On Saturday Morning I awoke at my usual early time and had some time to myself so decided to have a wee jaunt around an old stomping ground of mine.
Forfar Loch is about one mile long and point two miles wide, with a circumference of just over two and a half miles sitting at an elevation of one hundred and eighty seven feet. Home to lots of birdlife and thanks to the hard work of the Angus Ranger service a good mix of flora and fauna. Forfar sailing club have a club house set at it's centre and play on the water when the algal blooms aren't too bad in summer.
I set out from the East end and even just after the crack of dawn the temperature had been reading eighteen degrees on the thermometer in the garden. In recent years they've tatmacadamed the road rather than the old rutted gravel path that used to lead it's way 'round, but they've put in some narrow gravel paths as well so despite the heavy morning dew the going was dry under foot.
I had a quick scan of the information boards and was pleased to see that the Rangers were keeping good information on the place posted, mainly talking about the hazel coppice system they have in place. Over a seven year rotation they are harvesting the coppice for wands that go towards stick making, hurdles and many more projects. Was thinking that StuartF could be making a fleet of coracles here when he takes time off from being on telly.
Wandered off into the hazel, differant sections at different heights due to harvesting and was greated with the sight of lots of plump young cobb nuts. I've harvested loads here before but they were too young for that yet. Though it didn't stop me taking a few as I quite like crunching up the crispy soft nuts, they clean the mouth with their juice like a good old fashioned apple. Took a few for my pocket and snapped a couple of pictures. The batteries are almost done in my camera and when I replaced them with the spares in my case I regreted buying cheap ones as they weren't showing much power.
There was quite a few birds around, big fat wood pidgeaons filling their crops with imature nuts, blackbirds, blue tits, mobs of sparrows and I stood stock still for a while to watch a stone thrush opening snail on its anvil rock. The leopard like markings on it were beautiful but I didn't want to disturb it by taking a picture. Overhead swallows and martins were doing straffing runs between the trees fueling up for the day ahead.
The vegitation is pretty mixed here and there were quite a few plants I wasn't sure of but enough I did know to start picking myself a little pocket salad for eating later on. In with the existing cobbs went some tender rosebay willow herb, soft tips from the stickywilly (cleavers, goosegrass what ever you call them by yourselves), young hawthorn leaves and some petals from the profussion of brambles. Was thinking that Mr Fenna could be doing with some of the stems for withies though he'd definately be needing his gloves as the thorns were like razor wire. Wandered on scattering rabbits like Moses parting the Red Sea and listening to to the birds singing their hearts out.
Came to a cherry tree, but the fruit wasn't ready to taste yet so turned to my left down towards the reed beds where I'd spied a gap. Looking out over the mirrored surface of the loch I could see the wakes caused by the moorhens, mallards and this handsome chap spreading out and causing interference patterns that my old physics master would've been chuffed with.
In the foreground out of reach there was a sloe bush that seemed to be struggling as the top half of it was dead. Used to get a decent amount of sloes here, though you had to be sharp as quite a few folks kept an eye on them. About a third of the surface of the loch was covered with a mat of alge which the warning notices had been warning folks about; not to eat any fish caught and to keep people and pets out of contact with it. It didn't seem to be detering the diving birds who were popping up wearing little green skull caps of the stuff.
Back along the path I was noticing all the numbered bird boxes, some of the showing signs of use with droppings and the occasional chirp of young emanating from inside. A new scent was filling the air, the apple fresh scent of dog roses and ensconced among the thorny stems were some of the plumpest rosehips I'd seen in a while, those these weren't the smooth type, they were coated in little prickly hairs.
We'd been teaching the kids the other day about making "itchy-coos" (itching powder) with the seeds inside; warning them it was bad luck to do it to adults though! I picked a couple and popped them into my pocket and thought of rosehip syrup. So good drizzled on icecream or to sooth sore throats in winter. For a long time it was an important source of vitamin C for our rural ancestors. Not far away was another clump of sloes, though these ones deffinately weren't in trouble with a profusion of fruit, covered wit their green silvery bloom and much further on than the ones at home.
