For Peat’s Sake

“What would the world be, once bereft

Of wet and of wildness? Let them be left,

O let them be left, wildness and wet;

Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.”

 

So wrote the Victorian poet Gerard Manley Hopkins but how apt are these words are for describing a whole host of issues surrounding many conservation tasks that we all face. ‘All’, yes ‘all’, we all face conservation based issues everyday whether we choose to believe in them or are just not aware of them, we all face them.

Climate changes are occurring, to what degree they are occurring is the only real argument we should be having and as such we have a real battle on our hands to try and curb the many issues inbound amongst all of the arguments. One such issue is our treatment of peat or more precisely peatlands, no I’m not going to bang on about garden peat substitutes people really shouldn't need reminding about it, I mean the wider benefits of this marvellous substance. I still chuckle when i think back when i was kid and David Bellamy delving into 'miullions and miullions of years', but he was so true, you can see feel and smell the past locked into peat.

A misty peat bog

Carbon footprints, sequestration, bargaining, carbon trade offs all strange terminology we are all going to have to come to terms with. Whether Hopkins realised he held the key in his prophetic words above is very dubious as it was his generation that were largely responsible for the present day condition of our last remaining ‘carbon sinks’, our wetlands or more precisely our peatlands. They drained them in the hope of creating further land to farm or live on, not realising their true value or folly years on.

As a result of these actions our drained and damaged peatland in the UK now emits approximately 10 million tonnes of carbon dioxide every year from these habitats alone, a significant contribution to our greenhouse gas omissions. Yet the UK is still very rich in peatland habitats having about 15% of the worlds upland blanket bog still intact. Covering an estimated 3 million hectares (12% of the UK land area), deep peat stocks provides a store of at least 3000 million tonnes of carbon, which is twenty times as much carbon stored in the whole of the UK’s forest biomass. Alas despite this large figure much of it is in poor condition and as such it is loosing carbon all of the time and that affects us all.




A cross section of peat 'miullions and miullions of years'

 You don't understand? The simple version of events is that dry peat soils oxidise and release their goodness, as such it releases trapped carbon to the atmosphere wet peat doesn't, it locks carbon in, storing it within the damp soils.

The lowland peat resource, for example the Fens of the east of the country is in even worse condition, much of it turned over to food production at great expense to the consumer as they are now subject to such high maintenance costs through irrigation, fertilisers and herbicides etc. to keep production on these areas so high, they are now no longer sustainable.

One location I am involved with locally is Prestwick Carr, it is an archetypal example of what not to do with a peatland, a microcosm of the entire peatland history on one site. Drained in the 1860’s for agriculture it is now a low lying area of very poor land to the north of Newcastle. Little populated, it is an area of poor quality horsey paddocks, rough pasture and prone to flashing's, standing water, as result of its continued drainage. Amongst this devastated land is one of the rarest habitats in the world, a lowland raised mire and yet we planted trees on it and continue to drain the peatland that surrounds it so devaluing its value not just as a wildlife resource but as a carbon sink. It is losing up to 30 tonnes of carbon dioxide per ha per year because of the drying peat soils.



Frozen standing water perched on a crust of impermeable hard drained peat.

 There is sufficient evidence available now to show that it is possible to halt these losses through habitat restoration and that this will have greenhouse gas benefits. On a local scale there is also evidence that it will reduce the flashy nature of the flood episodes on the area as the ground will absorb precipitation more easily when rewetted. This also will have benefits on water quality issues, water colour and flooding elsewhere.

Peatland restoration is also a cost effective means of addressing climate change, compared with other carbon abatement methods such as afforestation and renewable energy. Restoring peatlands can be considered a natural form of carbon capture and storage, preventing release of carbon from damaged bogs and preserving it for potentially millions of years.

His words ring eerily and simply true of what we need to do to achieve some carbon banking, O let them be left, wildness and wet!

Hide the Birdie

There are many changes a foot at the minute amongst our wildlife, it is the season for change or at least the start of it. It can be a time of great excitement or even heartbreak as all the effort comes to nothing, one thing however that is certain it’s never dull.



The 'Look'

The dreaded mother in law asked the other week, “there are no birds in me garden and I’ve seen that blasted hawk about again”. Quick as a flash I said, “well he mustn’t have eaten them all because he’s still hanging around”, there was no reply just, the ‘look’.

There is of course a much simpler motive behind the perceived lack of activity in grannies garden and the bird world in general than an overly voracious sparrowhawk. Even with the abundance of recently fledged youngsters about at this present time, blackbirds, blue tits, all the birds common to our back gardens, all looking like untidy school ruffians at this time of the year they all but disappear.



