Cornwall 2022 – 10. Trencrom and Trelissick

Tags

Canada goose, cormorant, curlew, Herring gull, hydrangea, King Harry Ferry, National Trust, oystercatcher, Pendennis Castle, River Fal, shelduck, St Michael's Mount, swan, The Old Quay House, Trelissick, Trencrom

(‘Tre..’ means ‘homestead’ in Cornish.)

Sunday, 3rd July. Membership of The Newt in Somerset gives free entry to a few other gardens in the UK (and one in South Africa!). I had my eye on two of them as I considered what to do on my last day in Cornwall. But I found that neither Trebah nor Tregothnan opens on a Sunday. So I turned to my booklet, ‘Cornwall’s Archaeological Heritage’ for the first time this week, and also to my National Trust handbook. The former told me about Trencom Castle, a hill fort just a few minutes from where I was staying. Among other things it told me that, “The enclosure may have originated in the Neolithic period and many flint arrowheads were found here in the early 20th century.” So I made this my first destination. But first I had of course to look out to see what was happening in the RSPB reserve, and have some breakfast.

Cormorant over by the Causeway

Guess who appeared while I was eating. But at least today he didn’t tap on my window.

I really like these Cornish stiles – especially if they provide a post to hold on to.

The top of the fort was not high, about 180 metres (the same as Glastonbury Tor), and my car was parked at 135, so not much effort was needed. The path was well trodden.

Yet another view of St Michael’s Mount

I didn’t stay at the top for long, not least because there was a party of walkers up there disturbing the peace.

The main visit of the day was to Trelissick House, National Trust. ‘The estate has been in the ownership of the National Trust since 1955 when it was donated by Ida Copeland following the death of her son Geoffrey. A stained glass memorial bearing the Copeland coat of arms was donated to Feock parish church by Mrs. Copeland. The house and garden had formerly been owned and developed by the Daniell family, which had made its fortune in the 18th century Cornish copper mining industry.’ (Wikipedia, which does history so much better than does the National Trust on its site) The Copelands had been co-owners of Spode, the ceramics company based in Stoke-on-Trent.

The Water Tower is one of several holiday ‘cottages’, as the NT calls them, on the estate.

I started in the garden and grounds.

This was not the only time in Cornwall that I saw both pink and blue flowerheads together on hydrangeas. I don’t understand how that can happen, unless the gardeners tamper with the nature of the soils. But what do I know about botany – or chemistry for that matter?

‘Jack’s summerhouse’ from which, but for the trees in the way, one could have seen the King Harry Ferry over the River Fal

Its floor

At the entrance there had been a notice saying a choir would be singing on the terrace of the house at 1.00 pm. I heard their songs wafting towards me as I wandered around, and at one stage was near enough to zoom a photo on it. I thought how pragmatic the uniform was in the not very warm weather. Blue jeans of any hue and any black top.

I went round to the front of the house and looked round. ‘Trelissick is not your typical country house visit. It is presented as neither home nor museum, but was opened in 2014 simply as a place to enjoy the view. It plays host to a modest collection – including ceramics …’ Here is one which rather pleased me.

Arriving in the small café very late for lunch, I was fortunate to get the very last portion of soup. Visitors were allowed to take their food to any of several rooms. Most of the places were taken, and I ended up in what was called the Solarium, (which I would have called an Orangery otherwise). It was very warm there, unlike outdoors. This was my view.

I think these were ensconced in the Drawing Room for the afternoon!

It became warm and sunny enough to sit out on the sheltered terrace. The choir had long gone, and I found a vacant deckchair.

Not a bad view.

I heard someone nearby talk about a castle in the distance, and sure enough, with my camera on maximum zoom, I could see Pendennis Castle, about 800 metres away, in Falmouth. (It’s on the list for next year.)

Back for my last evening at The Old Quay House, I spent my time, as every evening bar Friday (Minack), divided between Wimbledon and bird-watching.

The gang and their friend …

… who has temporarily deserted the Shelduck family …

… and occasionally likes to be alone.

