken many years ago. Probably when I was still at school so, I am guessing, I was around twelve or thirteen years old. It really was a long time ago! However, the pictures in question were of tawny old chicks. My boyhood friend, Lewis Batty, and I had been over to Alice Holt Forest just east of the old Kingsley station down near the Straits. As mentioned in an earlier article there was once a quite large pond in the fields beside the woods at a point where the woods began. At the eastern end of the pond was a raised walk way, probably around six feet high. Along this raised area were a row of trees and it was in one of these that the owls were found. There were three owlets and they were quite large and beginning to get their feathers. Lewis and I carefully took them out of the nest and took turns to photograph them. These were the photos I discovered in the old box. Apart from all of the memories associated with the photos, the thing that amazed me was the fact that, despite their age, they were all still in good condition with no fading. 

The clarity of the photos is particularly pleasing since they were taken with a very crude and inexpensive camera. Lewis and I did not have top of the range cameras but if we had owned the best cameras of that period they would have been far removed from anything the modern photographer is familiar with. But in spite of all this Lewis and I spent many happy hours pursuing our hobby in and around Kingsley. We were only really interested in photographing living creatures, birds, animals and butterflies being our chief targets. Because, of course, our cameras did not have telephoto lenses of any kind we had to get close to our subjects in order to get a decent picture. This meant that we had to employ all sorts of bush craft techniques. Things like crawling for long periods in long grass or scrub. Dressing up in camo gear and remaining still for prolonged periods of time. All of these things helped us to get some, surprisingly good, wildlife photos. 

On one occasion as we were wandering through a fairly recently planted area of the forest we came across a fawn. It remained motionless whilst we took many pictures of it. As we snapped away the fawns mother appeared and circled us at quite close quarters all the while making very threatening barking noises. We departed and she re-engaged with her offspring and no harm was done. 

Another one of our techniques was to squeak foxes. If and when we saw a fox we would conceal ourselves in a hedge or long grass and by means of wetting the back of our hands or wrists we would create a squeaking noise which was supposed to represent a rabbit or hare in distress. This worked very well and it proved efficient in attracting foxes to the noise and getting them well within good photographing distance. 

Butterflies were much less challenging as all we had to do was locate whatever species we wanted a picture of. It was also the case that in those days there were considerably more butterflies to be seen. No doubt due to the fact that farmers had not yet begun to spray chemicals all over their fields. In addition, and for the same reasons, there were considerably more wild flowers throughout the countryside which also contributed to the greater numbers of butterflies and insects in general. 

Unlike today’s children who seem to spend ever increasing amounts of time staring at mobile phones, tablets or computers various, we spent our time in the great outdoors. I often feel that today’s children lose so much by their incessant pursuit of technology. In the good old days we had to make our own enjoyments they were not handed to us on a plate or via a magic plastic box of tricks.I hear they call it progress !!!!

Gardening, etc

I happen to be lucky enough to have a large garden, I suppose it is in the region of half an acre and I enjoy looking after it. Since we have lived here I have endeavoured to create a wild life garden in order to encourage both birds and insects, butterflies and bees. This has involved planting quite a lot of trees. Many years ago when we lived in Surrey we belonged to The Cottage Garden Society and, as members, we attended their summer evening garden visits. These were always very pleasant as they involved a tour of a garden followed by a picnic, a good old natter and a plant buying opportunity. A very good way of obtaining plants at a reasonable price. I recall a visit to a particular garden which was owned by a chap called Trevor and his partner. It was, as you might expect, created in the cottage garden style and it was stunning. But the thing I remember Trevor telling us was that gardens should be a series of rooms. His theory being, you walked from one room to another and each one was different, planted with differing sorts of plants and providing a different atmosphere and experience. This impressed me and I have followed that idea ever since. Incidentally, Trevor had written a number of books on the subject and was an acknowledged expert in his field. Sadly I don't remember his surname. 

