22 May 2010 1:45 AM

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22 May 2010 1:26 AM

This morning, Friday and with beautiful weather to aid us, my wife and I went out onto a disused local canal to meet with a group of people that form our local history group.

From our home, to the place we had arranged to meet up with the rest of the history group, it was about half an hour's walk and when we arrived at the meeting place, the rest of the group were in conversation with a man who turned out to be an expert on the canal system in the locality I lived. 

Maps came out and there was lots of conversation but, because it was such a lovely day, the small group of walkers became a long line, at times, as they stopped and talked about things that 'took their eye,' so it was not always possible to hear the expert speak.

I was a guest, at this open meeting, so I felt the need to try not to ask many questions but my inquisitive mind took over and I could not help myself for there were several points that interested me and thought I would like to pass the information onto you.

While we were walking on a narrow 'toe path,' that was once used by strong horses to pull the barges at walking pace, there were lots of sights and sounds to be seen and heard.  Goldfinch, a beautiful colourful bird, could be heard and one of the walkers pointed out several Juvenile Long Tailed Tits to me.  Willow Warblers, Whitethroats and Chiffchaffs, summer visiters, were all over the area we were walking in. 

The canal was within easy walking distance of domestic dwellings and there was evidence, on the margins of the 'toe path,' of garden waste was being dumped for cultivated plants were growing along side of plants we term as weeds.  One of the walkers was very surprised to see Comfrey, once used as a medicinal plant to heal sprains, in several areas of the site.

At either end of the canal, now with only a low flow of water coming through restrictive culverts, domestic waste had been dumped and, in the middle of the section of the canal we were walking, there were large rafts of 'duck weed.' This weed starved the water of oxygen for light was not getting through the green water carpet. 

Having said that, the canal water was not dead or stagnant for fish, at least a foot long, could be seen coming to the surface of the warming water.  Surprisingly, anglers did not seem to be fishing in the areas we could see the fish.

One angler, who had gone out to fish in the hope of getting a bit of peace, was surrounded by spectators and, on our return journey, up the canal; the same fisherman had more people round him.  No rest for him today!

Another angler pointed out that a deceased angler, who loved the canal area to fish, had had a plaque erected on one of the trees that was growing at the side of the canal.  I have walked this site many times before and have never seen the plaque until today but the memorial brass plaque had been placed, in such a way, that vandals could not find it. 

Our expert, keen to tell us everything he knew about the canal, was not always easy to be in 'ear shot' for the regular members, rightly so, were keen to hear everything he had to tell them and the leader of the party felt the need to make notes that could be used at a later time.

I have walked this canal many times and, on this occasion, I was soon to learn something that I did not know before.

This particular canal was built to transport land locked coal, that came from a nearby mine,  but the route the canal took was to depend, in the main, where there were patches of clay for the clay was used to line the bottom of the canal.

Not far away from the canal, there were areas where clay could be found before and after the canal was built and, in some cases, the clay is still to be found today.  This canal section was still being used in the 1950s and the clay was used to patch up areas that had suffered from subsidence due to coal mining. 

Our morning was taken up walking only two short sections of the canal and, on each section, there were houses specifically built for people who worked on the canal's 'draw bridges.' The houses had been built so the occupants could lower and raise bridges for vehicles to go over the canal when the barge had passed through. 

Goods, that were transported, on stretches of canal, were charged a usage tariff and they were charged for every mile the bargees used.  The cost of the use of the canal depended on what the bargees were carrying. 

While the history group stood, close to one of these houses, the present occupier came out to talk to us to find out what we were doing.  Within no time, the owner, of the old canal house, went back inside and when he came out again he produced a picture of the canal house from the time the canal was still in use and gave us permission to take a photo of the picture. 

For a long time, in the past, I could not agree with my own thoughts as to why there were deep parts of water in one section of the canal and shallow water  in other areas but, as soon as it was pointed out to me, 'the penny dropped.' It was all down to subsidence. 

Close to the canal were dwellings where bargees could disembark and sleep and there were also stables for the horses to rest over night but these buildings were now only on the maps our expert produced.

When the canal was in use, the local community benefited for they were able to provide food and lodgings for the bargees to sleep and feed and make a living from their endeavours. 

