Cowslip; Primula veris. (Photo from personal collection)
The Nature Reserve
A path of dirt and stones runs through it, and either side of that path is the verdant green of leaves and stems and shoots. The grass, left to grow in the Spring, is dotted with whites, blues, and yellows of differing shades and hues. Trees have blossomed too with little white or pink flowers. When you breathe in deep, the sweetness enters you. Cowslip, Cow parsley, and buttercups. There are other things growing from the grass too, flowering, stinging, thorny things. Signs of little lives are almost immediately evident upon entry to the reserve - holes in nettle leaves made, I imagine, by caterpillars. And, moving further into the reserve, one of the ponds positively wriggles with little black tadpoles.
Minutes away, on foot, are the smells and noises of town life - cloying and greasy takeaway smells; the noise of traffic; drunkenness and chattering. But, here, the air is cool and feels cleaner. And it's quiet.
I sit on a wooden beam, part of a barrier, low to the ground, that borders the path, and separates the footpath from the meadow. It's a hard and uncomfortable spot to perch upon, but the discomfort is made bearable by the stillness and the peace. As I sit there quietly, things begin to reveal themselves, little by little.
Hill Rise Local Nature Reserve, Bedford, Bedfordshire. (Photo from personal collection)
The buzzing of flying things, bumblebees the loudest of all, and the songs and calls of birds are the first sounds on the air. Chiffchaff calls, Blackbird song, and a Robin's melodic cascade of notes too. The flap and flutter of a Woodpigeon landing on a branch before it tentatively comes to the edge of the pond for a drink. And then the call of something corvid from one of the trees, a crow. In the distance, there is the buzzing of a saw or some other human tool. A plane passes overhead, so does a pigeon. Sometimes, cutting through all the calls, flutters, and rustling . . .
Green Woodpecker
Green woodpecker; Picus viridis. A male can be told apart from females by the red streak beneath the eye, which males have at all ages. (Image source: rspb.org.uk)
To my ears, the call of a Green woodpecker is like a manic and mocking laugh. When walking alone in woodland, it can feel as though some spirit is laughing at my silly human thoughts and cares as I traipse through. Perhaps they are worth laughing at after all, those worries. Perhaps they are not quite so big a deal. The bird that laughs that laugh probably faces greater challenges than I on a daily basis, and it apparently does so without anxieties weighing on its mind.
More often than not, when I do see this bird, the largest of Britain's woodpeckers, it is as it flies from ground to branches, a flap of green and red. Unlike its relatives here, it spends much of its time on the ground, rather than in the trees. Its diet being made up mostly of ants. Disturbed, it makes off for the trees, and is very good at keeping out of sight. However, if you can stop a while, and be still and quiet, they might just reveal themselves.
The Green woodpecker is one of those birds that has the power to make me stop, with a gasp, and watch a while. Maybe because they are shy and keen to be away when disturbed, seeing them feels like a treat. Maybe because of their green feathers and red caps, reflecting the colours of lush plant life blooming in these Spring months. Maybe it has something to do with that haunting call. But then, maybe I shouldn't even analyse the why so much. Maybe I should just allow that wonder to be, not letting reason and understanding intervene and, possibly, rob it of its romance. Just let some of that childish fascination linger a little longer yet.
If, however, you would like to understand and know the Green woodpecker a little better, you can find more information about the bird here, on the RSPB website.
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