The customer is always trite

I have, in the past, been known to write posts based around two of my favourite topics: technology and customer service. Today I was offered the best of both worlds, and so I can combine my two passions into one post.

I was in the office attempting to print when the printer made one of those noises that you recognise as being the precursor to bad news. Not a mechanical fail noise, but one of the inbuilt notification noises that announces, with a kind of cheery disposition, that something is not right. Further investigation revealed that the printer was out of ink, and specifically black ink. I had not heard any form of warning noise to suggest that ink levels were of concern, and so the sudden cessation of printing rights was something of a shock.

The printer refused to print any documents until such time as a new printer had been installed. Having removed the offending cartridge, the printer told me, via the tiny screen of news, that I should switch off the printer until the cartridge was replaced, in order to prevent any damage to the machine. I did as instructed, and hit the off switch, only for another notification to reveal that I should, under no circumstances switch off the printer without a cartridge in case of damage to the machine. This seemed something of a catch 22 to me, but in the end I had to reinstall the empty cartridge to combat the problem. The printer, of course, took great delight in beeping again to notify me that the cartridge was empty and that it needed replacing before it would resume normal printing duties.

Without a spare cartridge in the office, I made my way later in the day to PC World (presumably one of the less successful theme park names in existence) where I found rows upon rows of printer cartridges laid out for me to select from. Having foreseen this exact circumstance, I was able to produce the number and type of cartridge for the store assistant, and locate the replacement instantly. By sheer good fortune, the cartridge I wanted was available on a buy one get one half price deal.

Arriving at the till to claim my discount, I was asked whether this was a business expense, and whether I would be requiring a VAT receipt. I said it was, and that I was.  For some reason, this necessitated a move away from the main checkout to a desk with a computer and a chair. I have no idea why, but I had to register various work details with the receipt man before he could print a VAT receipt for me. This has never occurred to me when attempting to procure a receipt previously, and the process took far longer than was necessary, with him having to type and retype my name, scan the print cartridge multiple times, and wait for the printer to kick into action. How ironic it would have been if his printer had, at that very moment, run out of ink.

After an eternity had passed, receipt man was finally able to give me the receipt, which consisted of at least two pieces of printed A4 paper confirming my details, and several till receipts. To contain all paperwork in one place, receipt man searched, in vain, for a stapler at the desk with the computer. Realising that there was not one present, he made his way to the main checkout, where he did indeed locate a stapler. Receipt man then took at least four attempts to staple the paperwork together, as someone had vandalised the stapler so that it produced a chewed hole in the paper with sharp staple ends sticking out. 

Finally my stapled paperwork was complete and I was free to go, but in one final desperate act of inefficiency I set off the alarm when leaving the store, because receipt man had failed to notice the protection tag on the packaging. I think at this point he sensed my utter loathing for everything that he stood for, as he waved me through without even bothering to check if I had stashed another 16 cartridges in my pockets. Had I done so it would have been the world's longest and most painful shoplifting experience ever.   

Count me in!

I’ve been told that there are only three types of people in this world: those that can count, and those that can’t. For those that can’t, the numbers game can be something of mystery, or even a painful experience. But for those that can (and those that can’t!), numbers form the basis of most of the measurements by which we judge our lives. They represent targets, achievements and goals, they provide a benchmark against which we strive to improve or compete, and mark the passing of time to give context to those achievements.

So it is in conservation and birding. We count birds; whether to determine population trends over time or simply for competition with others or ourselves. We count numbers of individuals, breeding pairs, numbers of species, fledged young, and we do this repeatedly to assess the health or otherwise of a particular habitat or location, and then to see what happens in that place over time.

One particular place where this has been happening lately is the Isles of Scilly. The archipelago is a group of over 100 islands (depending on the tide) located 28 miles off the tip of Cornwall, with a permanent population of around 2,200 people. For the last nine years I have been privileged enough to visit the islands each autumn to lead guided walks for the RSPB on Tresco, one of the five inhabited islands. The purpose of the visit is to raise awareness of the work the RSPB are doing on the islands for wildlife, and success is largely judged on numbers: how many people we meet, how many walks we do, how much money we raise, how many members we make. But these numbers don’t tell the whole story here. Other numbers have started to become more important.

