Brampton, Norfolk

  • Brampton: Autumn update

    So far a dry and mild Autumn in the village has meant that most of the trees have retained their leaves. The Field Maple leaves started to turn yellow in mid October but most have yet to fall. The Poplars, which never do things by halves, have dropped all but a few isolated leaves and as a result Keeper’s Wood has taken on it’s Winter profile.

    I hear the weak call of the Redwing, but as yet have not actually spotted any of the Winter visiting thrushes. A Common Sandpiper has joined the resident Egret at the Mill Pool. The Kingfisher can still be heard but the many young raised during this bountiful year have mostly dispersed. The occasional Cormornt passes through and I hope that it has a taste for Signal Crayfish rather than for our already depleted Bure fish stocks.

    The Roe Deer have gathered into small family groups. Their coats taking on their tawny Autumn colour, rather than that glowing orange-red of Summer, as they prepare for the colder season. The Muntjac galumph about in pairs – seemingly without fear they focus on the gardens and the allotment.

  • River Bure – Burgh Balsam Bash – notice of meeting

    The River Bure which winds its way around Burgh and Brampton is becoming increasingly overgrown with a non native species of plant (weed) by the name of Himalayan Balsam.

    Himalayan Balsam is a relative of the Busy Lizzie and was introduced into the UK in 1839. It can grow to between 6ft and 10ft and produces clusters of pink flowers between June and October. Flowering is followed by seed pods that eventually ‘explode’ and can send seeds flying over a 20 ft radius. The plants remain viable for up to 2 years and are now naturalised on our riverbanks and has become a huge problem in Norfolk.

    An introductory talk by Katy Owen, the Project Manager of the Norfolk Non Native Species Initiative, will take place in the Reading Room on Tuesday 20th June 2017 at 7.30pm followed by tea/coffee and biscuits.

    The next step is hoped to be the Burgh and Brampton Balsam Pick which is provisionally set for Sunday, 2nd July 2017 at 10.00am, meeting in Burgh Churchyard. But this date is subject to confirmation.

  • Oxnead in Winter

    Some beautiful new year blues, from below Oxnead Mill - 2016
    Some beautiful new year blues, from below Oxnead Mill – 2016

  • Buttercup strewn meadows

    It is late May and the Long Meadow is looking at its best. Fresh greens of the trees, bushes and grass contrast with the rich yellow of the Buttercups on the banks of the River Mermaid.

    Lush grass , Buttercups and hawthorn blossom garland the May meadow
    Lush grass , Buttercups and hawthorn blossom garland the May meadow

  • Brampton Spring, or is it Summer: in the garden

    The Anglo-Saxons, who felt the changing year more keenly than we do, referred to 9th May as the beginning of Summer. (For a more expert view I recommend the blog A Clerk of Oxford http://aclerkofoxford.blogspot.co.uk/2015/05/summer-sun-brightest-anglo-saxon-summer.html ). So often I find myself agreeing with the Anglo-Saxon view. Rogationtide, that three day run up to Ascension Day, starts tomorrow and fits neatly into the turning of the seasonal calendar.

    I am sitting in the garden as I write. From time to time a shower of Cherry blossom drifts down – not caused by “rough winds” but by a gentle breeze that stirs the top branches, before dying down again. A Blackbird sings from a nearby fir, a Blackcap from the copse, Swifts scream whilst twisting and turning overhead. The strong insistent song of a Wren bursts out just before it dives into its nest, tucked in the porch rafters. Rather worryingly for the garden, Woodpigeons have taken up residence within striking distance of the young Sweet Peas. But their mellifluous repetitive song just adds to the meditative atmosphere of the garden.

    The Cuckoo has been silent in the valley for three days since announcing its arrival last Thursday. I have noticed this before – a settling in period, before the period of persistent song arrives in earnest. When they do get going Cuckoos travel up and down the river valley and I have been lucky enough to see their nuptial flight (or their territorial battle, depending upon your interpretation), more than once at this time of the year.

  • Brampton Spring: still waiting for the Cuckoo

    In most years the Cuckoos arrive in the Bure valley on or around St George’s Day. This year is an exception. Even though the radio-tracked BTO Cuckoos are starting to reach the UK, we have yet to hear the first call of a Brampton Cuckoo. Even David Humphrey, who lives as close to the river meadows as anyone and is usually the first to notice, has not heard one yet. The winds have been slightly chill and northerly-ish, so this has probably had something to do with it. We keep waiting and listening.
    Other summer migrants are settling in. A Blackcap has settled in the copse next to the cottage and announces his presence with his complex warbling song. The Chiffchaffs have been here for seemingly ages. A few Swallows hawk over the river as we walked past this evening. More surprisingly, as I walked down the road this lunch time a series of alarm calls from various small birds made me look up to see a Hobby sail over Street Farm. Spotting these little Falcons never ceases to cause that tingle of excitement – possibly because of the collective alarms calls which great their appearance. But once again this felt a little out of sequence – I usually expect to see them after the House Martins have arrived, assuming that they follow them northwards for the summer. But assumptions are so often wrong.

