The Zoologist/4th series, vol 2 (1898)/Issue 682/The Wretham Meres
North of Thetford, on part of the belt of barren heathland that surrounds the town, are several sheets of water known as meres, which are almost unique in their formation and situation. Of similar origin, but with very different surroundings, are other meres, a little further northward, in Wretham Park. It is of the heathland meres—Ringmere, Langmere, Fowlmere, and the Devil's Punch Bowl—that I shall more particularly write; although the bird-life of the meres must necessarily include the whole series—Mickle Mere, Great Mere, and West Mere, in addition to those previously mentioned.
Ringmere lies close to the main road, between Thetford and Wretham Station. A triangular plantation shelters it on the south—a plantation of fir, larch, birch, and beech trees. It is most impressive at night: then the trunks of the silver birch stand out ghostly in the gloom of the fir trees; and the sighing of the aspen and the soughing of the fir trees, with the crisp rustle of the brown bracken, have a singular harmony as we wander along the woodmen's paths or through the woodland glades. Mayhap we hear the uncanny "Hoo-oo-oo-tu-vit" of a Long-eared Owl, or the flapping of some startled Pigeon in the treetops. But of the mere itself—a pool in the midst of a wild heath. With the Raven, immortalised of Poe, one is at first tempted to say, "Only that, and nothing more." Thoreau likened Walden Pond to an eye of the earth. And this is another. On the south the plantation forms a bushy eyebrow, whilst the belt of rush and sedge bordering the water's edge forms the eyelashes, reflected likewise in the liquid depths.
Ringmere is a circular, crater-shaped hollow, and is the smallest save one of the meres on the heath, the Punch Bowl being more diminutive. The word mere is Anglo-Saxon, signifying a piece of water, a lake, a pool. Lakes, however, are generally long and narrow; meres are round or oval. Ringmere is in the form of an amphitheatre. Blomefield says of it: "It is a very old mere or large water, as the Saxon name which it still bears tells, Ringmere being no other than the Round Mere or Water." All the meres are situated on the upper boulder clays, and occupy higher levels than the broads. They were probably formed by glacial action wearing away the beds above the chalk. Tradition says, with every degree of probability, that a battle was fought on the surrounding heathland. John Brame, a monk of Thetford, assigned it to a semi-mythical Arthurian period; but history records it as being fought in the middle of May, 1010. In King Olaf's Saga, the 'Heimskringla,' mention is made of this great fight in the following passage:—
"From Hringmar field |
The living fly, |
And in mentioning many of high degree who here met their doom, the Saga goes on to say—
"Hringmare Heath
Was a bed of death;
Harfager's heir
Dealt slaughter there."
It was likewise held by the late Mr. Mark Knights, in his 'Peeps at the Past,' that a Ketel's Bridge at Wretham (? where) was a surviving relic of the name of the East Anglian ealdorman, Ulfketel, who led the Saxon forces in this battle against the Danes. It is not so very many years ago that pilgrimages were paid to Ringmere at harvest time. If it was full of water, the price of wheat would go up; but would fall with the fall of water in the pool. This was a chance for some symbolic interpretation, which was ignored by the author of 'Peeps at the Past,'—a matter for wonderment. The mere was quite dry in 1859; at other times its waters have overflown the road; and in the swampy tract on the far side of the highway belated travellers have seen the fitful flickering of the will-o'-the-wisp. Seven parishes have the right of watering their sheep at this mere for so many hours a day, on so many days a week, the parishes differing in this respect to avoid any friction between the rival shepherds. Kilverstone, Croxton, East and West Wretham, Bridgham, Roudham, and Brettenham are the villages so privileged.
