Imbolc, 2025

In the island nemeton that is Albion (the ancient name for the landmass of Scotland, Wales and England), we’re lucky to have seasons: and I love them all. But I have to admit I do struggle a little sometimes with the colder and shorter days of winter. And by now, the end of January, I’ve had enough, and search for signs of Spring. 

hazel catkins, North Cave Wetlands

But Imbolc (the ancient Celtic celebration heralding the Spring) is upon us, and the hazel catkins are beginning to flower: one of the key phenological markers for the citizen science project, Nature’s Calendar. 

I walked the reserve at North Cave Wetlands today, in glorious sunshine, looking for signs of Spring. It was wonderful to see that all the ice has melted - even with a previous night’s light frost - and to see and hear so many busy birds. During the very cold spell, the partially frozen lakes and frosted vegetation at the reserve were a beautiful sight

but it was discomforting to see so few waterfowl - and those that were there, struggling to break through ice, and find food. On one very open lake, completely frozen, there were no birds at all except a single pied wagtail walking about on the ice, no doubt thinking he’d found a new car park.

My interest is in all of nature, not just birds, and I’ve never been a serious ‘lister’, but now, given my proximity and regular visits to the reserve, one of my fun 2025 projects is to see as many of its birds as I can. There is an all-time list of species for the reserve, starting from when it first became a reserve from the leavings of the quarry industry, and this list contains every species ever seen there, even if only once, or only passing through. There are 250 on the list, which given the full British list is 640, is a good percentage - and will be a challenge for me with my limited ID skills and even more limited vision! 

But even though it feels a little nerdy and train spotter-y to be ticking birds off a list, I will not be forgetting the more significant reasons that I’m visiting the reserve. And indeed, not forgetting the importance of the birds themselves: for what they bring us homo sapiens and what their presence (or sadly, increasing absence) means for the wider environment.

So, on this beautiful cold, sunny day I added three birds to my NCW list: common gull, oystercatcher, and a type of duck called a shoveler. Common gull not particularly so - one of several misnomers in the ‘birding industry’! - but none of the three are classed as rarities or are red-listed. The rarity label I do not care about. I’m not a ‘twitcher’, chasing rarities - birds that often shouldn’t be where they are and may not be able to survive -  but I do want to acknowledge more formally my wonderful experiences of seeing the species of my personal nemeton, as well as the nemeton of Albion generally.

This photograph is not the bird I saw at the Wetlands, but my ‘lifer’ (the birders’ word for the first time to see that species anywhere, ever) which was on a wildlife holiday trip to the fabulous Shetland Islands.

courtesy of islamacleod.com

But back to Imbolc: I love the four ancient Celtic festivals (Imbolc, Beltane, Lughnassa, Samhain) and the solstices and equinoxes between them as a way of marking, celebrating, and giving thanks for special times, and changing seasons… a process both sacred and pragmatic to the early Britons. Together, these eight special times form what contemporary celebrants call the Celtic Wheel of the Year and although I’ve marked those festivals in some way for several years now, I’m emphasising them more this year, as part of my environmental ‘innervism’, as well as my celebration of sacred spaces and sacred times.

An owlsome experience at North Cave Wetlands: a very special Nemeton

I’ve written blogposts for the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust about their reserves at Askham Bog and Spurn Point, but now, recently moved to North Cave, I’ll be focusing my writing around their North Cave Wetlands site.

In preparation, today, I was lucky enough to meet up with Paul, the Reserve Assistant at the Wetlands, to discover more about his work there - especially his owl-monitoring procedures. Not least of which includes checking out the nest boxes for tawny, barn and little owls: a fantastic opportunity for me!

The Little Owls will let you in...

I was very excited: not only do I love owls, but since moving to the village I’ve seen little owls on the reserve, and I’ve heard tawny owls calling several times now. Once, when watching from the open window of my flat with all the lights off, I was lucky enough to spot two dark shapes flying between the trees. It’s been just too cold recently to be watching from open windows, but I still love to lie in bed listening to their calls as they stake out their territories.

