One of my most dramatic local wildlife experiences comes later in this post. But firstly, I should record that the extended ‘dunkelflaute’ period has now well and truly passed (from the German dunkel – ‘dark’ and flaute – ‘lull’).

Storms Éowyn and Herminia hit in the space of a few days, with sustained heavy rain of 117 mm in 6 days and more violent wind gusts. Despite being in a very sheltered part of the garden our cherished heavy terracotta and much-photographed bird bath impressed with lines from William Blake’s poem ‘Auguries of Innocence‘ was flung several feet from the table. And smashed. Several replacements have been bought over the years due to frost damage from severe freeze-ups. We shall no doubt replace it yet again, but now need to remember to bring it inside when gales are predicted.

This change to windier weather was probably a huge relief for NESO, (Britain’s National Energy System Operator established on just October 1st last year) and our zealous energy secretary, Ed Milliband who helped to create it. Extended dunkelflaute weather is a big pan-European headache now since such episodes of windless, dark and cold weather are taxing the ability of electricity grid operators across the continent to match higher demand with collapsing renewable generation during such weather conditions. Click here for a little more discussion. And here to read NESO’s confident advance forecast for this winter of 2024/2025 including the reassurance that there would always be an adequate reserve capacity in the mix of electricity output to avoid emergency power outages or system failure. Unfortunately, on January 9th, it seems Britain came within a whisker of running out of electricity as raised demand followed temperatures plunging.

I’m sure this came as no surprise to Michael Kelly, Emeritus Professor of Technology at Cambridge University, who’s just written to the Energy and Net Zero Secretary to explain why he believes current ambitious plans to decarbonise Britain’s energy system by 2050 are doomed to fail.

This summary conclusion from the Oxford Institute for Energy Studies also highlights the problem:

Many people learnt what Dunkelflaute meant in November 2024 when limited generation from wind (and solar) lasted for several days in Germany. This phenomenon happened in several countries around Europe at the same time, most of which also experienced relatively cold weather. With gas-fired generation still the main source of flexibility for the European power system, a drop in wind generation over more than a few hours typically lifts the call on gas-fired power plants at the regional level (national pictures may differ). This, in turn, triggers peaks in gas demand, for which size and duration are hard to predict….
In addition, Dunkelflaute also tends to happen during colder temperatures in Europe, at times of increased space heating requirements, a second simultaneous gas demand driver, magnifying gas demand peaks. With deteriorating flexibility on the demand side (especially in the power sector), the European market requires growing flexibility on the supply side.

It does seem such power outage incidents may become more frequent in the future. With that in mind, and after our recent experience of a 5 day plus power outage during early December, I’d spent a huge amount of time considering personal electricity back-up options in early January. (In passing, I wonder, speculatively, if a different political stance would have arisen had London, say, been without power for over 5 days. Or would we even have seen troops on the streets to control social disorder?)

The first, easiest and cheapest option were additional LED lights which could make use of our batch of small Makita Li-ion power tool batteries. These work really well, but only address the small issue of light in an inherently dark building. Significant back-up electricity supply has historically always come from either petrol or diesel generators. However they have to be kept outside, cables fed in, and I’ve not had the best of experiences with reliability from a piece of kit that is likely to be used only occasionally. Added to which is the issue of whether using more fossil fuels is something one is comfortable with.

Which led me to consider lithium battery based power banks. There are now a huge range of these. I watched multiple review YouTubes, and had to assess the issues of size of stored capacity with cost, weight/mobility and brand/reliability. The weight being a big factor given our age and waning strength. Just as I was narrowing options down, some frankly very attractive sale bundles appeared on line – it being January. It’s helped that in recent months the spot Lithium price has collapsed to about an eighth of what it was in October 2022.

In the end this is what I plumped for, an Anker SOLIX F2000. For anyone interested, here’s just one of many typical YouTube comparison of the two units I’d narrowed my choice down to.

It’s interesting to see the number of views of this single YouTube assessment – ‘prepping’ is clearly beginning to enter more people’s consciousness, and perhaps not just in the U.S.A. We’ve thought for years that in many aspects of life, living somewhere like upland Wales means one is on one’s own in many potential scenarios, so better to think through possibilities in advance. The backup power supply addresses just one of these.