Several of our walking party, when we came to the end of the second section of the canal, wanted to go on further but my wife and I, although prepared for the sun, had had enough and wanted to go home for a rest for it was now getting too hot for us to walk.     

I am not sure, at this point, if I will be accepted-as their guest-to walk to the next section of the canal, where barges once turned round, but I think it would be very kind of the group if they were to let me go with them again for the next stretches of the canal will be very interesting due to the canal having passing places. 

By for now,

John.         

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8 May 2010 8:43 PM

This morning, Monday, and after a slow start due to sitting up late to hear some of the election results, I decided to escape all the TV hype and go for a walk.  I did not want to go far, for the weather was unpredictable, so I elected to go to a nature reserve I helped set up many years ago.  When I arrived on site, I had my camera ready to try and capture the sound of the Cuckoo.  Who would have thought we would, one day, be able to record sound on a camera? 

After leaving my car, in the car park, I walked down an old disused railway track that was flanked by stratified trees.  Old wooden railway sleepers, made into a bench, provided me with a resting place to observe the sights and sounds all around me.  While sitting, I had it in my mind to try hard to record the Cuckoo but, for the moment, I enjoyed looking out over the site.

The reserve, now surrounded by industrial based noises, is an oasis for the harsh clanking sounds of mettle on mettle noises were muted by thick tree plantation growth allowing penetrating bird song to come to the fore.  From my vantage point, I could hear a Blackbird singing its heart out, a pair of Tufted Ducks was dabbling on the shallow water, Willow Warblers were calling from a wooded area and a pair of Swans was attempting to breed after several years of aborting their nest.

This year, due to encroaching and advancing reed beds-where a Reed Warbler was calling-it was now possible for the Swans to rear a brood successfully for their nesting site had become difficult, for humans, to get out to where their nest is now situated.  Over a period of several years, in the past, humans have been able to get to the Swan�s nest and tamper with the eggs.

The weather, changing by the minute and unpredictable, encouraged me to leave the seat and move on.  Now walking down a narrow leafy lane, where the tops of the trees collided and made a shaded canopy, a Wren called out and this harsh sound was followed by a quiet one noted sound of the Bullfinch. 

Yellow Dandelions carpeted the green underfoot foliage, Cowslips were, in clusters, all over a small area of the site and a green mantle of newly formed leaves excluded the sight of the canopy of trees I had become so familiar with over the winter months when they were devoid of foliage and, on the ground, there were already flowers I could not identify without the use of specialist books. 

Some trees, I helped plant in my youth, were being felled to create open vistas for the public to look out over the site.  The clouds, now large and fluffy, were moving at a great pace leaving me in cold shadows one minute and the next in gentle sunshine.  Field crops, planted a few months ago, were providing a lush green carpet in land areas marked out and bordered by Piracantha type thorned hedging.

Magpies, often recognised as local vermin-by partial spring window watching nature enthusiasts-could be seen and more Willow Warblers sang �cheek by jowl� in adjacent reeds.  Dog walkers were on site but some of them chose to give me a wide berth when they saw me putting pen to paper.  Many leaves were bright green but one tree, has the wind caught the undersides of the leaves, stood out from the rest for the colour formation looked more like a very pale green. 

A Chaffinch and Robin competed for vocal space and, although faint and in the distance, a male Cuckoo replicated its haunting two note call.  A Whitethroat, as if chatting back to itself, called out from a coppiced bush and a lone small white butterfly, like a limp piece of cloth carried on a gentle breeze, fluttered by me. 

Once again,  it became so cold, as the cloud thickened and created a barrier between the sun and me, and I felt the need to put on gloves and button up my winter coat.  In the distance, the Cuckoo called again but any attempts to record the call was drowned out by strong noisy wind. 

