Over a lifetime of naturalising I've met some characters from the general public, most ask what I'm up to, and after I explain that I'm a naturalist the common response is 'so you take your clothes off' followed by a hearty laugh. Of course I could say I'm just studying nature and all would be fine, but there's a mischievous part of me that wants to determine if those choosing to engage me in a conversation actually understands what a naturalist is or does. In my experience most don't.
I recall one of my most memorable and celebrated interactions was with three teenagers who had chosen to spend the afternoon riding a ram-shackled motorbike around the spoil tips of Blaenavon. The unmistakable sound of a revving machine had abruptly stopped as I rounded the base of a tip only to be greeted by the said joy riders busily trying to repair a boneshaker of a bike. As I approached one of the lads rose to his feet and asked if I had a spare part for his bike. At this point I was not entirely sure if he was joking or serious. My response was a polite no. Then upon noticing I was carrying a sweep net with a pair of binoculars dangling from my neck, the other two cocky would be mechanics quickly asked what I was doing. I'm a naturalist I said. Suddenly the conversation stopped all three were wide mouthed and speechless the only sound was that of a distant singing Skylark and the muffled sound of cogs whirling as these junior Reform UK voters tried to compute what I had just said. Without another word the trio of greasy handed repairers nervously grabbed then pushed the stricken bike to make a getaway occasionally looking back to cautiously check that I was not about to take my clothes off no doubt.
This brings me on to my most recent conversation with a member of the public that took place only last weekend. This time it was in the heart of Newport Town Centre when I was engaged in a spot of riverside gull watching. As I leaned over the metal railing that prevents drunken night-time revellers from plunging into the darkness of low tide muddiness to photograph one of Peter Rock's colour ringed Lesser Black-backed Gulls, I became aware of a gentleman also peering over the same safely railing within throwing distance of an empty can of lager. I paused to take stock of the assembled Larus when the stationary passer-by approached to ask if they were Godwits down there. Somewhat surprised at being asked a question by a clearly knowledgeable individual I reply positively by saying 'yes indeed they are in fact Black-tailed Godwits'. He seemed genuinely pleased to see these birds feeding along the River Usk slap-bang in the middle of urban Newport. From there the interesting gentlemen told me of his surprise to find a Nightjar in his garden in Newport a few years ago. He then went on to explain that he was of Sri Lankan heritage and on one of his visits to see his family back home he recorded over 70 bird species some of which he proceeded to show me on his phone. After a few minutes we parted company my faith in the engagement of strangers restored, until the next public interaction perhaps.
