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It might be true that some of the UK's seaside towns have seen better days, but there are still plenty of reasons to keep visiting.

Take Great Yarmouth, on the Norfolk coast, for example. It has sun (sometimes), golden sands, piers, theatres, donkey rides on the beach and... gulls.

Gulls get a bad press, especially in coastal resorts. The birds that drew me to Yarmouth at the weekend were not just 'seagulls', they were Mediterranean gulls.

These are sleek, attractive gulls which can be seen on the beach from autumn to early spring. They don't attack small children, steal bags of crisps or soil washing hung out to dry, they just sit on the beach and look pretty.

In winter, adult 'Med' gulls have snow-white wingtips, the palest grey mantle, a black-ringed, blood-red beak and what looks like smudgy black eyeliner. Younger birds have more brown and black in their plumage.

We approached cautiously. Closer inspection showed that two wore plastic rings on their legs, inscribed with numbers. I knew that meant an expert ringer had caught the birds and fitted the rings, but where and when?

I noted down the details. When I got home, I entered the information (what the birds were, when and where I saw them, what the rings said) into the www.ring.ac website, and waited. The next afternoon, I got my reply.

The gulls had been caught at their breeding sites in Belgium (in 2001 and 2003) and a list of subsequent sightings showed that they come to Great Yarmouth every winter, without fail! It was fascinating to read their life histories and to know that I'd made a small contribution to science.

There must be something about Yarmouth that keeps them coming back for more. Perhaps it's chips and mayo?

It's nearly 'that time of year' again, and my gosh, hasn't it flown by as always! The festive season is upon us and I'm starting to think about when to do the Christmas shopping, which dodgy relatives not to invite round this year and sending out cards to friends and family (am I too early or too organised?).

Whilst thinking about all this seasonal madness, another burning thought crossed my mind: why are robins associated with Christmas even though they appear all year round?

I see robins in the spring and the summer when they hold their territories for breeding, I hear them singing in the autumn defending their territories so why does the winter get all the credit?

I did some research and found that it all comes down to...that's right...the postman! Apparently, in Victorian times, when sending Christmas cards was getting popular, postmen would wear bright red coats and were nick named 'robins' or 'redbreast'. People would draw pictures of robins with letters in their bills and even dressed up as postmen delivering the Christmas post!

The robin's song also starts to get very strong and passionate around Christmas time, maybe because Santa doesn't bring them enough presents but this might also be a reason why we see robins on the front of Christmas cards.

So the next time you pick up a Christmas card with a beautiful scene of children playing in the glistening snow, mistletoe blowing in the background and the sparkling Christmas tree with a cheeky robin in it's branches, remember, a robin is for life, not just for Christmas!

I don't mind admitting that I was a bit cheesed off when I received a text message from my colleague Mark on Friday lunchtime: 'There's a great grey shrike on the new clearfell!' It wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, as I was somewhere between Beverley and Bridlington - nearly 150 miles away - at the time...

However, I think I got my own back. While my workmates were still tucked up in bed, early Saturday morning saw me exploring clifftop fields on the East Yorkshire coast (just up the road from our Bempton Cliffs reserve). It was another gloriously sunny, chilled start to the day, and the area was heaving with birds.

We walked up the narrow lane, hemmed in by thick hedgerows backlit by the low sun. Every few steps, blackbirds clattered out of the hawthorns - probably newly-arrived migrants from across the North Sea. More Scandinavian thrushes were overhead - fieldfares chuckled and redwings 'seeeped' as they made landfall. There were wheezy calls from a handful of bramblings and a merlin zapped across in front of us, in search of prey.

I find migration endlessly fascinating, but on this occasion it was the area's resident birds that really grabbed me. Farmland birds - species that are in so much trouble across most of the UK - were everywhere!

To my right was a clump of brambles harbouring a gaggle of linnets and reed buntings. On my left, a scruffy strip of wild bird cover was groaning under the weight of tree sparrows clambering up plant stems, busily devouring every seed they could find. Down the track, the hedge was studded with canary-bright yellowhammers, and we heard the rasping 'krrrrrrr!' of a grey partridge. Over the stubble fields, the air was rich with skylarks and their song.

