Not being a birder of any merit, I couldn’t tell you which of the Widcombe herons this is. There’s a substantial heronry just up the road from Prior Park nursery and it’s not unusual to see one anywhere along the Kennet and Avon Canal between Deep Lock and – let’s say – Dundas aqueduct. I’ve never forgotten seeing my first heron take off unexpectedly from just behind a hedge. My heart almost froze as it cranked itself into the air like a pterodactyl entering my world through some kind of worm hole into the past. Today’s creature was less impressive as it perched on the rope bumper waiting for us to leave and toppled into the canal after a half-hearted attempt to fly away. Later it flew away down the canal in that nonchalant way that we humans adopt when we’ve done something really stupid.
I think Madame and me both needed a break from weeding on the allotment – I mean I quite enjoy hand weeding but hour after hour of its punishing effect on our backs and knees makes the prospect of a straightforward walk all the more attractive. This particular walk is one we’ve done many times because we developed it during the COVID lockdown; a circular walk of almost exactly 10,000 steps using the river and the canal towpaths and passing through Sydney Gardens and Henrietta Park and back through Widcombe.
The advantage of repeatedly following the same walk is the way we get to know the plants and birds. I suppose you could over-egg it by calling it a transect but it’s really much more informal than that and we include sinking boats among our objects of interest along the way. The regular floods we’ve been experiencing wreak havoc with moored boats which – if their mooring lines are too short – turn turtle and sink. Here’s one from September 2022
-and the same boat today:
You may notice that the Buddleia has now been joined by a big group of Purple Loosestrife and the wreck is gradually turning into a small nature reserve as the cabin roof gradually rots away. On the far side of the bridge pier a sunken narrow boat rests dangerously beneath the surface, the roof rail with which it was obviously hitched has torn off and is all that’s now visible except for a big yellow buoy to warn passing boat traffic. At least it makes a pleasant change from stolen pushbikes and supermarket trolleys, but you have to wonder whether there’s a rusting fuel tank hidden inside, waiting to leak into the already polluted river. It costs thousands of pounds to remove these sunken boats.
I was on the lookout for a Soapwort that usually shows itself on the canalside, but it was a tad too early I think. I was so absorbed in photographing narrowboats that I passed a site where Marsh Figwort grows. I’ve always wondered where the name Figwort comes from and I’m indebted to my new favourite book for telling me that figs is one of the names the herbalists gave to piles – which judging from the herbals was an extremely common affliction in the past.
Our last find was a group of Musk Mallow growing in a little wildflower area at the end of Widcombe High Street. Unlike many such little created reserves, this one has nothing but native plants in it, and they seem to be enjoying themselves. I think they’re really beautiful.
