Winterlude

I love a winter walk. The Sychpant Reserve is one of my favourite places to go, a steep sided wooded valley full of interest from the lungwort growing on the trees by the car park at the bottom  to these hassock-like ancient anthills on the high path above.

With no flowers blooming or butterflies fluttering or bees sucking or birds nesting  you can really focus on the signs and clues that tell you about life at the back end of the year: the bluebell bulbs unearthed by badgers digging for worms, the scatter of hazel nut shells where a squirrel had a snack, the tree bark  nibbled by horses  when the grass ran short, the passages and exit holes used by beetle grubs tunnelling though rotting wood, the mosses, lichens and fungi that thrive in the cool damp atmosphere of west Wales. (A few of these items in  extras if you want to share the thrill.) I find  all this of such abiding interest that I don't notice my feet getting wet and my fingers freezing.

I'm not the only one. Recently I've been reading Diary of a Naturalist by Dara McAnulty, a teenager from Northern Ireland who has made a name for himself as a  recorder and  writer on the environment (I've mentioned him before here). He's on the autistic spectrum and finds school  and social life challenging but he writes like a dream about his passion for the wild and his concern for the future of the natural  world. I'd recommend anyone who feels the same way to read his book or to follow him on social media. He's only 16 but he's already treading in the footsteps of the greats. We  need people like him to give us hope.