All this got me thinking... what must the countryside have been like 100 or even 50 years ago, when these birds were still common and widespread everywhere? Will I be able to experience it in my lifetime?

I live close enough to work for it to be easy to cycle in everyday. It’s great exercise, convenient, green, and is a top way to get a bit of fresh air into the lungs.

It was a beautiful morning here in Sandy today, and cycling along the bridle path, just as the sun was rising over the trees, and the mist was rolling over the fields was pretty cool. Every time I looked around, there was another photo opportunity, and I wished I had my camera with me so that I could jump off and snap away. I don’t think my boss would thank me for it if I did. I‘d never get here if I stopped to snap everything.

It’s a great time to clear the mind as well. I pretty much have the path all to myself, and any cobwebs from the night don’t last long. It’s just me wheeling and wheezing my way to work. Me and the fox. And the occasional deer. And the peacock. And the squirrels. So it’s just me, the fox, the occasional deer, the peacock, the squirrels, the cows and horses in the field, a few chickens, and all the other birds I’m terrible at identifying.

And I thought it was my minty shower gel that woke me up in the morning...

Working in the middle of a nature reserve, as we do here at The Lodge, has a lot of benefits. From lunchtime walks through the woods to being able to watch an impressive variety of birds coming to the feeder outside our window, we are very lucky indeed. 

Today, we had an extra-special treat with the arrival of a very unusual and exciting visitor to the newly-created heathland area opposite the shop.

News that a great grey shrike had been found early this afternoon was quick to filter through, creating a real buzz around the place. The great grey shrike is not only a rare visitor to the UK, it is also a very handsome bird. This, thrush-sized pallid hunter is black, white and grey with a distinctive 'bandit's mask' across its face, a long tail and a hooked beak. Shrikes are sometimes known as 'butcher birds' because of their habit of creating a 'larder' by catching small mammals and impaling them on thorny bushes to eat later.

A small number of great grey shrikes had arrived on the East Coast from Scandinavia over the last couple of weeks and this bird had obviously made its way inland in search of a suitable territory. Hopefully, it will hang around and perhaps even spend the winter on the heath.

On this blue-skied, sunny afternoon, Lucinda and I headed down for a quick peek and were lucky enough to see the shrike perched high in a dead pine, keeping a look out for prey and then flying between and posing on some lower perches.

Needless to say everyone that saw the shrike today, both staff and visitors, went home feeling very happy indeed...

Ears! We would look ridiculous without them…but, funnily enough, birds don’t!

So why do some birds appear to have no ears? Well, imagine having a conversation
on a very windy day, all that wind blowing through your ears. If birds had the same ears as us, the wind they encounter whilst flying would thunder around their ‘ear-flaps’ and they would not be able to hear very well.

Instead, most birds have ear holes, which are covered by tiny feathers designed to cut down that thunderous sound. These ear holes are located at the side of the bird’s head and are sometimes nearly as big as their eyes. Of course, birds can hear very well, about as well as we do. Some birds can even catch food just by listening to creatures scampering across the floor.

Owls are the exception to this as some have small ear-like tufts on top of their heads clearly marking where their ears are.

So having little ears is a small price to pay for being able to fly…and hear that mating call at the same time!

What’s the best way to watch birds and wildlife? A trip to a reserve? A feeder in your back garden? How about your daily train commute?!

You can see some fantastic wildlife off a train; it acts as a great hide. Open your eyes and take a look, who knows what you might see!

The other day I saw a jay, with its brilliant blue flash and pinkish tinge it looks too exotic to be British. Nothing remarkable in seeing a jay, but it made my journey that little bit more exciting. You can even see some of our reserves from the train (and visit them too!). Imagine seeing a marsh harrier float across the reeds at Lakenheath from the 7.57!

Whether it’s a red kite or a woodpigeon, seeing wildlife brings a smile to my face on the morning commute. The early start suddenly doesn’t seem so bad!

It’s not just birds, there are more elusive creatures out there too, and the morning is the best time to see them. Deer stop and stare as the train speeds past. In spring, before the crops take hold, brown hares can be seen rushing madly about the fields. On the return journey, the lucky few might see an owl, or even a fox hunting rabbits.

