{"id":4573,"date":"2016-06-04T07:15:15","date_gmt":"2016-06-04T07:15:15","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.obsessedbynature.com\/blog\/?p=4573"},"modified":"2016-06-04T19:05:20","modified_gmt":"2016-06-04T19:05:20","slug":"bat-walk-at-woodberry-wetlands","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.obsessedbynature.com\/blog\/2016\/06\/04\/bat-walk-at-woodberry-wetlands\/","title":{"rendered":"Bat Walk at Woodberry Wetlands"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Huma<\/a>
Huma Pearce of London Bat Group<\/a> with a Daubenton’s Bat at London Wildlife Trust’<\/a>s newest urban reserve, Woodberry Wetlands<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The screech and clatter of the Piccadilly line train filled my ears as we rattled, mercifully quickly, deep below the city centre in London’s fastest and loudest tube line, on the way to Manor House.<\/p>\n

I emerged into the grey urban jungle of the Seven Sisters Road, the cars whizzing past the fast food shops as if to escape as soon as they might. Hooded youths hung about the estate gardens in small disconsolate groups. Women scuttled past, heads down, on the grimy pavements. I consulted my map, strode eastwards as purposefully as I could, and crossed into Woodberry Grove.<\/p>\n

\"Woodberry<\/a>
Woodberry Down<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The gleaming new towers of “Woodberry Down” rose on either hand, the street lined with clean young trees and gleaming black cars. Even the pavements were newly laid in handsome yellow-brown flagstone. It was evidently a shinier, more prosperous Manor that the developers had had in mind.<\/p>\n

\"Woodberry<\/a>
Woodberry Wetlands gateway<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Around the corner lay the entrance to London Wildlife Trust’s newest reserve, Woodberry Wetlands<\/a>. It too was carefully landscaped, and money (from Berkeley, Thames Water and the National Lottery) had evidently been lavished on the gateway itself, a cunningly strong rust-coloured hut of iron, the reserve’s name laser-cut right through the metal walls on both sides. The building straddled the New River, a natural moat; and the gatehouse had its own portcullis, in the form of robust iron gates, locked at night.<\/p>\n

\"London<\/a>
London Bat Group<\/a> arriving for a night’s trapping. The New River is in the background<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

Huma (of Vole Patrol<\/a> fame) and two other members of the London Bat Group <\/a>arrived by car, carrying two enormous Harp traps in big red ski bags. I helped them over the footpath gates, locked to keep people away from bird nesting areas in the breeding season, and they walked around the reserve to a good place under the trees to set up their traps. They are doing some trapping as part of the National Nathusius Project<\/a>, to learn about that species’ ecology and distribution in Britain.<\/p>\n

\"Woodberry<\/a>
Woodberry Wetlands (East Reservoir)<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

I walked along the broad new boardwalk to admire the reserve, a ring of reedbed and bushes around Thames Water’s East Reservoir. A Mute Swan dabbled peacefully; a few Mallard and Coot prepared for nightfall. I counted 66 Swifts whirling about the three grey towers across the water.<\/p>\n

\"Woodberry<\/a>
Woodberry Wetlands cafe<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

In an old Water Board building, elegantly converted to a cafe\/meeting room, were waiting soft drinks and an excited crowd of the lucky few who’d managed to get tickets for the bat walk.<\/p>\n

Huma ran in, a little late, but evidently excited by the result of putting up the traps. She quickly told us a little of the myth and truth about bats – they never get in your hair, they don’t really drink blood (well, vampires do exist, but they’re tiny, and they lap up a few drops of the blood of peccaries (wild pigs), unless humans cut down their forests, remove the peccaries, and then insist on lying with feet poking out of mosquito nets).<\/p>\n

She introduced our local bats, too, painting colourful portraits of their respective characters.<\/p>\n