The much maligned red fox

Just when you thought it was safe to open the newspaper again, yet another fox storey, this one with a slight comic irony but not one to dwell on as I am getting sick of the Fabulous Mr Fox. This tale comes from deepest Belarus where an inept hunter was shot in the leg by and injured fox that fought back as he attempted the coupé de grace with his rifle butt. What a fool, me thinks he got what he deserved by such flagrant misuse of a firearm, what’s worse it could have been an innocent passer by that the foxes struggles had shot, what price another bullet in Belarus. I cant believe the stupidity of his actions, as a firearm owner I am only glad these incidents are few and far between.

Anyway we move on to the tale of the winter stoat or ermine one of natures near mysteries and as beautiful and animal as you are likely to see.

Stoat in almost complete ermine

I mentioned briefly recently the struggle of the stoat, the rabbit and the well meaning member of public well this time it would appear the stoats of the same location, Druridge bay have donned their winter garb of finest ermine. For those that don’t know that is they have change coat colour to match the surrounding winter landscape, well that’s the theory anyway. Several species do it ptarmigan, mountain hares and Arctic foxes all turn white in the winter. They do it as response to climatic and environmental changes such as temperature and decreasing light levels.

The stoat does it either fully or partially and when fully white it is called ermine and used to adorn the high and mighty. The characteristic difference between stoats and weasels is the black tip to the tail of the stoat, this still remains when in ermine and gives the classic spotty look on pictures of dignities in their ermine stoles.

Stoatly hungry

These past two years have been severe enough over most of the region for me to have seen stoat in ermine several times, this year perhaps because of the early onset of the winter I saw my first one in early December. Last week I saw a grand total of four in three different locations all in broad daylight in bright green backgrounds all hunting rabbits. Excellent to see but I have to wonder how vulnerable they must be to aerial predators, as one I saw was visible to me two fields away.

A good way to get a closer look is to follow this little trick which has rarely let me down. When you see your stoat or weasel for that matter, stop still, crouch down and wait for the little fellow to reappear, as he will invariably do especially if you entice him back out by imitating the squeak of a mouse or the squeal of a frightened rabbit, some thing we all new how to do when we were small boys with a blade of grass. My young son sadly did not, a testament to this modern age of Xboxes and an indoor sedentary life. not that I encourage him to stay in but when no one else goes out what can you do save take him out yourself, which is what I do and where he learned the subtle art of charming a stoat.

A rare day out with gun and son allowed the opportunity to spend quality time passing on some wisdom, not that its really appreciated until they are older, well that was what I was like but we were coming back with a few bunnies from a trip afield, Teesdale to be precise, when hopping along the track towards us was not one but two small stoats, youngsters I guessed. Completely unaware of our presence until my son let out a shriek of delight and they vanished into the undergrowth. Disappointed he turned to me asking what they were, they looked like our ferret and things like that, so I told him to be quiet, to watch and learn.

I bent down and plucked a fat blade of grass, placing it in my hands I blew a banshee like squeal several times, I repeated it at varying tones until there, the grass twitched and a furtive nose appeared and then another, beady little eyes shone from the grass and whiskers tweaked and twitched. Out they slid no more than three feet away, my sons grip intensified around my wrist as one approach so close we could hear it sniffing until it reached my boots where it climbed up looking upward wondering what was all this about, mesmerised it swayed from side to side trying to focus on the giant rabbits. All of us in a trance the second of the two slightly shyer rushed the first and they both erupted into the most amazing display of antics only stoats can do.

Only stoats can have this much fun

We watched them a few minutes longer until they were gone from sight and as we walked back to the car I began to wish I had not showed him how to imitate frightened rabbits, my ears still hurt!!