We sit at about four hundred and fifty feet, nestled between the hills and the couple of hundred feet of difference makes plant growth that little bit slower. I took a couple of pictures and was treated to a close encounter with a pack of marauding sparrows out on their morning forage. They were noisily barging their way through the branches catching flies and plucking spiders from their webs taking no notice of me what-so-ever. Sparrows always bring a grin to my face, the way something so small makes it way through life and usualy seems happy about it. Something we could all take a bit of advice from really. After they'd continued on I did the same and came across an even smaller feathered friend, well a family of them. Three wrens were preening themselves and enjoying the morning sun. A friend back home was showing me some pictures he'd taken the other day of a similar scene and had a cracking shot of the youngster splayed out on a branch having a stretch. When I was a kid we used to holiday up at Boat of Garten quite a bit and I was always drawn to two different scales of the bird life up there, the little wrens and the visiting ospreys (which I've taken as my avatar). Though I've never been a twitcher I did like sitting in a hide watching or getting a welcome surprise when fishing as an eruption of water heralded an osprey breaking through the surface and flying off with a still struggling trout in its talons.
After a while I could see a white glow through the vegitation. There looking like bleached bones in the desert were some paperbark birch, reaching up high with their smooth gleaming white trunk and branches. Beautifully smooth with curls of bark rolled up like well made rolling cigarettes. I took a little of the strips, making sure not to harm the tree. I love this stuff, brilliant tinder and it can be used for some interesting art projects too. Mr Mears made some nice pictures with his teeth and some little boxes when he was in the States with some Native People, was a nice program that.
After admiring the tree I wandered on further to a stand of larch. Must admit to having a bit of a thing for larch. When I was a forester I always loved being in larch plantations, craggy litchen covered bark, branches that come off easily, easy to make oyur way through and I like the soft young needles to much on and make tea with. It has an almost lemony zing to it mixing with the slight trupentiny background note. These ones were heavy with cones, all neatly lined up like troops in formation along the braches. I picked a few clumps of needles, some to eat there and the rest to add to my foraged breakfast in my pocket.
Further round the loch I came into some beach trees, they too were covered in nuts or mast. Which is the origin of "mast year" which we seem to be having at the moment, when pigs and other livestock would be put out to fatten themselves on the bountiful supply of fallen nuts. I remember as a kid how some years you'd be so dissapointed when you opened the dried and ripened quatered outers to find nothing but withered husks inside rather than the crunchy little treat you were expecting. I opened one up, it was so tightly clamped that I had to get out my Opinel to do the persuading. Inside the nut seemed pretty full, hopfully promiseing a few hours sitting under the tree come autumn filling my belly.
I came too another breach in the treeline and was down at the waters edge again. Some floating pontoons had been anchored there alowing me to walk through the reeds and get some nice views and pictures. Facing back towards the east I could see the spire of a church peeking over the trees and reflected in the water below. The only things marring the surface were the occasional gentle warm breaze and the concentric circles of fish plucking insects from down below.
I eventually got to the azimuth of land where the club house is situated, they've cleared a new parking spot in the gravel nearby and it took me back a couple of decades to the courting I did down here. With a smile on my face I toodled on and found a patch of raspberry canes with lots of small sweet fruit just waiting to be picked. It wasn't a free feed though as the canes were garded by brambles and stinging nettles, though it was well worth the cost if you were careful. With fruit in my belly I picked some more to go in my pocket with the rest of my foraged fair and made my way to the clubhouse. Beyond it is a rocky promitary which folk are encouraged to stay off as its a bird breeding area. I sat down on the bench and looked out over the area, cormorants were lined up along one edge, looking like they'd been crucified as they dried their wings. Ducks were feeding in groups and a flotilla of fourteen swans took to the water one behind the others and drifted out. Some feed, dipping their long necks down to the weeds below while others kept watch, their dark feet splayed out behind them at their backs. Some seagulls were mobbing a crane who was no doubt too near their chicks with it's spear like beak. I've seen these voratious birds eating frogs, fish, mice and all sorts of things so chicks wouldn't be a problem for them. But this one was constantly having to duck as the angry parents swooped in. While watching I took my wild breakfast from out of my pocket and absently mindedly picked away at it as I watched the wildlife around me. A martin was sitting on the eves of the hut singing away in his odd alternating chirping and sonic click mix, whilst his breathern were cleaning the air of insects. Quite a few of the ones they'd missed were evident in a large web strung between the porch uprights.
