Hawks, Herons and Pike
05th August 2015
5th August
Hawks, Herons and Pike
"Me and my brother returned to the water
I saw a pike that was two feet long.
Two small magicians, each with a jam jar
Cast spells on the water with hazel twig wands"............
This was indeed a grand day out, touring around the landscape of my home town. This is a very special place to me, not just because it is the place of my birth, but because of the varied and stunning character of the land. I see more varieties of wildlife here than I ever do in the Mountains.
The Surrey Hills are (seasonally) weeks ahead of my home in the Lakes. Here the Blackberries are already ripening on thick, gnarled and prickly bushes that flank each hedgerow. Standing emperor like, the Purple Loosestrife, adorn each side of the river bank. They are accompanied by their court entourage of pink willow herb, who seeds wisp like, float away with the wind. These floating bundles of fluff and filament are a reminder of school holidays, and the imaginings of fairies.
As I pass through the dense, broad leaf woodland, with the sunlight scattered across hard, dry paths, the wood pigeon is heard calling out to Betty ("it's tea time Betty, it's teatime...."). This call is the soundscape of my pre teens. I regularly stayed on the farm of my Grandparents and would hear the Wood Pigeons calling each other. Their song echoed over the small valley where the farm was neatly bedded into the sandstone hills. All around the farm were the ruminant sounds of domestic animals, but high above, in the silvan canopy, the lyrical song of these birds sang above the feed time baying.
Further into the woods I first hear then see Hobby Hawks flying high above. These beautifully compact birds were soaring across the sky, showing amazing agility, crisscrossing each other's flight paths. There was at least two but due to their speed and the thickness of the tree canopy I could never quite see them to know for sure. It seemed they were deliberately toying with me, and like mischievous magicians, they would appear and disappear instantly. Their repetitive call a constant repeating, Doppler like crescendo.
Whilst I twisted and turned my head in my attempt to see the Hobby's a roe deer silently appeared on the path above me. With such ease and grace it stepped into the undergrowth. Its appearance was more imagination than reality. More work of the magician?
From leaving the high sandstone ridge of the Chantries, I entered the valley that cuts through the chalkland downs. This valley cups the winding River Wey, as it makes its way to join the Thames. It is a slow, meandering water that harbours little islands and peninsulas on its course. These physical features are perfect environments for all sorts of flowers, insect and birds. I noticed that a lot of work is being done to remove the invasive Indian Balsam plant. I notice too, that there is very much to do as it is now very well established. I hope they persevere as the banks of the Wey support an amazing array of plants, but all more fragile and less competitive than the Balsam.
As I journeyed along the tow path I saw a pike snatching, what I guess was a gudgeon that had been swimming near the surface of the river (I had seen many just below the surface. They were probably this high in the water to access more oxygenated water, as it had been very warm, with low rain fall). As the Pike grabbed its prey and turned I note its spotted, leathery flank and, like the squid nemesis of Captain Nemo, I imagine I see its cold, steely eye view me with contempt.
Further along, as the river twists and turns towards Godalming, I came across a Heron. It stood motionless and unsure on the opposite bank. It is waiting, perhaps for one of these high swimming fish, but is noticeably uneasy due to my presence. Me and another traveller stop and admire, whilst another lady, unfazed and unmoved passes us talking loudly on her mobile. Walking thorough nature, but not into it.
As I move off a Hawk bursts free from a hedge, shooting high above me. Had I disturbed it from its dinner? Like the Roe Deer earlier, I regularly have these types of encounters. I will be observing another animal, focused, concentrating, standing so still, that I do not detect other creatures about their business. Once I was so busily watching a grass snake move across my path, that I was unaware of the much larger Grass Snake that was now sat on top of my right foot. As soon as I went to move, both snake and I became shockingly aware of each other. Something, I suspect, neither of us will forget.
I had been walking for several hours now, so made a course for home, it was then that I saw the briefest flash of emerald as it flew across the river, into the wild undergrowth on the opposite bank. It was a rare, fleeting glimpse of a Kingfisher. I have seen these most majestic of birds along this part of the river before, but many years ago. Every time I have walked this stretch I optimistically look to see if I will again be honoured by their royal presence. Today I was less attentive, but was no less thrilled by seeing such bold and imperial colours.
My day's journey concluded by heading back into the silvan haven of the Chantries. As I reached the top of the escarpment I was stunned to see two red kites hovering over the stately sweet chestnut trees that guard this terrace. They flew at a very low level allowing me to appreciate them more fully. One even rested in a small tree less than 20m away.
It's not clear if they are permanent settlers or just passing through. I do know this is the first year I have ever seen them here (and I have been coming here for at least 30 years). So maybe they will stay. Either way I view this as a positive indicator on the health and depth of wildlife now being sustained in this area.
A great day and I guess Home will always be Home, as it represents what I know. It formed me and I shared it with friends and family who have been created by the same landscape.
......"Country boys catch tadpoles, dive into water
Made shy by their laughter, we wandered down stream
And summer rolled o'er us with no complications
'Accept thinking of Mama sometimes in dreams.
Stand by the drawbridge, waiting for barges
Waiting around for smiles from the man.
Lifting the bridge whilst watching the horses
Dragging the slow boats up the canal.
I do remember the times but no number
After the day, but before evening comes
Waiting for castles and kettles with roses
Painted on barges that sailed into the sun.
Oh, see the river run, that was by man begun
Open the locks, let the boats sail on,
Taking their castles and kettles with roses
With summers of childhood leaving smiles on the man".
