October Nature Notes: Owls, Bats, Foxes, Fungi and Pumpkins
There is something about October that feels completely different, when the air becomes cooler, the evenings begin drawing in and nature seems to shift into another rhythm. It is 100% my favourite season, filled with autumn colours and darker evenings, and accompanied by the return of some of my favourite seasonal traditions.
This month, the Nature Hub is celebrating British owls, bats and foxes, alongside the extraordinary world of British fungi and autumn pumpkins. They might seem like a rather random collection, but together they represent so much of what I love about this time of year, the British natural world and the experiences that have made autumn special to my family.
When the Night Comes Alive
One of my favourite nature memories from childhood comes from visiting a local Wetlands Centre, where I had the opportunity to go on an evening owl walk. As the daylight disappeared around us, we were lucky enough to see and hear several owls, while bats simultaneously began starting their evening flights.
There was something incredible about being outside as the daytime world became quieter, the nocturnal wildlife began emerging and we simply stood there watching and listening. We even had a cup of tea and a small hot meal as part of the experience, which somehow made an already wonderful evening even better.
It is one of those memories where the small details have stayed with me, from the sounds coming from the trees to the bats appearing against the darkening evening sky. I remember being fascinated by just how much was happening around us once we stopped, stayed quiet and paid attention to the darkness, and it remains one of my most memorable childhood encounters with British wildlife.
Bats Over the Garden
Bats have continued to be a regular part of my autumn evenings, because every year I get to watch them from my garden or my parents' garden as they fly low in pursuit of moths, midges and other insects. Watching them change direction in an instant, darting and twisting through the air, is something I can happily sit and enjoy while the light slowly disappears.
A few have flown slightly closer than expected, swooping low enough to make me duck instinctively while immediately wondering whether one is about to become entangled in my hair. Thankfully, bats are remarkably manoeuvrable animals, so my dramatic evasive manoeuvre is considerably more necessary for me than it is for the bat.
Seeing them return year after year has become one of those small seasonal events I genuinely look forward to, especially when the first familiar shapes appear overhead and begin chasing insects across the garden. It is an ordinary experience in many ways, but watching these tiny British mammals hunting above my head never really becomes any less fascinating.
My Love of Owls
My encounters with owls have not been limited to hearing them in the darkness, because I have also been incredibly fortunate to hold a barn owl twice and watch owls flying during owl and raptor displays. Seeing one close enough to appreciate the detail of its feathers, the shape of its face and the sheer beauty of the animal is an experience that is difficult to forget.
Watching them fly is equally spectacular, particularly when you see just how quiet and controlled their movement can be, while learning about the biology behind their adaptations and the work being done to protect these birds. The locations where I have experienced these encounters have also placed a strong emphasis on education and conservation, which makes seeing these extraordinary birds up close even more meaningful.
Closer to home, I have a local owl that regularly calls from a nearby tree, and I often stop simply to listen to it in the evening. When we go camping, hearing owls from inside my tent at night has become an oddly comforting and familiar sound, rather than something spooky lurking beyond the canvas.
Perhaps that is why I struggle to see owls as particularly frightening Halloween creatures, because to me their calls represent woodlands, camping and quiet evenings, and remind me of the places and experiences I associate with them.
The Pumpkin Festival Has Arrived
Then we have pumpkins, and there was absolutely no possibility of an October Nature Hub existing without them because this is the time of year when I start looking forward to my local pumpkin festival.
I love it, I look forward to it every single year, and wandering among pumpkins is firmly part of what makes autumn feel like autumn. Add a pumpkin spice latte with cream, preferably while surrounded by crisp autumn air, and I am very easily convinced that October is the superior month.
Pumpkins also mean homemade pumpkin pie, which I thoroughly enjoy making and eating, with neither activity receiving particularly strong priority over the other. There is something wonderfully seasonal about cooking with pumpkin at home, filling the kitchen with warm autumn flavours, and inevitably deciding that another slice of pumpkin pie is entirely justified.
Somewhere in the history of our family is also the lost pumpkin-and-orange soup recipe, which my mum and I discovered when I was younger, made and absolutely loved, and then somehow promptly lost forever. We have never managed to find that exact recipe again, despite remembering how good it tasted, so it has achieved almost legendary status in our family.
Perhaps one autumn we will finally recreate it, although at this point I suspect the mystery of the missing soup recipe, the nostalgia attached to it and the increasingly impossible standard created by years of remembering it may be difficult for any soup to overcome.
The Annual Fly Agaric Inspection
Fungi bring an entirely different type of autumn excitement to our house, particularly when the fly agarics begin appearing on the grass outside and my son inevitably spots their bright red-and-white caps.
Every year he becomes completely fascinated by them, carefully studying their shape, colour and changes, while understanding the safety rules around wild fungi. They are one of those seasonal events that I can almost guarantee will produce an excited announcement from outside, followed by an urgent request that I come and inspect whatever has appeared on the grass.
