There was a very different atmosphere at the sett the other evening. The weather had changed from sunny, warm and still to cloudy, with a stiffish breeze and a bit of a chill in the air. Rain during the day meant the ground was damper too.

All this made a big difference to the behaviour of the badgers. They were not out foraging among the brambles when I arrived at around 8.40 pm. Two were engaged in a bout of mutual grooming by one of the lower entrances, but that didn't last long. At 8.45, one of them headed away from the sett at a brisk trot, following the well-used path just inside the edge of the wood - only to return with a matter of minutes. Another departure from the sett at 8.55 was probably the same badger. Two more badgers followed, one just before 9.00 pm and the other on the hour. I suspect that the dampness of the ground was something the badgers could smell, and they were keen to get out into the fields in search of earthworms.

For the next quarter of an hour or so there was little activity at the sett. Then Tiny decided to come out and keep me company. OK, Tiny decided to come out and make the most of the sultanas I'd scattered around by the upper sett entrances. The light was fading now and the wind made it easier for me to move about without being heard, so the little cub was blissfully unaware that he was keeping me company!

I'm pretty sure that Tiny is an 'only child'. Moonlight and Shadow tend to hang about together, almost certainly they are twins born to another sow. Tiny seems quite independant. Some studies of badgers have suggested that only one sow in a social group or clan of badgers breeds in any given year. However I have observed more than one litter per sett on quite a few occasions over the three decades that I have been watching badgers.

Once again, my attempts at photography were hampered by my camera's inability to focus in dark conditions. But at least my efforts didn't seem to bother Tiny. He must have been aware of the bursts of light from the flash, but he did not react to them. Instead, the cub scouted for sultanas, snuffling and chomping his way around the spoil heaps where I had scattered the tasty treats.

My offerings were just an appetiser for Tiny. Within about 20 minutes he had finished his feasting on dried fruit and moved on to finding creepy crawlies in the leaf litter. As he meandered into the tangle of blackberry foliage, I crept away with more photos in my camera, and happy memories of another evening's badger watching in my head.

My camera may be good at capturing close-ups of wildlife in good daylight, but it is hopeless at focussing in poor light. All the same, this evening I thought I'd try my luck at photographing badgers at their sett for the first time in years.

The badgers were out earlier than ever, already foraging among the brambles by 8.35pm. A disturbance frightened them all back to the sett, but this gave me an opportunity to scatter sultanas to tempt them into places where I might get some nice shots. The next problem was the camera. My fears about focussing in the shade of the evening woodland were confirmed when I tried capturing an image of the first badger to re-emerge. I would have to try manual focussing. This would be based on guesswork and promised to be very hit and miss. Fortunately, among scores of images which turned out to be poorly focussed, I did score one or two hits (and a few more near misses that could be improved with Paint Shop Pro). Best of all, the noises made by the camera were quiet enough not to alarm the badgers, and they completely ignored the flash, so my pictures were taken without bothering the Brocks. Here are some of the results:


The three cubs, Moonlight, Shadow and Tiny.


Tiny, the smallest of the three cubs.


Having a good scratch.


Mutual grooming - adult and cub nibbling each other's fur.


An adult badger, listening to two young foxes having a noisy altercation elsewhere in the wood.

My camera may be good at capturing close-ups of wildlife in good daylight, but it is hopeless at focussing in poor light. All the same, this evening I thought I'd try my luck at photographing badgers at their sett for the first time in years.

The badgers were out earlier than ever, already foraging among the brambles by 8.35pm. A disturbance frightened them all back to the sett, but this gave me an opportunity to scatter sultanas to tempt them into places where I might get some nice shots. The next problem was the camera. My fears about focussing in the shade of the evening woodland were confirmed when I tried capturing an image of the first badger to re-emerge. I would have to try manual focussing. This would be based on guesswork and promised to be very hit and miss. Fortunately, among scores of images which turned out to be poorly focussed, I did score one or two hits (and a few more near misses that could be improved with Paint Shop Pro). Best of all, the noises made by the camera were quiet enough not to alarm the badgers, and they completely ignored the flash, so my pictures were taken without bothering the Brocks. Here are some of the results:


The three cubs, Moonlight, Shadow and Tiny.


Tiny, the smallest of the three cubs.


Having a good scratch.


Mutual grooming - adult and cub nibbling each other's fur.


