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DÚLRA: Now Aidan goes in to bat for another species

THIS is how Aidan Crean celebrates a landmark birthday – by climbing a tree to put up bat boxes. The indefatigable West Belfast environmentalist is one of a small band of nature lovers who are no longer willing to sit back and just watch our wildlife decline. Instead they are getting out there and taking action. Like many of us, Aidan started offering homes to birds with a tit nestbox in the back garden. But the boxes have grown and today the population of barn owls, at least in County Antrim, has been dragged back from oblivion by a series of properly installed and monitored nesting boxes by a small band of tireless bird lovers. The glorious barn owl might be the mascot of the Late, Late Show, but it’s sadly become something of a ghostly legend, a community memory, in the Irish countryside from Kerry to Derry. We carelessly wiped out this bird, mainly by removing the open barns where it once lived and helped keep farmyard vermin in check. And so the nestboxes have been a godsend for this species and now Dúlra gets reports of barn owl sightings from all around Belfast – the latest was this week at Throne Wood in Newtownabbey. Now Aidan and his group have turned their attention to bats. A few months back Dúlra went on one of Aidan’s bat tours around Belfast Castle – and it was clear, even in the darkness, that Aidan was disappointed we didn’t spot a single one, although we did hear them calling on our trackers. “I’m coming back,” he pledged to the crowd at the end of the walk, “to put up a whole pile of bat boxes. The bats of Belfast Castle need help.” Dúlra has a bat box on his chimney – a small wooden one with a tiny slit at the bottom so they can crawl in, but small enough to keep birds out. He’s no idea if it’s being used, but hopefully it has been noticed by the bats that were flying around the street lamp this summer. Attracting a single family is one thing, but Aidan has set his sights on much more. Experts have learned recently that, unlike birds, bats need different types of boxes at different times of the year. They’ll sleep in one place, breed in another and hibernate in another again.

DÚLRA: John’s zoo adventure gets us thinking with his new book

WHEN a red panda escaped from Belfast Zoo a few years back, it got John Gray thinking.

DÚLRA: Our forest of the future at Glas na Bradán

THE problem that faced Dúlra on the new Glas-na-Bradan forest on the Belfast Hills this week was how in years to come would he ever be able to tell the tree he planted from the 150,000 others? The answer is there in front of wee Mac the terrier – a tiny holly tree. The massive forest is being planted by members of the public this winter. You just book a time slot at www.woodlandtrust.org.uk, make your way up to the hill with a spade, collect the saplings up there, find somewhere not yet planted and set to work. The only rule is to plant the trees two metres apart. The trees include birch, Scots pine and alder. You can even take your own up – Dúlra asked – as long as it’s a native Irish tree. He could think of no better home for this tiny holly which had seeded below the big one in his garden, a tree which originally came from the Black Mountain. The garden holly – cuileann in Irish – is a godsend to the birds who live on their nerves trying to survive the daily sparrowhawk fly-through. There they can finally relax – so comfortable they often sit preening themselves safe in the knowledge that the thick and thorny foliage would wreck the hawk’s pristine coat. When Glas-na-Bradan begins to mature, Dúlra hopes his holly will play a similarly protective role, surrounded by all those wonderful deciduous trees that will be a haven for birdlife – and for birds of prey. All 150,000 saplings are sitting in sand on Glas-na-Bradan, waiting for volunteers to plant them. Some still had labels on them – they had been sourced from Cork. Conservationists know how vital it is not just to plant trees, but to plant native trees. Those are the ones which have best adapted to live here with all the associated plants and creatures, from bees to fungi. It made Dúlra laugh this week when he heard politicians complaining that the Protocol was stopping the importation of trees from Britain to help schools mark the centenary of partition – importing trees from Britain is as damaging as importing them from Asia. A ‘UK native tree’ is an oxymoron. If you’re planting trees in Ireland, they should originate in Ireland, a lesson you don’t have to teach the experts at the wonderfully named Glas-na-Bradan, Green of the Salmon. Dúlra parked at St Enda’s GAA club and walked the few hundred yards to where the 159 acres of windswept hillside – until now used only by cattle – are being transformed.Dúlra hadn't looked around until he was about to plant his tree – and then he suddenly realised that much of County Antrim lay before him, right up to Slemish. It was glorious.