The tale of the amorous Mr Fox

It could be straight from a Victorian hunting journal not a modern day vets son, not my cup of tea

Well there is hardly a week goes by without another fox storey illuminating the ignorant, last week it was the ‘giant’ fox that allegedly killed a vets 19 yr old tabby cat in Maidstone in Kent for which he had to trap it and destroy the beast let alone get his 7 yr old son photographed next to it. Now Im no whoosss’ when it comes to foxes but there were many things in that storey that just didn’t sit right with me least of which is a vet taking the moral high ground and acting as judge, jury and executioner in presiding over the actions of a wild animal, whether it was guilty or not I think a vet is not best placed to be in that position especially if some of the quotes attributed to him were correct.

I have a bit of a soft spot for the fox it is such a maligned creature in many quarters with so much against it an yet still it survives. I enjoy the weird mating calls and watching the cubs playing in the bluebells in spring but woe betide the fox that gets to interested in my chickens, that would of course be after I had suitably berated myself for not making sure their living quarters were fox proof and secured them in for the night. It is and I do and although we have foxes around I aint lost one in 7 years (oh dear, famous last words).

Mating foxes make some extrordinary noises

However, this week I had a call from someone a bit more local with a very strange tale to tell of the Fantastic Mr Fox. Now there is a lot being said about urban foxes and if they are pests or not why there are so many, are my children safe etc. We don’t have time for most of the nonsense that is spoken but as long as we continue to be as messy a species as we are and continue to spread our towns and cities outwards into the countryside we will always have ‘urban’ foxes.

This tale involves a very amorous fellow who is obviously a bit short sighted too, confused and or desperate. A lady called to say she was concerned that ‘her’ foxes were starving in the cold weather and was her cat at risk and should she do anything about them i.e. feed them. I said I couldn’t stop her if she wanted to but advised that urban foxes are rarely hungry and it can often lead to other issues with other neighbours, the cat can probably look after itself and the council will charge her if she wants it removed. I also said the reason she was seeing and hearing them more was this was the mating season and strange noises are common at this time of the year as the dogs bark and the vixens scream as part of their mating rituals.

‘Oh’ she said, how would I explain the fox chasing her neighbours Jack Russell through the cat flap and into the kitchen if it were not starving? Puzzled, I quizzed further as I was quite intrigued as to why a fox would risk itself against such a mortal enemy as a Jack Russell terrier.

The normal partner of the fox.....his own kind but as the say "any port in a storm"

It turns out the Jack Russell was a bitch and was on heat and that’s what the fox was intent on doing, not eating it but procreating with it. Sounds ludicrous but that’s what was described to me the fox was trying its hardest to molest the very subservient dog much to the disgust of its owner who shooed it out with the broom. It all seems a bit odd as the bulk of the literature suggests that this act is impossible (differences in chromosomes) but there is an unconfirmed female terrier/fox hybrid that was reported and later euthanized (killed), in the UK several years back and British gamekeeper folklore claims that terrier bitches can produce offspring with male foxes.

What do I think, well in the heady throws of the mating ritual, hormones are quite likely to take over the fox equivalent of beer goggles perhaps or may be the terrier was just too vulpluptuous. It was indeed a strange event which prompted the owner to block the cat flap and keep the terrier in doors for the duration but that left us all amused.

Come May there will be more fox cubs to keep me entertained

The Goose Footed Hunter

When I worked down Herrington pit the only wildlife on its doorstep were rabbits, rats and pit yackers. The pit has long gone and in its place is a country park, a bit public for me but still it has its merits, its a nice open space and it attracts a bit of wildlife too.

Herrington Country Park

All to often in harsh weather, like what we are experiencing at the moment wildlife finds it really hard to make a living, this has always been the case but in our crowded little island it is all to often visible for all to see, rare birds turning up in unexpected places or wary species being observed in the open. In fact most species will loose their natural caution as the search for food consumes them.

