Owen Jewell writes about how the natural world supported and helped him through the Coronavirus lockdown.
Lockdown started.
My flatmate numbers slowly depleted until just one flatmate and I remained in Bristol. The house that is usually lively - and 8 people strong – was drained of energy within a matter of weeks. My flatmate and I had not spoken of anything in particular we would do in the months to come, but knew we
would get through it together. We both had the lingering stress of final exams creeping up on us and not much in the way of distracting us from it. At the risk of being annoyingly frequent, I also called my girlfriend, Katherine, multiple times a day. Even if there wasn’t much we had done during the day, the calls would last hours and felt like home to me – they were the closest I could come to being with her during this strange time.
These interactions were the many vertebrae to my backbone of happiness in the peak of lockdown. However, they were completed by the addition of the natural world: the countless walks, the bike rides to villages and suburbs, the stray insects that visited my room.
Undertaking my finals for my Zoology degree during lockdown, my interest in the natural world is not newfound. However, since coming to university I have sparked a love for birds. It seems birds are everywhere I go and are always there to provide excitement to the dullest of days. One bush outside my bedroom window climbed a wall parallel to my flat and I would frequently watch it mid-workflow to check up on the blackbird couple darting back and forth to feed their young. They were good parents, both alternating food gathering and staying with the chicks. The amount and diversity of food surprised me every time. When returning, they hopped along the wall nearest the bush and scanned for any onlooking rivals or predators, ensuring that the entrance remained secret. Even the days I could not see the couple I could still hear their beautiful song. Inspired by this, I decided to take it upon myself to use lockdown as an opportunity to learn more about identifying birds from their song.
On an initially rainy walk at the end of May, I went to the nearest nature walk I knew. The rain drummed on the leaves and pavement so peacefully; it became a piece of music that I loved to listen to. The sound of rain faded out as I entered the trees, but then a new symphony began playing. The introduction from one robin was overpowered by another in closer proximity, while a blackbird chimed in, and a chiffchaff provided a mellow pattern in the distance.
Then, silence.
A wren flew metres away from me: my head followed it as it switched trees and it powered through a solo much louder than its larger counterparts. It was followed by a tune I didn’t recognise, so I pulled out my phone (slowly, silently) and began recording. After 5 minutes trying to spot the bird that matched this song (my neck aching from straining to look at the trees) I continued walking. (I later searched and found it was a chaffinch – a relatively common bird but a song I didn’t recognise at the time). As I exited the trees into an open path surrounded by grassland, I was shocked to see a female kestrel glide past me and land on a nearby tree. She too had heard all of these tunes and was interested in them - but for another, perhaps more sinister, reason. I attempted a photo but with no luck other than a brown blur in a tree – this was evidently a moment to remember rather than capture.
To have experienced this bliss in the midst of a stressful time, I felt grateful. Of course, the performances were never meant for me - but that’s the beauty. The most special thing is finding that unexpected beauty at an unexpected moment. Even in winter, the spotting of trees, squirrels or even deer are extraordinary. With other things on your mind, nature is easy to miss.
Every now and then, take some time, step back and appreciate the nature around you. Whether it is a passing pigeon in a city centre, a bumblebee landing on a flower, or a deer grazing in its group. I know lockdown for me wouldn’t have been as easy without it.
by Owen Jewell