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Thursday 29 October 2015

A West Country haven - but for whom?



This is the River Carey, it rises under the Sitka spruce plantations of the Forestry Commission's forests on Cookworthy Moor and winds it's way across North Devon to flow into the River Tamar. For part of it's journey, it slips through a secluded wooded valley and down a small waterfall at Coombe Mill near St Giles on the Heath.

The Carey rolls over ridges in the geology, creating a series of small waterfalls and riffles that fill the woodland with the sound of water.
Here, Jon and Janice have created a haven for wildlife and people, especially if you (like us) have been working hard and need a complete break away from traffic, work, home chores and all the other bits of life that seem to get in the way of actually living.

A small cottage, The Shippen, provides warm, comfortable self-catering accommodation for two. However, the real attractions are outside. When you get out of the car you are immediately aware of the river. When we stayed, the water levels were very low, but even so we could hear the gentle chuckle of the Carey as it slid through the trees behind the house.

The river is over-hung with trees, giving it a secretive atmosphere and muffling any disturbing sounds from  the surrounding countryside.
We unloaded quickly, got into boots and went down to the river. The sense of intimacy in increased by the way in which you approach the streamside: through low-hanging coppice, old apple trees and across a shaggy meadow. You find the river running over brown stones and gravel, mossy branches of alder and sallow sweep low and into the stream itself. The roots of old ash trees curl along the banks, buttressing them against the frequent flashy floods.

A favourite sprainting site and foraging area for the resident otter family.
A little way down stream of The Shippen there is one stretch, pictured above, that is closely over-hung with big old sallows. Their boles bear the marks of otter and fox. The resident otter family, a female and two well-grown cubs, visit these trees each day to mark them with their spraint (dropping) and hunt around their roots for cowering fish. Jon has set up one of his trail cameras overlooking the main branch used by the otters. His footage of them slipping out of the water and then plopping back in again gives you an insight into their private lives. Trail camera footage (and I use it myself, so this is no criticism) always makes me slightly uncomfortable. Watching unsuspecting animals from a hide seems somehow more acceptable than this remote, voyeuristic recording. One short piece reveals the female being courted by a large male. He nuzzles her and is clearly trying to get her attention. She is barely tolerating him and goes into the water, followed by her suitor. I would love to have witnessed that, even though I have seen such interactions before several times they never lose their magic. Perhaps I am just unused to this new technology and the different perspective it provides?

The birds were a real feature of our autumnal stay. Kingfisher and dipper, classic species of small woodland streams, are constantly up and down the water. The kingfishers signalling their presence with high-pitched whistle and the dippers bouncing on rocks in mid-stream before fluttering away.

On our last day we had a close encounter with a young roe buck. He had one broken antler. He stood looking at us as we stood just four metres away. Sniffing for our scent, his tongue dipped into each of his nostrils in turn, moistening the sensitive membranes and increasing his ability to differentiate scents one from another. After a few minutes, during which we stayed very still and he listened to the camera shutters thunking, he turned away from us and walked back into the trees.

Glimpsed through the leaves of hazel and ash, a roe buck stares back into my lens.
So who's haven is it? Well, it certainly provided us with a wonderful retreat for a couple of days; a chance to energise and re-connect with the natural world. When we left, we left behind a small part of England that is also a haven for the wildlife it supports and will continue to do so under the careful stewardship of its owners.