Coast Nick Baker's Wild West

The coast of South West.

We go there in our millions every year.

But I want to show you it's not just the stunning gateway

to the West of England -

it's home to some great wildlife.

I'm Nick Baker, and I'm going to be bringing you the very best

that nature has to offer from right here in the West Country.

I've lived and worked here as an naturalist for three decades,

and I'm convinced the wildlife year is as compelling

and beautiful as anywhere I've travelled.

Over the next weeks,

I'll be catching up with some great wildlife spectacles...

..tracking some of our rarest insects...

..and most stunning birds.

So join me as I explore my Wild West.

My journey starts here in Portland,

part of Dorset's beautiful Jurassic Coast.

These coastal places I'm exploring this week

aren't just pretty backdrops - their cliffs and their coves

are vital in sustaining a huge variety of wildlife,

with animals exploiting every nook and cranny.

Portland itself has a bit of a reputation of just being

a series of holes in the ground. But that's unfair -

it's rapidly becoming a wildlife haven,

home to some of our most beautiful plants and butterflies.

The holes are a result of quarrying for Portland stone,

a highly-prized limestone that was used to build St Paul's

and much of the City of London.

'Now, the redundant quarries are rapidly greening over.'

I first came to Portland and got to know it about 20-odd years ago

when I came to open a butterfly reserve.

It's about time I came back to see how things are progressing.

The disused quarries here are managed by Dorset Wildlife Trust,

and are part of a SSSI protecting this rare grassland.

When you can tear yourself away from the breathtaking views,

it's full of wildlife interest.

This bank of viper's bugloss is alive with insects.

A bee is taking pollen from the flowerhead,

and on another plant a hoverfly is taking in provisions.

And this is a female bush cricket.

That long sword-like organ is its ovipositor.

But the isle hasn't always been in prime condition.

They've been tangling with this, cotoneaster -

an invasive species that was at one stage choking out other plants.

It's hardly noticeable among the wild flowers,

and it can grow at something like 8mm a day,

smothering out those wild flowers it's hiding amongst at the moment.

And from this little stem here, an ecological nightmare can develop.

The Trust have sprayed, burnt and removed literally

hundreds of tonnes of the stuff with the help of dozens of volunteers.

How quickly after the cotoneaster is removed do you start seeing results?

Almost straightaway. Within the three years of the project,

we've been able to see

the limestone grassland really recovering.

What we call a sward, which is a functioning microhabitat

in its own right, has taken place almost immediately.

Things like the bird's-foot-trefoil,

things like horseshoe vetch -

those sorts of species

are recovering almost instantly.

The thin soil is now brimming with these magnificent flowers.

A rich sward of viper's bugloss and the golden bird's-foot-trefoil

are key larval food for the standout species around here -

the butterflies.

This is one of our most beautiful, and it's relatively uncommon -

the silver-studded blue.

Its larvae need the vetches to feed on.

When it unfurls its wings,

you get a vivid splash of blue.

But it's the underside of those wings

that give the butterfly its name -

those small studs of silvery-white.

This tortoiseshell, much commoner, is basking in the sun,

taking in energy before flying off.

This is a real close-up of another more common species,

the large skipper, with those amazing clubbed antennae.

This terrain is perfect for butterflies.

You've got the flowers and you've got these lovely little pockets,

these sunspots.

There was a couple of marble whites knocking around,

and I still haven't got a decent photograph of them.

However, unfortunately, in this heat they're a little bit flighty.

This marbled white really needs a bit of chasing.

But, despite the name, it's not really one

of the true white butterflies -

it's one of the browns.

When it finally settles, you get a great view of the beautiful

marbling on the top of its wings.

Of course, you don't have to hare around chasing insects.

'Some of the most interesting natural history on the island'

isn't going anywhere fast.

Here in the King Barrow Quarry, that 30-foot face represents

something like 150 million years of life on Earth.

Right at the very bottom, you can find fossils

of primitive marine organisms.

About halfway up, well, that's the age of the dinosaurs.

And that scruffy bit of turf at the top?

Well, that's us.

The island abounds in fossils.

These curious stone rings are part of a fossil forest.

The circles are actually fossilised algae

that surrounded the bottom of trees millions of years ago.

And these are giant woodlice!

No, they haven't been reconstructed from fossilised DNA,

they're modern ones, scuttling across ammonite fossils.

'Back in the present,

'the quarries are stuffed full of modern-day natural history.'

This is Portland Spurge,

named after the place where it was first found.

Look at those rather alien-looking flowerheads.

In late June, another Portland speciality,

yellow-wort, is emerging.

And a fine pyramid orchid.

All these flowers need low-nutrient soil.

