Way back at the beginning of the year I breathed new life into this blog with a reflective look at my current motivations and attempted to set a course for the new decade which would see me focussing on what I enjoyed and discarding that which I didn't. Since penning those words I've been doing my best to live up to the commitments I made including plenty of photography, writing and walking, plus a daunting dive into the world of nocmigging for which a series of dedicated blogs will be heading your way soon. That being said perhaps the section which excited me most from that rambling entry was where I listed a few of my long held dreams, experiences rooted in the natural world which one day I hope to fulfil.

Inevitably the idea of putting together a more thorough list began to form (I am a birdwatcher at heart after all) so when Alikat's got in touch asking if I'd like to take part in their Bucket List Challenge, now seemed like the perfect opportunity to do just that. Before we proceed however I want to make it clear that this list is not simply there to allow items to be ticked off. I mean obviously that's part of it but not my sole motivation. Instead my bucket list represents a set of experiences and memories yet to be made, things which I hope will enrich me as a person and push me to live life to its fullest.

Back in 2013 I completed my first long(ish) distance walk with a two day assault on the Gower Way. At thirty five miles this was by far my greatest walking challenge to date and despite a few aches and pains it well and truly whetted my appetite. So much so that I went straight to the bookshop and purchased a guide covering the Offa's Dyke Path which stretches 177 miles along the Welsh/English border. Unfortunately that's as far as things went and after seven years without any long distance walks, this one is right up there on the 'to-do' list.

Last summer we successfully climbed Ben Nevis rounding off the three highest peaks in Britain having summited Snowdon and Scafell Pike previously. Next in our sights is Carrauntoohil, Ireland's highest mountain standing at 3,407ft.

Contrary to expectations we actually enjoyed a break in our recent appalling run of bad weather last Sunday, brief respite from the rain and wind which has become an almost constant presence this winter. To take advantage we headed down to Mumbles for a mooch around Bracelet Bay and spent a happy couple of hours doing nothing more than simply watching the tide come in. It might be my advancing years (what do you mean mid-thirties isn’t old!) but I find that where once the idea of simply sitting filled me with dread I now find myself increasingly looking for opportunities to do just that. This was to be no exception but before the foreshore had chance to disappear beneath the waves once more I couldn’t help but notice an impressive colony of Honeycomb Worms and went in for a closer look.


Easily spotted at low tide these are, as the photo above suggests, a reef-building worm which constructs for itself a protective tube from sand and shell fragments. These interlocking tubes create the distinctive ‘honeycomb’ structures from which the species takes its name and can house tens if not hundreds of thousands of individuals. Found where there is hard substrate upon which to build and a ready supply of sand, our local coastline makes for almost perfect habitat and it’s no surprise that they are relatively widespread here.

Search the internet for Black Mountain and you’re likely to find yourself faced with a slew of possibilities from across south Wales. Of these the Black Mountains east of the Brecon Beacons National Park are probably most widely known and which, rather confusingly, also contain a summit called Black Mountain. I’ve explored there numerous times but today our interests shall be focused further west where The Black Mountain range (as opposed to the Black Mountains and not the individual peak of the same name – keeping up?) straddles the county border between Carmarthenshire and Brecknockshire. Like most of our walks we were drawn to this area after spotting its interesting features on an OS map, principally the number of cairns around Tair Carn Isaf and Tair Carn Uchaf. Intrigued we headed up just before New Year on a typically overcast and windy day.

For the second weekend in a row Wales has been battered by gales and persistent heavy rainfall, last nights deluge resulting in severe flooding across communities both local and further afield. With the ground already sodden and rivers filled to capacity there was simply nowhere else for the water to go other than straight through the increasingly fragile illusion that we are masters of our environment. Thankfully we've escaped relatively unscathed here and spent yesterday locked inside watching sheets of water being blasted up the valley whilst willing our internet and electricity not to cut out (they didn't). We woke to slightly improved conditions this morning and in need of some fresh air headed down the coast to Porthcawl. Even if you've never visited the town yourself you'll have probably seen images of waves crashing over its breakwater and lighthouse, iconic symbols of extreme weather which of late has become ever more common.