First up, Paul showed me around his ‘den’: actually the site maintenance building where all the reserve’s equipment is stored: not least all the techy gizmos required for watching activity from the nest box cameras. It all looked very impressive, but as a non-techy person, I won’t attempt to describe it. In any case, I put all the successful little videos down to owl magic. Courtesy of those magic owls, you can see footage of the little owl pair here and footage of the tawny pair here (do have your sound on - such cute little noises from the tawnies: they’re not just horror film tuwit-tuwoo-ers).

Paul’s list of jobs to do, whether related to surveying and monitoring, or to general maintenance on the reserve, seemed endless, and we discussed the need for more volunteers: more about that in a later blog. For today, we at last set off for our walk round the reserve, including into areas off-limits to ordinary visitors. More excitement for me: love a little light transgression on a Tuesday morning.

First, we headed for where the tawny boxes are hidden in a wooded clearing well off the beaten track. On the way, we passed through a tree-shrouded pond area where Paul has seen a female kingfisher investigating a small bank: a future possible kingfisher breeding area? Yes please, Mrs Kingfisher.

At the tawny owl box area we were rewarded with a sighting: the owl sat in a nearby tree, motionless, in full view, facing towards us, checking us out. Paul believes the pair is acclimatised to him, as they allow him to get quite close before flying off. Apparently, today, I was allowed too, as the owl didn’t move, even as we moved closer. When I looked at the owl through my binoculars, I was shocked by its size. I appreciate that the point of bins is to make creatures look bigger, and I know from bird books that tawny owls can be up to 40 cms tall, but having only ever seen them with my naked eye and in dusky light, I was surprised by both its height, and its beautiful sun-flecked plumage. 

Tawny Owl, North Cave Wetlands

We went to the tree where the box is sited so that Paul could check inside (via one of those owl-magic little mobile screens he plugged into leads dangling down the tree trunk). As the inside of the box appeared on the screen, Paul was not happy to see two squirrel eyes looking up at him. 

“I’ll have to come back later and clear it out again,” he grumbled. “They fill the box full of leaves and food items and there’s no room for the tawny to nest build and lay eggs…” He explained later that once the owl has ‘taken possession’, squirrels won’t enter the box, but at this early stage of the breeding process, it’s first come, first served.

As we headed off to the little owl nest box area, Paul noticed a heap of earth he hadn’t seen before. We investigated. There were signs of fresh digging around a too-big-for-a-rabbit hole in the bank, with broken vegetation indicating the recent presence of something. Most exciting of all: fresh animal footprints in the newly dug out earth. Paul said he’d install a monitoring camera, and took a photo of the prints for checking out later, but we were both thinking the same… badger?

Near the little owl box tree, Paul checked inside via his mobile screen: no-one at home. This particular box is visible to visitors on the reserve, many of them know where it is and have seen the little owl pair,  and many of the photographers who post on the NCW’s facebook page have taken wonderful shots of the owls who love to perch on or around their box, especially when the sun is shining. I’ve even found one of them myself, perusing me from a fork in the nearby oak tree, and I’m not known for my spotting skills. Paul soon found one of them in another nearby tree and we spent a few moments watching it, watching us. This time, looking through my bins, I was shocked by how small the bird was! Clue in its title, of course (a mere 23 cms) but such a stark difference in both height and bulk between the two birds. I was also struck once more by the similarity of owls and cats: both species seem able to sit, motionless, for hours: sometimes eyes open, sometimes eyes closed, but otherwise, zero going on. Apparently. Maybe there’s a lesson for our frantic species to learn there?

So, finally, before Paul had to return to his million-and-one tasks, he showed me where the barn owl box was placed. Brand new, and as yet, no apparent activity, inside or out, but barnies are seen frequently (not by me, but hopefully also ‘as yet’) around the reserve and are known to breed in nearby farm buildings, so there is every chance they might take occupation of the box.

Beautiful Barnie (with lunch)

But the barn owl non-sighting wasn’t quite my final experience after all: in a downstairs window of the old farm house building, newly acquired by the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust, sits a stuffed toy barn owl. It’s an ancient trick known as ‘sympathetic magic’ - don’t say I didn’t warn you…

Thank you Paul Wray, North Cave Wetlands Reserve Assistant, for photos and videos.