Nearly finished eating when I was aware of panting behind me and an old Labrador came to me with mischief in it's aged glazed eyes. He wanted to play but the old chap puffing along behind it a good pace was wanting to be keeping to an early timetable, so after a quick chat he sprinted off whilst the dog lumbered after some rabbits that were always teasingly out of reach. Breakfast over I sat a while longer before noticing that the town was waking up. The distant noise of the A90 was making itself evident and other dog walkers were begining to apear. As I wandered off a collie took time off from herding bunnies to try and round me up and a terrier full with morning joy joined in, bounding up to me to say hello. After a brief couple of claps and a few wet licks he tore off again in search of other things to find leaving a bemused owner sharing that look and shoulder shrug that only terrier owner seem to have. We had a smile and good morning chat laughing about his dogs enthusiasm before heading off in seperate directions. Looking up I was rewarded with the light filtering through the canopy of a large copper beach. Always thought they were really majestic looking things with their dark leaves making them stand pround against a sea of green. Thinking that my own copper topped lady would be waking up about now I placed my sticks and headed of back up the hill to get breakfast ready and help back the car with all the paraphanalia that a long drive for a holiday with two kids seems to demand.
Though it's a small loch at the edge of a small town it's well worth a visit and I've spent many happy times by it's shore where there's always something new on offer. Hope you enjoyed my little trip, not particularly hardcore bushcraft but that depends on what you call it. I enjoyed an early morning walk with plenty of wildlife and wild eats thrown in as well as it being a salve for the soul. Hope some of that peace is passed on to yourselves as you read it.
Forfar Loch is about one mile long and point two miles wide, with a circumference of just over two and a half miles sitting at an elevation of one hundred and eighty seven feet. Home to lots of birdlife and thanks to the hard work of the Angus Ranger service a good mix of flora and fauna. Forfar sailing club have a club house set at it's centre and play on the water when the algal blooms aren't too bad in summer.
I set out from the East end and even just after the crack of dawn the temperature had been reading eighteen degrees on the thermometer in the garden. In recent years they've tatmacadamed the road rather than the old rutted gravel path that used to lead it's way 'round, but they've put in some narrow gravel paths as well so despite the heavy morning dew the going was dry under foot.
I had a quick scan of the information boards and was pleased to see that the Rangers were keeping good information on the place posted, mainly talking about the hazel coppice system they have in place. Over a seven year rotation they are harvesting the coppice for wands that go towards stick making, hurdles and many more projects. Was thinking that StuartF could be making a fleet of coracles here when he takes time off from being on telly.
Wandered off into the hazel, differant sections at different heights due to harvesting and was greated with the sight of lots of plump young cobb nuts. I've harvested loads here before but they were too young for that yet. Though it didn't stop me taking a few as I quite like crunching up the crispy soft nuts, they clean the mouth with their juice like a good old fashioned apple. Took a few for my pocket and snapped a couple of pictures. The batteries are almost done in my camera and when I replaced them with the spares in my case I regreted buying cheap ones as they weren't showing much power.
There was quite a few birds around, big fat wood pidgeaons filling their crops with imature nuts, blackbirds, blue tits, mobs of sparrows and I stood stock still for a while to watch a stone thrush opening snail on its anvil rock. The leopard like markings on it were beautiful but I didn't want to disturb it by taking a picture. Overhead swallows and martins were doing straffing runs between the trees fueling up for the day ahead.