We have walked or cycled the four miles that lie between Ringmere and the town of Thetford by night and by day at all seasons of the year, and have learned to love its changing moods. Being fed by springs arising from the chalk, the height of water seems to have no connection with the meteorological conditions prevalent for some time previous. Thus in the middle of a dry season the meres are often full, and almost devoid of water after a long spell of rainy weather; when one mere is high, another may be low; and it would probably take a long series of observations ere the reasons for this could be assigned with any degree of accuracy. At certain periods of the year the water's edge is lined with thousands upon thousands of the empty shells of the freshwater Whelk (Limnæa stagnalis), which crackle and crunch beneath the feet of the visitor as he walks round the mere. The people of Norfolk, with a contempt bred of familiarity, speak of these meres as "pits," referring to "Ringmer Pit," "Langmer Pit," and so on. On a day in late September of last year, on a visit to Ringmere, I counted the bald patches of fifty-eight Coots; and one flock containing twenty-five Mallard flew off to Langmere. Otherwise there was never a sign of life to be seen. The sun peered down between the lichen-covered trunks into the plantation glades with flickering shafts of light, that seemed fearful of disturbing something. Bushes and sedge swayed in the slight breeze; whilst on the lone hawthorn bush on the verge of the crater mouth a Chaffinch uttered its melancholy "spink, spink, spink." For had not his wife gone south for the winter, like other fashionable folk, and a state of "single blessedness" did not suit his temperament. For a few yards from the shore the waters were placid, lying as they did beneath the lee of the high banks. Farther away they rippled with the motion of the Coots, which swam round and round as near to the centre of the mere as they could get. The water looked dark and mysterious, as if fabled monsters lurked in the unknown depths. An old gentleman who remembered it becoming totally dry said that there was quite a deep hole in the centre of the mere, and that in its dry bed sprung up nettles of gigantic height, which proved an almost impenetrable phalanx. On this particular afternoon the tree shadows in the water looked blurred and indistinct; whilst from the distant woods came the lingering murmur of the wind, departing with the set of sun. From the rim of the crater acres and acres of seared bracken could be seen, rarely broken by a hawthorn bush, or a clump of furze, whilst the glory of the heather had departed. In different directions could be seen boundary banks, whose significance has long been lost, only useful in case of parish disputes; although one would think that hereabouts there is little worthy of disputation.
On the great heathland surrounding the various meres, Moles are extremely common. Stoats and Weasels are frequently caught; and at the end of April, 1895, a Badger, suckling two young ones, was trapped at West Wretham. The mother was stuffed, and is preserved at the hall. An attempt was made to rear the two cubs at the Home Farm, but did not succeed. The gamekeeper saw the footprints of this animal in the snow, and thought they belonged to a barefooted man; but being apprised of their real nature he set a trap, and caught the Badger. Rabbits are very plentiful; and the ungainly gallop of a Hare is also by no means an uncommon sight. Vipers and Ringed Snakes are also not infrequently seen; while the borders of the meres form happy hunting-grounds for Frogs and Toads. The birds of the heathland are many. Wheatears and Stockdoves nest in disused rabbit-holes; Whinchats, Stonechats, Linnets, various species of Finches, Thrushes, Blackbirds, and Hedge Sparrows nest in the furze; and in the neighbouring plantations Long-eared Owls and numerous other birds of the woodland find a home. But Mother Earth is the place upon which most of the characteristic birds of the locality deposit the eggs which contain their hopes of future progeny. Besides the Sky Lark and Corn Bunting, Pheasants, Partridges, and Red-legged Partridges nest beneath the furze. This likewise is a favourite haunt of the Nightjar, whose "reel" is such an interesting addition to the harmony of a summer's eve, as he sits on the bare branch of a pine tree on the northern shore of Langmere. The Lapwing prefers the open country; associating with the Stone Curlew and Ringed Plover, the shrill whistle of the former and the mellow note of the latter making weird harmony with the mournful plaint of the Lapwing. The marshy spots and "pitsteads" around the meres are tenanted for breeding purposes by the Snipe.