Oystercatcher

Curlew in the fading light

Home the next day, but the visits aren’t over…

Travelling again – 10. Lindisfarne

Tags

Berwick-on-Tweed, Covid, fritillary, goosander, kestrel, Lindisfarne, Lindisfarne Castle, Meadow pipit, Northern Marsh Orchid, pirri-pirri bur, poppy, scaup, small heath butterfly, stoat, swan, viper's bugloss

After a good night’s sleep, I looked out of the window of my Berwick-on-Tweed B’n’B’ bedroom, to see this.

My destination today, Thursday 17th June, was Shipley, in West Yorkshire, where I was to spend two nights with an old school friend (another Hazel) and her husband. My planned stop-off en route was just a few miles away, Holy Island, Lindisfarne. According to published information, the causeway to it would not be safe until 10.40, so I had plenty of time to kill. Having checked out after a good breakfast, I walked over to look at the sea.

Where there were literally hundreds of swans. No one picture could capture them all, and many were sailing (?) round to the other side of the harbour wall. I wondered whether this was in reaction to the tide falling.

I arrived at the Lindisfarne causeway around 10.30, expecting to have to wait, but that was not the case, and it was clear from the numbers in the car park that others knew that the published timings were set to cover only the extremes of safety.

But I stopped in a layby to take photos of the causeway first. I had never driven across a floodable causeway before, and was curious.

Once parked – quite a palaver in order to pay – I followed the crowds into the ‘village’ so that I could pick up the anti-clockwise circular path I intended to take. I’ll admit now that I did not have the plan with me and relied on just a brief look at this board. As a result I walked much further than I intended. But it was a lovely warm day – the only one in the whole of my time away – and a lovely setting, so apart from worries about time, that didn’t matter at all.

At the harbour, the ruined priory was to my right. Time did not allow further investigation.

The castle had been in view for most of the time, and indeed could be seen from all nearly over the island.

Not only did time mean I could not visit this National Trust property, but I should have had to book in advance because of Covid restrictions.

Some way further on, a kestrel was hovering overhead, and I followed its subsequent flight with my camera. I confess to being quite pleased with this picture.

I took a backward look at the castle.

Coming near to the shore, I wondered what these curious bumps were. A zoom on my camera revealed all.

A trio of goosanders

A spent a few minutes in the hide by this lake, but just before I got to it, …

I was thrilled not only to notice, but to get a photo of this stoat, as it stopped its scuttling for a second or two. (It could of course be a weasel; I did not see its definitive characteristic, the colour of the tip of its tail.)

Cygnets just a few days old

Scaup, I think, but I’m not sure

At this point I turned inland, but I went further than I intended, missing somehow where I should have turned south.

I should not have gone into these dunes.

Viper’s bugloss

I’m getting to recognise Northern Marsh Orchid – or am I?

Small heath

Starting to worry about time, I was feeling rather hot and beginning to feel hungry, and the castle and the priory seemed a long way off, but at least they were landmarks. I was definitely going south now.

I enjoyed, nevertheless, the lovely heathland flowers.

Presumably these are variety of tiny thyme, but they look more like a mass of seething mauve ants.

A fritillary of some sort

I saw so many meadow pipits

As I eventually emerged onto the road I saw both these lovely poppies and two people. “Is it far to the car park?” I asked, not really sure where I was. “Not very far at all’ they said – and I was very pleased that in fact it was barely 100 yards further on.

I can remember very little of the long drive to West Yorkshire. I just recall that I was very pleased to refresh myself before joining my hosts for an evening meal.

A walk under lightening clouds

Tags

Glastonbury, Glastonbury Tor, Millfield Prep, Ponters Ball, River Brue, sheep, Somerset Levels, Somerset Moors and Levels, swan

Yesterday was the second of my resumed monthly walks with my friend Zoe, though sadly the pub lunch at the end will not resume until next month – hopefully. We started from my house, and followed a route I had done once before, many years ago, but which I had not felt able to do more recently as I didn’t want to venture alone along that part of the route which lines the River Brue. It is now populated with somewhat scruffy residential caravans, past which I would not wish to go alone. There were many more caravans than shown here.

