Alan Mackenzie Photography

Every autumn, starlings migrate to the British Isles to escape the harsh Scandinavian winter. Some of these birds (about 40,000) spend the winter in parks, gardens and farmland around Brighton and Hove. In late afternoon, they fly to Brighton Pier, where they gather in fluid-like murmurations, before roosting for the night underneath the pier structure. It is thought that starlings began using Brighton Pier (and formerly the West Pier) to roost after the Great Storm of 1987, when gusts of 115mph felled millions of trees across Sussex.  Although no-one knows exactly why starlings form murmurations, it is thought to be a multi-purpose behaviour. Starlings benefit from safety in numbers and generate collective body heat to survive the night ahead. Each bird shadows seven of its neighbours, which accounts for why murmurations can rapidly change shape, speed and direction. Should a bird of prey attempt to intercept a murmuration, it will usually pass straight through, because it onl...

I have always loved woodlands. They are places of great emotional sanctuary. I can spend hours wandering through the trees and glades, in a dream-like state, forgoing every worry and responsibility back home. October 2014 began like summer. T-shirts in daytime, al-fresco dining and windows open late into the night. And then early on a Sunday morning, it all changed. I couldn't believe it. Beads of dew on the long grass had frozen solid following a calm, clear starry night. Thereafter, each day saw high winds and frequent torrential downpours, accompanied by thunder and lightning. Leaves blocked drains and early morning commuters found themselves stranded, as flash floods overwhelmed transport infrastructure. A succession of heavy, thundery showers passed over the Arun Valley on an early October afternoon. The tree canopy swayed violently, as squalls cut through the tall slender beeches, opening up the woodland floor to debris and cold raindrops. It became so dark, at one poin...

My visit to a forest on the High Weald in Sussex marked the end of a three month break from stalking deer. I saw 25 deer in total, including this pair of Fallow bucks, sporting a tan coat, cream underside and white spots. Their freshly created footprints and droppings were visible along a woodland path adjacent to where I spotted them moments later in a field. Unusually for this species, they spent about 20 seconds observing me, before running away; they would normally bolt on sight. When I think about it, not many people go out for a walk and enjoy the privilege of seeing this!  Roe deer seem more abundant in the forest this year. Hopefully in the coming years, it will become a first choice location for Roe. Sometimes, one can wander through the forest and not see a single deer. This evening was one of those a rare occasions when my visit coincided with high levels of deer activity. With my enthusiasm for deer refreshed, I hope to spend more time during what remains of the su...

June is surely the greenest month in the calendar. Perhaps it's just a bit too green for some. The coming of July resolves this, by adding just a hint of red and yellow into fields and pastures. Corn fields start to ripen and by August, the parched fields will have dispersed their seeds and begun to die back. Happily, there's still plenty of time to enjoy the countryside, as the sun continues to shine until 9.15pm and twilight lasts until 10.30. 2014 has been a terrible year for wild poppies in Sussex, but a potentially lucrative one for farmers. Favourable sowing weather in autumn 2013 lead to farmers using their arable land for wheat production. Summer 2014 will produce a bumper yield of grain. If you love the sight of poppies, then a wet autumn is your ally.   After a mild winter and warm spring, the first Marbled White butterflies were on the wing by June 20th, a full 10 days earlier than normal. They can be found in meadows all over England and live for abo...

Kingston Ridge, near Lewes is a fascinating South Downs location. Dramatic seasonal changes in appearance have made it my favourite Sussex vantage point. It is within easy reach of Brighton and only a short walk from the bus stop at Houndean Rise. The sheer complexity of hedgerows, lines and curves makes it an ideal place to teach student landscape photographers how to identify viable compositions. The landscape is so green in June, it's as if someone has spent the morning placing broccoli florets all over the field edges. The pure greens are just beginning to change in late June and before long, the wheat fields will be ripening in the July heat. Perhaps a future summer will bring carpets of poppies beside the Y-shaped horse gallops seen in the foreground. I'll be the first on that bus when they do!

Sunset in early June is at 21:10 and looking back, it's hard to imagine how I survived the mid-afternoon sunsets of December. Brighton is 50.84 ° north of the equator and night descends gradually over the space of one hour. After the sun set at Fulking Escarpment, I walked a few miles to the bus stop and it was still quite light by the time I arrived. On the way, I heard two baby Roe deer talking to each other and their mother in a field. Their call is high pitched and very rarely used, so it was a great privilege to be among the few people who have heard it. The temperature on Sunday reached 22 °C, but it felt like early April on a Wednesday visit to the Seven Sisters. I prefer to shoot landscapes when the weather is unsettled. Picnic weather is good for wildlife photography. I'm glad to have the choice between two genres.

The low, red evening sun reached into the forest, illuminating strips of bluebells in a magenta glow, while monolithic shadows cast by tall, slender beech trees preserved slithers of blue in their wake. I am always a little sad when the bluebells finish. They signify many things: the emergent growing season; lighter evenings; the end of winter and an overall sense of emotional renewal. Completing an entire week of bluebell photography reminds me of being immersed in an absorbing book or film and finding reality disappointing when I've finished. Bluebells are a deceptively difficult subject and people normally competent in landscape photography, will often be left with disappointing results. The obvious beauty of native Bluebells carpeting a woodland floor leads many photographers to think emotionally, to the detriment of technique, composition and lighting. Cameras are merely pieces of equipment, designed to record subjects in front of the lens. Great subject matter will n...

On a warm March afternoon, a chance encounter with a landowner, led to my being granted access to a privately owned woodland at my leisure. My camera with a 500mm lens attached is a talking point for the many people I bump into. The landowner suggested I would have more luck spotting deer in her woodland, than the forest I happened to be exploring at the time. I've visited the wood three times now; a stream flows through the centre and about thirty wild Fallow deer roam freely. A further advantage of visiting a private forest is the absence of people. Members of the Katy Perry Generation telling the entire forest that "I'm so OCD about my makeup!" are thankfully consigned to history or Abbots Wood on a Sunday evening. I now have seven good quality deer locations in Sussex to work with. Some are exclusively Roe deer sites, while others, particularly the woodlands are home to Fallow, Roe and Muntjac. I hope you enjoy my latest work and will follow me over the summer, ...