River Devon Water Level Fluctuations

Volunteer(s) monitoring site:

James Cox is monitoring the River Devon around the Red Bridge at the bend in the river above the Devonvale Hall in Tillicoultry. James is capturing river level fluctuations at three vantage points.

Why the site has been chosen / information about volunteer:

I live in Clackmannan, and became aware of the Ochils Landscape Partnership and the variety of work they carry out last year. This appealed to me, as I have always had a great interest in environmental matters, both man-made and natural. A few months ago, I found myself having a certain amount of free time every week, so decided that this would be a useful and enjoyable way to spend some of it while contributing something to the benefit of my local area. Rivers are, for me, fascinating due to the great variety of landscapes they run through and play a part in forming due to flooding and so on, as well as the wildlife that they support and encourage. The River Devon, being a very clean and natural watercourse, is a perfect place to watch , photograph and record the impact of the climate over the course of the seasons, particularly around the Red Bridge pool near Tillicoultry.

What is being monitored:

River level fluctuations

Monitoring Photographs and Descriptions

July 2014

Sunday July 27th
10.30

Temp 14c

There is a light westerly breeze and broken cloud cover, but the tops of the hills are clearly visible today.

There were some heavy thunderstorms yesterday, but due to the prolonged dry and sunny spell the ground has hardly been dampened. Most of the rain will have just run off into the river as the hard soil resists penetration initially.

Despite this, the river isn't running although it is carrying a little colour due to the run-off. It is characteristic that the first flood after a long dry spell makes the water very coloured, so I think all we had was a small fresh of a few centimetres.

All is quiet on the banks and in the river this morning, but the rain seems to have made the bankside flowers even more brilliant.

On reaching the Red Bridge pool, I am disappointed to see the evidence of some people who have decided to have a few hours fishing here; in the form of a broken section of fishing rod, but also a slew of empty beer cans, cardboard packaging and various bits of plastic.

Unfortunately, the UK has a shameful and embarrassing “culture” amongst some of its population in this regard, which seems to be absent in most European countries. I don't understand how this can be, as it can't any longer be a question of education, can it?

Anyway, I take a photograph (see attached) to record the scene – or part of it – and record the stump gauge measurements.

I can now see from the tide mark on the old bridge support that the overnight rise in levels was no more than 2 or 3 cm, and that in fact the levels have now fallen back to be unchanged from on my last visit : that is +28 on the gauge.

This will be my last report, as I have now completed a year's worth of documentation and photographic records on this part of the River Devon, its wildlife and the impacts of changing river levels during the progression of the seasons.

I have enjoyed the visits and seeing all of this for myself. Hopefully the results will be of some use to the people charged with ensuring the continued welfare of this lovely little spate river and the animals, birds and fish which thrive because of it.

Long may she flow in this pristine state, and be enjoyed by the people of Clackmannanshire who respect the blessing of having this wonderful leisure facility and natural history resource on their doorstep !

Sunday July 6th
13.30

Temp 16c

There is heavy cumulus cloud, but the air is clear with good visibility of the hilltops.

Behind me is a bank of battleship grey approaching from the south-west, so we may be in for one of the heavy, thundery showers which were forcast for the afternoon.

The field has now finally dried out where the lying water had persisted at this lower-lying near end, so approaching the river is not such a struggle in normal footwear now.

The river is low and clear, though the tide-marks on the bank indicate a recent flash-flood of 60cm or maybe 70cm which looks as if it subsided as quickly as it rose. I suppose this is the way with summer floods, as the ground is no longer saturated, so the water finds places to run off over the river's short course far more easily than in the peak of the winter floods.

The crows are particularly vocal today, flying to and from the trees on either bank on the pool below the field. They are having a right barney in fact, and letting evryone know, as crows do.

The crop in the field (oats) is now nearly waist height and the bank is showing stands of cow parsley with its inverted – umbrella flowers, similar to the native hogweed but smaller in stature.

I reach the pool and can see that it is at its lowest level since I began my monitoring nearly a year ago. I shouldn't be surprised, as last summer was a pretty wet one, as I now recall.

The level is (surprisingly) only 3cm lower than at my last visit in mid-June, though.

There is a lot of fly-life on the water of the pool, but no noticeable fishy activity. The trout will hug the bottom of the river on bright days when the sun is at its zenith. The reson for this is that fish have no eyelids and so cannot make adjustments for grighter conditions they way we can through squinting.

