In all my years visiting the Dee Marshes, I had never looked across them from the Welsh side.
Struggling to identify a species is the best way to learn.
In which I return to a favourite childhood haunt after a gap of 40 years.
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.
…when it's a marsh harrier.
In which I witness a peregrine and marsh harrier hunting together—almost as a team.
August on the Dee Marshes and the Pennine Moors, including encounters with a bolshie pheasant, a practising peregrine, and a flirty wheatear.
An unwelcome modern intrusion into one of my favourite wildernesses takes me on an unplanned medieval journey in reverse.
In the fudge-box-pretty village of Burton on my native Wirral Peninsula lie two graves, their inscriptions now utterly lost.