It’s probably a bat worker . . .

You spend a lot of time on bat surveys glaring suspiciously at other people who dare to be wandering around in the dark at such an unreasonable hour, not considering that they may also be a little baffled by you.

Often you are carrying a plethora of unusual equipment that can make you appear as though you are part of some paranormal investigation. Sometimes you are sat in a camp chair firmly staring in one direction, occasionally moving to take a sip of tea. Every so often you need to chase after a particular bat to get a decent recording of its echolocation – that species might not have been recorded in the area before! You’re definitely sleep deprived (in summer dusk surveys can extend past midnight and dawn surveys begin before 4am).

So at night, if you do happen to see someone looking slightly deranged and dishevelled, stumbling in erratic circles, or sitting in the middle of nowhere holding strange objects muttering to themselves, don’t worry. Chances are it’s just an ecologist.


Field Book ~ Hawkmoths

Being able to identify species on the spot is a key skill for a field ecologist, but I still have to spend a lot of time faffing about juggling several field guides, which can get particularly frustrating in the wind and rain! There’s been a lot of articles on how younger generations are just not as accomplished at identification (perhaps due to a lack of natural history education, and there might be something in that) but when it comes to groups like plants and insects I feel a large part of it is that there are so many of them. So, with this in mind, some of my field book entries are part of the continuous slog to hone my ID skills.

One study I was actually pretty pleased with was part of a university project and focussed on the family Sphingidae, or hawkmoths. Hawkmoths are gorgeous moths, sleek and striking (though not all my drawings convey this!) and go a long way to dispelling the myth of moths being boring, drab creatures. I hope you enjoy these photos from my field book!

A giraffe at a watering hole

On my first holiday (i.e. non-research!) trip to Africa in 2016 I was super, probably over, excited to see a giraffe take a drink at a watering hole.


Having waited patiently for the last stragglers of a large herd of elephants to leave, the giraffe cautiously approached the water’s edge, looking around continuously. After a long deliberation, it was eventually satisfied the coast was clear and began to shuffle its legs outwards slowly, a little bit at a time, until finally it stopped with its legs splayed at a wide, steadying angle.


It then bent its knees in a spider-like crouch and finally began to drink.


Occasionally it would lift itself up again if I moved my camera too dramatically, just to be on the safe side.

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The whole experience made me curious about several things, such as; why does a giraffe take such as long time to drink? What are those pale circles on the giraffe’s face? How does it manage with such a long neck?

It turns out that there is a lot of research into how a giraffe actually drinks, including the mechanics of pumping water up its long neck ( and how they don’t just pass out (

The slow, cautious nature of approaching a drink is likely due to the vulnerable position such a stance puts the animal in. I had guessed that the giraffe was checking for predators but it seems that the actual actions of lowering into the weird crouch and rising from it takes a while in itself, as it is a bit awkward, so it’s particularly wise to check the area is clear of possible danger before even attempting to adopt the drinking position.

The pale circle of the giraffe’s face is due to an ossification process, and reveals that it is actually a he, and a mature he at that. ‘As male giraffes age, calcium deposits form on their skulls and other horn-like bumps develop.’ (