Tag: winter

February 5th – I feel sorry for the waterfowl during this cold snap, really, which is probably a bit daft. As I took a gentle spin down the canal today, I noticed lots of forlorn looking ducks, canada geese, coots and moorhens loafing around disconsolately on the frozen canal, which itself was covered in a messy layer of slush. I watched as birds struggled to land, skidding frantically along the ice. They are, to coin a phrase, like ducks out of water. I did notice something though, today. Moorhens don’t have webbed feet. I find that a bit surprising, but as these footprints show, they haven’t got the best feet for swimming. There must be an evolutionary reason for this. Wonder what it is?

February 4th – I noticed as I passed through Chasewater that Jeffrey’s Swag, the north-eastern body of Chasewater bordering the railway causeway, had now refilled. Lowered considerably last year to construct a new spillway between it and Chasewater itself, it has now refilled to such a level that water is flowing from the Swag into Chasewater. This is really positive news and means that Chasewater is now being effectively fed by local streams that run into the Swag, so hopefully it will refill a tad quicker. It’s also good news for the frogs and toads that spawn in the creek between the two come spring.

February 4th – As usual when it starts snowing, I’m off on the bike like a shot. Since it had been a whole year since I last rode in snow, I took in a lazy loop of Brownhills to get my skills back. On the old cement works bridge, overlooking the council depot that used to be the Edward Rose factory, the gritting crews were in overdrive. I’d been passed by several grit wagons in the High Street, and there seemed to be a constant chain of lorries coming to be refilled. Later in the day, Walsall’s roads were far better than those of Staffordshire, yet still I saw folk complaining. I think there needs to be more public awareness over what road salt can and can’t actually do. 

February 3rd – Cycling home from Shenstone the sunset was beautiful. Looking over the fields towards Stonnall and Little Aston I loved the drama and march of the pylons against the sky. Five to the mile, to me they’re beautiful and a wonderfully minimalist design. Today, they hummed and crackled in the frosty air. Electricity is the closest thing to magic humans possess. I’m transfixed by it.

February 3rd – It was a nice day today. First time I had to travel far for work this year – a meeting in Telford in the morning, and then I had to zip back to Tyseley to see someone mid-afternoon. It was very cold, with a heavy frost. As I dashed to the station at Shenstone, I was running late and couldn’t stop to photograph the gorgeous dawn. I’d already stopped to free up a frozen gear cable… Back from Telford at 1:30pm, I changed trains at Smethwick Galton Bridge. The view of the Birmingham Mainline from here is delightful, and it’s a long way up. I found myself fighting the urge to leave the station and cycle the canals of Brum instead.

February 1st – This swan had me concerned for a bit. Sat on the frozen canal near james Bridge in Darlaston, as if he were trapped (I’m assuming it’s a he, how do you sex a swan?) I watched him for a while, fearing a stuck bird. As I started to whistle, he got to his feet, leaving small, melted imprints in the frozen canal surface. 
Birds seem able to be in contact with ice like this for indefinite periods, without their feet freezing because they have a very interesting feature in their blood circulation systems. At the top of their legs, the small amount of blood that flows to the legs and feet flows through a sort of ‘heat exchanger’ which removes heat from the outgoing blood and transfers it to the blood flowing back. Together with few nerves actually in the limbs, birds like these can stand for hours on ice with no ill effects and little energy consumption. All achieved through the magic of nature’s engineering hand, evolution. It surely is a wonder.

January 31st – Today returned to grey. Travelling to work, I was struck by the grimness of the day. Not quite as bad as Sunday, but it was still jolly depressing; overcast, constantly threatening snow but never delivering. I noted that Jockey Meadows on the Walsall Wood/Shelfield border, irritatingly referred to as Jockey Fields in the recently erected Natural England signage, looked impressively cinematic. I’d quite like some snow for a change. Maybe I’ll be lucky this week.

January 30th – Darlaston was similarly beautiful again. I love Victoria Park and this partof town – it’s so quiet and peaceful. I love the soft contours of the old railway cutting and the oddly delicate wooden footbridge. The green turf contrasts beautifully with the Victorian, four-square red brick townhouses. Once, steam trains thundered through here, now just walkers, a little local traffic and the odd, awestruck cyclist.

Just a minor point, though. Does anyone else get a slight Teletubby vibe from this landscape?

January 30th – This was the cold, clear, bright day I was hoping for on Sunday. Sadly, I had to go to work. On the whole, I’d rather have been throwing my bike around Cannock Chase, but then, you can’t have everything.

Today, for some reason, I chose not to take my usual route through The Butts and headed down to the Arboretum Junction. As I cycled past, I noticed the sunlight and haze over the Arboretum lake and decided to take a few pictures. Sadly, they all suffered from lens flare, but the view was gorgeous. Good to see the refurbishment coming on so well. The bandstand seems to be wonderfully restored.

January 29th – I went to bed last night wholly expecting to wake up to a frosty, crisp, bright day. I was to head to Cannock Chase, maybe over Shugborough. Sadly, I hadn’t bothered to check the weather. What I woke up to was a miserable, dank, dark and dismal day. I busied myself with other things and headed out for a spin late afternoon, just before the light began to die. I went up around the new pond at Clayhanger, then back into Brownhills and up the old Railway Line to Ryders Mere. Not a soul about, only the old fox I normally see here at sundown, looking bedraggled and fed up. We both stood stock still for a few seconds, and then he turned tail and trotted off. That fox always fascinates me – I think that to him, humans are just unpredictable, odd looking foxes, tolerable company if we keep still and mind our own business.

He looked grey today. The landscape was grey. Everything looked the same. I hate days like this.