Many thanks for your message and your sighting. We’ve received quite a few Red Admiral sightings during January from across southern Britain. It is normal to see Red Admirals in the winter nowadays, but your surprise is justified because 10 or 20 years ago it would have been extraordinarily astonishing to see one.

Red Admiral butterly by Jim Asher of Butterfly Conservation

The status of the Red Admiral butterfly in the UK has changed over that time from being just a summer visitor and breeding species, which arrived from southern Europe in the spring and departed in the autumn, to being a year-round resident. Some still migrate of course, but there is now a substantial permanent population that stays here during the winter. It is now our most commonly seen winter butterfly, by far. What’s more, Red Admirals continue to breed here during the winter, so there are also Red Admiral caterpillars around right now.

Unlike our other butterflies, which are tucked away in hibernation during the winter, Red Admirals do not go into a proper hibernation. They simply roost on days of bad weather and then wake and fly around when the conditions are better.

Best wishes

Richard Fox

Butterfly Conservation

The other astonishing thing about this is the realisation that these flimsy wings could migrate hundreds of miles…

Goosanders remain amongst my favourite birds, so when I read that there were half a dozen at Woorgreens Lake in the Forest of Dean a couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to see them. Goosanders are like mallards in being ducks in the way that Beethoven is like Kylie in being musicians: none of this tame quacking on the lake shore, goosanders are majestic birds that generally don’t like humans and for food prefer to dive for fish. I arrived at Woorgreens and to my surprise saw a whole flock of them on the far side of the lake – 23 in all, and 19 in the picture below.

Goosanders at Woorgreens Lake in the Forest of Dean (click to enlarge)

It'll be demanding image rights next...

I don’t often get too excited by video clips on the Internet, but the Russian crow tobogganing down a roof on a jamjar lid is a major exception. Crows are known for clever examples of tool use… but this is a crow using a tool just to have fun. This blows away any notion that birds are concerned only about the grim realities of survival. It’s possible that, when a bird sings, it’s not just trying to attract a mate, or just defending a territory – but actually enjoying itself at the same time…

Hen harrier, with the white tail-band showing why it's a 'ringtail'. Photo by Mick Coquhoun

You might think that bird-watching is a gentle pursuit with little chance for trouble. It ain’t always so.

I’d heard that there were a couple of hen harriers not too far from here, so just before Christmas I went to look for them. Hen harriers are Britain’s most endangered bird of prey, having nearly been wiped out by gamekeepers keen to preserve grouse and pheasant stocks.

With the help of a couple of other birders I had distant views – barely enough for me to be sure what I was looking at. Thus when the weather was good I decided to have another look. I went with Alfie from Trinity, and bumped into Mick Colquhoun, a wildlife photographer who’s bittern image I’d extolled a few posts ago.

We crossed a style at the edge of the road and skirted round a ploughed field. As we walked we caught sight of a large bird of prey, and a quick check with binoculars revealed it as a ringtail hen harrier. We were delighted, and over the next ten minutes had some spectacular views: Mick took some great photos, one of which is on the right.  

After a while we tryed to get closer still, but were interruped by a large 4×4 being driven up. An irate bloke got out – whether he was the landowner or gamekeeper, we don’t know – and immediately theatened to confiscate our equipment as we’d wandered off the public right of way. It’s possible that he thought we were poachers: we’d seen a couple of fallow deer nearby, and fieldsports are widespread here.

Either way we had to slink off. We relayed the story to a couple of the birding experts here… and we got a rap over the knuckles for endangering the delicate relationships between landowners and the birding community!

Slimbridge on New Year’s morning was a much more relaxed affair. There was an early morning bird walk – an ideal time to go around the site as there are thousands of birds on the reserve at the moment. I then went back the next day, as Dave Doughty and John Linney also wanted to go while the weather was good. Below are a few photos from it.

Bewick's swans, which breed in Siberia, and a tufted duck just up from a dive.

A wigeon

The birds can be quite easily spooked into flight, especially if there are peregrines or buzzards flying over. Click to enlarge.

The first step was discussing it with friends – and I had a shock. I found everyone enthusiastically agreeing that rural was the right direction for me. “The thing is”, opined Dave Doughty, “you’re not urban. You don’t wear your baseball cap round the wrong way, and you’re much more likely to say ‘oooh arrr, that’s a badgerrr, that is’”.