Storm clouds off Bryher

Back in 2013, a partnership project involving five different organisations began, with the aim of improving the productivity of breeding seabirds around the islands. About 20,000 individuals from 14 different species of seabird come to the Isles of Scilly to breed each year, but populations of most of them have been doing badly due to predation of eggs and chicks by rats. The Isles of Scilly Seabird Recovery Project aims to remove rats from St Agnes and Gugh, two of the most important seabird nesting areas, and started doing so in autumn 2013. The 84 inhabitants of the islands all signed letters of support for the proposal, and baiting began. Over just six weeks all signs of rats disappeared, and no rats have been seen since!

A survey tunnel

The knock on impact of this work was seen in 2014, when surveys revealed manx shearwater chicks on St Agnes and Gugh surviving to fledging – 10 of them in fact. And in 2015 there were 28 of them. This may seem like small fry, but this is where numbers come in. Not a single manx shearwater chick had been recorded by anyone on those islands in living memory. None. That’s zero productivity over perhaps 100 years. And now there are at least 28 chicks leaving the islands for a life at sea. Even better, storm petrel chicks have been confirmed in 2015 – the first for many years.

A Manx Shearwater chick

Conservation projects are rarely so successful so quickly, and we can only assess how well they are performing using data – without a baseline we would have nothing to compare to, and without rigorous, consistent survey techniques we would not be able to draw reliable conclusions. The Isles of Scilly Seabird Recovery Project is a fantastic example of what can be achieved through partnership working and community support, and of course an excellent example of how numbers have shown that success. Let’s just hope the surveyors were not among the five out of every four people who have problems with fractions.

Human Nature

I love what I do, largely because I do what I love. I've always enjoyed the great outdoors and been fascinated by wildlife, so I'm very fortunate (or massively skilful) to have a job that allows me to indulge in these passions. And sometimes I can forget what passions they are because it is, after all, still a job. But today I was suddenly struck by a few instances in this last week that remind me of those passions all over again.

Firstly, I had friends to visit with their young children. They are a very active and outdoorsy sort of family, and they encourage and nurture their children's inquisitiveness. We went out for a drive on Salisbury Plain, and stopped in a small area of grassland to go for a walk. We barely made it 50 yards from the truck as the kids were fascinated by literally everything. Each new creepy crawly deserved attention, each new butterfly was followed, and a rabbit hole was the perfect size to poke a brave face into. Young and eager eyes soaked up the novelty of it all, and revelled in it.

Family fun!

Secondly, I camped out on Saturday night with a friend. For one night, the phone was switched off, there was no music except the breeze, and no traffic, no lights and nothing to do except soak up the natural environment around us. At dusk, two foraging badgers, without realising we were stood there silently watching, strolled confidently to within ten paces of us, looked up, sniffed, and pottered off into the bushes. The sun went down and the stars came out, and in the night an owl shrieked and a stone-curlew called eerily to it's mate as it flew overhead: somehow a more intense and meaningful experience for the darkness.

A badger from a previous encounter

Thirdly, I saw a friend of mine, who also works in conservation, post a picture of a mum teaching her daughter about plants in a beautiful meadow. My friend's job is to educate people about grasslands such as this, and yet she spoke passionately about the importance and significance of this moment in the young girl's life. This was not because she was paid for it - she genuinely believed in the power of nature and people.

Picture stolen from my friend

Fourthly (is that a word?!), on a bright evening at the end of a day off, I sat in the garden with my housemate having a beer and enjoying the opportunity to discover what my small patch of back yard held. There were swifts screaming overhead, a blue tit dropped through the tree towards the seed feeders, and then we noticed a huge moth attempting to disguise itself against the fencing. And then a second of the same type. A quick peek in the ID book confirmed it was an eyed hawkmoth - a magnificent beast with bright blue spots on hidden underwings to ward off potential predators. Despite my many years of investigating nature, I can not recall ever having seen one of these before, despite it's apparently common status as a garden species.

Eyed Hawkmoth

Finally, I spoke to two of my colleagues who were working on Sunday at an 'Open Farm Sunday' event, representing the RSPB and the work of the local farmers for members of the public. Both said that on a beautiful sunny day they shared stories and experiences of nature with families, young and old, and had discussions about conservation and current contentious issues. Afterwards they went to a known site for turtle dove and were lucky enough to see one singing. This stunning species has undergone a massive decline in the UK and it is no exaggeration to say that they could go extinct in this country in the coming decade. And so my colleagues were delighted to see this one bird, a genuinely rare sighting these days, at the end of a day filled with people and nature.

