The Mayo News

Autumn woodlands inspire peaceful reflection


Country sights and sounds
John Shelley

An hour and twenty minutes after starting out in an unfamiliar stretch of woodland I found myself crossing my own tracks at something of a tangent. This is not the first time my sense of direction has let me down.
As is usually the case in such circumstances, a sky full of cloud had deprived me of my natural compass, and the trees about were not yet mature enough to bear significantly larger branches on their south-facing, sunward side, nor had the west wind tipped their uppermost twigs to the east. In following the meandering path of woodland creatures I had become thoroughly disorientated.
I sat on a rock to weigh up my options, and in sitting quietly I heard the sound of a shallow, rocky watercourse that I had not noticed before. Water flows only one way – downhill, and downhill, in this particular part of the world, leads to Lough Mask and out.
Besides, had I not had enough of tripping over briars and dead wood? This waterway was much more attractive than the narrow half-path I had been stumbling along. More, as all living things depend to some extent on a ready supply of fresh water, I should probably get to meet with some of them along the way.
Regular flooding had kept the stream bed free of undergrowth, but any benefit offered in this regard was more than offset by the slippery nature of the bedrock. Some of the larger stones were topped with a coating of soft moss, which provided a positive footing as long as they were firmly attached to the ground. One wasn’t, and it rolled beneath my weight, sending my boot into a greater depth of water than it was designed to cope with.
At this time of year such experiences are hardly welcome. Summer sun might make short work of drying a sock; not so that weak, watery warmth that barely seeps through a mass of overhead cloud this late in the year.
Leaf fall appears to be a week or even two behind, but things are catching up quickly, with wind and rain combining their best efforts to strip the trees bare. I find something nice about autumn, something beyond the changing colours, or the rich harvest of wild fruits and the flocking birds that come to feed on them.
There are many absorbing moments to be found in company with something as simple as the first proper autumn spate. See how it sweeps over the low, riverside fields to purge them of sticks and reeds, and how it rushes that flood of fallen leaves before it. Wait, now, another day, until the water runs clear, and go to the foot of the falls, where great lake trout leap and play with new excitement coursing through their veins.
Some revel in the appearance of salmon in their favourite waters, but for me, however attractive that King of Fish may be, the spotted trout is much more symbolic of all that is truly wild in this land. At present these trout lie at the mouth of this small stream, as they also do at the mouths of countless others, lying in a cleft between two rocks or in the shadow of an overhanging bank. Day by day, they grow darker and more aggressive, gradually assuming that tartan livery that will dress them for the battlefields of shallow gravel yet some miles ahead.
Even here, at the foot of my rocky pedestal, are extensive gravels, with stones ranging in size from that of a small pea to something a little larger than a walnut. Would this not be just the sort of place to watch the trout at work on the reeds? Indeed it would, if only I knew where I was. With the first indication that the light was fading I hurried on my way, wet-footed and suddenly colder. Then there were fields, as I knew there must be, and a road, and a little farther on a car with a welcoming heater.
Ah, yes, autumn, with its colours and uncertain temper. There is something else too, another element that is hard to define, one that inspires peaceful contemplation. When the parading deer are done with the rut, when the swallows are gone and fieldfare and redwing are in, when the mallard emerge from the reeds, glossy and eager in new feathers, then there must be time for contemplation, reflection and forward thought, things that set us apart from the world of beasts.

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