Using the rebate cheque from National Grid for our power outage, I reckon I might just recover its costs over its hoped for life expectancy, if we use it on a regular daily basis for smaller loads. In fact as the YouTube demonstrates, it’s proved to be very simple to both use and charge, quiet, and in addition the clear display makes it easy to be aware of power draw from different items, as well as power capacity left in the battery. Which probably also produces a bonus through more efficient use or even non-use of anything electrical. The manual was clear and concise, and we’ve never received such well packaged products, which was reassuring. Part of the offer was an additional battery which brings the stored capacity to around 4 KWH. Enough to cope with most extended power outages, if you concentrate on only using it to power essentials.

I nearly had a fit when I saw a large portable Li-ion powered cooler on the order, and thought Fiona had clicked on something else by mistake. Would we ever have wanted this? No, but it was a ‘free’ gift part of the deal. Already we’ve tried it out, and it works both as freezer or fridge, so we shan’t be selling it on ebay, rather using it as backup occasional freezer/fridge space.

If, as we do, one has a nighttime cheaper electricity tariff, then one can also charge it and the main battery unit at the cheaper rate, or indeed when our PV is generating surplus power (the ability to control/alter the charging power input via an app is a handy feature in helping to optimise this). I’m also exploring a small stand alone mobile 400 watt PV suitcase which can plug into the Anker, should any extended power supply issues materialise. Most people with their own PV systems will be aware that in the event of power outages, their systems are automatically shut down, and thus can’t generate any electricity for the duration of a power outage.

There’s no way of knowing how it will pan out over years, but already with another short power outage from Storm Éowyn last week, we feel a little better prepared to cope with such events, which may yet become a ‘normal’ aspect of rural British life in the years ahead.

How strange that as with Covid test kits and much of the vast piles of PPE that were consumed in Britain during the pandemic and originated from China, (the very likely source of the lab manipulated virus, boosting their balance of trade surplus with the UK) it’s now the Brits who are charging ahead with the most ambitions net zero targets. But it’s the Chinese who dominate global Lithium battery and solar panel production. To provide the backup systems for individuals worried when national-scale renewable based electricity systems begin to creak. Consider the foresight of a political party and government who can gaze into the future, and successfully gear up their manufacturing industries for product demand, years before it materialises. Unlike Britain’s last failed attempt to become involved in lithium based battery production. Click here for a potted version of the short lived British Volt project.

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It’s been a very active winter so far for our resident moles. This season, instead of trying to collect molehill soil, we’ve had a different approach: regularly flattening the molehills that pop up in all of our six fields. This has been a constant chore for the last 3 months, by which I mean every 3 or 4 days. Leave it longer than that, and the 15 to 20 which will have appeared in each field by then becomes a little too strenuous a job to tackle in one session. It’s not just the raking out, which I prefer to do with our ridging hoe, Fiona with  her boot, or a  walking stick, but the walking across the contours of our land seeking each one out.

I’ve mentioned the excellent book ‘Moles’ by Rob Atkinson, before on this blog, and re-reading some sections reminded me of how industrious they are. But also how relatively small their solitary territories of underground tunnels are. They typically spend around 4 hours a day tunnelling, and do more of this over the winter months, managing about a metre an hour, and tend to visit different zones of their territory on an intermittent, occasional basis. Which make sense for them, since this is where they find the invertebrate diet which keeps them alive. They’ll typically eat half their body weight a day to maintain their health and activity  – digging tunnels, and ejecting the mined soil above ground as molehills is hard physical labour.

As much as 6kg of soil may be pushed out into a molehill in around 20 minutes. That’s the equivalent of a man of average weight pushing a reluctant elephant up a sloping tunnel in the same time.

As a result of this means of molehill dispersal, I’ve been surprised by the number of (mainly) pottery fragments that have surfaced. Many of them have made it onto our tossed and found shelves hanging on the old cowshed/smithy wall.

But all of this material begs the question as to why it’s where it is, often hundreds of yards from the house. I’ve failed to turn up any clear cut answers. Given that for much of its hundreds of years of existence, there wouldn’t have been any refuse collection from Gelli Uchaf, the most likely reason is that broken pottery was discarded around the edge of the house’s curtilage. And over many decades and centuries, moles and other small mammals would have pushed it around through their tunnel systems, and occasionally up above ground when gravity would have helped to move it downhill – far more pieces seem to have been found in fields below the house, than above.