DÚLRA: A long wait for our short-eared friend

THIS photo taken by a local lad this week could lead to radical changes on the Belfast Hills. Because the photographer caught one of Ireland’s rarest birds – and just a short distance from Belfast. The short-eared owl – ulcabhán réisc or owl of the marsh in Irish – was hunting along the Tornaroy River yards from the Upper Springfield Road. It’s a completely new bird to Dúlra – he’s seen long-eared owls and barn owls, but was of the opinion that short-eared owls didn’t even exist here. But they do – and just up the road!This is truly an incredible bird. While barn owls hunt at night and long-eared owls at dusk, their short-eared cousin likes to break owl convention by feeding during the day. This photo was taken at 2.30pm. The West Belfast environmentalist who first identified it, Aaron Kelly, points out that it has yellow eyes. “That’s the pigment needed for day hunting, while the long-eared’s eyes are deep orange for dusk and the barn owl’s are dark. “It’s an easy way to tell them all apart.” When Dúlra heard the news of the new bird, it immediately rang true. Because the thin sliver of land where the ancient Tornaroy River – a stream with the grandest of names, Tor na Rígh, the High Place of the Kings – runs is the very place where Dúlra saw another rare raptor a decade ago. He was driving to a country garage when the eagle-like bird rose from the grass at the side of the road and flashed its white rump. It was a female hen harrier, the one and only time he has ever seen one. It too was hunting along Tornaroy River – which is obviously a rich vein for wildlife, probably because it’s rarely if ever visited by people. Last year Aaron discovered pine martens on the Belfast Hills – and this winter, as a direct result of that, 50 acres of woodland will be planted on the slopes to provide more habitat for our rarest mammal. And now that he has discovered that Ireland’s rarest owl is feeding just a mile from the city, hopes are high that the grassland it feeds on will be protected in the hope it will return. Aaron said: “I had reports of an owl behind St Mary’s school and thought it must be a barn owl. “But I know now that this is the bird that they saw, the short-eared owl. “They’re bigger than a barn owl, and have brown feathers on the outside but underneath they are white. I saw it coming across the field and thought it was a buzzard, but then I said to my friend Marty Keenan, who was taking the pictures, ‘Get it, it’s an owl!’ “When it came close you could see its flat head and cone-shaped body. “This is our only owl that hunts in the day. And incredibly it nests on the ground – so it really needs no disturbance from people or dogs or cattle to feel safe enough to build a nest.“We don’t know if it’s a passing visitor or if it lives here. It’s probably a visitor which is using the Black Mountain too.” The owl hovers above the heather and rushes, hunting for mice or pipits. “This is a priority species which there was no evidence of until now,” addded Aaron. “But now that we’re found it, then we can start campaigning to protect them and attract more of them in. We can focus on the land management for the owls.” Aaron and Marty also photographed a female hen harrier at the same spot – it could even be the same one Dúlra saw a decade ago! Aaron said: “I’d love to get a line of trees on that wee Tornaroy River, the way it used to be – it’s incredible how many birds of prey are around this area. People look at our mountains unaware of the wildlife – but they are very rich. “It’s now a matter of having a strategy to develop them properly, not just for us, but for wildlife. It’s probably a stretch to imagine short-eared owls and hen harriers nesting there, but why not?” It was only 150 years ago that golden eagles nested on the Belfast Hills and soared over Belfast. Maybe, with people like Aaron spearheading the fightback for nature, they could some day return. • Seen anything that you think might interest Dúlra? Give him a ring or send him a text on 07801 414804.

DÚLRA: New Jersey conservationist Mark commends Bog Meadow battlers

AS AMERICAN Mark Lohbauer was being shown around the 47 acres of the Bog Meadows yesterday, he would have been forgiven if he had wondered what all the fuss was about. Because he’s got a mind-boggling 1.1 million acres under his control as a Commissioner of New Jersey’s Pinelands National Reserve. The Commissioner enjoyed a guided tour of the West Belfast nature haven during his first ever trip to Ireland to meet long-lost cousins in Cookstown, Co Tyrone.