An adult badger, listening to two young foxes having a noisy altercation elsewhere in the wood.

You might have thought that a badger man like me could breathe a little more easily after Hilary Benn ruled out badger culling in England. If only. The anti-badger lobby and its supporters have stepped up their war of words and a campaign to reverse Benn's decision is under way. There is also of course the continued threat of a badger cull in Wales, with David Cameron the latest one to declare his support for such a slaughter. The fight for our badgers is very much ongoing and it is something I feel obligated to be more and more involved with. Yet I need to avoid over-doing things so as not to undo the progress I have made health-wise. Getting the balance right has never been one of my strong points.

Yesterday evening I decided to take a break from trying to counter the stream of anti-badger nonsense in the media and go badger watching instead. The time was approaching 8.45pm when I entered the wood. The ground was dry, the air warm and humid, the wind light and indeterminate in direction. A nearby tawny owl attempted to hoot but sounded more like the victim of an arboreal strangler, while blackbirds repeated their chinking alarm calls over and over.

I was reasonably confident that I would arrive at the badger sett before its occupants emerged. But movements in the nearby brambles suggested that I was wrong. Sure enough, there was a cub foraging amongst the leaf litter beneath the tangle of spiny stems and leaves. More rustling sounds in the near distance were evidence that other badgers were also making the most of this undisturbed corner of the wood.

I guessed that the cub nearest to me was Tiny, the smallest of the three living at the sett this year. He was busily badgering away and seemed to leave no leaf unturned in his quest for food. He even did something that reminded me, strangely enough, of the way a polar bear breaks through the Arctic ice into a seal's den. Lifting the front half of his body into the air a few inches, the little cub then brought his forepaws down onto the ground. He repeated this behaviour several times, leaving me to wonder what he was up to. Was he pouncing on beetles? Was he trying to flush things out from under cover? Or was this just a bit of youthful enthusiasm?

Suddenly the wind direction changed and the badgers in the brambles realised that they were sharing this corner of the wood with a human. A sett-bound stampede of badgers ensued. With the Brocks below ground I took the opportunity to scatter some sultanas, then waited in the hope that the wind would behave itself and the badgers would come back out.

Tiny was the first to oblige. Others also emerged before long. One of the adults headed away from the sett at a brisk trot, off for an evening's foraging in hedgerow and field.

As the last remnants of the day's light gradually retreated, I continued my observations by torchlight. Cubs sought out juicy sultanas, while adult badgers crept back into the brambles. Elsewhere in the wood owls hooted, while out in the fields sheep bleated and coughed and young foxes argued.

Without warning, this nocturnal scene was shattered by the shouts of humans. Two humans, cycling through the wood in the near darkness and without lights. Ahead of them, running towards me, was a dog. Or so I thought. As the 'dog' ran by I realised that I was in fact watching a fleeing fox! The fox quickly vanished from view, as did the badgers and, after a brief apology, the cyclists. I decided that I had best disappear too, and leave the badgers to find the rest of their sultanas in peace.

... is worth? Well, I thought this one had to be worth a photo at least!

This evening when I got home from work, I moved my black wheelie bin out onto to the path ready for emptying tomorrow. Not for the first time, I found that a young toad had been sheltering beneath it. I picked him up, grabbed a few photos, and moved him to a new shelter.



I like toads, even though they do tend to wee on me when I pick them up. In my youth I read all about toads and their relatives the frogs and newts. I also visited local ponds frequently during the spring and summer, armed with nets and jars, to look for amphibians, water beetles, caddis fly larvae, water boatmen and other aquatic life. Frogs and newts I found quite often, but toads were a rarity.

I'm glad to say that my urge to catch and keep wildlife, aquatic or otherwise, has long since been replaced by a desire to enjoy viewing wild animals in their natural habitat and to capture them only on camera. I'm glad too that I see toads much more often now than I did during my teenage years. Of course, it helps that there are some local toads who choose to live almost literally on my doorstep!

Tuesday evening was warm and sunny, ideal for a long, relaxing walk in the countryside. I had other things on my mind though. A local resident had contacted me to report a dead badger cub. He wondered if the death was cause for concern as the cub was a long way from the nearest road. It was certainly worth looking into and I agreed to investigate.