An alternative source of such pottery fragments in molehills is mentioned in this blog (‘The Glossop Cabinet of Curiosities’ by Tim Campbell-Green). He discusses the once common practice of collecting ‘night soil’, possibly contaminated with such pottery material, and then selling it on to farmers for use as agricultural fertiliser. I can’t find any references to this being a common local practice, and would have thought that Gelli is a little far from large communities for nightsoil to ever make it onto these upland fields, but who knows?

It seems that in parts of Australia such a service continued until quite recently, as explained in this short video about the logistics of night soil collection by two former nightsoil men.

Or read this short article about the history of ‘nightsoil’s collection and perceived value in different countries. Then try to imagine what a rural nightsoil man like look like, 150 years ago. And next, click here to see an actual photograph of one from Lincolnshire in 1872. I’d say he looks a real character!

This short digression shouldn’t distract from the formidable work that our resident moles do. After a molehill clearing session, lasting about an hour, I’m ready to sit down and recover, and contemplate how almost nothing has curtailed their activity this year – frosts and even recent incessant rain, barely putting them off their stride. And all of this before the important hunting for mates, courtship and mating takes place in the next couple of months.

Meanwhile, apart from this regular chore, with the garden so saturated, outside work has been limited to the always ongoing track maintenance, log store refilling, and some sections of path re-laying.

For those who don’t watch both my starlings videos, below, here’s another performance of the piece of music, ‘Widmung’ featured in the first of them.

“Love and death are two elemental and universal themes that have inspired masterpieces from poets and composers for centuries,” says young British pianist Martin James Bartlett. This album draws on these two dramatic themes with music from Bach, Schumann, Wagner, Liszt, Prokofiev, and more”.

We own the CD and can thoroughly recommend this debut album by Bartlett.

In September of 1840, Robert Schumann presented a collection of 26 songs, composed the previous spring, to his pianist/composer wife Clara as a wedding gift. The cycle, ‘Myrthen’, Op. 25, contains musical codes which had personal meaning to the couple. Widmung means dedication, and the song was later transcribed for piano in this version by Franz Liszt

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I’ve had four more sessions up on the top of Mynydd Llanllwni, trying to track large starling flocks back to their (suspected) nighttime roost. A bird which was given its scientific name, Sturnus vulgaris, (starling – common) way back in 1758 by Carl Linnaeus. Sadly in recent years, across Europe, the population of this once common bird of farmland and gardens has taken quite a hit, declining by an average of 68% across many European countries between 1980 and 2016. Although there are considerable variations between different nations’ data sets. (Contrasting population trends of Common Starlings (Sturnus vulgaris) across Europe)

As often happens, my best laid plans were thwarted by the starlings. The birds had other ideas for my Parking/Camera 2 position, and although I should have been right beneath their flight path for this session, they’d flown off in, and therefore back from, a completely different direction, at roughly 90 degrees to the one they’d been using for many weeks. So all my video shots are quite distant views. Which still couldn’t confidently confirm that they were heading for the fir-lined hay fields, so the following afternoon, I headed to the other side of the trees for a different view. (P/C 3)

This confirmed that the roost was where I’d thought it was. It was quite a walk over the top of the mountain in a really chilly brisk wind, which meant sound recording wasn’t viable, but I could see several flocks flying in, and with many obviously settling in the trees. A few flocks even created some murmurations in the surprisingly deep-cut valley to the South of the trees. However, the angle from my vantage point meant there was poor visibility of this. As dusk fell, the sound of the chatter heading across a few hundred yards of moorland was amazing.

The video below is from these first two trips.

Interestingly, on every occasion I’ve watched these vast numbers of birds, they all fly in from a very narrow angle – none have approached from the South or Westerly areas at all. So they must communicate at dusk, or dawn, just where they’re going to fly for food on the following day.

Unlike honey bees where there is a wealth of information and scientific study on how these creatures co-exist as a ‘superorganism’, many aspects of starling behaviour and phsyiology seem to remain a mystery. It’s known that they’re one of the most intelligent of birds with an ability to vocalise and mimic sounds which places it above most other species. And indeed this ability links well with other aspects of intelligent behaviour:

A recent long term study on the U.S.A. explored this topic. A team spent three years catching hundreds of wild birds from 21 species in mist nets at The Rockefeller University Field Research Center, a sprawling 1,200 protected acres of land compromising many different ecosystems in New York’s Hudson Valley.