One year, he found a broken fly agaric and wanted the opportunity to look at it more closely, but he also knew that he needed to be careful. His solution was to go inside, find a sandwich bag to put over his normal gloves, carefully collect the broken specimen for observation, and then decide it absolutely needed to be shown to his teacher and friends.
The whole incident captured his combination of curiosity and problem-solving perfectly, particularly because he had independently remembered the safety expectations surrounding fungi and found his own way to approach the situation cautiously. Naturally, once the mushroom had been investigated, keeping this exciting discovery to himself was never going to be an option, and off it went to become that day's extremely important show-and-tell specimen.
Treasure Hunting in the Woods
Our fungal adventures extend beyond the grass outside our house, because woodland walks at this time of year frequently become unofficial mushroom treasure hunts. We slow down, look around the fallen leaves and decaying wood, and see how many different fungi we can discover.
Over the years we have been fortunate enough to find stinkhorns, amethyst deceivers and orange peel fungi, alongside many other shapes, colours and varieties hidden throughout our local woods. Sometimes the fungi are tiny and easily overlooked, while others are spectacular enough to make us stop immediately for a closer look.
For me, half the enjoyment now comes from watching my son's face light up when he discovers something, hearing the excitement in his voice, and watching an ordinary walk suddenly become an important scientific expedition. His happy, excited face is every bit as enjoyable as the woodland discoveries themselves, and those moments are exactly why I love giving children opportunities to explore nature for themselves.
Our Early-Morning Fox
Foxes are another animal I absolutely love watching, although our regular local visitor has apparently decided that admiration comes with conditions, one of which is occasionally waking me in the early hours of the morning.
If you have ever heard a fox scream at night, you will understand why “haunting woman's scream” feels remarkably accurate, particularly when the sound suddenly breaks the silence and you have been peacefully asleep approximately three seconds earlier. It is certainly one of the more dramatic ways for our local wildlife to announce itself, although apparently the fox has never considered waiting until a reasonable hour.
The same fox occasionally ventures into our back garden, where the experience becomes considerably more peaceful and enjoyable. I can sit with my first morning coffee, watch it scavenge and explore the garden, and simply enjoy having a wild animal visiting so close to home.
I may be considerably less appreciative of its middle-of-the-night vocal performances, but seeing that same animal wandering quietly through the garden while I drink my morning coffee is one of those wonderfully simple moments that can make an ordinary morning feel rather special.
Sharing Autumn With the Wild
Perhaps that is what connects all of my October favourites, because these experiences have taught me that enjoying nature does not require it to be controlled, collected or made perfect. Sometimes the best encounters happen when we simply give wildlife enough space, remain patient and allow ourselves to notice what is already there.
Even our pumpkins begin with the natural rhythm of the growing season, before becoming part of our food, celebrations and family traditions. So many things we associate with this time of year have their beginnings in the land and changing seasons, connecting our modern autumn traditions with the environment surrounding us.
With that enjoyment also comes a responsibility to look after what is around us, respect the animals and other living organisms we encounter, and remember that this planet is not ours alone. Protecting habitats, avoiding unnecessary disturbance and teaching children that curiosity should come with respect allows us to experience the wonder of wildlife without harming it.
That might mean admiring an owl without approaching or disturbing its nest, observing fungi without damaging what we discover, or enjoying bats and foxes while allowing them to remain completely wild. Small choices such as taking litter home, respecting habitats and giving animals enough space can all help us share our environment more responsibly.
For me, October will always mean pumpkins and woodland walks, bats against an evening sky, fungi appearing after the rain and an owl calling somewhere in the darkness. It also means warm drinks, family memories and excited discoveries, with the occasional fox providing a completely unnecessary 3 a.m. horror-film sound effect.
And I would not have autumn any other way, because it reminds me to keep looking and listening, appreciate the experiences happening around me and value the extraordinary wild world we are fortunate enough to share. 🍂🦉🦇🦊🍄🎃
Vicky
xx
Mid-Month Environmental Highlight: Autumn 🍂
Autumn is my absolute favourite season of the year.
There is something about those first few weeks when you begin to notice the world changing. The evenings slowly become darker, the temperature drops, and suddenly lighting candles in the evening feels cosy rather than unnecessary.
Walks become comfortable again. We are past the heat of summer but haven't yet reached the freezing days of winter. The air feels cooler and fresher, leaves begin to crunch beneath our feet and the landscape gradually changes from summer greens into reds, oranges, yellows and browns.
I love the smells and sounds too. Rain. Damp earth. The rustle and crunch of fallen leaves. Wind moving through trees.
Then there is the food.
Apples, warming casseroles, soups and, most importantly, apple crumble. Foods that somehow feel completely wrong on a hot July afternoon suddenly become exactly what I want to eat.
