The Ringed Plover Performance

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Big eyes, short legs, and frequently described as ‘rotund’; there’s no denying it. Ringed Plovers are adorable. Our UK residents are joined by over-wintering migrants and can be found all around our coastline and some estuaries, in shingle and wetland habitats.

These charismatic waders possess spectacular acting talents. Little orange feet stamp sandy ground to mimic falling raindrops, tempting out tasty subterranean crustacean snacks. Mates are wooed with marching high-kick dance routines. Shingle nest preparation involves an umbrella of wings and much flinging of shells in a dramatic ceremony.

Being masters of disguise, Ringed Plover nests are inconspicuous, with both dappled eggs and fluffball chicks seamlessly blending into their sand and stone surroundings. This is optimum for ground-nesting predator evasion, and chicks will freeze, Jurassic Park style, should a marauder enter their midst.

Hiding in plain sight, however, leaves the species incredibly vulnerable to disturbance, especially on our over-populated and well-trodden coastlines. Eggs can easily be crushed under the flimsiest of flip-flops, and chicks are hard to spot until very close by. And a bigger problem still; free-roaming dogs.

It doesn’t matter if your beloved pup is the best-behaved boy in town, with great recall and no prey drive. Domestic dogs replicate natural predators, and even if they aren’t likely to take a chick or investigate a nest, they can easily and unintentionally cause disturbance when off the lead.

Ringed Plover parents are fiercely committed to nest protection, even theatrically feigning a broken wing to lure predators away from their precious offspring. But feisty though they be, they weigh only 65 grams; no match for a snuffling hound.

An increase in these acts of disturbance, habitat loss and climate change have contributed to a significant decline in numbers of UK Ringed Plovers since the mid-1980s, and the species is now on the UK Red List.

To help, you can keep your dog on a lead whilst walking around our coastlines, especially during March to August, the breeding season for these, and many other bird species. You can keep your distance; good practice for all wildlife watching, but especially with ground-nesting birds. And you can tell other people, to help raise awareness of the otherwise unknown perils of simply letting your dog off the lead.

In highlighting these issues, we hope the Ringed Plover performance may long continue. They just need less audience interaction.

The Sussex Kelp Recovery Story

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Five years ago, the Sussex Kelp Recovery Project was born. The story starts with seaweed.

Kelp; a large brown seaweed, used to be plentiful off the Sussex coast. Imagine this forest of the deep, creating a habitat for marine wildlife. Black Sea Bream would dig and spawn in gravel nests. Blue Mussels would provide a grounding for the kelp to attach to, and engineer further resources for others, like Starfish and Plaice.

The chalk reef outcrops would writhe with life; scuttling Spider Crabs, swaying ethereal-looking Piddocks and the occasional fin-flap of an Undulate Ray. Seals would benefit from these supreme hunting grounds. From above, Gannets would spear the surface to take their fill of the abundant beneath-the-waves buffet. And so, safely and sustainably, could we.

In the 1980s things changed. Storms, marine heatwaves and poor water quality had a negative effect, and persistent damage has been caused by intensive trawling for commercial fishing. This indiscriminate practice decimated the biodiversity of the seabed. By the end of the century, 96% of Sussex kelp was lost, and with it, a whole ecosystem wiped out, in repeated, traumatic acts of destruction. All happening under the waves; beneath our noses, yet out of sight.

But some people did notice. Sussex IFCA formed a case for a Nearshore Trawling Byelaw, and production company Big Wave created Help our Kelp, a film narrated by Sir David Attenborough. Other organisations joined the fight, and a campaign of the same name was launched.

It worked. In March 2021, trawling was prohibited from 304 square kilometres of the Sussex coast. The byelaw is one of the largest in the UK. The collective became the Sussex Kelp Recovery Project; twelve organisations*, co-ordinated by Sussex Wildlife Trust, who have continued to monitor and advocate for the recovery of our seabed.

Benefits are underway; Black Sea Bream and Blue Mussels are on the increase. But nature takes time to recover. These five years have been focused on laying the groundwork to enable the steady return of these great forests and their inhabitants. Rewilding our ocean, piece by piece. With patience and collaboration, the story of our Sussex shores gets wilder each year. Although it started it all, really, kelp is just the beginning.

*Sussex Wildlife Trust, Blue Marine Foundation, Zoological Society of London, Queen Mary University of London, University of Brighton, Adur & Worthing Councils, Sussex Underwater, Big Wave Productions, Sussex IFCA, University of Exeter, University of Sussex

April 2026 – Goshawk: Phantom of the Forest

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

For many of us, film and literature may be the closest we get to experiencing the sharp detail of certain charismatic wildlife goliaths; the breath of a Bengal Tiger, the splashing breach of a Humpback Whale or the down-the-barrel fire-eyed stare of a Goshawk. If you’ve watched this year’s film adaptation of Helen Macdonald’s bestseller, H is for Hawk, you’ll have been treated to some beautiful close-ups of these impeccable birds. Cherish these shots – they’re not common.

