Purple Haze

The river seems to have taken on a different mood of late.  We are well into late summer and the bright foliage of spring has given way to a more mellow green.  The flowering plants too, which seemed to be almost exclusively white back in June are now predominantly of purples and mauves.

Purple Loosestrife and Great Willowherb are the most striking of the native plants to inhabit the riverbanks, but they pale into insignificance in comparison to the huge swathes of Himalayan Balsam.  As its name suggests, it's not from these parts, but it has certainly made a home for itself since its introduction in the early nineteenth century.  This invasive species adorns much of the Thames in this area at this time of year.  My Guide to British Wildlife describes its seeds as explosive, but fails to mention its aggressive growth and towering habit.  Indeed, the Environment Agency names it among the seven most aggressive non-native plants in the UK, alongside the likes of Japanese Knotweed and Giant Hogweed.  It grows so vigorously that it shades out all other plant growth in its vicinty.

Even so, I have to admit a certain liking for the plant.  We have lost so many native plants through our our own management of the landscape that it is heartening to find a plant that does such a fine job of providing nectar for our bees and butterflies.

Water Treat

I paid a visit to the local water vole patch about two weeks ago and was disappointed to find no trace.  I was even more concerned to catch a brief glimpse of a mink-sized, mink-shaped and mink-coloured invader.  I could have been mistaken, but the two occurrences seemed related.  I reported my thoughts to the wildlife trust.

I wanted to put my mind at rest though, so a few days ago I revisited the site.  I chose a bright, sunny day, as, I believe, water voles favour such conditions and like to warm themselves while they feed.  Sure enough, I was rewarded with my best views yet, willow being the favoured meal on this occasion.

If At First...

I have ignored the Thames Kingfisher for at least a month or two now.  The frustrations of attempting to film him back in the spring are a distant memory and I have recently spotted a natural perch in the river that he seems to be using on a regular basis.  The challenge is always to get as close as possible without alarming the little chap, to get within the range of my camera lens, but at this time of year, hiding away on the riverbank isn't so difficult, as the vegetation on the banks is at its peak.  However, this also means that the nettles and thistles are also at their tallest and most potent.

Crouched beneath my camouflage net and with my folding stool slowly sinking into the mud, I was pleased to see that the little chap alighted on a dead willow tree in the middle of the river.  Disappointingly, though, almost as soon as he had landed, he took flight again.  You might hear my whispered frustration in the footage below.

Perhaps I wasn't as invisible as I believed.  Or maybe, with the river being quite busy at weekends, he was unsettled anyway.  He didn't land here again anyway and, with the threat of showers looming, I decided to retire to a nearby bird hide.  While this is an altogether more comfortable way of watching the wildlife, it also offers only distant views.  Nonetheless, I was pleased to see that the Kingfisher used these quieter pools from which to fish.  Somewhat ironically, he remained completely unmoved by a pair of juvenile fallow deer grazing and scurrying around nearby.  

I wasn't going to get the shots that I wanted, though, so I decided to head to a small nature reserve, which, rather conveniently, is within walking distance of my home.  Unfortunately, this place has the distinct disadvantage of being a favourite haunt of a large proportion of Oxfordshire's dog-walkers, who choose to ignore the "strictly dogs on leads" signs.  Early weekend mornings and mid-mornings during the week, therefore, tend to be the better times to pay a visit.

My visit began unpromisingly, with rain falling almost as soon as I had sat down.  However, the gloom soon lifted when a Kingfisher appeared and immediately began fishing with a quite impressive strike-rate.  I counted at least a dozen dives, from which he emerged with a meal more often than not.  

These were rich pickings indeed and such a contrast with the Thames bird.

  

I Like Moorhens, But I Couldn't Eat a Whole One

There has been precious little to report on the river of late.  Well, that and the fact that I spent most of July transfixed by a group of men chasing each other around France on bicycles.  So, I was mildly excited to see that a Grey Heron had taken up temporary residence underneath my camera.  I was slightly less excited to see what came next.  Still, we've all got to eat.  If you are of a delicate disposition I apologise for what follows.

I assume that the victim in question was a juvenile Moorhen, since there was plenty of evidence of mature Moorhens in the vicinity from other footage that I captured.  Any other theories welcomed.

Leaving a Good Impression

A couple of weeks have passed since my previous post, largely because there has been very little to report.  Temporary power failure afflicted my camera trap; a spell of wet weather precluded a filming trip; and a heavy cold made anything more than switching TV channels difficult.  So, instead, I decided to review some of the photographs that I have taken in the past few months.

I came across this image that I took back in February.  Having originally dismissed it as an indecipherable jumble, two footprints suddenly stood out to me, with the distinctive comma-shaped, some would say tear-shaped, toes of an otter print.  The lack of a clear impression of a fifth toe was a slight concern.  However, a short email correspondence with the Thames Valley Environmental Records Centre confirmed that I was correct.

These signs were spotted only a few yards from the stretch of river on which I recently captured images of  a female otter and two cubs - but fully four months earlier. The size of the prints, approximately three or four centimetres across would point to them being made by one of the cubs.  The TVERC also confirmed that mine were only two of three recent records on this particular stretch of river.

It almost makes me want to hasten the onset of winter, so that I can carry out a full survey of the river.