The Black-headed Gull, or "Scoulton Peewit," breeds sporadically by a little pond in an enclosed part of the heathland between Ringmere and Langmere. In 1883 there were about fifty nests, which on the 8th of June contained from one to three eggs each. Then for several years the nests were very few; and they have never reached the numbers of 1883 again. Possibly this may be because of the loss of eggs through the depredations of the local shepherds and gamekeepers. Last year there were but five nests; one of these was built in a very peculiar manner. On a certain Sunday a Coot's nest was noted a few yards from the shore. On the next Sunday a log had been thrown across this nest, and on the log was the nest of a Black-headed Gull containing one egg. It is a matter for regret that these Gulls cannot be induced to stop in larger numbers, as their snowy, graceful forms on the newly-ploughed land is one of the prettiest imaginable sights in the district around the large mere at Scoulton—one of the best-known "Gulleries" of this species.
Langmere should perhaps be more correctly Long Mere, as it is a long, narrow sheet of water, divided by a promontory, on which are some gaunt fir trees. Tradition says that these were not planted by the hand of man. At very long intervals this promontory becomes an island, and Langmere then is a sight to be remembered. Lying in the midst of a wild, scrubby heath, with never a sound but the wail of the Peewit or scream of a Gull, it is by far the most impressive of the meres. A dried-up, starved, stalky growth of thistles forms the sole vegetation in the immediate neighbourhood of the mere. There is an eeriness, a weirdness, a loneliness around this mere, which is uncanny in the extreme. It is, nevertheless, beloved of Wildfowl. On November 6th, 1896, I counted over two hundred Wild Ducks on this mere. They were of several different species (chiefly Mallard, however), and I managed to get a splendid view of them by crawling over twenty yards to the top of the bluff which forms the promontory, and then peering from behind the trunk of one of the huge pines. When disturbed the birds fly up with much spluttering, wheel round and round several times—the whistling of their wings sounding strange indeed at night-time—and then fly off to one of the other meres, where they wait until again disturbed. The "Drove" is an ancient grass-grown trackway, which runs between Ringmere and Langmere, and between Fowlmere and the Punch Bowl. It starts near East Harling and goes by Roudham and the meres, over Bromhill, and through Weeting to Hockwold on the border of the fenland. In the days preceding railway communication this was the great road for sending sheep and cattle to and from the fenland. By so doing there was no interference with the ordinary highway traffic. In some parts this track is overgrown and disused; but a walk along its entire length leads one through scenes of picturesque beauty which can hardly be surpassed in south-west Norfolk. On September 27th, 1894, Langmere was quite dried up, its bed being one huge expanse of mud, divided by cracks as it hardened in the sun, and looking as if effected by some miniature earthquake.
Between Langmere and Fowlmere the "Drove" is carpeted with velvety turf. On the heathland, to right and left, the flint implements and weapons of Neolithic man are occasionally found. Pine "belts" stretch away into the dim distance; bracken flourishes everywhere. Truly an out-of-the-world spot. Fowlmere is by far the largest of the four heathland meres; it is indeed a respectable-sized sheet of water, forming the much-cherished haunt of numbers of Wildfowl. At one end—although some distance away—is a farmhouse; at the other, runs the "drove." A projecting fir-crowned bluff frowns to the eastward; whilst the western shore is now clothed with thick undergrowth, in which many species of Ducks and water-birds delight to shelter. Tradition says that Fowlmere was once sown with oats, and the crop lost by the sudden influx of the waters. As this was in my pre-natal days I can give no authoritative opinion. The northern is undoubtedly the deeper end of the mere, as on December 3rd, 1893, the southern half was covered with ice, while the northern was quite open. I have, however, enjoyed some delightful skating on this mere when every part of it was absolutely safe, and the rhythmic clanging of the skates on the frozen surface reverberated in musical cadence from the wooded shores. This mere is also noted for its fish. One day last year an angler caught over one hundredweight in its waters. It must not, however, be forgotten that, with the exception of certain immemorial rights and privileges, these meres are private property, and that the expectant angler must therefore beware. Perch and Pike have been obtained in some numbers; but the mere is chiefly noted for its Tench, which here attain a great size. The dog of a neighbouring shepherd will enter the water, catch these fish with great dexterity, and bring them to land.