The walk was a little longer than planned, as what we did for a time clearly did not fit with what was on the OS map. I had had no problem with this when I had previously done the walk. Perhaps we were just chatting too much. I think I know now what went wrong, and am tempted to go and check it out sometime, but…

The walk was on a very local patch of the Somerset Moors, a.k.a. the Somerset Levels, though technically those are off to the west, bounded roughly by the M5 motorway. Over the centuries from Roman times they have been progressively drained, turning from marshes into pastureland. (The Draining of the Somerset Levels, by Michael Williams is fascinating on the subject.) They abound in ditches and rhynes (pronounced ‘reens’) and if you can help it you don’t set off across a field unless you know for sure that you will not be cut off at the other side by a water course too wide to leap across. (Moors, levels, rhynes explained here.)

The River Brue, canalised in mediaeval times. Note the patched road. We saw many fresh patches like this along the way.

A much enlarged clip from the above picture will show how the local authority is meeting the obligation placed on it by the government to provide sanitation for the caravan dwellers during the pandemic, as part of its campaign to get the homeless off the streets. This is to end after 17th May.

Glastonbury Tor accompanied us throughout.

Having passed this caravan I turned round to take a photo of the mattress lying among the branches of the tree, and the solar panel.

No wonder the road patches had seemed fresh!

Difficult not to stop and watch little lambkins. West Pennard Hill in the background.

When we caught sight of this swan it was way off, but when it caught sight of us it swam purposefully in our direction.

And swam purposefully away from us once it saw we had nothing to give it.

It was around here that we started to suspect we weren’t quite sure that we were where we thought we were. Still, it’s a nice bridge, of sorts.

We stood looking at this flock for quite a long time. After all, we had to make sure that each of the four lambs dispersing from playing together managed to find its right mother.

It this point I thought we were on Ponters Ball, a local earthwork of unknown age and purpose. Glastonbury is, in effect a peninsula, surround by Moors, formerly marshes. This earthwork marks the fourth, non watery, side of the peninsula. The earthwork did not particularly impress Zoe, who had not heard of it before I drew it to her attention as we made our arrangements.

In any case, I was wrong. This was Ponters Ball, reached ten minutes later. Looking southwards,

and here northwards. Zoe was a little more impressed. And from here on we knew exactly where we were.

Some furry creature has come to a sad end, at the hands – or more probably claws of a feathery creature

We were well and truly on the homeward stretch now, here entering the grounds of Millfield Preparatory School.

Tennis practice. And we also saw equestrian practice, but were too close for comfortable photography … and the battery of my phone – I had not bothered with my camera as I didn’t expect to take any photos – was running out.

Just enough juice to take one last picture of the Tor.

Starlingrise

Tags

Avalon Marshes, cormorant, Ham Wall, lapwing, RSPB, Somerset Levels, starling, swan

A few photos and a couple of videos I took this morning at the RSPB’s Ham Wall reserve on the Avalon Marshes (Somerset Levels) before and at sunrise.  I had been to see the starlings’ murmuration yesterday evening, and was inspired to return to see them get up for the day.  A couple of hours later 30 of them were squabbling over the bird seed I put out in my garden. 

My camera made some light conditions appear brighter than in fact they were, and I’m not clever enough to undo that effect in Photoshop.

Little egret

Cormorant

Lapwings

 

I must get to the reserve more frequently. It’s so near where I live …

Greylake Nature Reserve

Tags

coot, fieldfare, gadwall, greta white egret, Greylake, Ham Wall, hare, lapwing, mink, otter, redwing, RSPB, shoveler, snipe, Somerset Wildlife Trust, sparrowhawk, stonechat, swan, teal, wetlands, wigeon

Greylake Nature Reserve, owned by the RSPB.  I’d visited it just once before, and that only briefly. The prospect of a guided tour with birding experts, set up by the Somerset Wildlife Trust, and led by an RSPB volunteer, was too good to miss, so this was my third outdoor outing this week in near freezing temperatures.The briefing told us that the land had been in cultivation until 2003, when it was bought by the RSPB and converted into wetland for wildlife.  We would make our way to the main hide, where we would spend about half our time, and then walk around those parts accessible to the public.  Most of the area was kept behind electric fencing for the tranquillity of the birds and animals.  It was good to come at all times of the year, but this season was the best time because of the thousands of different birds over-wintering there.