The vegitation is pretty mixed here and there were quite a few plants I wasn't sure of but enough I did know to start picking myself a little pocket salad for eating later on. In with the existing cobbs went some tender rosebay willow herb, soft tips from the stickywilly (cleavers, goosegrass what ever you call them by yourselves), young hawthorn leaves and some petals from the profussion of brambles. Was thinking that Mr Fenna could be doing with some of the stems for withies though he'd definately be needing his gloves as the thorns were like razor wire. Wandered on scattering rabbits like Moses parting the Red Sea and listening to to the birds singing their hearts out.
Came to a cherry tree, but the fruit wasn't ready to taste yet so turned to my left down towards the reed beds where I'd spied a gap. Looking out over the mirrored surface of the loch I could see the wakes caused by the moorhens, mallards and this handsome chap spreading out and causing interference patterns that my old physics master would've been chuffed with.
In the foreground out of reach there was a sloe bush that seemed to be struggling as the top half of it was dead. Used to get a decent amount of sloes here, though you had to be sharp as quite a few folks kept an eye on them. About a third of the surface of the loch was covered with a mat of alge which the warning notices had been warning folks about; not to eat any fish caught and to keep people and pets out of contact with it. It didn't seem to be detering the diving birds who were popping up wearing little green skull caps of the stuff.
Back along the path I was noticing all the numbered bird boxes, some of the showing signs of use with droppings and the occasional chirp of young emanating from inside. A new scent was filling the air, the apple fresh scent of dog roses and ensconced among the thorny stems were some of the plumpest rosehips I'd seen in a while, those these weren't the smooth type, they were coated in little prickly hairs.
We'd been teaching the kids the other day about making "itchy-coos" (itching powder) with the seeds inside; warning them it was bad luck to do it to adults though! I picked a couple and popped them into my pocket and thought of rosehip syrup. So good drizzled on icecream or to sooth sore throats in winter. For a long time it was an important source of vitamin C for our rural ancestors. Not far away was another clump of sloes, though these ones deffinately weren't in trouble with a profusion of fruit, covered wit their green silvery bloom and much further on than the ones at home.
We sit at about four hundred and fifty feet, nestled between the hills and the couple of hundred feet of difference makes plant growth that little bit slower. I took a couple of pictures and was treated to a close encounter with a pack of marauding sparrows out on their morning forage. They were noisily barging their way through the branches catching flies and plucking spiders from their webs taking no notice of me what-so-ever. Sparrows always bring a grin to my face, the way something so small makes it way through life and usualy seems happy about it. Something we could all take a bit of advice from really. After they'd continued on I did the same and came across an even smaller feathered friend, well a family of them. Three wrens were preening themselves and enjoying the morning sun. A friend back home was showing me some pictures he'd taken the other day of a similar scene and had a cracking shot of the youngster splayed out on a branch having a stretch. When I was a kid we used to holiday up at Boat of Garten quite a bit and I was always drawn to two different scales of the bird life up there, the little wrens and the visiting ospreys (which I've taken as my avatar). Though I've never been a twitcher I did like sitting in a hide watching or getting a welcome surprise when fishing as an eruption of water heralded an osprey breaking through the surface and flying off with a still struggling trout in its talons.
After a while I could see a white glow through the vegitation. There looking like bleached bones in the desert were some paperbark birch, reaching up high with their smooth gleaming white trunk and branches. Beautifully smooth with curls of bark rolled up like well made rolling cigarettes. I took a little of the strips, making sure not to harm the tree. I love this stuff, brilliant tinder and it can be used for some interesting art projects too. Mr Mears made some nice pictures with his teeth and some little boxes when he was in the States with some Native People, was a nice program that.
After admiring the tree I wandered on further to a stand of larch. Must admit to having a bit of a thing for larch. When I was a forester I always loved being in larch plantations, craggy litchen covered bark, branches that come off easily, easy to make oyur way through and I like the soft young needles to much on and make tea with. It has an almost lemony zing to it mixing with the slight trupentiny background note. These ones were heavy with cones, all neatly lined up like troops in formation along the braches. I picked a few clumps of needles, some to eat there and the rest to add to my foraged breakfast in my pocket.
