I started counting on Monday 23rd March - the day when lockdown was announced in the evening. I know that 130 days - 18 and a half weeks, just over four months - is nothing for people who have dogs, or who are already in the habit of going for a walk every single day. But it's something of an achievement for me, and I'm quite proud of myself for keeping at it.
Working office jobs over the last four and a half years got me going out for walks at lunchtime to stretch my legs, get some fresh air, and get my eyes away from walls and a computer screen, but sometimes that was only 20 minutes, and it was very easy to just say "Eh, I won't go out today" because it was too rainy or too cold or too hot or I just didn't feel like it. I love walking, but unless I'm meeting friends it's always been very hard to motivate myself to catch a bus and train to get myself out to the countryside at weekends, so taking long leisurely walks or hikes has generally only been something I've done on a few trips, or the odd occasion with family or friends. But, as we in the UK were allowed to go outside for one form of exercise each day during lockdown, I've had the opportunity over the last four months to intentionally go for a walk every day, and in nature instead of along concrete streets.
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| Bluebells in the wood |
I'm very fortunate that I live on the edge of the city and am a five-minute walk away from a mile-long shingle beach. Despite having lived here since August 2018, until this last February I'd only been there a handful of times and only once or twice gone beyond the far end of the beach, where the coast path continues on towards Royal Victoria Country Park. Behind the promenade is a mown-grass field where people can walk their dogs, kick a ball around, have picnics, sunbathe etc.; a bit further along is another grassy area left to go wilder, trodden paths winding through long grasses; and at the far end of that, behind the road behind the beach, is a 150-acre nature reserve with woodland and grasslands. So, having discovered the latter only a few months ago, I've been able to get out into open spaces with water, birds and other wildlife, grass, trees, flowers, and lots of plants and greenery.
I've really loved being able to get out and spend an hour and a half or more outside in the fresh air every day. Nature has always been one of my greatest loves, and for the first time in my life I've been able to let that come to the surface and be part of my daily life. I go slowly, looking, noticing, observing. I don't take a notebook, but take lots of photos and use those as memory prompts, visual notes rather than written, and occasionally make a note on my phone if a picture won't do. I've taken hundreds of photos, uploading some to Facebook to share with family and friends. (And Instagram - the link to that is on the right-hand side of this page.) I kind of wish, though, that I had created a habit of taking a notebook and making notes every day as well, just a short summary and key points, a daily log; they'd be interesting to look back on.
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| The beach at low tide |
On the beach I watch and listen to the waves, and gaze out at the light glinting on the water, glittery and pretty. I watch the swells and how the surface shifts, smooth and glossy like silk or rippling and shivering, rolling and undulating, the waves meeting the shore gently lapping, or stretching up, or crashing with a rush and roar and a tumble of pebbles as they fall back. When the sun's low and the sky blue, the water looks like satin and the softly-breaking waves like molten silver. I've gone paddling in the water several times, which is good fun and helps me to focus on where I am and tune out my thoughts for a while so I'm in the present moment. The beach is prettier when the tide's in, but when the tide's out there are wading birds on the mud flats; gulls and oyster-catchers mainly, plus the occasional egret and some smallish brown birds that were too far away to identify. There was a great crested grebe or two that liked to hang around sometimes when the tide was in, but I haven't seen them for a couple of months, and the swans which made an appearance every now and then in the first few weeks have now reappeared with six fluffy cygnets in tow!
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| Stormy skies |
In the woods, I'll stop and watch a bee buzz around, look up and around at the canopy and how the sunlight plays on everything, the contrast with the shadows, or sit on one of the old building foundations for a while and listen to the birds singing, the squirrels scuttling about, and the wind in the leaves. If I catch a nice scent then I take deep breaths, trying to smell as much of it as I can for as long as I can. I've started to learn to identify birds by sight and sound, and flowers and trees. I've seen song thrushes, nuthatches, tree-creepers, and great spotted woodpeckers all for the first time, and jay fledglings. I often hear small creatures squeak and scurry about unseen in the undergrowth, saw a couple of rats once scampering back into the nettles, and two little mice or voles once crossed the path just a few feet in front of me. I was excited to see a kestrel one day, hovering over the little grassland between the road and the tower blocks, and buzzards gliding over the nature reserve.
One joy has been hearing and seeing a fox. There may be and probably is more than one in those woods, but I have no way of knowing. I've heard it twice - a single bark in the first week, and then a month ago I had the amazing experience of listening to it repeatedly barking like 10 metres away for a full 10 minutes. And I've caught a fleeting glimpse of it twice. One day in May I was just sat in my favoured spot as usual and was still and silent for long enough that it thought nobody was around and went wandering, and I caught the movement just in time to look and see its back and tail slip through a gap in the undergrowth five metres away. Then more recently I was walking along one of the paths and heard a sudden scurrying in the dry leaves of the area of wood to my left, looked and saw it bounding away! Amazing.