On the way to the hide, I managed to get an indifferent picture of a fieldfare.

Once at the hide, we had this general view ahead of us.Looking round, and closing in a little with binoculars and camera, here are other aspects.

Wigeon, shovelers and coot

Wigeon, shoveler, coot and gadwall

Experienced birders were soon exclaiming at this clump, just 20 metres or so from us.A pair of teal can be seen easily, especially the male.  But are there really snipe there? And four?In due course I managed to find three, and indeed once you knew that they were there, it was even possible to pick the nearest one out with the naked eye, they were so close.  But what wonderful camouflage!  They didn’t move the whole of the time we were there.

 

It was not possible to get photos of all the species we saw, but here are some. (If birder readers wish to comment with further names, or corrections to any of these photos, above and below, please feel free!)

Shovelers, the male’s bill demonstrating just why they bear that name. The female has the same bill, but that is hidden here.

 

I just love lapwings, (also known as peewits) for their green iridescence, their cheeky crest, their wonderful courtship flight, their flappy way of flying (I call them flapwings).  This one all alone entertained us close to the hide for ages.

And as at Ham Wall, there was a Great white egret in the distance.

 

Three in fact. and here is one of the others flying around

 

Not long after leaving the hide, and keeping to the established path, we were shown by one of the RSPB volunteers, to the right of the path, some otter poo and some mink poo, the former more welcome than the latter.  The otter spraint was on a well-established otter path.To the left, the other part of the otter path could be seen.We were pleased then to see crowds and crowds of lapwing flying around, as if there had been a signal to the thousands in the area all to rise up at once. Here are just a few of them.Swans have no need to fear humans, and they know it. This one made for an easy photo, just a very few metres away from where we were walking.A distant view of another great white egret.Evidence of a recent hare boxing match.And of a sparrowhawk kill.We hoped to see more small birds, and indeed we did see redwing, and stonechat, but I couldn’t get photos.  We went on to a viewpoint:But few wetland birds were favouring this area of the reserve. Perhaps, along with the small birds, they were favouring the more sheltered areas on this chilly day.  But I, usually spending far too much of my life in front of a computer, had really enjoyed my three outdoors outings this week.  I must do it more often, and certainly return to Greylake at other seasons.

Starlings at Ham Wall

Tags

Ashcott, Avalon Marshes, Canada goose, coot, Glastonbury Tor, Great white egret, Ham Wall, mallard, murmuration, pochard, rhyne, RSPB, Shapwick Heath, Somerset Wildlife Trust, Stephen Moss, swan

I hadn’t been to see the local starling murmuration this winter, so yesterday mid-afternoon I decided to rectify that.  It’s always chancy, and for a good display the ideal weather is clear skies. Yesterday there was mainly thin cloud, but I knew that the birds would soon be migrating back to their north European breeding grounds, and I might not have many more chances.  The Avalon Marshes starling hotline informed me that the previous night the starlings had roosted at both Ham Wall and Shapwick Heath, each accessible from the same RSPB car park at Ashcott, (recently created, to the great relief of those using the nearby country road from which the reserves are accessible.)

Once there, I decided, I’m not sure why, to go east along the rhyne (pronounced ‘reen’) or drainage ditch, making for Ham Wall, rather than westwards to Shapwick Heath.    I made my way slowly to the main viewing platform, 400 metres down the path, enjoying what other birds were to be seen on the reserve, as night started to fall.

Glastonbury Tor in the distance

The water levels are carefully managed with sluices

En route I observed Stephen Moss, naturalist, author and TV producer, and President of the Somerset Wildlife Trust, with a small group of people, and I reckoned I must have made the right decision as to direction.  Once I was at the platform, the Avalon Marshes representative advised going on another 600 metres, as a thousand starlings had already  made their way in that direction.  “There’s another half million due, and earlier on in the season there were a million here, but they’ve started leaving.  We have had as many as five million in years gone by.”

On maximum zoom, in the far distance from the viewing platform, a great white egret, a species that has just begun to breed in the UK.

I walked on the extra distance, taking more photos.

