Hello. I'm currently restructuring this website, so some things may be missing or appear broken.
Hello. I'm currently restructuring this website, so some things may be missing or appear broken.
I really enjoyed Irish Wildlife Sounds and the Race to Record Ireland’s Birds, an in-depth Bandcamp Daily article about ornithologist, field-recordist and producer Seán Ronayne, currently in the process of completing a collection of calls and sounds from all known regularly-occurring bird species in Ireland.
It’d been too long since I’d spent several uninterrupted days in my favourite place. And I needed this trip, because opening myself to the valley’s slow time always leaves me recharged and reorientated.
I heard a scream of swifts high above the park in West Bridgford on 2nd May, but didn’t see them, the sky obstructed by trees. Today, 7th May — five days later and on the same date as last year, I saw the first swifts above our house.
Previously: 2023, 7th; 2022, 11th; 2021, 16th; 2020, 5th; 2019, 9th; 2018, 7th; 2017, 11th.
One of Geri’s lovely clients invited us to join the team for a relaxed get-together in deepest Devon. It’s a six-hour drive, so we seized the opportunity to enjoy a much-needed mini break.
Our swifts returned today, 7th May, a sign that “the globe’s still working” and “our Summer’s still all to come” (Ted Hughes’ Swifts). Previously: 2022, 11th; 2021, 16th; 2020, 5th; 2019, 9th; 2018, 7th; 2017, 11th.
This year, the warming climate also bought Alpine swifts to our shores, as early as March, but I haven’t seen one yet.
A fun weekend. We spent Saturday afternoon with two best friends and their lovely new baby boy. Today, we drove to Castleton for some much-needed fresh air, including a wander up Cave Dale. We also met this soft robin, easily enticed with a few Cherry Bakewell crumbs.
We heard something thump into the window below, got up to look, and WOW! — a female sparrowhawk wrestling her kill into submission. She must’ve chased her prey into the glass. Warning: this is obviously a bit grim for the pigeon.
I’ve been fascinated by landscape since I was a boy, but learning of the Kinder Trespass and later attending festivals opened my eyes to new ways of seeing our land. Even then, I wasn’t seeing the whole picture.
Our swifts returned today. 2021, 16th; 2020, 5th; 2019, 9th; 2018, 7th; 2017, 11th. ‘Our Summer’s all still to come.’
I like the intention and aesthetic of Season, a Playstation game arriving in December. “You play a traveller recording the last moments of different cultures before they’re washed away.”
Stuff like this is crucial because endlessly dumping scary climate facts on us makes change seem like something we’ll confront in the future rather than a crisis we live in right now, something Tim Morton explains well in Being Ecological. Brave art and stories have a massive role in helping us live within and share the climate crisis. Author Amitav Ghosh makes a compelling case for this in The Great Derangement.
Season’s art direction is inspired by mid-20th century poster artists such as Norman Wilkinson, and early Japanese woodblock print artists, resulting in what Sony describes as “a minimalist approach to realism”.
Extinction: The Facts just aired on BBC1; Sunday evening, 8pm. I mention the time because finally, primetime terrestrial environmental docs are laying it bare. Programme makers are showing increasingly uncomfortable footage of animal persecution and slaughter. They're exposing the scale and cost of mass food production. The gloves are coming off. David Attenborough is also, finally, dialling it up, quietly raging at all of us.
And I cried at the burning koalas again because a billion animals perish in bush fires and nothing changes, and it all feels so hopeless. I sit here, wishing I did a job that supports conservation or promotes positive change. I wish I had the qualifications. I wish this all the time.
If you missed Extinction: The Facts, and can access iPlayer, please watch it.
I’ve long had a disdain for woodpigeons. I mean, has any bird thrived more in recent years than the woodpigeon? While other species cling to survival, these lumbering oafs are everywhere.
I learned that our local birds like sunflower hearts and they’re now feeding regularly, so I wedged an old Blink cam in the tree. Here’s the best of day one, featuring house sparrows, blue tits, adult and juvenile goldfinches.
The swifts are back, screeching high in the skies above Sneinton. They always return this week in May, around teatime. Bird migration is a welcome reminder that despite everything, the world still turns and seasons change.
Animal Crossing: New Horizons has captured my heart and soothed my mind. Everything about this world is brilliant, but I particularly love cataloguing creatures and wandering around my museum.
As a kid, I kept nature journals, so these simple pleasures fill me with joyous nostalgia (and also remind me of version 4 of this site). No birds, though; I’d pay a LOT of bells for a birds expansion pack.
Having admired Eliasson’s work for twenty years, I’d expected to love everything about this significant Tate survey. Instead, I began to wonder if I’d over-invested in his ideas.
The idea was to create a podcast series about sound and place, recording each episode in a different location. I assembled one episode but thought better of sharing it — until now.
Thousands of websites will be unavailable during the Global Climate Strike, with millions of us taking to the streets to demand climate justice and an end to the age of fossil fuels.
Ahead of its big new Olafur Eliasson show, Tate Modern hosted a discussion about the potential of culture to address sustainability and inspire change.