I am sure the evening will see a lot of surface activity from the fish, as they make up for their fasting with the abundant hatching and falling insects at this time of year.

As I leave for home I note the reading as being at +28 on the stump gauge.

June 2014

Saturday June 14th
10.15 am

Temp 16c

There is a lot of low cloud shrouding the hills from the midpoint , giving a quite eerie atmosphere, especially among the trees on the Woodhill.

It feels warmer than the temperature suggests, as it is very still and clammy.

After the very heavy rain during the week, there is again a section of the field with lying water, which has stunted the growth of the crop in this particular area.

The only birdlife visible on the river is a couple of female mallards hugging the far bank amongst some half-sunken branches.

The most remarkable thing since my last visit is that the banks are now completely overgrown up to the water's edge with a profusion of colourful flowers as we approach midsummer.

In particular, one plant with velvety purple inverted bells is alive with literally hundreds of bumble bees – a welcome sight given the stories of the critical state of bee populations these days.

I add a couple of photographs of these plants to my illustrate the progression of the season.

The river is reasonably clear and perhaps 3cm higher on the stump gauge; making it +31 today.

May 2014

Saturday May 24th

12.30 pm

Temperature: 12c

There is a moderate NE wind, becoming more keenly felt as I walk up the bank. The field is mostly dried out , as there has been a bit of a dry spell for a few days, and the farmer is scattering fertiliser pellets on the new crop in the adjacent field.

In fact, I think he doesn't see me as he is passing , because the tractor continues to fire out small hard pellets at quite a velocity. I manage to turn around in time to avoid a face full of the stuff !

No harm done, and on subsequent passes, the machine is turned off as the tractor passes.

The river is as low and clear as I have seen it since last Autumn, and the bankside vegetation has now become really profuse, with purple-blue flowers covered in bumble bees, which is good to see.

Another first for the year is some fishy activity in the form of juvenile trout or salmon taking surface flies in the tail of the Red Bridge pool and also in the deeper water just upstream of the bridge.

As I get down to the edge, I can feel that it is very sheltered from the cool wind here, and there is a fair midday hatch of midges which the trout are fattening up on.

The next thing I see is my friend the dipper, who has been a regular feature of my reports. He alights on a newly-showing rock above the rapids, and then takes off upstream to a quieter vantage point, no doubt.

I take the stump water level reading, and make it about 10cm down on my previous visit, putting the reading as +28 today.

On my way back down the bank, I again spot the female goosander which I first identified a few weeks ago. Only this time it has a clutch of nine ducklings ! I have since also learnt from the RSPB site that the goosander and merganser are both sub-species of the same bird, and I think the names may be interchangeable – though someone may correct me on this.

The female and her troop of chicks make their way quickly downstream and round the corner into the next pool as I walk back to the car; but I manage to get a photograph (see attachment) as evidence of the presence of this fish-eating bird. The juvenile trout and salmon could be under severe pressure over the Summer in this part of the river with that many bills to feed.....

Friday May 9th

3.30 pm

Temperature: 15c

There is a moderate SW wind and broken cumulus clouds allowing patches of blue sky to show through.

Visibility is good, and the hilltops are clear. A lovely late Spring day, with the dappled sunlight hitting the broom plants – now in full blossom – and showing them up a dazzling yellow against the lush green of the Ochils.

There has been a lot of rain in the last 24 hours, and we are back to the sight of pools of lying water on the adjacent field. One change is that the crop has started to grow, and there are a few centimetres of green shoots already. The mild temperature today should help that along nicely.

The river, as expected , is fairly high and carrying some colour.

The crows and rooks are missing today, but the air is full of birdsong from the trees lining the track on the other side of the field.

When I reach the monitoring spot, it is clear that in spite of the recent persistent rain, the amounts have been nowhere near those that came before my previous visit.

From the stump reference gauge, I estimate that the levels are about 45cm lower than on that occasion.

This puts the reading as +38 today.

There is no more activity on the water or bankside as I leave for home, save a dog walker making for the corner pool for his pet to have an afternoon swim.

April 2014

Saturday April 26th

12.30 pm

Temperature: 12c

There is a fresh NE wind in my face which strengthens as I make my way up the river and out of the shelter of the houses of Tillicoultry.

There is no sign of sunshine, but the clouds are high and the hilltops visible from here.

