Monday evening I fell down. Plodding through the indiscriminate upland environment that is Garn yr erw the Molina grassland hid some substantial sodden caverns and over I went! This gymnastic event produced two wet feet, one of which extended a good way up my trouser leg covering it with a peaty, red oxide cocktail. Those in my household who know about such things, claim, with some assertiveness that my Tesco discount jeans are now ruined.
Before I went face down in a bilberry bush it was pleasing to produce a count of 31 moonwort from a walkway spoil tip. There were at least two pair of calling stonechat and an a male wheatear in alarm mode. A heron went north, two mallard went east, a couple of swift went west and a lesser black backed gull was all over the place. The hidden gem that is the former industrial reservoir at Garn yr erw was complete with discarded camping/fishing kit but supported a four egg carrion crow nest in a single waterside willow tree. The nest was constructed of brittle heather stems of a type that is a remnant of heather burning.