A berry merry winter to our wildlife

THERE is a log fire in the grate in the kitchen and some strange form of paralysis seems to have immobilised me in the fireside chair.

A glance through the window reveals a cold, grey, uninviting world outside. My immediate reaction to it is a strong desire to make a hot whiskey punch with sugar, lemon and cloves. But there’s been enough eating and drinking over the past few days — no, that’s not strictly true, there’s been far too much. It’s time to go for a walk.

Remembering the German saying that there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing, I go in search of boots, a jacket, over-trousers and a beanie. Modern outdoor gear is so good that I find I can put all this stuff on and still move fairly easily. This removes my last excuse for staying by the fire.

Outside it’s really not as bad as it looked from the kitchen. The right word to describe it is probably ‘refreshing’ and for the time being there’s no water, ice or snow falling out of the sky. It’s quiet but not totally lifeless. Almost immediately a robin joins me, fluffed up against the cold; beady eye alert to the possibility that I might provide or uncover some edible morsel. Bad luck robin.

It has been a tough winter so far but for birds and small mammals. This has been compensated for, to some extent, by a good berry crop. Even now there are still some dull-coloured haws, wrinkled sloes and bright orange rose hips in the hedge along the lane, a nostalgic reminder of the fact that the weather was lovely in late spring and early summer. It’s hard to believe the lane was buzzing with insects pollinating blossom to produce these winter berries a few months ago.

They’re nearly all gone now but the ivy berries are showing signs of ripeness. These life-saving berries, poisonous to humans but not to birds and other animals, not only ripen in the early months of the year when all other food supplies are at their lowest, they also tend to ripen progressively. Some berries will swell and start to turn purple quite early while others, even in the same bunch, will hold off for weeks. This extends the food supply.

The leaves of the ivy, clinging to the pale grey branches of the ash trees, contribute the only consistent deep green colour to the landscape. This wonder-plant provides winter shelter and food. Our native flora is deficient when it comes to evergreens in which birds can roost and get some protection from the weather. There are a few hollies further down the lane but their foliage is nothing like as dense as the thick mats of ivy and doesn’t offer the same protection from the cold. Nightime hypothermia is a major killer of small birds in winter.

I lean on a gate, looking over a field, and the point is brought home. I climb the gate to investigate a black object and discover a dead rook. The body is unnaturally light in weight.

As I walk on I wonder what will recycle the dead rook. A magpie later this afternoon or a hungry fox tonight? There are still bunches of ash keys hanging like withered leaves on some of the taller trees. They hang there all winter and provide another source of nutrition for creatures trying to survive in a barren countryside. A dog barks at me and I bark back. Surprisingly the dog puts its tail between its legs and runs away. A small victory.

I turn for home. Now I’ve earned that hot whiskey.

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