Different Directions

By Robin Noble        Photos by Martine Howard

A couple of weekends ago, we went off on a short jaunt, north into what we call “ Cathar-country “ and the Corbières. Basically, we took a reasonably direct route to Quillan, and then headed eastwards back into PO, via forests, rocky uplands, dramatic castles and autumnal vineyards – some even complete with hard-working paysans. This was against the spectacular backdrop of a snow-clad Canigou, and our purpose was to catch the last autumn colours, the deep reds, coppers, sheets of gold with splashes of yellow that inevitably attract the attention of the photographer. This we had expected, and hopped out of the van at regular intervals to try to do justice to the beauty of the unfolding scenery.
 
One day we found ourselves suddenly in a shallow valley whose drama we had not expected; there had been a wide-ranging, serious fire (in August, we later learnt), which had ripped through the wooded upland, leaving large areas of stark, black trees which made an impact on us that was not merely visual, but also, somehow, visceral and emotional. A recent fire looks horrible, but this one had a strange beauty, because it framed the small vineyards which had been saved from the blaze, presumably by the great efforts of the sapeurs-pompiers, and were that red-gold colour. Seen through the blackened branches, it reminded me of a stain-glass window – umpteen photos were duly taken.

Such a fire does look like the end of the world, but the landscape does eventually, largely, recover. As we walked about we could see that many of the roadside bushes, the small prickly oaks and others, were sprouting vigorously from the base, which is precisely what Mediterranean vegetation does after such trauma. The relatively heavy rains of the autumn had no doubt helped the new growth to get away; it was about one foot in height. That night our landlady told us about the fire and expressed the hope that the pines might recover; that seemed unlikely to us but we did not say so! Although foresters call pine a “fire-climax” tree, the climax referred to is pretty slow. Generally, the pines themselves are killed; the heat causes the pine-cones to open and the seed to fall into the ash, which makes a nice soft bed with lots of easily-accessed minerals. Slowly the pines grow again from seed. At some stage the whole area will look quite strange with the fresh green of young pine against the old, black trunks. The greatest harm to the overall ecosystem really tends to be that the thin soil in such places is charred and easily washed away in subsequent, heavy rains (which, as mentioned, we have had this autumn), leaving it increasingly bare and rocky.
 
Our landlady did tell us that the fire had been set by a known arsonist from Perpignan, someone, obviously, with a strange and harmful relationship with our lovely countryside.

In total contrast, we went south the next weekend, to our much-loved coastal Nature Reserve on the Empordà, where all the wetland was definitely very wet, the light brilliant, and the birds, generally, very obliging! We walked various paths, and sat in various hides, overlooking the well-populated pools. I will not attempt an overall species-count, because what really mattered was that we had excellent views of some which we have not seen so well on previous visits – not necessarily rare in themselves, but lovely just to look at.
 
There were, of course, lots of duck: the ubiquitous mallard, inevitably, but lots of the smart, diminutive teal, as well as the remarkable shoveler, shelduck and a few pochard.

Teal

Shoveler

Shelduck

Pochard

Geese, too: the greylag in some numbers, but also a few (rather weird) Egyptian geese. Martine captured a wonderful sequence of the latter; a male leaving the water to land on a tiny islet where he displayed magnificently to a female who seemed duly impressed:

We saw birds of all sizes, ranging from the tiny, blithe dabchicks, one of which we were able to follow as it swam underwater among the weeds, through cormorants (drying their wings in the sun) with grey herons and egrets, to storks and flamingos – the latter do seem rather bad-tempered! Once again we watched a few, brisk, domestic inter-actions through the binoculars.

Dabchick (Little grebe)

Grey heron

White stork

There was also a large flock of one of my favourite birds, the heraldic lapwings, which we associate so much with the British uplands whether in Northumbria or the Highlands and Islands. And, overhead, more marsh harriers than I have ever seen, a real thrill. Altogether a wonderful day.
 
It was quite a busy day, too, being a lovely Sunday with free admission. There were several serious photographers with lenses that I could not even imagine carrying, and many families. At the very least, their children were all having fun on a super day in a beautiful place; we can only hope that a few of them grow up to be enthusiastic about the natural world, and to care passionately for what is left of it.
 
Bonnes Fêtes to you all! And, whatever happens in the wider world, keep enjoying our wonderful countryside!