In any event, my tree planting has been in an effort to construct a series of rooms and I now have a garden which provides that experience. Each area being different from the previous as you walk through. The main area has a lawn and a flower bed planted with cottage garden plants, roses around the house and lots of large pots and containers full, for the most part, of bee and butterfly attracting plants. Several honeysuckles and a buddleia complete the insect feeding stations. It works, on a sunny day all of the above are covered with several species of bees and we also have a healthy butterfly population. The trees create, if you like, the walls of the rooms. I also have a Japanese garden, a large pond, which is enclosed and covered and a wild area with just a few paths cut through it. The pond area is enclosed with fence and netting overhead as we have a local heronry and I have even had the odd visit from a kingfisher. Not to mention, one weekend when we were away, a devastating visit from an otter. The trees I have planted consist of oak, field maple, willows various, cob nut and walnut and the odd hawthorn and blackthorn which I have allowed to grow into quite large specimens. All in all they attract a wide range of birds and an occasional, unwelcome, grey squirrel. Why unwelcome ? These non-indigenous pests are omnivorous and therefore they eat the eggs and fledglings of song birds, indeed any birds,not to mention the damage they do to trees. 

My back, and boundary hedge, has a big and, so far, healthy elm tree group within it. I hope they have a degree of resistance to the dreaded Dutch Elm disease. So far, and they are now over thirty feet in height, they have remained unscathed . In most cases, I am told, the disease strikes before the young trees reach twenty feet so each year I watch carefully for any signs of illness but so far so good. My hedges around our field, which is beside the house and separated by a driveway, contain a variety of trees and shrubs and a good quantity of brambles which acts like a magnet for birds and insects especially when they are fruiting. So all in all,we manage to attract a wide range of wild life. This year, nesting in the garden, we have had three lots of bluetits, two great tits,three robins, a wren, three blackbirds, a pied wagtail and numerous sparrows. The sparrows nest in a large old clump of clematis which was here when we bought the place, it is very dense and provides the birds with shelter and, no doubt, some warmth. Apart from nesting in this mass they also roost in it throughout the winter.The above accounts only for the nests I have discovered in the garden and sheds, in fact I have a blackbird with fledglings in my workshop as I write. I am quite sure there have been many more nests in the hedges around the field, but my days of rummaging through thick and ancient hedgerows are, sadly, long gone. 

Readers, if there are any, that follow my jottings will perhaps recall in a previous article my comments regarding the rabbits which had taken up residence in my field and my fears that they may have succumbed to the fox or disease. Well, I am happy to report they are still around and doing well. In fact, the other morning when I went out to feed the animals one of their number had come to the top of the field in an area near the feed shed. He got a bit of a shock as Humphrey, my terrier was with me and gave chase. The bunny made it safely to the bramble patch at the bottom of the field with time to spare. The trouble is, now Humpers knows we have rabbits he keeps clearing off in search of them every time he comes out with me which is twice a day. I don't imagine the rabbits are in any great danger from him but if Bertie, our lurcher, gets involved it could be another story. Oh well, as they say, that's life in the sticks.

Surveys

As of the first of April life changes in the Yeomans household in that I begin undertaking wildlife surveys again. First there are the transect walks on behalf of Butterfly Conservation and these take place between the first of April and the last day of September each year. One walk each week and, since I cover Duncliffe and Fifehead woods, I am committed to two walks a week. Duncliffe being the longest with eight sections and Fifehead has five sections. Certain conditions have to be met in order that a walk can take place. The temperature has to be over thirteen degrees, the amount of sunlight has to be taken into account as does the wind and time of day. Walks take place between 1045 and 1545. It is usually possible to fit the walks in but there are the odd weeks when the weather and conditions are just not suitable and a walk is missed. So far this year all of my walks have been completed but last week was testing. 

Early butterflies are Brimstones, orange tips, speckled woods, common and holly blues with the odd red admirals and peacocks. I have also been fortunate enough to record the lovely little small copper which has appeared again in a meadow beside Duncliffe woods. Last year I was recording the odd one or two of the small coppers but so far this year it has been eight or nine which is very encouraging. The meadow in question is, incidentally, of an old unspoiled type containing lots of wild flowers. Just like meadows used to be before farmers began the widespread use of pesticides and weed killers. 

In general terms last year was a fairly good year for most butterfly species and increases in numbers were recorded in these parts for most. However, the small tortoiseshell did not do well with numbers dramatically down.