And the island, with its porous limestone, drains very easily

so nutrients don't build up.

Well, my tour of Portland is coming to a close,

but I can't ignore a scene like that.

Look at this natural amphitheatre -

you've got the fabulous geology exposed for us to see.

And living on those cliffs are the modern-day

descendant of the dinosaurs themselves.

It's time for a spot of bird-watching.

These kestrels are putting on a great display,

hovering over the scrub on the cliffs

and looking out for small mammals.

A bird settling close by on a rock gives us a rare opportunity

to take in the details of that fabulous plumage.

And these birds are shooing off a raven that's getting

too close for comfort, mobbing it again and again,

bravely taking on this much larger bird.

The ravens on the cliff face are being quite crafty,

stealthily approaching a fulmar nest.

One flies in, perhaps to take an egg,

but it's quickly shooed off.

'There can't be many places, even in the South West, with this

variety of plant, insect and birdlife in just a few square miles.

In fact, it's got so much

I'll need couple of days to take it all in.

Now, on the face of it, the local industry, the quarrying,

has damaged the landscape to an extent.

However, it has left a series of these fabulous quarries,

which in their own right become microhabitats

and are brimming full of wildlife.

But, as we've seen, they can't exist on their own,

independent of the hand of man.

And that effort will have to continue.

Britain abounds in invasive species.

Being an island is little protection.

But here, they've reached a great balance,

allowing so many precious and rare native species to thrive.

A trip to the coast for many of us means one thing - the beach.

But I want to show you that if you venture just a little

bit off the sand, there's a whole new world to explore.

This is the Teign estuary,

right behind the South Devon resort of Teignmouth.

Every summer, the resort attracts tourists in their tens of thousands.

Every winter, it's host to some very different visitors -

thousands of wintering birds,

some of them threatened.

But, despite human pressure, the birds here seem to be doing OK.

Now, this is what we're talking about.

I've just walked out of Hackney Marshes

and on one side of me I've got a fabulous pub.

And if you can resist the pub and look in that direction,

you have got loads of wildlife.

That is where all the action is.

And kingfishers, like this one, are a winter visitor here,

often seen hunting up and down the channel.

These redshank are having a bit of a spat.

Now, this could be early courtship behaviour,

or a squabble over food.

And this is a common sandpiper, taking a worm from the mud.

Again, it's attracting the attentions of another bird -

that fanning of the tail perhaps part of courtship.

It's all happening out here today.

At this time of year, this place is mainly about one thing -

food for the thousands of wintering birds.

Now, if I was a bird, and I had the tools to extract them,

this whole area of the beach would

be one massive intertidal banquet.

Just a few seconds picking around the weed

and I've turned up a whole fistful of edible winkles.

But if I was to brave going down there onto the mud where

all the birds are, I would have a massive menu

including crustaceans and worms at my disposal.

These oystercatchers are probing deep into the mud.

Many times a minute they dig in,

before eventually pulling up a worm.

These black-tailed godwits are birds under severe conservation pressure.

There are only about ten here in any one year.

These are using their longer bills to probe deeper into the mud than

the oystercatchers, and they're pulling out different species.

Sifting from the surface are these shelduck.

That characteristic side-to-side motion

is them scything their bills through the surface of the mud

to hoover up tiny aquatic animals.

Now, what the shelduck and other birds feeding on

are these guys here.

This tiny little snail here is called the laver spire shell.

It's a bit of a mud specialist.

You might think that's not much of a mouthful,

but these things occur at incredible numbers on the surface of the mud -

up to 10,000 per metre squared.

And those sort of numbers add up.

There's a really vital mix of habitats here.

This is precious salt marsh.

It's a pretty rare sight in Devon.

With pools and channels amongst the vegetation,

it means the shelduck can feed even on a high spring tide,

when the mud is covered.

But there's even more to salt marsh than just food.

I found out just how important salt marsh is

when marine biologist David Dixon took me on a tour.

It doesn't look that grand, as far as habitats go,

but what is this plant we're walking on?

-What is this stuff?

-Well, this is marsh samphire.

So this is closely related to the samphires we would eat?

Yeah.

And it's edible,

-but not at this time of the year.

-NICK LAUGHS

-No, it's a bit coarse at the moment.

-Yeah.

So basically, this is the key,

essentially, to the salt marsh.

This plant is a terrestrial plant,

but it's capable of withstanding full-strength seawater.

And in so doing it's able to bind

what would otherwise be very, very soft mud.

Mud that would move around every tide.

And so it's able to bind it with its roots,

and with generations of dead plants.

So it produces, effectively, a soft sea defence.