I have a lone rook for company, perched in the top branch of a high tree on the opposite bank.
It's quite unusual to see rooks and crows on their own for some reason. They are very social creatures, as evidenced by the fact that they build groups of nests together in these high trees.

Of course we have a name for these clusters: a rookery. Presumably this label would apply to a collection of crows' nests as well.

There has been a large amount of rain in the last 16 hours or so, and there is again lying water in the field, even though it has now been tilled and sown.

The river is of course high and dirty, and the “island” promontory underneath the near bank is once again isolated temporarily.

There is no sign of other life on the river, apart from a solitary mallard drake, who I manage to disturb twice on the way up and back down from the pool.

As I reach the monitoring position, I can only just manage to get to my usual spot to photograph the red bridge, even though the tide-marks on the old bridge foundations and the stumps show that the river has already dropped back about 35cm from its overnight peak.

I take the reading from the stump gauge as +63cm today, one of the highest readings I have personally taken, although of course nowhere near the peak levels of the winter floods – not by a very long way.

Saturday April 12th

11.30 am

Temperature: 13c

It's a lovely spring day with high broken clouds and good sunny spells. The hills are all clear and the strong westerly wind and clear air shows up the summit cairn on Kings Seat hill.

As I walk up the bank, I can see that the windy weather has almost dried out the field next to the river, with just a few isolated small pools remaining in the furrows.

The crows again seem to be absent, but I can hear some other smaller birds singing in the bankside trees; which now have started to sprout foliage or at least buds to give a bit of colour to the landscape again.

The mallards are back in their usual roost on the former island under the near bank, and the surface of the river is broken into waves all the way through by the upstream wind.

I reach the Red Bridge pool, and see that the height is only about 2cm lower than a fortnight ago.

This puts the reading as +28 on the stump gauge.

The river is reasonably clear, and there is no sign of any more activity.

As I walk back down the track, slightly disappointed at the lack of things to report, I narrowly avoid
treading on a toad whch is sitting motionless on the path.

I manage a few pictures before he decides to carry on with his trip towards the river and disappears gradually into the bankside grass.

Luckily for him, the heron is not in attendance today as far as I can see; amphibians form a significant part of this bird's diet !

March 2014

Saturday March 29th

11.15 am

Temperature: 5c

There is a brisk SE wind, and the hills are shrouded in that milky murk that usually accompanies an easterly airflow. In fact this obscures visibility at all levels today.

In spite of that there is some cheery birdsong in the air to mark the spring equinox, rather than the usual crows and rooks as a soundtrack.

Halfway up the bankside walk to the Red Bridge, my friend the dipper (maybe there is a pair by now) passes me flying low over the water heading downstream. He certainly seems to cover a lot of water in his search for aquatic food.

I am stopped in my tracks as I catch sight of one of the unusual waterfowl that I had encountered and written about a few months back – perhaps one of the fish-eating Goosanders or Mergansers.

This time I manage to get a few shots, so hopefully there will be enough to identify it from one of these when I load them onto my PC.

Note: some browsing of the RSPB site does later confirm that this is definitely a female Goosander;
which may be of interest to bird watchers, but is bad news for anglers and indeed the juvenile trout and salmon hereabouts. They are exclusively fish-eating birds and can cause a lot of damage to stocks, especially (I would have guessed) in a relatively small river such as the Devon.

I have included one of my photographs, and the colouring and distinctive hooked bill leaves no room for doubt, even though it is a slightly shaky image due to the movement of the bird. - in fact it was just taking flight as I snapped this one.

I take some more shots of the bankside plant which I haven't yet identified. It has fairly shot up over the last two weeks with the extra daylight hours.

The river is a bit higher, I think, than on my previous visit, and is certainly carrying some colour after the rain this week.

As I reach the pool, I can see how well-established the shingle promontory at the neck of the pool is now. I can't see any further flood this spring being substantial enough to alter the configuration , so the pool will look a lot different to visitors with their dogs this summer.

I take my reading from the old bridge stump gauge, and see that it is unchanged from two weeks ago: making it +30 again.

Saturday March 15th

12.15 pm

Temperature: 10c

It is fairly overcast with low cloud on the highest tops, and a brisk westerly which is making it feel several degrees colder than the temperature would suggest and making upstream waves on the normally placid pools , as I walk on dry ground up to the red bridge.

