FOR some it’s the most evocative, magical and colourful month of the year: a time of misty mornings when a chance ray of sunlight might highlight the delicate filaments of a spider’s web or a dramatic sunset provide the perfect finale to a rain-soaked ramble.
After the fun and games of Halloween, the noise and lights of bonfire night bring our caveman origins to the fore: bathed in woodsmoke and the acrid smell of gunpowder, we draw closer to the flames and huddle together for warmth and light.
Mosses, lichens and intriguing fungi flourish in the damp woods, while for a fortnight or so the trees are draped in the glorious yellow, gold and russet hues that mark the most spectacular natural fireworks show of the year.
November is a month of remembrance too, of poppies and poppy-strewn memorials, of old soldiers and wreath-laying ceremonies, of sombre thoughts of past battles and lost loved ones.
It can be a bleak, damp time, and with darkness falling by teatime and a fine drizzle all too often washing the colour out of the landscape, it can be all too tempting for us to stay close to the fire.
Making the extra effort to dress up warm and shrug off the rain can bring its own rewards, though.
There’s wildlife aplenty flourishing among the trees, with birds feasting on berries and hedgehogs settling down for the winter to a backdrop of whistles from the red kites that have become synonymous with the Chilterns in recent years.
Once a common sight in the towns and cities of medieval Britain, the birds had become virtually extinct by the end of the 19th century after 200 years of human persecution.
These days the Chilterns is one of the best places in the UK to see the birds, thanks to a successful re-introduction project between 1989 and 1994 which now sees them soaring on the thermals across the region.
Not that they are the only birds of prey to be spotted on a November day. Owls and buzzards, kestrels and sparrowhawks can also make an appearance, squatting on a fencepost or swooping over the fields.
We are blessed to live in an area of outstanding natural beauty which pretty much epitomises quintessential English countryside, with its sweeping chalk hills, quaint market towns, historic pubs and breathtaking views.
The weathered brick walls of a pretty cottage down a quiet country lane reflect the final blaze of autumn colour before the icy blast of December arrives and the trees get stripped bare by fierce winds and driving rain.
The squirrels are stocking up too, their cheeky faces one of the most familiar wildlife sights in local woods.
On bleaker days, it may be hard to find much to photograph among the drab, dripping branches, though more inventive souls are good at spotting those small shapes, shadows and textures that can still produce the perfect picture.
For some, it’s the small details which catch the eye, from veins on leaves, unfamiliar fungi or seed cases strewn among the leaf litter.
Up in the Lake District they call the sullen no man’s land between autumn and winter “back End”, a lost “fifth season” of the year recalled by author and friend Alan Cleaver, better known as @thelonningsguy.
Writing in his blog back in 2013, Alan wrote: “It’s such a blindingly obvious fact to most Cumbrians that you really do wonder how the rest of the world copes with a mere four seasons.
“It comes between autumn and winter when autumn’s lost its glory but winter is yet to bite.” It’s a perfect phrase for summing up the dank, drab atmosphere on some days in late November, when the light feels bleached and the undergrowth sodden.
But not all days are like that – chilly glimpses of winter sunshine uncover the glories of the Chilterns landscape, from colourful fungi to foraging birdlife.
And even on days when the landscape starts feeling somewhat bleak and unwelcoming, it’s a time when our bird tables come alive with tiny visitors and crisper mornings reveal gloriously intricate spiders’ webs and colourful mosses carpeting old tree stumps.
Some less familiar faces may join the native birds feasting on the hawthorn, holly and juniper berries, while hedgehogs and badgers are seeking out comfortable spots for a wintry snooze – and there might even be a chance to catch sight of a stoat in its winter coat of ermine…a camouflage tactic that offers somewhat less protection now that our winters are becoming less and less snowy.
As November comes to a close, there may be a true icy blast to remind us that winter is just around the corner.
Chilly it may be, but our timeless Chilterns landscape has not lost all its colour yet, tempting us out in our scarves and mittens in the hope of hearing the whistle of a kite or hoot of an owl, watching the wildfowl squabbling at the local quarry or the bats coming out to hunt as darkness falls.
