I think it will be pretty clear to anyone who has read my
previous posts that I am incredibly passionate about the fenland landscape. For
me, the fens embody a wildness and untamed beauty which is difficult to find in
such abundance elsewhere. The range of wildlife that lives in its diverse array
of habitats always leaves you guessing what you will see next.
Last weekend, one of Andrew’s friends from his undergrad
days came to visit. Matt is renowned for his wildlife ID skills so it seemed
like a brilliant opportunity to take advantage of having a third pair of eyes
and head out to Wicken Fen for a spot of wildlife watching.
We set out on our walk under a cinereal sky, accompanied by
a bracing wind. This kind of weather doesn’t give you the best chance of seeing
the marsh harriers that visit this area, but it does give the flat expanse of
fens a beautiful atmospheric, otherworldly feel.
As we made our way along the slippery mud covered tracks
towards the first hide, we were escorted by the dulcet songs of blue tits and
blackbirds. An intriguing rickety boardwalk, flanked by hawthorn and willow,
wound its way to the hide’s entrance. Once inside, it was apparent that the
weather was not deterring most of the wildlife.
An expanse of reeds unfurled before the hide down to the
edge of a lake where we saw gadwalls, coots, tufted ducks, mute swans and
mallards swimming and feeding. We caught a glimpse of a barn owl swoop low
across the lake and disappear into the trees behind. A cormorant took off from
the lake with a grace that appeared all the more impressive because of its
size. Nearby, a kestrel hovered, perfectly still, waiting for the perfect
moment to strike his prey.
As I sat in the hide watching the elaborate stories of these
birds unravel before me, I was hit by the realisation of how much nature we
miss in our busy lives. Even for a keen naturalist it sometimes takes moments
like these, when we purposefully pay attention, to appreciate that there is a
whole world of natural interactions happening right beside us. As I stopped and
listened, I realised that a veritable symphony was playing before us. The
shrill cries of the coots melded with the ‘pinging’ of bearded tits over the
backing track of the tinkling, whispering reeds.
Although I could have stayed there all day listening to the
natural orchestra, we decided to move on. We approached the next hide via a
long, suspenseful grassy path. As if hides aren’t beguiling enough, this hidden
approach really increased the intrigue. This hide, too, looked out over a small
lake but we were treated to different species from before.
A little grebe immediately stole the scene with his strident
oscillating trill, but this did not appear to disturb the great crested grebe
which was sleeping on a bank nearby. A male teal glided on by, his iridescent
green face feathers glistening like fresh war paint in the cool wintry light.
However, the real showstopper here was a group of five
cormorants sat on an island in the middle of the lake. We noticed that one of
them appeared to be displaying to the others. He was constantly bending his
neck back and forth in a comical bowing action while releasing vociferous
squawks. He then picked up a branch from his side and waved it in front of the
others. I’m not sure whether the other cormorants were impressed, but I
certainly was! Then, just as it looked like he might be alone in his display
attempts, two of the others faced each other and started their own noisy bowing
ritual.
Having spent some time engrossed in the cormorants’ comical
dancing, we left the hide and continued along the path around the lakes. The
path was becoming muddier, which explained why a fellow group of walkers coming
in the opposite direction had warned us earlier about how slippery the tracks
were.
As we meandered along the track we were accompanied by the
shrill bursting calls of a hidden Cetti’s warbler and the mellifluous tunes of
bullfinches as they darted in and out of the hedgerows next to us.
Suddenly, something caught my eye on the path ahead. A flash
of red and white. It was a fox. With a flick of its tail, it disappeared
through the bushes into the fields almost as soon as soon I had seen it. I find
foxes fascinating, they are swift, elusive and graceful. Coming face to face
with one in the dark and looking into its eyes, even for just a fleeting
moment, is an exhilarating experience.
Our last stop on our hide tour was Charlie’s Hide. From here
we had a great view over another, larger body of water. Shovelers, coots,
little grebes, lapwing and pintails floated on its surface, largely ignoring
each others’ presence. A flock of widgeon flew overhead without stopping to
take a dip. In the distance we could see a pale brown roe deer with stubby
antlers. He fed placidly on the grass, oblivious to anyone watching him.
As we left the hide, we were treated to more deer action. A
muntjac was feeding on the grass at the side of the track but he, too, because
of the screeching of the wind, appeared to be completely unaware of our
existence. We crept closer, hoping to get a better look and perhaps a few
photos, but his excellent hearing overcame the cacophony of the wind and he
scarpered.
The various wildlife we saw just on this occasion, from
timid mammals to assertive water birds, shows the diversity of Wicken. But this
is just a small selection of the things it is possible to see here. I can’t
wait to come here in the late spring and summer when the paths along the lode
will be aflutter with dragonflies and damselflies.
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