I am often asked if I know who is responsible for removing the various rubbish rafts floating behind tangled masses of fallen tree branches on the River Stour and in Hoo Brook. As far as I am aware, this is the Environmental Agency’s responsibility. I suppose there is a shortage of resources at the moment.

Rubbish in the River Stour at the north end of the marsh.

I am amazed at the size, variety and sheer quantity of rubbish floating down the Stour and Hoo Brook, on its way down to the River Severn. I have seen a lorry wheel, a fridge, all manner of camping gear; sport items such as footballs, tennis and golf balls, cricket and tennis bats, dog baskets and cat carriers, footwear of all makes and styles, metal oil drums of various sizes plastic containers, every kind of bottle and food packaging you could possibly imagine. I could go on, but I guess you get the message.

Rubbish in the River Stour.

Rubbish in the River Stour.

The floating rubbish problem is caused by unwanted items being dumped upstream; it then gets trapped behind fallen tree branches, where it stays until the waterways flood. The force of a flood breaks through the log-jams and the rubbish is free to surge downstream, to be held back by the next log-jam. It can take months for a large item, such as a fridge, to move a few hundred metres downstream. I suppose, if the fallen tree branches were cleared from the river banks, the rubbish rafts would have a clear run down the Stour to the weir at Lincomb Lock, just over a mile from Stourport, down the River Severn.

Wilden Marsh Reserve is, thankfully, free of litter and fly tipped rubbish. There is a small amount of rubbish, including a fridge and, I think, a washing machine, together with a few children’s toys in a single pile in the lagoon field, close to the gated entrance at the north end of Wilden Lane. The marsh reserve is clear of rubbish because access is restricted to authorised vehicles, the access gates are padlocked. The reserve is closed to the general public. There is a little rubbish in the wood alongside Hoo Brook, close to Wilden Lane, and this is mainly Mc Donald’s food and drink containers. A bright spark dragged  a wheelie bin alongside the brook a couple of weeks ago and left it there – I don’t know if this was intended as a gentle reminder to place rubbish in the bin, or whether children were the culprits.

An anonymous notice seen in Hoo Wood, presumably, with the ‘cat missing’ flyers in mind.

The situation is not so rosy in Hoo Wood either. WFDC post fly tipping notices in an attempt to prevent some of the residents, who live along the edge of the wood, from dumping their garden waste and tree prunings in the wood, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference, they do it anyway. During the spring and summer months I come across large piles of branches and leaves in various places in the wood – usually directly behind the house of the person who has done the pruning. I must admit that I don’t understand the mentality of these people; you would think that the threat of a £2500.00 fine for fly tipping would stop them – they must feel that WFDC are not likely to take legal action against them.

If a cat goes missing – and lets face it, cats are well-known for wandering off – notices are posted on trees, fences, lampposts, in Hoo Wood, the surrounding streets, and in areas around Spennells. It’s not so much the notices that annoy people, it’s the fact that they are left in place until someone gets fed-up enough to rip them down.

At the north end of Hoo Wood is a path to the Hoo Farm Industrial Estate; this attracts its fair share of empty bottles and cans, discarded cigarette packets, hypodermic syringes, pill foils and the ubiquitous McDonald’s food and drink containers. These are cleared periodically by local people who appreciate the wood.

SUNDAY 20th March 2011 – 20:15:

Blue Tit 27-03-2011

I disturbed the Hoo Brook kingfisher this afternoon. It flew like a dart down the brook to the Stour; if I hadn’t disturbed it, it’s unlikely that I would have seen it let alone photographed it.

