Sparrow House

By Kerry Williams – Communications Officer, Sussex Wildlife Trust          October 2026

I’ve just moved house, and there are some significant upgrades for me to marvel at. Dishwasher. Stairs. Letterbox. Some novelties may wear off, but I can’t imagine I’ll ever get over the little gang in the garden – this house comes with sparrows.

They wait in nearby bushes en masse, heads cocked, peering into the windows of my living room and my soul, until I give in and top up the mealworms. They descend in a flurry, teasing treats from above and cleaning up on the ground. They perch on the wobbly bird bath, perennially tilted by a clumsy Woodpigeon, to take dainty sips, at odds with their otherwise boisterous behaviour.

In sparrow fashion they lord it over this tiny territory of brick and Buddleia, a group of males, females and juveniles, the size of the males’ black bib denoting their status in the apparent rabble. Despite best efforts, my eyes are dragged from my screen, hands stationary on the keyboard, transfixed.

This may be recognised by those who have a similar squad to window watch. House Sparrows have historically been associated with humans and our homes, the last part of their Latin name, ‘domesticus’, translating to ‘belonging to the house’.

Sparrows have learned that we grow, and drop, delicious snacks. Their varied diet of seeds, berries and insects is supplemented by offers in the crumb department. One once landed on my mate’s pub garden plate and crammed in a stodgy beak full of cauliflower cheese.

Sparrows appear ubiquitous, found in rural and urban areas, farmland, gardens, parks, hedgerows, train stations – you name it. But despite their apparent abundance, they’ve suffered a whopping 70% decline since the 1970s and have been on the UK Conservation Red List since 2002. The usual suspects of overdevelopment, agricultural intensification, climate change, habitat and food loss, historical persecution, and predation by pet cats all feature in their population plummet.

You can help your own charismatic crew. Grow native plants for a buffet of seeds and insects, or provide hanging feeders of mealworms or fat balls from May to October, including seeds and nuts from November to April (cleaning feeders regularly, and no flat feeders, to prevent the spread of disease). Water is a lifeline for wildlife all year round. And if you are lucky enough, as I now find myself, to have even a little outdoor space – keep it wild. Your neighbours will thank you.

For those of you who weren’t already aware, we’re very sorry to let you know that our long serving member, bird expert and good friend Clive Hope sadly passed away in Worthing Hospital on 25th August after a short illness. Most days he could be seen on the Pillbox platform or on the Rife with his binoculars and telescope monitoring and recording our local wildlife, and was a great source of knowledge and information about our natural world, supporting many of our group visits and outside activities.

He will be sorely missed by many of us, and I know that you’ll join us in passing on our condolences to his partner Jenny, and his family.

Funeral arrangements

Clive’s funeral will take place at 2.30pm on Wednesday 16 September at Worthing Crematorium. Family flowers only please, but donations to the RSPB if desired.

Subterranean Heatstroke Blues

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

This summer has been a tad warm. We’ve been seeking shade, suddenly all too aware of the importance of the cover of trees and a faint leaf-fanned breeze. Whilst we sweat in our gardens, another struggle is taking place, under loungers and paddling pools, in baked earth. The heat is a challenge for our wildlife, and our subterranean friends are no different.

Moles have large spade-shaped digging paws to enable them to move through thick soil and are additionally equipped for underground life by velvety fur that sits in either direction to allow for easy reversing. Their tunnels, sometimes used for generations, are habitual to the mostly solitary-living Moles, who whizz around them like little fuzzy subway trains.

But it’s a different story when the ground is too dry; it becomes impenetrable. Additionally, the Mole’s prey of earthworms and other soft-bodied invertebrates like beetle larvae are in short supply or will move deeper underground in search of moisture and cooler soil. Moles can prep for drought somewhat; a toxin in their saliva can paralyse earthworms, which they store in larders in deeper chambers, but these are finite.

With Moles needing to eat 50% of their body weight every day, and living an almost exclusively underground life, the situation is making them hungry, dehydrated, and desperate. Many are being found above ground in the daytime, where they can quickly fall foul of heat exhaustion or predation from birds of prey or pet cats.

It can seem rather hopeless – but you can help. Providing water in gardens and outdoor spaces aids wildlife all year round, but especially during times of water stress and drought. Creating shade is also hugely beneficial and could be the difference between a Mole’s home being manageable, or impossible.