The dead cub was situated in an area I hadn't visited for quite a while. I wasn't 100% certain of the precise location, so I decided I would make my way to the one sett I knew of in that locality and proceed from there. Getting there involved walking through an interesting area of grassland, where this striking six-spot burnet moth caught my eye:



The six-spot burnet flies by day. The black and red markings are designed to deter would-be predators. Animals displaying warning colouration such as this may sting (e.g. bees, wasps), produce a foul smell (e.g. skunks) or bite (e.g. badgers!). Or, as with the burnet, they may taste nasty. The caterpillars of this species eat birdsfoot trefoil and from this they build up cyanide-derivatives in their bodies, which are passed on to the adult moths.

Another splash of red was provided by this robin's pincushion:



This rather spectacular growth can be found on the dog rose. It is a type of plant gall, an abnormal growth caused by a parasite. In this case the parasite is a type of wasp. The females lay their eggs in rose leaves or stems and the 'pincushions' develop to provide shelter and food for the wasps' grubs.

When I found the badger sett I was pleased to see that some of the entrances (like the one in the photo below) had recently-excavated material on their spoil heaps:



Several years ago a large, man-made pit was discovered at this sett - almost certainly evidence of persecution by badger diggers. I was concerned that the discovery of a dead badger cub in the area might have meant that the sett had been attacked again. This badger citadel however looked undisturbed by humans, and extremely well-used by its furry residents.

Having checked out the sett I started my search for the cub. Along the way I spotted these wild strawberries:



The berries of this species are tiny - each one typically less than a centimetre long. Small the berries may be - but they are also very tasty (I tried one). Because of this, the wild strawberry was widely cultivated in Europe before the garden strawberry (a cross between two American species) came along.

Soon I found a spot which fitted the description I had been given, and there was the body of a beautiful badger cub, about 80cm long from nose to tail tip. There was no sign that the badger had been snared, shot, poisoned or attacked. The actual cause of death will remain a mystery, but I don't suspect foul play. Before moving the body out of sight I took a photo of one of the cub's forepaws:



The paw was about 4cm across the pad, and each toe was equipped with a long, strong claw. These are the tools of the badger's trade. With their forepaws, badgers dig their setts, collect bedding material to line their underground chambers and groom themselves. It was sad to think that this cub would dig and scratch no more.

Having seen a badger in death, I wanted to see one or more alive. So I headed for the woodland sett I have been watching this year. Two badgers were out, in good light, on my arrival. Badgers were still active there when I crept away through the darkness an hour and a half later. Between those times I saw a fox cub skulking at the edge of the sett, listened to other fox cubs bickering in the fields nearby and heard adult foxes screaming and barking in the distance. Tawny owls too were very vocal, adding their voices to the amazing atmosphere of the wood. Best of all I was able to watch, at length, the three badger cubs who were born in the sett this year. The smallest, now named Tiny, left the sett early on, following in his mother's footsteps. The other two, Moonlight and Shadow as I decided to call them, found the raisins that I'd scattered around the sett. They kept me entertained for most of the last half hour or so of my watch as they searched for the tasty titbits I had provided and ate them with obvious enthusiasm. What a privilege it was to be in their midst. And, after the sad sight of the dead cub earlier in the evening, what a joy to be able to watch cubs who were so full of life.

There's a guy on the internet who advises would-be badger watchers to arrive at their sett of choice well before the resident badgers are due to emerge. He also suggests that watching from behind a tree may not be a good idea, as the silhouette of the watcher's head may be seen by the badgers (who are familiar with the shapes and patterns of all that surrounds their sett).

So on Tuesday night I arrived at a woodland badger sett, at just about the time I thought the badgers might be emerging or maybe even a little afterwards (9.25pm), and stood behind a tree to wait and watch. The poor timing was due to a spur of the moment, last-minute decision to try a spot of badger watching. The decision to stand behind the tree was taken because it was, in my judgement, the best place to watch from. (Just because I'm the guy who wrote all that stuff on the internet doesn't mean I have to take my own advice!)

I was definitely a bit too late to catch the badgers who were first to leave the confines of their underground home that evening. I'm pretty sure they had already ambled off through the brambles before I got there. But I was in time to catch some of the stragglers. My views of them were brief and a little distant, but better than seeing no badgers at all.

