The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1488 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

Despite the traumas of the previous night, I awoke feeling quite good–good about myself, about the snoring lump who was lying beside me, my children and life in general.

Why I felt like it, I couldn’t say, unless it was to do with resolving some issues with Simon. I slipped out of bed and felt my leg a little stiff–then remembered the cramp. I probably tore a few muscle fibres so I’d try and take things easy for a day or two.

Tom was down at breakfast when I arrived in the kitchen having woken the children, who were now washing and dressing. We chatted until the girls came down, after which it became impossible–they all chatter like a flock of starlings.

He told me that the university had been consulted by a developer about some land on which they were looking to build a dozen luxury homes. However, there was a small copse in the middle of it and it was reputed to have dormice there. Could I do a consultant’s job and survey it and do a report?

I looked at the time, Danny came down and I made him some toast, he didn’t want cereal. I made myself some toast and Simon came down and snagged it. I told him for that he could take Danny to school. He shrugged and Danny’s face lit up.

I did finally make some more toast and get to eat it, I washed it down with a cuppa and dashed back upstairs to change into my field clothes–some green cargo trousers, some thick socks a shirt with pockets and my waistcoat–actually a one of these things with loads of pockets and no sleeves. I picked up my lens, a torch, my camera a Mars bar and a bottle of water. I shoved all of these into my knapsack–an ex–surplus gasmask bag.

The weather was still remarkably warm for the time of year with blue skies and sunshine–how could I turn down a chance to wander in the woods? Finally, I packed my purse, binoculars and Swiss army knife–never know when I might need to extract a boy scout from a horse’s hoof.

I dumped my bag, walking boots and gaiters–there are loads of ticks about–together with a hat into the back of the Mondeo, while the girls were seating themselves inside it. When they learned I was dormousing, they wanted to come with me. I’d see more without them as a distraction. Jenny waved at me to wait and she trotted out with my mobile phone–honestly, I forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on. I checked the battery and it was pretty well fully charged.

I didn’t particularly notice any journalist types near the house or the school, so felt happy dropping the girls off and walking them to school. Then checking the map–I don’t use satnav on principle–it’s okay for busy city centres but not general navigation–I can still use a map, so I do. Mind you I have computerised OS maps as well as the laminated ones I use for field work.

I drove up towards Soberton and found the area quite quickly, especially as there was a for sale notice on the edge of the field. I parked in a convenient old gateway, which looked as if no one had used it for several years–there was hazel and bramble growing immediately behind the gate. On closer inspection I could see the gate was off its hinges and only held up by a hazel bush growing up through it.

I checked I had everything, shoved me ’at on me ’ead, and after locking the car walked back towards the road to find a way into the field. Five minutes walk from the car, the hedge was thick and sported a nice variety of species of trees and shrubs and obviously hadn’t been cut back for some time. I estimated the hedgerow to be about ten or more feet across probably wider in some places, and there was hazel, honeysuckle and birch, together with one or two oaks and a handful of sycamores. There certainly could be the odd dormouse here, although at best I would only be able to find evidence that they had been here by looking for acorns and hazel cases that they’d eaten their way into.

It wasn’t long before I found some–dormice leave characteristic marks on the edge of the hole they gnaw to get at the nutritious kernel inside the shell. It looked promising.

A little further along and I was able to squeeze through the hedgerow, ease past some nettles without stinging myself–they were quite tall–and I was through into the field which was beginning to turn into a tangle of bramble and hawthorn with what looked like one or two ash trees forcing their way through the overgrown mess.

In the sunshine a few red admiral butterflies danced at each other in a flurry of wings, when I was a kid, I wondered why they were called admirals because you don’t find many butterflies at sea. Then I learned it was a corruption of admirable, so originally they were called red and white admirable and our sloppy use of speech has transformed them into dry land naval officers.

The bird song was pleasant as the sun warmed my back, most of the summer visitors would be well on their way, although I did see the odd swallow still feeding up for the long journey back to southern Africa–amazing that something that only weighs a few grams can travel all that way and back again to breed–assuming they survive the trigger happy morons of the Mediterranean coastal countries, like Spain and Malta.

I circumnavigated the worst of the scrub and entered the copse proper and began my task of checking for signs of dormice. It would be nice to see a nest, but they’re difficult to find, even for a relatively practised eye like mine–usually they’re found when the scrub is being cut back in the winter or early spring.

Ten minutes scanning the ground found me picking up promising looking shells and a quick check with my lens and bingo, I don’t know about lift off, but we had some evidence of dormouse presence.

An hour later, I had identified three more likely places of occupation and more shells which I was happy enough to identify as eaten by dormice. They don’t live in great profusion like other mice, so these shells could well be a couple of years old.

Using a compass I plotted roughly where in the wood I’d found the positive shells, made a few more notes and took some photographs. The next stage would be to put up some of the nest tubes and if occupancy occurred, go to nest boxes. It’s time consuming and I probably had enough evidence for Natural England to consider challenging any development plans.

I didn’t know if the land had been sold or was being looked at as a prospective site, I was tempted to put in a bid myself and see if the local wildlife trust was interested in helping me manage it for wildlife. Perhaps I’ll discuss it with Simon.

I finished my survey, at least this first level of it and drank some water on the way back to the car, where I discovered one or more birds had used the windscreen for target practice–wonderful. Oh well the car needs a wash anyway.

I stopped at some village stores at Soberton and bought myself a tuna roll, it was wholemeal, too. Okay, there was more salad than tuna but it did the job, along with a bag of cheese and onion crisps. Sadly, my Mars bar, which I forgot about in my bag was a gooey mess and I dumped it in a litter bin and bought a fresh one at the shop.

I called Tom and told him it was a probable for the dormice although I was happy for someone else to look at the hazel shells I’d collected because I was pretty sure they were dormouse debris.

Then the luxury of a leisurely journey back to Portsmouth to collect my kids, or most of them–all in all, not a bad day.