The crows are absent today, and in fact the only birdlife I have for company is the solitary pair of mallards, occupying the promontory which had been an island for much of the winter, due to its low-lying topography.

Further on I disturb my friend the dipper, who had been perched on a low branch protruding from the near bank beneath my feet. He takes off in the direction of his usual haunt, being the pool underneath the bridge.

The unidentified plant is showing even more of the white mini-petals as it grows on, and I take another photograph to show the development as the weeks roll into spring.

Perhaps it looks a bit more like cow-parsley or hogweed now.

Riverbanks are a favourite habitat of the native hogweed - an unattractive name for quite a pretty plant, I think, with its white “inverted umbrella” of mini blooms throughout the summer.

Unlike the invasive giant hogweed, with its potential to cause severe burns, the native variety is quite harmless.

I recall childhood summer days spent making pea-shooters out of the dried-out hollow stalks, in order to propel bullet-hard dried peas at other small boys. What could be more fun ? !
I don't think “Health and Safety” was part of everyday vocabulary in those days, somehow.

As I approach the pool, the drying weather has shown even more clearly the amount of silt and sand left on the field by the floods. In fact, now that it has lost a lot moisture, it is like walking along a beach for a large part of the path.

The river is at the lowest I have seen it since perhaps October.

As I reach the monitoring point, it is clear to what extent the constant heavy spates have re-shaped the pool.

There is now a large shingle bank reaching two thirds across the head of the pool, and the remaining channel is much faster-flowing as a result, forcing the same volume of water through and into the deepest part of the pool underneath the overhanging tree on the far bank.

I take my reading from the stump gauge.' and put the level as 20 cm below that of the previous visit. making it +30 today.

Saturday March 1st

10.15 am

Temperature: 5c

There is a light NW wind, and broken cloud with sunny spells. The higher tops are obscured by low cloud, but I saw before I left home in Clackmannan that there is some light snow cover on the back hills.

The river is running moderately high and clear. The crows are my only company today, searching for grubs and worms in the ploughed field.

I suppose it will still be lean pickings this early in the year, but their foraging and scavenging skills are what makes this species, along with their cousin the rook, such a successful and widespread sight on our islands.

It's a shame they aren't more attractive physically and vocally, but I have seen TV experts from recent studies which seem to indicate that they are highly adaptive and intelligent birds. I would say that goes for their smaller relative the jackdaw also.

There is a lone pair of mallards making its way upstream as I walk up the bank, and I see that the sprouting ball-like plants I photographed a couple of weeks ago have now started to show themselves a bit more.

I have to say that I misidentified these as ferns, when they seem to be showing signs of being maybe wild garlic, with their slimline white petals already showing. I am no botanist, as will be obvious; but I take a photograph so that more knowledgeable readers can make their own assessment.

Further along, I come across a substantial log which is well into the margin of the field, but must certainly have been carried down by the high winter floods. The farmer will need to shift this before planting, as I guess something this large and heavy could cause a bit of damage to machinery. Still, it is highly visible so shouldn't be a hazard.

Again I take a picture as a clear indicator of the height the water reached here only a few weeks ago.

I reach the pool to take my usual trio of reference photographs, and can see that there is little change in water levels on the gauge: perhaps 5cm lower than the last reading, putting the level
at +50 on the stump marker.

February 2014

Friday, February 7th

12.15 pm

Temperature: 6c

A grand day, with broken cloud and plenty of blue sky. There is a moderate NW wind, which as usual becomes more apparent as I move out of the shelter of the houses on the edge of the town.

As I approach the river, I can see that finally the water lying in the ploughed field is beginning to recede as the water table returns to more normal levels.

I can also see now that the silt which was brought down by the floods extends to a third of the way across the field.

This won't will worry the farmer, as silt is usually rich in nutrients and makes for less need of artificial fertilizers, probably.

The river is running very clear after a few days of relatively dry weather. Unfortunately, somebody
has found a reason to ride a bicycle along this track, churning the ground up and making it heavier going than it needed to be. When there is a very good flat track on the other side of the field which is perfect for cyclng, this mystifies me.

There has been no more bank collapse, but I can see that there is one shelf which looks very precarious due to the erosion of the lower section. Hopefully this is strong enough to bear the weight of anyone who walks to the edge over the next few months.

As I reach the pool, I can see that with the receding levels the nearest stump (the supports of the previous wooden bridge here) has been surrounded by a new island of silt and sand which has accumulated in this backwater.

