Skip to main content

Herringfleet

The marshes of Suffolk and Norfolk are steeped in heritage and history, where folk come and go, leaving behind stories and markers on the landscape. The smock mill at Herringfleet is one such example, its name derived from its likeness to smocks worn by farmers in days gone by. Today the mills are not in use but instead provide a way-marker for visitors and walkers. As was so on a breezy Wednesday, the mill being the target for a there-and-back walk that took in the small natural scrapes that had opened up on the marshes thanks to sympathetic land management. 

A pair of Greenshank, piping and barrel-rolling, alighted one scrape and fed on a secluded muddy bank out of our gaze. At least 2 scaly-looking juvenile Wood Sandpiper were less bothered by our presence on the bank and represent a drop in the ocean regarding the recent invasion of this species on migration. Not to be cast into the margins, Green Sandpiper were omnipresent throughout the amble and without these visitors, some may argue the Wood wouldn't seem quite so special. But that's not really fair, and a view I try to avoid. I find that with birds, we compare when perhaps we shouldn't. We apparently 'need' the blackbirds so that when a Ring Ouzel does pass through, we elevate it purely for rarity value. Today, with big skies and time on our side, it was a pleasure to consider the individual worth of each species and watch them go about their business. 

A search online of the origin of the name Herringfleet provides no clues, but for me it is evocative of boats working the water ways, heading out to sea for a catch before returning to Somerleyton. In the early hours they would have been guided by lanterns on board, or on some nights the ghost lights of will-o-the-wisp adorning the marsh, what we would explain today as bioluminescence. Somerleyton hall itself has a resident ghost, frequenting the long corridors and cellar, hinting at past dynasties. These stories stand the test of time, somehow suited to the open skies and feeling of isolation out here. Even the rattle and clank of the train does not detract from the moment, for the swirl of the reeds and the grumbling of a Reed Warbler seem amplified in these surrounds. Red Admiral Butterflies glide past, lured by the Hemp Agrimony on show. As it always was, the landscape clinging on to what is worth keeping in an age of flux.


Comments

  1. What a delightful piece of writing: most evocative...

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. David, many thanks as always for your kind words about the blog. It is a great site for Waders and more. Jim.

      Delete

Post a comment

Popular posts from this blog

A local phenomenon

In the time it took me to drive down the long uneven track to the enigma that is The Beauchamp Arms, the satellite Corvid roost had grown from zero to around 300 birds. A roughly even mix of Rooks and Jackdaws assemble on Claxton Marshes every evening during the Winter (currently around 15.30) and 50 minutes later a mass of circa 5000 birds have left for the giant roost at Buckenham Carrs north of the river. This was the first time I had made a clear note of timings, and was surprised by how quickly the meeting point goes from raucous to silent. In fact, an eerie quiet falls upon the avenue of trees around 16.00, and a lone cock Pheasant outcried the 1000s of Corvids perched on trees or loafing on the marshy ground beneath. What follows are a number of reshufflings as the restless birds take flight in small waves, taking a new branch to perch upon. Around 16.15, a false dawn as a splinter group takes a more purposeful flight only to loop round and return to the main group. Only at tw…

Picking up the pieces is easy

Bumping into neighbour Mark Cocker in the Findhorn Valley proved not only how small our world is, but also how valuable the home patch is to us both. We compared notes around our Highland experiences, but attention quickly turned to where we had both come from. "Have you seen the Short-eared Owls?" We both had, and it was this pleasantly nagging thought that kept infiltrating my mind throughout the highland stay. Put simply, inside my head, it went like this: it is great up here, but when I get home I must get down the marsh.

Despite Spring being a leap ahead back home compared to the north, reminders of the season past were hunting  Claxton Marsh as we had discussed. The Short-eared Owls had not been present all Winter, and sightings of two birds in April were oddly my first of the year. A background orchestra of Grasshopper and Sedge Warbler was a contradiction, but here were the early birds and a couple simply not in a rush. 
I have been taking part in the Common Bird Cen…

Foulden Common- Skippers and a Hairstreak

Been meaning to get to Foulden Common for what feels like years, and it probably is that in terms of timescale! I recall being poorly last Spring, and my days put aside for a Butterfly hunt there were postponed. Before long, the mid-summer doldrums had set in and all thought of Norfolk's scarce Skipper species were put on hold until 2019. 
And so despite the overcast conditions and lack of some Bird Therapy, I headed out this morning. Arriving from the direction of Mundford, travelling through Foulden village and approaching an S bend, I noticed a small bowl-shaped pull in. Doubling back I parked up, walked through two gates and began searching the common land. The first 45 minutes had me cursing the lack of sun and planning my next free morning before returning to work. A pair of Common Blue and Small Copper gave some hope, and a hoarse Cuckoo and 2+ Garden Warbler were clearly harbingers of warmer fronts moving in. 
As the sun threatened to bust through the clouds, I picked up …