So next time you’re on the train, take a look out of the window, it might just make your day!

I got in this morning to find a wasp flying around the office. Opening the window, I hoped that it would be enticed outside by the cool breeze; instead it did the obligatory head-butt into the glass then just moved further up the window away from the opening.

Eventually getting the message, it unfortunately flew straight into the web of a spider living in the corner of my office window. I wasn't sure what I wanted more; the wasp to break free, or the chance to watch a spider tackle something where I could see it close up.

It seemed the spider knew which spectacle it wanted me to see as it made a darting run to where the wasp struggled against the sticky strands of web. But half-way across it obviously thought better of tackling this thing that was clearly as big, if not bigger than it, and retreated back to the safety of its corner.

With a bit more struggling the wasp freed itself and flew away - hopefully not into the beak of a waiting bird!

It would appear that even spiders know you don't mess with a wasp.

Milton Keynes - The name alone conjures up images of concrete cows, a grid style road system with a roundabout at every turn and the slug on the landscape that is the Snodome.

Look a little closer and you will realise that MK was built around the tree. They line all the roads - both major and minor and are a shield for each individual estate from prying eyes and road noise. They have become synonymous with MK and are an essential part of how it looks. Some people may laugh, but where else would you find a town where when the original plans were drawn up 40 years ago, provision was made for the humble tree to the point that it was to become an integral part of the plans.

As MK has grown, so have the trees. They are a rich source of food and provide habitats to many birds, insects and mammals, and with over 20 million trees, its no wonder MK has been called "The city of trees".

At this time of year, they can rival even New England for a fantastic display of autumn colour. A row of mature ash trees line both side of the street where I live, and at the moment they are turning from green to a rich vibrant red. All around the trees are changing, and no two colours are the same. Muted greens and aluminous yellows are mixed with golden oranges, russet reds and intense purples, which are all offset against a backdrop of deep greens provided by conifers and firs. This contrast of colours allows the autumn hues to shine through even on the dullest of days. Take a walk around one of the many lakes, and these colours take on another dimension when reflected on the calm water. Of course, once the leaves start to fall, the child in us all emerges. Who can resist walking through a think pile of crunchy leaves?!

There is no denying that this is Mother Nature at her most striking, a last gasp before the final onset of winter if you will.

You just never know what might turn up in autumn - a season when you can almost expect the unexpected!

As I sat at my desk this afternoon, a flash of bright yellow caught my eye outside the window. Peering carefully outside, I saw that it wasn’t one of the many blue or great tits that regularly visit the bird feeder, but a superb, slender grey wagtail showing off its brilliantly coloured rump!

It posed on top of the yew hedge, living up to its name by furiously pumping its tail up and down, before revealing the real reason for its surprise visit by dropping down onto the bird bath to take a drink.

The chances are that this bird had travelled quite some distance to get to Bedfordshire. A lot of upland grey wagtails move down to milder, food-rich lowland areas for winter and some even arrive from the continent in autumn.

Sometimes, the most exciting things in nature happen at the most unexpected times and in the strangest of places. This welcome visitor certainly brightened up my day!

At this time of year, thousands of birds are making their way southwards through the UK. The skies aren't darkened by vast flocks, though; in most cases, it's more subtle than that. All over the country, small birds are scuttling through hedges, hopping from tree to tree and flying along rivers, streams and ditches.

You don't have to visit a migration watchpoint or even one of our nature reserves to see this happening. I saw a bit of migration preparation while I was doing the washing-up this morning.

In the garden was a blackcap dining upon honeysuckle berries. Just in time for hungry birds, the plant has produced clusters of gleaming, translucent red berries, and the blackcap (or rather, browncap - it was either a female or young bird) did not hesitate to gobble them up.

For migrating warblers, berries are just what's needed. Migrants try their hardest to pile on the pounds (well, the grams) and boost their chances of getting to Africa. The bird I saw could be heading for the south coast as I type this and will soon be crossing the Channel, bound for the Iberian peninsula or north Africa. Alternatively, it might not be going far at all - growing numbers of UK blackcaps are staying here for winter.

Wherever it's going, migration is something that never ceases to amaze me...