Barges: Ralph McTell
Hawks, Herons and Pike
"Me and my brother returned to the water
I saw a pike that was two feet long.
Two small magicians, each with a jam jar
Cast spells on the water with hazel twig wands"............
This was indeed a grand day out, touring around the landscape of my home town. This is a very special place to me, not just because it is the place of my birth, but because of the varied and stunning character of the land. I see more varieties of wildlife here than I ever do in the Mountains.
The Surrey Hills are (seasonally) weeks ahead of my home in the Lakes. Here the Blackberries are already ripening on thick, gnarled and prickly bushes that flank each hedgerow. Standing emperor like, the Purple Loosestrife, adorn each side of the river bank. They are accompanied by their court entourage of pink willow herb, who seeds wisp like, float away with the wind. These floating bundles of fluff and filament are a reminder of school holidays, and the imaginings of fairies.
As I pass through the dense, broad leaf woodland, with the sunlight scattered across hard, dry paths, the wood pigeon is heard calling out to Betty ("it's tea time Betty, it's teatime...."). This call is the soundscape of my pre teens. I regularly stayed on the farm of my Grandparents and would hear the Wood Pigeons calling each other. Their song echoed over the small valley where the farm was neatly bedded into the sandstone hills. All around the farm were the ruminant sounds of domestic animals, but high above, in the silvan canopy, the lyrical song of these birds sang above the feed time baying.
Further into the woods I first hear then see Hobby Hawks flying high above. These beautifully compact birds were soaring across the sky, showing amazing agility, crisscrossing each other's flight paths. There was at least two but due to their speed and the thickness of the tree canopy I could never quite see them to know for sure. It seemed they were deliberately toying with me, and like mischievous magicians, they would appear and disappear instantly. Their repetitive call a constant repeating, Doppler like crescendo.
Whilst I twisted and turned my head in my attempt to see the Hobby's a roe deer silently appeared on the path above me. With such ease and grace it stepped into the undergrowth. Its appearance was more imagination than reality. More work of the magician?
From leaving the high sandstone ridge of the Chantries, I entered the valley that cuts through the chalkland downs. This valley cups the winding River Wey, as it makes its way to join the Thames. It is a slow, meandering water that harbours little islands and peninsulas on its course. These physical features are perfect environments for all sorts of flowers, insect and birds. I noticed that a lot of work is being done to remove the invasive Indian Balsam plant. I notice too, that there is very much to do as it is now very well established. I hope they persevere as the banks of the Wey support an amazing array of plants, but all more fragile and less competitive than the Balsam.
As I journeyed along the tow path I saw a pike snatching, what I guess was a gudgeon that had been swimming near the surface of the river (I had seen many just below the surface. They were probably this high in the water to access more oxygenated water, as it had been very warm, with low rain fall). As the Pike grabbed its prey and turned I note its spotted, leathery flank and, like the squid nemesis of Captain Nemo, I imagine I see its cold, steely eye view me with contempt.
Further along, as the river twists and turns towards Godalming, I came across a Heron. It stood motionless and unsure on the opposite bank. It is waiting, perhaps for one of these high swimming fish, but is noticeably uneasy due to my presence. Me and another traveller stop and admire, whilst another lady, unfazed and unmoved passes us talking loudly on her mobile. Walking thorough nature, but not into it.
As I move off a Hawk bursts free from a hedge, shooting high above me. Had I disturbed it from its dinner? Like the Roe Deer earlier, I regularly have these types of encounters. I will be observing another animal, focused, concentrating, standing so still, that I do not detect other creatures about their business. Once I was so busily watching a grass snake move across my path, that I was unaware of the much larger Grass Snake that was now sat on top of my right foot. As soon as I went to move, both snake and I became shockingly aware of each other. Something, I suspect, neither of us will forget.
I had been walking for several hours now, so made a course for home, it was then that I saw the briefest flash of emerald as it flew across the river, into the wild undergrowth on the opposite bank. It was a rare, fleeting glimpse of a Kingfisher. I have seen these most majestic of birds along this part of the river before, but many years ago. Every time I have walked this stretch I optimistically look to see if I will again be honoured by their royal presence. Today I was less attentive, but was no less thrilled by seeing such bold and imperial colours.
My day's journey concluded by heading back into the silvan haven of the Chantries. As I reached the top of the escarpment I was stunned to see two red kites hovering over the stately sweet chestnut trees that guard this terrace. They flew at a very low level allowing me to appreciate them more fully. One even rested in a small tree less than 20m away.
It's not clear if they are permanent settlers or just passing through. I do know this is the first year I have ever seen them here (and I have been coming here for at least 30 years). So maybe they will stay. Either way I view this as a positive indicator on the health and depth of wildlife now being sustained in this area.
A great day and I guess Home will always be Home, as it represents what I know. It formed me and I shared it with friends and family who have been created by the same landscape.
......"Country boys catch tadpoles, dive into water
Made shy by their laughter, we wandered down stream
And summer rolled o'er us with no complications
'Accept thinking of Mama sometimes in dreams.
Stand by the drawbridge, waiting for barges
Waiting around for smiles from the man.
Lifting the bridge whilst watching the horses
Dragging the slow boats up the canal.
I do remember the times but no number
After the day, but before evening comes
Waiting for castles and kettles with roses
Painted on barges that sailed into the sun.
Oh, see the river run, that was by man begun
Open the locks, let the boats sail on,
Taking their castles and kettles with roses
With summers of childhood leaving smiles on the man".
Barges: Ralph McTell