Then I caught sight of another animal to my left, towards the edge of the sett, and swung my torch round to see who the new arrival was. A beautiful juvenile fox was making a tentative exploration of the sett area. Zigzagging across the sett towards my right, the fox disappeared from my view on the other side of the tree I was standing behind. I edged to my right - there was the fox, just a few metres away from me, and now heading back towards my left. Which meant I lost sight of my vulpine visitor again and now had to edge across to my left. I spotted the young fox at about the same time as the fox detected me, and I think we both jumped at the same time! We were only a metre away from each other. Not for long of course as the fox quickly trotted away, looking back from time to time as if uncertain what I was. Not long after that I crept away and headed for home, thrilled that I had got the closest I have ever been to a wild fox.

Tonight I arrived at the same sett a little earlier (9.10pm), just as the tawny owls were waking up. A characteristic "kee-wick" call was followed by a few gurgling hoots. A matter of moments later I spotted a badger out and about at one of the lowermost holes. Shortly afterwards there was a cub outside another entrance. I lost sight of both, but a few minutes later I became aware of some noises coming from the brambles over to my left on the other side of the sett. Almost certainly the sound of one or more foraging badgers.

The minutes ticked by. It seemed I was now a badger listener rather than a badger watcher. Suddenly however there was a commotion, a kerfuffle even, in the brambles. Two animals came dashing out of the undergrowth. One was a badger, who stopped outside a sett entrance while considering what move to make next. The other was a muntjac deer, and a very small one even by muntjac standards. I have seen very few muntjac fawns over the years but now there was one standing about four or five metres away from me!

Badger and deer must have surprised each other in the brambles and taken fright. Now however each one of them seemed to realise that the other was not a threat. The little muntjac headed back across the sett, past the badger, into the brambles, and on to the edge of the wood just beyond. As the badger also disappeared among the blackberry bushes, I caught sight of an animal moving along the very edge of the wood. Two animals in fact - a muntjac mum and her offspring. What a wonderful sight.

Soon I was badger listening again, although I did now and again catch a few glimpses of black and white faces or grey bodies in the light from my torch. I also did a bit of deer listening. The two muntjacs had put some distance between themselves and the sett and now the mother was reminding me why her species is also know as the barking deer. Her drawn-out barking call was repeated several times.

Over the next five minutes or so, the sounds made by the foraging badgers became more distant. At the same time, I became aware of movements beneath the trees off to my right. I could also hear a squeaking call. What on earth was I listening to? Soon my torch revealed the answer - mother and baby muntjac had made their way back towards the sett. They disappeared from view within a minute or so, but they remained fairly close by for a while as I could still hear the squeaking.

Finally, I could hear neither deer nor badger. A good time to go, I thought. As I didn't see all the badgers who live in the sett, I suspect I probably arrived a little on the late side again. Maybe, if I had followed the advice of the guy on the internet and arrived earlier tonight and on Tuesday, I would have seen more badgers. But having watched brocks, a fox, and deer too, I am without doubt a very happy wildlife watcher.

When 'my' badgers abandoned their sett five years ago, it felt like the end of an era. I had been watching the sett's residents for nearly 25 years, and suddenly the close relationship I had built up with those amazing creatures was over. The close relationship I had built up with my partner of seven years also ended around that time, which magnified my sense of loss several times over.

Badgers returned to the abandoned sett two or three times after that, but only to use it as a nursery. They had cubs there, but as soon as those cubs were weaned the family would move out again and take up residence in Far Sett, which was virtually unwatchable. My opportunities for watching badgers over the last few years have therefore been few and far between and my life has been the poorer for that.

One evening towards the end of May this year I found myself watching badgers again. This time at a different sett, a woodland sett further from home. The sight of three young badger cubs playing in the light from my torch, lifted my spirits no end (and at a time when my spirits really needed it!). Since then I have managed to watch the badgers there several more times. My close encounters near that sett on the evening of June 10th (see Close encounters of the furred kind) were particularly thrilling.

No less thrilling were my brief observations of the badger I saw for just a few minutes at another sett later that same evening. As I mentioned in my earlier blog entry, this badger was taking bedding material into a sett which I had first watched 30 years ago - the sett which was abandoned some 25 years later. The presence of badgers at the sett towards the middle of June meant not only that the Brocks were back, but also that they had remained there after cub-weaning time - a significant development.