The toads, having had their fun, have left the north pond. The pond is now toadless. Not a single toad did I see this afternoon; the pond is eerily silent without their constant squeaking, plopping, squishing and squashing, and there is now an oily bloom covering most of the water surface – I have no idea whether the oily bloom is anything to do with the toads. The water level has fallen steadily since the beginning of the year: rainfall has been quite low. I can’t help wondering where the toads have wandered off to; did they all leave the pond together? Perhaps the head toad gave a signal and they moved out en-mass –  and did they leave by day or by night? I have  a mental video playing in my head featuring a million toads crawling out of the pond and hopping away in all directions, only to disappear into the distance leaving a mystery to be solved by an eagerly awaited sequel.  Perhaps, in the real world, they have just moved off into the swamp.

Dunnock 27-03-2011.

Nature, like time, keeps moving along and if you blink your eyes, or turn you head at a sudden noise, you stand a good chance of missing an important event. A sudden noise might indicate an important event, so I often feel obliged to turn my head towards the noise and that will be when the otter swims out of the river, does an Irish jig on the bank with its paws on its hips, whilst also juggling a couple or three fish with its mouth. No matter how important the event, there is only a finite amount of free time a person can muster for leisure projects,  and it’s impossible to see every thing that might be of interest. Prioritisation, did I hear someone say? Wherever I go and whatever I do, this word is not far behind me. I had a dream once in which a huge black, slimy, slug named ‘Prioritised’ made it its business to track me down. No matter how far I travelled, nor how fast I travelled, nor in which direction I travelled, I knew that if I stayed still long enough the inevitable would happen:I would find myself under prioritised. Being under prioritised is a bit like being under insured – if you are under insured and something nasty happens, you struggle to know what the next important thing is that you should be doing. So I admit that I prioritise, but I am not really convinced that this gives me an advantage where nature is concerned. Let me put it another way: If I wander around with my camera at the ready will I see more and photograph more interesting wildlife than I would if, say, I sat in a hide with my camera on a tripod? I am bound to say that I usually find wandering more productive than standing still. If I decide that I’m going to spend an hour in the hide, an hour on the river bank, and an hour wandering aimlessly about, then this is a plan. If I then schedule these activities in terms of importance, then I am prioritising my work or leisure time. Now having mentioned  planning…I think I had better quit here before I slip into rant mode.

I saw 16 bumble bees today: four in Hoo Wood and the rest on the north marsh.

Buds are just breaking out on the Hoo Wood silver birch trees; hawthorn, elder and honeysuckle are quite well leafed and the beech trees are heavy with catkins. I think Hoo Wood is around one or two weeks ahead of the marsh in the growing stakes.

More to come when I get a minute or two…

 

Great Crested Grebe – north pond – 20/03/2011

SUNDAY 20th March 2011 – 21:00: There was more than the usual bird activity at the north end of the marsh today; I wonder if the reason is something to do with all the toads that seem to be having such a marvellous time in amongst the north pond reeds. I took a few photographs, but they didn’t all turn out as well as I had hoped – some days it works, and on other days it just won’t come right.

Rare breed cattle graze the marsh and they are moved to different areas, as needed. Apparently, the cattle love eating Himalayan Balsam, and they are a very feisty bunch. I think that the large black cow is the herd leader and she keeps the other cows in order by jabbing them in the ribs with those long sharp horns of her’s – it seems to do the trick, too. As soon as they set eyes on someone, they are quickly bounding along to investigate. If you are not used to cows, it can be a bit disconcerting to see these old girls rushing towards you – they don’t moo like regular cows: they bellow very loudly.

WEDNESDAY  16 MARCH – 18:12: On Sunday I noticed four wild bee nests: one in Hoo Wood, one further along at the rear of the Roxel site and two at the lagoon side of the north marsh pond. The nest at the rear of the Roxel site is in an old European Larch tree, which is on the edge of a new residential housing building site and I think it might soon be felled. The nest in Hoo wood is also in an old European larch tree and is at the rear of a company involved in crushing old hardcore and building rubble. The nests alongside the north marsh pond are in old woodpecker nest holes in oak trees, 25 metres apart.

