James Gilbert
@jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
Naturalist, ecologist, writer.
“How pleasant it would be each day to think, Today I have done something that will render future generations more happy." Richard Jefferies, 1883.
Location: east Northamptonshire, UK.
“How pleasant it would be each day to think, Today I have done something that will render future generations more happy." Richard Jefferies, 1883.
Location: east Northamptonshire, UK.
Pinned
James Gilbert
@jamesgilbertmr.bsky.social
· Nov 14
Middle-aged me. Near-constantly thinking of times gone by, or about those lying ahead. My mind is only held still in the now by nature, when attentive to, say, flitting songbirds, nodding flowerheads, trembling leaves — then do I lose nostalgia or worry, and briefly find a sweet state of just being.
Today, I was wowed by many magnificent & ancient English oak trees, including this exceptionally broad example. Today was a good day simply for having been in their mighty company.
December 30, 2025 at 5:17 PM
Today, I was wowed by many magnificent & ancient English oak trees, including this exceptionally broad example. Today was a good day simply for having been in their mighty company.
This morning: blackbird, robin, dunnock & song thrush, all in twilight song.
December 30, 2025 at 8:14 AM
This morning: blackbird, robin, dunnock & song thrush, all in twilight song.
This morning, in the dawn half-light, faintly aglow beside the path ahead of me — the forming, peeking, fresh yellow cups of winter aconite.
December 27, 2025 at 9:40 AM
This morning, in the dawn half-light, faintly aglow beside the path ahead of me — the forming, peeking, fresh yellow cups of winter aconite.
A beautiful thing about my tedious motorway trip this morning — a kestrel, hovering, backlit against blue sky, above an embankment dotted with glistening silver plumes of wild clematis.
December 26, 2025 at 12:45 PM
A beautiful thing about my tedious motorway trip this morning — a kestrel, hovering, backlit against blue sky, above an embankment dotted with glistening silver plumes of wild clematis.
sweet lull in traffic
rustling of blackbird-turned leaves
is all I can hear
rustling of blackbird-turned leaves
is all I can hear
December 26, 2025 at 9:06 AM
sweet lull in traffic
rustling of blackbird-turned leaves
is all I can hear
rustling of blackbird-turned leaves
is all I can hear
Amid the dieback & dormancy, the bleaching & transparency, there’s always the robin’s warmth — whether by trickling song or flame breast, or both.
December 23, 2025 at 3:34 PM
Amid the dieback & dormancy, the bleaching & transparency, there’s always the robin’s warmth — whether by trickling song or flame breast, or both.
The robin’s knack of point-blank brightening, at times of low ebb — for this he’ll always be cherished.
December 23, 2025 at 8:10 AM
The robin’s knack of point-blank brightening, at times of low ebb — for this he’ll always be cherished.
An impromptu moment of endearing calm, always, is watching a blackbird bathe.
December 22, 2025 at 8:41 AM
An impromptu moment of endearing calm, always, is watching a blackbird bathe.
Last week I happened on this tree. From a distance its floodplain silhouette struck as different—beautifully rugged, wonderfully imposing. Wild, rare, declining, endangered: it's a black poplar. Grateful to have spent time in its presence, gripped in awed delight. This tree hugely brightened my day.
December 21, 2025 at 1:58 PM
Last week I happened on this tree. From a distance its floodplain silhouette struck as different—beautifully rugged, wonderfully imposing. Wild, rare, declining, endangered: it's a black poplar. Grateful to have spent time in its presence, gripped in awed delight. This tree hugely brightened my day.
Recently caught up with episodes of BBC Countryfile Magazine’s The Plodcast. Hosted by @blorengeviews.bsky.social it’s always a fine listen — relaxing, informative, thought-provoking — though the walking interviews with @robgmacfarlane.bsky.social & @drmjwarren.bsky.social were especially excellent.
December 21, 2025 at 10:38 AM
Recently caught up with episodes of BBC Countryfile Magazine’s The Plodcast. Hosted by @blorengeviews.bsky.social it’s always a fine listen — relaxing, informative, thought-provoking — though the walking interviews with @robgmacfarlane.bsky.social & @drmjwarren.bsky.social were especially excellent.
Enhancing the calm in the early fog — the mellow, measured lofty fluting of a mistle thrush.
December 20, 2025 at 10:34 AM
Enhancing the calm in the early fog — the mellow, measured lofty fluting of a mistle thrush.
Woodcock! Zigzag shrinks into the black, disappearing at the belt of orion.
December 19, 2025 at 9:36 PM
Woodcock! Zigzag shrinks into the black, disappearing at the belt of orion.
The ghostly pale flight silhouette of a barn owl, sweeping across a sky painted black. Magic.
December 17, 2025 at 5:57 PM
The ghostly pale flight silhouette of a barn owl, sweeping across a sky painted black. Magic.