Luckily the metal peg which I use as my reference point for gauging water levels is in the rear post, and is still visible.

I put the level as 35cm lower than on my last visit, making it +55 on the gauge.

There has been a lack of birdlife on the river today, with no sign of waterfowl or heron; but just on a whim, I climb on to the bridge to greet a friendly hound who is peering down at me through the bridge metalwork, and then glance over at the upstream part of the pool.

There on a marooned old tree root which is now an island in the stream (that should be a song) is my friend the dipper. He has found himself a new hunting spot, which I am sure would be a rich source of aquatic insects every day for him.

This time, I manage to get a decent close-up of this lovely little bird (see photos with this report) with a flash of burnt orange in his underside. He looks pretty well-nourished for the time of year.
The mild and wet winter has its winners as well as losers, it seems.

January 2014

Thursday, January 23rd

12.30 pm

Temperature: 4c

There is a brisk NW wind at my back as I make my way up the heavy,muddy bankside to the Red Bridge pool.

As expected, the field furrows are still full of rain and floodwater, although I have chosen one of the few blue-sky days of the last couple of months for this visit.

There is some cloud around, but the hills are nice and clear; and as a bonus they are showing a light covering of snow on the highest tops at least.

The birch trees which line the old rail track are now completely denuded, having the appearance of wispy ostrich feathers silhouetted against the hills and sky so starkly.

The river itself is very short of any vegetation, of course; but I can see that a stand of bullrushes (I am sure I read somewhere that bullrush is not the proper name, but can't recall what it was ! ) have survived the worst of the floods and stand defiant in what is now midstream.

There is no sign of birdlife on the water...not even the resident heron for a change.

However, I can see under my feet the green, mushroom-like early growth of the ferns, which will uncoil in ultra-slow motion over the next couple of months from this ball structure to their full height and spread, in taking on their more familiar appearance.

I take a picture to record this first harbinger of a change of season on the riverbank.

Further on, I can see that a further section of bank has collapsed a few yards upstream of the portion I photographed on my last visit. It looks as if we will end up with an enlarged pool here as nature finds its equilibrium: the net result being a wider channel which will take some of the fierceness out of the current in high spate conditions by increasing the throughput of water at this section of the river and reducing the erosion of the clay banks.

On arriving at the bridge pool, I can see that the river is running reasonably clear and is about 40cm higher than on my previous visit. This makes it +90 on the stump gauge.

I take my usual viewpoint shots and head off back down the river. As a very nice bonus, I catch sight of the dipper (presumably the same one which normally occupies the bridge pool) sitting on a bush which overhangs the stream from a peninsula opposite the fallen bank.

As I watch, I am amazed as I see him dive into the rapid stream, become submerged and then re-appear midriver; allowing himself to bob along in the current before reaching a second overhanging branch. In one movement he jumps clear of the stream and alights on the branch before disappearing round the other side of this temporary peninsula to a more sheltered position.

I have never seen a dipper perform this sort of behaviour. My only experience has been that they will walk down an object such as a rock to the riverbed to pick up aquatic insects such as caddis; then walk back up the rock to digest their catch, or take it to chicks, I guess.

Of course they will have very good waterproofing in their feathers; but it just seemed so strange to see a bird without webbed feet negotiating open flowing water with such ease.

A rare treat and a good way to end the visit as I head off into the biting NW wind back down the bank.

Saturday, January 11th

12.15 pm

Temperature: 3c

There is a moderate NW wind keeping an edge on the temperature, although for the first time in what seems like several weeks the hills are clear of low cloud and the air is characteristically clear in keeping with the westerly weather pattern.

Blue sky and just a few puffy cumulus clouds are the order of the day.

The ground water in the ploughed furrows is still frozen over, though the low sun has just started to work on these.

The fine weather seems to have stirred the crows back into life, and they are back to their usual noisy selves in the tall trees that line the far bank and the old railway line beyond the field.

I make my way up the bank and disturb the resident heron – as usual – along with a lone moorhen.
I think this is the first time I have seen moorhens on this stretch. This little waterfowl is always an attractive sight with the red beak which quickly distinguishes it from its cousin the coot, often seen in the same piece of water – although the moorhen is I recall a more aggressive bird than the larger coot, and will defend its patch vigorously against intruders.