Tiny Terrors no fox (or otter for that matter) would stand a chance with the terrible threesome - Cerberus

This morning, walking the country park with my dogs, there were two cases in point. About 10am with several people about with dogs all off leads enjoying the fresh fall of snow, right in the middle of the park adjacent the largest lake a fox appeared and casually strolled across the frozen lake. My leashed dogs went ballistic but he didn’t even bat an eyelid as he continued his hunt along the shore line for what ever scraps he could find, an unlucky duck perhaps that didn’t last the night.?

I remember thinking back to previous harsh winters (yes we have had them before) when lakes and ponds I frequented had remained frozen save a small area where every possible waterfowl was congregated. I remember a particular incidence when the longer the freeze went on the more the number of duck/bird carcases covered the frozen areas around the open water hole. These were feeding scavengers like crows and foxes, who I am sure were talking there fair share too. But I new what was catching the majority, the goose footed hunter? Could this be the same assassin but hang on this was in Herrington Country Park not the wilds of Northumberland.

I scanned the lake and there were several dead birds scattered across the frozen lake surface toward the southern shoreline, telltale pink splodges in the snow, tattered feathers and smudged foot prints, yeh they could be fox kills, they were certainly about, I'd just seen one trot nonchalantly by but there was something more familiar about the pattern of activity and more so the markings in the snow leading to and from the ‘killing grounds’.

The serpent wanders the frozen lake, the goose footed hunter?

In the shadow of 'Pencher' Hill (cos thats how you say it) you could be forgiven the impression that a large serpent had slide back and forth through the snow. I stared in almost disbelief, this was Herrington Country Park, no more than 500m from my home, could it be the goose footed hunter had finally arrived here where once coal was the master perhaps a new kid was now on the block?

I walked slowly around the shore to the inlets where there was still some open water, where if anywhere his presence could be smelt and confirmed. The short gap between the two lakes laid it all bare, there stretching back across the lake towards the island was the mark of the serpent, clearly visible, but this was no serpent this was the trail of an otter, the goose footed hunter!

He slid with ease like a toboggan over the ice, picking himself up to run a few more steps then slide again to conserve his precious energy or was he just having fun in the snow? I picked his trail up further where he’d used this deception to get close to the crowded ducks and geese making a quick rush and dive he would have surfaced amidst a throng of struggling feet and wings to snatch a wholesome meal, which he would haul out and eat at leisure drying his coat in the snow content, not even a hungry fox would trust his luck with the king of the stream the goose footed hunter, the otter was back.

Otter slides in the park and a clear tail print where it was rolling in the snow

So it was that I finally confirmed what I had suspected for several months, the presence of an otter on my doorstep. Of course he may have been visiting before, as the connecting stream stretches right down to the river Wear at Chester le Street where otter have been present for some time only the harsh weather and snow has betrayed his secret midnight visits. Whatever, I’m over the moon the otter has returned to my doorstep and now he knows where it is he will be back and so will I.

I wonder how long it has been since an otter has been this far up the Herrington burn? When I was at the pit way back in 86 (thats 1986, just as it was closing), a mate had said he had just seen a rat the size of a labrador dog in the burn, it was either that or an otter he exclaimed. He never lived it down, a tale on par with the Lampton Worm, but now I know he is here for sure, the goose footed hunter, the gypsy of the stream, the king of the river, the otter!

Tracks emmerging from the inlet

Close up of the goose footed hunter's spore

we all gotta eat

Amongst the many things I am involved with is a bit of lecturing at Universities and other establishment. I and another colleague have been running one recently on mammals of Northumbria at the Hancock museum. It has been really inspiring to see so many different people take such an interest in what is often an under valued topic. I say under valued what I mean is, it is their study or watching that is not as widely undertaken as for instance bird watching, mammals are generally not as obliging as our feathered friends, that is of course unless their hungry.

It is this essential part of life that often gets so many people so hot under the collar, drives grown men to virtual acts of heroism or even in the case of my outlaw, sorry mother in law, very upset by what is nature at both its rawest and most brutal.

