They began a couple of weeks ago. In the middle of a quiet night; scratch-scratch, shuffles, then pitter-patters across the attic floor above. Woke me up. Sounded very loud and annoying .
For me this was an annual autumn reminder that many mice and rats, having spent their summers out among the fields,hedgerows and woods have decided to get some better accommodation before winter sets in. Their sharp hooked claws have little difficulty in letting them climb stone walls to reach lofts; their sharp teeth then set about collecting materials with which to make nests.
Any old cardboard, carpets or stored books are shredded and mounded into a suitable corner, cranny, hole or under loft insulation. But mice may then start nibbling electric cables or a real favourite, pipe lagging. The bared electric wires may kill the mouse, but could also start a fire.The front incisor teeth cut like chisels and also make short work of floorboards and rafters. The teeth keep on growing and are replaced as fast as they wear down.
These possibilities start to aggrevate. So once again the ladders and spotlight for the loft are out. So also are the mouse traps and bait.
Peering into the attic gloom I am struck by the cobwebs, hundreds of flies and other insects, which like the rodents have also decided to choose a nice, cosy home to spend the winter. So the flyspray comes out as well.
The whole process of the autumn 'loft-sort-out' was originally meant to be an hours' job, but half a day later and covered in black dust, I finally close the loft hatch.
The mice and rats also congregate around farmyards, hen or duck pens,and the stacks of plastic-wrapped silage, which make lovely winter homes.Any unprotected animal feed is an immediate target.
The changes in behavior also remind me how quickly the attractive little mammals going about their summer business amongst the hedgerows, can turn into little pests when they invade the home.
They also prompt me to think that the whole problem of what is regarded as nuisance, pest or vermin is defined entirely in relation to our particular human activities. The species branded vary from area to area and from person to person, depending on what the people are trying to achieve.
Rodents may be considered vermin by somed groups (such as farmers and food storage merchants), as may foxes (poultry and game bird rearers), rabbits (market gardeners), pigeons (grain growers and workers who maintain building exteriors), magpies and crows (gamekeepers and songbird enthusiasts). Many human endeavours seem to be associated with conflicting animal interests.
Once the decision to 'pest control' has been taken, humans then take on the role of predator to protect their livelihood.
But however strongly we may be bothered by rats, mice or other 'vermin' it is worth remembering what they may contribute for mankind, especially as scavengers. It is estimated that the undreground sewage systems in our towns and cities would rapidly clog with offal were it not for the hungry rats and mice, especially just after Christmas when they are swamped with vast quantities of turkey fat. For right or wrong, many millions of laboratory mice, rats and rabbits have been used by medical science to help understand disease mechanisms and obtain cures. Almost every medicine we may take would not have been developed without them.
Feelings about how we view these animals are really important, so let me know your opinion.

(Acknowledgement; The lovely pics of mouse and rat are by John Bridges at North East Wildlife)

Some of my recent fishing trips around the North Wales coast have been pleasantly interrupted.... Seals. Can be quite startling when they pop their heads out close by. Long whiskers, big nostrils and dark eyes set in an almost bear-like head. Or more like a dog, or baboon?
There's one seal, in particular, which sometimes hangs about in the waters off St Tudwals island. This seal has learnt to beg from small fishing boats, trying to climb aboard using its' front flippers, making sharp, bleating barks. If it's thrown a mackerel it becomes increasingly insistent, rushing around and chasing any boat nearby. So forget about catching any fish for a while.
Two species, the grey and the common (harbour) seal, are common around the North Wales coast (there are several dozen species worldwide). Surprisingly, grey seals are one of the rarest types in other parts of the world, with the UK population representing about 40% of the world population. It can be difficult to distinguish the two types because of their great variety of colours (from silver grey to dark brown), patterns of spotting (from few to many, with each individual having its own unique pattern) and differences between the sexes (males are generally bigger, with larger noses and more scars). The nostrils of the greys are set further apart than the common seals.
Seals are carnivorous. They are thought to be descended from bears, who also love fish! They are ravenous eaters of molluscs, fish, lobsters, crabs and squid; seemingly anything which moves underwater, and sometimes above water, because they have been seen eating several kinds of seabirds.
They may spend several days at sea, generally feeding close to the coast (which is rich in food), diving for up to 10 minutes, going very deep.
They breed at remote, inaccessible sites, often caves, scattered around the coast of Wales.They also have numerous haul-out sites, such as Ynys Enlli (Bardsey Island), used for resting and sleeping, drying out and moulting (fur shedding).
Man has had an uneasy relationship with seals.Once hunted for their fur and meat, they now have considerable protection under the 1970 Conservation of Seals Act.
Despite culling, net entanglements, pollution and occasional outbreaks of viral, bacterial and parasitic diseases which cause high mortality, both the grey and common seals appear to be thriving, with a conservation status of 'least concern'.
This is not taken kindly by some fishermen, who perceive seals as public enemy number one. Their frustration is aggravated by the damage done by seals to surface nets. Not content with stealing the fish, the seals make large holes and tears. So further culls are be suggested by some fishermen.
Studies by the Sea Mammal Research Unit in Scotland suggest that seals take less than 1% of the total sea stocks. So a cull looks like a definite over-reaction. I prefer the interesting fishing breaks!