DÚLRA: Swift saviours have their work cut out

THIS is no ordinary man putting up nestboxes at Dúlra’s house this week. Mark Smyth has for many years led a crusade to help one of the world’s most incredible birds, the swift. Mark realised their numbers were plummeting long before the big bird organisations even accepted it – he saw it with his own eyes above his native Antrim. “When I went to Antrim Primary, the skies above it were black with swifts. Now we don’t really see them,” said the 61-year-old. And, when his daily work in Asda in Antrim is done, he travels the length and breadth of the country to give these specialised birds what they most need – nesting sites. But he accepts that right now, it’s a losing battle. Time after time he’s seen colonies wiped out as old buildings are refurbished and rebuilt. No thought is given to the birds nesting there, and the new builds are so perfect that there are no crevices for them to nest in.

DÚLRA: Keeping the little garden flame alive

IF an artist were asked to paint the most beautiful bird they could imagine, they’d be hard pressed to rival what mother nature did with the goldfinch. Not only is it stunningly colourful with its red mask, golden belly and wings as bright as the sun, but it’s got the poise of a ballet dancer and – just to top things off – a voice which makes it sound like a creature from an enchanted kingdom. Yet it is an exotic and extraordinary bird that we have managed to tame, coaxing it into our gardens from its former mountainside haunts. It wasn’t always like that.

DÚLRA: Will the sparrows accept a house-share offer?

WHAT do you have to do to attract the everyday, common-or-garden house sparrow to your home? That was going through Dúlra’s mind this week when he was putting up the ultimate nestbox which had been purpose-built for a wee bird whose numbers are falling rapidly. Or to be more accurate, three nestboxes, all designed to sit alongside each other – a left, a right and a centre box with holes pointing in different directions. Sparrows love each other’s company so they are much more likely to use a nestbox if the extended family can move in next door. Then they can share out all the parental chores and the kids can all keep each other busy just like in a nursery school. If you have house sparrows in your garden, you take them for granted. Most people don’t appreciate them, and why would you when they’re just like a garden fixture?

DÚLRA: Autumn reveals breeding season woes

NO matter how many times Wee Mac sniffed this strange, almost foot-high nest, it was clear he just couldn’t work out what it was. And no wonder he was confused – because it’s full of clumps of the terrier’s own hair! The nest is a thing to behold, but it’s only when we know the tragic backstory that we can fully understand and appreciate it. Autumn is the perfect time to clean out garden nestboxes, and so this week Dúlra got a pair of ladders, donned his gloves and went on his annual rounds. Most of the boxes were empty, although there were plenty of droppings showing that the birds still use them as a safe place to roost at night. One nestbox had definitely been used by the smaller blue tits – in June Dúlra had seen the baby birds emerge blinking into the light. So when he opened the lid, he expected to find an old, worn nest inside.But instead there was a perfect, feather-lined cup with six intact but stone-cold eggs resting snugly in the middle. Dúlra lifted the whole thing out. He can only assume that after the first successful brood, the parents laid a second clutch, which he now had in his hand. But what could have led the parents to abandon their family? We will never know. But Dúlra’s money would be on the local hawk, which makes a Grim Reaper-like tour of the gardens every day. If a parent blue tit was killed, its partner wouldn’t be able to raise a brood on its own. With one tragic find, Dúlra was hesitant about looking into the other boxes. But experts recommend that, if possible, boxes are cleaned every year to give birds the best chance of success come spring. And so he came to the box outside the kitchen which had been occupied by great tits.This is not your average nestbox. It was especially designed for starlings, with a bigger entrance and a deep bottom for these birds’ messy nest. But sadly, it’s not so easy to inform the birds about which species it’s designed for. Last year great tits moved in and reared a brood and Dúlra was able to watch them as he did the dishes. When a family of baby great tits appeared in the garden, Dúlra felt as proud as any father. But when, this time last year, he went to clean it out, he realised that all was not what it seemed. A single chick – fully fledged with its wonderful yellow and blue coat – lay dead at the bottom of the box. It seemed that the extra depth for the starlings had been too much for the young bird, and it just couldn’t make the leap to the exit hole and freedom. No doubt its parents were willing it to make the jump to freedom, calling like mad from outside the box. But, tragically, it suffered a lonely death. The parents might have been busy feeding the surviving chicks, but they never forgot the one they lost. And that’s why, this year, they stuffed the big starling box with stacks of material, building up a platform so high that, when the time was right, the chicks could just hop out into the world. They used all the material they could find. The bulk of it was moss and grass, and at the top they finished it off with balls of multicoloured material that they had picked up from the clothesline and tumble dryer. And of course plenty of clumps of wee Mac’s coat, which his owner had handily left out in the garden for that very purpose after the dog had been clipped. It’s clear that for great tits, just like us, each child is equally precious. Losing a chick wasn’t acceptable, even if they had half a dozen survivors to care for.. And so when they returned to the same box this spring, they set about trying to rectify the problem. They built an enormous platform to raise the nest all the way to the hole. God knows how much effort it involved – it was a feat of engineering. And although you’re meant to clean out the nestbox every year, Dúlra decided that, next year, he’ll give the great tits a headstart. And so he placed the huge nest back in the box. In memory of the one who didn’t survive. • If you’ve seen or photographed anything interesting, or have any nature questions, you can text Dúlra on 07801 414804.