My attention is grabbed by a low-growing birch tree which grows out almost horizontally over the river from the bottom of the bank. Today a fair amount of it is submerged, but branches which are almost a metre clear of the surface are wearing dried out grass and roots which were carried by the highest of the recent spates. I take a picture to record this sight.

Further up the bank, I also photograph the section of bank which has fallen victim to the gradual erosion of the flood water and has now completely collapsed, leaving the footpath at this section a risky proposition.

The river has dropped a lot, and is amazingly clear – even more so than at any point during the long, dry summer as far as I can recall. Even this low sun seems to illuminate the shingle bed in the streamier sections, creating a dazzling, shimmering picture.

A chainsaw fires up, and I can see somebody working again on the large tree on edge of the woods that came down in the storms a few weeks ago.

As I reach the red bridge pool, I can see more evidence of the height of the most serious flood : in the form of silt deposited over the ploughed field; and even a substantial old heavy branch left high and dry by the receding waters last week, I have to conclude.

The silt covering reaches out several metres into the field. Standing back and doing some visualisation, it seems that since my last visit – when the river was already at the highest I have seen it all year – the level has been over a metre higher than this, which would have put the surface close to the underside of the bridge itself.

I wish I had seen that, and am sure that others will have been down with their cameras to record that impressive sight.

Descending the short path to the corner pool from the field, I am struck that something seems to be different – as if somebody has re-arranged the objects in a picture that one passes every day.

Then I can see it: the flood has created a new feature in the pool .
A fresh shingle spit has formed further out in the river, narrowing the throat and emphasising the rapid section as the same volume of water is forced through a narrower space, creating more turbulence and a faster stream here.

I set about taking my usual trio of pictures ,recording the same scenes on every visit for reference purposes as the year progresses and the river and its surrounds subtly change.

I assess the height against the old stump gauge, and put it this week as at +50cm . This is 60cm lower than it was on my last visit , but over a metre below the more recent peak.

December 2013

Saturday, December 28th

Temperature: 5c

There is a fresh NW wind at my back as I squelch my way up the riverbank. I decided to pack the wellingtons today, after the deluge of the last couple of days....and that was a good decision.

The tops of most of the hills are just about visible in this less damp interlude, and the highest still have the remnants of the snowfall from the recent cold front, although Ben Cleuch and Gannel Hill can't be seen at this range with the low mist.

I have some company on the far bank, in the shapes of people out exercising their dogs; both probably relieved to get some fresh air and invigorate themselves after the indulgences and inactivity of the Christmas break.

Although it is only mid-afternoon, the light has a twilight quality. Perhaps the weather will close in again shortly. “Bleak midwinter” doesn't just mean snow and ice. I will need to hurry with my monitoring photographs before the visibility deteriorates too much.

There is even more lying water in the furrows of the ploughed field , which won't be going anywhere fast if this theme of heavy rain and storms continues into the body of winter.

All is very quiet in the trees and on the river, until I disturb a collection of mallards – an adult duck and drake and a young drake also. At least I am guessing that I am looking at a young male, as the bird has the mottled brown plumage sported by the adult female; but on top of this sits the characteristic male metallic blue-green head and neck plumage. A peculiar sight.

Further on I set off the resident heron who makes for the woods as usual. I think his fishing would be an arduous task today, as the river is very high and dirty; easily the highest I have seen it so far this year.

As I arrive at the Red Bridge pool, I can see that the flood is such that the old stumps – one of which serves as my river height gauge – have all but disappeared. Just a centimetre or so of the nearest stump is protruding above the surface.

This would put the height as about +110cm, a good 60cm higher than on my last visit.

Friday, December 20th

Temperature: 6c

There is a freshening NW wind and low clouds obscuring the tops of the higher hills.

There has been a fair amount of rain over the last few days, and the ploughed field has lying water in several of the furrows. The ground will have long since been saturated of course.

I squelch my way along the edge of the field. It's much harder going than last time, when the ground was quite hard after the frosts.

There is no sound of birds anywhere as I make my way up towards the monitoring site of the corner pool beneath the red bridge.

Then suddenly there is some disturbance from the section of low protruding bank on the near side of the river.

In fact this has now become an island with the rise in the levels after the onset of the autumn and winter rains, and is where a group of mallards seem to have set up a roost for the dark days ahead. There are two ducks and finally I see the drakes which have eluded me on most of my previous visits – there are three of the males in this group.

