Brownsea Island - natural beauty and red squirrels

The main reason I'd wanted to visit Brownsea Island was because it was a stronghold of the red squirrel - our native squirrel - in southern England. 

I'd never actually seen a red squirrel in the flesh. Grey squirrels yes - thousands of them; a ubiquitous and vigorous import that had ousted the poor red squirrel from most habitats. I didn't regard grey squirrels as villains, just naturally better at finding food and shelter and breeding successfully, and because of these strengths they had got the upper hand. It's just Nature's way. Grey squirrels were everywhere. Why, they gambolled daily in the trees at the bottom of my garden, ran along my fences, and searched for caches of nuts on my lawns. They even came indoors, as this 2020 poster for a TV comedy show testifies (click on it to enlarge):

But the pretty red squirrels hadn't entirely thrown in the towel. They still ducked and dived here and there. There were some living on the Isle of Wight, although I'd never seen any when over there. There were some in Northumberland, and when driving up the River Breamish valley in 2013, I saw warning signs telling me to watch out for red squirrels. But none showed. 

Plenty were said to lurk in the pine forests of the Scottish Highlands. And indeed, when I visited Alladale in 2022 - a wild estate west of Bonar Bridge - there had been very similar road signs telling me to watch out for red squirrels: 

This looked promising. It was definitely the right kind of location. The right kind of trees. I expected to see every branch sagging with the weight of little red bodies, and the road practically carpeted with the creatures. It was not so. Nary one did I see. Quite possibly they were there all right, watching me in their hundreds (or even thousands) from high tree-tops, cunningly hidden and sniggering with glee, ready to pelt me with larch twigs and pine husks if I came too close. But I departed without a single glimpse of their tufty red ears. 

Such disappointments could have left me bitter and twisted. Or I could have sunk into deep melancholia. But the Melfords are made of sterner stuff than most mortals, so I remained hopeful. After all, there was always Brownsea Island! I was confident that Brownsea Island would be visibly rammed with them. I would be tripping over them at every turn. They'd be constantly at my elbow - as in that comedy show poster - hoping to snatch my sandwich or lick my ice cream, as pesky as hungry seagulls. And for the sake of having some great pictures, I was going to be cool about that kind of naughtiness. Especially if they posed for a series of shots afterwards, and went through an entire dance routine in little top hats.

I should emphasise that Brownsea Island was primarily a nature reserve, a nationally important site for the scientific study of wild creatures and plants. It was not all about red squirrels. The island's diverse natural history was given a special exhibition of its own. I had a good look at it. Habitats included woodland, grassland, a little heathland, beaches, crumbling cliffs, the odd pond, and some salt marshes. I'd thought there might be extensive areas of marsh, and as a precaution I'd come with my anti-midge head-net in my bag, ready to repel those annoying pests. But it wasn't needed. 

Here's sample of what was covered by the exhibition:

Uh-oh. Ants, the sort that bite. Presumably they would attack, or at least attempt to chivvy away, anything in their path. So sitting down on a tree stump to eat a snack while contemplating a serene Harbour view wouldn't be a good idea! Nor would sleeping on the ground overnight under canvas. I wondered whether the boy scouts mentioned in the last post had suffered badly from ant bites. Or their modern counterparts. I did in fact spot some ants, scurrying purposefully. They seemed pretty big (for British ants):

Of course, the famous and super-attractive red squirrels were very much to the fore:

What an amazing picture of a leaping red squirrel! According to the credit on the 'welcome' poster, it was taken by wildlife photographer Mark Medcalf. Definitely beyond my own abilities! 

There was also a video of a very young red squirrel in its nest. How sweet. The woman in the upper shot watched it enthralled. A shame that her husband found his phone more interesting!

Having taken all this in, I set off to enjoy the beauties of the island. The paths were easy to follow, and although there were quite a number of people wandering about, it was easy to keep them at a distance and enjoy the peacefulness and the views. Brownsea Island was basically an elevated rolling wooded plateau with steep coastal cliffs on the south and west sides. I planned a clockwise circuit, keeping mostly to the coastal fringe, although I'd have to use an inland track for the final stage back to the 'village' and then the return ferry to Poole Quay, as the north-side nature reserve for rare birds was out of bounds.  

The interior of the island covered many acres, and on the whole was devoid of visitors, who mostly tended to do a coast-hugging circuit like my own, if they went beyond the 'village' at all. Here are some interior views. Lush meadows in places; otherwise ferny, with abundant trees:

Before stepping forth in earnest, I had a look at the island church, which was set apart from the 'village', up on a hillock. It was a very Victorian affair, with each successive owner of the island leaving a memorial inside, one of them grandiose. 

As you can see, I gave the church interior serious study. In fact, I gave it nearly all my attention, hardly looking at the churchyard, or exploring the immediate surroundings. What a mistake!

