First Steps into Ecology
Interviews, inductions and inevitable iHasco training complete, I finally got round to walking my first bat transect as a professional ecologist. I’d done a handful before, but mostly as a curious amateur, a bat boffin in training. This was what I had been working towards. I knew a handful of bat calls, but was I ready? Any sense of nervousness or inadequacy was imperceptible behind excitement and enthusiasm. Fortunately, I was paired with a real expert, a colleague with well over a decade of bat survey experience, and a fabulous mentor to guide me through this auspicious evening.
Gear Lessons and Barley Fields
I started working at Temple’s Lichfield office in mid-spring, and was out on surveys before the start of summer. Despite being issued all the PPE I would ever need, I fell into what I now gather is quite a common newbie pitfall in not having the right personal gear for my first few surveys. After all, the weather was warm and dry. Surely, I wouldn’t need full waterproof clothing, I thought. I had underestimated just how much water can remain on tall vegetation after even the briefest downpour. Trousers saturated to the point that walking through a waist-high barley field on my third survey felt almost indistinguishably like wading through the sea, the resistance of the sward being remarkably similar to that of water. However, like others in my cohort of new starters, what I lacked in inventory I made up for with intrepidity.
Badgers in Suffolk
With half a dozen bat surveys under my belt I was settling nicely into my role, gaining confidence with each survey, and with the arrival of summer I was feeling ready for a new challenge. I was delighted, then, to be given the chance to spend a week doing badger surveys in Suffolk. This was more physically demanding than the bat surveys, but with the added bonus of being able to see clearly, the difference was quite literally night and day. I was overjoyed at the opportunity to observe, and be distracted by, wildlife at each new site. Birds chirping from the trees, fields full of butterflies, hares lazing in the sun. On one occasion, whilst searching the edges of a broad bean field, I stopped dead in my tracks upon hearing a rustling of leaves and breaking of branches in the bordering hedgerow. After a brief pause a roe deer emerged, a young buck browsing on a buffet of oak, hawthorn and field maple leaves, no more than five metres from where I stood. I spent a few minutes watching in silence before remembering there was a job to do. An extraordinary encounter, but this wasn’t the species I was searching for, and the survey must go on.
Water Voles and Summer Birds
The opportunity then came to assist on water vole surveys across a broad network of agricultural ditches, this time in Lincolnshire. This was more challenging than expected as many of the ditches were overgrown with reeds, and additionally there were nesting birds at every turn. Skylarks in the fields, blackcaps and whitethroats in the hedgerows and, critically, reed warblers and reed buntings in many of the ditches we were hoping to access. This rather restricted our survey, but again afforded great opportunity to enjoy our native wildlife in the full swing of summer.
My First PEA
Something I had been eager to get experience with since embarking on my new career was Preliminary Ecological Appraisals, so when I was asked to join one at a site in Staffordshire, I jumped at the chance. This was a first opportunity to put my modest botany skills to the test. The purpose of the visit was to provide an update on a survey that Temple had undertaken 18 months prior, and I was working alongside the original surveyor. Equipped with maps of the site as it was at the time of the previous survey, we went about noting any changes to the habitats present and any signs of, or potential for, any protected species. The site was set around a group of old, disused farm buildings, the ground largely covered with concrete, and bordered by ryegrass, nettles, docks, dandelions and a handful of other common plants, with stands of Himalayan balsam, an invasive non-native species, dotted around the area. As an exercise in botanical identification, it was beginning to feel a bit underwhelming. However, a semi-contained section, which was previously mapped as water storage, had at some point since been drained and was now alive with common wetland species such as reed canary-grass, bulrush and great willowherb. Not necessarily exciting species individually, but they indicated the occurrence of ecological succession in this corner of the site, and with swallows and house martins swooping between the buildings, yellowhammers calling in the surrounding fields and diving beetles whirling around in a water-filled hole in the ground at the base of an old barn, my interest was restored, my eagerness reinstated.
A Return to Bats
Alas, one cannot, it seems, avoid bats for too long in this profession, and after a summer peppered with bat surveys, I was invited to assist the Norwich team with a week of surveys in Norfolk. It was now September, and the temperature was starting to dip. One particularly chilly evening when the temperature was only marginally above the guideline limits, I had the privilege of watching a pair of barn owls hunting over a wheat field, patrolling back and forth, stooping now and then to pounce on their prey, and on more than one occasion flying right overhead. The moment was made all the more special by a pair of tawny owls calling to each other from wooded areas at opposite ends of the field. By the end of the survey, I had recorded more owls than bats at this site!
