A DAY ON THE SPEY

There’s something magical about a day spent immersed in nature, especially along the tranquil banks of a river like the Spey. For one passionate WWF supporter, the connection to this iconic waterway became a cherished memory and a source of inspiration. David Waterhouse has been supporting WWF’s work for over 60 years and continues his support through a Gift in his Will to WWF-Australia.

We hope you enjoy ‘A day on the Spey’ – personal insights and observations by David Waterhouse – from his experiences in nature.

You do not have to walk far from the main street of Grantown-on-Spey to enter the Anagach Woods and make your way down to the River Spey. Those resin-smelling woods largely consist of tall Scots pines, which are a remnant of the ancient Caledonian Forest. This great coniferous forest once covered much of the Scottish Highlands. Such remnants are now few and far between. To conservationists, they are precious. They provide a refuge for rare birds such as crossbills and the huge grouse named capercaillies by the clansmen of old. These particular woods are home to such birds as well as mammals like roe deer, red squirrels, and the occasional pine marten. Once, larger beasts, including wild boar, lynx, wolf, and elk lived here, but all of these have been extinct for centuries. The straight as a die woodland track, which links Grantown to the Spey, passes between the tall stands of pine trees. The trees end just before the left bank of the Spey as it rushes with snowmelt down to the North Sea.

If you turn left and follow the riverbank, you soon come to an old, mostly disused, stone bridge which crosses the Spey. Nearby, the bank widens into a sizeable meadow, beyond which are a few stately Victorian houses. On a bright May morning, the scene is a study in rural tranquility. Spring has finally arrived after the snows and winds of winter. Clumps of marsh marigolds gleam beside the mossy rocks on the river’s edge, and the first blooms of the cuckoo flowers have appeared on cue as the birds they are named after have just arrived from Africa. Also just arrived, cleaving the air above are swifts which, not so long ago, were winging their way over the Sahara and the Mediterranean. Soon they will be nesting under the eaves of the old buildings in Grantown. With their bow-shaped wings and slim bodies, they look like miniature black anchors high in the sky. Various birds find food above or in the river, especially when the short-lived swarms of black mayflies emerge and trail in long processions upstream. They are snapped up by grey and pied wagtails, which soon gather beaks full before flitting across the river to feed their nestlings. Mallards and the odd goldeneye can also be seen on the water. While resting on isolated rocks in mid-stream, another kind of duck may be observed preening or snoozing between fishing forays. These goosander ducks have serrated bills and can handle slippery fish with ease. The males are particularly resplendent with white undersides tinged with pink and bottle-green heads. The females have ginger-coloured crowns. Perhaps the most remarkable resident bird on the river is the dipper, resembling a giant wren with a white bib. It may be seen either bobbing up and down on a rock in the water or suddenly plunging into the water and disappearing. It has transparent eye covers and when submerged, can detect caddis fly larvae and small fish when swimming or even walking underwater, no matter how fast-flowing the current.

It builds a dome-like nest of moss. The pair along this particular reach of the Spey has a nest perched on a jutting stone on the other side of the old bridge, some four metres or so above the water. It is said to have been used each spring for many years. A pair may occupy a two-hundred-metre stretch of river. You might see one emerge from the water onto a rock in mid-stream with a small fish, such as a bullhead, writhing in its bill. It will immediately proceed to batter it to death against its hard perch before swallowing it. At dusk, along the path close to the river, the lights appear through the windows of the old Victorian houses beyond the meadow. At this time of year, you might spot a roe deer or two out in the open. Mid-May is when the bucks start courting by emitting short, sharp barks. This will alert a feeding doe. She will stand quite still with her radar dish ears fully erect as she stares in her suitor’s direction. A circular chase may ensue, quite visible through the gloom, owing to the house lights adding to the moonshine. The mating activity is at its height in June. On dusk, the creatures of the day give way to the creatures of the night. There are always a few people walking the tracks through the woods in daylight, as well as along the riverbank, but in darkness, you virtually have the place to yourself. The only humans you are likely to encounter are occasional salmon fishers. By ten o’clock, darkness blankets the woods. Along the riverside, if the moon is up, there is still an ethereal glow towards the south over the distant Cairngorms reflected from the remaining snow patches on the flanks of those high hills. The mayflies are still active at night, and around half-past ten, the river bats start to emerge from crevices in the old stone bridge. As the darkness thickens, you may need a torch to spot them, and then you only obtain a momentary glimpse. They fly just above the surface of the water, or rather, the foam surge, dipping down to seize an insect. They always seem to stick close to the river and, unlike pipistrelles or other bats, are not to be seen above the woodland paths or the buildings around Grantown. They are also known as Daubenton’s bat, but river bat seems to be a more appropriate name. An observant salmon fisherman may be standing up to his thighs in the slower current downstream of the bridge. If he is willing to converse, he will tell you that in plunging to catch a mayfly in its tiny claws, a river bat may occasionally be swamped by the surge and fall into the river. If this happens, it may well use its wings to flap to the bank and eventually fly off again, none the worse for wear.

A salmon fisherman packing up his tackle in the dark can tell you much about his elusive and unpredictable quarry. This may include the big fish that got away, as well as those that were reeled in and those that did not. There is every chance that he will relate stories of close encounters with otters at night while standing in the quieter stretches of the river.

If you walk back up the long, straight path through the forest around eleven o’clock, you may well spot a roe deer buck coming from the cover of the woods in front of you in the near distance. He may ignore your presence or stand still momentarily to face you with his six-tined antlers visible if the moon is overhead, before strolling off and disappearing into cover on the other side of the track. If you have taken the precaution of borrowing a key to the side door of the Grant Arms Hotel, and if you’re back before midnight, you may be able to have a ‘wee dram’ and a chat before you retire to bed.

David’s observations inspire us all to reflect on the wonder of the natural world and consider the trace we want to leave in our own wake.

Like David, a gift in your Will to WWF is a meaningful way to ensure a brighter future for our planet. 

What will your legacy be?