With time steadily ticking on, I now headed for the south coast. The sun was out, and it was turning into a lovely day, although it clouded over now and then. I wanted views of Poole Harbour and its islands, and of Purbeck beyond. I got them.

To the east was the entrance to Poole Harbour. This was the northern tip of Studland Heath, with the very sandy Beach hidden behind the trees. 

South-east on the horizon were the Old Harry Rocks - a group of chalk stacks. Swanage lay around the point.

Looking southward now, through the trees at the edge of the cliff. Calm waters, clear enough to see the sand underwater.

There, close by, was Furzey Island, with its oil well and its pier for exporting the oil to the mainland.

Most of the buildings still standing on Brownsea Island clustered near the 'village', but there were a two houses in the trees on the south coast of the island. One was being done up as a bothy. What a great view it had.

The clifftop path was very pleasant indeed. Especially so when the sun shone. Beyond the Outdoor Centre (see the previous post), there were glimpses of other islands, and boats lazily at anchor, or speeding off somewhere.

I found the way to the beach where the pottery factory had once stood. It was a failed enterprise, and was pulled down long ago. But the beach was still littered with pottery fragments. The owner's ambition had been to produce high-class china, but the clay on the island was only suitable for ordinary household waste pipes.

A pier was built to take the pottery away - now rickety, and visited only by private yachts and boats at their own risk. 

The path had become more of a forest track. It had once led to Maryland, where cottages were built for the workers. All gone now; they fell into disrepair, became dangerous, and were demolished for safety reasons. But when lived in, their inhabitants considered themselves fortunate. 

It was by now mid-afternoon, and I began to think about how long I might have left before I'd have to take the ferry back to Poole Quay. A nagging inward voice said 'Start back now: cut inland, and head straight for the village - you won't be able to run if you need to hurry!' But another said 'You can't turn back before you've seen everything in the west part of the island'. I listened to the second voice. But there was something else to think about. A couple of people I'd bumped into had mentioned that red squirrels had been seen behind the church. Well, that meant taking a detour to get some souvenir shots of the creatures I'd come to see. And detours use up precious time. Ah, I'd be all right. My right knee was still good. Surely I could see everything I wanted to? 

Next, I arrived at a mindfulness and calming trail in Cambridge Wood. What was this all about? 

 

The trail was meant to be followed slowly, allowing one to experience green growing things through the senses, and be refreshed accordingly. There were a number of boards which gave directions how to do so, such as this one:

I'm sure that leaning against the tree was OK as well! (By now I could have done with a sit-down somewhere)

Here are other boards:

Well, I did close my eyes and I did listen. Did I hear the scampering of red squirrels, or their chirps and chatter? I did not. I looked up. 

They must be up every tree, keeping still and silent, looking down at me and no doubt mocking my efforts to see them. Maybe pulling faces and mooning. The little beasts. 

Near the above board was a stout swing on which one could rest and meditate. 

There was a girl on it, and we got talking about the island and how nice it was. She kindly gave up the swing to me, and I had a three-minute rest, all I would allow myself. Getting on my feet again, the girl's friend came into view. She was less athletic, and was lagging behind. We had a chat too. Then I was off down the remainder of the calmness trail, and then out onto a broader, straight and well-surfaced track that led back to the 'village'. However, I still had the length of the island to walk before I got there, plus that detour to check out those red squirrels behind the church.

The track wasn't very interesting, and questions started to form in my mind as I walked along. When was my car parking session back at Poole Quay going to expire?  Which hourly return ferry would I need to catch? Could I catch it? I slowly did the calculations, and then to my horror saw that I had only half an hour left in which to rush back to the village and catch the ferry boat I needed. If I missed it, I'd be well overdue at the car park, and in line for a thumping penalty notice! Now that would spoil the whole day.

This made me walk a lot more briskly. I ignored the protests from my right knee. I had to get that ferry! As the minutes passed, it became clear that if I could keep up this cracking pace, I should be all right. But then another thought: no time for a detour to see those red squirrels behind the church! Damn. But there was nothing to be done about it. 

I reached the village with five minutes to spare, and joined the boarding queue. 

The queue was very long. But amazingly the ferry boat was big enough to take us all. While shuffling forward, I had ample time to contemplate Sandbanks and its 'multi-millionaire' homes, just across the water. I had an even better view once were under way.

The return ferry was packed. But I got a seat next to two young girls who were showing off the videos they'd each taken with their phones. One of them told me she'd seen the red squirrels behind the church, and had a video of them. Oh, could I see it? Well, it was amazing. She'd concentrated on one squirrel in particular, and the creature - which was playing on a log - had let her get really close. It was astonishingly good footage. But of course I can't show it here. 

Oh well. I'll just have to go back to Brownsea Island and make seeing the red squirrels my number one priority (apart from lunch). Unfinished business, then!

If you would like to give me feedback on this post, or make an enquiry, please email me from my Blog Profile.