For me, autumn is my cosy season.
But while I'm enjoying candles and finding increasingly convincing reasons to make apple crumble, something much bigger is happening outside.
The entire environment is changing.
When does autumn begin?
There are actually two commonly used answers.
Meteorological autumn begins on 1 September and includes September, October and November.
Astronomical autumn begins with the autumn equinox, which usually occurs around 22 or 23 September in the Northern Hemisphere.
The changing seasons happen because Earth's axis is tilted as our planet travels around the Sun.
During summer, the Northern Hemisphere is tilted more towards the Sun. We experience longer days and more direct sunlight.
As we move into autumn, that changes. Around the autumn equinox, neither hemisphere is tilted strongly towards the Sun. Day and night are approximately equal in length.
Afterwards, the Northern Hemisphere continues tilting away from the Sun as Earth moves along its orbit.
Our days become shorter.
Our nights become longer.
And gradually, our environment responds.
Why does autumn become colder?
It might seem obvious that autumn becomes colder because we're heading towards winter, but there is a little more happening.
As the Sun appears lower in the sky, its energy reaches the ground at a less direct angle. At the same time, there are fewer hours of daylight in which the land and air can warm.
Gradually, average temperatures fall.
There can be a delay, though. Land, buildings and especially oceans retain heat accumulated during summer, which is one reason early autumn can sometimes still produce surprisingly warm days.
This makes autumn a transition season.
One day can feel almost like summer.
Another can have you searching for a coat.
Sometimes both occur before lunchtime.
Welcome to Britain.
Why do leaves change colour?
Perhaps the most spectacular environmental change is happening above our heads.
During spring and summer, leaves manufacture food for plants through photosynthesis. Chlorophyll plays an important role in this process and also gives leaves their familiar green colour.
As autumn brings shorter days and cooler temperatures, many deciduous trees begin preparing for winter.
Chlorophyll production decreases and the existing chlorophyll breaks down.
As the green disappears, other pigments become visible.
Carotenoids help create yellows and oranges, while pigments called anthocyanins can contribute reds and purples in some leaves.
The colours were not simply painted onto the trees by autumn.
Some were hiding underneath the green all along.
Why do trees drop their leaves?
Keeping leaves alive requires resources.
During winter, there is less daylight for photosynthesis and colder conditions can make water more difficult for trees to obtain.
Before a deciduous tree drops a leaf, it can reclaim some useful nutrients from it.
A special layer of cells then develops where the leaf stalk meets the branch. Eventually the connection weakens and the leaf falls.
The tree enters winter with fewer resources being used to maintain leaves it cannot use efficiently.
But the story of that leaf isn't finished.
What happens to all those fallen leaves?
An autumn woodland can produce an enormous amount of fallen plant material.
If nothing happened to it, we'd eventually be buried beneath years of leaves.
Instead, nature recycles.
Fungi, bacteria and countless small organisms help break dead plant material down. Nutrients are gradually returned to the soil where they can become available to plants again.
Fallen leaves also create habitats.
Beneath them is a tiny world where invertebrates can shelter, feed and hide. Leaf piles can provide cover for larger animals too.
So although humans sometimes see fallen leaves as something that needs clearing away, within an ecosystem they are an important resource.
Autumn is not simply about things dying.
It is about recycling.
A season of seeds
While some plants are slowing down, others are sending the next generation out into the world.
Autumn is a wonderful time to notice seeds.
Some fall directly to the ground.
Others travel on the wind.
Some attach themselves to animal fur or our clothes.
Others are hidden inside fruits and berries and may be carried elsewhere after being eaten by animals.
Nuts and seeds can also be moved and stored by wildlife.
This means autumn isn't only preparation for winter.
It is preparation for future growth.
Some of what will become next spring's new life is already being put into place.
Autumn weather
Autumn weather can be incredibly changeable.
We can experience sunshine, rain, mist, wind and increasingly chilly nights, sometimes within a surprisingly short period.
As nights become longer and temperatures fall, dew becomes particularly noticeable. Water vapour in the air condenses onto cooler surfaces, leaving droplets across grass, leaves and spider webs.
Under suitable conditions, cooling air near the ground can also contribute to the formation of mist and fog.
Later in the season, temperatures may fall low enough for frost.
Wind becomes another powerful autumn force, shaking leaves and seeds from plants and helping some seeds travel to new places.
Then there is the rain.
One of my favourite autumn smells is that earthy scent we sometimes notice when rain reaches dry ground. The term petrichor is commonly used for the distinctive smell associated with rain after a dry spell.
Combined with damp leaves, soil and cooler air, it contributes to that unmistakable autumn smell.
Nature is preparing
From the outside, autumn can look as though the natural world is gradually shutting down.
It isn't.
It is changing strategy.