The course provided an insight into peoples feelings regarding such topics which relayed some very very ancient fears and misconceptions about wildlife. One saga I was told surrounded a former prison officer and others in a Nature Reserve that shall remain nameless in the Druridge Bay area attempting to rescue a rabbit from the clutches of a hungry stoat. He said, it was the screams and struggles he didn’t appreciate; the good news is although temporarily successful in their attempts to abort the stoat’s right to his supper, the rabbit however, not being the sharpest tool in the box only ran as far as the nearest car and was quickly recaught and the stoat got his just desserts.

A supreme predator to be admired not abhored

I mean what makes some people think it is ok to feed birds wholesale, eat a bacon sarnie or ware leather shoes. My brother has just come back from Kenya from the trip of a lifetime. He told me how everyone on the trip was so looking forward to the ‘big 5’ and even a kill of sorts. But he was gobsmacked when they eventually came across a hunt and subsequent kill that the same people were screaming at the guide to go and stop the lions and one couple even complained to the rep, saying they had seen it on TV and thought is was all made up.

Human sensibilities are so strange I can never make our species out, we are the most destructive species ever to walk the planet and yet we cry at Walt Disney (me included). My mother in law is forever pestering me about the sparrowhawk that raids her garden bird table so much so that I rigged some defence systems up to deter him and stop her bleating on like a stuck record… a blue tit today, a great tit next, then a blackbird this week, on and on. However, I had underestimated the aerial prowess of this mighty little hunter.

Another splendid hunter that should be admired

Staying late one afternoon after the obligatory tea and rock buns I was watching the through the back window, definitely more enthralling than who was singing in the choir or ‘are you sure you don’t want another rock bun’. I saw him, circling above the back fields, looking for his moment. I could see his route a steep bank to the left in a wide arc right and sweep in along the garden from left to right. My cunningly placed anti sparrowhawk defences were perfectly placed, newly washed smalls, t-shirts, jeans, a couple of sweatshirts and some blouses, all flapped randomly the result of a broken washer.

Surely not this time? Here he was, the bank sharp at first then levelling out to hedge height then sweeping right over the fence into his bomb run, shirts and bloused waving in defiance but his eye was truly focused. In what seemed an eternity that in reality was a split second he wound deftly through the washing various criss crossing fabrics, folding his wings he slid between the waving legs of a pair of Levis, his eye still fixed on his target? My own eyes hardly able to keep up with the events flicked from target to attacker, then in true Dam buster style a near vertical escape around the gazebo, his prize clutched firmly in yellow talons. Truly awe inspiring stuff, that Guy Gibson would be proud of, as for poor cock robin, well he paid the price of one too many bacon bits he now takes his place in the great bird table in the sky the circle of life complete.

“Well, I think I will have another rock bun Winifred, oh yes and a cup of tea” smug I sat back with the vision fresh in my mind nature yet again at its most brutal but also it’s most beautiful. The sparrowhawk will sleep happily that night free from the risk from almost instant starvation and the day after another robin came bob bob bobbin along.

Winter wonderland

As I write the snow is falling thick and fast cloaking the whole region in a white shroud,
I come from an age when snow was expected as soon as October ended and we often had white Easters never mind Christmas’. This day and age we get a couple of inches and the world stops. Well it may stop for human kind but for the rest of the animal kingdom the day to day struggles of life continue apace.

One of the beauties of this weather is that it allows you to witness just what lives on your doorstep because a covering of snow tells no lies. Getting out and about may be a little more difficult but making that extra effort can be really worthwhile telling the storey of a whole new world that went on the night before.

That fox slinked around the bins and under the bird feeding station or the little fella’s that don’t live in your garden under the compost bin, rabbits and hares all leave their tell tale tracks in the snow of where they have been and what they have been up to. Specks of blood and a few scattered feathers beneath a holly bush tell where a tawny owl stole a sleeping blackbird from its roost during the night.