The RSPB 'engaging' the public!

And that is the thought that occurred to me late on a Monday evening. All of these things are things that come to me through my passions, and through my job, yet none of them was 'work'. The boundaries of work and life have become so totally blurred that I can not put one down and pick the other up. I'm always 'working' in one sense, because I choose to live my life this way, and because I enjoy it.

The second thing that occurred to me was that all of my natural history highlights this week have been connected to people. Whilst I moan about and deride people as the cause of many environmental problems, they are also the most likely solution, and these cases give me cause for optimism. Yes they were all moments in nature, but they were shared moments, and for that they are all the more memorable.

Time for Action

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about red kites and why their recovery gives me hope in a world where conservation good news stories are few and far between. Working in conservation can be a depressing career when you hear more and more news about another species decline, another precious habitat lost, another stark climate change prediction. It's why I work in the industry:  I value nature and I do what little I can to redress that balance. But I've always tried not to include the bad stuff on the blog. It is supposed to be a light-hearted and irreverent commentary on the mundane and banal features of everyday life. I don't want to depress you, dear reader, nor do I wish to preach at you. Yet lately I have been inundated with so much negativity, ignorance, hypocrisy and sheer incompetence that I feel the time is right to bring it to your attention. I thought twice about doing so, but decided that the issues I am about to outline are only issues until enough people speak out against them. So please read on and decide for yourself whether I am simply letting off steam, or whether either of these issues deserve your attention, and better still your action.

1. The Nature Directives

The Nature Directives are currently under review by a European Commission that is challenging regulation – meaning our most important laws for wildlife are under unprecedented threat.

The Directives provide essential protection to our rarest and most threatened species, and safeguard the best habitats for supporting a diversity of life in the UK and across much of Europe. They drive the fundamental aspects of conservation in the most important places – from managing sites and protecting them from development, to protecting species from human persecution.

Without them, we are simply fighting to stop loss and damage to our most precious wildlife sites. With them, we are able to work with others to restore nature – to create a world richer in nature.

The Directives aren’t perfect, but if we’re to restore nature in the UK and across Europe, we need them, and we need to focus on better implementation so they can achieve their full potential. Opening up the Directives in a political context that will almost certainly see them weakened would set us back years. This would be a disaster for wildlife, and for all the conscientious businesses that have learnt to follow the Directives and work in harmony with nature. Revised laws would mean a period of great uncertainty for businesses that would cost them time and money.

That's why we need a massive demonstration of public support for the Directives during the European Commission’s public consultation on the future of the Directives. The more people act, the easier it will be to convince EU leaders that the general public really care about nature and won't tolerate a weakening of its protection. To find out more, including how you can take action to defend the directives, click here. 

 

2. Raptor Persecution

 

This is an issue that has been going on for many years, and whilst I've been aware of it I've never really had any personal involvement. I am now very fortunate that a small part of my job involves working with a rare and wonderful bird of prey, the Montagu Harrier. This species is only just clinging on in the UK, with a population of less that ten pairs. Despite this, it receives much less coverage than it's relative the Hen Harrier, largely because of issues of illegal persecution. Research has shown that there is enough habitat to support about 300 pairs of hen harriers in England, and yet there are only one or two, largely due to illegal persecution.

 

Recently the RSPB came under fire from an organisation called 'You forgot the birds'. It appears that their mission is to deflect attention away from the issue of illegal raptor persecution by undermining the RSPB and the work we do. A few weeks ago news emerged that three male hen harriers had disappeared from their last English stronghold in the Forest of Bowland. It is highly unusual for a breeding bird to simply abandon eggs, and with three birds involved it seems likely that foul play is involved - so likely in fact that the police have launched an investigation. Yet 'You forgot the birds' decided that this was an RSPB witch-hunt, and launched another attack on the organisation. Apart from displaying an astounding level of ecological ignorance, it also suggests that the RSPB has a poor track record in delivering successful bird conservation - an offensive and woefully inaccurate assertion. The response from the RSPB can be seen here. Since I work for the RSPB I am obviously biased and emotionally involved, so I urge you to read the article for yourself.

 

Equally, this one is well worth a read, as it presents yet another ignorant and unfounded perspective on ecology. Yes there is a debate to be had, but one based on fact and evidence, as outlined in this reply to the article. What concerns me most is that these people, apparently in the name of journalism, are given a platform to deliver these attacks. And that by having that platform, the real issue is ignored or forgotten.

