A River Keeper’s Year: Summer Gives Way to Autumn

July: these are the dog days. The hot, sultry days when there is no breeze, and the air hangs heavy. We have stopped fishing for now; after the feeding frenzy of the mayfly – which featured in the previous part of the series – is over; the trout, now well-fed, are disinclined to take anything other than the most well-presented imitation. Most members of the syndicate go to the beach.

Which leaves us, the volunteer river keepers. Because while there may be less sport than the early summer, our river moves on, and grows. Does it ever. Warm weather encourages growth of water plants. There are some we love and some we dislike. The one we love most is Ranunculus aquatilis. Part of the buttercup family, often known as white water crowfoot from the colour of the flowers, Ranunculus indicates good water quality and moves with the current in beautiful waves.

Ranunculus in June

August is the month for reed removal. Left unmanaged, reeds would block the river and cause flooding. When visiting the countryside, people rightly expect to see a tumbling chalkstream containing wild fish, hosting families of otters, and the song of larks and other ground-nesting birds, all of which we are proud to have on and around our river. Without our management, however, the chalkstream will revert to the lifeless, willow-obstructed, reed-blocked swamp that it was before man intervened, for chalk streams did not exist until the land was adapted by man from the 17^th century onwards for agriculture. What are now the river valleys were then areas of swamp; a channel was dug, which became the river, and hatches were installed on the river to block the flow as required and parallel channels known as carriers, dug, with connecting ditches. The relatively warm water was used to irrigate otherwise frozen land. The grazing animals were moved off the land at nightfall and the hatches closed, flooding the pasture; the hatches were opened in the morning, the land drained, and the animals returned, to enrich the soil with their dung. This is the truth about rewilding: It is the misguided neglect of our environment. It is negligence. Once again, the late Ronald Blyth put it well: “I sometimes think that God will ask us, ‘That wonderful world of mine, why didn’t you enjoy it more?’” To which I would add, “Or look after it better?”

Three types of reed are of interest here. Norfolk reed, Phragmites australis, used in thatching, is most resistant to removal, with strong roots and stems which inflict cuts that sting like paper cuts.

Five types of aquatic plant on display. In the background: Norfolk reed, Phragmites australis. On the margins, branched bur reed, Sparganium erectum. Trailing in the water, nearest camera, water milfoil, Myriophyllum spp. Bright green above: Starwort, Callitriche spp. Trailing, central and above: unbranched bur reed, Sparganium emersum. Bright polished gravel on bed of river. A healthy picture.

Then there is bur reed, the most abundant. This exists as both unbranched (Sparganium emersum) which trails in the water, and branched, bur reed (Sp. erectum) which grows out of the water. If left unmanaged, these reeds will block the river and so, every August, we ensure that a 2m channel exists, free of bur reed, throughout the entire mile and a bit for which we are responsible. There is only one way to do this, and it involves getting in the river and pulling it up by hand. The timing is essential, for in July the reed is too strong and won’t be budged, and in September it will snap off. In August, it comes up complete with rhizomes, its roots. This year it took five of us a week.

Phragmites (Norfolk reed) on the far bank, branched bur reed protruding from the water, and unbranched bur reed trailing the surface. We can’t shift the Norfolk reed, but the bur reed has to come out, by hand, as shown.

September is for tree management and major building projects. We don’t undertake this when birds are nesting in the spring, and we avoid wading the river in winter when trout are spawning on the river bed. A willow may be graceful but is regarded as a bit of a menace. That willow branch overhanging the water will eventually trail on the surface, and then be drawn under; when it touches the river bed, it will take root, and then what you have is a new tree growing in the middle of the stream. Alder trees are favourite, for their roots strengthen the banks, they don’t topple in like willows and their timber is the most useful for use in bank repairs.

There is certain work to be done that is beyond the abilities of the most enthusiastic of us, and for this we need professionals. With the help of the Wild Trout Trust and the support of the River Lark Catchment Partnership and the Environment Agency, a length of river, which had been abused by being turned into a canal, was restored to a fast-flowing stream. Alder tree trunks, with the quality of being resistant to degradation in water, are used as flow deflectors, and locally sourced gravel used to back fill.

A wattle fence which the Anglo-Saxons from the nearby village would have recognised. The uprights are formed of chestnut stakes and the weaving is willow, all sourced nearby. This protects the recently restored section of river in the photo above.

The river is, of course, not ours; we share it. We have a particular affection for the breeding pair of swans, who we once rescued after they both became trapped in a tree fence. When we freed them, they thanked us and haven’t forgotten. I think we are on first name terms now. And in the winter, when the ground is frozen and little food available, we feed them.

These Greylag goslings followed me down river.

There are two families of otters on the river and although supposedly nocturnal, we see them frequently in daylight hours, often hearing them before we see them; they whistle to one another, and although they enter the water slickly, they still make a splash. They eat some of the fish, of course, but we think they prefer crayfish – to which they are welcome – and slow-moving fish like pike, to the sprightly trout.

The otter, Lutra lutra

Most pleasure is had from sharing with other people. West Stow Country Park is rightly proud of its Green Flag accreditation, and we feel an obligation to welcome people onto the river banks and show them what we are doing, and we are never happier than stopping to explain to walkers on the bank what we are up to and the science behind it. Showing where there are trout redds; explaining why we have installed flow deflectors to speed the currents and disperse the silt; why we source materials from as close by as possible.

We do ask people not to allow their dogs to enter the water and disturb the wildlife. Insecticides in canine flea treatments kill aquatic insects as well, something owners are often unaware of. There are snakes in the river, and although grass snakes are prevalent, we have seen adders; and an adder bite to a dog is frequently fatal, so we do, for all these reasons, urge walkers to keep their dogs out of the river. But Kerry always has a biscuit in his pocket for a treat for a well-behaved dog!