A slightly damp baby blackbird in the garden this summer

 But why do they all suddenly vanish for a few days at this time of the year, 'simples' they are moulting, that is they are all at the tailors getting a new suit. When the time is nigh they loose their flight feathers, the ones on the wings, they skulk about in thick cover avoiding detection as they cant fly away until the new feathers come through, until this occurs they stay well hidden from preying eyes.

This week however, all seems well my garden, a mass of multi-coloured blackbirds in half and half uniforms, hordes of marauding tits pillaging all the insects they can find amongst the last of the flowering heads and vegetables. They add colour and noise to an often drab and somber late summer garden.


Late broods of swallows

Elsewhere it is a time of exodus with the first summer migrants like the swift have already gone, the warblers too, are mostly winding their way south and last to leave will be the swallows and martins who hang on until late September and sometimes early October before departing.

All in all considering all the hardship bird species in general face I think they have had a pretty good breeding year, with lots of young visible in and around most locations. I can’t remember so many blackbirds and tits around the garden for many years which is great for future numbers. This week on my travels I saw several late broods of house martin and swallows still in the nest other species too like blackcap, whitethroat, sedge warbler and chiff chaff all seem to have done well this year too, I saw several family groups around the hedgerows in the past week.


Sedge warbler letting rip from a hawthorn

They will need these extra numbers too as harsh times lie ahead on migration, not least of which will be running the gauntlet of the Sahara desert and the even more more problematic hardships on many Mediterranean islands and some countries to such as Spain, France and Italy. Here ‘hunters’ lie in wait with gun net and glue to ensnare millions of birds, not just songbirds but every species that migrates. We spend millions on wildlife protection and habitat enhancement across northern Europe only for the benefits of this to be taken away in seconds as the birds migrate over Cyprus, Malta and Italy et al.

I took my own personal stand this year and cancelled my holiday to Cyprus, I have never been to Cyprus I really fancied going too as I like the Med. But after consideration that up to 1.4 million songbirds are killed for an illegal food delicacy each year; I said no and cancelled and let them know my reasons why.



Utterly deplorable situation in Cyprus and other Mediterranean countries


Not sure what good my individual stance may have but at least I have made it! I find it both tragic and appalling that we allow this wanton slaughter to continue in the EU when in certain circumstances such as Cyprus it is so blatent. I despair at times when such stories come to light what hope do we have. I often have a moan about our own UK fallibility's but even the blatent destruction of hen harriers and other predators on grouse moors pales into insignificance against this mass slaughter year in and year out.

So that's me off to Bognor Regis then, 'bon voyage', well Turkey actually but that's another store.

Another otter’s tale

The baby faced assissin

I cannot hide my passion for otters I have had it since I was a small boy, I don’t understand it, it is just one of those strange traits of life. I don’t however view them as a cute cuddly creature despite their almost fixed grin, much beloved by the media and I have often been at pains to point this out, much to their disappointment, the real otter, one day i might write a book on them.

That cute be-whiskered face hides a fierce and fiery temperament and an astonishing array of teeth set within very very powerful jaws. On top of this is the mustelid mindset of determination and that wiliness never to give in coupled with a brain powering logic to solve problems that most other creatures apart from the primates would find impossible to even ponder.

Eating a prime fat greyling will have some anglers squirming but this is nature at its finest

It is easy to see why so many people are captivated by them I never tire of watching them their graceful fluid movement in the water and their almost comic lollop on dry land, but as I say they are predators and top predators at that. They have too eat to survive it is in their nature to kill and to do so very effectively and efficiently.

The crocodile in our midst

Otters are specialist aquatic hunters they have adaption’s to do so, they are shaped to cut through water effortlessly, their nostrils and ears close under water and they have webbed feet, all of these and their thick double insulating coat make them very effective hunters in their chosen element.

They are however just glorified aquatic weasels and as such will hunt anything that lives or breathes if it is within their grasp, they have too or else they will die. So an otter’s diet is actually very catholic. If you have looked through as many otter spraints (droppings to the uninitiated) as I have over the years then you get a very real picture of just exactly what they will eat given the stakes.

I have found water shrews, rats, kittens, mink, rabbits, mice, water voles, bats and even dragonflies and of course countless bird species from starlings to swans, herons to cormorants, all and many more have found their way through an otter digestive tract at some point.

Two very nervous mallards look on ready for instant flight

So it was little surprise to me that I received a call recently for help from a local wildfowl collection, an otter was paying far to much attention to some rare duck species. I say it wasn’t a surprise, it was a surprise that it had taken so long to realise that otters have this trait and that they were right on their doorstep to do so.

Anyway visiting the site just emphasised just how incredibly ingenious they are at exploiting any chink in anything’s armour, including electric fences. This brazen little chap was entering via the tiniest of faults in the perimeter fence, that the owners had overlooked thinking it to small for an otter or anything to get through. Several rare ducks later and some camera trap footage and they changed their minds.

