Читать книгу Springwatch Unsprung: Why Do Robins Have Red Breasts? - Jo Stevens - Страница 6

Spring – surely our most uplifting and optimistic season? The thrill of seeing the first flowers, usually the lesser celandine with its gleaming golden petals, the naughty green shoots of Arum (lords and ladies) poking through the brown debris of winter (a plant which probably has more rude colloquial names than any other UK plant, due to the shape of its phallic stamen within the fold of the first leaf), and the shattering sight and smell of a bluebell wood, seemingly hovering an inch or two above reality. How can it be so dazzling? The colours are almost unreal, created from nothing more than air, sunlight and water, with a pinch of minerals from the soil. Magic.

Along with the bluebells there are often great swathes of powerful-smelling ramsons at this time of year. A girlfriend once cooked me a quiche flavoured with ramsons (wild garlic). It was, honesty compelled me to be frank, quite horrid and I foolishly said as much. That was some 30 years ago and she’s still not forgiven me!

Suddenly eggs appear in nest boxes as my chickens start to lay again after a winter of rest. Soon I’m making holes in compost with a pencil to plant tomato seeds. Then there’s the almost forgotten sensation of the Sun’s warmth on bare skin … Yes, spring is one of the glories of living in the UK because, of course, in some countries the different seasons are not so clearly defined – they cannot enjoy this incredible sense of rebirth after a gloomy, desolate winter as new life explodes all across the countryside.

In early April I scan the sky with a mounting sense of expectation. Then, suddenly, there it is – the first swallow of the year, sweeping through the sky, chesting up on the breeze, all the way from Africa, bringing with it the promise of warm days to come.

There are a host of things to see and do in spring. Watch out for migrating toads early in the year; thousands of them wake up from their winter torpor and start to march, en masse, towards their favourite breeding ponds. This can be a seriously impressive spectacle. Writing in 1188, Gerald of Wales slightly misinterpreted the toad migration:

‘In our own days,’ he says, ‘a young man was persecuted by a plague of toads. It seemed as if the entire population of toads had made an agreement to visit him. Toads came flocking from all directions, more and more of them until no one could count them. In the end the young man’s friends who were trying to help were quite worn out.’

So far so good, but then Gerald comes off the rails – as ever, scientific verisimilitude thrown out the window for the sake of a good yarn:

‘The toads killed him and ate him right up leaving nothing but his skeleton!’

Migrating toads often have to cross roads and passing cars can, inadvertently, cause carnage. If you would like to help you can find local toad patrols at www.froglife.org/toadsonroads.

I’m going to feature a special ‘Unsprung’ word for each season, and the one for spring is ‘guffing’. Male newts display to the females underwater and at the end of their display they sometimes come up close and blow a bubble of air at her as if to say, ‘I did all that and still have air to spare!’ This bubble blowing is called ‘guffing’.

Chris Packham and I went badger watching recently and it’s surprisingly exciting – as Chris says, you keep thinking something is going to emerge from the sett entrance in the next 30 seconds. Badger watching is especially rewarding in spring as the youngsters make their first appearance above ground and, having been stuck underground in the sett for many weeks, they tend to be particularly feisty. There are many local badger watching groups to be found at www.badger.org.uk/content/Living.asp.

Of course, spring wouldn’t be spring without mad March hares. I was once filming for Springwatch on Isla with Simon King and he suddenly said ‘quick, quick! Those hares over there – start filming them!’. Frankly I was bemused, it was interesting to see hares, there were six of them all together, but …? Gradually Simon, as only Simon can, revealed the real drama of what was going on. There was one female, just coming into season, and the other five hares were potential suitors. It was fascinating to watch the males chasing the female in turn and seeing her beat them off (and the fur really flies) until, finally, she made her choice. Fighting ‘mad March hares’ are generally females beating off unwelcome suitors, not males fighting each other.

The dawn chorus is one of the greatest wildlife experiences it is possible to have – no, honestly! – and it peaks in spring. Why not get up at first light, make a nourishing cup of tea and step outside into a magical world, a symphony of natural sound. I guarantee you’ll feel uplifted for the rest of the day. If you want to find out who’s making all the music there are organised dawn chorus walks up and down the country, look up your nearest one on: www.countryfile.com/countryside/top-10-dawn-chorus-walks.

The date I hear the drone of my first bumblebee of the year goes straight into the diary. It’s another joyful reminder that summer is on its way. In fact, we have no less than 25 different species of bumblebee. The first ones you see and hear will all be queens who, having hibernated all winter, are now prospecting to find a place in which to nest and start a new colony, often an old mouse hole. If it’s a cold morning and you hear a subdued buzzing sound coming from one place, have a look and you might see something curious. Bees have to ‘warm up’ flight muscles to a critical temperature (30°C) before they can actually take off. To do this they disengage their wings, then activate the muscles which warm up, without the wings moving (rather like pushing down the clutch in the car and revving the engine), then, once the critical temperature is reached, the wings are re-engaged and the bee takes off. Magic! There’s a lovely video of this on the BBC website: www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Bumblebee#intro.

Moths and other flying insects do this too.

To help bees, moths and butterflies in your garden why not plant flowers specifically to provide food and shelter for them? Best of all, plant a sequence of plants that will flower all year. There’s some useful advice on the best way to do this at: www.butterfly-conservation.org/93/give-time.html.

Finally, if you are really serious about helping wildlife, get in touch with your local rescue centre. This time of year they are often inundated with injured and abandoned baby animals, fox and badger cubs, deer and a host of birds. They often welcome volunteers and you will find yourself intimately involved in helping to care for wildlife. It’s an emotional roller coaster, though, once you get involved, so be warned!