Andy Mydellton

For more information on conservation holidays and the work of Andy and the Foundation for Endangered Species, visit www.ffes.org.uk


	Andy Mydellton Andy Mydellton FLS is an environmental journalist, the founder and leader of the British wildlife charity, The Foundation for Endangered Species. In this capacity, Andy is also chairman and environmental concern advisor to the UNESCO Schools Group. He is also a Fellow of the Linnean Society. Andy writes for many publications, mounts photographic exhibitions, gives presentations and broadcasts the 'Andy Mydellton Wildlife Zone' radio programme. If you want to see the website that Andy has created for his charity, please visit www.ffes.org.ukTo read his newsletter, go to www.wildlifezone.org. You can e-mail him directly at info@ffes.org.uk The Secrets of Millstream Fork A series of articles about events and experiences in The Foundation for Endangered Species wildlife garden. The wildlife gardening and animal feeding station project is now the UK UNESCO ASPnet Group Project for wildlife and has been introduced to Nepal for the first time. These will also be avaible shortly as audiobooks. The wildlife garden at Millstream Fork The secrets of Millstream Fork In the following sagas, Millstream Fork and its wildlife garden yields its secrets and reveals adventures that have accumulated over a quarter of a century. ~~~~~ Parakeets I first became fascinated with the ring necked parakeet when I heard of them flying free in England in the 1970s. Throughout the 1990s I had seen and heard parakeets fly overhead visiting my neighbours’ gardens. But because they never stopped at Millstream Fork I often thought about how I could entice them into my garden. This has now become more urgent because a recent and sinister government development has taken place which threatens to become part of their story. The ring necked parakeets were once pets imported from warmer climes that had escaped. Surprisingly at first, certain individuals managed to survive our British winters, when food is harder to find. Some of these survivors then paired up, nested and successfully reared young families. Decades later this small miracle has mushroomed to become a wildlife spectacle as small flocks can now be seen in North West London and elsewhere. My affection for this bird intensified when I saw them in their original habitats around the Mahabatran Hills, just below the Himalayan mountains of Nepal. This is where, over the millennia, the species has evolved, adapting to its landscape and environment and finding its ecological niche. A few years ago I did an incredible thing - I bought myself a Christmas present! But to be a little more precise I actually bought it for the wildlife garden here at Millstream Fork. It was a new bird feeding pole and feeders which I positioned at the end of the garden, next to the river wall which is the furthest point away from the house. I believed and hoped that this additional feature would attract some of the local parakeets. I erected my Christmas present on Boxing Day and then carefully monitored it. I displayed peanuts and sunflower seeds as these are amongst the parakeets’ favorite foods. Nothing much happened for the first few days, although finches and other regular visitors experimented with the new toy. Finally my patience was rewarded a week later, on New Year's Day. I distinctly remember the first ever visiting parakeet. I was sitting on the sofa when I just happened to peer over my right shoulder and gazed through the patio doors. There it was – on the feeding pole - and facing me! After a few mind whirling moments I ran upstairs and grabbed my binoculars, just in case there were other parakeets nearby. Rather disappointingly nothing else happened of note that day, so as darkness began to cloak the afternoon at four o’clock, I gave up. Even so, that New Year’s Day proved to be a red letter day as well - in the true sense of the word. In mediaeval years scribes began documenting important and memorable days with the first letter on the page being coloured red, whilst the rest of the script was written in black ink. For me this day would have been recorded in exactly this way. Since then parakeets have regularly visited the wildlife garden and have given many people lots of joy watching them. In fact in one dramatic incident I counted up to 15, although smaller flocks of five or six are more usual. When parakeets visit I often looked closely at their bright lime green feathers, their rose ring necks, their beautiful red beaks as well as their occasional yellowish and blue feathers clearly visible in flight. As they fly around Millstream Fork I always notice that their wings are closer to their head than their rump, as well as that very long and straight tail. I also listen out for their excitable and unmistakable high pitched squawk that is so unique in British natural history. But it is not all good news for the parakeets, despite their miraculous adaption to the British countryside. As it is a non indigenous species parakeets have enemies who claim that any feral animal is also an invasive species, or that they will automatically become one. Moreover, some of the authorities have accepted these negative beliefs and have exaggerated the so-called threats that the ring necked parakeets allegedly pose to our indigenous wildlife. Such preconceptions are a shame as it limits straightforwardness and open-mindedness, even amongst educated people. Many suspicions arise and the issuing of a General Licence in 2010 cannot be trusted by everyone. Not all local people share my enthusiasm for these strikingly coloured and once loved pets! Some neighbours tell me that they would prefer the parakeets to spend more time in my garden, not theirs; to which I reply quite honestly that I would love it if they did. Then everyone would be pleased! In the meantime, many wildlife gardeners will support ring necked parakeets and give it the affection it deserves. If they do, it is just about possible for our colourful friends to survive by maintaining a minimum viable population, even if a deceitful extermination policy is being put into practice. I am still fond of these gorgeous birds, an opinion shared by my fellow Pembroke College (Cambridge University) alumni, Bill Oddie, also a keen ornithhologist. But there are many other people too who also prefer ring