At the same time as the transect walks begin so do the dormouse surveys and I attend two of those. One in a small copse called Oysters copse which belongs to the Wiltshire Trust for Nature Conservation. The other is Goblin Coombe in North Somerset where the surveys are undertaken by members of the Somerset Trusts mammal group. Both areas are of old woodland and contain a wide variety of trees and shrubs and contain the elusive little dormouse. The first survey in Oysters proved negative as far as dormice were concerned. However, almost half of the dormouse boxes surveyed contained nesting tits. Blue tits, great tits and marsh tits. One wonders how on earth these little birds find the entrance hole to the boxes as they are located at the back of the box and against the tree trunk. Bird boxes, of course have their holes facing outwards and are obvious and easy to locate. But find the entrances they do and then occupy the boxes for just over a month until the fledglings have flown the nest. The other, less welcome, squatters are bees, These take over the odd box or two and are usually very aggressive when disturbed. 

I missed the first Goblin Coombe survey due to a post opp. infection but six individuals were recorded. The second survey, Mays, took place yesterday and we were lucky enough to record nine individuals. Some boxes had two mice in them and one had three. All were torpid and remained fast asleep during the process of sexing and weighing them. The smallest weighed ten grams and the heaviest seventeen grams. All were in good condition and, clearly, had survived the winter hibernation. It never fails to thrill when a box is opened and inside is a little dormouse they are just the most delightful of little creatures. Although all nine were found to be asleep this is not uncommon as the dormouse has the ability to induce this state of temporary hibernation as and when they feel like it. No doubt, when the weather is a bit unfavorable or perhaps when food is scarce. They can remain in this torpid state for a few hours or a day or two which is quite handy. When found the mice feel very cold and one could be forgiven for imagining that they were dead. Often they are snoring and occasionally the warmth from the hand of the surveyor will cause the mouse to partially wake. All quite charming. So there you have it, that’s what surveying is all about as far as I am concerned, a joy to be involved in. Anyone reading this and thinking they might like to get involved can do so by contacting their local Trust for Nature Conservation. In my experience I have found them to be helpful and willing to provide the necessary contacts. The good news is you don’t have to be a member if you don’t want to. 

More fishing

Having watched a group of young people, all with their heads down, fiddling with tablets and mobile phones it occurred to me just how different life is today for our youngsters. As a result I got thinking about the stuff I and my friends did in Kingsley when we were of a similar age to the above mentioned group. I suspect the modern youngster walks very little and spends hours sitting with their gadgetry exercising only their fingers. It seems the newspapers are, almost daily, warning us of an obesity crisis among our youth. Trust me, there was no such crisis in my childhood days. Not least because we walked miles every day in order to perform some task or another, fishing, birds nesting, collecting nuts, blackberries, fungi etc. depending upon the season and or time of year. We left home after breakfast and, for the most part, did not return until tea time. Apart from all of the exercise we didn't have anything like the food available to us that the modern child enjoys, the war was not long over and rationing went on for quite a while. 

The fishing aspect of our activities, apart from the village pond, took place in the river at the back of the common and extended from Shortheath Common and Oakhanger all the way down to the rear of the Sleaford garage. That is a lot of walking, no doubt, amounting to many miles. 

Of course, we didn't do the whole length in any given day but we did cover long distances in pursuit of the wild brown trout which was plentiful in the river in those days. 

The other great joy, as far as the river was concerned, was tiddler fishing. This was done in the feeder stream which ran from, north of the village, behind Dean Farm under the B3004 and down hill towards where Mr and Mrs Waters farmed, before entering the river. It was the area behind the Waters farm which was the most popular with us as, in those days, it teamed with small fish. I suppose the close proximity to the main river contributed to this abundance. At the time my best mate, Lewis Batty, lived in the old chapel cottage. The cottage had a tinned roof lean-to and it was in this that we housed our collection of containers holding our fishy captives. The stream in which they had been caught was not a deep one, probably for the most part, about a foot deep. Not having lovely waterproof footwear available to us then we simply took off our shoes and socks, rolled up our trouser legs and paddled, this was in the summer months! In order to capture the tiddlers we used jam jars, bottles and netting, if we could get it. There was, I remember, a significant ridge worn away under the bank of the left hand side of the stream as it flowed to the river. Under this all manner of little fish would take refuge from our efforts to catch them. But catch them we did and we did so by pushing a jar into the ridge cavity downstream and them by means of a hand of foot slide the fish towards the jar causing the tiddlers in front to dart down and into the waiting jar. We caught dozens, in hindsight, far too many. There were bullheads, loach, (these we referred to respectively as dog and cat fish ), sticklebacks, minnows, small trout and very occasionally, fresh water lampreys.

