Just outside the M25, the Thames has a final sharply-angled kink before spilling into the sea. On the South bank, that kink manifests as a peninsula that is one of the wildest of the remaining flood plains – the North Kent Marshes as we know them. A range of habitats exist on this peninsula; collectively known as Swanscombe Marshes.
A mixture of scrub and marshland stretch out before reaching the mudflats of the Thames. A long shadow is cast by the enormous – almost 100m tall – chimney of Britannia Refined Metals – who, I believe, kindly support the habitat (an excellent example of corporate citizenship which can be contrasted with the example I refer to at the end of this post).
Neatly maintained paths cut through dense and well developed thickets of Hawthorn.
Clearings, ditches, meadows, and ponds break up the scrub… and wildlife seems to proliferate.
Having followed the maze-like hawthorn walks, I found one reed-filled clearing that was alive with the complex buzzing chatter of Sedge Warbler – my first for the year.
The reed beds dotted throughout Botany Marsh frequently exploded or buzzed with the song of Cetti’s Warbler and Reed Bunting.
Further to the West, a much greater expanse of reeds known as Black Duck Marsh can be found.
I spent some time here, walking slowly around the perimeter and catching glimpses of two more reed specialists that are firsts for 2017: Reed Warbler and Bearded Tit.
Above the reeds, a pair of Marsh Harrier were patrolling.
On the edges I found a Stonechat, and then ticked off Common Whitethroat for the year, where I found some of the males actually performing song flights – albeit somewhat more tentatively than Skylark which were also present.
Earlyish returning swallows swooped along the contours of the land. Higher up, Buzzards soared and Kestrels hovered. But the stars of the sky for me were a pair of Raven which flew back and forth, perched, called, and generally did raveny things.
Intermission/digression Although I am used to Raven at my other patch in France, the range of calls I heard (Collins Bird guide describes: “Shows spring feelings with various rather odd calls”), made me re-think some large corvids I had seen without bins a couple weeks earlier near my house. The un-raven-like calls and general scarcity made me doubt my eyes which otherwise were sure the size and shape were right for Raven – I am now comfortable revising my doubts and am sure I home-ticked Raven! End of digression
The huge refinery chimney is impressive, but pales into insignificance next to the pylons straddling the Thames from the Kentish peninsula to Essex on the other side. They are, indeed, the tallest pylons in the UK, towering close to a dizzying 200m (more than 650 feet!) over the Thames.
The scrub and marsh eventually give way to the mud and water of the estuarine Thames…
Black-headed Gull bobbed in the water like so many other bits of plastic and litter, and were joined by Shelduck, Mallard, a pair of Gadwall, and even a surprisingly late-staying Wigeon.
Whilst I failed to hear Nightingale – heard the day before – or tick off an early tern or two, in a couple of hours I saw well over fifty species of bird and was impressed with the maturity of the habitats. But all of this is under threat. For such important ecosystems, in fragile and important flood plains, supporting so many threatened species (there are nationally scarce bees and spiders breeding here, aside from the birds), I find it truly astounding that it could all be destroyed to make way for a theme park. If like me, you think this sounds like a ludicrous idea, please sign the petition here and maybe think about making a visit (see website here).