The camera traps also revealed that this ‘brazen chap’ was actually a ‘chapess’ with two little chaplets in tow. Otters utilise situations of abundance to teach their youngsters all the skills needed to hunt and survive in what is a very harsh environment. This mother was definitely exploiting an abundant resource. The footage revealed how she slipped gently into the pools and took ducks selectively from beneath the surface choosing the smaller or clumsier species in preference to those that could apply a rapid vertical take off manoeuvre.

Like a U-boat carefully selecting targets from the fleet she returned with each prize to her charges who watched diligently from the banks. She also brought them some hors d'oeuvres in the shape of frogs and toads showing them how to deal with both in separate ways, rejecting the skin of the toad and spawn of both.

MMMmmm frogs legs

Unfortunately the entry had to be sealed for the sake of the rare duck who were indeed even rarer now, her midnight feasts were ended prematurely; but at least the cubs will have learned first hand how to take a duck or skin a toad for when they start their own escapades down on a river near you.

They truly are the king of all creatures for me, the ‘king of the flood’, 'the goose footed hunter'.

The Otters Tail

Lordy just what can you say about these two 'Jawdie' leg ends

I can be a lucky swine at times often having the knack of being in the right place at just the right time, but I suppose if, if you have spent most of yor life in a/the ‘field’, as I have, then you narrow your chances down. I’ve seen that exact moment when ‘cock robin’ was snatched in mid song by an aerial assassin and the precise emergence of an emperor dragonfly and much much more over the years. I have been very fortunate with many encounters, to the extent that I do become a little blasé at times but still surprised at some of the things you encounter.

Last week I was on a dawn bat survey at the former ‘Byker Grove’ site of all places and was accompanied by swarming bats and a very inquisitive barking fox who obviously had a penchant for the ginger snaps stashed in my bag, and not an ‘Ant’ or ‘Dec’ in sight, thank god. The morning went well the last bat disappearing off site about 5am, but I had seen some behaviour I had not seen before. Bats ‘silent running’ that is we observed bats flying in total silence, just the odd barely audible click, as we presumed female bats took youngsters around the roost sites, basically showing them the ropes; followed by a mini swarm as they warmed up before going to bed, very interesting indeed.

A bat out side my house in flash and security light

Wide awake I flew up the A1 (sorry, my attempt at humour), to my next work destination a bridge crossing near Powburn where I have been working County Council for some time to alleviate the obstructions to migratory fish and otters whilst critical work is carried out repairing the weir and fish pass.

I was there by 6am and descended to the riverbank in 5 minutes for a final site check before the final stages of the work programme to complete the structure. As I approached the river through the din of crashing water was the very audible and very characteristic thin peeping whistle of an otter, hang on not one otter but at least two, youngsters??

Otter cubs wait for a parentasl titbit on a rock on the Isle of Mull

Approaching with all the stealth and guile of a polar bear after its seal pup dinner I crept over the weir sills and peered over the river and towards the edge of the weir, and there it was, the otters tail waving like a flag from beneath the rapids, up popped a head, and crunch, crunch the discernable sound of pulverised fish drifted towards me. Down again it went, squeak, squeak from the bank, up again crunch, crunch and repeat the process over. What was going on and where were the squeaks coming from this I had to discern pretty darn quick as work was due to start at 8pm that morning.


Sat in the comfort of the bucket of the on site digger, I watched the events unfold before me. Downstream was a squeak, in the rocks around the bridge apron was a squeak, in the middle was an adult otter, presumably the mother, swimming between the two, but no visible squeakers. Then there it was staring at me right in the face, the first youngster in the rocks, its whiskered face beckoning attention, the mother clearly seen always, she was trying to encourage the frantic youngster into the water with tasty treats and calls of encouragement. It clearly felt this was not the right option, in and out of the water the mother scrambled and called downstream to check on the other youngster, who incidentally was having a whale of a time by itself in the water bobbing around like a cork.

Wet otter footprints in the rocks at Powburn

Anyway, back to the youngster in the rocks and there it was now perched on the side of the water thinking this is it, now or never, shall I be an otter or stay a weasel, squeak, squeak and then gone, into the water for what may have been the very first time. Magnificent, undoubtably one of the best moments in my otter watching carear. Clambering over the attentive parent, the look of abject terror slipped from its whiskered face as they rolled their way down the pool to the other cub who greeted them wildly wondering what all the fuss was about, a dive and a titbit each and off they went on their exaulted way downstream.

'OW!! that really hurts'

Waiting a good hour I explored the rock armour to discover the den that had been used in the midst of a work zone under the very eyes of hard hats and tractors but as they say, that otters tale will have to wait for another day.



'Right thats it your gonna get it now'