East Coast Nature Notes Monday 25th June 2012 Northbound
It isn’t raining. Let me say that again. It isn’t raining. More it is sunny and hardly a cloud in the sky as we leave behind the spawning masses at King’s Cross and slowly lumber our way through the points and tunnels.
At one point this morning as I was getting ready the sun rose and the light was golden and wonderful, more so after such a long period of October-like weather.
While waiting for my train I watched the masses of people moving through the departure area of the station. Left and right they moved and in the middle, watching intently the departure boards, a large group that formed a lozenge shape around which the others flowed.
The whole scene reminded me of a stream with the different types of fish moving or resting. Like a stream there are those around the edges that predate. They dart in, nibble a bit and then move out as they spot the guard fishes. The number of beggars of different types seen in a short time is shockingly high. Out there too are the ones that prey on the beggars but they are hard to spot and lurk outside of the station.
Lying down beside the track, head high, ears focused forward, just past the Arsenal stadium, a fox watches something that will probably soon be dinner. This fox is a very handsome specimen and his (I think) coast is in remarkably good shape and glows with health in the early day’s sunlight.
The rabbits are out in force as we enter the outskirts of Stevenage and pass through in a way that can only be described as hasty. A few minutes out on the other side and a field is filled with thistles, each topped with a purple flower tilted towards the east. A bank is almost solid white from all the daisies. They give way to old man’s baccy and to hedgerow still white and then we go through Hitchin’s station and carry on and the first poppies of the day appear, short and pale red but welcome all the same.
This is not so good; ahead are clouds. Lots and lots of white, big, fluffy clouds. They might not be business clouds. At least not yet. But somehow I think the sunshine and clear skies are not going to last much longer. More poppies, still pale and watery and impressionistic appear as does the world’s surplus of daisies. Yellow JCB with their necks curved like herons are lined up along side the track. Two somethings, sparrow sized in body but with long tails rest on two power lines.
Some small purple glowers at Biggleswade and the poppies seem to be a little deeper in their red - then a cluster that are fully poppy red and leave the others looking like pale imitations. As we move on the blue sky is almost totally gone, only a few glimpses directly over head remain.
At the pond at Sandy two herons pretend to be reeds and wait for dinner to come too close. Here the bank side has a lot of low, yellow, springy looking flowers.
To the east at St. Neot’s the sky is streaked with near vertical lines as sun and rain merge. Low black wisps of spent clouds struggle to get over the gentle hills. AS we change our direction of travel the rays become a full crepuscular display covering a goodly part of the sky.
A field of wheat, bread to have a short stalk, is forming ears and each bobs slightly in the breeze.
At Huntingdon the sun makes a welcome return but the sky is still one dominated by the clouds to come.
The goats browse on the higher branches of the spiky bushes that are dotted across their land. A buzzard circles to the east, painful to watch as the sun shifts behind its wings. It tilts into the thermal and seems to effortlessly rise ever higher.
One small bird sits on the angled roof of the Lonely Church. Ahead the gap in the clouds begins to close. Lavender is all along the trackside now. A blackbird postures and waggles it tail on a low slung power line as we cross into the flat, right fields.
Back on the second set of wires before the woodland what I think was a buzzard rests on the metal perch.
A duck flutters overhead, neck out stretched and above it the sky goes grey and dark. Peterborough is almost upon us and a Kestrel is in a hover then we reach the sheds and warehouses. Rabbits are spaced out along the track, all have their heads towards the under growth and one fellow looks up, ears pulled flat. The bank side is riddle with holes that the rabbits have dug, undermining soil and rock.
The rampant growth hides most of the graffiti scrawled on shed and fence. A while rose bush or five flowers are gentle purples, more towards the pink and fuchsia than the red.
Nine swans a swimming to the east and four to the west as we cross the bridge and slow to our first halt. Lots and lots of red poppies. Most are short, eking out an existence on the most marginal of places. But here and there one manages to grow taller due to the good fortune of chance.
North of the station in the marshalling yard, some of the purple flowers seem to be mutating into a white strain. Only four or five out of several hundred. But still….
And there goes the black rabbit, right on cue, bouncing through the grass of the small field, while another twenty or so normally rabbits est. Two fields further and a hare crosses a field. So similar and yet so different to the rabbits.
We have sunshine again. Ahead are clouds again. The Mallard signs would gleam in the bright light if it wasn’t in such a grotty state. A green field blushes as we pass, the poppies nodding slightly. Then an absolutely stunning piece of broken land covered in wild flowers, the poppies tall and deep red.
Another field and this time the blush is the dominate colour. A third makes it appearance as we reach the edge of Grantham and speed onwards towards are date with, if not destiny, at least Leeds.
The speedy run into Newark shows many thousands of fresh daisies. Then we reach the river and again we reach the river - for it does meander a lot - and it is full and pressing hard at the bank , lapping and tumbling and roiling with brown and white tipped crests to its movements. The ponds seem empty. Sadly.
Lupins, purple, pinky-purple and then white appear and fall away to our rear.
Swallows appear, low and twisting, flashing their chests as the cross and re-cross a patch of field.
Foxgloves make an appearance on the trackside. A dark, rich flower with a hidden sting. Another field almost red with poppies and we are into the scrub land - which means somehow I missed Retford. My day is incomplete! These fields are about 15 percent under water. Horses wade through the standing water to find drier spots to feed.
Overhead the sky has turned blue but banks of clouds are all around us. A buzzard, almost at the same height as our train beats its wings over a mixed bit of wood and grass.
Lots of gulls in the air above the pond at Doncaster. A few Canada geese and one small black duck are all that can be seen on the surface. The first magpies of the day appear. A pair, bowing and displaying towards each other on top of a lamp post. Also as we slow to a stop the first rose bay willow herbs are in flower. Short and stumpy they may be, but they seem early.
One train spotter has grabbed a spot to lie with his back to a fence at the southern end of the station, camera held ready he captures the moment of a train’s journey.
Our business concludes at Doncaster and e move off, in no great hurry, towards Wakefield and then finally Leeds. A washed out looking field of rape seed fails to twinkle much in the wan sunlight. Members of its type have escaped into the margins and track side and glow with better health than their field bound cousins.
A smaller group of Canada geese are at the two fishing ponds. A couple of formerly domesticated ducks / geese are further back.