by Lesley McLaren
A couple of weeks ago I decided to explore an area of Albères woodland off the main piste, in the hopes of seeing one of the wrynecks that were calling all around but staying frustratingly out of view.
It can also be frustrating trying to find a route through the trees unless you're following a yellow waymarked path. Many tracks, made by boar or cows, lead you in circles or tempt you up this rise and round that corner only to abruptly disappear through an impenetrable mass of gorse.
On this particular day, however, I was fairly optimistic when I went through a makeshift gate in a fence and began a gentle climb up a grassy track that was clearly once designed for use by a vehicle. At a guess, the only people who usually came here were hunters, cowherds and cork harvesters. I was intrigued to see where it might lead.
A couple of weeks ago I decided to explore an area of Albères woodland off the main piste, in the hopes of seeing one of the wrynecks that were calling all around but staying frustratingly out of view.
It can also be frustrating trying to find a route through the trees unless you're following a yellow waymarked path. Many tracks, made by boar or cows, lead you in circles or tempt you up this rise and round that corner only to abruptly disappear through an impenetrable mass of gorse.
On this particular day, however, I was fairly optimistic when I went through a makeshift gate in a fence and began a gentle climb up a grassy track that was clearly once designed for use by a vehicle. At a guess, the only people who usually came here were hunters, cowherds and cork harvesters. I was intrigued to see where it might lead.
The start of the track, looking up to the Roc du Midi
And looking back. Faint sounds of human activity occasionally drifted up from the Roussillon plain, to mingle with the songs of blackcaps, subalpine and Sardinian warblers, chiffchaff, goldfinches, serins and the first nightingales of the year. Not to mention the constant strident call of wrynecks.
Beyond the strimmed fire break immediately above the piste, it was immediately obvious how much the cows keep down the undergrowth, leaving only occasional patches of sweet smelling broom, French lavender and 'fried egg' rock rose plants in some of the more open, sunny areas. These were attracting insects, including one or two Orange-tips and Speckled Wood butterflies, and tiny beetles with extraordinarily long, spinning antennae.
Aptly named: Speckled Wood
After only a few yards I came upon a boar wallow that looked to be very popular. Here, while a jay tried to trick me with its imitations of heron and buzzard calls, I watched a pied flycatcher for a moment or two. Warblers - chiffchaffs I think - flitted in and out of the cork oaks, and wrynecks continued to shout near and far, but remained hidden.
Wallow, with scratching posts on the two nearest trees beyond.
Easy to see where the mud has been rubbed off on the trunk of this one!
Further into the woods, tree heathers and gorse had been significantly thinned out by the cows, creating a somewhat sterile environment in places. It did, however, make walking and visibility easier. One or two Subalpine Warblers called from and skulked in clumps of surviving heathers. The cows themselves weren't in evidence. It's usually wise to avoid them if possible and at about this time of year they are usually herded up to the cooler, higher slopes.
I was interested to discover that most dead cork oaks had at least one hole, drilled out by a woodpecker.
I was interested to discover that most dead cork oaks had at least one hole, drilled out by a woodpecker.
Most holes appeared to be experimental, and had been abandoned. The back and base are clearly visible in this one, and it doesn't look like a work in progress. A lot of effort has gone into it, nevertheless, before giving up!
Portal to a parallel world? The inside of this cork trunk is rotten, and the spongy bark has bent round and flopped
After about half a kilometre the track narrowed, to pass between stands of dead sweet chestnuts and through patches of newly uncurling, fresh smelling fronds of bracken. Normally unwelcome because it's so invasive, here bracken seems to be kept at bay by the cows.
 Gales are gradually bringing down these dead chestnuts. |  Goes without saying, perhaps, that the further in you are, the more you're likely to hear and see |
Now the track becomes more of an obstacle course.
After negotiating tree trunks and brambles, I reached a glade - again created by cows I imagine. Woodpeckers were drumming close by and, after a few minutes, a pair of Great Spotted flew overhead. About 100m in front of me, two long-tailed tits looked to be collecting nesting material, and then a nuthatch appeared in the same tree. Through binoculars I watched it work its way down a trunk towards a hole whose entrance looked worn smooth. Wondering if this was its nest, I hung back and waited.
The nuthatch is close to the top of the picture, facing down the trunk.
Closer and closer it got, until it finally popped inside. After several minutes, when it still hadn't reappeared, I left it to its privacy.
Now the track led away and steeply up. I would have needed a stick to follow, but couldn't have juggled one of those along with binos, camera and dog-on-a-lead. So, leaving further exploration for another day when less lumbered down, I turned back.
Not far from the boar wallow again, I stopped and stood quietly. If I couldn't get to a wryneck, perhaps one would come to me? After about fifteen minutes my patience was rewarded when one flew into a big old cork oak not far away and stood still, in full view, for all of five seconds. A record, I reckon, for these woodpeckers.
This might not have been much of a walk in terms of distance, but it wasn't without highlights, and proved that it's worth striking off the beaten track from time to time.
Not far from the boar wallow again, I stopped and stood quietly. If I couldn't get to a wryneck, perhaps one would come to me? After about fifteen minutes my patience was rewarded when one flew into a big old cork oak not far away and stood still, in full view, for all of five seconds. A record, I reckon, for these woodpeckers.
This might not have been much of a walk in terms of distance, but it wasn't without highlights, and proved that it's worth striking off the beaten track from time to time.
