Bronte Country 2024
Those of you that follow my Katie Tuppence pages across my socials will know how passionate I am about the moorlands in and around Haworth and Stanbury.
There isn’t a footpath or sheep trod up there that I haven’t walked. When you walk the same paths month in month out over the years you come to learn so much about the landscape, the flora and fauna and wildlife that passes through.
You come to learn exactly where the ground nesters that come every year choose as their nesting sites. The management of the moors by the gamekeepers making for an ideal environment for the ground nesters to thrive. Which for the birds on red status alert such as the Curlews and the Lapwings is absolutely vital. You get to know where the hares like to hangout. The best places to spot weasels. Which barn the barn owl lives in, the best places to spot the short eared owls and where the kestrels nest.
Ive come to learn the farming calendar. When the tups arrive, when the ewes will be scanned and sorted, when the first lambs will arrive. The farming pattern on the Stanbury side differs slightly to the opposite side of the valley on the Intake side because believe it or not weather conditions can differ from one side of the valley to the other. Micro climates exist because of the winds coming down off the moors driving the rain and the snow. The position of the sun also plays a huge role in the micro climate across the valley.
No two days are ever the same out on them they’re moors and the landscape changes with the seasons. From the vibrant greens of the summer months with the brackens, ferns and bilberries contrasting against the beautiful purple heather, foxgloves and the yellow gorse. Which transitions to the more rustic browns and oranges of autumn as the brackens and sedges start to die back. I really am truly at home when I’m out there walking those footpaths. Everything about the place deeply ingrained on my soul.
I have been writing about my time spent out walking the moorlands for a good few years now and more recently dedicating a page each year here on my website which I intend to continue to do throughout 2024. I hope you will enjoy reading about my ventures just as much as I enjoy writing about them.
January was a challenging month as is often the case in England. Extreme frosts making it icy underfoot, storms thrashing the landscape. Mid-January we had two storms, Isha and Jocelyn in as many days. The truth of the matter is I barely left the house, not because I didn’t want to but more that the weather was that bad it didn’t really make for enjoyable walking.
Towards the end of the month there was a weather window so I took advantage and got myself out. It was still dark when I stepped out of my car. I stood for a moment to allow for my eyes to adjust. The cool wind on my face, a little drizzle, the smell of wet earth. It felt good.
And then I heard it. Kleep kleep kleep kleep. The familiar call of the oyster catcher. No it can’t be I thought to myself, it’s a little too early. But then I heard it again, faintly, in the distance, as though the wind was carrying the sound across the moors. It’s just that, I thought, the whistling wind as it’s blowing across the tops and down the valley.
Filled with excitement and anticipation I decided to detour through Stanbury village and past the res to see if I could catch a sighting.
As I’m walking down past Bully Trees I spot a couple of last year’s pheasant chicks by the sheep feeding station, taking advantage of some easy pickings. And I smile. The pheasants did well last year I think to myself. I don’t spot the oyster catchers down at the res, though I know it won’t be long before they arrive.
February is always an exciting month out on the moors as it marks the arrival of the ground nesters and other birds that come to the moorlands to nest, the first to arrive in the first week of the month was the Mistle Thrush. Signs of spring across Bronte Country evident throughout the rest of the month with the first of the lambs being born mid-month followed closely by the arrival of the oyster catchers, the lapwings were in hot pursuit and the curlews all started to arrive around the 3rd week of Feb.
Come March the moorlands are a hive of activity with the rising melancholy whistle and descending rippling trills of the curlews, the kleep kleep kleep kleep kleep of the oyster catchers and the lapwings aerial displays and their robotic pee wit call. The bustling moorlands alive with energy as mating rituals, fanciful flight displays and nest building takes place throughout the month.
April was a wet cold month and so come May a slight rise in temperatures and a few days of sunshine here and there were a welcomed sight. After spending months of mornings out on the moors alone with only the chattering grouse, dark foreboding skies and rain for company, I welcome these longer, brighter days.
Most mornings throughout May I had the pleasure of the barn owl for company for the start of my walk, our paths crossing as he was sauntering home to his barn, no doubt after a night of hunting. His natural inbuilt clock perfectly in sync with my routine. It is always good to see him.