 

Whilst there is a lot of coverage of the issues surrounding hen harriers, the montagu harrier is less well known. Last year we were lucky enough to get funding to attach satellite transmitters to UK montagu harriers. These tags give us a huge insight into habitat choice, foraging areas and migration routes. Yet one of the birds did not even make it as far as migration, having disappeared on a shooting estate in Norfolk. The transmitter stopped transmitting, which means it was somehow destroyed. Make of that what you will, but as there are now even fewer montagu harrier in the UK than last year, the species is on a knife-edge. We will be fitting more satellite tags this year, but the sad truth of the matter is that they may show us more about raptor persecution than they do about migration or distribution. 

 

If you want to find out more, including how you can support the campaign to stop illegal persecution, click here.

 

So I'm sorry for the seriousness of this post, but my work over the last few weeks has involved meeting local police to discuss wildlife crime, discussions with colleagues about the likelihood of local harriers being killed, news reports of persecution from other areas, and internal briefings on how much damage would be caused by a weakened set of directives from the EU.

 

This stuff matters, and if I can play a small part in spreading the word, responding to the critics and gaining support for nature and nature conservation then I make no apology for that. If it matters to you too, please spread the word, take action, and encourage others to do so as well.

 

 

 

Take me to your leader!

I have recently had the joys of attending some training at work. The training in question was designed to make me, and my colleagues, better leaders. Over the course of six modules I will learn how to get better results from myself and those around me. Perhaps I am addressing a deficit in leadership capabilities. Perhaps we all have room for improvement. Regardless of the rationale, part of my homework involved reading two books that would, I was told, assist in my learning experience.

Book one was a tale of two mice who lived in a maze and undertook daily missions in search of cheese. The cheese was a metaphor for whatever you want in life, and the mice had to contend with occasional inexplicable cheese relocations to see how quickly they adapted to change. For anyone who wants to learn about change, or who just wants to read about mice and/or cheese, the book was called 'Who moved my cheese?'.

Book two was a more straight up telling of a student of leadership, who learned from the 'One Minute Manager'. This technique involves getting the best from those around you by being clear with your goals (one minute goal setting), by praising good performance (one minute praising) and reprimanding poor performance (yes, predictably, the one minute reprimand). The book took longer than one minute to read.

Both books were sufficiently short and simple to allow absolutely everyone to understand them, and sufficiently logical for everyone to wonder why we hadn't all one-minute managed all of our lives, or gone in search of new cheese. Both reiterated that the messages learnt within them were most effective when shared, thus generating vast sales figures for each of them and no doubt making the authors millionaires in the process (one minute millionaires - who needs new cheese now?!).

Because they were both short books, I read them on the train on my way down to my regional office in Exeter. Part way through the trip, I suddenly felt very self-conscious, as though I was engaging in some form of self-help ritual. I'm not sure why that should make me self-conscious - I'm sure self-help has self-helped millions of people globally. But with my headphones in I felt as though I may also be listening to an audiotape with someone repeatedly telling me very loudly that 'I can do it', and inviting me to repeat it along with them, which, ironically, I couldn't bring myself to do.

One of the books had a lot of reviews on the inside cover, including one from Jack Bauer! I suspect this was a different Jack Bauer to the one found in 24, but I like the thought that, in between saving America from a catastrophic terrorist atrocity over the course of a day, Jack takes time to learn leadership lessons and how to adapt to change more quickly. Useful skills when undertaking counter-espionage no doubt.

Having discussed these books with other colleagues, we came up with a couple of potential titles of our own, including a book for overzealous talkers, 'Is anyone really listening anyway?', and one for nervous interviewees, 'Who moved my anti-perspirant?'. Such cynicism carried through into the course where, I'm delighted to say, I was sufficiently open-minded enough to have taken on board some of the points raised, not least when I showed quality leadership skills by initiating a (one-minute) conga through our regional office. I think the title of my self-help book will be 'You put your left foot in...'!

Scilly Season

It's been a while since I posted anything on here. Largely due to me being away from all forms of telecommunication on the stunning Isles of Scilly. If you haven't been, I strongly recommend it. For the last eight years I have been lucky enough to travel out there on 'business' each autumn for a week. The RSPB does a series of guided walks on Tresco each September, and I'm part of the squad that is hand-picked to provide members of the public with a unique and unforgettable insight to wildlife around the archipelago. Or so I hope!

