You Know The Sun Shines, Hotter Than Ever Before

Spring was unusually warm this year. A high of twenty degrees seemed impossible.

The blossom, birdsong and bursting of life seemed everywhere all of a sudden..

But, hang on, lets rewind a little bit. It's only the middle of February and we are still on the emphasis of the southern hemisphere and still in Winter here in the Northern. That can't be right ?

That didn't deter the forty plus frogs jumping into our wildlife pond to procreate. Although any time from January to February can see the start of their life cycle but usually March has them in full swing...quite literally !
Males swarm over the females in hope of a brief coupling to fertilise the spawn that was growing larger by the day.

The pond was alive with writhing bodies. Move too quick and they would disappear in an instant. So I crept up slowly on my stomach to capture them - surface level.

The males were letting out low long gutteral notes which were easy to copy. I got many responses when I called them. Their air sacks in their throats expanded wonderfully as they did so..

The warm weather was staying with us over the weekend which made for perfect - if not a little concerning - chances at walks out and about.
On the Saturday I left early for a mixed day out on my own. Sarah was out for the day, my friend Chris was having a family day in Lymington, so the world was my oyster..
So many choices to fit into eight hours.

First stop was to the derelict Fort Cumberland at Eastney near Southsea, on the Portsmouth peninsular.
There had been reports of a Black Redstart and Little Owls around the fort next to the beach.

The owls were easy to find, sitting like sentinels in the holes of the old fort wall, snoozing in the sun.
Although some distance away, I managed to zoom in through the chain link fence.
This place is earmarked for development, so how long they can call this place home is open to question.   

The Black Redstart remained elusive, although on the beach below me from the sea wall there were a dozen Sanderling feeding in their clockwork toy style business.

I gave up on the Redstart, which ironically would turn up again the following week. Such is nature, completely unpredictable at times but ultimately engaging.

Next stop, it was onto the M27 and West to the heart of the New Forest.
As I reached Crab Tree Bog near Brockenhurst, the temperature gauge in the van nudged 20 degrees, quite unbelievable. I tapped the readout on the dash in the hope it was playing up and drop the twelve degrees to the normal temperature expected at this time of year.

The light through the trees was very impressive though as I stepped from the van and crossed the road over onto the heathland. I was wearing a fleece but I could have easily been in my T-shirt and shorts.  

My main focus of this walk was to try to find a rare Great Grey Shrike that often inhabits open heathland in the forest through Autumn and Winter. Also known as the butcher bird as it has been known to hang it's prey on thorns to cache them. Most of the time when I have seen them they have consumed their prey which consists of anything from insects through to small birds.

Passing Brimstone and Peacock Butterlies added to the fact of the above average temperatures impacting behaviour. As is common, seeing one alight for any length of time for a photograph proved problematic.

As I moved slowly across the heath, the sparse gorse vegetation provided perfect vantage points for Stonechats. This male and his mate who was nearby had evidently paired up in a territory ready for the coming breeding season. I had witnessed several species doing so over the last few days. The normal flocking activities of Winter were beginning to subside as the urge to breed took over.

Through the gap in the trees I could make out the grandiose Rhinefield House Hotel shimmering in the heat haze.

I followed my map along a circular route which took in Holm Hill overlooking Crab Tree Bog. A great viewpoint to catch anything in the distance. Still no Shrike but in the foreground another Brimstone flitted around me and eventually landed long enough for some decent close ups. This is a male which has yellow/green underwings whereas the female is much lighter in colour, almost white at times.
Happy with at least a decent shot of this beautiful insect just out of hibernation I descended the hill back to the car park. No Shrike again but my luck will change at some point. That is my fervent hope anyway !

Still, it was a promising new site for me in the New Forest and the light through the trees by the car park gave some wonderful shades, textures and colours.

And right on cue, a New Forest pony sauntered across the river before me.

It was only just past lunchtime, so time was on my side. The days were edging slowly longer giving extra walking hours.
My next stop was just a few miles North, back to our favoured spot that is Acres Down.
There is a great circular walk here taking in the spectacular views from the top of the down to the depths of the forest itself and down to the river.
I left the car park and took the steep slope to the hilltop first.
Top of the list here were Woodlark, Goshawk and Lesser Spotted Woodpecker - New Forest specialists.
The former breed on the hill and are usually a safe bet to view and photograph, I say that lightly as my track record today wasn't too good so far !