Upon ranking the vocal learning capabilities of their subjects, three frontrunners emerged: starlings, blue jays, and gray catbirds (relatives of mockingbirds). These were also the only three capable of mimicking other species  – “the epitome of vocal learning” 

The team then ran a battery of cognitive tests on 214 birds from 23 species (including two lab-raised bird species that were added to the wild-caught birds). They tested problem-solving abilities by challenging the birds to remove a lid, pierce foil, or pull a stick to retrieve a treat. Self-control was assessed by placing a transparent barrier between each bird and a snack, and recording how long it took the birds to stop butting up against the barrier and go around it. Other tests analyzed whether the birds could learn to associate a certain color with a food reward, and how quickly the birds adapted when the associated color changed.

Statistical analyses revealed a strong correlation between problem solving abilities and vocal learning abilities. Starlings, bluejays, and catbirds were not only the most advanced vocal learners, but also the most adept at solving puzzles, and the better a bird was at working its way around obstacles to nab a treat, the more complex its vocal learning ability.”

It’s known that they sleep, both during the night, and occasionally day, and that the length of sleep varies with phases of the moon. It’s known that they have very few episodes of REM (rapid eye movement) deep sleep, which is the type of sleep we experience when dreams occur. So can they still dream? We simply don’t know. It seems extraordinary that such large gatherings of birds aren’t interacting in a meaningful way, and that key ‘decisions’ aren’t made in a more than random fashion.

My next and (probably) last video in this short series, came from the plan to get close enough to record the bird’s sounds, and maybe if I was lucky, get some close video of their dramatic flight out – which was the case! I just needed a still day to manage it.

This happened on the mornings of January 19th and 20th. I left the warmth of home in the dark, on what was another cold, overcast morning, aiming to be up on the mountain by 6.45 a.m to allow a bit of scouting and setting up position with my tripod.

On the first day, January 19th, I arrived in the dark, just in time to hear the very first birds begin to chatter. (P4/C4) All the video clips were recorded at the same volume setting, so what you hear, is pretty much what I heard. The sounds from so many tens of thousands of birds during the first session at a distance from the trees of several hundred yards was amazing. In particular the momentary ebb of noise, before the roar as tens of thousands take flight at the same time. As on day 3 of my tracking, they all seemed to be heading in a roughly Easterly direction.

The following morning, arriving later at about 7.30 a.m.to avoid getting too chilled, (which happened the previous day), I took a punt and reckoned I’d try to position myself at the middle of 3 gateways into the hay fields (P/C5) which are sheltered by the tall, but narrow line of firs, planted on top of a tall bank – a very unusual feature, locally. Although closer to the location of most of the sound, it didn’t seem to be as dramatic as on the previous day. So something made me abandon both the tripod, and this gateway and begin to walk the couple of hundred yards down to the last corner, where the track bends due South, and there are wider views over the valley of Afon Blotweth.

I knew I didn’t have a lot of time before the likely take-off moment, just before 7.50 a.m. and in many ways timed it to perfection – hearing the roar behind me and spinning around in time for the camera to pick up and instantly focus on the enormous flock rushing out from the trees and into the distance. Even on wide-angle setting, I only caught a fraction of the birds, which just seemed to keep coming at speed for many seconds.

As they faded from view a few laggards flew back to the trees, and almost immediately, I was aware of musical chattering right above me. I kept the camera running as the volume of noise grew more intense, with ravens and crows clearly flying close to them overhead. After just a couple of minutes, I caught another roar, spun around and filmed a second large flock emerge from a long section of the tree line, more or less centred on where I was standing. And heading off in the identical direction. So a complete fluke to have reached this particular spot at the right time.

I think the video is a great reflection of one of my all-time special moments of nature observation. Given the poor light, high ISO and wide aperture, hats off to my Rode mic. and Lumix bridge camera for capturing it so well – after previous sessions with flocks, I’d decided not to use the tracking focus, since in poor light, it often fails to latch onto small flying birds and all you end up with is out of focus scenes.

