London's largest bird reserve is the London Wetland Centre, a vast swathe of marshy sogginess located in a bend in the Thames near Hammersmith. It's busy and it's delightful, but it'll cost you eight quid to get in. London's second largest bird reserve is rather different. It's hidden off the Lea Bridge road near Leyton, it's considerably more deserted, and entrance is free. It's the Waterworks Nature Reserve, and I can't believe I've only just noticed it exists.
Back in the late 19th century Victorian engineers built several filter beds in the Lea Valley to purify the capital's drinking water, helping to keep cholera at bay. A century later technology had moved on somewhat, and the beds were abandoned to natural colonisation. They're currently owned by the Lee Valley Regional Park Authority, who six years ago opened a series of bird hides and a visitors centre. Most of the visitors seem to be of the feathered variety, swooping in to swim and flap and feed in the reedy pools. But the occasional human turns up, as I discovered last weekend when I had the place completely and utterly to myself.
I stumbled across the nature reserve by following a footbridge across the road and railway from the allotments I mentioned yesterday. A short walk through an unexpected golf course and there was the visitors centre (and club house), with a car park full of pitchers, putters and drivers. I wandered inside, to general disinterest from the management, and took a look round the interactive exhibits in the large gallery to the rear. I think I was 30 years too old to enjoy the limited information on display, and slightly put off by the mildly hectoring tone throughout. "Children must be accompanied by an adult at all times in this area." "This screen is for adults only." "Why not have a go at weaving a willow basket. Take care not to hurt anyone with the sharp ends". Ignoring the cafe (and golfy shop) I headed back outside to explore the nature reserve proper.
Access is only via a single narrow footbridge, first passing a newly constructed nature garden. There's a small pond ("Danger, deep water!") and a benched seating area("Keep off the chalk ridge!") and a specially-constructed mini willow tunnel. There's a lot of willow about, and the next three filter beds have been almost completely colonised by it. I think you're supposed to be able to walk through one of them on a raised wooden walkway, but that was sealed off with red tape (presumably because of some unseen hazard or perilous risk). Never mind, the best part of the reserve was just round the corner, past a mini-aqueduct. This way to the hides.
The main area of filter beds is square in shape, divided up into six different radial sectors (a bit like Trivial Pursuit counters). Each has been given over to a slightly different habitat (open water, reedbeds, grassland, willow marsh, etc), providing ideal conditions for a wide variety of bird, insect and plantlife. And each of the six can be viewed from behind a giant wooden screen, which runs the full radius of the site and completely round the central wellhead area. There are hatches to lift at regularly-spaced intervals, allowing visitors to peer out across each bed and observe the waterfowl's comings and goings. I moved from window to window, watched over by a single security camera, and wholly unobstructed by twitchers with huge binoculars, vacuum flasks and lunchboxes. Alas there was just a single heron flapping around, occasionally, plus a few ducks and moorhens who'd chosen not to migrate this winter. My ornithological timing could have been better, which perhaps explained why I appeared to be the only large mammal in attendance. But there was still plenty to see, both environmentally and historically, at this most underappreciated location. by bus: 48, 55, 56
Back in the late 19th century Victorian engineers built several filter beds in the Lea Valley to purify the capital's drinking water, helping to keep cholera at bay. A century later technology had moved on somewhat, and the beds were abandoned to natural colonisation. They're currently owned by the Lee Valley Regional Park Authority, who six years ago opened a series of bird hides and a visitors centre. Most of the visitors seem to be of the feathered variety, swooping in to swim and flap and feed in the reedy pools. But the occasional human turns up, as I discovered last weekend when I had the place completely and utterly to myself.