Nicknamed ‘Phantom of the Forest’, Goshawks are extremely secretive, flying under the radar and shrouded in mysterious woodland wonder. It’s said their name was bestowed upon them by medieval falconers; Goose-hawk, for their apparent ability to take down geese. Anyone who’s ever had a run in with a lairy farmyard goose will know they’re quite a contender, and the name immediately conjures images of the Goshawk’s mighty strength and hunting prowess.

Goshawks share a similar barred chest, yellow legs, and bright eyes with their cousin, the Sparrowhawk. But the similarity ends with size, and with a wingspan of up to five feet, a female Goshawk can easily weigh four times as much as a female Sparrowhawk.

Despite their impressive bulk, Goshawks are tricky to spot, and surprisingly agile. Preferring to nest and hunt in deep forest, they whip through thicket and glade at speeds of up to 38 miles per hour to silently dispatch unsuspecting birds and small mammals with spearing golden talons.

Like many awesome predators, these magnificent birds get a rough reputation. Historically persecuted, by the late 19^th century Goshawks were all but extinct in the UK. Due to accidental escapees, and perhaps some deliberate releases, these birds have bounced back. Although, their trauma is not as much in the past as you would like to assume, with vilification and very real crimes against the species still happening. Along with added threats of habitat loss and climate change, this serial oppression has slowed their steely return.

But return they do. Although populations are patchy across the UK, those that do persist are strong in number, including here in Sussex, with around 65 breeding pairs now thought to be resident. If you see one, you’re ever so lucky. But if you miss out, don’t despair. Lean into the mystery, the stuff of film, and tales of the forest. You might not have seen them. But they’ve probably seen you.

February 2026 – A Bundle of Winter Wrens

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Someone once told me if you think you’ve seen a mouse it’s probably a Wren. These diminutive brown birds make a habit of hopping about the undergrowth in stop-motion fashion, feeding on insects, spiders, and occasionally berries and seeds. Despite being the UK’s most numerous breeding bird, they can be inconspicuous.

The similarity promptly ends when they open their mouth. Though weighing under 10g, the Wren’s voice is bold and loud; a long, high-pitched whistle and trill, cutting through crisp morning air and reaching above that of larger songsters. If you watch a Wren singing, you’ll notice the effort on its small body – beak wide and tail upturned.

Woodland understory is an ideal nesting habitat for Wrens, and males establish clear territories in early spring, using that powerful voice. They build five or even six nests to try and attract a female and will aggressively deter other males that dare approach.

However, when the chill of winter comes around, the male changes his tune. A balmy summer of successful shouting may have shown that a tiny body is no barrier to being heard, but it won’t help with heat loss on cold nights.

So, the male starts collecting bedfellows. Flitting out on short trips, he again utilises his song, letting females and other males know they are welcome to join him for a platonic sleepover, starting after dusk and ending before dawn.

“Oh, that stuff I said in spring? Water under the bridge.”

They gratefully accept, bundling into moss and leaf-lined woven grass, squidging tiny wings and bellies together to make room for just one more. Beaks in, bums out. Most consist of small gatherings, but records of dozens have been logged, and one count in the 1960s numbered 61 Wrens.

Not just super cute, the warmth-sharing of these communal roosts might be lifesaving. Although as anyone who shares a bed will know, there can be a waste of energy caused by the wriggling of others. Shuffling for space, preening, defecating in the roost; entirely unacceptable sleepover etiquette.

When warmer days thankfully return it’s back to spring rules, and the male begins to banish other males from the roost, cosy winter cuddles forgotten until the cold starts to nip around tiny feet once more.

Next time you hear a winter Wren having a good yell, be sympathetic. It’s survived the night, thank goodness, but it’s had a terrible night’s sleep.

January 2026 – The ‘No’ Year Resolution

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Happy New Year! However you choose to celebrate, I hope your festive season was full of peace, joy, and mega loads of cheese. I always have a new year’s resolution and try to make them positive. Apologise less. Dance more. Wear the shoes. Before you stop reading for fear of me going full ‘live, laugh, love’ don’t worry, I’m heading somewhere.

2026 is going to be the year of boundaries. As well-meaning humans, and especially in the UK, we can be a little too agreeable, put up with stuff, get on with it. But as nature illustrates, it doesn’t have to be this way.

