EVERY now and then, my worlds collide and it is no bad thing when they do, especially if it involves Guinness, Ireland and wildlife.
Just such a trinity occurred two weekends ago in Kinvara on Galway Bay. I was there to sing with my band, The Curragh Sons, and we were firmly ensconced in one of our favourite pubs, Sexton's, when a local man returned from the gents and claimed: "There's a 'mot' in there the size of a bat!"
Landlady Ruth was not impressed so I volunteered to check it out. The description had been fairly accurate because the creature was a Poplar Hawk moth with a wing span of 8cm and a body the size of my little finger.
As I paraded the 'mot' through the pub on my hand, I must have looked like a falconer it was that big.
Once outside on a stone wall, the moth gathered its strength in the sunshine, allowing me to take photographs at my leisure, before lifting off and disappearing into a dense blackthorn bush.
Hawk moths are perhaps the most stunning of our flying insects, not least because of their size, but also because of their colour - and their bodies have a fur-like covering as soft as sable.
Readers will no doubt recall the posters advertising 'The Silence of The Lambs' which depicted the unmistakeable death's head hawk moth, another UK species which can attain a wing span of 12cm.
The death's head is not only the biggest moth, but it also produces a mouse-like squeak by expelling air, which makes it even more bat-like if you happen to bump into one at night.
To give you an idea of the relative sizes, our smallest bat, the pipistrelle, is only slight larger than the death's head with a wingspan of 17cm.
My favourite hawk moth found in these parts, the hummingbird hawk moth, can actually be seen during the day from May to October when they feed, just like their namesake, hovering above flowers and sucking up nectar through their long proboscis.
The poplar moth varies in colour from a muted brown seen here to yellow, or red-grey and sometimes ash grey. They have several faded dark wavy lines and bands on the fore wing, wfth a characteristic large rust-red patch on the root of the hind wing.
About 10 years ago I had another encounter with a poplar moth which also combined two of my interests, rugby and wildlife. After the last game of the season in late April, I had thrown my muddy boots into the garden, hoping that the rain would clean them.
As it happened there was no rain for a few weeks and I forgot about the boots. That was until I caught sight of a poplar hawk moth which appeared to be roosting on one of the boots one day.
On closer inspection, I was amazed to discover that the muted tones of the moth matched perfectly the dried mud on the boot and what's more the padding on the ankle of the boot was the exact same shade of red as the moth's hind wing.
This of course begged the question, of all the places to roost, why the boots? Did it recognise the shade would provide good camouflage? Do moths think?
I called the moth expert at the Natural History Museum in London and asked: What are the odds of a poplar hawk roosting by chance on a rugby boot of exactly the same shade at 800 feet above sea level in the Peak District National Park?" His reply was not very accurate but it made me laugh: "Cosmic Sean, cosmic!"
[The Advertiser July 25,2002]

Sing the praises of our Skylarks

IN MY young days, (you know, old money days, long before such things as kilos), skylarks were a constant summer companion, and their soaring song was only matched by their soaring flight above the farmlands of Leicestershire. Unfortunately, and unknown to me when I moved to Scotland in 1971,the rot had already set in for the skylark, due to a change in farming practice. From around 1970 the change from spring to winter cereals, as well as intensified grassland management rapidly affected the success of this ground-nesting bird.
Farmers cannot be blamed, because the changes which resulted in the loss of around 12,000 birds every year were implemented as part of the Common Agricultural Policy. However so great was the effect that, between the dates mentioned, the skylark population of the UK fell by 52 per cent. That is one mighty slump and the decline needs to be addressed immediately, a fact which has been recognised by DEFRA (Department of Envimnment, Food & Rural Affairs).
To set the scene, let me explain what skylarks need to flourish.

1: Mid-field areas in which to nest and feed. Skylarks occupy the open fields to avoid predators. They cannot be conserved by measures taken within 10 metres of the field boundary.

2: Seeds and weeds throughout the year. Adults feed on the leaves and seeds of crops, and also on weeds. Their association with weedy stubbles in winter shows that they prefer seeds and weed leaves.

3: Nesting habitat to produce up to three broods each year. They nest in vegetation that is 20-50cm high. This vegetation must be open enough to give the birds easy access to the ground. They need to make two or three nesting attempts between April and August to sustain the population. Crops such as winter wheat generally grow too tall and thick to enable more than a single brood. Silage fields attract skylarks, but are generally cut too frequently to allow successful breeding.

