Despite a dreary, grey cloud-smothered day
I was keen to give my lurcher, Dylan, a good walk today and take a break from
shooting. Once I’d decided where to go, I then faced the dilemna of which lens
to add to the camera. When I shoot, I take one of choice of gun. I’m the same
when I photograph. I take one lens. My destination, deep in summer, demands a
middle of the road ’macro to zoom’ glass (such as my Sigma 18-250mm) to cover
the wealth of opportunities normally encountered for wildlife photography. Today,
however, with the vegetation still in die-back and yet to re-birth, the open
heathland I expected suggested a long zoom. I snapped the 80-400mm Nikkor onto
my D7000 and hoped I’d made the right choice.
Tucked away in the middle of North Norfolk,
just half an hours drive from the centre of Norwich, there is a little gem of a
wildlife haven known as Buxton Heath. Managed by the Norfolk Wildlife Trust,
the small (165 acre) site could have been lifted from the middle of Dartmoor
and dropped among the arable farmland and woodland that surround it. Though
predominantly sandy heathland, its rich diversity of habitat plays host to some
wildlife rare to much of Norfolk. I rarely visit in winter and today it was, at
first glance, a bleak and desolate place. As we (the dog and I) set off across
the heath one of the Heathlings (for so the volunteers are nicknamed) was doing
strange, unmentionable things with a tractor and tine. As I looked around at
the felling, ripped up gorse and wanton slaughter of habitat I did wonder what
the hell the game-plan was? I’m hugely biased but I couldn’t help but think
that if this little piece of England was turned over to a shooting syndicate it
would be even richer in fauna. But .. what the hell do I know?
Anyway, the Heathling looked on in
disapproval as I released the lurcher and held him close to my heel on a verbal
leash. ‘Animals grazing .. please keep dogs on a lead’ is a fair call to the
general public but Dylan, at nearly 10 years old, can be called off a rabbit at
five paces .. such is his training. We scouted up the incline, up toward the
centre of the heath and the tractor resumed its vandalism. Two completely
polarised rebels with a wildlife cause had just exchanged a nod of the head and
continued with their anarchy. With respect to the warning sign, I had an eye
out for the ponies. Yes .. Buxton Heath has wild ponies, too. I had an eye out
because they pose more of a danger to the dog than he does to them. You can
call a dog away from a pony but you can’t call a pony away from a dog!
The dogs nose ploughed a long furrow
through the sandy floor simply because the surface is littered with rabbit
sign. I’ve never seen a living rabbit here, ever. Yet there must be thousands
judging by the currants. The warrens beneath the gorse must come alive after
dark. Nor have I ever seen a hare here, though they are abundant on the
surrounding crops. We walked on and after a while I stopped, simply to listen.
I was right in the middle of the site. Nothing moved. The sound was amazing. Unbelievable.
Total silence. No birdsong. 
In summer, at this same spot, I have heard the
pretty yellowhammers ‘littlebitofbreadandnocheeeese’ and chaffinch song. Blackcaps,
warblers and titmice flit amongst the ling. Stonechats perch on the gorse.
Today .. nothing. We walked across the top of the mini-moor
toward the distant wood. I diverted across the top of the sphagnum mire that
sits in a hollow on the east of the heath. One of my favourite spots. Last
winter there were woodcock aplenty here. In autumn I have accidentally flushed
jack-snipe. So far today I had seen nothing but overhead woodies. Not a wren,
not a robin, not a single living creature. I was in a wildlife desert. Before
entering the wood I checked an area where, when I lasted visited, there were brash-piles
and stacked tree stumps. 
I have photographed common lizards basking on top of
these. The stumps had been removed and the ground turned over. A strip of dark,
loamy plough .. but laid to what harvest? Bracken? For in summer, bracken
strangles much of this heath. Thanks the Lord .. the woodpile had been left
intact. This heath holds one of the biggest adder colonies in the UK. As I
looked about I despaired as to where the reptiles would hide, bask, mate, hunt
and survive? As if to prove the importance of this isolated woodpile, I found a
sloughed snake skin on the turf nearby. 
Around the edge of the wood I found
evidence of the usual suspects but saw none. Squirrel sign, a dead wood mouse
left half eaten on a stump by an owl, fox scats, fresh deer droppings. Just as
I snapped tree damage caused by a large deers gnawing I got a glimpse of a red
stag stealing away into the forestry adjoining the heath. On the long walk back
to the motor, I hoped to see a barn owl quartering as the dusk approached but I
was to be disappointed. In case I’m putting you off a visit (I would like to
keep this place secret, but I’m too late!) I should be honest and list the
species I’ve watched here in the past. As well as those mentioned above ..
tawny owl, woodcock, snipe, cuckoo, sparrowhawk, buzzard, kestrel, turtle dove,
roe deer muntjac deer, red deer, stoat, fox, grass snake. Not mention a
plethora of butterfly, plant and insect species. One of my favourite beetles,
the Minotaur, is abundant here.
So I had poor reward (with the camera) for
my walk and much concern about the management of this site. Yet .. I am no
university educated ecologist. I’m just a simple amateur naturalist and
shooter. What did concern me, however, is that many of my shooting permissions
hold a much more diverse winter ecology than this SSSI (Site of Specific
Scientific Interest). This site should be a treasure so why do I feel I just
touched fools gold?
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