Keep your tongue from evil...

 

Fabulous Fennel

 We are preparing for a couple of saltwater and coastal foraging walks coming up over the next month or so and its a hard time getting good weather between the showers, but occasionally the sun comes out, the sea turns blue and God gives you a little gift. Some gorgeous wild fennel growing amongst the dunes, I'm in two minds whether to show it to people during the walk but I'm more than happy to share it with my Buzzard family on here.

The backwaters of Fermanagh

 Trusting in the Lord makes you aware of his plan for your life, when one door closes he opens an even better one.

Stephen kindly invited us down to his smallholding a few days ago, the work he has put into it is testament to his vision and dedication of self sufficiency.

He took us to a gorgeous little river, with gravel beds and meandering swirls. Dappled light and soft rises kissed the waters surface as we stood and surveyed the pools before us. I opted for a lure, the others for a worm trotted with the flow of the stream. I made a light cast under the near bank beneath an overhanging willow and I could feel the mepps start to rotate, barely 2 seconds later and I had a strike, fish on!, it was one of those pesky brown trout that plague you when you're fishing for real fish! Unhooked and back in the river where it belongs I then heard an exclamation as Stephen hooked a fantastic perch, it fought like a monster 10 times its actual size, shaking and twisting while it's gills flared it's dorsal caught the flow of the river. It was fine and bristling with arrogance as he released it, I can admit I was a little envious.

A few other small ones followed as we ambled our way upstream to other beckoning pools to search for the denizens of their murky depths.

The rain had been falling softly all day but it was enough to increase the flow and darken the colour of the water making angling just that little bit more challenging. The creases and eddies were more noticable than an hour before as the foam started to pepper the surface of the stream. The clouds continued to darken as I got distracted by the water pepper growing at my feet along the bank and it burnt my tongue as I nibbled it.

 

More perch and roach followed as well as a few more trout all put back with childlike glee. The perch stole my heart, transporting me back to youthful days when a 5 inch perch was the biggest fish in the world with its crimson fins and emerald flanks and that magnificent sail like dorsal erect in defiance at having been removed from its watery home. These recalled my memories of long past escapades where days were spent on the river bank in exciting anticipation of the next bite to come along. 

Many of these little firebrand fish were taken throughout the course of the day while the wildlife all around regailed us with their joyful presence. The swallows like little feathery spitfires feeding on the wing while the long tailed tits called from the Ash tree behind us, and the greatest spectacle of all, a kingfisher, resplendent in its turquoise and orange apparel flitted along the bank looking for a suitable place to land and ply its trade, a far more capable angler than I.

These past few days have lifted my burdens and restored my soul, memories made while others were recalled, but this trip especially will live long in the storybook of my mind. 

An unusual find in a community garden

 We were doing a wee walk for a community group recently and we found more interesting things in the streets outside than the garden itself! 

This one for instance, wild celery.. couldn't believe this was just growing wild along the wall and there were quite a few plants. 

There's no way to tell if it's a garden escape but it's smell was fantastic 

Just be careful with this unbellifer as it can be mistaken for HWD!

Tub Gurnard, pretty extraordinary.

 Every now and again when you're fishing you turn up something unexpected, but very welcome. This gorgeous fish is a Tub Gurnard, its one of the prettiest fish in our northern seas and pretty good eating too, as a matter of fact its often called the chicken of the sea. This little beauty was too nice to eat so a few pictures, a quick conversation with him ( they actually talk!) And back he went.

Which white is right?

 At this time of year we have a number of white flowered plants in bloom, some nearing the end of their time, some just beginning. The thing is it can be tricky identifying them using the flower alone.

Here are 3 late spring, early summer plants, but what are they?

If I told you they are pignut, cow parsley and sanicle, would that make it easier?

One of them is certainly easier to figure out than the others, the left hand plant is sanicle, but what about the other two?

Ok, ill put you out of your misery, middle one is pignut, right hand one is cow parsley..

Don't think its ever enough to just identify plants by their flower, leaf, stem and location are all critical factors in good bushcraft botany.

My Nangors walking stick.

 When I was very young, maybe 5 or 6 years old and we spent a long time along the Ards peninsula, my Nangor (grandfather) and I would spend a lot of time along the shoreline foraging and beachcombing for whatever came our way. Well my Nangor had 2 walking sticks, a good one and a bendy damaged one which I always disliked and whenever we went on one of our expeditions that was the one he always made me use, I used to hate the aul thing, throw it around, treat it badly, have no respect for it. Well over the years my Nangor passed on and the walking sticks disappeared but were always talked about in our family and fondly reminisced over. As I grew I started making my own walking sticks and always tried to make them as perfect as I could, yet in the back of my mind I liked the ones that had a dog leg, or a wind rub or were just a little imperfect, they appealed to me in a way I couldn't fathom until it was pointed out to me it was probably a reflection of the stick my Nangor made me carry. 

I liked that thought and I've come to accept that the attraction in something is often due to its imperfections and these have as much validity as anything that is perceived to be perfect.

Those memories of walks along the beach over 50 years ago with my grandfather hit me hard a few weeks ago when my mother turned up with a present for me, my aunt had found something when clearing out her garage and thought I might like it, it was my Nangors stick, the bendy damaged one I always hated and that now means more to me than I can possibly express, I say without shame that tears ran down my cheeks when I saw it.

Simple little things can have a big impact on ones life and none more so than those imperfect things of creation that were lost but now are found.