On Thursday evening last week, knowing that the forecasts were for two or three days of wet weather, I decided to make the most of the evening sunshine by going for a walk and then attempting another badger watch. The first sett I visited was the woodland sett. At about 9.25pm, some five or ten minutes after my arrival, a black and white face appeared near the sett entrance furthest away from me. More tantalising glimpses of distant badgers followed over the next ten minutes. Then an adult came into view, and trotted away from the burrows and the piles of sandy soil, off into the brambles. She (I felt certain the badger was a sow) did not go far. I soon heard the sound of grass and herbage being torn up, and then listened as the badger reversed back towards the sett with her cargo clasped beneath her chin. Up onto the spoil heap she went, and then down into the sett. Within minutes she was back out and repeating the process. And then again. When she left the sett for the fourth time however, Mrs Badger had a different objective. The light was fading fast now, and the badger was heading further afield to look for food, under the protective cover of the gathering darkness.

The sett fell quiet. The cubs who had been active over at the furthest hole (where I couldn't see them properly!) had gone. But soon another cub appeared, a really small individual. The little guy appeared to be searching for the other badgers, trotting from one part of the sett to another ... gradually heading closer and closer to me. Soon the cub was standing by a sett entrance just two to three metres away from me, oblivious to my presence and of the bright light of my torch. The cub then went below ground, and the moments of magic were over. I took the opportunity to leave without disturbing the animals I had been watching.

Arriving at a sett after the time when the badgers are likely to emerge is generally not a good idea. There is always the risk that you might alert the badgers to your presence as you approach, or that they may already have left. However I decided that I would call in on my other sett in the hope that I would be able to see more badger activity there. Thirty years ago when I first watched the sett, it was part of an open field and bereft of cover. Nowadays however it lies within a small copse of young trees. This means the final few paces to the top of the bank within which the sett is dug must be trodden with care, as there are plenty of leaves and twigs ready to sound the alarm should one false step be taken. Fortunately, a stiff breeze took away some of the inevitable crackles - and the badger who was out when I reached my watching position was collecting bedding and so making a lot more noise than I was!

I soon found myself once more watching a badger shuffling backwards into a sett, clutching a large bundle of grass. Clearly I was not the only one making the most of the dry weather (although I doubt the badgers had seen the weather forecast!). A few minutes later the badger emerged from another hole. Rake-like claws were soon busy gathering another load of grass. Another badger came out. This one looked younger. Too big to be one of this year's cubs - probably one of last year's. The yearling didn't seem interested in collecting bedding, but instead put his claws to use in a different way - scratching to relieve the itching of parasites. Badgers can reach most parts of their bodies with the claws on their front or back feet. They can sit and scratch like a dog, using their hind paws to groom their sides, backs and necks. They also like to lie on their backs and scratch their undersides with the claws on their fore and hind paws, which is exactly what the yearling did while I stood watching with an enormous smile on my face!

Soon my smile became even bigger. A third badger emerged. This one followed the example of the first and got to work raking up grass. Before long I was watching something I'd never seen before - synchronised bedding collection. The sight of one badger reversing back to a sett dragging a bundle of grass is amusing enough. The sight of two badgers engaged in this activity simultaneously meant that I had to put my hand over my mouth as I tried not to laugh out loud.

Time passed and the badgers gradually disappeared from view, either wandering away from the sett or retiring below ground. I carefully retraced my steps and headed away from this enchanted place, through the leaves and twigs and then through the long grass, to my car and the world of humans. But I took with me memories of an unforgettable evening in the world of the wild, an evening when I had been back among the badgers.


A sequence of images captured from some video I filmed a few years ago, showing a badger taking in bedding.

On Sunday I drove down the A361 to the village of Upper Wardington in Oxfordshire, to walk a route which I hadn't done for almost a year, my 'Oxfordshire border walk'. As always I was rewarded with superb views and met a variety creatures from beetles to bullocks. The walk itself took about two and half hours with all the photo stops, and at the end of it I decided I wasn't ready to go home. So I headed for Fawsley Park, where I searched for wildlife alongside the lakes, and then went on to Everdon Stubbs. Finally I called in on another favourite wildlife site before getting home about 8 hours after I had originally set off.

