You Fill up my Senses, Come Fill Me Again...

Although my weekend jaunts are micro holidays I guess, and I'm aware of how lucky I am to be able to do this, I was due a slightly longer sojourn into nature's bounty however and a place I had on my bucket list for what seemed like an eternity was Minsmere in Suffolk.

I left at 5.30am from the south coast of Hampshire on May Bank Holiday Monday hoping to miss all the manic traffic for a week away in East Anglia.

My first destination before this, some three and a half hours later, was Lakenheath Nature Reserve run by the RSPB. This is a medium sized reserve that packs a rather large punch relative to it's size.  

Being a member of the RSPB provides free entry to what was once carrot fields. Quite astonishing when you see the wonderful diverse habitat they have created. Anything is possible with the knowledge, expertise and funding that the charity has in spades.

First steps from the visitor centre look out onto reed edged pools full of singing warblers. Sedge - as in the second shot - Reed and Grasshopper Warblers too, although the latter proved very elusive.

Water voles are making a comeback, thanks to reintroduction programmes and the eradication of the American Mink, an unfortunate escape from Mink farms that have decimated Vole populations along with loss of habitat, that old chestnut thanks to the hand of man.
This one was a rare black individual as they are normally light to dark brown. This is a juvenile and clearly not afraid of heights as it clambered above the water looking for tasty shoots to eat. 
  

Following the circle path near the pools and reeds brings you in close proximity of the warblers and their habitat.
Their song is a pleasure to hear through Spring, breaking the fast since they left for Africa the previous last year.
Usually heard more than seen, it takes patience and a little bit of luck to be able to get a good view. Reed and Sedge Warblers have similar songs. Sedge being more scratchy, Reed more tuneful. 

Butterflies have been emerging thanks to the recent warmer weather. My first sighting of a Small Tortoiseshell this year was very pleasing. They have had mixed fortunes over the past few years. Sometimes I struggle to see one, hopefully 2018 will buck the trend ?

While my eyes were occupied with the reeds my ears drew me to the trees. The very misnamed Garden Warbler sung above me. I think it should be renamed the Tree Warbler due to its penchant for arboreal activity and it is seldom seen in gardens unless it happens to be set in deciduous woodland.
The leaf cover made it doubly difficult to pinpoint the bird. Identification through sight is always a bonus especially as this sounds almost exactly like it's more ubiquitous cousin, the Blackcap.

Reed Bunting proliferate here. This male was very vocal along the warbler path.

I followed the path that borders the ditch and follows out into the main reserve itself. Either side of me warblers sang out their territories every few feet apart. Mainly Reed and Sedge.
I eventually located a Reed Warbler. Patience, as I mentioned, being the key word. 

The path turns left following the ditch still, with woodland on the left, leading to open reeds and pools to the right. In the woodland I could here a male Cuckoo calling intermittently. Locating it in the tall green jungle proved extremely difficult however. Peacock Butterflies were much more obliging.

The waterscape before me was relatively quiet bar a few ducks and geese.

Greylag Geese seemed to be everywhere and the majority had young in tow.

I carried on round to the first hide overlooking the pools with Lombardy Poplars as a backdrop. One of my favourite trees. Tall and shimmering when in full leaf and full sun, they remind me of being a child playing at our local recreation ground or 'Rec' as we used to call it.
The first sight that greeted me as I peered through the scrum in the hide - it was a bank holiday so it was naturally busy - was a Whooper Swan looking forlorn all on it's own. Virtually all of these winter visitors would have left for their breeding grounds in Iceland, although a very small number do nest in this country but not here. Maybe it was unwell, I couldn't tell but it looked a little lethargic.

High above the hide and into the distance, many raptors were gathering. The vast majority being Hobbies. They specialise in hunting small birds and Dragonflies and nest often near to lakes and rivers. It always amazes me that a bird the size of a Kestrel can find enough nutrition from such a small insect and have the agility to catch one. The Anisoptera species are no slackers when it comes to sharp manoeuvres, but the Hobbies are experts in their craft. 

They catch and consume on the wing quite often. This individual had caught one and was dismembering aloft.

The Greylag made sure their young weren't next on the menu...diligence was their watch word.

I sat at the viewing platform for a while. It was scorchingly hot, so I rehydrated and looked through my binoculars across the reed bed..

