March 29th – Every easter should have a bunny. This one loped across Pool Road behind the craft units at Chasewater this evening. She seemed to be a bit fearless and I think a bit hungry – there can’t have been much nutrition in the environment this week for a hungry rabbit.
I noticed when the dam works were on that there were a large number of rabbits around Pool Road, many living on the dam itself. I do hope someone is keeping an eye on their burrowing exploits…
March 29th – A lazy day. Work has left me exhausted lately, and with a long Easter weekend ahead, I slouched out and did some stuff I wanted to for a change, and slipped out late afternoon for a gentle loop of Brownhills. The thaw has really set in now, but the canal towpaths are still no go, even with the snow tires. I noted at Holland Park that the tennis courts were now tennis duckponds, complete with ducks. The sunset from Chasewater, however, was gorgeous. Water is still overflowing from the Nine-Foot, and the bird life there tonight was fantastic.
By the time I returned to Brownhills, the sunset had retreated to a magenta band on the horizon, but the sky was still stunning. A great sunset.
I could handle a few more days like this. Lets hope the snow melts away soon.
March 24th – Another bitterly cold day, and the worst snows since the early 1980s continued overnight, only ceasing late afternoon. Oddly, though, the sun tried to break through most of the day.
I slipped out mid afternoon. The main roads again, were clear, and some of the more minor ones like Coppice Lane were very clear, too, although standing water was everywhere. I spun around Brownhills, getting a feel for the evil east wind that was blowing powder-dry snow in clouds. At the old level crossing at the top, a lovely little robin caught my eye, flitting about amongst the laurels at the side of the road. As I passed the common, I noticed one of the best ice-castles I’ve ever seen, with it’s proud constructor playing nearby.
Up at Chasewater, the waterfowl were quiet following the daily visit from the Swan Lady, who drove past me on Pool Road; but there were plenty of other interesting birds about defying the positively evil wind. I fought it up the A5, to the Barracks Lane junction, where the sheep weren’t minding the snow too much. The drifts in Barracks Lane were sobering.
It’s getting on to the end of March. British Summer Time starts in a week. Can I have some spring, please?
March 23rd – I went back to Chasewater to investigate the overflow situation, and because my conscience was burning me badly. I needed to feed those poor swans. The snow still fell, and the wind was evil. This was the worst snowfall I’d seen since the early 1980s, yet I was surprised at the diversity of the a avian population I encountered. Crows, waterfowl, gulls. Pied wagtails hunted what I presume were barely visible bugs over the overflow spillway. They mingled with a small, brown sparrow-like bird I didn’t recognise. Consulting with birders online later, these cute little brown jobs with comical flight and similar feeding behaviour to the wagtails turned out to be meadow pipits, probably brought down by the snow during migration. I was fascinated by the way they clung to the spillway walls.
I needn’t have fretted about the swans, as their mum was there. The Swan Lady and her husband are legendary at Chasewater, and they feed and tend the swans, taking note of absentees and arrivals. The incongruous and greedy flock gathered round their guardians with eager and expectant joy, and much honking. Bless.
March 22nd – If you can, please visit Chasewater and feed the waterfowl on the boating lake. This mixture of ducks, swans, coots and geese are all ravenous due to the snow, cold weather and lack of benevolent visitors. The swans were so hungry, they forgot to be aggressive. I forgot to bring them food. I felt guilty, they clearly felt cheated,
Oh bugger.
March 22nd – I was in the fortunate position of being able to work from home. I watched the snow fall as I worked, and decided to spin out early afternoon. The sky was threatening, the wind still harsh, and Chasewater barren and deserted. But something significant had happened: in the last week, the lake had achieved maximum level, and was now overflowing the exit weir at the back of the Nine-Foot pool, and flowing down the spillway.
This is momentous, and marks the end of the whole sorry dam-repair saga, 3 years after it commenced. The wildlife, and environment, can now recover.
That was an adventure.
March 17th – I haven’t seen the local deer for a while. I know they’ve been about from the reports of others, but my path and theirs hasn’t crossed. This is unusual, and I’ve missed seeing them. I like the red deer a lot, and feel quite some attachment. I think it’s partially due to the fact that they wander so freely, and pretty much appeared unannounced. They’re like odd, brown, cervine ghosts; you see them often enough to know they’re there, but the movements they make from place to place are unseen and mysterious. Recently, they’ve been on Clayhanger Common. One has to wonder how they got there… you can’t enter clay hanger without crossing the canal.
Today, they were on the fields of the former Highfields Farm, south of the M6 Toll near Chasewater. I spotted them first from near the Poole Crescent footbridge, and then got closer shots from the roadside near the old farm. The group of does – I think there were about 15 in total – were loafing and grazing, and were not disturbed by my presence.
I love these graceful, beautiful animals. It’s lovely that we have them here. Such unexpected, wild beauty in a postindustrial place.
March 16th – You ever have one of those days when nothing goes right? Yes, that. I set out to visit a pal and never found them, cycled down to Burntwood to buy something that wasn’t in stock, and then left my bike lock key on the doughnut counter in the supermarket (there’s a lesson in there, somewhere). It’s only Saturday evening, and already this feels like Lloyd Cole’s Lost Weekend.
Crossing the bypass on my empty handed return from Burntwood, I stopped to look down the road towards the M6 Toll. I don’t know why, but I love this view. The distant, windy sweep of cars on the motorway; the endless points of sodium light; the red beacons of the Sutton Masts in the distance. The air was hard and clear, the clouds dramatic and threatening. Apart from the periodic moan of cars beneath my feed, I was alone.
Then I didn’t feel alone anymore. Something was with me. I turned around, and on the bollard at the end of the footway, perched an owl. We made eye contact, but as soon as I went for my camera, he was gone, into the darkening night.
Somehow, it was soothing, reassuring and beautiful.
March 16th – I passed through Chasewater late afternoon on another dull, wet day. I was interested to see if the level had reached the top of the weir at the back of the Nine-Foot pool, as when water crosses the new concrete breakwater and enters the spillway, the level of the main lake can rise no more.
As it happened, the water is just short of overflowing. Id say there’s bout 10-15mm in it, that’s all. The water has risen about 20-25mm from last weekend, and unless someone opens the outlet valve, I think water will be entering the overflow system by next weekend.
It’ll be interesting to see if the powers that be let that happen, or whether they start letting so water out to prevent it. Watching the water level rise here has been one of the few really positive things about this winter.
Truly historic.
March 10th – I do like to see folk getting stuck into their food. This chap, clearly immersed in the dining experience, is one of the Chasewater cattle, today fed with hay in a stall. He seems to have used his horns to break the bale open, and become somewhat entangled. I bet that thatch is quite warming.
A bit like me and spaghetti. We never went back to that restaurant…
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