Feather hunting on Purdown

This summer I've done a lot of walking on Purdown, a hill in the north of Bristol. It's somewhere I've known all my life, with lots of open space, and views over to Bath and the northern outliers of the Mendips.

Mostly, though, we've walked in its woods, to escape either the humidity or the rain. These I know reasonably well, though occasionally I still get lost for a moment or two, until I work out where the motorway is and re-orient myself. 

There are many relics of Stoke Park estate and the family who lived there to be found in the woods, or glimpsed from them, but the best things, I think, are the trees and the wildlife they attract. 

Here's just a few particularly magnificent specimens.

There's little in the way of flowers to be seen this late in the year ... TOP:  1. Fleabane  2. Enchanter's nightshade  3. Cuckoo pint  4.  Red bartsia   BOTTOM:  5. Guelder rose  6. Tree bumble bee on thistle  7. Musk-mallow  8. Cinnabar moth caterpillars on ragwort ... 

... but each visit brings more fungi. 

So many interesting mossy hollows in the trunks of trees. Each time I pass, I can't help wondering who lives in a house like this. 

TOP:  1. Dead shrew  2. Badger sett  3. A fallen mossy nest; maybe a blue tit's?  4. A crocodile    BOTTOM:  5. Fox den in the roots of a tree?  6. A muntjac jaw  7. Possibly a rabbit warren?

Having been encouraged at a young age to pick up shells on the beach, which my mother would fill with polyfilla to make little tortoises and mice to sell on her handicraft stalls - it was a simpler time - I fell into the habit of walking around with my head underground early on. And as this blog attests, I'm a habitual collector of what I spot. Finds this summer include some hoggin ...

... and, best of all, lots of feathers. I love finding feathers! When I was small, long before bird flu was a thing, my mother - her again - used to tell me off for rubbing them against my cheek. I still do that, given half a chance. 

Though 'finding' feathers is a bit of a misnomer. You have to hunt for them. Each photo below represents two and a half to three hours' feather hunting, and that's not counting the trips home, empty-handed - there's been a fair few of them. Though I have to say, Purdown has been a good hunting ground this summer. 

Tawny owl feathers

A jay tail feather and a magpie feather

CLOCKWISE from left:  two buzzard feathers, two great spotted woodpecker feathers, two more buzzard feathers, two magpie feathers, two jay feathers, a tawny owl feather

From left: buzzard feather, jay covert, great spotted woodpecker feather, three magpie feathers

From left: a jay feather, a magpie feather, a tawny owl feather, a buzzard feather

From left: a sparrowhawk feather, two magpie feathers, a blue tit tail feather, a great spotted woodpecker tail feather, two buzzard feathers, plus the nest

a jay feather and a tawny owl feather

two buzzard feathers

CLOCKWISE from left:  green woodpecker feather, two jay tail feathers, two jay coverts, mallard feather, tawny owl feather

buzzard feather

Jay predation site

The finding of the first jay covert was a big moment, as I'd spent years scouring the ground, squinting at every bit of turquoise plastic, paper, string, etc and being disappointed. (It was still a great feeling when I found my first secondary at Wightwick Manor, four years ago, but a covert still eluded me.) This time the flash of blue was right under my foot as I climbed a steep slope and I was sure it was just a few loose fibres of synthetic string, but as I smoothed it under my fingers, it became clear what it was. 

The fact I found two more - pristine coverts, each at the base of a tree - a couple of weeks later was just weird after waiting so long. And the feathers from the predation site (by a fox) are bittersweet. Most of the feathers were too battered and chewed to save, but I did keep four coverts - that were barely noticeable in the dirt - and a wing feather. They'll look better after they've been steamed and gently reshaped. 

But it goes to show, it's always worth picking up feathers (even if you think they're just woodpigeon ones, which they are 99% of the time), turning them over and brushing off the dirt. Each of the three jay tail feathers were face-down and only revealed themselves as I was cleaning them up.

Any feathers I pick up but don't want to keep, I usually tuck into a crevice in the bark or under a strand of ivy, as an appeasement to the feather gods: I am grateful for your gift, value it and am offering it back to the universe. The hope is that they'll send me something more interesting and sometimes they do. 

The fact that these feathers also act as waymarks on return visits is handy. Several times I've found myself in part of one of the four woods for the first time, only to find a feather signalling that I have actually been there before, having approached from a different direction. It really helps with orientation. 

The summer's over, and probably the best of the season of falling feathers too, but with luck there will still be some to find while I'm out and about with the dog; I hope so.