Plants conserve resources.
Seeds disperse.
Nutrients return to the soil.
Animals change their feeding and behaviour.
Some creatures prepare for periods of dormancy or hibernation, while others remain active throughout winter.
Daylight decreases and ecosystems respond.
The things we've been exploring in our September Nature Highlights, apples, oak trees, acorns, squirrels, hedgehogs and spiders, are all little windows into that much larger seasonal change.
Look at them together and you begin to see how interconnected autumn really is.
Experience autumn rather than simply learning about it
One of the wonderful things about autumn is that children can explore many of these changes for themselves.
You don't need an elaborate activity.
Go outside.
Listen.
Look.
Touch.
Smell.
Hear the crunch of leaves beneath your shoes.
Feel the cooler air against your skin.
Compare a green leaf with one that has begun changing colour.
Look for acorns beneath an oak.
Notice where squirrels are searching for food.
Find a spider web covered in tiny droplets of morning dew.
Smell the earth after rain.
Watch the same tree over several weeks and see how it changes.
For children who enjoy collecting things, fallen leaves, sticks and other safe natural objects can become treasures to investigate at home.
For children who don't want to touch them, photographs can create a record instead.
And for a child who doesn't want an organised autumn activity at all?
That's okay too.
Simply noticing something through a window counts.
Nature doesn't require a worksheet.
My cosy season
Perhaps that's ultimately why autumn appeals to me so much.
It feels like a season sitting perfectly between two extremes.
We can still comfortably explore outdoors, but darker evenings invite us home afterwards.
There are candles to light.
Blankets to retrieve.
Warm dinners to cook.
And absolutely legitimate quantities of apple crumble to consume.
But outside, autumn is doing something extraordinary.
It is dismantling one season while preparing for the next.
Leaves fall and become nutrients.
Seeds leave their parent plants and wait for another opportunity to grow.
Animals respond to changing food supplies and temperatures.
Hours of daylight disappear little by little.
The colours change.
The sounds change.
Even the air seems to smell different.
Autumn reminds us that change doesn't always mean an ending.
Sometimes it is simply the next stage of a cycle.
And that is worth stepping outside to notice.
What changes have you already spotted this autumn? 🍂
September’s Nature Highlights: Autumn Is Coming
There is something about September that feels like a turning point.
Summer might not officially be over just yet, and we can still be treated to the occasional beautifully warm day, but the signs of autumn are beginning to creep in. The mornings feel different. The evenings start drawing in. Acorns appear beneath the trees, apples hang heavily from branches, and suddenly there seem to be spiders absolutely everywhere.
So, for September’s Nature Highlights, I have chosen five things that, to me, simply shout:
Autumn is coming.
This month we are exploring hedgehogs, apples, oak trees, squirrels and spiders.
Some I absolutely adore.
One I appreciate considerably more from a distance.
Hedgehogs
Hedgehogs are one of my absolute favourite animals.
They are ridiculously cute while somehow also being incredibly fierce, all wrapped up in one tiny, spiky package.
I particularly love when a hedgehog finds its way into the garden and the first you know about your little visitor is the incredibly loud snuffling coming from somewhere in the darkness.
Seriously, how can such a small creature make so much noise while eating?
Some of my core childhood memories involve hedgehogs.
One was finding a hedgehog wandering around the car park outside my childhood home. It had apparently taken a wrong turn from the nearby woods and needed a little help finding its way back. Thankfully there were no injuries, it was just slightly lost, bless it, and we were able to help it safely back towards the woodland.
But my favourite hedgehog memory has to come from camping as a child.
One night we were woken up to discover that a hedgehog had somehow made its way inside the tent.
And where was our unexpected guest?
Happily sitting on top of the loaf of bread.
Apparently we were running a hedgehog bed and breakfast without realising it.
Unsurprisingly, the following night all the food was moved into the car.
Which, naturally, was the night there was an enormous downpour.
Everyone woke up in the early hours and discovered that not only was it pouring with rain, but every single bit of food and drink was safely locked away in the car.
Not even a tea bag was within reach.
All because of a hedgehog and its midnight bread adventure.
Back then, we were always told that if you wanted to help a hedgehog you should leave out a saucer of bread and milk, so that is exactly what we did in an attempt to persuade our visitor that eating outside the tent was preferable.
Of course, we now know that bread and milk aren't suitable foods for hedgehogs. These days, if one visits my garden, I offer wet or dry cat food, or proper hedgehog food if I happen to have some left over from previous visitors, alongside fresh water.
More recently, we had a rather less cheerful hedgehog encounter. Last year, I found a poorly hedgehog tucked underneath a conifer in my front garden. With our cat taking far too much interest in the unexpected visitor, our first priority was getting the hedgehog somewhere safe, so we carefully scooped it up into a large flower pot while we worked out what to do.
