WASH
The past couple of months began with a trip to the Azores, setting the tone for an eventful period. Upon returning home, the arrival of a sustained spell of warm spring weather brought my garden to life, teeming with activity and vibrant growth.
Unfortunately, I discovered that I had accidentally left my brand new Godox flash behind in the Azores. It was the first time I’d ever lost a major piece of equipment—an inevitable moment, perhaps, but no less frustrating when it finally happened.
Thankfully, I had a smaller backup flash available, which allowed me to continue photographing the newly emerged, brightly coloured aphids and the striking rose chafer beetles. I’ve since reordered the larger flash in time for an upcoming trip to Cornwall. While the smaller unit performs adequately, it lacks the front-facing light that makes focusing with the larger model significantly easier—an invaluable feature during bug season. I’ll be glad to have it back in hand soon.
While there were many memorable moments over the past few weeks, the true standout—and undoubtedly the headline of this blog post—was the unexpected appearance of foxes in my garden. Shortly after returning from my trip to the Azores, I was met with the remarkable sight of four young fox cubs venturing out of their den and into the open space of my garden to enjoy the early spring sunshine.
It was a rare and special opportunity to witness their behavior up close. As the days passed, I observed with great interest how the cubs became increasingly bold and comfortable in their surroundings. What began as cautious exploration quickly turned into playful interaction, and over time they began to trust my presence. Eventually, I was able to photograph them from just a few feet away, capturing intimate moments of their evening play as the soft golden light of sunset bathed the garden.
They all look healthy this year which is a far cry from 2024, where only one reached adulthood, and with it horrendous mange which was very close to killing the poor thing off. I am hoping this years fox cubs make it to adulthood a little easier this time but only time will tell.
The trip down to Cornwall rounded off the mainly sunny month of May, with some cliff walks along the Cornish coast in the sun to fill my time.
The photograph above holds a particularly special place in my heart, as it represents a milestone moment in my time spent observing wildlife: my very first full sighting of a common cuckoo. It was one of those unexpected, serendipitous encounters that stays with you long after the moment has passed.
The sighting took place during a walk back from Kynance Cove, a stretch of coastline I’ve visited before. As I rounded a bend along the path, my attention was drawn to a man standing some distance away in the burnt, scrubby terrain above the cliffs. He was focused on something, peering intently through his camera at what appeared to be a lone rock in the distance. There was something in his posture—completely still, completely absorbed—that made me pause.
Curiosity got the better of me. I raised my own camera to try and see what had captured his interest. As I zoomed in, I was met with a moment of disbelief and excitement: there, perched on the sun-warmed rock, was a common cuckoo. Not only could I see it clearly, but seconds later, I heard its unmistakable, haunting call echo across the heath. My heart skipped. This was the bird I had hoped for so many times, one so often heard but rarely seen.
Without thinking, I quickened my pace, heading toward the spot where the cuckoo was resting. I moved carefully, not wanting to spook it, and as I closed the distance, I could see it was inching closer in my direction. I lifted my camera and managed to capture a few frames as it paused, framed against the dusky backdrop of the heath. Then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a rock pipit swooped in and began mobbing the cuckoo, attempting to drive it away. The cuckoo took flight but landed again—this time just behind a rock I happened to be near.
For a few magical seconds, it was just the two of us, separated by little more than a stone outcrop and a few feet of space. The cuckoo began calling again, its song clear and resonant. I held my breath, not wanting to ruin the moment. But in my eagerness to get a better view, I stood too quickly from behind the rocks, startling the bird. In an instant, it lifted off and disappeared across the heath, the moment broken as swiftly as it had come.
I stood there for a while, camera still in hand, the silence settling in once more. The photos I managed to take were from a distance—not quite the perfect shot—but the encounter itself was far more valuable. To have seen, and heard, such an elusive and enigmatic bird in its natural habitat was more than enough. Sometimes, it's the pursuit and the fleeting nature of these experiences that make them truly unforgettable.
And with that, May draws to a close—full of all the vibrancy and life that spring has to offer. From unexpected wildlife encounters at home to memorable moments abroad, it’s been a month of renewal, exploration, and inspiration. As we look ahead to the coming summer months, I’m hopeful that 2025 will bring more stable and enjoyable weather than the unpredictability we experienced in 2024. With longer days and warmer evenings on the horizon, there’s much to look forward to.
To wrap things up, I’m sharing a small gallery of images from my recent trip to the Azores—an archipelago that continues to surprise and inspire with its wild beauty and unique biodiversity. You’ll find the gallery just below.
FIN
