Richard Bell's nature sketchbook since 1998
A mallard – possibly a youngster as it seems to be in the process of growing secondary wing feathers for the first time – standing at the cascading outlet of Newmillerdam lake this morning.
Meanwhile this adult female and her mate were paddling alongside the Boathouse Cafe.
On my errands this morning I managed to find time for a quick walk around Newmillerdam lake, plus a break for coffee, cake and a sketch.
“I didn’t expect you to survive for more than a few days.” I said to John recently.
“I hope that I haven’t disappointed you.” he replied.
He’s celebrating his 82nd birthday today.
All the family is gathering around but as this is the Hospice in relays rather than in one big noisy party. I drew my usual view of trees from his patio windows on our visit this morning.
At Newmillerdam most of the black-headed gulls now have their chocolate brown masks but they all seem remarkably laid back this morning with no noisy disputes. Soon they’ll be gathering at their nesting colony at St Aidan’s.
Another reason for it seeming so peaceful is that there are no Canada geese around. Last week I saw a flock of more than a hundred by the canal opposite the Strands and a similar flock on the Wyke.
By the outlet at Newmillerdam a lone coot was diving for freshwater mussels. In the few minutes as we passed by it apparently finished feeding on one and then dived for another. The mussel was the size of a small grape.
Just a taste (in this case a Bakewell and a latte) of the research that I’ve put into my article The bear, the bulldog and the boathouse, celebrating the 200th anniversary of the Boathouse at Newmillerdam, in the March issue of The Dalesman, out today.
That chair is on the spot where sharp-shooting French bulldog enthusiast Lady Kathleen Pilkington (see article) sat 121 years ago in 1902.
My thanks to Experience Wakefield, www.experiencewakefield.co.uk for their support when I was researching this article.
It was muddy going around Newmillerdam yesterday but this morning it’s crunchy underfoot and ice has formed over parts of the lake.
We’re going on a bear hunt . . .
On a moonlit night on Thursday 7th November 1867, sixty villagers from Newmillerdam joined a hue and cry to track down a bear that had gone missing from its den after a small travelling menagerie, which had set up on the banks of the lake, closed down for the day.
Tracking it with the aid of a naphtha lamp, the hunters gave chase as the bear made its way across the road and reached the mill race. It backtracked across the road and followed the muddy shore of the lake which was low at the time.
It appeared to consider plunging in but surprised its hunters by changing its mind and suddenly turning back towards them. In the rush to escape it most of the hunting party ended up falling into the mud and, according to the report in the Leeds Mercury, ‘got well soused’.
Back across the road again the bear found the archway leading to the waterfall at the outlet from the lake and again turned the tables on its pursuers by suddenly turning back towards them.
It was almost cornered in a pear tree in the garden of a Mr Woodhouse but made its way out across open country.
Finally, back in Mr Woodhouse’s garden his pursuers got the chance to ‘push him down and catch him in a tub’ and return him to his den.
Canada geese at Newmillerdam this morning.
Newmillerdam: below zero and the lake looks like the surface of another planet.
Near the war memorial on the sunny side of the lake – if there was any sun – ducks, coot and gulls have found a slither of open water.
Definitely a morning to head for the Boathouse Cafe for a latte and to draw this Alsatian with very mobile and expressive ears.
The cold was enough to reduce the pressure in the front tyres of our car by enough to trigger the ‘low pressure’ alarm.
After recent heavy rain Newmillerdam is cloudy and khaki. A great-crested grebe pops up just yards from my table at the water’s edge at the Boathouse Cafe with a small silvery fish in its bill.
Down by the outlet a heron is watching, waiting and stalking its prey, so intent on fishing that it allows me to rest my iPhone on the railings just 10 yards away from it to take this photograph.