Once we could look at it properly, it was obvious that something wasn't right. One of its eyes was oozing, and several patches of spines were missing from its back, which looked as though they may have been the result of an attack.
Thankfully, it perked up considerably when we offered some wet cat food, which was lovely to see. But food alone obviously wasn't going to fix the problem, so we took our little visitor to a local wildlife hospital, where it could receive the proper medical care it needed.
It was a very different experience from the healthy, noisy hedgehogs I've encountered over the years, but also a reminder of why noticing the wildlife around us can be so important. Sometimes simply spotting that an animal is behaving unusually, or appearing somewhere we wouldn't expect to see it, gives us the opportunity to get it the help it needs.
My hedgehog connection even followed me into adulthood. When I volunteered with my local Scout group as a support leader for a while, I was given the code name:
Hedgehog.
I was very happy with that one.
Spiders
Now we move onto a creature I have a slightly more complicated relationship with.
Spiders.
They creep me out.
I know they are useful. I know they are fascinating. I know they play an important role in our ecosystems.
But why do the big house spiders insist on sprinting across my living room floor late at night?
There is something particularly autumnal about spiders, though.
On cool autumn mornings, their webs become covered in tiny droplets of dew. When the sunlight catches them, the whole web can look as though it has been decorated with hundreds of tiny diamonds.
Absolutely beautiful.
The spider itself can remain elsewhere.
My most memorable encounter with a spider happened during another childhood holiday.
We were staying in a converted barn in the Welsh countryside. I had gone to bed as usual when suddenly my leg felt itchy.
Without thinking, I reached down to scratch it.
Except...
I didn't scratch my leg.
I petted a spider.
A rather large, black house spider that was probably twice the size of the ones I usually encounter.
I am fairly certain that the speed and height at which I launched myself out of that bed while screaming could have qualified as some sort of combined high jump and long jump record.
Since that night, I have never gone to bed without shaking out the duvet and giving the mattress and sheets a quick check first.
Some childhood experiences really do stay with you.
Apples
Now onto something much safer.
Apples.
I love apples.
There are so many ways to eat them that I genuinely don't think they get enough credit.
Have you ever tried an apple slice gently fried in butter with a little cinnamon?
Or apple dipped in peanut butter?
Then, of course, there is one of my personal favourites:
Homemade apple crumble.
Plain apple crumble is lovely, but you can add sultanas and cinnamon, mix the apples with blackberries, or combine them with rhubarb.
All served with custard, obviously.
Apples also remind me of childhood picnics.
There always seemed to be an apple pie or apple lattice pie packed somewhere amongst the picnic food. They were ideal because unlike chocolate-covered treats, they didn't turn into a melted disaster on warm days.
My younger childhood home also had a crab apple tree growing in the car park — very close, actually, to where we once found that wandering hedgehog.
At this time of year, it would be absolutely covered in fruit.
Unfortunately, the wasps also thought this was fantastic.
I appreciate that wasps have an important role in nature.
I would simply prefer them to perform that role slightly further away from me.
Oak Trees
There is something incredibly special about an old oak tree.
Whenever I see a particularly large or ancient one, I can't help wondering:
How much has this tree seen?
What has happened around it during its lifetime?
How many generations of people have walked beneath its branches?
How many animals have relied upon it for food, shelter or somewhere to raise their young?
Outside my parents' home stands a huge oak tree. When I lived there, there always seemed to be a woodpecker somewhere nearby, and in the evenings we would hear a tawny owl.
I'm fairly sure bats have used it too, perhaps tucked away in one of the many high-up nooks and crannies.
Then autumn arrives and so do the acorns.
Lots and lots of acorns.
The cars parked underneath the tree probably don't appreciate them quite as much as I do.
Throughout autumn you regularly hear:
DONK.
Another acorn hitting a car roof.
As a child, though, acorns meant something completely different.
I would collect the little acorn cups and use them as bowls in the tiny fairy houses I made.
Even now, I still automatically think of them as fairy cups.
Some names are simply too good to grow out of.
Squirrels
Finally, we have squirrels.
Who doesn't love watching a squirrel?
Their antics are endlessly entertaining.
You can buy the most supposedly squirrel-proof bird feeder imaginable and somewhere, somehow, a squirrel will view it as a personal engineering challenge.
Before long it will be hanging upside down by one foot while somehow still managing to reach the food.
Then there are the chases around tree trunks, the sudden leaps between branches and the frantic autumn activity as they collect and cache food.
One of my favourite squirrel memories happened while I was walking home from the park with my children.
We spotted a squirrel sitting on a fence.
Eating an entire slice of toast.
We have absolutely no idea where it obtained this toast.
Somewhere nearby, presumably, somebody had lost part of their breakfast.
The sight of this little squirrel calmly sitting there enjoying its stolen toast had all of us giggling.