There are not many better boundary-setting role models than those species who ward off others as standard. Camouflage antithesis, these creatures make themselves obvious to warn incomers that they’re not to be messed with. It’s called aposematism, a defence mechanism utilised by certain species across the board; invertebrates, plants, mammals, birds, fish and fungi. Told you I had a point.

There are a few different types of aposematism.

Aposematic colouration: deliberately bright colours to visually warn of a toxic taste to others (whether this is true or not). Think ladybirds, wasps and Cinnabar moth caterpillars, who are bright yellow to mirror the toxic traits taken on by their favourite food plant – Ragwort. Then there are Cuttlefish, whose colour-changing skills give them the option of disguise or bold vibrant attack.

Olfactory aposematism: repelling predators by producing a smell or foul-smelling substance. This dirty card is played by several species of shield bug, sometimes harshly but accurately known as stink bugs. Many plants are notable for this feature, including the strong-smelling Wild Garlic.

Auditory aposematism: sound as a deterrent. Many species make alarm calls to expose a nearby predator, like a Robin tick-ticking at the sight of a cat. But auditory aposematism is making a sound to directly warn of one’s own danger or distaste to others. A famous example is the Rattlesnake, which clatters its tail to give the heads up – “it’s not worth it mate”. Closer to home, the Garden Tiger moth rubs its wings together to make a rasping noise to the same effect.

Symbolic or tenuous, there’s no doubt these creatures have mastered the art of communicating their boundaries. In nature there’s no awkwardness, no deeper meaning, no overthink – imagine! So, in nature’s honour, this year I’ll be saying a lot more ‘no’. Hopefully with no need for any olfactory assistance.

An Ocean Oversight                                                               December 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

December has a real indoors vibe. Short days, finishing work in the dark and inconsistent weather doesn’t exactly motivate us to get out, even if we know it’s good for us. This poses a challenge for connecting with wildlife, which we know can increase people’s desire to protect the natural world. Despite many species hibernating or migrating, there is still so much to see. To throw yourself in at the deep end, I encourage you this winter to explore our beautiful Sussex coast.

That said, in reviewing my parish magazine articles of this year, I realise I’ve not included any marine species. This is awkward. If our marine team find out they’ll be livid. But also, we work hard to connect people with blue spaces, promote the value and wonder of the ocean and fight for its protection, so how could I have overlooked it?

The marine environment has long since suffered from a lack of attention in the conservation world and beyond. At the risk of sounding like I’m defending myself, in a way it’s understandable. We’re terrestrial mammals, desperately under-resourced for the aquatic. We seek warmth, dryness, a firm foundation underfoot, and can align more easily with perils of the warm-blooded – and things with a face.

Many of us value coastal connections; beach trips, swimming, travel to warmer waters. But our oceans are not a luxury. They are a lifeline. A critical feature of our ecosystem, which we and all other life on earth could not survive without. Our disconnect with the ocean environment is contributing to its demise, and we must turn it around.

There is something fascinating about the unknown of the big blue, and once you start to investigate, you realise how truly epic it is. Although much is out of sight from land, the diversity of healthy UK waters has such colour and vibrancy, from royal blue Lobsters to 90s-neon Corkwing Wrasse, and other-wordly nudibranchs.

In winter it’s wild. The drama of furious waters, crashing waves and freezing sea-spray. Watching, huddled in layers, a freezing cold nose and the promise of an after winter-walk’s too-hot-yet chips. Heading to the water’s edge for stone-sprinkled sand and shell treasure discoveries. And there’s nothing like a stomp along a windswept beach to galvanise a slumped after-Christmas-dinner bunch.

So, this December, why not skip a shopping trip, dodge the odd social occasion, push that deadline. Instead, head to the sea. And I’ll submit many a marine article in 2026. Promise.

False Accusations                                                                                   November, 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

From Halloween bunting to sensationalised stories, spiders have an unfair creepy-crawly-villain reputation. The shift into autumn often reignites a focus on indoor spider sightings, and with it a renewed batch of clickbait fearmongering. Some of those getting the worst of it are the false widows.

Among six species of false widow spider in the UK, three are most common. The smaller of the two are native; the Rabbit Hutch Spider and the Cupboard Spider. The largest of the three, at 10-14mm body length, is the Noble False Widow. Although technically non-native, this species is pretty much part of the furniture, having arrived in the 1800s. They are mostly brown in colour with varying pale shades and patterns on the abdomen, which sometimes look ‘skull-shaped’; an awkward addition to the PR nightmare.

The latter two species have been known to deliver a bite to humans. However, like most spiders, they are not typically aggressive, sometimes biting in defence when handled. As ever, medical advice should be sought if you are concerned or vulnerable, but the bite is said to be comparable to a wasp sting.

Despite the clue in the name, false widows are often aligned with Black Widow Spiders. These non-UK species have a more potent bite, which can cause illness in humans, though to continue the arachno-advocacy, they are similarly passive in behaviour.