When I’d gone the 600 metres, I was not alone – this was about a third of the people gathered there.

I moved slightly away and lower, to the bank of the rhyne, where there were fewer people. It wasn’t long before I became aware of birds streaming way up high over my left shoulder.  They were all making their over to the north and doing a bit of their murmuring there, but at a low level and not very photographable.  But I got a few pictures over the next 20 minutes or so.

Then they were gone, into the reeds, for the night.  The moon was up, behind the cloud,

and it was time to wander back to the car park, along the rhyne.

Tardy small groups of starlings continued to fly over my head for a little while to join their roosting companions. How do they know where to go? What more pleasant way to spend a late afternoon? Why don’t I visit one of the UK’s most famous nature reserves, just 20 minutes from where I live, more often?

I’ve just rung the starling hotline again.  Yesterday the starlings only roosted at Ham Wall.  Good call.

Muchelney and Thorney

Tags

cattle, heron, martin, Midelney, Muchelney, National Trust, pumping station, River Parrett, swan, Thorney, water management, Westmoor, Yeovil Railway

Muchelney was much in the news in winter 2013/14.   ‘-ney’ or ‘-ey’ at the end of a place-name round here in the Somerset Levels, drained over centuries, means ‘island’. Muchelney became a ‘Great Island’ once more in the terrible floods suffered at that time by some farmers and other residents.

The weather was much better when Zoe and I decided to start our monthly walk from the Priest’s House (National Trust), Muchelney the other day, following the River Parrett for much of the circular walk, and returning via Thorney to the village, which showed signs of considerable refurbishment.  Some houses seemed still unoccupied.

The Priest’s House. We didn’t visit, having neither the time nor our NT membership cards with us.

A bridge disappeared from a railway line disappeared

Dad, Mum and offspring

The feather blew off, to our satisfaction…

…and a second offspring rejoined the family

Our debate and conclusions as to what this was were far too ridiculous to be recorded here.

All along the River Parrett there were signs of water management, overwhelmed during the flooding.

I think was the first walk which Zoe and I have done where every single stile was a kind sub-gate, rather than one needing to be clambered over.

Pumping station

Just a few of the swans gracing a field nearby

Below the three outlets there were fish small…

… and large.  Was the water particularly highly oxygenated?

Not easy to capture the martins after the flies which frequented the same spot.

Older water management device

More evidence of the old Yeovil branch line

Returning to Muchelney…

… we saw there were things to do and see there.

Just a field with some cattle to cross to return to our starting point. We reminded ourselves of another walk when we had hastily beaten a retreat over a five-barred-gate as some young bullocks were taking much too close an interest in us.

Is this too close? We walked on, to hear the thunder of 15 x 4 hooves behind us.  Zoe said you just turn round and stare at them.  I decided to rush at them rather.

It worked, and they turned back and aside, gambolling as much as young cattle can.  But they also thought it was a great game and continued to stalk us.

I continued my method, Zoe hers.

We were pleased to get the other side of a gate,

and I was able to confront the bold leader of the gang, with whom, nevertheless, I felt I had established some kind of relationship.  Is that an evil eye, or what?

The best view we could get of Muchelney Abbey’s ‘ground plan’ without going in.

Our starting point, the church of St Peter and St Paul.

Shapwick Heath

Tags

Avalon Marshes, Burns the Bread, coot, dendrochronology, heron, Natural England, RSPB, Shapwick Heath, Somerset Levels, Somerset Wildlife Trust, swan, Sweet Track

A few days ago, when the weather wasn’t as bitterly cold as it is now, a London friend came to visit me, and among other things we had a lovely walk on Shapwick Heath, part of the Avalon Marshes, also known as the Somerset Levels. The whole area has been restored for wildlife after a century and more of being worked for peat.  Natural England, the RSPB, and the Somerset Wildlife Trust each manages part of the Marshes.  The visitor is rarely aware of who owns and manages what, and the bodies work together as part of the Avalon Marshes Partnership.

Another feature of the place is the existence of the Sweet Track,  built by people living in the area in 3807 BC or 3806 BC.  How so precisely dated?  By the science of dendrochronology, reading the tree rings of this wood beautifully preserved by the acidic bogs.