  • Brampton Spring: Owls on Maundy Thursday

    On the evening of Maundy Thursday Oxnead was quiet. It was bright and slightly chilly Spring evening. A single Roedeer nibbled at growing reed tips on the Drying Ground. This area is part of the Common which was, at one time strung with lines for drying washing and now colonised by reeds, Flag Irises and willow. A little corner that had been ignored by the drainage contractors.

    A few steps further and we watched a very white Barn Owl slowly survey the ditches as she quartered the ground. The river was reflective and slow flowing. Disturbed only by a territorial Mute Swan – perhaps defending a hidden nest nearby. A second hunting Barn Owl, this time a dusky fawn colouration, watched us as we passed from a fence-post perch.

    There is a small footbridge over the little River Mermaid where is joins the Bure. It is a good place to stop and to appreciate the silence of the Bure and the grazing marshes. As we watched some duck winnowed in and a solitary Snipe called as it purposefully made its way somewhere or other. Then the pace changed. As if rowing through the air, a Short Eared Owl appeared. A faster and more effortless flight than that of Barn Owl. Its long wings alternately fixed in a short glide, then swimming through the air, as is flew in wide arcs over the marsh. Flying at around six feet off the ground and occasionally braking, twisting and pouncing in a shallow cork screw when something caught its eye. As it passed us we caught a glimpse of those intent yellowy-orange eyes set in a flat facial disc. It was aware of our presence but carried on hunting. Presumably refuelling en route to the moor or tundra breeding ground.

    We returned home exhilarated by the sighting.

  • Sketch of a Saturday morning on Oxnead meadow

    Gulls rise from their overnight roost on Oxnead’s banks. It is the first Saturday of 2015. What remains of the Paston’s palatial mansion – one grand wing, a small church, a cottage and a scattering of more recent architectural follies – are set amongst gardens and lawns that slope down to the river Bure. Beyond the boundaries of the Hall gardens, the meadows and woods present a more agrarian aspect, a farmed landscape rather than one if studied grandeur.

    The river water has cleared and refined down after recent rain. Along the meadow banks the water has dropped a foot or two. A hidden Kingfisher calls from the feeder drain. As we walk the gulls billow and soar briefly before re-settling. At the mill sluice gates the water no longer bursts through with its earlier insistent force. The shelves and hollows of the river bed are once again visible in the mill pool around the storm debris of a weed-draped Alder branch.

  • The marsh in Winter

    Midwinter on the marsh. This morning’s sharp frost, a low sun and the chill threat of showers sweeping in from the north, combine to colour and etch the landscape. A section of a rainbow briefly touches the Mill Marsh as a brief squall washes in. A Kestrel is mobbed by a Crow and I hear the high pitched call of an unseen Kingfisher. The river runs high in its banks and the pool below the sluice does not look at all inviting. The dogs and I are thankful for the frost which has made out progress much easier over the muddy well-used river path.

    By the time we reach the Common, the sun has raised the air temperature as long as we keep out of the wind. Moles have pockmarked the drier sections of river bank, but the soke dykes are full and the drains are running. Just below the

    Rainbow on the marsh
    Rainbow on the marsh

    horizon, the sun picks out the colours of cottages.

  • Changed views

    The landscape of the parish continues to evolve. The felling of a plantation of Bryant & May Poplars at Oxnead during the last few months appeared drastic at first sight. But when such moves are planned, on this occasion within a conservation Stewardship scheme, they are to be welcomed. The site will be returned to grazing meadow. The impact is most felt in the opening up of the vista – viewed from the west the raised route of the River Bure has become more marked, a glimpse of the grounds of the Hall and the revealing of the ditches which once served the Paston’s stew ponds are apparent. Perhaps we can imagine the opening up of at least part of the Deer Park which once surrounded the wider site of Oxnead Hall. The Deer park itself can be traced as a ghosts of the field boundaries that remain towards Buxton, that is if you ignore the scar of the nineteenth century railway lines and later boundary changes.

1 2 3 … 5
Next Page→
Cookies For Comments Image