As soon as we arrived a huge wave sent almost unfathomable amounts of raging white water skywards, mother nature flexing her muscles as if it was nothing. The gathered crowds stood in awe as barrage after barrage was thrown landwards, the sea a boiling cauldron with waves breaking in any number of directions and the wind whipping up foam to be thrown like projectiles. I've seldom experienced such raw power and hopefully a little of that comes across in the following images.

Last Sunday we popped down to Bracelet Bay on Gower to get reacquainted with the Mediterranean Gulls. Fortunately for us a combination of high tide and stormy seas meant that there were at least twenty dotted around the car park including one ringed individual which originally hails from Poland. Unfortunately the combination of high tide and stormy seas also attracted plenty of people meaning any kind of approach was all but impossible thanks to constant disturbance. Nevertheless I persevered and ended up coming away with a pleasing set of images.


Down at Mumbles Pier it was rather nice to see a few early returning Kittiwakes back on the scene whilst the wader roost on the old lifeboat slipway held very good numbers. Dunlin, Turnstone and Redshank all featured along with a solitary Oystercatcher which had presumably shunned its own species in favour of ruling over the lesser beings.


Other than that things were fairly quiet so there was nothing for it but to head to the pub for a Sunday roast. Now that's definitely my definition of a decent couple of hours spent birding. 

It may be a new decade but some things will always remain the same including our participation in the world's largest wildlife survey. Each January over half a million people across the country come together to take part in the RSPB's Big Garden Birdwatch, counting the birds that appear in their gardens during a single hour and in doing so helping track the fortunes of our commonest feathered friends. As examples of citizen science projects go it's hard to think of any other that has so captivated the public and become such an integral part of our national psyche, or indeed that has run for quite so many years (forty plus and counting).

This year marked our tenth taking part at our current property and probably delivered the best results we've had since those early days. That has I'm sure something to do with the fact that for once we hadn't chosen an hour beset by torrential rain and gale force winds, conditions that favour neither man nor beast. In the end we managed to record twelve species and forty one individuals but for me the real interest lies in drilling down into the detail.

Looking back at our first count in 2011 one thing that immediately jumps out is that our once common flock of Starlings is simply no more. I wish I could say that this was a local anomaly but sadly Starling numbers have been crashing nationally for some time leading to them being red listed as a bird of high conservation concern. The Greenfinch population has similarly been decimated, largely thanks to the rampant spread of trichomonosis, but here at least we have good news. A pair have once more become regular visitors this winter and both showed up during our survey window. House Sparrow numbers have similarly bounced back from just two in 2017 to a mighty eight, as have Chaffinches which once appeared lost but are now heading back towards double figures. I hope these species' resurgence has at least something to do with the work we've being putting into our garden including nest boxes, high quality food and plenty of natural cover. Certainly food has been one of the big draws for our Goldfinches whose numbers continue to build year on year, as does the cost of keeping them fed. 

The only really glaring omission from this years count was that of Great Tit which, given the regularity with which we see them, struck us as a bit odd. Perhaps unsurprisingly one popped up just after our hour had finished and they've been here ever since.

The rules of the Big Garden Birdwatch state that you can only record birds actually grounded in your garden which meant we saw several species which couldn't be submitted. Chief amongst these was a Redwing perched just beyond our boundary plus a pair of Red Kite overhead. Three Herring Gulls and a couple of Crows also passed through before, just as the final minutes ticked away, a flock of four Starlings swept across a nearby field. Perhaps then all is not lost for these charismatic birds and if conservation efforts can help them recover we might yet see them return to our feeders.

Finding ourselves at a loose end one recent Sunday afternoon we went in search of somewhere coastal that hitherto had escaped our notice. That's no easy task when you've lived in the same area for over a decade but find one we did.