The Ups and Downs of Wildlife, by Elizabeth Kay
I have frequently plundered my wildlife observations for
characters. From The Wind in the Willows
to Watership Down, it’s been a staple
fare for so many authors as it’s direct observation that informs the writing,
rather than second-hand information. That’s the way that errors creep in. Many
years ago I was illustrating a natural history book, and one of the items
required was a swordfish. Like most people, I imagine, I assumed a swordfish
was black on top, and silver beneath. Random house, the publisher, sent me a
lot of information from the National Institute of Oceanography at Southampton,
and to my surprise I discovered they were copper-coloured. The first books to
illustrate fish were printed in black and white, and what happened subsequently
was that illustrators relied on these pictures, made assumptions based on other
big fish like tuna, and got it wrong. (Actually, even tuna have a yellowish
stripe down the side.)
I am
fortunate that I live in Leatherhead, where my garden is visited by a variety
of birds and there are many opportunities for country walks. A few years ago we
even had badgers trotting down the road outside, and we get a lot of foxes. But
it’s not all sweetness and light. The natural world has its dramas and
tragedies, as well as its triumphs and delights. Two years ago, blue tits
nested in our camera box for the first time. All went well to start with. Mr
Blue tit fed Mrs Blue tit with choice caterpillars whilst she was incubating
the eggs – and then he disappeared. Mrs Blue tit carried on incubating, and
when the eggs hatched it was up to her alone to feed them, which she did
assiduously for the first week. And then she disappeared as well, round about
midday. We watched with growing trepidation as dusk fell, and she didn’t come
back. But we’re lucky – we live five minutes away from Wildlife Aid, so I rang
them up and they asked us to bring in the entire nest box. They are very
experienced, and they raised all the chicks to adulthood in little knitted
nests, and then into the aviary.
Last year we didn’t even notice that the great tits had set up home in the one nest box without a camera, until I heard the babies tweeting. Both parents stayed the course, but unfortunately we were away on the day the chicks all fledged, although we did see mum feeding them afterwards. This year we had a great tit sleeping in out camera box every night, and popping in from time to time during the day – and then she, too, disappeared. We do have sparrowhawks that occasionally visit, and one of them ate a collared dove beneath the bay tree. We’ve seen a crow kill a starling, as well.
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| Redpoll |
There are amusing episodes, of
course. The jackdaws that played volleyball with a fat ball. The long-tailed
tit that was convinced its reflection in a door-handle was a rival. The magpie
that mischievously tweaked the tail of a feeding crow. The squirrels that
regard any new bird feeder as an intelligence test – and usually win. The
cleverest incident was when our resident genius, Einstein, realised that he
could detach the entire feeder so that it fell on the grass and became accessible
by turning it round and round so that it unscrewed itself.
We’ve had some unusual visitors
from time to time. Eight years ago we had a flock of waxwings which hung around
for a couple of weeks, and this year the redpolls have been back for the first
time in ages. We’ve had a pheasant, a heron, blackcaps, two varieties of
woodpeckers and ever increasing numbers of ring-necked parakeets. Peregrine falcons
have been nesting down the road on an old water tower, but were sadly absent
last year. Usually, they raised two chicks, but one year they managed four,
which was when we realised that they are the only birds capable of catching
parakeets. Fast food!
On the common we get rabbits, roe
deer, lizards, grass snakes and adders. We’ve been watching the adders for several
years, and learning a lot about them. The females seem to be territorial, but
the males are harder to spot despite being brighter in colour. We get many
frogs in our pond, and a lot of frogspawn every year. And once you start
looking at the smaller things, there is a wealth of wildlife at your
fingertips. Butterflies – brimstones, red admirals, peacocks, commas. And then
there’s the wasp spider, the white crab spider, bush crickets, shield bugs. I
could ramble on like this indefinitely. But what are the direct writing
benefits I’ve obtained? Inventing the Lesser Spotted Tease after a day’s
frustrating birdwatching. Basing a character’s appearance on a heron…
Tansy always reminds me of a stabber-bird, thought Betony, with her
long nose and her snaky neck.
In Back to the Divide, there’s a spell which turns living things to
marble, and anything that touches one of them turns to marble itself. It
occurred to me that the first things to be affected were the little things…
The fly was now solid marble. There were other marble creatures down
there, as well. A couple of ants, a mosquito, and a woodlouse. They were
strangely beautiful, their tiny bodies white and lustrous.
Even the demanding behaviour of
baby birds came in useful when the griffon Thornbeak laid an egg…
Thornbeak
was sitting at the edge of the shallow depression in the middle, and watching
the egg intently. It wobbled slightly, and a brief staccato of tapping issued
from within.
“It’s hatching,” she said softly.
Turpsik had a feeling that a baby brazzle wouldn’t be the most
endearing of infants. It would be practically bald, squawk a lot, and peck at
anything within range.
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| Einstein, relaxing after hard day of thought experiments.
I’ve had even more fun with the animals I’ve encountered abroad, but this has really been about the wildlife we have around us. How a bit of patience, a good camera, and remembering to write things down – even when their use isn’t immediately apparent – can reap benefits in the end.
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