Bryher and Tresco

A couple of years ago, the Isles of Scilly Seabird Project began. The aim of this work was to remove rats from St Agnes and Gugh. These islands (actually one island at low tide!) contain large numbers of breeding seabirds, including manx shearwater. Although manxies have been recorded on the islands each year, no chicks have fledged in living memory, because of the impact of the rats on eggs and chicks. So the removal of rats is critical to the survival of the species on these islands.

The 'Bar' connecting St Agnes and Gugh

Last winter, experts from New Zealand were flown in to begin the eradication, assisted by a merry band of volunteers. They began baiting rats and monitoring the population, and by Christmas there were no more signs of rats. This summer, more volunteers have been monitoring the shearwater burrows, and finally ten chicks have been recorded at about fledging age. Instant success!

Manx Shearwater

This is the story I get to tell visitors to the islands. Working in conservation can be quite depressing, with stories of declines, and recoveries taking a very long time. Here we have a fantastic example of what can be achieved when people work together. I get to natter with members of the public about this and other conservation issues, pointing out a few birds and other wildlife along the way, based at the beautiful Abbey Gardens on Tresco. And after eight years on the team, we've got the trip planning sussed.

Tresco Abbey Gardens

The best way to reach the islands, for me, is the Scillonion ferry. It can be a little choppy, and some people are not good on boats, as evidenced on both trips this year (both flat!) when one ill passenger managed to be sick overboard on the top deck, coating many of their fellow passengers on the deck below! But it's a great chance to spot wildlife, with seabirds, seals, sunfish, dolphins and whales all on the potential menu.

Common Dolphin

The boat docks at St Mary's, the largest of the islands, from where you can access the other 'off islands' by inter-island boat. Four other islands are inhabited: St Agnes, St Martins, Tresco and Bryher. Each has a different feel and atmosphere. St Agnes is isolated, St Martin's has picturesque wide sandy beaches, Tresco is manicured, and Bryher is wild and rugged. It is to Bryher that we head first, armed with camping gear. Bryher is our base for the week, despite working on Tresco. This means we have the best commute in the world, setting off from our home on the camp site, down to the quay to get the school boat across to Tresco, then walking up past the shop to pick up large quantities of bread and cheese for lunch, along the great pool and into the hides spotting rare birds, before passing the Abbey and on to our working base at the Abbey Gardens.

Rugged Bryher

Before we get to work we may have seen Lapland bunting, ortolan bunting, spotted crake, little stint, green sandpiper, curlew sandpiper, spotted redshank, spotted flycatcher, whinchat, redstart, and wryneck. Look them up! The wryneck is something that I see every year on the islands, and don't see anywhere else. It's a migrant woodpecker, and has a bizarre habit of twisting it's neck around and flicking it's tongue out. It does this when it feels threatened, to mimic a snake and ward off predators. The Latin name for this species is Jynx torquilla. The 'torquilla' part means 'little twister' in respect to this behaviour. The Jynx part originates in Greek mythology. Iynx was a Greek goddess who used a wyneck love-charm to make Zeus fall in love with Io. When Hera, Zeus' official consort, found out, she transformed Iynx into a wryneck as punishment. This is where we get the word 'Jinx' from - a curse or spell cast.

Lapland Bunting

Even from our base we can now see red squirrels, stick insects, and golden pheasants - all introduced to the island by man, just as the rats made it there by ship and shipwreck. We spend the day doing guided walks, turning round one every hour, and I can hear myself saying the same thing over and over again. Then it's back across the island for the last boat back to Bryher, a spot more birding and then a camp meal together. Having spent all day on our feet and smiling like a synchronised swimmer it's time to cook up a feast from fresh veg and whatever goodies we brought in the food hamper. Huge piles of pasta, curry and chilli adorn our plates each evening, all cooked al fresco over a small stove while watching the sun set over the Atlantic. And then to the pub.

Golden Pheasant

The Fraggle Rock Bar on Bryher is where we spend our evenings, indulging in a pint or two of local ale and running through the day's sightings, chatting with residents and tourists alike, and partaking of the odd game of bananagrams or a geeky bird-related quiz. It also does a killer fish and chips. Many a fine evening has been had here: a perfect end to a busy and tiring day, before staggering back to the camp site under the immense beauty of the milky way, and crawling back into the tent and passing out.