THURSDAY 17th March 2011 – 19:50: I spent today at the southern end of the marsh with a Worcestershire Wildlife Trust Volunteers working party, on a ‘clean-up day’. It was perfect weather for pulling up old tree roots and collecting and stacking pruned tree branches. It must have been the hottest day of this year, so far. It was an invigorating and very satisfying way to spend a day. We arrived on-site at 09:30, with lots of pruned tree branch littering a sizeable area of the southern marsh, and by the end of the day the branches and a load of once buried and now redundant tree roots were stacked in tidy piles.

After a day of strenuous activity, I wandered across the reserve though the late afternoon sunshine. I saw the first marsh bloom of this year, a Lesser Celandine, at the side of the Stour, just above the north weir. The first wild flower is a turning point of the year for me. I’m in spring mode now.

The north pond is teeming with frogs and toads at the moment.

Cormorant - 06/03/2011 (Click image to enlarge)

TUESDAY  2nd MARCH – 18:12: I scanning the north marsh pond with my night scope. I noticed a number of small flickering coloured flares in amongst the trees on the other side of the pond. I couldn’t see with any clarity, what was over there. It  looked like half a dozen fireflies were hovering above the ground. With my naked eye, I could see, very faintly, orange and blue flickering. I stood for a while trying to work out what it could be. I alternated between my naked eye and the scope, I was still unable to get a definitive view. Through the scope, I could see a lot of bright white infrared light bouncing from the surrounding tree branches and half a dozen small flares flitting between them. I don’t believe in fairies, gnomes, or in any other supernatural entities that might crawl about at night, and I had not yet seen fireflies on the marsh. There is a rational explanation for what was happening on the other side of the pond.

Rockin' Robin.

Rockin' Robin - 05-03-2011.

It crossed my mind that I had been caught-out before, by those Chinese paper hot-air balloons that are becoming increasingly popular. One dark night earlier in the year I saw a bright orange globe  descending slowly in the distance, whilst out walking in Hoo Wood. It was only when I found a spent Chinese paper lantern on the marsh, that it dawned on me: the orange globe I had seen descending into Hoo Wood was not a UFO, after all …

Anyway, what to do now was the question! I had three options as I saw it: continue south around the pond, over the gate, through the bog and work my way down the other side of the pond– this would be a noisy option, and the breeze might carry my scent towards the ghoulish thing that might be slithering on the other side of the pond. I could wade across the pond, but this was little better than the first option. I could walk north along the Stour to Hoo brook and follow the swamp fence to the lagoon side of the pond, where I might be able to get a better look at whatever was there. The night was already as dark as ol’ Nick’s coal hole, so I decided on the latter option and crept back the way I had come.

Robin2 06-03-201

Having made it around the swamp without falling in any of the stagnant pools that are dotted around the lagoon field, I was now inching my way along the swamp fence and was within spitting distance of the pond. I scanned the wood with my scope, but couldn’t see any dancing lights; however, I could smell wood smoke and cooking. With my mind on recent peculiar happenings on this side of the pool, I worked my way further along the fence to where I was roughly opposite the basic tree branch shooting hide I stumbled across and pulled-down a few weeks ago. I scanned the wood with my night scope again. What I saw made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The shooting hide had been re-erected and was now covered with fabric sheeting. I worked my way to where I could get a look at what was at the front of the hide. As I focused my scope, the outline of a man in a wide-brimmed hat began to form; he had a very large bushy beard too. He was sitting crouched over what looked like a hobo cooking stove, and he was sitting on what turned out to be a very large ex-army kit bag. It was obvious to me now that I had stumbled upon a ‘gentleman of the road’ – otherwise known as a tramp.

Herons at Wilden Marsh.

Herons sleeping on Wilden Marsh.