It would interest me greatly to learn if there are still tiddlers in the stream and if so, do today's village boys go fishing for them. Sadly, I suspect the answer to both questions is a no, however, I would be absolutely delighted to be wrong on this assumption. The last time I visited Kingsley, a little over a year ago, I attempted to drive over and have a look at the river, a task that was always possible when I lived in the village, but found the way barred by military barriers. Not only that but whilst I was attempting to turn around a small detachment of rifle carrying troops came jogging up the path. It would appear the military has taken far more control of the common than in days gone by. Apart from occasional maneuvers, and they were very occasional, and the odd military radio lorry, not much was seen of a military presence. People used the common pretty much as they liked, is it still so? I am aware that the common is now designated an S.S.S.I and I wonder if that has had an impact at all? I would be very interested to learn the answers to these question, perhaps some kind soul will let me know.   

Another Year

My years these days are very much built around seasonal activities. Once again I have reached the end of two seasons and begun another. First to end was the butterfly transect walks which ended in September. Having completed two a week since the beginning of April my weekly routine changes quite a lot. No longer do I have to consider the temperature, wind and sunshine each day in order to decide if a walk is going to be possible. There are rules for walking which are designed to provide the best conditions in which to count butterflies. This year was a good one with regard to butterfly walks as, throughout the walking season, I was able to complete a walk on every week. No blanks. 

The season was also good as we had the long dry spell during the summer which meant conditions were, for the most part, good for butterflies. In fact, on my two transect walks, I recorded a number of species not previously seen or not seen on those particular walks for many years. The White Letter Hairstreak, Argos Brown and White Admiral being a few. Also a good increase in Small Coppers. Generally there was a big increase in recorded numbers on the previous year. Although Small Tortoishells were down in numbers. In Dorset the good news is that numbers across the whole county were up just over fifty percent on recorded numbers for 2017. One interesting feature of this year's observations, which I came across during the hot dry spell, was the fact that all normal sources of water had dried up and consequently I observed large numbers of butterflies taking to the bottom of ditches. This was clearly an attempt to get at any moisture which might remain and by no means normal behaviour.

The next season to end for me was the dormouse survey season which runs from March through to the end of October. My involvement in these surveys has been to join teams on three surveys each month, two in Somerset and another just over the border into Wiltshire. One of the Somerset survey areas being right at the north of the county near Cheddar in the wonderfully named Goblin Coombe. Dormouse surveys involve checking nest boxes placed on trees and the number of boxes varies from fifty up to around eighty. Each box is opened and if a dormouse is found to be present it is weighed and its sex recorded and all data is then sent to The People Trust For Endangered Species. This year has been a productive one for dormouse numbers although the long dry summer did appear to keep the dormice out of the boxes for a couple of months. Quite simply, we concluded, it was just too hot and dry for comfort in a small wooden box. Normally, it appears, quite moist conditions within the boxes favours dormouse occupation of the boxes when not breeding. In fact on two occasions I found sleeping dormice in boxes which contained nesting material which was almost soggy. However, when we got into the breeding season in August / October we found good numbers of dormice. In fact on both of those months at Goblin Coombe we recorded dormouse numbers in the twenties. The additional good news was the fact that all mice weighed were sufficiently fat to ensure they would survive their hibernation through the winter months. This tells us that their food supply during the summer had been good enabling body weight to be achieved.

The other good news, well at least as far as I am concerned, is the fact that I have now got my own Dormouse survey licence. This has taken two years to achieve but now means I am able to conduct surveys on my own and to help train other people who want a licence.

So October brought the end of the recording season but it also heralded the beginning of the beating season and I now find myself attending a number of local shoots each week. In fact most weeks I am out beating four times. This year I was invited to beat on a mid-Dorset shoot which has down land with high hills and deep valleys. the views are quite simply stunning and since, so far,the weather has been kind to us it has been a delight. Not only that, it keeps this old man pretty fit. 