A few moments later I bumped into Andy Pestell, who’d arrived in Newcastle a month before I left Durham, but we had not realised we’d overlapped up there. He tried to explain where his church was, that it was close to the central monument, and I thought, “why would I know where the central monument is in Newcastle?”. It then occurred to me that throughout my two years in the north east I had never voluntarily gone into Newcastle, and spent almost all my days off going to bird hides or up hills – and that there might therefore be something in this rural nudge.

My only previous experience of rural ministry had been a ‘faith-sharing weekend’ in West Durham, in a former mining area. I therefore decided to acquaint myself with some rural parishes near Cheltenham, so spent Sunday mornings visiting churches in the Coln River benefice, in villages such as Andoversford, Dowdeswell and Sevenhampton. I began to realise that the population is quite different to what might have been expected before: there is far less employment in agriculture, and many are arriving from outside, working in IT from home, or in Cheltenham, or even travelling to London.

Martley church

As I began to explore the possibilities of rural ministry, the Gloucester DDO (Diocesan Director of Ordinands, who has oversight of ministers in training) contacted his counterparts in Hereford and Worcester dioceses. The upshot was that I was put in contact with David Sherwin, who oversees three parishes a few miles west of Worcester – Martley, Winchenford and the Lower Teme Valley.

In the last couple of months I have visited the area four times and have gradually got to know the ministry team, the wardens and lay readers, and other vicars in the area. I have thoroughly enjoyed this experience, and right from the start felt that this is a congenial environment in which to serve as a curate. Hence I was delighted when earlier this week David offered me the post – which I have duly accepted.

It’s a post that will start in July after the ordinations at the beginning of the month. I am excited about it: it’s a place where I will enjoy learning and serving.  

River Teme near Knightwick: the river border the west and south of the parishes

Bitterns do this to birders.

On the previous Friday morning I’d arrived, buoyantly optimistic, because two bitterns had been seen regularly for several consecutive days from the Zeiss Hide, and had been ‘showing well’. Unfortunately this was the day they’d decided to fly off down the channel ‘towards the dead tree near the Kingfisher Hide’. So I went there and started what was, on this occasion, largely a solitary vigil.

An hour later I happened to glance back down the channel as a bittern flew from one reedbed to another. So I moved down the path to a closer spot. A few minutes later I glanced around elsewhere, then looked back at the reedbed, just as the bittern had turned back into the reedbed. Doh! Never mind, I thought, it’ll re-emerge. Two hours of waiting later, it hadn’t.

Looking at the Gloster Birder website over the weekend I discovered that they’d flown back towards the Zeiss Hide, so as I had the time I went down again. There’s something re-assuring about doing a reedbed vigil with a dozen others bitten by the bittern bug [thanks for that one, Dufty!]… there’s a common bond between those of us who think this is a constructive way to spend time.

At 11:30 one of the group – the guy who’d waited since 8am – suddenly said “it’s just over there” and pointed to a small island of reeds a little further away. We crowded round the two nearest windows, as a bittern emerged, stepping purposefully, almost delicately, out from the reeds and surveyed the scene. Camera shutters clicked. A few seconds later it lifted off, flew to the nearer reeds and landed. For a short while it was just visible in its characteristic ‘bitterning’ pose – neck and beak pointing skywards to merge in with the surrounding reeds, and then it disappeared.

I was tempted to leave, satisfied, but decided to stay on, waiting, hoping for a longer sighting. Forty minutes later someone else spotted a bittern standing in a clearing in the reeds. For about twenty minutes it waited, surveying the reeds for prey – evidently without success – but there was plenty of time for many photographs to be taken – and even I got some halfway decent shots!

Bittern from the Zeiss Hide at Slimbridge - showing why its plumage is ideal for disappearing into reedbeds

I returned after this, well pleased with what I'd seen. Apparently the next day it showed even better, as this outstanding image by Mick Colquhoun shows.