The large oak tree outside my parents' house also once had a particularly unusual visitor…. an albino squirrel.
Completely white.
For a while, it appeared almost like clockwork. I haven't seen it for several years now, but it was always incredible to watch.
I also have a particular fondness for red squirrels.
Who doesn't?
I've been lucky enough to see a few in the wild as well as at conservation centres, and they are absolutely beautiful. Their little faces are so dainty, and those fluffy, tufted ears are impossible not to love.
What Will You Notice This September?
So this September, I want to encourage you to look for some of this month's Nature Highlights.
You might notice an oak tree beginning to drop its acorns.
You might find apples ripening on a tree.
Perhaps you'll stop to watch a squirrel racing along a branch, or discover a beautiful dew-covered spider's web sparkling in the morning sunlight.
And, if you're very lucky, you might hear that unmistakable snuffling in the garden after dark and discover that a hedgehog has come to visit.
Take a moment to really notice them.
That old, gnarly oak tree has probably lived through more than we could ever imagine.
That spider's web is an extraordinary piece of natural engineering.
The squirrel frantically burying food is responding to instincts that have helped its species survive for generations.
And although you might not be lucky enough to have a hedgehog wander into your garden or spot a red squirrel in the wild, there are still things we can do to understand, appreciate and support the wildlife around us.
Throughout September, you can explore the new Hedgehog, Apple, Oak Tree, Squirrel and Spider Nature Highlight resources to discover more about each one.
There are facts to uncover, wildlife to investigate, activities to enjoy and plenty of opportunities to take learning beyond the page and into the world outside.
Because sometimes learning about nature begins with something incredibly simple:
Stopping long enough to notice it.
And September is a wonderful month to start looking.
Autumn is coming.
Vicky
xx
Mid-August Environment Highlight: Meadows & Wildflowers 🌼
There is something undeniably beautiful about a wildflower meadow.
A sweep of grasses dotted with oxeye daisies, poppies, cornflowers and countless smaller flowers can look almost effortless, as though nature simply scattered a handful of colour across the landscape. These habitats can be found across the country, from managed wildflower meadows and nature reserves to field margins, verges and little pockets of land that have simply been allowed to grow.
I have also been lucky enough to wander through lavender fields where rows of wildflowers have been planted between the lavender. The combination of purple lavender, bright wildflowers, buzzing insects and that unmistakable scent is beautiful.
But these colourful places are much more than something pretty to look at.
🌸 A Difficult Summer for Wildflowers
This year in particular, our wildflowers have been facing difficult conditions. Long periods of heat and dry weather have left the ground incredibly dry in many places. Plants can flower for shorter periods, produce less nectar or simply struggle altogether.
And what happens to the flowers doesn't stop with the flowers.
Bumblebees and other pollinating insects depend upon them for nectar and pollen. During very hot, dry weather, insects can also struggle with overheating and finding enough water. If flowering plants disappear earlier than usual, an important source of food disappears with them.
A meadow is an ecosystem, not simply a collection of flowers.
The flowers support insects.
The insects support birds and bats.
Those animals form part of the food web supporting larger predators.
Remove enough pieces and the effects begin travelling far beyond the original patch of flowers.
🐝 A Meadow I Will Never Forget
Wildflower meadows can be important to us for another reason too.
A few years ago, my mental health had reached a particularly low point. One day, I went for a walk along a public footpath that passed some abandoned church ruins. Eventually, I found myself sitting at the edge of a wildflower field.
It was filled with cornflowers, oxeye daisies and poppies.
I remember the explosion of bright reds and blues against the green. Bees moved lazily between the flowers while butterflies flitted from one patch to another.
And I just sat and watched.
It didn't magically make everything difficult disappear. But for that little piece of time, something still felt good.
Something was beautiful.
It is a sight and a memory that I haven't forgotten.
Sometimes nature doesn't need us to do anything. We can simply sit beside it for a while.
🌿 When the Meadows Disappear
Unfortunately, opportunities to experience places like this are becoming increasingly precious.
As housing developments increase and infrastructure expands to meet human needs and demands, natural and semi-natural habitats can become smaller, fragmented or disappear altogether.
And once again, the consequences reach further than we might initially imagine.
Fewer flowering habitats can mean fewer insects. Fewer insects can mean less food for insect-eating birds and bats. Changes lower down the food web can then affect the animals that depend upon those species and the wider ecosystems around them.
Nature is interconnected.
We cannot continually remove habitat and expect everything else to remain unchanged.
🦋 Giving Nature a Voice
That is why protecting wildflower meadows, grasslands, verges and other wildlife-rich spaces matters.
Support local conservation projects. Ask questions when important habitats are threatened. Encourage councils, schools and community spaces to leave suitable areas a little wilder. Plant native wildflowers where you can. Provide shallow sources of water for insects during dry weather. And teach children that the slightly messy patch buzzing with bees may be far more valuable than a perfectly clipped piece of grass.
