View From The Shed by Shaun FInnie - OUT OF THE SUN

OUT OF THE SUN

Being an RSPB Welcome Desk volunteer means that I'm actually at my local reserve (in my case that's Old Moor in the Dearne Valley) more frequently than I might otherwise be. I've committed to standing at the entrance to the reserve and talking to our visitors for a set number of days per week, and I love it. As a friend of mine once said, “You get to pretend that you're presenting 'Springwatch', talking all the time about what people could see in the next hour or so”. That's not a bad analogy really, but I hope he meant that I'm Chris or the much-missed Martin. I'm not pretending to be Michaela for anyone.

One of the best things about being a volunteer is an obvious one; I'm regularly on site, probably more often than I was when I was coming to the site as a birdwatcher like so many others. As I'm now in attendance more frequently then I get to see more than I used to. That stands to reason. At the moment the highlight is probably that I regularly hear Bitterns booming, even from my post at the Welcome Shed. Their strange sound does indeed carry that far and much further in perfect conditions.

And just by being on site I get to see so many things that (as I'm fond of telling my customers) I wouldn't see if I'd stayed at home watching 'Bargain Hunt'. For example, this week I witnessed a natural event that happens several times a day for the bird in question but one that I'd never seen quite so closely and intimately before. I got to see a Sparrowhawk hunting from just a few feet away.

Those of you who are familiar with the Shed in Old Moor's entrance courtyard will know that there is a gravel path to the side of it which forms the entrance to the actual reserve. This is the only way in and out of Old Moor itself. It was quite late in the day and the Courtyard was empty of people. The sun was just starting to set over the office building to my right and I had just thrown a handful of seed on to this path, just a couple of feet to my left. The main recipient of this was a handsome male Blackbird who was making the most of my yummy scatterings, stuffing his beak with it before any other small bird could get in on the act. Delighted birdy, delighted Shauny, but unbeknown to either of us there was a third party in this little scene, sitting off in the stage right wings, metaphorically twirling her waxed moustache as she prepared to play the part of the villain.

As the Blackbird continued with his apparently free lunch and I continued with my smiley appreciation, the Sparrowhawk launched. Straight out of the sun she came, down like a great grey bullet. I watched open-mouthed as she streaked within mere inches of me, legs outstretched and talons open, focused on one thing and one thing alone – the plump and tasty Blackbird. Her prey saw her at the last second and, astoundingly and completely beyond my expectation, deftly sidestepped like a bullfighter whisking his cape away with aplomb. Ole! (You'll have to put your own accent on the 'e' there because I can't work out how to adjust the fonts on my laptop). The plucky Blackbird launched into the air with an indignant clattering as his would-be-assassin hit the gravel with a disappointed thud.

The healthy Blackbird never looked back as he disappeared into the thickest undergrowth he could find. The Sparrowhawk however had put a lot of energy into that swoop and needed a moment to rest. She hopped up onto our “sorry, no dogs allowed on the reserve” sign (well-behaved and accompanied canine guests are very welcome in the courtyard area) where she sat, regaining her breath and her composure. If you've ever seen a female Sparrowhawk up close you'll know that they look perpetually angry and annoyed. This one most definitely did. Her attack was so far off target that she'd not only let herself down, she'd let her family and her entire species down, and she knew it. Just before she took off to have another go at another bird in another location she looked me straight in the eye for a second. It was a look that said, “ I know. It was terrible. I'm embarrassed”. More than that, that brief eye contact said one more thing; “If this story ends up in a blog, I'm coming out of the sun for you next”.

This kind of mini-adventure happens once in a lifetime, yet every day at Old Moor, our other reserves and wherever nature retains the smallest toehold in man's world, and our wonderful volunteers have more chance of seeing them than most just by being on site. Would you fancy joining us as one of our team of volunteers?

We need more people to join us, for as many hours per week or month as you can give, doing whatever it is that you're particularly skilled at. We have volunteers doing so many things on our reserves from Welcoming visitors (like I do) to gardening, admin to catering, working in our shop to sitting in hides talking to guests about the birds that are visible from them. There are many other roles available. Could you fill one of them? All we can offer is warm clothing and coffee in return but the knowledge that you're doing something positive is an excellent reward in itself. Add to that the fact that you'll be doing whatever it is that you love, you're not stuck in the house, you're interacting with as many (or few) people as you wish, you're doing something worthwhile to your community and contributing towards the greatest wildlife charity in the country. People ask me why I volunteer? All of the above. If volunteer working for the RSPB sounds like it's for you, give us a call or better still, visit us at the Old Moor Welcome Shed. We'd be happy to have you as part of the team.