Nature

Mediteranean Sea

~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

I have never forgotten my first contact with the Mediterranean sea. It was in the south of Italy. After travelling down by train from Rome to Brindisi on a student rail pass, I finally reached the beach and sat with my feet in the water turning my face to the sun like a sunflower. I felt my body and all its layers of defense, melting into butter.

Today Blue and Bonnie had their first meeting with this blue warm enchanted sea. The waves came to find them and the winter sun stroked their backs. Blue was dancing with joy and found new energy to run and jump and of course bark.

Old Birds

~ Kate Wilson ~ 4 Comments

It was a misty Cornish day when he arrived

I knew something was wrong but he wouldn’t let me get close.
It was good to see him keeping company with one of my birds.

I hoped he was taking comfort

The next day his body was in the field.   He didn’t seem seemed injured – just old.

He just died and I was a witness.

A Swift Story

~ Kate Wilson ~ 6 Comments

If birds come into my life I pay attention

The robin that flew round the room when I revisited my old home in Inverness, the white owl that very very occasionally flew across my vision when I was driving home from Penzance, even the two little ceramic birds that I bought when I was back in Cornwall.  They both were survivors of a shelving accident and had broken tips to their wings. I brought them home to Granollers and Pep glued them back together again.
A week ago today I was in my room which I call my Niu – my nest. It looks onto the terrace and at the door there is a sort of gully where the steps start. I noticed something dark and fluttery right in the corner of the gully. It was a bird, unable to climb out. I put it onto the terrace tiles and it stretched its wings and identified itself instantly as a swift.

Then started two days of intense relationship between me and the bird.

I found a wonderful web site that suggested ways to help a young swift take to the air again. But it had some injuries to one wing and also seemed inexperienced in flight.

We tried to launch her on the terrace – resulting in several bad thumps to the ground. I gave her water and she drank.   She allowed me to lift  and hold her up to the air without a tweet. She  just looked around with interest. Whenever she felt the air brushing her feathers she would start to flap and thentake off. But it always ended with a fall to the ground.

After a few attempts she got tired and I left her in a shady spot.

Day two and she was nowhere to be found

I knew that swifts cannot get off the ground once landed. Their wings are so long and their legs so short that they can’t push off unless they are up high on a ledge and can launch from there.  She disappeared so of course I assumed she had died in a corner.  A few hours later I heard rustling from the patio one floor down and looking over the railing, I  saw her bobbing around on the floor. She had found herself a ledge on the edge of the terrace and launched once more but unfortunately there wasn’t the space to fly and she took another rough landing. But survived!

In the late afternoon I took her up to the fields above Granollers, beside the tower.  It is a place  I go often when I need some space and fresh air.

It was a sad and worrying walk from the house up to the top with the bird quietly waiting inside a shoe box. Once there I held her up in my  outstretched palms and did what the experts recommend, gently raising and lowering my hands so the air flow encourages the bird to open her wings.

After a few moments she took off…… and then fell to the ground.

We tried again…..this time she went a little further. She was so determined yet each fall seemed to me so violent. But there is no other way. The third flight was the longest and I willed her to stay up but she lacked strength and ended up in a bush. After that she was happy to stay in my hands and stretch her wings but showed no desire to try again. We plodded home  and I found her a bigger box with air-holes and added lots of flies and mosquitoes to her home.  She didn’t want to eat from me although she would drink drops of water from my fingers.

It is such a sad thing to see a swift on the ground – it’s just totally the wrong place. Perhaps there are other birds who could manage an earthbound life but a swift must fly.
The next day I had to go to Barcelona with my friends and I left her resting at home. She seemed quiet and sleepy.  There was someone to look out for her during the day.

When I got back in the evening, she had died.

That is the story of me and the Swift. I love these birds and watch them every day from the terrace. It was a huge honour to be able to connect so closely with one and very painful to watch her plight.

I’m glad she was able to go gently and will not forget how strongly she tried to survive.

Unto the Hills I Lift Mine Eyes

~ Kate Wilson ~ 5 Comments

When you go up to the Torre on the hill above Granollers you can really see how the town lies in a valley surrounded by mountains. It is a wonderful view and all the high flats, the industrial buildings, the ugly corners become insignificant as your eye is drawn to the outlines of the hills and the expanse of sky.

The torre is old – officially 14th century but some believe it is much older perhaps dating back to the Romans. It is derelict and the council have erected a pathetic little fence around it to ‘stop’ you going in. At some point they have made an attempt to strengthen the walls with some modern bricks. But they have never accepted their responsibility to preserve and protect this ancient monument. Perhaps that is for the best as so often preservation turns into domination and control

The part of the vaulted ceiling that remains is beautiful.  A work of art. The Torre was probably part of a network of towers used for communication from one settlement to the next. Some researchers believe that light signals were used to pass messages across the countryside.
You can see why it was built here as you have an all round view

 

 

 

 

In one direction lies Granollers and the spreading urban world. Turn around and you can see little vegetable plots and olive trees. Turn further and there is another expanse of green field behind which is another industrial estate. But for now it is hidden, invisible and doesn’t exist.
Only the swifts and the poppies and the sky and the hills

And the sunset

Wild swims

~ Kate Wilson ~ 7 Comments

 


Before I left Cornwall last year I read a book called Waterlog by the late Roger Deakin and I find it has stuck with me – memories of some of his wild outdoor water adventures have become permanent images in my imagination and they help me when I am hesitating to take the plunge. If he could fling himself into an icy lake in Cumbria then surely I can do the same in the Pyranees? Over the past year I have swum of course many times in the sea but also in mountain rivers, lakes, woodland pools and, for sometime in the future, there is the tantalising dream of a dip in a totally wild unspoilt natural hot water mineral pool.This favourite pool is deep and mysterious and isolated – you walk a long way up river to get there and are rewarded with a magical setting. I am sure Les Dones D’Aigua live here. That strange shape is my reflection in the water – it was totally clear.A deceptively gentle looking river – it was impossible to swim upstream against the current. Had to wear my bathing costume here so it lacked that ‘je ne sais quoi’ of wildness.Duna’s first long swim – like me she prefers calm waters.These last pictures are of another hidden pool in the mountains of Montseny. Almost too cold even for me – but I did it!
And the dream of an open air natural hot spring? I heard of one close to the Bains of St Thomas in Catalunya Nord but we were leaving that day so it waits for next time….