Wildlife


The Return of Bertie

The Return of Bertie. Bobby: “We have missed you so much. Nine weeks altogether. One of our readers did suggest having you posted back by Parcelforce. But that would be sacrilege for a bear like you. So here we are. Bobby and Eamonn. 300 miles on the train. Six hours in all. Rosemary very kindly…


Storm Petrel: A Magical Night on Dream Island

Storm Petrel. Many of the day visitors to Skomer Island will one day consider staying overnight. They hear about one of wildlife’s true spectacles and want to come back and see it for themselves. I am, of course, talking about the world’s largest colony of Manx Shearwaters that only come to the island after dark….


Eamonn goes to Skokholm Island.

Eamonn goes to Skokholm Island. Dear Friends This is the second of two stories I asked Eamonn to write for us in recognition of him taking my place in paradise. The island was so memorable for him that the story is in two parts. The second a magical night time adventure will be posted next…


A Letter from Skomer.

A Letter from Skomer. When we wrote “Belonging“, we told you of Bobby’s love of the two islands off the west coast of Pembrokeshire. A love affair that started at quite a difficult time in Bobby’s life.


Diary of a Heart Attack.

A Very Serious Event: Diary of a Heart Attack. Bertie: “Can you see over there across the bay, Eamonn? That’s Skomer Island.” Eamonn: “Ahh, Bertie. Oi would love to go tere.” Bertie: “Well, Eamonn. When you came to us from Alice’s Bear Hospital, we did promise you adventures. How would like to take my place…


The Darling Buds of May… “Murdered by Surrey County Council”

The Darling Buds of May… “Murdered by Surrey County Council”. David Gilmour… (once of Pink Floyd): Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds to shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of…


Grass. Part 2.

Grass. Part 2. A Compendium of 2018 Grass.


Ooh la la la.

Ooh la la la. Ooh la la la, c’est magnifique. Bobby, Bobby, Bobby, !!! You must come! We’ve found a wasp nest. You must come. (Your scribe for this week is me, Trevor. An honour to give you this remarkable story.)


Cuckoo.

Cuckoo.  “Cuckoo, cuck-ooh, cuck-oooh…” Was Bobby half asleep? Maybe he was a little “cuckoo” himself! The days of waiting for the first “cuc … koo”, to confirm that summer really was here, seemed a distant memory. Hearing that evocative, unmistakable call again would be wonderful. Especially from his cosy bed at Laurel Cottage. The…


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