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.
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| The Tor, from the reeds |
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| Heron |
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| Heron |
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| A Pair of Bitterns |
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| Bittern |
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| Great Crested Grebe |
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| Hobby |
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| Marsh Harrier |
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| Marsh Harrier |
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| Cuckoo |
