Today was supposed to be an early start. Arise to the raucous tune of my phone alarm and then share the woodland dawn chorus with Sherlock. Two things conspired against me. Prior to my alarm going off I was awoken by the commotion of a pair of parent blackbirds which were obviously becoming stressed with one of their fledglings attempts to coming to terms with life outside of the comforts of the nest. Yesterday a similar thing happened and I went out to investigate. Unfortunately so did Sherlock who rushed out and gave the poor bird a quick shake. The parent birds immediately attacked Sherlock who quickly scarpered indoors. Unfortunately the fledgling did not survive. Today I stayed in bed- I didn’t want a repeat of that fiasco.
It’s 6am and Sherlock and I are walking past the mill leat and on to the woods that blanket the path by the river. Who am I kidding! It’s 7am; stupidly I had gone back to sleep, and when I did arise, persuading Sherlock to get up and join me was, like trying to wake me up after my alarm has gone off. He moaned and just rolled up into a tighter ball. So I went downstairs, put on my shoes and grabbed his lead. Back up the stairs I went and by this time he had moved from his bed to stretching out where I had been lying in our bed. It’s amazing how big a small terrier can make himself. I showed him his lead and with reluctance he slumped off the bed, did a downward dog, farted and was then ready to face the day.
Walking with Sherlock is great. He is as slow as me- slower infact. He stops to sniff at anything and sometimes stops and sniffs at nothing at all. A dog in no hurry. Just taking it all in.
The wood was alive with birdsong- all the usual suspects, blackbirds, robins, wrens, great tits wood pigeons, crows. All in deep conversation with each other. All trying to have their say at the same time. An absolute cacophony of sound, but marvellous to witness just the same. Peering through the green canopy and across the river, I spied a large cock pheasant. He was strutting his stuff in the early sunshine. A vision of gaudy eastern colour with a persistent cough of a call. The cows in the meadows, some with calves were slowly grazing on the vivid green grass. Back on the trail in front of me there were a few speckled wood butterflies spiralling in the shafts of sunlight. Early ferns were stretching up their youthful fronds toward the sun; a sun salutation, as if beginning a floral yoga vinyasa. Gazing back at the river I spotted a brown trout that was rising to take caddis flies as they emerged from the water. Nature and the old English countryside were just carrying on. Totally oblivious to the cloak of fear that Covid19 has gripped us all in for these last few months.
All of this got me thinking. Hundreds of folk walk these paths every year but how many folk take any interest in what they are seeing? A walk is just a walk to some; our daily and sometimes reluctant exercise.
Imagine if you began to look closely at your surroundings. Instead of saying “Oh look a butterfly” Think “I wonder what it is called.” Better still, buy a wildlife book, there are some excellent pocket sized books that have all the information you need. The Collins series are excellent. Do yourselves a favour and pop into your local book shop and ask for a copy. Trust me If they haven’t got a copy they will be only too happy to order one. Various organisations like The. Woodland Trust have free leaflets too. Then that pink flower in the hedgerow becomes Pink Campion. Marvel at some of the names like Jack Of The Woods, Wood Sorrel, Foxgloves, Primroses. You don’t have to memorise each one, but the next time you venture out at least you know what some of the names of the plants you are observing. A tree is no longer just a tree. Trees have names too- from mighty Oaks, Elms, Ash and Beech trees to smaller shrub like ones such as Sloe bushes.
The millstream is worth a look at to. Bridges are a great place to gaze over. At first it seems lifeless as it drifts through the woodland But peer at the sand bottom long enough and you will begin to notice that there are shoals of fish, minnows darting around along with sticklebacks. If you are lucky you may spot an eel like creature called a Lamprey- although in 50 odd years of walking this path I have only spotted one! But you never know. Likewise with the birds you see. You may be lucky to spot a lightning bolt of blue as a kingfisher flashes upstream (you are more likely to hear the shrill “PEEP” as it flies.) That darting bird collecting insects by the river is identified as a Sand Martin not a Swallow- you can tell by it’s tail.
Stop, observe and listen. Today I heard a cuckoo from somewhere in the woods across the river towards Escot. There is so much to be seen- even on this popular walk. Except to todays generation it seems that walks are not popular at all. A hindrance and an inconvenient break from their technological reality. But be brave. Go and wander, observe and take note- maybe a picture on your phone and then look the image up on the internet when you get home. Enjoy the freedom. A walk can become an adventure and even better, an adventure to be repeated soon.
Back home I made myself a coffee and headed out to the garden. As always my eyes were drawn to our small garden pond. And there was the cause of the blackbird commotion. A second fledgling had met it’s peril in our garden. It had fallen in to the pond and despite its parents best efforts had drowned. If only I had got up!
