Nature diaries

I’ve had my mind on my Kestrel encounter from a few days ago, how his head stayed perfectly still while the rest of him moved with the wind.

Oh how behind I have fallen writing up my dairy notes the past week or so. I have been making daily scribbles in my journal but life ran awa

Today was a heatwave and my thermometer registered 30 degrees in Mulbarton, Norfolk. Waves of glorious perfume filled my nostrils from an unknown plant nearby as I walked, the first time I've experienced such smells in the middle of the meadow grass.

I always anticipated that the separation between my wildlife walks and my office life would remain quite separate but I've been trying to overlap the two of late. Windows open, Robins and Blackbirds calling, hot brews made from herbs from my garden and regular walks and stretches looking up into the trees.

I began my day searching for the Fen Raft Spider. One of the UK's largest species, they can literally walk on water so I side-stepped my way along the waterways in RSPB Strumpshaw Fen, binoculars glued to my face. A volunteer told me they'd seen one on a lilypad earlier in the day so I was convinced today was the day. No such luck. The hunt continues.

On the advice of an audiobook called 'England: A Natural History' by John Lewis-Stempel, I've been hunting down classic books by English nature writers. In addition to the prose and poems of John Clare, I tracked down a very old copy of The Natural History of Selborne from 1872 by Rev. Gilbert White.

Midday wanders today on Mulbarton Common. I headed into one of the woodland enclosures with a large pond to take shelter from the strong wind as I ate my sandwiches. Watched a family of Mallards and Moorhens, complete with a baby Moorhen. I wondered how birds are able to see this pond from above, sheltered on all sides as it is by the tall trees. Have they been there before?

There is never a danger of switching onto autopilot when visiting Strumpshaw Fen. From my first steps onto the woodland trail, very little is the same between visits - save for a particularly vocal Reed Warbler who routinely serenades me at a particular spot on Lackford Run.

Grounding usually elicits one of two responses when I bring it up in conversation. One is a look of very mild but polite ridicule, akin to looks when I rave about the benefits I've experienced from acupuncture. The other is usually from a total convert to the practice - the 'oh, yes!' exclamation and a beaming smile. Today was my turn to experiment.

What a difference two months makes. It's sometimes hard to notice significant changes in the landscape when you see them day to day. I photographed Mulbarton Common in Norfolk on the 1st of April and again this morning. The landscape around the large pond, beautiful brittle golden reeds have been replaced by lush vegetation. The reeds intertwine and lean into each other in the wind as pond skaters dance about on the surface.

I have wrongly assumed for some time now that dawn and dusk were the best times of day for wildlife walks and the times in between paled in comparison. A long, hot walk today proved I am very much mistaken.