2014 Team!

In Groundhog Day style, we do this all over again, on repeat, for the full week, before final packing up our bags and returning to the mainland. It's quite a shock going back into the 'real' world from somewhere where the time of the tide is the most important time, where emails, internet and news are inaccessible, and where you can forget about all your cares, worries and responsibilities. If you ever need a true break from the busy world, this is the place.

Scilly Sunset

Better results for the Spanish

I attended a meeting lately about a particular bird of conservation concern to see what could be done to protect it. This bird has been the subject of several studies in Europe, so the particular experts were flown in to the conference to attend. The world authority appears to be a Spanish lady, who told us all about her work on the species over the last 30 years or so. She gave a very scientific talk in a language that was not her first. Yet she spoke clearly and fluently, even using phrases like ‘all was not rosy’ during the 30-40 minutes she was talking. Indeed she spoke better than most of the gathered English experts. And since she is Spanish, she spoke very quickly, which means her brain must be working even faster to decide what it wants to say, translate it, and deliver it. What a very impressive woman!

The Field Good Factor

As some of you know, I have a pretty awesome job. I am paid to watch birds. Yes there is paperwork, management, health and safety and long hours, but I am paid to watch birds. Every now and then I have a day in the field which reminds me how lucky I am. Sometimes that's just down to a fine day, a good tune, a particular sighting or a lucky photo. This week I had one of those days, and I thought I should share it with you. In part that's because I wanted to do a post with some photos, and partly it's because I'm aware how many posts I've made that rant or rave or in some way expose my own or others' shortcomings. I thought it was time for some positivity, so here it is!




These two guys caused me much amusement recently. They were so caught up in battling each other that they failed to notice me entirely. I've seen this quite a lot, and an old farmer once told me that he had walked right up to a pair and grabbed them as they were so intent on damaging one another they totally ignored him.

 

These boring brown birds are corn buntings. Wiltshire is a great place to see them despite the fact that they are declining massively across the country. They have a call that sounds like a bunch of keys being jangled, and are called the fat bird of the barley due to their chubby nature. The name 'bunting' actually translates as 'plump', and in Orkney they are know as 'skitter-broltie', which means 'one who shits on the braithes' (the ropes that hold a corn stack together).

 

 

This bright chappy is a close relation of the corn buntings, a yellowhammer. The males are canary yellow in spring, and can be seen sitting atop bushes and posts singing their 'little-bit-of-bread-and-no-cheese' song.

 

  

These little chubsters are grey or 'English' partridge. They are another Wiltshire speciality and also declining across the UK. More often you will come across the red-legged or 'French' partridge, and so it's still a pleasure to see these beautiful birds. This is the first time I've been able to photograph them, and this fine couple were out for an evening stroll together.

  

 





This little stunner is a whinchat. This can be easily confused with our resident stonechats, but the whinchat is a summer migrant and have recently been arriving with us. There are good numbers on Salisbury Plain, and regular surveys keep track of them.

 

 

These tasty looking treats are great bustards. They've been reintroduced to Salisbury Plain after a long absence - the last bustard was shot in the UK in 1832! They're on the Wiltshire crest and you can go and see them by visiting the great bustard project (click here for the website). This is the world's heaviest flying bird and probably the only bird that could turn a 12 bird roast into a 13 bird roast!

 

 

This small falcon is a hobby. It's another migrant, and the bird sniffing it's feet is actually feeding on the wing having caught a dragonfly. The latin name for the hobby is falco subbuteo, and many of you will know it from the childhood football game of the same name. The chap who invented it wanted to name it after his favourite bird, but that was rejected so he used the latin name instead!

 

Finally I thought I would add in a collection of other shots from recent tough days in the office, starting with a red kite - one of many in the area thanks to successful reintroduction programmes.

 

 

  

It's a great pleasure being out on the Plain. There are plenty of deer up there and the silhouette is another corn bunting singing in the half light. 

 

The light has been fantastic lately with the contrast between the bright sunshine and dark, menacing cloud.

 

 

If you want to experience any of this for yourself there are lots of public rights of way available, but please heed the guidance from the MoD - often stark warnings about being blown up if you touch anything and reminding you to stick to the tracks!

Finally, I thought I would leave you with a lapwing standing on a pheasant's head. Who doesn't want to see that?!