The sunshine has also brought out the hares and I have been spotting them out most mornings. Of course they’re no doubt out no matter the weather I just tend to spot them more with the lighter brighter days.
The ground nesters have all quietened down throughout the month, all of the foray of the aerial displays, courting rituals, defending of territory and mates over, as they all settle down in to sitting on nests and parenthood. I wish my feathered friends a successful season.
Plenty of pairs of geese out on the moors, very territorial and letting it be known that I am not welcome across some sections so am giving them a wide berth for as long as they are here.
The pheasants have been full on scrapping the air filled with tension and hormones as the males battle it out amongst themselves.
The cuckoo arrived in town at the start of May. I love sitting and listening to its rhythmic cuckoo cuckoo cuckoo. I find it so peaceful. Getting a shot of the cuckoo, now that would be amazing. Something I’ve been trying to do for years, I will keep going.
Haworth Hares
Doing it’s best to remain inconspicuous
The lambs are a plenty and all growing up fast. Little bundles of joy bouncing around the place. Just need the Stanbury cows to be let out now for the summer.
Life gets in the way sometimes doesn’t it. The things that you love to do are put on hold whilst you deal with whatever matter is at hand that needs to be dealt with. May was a little like that for me.
I have however been getting out when I can, as and when life and the weather allows.
And well, it’s certainly busy out there at the moment, the wildlife a hive of activity. There are plenty of chicks about and frantic parents working tirelessly around the clock, defending off the crows and the gulls hovering above.
In other news the bracken is starting to shoot up. It’ll not be long before some footpaths become inaccessible, taken over by the bracken, reclaiming the land, even if only for a short while. Of course I could wade my way through should I choose to, but I think of the amount of ticks there will be. A whole metropolis of ticks and other tiny blood sucking critters, I tend to give those footpaths a wide berth until the bracken dies back down.
As we move towards the end of July another season draws to a close. Most of the curlews have headed off back to their wintering sites, as have the oyster catchers. The lapwings are gathered together getting ready to leave and will likely depart any day now.
I feel like it hasn’t been the best of seasons for them, truth be told. It’s been too cold and too wet. I spotted the gamekeepers out on the moors yesterday morning with their dogs, counting the grouse populations. I imagine this will continue over the coming weeks to enable them to assess whether shooting will go ahead next month or not. Whether you agree with the game or not there is no doubting that the work these guys do benefits all of our struggling ground nesters.
The cows are all out at the moment, enjoying the freedom of summer, motherhood and all that that brings. The bulls are out too in the fields where there is no right of way. I see the farmer when I’m out and about walking. In and amongst the cows and the calves and the bulls, doing her rounds, making sure everything is as it should be.
And I always think to myself, jeez that is one brave woman. I guess they are as used to her as she is them. I feel the work farmers do goes unnoticed. They are always doing something, farmers, aren’t they. Early mornings to late in the evenings. I often wonder if they ever eat or sleep. Endlessly working to feed the nation.
The sheep and the lambs are always entertaining. Anyone that has been following me for long enough will know how much I love these girls. Calm and peaceful animals and they love to have their photos taken.
There’s so much goes on here that I haven’t written about. The swallows that arrive every year. Ducking and diving through the air, this way and that way, so quickly I will never be able to catch them on camera. The cuckoo that arrives at the start of May every year and stays for a couple of months. He has managed to elude me for yet another season. One of these years I will get a photo of him.
The meadow pipits, stonechat, snipe, greylags, redshank, herons, buzzards, kites, barn owls, short eared owls, little owls, tawny owls, deer, stoat and so much more. They are all here, in and around these moorlands. Being out walking amongst them is such a humbling experience and a huge privilege I won’t ever take for granted.
Come August time the moorlands are awash with the vibrant greens of the brackens and ferns contrasting against the purple heathers. The grasses and sedges absolutely stunning as they reach their peak, blowing gently in the wind, backlit by the summer sun. The longer days means I can get out early and sit with a coffee, the sun on my face, watching the comings and goings of the wildlife around me.
As we transition into September the moorland colours and textures start to transition too, into the more earthy rustic colours as the brackens start to die back. The ewes are let out onto the moorlands for a couple of months of freedom, left pretty much to their own devices.