The Devil's Punch Bowl Mere is on the other side of the "Drove," barely a hundred yards distant. This is the smallest and likewise the best example of the crater-shaped mere. It is circular in form, and the water varies much in depth. It is surrounded by a ring of fir trees, a ring of bracken extending from them about two-thirds of the way down the slope, then close slippery turf within a short distance of the water. Between turf and mere is a small strip of gravelly beach, which widens or narrows with the fall of the water. On the southern edge of the crater is perched a shepherd's cottage. It sometimes happens that a circle of white mist overhangs the mere at night-time. This is known as the "Devil's Nightcap," and originated an expression appertaining to local weather lore: "The Devil's got his nightcap on." At the end of September, 1894, this mere was practically dried up, a pool on the southern side, about twenty feet by twelve and about one foot deep, alone remaining. Although Kingmere and Fowlmere were not at all low at the same time, Langmere was then completely dried up.
The park meres of Wretham are far more strictly preserved than the foregoing. On Mickle Mere there is an active decoy. Two of these meres have preserved notable memories of prehistoric man. When Wretham West Mere was drained of its waters in 1851, underneath eight feet of mud were found bones of the Red Deer and of the now extinct Long-faced Ox. Near the centre was a circular bank of fine white earth, twenty or thirty feet across and about four feet in height. Not far from its inner circumference was a hole deeper than the rest of the mere, piled and evidently once wattled. Here, with the remains of a wall built of flints packed together with marl, were found bones and portions of a rudely-constructed ladder. In short, here were contained the remains of a lake-dwelling. Part of another lake-dwelling with posts of oak wood shaped and pointed by man was found in the mud of Wretham Great Mere in the year 1856. These discoveries have been scientifically described by Professor A. Newton and Sir C. Bunbury.
These singular meres of Wretham are, however, chiefly memorable at the present day from the fact that here breed no fewer than seven species of Wild Duck, several of them extremely rare as nesting birds in the British Isles. Many other rare birds have likewise been procured here at various times. Thirteen Short-eared Owls were flushed from one pine tree at Wretham about twelve years ago. Ten of them were shot. This was likewise the fate of a beautiful White-tailed Eagle shot on the decoy in 1892, and now preserved at Wretham Hall. Specimens have likewise been procured here of the Osprey, Cormorant, White Stork, and Crane. The last-named was shot in September, 1873, and is now in the Norwich Museum. The Bean Goose and the Pink-footed Bean Goose frequent the open country about Wretham. Mr. A.W. Partridge saw a flock of two hundred to two hundred and fifty of the latter on a field of young rye. A Grey Phalarope (one of four) was shot on a pond near Fowlmere in 1846. Pintail and Wigeon are winter visitors to the meres, the latter in fairly large numbers. The list of rarities that have here met their doom likewise includes specimens of the Scaup Duck, Goldeneye, Smew, and Goosander. Moorhens are not uncommon, and Coots abound, their bald patches being noticeable in any "bunch" of wildfowl. The Great Crested Grebe and the Little Grebe here find a congenial home; the sprightly form of the irrepressible "Dabchick" would be particularly missed. How often have I found his oddly-constructed nest a few yards from the shore with the dirty oval eggs covered over with the weeds of which the nest is composed. But it is the species of Duck breeding on the meres in everincreasing numbers that give the locality such an interest for British ornithologists. Besides the Mallard and Teal, which are not uncommon in other localities, the Gadwall, Shoveler, Garganey, Pochard, and Tufted Duck here nest in the solitude and peace of the "breck" district. Eight drake Shovelers have been flushed on Langmere at one time in the breeding season. And in the stillness of the summer night the music of the meres is weird and strange to unaccustomed ears. The low contented quacking of the Mallard and Gadwall, the "knack" of the Garganey, the "kree-ah" of the Black-headed Gull, the low whistle of the Pochard, the "crek-rek-rek" of the Moorhen, the "currugh-currugh" of the Tufted Duck as he shifts his quarters, the clear ringing, oft-repeated "koo" of the Coot, the "whit-whit" of the Dabchick, and the harsh "kek" of the Loon, added to the wailing and whistling of the heathland birds, the lapping of the waters, and the soughing in the pine trees,—who could not wish for such nights o'er again. May memories of the meres never be less pleasing than now!
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