A January Walk

On a very cold morning I walked out from our place in Welshpool, through the small woodland reserve at Bryn Glas, then across a field of sheep to the lane below Gungrog Hall. I turned down to cross the canal, and reached the main road. A heron lifted up from among the grazing sheep just ahead of me, and drifted down in the direction of the canal. A small covey of maybe eight or nine redwings took flight from a nearby tree. I had hoped to see their larger cousins, the fieldfares, sometimes present in tremendous numbers, but no joy today.

Over the main road, I crossed a field to pass round the back of the market, busy again on the first Monday after New Year’s Day. Hazel catkins brightened the trees by the path. These “lamb’s tails” are the male flower, opening widely to allow the winter wind to disperse the plentiful pollen. The female flower takes a bit more searching out: it resembles a small bright green bud, topped though with a little star of deep red filaments maybe a couple of millimetres long, the styles awaiting the pollen to begin the process of forming next autumn’s hazel nuts.

I crossed the Shrewsbury road to leave the market behind and cross the fields towards Pool Quay. Soon I shall hope to hear curlews and see sand martins here by the Severn, but not yet awhile. What I did see, standing in a single row along the cliff edge of the river bank, was a line of maybe forty or so Canada geese. There were a few more on the other side of the river, so fifty or more altogether. These are handsome birds, but, frankly, a bit of a pest. They will have been happy to feed on the grass in the field - geese are grazing birds - but I’m not sure why they were all stood in a row like that. They ignored me completely.

A small group of mallard on the water did not ignore me, and splashily took flight down river. A single tree in the field turned out to be well stocked with jackdaws, which also took off at the sight of me (still no fieldfares, sadly).

I reached the main road, crossed it, and made for the canal towpath to head back to Welshpool. There were plenty of examples here of another catkin tree, the alder. Its catkins, dark in colour, were visible, but not yet open and shedding pollen; as they open they will look greener. Catkin trees need to shed huge amounts of pollen, as they are wind pollinated, and can’t target their pollen as insect-pollinated plants can.

Great tits were very vocal in the woodland - their “teacher, teacher” call is one of the first you’ll hear as the year looks towards Spring. A robin was singing from an ivy-clad tree - they sing all year round, as each robin holds a territory through the winter. A lot of ivy had been cut down, but I was pleased to see it had been left there: the shelter it provides is important to birds and of course to the invertebrates on which many birds, like wrens, feed. As if to prove my point, a wren burst from the stacked ivy and crossed the canal in front of me. A pair of moorhens and a few house sparrows were prospecting the reeds, as I left to turn uphill for home.