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MANY MOUNTAIN OR blue hares in Scotland are pure white in winter to match the snow – although they keep the black tips on their ears. Others turn only partially white. If the snow melts before they have turned bluish-brown again, they become very conspicuous as they streak across a heathery or grassy hillside, and their winter camouflage becomes a disadvantage. In summer they can be distinguished from brown hares because they are smaller, and lack the brown hare’s distinctive black tail, or scut.
Ptarmigan on the Scottish mountaintops also turn white in winter. They stay among the snow, burrowing beneath it for heather leaves and dried bilberries. They will soon be exchanging their white feathers for a mottled grey plumage, which in summer will disguise them equally well on the rocky slopes. Even at that season, however, they reveal unmistakable white wings when they fly.
Red grouse, unlike the ptarmigan, have been coming down into farmland when the snow has made it hard for them to find food, but they will return to the moors when it has cleared, and will start gorging on fresh heather shoots.
FLOCKS OF REDWINGS are singing in the treetops, often alongside a field of springing corn. It is a murmuring, babbling chorus, only audible from quite nearby. These thrushes that visit us for the winter sing like this when they are beginning to contemplate their return to Iceland or Scandinavia. Their real spring song is a brief, delicate warble, only heard when they get back home. The singing flocks are very wary, and if one gets near the trees, most of them quickly fly out. For a few moments, the sky is full of the birds, flying with a curious, drunken-looking flight, tipping to left and right as they go.
Colts foot flowers are opening on bare ground beside field paths. They are like small suns, with a dark yellow centre and bright yellow florets round it. Each flower grows on a scaly, pink-and-green stem. The leaves will follow the flowers and become very large, while the flowers will give way to untidy seed-clocks.
COOTS ARE BEGINNING to collect reeds for their tower-like nests, which are usually some distance out from the bank of a lake. Sometimes the reeds they carry in their beaks are as wide as the birds are long. Deeper in the reeds, water rails are calling. They make loud squeals when they are fighting or courting, and they also have a repeated sharp note that they sometimes use when they come out into the open. Recognising this note can help one to spot them. They are like bluish-grey moorhens with long red beaks and striped flanks, and step delicately in and out of the reeds, but they never stay exposed for long.
On lakesides and river banks, the large, soft leaves of common comfrey are growing fast: they look like green cows’ tongues. The bell-like flowers that will follow in April are very varied: they may be pink, purple or white, and there is a form called Russian comfrey with flowers that start pink and turn blue.
THE FIRST PRIMROSES are opening in woods and along grassy railway embankments. They are often found in oak woods or ash groves, where the leaves come out later than they do on other trees, and the primroses have sunlight for longer. The pale yellow flowers have five notched lobes, and are a darker yellow at the centre. They seem to grow on separate stalks, but if one looks more closely at the base one finds that they are arranged in rosettes of four or five blossoms. The crinkly, pale green leaves also spread out in a rosette near the ground. The scent of the flowers is fragrant but faint. The name of the flower comes from the Latin prima rosa, or first rose.
TWO KINDS OF bunting are singing in farmland hedges. Yellowhammers, or yellow buntings, now have the primrose-yellow heads of their summer plumage and are singing intermittently about a ‘little bit of bread and no cheese’, as their song has long been thought to say. More prosaically, the song is a buzz followed by a long wheezy note – the ‘cheese’, which actually is often missing (literally no cheese.) Corn buntings are sturdier, duller birds, and when they fly from bush to bush they let their legs hang down. They have a far-carrying song, a sort of jangling trill like a bunch of keys being rattled.
Cranes are rare in England, but are sometimes seen at this time of the year, anywhere from Gloucestershire to the Scottish Highlands. Unmistakable birds, they are taller than a heron, with long legs and a long neck. They are mostly grey; their heads are black, white and red, and the tail is a bustle of drooping feathers. When they fly, they stretch their necks forward, unlike a heron, and trail their legs behind. These passing birds are probably migrants already heading for northern Europe. One or two pairs nest each year in Norfolk.
A GREEN TINT is appearing on trees and hedges. Hawthorns are sprouting more widely. On horse chestnut trees, the first of the big sticky buds are opening, and the leaves when they emerge look at first like green paws. On weeping willow trees there is a faint wash of green on the drooping boughs.
There are flower buds on the crab apple trees: while they are still closed they look like little pink cherries but they will open into white flowers. Sallow bushes are turning into golden lamps on the riverbanks, as the button-like silvery catkins that line the twigs swell everywhere into bushy flowers covered with yellow pollen.
At dawn, blackbirds, song thrushes and robins are now singing all together but as soon as it is light enough they come down to the ground and start searching for food. This is not yet the full dawn chorus, as there are some individuals of these species that have not started singing yet, and there are also more wrens, chaffinches and greenfinches to join in, besides the summer visitors to come in April.
THE FIRST BUMBLEBEES are sweeping along the lanes, humming loudly as they go. They gather for the golden pollen on the sallow trees. Many of these early bumblebees are members of a small species with an orange-red tail; larger ones will follow. They are all females who were fertilised last autumn – the males died afterwards – and they have hibernated in warm crevices or behind moss. Now they will start looking for underground holes where they can build up a store of wax and pollen and lay the eggs from which a new generation will spring.
