Ants in your pants

 

Well not literally, but they were in my hair and on my neck and arms. It seemed the current warm muggy weather had promoted their frenzied activity and my mop of grey, nay white hair, was a convenient landing pad for these annoying aerial insects, a metaphorical white flag of surrender in a landscape of green, yet parched habitat. 

I was spending some time around the post industrial hinterland of Waunafon bog that sits between Blaenavon and Llanelly Hill, but strangely just beyond the boundary of the World Heritage Site designation. The grassland here was dry and straw like with the abundance of wildflowers now past their Sunday best, apart from the heather that was now showing its newly acquired finery. The bare un-vegetated coal spoil released a slight grey dust as I lazily dragged my booted sole through its crusty surface. A post breeding flock of around 60 or more vocal starling had alighted on the electrical cables that tether the buildings of Robins Haulage to nearby poles, whilst several twittering swallow were gliding to disappear into the structure itself, nesting no doubt. In the distance above Garnlydan the mountain was ablaze pinpointed by a large plume of heather infused smoke.

A few weeks previous I had found another stand of round-leaved wintergreen typically at home within the shade of the invading willow scrub that's now gradually taking over the margins of Waunafon Bog. A rare plant in south Wales but possibly under-recorded as you'll need to get off the well trodden tracks and footpaths to find it. Its a truism I feel that any obsessive biological recorder, such as I, will need to learn how to manage rough terrain if species beyond the common or garden are to be found and recorded for posterity. My advice comes from Star Trek and to 'boldly go where no man has gone before'.

Pushing through the willow and across the more open areas of tussocky purple moor grass I occasionally stumbled, without falling, when my foot and lower leg failed to find terra firma. But with some effort and a fair degree of huffing and puffing, it was not long before I found the aforementioned wintergreen, a stand of around 140 plants in full flower where the dappled sunlight had reduced competition from other bullish plant species. A charm of goldfinch moved from thistle to ground to thistle to tree and away with the less colourful immature birds dominant in its composition. A painted lady butterfly circled and landed on bare coal spoil to bask and absorb its retained warmth.

As I emerged from the wooded shade somewhat surprisingly a black Labrador dog by the name of Dylan bounded up to me in excited fashion with tail in full wagging action. In the distance its owner, who as I approached, asked if I was photographing the ants! I explained that I was an all round naturalist, but that ants were not on my photographic agenda for the day.

 

Dropping down in to the railway cutting that snakes from Waunafon Bog to connect to the active part of the Blaenavon Heritage Railway near to Garn Lakes Local Nature Reserve (LNR) the creeping willow with its silvery foliage, another rare plant in these parts, was clearly visible. In the distance a lady was walking her dog whilst simultaneously swiping at the growing number of ants. I danced around some newly deposited dogs doings before agreeing to submit to the dominance of ants and turned for home.   

Old men coughing gently

 

 

Just an hour or so west is Kenfig Pool and Dunes National Nature Reserve (NNR), but it's not a site I've frequented. My last visit was some years ago when I attended an excellent stonewort course. On this occasion it was my son who provided the motivation as he was keen to try out his new camera lens on a coastal landscape. My recent retirement gave me the opportunity to choose a day of the week that looked favourable in terms of weather. And so it proved the sky was largely blue with just a few clouds and the wind was light, the ideal conditions for a trek through the dunes towards Sker Beach. 

 

We arrived mid-morning to be greeted by a group of student like individuals preparing for a days practical volunteering on the reserve. They quickly dispersed following a man driving a quad type vehicle so we made our way to the waterside hoping the catch a glimpse of the long staying celebrity American wigeon. A conversation with a fellow birder provided some useful information on the birds location on the lake; seemed it had struck up a friendship with a coot. Unfortunately the hide was occupied with the aforementioned students so we agreed to return later.

 

From the pool (lake) we made our way through the dune system towards the coastal destination Sker Beach. This was easier said than done as the previous weeks rainfall had accumulated around the base of the dunes making it difficult to follow the time worn footpaths. A number of diversions were necessary before we arrived within sight and sound of the coastal line. A group of about 25 fieldfare moved overhead and two skylark sang as we emerged on to the pebble strewn upper shoreline. We paused to take in the view of Port Talbot steelworks that framed the western seascape and its incoming tide. Elsewhere the expansive sandy beach was sparsely populated only a few Lowry type figures could be seen walking dogs in the distance. We walked to the waters-edge before moving on to the rocky spit that is Sker point. A cormorant passed overhead. Here there were more people with dogs and children enjoying the feel of an early spring, late winter day. Two horse riders galloped down the beach into the the haze and beyond. Once again pausing to take in the coastal vista I found a mermaids purse amongst the peddles and other strandline ephemera. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before we'd realised it was early afternoon so we agreed to make our way back through the dunes towards Kenfig Pool, the hide, and hopefully the American wigeon. On route a pair of stonechat showed well as did a light aircraft that provided a moment of alarm as it dived, twisted and turned overhead before moving eastwards. Eventually we arrived, albeit with growing fatigue, at the hide. By now my son was complaining of strained muscle and wasn't keen on entering a bird hide full of old men coughing gently. As it happened it was only occupied by two other people and only one could be described as old. The pool was well populated with wildfowl, the American wigeon was distant but good views of gadwall, kingfisher and goldeneye were obtained. A Cetti's warbler sang loudly from the willow scrub behind the hide. And at this point we agreed to make our way home with the satisfaction of a very enjoyable day behind us.

 

No Raptors

A late afternoon jaunt to the margins of Waunafon Bog on the outskirts of Blaenavon was intended as a raptor watching session. This large expanse of molina dominated mire habitat sits at the headwaters of the Afon Lwyd and is strategically important for biodiversity as well as for its flood mitigation potential. To date all efforts to encourage the landowner and common land farmers to work in partnership with public bodies to enhance the site for mutual benefit has failed. In the meantime the bog continues to march along its successional route with an ever increasing amount of scrub development.

The bog has become something of a winter pilgrimage for birders mainly due to the presence of overwintering short-eared owls. Unfortuntely this visit produced nothing but a charm of around 20 goldfinch and a small roost of magpie. It was nevertheless nice to talk to a passer-by about the value of the bog and short-eared owls.