I last heard nightingales sing more than a decade ago. It was just after midnight on a starry May evening and, from dense blackthorn scrub on the Dutch coast, they were seemingly everywhere, writes Tim Birch
‘Quickly Miss, come quickly,’ was the squeal of delight, ‘look what I’ve found, it’s a baby tree!’
Gently clearing away the dead leaves and twigs, which were covering the birch sapling, for 10 year old Ali, this was a momentuous event.
Sheri Lake, Watch Leader at Whisby Wildlife Watch, tells us how letting the children loose with video recording equipment gave them a unique insight into what the children gained from their Watch sessions.
It was the little patch of wood anemones that finally did it. There was something about their poise, nestled as they were under a hawthorn bush with brave faces catching the last of the day’s sunlight.
I am fortunate to live very close to Plymouth Sound, an ancient drowned river valley which is now home to meadows of sea fans, delicate cup corals, underwater cliffs of sponges, sea grass beds and the occasional basking shark gliding through the waters.