Skylarks are singing over the fields. Sometimes they move forward slowly into the wind, but when their flight speed is the same as that of the wind confronting them they hang motionless in the sky. They are like flags, flying above a territory that they have staked out on the land below. If other skylarks come into that space, they drop down and there is a skirmish, with the rivals flitting to and fro just above the ground. Later they will build nests of grass under a tussock, or in a hollow beneath beet leaves. They are good runners as well as good fliers.
THE BLUE FLOWERS of common field speedwell, or Persian speedwell, are making bright borders alongside the young corn and oilseed rape. The plants are tall and sturdy, with broad leaves, while the flowers have three blue lobes with dark veins, and a whitish lower lobe. The speedwell family is a large one, and two other species will soon be following at the field edges. One is ivy-leaved speedwell, a sprawling, weedy-looking plant with small lilac flowers and leaves shaped as the name indicates. The other is the most handsome of the speedwells: the germander speedwell, or bird’s-eye, which has gleaming blue flowers with bright white centres.
Great tits are now singing for much of the day. Besides their best-known song, the loud, repeated ‘teacher, teacher’, they have a number of others, including a triple-note variant of that song, and a strange combination, also steadily repeated, of a thin note and a faint click.
MAD MARCH HARES are out in the fields. They rise up on their back legs and box with each other. These pairs of pugilists were long thought to be bucks fighting each other, but now it is believed that they are generally a female hare fighting off the attentions of a male.
At any event, this is the mating season for hares, and the females, or does, will soon give birth to three or four leverets. Unlike young rabbits, these are born above ground without the protection of a hole. They lie in hollows in the grass or green corn all day, and their mother comes back to suckle them at night. Many of them are caught by foxes.
Badgers already have small cubs in their setts, which can be whole underground palaces of tunnels and sleeping chambers. The parents have dozed away much of the winter, but now they are coming out to dig for earthworms, and to snap up any other food they can find, from nuts and fungi to frogs and young rabbits. The cubs stay below in their bed of dry grass, waiting for their mother’s milk. They will venture forth in April, and then will soon start fending for themselves.
THE FIRST CHIFFCHAFFS from the Mediterranean have arrived and are singing their metallic ‘tink-tank’ song in the treetops. These little green warblers roam around when they first appear, looking for insects on sallow flowers or wherever else they can find them, but as more birds come in at the end of March or the beginning of April they all settle down in their summer territories.
Butterbur is in flower at the edge of streams and in damp woods. It has a long pinkish spike of little florets on top of a pink-and-white stem, which makes it look more like a ‘pointed hat’ toadstool than a flower. Sometimes the flowers are white or cream-coloured, and it often grows in colonies that take over a whole stretch of stream bank. The leaves come after the flowers, and grow until midsummer, by which time they may be a yard wide. They were once found convenient for wrapping up pats of butter.
FROGS ARE MATING in ponds. The males attract the females by raucous croaking. When they mate, the male climbs onto the female’s back, and clasps her with his forelegs. They stay there for a while as if they were glued together. She deposits the fertilised frogspawn in the water while he is still holding her, and he only lets her go when she has finished laying. After that the frogspawn is left to itself, and floats about in jellied masses. One female may lay as many as three thousand eggs. The little black specks in the jelly start turning into tadpoles after two or three weeks, after which it takes another three months for the tadpoles to develop into baby frogs.
Toads have drier, more warty skins than frogs, and live a more solitary life, often far away from ponds. One of them may live for years in a cellar or under an old water butt. At this time of year, when they are going back to water to breed, many of them are run over on the roads. Their spawn is quite different from the frogs’, consisting of long strings of jelly with double rows of black eggs, wound round reeds and water weeds.
IN SPITE OF cold winds, the creamy white flowers of the blackthorn are opening. They come before the leaves, and soon the hedges across the fields will look as if they are covered with snow. This shrub is named after the black bark on its trunk but even in winter this is usually concealed by the dense mass of thorny grey twigs.
There is a brief lull now in the growth on other trees and bushes but on sycamores the buds are fat and green, and the springy twigs curve up as if eager to break into leaf. Young sycamores often grow close together, and their bare tops rattle against each other in the wind. A small moorland hawk that can be seen along the shore, or on farms near the sea, is the merlin. It is a brisk flyer, and chases small birds of the open country such as skylarks and meadow pipits. It generally flies low over the ground, now beating its wings rapidly, now gliding. Like other hawks, it will turn to beetles when it cannot find larger prey. The male has a noticeable blue back; the female, which is a larger bird, is a pale greyish-brown. In the summer, merlins nest in heather on the moors, or take over an old crow’s nest in a fir or pine.
GREY SQUIRRELS LURKED in their dreys when it was cold but they are out and about again. They keep their dreys neat and tidy; the ragged-looking assemblages of leaves and twigs one often sees in the treetops are abandoned dreys. They feed on acorns and other nuts, and in the summer strip bark from the bottom of young trees, often killing them in the process. Older trees that are dead at the top may also be victims of their bark stripping. It is not known why they do this. They may be marking out their territories, or they may like the sweet sap.