We walked for about two miles each way along the River Brue, straightened and canalised as part of the draining of the Levels centuries ago.  To our left was the river, to the right marshland.

Coot

We walked as far as, and examined as best we could, a new hide being built,

opposite this view beyond the Brue

before turning back and along a track

to an old one, called Noah’s Hide.  We stayed there for quite a while, enjoying big landscape views and smaller more intimate sights, bordering on voyeurism once or twice.

We were disappointed that no pair was formed from the three Great crested grebes we saw.  Their courtship dance is wonderful to see, as they bow and weave in perfect mirrored harmony on the water.

When it was time to return to the car and home, we congratulated ourselves on the weather which had certainly been better than forecast, and felt that the exercise we had done amply justified eating the Eccles cakes we had bought from Burns the Bread earlier on in the day.

Last post, for now

Tags

birds, blackbird, Caerlaverock, Carlisle, chiff-chaff, Eskrigg nature reserve, lapwing, linnet, Lockerbie, Lockerbie disaster, mallard, moorhen, Peter Scott, redshank, swallow, swan, willow warbler, WWT

I had not looked round Lockerbie itself yet, so on Friday morning took a stroll round the town centre on foot, including a visit to the library for information on the Eskrigg Nature Reserve nearby. Lockerbie’s handsome buildings are also of red sandstone.  The parish church, which was closed, was enormous.

So was this building, which I assumed to be the Town Hall, though, other than a minuscule plaque commemorating the town’s (and others’) disaster of 1988, there was no other sign attached to the building at all.  I had to go inside to confirm that my assumption was correct.

Nearby were these and five other sheep

I decided that my day would be best filled by a trip to Caerlaverock, to visit the Wildlands and Wetlands Trust reserve, and the castle if there was time.  This decision had the advantage of taking me though more glorious countryside.

Having studied the plan of the WWT site over coffee, I started my tour of several of the hides. At one, I was grateful to a couple who visit most days for pointing out where the linnet and the redshank were to be seen.

Swallows discussing whether they should be thinking about returning south for the winter

Lapwings and starlings

Lapwing

Linnet

Redshank

Martins’ nests, either beloved or hated by householders, but very welcome at the WWT

I believe the correct collective noun is a ‘murder’, but I prefer, here anyway, just a ‘row’ of crows (with a cow behind them)

Wagtail

A chiffchaff, or a willow warbler? Or something else? Comments welcome please.

The reserve is on the edge of the Solway Firth, so that’s the Lake District in the distance.

It is bounded by farmland on one side.

Unlike the Lockerbie sheep, these were living.

I had been told that there was ‘nothing’ to be seen at the Sir Peter Scott hide, by which my informants must have meant nothing unusual.  I took pleasure nevertheless in sitting there after lunch watching swans, mallards and moorhens.  And learnt that when mallard is occupying a place where moorhen wants to be, it gives way, smartish.

Then I decided to do the ‘summer’ walk, not available the rest of the year because of overwintering fowl.  It was delightful,

especially as for at least five minutes two blackbirds insisted on showing me the way as I strolled along.

The swans I’d seen earlier also seemed to want to keep an eye on me.

I enjoyed looking not only at wildfowl but plants as well.

I was nowhere near a hide when it started raining again, so my new umbrella came in useful. By the time I got back to my car it had stopped, but I heard the castle calling.

There turned out to be a wedding going on there, but visiting was not restricted. Glaring guests just didn’t appreciate how discreet one was trying to be. (One was not dressed suitably.)

In one tower, there were some young swallows practising their flight in anticipation of their long journey to come. As long as I kept still, my presence didn’t seem to worry them.

Accompanying the wedding was a bagpiper.

Hers was not the only kilt around, but I didn’t dare point my camera at the others, much as I’d love to have done.

The next day, it was time to go home to the cats, by train from Carlisle.  Somehow my camera forgot it was no longer on holiday, until we had left Cumbria anyway.

So ended my trip up north.  My next big trip is in September, wildlife in the Pantanal, Brazil, largely by river boat, but perhaps I’ll find a pretext for posting photos again before then…