The snow never lies and often shows some huge surprises that you would never consider unless you saw the evidence. Several years ago I was on the Wansbeck, just outside of Morpeth when I came across some unmistakable tracks in the snow leading into a nearby copse. An otter was looking for somewhere to sleep I thought, so I followed them through the copse and over the field to some rabbit warrens. Feeding on rabbits I thought, nothing new there when times are hard, needs must. Nope, closing in on the warrens there was obviously a great commotion in the snow with many tracks and disturbed snow.

Pondering the situation it became evident what had happened. Otters have long been thought of as solitary creatures but when you have studied them for as long as I have you know this is not the case. But what the tracks in the snow were about to unfold even I was surprised.

It was clear from the number tracks that there were more than one otter about so I started to put together the storey. Otter one had left the river and headed in land, judging by the size of the tracks he was a probably a male. On entering the area of gorse and rabbit holes he was met by what could only be described as a torrent of otters at least three different individuals with much smaller track sizes, youngsters? Then followed much running and harrying, rolling and jumping about obviously they were pleased to see each other.

Further tracks appeared from the direction of the river of a fifth otter, not quite as big as the first but bigger than the others (female), surely this is not meant to happen and neither was the next series of events.

Having watched Walt Disney as a kid and been enthralled by tobogganing otters I have in later life been slightly sceptical of wild creatures’ propensity to ‘play’. What the snow told that day was amazing all five otters were involved in a series of assault courses around two small hillocks where everyone was running to the top of the hill and then sliding down in pure enjoyment, the thrill of life. Oh to have been a snowflake that night to have witnessed this event. They must have ran their selves ragged as there were clear otter body imprints in the snow where they had collapsed with exhaustion, like snow angels they lay sprawled about. I have never seen the like of it before truly amazing.

I left the scene and the steam rising from the hole entrances as the occupants hopefully slept through my intrusion into their private world with a feeling of awe and wonder, had they really been playing?

On the way back I new that with out the snow nobody would have been aware of that sort of activity, not even Walt Disney was that good.

dogs and dog owners

There is nothing better than a good walk in the countryside through the lanes and along the rides, or over the moors or even through the woods. Each time of the year holds something different autumn colours and spring greens and even in this overcrowded little island there are still places where you can find peace and solitude, where you can relax and get away from everything, or at least that what’s you think?

The terrible threesome on their best behaviour

I am truly lucky in that I have access to many parts of the countryside that some do not and on most occasions that is for a good reason, sensitive wildlife locations or land use issues and don’t get me wrong im a great advocate for access to the countryside but I do understand the stance of many who are reticent especially when one comes across unruly visitors and their dogs.

I think there should be a licence for dogs or is that a licence for people with dogs. Some people really just don’t get that what they see as ‘Fido’ just enjoying himself or playing is actually their hunting instincts kicking in. Now I know, I have three of the most unruly dogs on the planet but where I differ from others is I know and can manage them (well most of the time anyway), its called a lead, but there are those out there that think there unseen activities are just ‘them having fun’ and nothing to worry about.

I was recently witness to the worst sort of this behaviour and the pure ignorance the effects that dogs can have or the dangers they can pose to other users.

It is incredible some peoples lack of understanding in such instances and it is one I witness to many times from sheep and stock worrying to plain old Fido going for a swim in a pond chasing the ducks. The disturbance to wildlife can be incredible and in such harsh times as these the unwarranted use of energy is critical. I saw this in stereo just the other week just before the freeze took effect.