Those magpies have been at it again!
The sight of several magpies tearing apart a fledgling blackbird beneath the hedge in the back garden, with the poor parents rushing around crying desperate, helpless alarm calls, is very distressing for me.
Those magpies have been much in the news at present, but not for good reasons. A nationwide magpie cull has been called for by the The Songbird Survival Trust.The reasoning is that because the birds are notorious robbers of other birds' nests, they are responsible for the continuing decline of other songbirds such as the song thrush.
The result, not surprisingly, has been an uproar of different viewpoints, frequently strong resentment.
I find it hard to adopt an unemotional, detached viewpoint. But try I must.
Across North Wales, like the rest of the UK and most of Europe, there are many superstitions surrounding the bird. These are generally associated with trouble, fear and unhappiness. The lone magpie is especially foreboding.
The countryside childhood can be influenced strongly by folklore. A respectful salute should be given to the single magpie. The familiar rhymes; 'one for sorrow, two for joy,..,' and onwards to ten or more in some localities. Dead magpies displayed on gamekeepers' fences were familiar sights until recently.
Their behavior in our gardens also works against them. Their harsh, sharp chattering announces their arrival. They check every corner for possible food, using quick, sideways hops with wings just open. Cunning and clever, they are reportedly one of the few non mammal species capable of recognising themselves in a mirror. They are quick, audacious, noisy and super-aggressive at the bird table.
It's not surprising that people can become drawn into very negative attitudes about them, branding them vermin.
But the British Trust for Ornithology has undertaken a careful study about the twenty five year, continuing decline in songbirds, such as the song thrush and skylark. Their findings largely ruled out the magpies (and several another suspects like the sparrowhawk) as the cause.
Instead the study showed clearly that loss of nesting habitats, food availability and the effects of organo-phosphates were chiefly responsible. Another major cause was the grey squirrel, apparently far worse than magpies at robbing the nests of blackbirds, robins and whitethroats.
All of these causes are man-made or man-introduced.
It's getting through to me that much of the guilt heaped on magpies is unfounded. This doesn't mean that they are blameless, because they do sometimes rob nests; but it's clear that they don't do as much damage as once thought. Squirrels (and cats) are probably much worse.
The dislike of magpies seems to be largely a European occurence. In the Far East the very simlilar sub-species of magpie are treated very differently. Their raucous cunning is admired.
In China they are very popular, considered harbingers of good news and fortune. Their Chiese name means literally "bird of joy".