Most importantly, give wildlife a voice when it cannot speak for itself.
Protecting these places isn't only about wildlife either.
Plants contribute to healthier environments, and access to green spaces gives us somewhere to walk, explore, breathe and escape some of the pressures of everyday life.
Sometimes that might be a family adventure through a meadow.
Sometimes it might be stopping to photograph a butterfly.
And sometimes it might simply be sitting quietly at the edge of a field filled with cornflowers, oxeye daisies and poppies and remembering that there are still beautiful things in the world.
🌼 This Mid-August, take a moment to notice the wildflowers. Watch what visits them. Listen to the meadow around you. These spaces may look quiet from a distance, but get a little closer and you'll discover an entire community depending upon them.
August Nature Highlights – The Beauty of Late Summer
There is something rather magical about August.
It sits quietlybetween the excitement of summer and the first whispers of autumn. The days are still warm, flowers continue to bloom, wildlife is busy preparing for the changing seasons, and hedgerows slowly begin to fill with the first signs of the harvest to come.
It has always been one of my favourite months for simply slowing down and noticing what is happening around me.
Salmon – Determination in Motion
One of my favourite wildlife memories has to be watching salmon making their incredible journey upstream in Wales.
I've been lucky enough to visit both Betws-y-Coed and Cenarth Falls, where, if you're patient (and perhaps a little lucky!), you can watch salmon leaping against the current.
Every successful jump feels like a tiny celebration.
Watching them reminds me that nature is full of determination. The river is fast, the rocks are steep, and not every leap is successful, but they simply keep trying.
Standing quietly beside the water, listening to the rushing river while waiting for that sudden silver flash, is one of those moments that stays with you long after you've gone home.
The Crows of My Home
Anyone who knows me, knows I have a soft spot for crows.
I see them regularly around where I live, and I never tire of watching their intelligence and curiosity.
Perhaps that's partly because my hometown has historic links to crows in its very name, making them feel like part of the local landscape and history.
For a while, I was lucky enough to have what I believe was a mated pair of crows regularly visiting my garden. Over time, they seemed to recognise me. If I went outside, they never immediately flew away like many wild birds would. Instead, they often stayed where they were, watching me with curious eyes and occasionally bobbing their heads in my direction, almost as if they were greeting me.
Of course, I can't know for certain what they were thinking, but it certainly felt as though we'd reached an understanding of sorts.
I named them Fred and Ginger. Ginger was easy to recognise thanks to a single grey feather on her back that stood out amongst the rest of her glossy black plumage. Whether I actually identified them correctly as male and female, I'll never know, but that's how they'll always be remembered in my mind.
They are incredibly clever birds, often misunderstood, yet full of personality. Watching family groups interact or seeing them investigate something new always reminds me just how intelligent our garden wildlife really is.
I still smile whenever I hear that familiar caw overhead and wonder if perhaps one day another pair will decide that my garden is worth a visit.
The Elder Tree That Chose Us
One of my favourite features in my garden wasn't actually planted by me at all.
An elder tree simply appeared.
Most likely, a bird dropped a seed years ago without me noticing, and nature quietly took over.
Now it has become one of the busiest places in the garden.
Throughout the year it attracts an amazing variety of birds, insects and other wildlife. It provides welcome shade during the hottest summer days, and every time I sit nearby I find myself noticing something different visiting its branches.
Every spring, I have the very best intentions of collecting the delicate elderflowers to make something delicious, whether that's cordial, syrup or perhaps even baking with them. Then, somehow, life gets busy, and before I know it the flowers have already started fading.
Late summer brings another opportunity with the rich, dark elderberries. Again, I always tell myself that this will be the year I finally use them. However, knowing that elderberries need to be prepared and cooked correctly because they can be toxic if eaten raw or improperly prepared, I still haven't quite built up the confidence to give them a try.
One day, though, I absolutely will.
Until then, I'm more than happy to let the birds enjoy the harvest while the tree continues to remind me that sometimes nature has plans of its own—and that there's always another season to learn something new.
Lavender – A Feast for Every Sense
I absolutely love having lavender growing in my garden.
Its scent instantly makes everything feel calmer, and it's always buzzing with bees throughout the summer.
As well as looking and smelling beautiful, it's surprisingly practical too. I've found that planting lavender amongst my flower beds helps to keep greenfly away from some of the surrounding plants. Even my cats seem to have an agreement with it! They happily wander through the garden, but the strong scent of the lavender puts them off digging in those particular flower beds, saving both my plants and a lot of tidying up.
Towards the end of the flowering season, I love harvesting the lavender before giving the plants their annual trim. One of my favourite things to do is make little lavender pouches to tuck under pillows or place in drawers and wardrobes. Not only do they smell wonderful for months afterwards, but they also make lovely handmade gifts and are a simple way of bringing a little bit of the garden indoors.