And the sea defence can move slightly, gives with the waves,

and takes up the force of the energy of the waves,

and therefore protects the shore.

The more of this we had around our coasts,

the greater the defence to things like sea level rise.

-So this is a good natural buffer?

-Essential one.

-Wow.

-Essential one.

-Amazing stuff.

-So, important?

-Yeah.

All the more surprising, then,

that the marsh has the lowest level of protection.

It's a county wildlife site.

The Teign Estuary overall has no designation as a nature reserve.

There are already signs of plant destruction on the edges

where people walk.

There's an important high tide roost on the far side of the marsh

for birds like these oystercatchers and curlew.

Walkers at high tide can disturb them.

We saw plenty of evidence of dog walking all along the estuary.

These high tide roosts at the edge of the marsh are really important,

they are a chance for these oystercatchers

and curlews to rest safe from predators.

A chance for nervous birds like the shelduck to preen and get

their feathers in tiptop condition, ready to fly away from trouble.

Eventually, as the tide drops and the mudflats are exposed,

the roost disperses to go to take on more calories.

But they must have safe areas at all states of the tide to fly.

Despite the pressures that come from humans living and working here,

it's good to report that most of the species we filmed have

had pretty constant numbers on the river over the last five winters.

I'm off to a great vantage point at the bottom of the estuary

in Teignmouth, where the river meets the sea.

In the channel, there's a male and female red-breast merganser.

These are diving ducks, sawbills.

The female dives underwater.

They can stay under for long periods

and this one is under for 30 seconds or so at a time.

These diving ducks are after fish,

but it is difficult to see what species

as they seem to be eating them underwater.

But you can see when this little egret gets a bite.

There must be plenty of them.

Its darting and stabbing technique is pulling one in every few seconds.

'It's a morning's drive or a day's walk around the estuary.

'You don't just take in some great wildlife,

'you're never far from a bite to eat.'

I know what you're thinking, I started with a pub

and now I've ended with a pub.

But for me that kind of reminds me how important these places are,

not just for humans but for the wildlife that utilise them.

This is a very important feeding stop for many bird species and

also a very important habitat for many others that simply live here.

The problem is, these habitats,

as well as being some of the most threatened in Europe

are also the easiest to take for granted.

So what can we do to protect these pressured places?

I'm on my way from the Teign to another coastal gem where

they're trying to replace some of what man has in the past destroyed.

It's a bit of a battle with the elements to get there,

but this tidal road is a clue to why this place is important.

That tidal rise and fall is helping feed the wildlife around it.

South Efford Marsh near Averton Gifford in South Devon,

60 hectares of new nature reserve that's fast becoming vital habitat.

It's home to some beautiful but threatened wildlife.

I can't wait to get a look at it,

if I can get through the mud that is.

Just like in the Teign, it's the mud that's really important.

This stuff is key.

In one cubic meter of this estuarine mud

there's something like 4,500 calories worth of worms,

molluscs, crustaceans right in there

and that's what's so important about this stuff.

That's something like 18

of a well-known popular confectionery bar.

I can see the worms right here, look.

But the birds here aren't resting or playing.

They're working to the limit in the gap between the high tides,

taking in as many nutrients

as possible before the saltwater covers the flats.

This redshank is feeding on the tide line as the water rises.

This tends to force crustaceans and worms to the surface,

making them easier pickings.

And on the grassy banks this curlew is probing even deeper.

It's longer bill allows it to feed on a different

range of invertebrates to the other birds

so it's not competing directly with them for food.

The reserve sits right by the side of the muddy banks of the estuary.

There seem to be two distinct habitats here,

the river with tidal flats that has a tide ebbing

and flooding twice a day and the reserve itself.

It looks like just a bit of wet grassland enclosed by a wall,

but there's a bit more to it than that.

Back in the 1760s, this rather splendid sea wall was constructed.

The idea was to keep the tides out

and create fantastic grazing just the other side.

That was good news for cows, but bad news for all the wildlife

that would have used the original salt marsh.

Those intertidal areas,

bits of land overwashed by saltwater but dry for part of the day

are becoming very rare indeed.

Now the Devon Wildlife Trust is trying to put some back.

To do that it has put a breach in the sea wall,

controlled by this very clever tidal valve.

We've got a big tube through a bank and it lets through sea water

but we can control the sea water that goes through there.

That's what the valve does.

The green float raises as the tide comes in.

That opens the valve to sea water so it floods into the nature reserve.

Then, as the tide drops, the float goes down

and that shuts off the valve.

So we keep some of that water inside and that is vital.

We want to recreate salt water conditions in there.

We want the landscape we see out here to be replicated in there,

as it once was. So we're trying to recreate salt marsh,

so we need saltwater to go in there to kill off the grasses

that were there when it was there for cattle.

