DINNER WITH THE KIDS

It's a great time to be a lover of nature. Everywhere you look there's new life springing up, be it colourful flowers or leaves on trees, dragonflies hatching and immediately pairing up to mate or parent birds constantly flying from food source to nest, frantically trying to get their young brood up to a weight and size where they can look after themselves.

Conversely, it's a bad time to be a chick. Sure, to us humans they're gorgeous, like small and fluffy clockwork toys as they zoom around the place checking out their brave new world, but beauty is only in the eye of the beholder. To us they're the epitome of cuteness; to many of the larger residents at Old Moor these snack-sized packs of protein are simply 'lunch'.

Raptors love them. Gulls too, as do herons of all kinds. Bigger birds eating medium birds eating little birds (or little mammals and amphibians). It's a grim but necessary circle of life. Then there are the mammalian hunters on the reserve such as Stoat and Weasel, sometimes even Otter now. They all need their daily pound of flesh for their own wellbeing and that of their furry kiddies. Well, perhaps Mrs Weasel's kids don't need an entire pound but I'm sure they'd give it a go.

It's a numbers game though. Yes, it's tough luck for the individual creature that's literally at the wrong end of the pecking (and devouring) order, but Mother Nature is very good at balancing things out. Left to their own devices, most creatures will get enough to eat and most creatures will procreate enough for their species to survive for another generation. That's why at precisely the same time that some creatures need a seemingly never-ending supply of fresh meat to feed their one or two ravenous youngsters, other creatures are busy popping out a plentiful supply of eggs by the basketful. Simply put, the lower down the food chain a bird is, the more babies they need to produce. Many of these will become food for others animals but, by sheer weight of numbers, some will survive and pass on the genes to the next generation. As long as there are slightly more chicks fledged than there are chicks lost, the prey species as a whole will live on.

For example a BLUE TIT will usually have something like ten eggs in a clutch, but numbers of up to 19 have been recorded. And if none of those chicks make it to fledging (perhaps due to predation) then they'll try again. And again. Up to four times throughout the breeding season. And even if the offspring do take to the wing and leave the nest, over half of these baby blueys won't make it to adulthood. On the one hand it's a tough life being a highlight of the nature's menu each Spring but, to take a more pragmatic view, they contribute a valuable amount to just about every UK carnivore's diet. If Momma and Poppa Blue didn't make so many chicks then lots of other creatures' own young would be just that little bit hungrier at the time they need all the food that they can get.

And if you're reading this and feeling sorry for the little Blue Nun bird (a brilliant archaic name if ever I heard one) then spare a thought for its own diet. Blue Tits are able to time their brood's hatching to coincide with the time of peak caterpillar numbers, depending on the weather conditions of each particular year. In that way they too ensure that there is plenty of food available for their own ever-hungry babes. Are you feeling sorry for those millions of cute and cuddly baby caterpillars yet?

At Old Moor we are seeing a lot of gulls at the moment. Thousands of breeding BLACK-HEADED GULLS fill our main mere and, just like Blue Tits, they too have to keep a close eye on their offspring. I'm sure you've heard the term “they watched him like a hawk”. Well our hawks, falcons and other gulls are doing just that at the moment and any chick who strays too far away from an inattentive parent is running the risk of meeting a swift and grisly end. GREAT and LESSER BLACK BACKED GULLS are particularly adept at snatching an unwary meal while its parent isn't looking. It's always a sad sight as the predator flies off with a bird who's life has just started, but it can also be seen as a happy moment too, as it means that the Black Back in question will be able to feed its own family. It's nature in balance, but undoubtedly not pleasant to watch. It will be happening all the time out on our main lake at the moment. As they say on the sports bit at the end of the news, “If you don't want to see the results, look away now”.

If you're a birdwatcher who doesn't mind using the word 'cute' though, then it's the perhaps the best time of the year to visit Old Moor. There are lots of babies all over the place, waddling around and peeping after their parents, especially on the mere. Ducklings, goslings, gull-lings. How come they don't have their own special word like 'Pufflings'? It seems species-ist to me.

Yes, they all have to run the carnivorous gauntlet but enough will make it to adulthood to continue the species for next year, as they did last, and the year before, and the year before that, for millennia. Life, as they say, goes on.