I slowly stood up and shouted – not too loudly: “Hello there! Can I enter your camp?” I think I gave him a bit of a fright, because he jumped up pretty smartish. “What the…?” he spluttered. “Who am ya and what are ya wanting from me?” “Are ya trying ta give an old man a heart attack?” “Ah, away wit ya already!” “I prefer me own company.” At a guess, I would put his origins somewhere between the Irish and Jewish quarters of Dudley – ha! .  ”Well…I was passing, smelt your cooking and wondered if you might be up for a chat,” I offered.  There was a pause and a bit of scuffling. I didn’t have as good a view of him now as I had through my scope.  “If ya must. I ain’t got much snap mind,” he said nervously.

I walked into his camp and chatted with this gentleman of the road for a while.

North Marsh Landscape - 13/03/2011.

North Marsh Landscape - 13/03/2011.

He looked like the archetypal tramp, and I sensed he was not very happy at having me invade his privacy, or at having his dinner rudely interrupted. He was wearing a great-coat and probably a few sets of old clothes under this. His camp was remarkably tidy – setup for a quick exit I thought. The hide was his shelter, and he had covered it in a lightweight waterproof sheet. His hobo cooking system intrigued me. It consisted of two tins: a billy can and a stove; the former probably made from an old paint tin. The billy was slightly smaller in diameter and would fit inside the stove to minimised carrying bulk. The billy, a large coffee tin with a press-in lid and a wire carrying handle, is for boiling. The fireflies I had seen from the other side of the pond were flames licking out of the stove air holes. He had a two-wheeled trolley; the kind used to carrying large suit cases to the check-in desk at airports, except this one was sturdier. He uses the trolley to transport his very large kit bag – which is almost as tall as he is. Strapped to the trolley was another tin, large enough to put the bottom 400 mm of his kit bag in.

North Weir - 13-03-2011.

Anyway, it turns out that he travels river bank and canal tow paths and when he passes this way, perhaps once or twice a month, he camps on or around the marsh. He catches his food, as and when the opportunity presents itself, on or close to the rivers and canals along which he travels. He was cooking a fish and meat stew, using charcoal as his fuel.  I asked him how he caught his food. He said he used a hook and line for fish, snares for rabbits – pheasants as well, I suspected – and a catapult firing buckshot to bring-down birds on the ground. He told me he makes his charcoal by tightly packing his large can with dry wood, with some burning wood at its center, with soil being used to seal it. A small amount of air finds its way into the can through small nail holes punched in the base of the can. He does his charcoal manufacture overnight, and the tin can double as a hobo hot-water bottle on cold nights – I suppose he cuddled it.

North Pond- 13-03-2011.

This man is a real country traveller, very experienced and obviously well able to live successfully off the land, whatever the weather. I guessed his age at mid 60s. I was sensing his nervousness and decided I had over stayed my welcome – he might be a mad axe murderer for all I knew. I thanked him for his time, advised him that the land he was camping was a private nature reserve and suggested that it would not be a good idea for him to camp here again. I left him contemplating his billy. I felt privileged to have met this man, and I walked away with all my important bits still attached (he didn’t murder me).

Anyone seeing this man walking along a canal tow path or a river bank, would see a fisherman pulling his trolley, they wouldn’t see a tramp at all. This man is a tramp in disguise – brilliant!

This morning I took a walk down to the pond and needless to say, the tramp had departed leaving not a trace of his presence, not even a foot print. The man is a real professional. Good luck to him, I say. However, I hope he leaves the marsh wildlife alone. I have a feeling that I might not have seen the last of this man.

Old and new reeds. 06-03-2011

SUNDAY 6th March – 18:10: Well, the new nesting season officially begins this month (March to July) and as much as possible needs be done to avoid scaring off ground-nesting birds from the marsh. Although the reserve is officially closed to the public, there are still people wandering about the marsh with their dogs on and off their lead, which is definitely not a good idea. New growth has started, in earnest: new grass and reeds are now very obvious. Having had a gentle word with the tramp who was camping alongside the north ponds, last Monday night, I feel I have made a start just before the nesting season, too.