Dormice Part Two

Since writing last month I have been involved in several dormouse surveys in both Wiltshire and Somerset.The aim of these surveys is to provide the P.T.E.S with a comprehensive picture of the ups and downs of the dormouse population and have data to make comparisons each year. If a dormouse box is found to contain a dormouse it is carefully removed from its position on the tree, having securely blocked the hole into the box with a bung, and placed into a large polythene bag. The mouse is then let out into the bag, the box removed and the mouse caught, weighed, sexed, aged and finally replaced into the box and relocated upon the tree from whence it came. All of this process is overseen by a licence holder and the mice are none the worse for their experience.The great advantage in handling dormice is the fact that, for the most part, they don’t bite. There are records in these parts of an exception to this rule in the form of a black dormouse which will administer a fairly savage bite if found and handled. The fact that the creature is black is, in itself, very unusual. 

Quite often when opening a dormouse box it will be found to contain a Wood Mouse or a yellow Necked Mouse and anyone foolish enough to pick one of these up, without extreme caution,will almost certainly be bitten and hard. Last year I was on a survey with a licence holder and a very young female student. The young lady in question had seen movement when checking a box and had placed the box into the polythene bag believing the occupant to be a dormouse.It quickly became apparent the mouse inside was a wood mouse. Having exited the box the mouse displayed no intention of returning to it. So, said young lady, declared she would catch it and pop it back into the box. I casually asked how she was going to achieve this to which she replied she would pick it up. Asked if she had ever picked one up before her reply was negative. I told her wood mice bite, but no, there would be no problem she said. In went her hand, grabbed the mouse, the mouse bit. It latched on to her index finger and sank its considerable teeth in deep. She will never do that again! Incidentally,biting mouse varieties can be handled, albeit carefully, by a process known as scruffing. This involves manoeuvring the mouse into the corner of the bag and then gripping it behind its head by the scruff of its neck. Thus it cannot bite your. This should only be done by a competent person ….bites are not nice !   

Over the recent surveys I have been involved in we have also found large numbers of boxes containing nesting blue tits, great tits and marsh tits. Also, on two occasions, bees. In the case of the birds it seems to me quite incredible how they find the entrance hole into a box as it is against the tree trunk and cannot be seen unless it is approached from the trunk itself. But,find the entrance they do, and then go on to rear their young within. Whilst mentioning the positioning of the holes in dormouse boxes, we found a whole range of the boxes,on a recent survey which had been turned around the other way. No doubt by some well meaning idiot who thought them to be bird boxes.

In most areas the monthly surveys do not take place in August as this is the month in which dormice are having their young which, when first born, are both tiny and pink.

If any readers are interested in becoming involved in dormouse surveys this can be achieved by contacting the local mammal group of your County Wild Life Trust. Details of leaders and dates etc. are to be found on the internet. On the website of The Peoples Trust For Endangered Species can be found a huge amount of information regarding dormice and the surveying process etc.. All of which is free to download. I am fairly confident that there will be surveys conducted in and around Kingsley as I know from my childhood there that dormice were to be found in many of the woods and hangers in that area. 

But, be warned, dormouse surveying is a very addictive practice, once you have found and handled one of these delightful little creatures you will be hooked for life. To hold a torpid dormouse in your hands and observe its delicate little features is nothing short of magical. 

2017/18 Shooting season

As I write, towards the end of February, it hardly seems possible that yet another shooting season has come and gone. I seem to recall, as a child, I was told time gets slower as you get older, it seems to me to be the other way around. Be that as it may, yet another season has passed and during all the days I was beating there were only two or three which were wet. Mercifully they were only part days of rain. Believe me, there is nothing worse than starting a day in the rain and continuing to get wet until it is time to go home many hours later. Not good for man or dog. It all becomes particularly unpleasant if the guns stop for lunch. What this means, in practical terms, is the beaters hang around in their cold and wet clothing trying to dry out, knowing full well they are in for a second soaking when the guns return and shooting continues. Fortunately, the keeper on the shoot I go to most often has made a rule that the guns shoot through and lunch at the end of the day. This has been a great success and it also ensures that guns are not handled by people whom have had the odd tipple with their lunch. Say no more! So, for the most part, we had dry days and many of them were sunny and very pleasant. Of course, nothing is ever straightforward, as,on sunny days the pheasants are not in the woods, they are out along the hedgerows dusting and basking in the sunshine. All this means they have to be driven back into the woods and on to the flushing points in order to be presented before the guns. This all takes time and a lot of walking but in the sun it is rather a nice way to spend a few hours. 