The return of the bittern as a breeding species to Britain, after it had become extinct in these islands, is one of the major triumphs of bird conservation here, along with the avocet. It's one of a number of large, heron-like birds that are making a comeback, like the egrets, the spoonbills and regular visitors like the glossy ibis. However, the others are quite showy birds, and have none of the determined elusiveness of the bittern. I was surprised to find that, despite its rarity in the UK (possibly about 200 wintering, and a small handful breeding) it is globally not endangered – there are about 200,000 adult birds. But I suspect that few, if any, outside Britain have the drawing capacity that these two at Slimbridge now have.

In between the bittern trips, I went with a group from Trinity for a hike in the Brecon Beacons. It was a most enjoyable day of tough walking and great conversation. Some of the guys had been part of the Three Peaks challenge in June (very envious of their doing this!), so there's a desire to keep up the walking.

The hikers from Trinity doing the Brecon Beacons: Cribyn and Pen-y-fan in the background

This is why I'm called a 'cattle' egret...

It takes a certain kind of person to enjoy being sprawled on a muddy embankment, but I found myself doing exactly that with three other birders today. We were admiring a cattle egret – an unusual bird to see in Britain, though it's been more frequent in recent years.

I'd headed down to Lydney earlier this morning, determined to see the bird I'd dipped on last week, with a better idea of where to look than last time. I strolled down the embankment which runs alongside the river, scouring the neighbouring fields – but saw nothing. At the end of Aylburton Wharth I turned rounded and meandered back, even more slowly.

The determined walking past the oblivious...

On the way back I bumped into Peter and Leslie, whom I’d first seen at Slimbridge a few weeks previously, and we all bemoaned our luck, although they’d seen it the previous day. As we did so we saw a white bird glide across and land in a nearby field with cattle – and saw Allan Chard, who was by the field, waving eagerly to us.

We joined him and watched the egret weave between the cattle. Unlike it’s fishing cousin, the little egret, the cattle egret prefers large insects – and a large fly-filled cow pat appears to be a source of many delicacies. I was there about an hour watching it, enjoying its antics and attempting to get some decent pics… though I can’t match Allan Chard’s great shot, as below.

Great pic of the cattle egret, by Allan Chard

While failing to find a route through a nearby industrial estate, we chatted with the elderly gentleman – and soon found ourselves listening to a remarkably intrepid character. It turns out that Edwin Shackleton holds the world record for flying in the most number of different types of aircraft as a passenger (241). This included a day trip to Cairo via Concorde (the cheapest way to fly on it): door-to-door from Filton, it took him 25 hours, with a trip to the Pyramids in the middle.

Dave and I eventually found a route to the far side of the lake – starting at the harbour, along a rather convoluted set of paths. A couple of locals directed us along the way; “follow the track to the buildings, take the path to the right, go across the marsh and you’ll get to the end of the lake”. We found the marsh – and it absolutely stank! But when we got to the lake, there was no sign of the egret. As we waited, a couple of men from the Wales & West Utilities company arrived, looking for a gas leak – so we directed them to the marsh.

Today I saw on the Gloster Birder forum that a couple of snow buntings had been seen on Leckhampton Hill this morning. As this was just a 40-minute walk away, I realised that I had to go – especially as the weather was good. I reached Hill Farm, and began to scan the area – seeing very little. I went round the outside of the farm buildings, hearing the occasional chirp and nothing else. A few skylarks flew up and trilled, and I told myself to be grateful to see their display.

Snow bunting on Leckhampton Hill

As I walked towards the car park, I was bemoaning my lack of luck in birdwatching over  the past ten days. I glanced down at the path and there, a few feet in front of me, was a snow bunting! It flitted off briefly when some dog walkers went past, but then for twenty minutes I watched it grazing along the side of the path. It was  untroubled by my lurking with a camera and allowed me to get some decent pictures. After the failed egret trip, this was a spectacularly good viewing of a lovely bird.

Snow bunting on Leckhampton Hill (2)

Mark’s article struck a chord for a couple of reasons. I’ve often thought that in the UK in the 21st century we could entertain ourselves to death, as there’s so much available to amuse and distract us from facing reality. I’d also been planning a post which aimed to focus on seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, and the two themes seemed to come together. All of which leads me to want to share an eclectic mix of ordinary photos.

