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Environment| Environment

Heron by the River Tyne.

It must have been high tide at Tynemouth 19 miles away, where Tyne flows into North Sea. The river has risen to its full height here. Grey seals are born on the Farnes and sometimes swim upriver to these brackish waters. In the late summer, just beyond Newburn’s bend in the river, the muddy banks become lively with blue- and yellow sea asters. The Tidestone is a mile downstream and marks the 1783 boundary for tidal flows and ebbs. But, since then, dredging have pushed the limit further upstream, to Wylam.

In six hours, river will be fast again and shallow, rippling among gravelly spits. However, it is now deep, wide and slow. The two opposing forces of a rising tide and floodwater rushing from the Pennines have nearly fought each other to a halt: the water level is still rising, but it is barely flowing.

After days of heavy rain, river has turned brownish-brown Windsor soup. It is loaded with suspended sediment and topsoil that has been eroded from the agricultural land upstream. The footpath that runs along the bank of the river is slippery with mud. I am so focused on staying upright that I don’t notice a cormorant sitting on a stump until I’m just a few feet away.

It doesn’t fly at first, but then it looks at me with blue eyes. Then it turns back towards the silt-laden, turbid water. The visibility below the water must be reduced to just inches. This makes it difficult for diving birds to feed on fish. It appears to have been perched here for some time; the cormorant’s plumage is black, but the feathers of this bird are preened, dried, and immaculate, showing their true colours, indigo, and bronze. It takes flight when I approach it for a photograph. Perhaps it is trying its luck at the coast.

Heron by the River Tyne.
The edge of the muddy water is still occupied by a morose heron.Photograph by Phil Gates

Last week I witnessed goosanders fishing for fish here. But they have gone elsewhere. The morose heron is still standing at the edge of the muddy waters, its folded wings wrapped around it like a tailcoat, and its head pulled down into its shoulders. It then takes flight and lands in the waterlogged field. A fisherman who has been reduced to eating worms till the tide turns, it is also seen.

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