One of my favourite days out has been visiting a lavender farm while the fields were in full bloom.
Standing amongst endless rows of purple flowers was breathtaking.
The café embraced lavender in ways I'd never expected, serving delicious lavender biscuits alongside a wonderful selection of soaps, bath bombs and other handmade products.
It wasn't simply somewhere to visit.
It was somewhere to experience with every sense.
Whenever I catch the scent of lavender now, it instantly takes me back to those beautiful purple fields, the gentle hum of bees, and the peaceful feeling that comes from being completely surrounded by nature.
Sunflower Evenings
Every summer I try to visit our local sunflower field.
They're beautiful at any time of day, but for me nothing compares to visiting in the evening.
Just before sunset, the golden light seems to transform the whole field.
The flowers almost glow as they turn towards the fading sunlight, creating one of those moments that photographs never quite manage to capture properly.
Sunflowers never fail to make me smile. They will also always remind me of someone very special who passed away several years ago. Like a sunflower, they had a way of lighting up every room they walked into, bringing warmth, laughter and kindness wherever they went. Seeing fields full of these cheerful flowers always makes me think of them with a smile.
One of the things I love most is the incredible variety that exists. Some stand towering above your head, while others are much smaller, with colours ranging from deep golden yellows to rich oranges and even warm reds. Yet despite all their differences, they're instantly recognisable as sunflowers. Each variety is beautiful in its own unique way, yet all share that same cheerful, uplifting presence.
It's peaceful, colourful and the perfect reminder to slow down before another busy autumn begins.
Blackberry Days
For me, blackberries are one of the clearest signs that autumn is quietly making its way towards us.
Every year my children and I head out to forage in local hedgerows, choosing quiet spots well away from busy roads.
There's something wonderfully simple about filling a container together while chatting and enjoying the fresh air.
Once we're home, those freshly picked blackberries almost always become an apple and blackberry crumble.
The smell drifting through the house while it bakes is every bit as special as eating it.
Sometimes the simplest family traditions become the ones we treasure most.
Tiny Mice with Big Adventures
I don't think I'll ever stop being amazed by field mice.
I've been lucky enough to spot them both in wildlife sanctuaries and unexpectedly while camping.
Every single time I'm struck by just how unbelievably tiny they are.
Even more impressive is watching them balance effortlessly on long grasses, moving with incredible agility despite looking impossibly delicate.
They're easy to overlook, but once you've watched one for even a few moments, you realise just how remarkable these little creatures really are.
Flying Ant Day
If you've ever experienced Flying Ant Day, you'll know it's one of those unforgettable signs that August has truly arrived.
For anyone lucky enough to miss it, Flying Ant Day isn't actually a single day across the whole country. Different colonies take to the skies on warm, humid days throughout the summer, with August often seeing some of the biggest swarms. For a few short hours, thousands of winged ants emerge to begin the next stage of their lives, providing an important food source for birds while allowing new colonies to form.
My own most memorable Flying Ant Day happened while we were camping in Wiltshire.
As evening arrived, so did what felt like every flying ant in the county!
The campsite was suddenly buzzing with thousands of tiny wings. We ended up zipping the insect screen closed on the tent for most of the evening just to keep them outside. Even then, I couldn't quite relax. Every little tickle or brush against my skin had me convinced another one had somehow sneaked inside, leaving me feeling itchy long after they'd disappeared.
Looking back now, it makes me laugh.
At the time, though, it certainly wasn't one of my favourite camping experiences!
It's another reminder that nature doesn't always fit neatly around our plans. Sometimes the best memories come from the unexpected moments—the ones that leave us laughing years later.
Taking Time to Notice
One of the things I love most about August is that it encourages us to pay attention.
Nature doesn't shout.
It quietly offers moments of wonder to anyone willing to slow down enough to notice them.
Whether it's watching salmon battle upstream, hearing crows calling overhead, discovering wildlife hidden amongst an elder tree, walking through fields of lavender or sunflowers, gathering blackberries with your family, smiling as a tiny field mouse balances on a blade of grass, or even laughing about surviving Flying Ant Day, every moment reminds us that the natural world is always changing around us.
Sometimes all we need to do is step outside and look.
If something in this month's highlights has inspired you, don't forget that each of these seasonal wonders has its own dedicated page here on the website. You'll find fascinating facts, ideas for things to spot outdoors, simple seasonal activities, and a growing collection of free educational resources to help children and families explore nature together.
Whether you're a parent, teacher, home educator or simply someone who enjoys spending time outdoors, I hope these pages encourage you to discover something new, revisit an old favourite, or perhaps create a few August memories of your own.
I hope this August you find your own favourite moment in nature.
Vicky
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