Nature's next great cycle of growth and renewal begins across North Wales. Daffodils are one of the first trumpeters. These have been followed by the bright colours of many other spring blossoms and flowers. Rooks have completed rebuilding their nests and have started laying eggs. Songbirds are pairing.
An aunt of mine dabbled in breeding flowers for show purposes. Dahlias were her speciality. I was a child, and it was the 1950s. I remember the seemingly vast size of some of the blooms, and their lovely scents.
At that time there were frequent new scientific discoveries about the roles of plant hormones in controlling growth. My aunt followed these with much interest. I also remember vividly her often repeated exclamations, standing in front of a fast-growing border, 'Just look at those hormones!'
Information about plant hormones now rarely finds its way into any newspaper, magazine or conversation. It has become a vast but largely specialist field enthused about by molecular biologists and geneticists in research institutes and learned journals.
But the basics are easy to understand, readily available and fascinating for everyone with an interest in the natural world.
The word hormone originates from Greek and means 'to set in motion'. Hormones are made naturally by all plants and trees. Very similar chemicals which can modify plant growth are produced by some fungi and bacteria, and as we all know humans and animals make their own related substances. Unlike animals, plants lack specialised glands for their production and storage. In plants they can be produced by many cells in the stems, leaves and roots.
Plant hormones are produced and effective in extremely low concentrations. They diffuse and get carried by fluid movement in the plant vascular tissues. The hormones are made in response to environmental factors such as gravity, water, light, temperature, nutrients and stress by wind or drought. In turn the hormones decide which bit the plant grows upward or downward, the length of roots and stems, leaf formation, flower size and sex, fruit development and ripening, seed dormancy, plant longevity and plant death.
Without hormones, plants would lie as a uniform blob of cells.
Scores of plant hormones have been identified. These are traditionally divided into five chemical types. Many of these substances are produced industrially for use in agriculture, especially fruit production, ripening, and , and storage. (Some are important in beer making!)
Many of us have used 'rooting powder', bought at the garden centre. This contains hormones which promote root growth, which acts on the cut stem buried in the compost. We may have also heard of ethylene gas, which diffuses through the air between plants and is responsible for fruit ripening. The adage 'one bad apple spoils the barrel' is down to ethylene gas. Commercially it is released from cylinders to ripen fruits transported from across the world, before they are placed on the supermarket shelves.
There are dozens of other 'hormones' manufactured for the control of seed development, seedling growth and as growth retardants (for example to restrict trees from interfering with overhead utility lines). Some are used to induce partial fruit fall (those remaining grow bigger), others for selective weed killing.
My aunt would have been fascinated and delighted by the new understanding of how plant growth and survival are orchestrated by their hormones. At this time of year her words strike truer than ever 'Just look at those hormones!'

I had been starting to feel like a proper winter; cold, dry air, no winds, several inches of frost into the ground, sunny days and brilliant, starlit nights.
Alas we are now back to the wet, wind and penetrating damp chill.
A few winter-flowering shrubs are making a brave attempt. Winter jasmines gallantly hang on to their bright yellow petals and some daffodils have opened in sheltered corners. They are heartening sights.
The bare trees are now at their most inactive. For me they now hold a special fascination because much of their growth history is told in their stark shapes.
Good growth seasons with long, straight growth steps, poor seasons with stunted, twisted internodes.
Damage from storms and the impacts of human activities are recorded in the scars on their trunks and branches. They can survive extreme conditions, and still manage to grow in waste soils confined between tarmac and walls.
The capacity of trees to absorb damage is impressive. A main strategy is growing new tissues around the wounded site, so the damage is isolated and encapsulated within the tree.
Some types of damage produce bizarre growth patterns. Witches brooming is particularly strange. It manifests as clumps of proliferating side shoots, which look completely out of place on otherwise healthy looking trees.
Witches brooming occurs on birch, cherry, beech and sometimes ash. It also occurs commonly on shrubs such as gooseberry, forsythia and honeysuckle.
The brooming is thought to be caused by physical damage to the growing shoots, which causes a local increase in side-shoots. Possible causes for the damage include aphids, mites and other insects, fungi, bacteria, salt (from roadside spray as well as the sea) and air-borne toxic chemicals.
The amazing shapes into which trees and shrubs can become contorted are worth looking at.
It's worth taking a quick picture of anything unusual. Send it to me at the Herald and we can post it up for others to see.