Moles are a gardener’s friend, taking care of plant-munching slugs, and aerating soils with their digging, which supports garden drainage. The excess soil Moles excavate can be used elsewhere in the garden, a far easier way of coping with molehills than trying to interfere. If disturbed, Moles are likely to start excavating in another spot, so a hands-off approach means fewer molehills for you, and less energy expended by the Moles.

When it finally rains, rejoice. Those expert diggers can put their paws to use, feed up on plump juicy meals, and once again manoeuvre below our feet with ease, keeping the soil, which we so depend on, healthy and resilient.

Chalk Reef Jester – the Tompot Blenny

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

When it comes to engaging people with our natural world, the marine environment can be one of the more challenging stories to sell. Our oceans provide thriving biodiverse ecosystems and play host to the fascinating lives of some of the most weird and wonderful creatures and organisms on earth. But, for most of us, we can’t see it.

We, as mammals, like things with a face. We like a good story, characters with big personalities. We like cute. Enter the Tompot Blenny.

A regular acquaintance of divers, Tompot Blennies have made a name for themselves as a bit of a comedian; a jester of the reef. With antler-like orange tentacles, big eyes and a curious, feisty attitude, this fish doesn’t blend into the background.

Their sassy attitude comes from their territorial nature. As crevice dwelling fish, Tompot Blennies can be found on guard in holes in rocky reefs. Here, the males will spruce up the place, hoiking out mud and silt, and await passing females. If the hidey-hole meets her standards, she will lay her eggs, which the male then fertilises and guards for a month or more, before the young hatch and float off to live their best fishy lives. Job done.

But the drama ensues with interloping males who try to fertilise the eggs behind the homeowner’s back. The females also keep their options open by laying eggs with several different hosts. With farce a-fin, it’s understandable that the males might like to keep an eye on who’s passing by, hence their penchant for investigating divers.

You might be lucky enough to see the Tompot’s smaller cousin, the Common Blenny (or ‘Shanny’) in rockpools, and may be luckier still to see a Tompot Blenny at the bottom of the shore at low tide, but mostly they inhabit shallow rocky reefs.

That towering Sussex chalk we’re used to associating with cliff and grassland extends under the seabed, creating chalk reefs, a nationally scarce habitat. Teeming with biodiversity, the chalk provides the vital bedrock that Tompot Blennies and many other species rely on for shelter and food.

With this bustling ecosystem just out of sight, we need charismatic species like the Tompot Blenny to welcome us into their underwater world; a fish to hook us, so we might just consider being a little more curious ourselves.

Hummingbird Hawk-moth – the hum of summer

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

Nature is full of confusing naming conventions, throwing many of us into temple-rubbing identification exasperation. Dark Green Fritillary butterflies are mostly orange. Bearded Tits are actually moustachioed Reedlings. And don’t get me started on Slow Worms.

The Hummingbird Hawk-moth, however, satisfyingly does what it says on the tin. The species has developed similar abilities as its avian namesakes, especially the hummingbird. It’s an example of convergent evolution, where different species evolve to have the same techniques despite not being related; think the ability to fly in both bats and birds.

Whilst resting, the Hummingbird Hawk-moth looks quite unassuming; mostly grey in colour and blending in with muted surroundings. But in flight is where the glorious hummingbird transformation happens.

The moth’s wings beat at an astonishing 80 times per second, so fast that their orange underwing colouration appears to merge with their overall form and they look brighter. Their long, curled proboscis, a straw-like mouthpart resembling a swirl of black liquorice, is unfurled and prepped for nectar-slurping, à la hummingbird beak. Large eyes help perfect their proboscis precision. The moth flits between flowers, zipping about in expert hover so quick that its wings emit an audible hum.

They can be found in a variety of habitats, including our gardens and urban green spaces; anywhere they can get that proboscis stuck into nectar-rich plants like Honeysuckle and Buddleia. The caterpillars feed on plants from the bedstraw family, so females will lay their eggs on the flowers of these plants.

Hummingbird Hawk-moths are a summer visitor to the UK, migrating from southern Europe and north Africa in variable numbers each year. They can be found any time between May and September and are most commonly spotted around the south of the UK and its coastlines – lucky Sussex.

As a day-flying moth, Hummingbird Hawk-moths give us the opportunity to see them up close in all their glory, and as hummingbirds are restricted to North and South America, for many of us this is the closest we may get to the real deal.

But with these eye-catching insects offering us our own buzzing burst of summer’s hum, that gasp-inducing tangerine flash spied on walks or through windows, those mindful minutes gifted by following their floral fastidiousness – honestly, who needs a hummingbird?

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