Nature Notes: February 2022

COME WHAT MAY

'In February, if thou hearest thunder, Thou shalt see a summer wonder.'

Even if there's no stormy weather forecast, thankfully there are always wonders around us to boost and inspire, and this month there are many hints of the marvels to come! On an unexpectedly sunny day, when the chill of winter opened the door a chink to the onset of Spring, I ventured outdoors and was immediately uplifted by a rousing serenade of elated smooth liquid warbles, clicks, trills and whistles, that came from two starling-clad trees. Excitedly bathing their bejewelled feathers in the warming glow of a midday sun, following a freezing night and frosty morning, their euphoria was catching, and they weren't the only winged creatures who appeared to be animated - clouds of tiny dancing gnats emerged beneath and began exploring my head as their new 'stage'. Meanwhile two geese seemed to be holding their own in-depth conversation as they chatted raucously to each other overhead, whilst the splash of ducks chasing each other on the waterlogged fields reminded me that soon the annual amphibian orgy will begin resounding from ponds around and about.

Even on dark, dank, gloomy days, squirrels play tag amongst the trees and there are signs of new life alongside the footpath as 'Lords and Ladies' poke through the earth next to the pale yellow of an early primrose. And when the somewhat sullen sun filters through the fog, it highlights broken cobwebs in slivers of silver, hanging, like ever stretching pendulums from over-arching trees, carrying beads of crystal downwards before they eventually drop with the weight, onto the ground beneath. On even colder days, fields adorned with fairy silk gossamer strands a few months ago, are transformed into thick, white-webbed, statuesque peaks, like frozen, choppy waves. When the Furnace Lakes were iced over, some of these land/sea-scapes, were ridden by a small flock of Egyptian geese whilst 2 cormorants perched like sentinels in the bare branches nearby, above the ever-running river Arun.

Back at the start of January, on a relatively mild day, a huge Red Admiral grazed my front window- pane in an unexpected flutter of bright colour. A magical gift, along with garden birds singing away, confused by the warm temperatures and already pairing up to mate. But overnight, as we celebrated Epiphany a myriad of stars could be seen in the skies and I found myself praying it had found my 'bug hotel' when temperatures plummeted from double figures to minus 6. I wasn't taking any chances with the wriggling orange pupae that appeared on the carpet near the front door a day or two later (a gift from the shrew?) so I popped it under some moss in a pot of indoor hyacinths. The wood-mouse, however, who had taken to feasting and then sleeping in my garden bird feeder since December (I would arouse him at dawn so I could I fill it up for the birds) is nowhere to be seen. I'm hoping he's not now part of one of the pellets on my lawn, left by owls screeching into the blackness at dawn and has instead found somewhere more practical to hunker down? Everything seems to be on the move ...

The month of February is named after the Latin 'Februum' meaning 'purification' - a ritual which was initially held on 15th February in the old Roman Calendar and subsequently celebrated by Christians on 2nd February during 'Candlemass'. As symbols of purity themselves, the first snowdrops should have appeared too by now and you may spot the first of our years' emerging bumblebees visiting them for much needed nectar, before the colourful early crocuses arise.

The furry catkin flowers of goat willow, otherwise known as 'pussy willow', suited in soft silver fluffy greys on male trees (greener on females) are a real draw to a number of insects as they turn yellow with pollen as the weeks go by. I heard an audible hum emanating from flowers already tinged with lemon which should soon be full of grateful swarms of hoverflies, bumblebees, solitary bees and moths after dark. Male Hazel catkins, on the other hand, also dangling their glorious yellow lambs tails in the sunlight, don't rely on insects for pollination. I remember, many years ago, my wonderful neighbour, the naturalist, wildlife author and lecturer, Joyce Pope, in her nut orchard pointing out the tiny, delicate red 'starfish' tendrils of the female flower's pollen tubes, which are fertilised by wind-blown pollen grains. This is what triggered the development of all the delicious hazelnuts we harvested later in the year, packed in paniers on her llamas and walked down to sell in the village shop.

The Italians make Frangelico, which if you haven't tried it, is a delicious hazelnut liqueur blended with coffee, cocoa and vanilla but maybe one to sample another month - 24th February is the Feast day of Saint Matthias, who is a Patron Saint of Alcoholics. On the other hand, if you were born in February, you will know that the traditional birthstone is amethyst, a violet hued quartz whose name comes from the Greek for 'intoxicate' a reference to the belief that the stone protects its owner from drunkenness. But as we celebrate St Valentine's Day on 14th, this is also the month when tradition has it that everyone, including the birds and the bees should be drunk on love!

Everywhere you look, life is pulsating and the earth's heartbeat is quickening. Did you know that Rooks mate for life? If you come across one of their vast chattering rookies, where they flutter glove fingered wing feathers amongst the crowns of tall oak and ash, you may catch a pair, grooming each other affectionately whilst they build up their old tatty nests. However, way down on the floor beneath, mating is totally different for weasels, who have no such loyalty and multiple partners. They only flirt with each other now, through twists and turns and dances before the male clamps the female by the neck in a really strong vice like bite-hold, and mating lasts between 15 mins and several hours before they go their separate ways.

Slightly ahead of the game female badgers and grey squirrels are already giving birth and nursing their young and many buds and shoots are getting ready to unfurl. So, in the words of Led Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven', "If you hear a bustle in the hedgerow, don't be alarmed now, it's just a spring clean for the May Queen." The tide is on the turn. As we slowly come out of winter, there's much already to celebrate in the here and now. And in the next couple of months we'll be able to witness Spring in its full glory, as witnessed by the English novelist, poet and 7 times Literature Nobel Prize nominee, George Meredith (1828-1909) who lived at Box Hill, Surrey and wrote:-

"Now the North wind ceases; the warm South-West awakes, The heavens are out in fleeces, And earth's green banner shakes."