30 Days Wild
After my recent trips away, further time off from the day job is now limited. Faced with a long summer slogging away in a dimly lit office is not something that fills anyone with relish and I for one, feel like a battery hen some days, desperate for a bit of barefoot freedom. Thank heavens then, that I came across the British Wildlife Trust's 30 Days Wild initiative.
Standing at the station, waiting for the early morning train back to 'the smoke' I was struggling to see how I could fit in some wildlife whilst desk bound in the middle of a large city. The station is in a state of upheaval, with significant roadworks disrupting access for humans let alone any animal life. I stood ruminating on the fact that a huge row of trees had been torn down for the new road and no longer would I watch squirrels jumping from branch to branch. Feeling rather sad, my mind wandered and started to consider what had happened to the myriad of other animal communities that may have lived in and around the trees. That scary scene of Holly's memory of the destruction of the warren in the film Watership Down sprang to mind. Feeling thoroughly depressed I took a last look at the mountain of displaced earth before boarding the train and there, in the early morning light, next to a crowded platform I spotted him, a magnificent large hare, with black tipped ears, sitting on top of the heap of earth and rubble, watching quietly as the commuters rushed for the doors. I went to work with a smile on my face. Nature always finds a way and this is exactly how 30 Days Wild works, making you realise that there is so much out there and lifting our spirits in the simplest way possible.
Inspired by this, I have tried to find something 'wild' each day and once you start looking, it's pretty amazing just what we miss in the constant rush of our 21st century lives. During June I have discovered a huge patch of Bugle, a wild flower I had not noticed before; taken part in the Great British Bee Count for Friends of the Earth and spent hours sitting in the sun counting bees (what an fab excuse), learning so much about different bee species and realising just which flowers in the garden they like. I've spent an evening lying on the lawn during the recent heatwave watching bats swoop silently through the dusk and listening the rustling of life in the ivy covered wall (incredibly noisy).
I've walked along the Thames shore before work, noticing with amazement just how many different types of ducks, geese and seagulls are successfully finding plenty of natural food to eat (you could fill a carrier bag with molluscs...in the Thames!). Seeing two unusual looking birds, I spent some time identifying them as Egyptian geese and now stop regularly to watch them go about their lives. Instead of rushing straight to a meeting, I took some time out, sipping a coffee on the edge of Regent's canal one morning, watching the moorhens whilst a sleepy Mallard watched me suspiciously with one eye from under his wing. Both of us were taken by surprise when a sleek oily Cormorant, surfaced like a large black submarine before disappearing again, resurfacing a good 25 metres away with barely a ripple. Cormorants are coastal birds, who'd have expected to see one on a city canal?
These are just some of the things that have absorbed me these past weeks, I could go on easily...watching how the barley moves in hypnotic waves across a field; finding endless species of grass in one metre of roadside; discovering a cloud of damselflies resting in the garden; counting swifts darting through the Solstice sky.
It really is important to slow down and appreciate the wealth of life literally right under our noses. I know I tend towards a 'glass half empty' attitude at times and sometimes find life's demands a little hard, particularly as recent events have been so very sad. Mindfulness is often quoted as way to combat this 'overthinking' but I'm going for wildfulness to remind me of the importance of a simple life.
Standing at the station, waiting for the early morning train back to 'the smoke' I was struggling to see how I could fit in some wildlife whilst desk bound in the middle of a large city. The station is in a state of upheaval, with significant roadworks disrupting access for humans let alone any animal life. I stood ruminating on the fact that a huge row of trees had been torn down for the new road and no longer would I watch squirrels jumping from branch to branch. Feeling rather sad, my mind wandered and started to consider what had happened to the myriad of other animal communities that may have lived in and around the trees. That scary scene of Holly's memory of the destruction of the warren in the film Watership Down sprang to mind. Feeling thoroughly depressed I took a last look at the mountain of displaced earth before boarding the train and there, in the early morning light, next to a crowded platform I spotted him, a magnificent large hare, with black tipped ears, sitting on top of the heap of earth and rubble, watching quietly as the commuters rushed for the doors. I went to work with a smile on my face. Nature always finds a way and this is exactly how 30 Days Wild works, making you realise that there is so much out there and lifting our spirits in the simplest way possible.
Inspired by this, I have tried to find something 'wild' each day and once you start looking, it's pretty amazing just what we miss in the constant rush of our 21st century lives. During June I have discovered a huge patch of Bugle, a wild flower I had not noticed before; taken part in the Great British Bee Count for Friends of the Earth and spent hours sitting in the sun counting bees (what an fab excuse), learning so much about different bee species and realising just which flowers in the garden they like. I've spent an evening lying on the lawn during the recent heatwave watching bats swoop silently through the dusk and listening the rustling of life in the ivy covered wall (incredibly noisy).I've walked along the Thames shore before work, noticing with amazement just how many different types of ducks, geese and seagulls are successfully finding plenty of natural food to eat (you could fill a carrier bag with molluscs...in the Thames!). Seeing two unusual looking birds, I spent some time identifying them as Egyptian geese and now stop regularly to watch them go about their lives. Instead of rushing straight to a meeting, I took some time out, sipping a coffee on the edge of Regent's canal one morning, watching the moorhens whilst a sleepy Mallard watched me suspiciously with one eye from under his wing. Both of us were taken by surprise when a sleek oily Cormorant, surfaced like a large black submarine before disappearing again, resurfacing a good 25 metres away with barely a ripple. Cormorants are coastal birds, who'd have expected to see one on a city canal?
These are just some of the things that have absorbed me these past weeks, I could go on easily...watching how the barley moves in hypnotic waves across a field; finding endless species of grass in one metre of roadside; discovering a cloud of damselflies resting in the garden; counting swifts darting through the Solstice sky.It really is important to slow down and appreciate the wealth of life literally right under our noses. I know I tend towards a 'glass half empty' attitude at times and sometimes find life's demands a little hard, particularly as recent events have been so very sad. Mindfulness is often quoted as way to combat this 'overthinking' but I'm going for wildfulness to remind me of the importance of a simple life.
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