A week or so back, I thought I would sojourn one evening after work to Coombes Valley and make the most of the remaining daylight. The forecast gave deteriorating conditions later in the week and for once the forest was remarkably still. Sensory receptors become attuned to the stillness and peace. I came armed with a macro lens but arrived a bit late for butterflies and bees so I wandered around with a standard general purpose zoom fitted to my camera and listened to the sound of peace.
There was no need to hurry or search, just idle an hour or two away drifting through the reserve, pausing on the seat at buzzard bank and whiling the time away by the stream watching a grey squirrel getting its paws wet. I thought they hated water!
Our avian friends had the same idea and apart from the mournful call of a buzzard high above and the “tuck tuck tuck” of territorial robins, all was quiet. The scent of woodland at evening time should be bottled, what a contrast to the sulphurous stench of traffic fumes and the by-products of our works shot blaster. The smell of steel being ground away is not actually that unpleasant but fresh woodland beats it hands down, every time.
The late evening sun plays optical tricks but it also enhances the colours of the woodland.
The forest was remarkably lush bearing in mind the dry summer we have had this year. It’s hard to believe we are in mid September looking at the meadows but the environment is still very green. There are signs that summer is ending, Rowan, Blackthorn and Elder laden with berries, providing winter food for residents and those passing through on winter migration.
As the sun begins to set shafts of light alter the features of objects, a fallen tree trunk takes the form of an owls face. Can you spot the strategically suspended seed by its little parachute making an eye?
A little further on along the path, a pair of sinister eyes gaze out from beneath a growth of fungus at the base of a silver birch tree. I think these are blusher mushrooms but I may be wrong, perhaps someone might confirm.
As I strolled round the sun began to set producing some wonderful cloud formations. The camera doesn’t do the vision justice.
The colours were magnificent and as time passed the dense woodland fell into darkness. The trees completely blot out any artificial light from car headlamps, and street lamps are a long way away as are any clusters of human habitation. Just the twinkling lights of remote farms and the odd cottage. Somewhere distant a male tawny owl hoots; the sound crystal clear above the tinkling of an adjacent stream.
What a wonderful place. I’m looking forward to the colours of autumn.
Ben Inman
September 2013