I suppose this temporary island will be a fine refuge for the winter, offering shelter from intruders including possible predators like foxes.

Continuing my walk, I then disturb the resident heron from his or her usual position on the far bank.
The bird takes off with a disgruntled squawk and takes refuge temporarily in the woods behind the bridge, before no doubt returning to stand watch on the bank for the next meal of the day.

This makes me wonder about how the mallards manage to sustain themselves over the winter when there will be little or no weed growth to forage on. Perhaps they take to the bank and make do with grubs and insects there. No doubt there will always more than the occasional human contribution of bread from passing families. These are opportunist birds, for sure.

I pass the bramble which was heavy with foliage and luscious berries a few months ago. It is now a barren and skeletal sight, but its thorns – now the only visible feature of note – present a defiant front to any potential grazing creature which might pass by. I would expect this robust plant to survive the winter mostly intact.

The river is 15cm higher than on my last visit, making the task of photographing the bridge from the usual viewpoint a bit challenging !

My calculations put the height as +45 on the stump gauge.

In the field opposite I can see some evidence of the aftermath of the recent storm – the trunk of a large downed tree which has been recently sawn, either for access reasons or free firewood, I am guessing (see photograph).

I trudge my way back along the bank, but the river is all quiet again, with the ducks having moved downstream, at least for a while.

Friday, December 6th

Temperature: 1c

A clear blue sky overhead, but I can see off to the NW that a change is on the way, indicated by slate-grey skies in that direction.

The last of the autumn leaves have been crystalised in the frozen ground pools, for the moment at least.

The only birdsong I can hear at the moment is a pair of chattering blackbirds nearby. Even the crows are silent at the moment.

There was a dusting of snow on the hills yesterday, and the low temperatures have ensured it remains this morning. A nice festive picture.

The river is running with a bit of colour. Unsurprising after the lashing rain that came with the great storm a couple of nights ago. Though I don't see any downed trees, which surprises me. Perhaps the hillfoots were spared the worst of the battering, as the Ochils would have offered some shelter from the northerly onslaught.

I notice that the mallards , which had been a regular feature on this stretch during summer and autumn, seem to have moved on. So the river itself is all quiet. This makes me a bit sad for a moment. Ducks are so easy to like, I guess !

The most striking I notice is that since my last visit two weeks ago the bankside vegetation has all but disappeared. Whole stretches of 10-15 yards which had been completely overgrown with brambles and dockweeds are now completely open and walkable.

The ploughed field , thankfully , is easy to walk today ; as what was mud a while ago is this morning rock solid. This makes for a much more pleasant winter walk.

The river is the same height as on my last visit : +30cm on the stump gauge.

Just as I am walking back down the bank, I am surprised and happy to see a solitary female mallard,
which moves away from the near bank, to the top of a fast stream beyond the mid-river island.
As I watch, she stops paddling, and just allows herself to be carried, bobbing along on the riffles
as if imitating one of those yellow plastic fairground ducks.

As she is delivered to the broad corner pool below, she engages gear once again and carries on with
her business.

November 2013

Wednesday, November 20th

Temperature: 6c

The temperature is deceptive, as there is a brutal NE wind – or at least was when I left home in Clackmannan. There seems to be a quiet interlude at the moment, although the Ochils do afford a fair amount of shelter to the Hillfoots villages when the wind is from this quarter, I've often noticed.

The sky to the south is clear and blue, so the sun is giving a bit of welcome warmth. But to the north and east the sunlit hills are silhouetted in a quite surreal way against a looming sky the colour of blue-tempered steel.

I think this may be the proverbial lull before...

The field which had held the oats stubble and several groundwater poools last time has now been
ploughed and is awaiting tilling. The only birdlife I can see is a group (what's the collective
noun?) of magpies picking grubs out of the newly-turned soil.

But then I see that they are accompanied by a solitary robin, worm in beak , eyeing me unimpressed as I pick my way along the narrow strip between upturned soil and river edge.

The river is quite dirty, but there was torrential rain last night, so I shouldn't be surprised.

The trees are pretty much bare at this stage ; one of the few splashes of colour I can see being some nameless (for me anyway) translucent berries which overhang the river, intertwined with the brambles whose fruit has long-since disappeared.

I remember that it was a fantastic year for blackberries; in fact I am still using up
the last of the ones I picked and froze in late August......delicious hot with a warm chocolate muffin and clotted cream, by the way. I'm hungry now....

