What a difference a week makes...

Cross the river - ecological paradise awaits.

Blimey. What just happened?

Last week saw temperatures in the minus numbers and two heavy bouts of snow fall in Leeds. After the first lot of snow I decided to have a walk to Meanwood Park and the Hollies. The Hollies are a managed botanical garden, with a large collection of non native plants and a woodland made up of many trees from far flung corners of the world. Taking a walk through the Hollies (or just sitting and watching) will often turn up a Bullfinch flock or the odd Treecreeper (I once saw young treecreepers being fed, which was quite special), but apart from that its often very quiet in terms of bird life. However once you've meandered down the steep hill, through the rhododendrons (a compulsory plant in all collections) and crossed the river, you've entered a whole new ecological ball game.

Your now in Meanwood Park. Meanwood Park is mainly known for its large open grass area with playground, picnic benches, duck pond etc but for those seeking something more wild, entering the trees and climbing the hill reveals an oak woodland that never disappoints. In a place like this the best plan is just to wait. Sitting, standing or slowly walking and tuning all your senses into the beating heart of this incredibly complex habitat is the best way to spend a couple of hours. Even all the snow could not quieten the wood. A group of 5 nuthatches worked there way through the trees as a Jay (sat brilliantly close in the bare trees) hopped around the branches searching for food. Tit flocks examined every inch of holly bushes, searching for insects that survived the cold and the Great Spotted Woodpecker put in an appearance just as I was leaving to nicely top off a morning of sub zero birding.


The following Friday and the snow was still hanging around. No fresh snow had come down but the low temperatures meant that it didn't clear fast. It just hung around in that inevitable slush form that drives everybody slowly insane. I went up to Harewood House for the first time since being back at University after Christmas and trudged down the long drive in the biting wind. A seal skin coat wouldn't have looked out of place. The snow began to come down and as I was carrying around the buckets of food to the aviaries, I got the distinct feeling I was being watched. As I emerged from one of the sheds I came face to face with a male Blackbird sat at eye level on an opposite fence post. Feeling sorry for him I left a dish that had some left over food from the aviary on the floor while I went to do the other sheds. I'd gone five steps when I turned round to see if he'd accepted my generosity only to see 3 Blackbirds, a Dunnock and a Robin all on the floor around the food. The whole bird population of Harewood must have had its eye on me.
It turned out that was pretty much the case. I had never seen anything like it. Everywhere I went with a bucket I was followed by a Blackbird or Robin guilt tripping me into giving it some food. Not that I could begrudge them, I'd only been out in the cold for a couple of hours in 4 layers of clothing and was already day dreaming of a bacon sandwich.
When it came to feed the geese and guinea fowl with scattered grain, a huge flock of Mallard had come off the main lake so big that it required an extra 5 servings to make sure everyone was fed properly. In the trees the Grey Herons sat lurking in even greater numbers than usual, hoping to help themselves to any food that was thrown out for the wild Red Kites.
To me it all underlined the harshness of winter and how hard it is for our wildlife to survive when conditions get really tough. Everything they do in this period is based on survival and making sure they're alive to breed in the following spring and I can tell you this much, Spring certainly felt like a very long way away...

 Fast forward exactly a week and this was the scene walking down the drive at Harewood the following Friday. The snow had begun to clear as soon as it had fallen the week before with a combination of rain and a sudden increase of temperature the reason. It had completely disappeared in under two days (even the slushy stuff) and come the following Friday the transformation was complete. The sun was warm and the birds were singing. Spring wasn't just flexing its muscles, it was bench pressing like a body builder.
Feeding the aviaries didn't come under the pleading gaze of any wild birds desperately looking for any food they could get. I was instead serenaded by the songs of Greenfinches, Chaffinches, Dunnocks and more as the natural world burst into life in the suns rays.

 It wasn't only the wild birds that were enjoying this dramatic change in weather either. All around the aviaries, the birds were finding sun spots to bask in the warmth while the males began to sing their songs, filling the bird garden with sounds from the Australian outback to the deepest heart of the African jungle. The macaws were enjoying themselves too, looking spectacular as the suns rays lit up their plumage. Their raucous calls of excitement can be heard from right across the lake, and are absolutely deafening when only centimetres away from you when feeding in the shed.


The Brown Lories were full of beans too. Although with these two it was more down to their insatiable appetite for nectar than the joys of the February sunshine. Despite having just been given their afternoon helping, it did nothing to stop them searching my hair and ear for any nectar that may be stored there as I changed their water. And trust me when a Lory is licking your ear for nectar, it tickles. Hence my face in the picture.

Whether the weather (get it?) continues like this and we're in for an early Spring we'll have to see but for that day on the 1st of February it was firing on all cylinders. That's whats great about living somewhere like the UK, the diversity in the seasons give us an ever changing flora and fauna. You can go out any day of the year and find different conditions and different wildlife. The fact that we don't have hot sun for 365 days of the year shouldn't be complained about, it should be celebrated.
Its unpredictable, brilliant and keeps us on our toes. After all it wasn't only the week that changed. It was an entire season.