Bertie, my young Lurcher, was a year old at the beginning of the season. This was as I planned it because I wanted to be able to take him beating and to begin the job of teaching him his part in the shooting calendar. Any Lurcher worth his salt wants to work and the selection of a puppy from working stock is just the start of the process. During the weeks and months leading up to the season, basic obedience has to be taught and a good standard achieved. There is absolutely no point in arriving at a shoot with a dog which is out of control, the most likely outcome of such a situation is to be sent home by the keeper. A bad dog can very quickly ruin the day's shooting and that would not be a good thing for man or beast. Fortunately, Bertie was receptive and took well to training, he was a quick learner and, I am happy to claim, puts a lot of more experienced dogs to shame. He comes back when called, he stays when told to do so and I can drop him in the down position with a hand signal and at long distances. All of which commends him to shoot keepers. There is always a worry with a new dog that it might be gun shy. Some dogs hear the bang of a gun and are gone. This is something which, as far as I am aware, is with them for life and, I think, incurable. However, thankfully, Bertie does not suffer from that problem. 

Lurchers are by nature, and for the most part, quite clever dogs. I say for the most part as, with any breed or strain of dog, there are always the idiots which appear to be beyond training. The makeup of a proper Lurcher usually includes Greyhound and Collie. The Greyhound being the fastest dog and, therefore, providing speed and the Collie being brainy and providing intelligence. Together these two qualities should make for a very good working dog and, trained well, usually do. One of the biggest matters to overcome in the shooting field, when working a Lurcher, is the fact that they are gazehounds. This means they hunt by sight and not by scent. Working by sight has its benefits but it is also desirable for the dog to use its nose as well. Bertie took to locating and flushing pheasants by sight as though he had been born for it. Which, since he was brought into the world for hunting, is not that surprising. However, it has taken most of the season to train him into using his nose as well. This, really, is just a question of regular and frequent contact with the pheasants in cover where sighting is difficult if not. impossible. The nose, therefore, becomes an essential part in both locating and flushing the birds. Well, don't you just know it, at almost exactly the moment when the penny dropped and Bertie got the idea that nose equals pheasants the season came to an end. Fortunately, dogs have a very good memory and my expectation is, at the beginning of next season, Bertie will pick up pretty much where he left off. So what do we do now and until October when it all starts again? Well there will be a bit a rabbiting and chasing the odd grey squirrel. Training never stops and most days when we go out there is a session of training, all of which is, wrapped up as a game and a fun thing to do. Also long summer walks to keep us both fit, well assuming that is, that we get a summer. 

Rabbits

Those people who have read my articles in the past might well have concluded that I have a bit of a soft spot for the humble rabbit. Having said that, I have hunted, shot and ferreted rabbits throughout most of my life but I have missed seeing the little blighters hopping around. Having moved, fifteen years ago, to an area in Dorset which didn’t seem to have a rabbit in sight I had all but given up any hope seeing them around. Well, lo and behold, about two years ago I went out as usual to feed the horse and there, at the bottom of my field, as bright as a button was a rabbit. This was cause for considerable excitement, the said rabbit stayed around and grandchildren were taken to see it and we were all highly delighted. However, my excitement was tempered with a large amount of caution as I was well aware we have a pretty healthy fox population in the area. Not least because the railway which passes some distance from us has a man-made embankment which is probably the best fox earth location for miles around. Quite apart from the fact that railways are no longer attended by gangers who once walked the lines and kept them trimmed and in good order, that embankment was constructed of fox friendly material and provided an obvious location for both foxes and badgers. There are few other banks in this area and the soil is a very heavy clay so not at all suitable for any animal that digs it’s home in the ground. This, I guess, is also the reason that there are few rabbits in these parts. 

Well, having lost numerous poultry to the fox over the years I didn’t hold out much hope for the survival of my rabbit. To my great joy, after several months, the rabbit was still around and then one morning there was rabbit number two. I do have a very large bramble thicket in the bottom corner of my field and both rabbits seemed to come and go from within its depths. The months rolled on and for the most part the rabbits kept appearing. There were periods of a few weeks when I saw nothing of them and then all of a sudden there they would be again. Then there were three. Not only have my bunnies avoided the fox but they have also avoided the dreaded myxy. 

