2017 Ecological To Do List

I recently read Inglorious by Mark Avery. Aside from the compelling subject matter, at one point in the book Mark mentions that in his first blog of the year he sets out a few things that he wishes to achieve over the coming 12 months:

I’ve written it down and published it, and even if no one notices then I need to do it.

Having recently become a father my ecology life outside of work has quietly, politely stepped into the background as I expected it would in these chaotic early days. Naively, predictably I had underestimated how long it would be waiting there, but as 2017 appears on the horizon, and I’m getting >5hrs sleep a night, I find myself looking forward to reintegrating ecological pursuits back into my outside of work life.

So, taking a leaf out of Mark’s book, here are a few achievable goals for the coming 12 months:

Gorse Hill Urban Botany Project

My little local project to create a flora of The Gorsehill Estate is all planned and ready to go, having been put to one side after all the planning (and a couple of surveys) had been completed.  The nice thing about this is that there are no deadlines, it can happen at its own pace, but I suspect that once I get going with it my enthusiasm will gain momentum. My plan this year is to start on some residential streets that can be quickly completed (unlike last year where I started on the canal tow path which was interesting but the biggest job on the list). That way I’ll have the satisfaction of being able to shade off chunks of the estate on a map. My son is now robust enough to join me on these surveys too which will provide me with the chance to wave leaves under his nose, avoiding his ever grabbing hands, and tell him what they are.

Birds

I say every year I’m going to work on my bird ID skills. This year I intend to get down to my adopted stretch of the Mersey embankment, once a month if I can and do some recording. I was given some good advice by a work colleague, Simon, recently. I was complaining that so often when I’m out attempting to work on bird ID I can see but not hear them. Simon’s advice was to find the birds I could hear and have a look at them. It seems obvious but it had never occurred to me to diligently hunt down the mystery singers. So I’ll be doing more peering, loitering and rummaging on my walks this year.

Herptiles

I saw my first sand lizard last year, just a glimpse of a female.  I’d like to see more. So I’ll be getting back out with my local ARG group on their habitat management days in the hope of helping out with their monitoring later in the year.

Saw my first #SandLizard in the wild today. #WellChuffed

I’d also like to contribute to the Biodiverse Society Project which aims to enhance and update the information on wildlife sites in Lancashire and North Merseyside.

Trees

Having recently visited the National Trust property Biddulph Grange Gardens which boasts Britain’s oldest Golden Larch, I thought it’d be fun to seek more oldest British trees. It’d be over ambitious to aim to make it up to the Fortingall Yew in 2017 (one day though), but the Talley Abbey Ash should be doable. If I make it to any other oldest/biggest/tallest example of a tree this year I’ll consider this achieved.

If I do all the above, and see some spiked speedwell and an aesculapian snake,  I’ll consider 2017 a job well done.

Wishing you a happy and productive 2017. What’s on your list?

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Ferns Find a Way

A while ago while on my lunch break at Merseyside Biobank where I volunteer, a couple of us were having a crack at IDing the fern that sits in a pot on the kitchen window, using one of the keys in the library. It was an unremarkable looking pot plant, the kind you might find in rows in a garden centre, near the tills.

We keyed it out as far as agreeing it was a Lady Fern and went about our day. The thing that sticks out in that memory was Ben’s casual remark made while passing us, “That was self seeded”.

Self seeded. I like it when things are self seeded. The carpet of ferns in the woodland at Summerseat Nature Reserve in Bury where I also volunteer (though not as much these days as I would like) was self seeded, appearing one year having not been there before.

But what I really like is when things are self seeded in a plant pot or somewhere really unlikely. The soft rush in a pot in my garden was self seeded. Seems fitting that a wandering rush seed on the wind should set down in Rusholme. It grew in that pot as if it had been planted there. As if by looking like it’d been planted it might go unnoticed.

I always smile when I pass the old hospital building on Wilmslow Road and look up to see the tree growing out of the chimney. When Tom and I first saw it while walking home from uni one day, it was winter and could have been a dead branch blown up there by the wind. I kept an eye on it until one spring day you could suddenly see blossom on it. Good on you! I always think.

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So anyway, the other day I was on a building inspection, looking for signs of bats and what not. It was an extensive building in the middle of an urbanised area which had been neglected for some time. I like these kind of building surveys. You feel like an urban explorer only without the risk of a hefty fine for trespassing.

This place was magnificently-skanky. The kind of place gangsters would tie you to a chair and insist you told them where the money is. Thankfully there were no gangsters here, but there were ferns. Self seeded ferns were growing out of the carpets.

Ferns spores had found breeches in the structure, riding in on rogue breezes. No doubt hanging in the air a while before softly touching down. The result I think was rather beautiful. Interesting-beautiful. Interesting-skanky-beautiful. “Life finds a way” I thought, quoting Jurassic park. Not quite what Jeff Goldblum was getting at I know. But it does doesn’t it?

#Ferns find their way into a #DerelictBuilding

#Fern #carpet

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#fern #toilet

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#UrbanJungle #fern

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