In Britain, red squirrels are now found almost exclusively in northern pine and fir woods. However, in the south they survive on the Isle of Wight, which the grey squirrels have not reached. Grey squirrels do not normally attack the red ones, but since they were introduced here from America at the end of the 19th century, they have pushed our native squirrels out of most of their old territory simply through being more powerful animals and more successful. The red squirrels feed mainly on pine and fir seeds.
The violet flowers of lesser periwinkle are sprawling about on hedge banks. They also like to clamber over fences, and can be found at the edge of gardens and beside rural railway platforms.
WHOOPER SWANS ARE on their way back to Iceland. Their black-and-yellow beaks distinguish these magnificent birds from our resident mute swans, which have orange beaks. Whoopers also fly with a swishing sound, rather than the deep throbbing of the mute swan’s wings. They winter here on lochs and estuaries, but just now they are turning up on many other stretches of water, as they rest on their northward passage.
The other wintering swans are the small Bewick’s swans, many of which stay on the wide watery spaces of the Ouse Washes. They will soon be returning in family flocks to the Siberian tundra. They were named in honour of the great 18th-century engraver, Thomas Bewick. An attempt was recently made to rename them ‘tundra swans’, but this name has been abandoned again since no one would use it.
While the buds have opened on some horse chestnut trees, others are still quite wintry-looking. The most advanced trees are showing little parachutes of unfolding green leaves. Once all the leaves are out, the trees will have a majestic dome of foliage, which the flower spikes will quickly cover with white blossom.
SUMMER VISITORS ARE now beginning to flood into Britain. More chiffchaffs are singing in the treetops, and coming down to the sallow bushes for the insects that fly around the catkins. Wheatears have been seen on the South Downs, feeding among the sheep on the cropped grass, and these lively blue-grey and white birds will soon be heading further north for the moors. Sand martins are wheeling over lakes and rivers, and a few house martins and swallows, which belong to the same family of small fork-tailed birds, have been seen in similar places. They are rebuilding their strength with insect food after their journey. The sand martins will soon head for the quarries where they nest in holes, the swallows will go back to farmyard barns, and the house martins to the buildings where they make their mud nests under the eaves. Ospreys, which are large, white fish-eating hawks, are on their way to the Scottish lochs.
LADYBIRDS ARE SITTING on leaves, warming up. After they come out of hibernation, they cannot fly until they have sat for some time in the sun’s rays. Most of these early ladybirds are seven-spot ladybirds. They take off in a rather awkward way, with the wing-cases first lifted into a V behind their head and the wings then popping up from beneath them. The smaller two-spot ladybirds will soon appear; there are also ten-spot, eleven-spot, and yellow-and-black fourteen-spot ladybirds. They will have many broods, and they and their larvae will feed on aphids all the summer long.
Some red dead-nettles survived the winter; now a new crop of them is springing up everywhere. They have rich purple to pink flowers, which nestle at the top of the stem in a little rosette of purple leaves, so that the whole crown is coloured. Countless thousands of them can spread across a field of old stubble that has not been ploughed in.
The bold yellow blossoms of the dandelion are starting to line the roadsides, wherever there is an open patch. On hazel bushes, some of the male catkins have already shed their pollen and are turning brown.
NEST-BUILDING IS UNDER way. Female song thrushes are constructing deep nests of twigs and grass in hedges and evergreen shrubs, and will line them with a thick, hard layer of bare mud. (Blackbirds’ nests can be distinguished from song thrushes’ nests by the further lining of dry grass that the blackbirds add.) The female song thrush will lay about four or five sky-blue eggs with a few black spots on them, and will do most of the incubating. The male will sing in a treetop for most of the day while she is sitting there, but he will come down and help to feed the young.
Hedge sparrows are starting to nest in similar places, and they too will have bright blue eggs, but smaller and unspotted. The female will sit on the eggs, but she has complicated relationships. As well as her chief mate, she may have subsidiary males to help her feed the chicks. Pairs of long-tailed tits can be seen close to each other on a bough, both of them tearing off green-grey lichen with which to camouflage their domed nest. Some robins have also started to build, while others are prospecting holes in walls, hedge banks and even fallen flowerpots and old kettles.
THE SHARP-POINTED HORNBEAM buds are a streaky pink and green as they start to swell and open. If the warm weather continues, the leaves will soon be out. The natural hornbeam trees are broad-spreading and rather drooping. There is also a common cultivated variety, called fastigiata, with tightly bunched, upward-pointing branches that give the young trees the shape of a flame.
White dead-nettle flowers are opening along the lanes. There were some plants still in flower in early January, but these flowers come from the new spring buds. The leaves look like nettle leaves, but do not sting. However, young, pale green stinging nettle leaves are also coming up, and these can sting just as painfully as the older leaves.
Lesser celandines are now flowering in profusion, with beds of gleaming yellow flowers sometimes stretching for yards alongside ditches. There are also thick beds of cuckoo pint leaves, some with purple spots.