GREY WAGTAIL 06-03-2011

I met two fishermen walking along-side Hoo Brook yesterday afternoon, at the extreme north end of the reserve – they weren’t planning on do any fishing; they were just out for a walk. I chatted with them for a while and one of them claimed he was a water bailiff, the other just a fisherman – the water bailiff was accompanied by his dog, on its lead as it happens, and he was a RSPB member – the bailiff, not the dog. These angler’s main concerns were the cormorants, heron and otters eating the fish, and they felt that cormorants, in particular, ought to be culled; in fact, they told me that a new law had recently been passed, and the Environment Agency are actively culling cormorants at this very moment. When I pointed out that even cormorants need to eat, they agreed, but after thinking about it for a moment the water bailiff said, “Ah, but there are too many of them.” It could be said, and often is to me, that there are too many fishermen. Anyway, every sportsman will try to protect his own sport and there are some pretty hard-core activists in the fishing community in this area and throughout the country. I was a very ardent fresh water angler in my youth and handy with a shotgun too.

Green Woodpecker 27-02-2011

I spotted a grey wagtail on a branch sticking out of Hoo Brook. The cormorants were perched on their favourite pylon. A couple of herons flew over the marsh on the canal side of the Stour, and magpies were making a terrible racket over there too. A green woodpecker was at his drumming post, and a buzzard circled and mewed high above.

FRIDAY 11th March 2011 – 21:30: This week I have taken advantage of the very low ground cover in Hoo Wood, and I have spent hours systematically checking for signs of muntjac and evidence of above-ground fox dens. I haven’t found any fox dens, but I did manage to get a photograph of a muntjac and I found a muntjac lie-up – it’s not a very good photograph, but a photograph all the same. Tonight I have a camera trap out in an area where there are many signs of muntjac activity – foot prints and digging – so I have great hopes for better muntjac photographs tomorrow morning.

Muntjac in Hoo Wood - 13-03-2011.

As I was setting up my camera tonight, I could see the wooden shooting position through the trees and couldn’t help wondering how many pheasants had been shot on the ground my camera will be covering tonight.

Every morning this week, the green woodpecker has been at his drumming post, hammering out his messages to any female within hearing distance, and replies came drifting over from the depth of Dark Wood.

Muntjac lie-up.

Monday  14th March 2011 – 21:21: Saturday morning did not result in better photographs of a muntjac. Saturday morning resulted in photograph of that darn marsh fox.

My Sunday afternoon stroll down to the north weir turned up nothing unusual, everything seemed in its proper place. The clear blue sky and warmth of the sun were a real bonus; the new growth of green reeds and grass was really striking. The woodpecker watched me creep past its tree. Pigeons were grazing on the north pasture; cormorants were soaking-up the sun at their usual places on the pylon and along the power lines. Mallards were everywhere there was water. A heron waded in the North Pond and flew silently across the Stour as soon as it saw me, magpies squabbled. Angry grey squirrels shrieked at one another across the Stour, and a buzzard was circling and mewing high overhead (this is a recurring theme around the north pond). Yes, everything was as it should be. When things are not quite right, the birds are the first to notice. It’s hard to put into words the small changes that occur in bird behaviour when they feel that something is not quite right. I suppose it’s an initial transfer of warning chatter, from one bird species to another, that grows in intensity and then dies away, only to erupt again into full-blown alert calls when danger is identified. Often, when I walk the marsh, the bird warning calls are almost casual. If someone or something unusual is about, there is urgency in their calls that alerts even me that another person or a predator is close by.

Fox in Hoo Wood. 14-03-2011

The mallards are usually the first to vocalise an urgent intruder alert; they take to flight at the slightest noise or shadow. The pheasants tend to hang on until the last few seconds before braking cover and screaming their unmistakable alert call. Then the pigeons take to the sky en-mass, followed by   with their rasping alarm call.

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