Highlights of my day included observations of a family of coal tits (permanently hungry youngsters keeping their parents busy finding food for them amongst the branches) and a pair of linnets on the Oxfordshire border walk; great crested grebes and a green woodpecker at Fawsley; a pair of buzzards soaring and calling directly above me at Everdon Stubbs, and a close encounter with a roe deer buck.

I took quite a few photos while I was out and about, and thought I would share half a dozen of my favourites - six of the best.


My 'reception committee' at Wardington, an inquisitive herd of bullocks.


A male thick-legged flower beetle. The female of the species does not have the swollen femora visible on this chap's hind legs. This is the first of two insects I found within a few metres of each other during my Oxfordshire border walk, the second one being...


... a female scorpion fly. The rather fearsome-looking piercing 'beak' is used for feeding on the juices of dead insects (including those caught in spiders' webs). The end of the male's abdomen has a projection which looks rather like a scorpion's sting.


The flower-head of a giant hogweed plant viewed against the backdrop of a beautiful blue sky.


One of several different species of damselflies which I saw and photographed at Fawsley Park.


A view across the largest of Fawsley's lakes, the aptly named Big Waters.

I felt so certain that I would see a fox yesterday evening. Lured out by the nice weather, I decided to do my Boddington walk (see Boddington's best, my blog entry for 11 September 2007 below). Isolated fields in late evening, at a time of year when fox cubs come out to play in daylight and when vixens are busy finding food for their offspring - I felt the odds were in my favour.

Towards the beginning of the walk I spotted a grey squirrel scurrying up an oak tree in a hedgerow. I saw (and photographed) a red admiral butterfly, and heard a brood of young greater spotted woodpeckers in their nest. I sighted a dragonfly, a mallard and her ducklings on a pond, plus several rabbits. I also listened to something tapping away in an ash tree before I eventually, erm, spotted the woodpecker. Finally, as I neared the end of my walk there were swallows flying around me and robins and yellowhammers singing in the hedgerows. But I had not seen a fox.

I started my journey home, not too disappointed at my lack of vulpine views as I had enjoyed my exploration of the countryside. I headed for Priors Marston and then, as I drove through the village at about 9 o'clock, I saw my fox. Emerging from under a garden hedge, the fox crossed the road ahead of me, ascended the grassy bank on the other side, and disappeared through another hedge. This wasn't the sighting I'd been expecting, but it was very welcome all the same.

Encouraged by this encounter, I decided to stop off on the way home at the woodland badger sett where I had seen two badger cubs on Sunday night. The light was fading now, and the evening air was thick with the scent of honeysuckle. The direction of the wind was not in my favour - my usual approach to the sett was a no-go zone as any badgers who might be about would pick up my scent on the breeze. So I tried another path and within a matter of minutes I could hear the sound of a badger raking up leaf litter with long claws ideally suited to the task. By the time I neared the area where the sounds had been coming from, the badger had taken one load of dead leaves back to the sett and returned for another. There was enough daylight left for me to see an unmistakeable black and white striped face, and then watch as the badger gathered together a bundle of bedding material.

As Brock headed back to the sett, I took stock of the situation and realised that I was not going to be able to progress any further along the path I was on, because of the wind direction. My only option, if I wanted to see more badger activity, was to retrace my steps and then follow a badger pathway towards the sett. I definitely wanted to see more!

Following a badger path through woodland in the dark, and doing so quietly, was not an easy task even with the aid of a torch. Eventually though I found myself just a few metres away from two foraging badgers, probably the cubs I'd observed on Sunday night. However while I could hear every move they made, getting good views of them through the undergrowth was another matter. I was so close at this point that I did not dare make any further movements and risk being detected. I would have to wait and hope that the badgers would come to me. Sure enough, one of the cubs did exactly that. Closer and closer came the cub, as tawny owls hooted elsewhere in the wood. Soon the cub was just a few metres away, oblivious to the light from my torch. What a beautiful sight! Then the little badger was behind me - and picked up my scent. Alarmed, he or she galloped off in the direction of the sett. This was not the end of my observations, as the cub stopped running and resumed foraging before reaching home. But I decided to make tracks anyway and leave my stripy friends in peace.

The evening's wildlife observations were not yet over however. As I drove along a country road heading for home, I spotted an animal stepping out on to the tarmac in front of me - a muntjac deer! The diminutive creature showed no concern at my approach and continued crossing as I rapidly brought my car to a halt. I managed to stop about two metres away from her! Only when the muntjac was heading up the bank on the other side of the road did she turn her head and show awareness of my presence by breaking into a slight trot and vanishing through the hedge.

