The winter solstice, the shortest day of the year and I’m in a hurry to complete my walk at the Waterworks Reserve before sunset at 4.43 pm. A pair of tawny frogmouths watching me go by are in no hurry at all – they have the longest night of the year to go about their nocturnal business.
I always make a point of getting out for a long walk during the winter and summer solstices and the autumn and spring equinox. It’s at those times that we notice that our fragile planet revolving in space is not immune to the workings of the great cosmos, pulled and tugged by its forces.
Planet Earth, and us, were born of the stars. We are star dust.
Sometimes I think that the birds and animals, and the invertebrates on land and sea, give this celestial influence and manipulation more recognition than we do. I’m sure the frogmouths and owls are aware there are more hours to hunt in mid-winter than at the height of summer.
It is the migrating birds, however, that pay more attention to the changing seasons. They make use of the sky at night, and the position of the sun by day, to plot their remarkable journeys which for some species can span entire continents. For all species, though, migratory or otherwise, the lengthening of the days at the end of winter triggers the urge to declare territories and breed.
The seasons marked by shorter or longer days, and cold and hotter weather, are created by the tilt of the earth in its axis in relation to the sun, which in an annual cycle exposes north or south to lesser or more rays.
The moon has its own influence. Its gravitational pull ensures the earth remains in the tilt that creates the seasons. It also creates the ebb and flow of the tides which determines when and where waders and other shorebirds feed and roost.
A full or partial moon can also aid the hunt for prey for nocturnal birds. It certainly aids frogmouths, night-fliers who feed on insects like moths. They like to hunt in open spaces like forest glades, but tragically they are attracted to roads lit by street lights which also attract their food source. Luckily, the road running through the Waterworks is closed at night so the frogmouths and boobook owls, which also hawk moths, can hunt in peace.
As it happened, the moon was not to be seen at the close of day during the solstice on June 22. It was obscured by rainclouds from early afternoon.
The tawny pair I often see on my walk appeared too lazy to move when I passed, long after the sun had set, the twilight turning to darkness. No rush, they had all night to feed before the sun rose again at 7.42 am.