As with many vilified creatures, alarmism can lead to misidentification and incorrect reporting. One confusion species for the Noble False Widow is the Missing Sector Orb Web Spider. One way to differentiate them is by the webs; the latter produces the famous concentric circle style (often with one sector missing!) whereas Noble False Widows create criss-crossing, messy looking ‘tangle’ webs.

Contrary to the aspersions, spiders make excellent house guests. They are private, tidy and keep unwanted flying insects to a minimum, which is especially helpful if you have houseplants. If you have a spider in your home this autumn, at best, leave them be and observe their fascinating habits. If it’s necessary to move them do so gently, using a glass and piece of card, and carefully pop them outside, preferably in a similarly protective building, such as a shed, or nearby vegetation.

Tolerance and coexistence are vital for effective conservation, whether in our wider ecosystem, or in our own gardens and homes. With our urban environment expanding, we must continue to make space for nature, especially those who, like the false widows, are so wrongly maligned.

A Red Kite Tale                                                                                          October 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

On holiday in the late 90s, my family and I made a visit to a working Mid-Wales farm. As we watched from purpose-built hides, a group of magnificent wild birds of prey started to gather in the surrounding trees, eventually descending to pick up scraps of meat from the ground; a flurry of auburn feathers and forked tails. I remember being stunned by the sheer number; I was used to spotting a lone Kestrel or Buzzard but had never seen so many birds of prey at once.

The farm is famed for their supplementary Red Kite feeding, held there daily since advised by the RSPB in 1992 to support efforts to encourage the preservation of the species. The UK Red Kite population had been decimated due to long-term persecution, driven by an incorrect belief that they threatened game birds. Red Kites will hunt small mammals, such as Rabbits, but are mostly scavengers, preferring to take carrion rather than live prey. By the late 1980s numbers were drastically low, and with only a handful of breeding pairs in Wales, the species was nearly extinct in the UK.

But change was in the air. Following a release of several birds in the Chilterns in 1990, efforts by many conservation organisations and committed individuals to support and resettle the species have made the Red Kite reintroduction one of the most successful and renowned conservation stories in the UK. The species now soars in many areas of the British Isles, which is home to an estimated 4,500 breeding pairs. Whereas during my Welsh farm visit we perhaps saw 80 birds, they now welcome up to 500.

We know that memorable interactions for children and young people with our natural world can create lasting connections; vital to the continued conservation of our precious wildlife and habitats. Even though they are now abundant in places, I am still overjoyed to see a Red Kite, perched in a bare branch or hovering over a motorway. When I do, I am often put in mind of that experience at the farm 25 years ago. I had no idea I was witnessing part of such an incredible story.

Woodlice and Dead Wood                                                       September 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

A minibeast staple of childhood bug hunts, and comprising of 30 UK species, woodlice can be found in gardens all year round.

Not lice at all, but terrestrial crustaceans, meaning they have hard exoskeletons, woodlice are related to crabs and shrimp. Favouring damp habitats to avoid drying out, these helpful critters can be found under rocks, logs and in compost heaps, doing what they do best; recycling. Nothing is off the menu, as woodlice will consume dead plant and animal matter, fungi, lichen, and with full zero-waste commitment, even their own faeces.

Woodlice have an extraordinary series of common and nicknames, with a survey once collecting 250 regional variations; chuckypig, slater, pillbug, monkeypea and woodpig, to name a few. It’s not known why woodlice have so many alternative names, but a lovely theory is that it’s due to their accessibility to children playing in gardens, who come up with imaginative names which stick over time.

A critical habitat for woodlice is dead wood, whether fallen or dead trees, rotting stumps, logs or stick piles. A sometimes-overlooked environment, dead wood is often a microcosm bursting with life.

Fungi are a hugely important partner in the dead wood cycle, by both contributing to the decay process and feeding on the dead wood itself. Many insects rely on this habitat, including Saproxylic Beetles, which burrow into the softer surfaces to avoid predators, their grubs feeding on the decaying wood. Insectivorous birds, such as woodpeckers, then benefit from this. Bats utilise holes in standing dead wood to roost, and feed on flying insects attracted to the damp environment it can create. And the decaying wood itself recycles nutrients back into the soil.

With such an impressive ecosystem to support, it is important to leave dead wood and resist any temptation to clear it away. On a large scale, it can contribute to a diversity of woodland understory, creating different angles and textures as you peer through the forest, increasing not only the ecological value, but the mystical aesthetic of our ancient Ebernoe reserve, for example. On a smaller garden scale, it can provide a bug-hotel-style feature and a vital home for the important wildlife we don’t always notice; a chuckypig paradise.