It was my intention to sit for a while, in the hope that the Cuckoo would eventually come closer to where I was sitting, but it became too cold to sit around for long so I decided to try and find the calling bird. While I was walking, I heard the sound of the Yellow Hammer which is often described as �little bit of bread and no cheese.�

Still on the same footpath, which was once used as a railway track, I stopped to survey the scene.  From this opening, in a line of thick young trees, I was able to see an almost completed road network that had been built to sympathetically bypass the site I was on.  At this point of my walk, it was now so cold, in the shadows, I decided to turn and go back up the tree lined path but before turning, I decided to have a last look at a small boggy area where Coot were sitting eggs.  Usually, as is the case with Coot, if both parents have the same feathered markings, both parents sit the eggs.  On this occasion, while one parent was sitting on a clutch of eggs, the other parent had moved away from the nest, to stretch its legs and to replenish its food stocks, before sitting the eggs again.  Two Herons, the �bain� of any fish stocked household pond, flew in and dropped on the marsh land in the same fashion as Flamingos do when they are in their water feeding areas. 

On my return, back up the footpath, I was now in a cold head wind and my eyes and nose began to water and I felt the need to bow my head to gain some protection from the cold.  Walking back up the narrow and winding path, a pheasant called out close to where I was walking.  When I reached a clearing, where the path opened out into a wider space, timber, left to rot down, had turned into charcoal after a recent bank fire. 

Suddenly, and without knowing it, I reached a sun trap and shared the space with a "Comma" butterfly and lingered a while so that I could get warm.  While looking skyward and marvelling at a couple of summer visiting Swifts-which had come all the way from Africa-I looked down to see an unsuspecting Stoat bounding towards me but, before I was able to set my camera up, the four legged creature had seen me and made a quick exit into the long grass. 

Although I have walked this particular foot path, of which I helped lay, many times and for lots of years, each visit seems to draw my eyes to something new.  Today, I found an old railway bracket, once used to keep cables taught, sticking out of the surface of the path which proved to me how much we do not see when we go out for a walk.

The Cuckoo, still too far away for me to record its curious noted sounds, struck up and an Orange Tip butterfly rested, on a warm sunny area, close to my feet.  Wood pigeons, that had escaped the yearly wood pigeon shoot, were on site and Blue Tits seemed to be in many places as I walked on. 

Going back to the car park, through a small wooded area, was  a land locked �school pond� and the pond had almost dried out; opposite the pond, an opportunist squirrel was feeding off a table provided for people to eat sandwiches out in the open air.

In this area, several Chiffchaffs were calling and, as I crossed a wooden bridge, to go over a dyke, I could smell oil deposits that were getting into the water table from land once used to house scrapped vehicles and, once along side of a public hide, my eyes lingered on infuriating graffiti.  These two, down side, points were soon forgotten when I heard the one note call of the Bullfinch.

From there, I walked to my car, took  a steady drive home, and reflected on the tranquil and relaxing walk I enjoyed.

I hope you enjoy reading this piece as much as I enjoyed writing it.



John.                   

     

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4 May 2010 12:42 AM

The other day, while mowing the lawn, I heard my first Cuckoo of the year and today, Monday, I thought I would go out for a walk and try to capture the sound of the Cuckoo so that I could send it out on my blog.

I set out early and, while I was getting out of our car, at a local nature reserve, I asked the warden if he had heard any Cuckoos in the vicinity.  There were, as yet, no sightings of the bird but I had a look anyway.

I waked through a woodland, now with virgin leaves bursting open, and came to the edge of a wood, overlooking a small valley, where the wood butted up to the edge of a golf course.  I was not in a hurry so, for a while, I leaned on an old wooden fence and surveyed the panaramic view in front of me. 

Green fields, woodlands and grazing animals were to be seen and, while I was drinking in the sights and sounds of the scene in front of me, I became aware of two men walking up the Fareway. 

At first, for there were lots of trees at my side of the fence, I could not see the men and I only saw the balls as they came hurtling towards my view of the greens.  The first ball missed the green and landed in the rough at the side of a medium sized Silver Birch tree.  The second ball went slightly off the geen but to the far side of the green.  The effect was that one ball went to one side of the green and the other ball went to the oposite side of the green. 

The first golfer came in view and I was surprised to see him wearing trowsers that only came up to his knees; he was wearing a wooly hat, to keep out the cold, so he was half way there with sensible dress code in the cold weather.  This man must have keenly watched where his ball landed for he went straight to it and putted it onto the green.

The second man, the man whos ball landed by the Silver Birch tree, pulled his trolly up a narrow path, at the side of the green, and, for a time, he searched through the brush. 