necked parakeets to fly free, find food, nest and procreate – just as nature has intended, even if they are foreigners. I for one remain happy to have successfully enticed these exotic, hardy and successful birds into my wildlife garden. Moreover, I am content to lead groups who can't yet see any actual harm presently being caused by these sensationally coloured and friendly birds. (c) Andy Mydellton 2011 ~~~~~ *Ducks* “If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and sounds like a duck...” That's an old saying from my days at Oxford University when I was studying architecture - of all things! But is this saying scientifically true? Even as a Fellow of the Linnean Society where taxonomy is the name of the game, I would usually agree with this description, but what about other people? Sometimes I think about it when I see mallards roaming in the wildlife garden and diving in the pond at Millstream Fork. Whilst mallards and other dabbling birds have the correct generic name of ducks, all other waterfowl are included in different families, such as geese or swans. Recently there have been some excellent sightings of dabbling ducks near Millstream Fork. For example, a local friend of mine told me about a rare visitor, the red crested pochard, which is a good tick on any twitchers list. I went to where he said the pochard was – and I had no difficulty in seeing and identifying the bird. If only all of my other wildlife watching was just as easy! A few weeks later my friend sent me another message about goosanders appearing on the local waterways. These birds are not as rare as the red crested pochard, although they are beautiful, and a a delight to see. But despite their name, they are ducks, not geese. Goosanders have never been seen inside the Millstream Fork wildlife garden, although I have seen them swimming nearby. Perhaps one reason for this is that goosanders are only winter visitors and therefore spend only a short time here before returning to their Nordic summer breeding grounds. Usually it is the resident waterfowl that comes into the wildlife garden, such as mute swans, coots, moorhens and Canada Geese. Even so only mallards have been brave enough to come into my lounge where I gave them bread. However, I could sense some of their nervousness as they waddled over the threshold of the patio doors onto the parquet flooring. It was nice to share what I had with them, and it's always an honour to be trusted by wild animals. The definition of a duck contains another twist. It is only the females that are the ducks, whilst the male are drakes. The males' showy plumage makes them stand out and their irridescent, bright green heads are unmistakable. The drakes' vivid colours advertise their breeding qualities to the females. The brighter and more striking they are, the more genetic qualities they have. As a result of the ducks selecting only the best drakes to mate with, their chicks receive the highest quality genetic stock. The natural consequences are that these chicks then have the best chances to survive in a dangerous and difficult world. They can pass on their genetic codes and continue the species. But when the breeding season has finished and the drakes have done their duties, their once brilliant head feathers become shabby, probably due to the drakes’ huge efforts and heavy responsibilities in caring for their families. Over the ensuing months, these old and dreary feathers are once again replaced in the moulting phase, just in time for the following courting, mating and breeding times. This contrasts with the more drab brown and cream females. So why is this? These more neutral markings suit the females’ lifestyles and break up the ducks’ outline when they are spending time near nest materials, twigs and ground debris. Thus the birds are camouflaged when incubating their eggs and rearing their chicks. It all helps to avoid unwelcome attention from predators. Unfortunately nature is not always pleasant in a wildlife garden. A few months ago, one distressed female mallard was horribly caught up in some discarded fisherman's tackle. This was wrapped around a holly branch that dangled over the flood waters at the back of Millstream Fork. The duck was completely ensnared and would never have been able to escape. So unless someone freed it, a horrible and lingering death awaited the poor duck. Fortunately I happened to be there at exactly the right time. I soon realised that this crisis needed two people. So I immediately contacted a reliable neighbour, Frank, who had chest high waders suitable enough for this wildlife emergency. Within a few short minutes he was in the high and fast flowing water cutting both the bird and fishing tackle from the holly branch. As soon as Frank had completed this task, he passed the bird to me with the dangerous fishing tackle still attached. Quickly I managed to get the triple hooked spinner free from the bird's beak without further damage. However, this was not straightforward, as the hook had pierced right through both upper and lower beaks effectively clamping them together. After being set free, the bird quacked and swam away with only small holes in her beak. She was full of life and apparently none the worse for its otherwise horrific experience. Frank’s daughter, who was also by our side, enjoyed the duck’s escape as well as her dad’s success - even if he had been half submerged. Mallard's are, of course, stereotypical ducks, although there are plenty of others that live here, such as the Aylesbury Duck. Somehow it seems fitting that the Aylesbury can still be seen living wild on this Buckinghamshire boundary river, as the duck, of course, takes its name from the county town. Nevertheless, taxonomists do sometimes argue that the Aylesbury Duck is not a naturally occurring species and therefore not a true duck, despite its name. Theoretically they can be classified as ornamental animals or man-made breeds, which puts them in the same category as many farm animals such as cows, pigs, goats and sheep! Whilst I accept much of this, most restauranteurs will insist that the Aylesbury looks like a duck, sounds like a duck, walks like a duck, tastes like a duck - and therefore is a duck! (c) Andy Mydellton 2011 ~~~~~ *Baby Blue tit* Bang! She flew into my patio door just as other birds had done in the past. Some had died, whilst many had recovered. But what would