Southill Visit – Millennium Wood

 

Having had the good luck to capture some shots of a woodpecker, albeit at quite a distance, it reminded me that the other location where I had caught sight of one was in a small wood in Southill which though at a greater distance from me, had one distinct advantage as where I had come across it was in a clearing within a clearing atop a mound at the Millennium Wood, so that was where I was headed, and also of note was a small secluded lake nearby. However, that turned out to be a non-starter as it was within private grounds, and clearly defined as such with signs displayed at its high hedge boundary.

Due to my somewhat laggy SatNav on the phone, I also managed to add several miles to the outward journey by passing the junction on the A421, and having to travel to the next one and retrace my path to the earlier junction!

As my visit was at a weekend, I was in luck with parking meaning there was no distance to walk from the car, and anyway I was travelling light with just one camera, the EOS R, and the 24-70mm lens with its macro facility which came into use on a couple of occasions. The Wood is in the midst of adding more trees, and the established ones still had the first leaves of the season so were looking very fresh. It was however very noticeable that there were a preponderance of very insistent flies, something I associate more with hotter climes, and in the time I was there, became very annoying, and considering the small lake was not too distant with a far more suited habitat, I cannot account for why they should be so abundant.

The light was good throughout, and I only encountered three other souls during the time I was there, and the sounds of birdsong was almost constant with one particularly loud and insistent bird giving it its all, though I never caught sight of it! Needless to say on this visit I never heard nor saw a woodpecker, but was treated to the lament: “My toe Hurts Betty” from wood pigeon or pigeons almost as continuously as the unnamed bird I first encountered upon entry. Considering it was a warm Sunday afternoon I was very surprised to find so few visitors to this haven of Peace and freshness, so alive to the sounds of birdsong.

My Toe Hurts, Betty!

I set off for me, very early, and arrived on the banks of Marsworth Reservoir around a quarter past seven, and sat down to wait with my 5D MkIII and 100-400mm lens on a monopod. I was hoping to catch sight of a kingfisher, but the first hour passed with a visit by a curious Mallard male and countless midges. The air was filled with birdsong, but the owners of the songs were unknown to me beyond the distant call of the cuckoo and the passing calls of magpies, and the nasal moans of pigeons.

I did hear several splashes and plops of fish jumping in a pool beyond the fallen tree branches, but again the name of the species was not part of my vocabulary, and the angle and distance precluded my getting shots that might help me find the answer from an angler – I was amazed by the size of some of their number and just how many were swimming in that small area. A heron passed overhead at one time, but with the camera on the monopod, there was no chance of my getting in a shot.

It was while waiting for the main attraction that a disembodied voice called out: "Do you hear the call of the wood pigeons?" At first I assumed it was someone calling to a nearby friend, but when the question was repeated I realised it was aimed at me, I replied "Yes" and a man on the far bank in a red or orange shirt glimpsed through the branches and yellow flags by the bank said: "It sounds like 'My toe hurts, Betty!' I chuckled and said yes it does, and asked whether he had ever caught sight of a cuckoo? But my question remains unanswered as by then he had disappeared.

With those words repeating in my head I continued my wait for the equally elusive kingfisher. Before I continued in earnest I decided I would take a swig from my flask of coffee and had no sooner packed it back away having quenched my thirst, that coming close to two hours my patience was rewarded; a kingfisher alighted on a branch to my left and I took a few shots, it was less than a minute later that it dived and successfully caught a tiny morsel, moving centre stage to swallow it with much head shaking. Before departing he moved to another branch and dived again, but I was disappointed in the small size of its catch and how shapeless it was in its beak. He must have thought the same as he departed soon after.

I did stay on, but apart from another pair of Mallard, a lone coot, numerous pigeons, a few crows and spells of melodious but unknown birdsong, I saw no more kingfishers and four hours astride an uncomfortable log proved as much as I could endure, so I returned to the towpath of the Grand Union Canal and wandered to Tringford reservoir and its anglers, hoping to meet up with its Water Bailliff, but he was not there; I will catch up with him later.

Batford Springs

The first chance for a while to take advantage of some very early spring sunshine.

Batford is a small village just beyond Harpenden along the Lower Luton Road heading towards Wheathampstead. Batford Springs is an area of grass across from some of the cottages where the river (I think it may be the the Lea) meanders among the trees, leading to a recreation ground, on the day I was there the grass was sodden, and many of the paths extremely muddy underfoot.

I had never been before so I took the advantage of a vacant space in the layby to park up and take a wander. In full spring and summer, I imagined it to be full of wildlife, as I could hear birdsong from all around, and it was obviously an area favoured by dog owners.

There were several bench style seats strategically located beneath the trees, and in warmer weather I can imagine them to be taken to sit and eat lunch. The weirs have been maintained and the clever stepping stones across allow a variety of routes to be taken through the woods. The sound of the water masks the sounds of vehicles along the main road, and even though when I was there it was in the afternoon, there was still ice on the branch caught in one weir.

I tried to capture the colour and the shapes the water flow made and the isolation of the place, I was pleased to get a chance to take photos again.