Two or three miles further on, my route home took me past the badger sett I started watching 30 years ago in 1978. Recent daytime visits had revealed signs of renewed badger activity. Since luck seemed to be with me, I decided that I just had to stop and see if one of the badgers would say hello. After crossing the field to the trees where the sett is located, I picked my way through the dead leaves and twigs to a spot where I could shine my torch down the bank. Within seconds the beam of light was illuminating a badger. Just like the one I saw earlier in the evening, this badger was gathering bedding material. Soon I was watching, with a huge grin on my face, as the badger's bulky form shuffled backwards in a series of jerky movements, dragging a large bundle of grass towards, and then into, one of the sett entrances closest to me.

Once the badger was below ground I took the opportunity to leave without causing any disturbance. What an evening I'd experienced - a series of close encounters with some of my favourite animals. I hope I have many more.

Yesterday's gorgeous weather provided an ideal opportunity to give myself and my camera some exercise after months of relative inactivity. I decided to visit Edge Hill Wood in Warwickshire, and stopped off at Everdon Stubbs en route home.


Horse chestnut leaves backlit by a ray of sunlight.

The woodlands provided some welcome shade and cooler conditions. After all the recent rain the ground was quite muddy in places, especially at Edge Hill, but that provided opportunities to look for animal tracks.


Herb Robert, a member of the geranium family

The spring wildflowers have all but gone, bar a few tatty-looking bluebells and a patch of stitchwort at Everdon Stubbs. Now the red campion is in bloom, along with herb robert, wood avens and a clump of wood sanicle at Edge Hill. Both Everdon Stubbs and Edge Hill wood were full of birdsong - robins, wrens and blackbirds were the main act, supported by chiffchaffs, garden warblers, blackcaps, and one or two willow warblers. At Edge Hill I was treated to close-up views of a buzzard just above the trees, while at Everdon I found two greater spotted woodpecker nests and watched the parents bringing food for their noisy youngsters.


Female beautiful demoiselle

With the trees now in full leaf, conditions inside the woodlands tend to be rather dark and taking photos can be tricky. Glades and clearings are brighter, and it was in a bracken-filled clearing at Everdon that I found a female beautiful demoiselle damselfly (that's the species' name by the way, not just my opinion regarding the insect's appearance!), a creature which would normally be found by rivers or lakes.


Germander speedwell

Brighter conditions can of course also be found along the borders of the woods. Amongst the long grass growing there, the striking blue flowers of germander speedwell can now be seen. This is our most abundant species of speedwell, and the distinctive white 'eye' in the centre of each bloom makes it easy to recognise. Alternative names for this species include eye of Christ, angel's eyes and cat's eye.


A young long-tailed tit

Along one edge of Everdon Stubbs, I heard the tell-tale trilling calls of long-tailed tits, one of my favourite birds. Noticing that the youngsters seemed to be busy preening themselves in the sunshine while waiting for their parents to bring them food, I slowly made my way to a spot where I could get a better view, and even managed to take some photos. The youngsters don't seem to have the pink patches of plumage present on the adult birds, though they did have noticeably red eyelids.


A view across the fields from below Edge Hill

Beyond the fringes of the woodlands, the lush green pastures are now tinged with yellow thanks to large numbers of buttercups. The views across the Warwickshire plain from Edge Hill were, as ever, a joy to behold. Mile after mile of fields, hedgerows and trees, with just the occasional farm or village. Some of the fields were grazed by cattle, while the one closest to me was occupied by horses.


Horses grazing in a field below Edge Hill

Finally, back into the relative darkness of Everdon Stubbs, where incessant chattering calls led me to a group of fledgling great tits perched just a foot above ground level on the base of a tree. At my approach they froze and kept quiet, no doubt an instinctive response to possible danger. I took a few photos (conditions were so gloomy I needed to use the flash), and then moved off so that the parents could carry on feeding their hungry brood.


Fledgling great tits waiting for food

All in all, a grand day out. And the icing on the cake? In the evening I paid a visit to a local sett on the off-chance that I might see some badgers there, and was treated to views of two cubs foraging (and foraging with great success judging by the noisy munching sounds I could hear!).