DÚLRA: Not just another doggy tale for Colin

Dúlra witnessed an incredible scene in our skies this week. House martins had gathered along Cave Hill in a flock so big it looked more like a swarm of flies. Dúlra was on the Antrim Road on Monday when he noticed a few birds overhead – and when he focused his binoculars on Napoleon's Nose, the scene was truly spectacular. Thousands of these aerial artists were zooming about everywhere, some high above McArt’s Fort, others skimming the treetops. This was their big gathering, their last farewell to the country of their birth. Tomorrow, they’d be gone. These birds had come from far and wide. The hoard that bred on their favourite homes in all of Belfast at Hawthorn Glen would be there – thanks to the generosity of residents who let them nest on their gable walls when so many other more ignorant people don’t. The bulk of the gathering were newborns – in a normal summer a pair can raise two broods, an average of 10 chicks. That’s a 500 per cent increase in population – and they were all here, zipping across Cave Hill. It was as if they were playing, enjoying their new lives and beautiful environment – what’s not to like when you are born with wings like that? But it was tinged with sadness. Their food source was slowly disappearing. Maybe that’s why they had gathered here – the forest below was still producing an insect bonanza. But it was time to take their beauty somewhere else, leaving this land – or at least the skies above it – cold and bare. On Tuesday morning Dúlra travelled across to Cave Hill. But he knew he’d be disappointed. The house martins – gabhlán binne – had disappeared en masse on their six-week journey to southern Africa. Next year, God willing, he knows where he’ll be on September 20. He’ll climb the slopes of the Cave Hill and sit below this wonder of the world, where the house martins of Belfast bid the city farewell with a show so incredible it deserves to be livestreamed. Maybe he’ll bring his phone and do just that. It’s just four months since Hank the lurcher died suddenly before he had even reached his second birthday. Colin ‘Bungie’ O’Carroll was heartbroken at the loss of such a special dog. But he took the best course of action and set about trying to find another pet to help ease the pain. And he not only got one, but two. “People had read about Hank in the Andersonstown News/North Belfast News and on Facebook and I got two offers of dogs at around the same time,” he said. “So I ended up with these two – one for me and one for my daughter Ella.” Hank, a black beauty, got the name because he was always ‘Hank Marvin’ – you couldn’t feed him enough. And so it was only natural that his replacement should be called Marvin.Marvin is as lean as a racehorse. And as fast. Bungie went to Derry to get him from the owner who just didn’t have the space the growing dog needed. “He was kept in a backyard in the Bogside but he kept getting out,” Bungie said. “He was like a street dog and he hung about outside the fast food shops picking up scraps. He still loves curry!” Marvin had never been in a car and was sick three times on the journey back to Belfast. Now Bungie just points a finger and Marvin leaps into the car – he knows it means he’s going for a walk! Marvin is one on Saturday, he’s now got a wee ‘brother’ for company – 11-week-old Louis."I picked him up with Ella from a farm near Rasharkin on the 50th anniversary of Louis Armstrong’s death. When we got him into the car What a Wonderful World was on the radio, so we thought – why not Louis?” said Bungie. While Marvin is a greyhound with collie blood – giving him intelligence – Louis is greyhound with a bit of Staffordshire bull terrier in his blood – giving him strength. When he grows into his ‘double merle’ coat – with patches of various colours blending together – he’ll be something to behold. At 13 weeks, he’s already house trained and follows orders better than his big ‘brother’, who was used to street life. But the two get on like a house on fire. They spent the afternoon in Dúlra’s garden mock-attacking each other, rolling about the grass and pretending to bite lumps out of each other. They’re mates for life. Bungie and his 14-year-old daughter now have two special animals to share their lives with. Bungie – a U105 newsreader from West Belfast whose family moved to Australia when he was young – is himself a pure-bred doggie man who spent his early youth hunting rabbits on the slopes of the Belfast hills. In those days his special dog was a lurcher called Sonny, whose adventures are still legendary. Marvin and Louis will surely write their own legends. If you’ve seen or photographed anything interesting or have any nature questions, you can text Dúlra on 07801 414804.

