A Country Diary: East Kent
Westbere marshes lie unsullied between former gravel workings along the Great Stour valley. Part of a string of wetland pearls along the river, east and west of Canterbury, they are largely inaccessible at this time of year. There is a footpath between the marshes and the river, but you would need thigh-length waders to use it at the moment.
Wildlife has less difficulty. We watched, fascinated, as a pair of stonechats preyed on insects across an area of flattened reedmace. They sat, perched on a tussock or stem, tails flicking, then swooped down to ground level, picking off invertebrates. Some 200 yards further into the marsh, a big brown marsh harrier flapped up from behind a group of willows and alder, slowly circling, then floating low over the reedbeds.
This is a bird of mixed fortunes; once widespread, it declined during the 19th century, mainly due to wetland drainage, increased during the early 20th century, then was hit by the effects of 1950s pesticide use. Now, Ruth Goldstraw, chair of the Kent Wildlife Trust's Canterbury area group, tells me they are doing well in East Kent, with some successful breeding.
Moving on along the flooded path, we found ourselves wading carefully between reedbeds, the water just inches from the top of our wellingtons. Rounding a stand of reeds, with low-lying vegetation beyond, we were startled by the lift-off of a bittern, not 10ft away. It must have been on the edge of the reeds, and in the open. This would prevent it from adopting its usual defence mechanism of freezing, neck and beak pointing skywards, hidden camouflaged among the reed stems. This bird, almost certainly a winter visitor from the Netherlands, flapped huge wings to gain height and speed, long green legs outstretched behind.
Lack of drainage may have shortened our walk, but it has done wonders for wetland ecology.
Wildlife has less difficulty. We watched, fascinated, as a pair of stonechats preyed on insects across an area of flattened reedmace. They sat, perched on a tussock or stem, tails flicking, then swooped down to ground level, picking off invertebrates. Some 200 yards further into the marsh, a big brown marsh harrier flapped up from behind a group of willows and alder, slowly circling, then floating low over the reedbeds.
This is a bird of mixed fortunes; once widespread, it declined during the 19th century, mainly due to wetland drainage, increased during the early 20th century, then was hit by the effects of 1950s pesticide use. Now, Ruth Goldstraw, chair of the Kent Wildlife Trust's Canterbury area group, tells me they are doing well in East Kent, with some successful breeding.
Moving on along the flooded path, we found ourselves wading carefully between reedbeds, the water just inches from the top of our wellingtons. Rounding a stand of reeds, with low-lying vegetation beyond, we were startled by the lift-off of a bittern, not 10ft away. It must have been on the edge of the reeds, and in the open. This would prevent it from adopting its usual defence mechanism of freezing, neck and beak pointing skywards, hidden camouflaged among the reed stems. This bird, almost certainly a winter visitor from the Netherlands, flapped huge wings to gain height and speed, long green legs outstretched behind.
Lack of drainage may have shortened our walk, but it has done wonders for wetland ecology.
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