I’ve just checked that the average weight of a European starling is in the 60-100 gram range. This implies a massive biomass of several tonnes of this single species, using this high-altitude Welsh mountaintop for many weeks as its winter roost. Can any other British wildlife species rival this for numbers, weight and drama?

Even more special was being able to appreciate it with no spoiling human-generated mechanical noise, (apart from some rumblings from the quite close giant wind turbines, which interestingly, my ears seemed to pick up more clearly than the microphone did).

And just these masses of birds, and a few sheep, for company – indeed on these two cold mornings, I only saw one other vehicle in the roughly half hour of travel time to and from home.

If you can’t spare the time to watch it all, look from 5.00 onwards and I hope you’ll be AMAZED! But please, to do the starlings justice, you should try to watch it on a fair sized screen. This is one of nature’s dramas on an epic scale. A phone screen and sound won’t really convey its awe.

The roost trees lie just a couple of hundred yards from both the bronze aged burial mound Crug y Biswal, and also in the other direction, the incinerator for local fallen stock, which lies just downhill from these fields.

All of this had me thinking.

Lots. About species survival strategies, resilience, and their impacts on this planet. Apart from the factual notes above and the video clips, what follows is a more reflective take. (Just how many birds were in this flock which flew over me sitting on the muse stone at dusk one evening. Try counting the dots in the two small cropped and enlarged images below the first wide angle scene, and realise it’s an impossible task.) 

 

 

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Mid-Winter Starlings

 

Snatch those sudden spectral scenes

Catch that distant manic chatter

Stretch-shape shifting, sinuous streams

 

It is impossible.

Mere alphabet, flat paper or familiar screens

Which flash, we know not how.

 

It can’t be done, there’s nothing to compare

That gets me close, that I

At least, can simply share.

 

That expectation, will they come? More than countless, yet more will spill

Beyond the largest swarms this land has ever seen,

The mightiest armies, grandest stadia filled.

 

Yet body counts, or musing how the

Drama’s planned, controlled, or as we’re told

Is simply physics flown, to power of seven

 

Distracts. Sublime, ecstatic heaven,

Sharp lived experience – at least for me,

And maybe too, I can but feel, for them.

 

Past Crug-y-Biswal’s bronze-aged mound

Above grim furnaced dead-end road

I stand, on bleached-dead leaves, alone.

 

Dark clouds front in, light leaches fast

The slow blades turn, behind my back

Thus rooted, chilled, they swoop at last.

 

Peeling, wheeling, half-glimpsed forms

Are sucked up, hoovered from the air

Now safe, close-glued on needled boughs.

 

Din dusks. Drifting down keen wind.

 

The air is filled, cacophony unkind

For such excited talk in tongues

Beyond my untrained mind.

 

Magic moments, mesmeric half-furled

Murmurations. Glimpses from another world

Of startling foreign harmonies

 

Where life and stinking death

Rest warm, and side by side

As now, share foetid breath.

 

Night spells, quiet quells dark feathered fears

On lofty perches sleep subdues.

And dreams? Lost in their worlds, I muse.

 

While ghosts of fallen stock roam

Restless, hidden from my view

Corralled beneath this sleeping horde.

 

Restored, before dawn dares to gleam

A first voice tests the still, chill air

The unseen trees respond. Soon streams

 

Of song swell, torrents rage

Engulfs brave blackbird. Swamped,

Even raven cronks are drowned, such

 

Bleak mid-winter mountain sounds.

Alive. Alert. Infinite flock

All eyes, all ears, prepares to roar

 

Crashing like some mighty wave

Feinting flight, they rest once more.

Excited, thrill their nestling firs.

 

Who blows the whistle, beats the drum?

Explosive launch swamps empty sky

With such ecstatic rush and thrum.

 

Alone I stand. Immobile. Moved.

They’re gone, yet will return, repeat

Tomorrow and the next day and

 

 

Never tired, such wild dawn flights

Quill rooted life, stained with your

Black and vulgar iridescence.

 

Now dunkelflaute’s blown away

Storm Éowyn has smashed Blake’s lines

Rain-lashed, bent trunks now wildly sway.

 

Entombed, warm-wrapped and hunkered down.

Your hill-top lair my mind’s eye shard.

Mid-winter starling lives. Fast. Hard.

 

 

28/01/2025