Brambles and Riverbanks
With the rains in autumn, it became tricky to schedule a River Condition Assessment, trying to find a window of opportunity when the water levels weren’t too high. An initial visit to the site in Warwickshire revealed that the northern bank of the river in question was overgrown with impenetrable dense scrub, but that the southern bank was largely unobstructed, so when a suitable dry spell presented itself six weeks later, access was duly arranged for the south side of the river. Upon arrival, however, those rains, as well as the added nutrients from the arable fields adjacent, had allowed for a barricade of brambles to burst forth from the bank. Armed only with a small pair of secateurs, I began to pick my way through the natural fortification. For every cut I made into the tangled tendrils, more were inflicted upon me. Brambles, hawthorn, dog rose and blackthorn each took their turn at revenge, and a jay appeared to mock as it made its way effortlessly through the scrub. Eventually the survey was concluded, and flocks of redwing passing overhead and golden plover in the fields called to seemingly applaud the hard toil as I made my way off site.
Desk Work and Sound Analysis
Moving through autumn and into winter there was a marked shift from more fieldwork to more deskwork, with lots of reports to catch up on and countless hours of bat sound analysis to keep me busy. The latter was new to me, and I’ve found it fascinating, learning the subtle differences between the calls of noctule and Leisler’s bat, between Daubenton’s and Natterer’s bats, and so on. I’ve heard it described as quite monotonous and taxing, but despite the need to punctuate the work with one or two extra tea breaks, I’ve found it to be enjoyable and rewarding. This is in no small part due to the knowledge that, much like the majority of the work we do as ecologists, this labour will ultimately allow these bats, and wildlife in general, to flourish. Not at the cost of, as some believe, but very much alongside human development, business and land management initiatives. The objective of an ecological report, I have found, is not only to keep the client cognisant and within the bounds of constantly changing wildlife legislation, and not just for the benefit of a shortlist of protected species, but more to design an approach which promotes the maximum boost to wildlife, whilst causing the minimum disturbance to the advancement of the project.
Wintering Birds and Night Surveys
It’s not all desk-based work in the winter, though. Even in the cold, it was nice to get out in the field again, this time on wintering bird surveys. As an experienced recreational birdwatcher, ornithology was a subject I’d been hoping to develop professionally, and this was something I thought I could go into with confidence. But again, I was faced with a new challenge, nocturnal surveys. After sunset, binoculars were replaced with a thermal imaging scope. These surveys offered a new perspective, as many birds will migrate under the cover of darkness, but also allowed, at times, to get a bit closer to wildlife than possible during daylight hours. On a handful of occasions, snipe were flushed from field margins as we got into position, just an arm’s length from where we walked. One night, I watched as a stoat worked its way along the bank of a ditch, systematically investigating rat and vole burrows, oblivious to my presence on the opposite side of the channel. These had largely been tranquil surveys, but any idea of that being the norm were shattered upon visiting a particular site, comprising a small number of partially flooded fields, hosting a cacophony of rowdy and rambunctious wildfowl. A thousand birds, whooper swans, greylags, mallards, wigeon and teal, honking, quacking and whistling raucously to each other, to-ing and fro-ing from every direction, certainly one of the most joyous parties I’ve ever had the pleasure of attending.
Spring Arrives and Nature Reclaims
With spring now upon us, and the regrowth of plants vying to take advantage of the sun’s energy, it’s time to get out and start doing habitat surveys again. My first of the year took me to an abandoned former school, due to be redeveloped. An engaging task, with a mosaic of manmade and semi-natural habitats scattered throughout the grounds. The most pleasant surprise, however, came when investigating the courtyards, fully enclosed spaces now taken over in places by native woodland species. Wood spurge and wild strawberry, woodruff and early dog-violet, growing from gaps in paving, among grasses, even springing from brickwork, anywhere they can find a roothold. Along with multiple features for bat roosts and an intact swallow’s nest from last summer hanging neatly under a porch entrance on the encompassing buildings, this was a wonderful reminder of just how quickly nature can reclaim built up spaces when left undisturbed by humans.
Looking Back and Looking Ahead
The recent quieter months have offered a little downtime before the main survey season kicks off again in earnest, and with it, an ideal time for reflection on the past year, and for setting goals for the year to come. Ecology is a vocation of great variety, no two days are the same, and I’m constantly reminded to always expect the unexpected. I came into this job eager to learn and develop, and the last twelve months have not disappointed. I’ve been encouraged and supported tremendously throughout my time so far at Temple, and I’m grateful to all of my colleagues who have taken the time to teach and assist me along the way. I’ve worked on a great range of projects, from small, single residence refurbishments to large-scale renewable energy schemes. In this job, it seems, new opportunities and experiences are forever presenting themselves, something I am hopeful I can rely upon as I look forward to another fantastic year!