FEW Chilterns characters are quite as gloriously colourful as the male mandarin duck.
And although these stunning wildfowl originally hail from the Far East, nowadays they are a common sight on lakes and wetlands across the south-east of England.
The unmistakable plumage features bright orange cheek plumes and ‘sails’ on their back, though females are much less ostentatious, with grey heads, brown backs and a white eyestripe.
Normally shy, the ducks breed in wooded areas near shallow lakes and marshes, often in tree cavities, with Springwatch managing to catch the cute fledging process back in 2018, as a succession of tiny fluffballs leaped to the ground.
Equally dramatic in a more prehistoric-looking way are the silhouettes of grey herons taking a break from their solitary fishing expeditions to set about the business of building their nests.
This is the time of year the distinctive birds come together to breed, often in busy heronries where they have returned for many generations.
Other bright spots amid the February mud and mire include the glimpse of a graceful red kite soaring on the thermals: the birds were rescued from extinction to become virtually synonymous with the Chiltern Hills in recent decades.
More humble but equally popular feathered friends at local bird tables include the cheeky robins that follow gardeners around as they dig the ground, sometimes becoming tame enough to be fed by hand.
Fluffy long-tailed tits are another endearing visitor, sociable and noisy in their small excitable flocks as they rove the woods and hedgerows building domed nests out of moss in bushes and tree forks.
These are majestic little homes, camouflaged with cobwebs and lichen, and lined with as many as 1,500 feathers to make them soft for the eight to twelve eggs the birds will lay.
But for an unparalleled avian spectacle, the photographers were out in their droves this month to capture an extraordinary starling murmurations at Tring reservoir and watch thousands of birds swoop and glide in stunning patterns over their communal roosting sites as the last of the daylight fades.
Lesley Tilson was well placed to capture the drama of the aerial displays before that final moment when an unspoken signal seems to tell the group to funnel towards the ground with one last whoosh of wings.
Early February is the peak season for badger cubs to be born, but if we can’t look inside their very private underground homes, we can spot other mammals up and about, especially at dawn and dusk.
Early risers might be rewarded by deer moving shyly around or later in the day catch them lying in a sheltered spot resting, ruminating and dozing.
At the other end of the day it’s the time of year when toads start plodding back to their breeding ponds and sometimes need the help of human volunteers to help them cross busy roads.
For those with better lenses it’s also a time to capture the insect world in close up: a female bumblebee, perhaps, venturing out of hibernation to refuel on early blooming plants before looking for a suitable place to lay their eggs.
Despite the flooded fields and footpaths, there’s plenty to see for those with an eye for detail, from the squiggly trails left by caterpillars to poisonous fungi helping to break down dead wood or hazel trees opening their optimistic catkins to release their pollen.
But with tree branches bare and vegetation withered, it’s a good time of year to pick out birds as the dawn chorus begins to pick up volume, and as the first flowers start to poke through the soil crust, ramblers are on the lookout for snowdrop displays, crocuses and early daffodils.
On patches of heathland, the gorse has begun to provide a backdrop of yellow flowers but elsewhere colours are still muted, at least until the last few days of the month.
Nonetheless, it’s the shortest month, when hibernation is coming to an end and spring is slowly starting to assert itself, so those early optimistic signs are important.
Many need little encouragement to head off to the woods to revive body and soul, whatever the weather. But it’s perhaps understandable that teenagers might find the prospect of wandering around in a rain-soaked wood less than appealing.
Chris Packham bemoans the growing prevalence of “nature deficit disorder”, not an official mental health condition but an increasingly recognised reason for the disconnection from nature that both children and adults feel.
The phenomenon was first identifed back in 2005 by child advocacy expert Richard Louv and linked to some of the most disturbing childhood trends, such as the rises in obesity, attention disorders, stress, anxiety and depression.
Louv argued that direct exposure to nature is essential for healthy childhood development and for our physical and emotional health.
Packham laments parents keeping youngsters indoors to protect them from danger and perhaps in the process perhaps exposing them to far more horrors in the online world that has nowadays become a replacement for outdoors adventures.
Back in 2018 it was already clear that British youngsters were spending twice as long looking at screens as playing outside, and for inner-city kids the opportunities to engage with the natural world may be minimal.
Louv’s book sparked an international movement to connect children and families to the natural world, as well as a growing recognition of the problem among the medical community.
Thankfully our photographers need no persuading to get out and about in all weathers, and we’d love to hear from any other nature lovers wanting to make the most of the Chilterns countryside, rain-soaked or otherwise.
If you would like to contribute any pictures, favourite moments or seasonal suggestions to our calendar entry for March, join our Facebook group page or write to editor@thebeyonder.co.uk.