The start of winter doesn't put me in the best of spirits. Short days, wet, wind and much of nature closing down.
I wait for landmarks such as the shortest day (just over a month to go!); or the first shoots of snowdrops or daffodils pushing through (in sheltered spots they are already several centimetres up!).
This autumn the extent of changes caused by global warming across North Wales are again apparent. Despite the wind, many oaks and beeches still have some green leaves.There are some breathtaking shows of golden brown in some sheltered spots. Wihout any frost the leaf stems are still hanging on.
The year on year extension of plant growth is obvious; fuchsias, mallows and ornamental daisies are still flowering.
The Christmas rose was once a rarity, but they have flowered continually over recent winters. They brighten the start of winter. But plants are wasting their resources producing flowers when there are no insects for pollination, and which therefore serve no useful purpose.
Some crisp, frosty conditions are necessary to kill pests and break up the soil.
The lack of clear-cut seasons, with some summer flowers extending till at least Christmas, overlapping the first daffodils, gives me a sense of wonder.
Much depends on the accurate records of natural events in previous years.
I've kept a fairly full diary over recent years of autumn events on the Western Llyn.
It would be interesting to hear about others keeping records. Notes on any aspect of the seasonal behavior of birds, animals or plants over the years are important.

I couldn't stop thinking about the recent case of the young gamekeeper from Shropshire who was given a prison sentence for his systematic extermination of wildlife. According to the courtroom reports provided by the RSPB, he was obsessed in protecting his hand-reared pheasants and partridges for a wealthy shooting organisation.
Everything living, apart from his game birds, was deemed vermin. This included ravens, buzzards, badgers and others, in addition to the conventional rabbits, foxes and crows. The animals and birds were shot, snared, trapped and sometimes bludgeoned to death.
I looked in my dictionary: Vermin is a collective name for insects, small animals, or birds which are troublesome, destructive or carry diseases for domestic stock, crops or game.
Invasive weeds are sometimes considered similarly. The name vermin is not strictly correct for plants, but the same feelings are felt by gardeners and horticulturalists.
The more I listen to peoples' feelings the bigger and more complicated the issue gets.
Much depends on how people make a living. For many dairy and cattle farmers badgers are a potential problem because they may spread bovine tuberculosis; to hill and arable farmers gorse stifles potential pasture; for sea fisherman seals raid and damage nets; spider crabs waste time for lobster fishermen; otters eat the anglers' fish; for the landscape gardener moles and weeds such as the Japanese knotweed cause despair; for the property developer trees are in the way; to the sheep farmer the increased numbers of buzzards and ravens are a threat. The list of examples is very, very long.
Traditionally the gamekeeper would control foxes, rats, crows and magpies. But in the upsetting case of the gamekeeper described above, the 'control' included more or less anything which moved which was not a pheasant or partridge.
Some animals and plants are more generally disliked and are treated as nuisances by most town and country dwellers regardless of occupation. Rats, mice, pigeons, crows and even sparrows and starlings are common targets. Nettles are a problem to all.
Added to this are our personal and emotional likes and dislikes. Sometimes these are extreme.
The official terms for these extremes are phobia (excessive and unreasoning dislike) and mania (excessive fondness). Referring to the dictionary again, there are a least a dozen of each category.
Some are well known, such as arachnophobia (fear of spiders). There are individuals who have a fear of all animals (zoophobia; zoophilia, the opposite, describes those with an obsessive love of all animals).
Others seem bizarre; ophidomania is an extreme liking for reptiles, helminthophobia is a panicky hatred of worms!
Psychologists have all sorts of theories for the causes behind the extremes, often blaming childhood experiences.
In the conversations the issue of numbers seems all important; 'There are too many rabbits along that cliff', or 'All those magpies have pushed away the song thrushes' and so on.
And it strikes me that here lies a common truth. It's a numbers game. For each and everyone, livelihoods, experiences and emotional makeup will influence how many (and how close!) are ok before an animal may feel a nuisance.
Fortunately there are now strong legislative powers, involving the RSBB, RSPCA and others to set the limits and control them.
For me annoyance can come after simply watching. A flock of sparrows descends on the bird feeder; the blue tit is pushed aside and gets angry (as in the picture alongside). Or a cat springs out of nowhere, scattering the birds. But there's not much to be done about it!
There are amazing stories why we may love or loathe different parts of the natural world around us. I plan to talk about some of these over the coming months.
So it would be great to hear and share any special feelings about why any animals, birds or plants attract a special like, or dislike!

