Not everything you read in books is true. But some things are! Today, armed only with a camera, a warped mind, and a limited knowledge of natural history, I set out to Hampstead Heath to identify various species of living creature, which until now I have only read about in books. Most of the books I read are fairly reputable and so I have a large degree of faith in the fact that animals mentioned in them do actually exist. Publications like Collins Field Guide to Birds of Britain and Europe, Collin's Tree Guide and Richard Mabey's Flora Britannica, are of invaluable assistance to the budding naturalist.
One may be forgiven, however, for doubting that much of our British wildlife is at all visible to the layperson, and to an extent this is true. The mode of observation for studying wildlife is very different to that of our everyday experience. For instance, to see birds one must acquire the ability to stay still for some minutes. This will accustom the senses to the surroundings, enabling us to discern moving objects, to distinguish living moving objects from inanimate ones, and eventually to identify individual members of distinct species. Also, staying still helps us to blend in with our surroundings. Any rare little bird who's just chanced upon the scene, whose vision may or may not be based on movement, will be less likely to notice you if you're not constantly moving around.
On a dull morning in February, I wasn't expecting to see a great deal of exciting flora, but I'm keen not to miss anything this year and so aim to get out as regularly as possible. I didn't take my bins (which is always a mistake) because I'd intended on looking mainly for early flowering plants and ferns. But, as is often the case at this time of year, there was considerable avian activity on the Heath.
Sat on a bench overlooking a steep declining meadow on the East Heath, I found myself watching a crow which rose swiftly on the wind above the forest on the horizon. It was joined by its partner and together they rode the wind, seeming not to be purposeful, but rather to be enjoying playing. Then some gulls took the stage, again using the wind but not in as controlled a way as the crows. Unlike the crow, their wings are designed more for economy and milage than for precise flying. Drunkenly, they stagger in the air, being at the mercy of the wind and having to make the best of it. They wait for that time in the evening when the thermal currents form warm pillars. Gulls wheel around these pillar until they've ascended high enough to comfortably glide all the way back to the sea. A wood pigeon executed its simplistic territorial display; an arc with a wing clap at the zenith. A crow parodied this manoeuvre. All good fun.
Down by a stream I was delighted to find the early stems of what looks like Iris pseudacorus (Yellow Flag Iris), along with the green leaves of Hyacynthoides Non-Scripta (Bluebells) and one or two Narcissus pseudonarcissus (Daffodil) in flower.
The real discovery for me today though, was Asplenium scolopendrium (Hart's Tongue Fern), which I'm familiar with as a garden plant but have never before noticed it in its natural habitat. Of the ferns, Polystichum setiferum (Soft Shield Fern), Dryopteris dilitata (Buckler Fern) and Pteridium aquilinum (Bracken) were also noted. All had seen better days and some showed new fiddleheads coming through. Ferns belong to a different division of the plant kingdom from flowering plants. They do not flower or seed but reproduce by spores which can be found on the underside of leaves. Less evolved than angiosperms but more so than mosses and liverworts, the ferns evoke for many the idea of the prehistoric landscape.
At one point I noticed a Treecreeper going about his or her business (Both sexes are identical) and wished that someone could be here to see, since so few people have have seen one. I think they know that they are invisible, because they will usually remain unperturbed by an observer until they've been approached quite close. Then, in a tree behind the Treecreeper I noticed a Great Spotted Woodpecker, Great Tit and a couple of Long tailed Tits. It is interesting to note sometimes the coincidence of the sightings of such species, along with the Nuthatch, and to wonder what sort of relationship they might have with each other.
Later that afternoon I was forced into Hampstead village to procure orange flavoured Lucozade. This provided me not just with a thirst quencher but also more energy to continue my natural excursion. Although in all honesty, there is only so much one can take in during any given session. Nature has been described as a book and also as an art gallery, and like both the joy is experienced early on for most people, wearing off after a while. Little annoyances like having knelt on some bramble, and having been bitten by midges start to make the outdoors less appealing, and thoughts naturally turn back towards home.
On the way back through the woods I disturbed a Song Thrush and followed it to where it went. I listened to its song. Not being familiar with the Nightingale, the song thrush is probably my favourite of the British songbirds. I've heard that each bird has a repertoire of about 100 different song phrases. They usually repeat a phrase twice, as if to prove that they meant it the first time. Along came a Robin, also a competent singer. Its shrill melody fizzles in and out. Above, several Redwing are seen moving on. They look like song thrushes but have a white supercillium and a patch of red on the 'armpit' right under the wing. Difficult to see up close due to their wary nature, they are winter migrants from Scandinavia and should be heading back soon. Perhaps they like it here in London and have decided to stay.
So you see there are things out there you just have to look!
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