4: Insects and spiders in the spring and summer. Skylark chicks are fed exclusively on insects and spiders for the first week of life. These are also an important part of the adults diet from April to August.
These insects are collected from crops, set aside land and pasture. Defra now recognises what is needed to reverse the decline and is encouraging all farmers to take part in a Stewardship Scheme designed to promote biodiversity.Of course this entails dishing out further grants, around £30 per hectare from 2005, but as a means to an end it has to be done. The skylark is one of 40 globally threatened red-listed species.
If you are on the red list, it means that all the experts agree, if something is not done it could soon be Dodo time.
Meanwhile at Woodhead, where skylarks have also declined, and not because of the aforementioned reasons, I look forward to a more regular rendition of, 'And the lark he sang melodious, at the dawning of the day.'
For further information check out www.defra.gov.uk and www.rspb.org.uk

Skylark Days

Your grounded den a place to hide
In the lush green grass and derelict bricks
Away from all the dust and kids
The horizon haze of afternoon sun
And Hawthorn trees in bloom
Startled from your prime position
To emulate the period that you typified
By rising higher on the wing
As if a kite upon a string
Your ascendant song echoes through the years
Of building dens and playing war
In stinging nettles and fireweed
The dead rise to fight once more
Heralded by your soaring tones
What can you see from up above?
When no one saw you down below
Why did you rise when others flew?
Were you pleased with what you saw?
Or were you just making your escape?
Lest you be found in your secret place
An icon of the summer breeze
A litmus of the plants and soil
And an age of growing up to see
That to look back,is not to be free
To look down is not to be safe
And to hold one's ground is just as bad
Moving ever upwards
Skylark where are you now?
[More Poems]

There is still a childlike wonder in every one of us

VAN 'the man' Morrison wrote a beautiful song about a 'Sense of Wonder' and if ever a picture I have taken illustrates what he meant, then this little girl taking giant steps across the Giant's Causeway in Northern Ireland is it.
With a veritable skip in her step and a smile on her face, the Crown Jewels and half a ton of ice cream would not have prised her away fnom the basalt marvel. Whereas for me, the promise of lobster, soda bread and a night on the Guinness was enough to tempt me back to the car after 20 minutes. However, I would like to think that I have retained the girl's sense of wonder and greatly admire those adults who have managed to cling to that part of their life.
It is a kind of Captain Cook curiosity crossed with Gabriel Oak candour, and a dash of unsullied innocence thrown in for good measure. Tall order for a 51-year-old, l8st proip forward? Not on your Nelly.
David Bellamy has it, Richard Attenborough by the bucket-load, and this morning I was diving right into my own supply, at the sight of two short-eared owls sharing their early morning field vole in fmnt of me.
It was 7.30am, and a cool mist still hung in necklaces around the small conifer plantation as I began. to climb the Holme Moss road. I knew the owls were nesting nearby and as I placed what was left of my toast on my lap, I was excited. Teaching was an age away (two hours actually) and life does not get any better. A double take saw me face to face with one adult owl perched on a fence post. It was no use. stopping opposite the bird, no matter how tempting, because it would just fly off, so I pulled up gently about 30-40 ft further on and reached for the binoculars.
So close did the binoculars take me to the owl, his yellow eyes, lit up the optics, and all thoughts of work were forgotten.
Two further cars and a noisy motorcyle later saw the bird lift oft towards the moor. But the show was not over, and another adult lifted from the rough tussocks in an attempt to share the short-tailed field vole which was swinging from the first bird's undercarriage. After a minute or two of aerial combat and the momentary interference of a passing kestrel, my morning display had lasted no more than five minutes, but the desultory flight of these long winged, and day-time flying owls,will last a lifetime.
Continuing on my way to Ashton the world was, and is a wonderful place. I am sure people think, 'what is he on?' But as I sat there with my bacon and tomato on toast, the world was once again my oyster and when the kids walked in, Woody was smiling.
From your many communications, readers share the aforementioned sense of wonder and that wide-eyed tadpole in the jar joy, so cheers to you all. The little girl on the legendary Giant's Causeway, is a metaphor for the amazing things all around us, so, please, never stop looking.