The Somerset Levels

Where there are mists there are stories, myths & legends created to promote fear and unease as well as the odd hero and villain, and the Somerset Levels are no exception. This area is packed full of stories, most of which are associated with the mists, marshes or the tor which is a natural outcrop that rises above the levels like an island. The tower that sits on the Tor dominates the surroundings and provides a useful landmark for the wanderer, a point to aim for if those fabled mists rise again.

Spreading across the levels are the Avalon Marshes with its nature reserves consisting of flooded peat pits, ditches and reeds, lots and lots of reeds. We set up camp a mile or so from the reserves in a field surrounded by rich pasture, the reason this land was drained in the first place, with the sound tractors rumbling in the distance. With the Tor acting as our compass just a few miles to the south west, we headed off to find what we find and see what we see. The sky was blue and there was a   slight breeze coming from the west, the air was full of birdsong and questions were asked about what we might expect to find as well as the state of the land we intended to wander.

It was clear that we were not to be on our own, these reserves are popular and well visited, but we found the paths that were less well trodden, and it was easier to disappear, well almost. The first day gave us a good idea of what to expect and while Hobbies circled high above feeding on a brand-new crop of dragonflies, Marsh Harriers patrolled the reed beds and annoyed the Lapwings. As for the soundtrack, well this was what we remembered the most!

From the start of our wander the call of Cuckoos seemed everywhere, this is a familiar sound to almost everyone and a sure sign of Spring. Beyond this though was another sound, one that we were both familiar with even though neither of us had ever heard it and one that signalled the presence of our target on this trip. The boom of a Bittern is impressive to say the least and it can be heard all across the levels. On a misty morning levels has atmosphere by the bucketload and the guttural boom of this elusive bird fits in well: it is easy to understand how mythical stories can arise from this otherworldly sound.

So for the next few days we would scan the skies for Hobbies and Harriers, the trees for Cuckoos and the reeds for Bitterns. The Hobbies and Harriers were easy, we were surprised at how many of these birds we would see albeit at a distance. If you believed the calls, Cuckoos were everywhere too but they were proving more elusive until we found a wooden fence that was obviously the favourite courting place for a pair. It was the first time that I had seen Cuckoos for any length of time and we had these strange looking birds in our sights, on and off, for quite a while. At first the mist that had created so many stories and legends was slow to clear and that made photography difficult but clear it did. For most of the day then sky was blue and a slight breeze rippled the waters. Bitterns however proved more difficult to find even though the wonderful boom that we had got so used to was almost continual. We had seen a few short, very low flights which took these birds from reed patch to reed patch but sightings were brief and could not be second guessed. It was with more than a little surprise then that my brother suddenly pointed out two dark brown smudges, within the reeds and the mist, quite a way away. For a short while then we had two Bitterns to watch as they walked amongst the reeds, stopped head held high or preened themselves. This was quite a moment and although the views were not the clearest it was possible to get a few photographs before they slowly faded into the background, lost forever.

By the end of the two days we had walk about thirty miles, explored an area that was completely alien to us and saw pretty well what we had wanted to see. There is always more though, an Otter would have been nice, a Kingfisher too perhaps but although we saw plenty of fish in the waters of the Avalon Marshes and the occasional Otter trail, these two were absent. The morning of the third day was cloudy and the Sun that we had enjoyed was not due to appear so we climbed the Tor and looked back over the land we had walked. It was easy to let your mind drift back to when the fertile green land below was the same as that which we had wandered with reeds covering every inch of water, secret paths weaving in and out and small islands rising from the mist each morning. Myths and legends only work if they are believable and a spiritual place will only remain spiritual if people wish it to be but regardless of that, the levels is a fine place to explore and any time spent here is going to be special.  

The Tor, from the reeds

Heron

Heron

A Pair of Bitterns

Bittern

Great Crested Grebe

Hobby

Marsh Harrier

Marsh Harrier

Cuckoo