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The Guardian - UK
The Guardian - UK
Environment
Ella Davies

Country diary: speckled woods are bold and beautiful

Speckled Wood Lane
‘Speckled Wood Lane turns out to be a short track used by the reserve managers, bordered either side by tall hedgerows heavy with sloes, blackberries and bright haws.’ Photograph: Ella Davies

Glancing at a map, you’d assume this must be one of Cheshire’s least-loved landscapes: a nexus of motorways, sewage works, a landfill site and the oppressive chimneys of the Stanlow oil refinery. Yet I’ve heard that an officially anonymous route here has earned itself a nickname, which is surely a sign of affection. I am in search of Speckled Wood Lane.

A terse breeze is blowing the sour tang of waste away to the west, and where it ruffles the hedgerow it is almost loud enough to distract from the mechanical rumbling. From the public footpath you can see across expansive marshland; the eastern floodplain of the River Gowy. The watercourse has been straightened and siphoned to accommodate human demands but can still pose a threat in full flow. The marsh, with its network of ditches, is a key component in managing the flood risk for the refinery complex, and doubles as a thriving nature reserve.

A speckled wood butterfly.
A speckled wood butterfly. ‘They are known to bask in pools of sunlight.’ Photograph: Rebecca Cole/Alamy

I traverse the galvanised gates, passing stands of ragwort and clumps of creeping thistle that grow on nutrient-rich silt from the ditches. At another gated junction I suspect I’ve taken a wrong turn until a butterfly spirals up, almost colliding with me at head height. A speckled wood (Pararge aegeria), dark with pale spots as the name suggests. It is most likely a male; they are known to bask in pools of sunlight and confront intruders. The species is common, recorded here from April right through to October, but he signals that I am on precisely the right path.

Speckled Wood Lane turns out to be a short track used by the reserve managers, bordered either side by tall hedgerows heavy with sloes, blackberries and bright haws. I glimpse flecks of gold as hoverflies make the most of the bramble flowers. The canopy of oak leaves is dense enough that I hear a jay calling but can’t see it.

As I reach the end of the lane, I am met by more of its namesakes. One settles among the leaves, wings closed against the wind, reduced to ripples of brown and buff. I don’t suppose the insects care about their undesirable postcode, but it’s comforting to know that someone has found something to admire here. I hope the name sticks.

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