'Where the Seals Sing' by Susan Richardson

This is an astonishing and beautiful book. It exudes Susan Richardson’s passion for our fellow creatures, and particularly for the pinnipeds who frequent the waters around the UK. The seal narrative is intertwined with, and enhanced by, the parallel story of Susan’s family, a story that deals openly with the challenges faced by the author as she strives to balance her seal research alongside her father’s health-related needs. This seamless interweaving of the parallel narratives is perhaps one of the many features that makes this book unusual, authentic and compelling.

The seal revelations and theories shared by Susan must surely be of huge practical and educational value in the complex but vital sea of conservation. These discoveries, gleaned from the author’s travels around the shores of Wales, England, Scotland and the Isle of Man, are presented in a way that enables the reader not only to appreciate the magnificence of the seals themselves, but also to encounter afresh the many human-induced dangers faced by these threatened mammals. The author’s quest to find out more about the mysterious seal, not least its extraordinary ‘singing’, is inextricably linked to her animal-activist mission to bring about positive change. 

As someone who has been entranced not only by the otherworldly song of the seals, but also by the author’s skilful dexterity as a poet, Where the Seals Sing fascinated me from the outset. I delighted in the Pembrokeshire seal-watching cameos and the small but memorable details of the natural world, such as the fragrance of the Elderflowers encountered along the coast. The sections on music and mythology were intriguing. Sadly, but not surprisingly, the reports of cruelty, pollution and plastic were often devastating. I was totally captivated by Susan’s engaging affection for, and whole-hearted dedication to, her Grey Seal subjects. I would love to think that some of her zeal and practical actions might inspire us all to play our part in these uncertain ecological times.

 * * *

Where the Seals Sing: Exploring the Hidden Lives of Britain's Grey Seals

Author: Susan Richardson

Publisher: HarperCollins (imprint: William Collins, 7 July 2022)

ISBN: 9780008404543
ISBN 10: 0008404542

Shingle Street, a Favourite Haunt on the Suffolk Coast

We visited Shingle Street, a favourite local haunt, this afternoon, not expecting more than a few sunny intervals; in fact the sun shone nearly all the time we were there. 

The photos in the post are almost random as I wanted to reflect the way in which the light varies as you look from one direction to another. I also wanted to show the tiny spring leaves that are beginning to appear.

The sound of the skylarks this afternoon was out of this world. These birds always remind me of Shelley's 'blithe spirit' flying 'higher still and higher'. 

Those who are familiar with my blog, will know that I am always drawn to the red buoy. There must have been a stiff breeze blowing at about 3pm as the haunting echoes of the storm bell filled our ears. These sounds always remind me of Robert Southey's ballad, The Inchcape Rock (published 1802), albeit about a rather different location. 

Here are a couple of Southey's verses:

 

The Abbot of Aberbrothok
Had placed that bell on the Inchcape Rock;
On a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,
And over the waves its warning rung.

When the rock was hid by the surge's swell,
The mariners heard the warning bell;
And then they knew the perilous rock,
And blest the Abbot of Aberbrothok.

 

The eerie shapes above the horizon in the next photo are the remains of Orford Ness. When we moved to Suffolk ten years ago, the red and white lighthouse could still be seen as a well-loved landmark.

David on the skyline

The rare and exquisite flora of Shingle Street

 Flora formation

Possibly my favourite pic. of the day: Little Egret with yellow feet and a plume!

We saw our very first Little Egret near Penclawdd on North Gower when we moved to Swansea in the early 1990s. It seemed very exotic at the time. The species was first seen in 'significant numbers' in the UK in 1989.

What is on the sand bar?

The landward side, with new reeds on the left.

A lone seal. We could see it moving through the lens of our cameras and binoculars.

Redshank

What exquisite heart-shaped leaves. These are minuscule.

A sign of pure Suffolk air.

And finally, I should give another mention to Blake Morrison's poetry collection, Shingle Street.

Landguard and the Sea at Last

Wheatear, there were several in evidence today

 

We have had a couple of visits to the sea recently, which have been such a joy after all the long winter months of shielding at home. 

The beach at Landguard (Felixstowe) is partly nature reserve, and there are currently large swathes of fenced-off areas to allow species such as Ringed Plover to breed without disturbance. We saw a number of these beautiful birds from a distance. There was also a sizeable flock of Linnets.

We looked hard for seals this afternoon, but failed to see any. However, there was one in evidence on our previous visit (see further down).  

I hope we will have the chance to visit this bit of coast more frequently now that restrictions are lifting. How I have missed the sea!

 

 

A Winter Afternoon at Shingle Street

Some of you may know Shingle Street or may know of it from Blake Morrison's poetry collection of the same name. For me it epitomises what is wild about the Suffolk coast. It can be bleak, and rumour has it that the bitter east winds blow in from Siberia. The ruggedness is what draws us back. We have watched seals here, though there were none in evidence this afternoon.

Visibility was cloudy but quite good on the shore, as you can tell from the photo above. The picture further up the coast was a bit different: in the photo below you can just make out the Orfordness Lighthouse through a rather otherworldly haze.



The sun kept coming and going during our time on the beach. The next photo shows the shoreline in the foreground, then the shingle spit, with Orfordness in the distance. You can make out the red and white bands of the decommissioned lighthouse more clearly in this shot.

There appeared to be very few birds about except for the gulls, two Redshanks in the tidal stream and the strings of Cormorants who flew past in a southerly direction.

The picture of the red and white bell-buoy below was taken with my zoom extended.

There were quite a few empty shells mixed in with the shingle...

... like this Oyster shell in the photo below, suggesting that the gulls had found some easy pickings.

It would be wonderful if there were seals hauled out on this sandbar next time...

The tide was on the low side, but was not particularly low.

This next picture shows a brackish pool, surrounded by a covering of green salt-resistant vegetation. There are many rare plants at Shingle Street.

To the right of the Whelk you can see some small green leaves beginning to reappear.

There were one or two toadstools in the mossy areas, and while I know they can favour damp conditions, I was surprised to find them tolerant of the salt.

I am not sure I have been able to identify the succulent-like plant (Sedum Acre, Biting Stonecrop?) in the photo below yet, but it was beginning to grow in all directions. There is a good vegetation list for the area here.

How's this for an empty beach!



By 3.45 pm the light was pretty low...

It was time to head home for a cup of tea.

Previous Shingle Street posts

• 3 January 2019
• 21 January 2017
• 22 March 2016 - with seals
• 24 March 2014