Further round the loch I came into some beach trees, they too were covered in nuts or mast. Which is the origin of "mast year" which we seem to be having at the moment, when pigs and other livestock would be put out to fatten themselves on the bountiful supply of fallen nuts. I remember as a kid how some years you'd be so dissapointed when you opened the dried and ripened quatered outers to find nothing but withered husks inside rather than the crunchy little treat you were expecting. I opened one up, it was so tightly clamped that I had to get out my Opinel to do the persuading. Inside the nut seemed pretty full, hopfully promiseing a few hours sitting under the tree come autumn filling my belly.
I came too another breach in the treeline and was down at the waters edge again. Some floating pontoons had been anchored there alowing me to walk through the reeds and get some nice views and pictures. Facing back towards the east I could see the spire of a church peeking over the trees and reflected in the water below. The only things marring the surface were the occasional gentle warm breaze and the concentric circles of fish plucking insects from down below.
I eventually got to the azimuth of land where the club house is situated, they've cleared a new parking spot in the gravel nearby and it took me back a couple of decades to the courting I did down here. With a smile on my face I toodled on and found a patch of raspberry canes with lots of small sweet fruit just waiting to be picked. It wasn't a free feed though as the canes were garded by brambles and stinging nettles, though it was well worth the cost if you were careful. With fruit in my belly I picked some more to go in my pocket with the rest of my foraged fair and made my way to the clubhouse. Beyond it is a rocky promitary which folk are encouraged to stay off as its a bird breeding area. I sat down on the bench and looked out over the area, cormorants were lined up along one edge, looking like they'd been crucified as they dried their wings. Ducks were feeding in groups and a flotilla of fourteen swans took to the water one behind the others and drifted out. Some feed, dipping their long necks down to the weeds below while others kept watch, their dark feet splayed out behind them at their backs. Some seagulls were mobbing a crane who was no doubt too near their chicks with it's spear like beak. I've seen these voratious birds eating frogs, fish, mice and all sorts of things so chicks wouldn't be a problem for them. But this one was constantly having to duck as the angry parents swooped in. While watching I took my wild breakfast from out of my pocket and absently mindedly picked away at it as I watched the wildlife around me. A martin was sitting on the eves of the hut singing away in his odd alternating chirping and sonic click mix, whilst his breathern were cleaning the air of insects. Quite a few of the ones they'd missed were evident in a large web strung between the porch uprights.
Nearly finished eating when I was aware of panting behind me and an old Labrador came to me with mischief in it's aged glazed eyes. He wanted to play but the old chap puffing along behind it a good pace was wanting to be keeping to an early timetable, so after a quick chat he sprinted off whilst the dog lumbered after some rabbits that were always teasingly out of reach. Breakfast over I sat a while longer before noticing that the town was waking up. The distant noise of the A90 was making itself evident and other dog walkers were begining to apear. As I wandered off a collie took time off from herding bunnies to try and round me up and a terrier full with morning joy joined in, bounding up to me to say hello. After a brief couple of claps and a few wet licks he tore off again in search of other things to find leaving a bemused owner sharing that look and shoulder shrug that only terrier owner seem to have. We had a smile and good morning chat laughing about his dogs enthusiasm before heading off in seperate directions. Looking up I was rewarded with the light filtering through the canopy of a large copper beach. Always thought they were really majestic looking things with their dark leaves making them stand pround against a sea of green. Thinking that my own copper topped lady would be waking up about now I placed my sticks and headed of back up the hill to get breakfast ready and help back the car with all the paraphanalia that a long drive for a holiday with two kids seems to demand.
Though it's a small loch at the edge of a small town it's well worth a visit and I've spent many happy times by it's shore where there's always something new on offer. Hope you enjoyed my little trip, not particularly hardcore bushcraft but that depends on what you call it. I enjoyed an early morning walk with plenty of wildlife and wild eats thrown in as well as it being a salve for the soul. Hope some of that peace is passed on to yourselves as you read it.
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