DÚLRA: Cruise liner stowaways need a little help

AS the giant cruise ship Anthem of the Sea sailed through the darkness towards Belfast last week, two unusual passengers hitched a lift. The pair of sooty shearwaters were more than welcome to take a breather on deck – but what the crew didn’t know was that once they arrive on dry land, these amazing birds can’t take off. They have evolved to be almost useless on land – their feet are too far back on their bodies to enable them to sit up, and their wings are so straight and thin that they can’t get the necessary uplift. And so began an incredible rescue mission which ended in them being returned safely to sea to continue their journey – a journey that is actually planet earth’s longest migration.These wee stowaways happened to land on the biggest ship to visit Belfast for almost half a century – the Anthem of the Sea can carry 4,950 passengers and 1,500 crew, although those numbers are now restricted by Covid. The crew got concerned that their hitchhikers didn't seem interested in returning to sea and so the captain contacted Belfast Harbour Police. The Harbour Police immediately knew who to call – Debbie ‘Doolittle’ Nelson. “I’ve worked with the Harbour Police many times,” Debbie told Dúlra this week. Debbie is a phenomenon who tours the country rescuing birds and animals, if necessary taking them back to her Country Antrim home to recuperate. She has saved many thousands of creatures. “They’d actually sent me a photograph of the birds and I thought they were Manx shearwaters until they opened the box and I realised they were a bit bigger and more black.” In Irish the two species are differentiated only by their colours – canóg dhubh is the Manx, while canóg dhorcha is the sooty. Debbie certainly is familiar with Manx shearwaters, a seabird not many readers would recognise if it landed on their head. Which isn’t actually impossible, because recently they've been literally falling from the sky and Debbie has been travelling the country rescuing them. “It’s been crazy over the last two weeks," she said. "They’re all young ones who are leaving the burrows and the parents have left them, and they get distracted by street lights. Just like the sooty shearwaters on the cruise boat, they navigate by the stars and the bright lights confuse them. “When they fly inland they think the dark road is the sea and they land and can’t get back into the air. Once on the ground they need a hand to get back into the sea. Yesterday I freed one in Ballywalter and I’ve another today, while one was killed on the road. “They’re so dark that drivers wouldn’t see them at night. At the minute there’s usually four or five a night.” Light pollution leads to the death of many seabirds who fly at night to avoid predators, only to find that we’re an even more dangerous predator, even if we don’t mean it.And while Manx shearwaters breed here – one of a pair on Copeland Island in County Down trapped in 2003 is still the oldest bird on record at 55 years old – the sooty shearwaters breed in the Malvinas near Argentina, heading up to the Arctic along the Pacific, passing Ireland in September on their way back to breed. And they don’t travel in flocks but in pairs, like those on the cruise boat, and can travel 45,000 miles in a year, about 400 miles every day. And although few of us knew that sooty shearwaters even existed, we’re all familiar with something that they inspired. Alfred Hitchcock produced his famous horror film The Birds after thousands of sooty shearwaters fell dead on the streets of Santa Cruz in California in 1961. Others were being sick on the shore or flying into objects. It transpired they had eaten poisoned algae from leaky septic tanks. Debbie freed the cruise boat shearwaters at Whitehead on the Antrim Coast.“It’s right on the border of Belfast Lough and it’s a straight route out to sea, far enough from the city and the bright lights,” she said. Hopefully, this time the stars will guide them safely on their epic 10,000-mile journey to their breeding ground. • If you’ve seen or heard anything interesting, or have any nature questions, you can text Dúlra on 07801 414804.