Evergreen trees and bushes provide an array of berries for native birds and migrants alike, while foxes are on the move, younger dog foxes and some vixens leaving their home territory to try to establish territories of their own.
It’s a time of year when many young foxes are killed by cars, while others could die from cold or starvation if the winter is a hard one.
Badgers too are are pulling moss, leaves and bracken into their underground setts where they spend so much time snoozing, while round in the gravel pit the wildfowl are squabbling and the migrants have arrived in force.
On crisper, clearer mornings the lighting effects are more striking, and dramatic cloud patterns offer the promise of a memorable sunset.
When the sun is low on the horizon, the rays pass through more air in the atmosphere than when the sun is higher in the sky, and there are more moisture and dust particles to scatter the light and produce those vivid red and orange hues we love so much.
Some of the most dramatic sunsets occur when clouds catch the last red-orange rays of the setting sun or the first light of dawn and reflect the light back towards the ground.
The skies offer plenty of other photographic opportunities too. And on a chilly November night in the heart of the woods, there’s nothing more atmospheric than a full moon casting a ghostly glow through the ancient branches.
Only an hour ago, the place was awash with autumn colour, the last afternoon rays of sunlight lighting up the russets and browns of the fallen leaves. Now, although it’s not late, there’s little stirring among the frost-tipped leaves. The dog walkers have long headed home and most creatures with any sense have burrowed down for the night.
The call of an owl pierces the cold night air and the occasional explosive flurry of a startled pigeon or muntjac is enough to get the heart beating a little faster, but for the most part these dark woods seem deserted.
That’s something of an illusion, of course. It may be quiet, but this is still a refuge for wildlife of which we often catch only tantalising glimpses.
How often have we spotted a weasel or dormouse, for example? The occasional rustle among the leaf litter reveals we are not alone, and the reassuring hoots of the owls are a reminder that food is plentiful if you know where to look for it.
But although a fortunate wild swimmer might bump into an otter in the Thames, or spot a bank vole preening its whiskers, you have to get up with the lark or mooch silently around at dusk to stand a chance of catching a glimpse of our more elusive mammals.
On night walks like these, it’s easy to have a sense of time standing still: of past generations sharing the same sounds and emotions as they trudged along the local drovers’ roads and ridgeways on just such a wintry evening in a past century.
Chilterns woodlands reek of history – of charcoal burners and iron age forts, of lurking highwaymen and wartime military camps.
Amid this picture postcard landscape, Romans built their ancient roads out from London, stagecoaches swept past on their way to Oxford or Amersham, and displaced Polish families lived for years among the trees after the Second World War…
If the trees could talk, they could tell countless tales of past generations, of royal parks and medieval manors, entrepreneurs and philanthropists, poachers and politicians.
Speaking of one of her November rambles a couple of years ago, Melissa Harrison writes in The Stubborn Light Of Things: “Dusk is my favourite time to go out walking. As the light fades, the night shift clocks on: rabbits come our to feed, owls call from the copses and spinneys, and foxes, deer and bats begin hunting as darkness falls…”
She goes on: “But there’s another reason I love to be out of doors at day’s end. Here in Suffolk traces of the past are everywhere, from horse ponds glinting like mercury among the stubble fields to labourers’ cottages like mine with woodsmoke curling from brick chimneys hundreds of years old.
“In the half-light of dusk, the old lanes empty of traffic, it’s possible to leave behind the present day with its frightening uncertainties and enter a world in which heavy horses worked the land, the seasons turned with comforting regularity and climate change was unheard of.”
Here in the Chilterns too, the buried flints and pots beneath our feet remind us that this landscape has been home to people like us for thousands of years: we can smell the woodsmoke rising from ancient chimneys, watch the silvery Thames slicing through the fields and feel just a little more connected with the natural world around us.
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As always, a huge thank you to all the local photographers who have allowed us to use their work this month: click on their pictures to find out more about our regular contributors.
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