happen to this poor soul? Could this fledgling blue tit survive her dreadful crash? A few moments earlier I had studied some dominant great tits chasing the fledgling’s family of blue tits away from the birdfeeders at Milstream Fork. This is natural behaviour that pushes the great tits’ smaller but more beautiful cousins down the pecking order. Even though these blue tits are an indigenous species to the UK, I cannot help thinking that they ought to be part of a Japanese garden or be included in the tales depicted in the willow pattern crockery set. In fact my fondness for these birds galvanized me to have nest-boxes built into the reconstructed Millstream Fork river wall. Subsequently, these nest-boxes have proved to be extremely successful. Moreover, it is clear that not only these blue tits, but all titmice (i.e. all types of tits) have now become the most numerous birds at Millstream Fork since the local demise of the house sparrow. Long tailed tits were once occasional visitors but are now much more common. I regularly see eight to ten of them in a single family visit. So what has caused this change of behaviour? Blue Tit It seems likely that over the years a gradual development has taken place. It is probable that one generation of long tailed tits occasionally visited the garden for winter food, and then in following winters both adults and siblings probably remembered this part of their winter feeding territory. One of these later generations could well have returned in summer, teaching their own young to find food for themselves. If that, or something like it, is the case, then Millstream Fork has been instrumental in changing the behaviour patterns of an exciting and friendly little bird. As these thoughts faded, I noticed that the baby bird that had crashed was still in deep trouble. When I scooped up the little comatose body from the patio, I felt her heartbeat, saw her yellow gape and noticed that she had paler coloured feathers than adult birds. I also took time to study and appreciate the delicate and intricate filaments of her individual feathers. I sat there for twenty minutes with the bird on my hand as she moved through different stages of consciousness. I heard her brothers and sisters calling from the tree hedging which provides them with perfect cover. She could not respond and was still in danger of losing her tiny and brief life. Even so, I felt her small claws wrapped around my fingers which kept her steady and upright. A few minutes later something happened which proved to me that her life had been spared. She pooed on my hand – it was like a globule of thick white paint. I really didn’t mind because this always happens when birds automatically relax their muscles and emerge from a state of shock. Eventually the big moment came. She flew away and rejoined her waiting family, leaving me almost, but not quite, empty-handed. (c) Andy Mydellton 2011 ~~~~~ *family changes* The natural world is ever-changing. Sometimes these developments take the form of long-term evolution, while other changes are more short-term, as we can see and monitor in our lifetimes. The behaviour of long tailed tits (referred to as ‘tits’) is one of these exciting short term changes that I have analysed and monitored at the Millstream Fork wildlife garden. It's a predominantly creamy white bird with streaks of black feathers and flashes of reddish brown along its sides. One unusual feature is that its tail is over half of its body size, which is where the bird gets its name. In the late 20th century it was unusual for these tits to visit the garden. When they did so, it was mainly in winter when hungry birds were desperate for food. Even then bird tables normally had to be situated well away from the house, perhaps due to their dislike of being too close to people. However, since the millennium whole families have regularly displayed different habits at Millstream Fork. I am not sure how widespread this change of behaviour is throughout the country, but in other areas, similar changes may well have also happened. A few years ago in one late autumn afternoon at about five o'clock, I noticed these tits in a crowded town centre. I found this unusual but saw them again in the same place a little later during Christmas week. On this particular occasion there was a flock of more than a dozen of them, making a high pitched racket in a bare tree right outside some busy shops. I'm sure many Christmas shoppers were unaware of these large families above their heads as they had more important things on their minds. Perhaps the world contains many self-obsessed beings, all sharing a similar space, but never aware of the others’ preoccupations. I still wonder what the birds’ plans were… As I had not experienced anything quite like this before, I began to wonder if there were other possible behavioural pattern changes in this species. The first time I witnessed these tits at Millstream Fork was two months later, in the following February. From then they began to be more frequent visitors and now they have finally become established patrons. I am no longer surprised to see them flitting between the trees surrounding the garden, and then feeding on the seeds, nuts and fat-balls on display. It seems that they have now included Millstream Fork as part of their new territory. In the wild survival is never guaranteed. So it probably began one winter when parents were bringing their first year juveniles here to get assured and easy meals during the coldest and hardest parts of the year. If so, this is likely to have developed into a habit, and may have even been passed on to further generations. Throughout that first summer I was regularly seeing whole families of eight birds or more returning to feed as one unit. By looking closely at how these families consume their summer food, I am able to watch the larger adults feed their juvenile brood. Only adults take food immediately from the feeders, as their offspring wait and watch just a few inches away. As the fledglings begin chirping for food, their parents pass it on, beak to beak. Within weeks, the youngsters take a small but vitally important step, copy their parents and take their own food for themselves. As most birds are animals of habit and pattern, it is likely that they will return when they are young adults. However they could still meet resistance from older members of a