A magpie’s rattling call breaks the quiet suburban dawn. To a leafless plane tree he flutters, typically uncertain. From atop, he commands attention, asserts himself. Into the cold air he utters single notes, each with a tail flick. Sharp elegance, cut in cardamine-pink sunrise light.
December 15, 2025 at 7:34 AM
A magpie’s rattling call breaks the quiet suburban dawn. To a leafless plane tree he flutters, typically uncertain. From atop, he commands attention, asserts himself. Into the cold air he utters single notes, each with a tail flick. Sharp elegance, cut in cardamine-pink sunrise light.
Some Christmases ago, I gifted my late gran (Gwyneth) a journal, for her to capture her life story; answer questions I was always too shy to ask. I revisit the book, & especially her advice within, every so often. I see her handwritten words & it feels like she's beside me. I’m so glad we did this.
December 14, 2025 at 8:44 PM
Some Christmases ago, I gifted my late gran (Gwyneth) a journal, for her to capture her life story; answer questions I was always too shy to ask. I revisit the book, & especially her advice within, every so often. I see her handwritten words & it feels like she's beside me. I’m so glad we did this.
Snatched a peaceful fragment of wintertime in the commonplace — watching a dear spirited blackbird, turning aside leaf litter in his vital quest for food.
December 13, 2025 at 3:27 PM
Snatched a peaceful fragment of wintertime in the commonplace — watching a dear spirited blackbird, turning aside leaf litter in his vital quest for food.
12-12-25: daybreak came with three singing blackbirds — which of course was a beautiful listen, though perhaps his song most sublimely falls after the long drift of January.
December 12, 2025 at 7:45 AM
12-12-25: daybreak came with three singing blackbirds — which of course was a beautiful listen, though perhaps his song most sublimely falls after the long drift of January.
The black bulk of a raven, in the keen wind rolling & tumbling; just light & effortless in his ways, & as if asking questions of the close-by kite — the windmaster — idle & fluffed-up at his watchtree.
December 10, 2025 at 10:31 AM
The black bulk of a raven, in the keen wind rolling & tumbling; just light & effortless in his ways, & as if asking questions of the close-by kite — the windmaster — idle & fluffed-up at his watchtree.
On stormy days, always does my mind turn to the coast. I yearn to be on the rugged west, feeling the wind whip & rush, the lip-stinging rain; watching & listening to the mighty waves roll in, break, crash, rebound. The dynamics, the energy. The power, awe & deep timelessness of it all.
December 9, 2025 at 8:14 PM
On stormy days, always does my mind turn to the coast. I yearn to be on the rugged west, feeling the wind whip & rush, the lip-stinging rain; watching & listening to the mighty waves roll in, break, crash, rebound. The dynamics, the energy. The power, awe & deep timelessness of it all.
red kites
in the wind
in their element
in the wind
in their element
December 9, 2025 at 1:13 PM
red kites
in the wind
in their element
in the wind
in their element
The clarity of a winter night's starry sky brings home the absurdity of our existence.
December 8, 2025 at 8:53 PM
The clarity of a winter night's starry sky brings home the absurdity of our existence.
Way, way beyond price, is hearing a thrush’s song when walking streets on a cold, dark & wet December morn. Two hours later & he is yet to leave my mind. I get on with today in the afterglow of the music he made.
December 6, 2025 at 8:35 AM
Way, way beyond price, is hearing a thrush’s song when walking streets on a cold, dark & wet December morn. Two hours later & he is yet to leave my mind. I get on with today in the afterglow of the music he made.
Saw a vast flock of woodpigeons passing overhead this morning. A wonderfully impressive spectacle, by a bird generally disliked & dismissed. Though I thought, how nice a change it was that in this nature-depleted country, I actually witnessed abundance.
December 5, 2025 at 9:52 AM
Saw a vast flock of woodpigeons passing overhead this morning. A wonderfully impressive spectacle, by a bird generally disliked & dismissed. Though I thought, how nice a change it was that in this nature-depleted country, I actually witnessed abundance.
trees field & hedgerow
bathed in silver light
sharp silhouettes & shadows cast
the cold moon creeps tonight
bathed in silver light
sharp silhouettes & shadows cast
the cold moon creeps tonight
December 4, 2025 at 10:03 PM
trees field & hedgerow
bathed in silver light
sharp silhouettes & shadows cast
the cold moon creeps tonight
bathed in silver light
sharp silhouettes & shadows cast
the cold moon creeps tonight
last leaves drift down
stick to paw-printed mud
whirl in puddled ruts
stick to paw-printed mud
whirl in puddled ruts
December 4, 2025 at 8:08 AM
last leaves drift down
stick to paw-printed mud
whirl in puddled ruts
stick to paw-printed mud
whirl in puddled ruts