The latter are more 'Willo-the Wisp' like in character. Normally heard calling or drumming (Especially at this time of year) but difficult to see, largely because of it's size and propensity to flit around the high treetops.
The Goshawk is one huge success story in this forest, but this secretive raptor - similar to a Sparrowhawk in looks but almost twice the size - hunts deep in woodland and is best seen displaying high above the canopy from elevated sites such as this, albeit from a considerable distance. This time of year is perfect as they display over their breeding grounds.
From the viewpoint overlooking vast swathes of the forest I could pick out an occasional Goshawk above the horizon but they remained distant specks.

Then the unmistakable sweet warbling of a Woodlark filtered through from a distance behind me. I followed my ears, gradually growing closer to the source, my eyes searching every treetop and shrub looking for the owner of a song maybe just second best to it's cousin the Skylark, but beautiful either way.

I searched all over but although it seemed close, it also seemed far away for some strange reason. Then it clicked. I knew they serenaded their territory from the sky sometimes, like their cousin, so my attention turned to directly above me. Once my focus had adjusted to a brown spec in the blue, I was locked onto it's fluttering melodic chatter...

This seemingly energy sapping display can go on for some minutes as this individual demonstrated.
Then literally, out the blue, they descend rapidly like a raptor diving on prey.

Allowing - with a little patience - some intimate views of this aerial and vocal gymnast on the ground.

 

Although the sun was ahead of me, I managed some half decent shots of this quite rare and localised gem with it's crest raised.
I spent a good hour watching, listening and photographing about three individuals. It was difficult to draw myself away, I kept starting to leave but kept getting sucked back when another struck up a song from above.

The day was lengthening, so I had to carry on to the lower path back to the car park before it grew too dark.
A sculptured love heart on the side of the hill was a warming piece of art someone had taken the time to piece together as I hit the forest. Perhaps an omen for the next and last section of my walk today ?

There are many times as you walk through the woods here you can get startled by the ponies stood chomping at the foliage. There are also donkeys too. Almost always seen in pairs or more, as they crave company.

Although the sun was getting lower, the sky was still a lovely pastel blue, providing a great backdrop to the beeches that reminded me of Baobab trees in Africa.

The sun was just about to be lost into a distant bank of cloud and so the light that had been so good all day was diminishing.
The trees were still full of all sorts of birds however. A small flock of Tits followed me in the trees by the path.

Then an unmistakable silhouette shot across my vision. I knew it was the Lesser Spotted Woodpecker I had craved by it's behaviour and size, but it remained in front of the light, so my chance of a decent shot was fading with the sun.

Then as all hope seemed lost, it flew across into the opposite canopy and into the light, incredibly followed by another !

Although my exposure was set too low I had no choice but to rattle off several shots before it left abruptly.

This was the best I could muster in the fading light although I had to lighten the picture afterwards.

Once a very common bird, this Sparrow sized woodpecker has declined markedly while it's larger Great Spotted cousin has boomed. So it is always great to see. The New Forest is a stronghold for them thankfully but along with patience, luck plays a huge role, as it did here.

Then after some ten seconds, they shot off some distance leaving me with a broad smile across my face. I punched the air with delight. Maybe the omen came to fruition?

The last few hundred yards to the car park at the end of the day were easy after that sighting, the smell off the recently felled pine trees filled my nostrils as I bounced up the hill with happiness.
I hadn't seen all I wanted to today but the unexpected is part and parcel of the experience. 

The next day being a Sunday was a day of rest at home. The weather was still unrelenting warmth. Our cherry blossom was the best in our garden we had known. Usually with the amount of birds that visit here, the buds are taken before they have a chance to bloom.

One of the first Butterflies to emerge are Red Admirals. They used to be migratory only but with climate change many are overwintering as adults here. It's quite possible this had arrived from the continent however, what with the warm southerlies.

With the fabulous colour of the sky, it set off the contrast of the insect and the blossom perfectly, so I indulged myself for an hour or so. The Admiral stayed around all day.

I had another unexpected visitor to the garden too. A male Reed Bunting hung around for a couple of days. I hadn't seen one here for years. They are common at the nature reserve down the road but have adapted to visit garden bird feeders.

My last sojourn for the weekend was a walk down the road to the sea to capture the sunset.
The willow buds had begun their emergence on Browndown heath there. Spring was definitely just around the corner even though this unprecedented weather had lulled us into a false sense of it's arrival. Strange days indeed.

The title of this post is a line taken from the track ' The Rape of the World' by Tracy Chapman
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rPrGB-1lYkg