Yet more Hobbies appeared. The day before a count of 56 had been seen. I counted at least 30 today but there were probably many more. Unheard of for a gathering of raptors, unless they are Red Kites at feeding stations. They have migrated here from Africa and will pass through to their relevant breeding grounds across the country.
Some years I can struggle to find any, so this was a gluttony of Hobbies and I felt as though I had over indulged. 

My belly full, I climbed the bank to follow the river back to the visitor centre. All the while thinking I should be staying put for some unearthly reason, yet I still ventured on...

A hundred yards or so later I turned and glanced back to the reed beds.
From this distance I could make out two birds circling, they looked like birds of prey but on second thoughts I knew they were Bitterns. Normally Bitterns are shy and so difficult to see, keeping to the jungle of beige reed, perfectly camouflaged. If they venture aloft, it's no more than a few seconds. At this instance they decided they would have a damn good fly around for a couple of minutes, and why not ? I was so far away yet in my head my thoughts ranged from RUN !!! to BUGGER..NOOO!! I settled tentatively for the former, all the while knowing they would drop immediately into the beige abyss, lost forever. And so it came to pass... my procrastinations let me down this time, yet I battled with the fact if they had initially, I would have seen the Bitterns in close up. Either way I settled for the cold comfort I would get the chance again some day and some very distant but ultimately record shots..  

A form of comfort did reveal itself however. I descended the bank and back along the ditch path back with all the warblers, I could hear the Cuckoo calling deep within the woodland once more. I gathered with many other expectant tree watching faces. Ever hopeful.
I trudged slowly back to towards the visitor centre almost giving up hope when I spotted the said bird fly through the glade. I called to the oblivious onlookers and pointed out the male Cuckoo. It was distant and hazy but unmistakable. It's body shook as it convulsed it's onamatopoeic double syllable into the world, desperate for a response from a willing female.     

A long journey from an early start but boy was it worth it. I left fully satiated in an ex carrot field. My next stop was home for four nights in a Suffolk copse, retro style....

Happy Days Retro Vacations sounds like something straight out of Arizona and by a twist of the mind it could easily be. Yet it is set in the middle of arable farmland in deepest Suffolk.
The accommodation is retro and unique. The Airstream caravans have been imported by Kevin and his wife Jenni from the States. They have seven of these vintage American caravans with another undercover waiting for a little TLC before introduction. The shower in the caravan doesn't work but there are superb toilet and shower facilities across the lawn in the shower block. Much of the power onsite is generated from solar and wind which was right up my street. Overall a small but cosy little copse of camping.     

Before I had barely settled in and given a brief gen up on the way around 'Annie' - a 1966 constructed airstream - by Kevin who couldn't have been more welcoming and friendly, than a male Orange Tip tripped on by. They barely ever stop but this was the end of the day and it duly obliged...

The site also boasts a fab little information hut, full of places of interest to visit, books and dvds' too.

Annie was slightly on the wonk according to the built in spirit level but I wasn't too worried about that !

Little Elsie was the cute Cheltenham Sable caravan next to Annie.

Kevin gave me the local lowdown on the wildlife here. Three types of Owl, Barn, Tawny and Little have been seen. He was a little distraught however as the sharp winter had taken all of his Robins. I'm sure the hole will be filled in time.
There are many Brown Hare to be seen too. Apparently the local farmer makes space for them which was good to hear.
I decided on a tour of the patch to see what was about in the golden evening light.

An old World War Two truck called Bernard lay in the front of Kevin and Jenni's garden.

Yellowhammers rang out their 'Little bit of bread and no cheese' call high above.

The farm track leading to the copse ahead with the caravan site just within.

The verges were festooned with Cow Parsley.

As everywhere is fairly flat it's easier to pick out distant objects. What at first I thought were small Deer turned out to be my first Hare of the journey. Even from this distance they weren't taking any chances at a human being pointing something at them. Years of persecution ran in their DNA...

... and they scarpered !

I hung around for a sighting of a Barn Owl but it never materialised so I headed back for dinner and bed.

Kevin and Jenni have a little sideline in entertainment. A sort of Crystal Maze within a corrugated semi circular shed. I didn't try it out but it looked fascinating from the leaflet. The sign had a large dose of irony for me though.

An exhausting but ultimately illuminating day, I had my first taste of Minsmere ahead of me and it would be an early start. Sunrise was just after 5am so I hastened to my rest. Another long day beckoned...

The title of this post is a line from 'Annie's Song' by John Denver