Category: In the field
White letter Hairstreak
Stone worship
Nightsounds – a wasp nest in the shed
….. worth two in the bush
The first croak is the sweetest
Stonechat
Dusk at St. David’s
When you dip down below the centre of St. David’s in Pembrokeshire, Britain’s smallest city and the final resting place of Wales’ patron saint, you enter a valley of peace and tranquility. Ivy-clad trees line the pre-medieval lane that leads steeply down to cross The River Alun at the valley bottom. The…
stormwind buzzards
Storm Doris was passing through. An unlikely epithet branded by the meteorological office onto the low pressure system sweeping across the waistline of Britain, the storm brought high winds and disruption to many. In this part of Hertfordshire though, with the branches and trees of Plashes Wood thrashing below them, a pair…
On the birthing grounds
The chill of a pre-dawn December morning nipped at uncovered faces as our small group padded quietly out of the village. Gentle whispers of snatched conversation and the soft call of a winter robin licked the ears above the deep rhythms of distant breaking waves. Out onto the dunes, muscles finding…
White letter Hairstreak
Stone worship
Nightsounds – a wasp nest in the shed
….. worth two in the bush
The first croak is the sweetest
Stonechat
Dusk at St. David’s

When you dip down below the centre of St. David’s in Pembrokeshire, Britain’s smallest city and the final resting place of Wales’ patron saint, you enter a valley of peace and tranquility. Ivy-clad trees line the pre-medieval lane that leads steeply down to cross The River Alun at the valley bottom. The…
stormwind buzzards

Storm Doris was passing through. An unlikely epithet branded by the meteorological office onto the low pressure system sweeping across the waistline of Britain, the storm brought high winds and disruption to many. In this part of Hertfordshire though, with the branches and trees of Plashes Wood thrashing below them, a pair…
On the birthing grounds

The chill of a pre-dawn December morning nipped at uncovered faces as our small group padded quietly out of the village. Gentle whispers of snatched conversation and the soft call of a winter robin licked the ears above the deep rhythms of distant breaking waves. Out onto the dunes, muscles finding…