Time moved on and the rabbits became a common sight. Then it was, as part of my ongoing garden development, I decided to construct a new flower bed. This was to be stocked with butterfly and bee friendly flowers of the cottage garden type. The new bed was to go in a large area of garden to the rear of the house where my pond, polytunnel and Japanese garden are located. These are separated from the garden immediately bordering the house by a fence and big hedge so the area is quite secluded. The new bed was constructed and the plants in place, all nicely watered in and looking fine. Fine, that was, until about three days later when I went to inspect them only to find that with the exception of two or three, all plants had been eaten down to the ground. The truth dawned, my lovely little rabbits had eaten my plants. There was no question of shooting them, I had given the little devils sanctuary. Plan B was wire netting, this was put in place and the whole flower bed was now secure behind the fencing. I am happy to report that all plants recovered and are now, once again doing well. 

A few days later I planted some Curly and Black Kale in the polytunnel. Nice plants, very healthy and strong. A couple of days later I went into the tunnel to check that the plants had all taken only to find they had all been eaten off to soil level. It didn’t take long to find a hole in the side of the tunnel just about bunny size, the little devils had now gained entry and had before them was an array of veg and salads to gorge upon. The polytunnel is surrounded by a four foot wide raised bed in which, amongst, other things, Rhubarb grows. So, more wire was purchased and the complete outside of the tunnel fenced to a height of four feet. During the process of putting the wire up I almost stepped on one rabbit which was hiding beneath the Rhubarb leaves. Behind the polytunnel is an area where I had been depositing the soil removed from where the new, previously mentioned, hut is being built. This pile of soil is due to be used to create another flower bed. A few days ago I wandered down there to ponder over the shape and size of the proposed new bed only to find my rabbits had moved in. I now have my own rabbit warren, there are holes every where. Don’t you just love them. Sadly, I was talking to my neighbour at the Harvest Supper a few days ago and he told me his colony of rabbits had gone down with Myxy. His farm is opposite me and quite large, his rabbits are at the far end of his land which is quite a way from me so I am hoping the dreaded disease does not reach me, but I am not over optimistic. 

The Dormouse

Since taking up voluntary work with The Woodland Trust and becoming their warden for two woods close to where I live it has seemed to me increasingly likely that both woods in question have a population of Dormice. Both woods are ancient and have the sort of trees favoured by the mice. Especially hazel. There is also an abundance of honeysuckle which Dormice use to construct their nests. However, believing the Dormouse is present is one thing confirming it is quite another. 

Growing up in Kingsley I was familiar with Dormice as they were present in many of the copses which existed in and around the village. Of course, in those days the copses were worked, woodmen coppiced them and used the hazel sticks to make hurdles. Pea sticks and bean poles were other products of their work. Working, as they did, the woodmen often came across the nests of dormice and, in those days, dormice were popular as pets. Not least because they don’t usually bite when picked up. Compared to most other mice which do bite, the Dormouse is very docile. This fact was well recognised by one George Cansdale who was an animal expert, television celebrity and author. I happened to have one of his books on pets, I think, for boys. In any event within its pages among many other animals, both domestic and wild, was a section on the Dormouse telling the reader of its suitability as a pet. Although, as previously mentioned not being bitten by a Dormouse , no doubt, contributed to Mr. Cansdales recommendation as a pet. There is no doubt at all that Dormice are the most beautiful little creatures. However, pet wise, the fact that they are nocturnal would seem to me to be a tiny bit of a problem. After all who wants a pet that only comes out at night ? 

Be that as it may, today the question of having a Dormouse as a pet is quite out of the question as they are heavily protected both under British and E.U law. Not only are the mice themselves protected everything to do with them is also. Their environment and their nest have far reaching protection in law. It is illegal to handle a Dormouse without a licence. Times have changed dramatically. 

So it was that I found myself, just outside Exeter, at Acorn Environment where I had gone on Monday to attend a Dormouse course as the first step towards getting my own licence. In order to proceed with any sort of project in the afore mentioned woods that I look after, a licence is needed. It is lawful to put up boxes and tubes in order to establish if Dormice are present in an area. However, at the first sign of their presence a licence is needed to proceed with further research. Handling a Dormouse is illegal without said licence. It takes about two years to get a licence and the applicant has to demonstrate that he or she has spent considerable time under the supervision of an existing licence holder and is fully competent. 