He was about one hundred yards away from where his ball had fallen but, while he was still searching in the first place he looked, he pretended he had found the ball and waved to tell his friend then played the ball but, once again, the ball landed in the rough.  The man walked straight passed the area where his first ball had fallen and began to search for the second ball but, after looking for some time, he said he had found the ball when he had not. 

He played the second ball and it was at this point that he spotted my leaning on the fence.  The man was wearing a flat cap but I could still see his embarrased red face under the cap. 

No matter, for it did not bother to me if he wanted to cheat, I walked on and eventually moved into an area where sheep and lambs were grazing on the lush green grass.  Someone walked passed me and when I turned to look at the walkers, I mentioned that the month of May was, in my opinion, the best month of the year when nature was coming to life again after a long winter's sleep and they agreed with me.

While walking down a narrow lane, to go back to the car, I marvelled how light my new boots were; the boots are not 'broken in' properly and they are still a little stiff in the ankle zones but, to say I have only been wearing them for a short time, they are begining to mould themselves to my feet like no other boot I have had to date.

Thinking that I was wasting my time, for the Cuckoo was going to turn up on this site, I drove to another reserve. 

I had not been on site long when I heard the familier sound of the Cuckoo and walked in the direction the call was coming from.  I was closer now and could clearly hear the bird but, as yet, I was unable to set my camer up to record the sound of the Cuckoo. 

Eventually, I set the camera up and, yes you have guessed it, the Cuckoo stopped calling.  I walked up and down the small reserve and eventually caught sight of the bird in its grey stage.  I was soon close enough to be able to take a picture of the bird but I could not get close enough to be able to show my shot on my blog.  I waited and waited but the bird did not call again so, when it began to rain, I felt the need to put my camera away and, yes you have guessed it, as soon as the camera was away, the Cuckoo began to call again.  The bird was driving me to dispair. 

I decided to go back and try again and eventually, I was able to make a very short recording of the bird while it was making the cuckoo sound. 

Egerly, to test out my bird song on my wife, I went home and when I turned the camera on again, I played the recording but my wife said she could not here it so I will have to try again another day. 

By for now,

John   

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2 May 2010 8:06 PM

On Friday, the weather was perfect for trying to get garden projects sorted out and, on and off, I was in the garden all day.

I had set myself thee tasks and was able to do two of them.  The first task was to make and erect a cover to go over the door of the smallest of my two garden sheds.  The cover has been erected to divert rain from falling onto my door locks so that I do not have to keep putting oil on the locks for they are turning to rust.

The cover, with any luck, could also act as a good nesting area for a summer visiting Swallow. 

The second task, and easy one, was to erect a climbing frame for the yellow flowering Broom to cling to when it begins to grow up the side of the shed; my son has just planted the Broom. 

It does not sound like I had done much work but the problem was I was trying to work with re cycled wood and when I cut some of the pieces needed for the cover, the wood broke away when drilled to accept the hugs.  No matter, when things went wrong, I simply laughed at the problems and remembered something one of my friends told me. 

"When you are trying to do something,"  He said.  "It is the getting there that is the fun part not the end product." 
He is right for once something is completed it can only be looked at, in admiration, once and then it is time to move onto the next project.

On Saturday, yesterday, the weather was on my side again, although dull and cold at first, so I went into the garden again.  This time, while my wife went to the shops to purchase a few light carrying bits to tide us over the week end, I began to paint the new erected wood and followed up by painting the whole shed.

While I was working, Swifts, just coming into the breeding areas from their winter quarters, were screetching over head and if that was not good enough, I was able to here my first Cuckoo of the year.

In the afternoon, I started work on a exterior door cover for my large shed, this task was a two man job for there was lots of upward stretching to be undertaken.  My son was leaving us, for the week end, and I decided to have a go at the work on my own.  A couple of hours later, breaking off to mow the lawns, I gave up on the task for I could not do anything right.

Hearing the Cuckoo is always good for me and, when I awoke this morning, Sunday, I expected that the wonderful weather would still be with us but I was to be wrong.  It was dull and overcast but, would you believe it, it was only 5c.  Yesterday it was 20c.

Today, trying to keep warm, I am catching up with my blog and emails and I am afraid I have just written a blog that most people may find boring.

By for now,

John.

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