DÚLRA: Big changes are required in Irish farming

AGRICULTURE has nature by the throat in Ireland. It seems that every square inch of every field is being used to produce something for us, while the famous Irish hedgerow has all but disappeared in the last decade, getting a short back and sides from tractor-mounted hedge clippers. On holiday last month in Donegal – that wild, beautiful county hugging the rugged Atlantic coast – Dúlra didn’t see a single bird of prey. The chicks of eagles that had been reintroduced here died in the nest – of starvation. The hills of Donegal might look remote and wild to us, but, scrubbed clean by sheep, they’re as barren as a desert. Irish nature has been forced to retreat more with every passing year. Ground-nesting birds like the famous curlew or the stunning hen harrier are on the verge of extinction as breeding species. Flying insects here have dropped by 75 per cent in just 25 years. On the outskirts of Belfast in just the past two years, frog-filled fields have been drained and hedgerows hacked down to produce fields as smooth and green as snooker tables – hay for cattle. Even our water is being affected: the number of pristine rivers in Ireland has fallen from 500 in the 1980s to 20 now.

DÚLRA: Martins set up house in Hannahstown

AS the saying goes, if the mountain won’t go to Mohammad, then Mohammad must go to the mountain – literally in Dúlra’s case. Because the mountain in question is the Black Mountain, and specifically Hawthorn Glen on its lower slopes at Hannahstown. It’s here that an army of one of our most spectacular and exotic summer visitors have decided to set up camp. And for Dúlra, there can’t be many birds more attractive than a house martin. Residents of Hawthorn have been blessed with nesting house martins for as long as the estate has existed – over 20 years. As with most invasions, it started with just a trickle of families, but today hundreds of birds arrive here each spring to build their incredible mud homes under the eaves.

DÚLRA: A true act of worship in mystical Mayo as St Peter's bird storms in

BETWEEN us we’d travelled over a thousand miles to be here, on the very edge of Ireland as it slips into the Atlantic Ocean. A dozen people together on a lonely and wind-battered coastline as the sun descended under the waves. Like members of some strange cult, we sought darkness. We were here to worship not a god, but a creature created by the gods, one so special it has attained many religious associations. The tiny storm petrel lives beyond our world in the deep oceans. It seeks out storms and is only occasionally spotted by sailors as it paddles with its webbed feet on the high waves to stir up microscopic plankton thrown up by the swell. It reminded them of the miracle of St Peter walking on water, from which it gets its ‘petrel’ name (peadairín na stoirme or guairdeall in Irish). This bird is purely of the sea, even sleeping on the air currents high above the waves. It would never visit land but for the need to lay its single white egg.

DÚLRA: After 300-year absence, magnificent giant cranes return to Ireland

Nature lovers can but imagine the Ireland of old. It was packed with wild creatures as varied as any place on earth. And that isn’t just us looking back with rose-tinted glasses. What records we have tell of a land teeming with wildlife. Dúlra remembers at college studying an old Irish text where Fionn Mac Cumhaill led his band on a three-day hunt. The story recounted their haul – it was astounding, ranging from wolves to wild boar to every variety of bird, the vast numbers of each one listed individually. “This story is a legend,” said the lecturer – an authority on early Ireland – “so the events and characters aren’t real. But what was caught in the hunt – that is accurate.” One of those birds snared by Fionn Mac Cumhaill was almost certainly a crane. It’s simply a remarkable bird which stands shoulder-high to a person, while its tumpeting call echoes over the land. Its demise here came 300 years ago, at a time when not just animals and birds were scrubbed from the land, but people too. This giant bird dwarfs the heron – which, luckily, nests in trees. The crane lays its two eggs on the ground in a dry spot in a remote bog, which gives it its Irish name corr mónadh. If anyone wanted to harm it, it was literally there for the taking. And its largely vegetable diet of shoots and fruits of bog plants meant it was a favourite at the dinner tables of the rich – the flesh of grain-eating birds are most palatable to people.

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