Red necked grebe (Podiceps
grisegena), Kemeri NP.
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Janis and I plodded along the forest track, waving at mosquitoes and hoping that the neurotic wood sandpipers would calm down. Every so often, Janis stooped with open Ziploc bag to collect another wolf scat for analysis. It was a hot May morning and we were here to look at the impact of beavers in a forest in Slitere National Park in northern Latvia. I had come here to learn more about these rodents whose re-establishment in the UK after an absence of over 400 years looked like it might finally be about to begin. It’s not hard to find beavers in Latvia where a private re-establishment programme started in the 1930 gave rise to the current population in the order of 100 000 animals. One even set up home behind the Biology Faculty of the University of Riga a few years ago. Now, they are responsible for the maintenance of some of the most diverse and rich wetlands in Europe - offering a helping hand to other species along the way. Cranes are a common sight, their population rise coinciding with the time in the 1980’s when beaver population growth went exponential.
As we neared the pond we paused for a minute as something crossed the track round the corner behind us. We looked at each other, shrugged, then carried on. It was only on the way back that Janis paused to point out some fresh tracks. A red deer had, from the spacing of the prints, bounded across the path, scrambling up the shallow bank at its side. And following its line perfectly, the clear prints of a wolf.
This is the closest I have come, indeed, as close as most of the people who study wolves come, to a wild encounter with this carnivore. All the year round hunting, at a level considered by Latvia’s leading wolf authority, Zanete Andersone, to be unsustainable means that the wolf population is currently heading towards the low point it last experienced in the early 1990’s. And yet, unlike Norway, surveys reveal that there exists no widespread popular appetite for the complete eradication of wolves. People farm sheep and other potentially vulnerable livestock but unlike Norway, there has been no discontinuity of the presence of wolves in the country. They have always been there and people accept them as part of the landscape.
Mid-April. I edged the hide off the bank and glided into the cold amber-coloured water, my feet swirling columns of detritus as I made my way around the margin of the shallow lake. There were at least three pairs of red-necked grebes in the vicinity and judging by the noise from a nearby reedy island, I was getting close to one of them. The reaction of grebes to my floating hide is unpredictable, but I had not been encouraged by the wariness of the great cresteds on Lake Kanieris in Kemeri National Park, about one hour west of Riga. Nevertheless, when I did make water-level eye contact with the red necks, it was from just 8 metres away. Initially, they were startled by the low green dome in the water, but soon swam close by with vegetation for their nesting platform 20 metres distant. From this range, I watched as the female prostrated herself in the water, resting her chin on the platform for stability while the male swam around for a while. Eventually he recognised the invitation, hopped on board then concluded his brief performance with a triumphant little tap dance, spraying water over his mate.