I was walking my dogs around land we have access to for shooting, I was on the edge of a large rape field in some woodland. There is a tractor path along one field edge but it is not a public footpath and a dual carriageway along the other, so overlooking this wide expanse I was a little surprised to see two hares heading towards me a speed and then behind in the distance some excited barking. Over the rise not one but two spaniels came toward me quartering the ground flushing, chasing all and sunder partridges, pheasant, small birds everything. At first I thought I was seeing things and then I thought these are two young dogs escaped from a neighbouring shoot, but no, from along the track came two figures purposefully encouraging their dogs on. The dogs on doing what comes naturally just kept going and going toward the dual carriageway along the embankment they scattered rabbits, birds and more pheasants flying low over the carriage
way.

sheer ignorance

At this point it was looking decidedly dangerous and the dogs were nearly a km away and on the edge of the dual carriageway, their owners still blissfully wandering along the private track. My shooting colleague was on site that day and luckily situated closer to the deviant hounds from hell and somehow managed to rein them in. We both returned them to their owners with some choice words of advice but they just didn’t care and were oblivious as to what risk their dogs had been in or what they were doing. Their claim as usual was ’they were just having fun!!!

It is unbelievable ignorance and one that goes on all the time, had there been stock about then they may have been less fortunate, people really need to be more aware and responsible for their dogs actions.

How it should be done, dog on the left and under control.

winter in the garden

I had to de-ice the inside of my car this week the first time since I owned a mark two Cortina, it has been that cold. It is quite a prolonged spell to say the least with many people scratching their heads as to when was the last time it was this cold and eeh! What shall we do and what is the matter with the climate? Well for many who do not panic it is winter and every so often we should expect a bit of the white stuff and temperatures will occasionally drop below zero.

For me personally it does have some plus points as I do not mind the cold, the scenery is great and photo opportunities are abundant but is does hinder a lot of my work and such as management of our nature reserves and our ability to move around the place is hindered. Our conservation grazing is suffering and we can’t get on to many sites because of the depth of snow and ice but it is winter and that’s what happens.

However, there are pluses too, like last winter small mammals are having a field day (pardon the pun) under the ice and once the winter breaks their should be an abundance of small packets of protein to feed our hungry predators, well the ones that survive the winter any way. This is nature though and this is what happens within nature, the strong survive the weak unfortunately die.

Some animals are quick to take advantage of opportunities whilst others are slower and as such decline. Last winter we had a weasel take up residence in the compost heaps it was warm and there were plenty of mice about. This year I followed tracks in the snow in the parkland opposite my house, one of these little pint sized predators went from tree to tree looking for a meal until the tracks stopped an at the base of an ash tree. Just inside a little root cove there he was, frozen stiff, poor beast. He never got his meal the night before and his boiler went out, the balance act being so fine in one so small he perished, sad, but that is nature.

Back in my garden the chickens are more like penguins, the poor beasts perched on 8inches of compacted snow but on the feeders we have a couple of unusual guests, they are ones that I am keen to encourage as they remind me of my youth and ‘mis-spent’ days in the fields and hedges. They are a couple of tree sparrows who have joined the normal throng of house spuggies, chaffinches etc. I am ‘well happy’ as they say, as these are not common birds having declined like many farmland birds over recent decades. So to have them in the garden is excellent and along with the other birds that entertain my feeders they make excellent photographic subjects.

Being slightly mad at times, I wanted some good shots of these new visitors so placing myself in the greenhouse, removing a pain of glass I was in a prime spot for snapping away and so it was, despite the temperature in the greenhouse being a balmy -6. I fulfilled my Sunday morning challenge with some nice snaps of the tree sparrows, such handsome little chaps that they are. However, with hypothermia well and truly set in I had to get the circulation going so how better than walking the dogs.

Off we went for a largely uneventful mooch around my local footpaths, with only some comical images of my terriers struggling in the deep snow to entertain me, but then just as the sun was dipping and with temperatures plummeting again my ever alert dogs picked up movement on the lane ahead. A weasel!!! Scuttling over the road, the limp bundle of a field vole hanging from his jaws testament to his tenacity. Excellent, at least he will be safe for another night his belly full and boiler stoked. That put a nice shine on the end of the day so i went to the pub for a late afternoon pint to watch the match