previous brood that have already included Millstream Fork as part of their own territory. Another hazard is predation and other natural fatalities, which are ever present. As a result, newly established territories often become empty, ready to be filled by first year adults seeking new areas. Despite these tits systematically feeding at Millstream Fork, it is unlikely that they will nest here. They usually build their homes in shrubberies, creating small, domed, egg shaped nests. Interestingly nest builders use soft materials such as moss and even cobwebs in their nest construction. This could be for insulation, adhesion, weathering and waterproofing. However it is not impossible for these birds to nest in gardens. For some years I noticed one of these nests built into a wooden garden fence that faced the canal towpath. A thoughtful and caring person had even built a protective akimbo frame over it. There are European varieties, or 'races,' of long tailed tits, which occupy distinct regions of the continent. Three different types exist, each with their own particular markings; viz. Western, Southern, and the North-Eastern group. These variations are caused by long term and evolutionary changes that have occurred over the past few hundreds or thousands of years. Today scientists can gauge the stage of their evolution and give a reasonable forecast of what is likely to happen. Many taxonomists view such races being similar to sub species and an important step towards one type of present day animal changing into a completely different creature in the future. It's known as the ‘general process of speciation’. If this particular evolutionary phase succeeds, three separate birds will emerge. Then the long tailed tit will no longer be a single, widespread and ubiquitous species. Instead, each one of the three newly developed tit groups will have its own, but smaller range and will look even more different from each other than they do at present. They will become isolated and specialist birds. Moreover, their divergent behavioural patterns will prevent them from being able to breed with the other burgeoning species. As individuals we may not be able to affect many of these long term developments, but we can find joy by getting involved in short term changes. By giving ourselves permission, time and effort to collaborate with animals living in our own spheres we can all make a difference, even if it is only with such a simple thing as wildlife gardening. (c) Andy Mydellton The Chronicles of a Conservationist This is a selection of Andy Mydellton's autobiographical sketches stretching back to the 1950’s. They have been published in all sorts of magazines and have been broadcast on the radio. These articles have been recorded and can be heard at www.wildlifezone.org . Other articles have been recorded and will be released on an audiobook shortly. ~~~~~ LUNDY ISLAND CONSERVATION BREAK I led an enthralling working holiday to the remote Isle of Lundy in the Bristol Channel recently – but this was a holiday with a set agenda and a real difference. Our challenge was to save the Lundy Cabbage from extinction, a unique plant that grows nowhere else in the world other than on Lundy Island. The Lundy Cabbage is impressive when in flower, as you can see... My group consisted of international conservationist volunteers from the USA, Slovakia, UK and France who not only wanted to enjoy the rugged wildness of Lundy Island, but were also prepared to work hard in order to make a real impact in the world of conservation. My challenge was to help them achieve both objectives. The weather was against us from the start. In fact, on the day we were due to hop over to the island the sea was so rough that the ferry was cancelled, and the only way to get there was by helicopter. In the following days the bitter easterly wind was so cold that we had to wear four layers of clothing whilst sitting by the open fire in our communal lodgings, called the Barn. Our building was in the centre of the ‘High Street’ in the main part of the tiny village. These hardships were overcome as the group proved to be game for getting on with the challenging jobs that are vital to the islands survival as a unique and beautiful habitat. The National Trust, who owns the island, wants to severely control the spread of the gorgeous Rhododendron that originates from the Himalayas. It was introduced to the island by its former owner, Martin Harman, in the early 1920s, but has been so successful that it is now officially classified as an invasive species – in less than 100 years. This is because the Rhododendron outgrows all other nearby plants and has acidic leaves that poison the ground where they fall. As a result the Rhododendron becomes monocultural (the only plant that survives in that location). Whilst most conservationists in the UK dislike these types of plants, it is positively dangerous on Lundy Island because it threatens the existence of the Lundy Cabbage, a flower unique to the island. The Lundy Cabbage is a beautiful, small yellow flower that is endemic to Lundy and grows nowhere else on Planet Earth. In fact, the Lundy Cabbage does not even grow in every part of this tiny island but lives only on the near vertical south and eastern cliffs. Unfortunately, this is exactly where the Rhododendron is engulfing everything, thus threatening this small plant’s very survival. Some of our conservationist volunteers 'Rhodi-bashing' on the Eastern cliffs But this fight for survival also has other important implications for conservationists because there are two unique animals that live exclusively on the Lundy Cabbage. They are the Lundy Cabbage Beetle and the even smaller Lundy Cabbage Weevil. Because of this, if the Cabbage becomes extinct, so do these two endearing animals. Whilst this ‘Rhodi-bashing’ was considered vital and desperately needed, it was a freezing time for our working parties on those eastern cliffs, despite the fact that we worked up quite a sweat by the hard labour necessary for the successful clearance work. But a conservation working holiday is not all work. On our time off we surveyed certain breeds of animal once domesticated by our ancestors thousands of years ago. These included the free roaming Lundy Pony - not only unique to the island but now classified as a breed in its own right. We also saw wild Soay Sheep that are the oldest known