April 2026 – Goshawk: Phantom of the Forest

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

For many of us, film and literature may be the closest we get to experiencing the sharp detail of certain charismatic wildlife goliaths; the breath of a Bengal Tiger, the splashing breach of a Humpback Whale or the down-the-barrel fire-eyed stare of a Goshawk. If you’ve watched this year’s film adaptation of Helen Macdonald’s bestseller, H is for Hawk, you’ll have been treated to some beautiful close-ups of these impeccable birds. Cherish these shots – they’re not common.

Nicknamed ‘Phantom of the Forest’, Goshawks are extremely secretive, flying under the radar and shrouded in mysterious woodland wonder. It’s said their name was bestowed upon them by medieval falconers; Goose-hawk, for their apparent ability to take down geese. Anyone who’s ever had a run in with a lairy farmyard goose will know they’re quite a contender, and the name immediately conjures images of the Goshawk’s mighty strength and hunting prowess.

Goshawks share a similar barred chest, yellow legs, and bright eyes with their cousin, the Sparrowhawk. But the similarity ends with size, and with a wingspan of up to five feet, a female Goshawk can easily weigh four times as much as a female Sparrowhawk.

Despite their impressive bulk, Goshawks are tricky to spot, and surprisingly agile. Preferring to nest and hunt in deep forest, they whip through thicket and glade at speeds of up to 38 miles per hour to silently dispatch unsuspecting birds and small mammals with spearing golden talons.

Like many awesome predators, these magnificent birds get a rough reputation. Historically persecuted, by the late 19^th century Goshawks were all but extinct in the UK. Due to accidental escapees, and perhaps some deliberate releases, these birds have bounced back. Although, their trauma is not as much in the past as you would like to assume, with vilification and very real crimes against the species still happening. Along with added threats of habitat loss and climate change, this serial oppression has slowed their steely return.

But return they do. Although populations are patchy across the UK, those that do persist are strong in number, including here in Sussex, with around 65 breeding pairs now thought to be resident. If you see one, you’re ever so lucky. But if you miss out, don’t despair. Lean into the mystery, the stuff of film, and tales of the forest. You might not have seen them. But they’ve probably seen you.

February 2026 – A Bundle of Winter Wrens

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Someone once told me if you think you’ve seen a mouse it’s probably a Wren. These diminutive brown birds make a habit of hopping about the undergrowth in stop-motion fashion, feeding on insects, spiders, and occasionally berries and seeds. Despite being the UK’s most numerous breeding bird, they can be inconspicuous.

The similarity promptly ends when they open their mouth. Though weighing under 10g, the Wren’s voice is bold and loud; a long, high-pitched whistle and trill, cutting through crisp morning air and reaching above that of larger songsters. If you watch a Wren singing, you’ll notice the effort on its small body – beak wide and tail upturned.

Woodland understory is an ideal nesting habitat for Wrens, and males establish clear territories in early spring, using that powerful voice. They build five or even six nests to try and attract a female and will aggressively deter other males that dare approach.

However, when the chill of winter comes around, the male changes his tune. A balmy summer of successful shouting may have shown that a tiny body is no barrier to being heard, but it won’t help with heat loss on cold nights.

So, the male starts collecting bedfellows. Flitting out on short trips, he again utilises his song, letting females and other males know they are welcome to join him for a platonic sleepover, starting after dusk and ending before dawn.

“Oh, that stuff I said in spring? Water under the bridge.”

They gratefully accept, bundling into moss and leaf-lined woven grass, squidging tiny wings and bellies together to make room for just one more. Beaks in, bums out. Most consist of small gatherings, but records of dozens have been logged, and one count in the 1960s numbered 61 Wrens.

Not just super cute, the warmth-sharing of these communal roosts might be lifesaving. Although as anyone who shares a bed will know, there can be a waste of energy caused by the wriggling of others. Shuffling for space, preening, defecating in the roost; entirely unacceptable sleepover etiquette.

When warmer days thankfully return it’s back to spring rules, and the male begins to banish other males from the roost, cosy winter cuddles forgotten until the cold starts to nip around tiny feet once more.

Next time you hear a winter Wren having a good yell, be sympathetic. It’s survived the night, thank goodness, but it’s had a terrible night’s sleep.

January 2026 – The ‘No’ Year Resolution

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

Happy New Year! However you choose to celebrate, I hope your festive season was full of peace, joy, and mega loads of cheese. I always have a new year’s resolution and try to make them positive. Apologise less. Dance more. Wear the shoes. Before you stop reading for fear of me going full ‘live, laugh, love’ don’t worry, I’m heading somewhere.

2026 is going to be the year of boundaries. As well-meaning humans, and especially in the UK, we can be a little too agreeable, put up with stuff, get on with it. But as nature illustrates, it doesn’t have to be this way.

There are not many better boundary-setting role models than those species who ward off others as standard. Camouflage antithesis, these creatures make themselves obvious to warn incomers that they’re not to be messed with. It’s called aposematism, a defence mechanism utilised by certain species across the board; invertebrates, plants, mammals, birds, fish and fungi. Told you I had a point.

There are a few different types of aposematism.

Aposematic colouration: deliberately bright colours to visually warn of a toxic taste to others (whether this is true or not). Think ladybirds, wasps and Cinnabar moth caterpillars, who are bright yellow to mirror the toxic traits taken on by their favourite food plant – Ragwort. Then there are Cuttlefish, whose colour-changing skills give them the option of disguise or bold vibrant attack.

Olfactory aposematism: repelling predators by producing a smell or foul-smelling substance. This dirty card is played by several species of shield bug, sometimes harshly but accurately known as stink bugs. Many plants are notable for this feature, including the strong-smelling Wild Garlic.