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| Magnificent beech trees |
I've been able to see the seasons gradually shift from almost-spring to late summer. Wood anemone and lesser celandine gave way to bluebells and blackthorn blossom and dandelions, then to apple and hawthorn blossoms, buttercups, and the forget-me-nots and other wildflowers planted on the verge by the car park, then elderflower, dog roses, honeysuckle, foxglove, and all the wild carrot family. Now even lady's bedstraw, the pea family, and bright yellow ragwort are fading, and blackberries and hazelnuts are starting to ripen. Fuzzy buds on the trees turned into soft, tender, translucent leaves, which took on a glorious almost neon vibrancy for just a couple of days before maturing into thick, dark, heavy foliage. As the sunlight grew stronger and brighter, the woods darkened as the canopy thickened, providing a cool, shadowy refuge from the hot sun. Birdsong increased, then peaked, then lessened again as they found mates and started nesting, and now most of the birds are very quiet as they hide away for molting. A pair of great spotted woodpeckers made a nest in a dead tree right next to the path, so I got some great views of them and the chick. I've seen butterflies in the wood and in the grasslands - speckled wood, orange tip, small heath, marbled white, small white, red admirals, a comma, a small skipper, a gatekeeper, a white admiral, a pale blue/white one on the beach, and some yellowy ones. I've also seen a couple of damselflies by the stream in the woods, and an enormous beetle flying and land on a tree (likely a stag beetle, that's the largest one we have over here). (Did you know that ladybirds are a type of beetle? It hadn't occurred to me before, but of course they are.) I think my favourite types of tree in this wood are the ash and birch, purely because they make a particularly lovely rustle in the wind.
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| Germander speedwell |
As lockdown restrictions eased and we were allowed to drive to different places and see family and friends again, some walks have been elsewhere. A couple, to be honest, weren't walks, but rather afternoons spent in gardens. I counted them because part of the purpose of going for a walk is to get out into nature, be surrounded by it, look at it, notice and observe, and I did those things on those days. I was surrounded by trees and flowers and birds, watched and listened to them, and went round looking closely at the flowers, and the bees and butterflies feeding on them.
I feel very lucky that over the last four months I've been able to spend more time outdoors in nature, delve into it more, learn a bit more about it, and encounter other people who love it too (albeit online, and being an observer rather than joining in by interacting through the comments etc.). It's spurred me to apply for a full-time college course covering ecology, conservation, habitat management, wildlife surveys, etc., something part of me wishes I'd done years ago, so fingers crossed I get accepted onto that. And so many other people have benefited from this opportunity to notice, experience, and connect to nature more, either in more depth, or in new ways, or even for the first time. Long-time nature lovers have been joined by new enthusiasts.
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| Great spotted woodpecker |
The lessened presence, disturbance, and dominance of humans during full lockdown, before restrictions started to be eased, meant that Nature and wildlife had a chance to breathe and relax. For the first few weeks of lockdown the beach was almost empty, I'd pass only a handful of people there and in the woods. No litter. No dog poo. Roads were empty. The sky was empty of aircraft and their contrails. Air and noise pollution levels went right down. Birdsong was more audible. Ground-nesting birds and mammals in places usually only reachable by car were left undisturbed by dogs and walkers while we weren't allowed to drive to take exercise. Grass verges were left un-mown and roadside trees and shrubs un-strimmed (I hate seeing those splintered remains), providing fantastic habitats for wildlife. The building site opposite my flat was empty, and the harsh white safety lights not turned on at night, which was nice for me in that my room was much darker than usual, but it would have also been good for nocturnal flyers like bats and moths. Animals wandered around more, roamed further, felt safer: mountain goats in the streets of Llandudno, seabirds and dolphins in the Venetian canals, fallow deer grazing on the lawns of a London housing estate. The benefit of human lockdown to the natural environment and wildlife has been so obvious that, wonderfully, Thailand's government announced in May that they will be closing all of their national parks for two months every year from now on.
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| Fairy door |
Of course, people have gradually returned. The beach and promenade are busy, with oyster-diggers, fishermen, kite-surfers, jet-skiers, the ice-cream and burger vans, runners, roller-skaters, dog-walkers, families, friends, and people having a nice time. The sounds and smells are just Summer all over so it's quite nice in a way. But with the positives have also returned the negatives. Cars. Pollution. Roadkill. Dog poo. Litter. Litter. Litter.
Nature has been here for many of us over the last few months. As we start to return to "normal", it is time for us to be there for nature, the natural world, the earth, our planet - to show up for it, fight for it. Create a new normal, a better one, not just in terms of our relationship with the natural world but with each other too.
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| Person sitting on the beach by an oak tree |
I'm finishing this post off a week later. We moved over the weekend, out of the city to our mum and stepdad's place in a town more inland, so I'll be taking walks elsewhere from now on. While I'll miss the beach and the nature reserve, and how quick and easy it is to get to them, I'm looking forward to finding some new places and getting to know the countryside around here a bit.
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| Selfie in the woods |
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