Orange Parodia flower, as it was opening

I recently was doing a short proofreading contract, which required working from home. One morning I noticed a flower on one of my cacti slowly open out. I’d never witnessed this before while it was happening, and was struck by the slow motion drama.

I’ve discovered that gardening can take longer than it needs to, as there’s wildlife to be discovered. Clearing out one bed revealed a rich collection of small garden snails with an array of differing colours; although they may all be the same species (see this Garden safari page).

The yard has an unexpected resident that reappears every so often; if he’s around next spring I might trap him and cart him to a more frog-friendly environment.

A resident of the yard; and an array of garden snails

Earlier in the summer, while clearing up some leaves, I was surprised to find some small, round, green and black beetles scuttling around. Because of their shape, I wondered about whether they were some unusual type of ladybird. I checked in my insect book to ascertain what they were, but without success. Not sure how else to find out what they were, I ended up googling ‘green and black beetle’ – and discovered that they were  the nymphs of the shield bug, a comparatively common insect. I was astonished at how different the nymph is to the adult – and began to appreciate something of the complexity of insect life.

Shield bug - nymph and adult

I’ve often talked about the wonders of God’s creation revealed in the magnificence of the universe – but there is an intricate beauty to each of these little creatures which reveals another aspect of God’s creativity.

In the last year or so Tim Grew at Trinity (Cheltenham) has been developing a discipleship course called Element, intended primarily as a follow-on to Alpha but also as a resource for exisiting churchgoers. I was very keen to be involved with this as its something that I’d want to use in future ministry, so I’ve ended up as one of the small group leaders this time round.

One of the key attributes of the course is the balance of teaching and life application. Last week we looked at “How do I trust God more?”, by focusing on the story of Jesus calming the storm in Mark 6. One of the interesting aspects to the story is that the disciples obeyed Jesus’ suggestion to get into a boat and go with him to the other side of the lake. Yet this did not prevent them getting into a situation of total panic, as the storm blew up, water came into the boat, and they feared that they were about to drawn. Their reaction is entirely understandable – would you or I have reacted any better? – except that they hadn’t fully recognised that, since it was the Son of God who was onboard, they were entirely safe. Thus he rebukes them for their lack of faith. Ease and comfort does not seem to be part of what Jesus offers his followers!

A few weeks ago I was chatting with John Witcombe, the training officer in the diocese, when he mentioned about wanting to find out about what discipleship takes place across the county. While working for Naturewatch some years ago I produced a survey of police wildlife crime officers, so jumped at the chance to apply what I’d learned to this new question.

One of the key issues is to design a survey that is effective across the wide variety of Anglican contexts. Thus, what does discipleship look like either in an AngloCatholic church, for which sacraments and pilgrimages may be an important part of the spiritual diet, or in a rural multi-parish benefice, which has to cater for diverse needs across many villages? I’ve been developing it with Brian Parfitt, a clergyman who works for the cathedral, and we’ve gained from trialling the survey with several who come from these different background. The survey will be released in the next couple of weeks, and after it’s completed I’ll write a report on it.

View of the Malverns from Leckhampton Hill

One of the advantages of being in Cheltenham is the nearness of the Cotswolds. Within about half an hour of leaving the house I can be on top of Leckhampton Hill. Yesterday when I was walking up, the low winter Sun caught the contours of a field along the way (see picture below), shaped by the strip farming of the Middle Ages – illustrating how the landscape can reveal local history.

The views from the top can be stunning as well. A few days ago the atmosphere was particularly clear so that one could see across to the Malverns and beyond. The interplay of sunlight and clouds also helped to highlight St. Peter’s church, Leckhampton, in the foreground.

Mediaeval strip farming: the low autumn Sun highlights the contours in this field on the side of Leckhampton Hill

The buff-breasted sandpiper and the dotterel at Slimbridge. Photos: Allan Chard

It’s only the second time this species has been seen at Slimbridge, and was one that I personally was very keen to see. They breed up in the Scottish Highlands, and when they’re on passage they may occasionally drop down somewhere like Cleeve Hill. Suffice it to say that the 30 or so birders there suddenly became more excited by the dotterel than they were by the sandpiper which they had originally travelled to see!