We want to recreate salt marsh and we need the mud,

the detritus to flow through the tube as well

and settle around the new plants, the salt-tolerant plants

that we see starting to establish themselves in there.

The hope is that within a few years plants like this sea purslane

are as common inside the wall as they are outside it.

Salt marsh is amongst the fastest disappearing habitat in the UK.

There's only 550 hectares left in the whole of Devon.

These plants are vital for invertebrates like worms,

molluscs and crustaceans and in turn the birds that feed on them.

Just as on the Teign, little egrets are plentiful here.

They were once rare.

I remember skipping lectures to go and see them.

Now they are breeding in the south-west.

This is a real rarity, a glossy ibis.

They tell me this one has been here for weeks.

They cling to these brackish wetland areas, feeding voraciously.

Although migrants, they may now be breeding elsewhere in the UK.

If places like this can be allowed to survive,

pretty soon they may well be breeding in Devon.

I've come to meet local birder Rodney Bone

who's known this place since his childhood.

In the War, a stray German bomb dropped just near here,

breaching the wall. It changed things.

So in this bombing, what actually happened to the sea wall?

The bomb was dropped on the bank of the marsh and obviously,

a massive great crater.

When the tide came in,

I would say was probably about 25 to 30 foot deep.

It gradually got more and more salt marsh

with a fair bit of wildlife,

but of course there was more wildlife in those days

and there were more shooters

cos most of the youngsters in the village, 17 and 18-year-olds,

they all had a gun.

They either shot duck or pigeons at weekends.

Despite the best efforts of Rodney's mates to kill them off,

the birds thrived in the newly-breached lagoon.

In the '50s the breach was prepared with this pile of rubble

and over the years,

the bird population started to go into decline.

Back in those days, everything like curlew for instance,

-minimum winter flock would be 200 plus.

-Wow.

Redshank, 60 plus.

Lapwing, 200 or 300 plus.

Of course, over the years things have gone down and down.

So I guess the big question I've got is,

this new tidal valve, is it making a difference?

Yes, it's beginning now.

With regular flooding things are coming back.

I mean, the shelduck for instance,

this last week I think 44 is my best count.

That's as high as it ever has been.

So a recent pick up in bird numbers,

but sadly all set against long-term decline.

That decline is pretty much true across many of our estuaries

as they face development pressures.

But there is one new building here that's definitely welcome.

To make the most of what's left,

the Trust have constructed this rather fabulous 360 degree view hide

to give you the proper Sensurround experience of the reserve.

Over here you've got the embryonic salt marshes,

just beginning to look good.

Over here you've got a lovely outlook onto the River Avon

and all of the mudflats here.

Let's see what's around.

This is a truly great site, two types of shank - both green and red.

The greenshank in front is a much rarer bird locally than

the redshank, with only about 1,500 breeding pairs in the UK.

This is a migrant. They tend to breed much further north.

This beautiful bobbing bird is a common sandpiper,

easy to spot in the distance.

The bobbing is supposed to be a physical camouflage, making the

bird difficult to pick out against the moving watery background.

A quick turn around and you've got another set of birds on the lagoon.

For a keen birdwatcher like me, this is a real highlight -

the curlew, our largest wading bird. A beautiful sight,

thankfully relatively common here. This one is preening.

It's a bit tricky with only a long bill and legs to use.

It uses its feet to tend to the neck and head feathers.

Then turns round to rub a gland near its tail with its long bill.

This is the preen gland and it secretes an oil

which it then runs over the main body of feathers

to keep them sleek and watertight.

I love this reserve, not just because it's interesting,

it's actually quite small and compact.

You can get around it in half an hour.

Yet, at the same time, there's so much to see here,

you could quite easily kill an entire morning

in the hide alone, especially if you're into your wading birds.

An extra feature for me is the salt marsh.

Or the salt marsh that will be.

It is still in its infancy, but year in, year out, it's going to

be changing and developing and well worth returning for.

Our estuaries have always faced huge pressure from man.

They are where we want to live, or boat, or even drive our cars.

So it's welcome news that 250 years on

one small part of Devon is being, at least in part,

given back to the sea and sustaining all the life the sea brings with it.

So many of the places I visited face some kind of challenge.

On Portland we've seen, after the damaging effects of human activity

and the introduction of invasive species, habitats can regenerate.

On the Teign, we've seen the threats that are still there

to the tiny little fragments of remaining salt marsh.

But it's not all bad news.

Here in South Efford, for example,

we've seen it's also possible to turn back the hands of time

and recreate such valuable habitats as the salt marsh.

It's places like this that give me hope.