domestic breed of sheep, as well as the Wild Goat which is found all over the island and is the same breed as those living freely in The Valley of the Rocks near Lynton in Devon. This breed is the closest animal to the indigenous species of Wild Goat that roamed the British Isles before mankind domesticated them. The other large mammal we saw regularly was the Sika Deer, a Japanese strain that was introduced to Britain and has now found its niche in the British eco-system. Lundy’s bird life was also a great source of joy. Seabirds such as Great Black Backed Gulls and Fulmars shrieked and circled around the cliffs not so far from the steep-diving Sandwich Terns. Personally I loved our many sightings of the resident Peregrine Falcons, Razorbills and Guillemots. Moreover on the last day I managed a glimpse of some Manx Shearwaters skimming over the turbulent waves. The only disappointment was that we were unable to see any Puffins, even though they are the bird species this island is famous for. The name Lundy Island was given by the Vikings and means Puffin Island. Even though wildlife was the most important part of our holiday, the village included a shop and a welcoming hostelry called the Marisco Tavern. The shop caters for most things, which is quite an achievement when you understand that all of the cargo has to be ferried across to the island, unloaded by temporary part-time ‘bobbers and dockers’ and then painstakingly hauled up to the village. They also sell Lundy Island stamps that have to be stuck onto the left side of the postcard to be officially acceptable for postage. The Tavern serves Lundy’s own real ale as well as delicious hot meals throughout the day. I’m sure that it isn’t just the residents and frozen conservationists such as myself who love this life-saving pub, but also the many day trippers who visit mostly in the spring and summer. Would I return and do it all again? You bet! If you love the British outdoors, wildlife or spectacular scenery I would certainly recommend a visit to Lundy Island. But most importantly, if you want to make a real difference and help stop the extinction of wild species, try one of these working holidays, where our usual notion of work is more than just challenged… (c) Andy Mydellton 2009 ~~~~~ A KEA EXPERIENCE Recently, a group of volunteers from the *Foundation for Endangered Species* enjoyed a day out by getting close to an exciting member of the parrot family. This was the large, spectacular, olive-green, ground-nesting parrot of New Zealand, the Kea.1 This happened recently when a New Zealand conservationist and friend of mine was a guest on my radio programme, the *Andy Mydellton Wildlife Zone.* My specialist “Kiwi” guest speaker explained that much of New Zealand’s wildlife is endemic due to the fact that these islands have been separated from everywhere else for millions of years. Therefore most of the indigenous wildlife consists of birds that flew there and then evolved within their local habitats. He also explained that he had once seen the Kea in the mountain regions of South Island. After the successful broadcast of the programme we celebrated afterwards with a few pints in the local tavern. My friend revealed that he would be returning to New Zealand soon to visit the location of the fantastic panoramas used in the filming of the spectacular Lord of the Rings trilogy of films, which were shot in New Zealand. Moreover, before he left England we made plans to see some Keas that he knew are kept in a secret outdoor aviary a few hours drive from London. When the day arrived we became absolutely enthralled to see a pair of these bold and loveable Keas. I was awestruck with their marvellous olive-green plumage, their bluish-green wing and tail quills, and their long, curved beaks that are almost unique in the parrot family. This seemingly innocuous visit threw up a few questions for we parrot lovers and conservationists involved with topical issues, and in the back of my mind was a quandary. Whilst we conservationists always prefer to see parrots in their natural habitat, free-spirited and enjoying the world, we are also realists who know that most Keas could not survive away from New Zealand’s mountains if they were released. Nor is it likely that they could easily live elsewhere, unlike the Ring Necked Parakeet, even though the Kea is tough and adaptable enough to survive in a cold mountain habitat. This debate will only increase over the next few years as climate change develops. Unfortunately it is mountain animals that face the horrors of extinction before other species: largely because the mountain eco-systems are likely to be the first to be destroyed and that the Kea and other mountain species will not have enough time to evolve inside these immediate and dramatic changes. Therefore these domestic Keas might represent the only chance of survival for the species and could give people the only practical chance of experiencing these large fabulous creatures at first hand. Furthermore, many of us just cannot afford to visit exotic animals in far away countries and that leads to a situation where only the wealthy can pay for such journeys. So for people like us, domestication of a few birds is the only solution, for like many conservationists we don’t earn much (the *Foundation for Endangered Species* do not pay any wages whatsoever). We stood in front of the large aviary for a few moments, almost transfixed by the Keas’ antics. We studied their ingenious behaviour, and in doing so it seemed that we could at least in some way get into the parrots’ minds, to try to understand how they have adapted to this new lifestyle. Unfortunately during this visit we did not learn whether or not the couple we were watching so avidly have bred or would breed in this aviary, and so complete a natural life cycle. But we hoped so as they seemed so perfectly happy and were given the correct habitat to do so, with purpose built rock crevices as their nesting places. However, this gave rise to another question, would they still lay their eggs between July and January even in the English climate? We also wondered whether their wholesome diet, comprised of over three dozen plants, insects and other small animals, together with a predator-free existence, make up for the loss of original habitat and freedom to roam. As a human being, my own philosophy gives me many problems within