Over the weekend I went on a couple of trips with friends. One was to a men’s event with the “Revolutionary Lions” in Wantage, generously hosted by Laurie Bath, and led by Roy Maguire. Since becoming a follower of Christ nearly 20 years ago I have enjoyed, and hugely benefitted from, being part of various men’s groups. Men enjoy the fellowship of other men – so that as they leave the church, more will follow through the exit. Thus it is exciting to be part of vibrant men’s groups like the RevLions, and to be with other blokes who desire to live radically for Christ.

One of the sub-themes of this and other groups is a general disillusionment, a feeling that ‘box-shaped church’ (to borrow a phrase from Joanathan Cavan) doesn’t work. As a wannabe vicar, I have a conflicting set of feelings towards this so that I end up wanting to ask: are we expecting Christ in the 21st century to do something other than church, or for church itself to become radically different? If it is the latter, do we change it from the outside or the inside?

Justin and Rachel Abraham

On Sunday I went down to Cardiff with Matt, Jo, Phil and Shane, in order to hear Justin Abraham speaking. Justin is an exciting and inspirational speaker who was talking about the mystical realms. Some of what he spoke about was mind-stretching – but that’s partly why I went, in order to be challenged in my understanding about the realities of the spiritual world. If church is to be filled with radical followers of Christ rather than well-meaning social workers, we cannot afford to underestimate the supernatural dimension of our faith.

"Wesley reasoning"

I’m currently reading and enjoying John Wesley’s journal… and I am absolutely astonished by how much he accomplished, the opposition that he endured, and the unwavering zeal with which he lived and worked.

Take, for example, the turbulent events of Friday Feb 12, 1748 [online here]. He rode to Shepton near Bristol, and found great anxiety amongst the people there: “A mob, they said, was hired, prepared, and made suffficiently drunk, in order to do all manner of mischief”. Unperturbed, Wesley preached in the afternoon without hindrance, “and the hearts of many were exceedingly comforted”.

He was curious about the whereabouts of the mob – but it turned out that they had mistaken the place where he would preach. They caught up with him afterwards, following him to where he stayed, “throwing dirt, stones, and clods, in abundance: but they could not hurt us”.

Wesley and his host (a Mr. Swindells) escaped inside, but the mob were determined to break in, firstly by trying to batter down the solid front door, then by breaking the tiles above. Wesley and Mr. Swindells went upstairs and started to pray. After a while Wesley was prompted to leave immediately, to which his host objected strenously, pointing out how many stones were flying around. Nevertheless they departed, and went downstairs. At this point:

The mob had just broke open the door when we came into the lower room; and exactly while they burst in at one door, we walked out at the other. Nor did one man take any notice of us, though we were within five yards of each other.

The mob were about to set fire to the house, but as one of them lived next door they refrained. Another cried out “they are gone over the grounds”, which Wesley thought was good advice, so he and his host slipped off across town. He was met there by Abraham Jenkins, who guided him to Oakhill. But this was not an end of their troubles. Jenkins advised him to go down a bank,

…but the bank being high, and the side very near perpendicular, I came down all at once, my horse and I tumbling over one another. But we both rose unhurt.

He adds drily that he arrived at Oakhill within an hour, and in Bristol the next morning.

At no stage does Wesley appear to have made life easy for himself, always being focussed on the ultimate aim of his work. Thus, throughout his ministry he was eager that those who joined the Methodist societies maintained high standards of holiness. For example, in Sunderland in 1757 he writes,

I then met the society, and told them plain, none could stay with us, unless he would part with all sin; particularly, robbing the King, selling, or buying run goods; which I could no more suffer than robbing on the highway… A few would not promise to refrain; so these I was forced to cut off. About two hundred and fifty were of a better mind.

Nevertheless he was under no illusions about what was required to enable a society to be successful. Two years later, while in Colchester, he was reflecting on what enabled a society to be successful and grow.

I found the society had decreased since L.C. went away; and yet they had had full as good preachers. But that is not sufficient: by repeated experiments we learn, that though a man preach like an angel, he will neither collect, nor preserve a society which is collected, without visiting them from house to house.

In evangelical churches in the 21st century we frequently pray for revival in this country – but are we prepared to work as hard and to endure the opposition and the difficulties to the extent that John Wesley did?