Summer’s Silence

Sand martins photographed at one of their nest sites in North Cornwall.

The summer has been a bit of a mixed bag this year, wouldn’t you agree? Rainy days are common occurrence, interspersed with a few days of dry, only to once again become a washout. Even today, as I type this, the weather outside resembles that of grey day in February – the only giveaway that it is August is the lush green adorning the trees and the warmth of the breeze.

Walking along the back lanes, through the woodlands and fields, I’m surprised every year with how colourful summer is. The forest trails and wildflower meadows wearing elegant shades of green, and dressed in their finest jewellery – much of the summer flowers have long since bloomed, but still the bright pink valerian can be seen, and buttercups and clover carpet the meadows.

Amongst it all, of course, are the twittering’s of fledging birds and hum of buzzing insects, a summer melody, - one of the earths oldest and most rehearsed songs. Yet I cannot help but notice a lack of some of its singers and players.

I saw my first sand martin this year in late March. Driving back from a visit home, I happened to clock it skimming across the fields. I’m always so excited when I catch my first sighting as it’s sign of the days to come – afternoons spent lazing in the sun and evening dips in the sea. It was not long after that I spotted my first swallow – identified with it’s fork-shaped tail, much longer and more distinguished than that of the martin. Then at the beginning of May, my first swifts of the year, screaming above the streets in Padstow as the town celebrated Obby Oss Day. It felt very fitting to glimpse them then.

The swifts, swallows, the sand and house martins – I’ve seen all of them this year. Yet, I cannot help but notice their absence as well. The wild meadows beyond my home last year were alive with the cries of swifts. Of the evening I’d wander the back lanes, glimpsing them gliding over the tree canopy. Yet this year, the gatherings of swifts seem smaller, the flocks of swallows less, the sight of martins skimming over the lakes not as frequent.

Their absence is not surprising, unfortunately. The most recent UK Breeding Birds survey revealed of the 119 species assessed, 42 species have declined – including the aerial insectivores. There are several causes for their decline, including unpredictable weather, lack of suitable nesting sites, habitat loss and, worryingly, a lack of food. A recent report indicates that the UK insect population has dropped by 60% over the last two decades – worldwide the decline is 40%. Is it any wonder that so much as hearing a swift is starting to become a rarity?

Even on social media, I’m beginning to regularly see posts asking ‘has anyone seen any butterflies this year?’ ‘Where are all the bees?’ ‘I’ve barely seen any swallows.’ The decline in species is no longer only being observed by the wildlife nerds of the world, but the majority of the public too.

No doubt the weather we’ve been experiencing is partially to blame, but as many scientists and conservationists have been saying for a while, the inevitable decline of species is the culmination of the climate and biodiversity crisis happening globally. The challenges posed against our native flora and fauna are increasing in their severity, and whether our wildlife will be able to adapt to our rapidly changing world remains to be seen.

I find this trend, as no doubt many do, very worrying. Part of the concern is due to the lack of urgency and care in which the issue is being treated – or maybe I should say not being treated? The environment continues to be an afterthought for many, something occasionally glimpsed outside a window or seen as road-kill on the commute to work. This needs to change, and soon.

…

This morning, myself and my partner Joe, walked our 9-month-old puppy along our local canal. It was quiet, grey, and there was a consistent mizzle. There were the usual river locals – the ducks and moorhens, a few songbirds in the trees and crows in the fields. Now usually, even on a grey day such as today, the river would often have martins skimming along its surface, swallows gliding across the nearby fields.

We only saw one swallow, and it disheartened me more than I thought. Perhaps it was too wet, too windy, perhaps they’re elsewhere gathering in their flocks for their journey back to Africa.

But one?

It caused me to think of the potential of there being a day I see my last swallow, and how soon that could be. How sad summer would be if there wasn’t swallows, swifts and martins filling the skies! We cannot allow this to become reality, we need these birds. We need the butterflies and bees, the moths and the beetles. We need skylarks and swifts, harriers and greenfinches. We need nature. The day our summers fall silent will be a sad one indeed.

There is hope though.

Only recently has Cornwall Wildlife Trust announced one of their biggest projects to date – Tor to Shore. Their aim is to create a Nature Recovery Network spanning from Helman Tor to St Austell Bay, one of the first of its kind in the UK. With funding from the National Lottery Heritage Fund, it is hoped that building better connected landscapes will create environments in which nature can flourish.

Lundy Island has reported that there are more seabirds nesting on the island than at any time since the 1930s. Over 25,000 manx shearwaters and more than 1,300 puffins have been recorded here, as well as 150 pairs of storm petrels that only made their home on the island in ten years ago. Through a partnership led by the RSPB, Natural England, the Landmark Trust and the National Trust, the island was able to eradicate their rat population which in turn allowed the birds to thrive.

These are just two examples in recent years of work being undertaken to help nature – there is so much more from the reintroduction of the beaver to the celebrated success story of the Large Blue butterfly. These projects demonstrate that it is doable to restore nature and allow species to thrive.

We just have to do it!

Atop Mountains High