this debate and I would really love to have a Keas’ own perspective on it all. Perhaps they even have as many different views as humans do, and there isn’t just one Kea perspective that represents them all! Despite my hopes it seems unlikely that we’ll get many more significant insights for some time, even though there has been much advancement in animal psychology over the years. For sometime we revelled as the Keas climbed up and down the wire and we became engrossed in their inventive behavioural patterns; but it got dark all too soon, meaning it was time to leave. We never witnessed their aggressive attributes, although this characteristic would certainly reveal itself at times in the wild. I quickly managed to take a couple of photographs and we were on our way. On our return home we agreed that, like our friends, we all would also love to visit the Kea mountain range, Mount Cooke, as well as taking time off to see the Kakapo and the Takahe in New Zealand. So thanks to an international conservationist who became one of my specialist guest speakers on my radio programme, we had a great day out experiencing one of the most memorable parrots on Earth. [1] Nestor notabilis (C) Andy Mydellton 2009) ~~~~~ *Andy Mydellton* has recently been awarded the Martin Fallon Trophy in the specialist programme category for his weekly radio programme, Andy Mydellton’s Wildlife Zone, which goes out every Wednesday evening on Radio Wexham. (C) Andy Mydellton 2009) ~~~~~ THE RHINO CHARGE Was I a coward or just trying to practice *Darwin’s survival of the fittest* theory? I don’t know – the question needs further examination. The event occurred during a visit to Nepal where I was starting up an initiative by the *Foundation for Endangered Species (FES),* to be known as the *Chitwan Collaboration.* As part of this larger programme, groups of conservationists will aim to replant community forest areas to restore habitat, and build an observation tower. The concept is to attract tourists to view wildlife, thereby creating an income for the forest-owning local communities. Knowing it to be in their own financial self interest, the local people will preserve the forests and wildlife thus replacing old habits of cutting down trees and poaching animals for quick, short term gains. After a few hot hours of replanting a glade with saplings, a group of about a dozen of us inspected a temporary bamboo wildlife observation tower in the centre of another nearby glade. The Foundation intends to rebuild this tower permanently, one day. All was going well, except for the fact that we could not see any animals from our vantage point. We realised we’d have to set off on foot to find some exciting wildlife. As we trundled off from the glade, our local guide went on ahead scouting for some revealing signs and tracks. “Stay still,” he warned, “until it’s safe to follow me. I’ve found some Rhinos.” He explained that he had found a couple of *One Horned Rhinos* – sometimes called *Armour Plated Rhinoceros* due to their features and folds of skin. As far as I’m concerned they always resemble the dinosaur Triceratops. “Wait, wait, one second,” called our guide as he demonstrated STOP - by holding up the palm of his hand. He had found a mother and calf that were grazing behind a bush. Due to the Rhino’s short sightedness and incredible sense of smell their behaviour is sometimes unpredictable. Humans don’t worry them if they can’t see them, but smell is another matter and once the breeze direction changes and carries human scent to them, they immediately get bad tempered. As with many animals, this is especially so when a mother is protecting her calf. Generally, most animals have learned to fear humankind, especially those species such as the Rhino that have been persistently hunted. Many animals are often killed by men in cruel and brutal ways. Suddenly our scout shouted, “run, run, she’s charging!” The angry mother had smelled us. I heard brushwood crashing and cracking. Shocked, I frantically ran. The rest of our terrified group ran as one. I tried to run the fastest to be the furthest away from the charging Rhino. Unfortunately I was carrying my photographic equipment, which slowed me down. I was also sharply reminded at that particular moment that I was now over 50 years old and somewhat overweight. Hard to believe that some years ago I had been a slim, nimble and effective scrum half who could shift a bit. The rhinograzing at peace - don't get in front of it! Now, many decades on, middle age spread was preventing me being the fastest and from overtaking others in the group. Instead I found myself in the centre. I fled, my belly bouncing up and down as I darted over the hard, uneven ground. Even worse than my shifting bulge, my cheeks and jowls were banging about as I gasped for air. I was not exactly a stunning example of *Darwin’s survival of the fittest theory. Then suddenly at that moment I somehow thought of fish. That’s right – fish! Shoals of fish in fact. So what exactly has shoals of fish got in common with a middle-aged Englishman running for his life from a charging Rhino in Nepal? Well, as a conservationist I knew that fish swim in shoals to evade predators. By shoaling, the fish shift in unison in order to avoid being attacked. To the human eye it seems an instantaneous move on the part of the fish, as if caused by mass telepathy. However, it’s a natural defense mechanism. Each animal instinctively moves in the same direction as his neighbour in a split second reaction. The same technique can also be witnessed in flocks of birds and even with herds of mammals on the plains. This is a clever strategy for the strongest animals, because they always remain in the safest place – in the centre! This is Darwin’s survival of the fittest* theory in action! So why was I in the centre of this panicking pack? Evidently I wanted to be the furthest away from danger. But I was not as fast as a lean, young teenager. However the natural world does not always reward the fastest. Let’s have a look at some wildlife psychology: Taking the example of the Rhino, if she caught up with us she would attack the nearest to her. Then the next person in line would suffer second, and so on. But, if in the forest, a tiger or another predator lay in ambush, where would it most likely be? It would try to position itself right in front of the oncoming rush of 12 