On Nature: Unexpected Ramblings on the British Countryside. Литагент HarperCollins USD
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Caught by the River
On Nature
Unexpected Ramblings on the
British Countryside
Stuart Maconie • Bill Drummond • Tracey Thorn
Martin Noble • Charles Rangeley-Wilson
Chris Yates • Ian Vince • Cheryl Tipp
Ceri Levy • John Wright
And Others
Contents
Introduction
A Chain of Ponds – Chris Yates
The Falconer’s Tale – Dan Kieran
Wainwright Walks – Stuart Maconie
How to Tell the Difference between . . . Swallows, Swifts and House Martins
Oysteropolis – Michael Smith
On the Road to Damascus – Bill Drummond
How to Catch Trout – Charles Rangeley-Wilson
Name that Tune – Cheryl Tipp
Drinking the Seasons – Mark Dredge
Reclaiming the Language – Paul Evans
How to Tell the Difference between . . . A Primrose and a Cowslip
How to See Wildlife – Colin Elford
Two Moors Walk – Martin Noble
The Night Fisher – Jon Berry
How to Bird – Ceri Levy
To the Greenhouse – Tracey Thorn
Hidden Truth in the Lie of the Land – Ian Vince
Deeper than the Wind – Dexter Petley
Hush – Robin Turner
How to Tell the Difference between . . . Frogs and Toads
Eating the Landscape – John Wright
Bracken – Mathew Clayton
Winter Pike Fishing – John Andrews
The Lazy Naturalist – Nick Small
Cycling Round the British Coast – Nick Hand
How to Tell the Difference between . . . Grasshoppers and Crickets
Living on a Remote Island – Sarah Boden
Radnorshire Annual – Richard King
Waterfall Staircase – A. Harry Griffin
Author Biographies
Copyright
Introduction
How can you get the most out of Britain? Although a strange question, it was one we at Caught by the River found ourselves asking. We wondered – after having immersed ourselves in the great modern chroniclers of the countryside such as Deakin, Yates, Macfarlane and Mabey – how you could apply the subtle magic of their books to your life. You might love great angling writing but how do you actually read water? You know the blue tit from the blackbird in your back garden but what’s the best way to start birding? What’s edible and growing freely in your local area? And how on earth do you do the Wainwright Walk?
With those questions in mind, we were inspired to answer them in a book. On Nature – the follow-up to our previous collection, Words on Water – would be a ‘How To’ guide to the British Isles, written by the people who understood the landscape the best. We asked a list of Caught by the River contributors (and a fair few people whose work we admired but had never met before) if they were interested in writing about their particular field of interest. The book would be a beautifully written user’s guide to our country. From foraging to fly fishing, birding to brewing, On Nature would offer pointers, primers and pertinent lessons from those in the know, passing knowledge to those willing to learn.
Well, that’s how we thought it would end up.
When Bill Drummond wrote to us and pledged to write a piece on the importance of damsons, we knew that our original brief was being abandoned. In the hands of people like Bill, our ‘How To’ guide soon became something very, very different. Before long we were looking at a kaleidoscopic vision of Britain, one where writers talked about their connection to the land in a series of stories that would hopefully inspire action. Here, life on remote islands was not only possible, it was desirable. Watching the seasons change through a Welsh kitchen window took on the elemental lyrical ebb and flow of an R.S. Thomas poem. Angling stories became boy’s own adventures; falconry an obvious pastime for day-dreaming urban naturalists.
Looking at the finished article, On Nature is a collection of stories highlighting the kind of uncontrollable driving forces that get people up at 4 a.m. to cast off in the half-light, or to go mushroom hunting in dewy meadows. It’s about watching and listening, digging in, taking part. It’s about people’s passions for the countryside – the kind that start out as hobbies before turning into unshakable obsessions.
Charles Rangeley-Wilson summed it up perfectly in his contribution on trout fishing. To quote him, ‘I wonder then if the best way of describing the how is to start at the beginning with the why: if at the beginning of the how there is a passion – encompassing all the associated meanings of that
word: desire, compulsion, infatuation – once found it will guide the rest of the discovery. With passion in your tackle bag the how will ultimately take care of itself.’
So, whether using tackle bag or train ticket, a pair of binoculars or just a pair of ears, On Nature maps Britain in sights, sounds and subtle memories, offering jumping-in points and inspirations for eager urban naturalists everywhere.
Just remember to pack an open mind.
Jeff, Andrew and Robin
Caught by the River, Spring 2011
A Chain of Ponds
Chris Yates
In the 1950s the old village of Burgh Heath, which was my childhood home, used to be a hotchpotch of unremarkable 18th- and 19th-century cottages, with two pubs, a cobbler’s, corn stores, stables, sweet shop and tea gardens. Surrounding the village was an area of heathland – perfect ground for every kind of childhood game – and lapping the tea gardens was the pond, an acre of greenish water that, by the time I was five, was the centre of my universe.
No normal child can resist water, and because post-war parents did not live in constant fear for their children’s lives I could spend countless summer days either on my own or with friends playing on the bankside. In the beginning I was ignorant of anything that might possibly have lived beneath the surface; I only wanted to throw stones and make as big a splash as possible. I soon learnt, though, that if there was an angler on the bank it was best not to throw anything; anglers could get quite cross if I even splashed my feet near them. This was understandable once they explained the necessity for quiet. Their stories intrigued me and added a completely new dimension to the world, but did the fabulous-sounding creatures they described truly exist? In those early days I never saw a fisherman catch anything, and when I began to creep around the margins, peering expectantly into the green depths, I spotted nothing more exciting than watersnails, tadpoles and leeches. Perhaps fishing was just an adult form of make-believe, though