A walk around the Upminster area.

Thisafternoon I took a local walk, taking in the lake at Parklands, and the wonderful old trees which surround it, down through the Forestry Commission's new woodland at Bonnet's wood, set on old farmland adjacent to the Gerpins lane tip, before doubling back on myself to visit one of my favourite local nature reserves at Cranham Marsh, a patch of Ancient Semi-Natural Woodland and marshland not far from the centre of Upminster.

I arrived at Parklands, a lake used by local anglers for carp fishing, in glorious sunshine, passing through the dappled shade of the copse, said to contain some of the oldest trees in the local area, many of which had just begun to come to life with the spring leaf burst. The squawks of Rose Ringed Parakeets, which roost there in the winter, could be heard in the trees, as well as the familiar calls of Great and Blue tits, and a couple of moorhens wandered about in the shallows, visible from the old bridge at the lake's Eastern end. Parklands is essentially an under-used urban park, and numerous beautiful willow trees hang over the water. I soon picked up the call of a chiffchaff, and found the bird in one of the bare Sycamores, which stand further back from the water. A song emanating from the green canopy of one of the willows was less familiar, but investigation revealed a handsome male Blackcap, a predominantly grey bird with a coal black cap, on a branch under the canopy, singing away. Although some blackcaps, probably Central and Eastern European breeders, do winter in the UK, those which sing here in the summer spend their winter around Mediterranean Europe. I recalled the last time I had seen one, I was in Gialova in Greece, last October, where they appeared in large numbers as the Autumn drew in, joining the beautiful resident Sardinian Warblers.

Mallard and Young at Parklands, Upminster

Walking on, bumblebees were busy around the dandelions, but the clouds were drawing in threatening April showers. I saw a female mallard followed by a brood of small ducklings on the water, and felt a few drops of rain, although fortunately the storm passed me by this time. I decided to risk it and continue to Bonnet’s wood, a newly planted area covered with a mix of species including native woodland trees, cherry and apple trees now coming into blossom, and the inevitable pines, representing future timber resources, but non-native to the South East and grown solely for their commercial value. I crossed Parklands car park and the small country lane separating the two areas of public access countryside. Chiffchaffs were here in large numbers and I thought I heard the odd whitethroat in the bushes as I followed the path. A pair of Great Tits were obviously gathering moss for a nest. Although the bulk of the trees here are new plantings, a row of older, pollarded oaks, perhaps centuries old, separated the community woodland from adjoining farmland, and such trees offer abundant nesting opportunities for hole dwelling birds like Great tit. A flock of Greenfinch, possibly passage migrants, flew between the high branches of the pollard stands.  Walking onto the adjacent farmland along a footpath, I saw a skylark climbing aloft and singing. Concerned that it may have a nest around, I carefully made my way back down the way I came, as these ground nesters are very vulnerable to disturbance.  A pair of Stock Dove flew over my head, and another couple perched in a dead tree. These seemed to, curiously, outnumber woodpigeon here, although a small party of these grazed happily on whatever expensive crops the farmer had planted for them, interrupted occasionally by the loud bang of a gas powered bird scarer, but always returning to the same spot. A close look at a passing Carrion Crow turned out to be worthwhile, as the bird was in fact a rook, separated by the grey base to its bill. The rook is largely a bird of open farmland, apparently less adaptable than other Corvids which have taken well to urban life. Here, however, there was no shortage of open farmland.

Views of Bonnet's Wood

Making my way back towards Parklands a smart Kestrel flew low over my head and the Goodyear Blimp, which seems to be a regular feature of local airspace these days, was taking tourists out for trips from the nearby airfield at Damyn's Farm. At the lake I added Coot and Canada Goose to my day list, and saw several chiffchaffs, which do seem to be hear in very large numbers recently. Leaving Parklands through the lovely copse I crossed the suburban main road, and joined the footpath to Cranham marsh, which lead across a patch of litter spotted private land. A patch of bluebells was in flower in a woodland clearing, which I passed before the path angled around past the Crematorium, and onto the reserve.  A brightly marked Jay showed me his blue wing flashes as I startled him into flight, and a wren bustled about in the undergrowth. A pheasant could be heard calling.  I arrived by the stream and the kissing gate, on the little Essex Wildlife Trust reserve. It could be described as my local patch but to my shame it's been some months since I last visited it. 

View of Cranham Marsh, from the grazing meadow toward part of the Ancient Woodland

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I took the path along the edge of the woods and saw one of the glorious and noisy, green Rose Ringed Parakeets which live and breed in the dead trees, which loom out of the ancient woodland canopy. The marsh itself, which suffered badly when the M25 building caused much local land to be drained, is more of a damp meadow, but later in the year it can be a wonderful place for wildflowers and insects. Birdsong was everywhere, and a great spotted woodpecker flew across the marsh to settle among the trees. Chiffchaffs and blue tits again, and, I think, the scratching song of at least one whitethroat, although he was not allowing me to see him and confirm his presence. The sky was blue and the sun was shining when I entered the woods, the canopy closing at this time of year, but, inevitably, by the time I emerged a chill wind was blowing and a bank of threatening cloud had covered the sun. Conditions were calm enough for a kestrel to hover over the long grass, a handsome, slate-headed male, and it wasn't clear if it was this predator, or the changing weather that brought a silence over the songbirds. A blackbird puffed his feathers as he perched on an exposed branch, and I saw a few Great tit making for the shelter of the woodland canopy. The birds seemed to read the coming weather very well. I walked on in the open, to feel, unexpectedly, not gentle April rain on my face, but stinging hailstones! The shower was intense enough to convince me to start heading home! Walking backwards, I looked at the painted scene introducing visitors to the reserve, which stands beside some impressive wooden carvings of a Kestrel and a Stag Beetle. It showed an idyllic summer scene, not dissimilar to the one in which I had arrived at the site. The glass accumulated white hailstones, the size of small peas, in its corners.

View of Cranham Marsh as the Hailstorm Passes.

 

By the time I approached the top of the Chase and neared the Church of All Saints, a lovely old church set in a beautiful, wildlife rich churchyard, always home to some interesting finches in winter, the sky was blue again. Dunnocks, robins and great tits had all resumed their songs. Damp, and admittedly a little surprised by the weather, I made my way home. It's good to spend a little time just exploring locally.