Every spring, something happens in Britain that ranks alongside any wildlife spectacle you might see on telly.
Geology doesn't receive the recognition it deserves. Our modern understanding of how the world formed and evolved is one of science’s great triumphs.
In which I attempt to grow blackthorn seedlings from sloes collected last autumn.
She might only be a lump of concrete, but I have an immense fondness for trig. point 4144.
…when it's a marsh harrier.
I have provided an article for a new anthology about wading birds.
In which I witness a peregrine and marsh harrier hunting together—almost as a team.
The weekend on or nearest to St Valentine's Day marks a seasonal ritual for us: the annual pre-spring-cleaning of our blue tit nest-box.
When you see a bird often enough, its jizz begins to rub off on you—if you'll pardon the expression.
In which I discover (and get to name) an overlooked tributary of the Humber.