Author: scillyshrew

About scillyshrew

Artist, eco poet, nature writer from Dorset UK

An Array of Hedgehogs

A few months ago I posted a blog about Henrietta and her urchins. The story had ended on rather a low note when I found a dead hedgehog by the roadside. However, I’m pleased to say that we still have an array (the technical term for a group of hedgehogs) thriving in our garden and, although it’s difficult to be certain, one looks very much like Henrietta.

Over the summer we watched two young hedgehogs coming out at dusk from their nest under the shed and running playfully around on the patio. One in particular seemed intent on running laps for several minutes before stopping for food. We put out cat food (jelly-based and meaty) garnished with a few mealworms. We had been advised that too many mealworms are not a good idea as the hedgehogs seem to get addicted and this can cause huge problems. The following information has been copied from the Hedgehog Street website:-

‘Rescue centres up and down the country are seeing increasing numbers of their prickly patients with metabolic bone disease, which is linked to feeding large amounts of mealworms. Metabolic bone disease is a very distressing condition which basically robs their bones of calcium and leaves them so weak that they are barely able to stand up.’ 

Another issue is overfeeding which results in a hedgehog too fat to curl up and defend itself.

Our hedgehogs grew and seemed to thrive. Some kind neighbours fed them while we were away at the beginning of September and had fun sitting in the dark watching the antics of the young hedgehogs who would come and nibble their shoelaces!

Around the end of September, things seemed to change. The energetic lap-runner didn’t appear at his usual time and we’re wondering if he’d reached sexual maturity and had gone off to new pastures. We decided to put a camera out at night to monitor the activities. This showed at least two hedgehogs are still in the garden.

We have two commercially made hedgehog houses and one homemade one. We provided straw and piles of dead leaves and were pleased to see at least two of these houses are being used, as well as a compost sack half full of earth which has been topped up with leaf litter by an enterprising hedgehog to make a cozy nest!

In the last week or so every scrap of the food is disappearing overnight and we think this is because the hedgehogs are fattening themselves up ready for hibernation.

Our near neighbours have created hedgehog access holes in their fences and gates. The whole village is becoming more hedgehog-aware and reports have come in of hedgehogs in several gardens nearby so we’re hoping our hedgehog population will be booming next spring.

 

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Growing on the Edge

Behind the Chesil bank at Abbotsbury, there is a hinterland, neither beach nor countryside. This area between high tide mark and the beginning of fields is known as the Littoral Zone. This is an apt name (regardless of the spelling) as the sea rarely reaches this area, so it is often littered with a strange array of objects, blown by the wind and caught in the scrubby undergrowth. This marginal area is joined to the land by a coastal path, a kind of selvedge that binds the border of the beach and attaches it to the countryside beyond. Yet this path also acts as a separation zone, the plants either side of the track being quite different.

Just as thoughts crowd your mind between sleep and waking, so the findings in this marginal area are random and sometimes disturbing. Ragged feathers and weathered scraps of driftwood mingle with plastic bottles, brightly coloured cigarette lighters and cellophane packaging and a nightmare selection of anglers’ rubbish. Light pink sea fan coral flits on the breeze and sometimes fossils of sea urchins surface from the shingle when you least expect to find anything worthwhile.

Mid-September and the sun is low in the sky, silvering glimpses of the sea and glossing the pebbles. I walk along the coastal path where teasels form a palisade to the seaward side. On my right, bordering a field, are tall stalks of seeding wild leeks (Babington’s leeks). These nod their heavy heads in the wind – clusters of dark brown seeds with wispy tendrils attached.

On the edges of the beach are the rubbery bat-wing leaves of Sea kale draped on the shingle. A few thrift flowers are in bloom, incongruously pink among the autumn colours. Sea campion is still flowering, the delicate bell-like shapes inspiring its folk-lore names of ‘dead man’s bells’, ‘witches’ thimbles’ and ‘Devil’s hatties’. The pale pink tassels of Tamarisk hang beside the path, decorating the tangle of twisted trunks and fringing the shady tunnels within the clump.

From the corner of my eye I see the seeds of the Creeping thistle float then vanish on the wind.

An island beach

In July I visited the Isles of Scilly, staying on Bryher. I spent a lot of time on Great Par beach, sketching and beach-combing, finding tiny pieces of sea-smoothed china with cryptic squiggles of pattern, purple and yellow flat periwinkle shells, flat top-shells with their zig-zaggy stripes and pointed limpet shells with holes drilled in them by the sea.

It was just after the full moon and the tides were very extreme – the locals call them ‘bad tides’ as they make boating difficult. On Great Par it was very low tide and I found the beach dotted with stranded jellyfish. The most noticeable were Blue-fire jellyfish – a deep purple/blue the colour of Scilly seas in summer. These varied in size from tiny blobs to side-plate-sized.

