t’s a perfect June day, bright sunshine but not too warm, a misty morning clearing to blue skies, the gentle breeze rustling through the fresh leaves on the trees that surround me. I’m in the Norfolk Broads walking along a boardwalk through tangled alder woodland, birdsong penetrating the thickets of hop and sallow. I approach a low wooden bridge taking me over a dyke, to the right a mass of common reed standing guard along the watercourse, to the left widening out into the open water of Hoveton Great Broad. As I leave the trees and cross the bridge, sun warming my back, I notice a tangle of clear wings and blue bodies cross my path. Two common blue damselflies, locked in the throes of mating had nearly collided with me. My gaze follows their path and sees them land on a large frog-bit leaf next to two other mating couples, the females delicately dipping their ovipositors into the water, somehow looking graceful in this act of procreation.
As I stand and watch, I hear a rustling in the reeds behind me. I turn around and see one reed in particular dancing against the wind, only a few feet away. Following the leaves down to the surface of the water I spot a small, brown, furry lump, with beady eyes and tiny hands, greedily chomping away on the leaf of a reed. It’s instantly recognisable as a water vole, but I’m amazed at the fact it seems entirely undisturbed by my presence, despite how close I am. I certainly wasn’t being particularly quiet as I walked onto the bridge. But now I slowly sit down to get a better view of this fantastic creature and watch it take its lunch, chubby cheeks wobbling, teeth nibbling, and small hands working their way down the reed leaf.
This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a water vole. I vaguely remember visiting a nature reserve somewhere as a child and standing on a bridge, hearing a plop and seeing a small brown shape disappear into the bank. But that wasn’t the best view, and since then I’ve been desperate to see another and get a closer look. Water voles are still fairly elusive. Unfortunately, water voles have not had the best time of things in recent decades. A combination of falling water quality and the invasive American mink saw populations tumble in the 1970s and 80s, and add to that the continual assault on river banks through embanking, straightening, widening and constricting channels, which limits the places water voles can nest. But happily, things have turned around. Legislation and regulation has seen water quality improve dramatically in recent years, and a concerted effort in eradicating mink has seen otters return to every river system in the UK. Water vole populations have also started to recover, with a recent survey finding water voles present in every county of England. It is my hope, therefore, that one day everyone will have the pleasure of sitting on a bridge, eye to eye with a water vole enjoying its lunch.