Auditory aposematism: sound as a deterrent. Many species make alarm calls to expose a nearby predator, like a Robin tick-ticking at the sight of a cat. But auditory aposematism is making a sound to directly warn of one’s own danger or distaste to others. A famous example is the Rattlesnake, which clatters its tail to give the heads up – “it’s not worth it mate”. Closer to home, the Garden Tiger moth rubs its wings together to make a rasping noise to the same effect.

Symbolic or tenuous, there’s no doubt these creatures have mastered the art of communicating their boundaries. In nature there’s no awkwardness, no deeper meaning, no overthink – imagine! So, in nature’s honour, this year I’ll be saying a lot more ‘no’. Hopefully with no need for any olfactory assistance.

Many thanks to our team of volunteers who turned out this week to help clear our beach at Ferring of all the rubbish

Part of our clean up team with the rubbish collected

that has washed up here recently. There was a significant amount of polystyrene from the ship incident in the Channel plus more items such as fishing gear, nylon rope and others bits as a result of the stormy weather.

We did escape the worst of the incident, which sadly has affected the beaches at Selsey, Pagham and Bognor in a serious way, but at least for the time being, we have a clean beach again. The cleansing offcer at Arun DC is very grateful for all our efforts and wanted to pass on his thanks.

We’ll continue to monitor the area and if necessary, we will again call for an impromptu clean up.

An Ocean Oversight                                                               December 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

December has a real indoors vibe. Short days, finishing work in the dark and inconsistent weather doesn’t exactly motivate us to get out, even if we know it’s good for us. This poses a challenge for connecting with wildlife, which we know can increase people’s desire to protect the natural world. Despite many species hibernating or migrating, there is still so much to see. To throw yourself in at the deep end, I encourage you this winter to explore our beautiful Sussex coast.

That said, in reviewing my parish magazine articles of this year, I realise I’ve not included any marine species. This is awkward. If our marine team find out they’ll be livid. But also, we work hard to connect people with blue spaces, promote the value and wonder of the ocean and fight for its protection, so how could I have overlooked it?

The marine environment has long since suffered from a lack of attention in the conservation world and beyond. At the risk of sounding like I’m defending myself, in a way it’s understandable. We’re terrestrial mammals, desperately under-resourced for the aquatic. We seek warmth, dryness, a firm foundation underfoot, and can align more easily with perils of the warm-blooded – and things with a face.

Many of us value coastal connections; beach trips, swimming, travel to warmer waters. But our oceans are not a luxury. They are a lifeline. A critical feature of our ecosystem, which we and all other life on earth could not survive without. Our disconnect with the ocean environment is contributing to its demise, and we must turn it around.

There is something fascinating about the unknown of the big blue, and once you start to investigate, you realise how truly epic it is. Although much is out of sight from land, the diversity of healthy UK waters has such colour and vibrancy, from royal blue Lobsters to 90s-neon Corkwing Wrasse, and other-wordly nudibranchs.

In winter it’s wild. The drama of furious waters, crashing waves and freezing sea-spray. Watching, huddled in layers, a freezing cold nose and the promise of an after winter-walk’s too-hot-yet chips. Heading to the water’s edge for stone-sprinkled sand and shell treasure discoveries. And there’s nothing like a stomp along a windswept beach to galvanise a slumped after-Christmas-dinner bunch.

So, this December, why not skip a shopping trip, dodge the odd social occasion, push that deadline. Instead, head to the sea. And I’ll submit many a marine article in 2026. Promise.

False Accusations                                                                                   November, 2025

By Kerry Williams: Communications Officer – Conservation, Sussex Wildlife Trust

From Halloween bunting to sensationalised stories, spiders have an unfair creepy-crawly-villain reputation. The shift into autumn often reignites a focus on indoor spider sightings, and with it a renewed batch of clickbait fearmongering. Some of those getting the worst of it are the false widows.

Among six species of false widow spider in the UK, three are most common. The smaller of the two are native; the Rabbit Hutch Spider and the Cupboard Spider. The largest of the three, at 10-14mm body length, is the Noble False Widow. Although technically non-native, this species is pretty much part of the furniture, having arrived in the 1800s. They are mostly brown in colour with varying pale shades and patterns on the abdomen, which sometimes look ‘skull-shaped’; an awkward addition to the PR nightmare.

The latter two species have been known to deliver a bite to humans. However, like most spiders, they are not typically aggressive, sometimes biting in defence when handled. As ever, medical advice should be sought if you are concerned or vulnerable, but the bite is said to be comparable to a wasp sting.

Despite the clue in the name, false widows are often aligned with Black Widow Spiders. These non-UK species have a more potent bite, which can cause illness in humans, though to continue the arachno-advocacy, they are similarly passive in behaviour.

As with many vilified creatures, alarmism can lead to misidentification and incorrect reporting. One confusion species for the Noble False Widow is the Missing Sector Orb Web Spider. One way to differentiate them is by the webs; the latter produces the famous concentric circle style (often with one sector missing!) whereas Noble False Widows create criss-crossing, messy looking ‘tangle’ webs.

Contrary to the aspersions, spiders make excellent house guests. They are private, tidy and keep unwanted flying insects to a minimum, which is especially helpful if you have houseplants. If you have a spider in your home this autumn, at best, leave them be and observe their fascinating habits. If it’s necessary to move them do so gently, using a glass and piece of card, and carefully pop them outside, preferably in a similarly protective building, such as a shed, or nearby vegetation.

Tolerance and coexistence are vital for effective conservation, whether in our wider ecosystem, or in our own gardens and homes. With our urban environment expanding, we must continue to make space for nature, especially those who, like the false widows, are so wrongly maligned.