stupid humans. The large cat would then gobble up the leader of the oncoming pack who would still be totally obsessed with fleeing from the Rhino. Part of the forest near the glades How could I think so clearly at a time like this? Who knows? Sometimes when under pressure from finding oneself in a life-threatening situation our thoughts crystallise and all our usual mental chatter rapidly dissolves while we deal only with survival. Whatever the truth of the matter, my thoughts of this animal logic made me rethink my strategy and within a few short seconds, I had decided that the centre and not the front was the best place to be. Now I was gratified that, in theory at least, I had the optimum chance of survival, and that I was using what I’d learned from Darwin to remain in that position. In truth I was trying my hardest not to have a few tons of charging dinosaur type horn being stuffed up my backside. After all, I was still friends with this part of my body – and I didn’t really want to kiss it goodbye just yet. So I continued to position myself in the centre of the fast moving scrum. What about the Rhino? It actually turned out to be a mock charge. This is where the mother intentionally stops short of its target, giving the space invader a warning. These mock charges are meant to terrify anyone in its space and the strategy certainly worked on me. But had the Rhino got closer to me, could I have shifted faster? You bet! But it would not have gone unnoticed by the Rhino’s incredible sense of smell that I would out of sheer terror have fertilized the entire glade during my flight. Now to return to my original question, was I a coward or an intelligent Darwinian minded survivor? Well, I guess there’s no use denying it. I found out that there is at least one overweight bloke from Middle England who loves his pelvic region too much to run too fast, run too slow, or to become any type of hero whatsoever. Ain’t that the truth! (C) Andy Mydellton 2009 ~~~~~ PHALUMPINGNESS Phalump phalump phalump phalump. This magical sound entered my soul as I sat transfixed. It was scary, but one of the most memorable events of my young life. I wondered even during those precious moments if I would ever experience it again. I shouted out “Hey mum, hey dad, look at me, look at me” as I waved to them. They had to look at me, as their tiny son was only a few yards away, together and as one with his brand new soul mate, Rosie. It was weird being tossed from side to side, not really understanding why. As I sank into my inner self I used all of my senses to grasp this total experience, and tried to figure out why Rosie was just so great. A few minutes later it was all over and I never saw my beloved Rosie again. Elephant mum and calf in Nepal Many years passed and now, well into adulthood, I’m CEO of my charity, the *Foundation for Endangered Species (FES).* Shortly after starting FES it became evident that I needed to create my own ‘apprenticeship’ within the conservationist world to prepare myself properly for running the organisation. Eventually I qualified as a conservationist with BTCV (the British Trust for Conservation Volunteers) unaware of the cycle of events that were about to unfold over the forthcoming years. As I gained skill after skill in the field I became a project day leader with their Biodiversity Action Team. BTCV then trained me to lead teams of conservationists away on weekend working breaks. Finally, following lots of positive feedback from some of the participants, BTCV entrusted me to lead groups all over the country and then abroad on week long working holidays. First I was sent to France, and then Nepal beckoned. I began to feel an awesome sense of responsibility for I wanted to uphold the good reputation of the BTCV while of course ensuring the paying conservationists enjoyed their holidays, while receiving great value for their money. Needless to say I also wanted to ensure these conservation exercises proved worthwhile for everyone, especially the places where the work was taking place. In advance of these working holidays, I pre-planned a number of events to take place during our time off, including safari expeditions. We would go canoeing, trekking and on jeep rides, trying for best sighting of the big and exciting animals that we might encounter. These safaris proved to be hugely enjoyable. In Nepal, on no less than three occasions, we traversed the rainforest on elephant back, ideal for this terrain. We saw rhino, deer, marsh mugger and wild boar amongst others. It was thrilling. But in between these ecstatic interludes I made sue there would be room for reflective moments when I would be able to allow all of my senses to focus and be drawn into the total experience. E Elephant safari in Nepal These periods of introspection and concentration were punctured with the loud trundling sound of flatulence. Not mine, nor the other riders’, but the elephants’. Immediately after the low rumbling reverberation would come the high pitched sound of ‘splat splat splat’ as the huge dung balls, the size of dinner plates, fell to the ground with loud smacking sounds. Within minutes dung beetles were busy tearing apart the half digested piles and rolling them away into numerous burrows and I knew that within a few days the remains of these beetle meals from beneath the surface would start to be reused by nature to fertilize the jungle’s thick undergrowth of grasses, flowers and shrubs. This is where the abundant majority of biodiversity lives, the insects, the invertebrates and the butterflies, as well as the larger and more magnificent animals that we love to see on the television and in books. So remember, every time an elephant makes a pile of dung, it contributes an immensely valuable intricate part to the eco-system and life starts anew. It is only when humans interfere with these cycles that the natural processes break down, for there is no back up or fail safe system. Nature must be allowed to work properly by itself, for itself. Humans can also benefit freely from this process, but only with a disciplined acceptance of living inside Nature. Naturally there is a price to pay for safari elephant riders, for sensitive noses do not take kindly to the pungent natural odours. So take my advice, if your nose is a refined instrument and you cannot stomach methane infused flatulence – don’t sit at the back of an elephant! Those