Sunday, December 08, 2013
I paid probably my fourth visit this autumn to the woods, hoping for lesser spotted woodpecker. I was unlucky, and wished I hadn't bothered given the number of leaves still on the trees - particularly the oaks. There were loads of redwings, and I caught a glimpse of one brambling among some very elusive chaffinches. Two treecreepers were spotted and several nuthatches. A vocal marsh tit was a welcome find low down in holly, and a raven flew over.
The grey wagtail was in one of the Abbey Park Farm fields, foraging in the mud around the cattle trough in company with a pied wagtail. I saw it at the last moment as I was about to drive off from the pull-in; and I snapped it through the hedge.
Yesterday: I somehow couldn't face one of our bleak, lonely walks on the downs, and suggested going on a literary trip to Woking, instead.
I've had my Penguin paperback copy of The War of the Worlds since 1974 according to the inscription inside the front cover; and although a lot of it seems old-fashioned, the novel is sharply written and still bears re-reading today.
From the Six Crossroads Car Park on the A245, you walk through a fairly dense stand of pines.
This brings you out at the sand pit, near which H.G. Wells located the landing-place of the first cylinder from Mars.
Either the common wore a different aspect then (novel first published 1898) or Wells was using artistic licence, because I've always pictured the setting as being open heathland (more like Chobham), with pines and firs in the distance.
We walked across the common and found several open areas with heather; apparently some of the special heathland birds breed here, which surprised me given the number of dogs being walked. Of perhaps twenty-five cars in the car park, only three brought no dogs to the site. There was a nice couple with a young girl, whose cheerful greeting seemed to me to carry relief that there were other dog-less walkers around! Then there was a man carrying a toddler who asked where the car park was as he had lost his way. And there was us. Many people had two or more dogs, some had up to six.
Making our way to the northern edge of the heathland by boardwalk we came out onto an open grassy area known as McLaren Park, where you look one way towards the swish buildings of the racing-car manufacturer and the other towards Fairoaks Airport. A family was walking nearby with five dogs rushing about across the entire slope.
We were too tired to make our way into Woking to see the statue of the Martian tripod, and agreed that, interesting though it is, and probably pleasant in spring, we're not likely to visit Horsell Common again. No dogs were bothersome (although that could change if I were to walk here alone, as I know to my cost that dogs can be bullies); it was more their owners, constantly calling them or encouraging them to yap and bark and making it impossible for anyone else to enjoy a quiet walk.
And that's my moan for the week. (Greger remarked the other day that I might make history by being the first person to die of acute moaning.)
// posted by Christine @ 9:42 AM 