Compass jellyfish were also scattered around the tideline. They were large peach-coloured discs with distinctive dark brown markings radiating from a central small circle, just like the calibrations on a compass. The edges were outlined in dark brown spots which coincided with the spokes of the ‘compass’.

There were one or two Moon jellyfish, completely clear discs like the bottom of a pint glass, through which you could see the pebbles, soft-focus and distorted.

In the shallows where the tide was turning I saw something small moving towards the sea. Bending down I could see what looked like a miniature lobster, about two centimetres long. It stopped and seemed to be aware of me, lifting its tiny claws in a show of defiance. This was a Squat lobster. They find shelter and protections from predators in small cracks in the rocks and are quite common on Scilly.

I walked off behind the beach around Samson Hill where clouds of butterflies flew up where my feet brushed through the bracken. There were small copper butterflies, meadow browns and six-spot burnet moths. It reminded me of how things were when I was a child, before the advent of pesticides and industrial farming. Here on this small island in the Atlantic was a butterfly paradise.

 

Henrietta and her urchins

We couldn’t believe there was a hedgehog in our garden. It was mid-morning on a Sunday towards the end of May and a portly looking hedgehog was scurrying around collecting mouthfuls of dry leaves then disappearing under the shed. We watched her for a couple of hours, realising she was a pregnant female making a nest.

She appeared again later in the day gathering more nesting material. Then we saw nothing of her for a couple of days. We put out a large shallow dish of fresh water and bought meal worms and hedgehog food which we put behind a paving slab we had propped against the side of the shed. The food disappeared so we replenished it each evening.

Then Henrietta, as we called her, started appearing regularly at dusk. She would have a long drink, eat some food then trot off around the garden. One evening I saw her heading down the road towards the recreation ground. This was a bit worrying, but it is a quiet village road so I hoped she would be ok.

A couple of weeks went by before we started seeing the urchins, or young hedgehogs. They were almost round with little pointy snouts and would drink together from the dish. We think there were three, but were never sure if we had seen all of them at one time. Soon the food started disappearing very fast and we had to stock up on meal worms, their favourite food.

Now, as it gets dark, around 10pm, the two-month-old urchins come out from under the shed and, after a feed and a drink, they run back and forth, disappearing among the herbs. They even found a lost tennis ball in the flower bed and pushed it out on to the path. Our neighbours have cut openings in their back gates to allow access for foraging hedgehogs.

However, we haven’t seen Henrietta now for about ten days. I’m hoping it’s just that she’s weaned her young and has left them to be self-sufficient, but yesterday as I turned off the main road to the village I saw a grey smudge, a sketchy outline, unmistakably hedgehog, lying flat as a child’s discarded drawing on the slip road.

I walked back to look more closely and felt inexpressibly sad that this could be Henrietta, now just a matted grey shape of crushed prickles, the snout upturned cartoon-like.

We are continuing to feed our two remaining hedgehogs and have installed a hedgehog house ready for hibernation time. We still hope that perhaps Henrietta may still be alive and will come back one day to have another litter.

Poem a Week

Last January I decided I would write a poem a week throughout 2016. This is why I haven’t produced a blog for a while, so I apologise to my followers for my year’s absence. I have always written poetry, but since finishing my MA at Bath Spa in 2001, my forays into poetry have been sporadic. In 2015 I wrote a lot of poems about the South Dorset Ridgeway and collected them into a book called Sea Wall which I illustrated with my own lino-prints. So, in 2016 I decided the time had come to apply myself on a regular basis to see what came out of it. A friend joined me in the challenge and we met weekly to read and discuss our poems.

Sometimes the poems came easily, but other weeks I had to struggle to produce something, but I very much enjoyed the challenge of digging deep and writing on a weekly basis. Occasionally, like the seventh wave, a poem would emerge which seemed greater than the others. Some poems were little but deeply felt, others were longer and had their own agenda. It was both an exploration and a revelation and I soon found I had quite a reservoir of poems.

I then decided to send a few to poetry competitions. By the end of the year my work had been shortlisted in several competitions including the Ver Poets Open Competition, the Yeovil Literary Prize and the Bridport Prize (two poems). This was encouraging and I decided to continue with my poem-a-week in 2017.

Looking at my file of work from last year, it is a diary of the seasons, but also of my memories. I have found most poems are closely linked to nature and the landscape, so, in this way I have continued my nature writing, but changed the shape of the text on the page.

Here is the little poem that was shortlisted in the Ver Poets Open Competition:-

School milk

The morning bell sent us clattering
from the chalk-fug of the classroom
scraping wooden chairs
elbowing and chattering
out into the January air.

There on a trestle in the shade
stacked crates of frosted bottles
silver tops balanced on small towers
of frozen cream
sticking to lips
as we tipped iced milk to hot mouths

eyes tilted to the snow-filled sky.

I remember how the chill crept slowly through me
an ache in my throat.