Some mornings I feel upset by the bedraggled state of this summers' wildlife. A group of pheasants grubbing their way along a mud-fringed hedgerow; sparrows, blue tits and blackbirds with tails and flight feathers shabby after another nights blustering rain which has driven into their overnight shelters; a few brown butterflies being blown about with frayed wings.
Even the sturdy oaks, chestnuts and sycamores for several weeks have been suffering unusual patterns of premature dieback, brought on by strong winds, wet and lack of sunlight. Much of nature is giving up on this summer, probably the worst since records were begun. Last summer is now the close second.
But its no use letting personal opinions influence what we see going on. Nature simply doesn't recognize anything to do with human feelings. Instead most wildlife is coldly indifferent to anything but the simple rules of survival and successful breeding.
So I was gladdened to come across some ramblers crossing the Llôn Goed in a swirling mist. Their laughter could be heard miles away. Out of the city for a few days, their main focus was collecting mushrooms.
I was given a glimpse inside a knapsack. Brilliant colours, amazing shapes, and they assured me, their evening feast.
The traditional autumn fruiting season for mushrooms and most other fungi has radically altered over recent years. First sightings begin in June and they continue till December.
This is because of the wet summers and warmer, frost-free autumns.
Fungi live underground. They have vast subterranean networks, which have special relationships with the roots of trees and plants, supplying them with nutrients. The mushroom or fruiting body is a tiny, seasonal part whose job is to pop above ground and spread spores into the wind. They love our wet, warm, twilight weather.
And they also like soil which has been undisturbed for a long time. Woodland, churchyards, cemeteries and old, mossy pastures are their havens.
So North Wales is a happy place for toadstools and toadstool lovers.
I've never been especially fond of their tastes and find most of them to be on the verge of edibility. By myself I wouldn't feel confident enough to be sure I had got the right identification.
But I am always drawn to their fascinating shapes, beautiful colours and amazing overnight appearances.
The picture shows a couple of sudden appearances at the back of our house. At first glance I thought they were a couple of aliens, just landed.
Some one told me that these large fruiting bodies were good to eat when sliced up and cooked in olive oil. Then another said they would give a bad stomach!
Can anyone help about whether these are ok to eat?

I often wonder where my interests in wildlife came from.

I remember clearly, about six years old, scrambling amongst seaside rocks, paddling in rock pools, engrossed in the fantastic shapes, colours and richness of underwater life. The sudden shapes darting into hiding; then with apprehension using a cautious finger to tease out the little aliens.

The tin bucket holding the day's catch had to be left outside our cottage, but I always managed to peer at them again before bedtime. Alas the fast movers like shrimps were dead the next day, but the slow moving life in shells, like the winkles were ok and could be returned to their home on the shore.

Further into childhood it was butterflies, moths, beetles and more or less any insect that could be kept in a matchbox. Then it was flowers, all shapes, sizes and colours carefully pressed and dried between sheets of blotting paper.
I was always in trouble for wandering off and being late to get home.

My middle years of family and career left little time for indulgence in nature, although there were joyous moments with our children on country holidays. Today my young grandchildren remind me of the sense of pure wonder which happen when a child is encouraged to chance upon a new flower or insect. They also show vividly that curiosity and affinity for wildlife is, for most, a part of being human.

The difficulty is maintaining the interest when there are so many alternatives provided by the visual and digital media worlds, all available from the armchair!
In recent years I have been lucky to resume closeness with nature. I've realised that many crucial issues are less obvious and subtle; the smallest and ugliest forms of life can be the most important.

I have been fortunate to be able to talk about many topics in the Grass Roots pages of the Caernarfon and Denbigh Herald and Holyhead and Anglesey Mail; and I am privileged to begin their website section on wildlife for the same readers.

The lands of Anglesey Llyn and Snowdonia are rural. They contain an extremely rich variety of habitats and wildlife, which for many of us is within easy walking distance.
This website is for us to share our feelings and experiences on things going on in the natural world around us, and the changes with seasons and altered climate.

Every few weeks I shall be chatting about things which strike me of interest. It's up to everyone to contact the website with any topics, worries or questions about what's happening to the life around us.
There's an amazing amount of things to discuss. At first it would be good to hear any stories about why one got interested (or put off!) wildlife, especially in childhood.