days in the rainforest of Nepal, just as when I’d been a child riding on Rosie’s huge back, I began to consume the whole experience as I relaxed and witnessed myself being gently tossed from side to side whilst listening to the phalump phalump phalump of the elephant’s giant feet on the track-ways, lolloping through the jungle. Once again I recalled my childhood elephant-riding experience in Bristol Zoo decades earlier, and recalled how sad I’d felt on reading about Rosie’s demise in a national newspaper at the time. Rosie had died aged over 60, having given much pleasure to many children, and maybe also inspiring other young conservationists-to-be. Whilst I gleefully remember my first ride on Rosie when I was hardly old enough to walk, I now regard each of my later rides on elephant back to be a resounding and phalumping pleasure. (c) Andy Mydellton 2009 ~~~~~ World’s mosT spectacular fish The Coelacanth is one of the world’s most spectacular fishes, and is one of the few animals that I’ve always wanted to see in its natural habitat while helping in the ongoing scientific investigations. So now I’m working on a plan to un-busy myself from my normal working life and make it possible for me to turn my dream into a reality. The Coelacanth (pronounced seel u kanth) first caught my imagination in the early 1960s when my interest in natural history was developing. It was my mum who told me about this ‘living fossil’ - and the mysterious story of its appearance about 25 years before. She explained that a wildlife expert had unexpectedly acquired one near Madagascar and the Comoros islands off the African coast. The news shocked the unsuspecting world. I was seized by it all, as I was already fascinated by Madagascar’s wildlife, which included Gerald Durrell’s search for the Aye-Aye, and by David Attenborough’s pioneering wildlife programmes. Fossil of a fish that was alive at the time of the early Coelocanths I was also captivated by fossils at the time, another vein that became embedded into my core being. I knew that fossils were once living animals that had become extinct millions of years ago; they were to roam the earth no more, and were lost forever. I was amazed at how scientists could reconstruct the animal and its environment simply by studying a patterned piece of rock. One of the two most common fossils that I had in my collection, all those years ago, were belemnites that resemble bullet shells. They were originally small carnivorous squid-like creatures that squirted ink as they swam away from their own predators such as ichthyosaurs, and marine reptiles like mesasaurs. The other fossils were the ammonites that were ribbed and spiral shelled animals. Many ammonites were similar to the nautilus that still lives in our oceans today. I also possessed a superb fossil of a fish that still portrays clear and minute details of its physique, despite its prehistoric existence. This world of lost animals was fantastic, in the true sense of the word. My imagination created realms of absolute wonder, yet at the same time I also had an underlying sadness of what the world had lost. These fossils had been hugely successful creatures that were contemporaries of the Coelacanths, but became extinct when the dinosaurs ruled the world. So the story of the Coelacanth which once shared the same ancient seas as my own fossils, but somehow had escaped the claws of extinction, was magnetic. It was a golden opportunity for a young lad to unleash his imagination, alone, and inside his own head. In the later 1960s there was a TV documentary about the amazing discovery of the creature. I was enthralled, yet something still left me unsatisfied. Archaeologists had worked out some of the Coelacanth’s biology from fossils dating back 400 million years from the Devonian period. But at the end of the Cretaceous, more than 300 million years later, there were no more Coelacanth fossils to be found anywhere. As a result, by the 1930s many scientists believed it plausible that the Earth's oceans had changed too suddenly and dramatically for many animals to survive, including the Coelacanth. The Coelacanth is thought to be an ancestor of the creatures that later abandoned the prehistoric oceans and migrated onto land. As a result some scientists are still analysing its behaviour; whilst evolutionary scientists are studying how some Coelacanths slowly transformed into other species in which the lower fins had gradually developed into limbs that could ‘walk’ across the sea bed. The 20^th century ended with a big bang as a brilliant bombshell exploded. In 1998 another Coelacanth was detected; this time it was thousands of miles away across the Indian Ocean in Sulawesi, Indonesia. It was located in the local fish market by an international ichthyologist. However, it was not long after this initial discovery that a second specimen was confirmed and scientifically studied. But how did the creature move from the Madagascan Corridor, near Africa across the Indian Ocean to the Far East? No-one could explain it. After some biological investigations, scientists found that the Indonesian Coelacanths were a different species. This news was ‘manna from heaven’ for conservationists, such as myself, for not only did we have one declared extinct species found to be alive, but two species – and of the same family! But my question remains: how can I study a Coelacanth in its natural habitat? How can I get to a depth of 240 feet or more to see Coelacanths in their submarine caves or on the ocean floor? The answer seemed to be distant one. So I allowed my imagination to soar once again and, adopted, as Blackadder’s sidekick Baldric would say, “Sir, I've got a cunning plan!” It’s quite simple actually. I'm learning to swim so I can get all the safety issues dealt with. I'm snorkeling too, and my intention is to take scuba diving lessons. I’ve also decided to join a scientific diving team operating in the Coelacanth’s territory. I’m sure Blackadder would be stunned and perhaps a little cheesed off. The second part of my plan, after getting into a seaworthy condition, is to organise the logistics of air travel, food and accommodation, local transfers and make preparations for the diving sessions. I could just imagine his parting shot: “Well I’m gob smacked Baldric. I've heard bigger airy fairy cunning plans than this - but only just!” (c) Andy Mydellton 2011