The course was part theory, habitat, law, protection etc. and part practical. This meant a trip to a local reserve in order to check long established nest boxes. The course instructor was a licence holder so we were legally able to handle and weigh any mice that we encountered. The day was hot and sunny, a perfect one to be in the woods on such a mission. Our search for the dormouse was, to start with fruitless, all the boxes checked in the first wood were empty. However, we got lucky in woods number two when in the fifth box we checked there were two Dormice in residence. 

Oh how delightful these little creatures are, so perfectly formed for their environment. Tiny feet with unusually large toe nails which enable them to cling to and climb up most surfaces.Our two specimens turned out to be male and female. We weighed them and quickly returned them to their box where, hopefully they will produce a litter of little Dormice. 

So, for the next few months nest box building is on the agenda and, although the mice tend to take quite a time before they use a box, I am hopeful that in due course I shall find these little beauties within my two woods. 

Butterflies

As a result of a very mild and sunny Saturday 18th of February there was, in these parts, a bit of a flush of butterflies. Having noticed some myself and read reports from my email box I began to, once again, think about butterflies and the forthcoming summer. 

Since retiring I have spent quite a lot of my spare time in the summer doing butterfly transect walks in two local woods for the Butterfly Conservation Society. This involves following a pre-planned walk which is divided up into sections. The walker records all butterflies seen in each section and then submits them to the central records office. This has been going on for some thirty years and has provided very valuable information into the butterfly population in general and the winners and losers, in particular, each year. It is a very pleasant way of spending a few hours a week and takes place between April and September.I have become hooked because this butterfly watching business gets very addictive. There is the constant hope that a, hitherto, unrecorded specimen will present itself. I always carry a camera with me and can, most of the time, get a picture of anything special. 

My particular love of butterflies, as with many things that make me tick, goes all the way back to my childhood days in Kingsley in general and to Mrs. Morris, my school teacher,in particular. For, as I have mentioned in previous articles, Mrs. Morris had a great love of the outdoors and the creatures which could be found around the village, on the common and in the pond. Our class room was usually well supplied with jars, tanks, and boxes of caterpillars, eggs from various moths and butterflies, fish, tadpoles etc etc. For me this was a great and abiding influence for which I remain forever grateful to that lady. 

That said, I guess, that like most people when holiday time comes around I find myself looking for a book or two to take with me. I am not generally into novels preferring rather more factual stuff. So it was last summer when I began my usual search for a couple of decent volumes to accompany me across the channel and divert me from all of the other boring things like drinking and eating etc. which holidays demand. Well I came across a gem, at least I think it is. As I shall relate, it came as something of a great surprise to me as much of the book relates to matters around Kingsley and North East Hampshire. 

The book, In Pursuit of Butterflies ….A fifty Year Affair, is written by Matthew Oates. Whilst I had come across his name, probably in a magazine or something, I was by no means familiar with him or his work. Matthew worked for many years as an adviser to the National Trust, his expertise being in matters relating to habitat and butterflies and moths. The book deals extensively with his school days and the more I read the more I warmed to Matthew as much of his school days were spent in pursuit of the same creatures I and the other pupils of Kingsley school had also pursued. 

Matthew lived near Selborne for several years and during that period he scoured a wide area in search of butterflies. At the top of his list was the magnificent Purple Emperor. A butterfly, incidentally, that I have never seen in the flesh. I found this all the more surprising as Matthew refers to populations of this butterfly in Alice Holt Forest and in the Straits enclosure which were areas that I frequented during the whole of my time in Kingsley. Whilst I knew there were butterflies, in those days, in great numbers, all around those places, I was blissfully unaware of the Emperors presence. Noar Hill, near Selborne, and the East Hampshire hangers feature extensively in the book. 

Frankly I was amazed that I had not come across Mr. Oates before or learned of his work, but hey ho, better late than never. It was a joy to spend holiday time in France reading of my old hunting grounds and all of the wonderful species to be found in the area. An easy and pleasant style of writing with plenty of humour and loads of local interest, I have confidence that anyone with an interest in that part of Hampshire and the flora and fauna living within it will not be disappointed with this book. Oh, and if you happen to like cricket, Matthew is an avid fan and the book contains bits and pieces relating to cricketing events. Don’t miss it.