Jennifer Hunt
2016

Sea Wall

Sea wall was the name given to the South Dorset Ridgeway by those who lived in its shadow. It was seen as a natural barrier, keeping back the sea that raged against the Chesil Bank and the Jurassic Coast. This was the inspiration to my book which has just been published by Archaeopteryx Imprint Ltd.

I collected extracts from some of the posts published on my blog for the BBC Wildlife Magazine and mixed these with some of my poems, most of which were written last summer, but I have also included some from ten years ago when I lived at Kingston Russell on the landward side of the South Dorset Ridgeway. Several of these poems have already been published in different anthologies and poetry magazines such as Poetry Wales and South.

I then decided to create linocuts to illustrate my work. Originally I planned to make about six but, in the end, I was having so much fun, that there is a linocut on almost every page. Owls, hares, newts and skylarks are some of the wildlife touched on in my writing. Underpinning everything is the prehistoric landscape of the ridgeway itself. It is impossible to walk this ancient way without being aware of those who lived and worked there in times gone by. There are traces of worked flints, stone circles and sarsen stones. But there is also the indefinable sense of many footsteps ghosting the way. And, beyond the Ridgeway, is the sea in all its changing moods.

I enjoyed creating the book so much, I am already planning my next one on Chesil Beach and the Jurassic Coast so watch this space!

Sea Wall is available from www.archaeopteryx-imprint.co.uk for £10 plus postage & packing.

By-the-Wind Sailors

A gale force south-westerly was blowing so I headed for Hive Beach, Burton Bradstock on the Jurassic coast to do some wave-watching. The sea was huge and grey topped by white manes. A deep roaring sound filled the air as waves broke across the shingle. Curds of foam were blowing across the beach like enormous snowflakes.

I walked head down into the wind scanning the strandline. What looked like a piece of clear cellophane caught my eye. On closer inspection I saw a beautiful whorled pattern like a spider’s web and realised it was a tiny By-the-Wind Sailor jellyfish (Vellela) only about 1cm across. It was transparent and delicate, but marked with a concentric pattern and topped by a tiny translucent sail.

I then noticed that there were hundreds of these tiny creatures all over the beach. Some were a deep sapphire blue and up to about 8cm long whereas others were completely transparent. All were whorled like finger prints and delicate as glass. They were scattered all along the strandline like miniature shipwrecked yachts. The tiny tentacles on their undersides weren’t apparent, but, when I picked one up it left inky blue residue on the palm of my hand.

Like exquisite solar panels, the tiny medusa convert sunlight to energy, their small sails align with the direction of the prevailing winds and they are carried helplessly along, often to be wrecked in their thousands on the west coast of America. It is unusual to see them in Dorset. Storm Desmond has caused the biggest influx of these marine creatures in a decade.

I’ve never seen these beautiful little crafts before and it was both exciting and sad to see so many stranded on the shore, left high and dry by the rough seas.

Solway Firth

On the road to Wigtown
(book capital of Scotland)

Black quilled crow
on a dry stone wall in the rain.
Reeds fringing mudflats
stained sepia
creased like an old photo
left in a drawer.

I stop the car
get out and breathe
salt-soaked air
hear the lick and spit of water
through tissue layers of mist
riffling water and sky –

an open book
water-marked
pressed flat
spine cracked
lines of furrowed words
blurred by the press of birds’ feet
by the endless turning of
furled water
curling the edges
of this strange place

traced by a passing glance
bookmarked then
slammed shut.

I drive on.

Behind me
in those wide margins
the Solway story
is written every day
whether I read it
or not.
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WWT Caerlaverock, Dumfries and Galloway

The fog had lifted but a thick cover of cloud prevented any sun from coming through. We drove through a blizzard of autumn leaves along the coast road. I noticed a buzzard sitting on a telegraph pole hunched against the dull damp weather. It was low tide and the mudflats of the estuary stretched away till they merged with the grey sky. A silver lattice of water-filled gullies criss-crossed the furrowed mud, brightening the view.

We stopped at Castle Douglas nature reserve and walked through the Castle woods. It was silent and seemed devoid of birds although there were bird boxes positioned on many trees. The recent mild weather meant that some wild flowers were still flourishing – foxgloves and red campion among them. Black pods hung from the broom and red berries glistened with dew drops.

After a welcome stop at the small homely cafe we walked back through the woods and drove on to the Wetlands Wild Trust reserve at Caerlaverstock where the BBC Autumn Watch team were installed. Chris Packham and Michaela walked by with a retinue of cameramen and sound recordists.

A honking sound drew us to a large lake where hundreds of mallards, mute swans,mu Hooper swans, Canada geese and other water birds were dipping and diving. We watched from a glass-fronted viewing shelter and listened to a running commentary from a lady whose task it was to feed the birds from a large orange wheelbarrow.

An incoming tide washed the mudflats to a pale grey sheen as dusk fell and we headed back to a log fire. A hind sprang away across a field, her coat dark with rain, white tail flickering like a glow worm in the dim light.