I put the gauge at +30cm , about 15cm higher than at my last visit.

As I stand at the pool, the weather front arrives, as predicted. Out of a flat calm, within a couple of seconds the dead leaves are being picked up and thrown, and the pool surface is covered in
tiny, closely-packed waves as the wind gathers momentum. At this stage there is only a light rain falling.

By the time I reach the car, the wind has really taken off into a storm, and driving home there is a
constant stream of leaves (and the occasional crisp packet) flying past the windscreen.

The rain is also now lashing down – that leaden sky was no empty promise.

The river will be on the rise again within an hour or two.

Sunday, November 10th

Temperature: 6c

A clear and very crisp day, at odds with our usual image of a November walk.

After a hard overnight frost, the lying pools of water in the field are frozen, although where the
sun is now hitting the ground, the frost is lifting.

The first thing I can hear is a commotion in the rookery in the high trees on the left bank. As I walk on by, a buzzard emerges, pursued by a lone rook (or crow).

As there can't be any young birds at this time of year, perhaps the buzzard has attempted to steal some food item from the group, and is “being seen off the premises” !

Immediately after this row subsides, I can hear a set of pipes being played in the distance. It's all very evocative as I look to the bold outlines of the Ochils, especially when I start to recognise the tune as Scotland the Brave, being very well-played. It is of course Remembrance Sunday, although well after 1 pm by now, so I am not sure whether this piper is playing in connection with a ceremony or service....or just for the good of their own soul.

On the far side of the field, being caught in the full beam of the low autumn sun, is the row of
silver birch trees that line the old railway track – now the walking trail from Tilly to Dollar.
A cheery sight with any kind of sunshine, even in the depths of a snowy winter,they are still displaying a lot of their now golden- brown leaves, as a bonus for any walker to enjoy.

The river is running clearer than it has for my last few visits, and the bankside dockleaves and nettles are now well on the way to rotting down. The frost has blackened them and I guess will accelerate the process.

The river is at about the same level as last week, but it is becoing a little harder to get an accurate “stump reading” against the old nail marker, as the platform of dead leaves brought round by the eddy on this near bank has grown again and is now level with the top of the shingle and silt approach which I am standing on.

I can only surmise that the river been higher again during the week , which has brought the additional fallen leaves and left a slight mound of them above the current water level. I have added a photograph ao that the reader can compare week-on-week.

As I walk back down the river, I chat to a dog-walker , who is pleased to report that she has witnessed a kingfisher a little downstream, between Marchglen and where the old railway arches once crossed the river. In addition, she is sure that she saw and heard an otter plopping into the river in the twilight a couple of days before.

This is the second person to report a possible otter sighting in as many weeks, so it may be that there is at least one family on this part of the river. Good news for nature lovers, but perhaps not for any late-running salmon and seatrout if they linger in this stretch of the Devon.

The sun is starting to dip again in its low autumn trajectory, and I see that in the sheltered hollows the frost has remained intact.

Sunday, November 3rd

Temperature: 8c

A brisk NW wind. The cairn on Kingseat hill is visible against an equally vibrant azure sky. The weather system of yesterday has passed, and the trailing edge of blanket cloud is visible off to the east.

The field by the river is fairly heavily waterlogged by this stage, with several pools now lying in the dips of the saturated ground.

There are still some leaves on the trees to add to the colourful scene.

No signs of life on the river in terms of ducks or other waterfowl.

As I reach my corner pool under the red bridge, I can hear quite a pleasant and consistent birdsong, which I first assume to be a warbler of some sort.

It takes me a while to identify the source, which I am surprised turns out to be a dipper, perched on the fallen tree branch which is permanently overhanging the deepest part of the pool at the far bank.

I suspect that this may be the “resident” dipper, which is usually positioned in the more conventional site of a rock in the river just upstream of the bridge where a sidestream
enters the pool.

They favour this working arrangement, as it allows them just to scurry down the side of the rock, and back up just as easily , as they completely submerge themselves to pick up aquatic invertebrates like caddis flies. These insects spend the bulk of their life as larvae underwater amongst the gravel weeds and rocks – wearing a self-made protective case of tiny stones and vegetation -before emerging in the spring and summer as nymphs and then finally adult insects after hatching in the surface film.

Back to our dipper : I don't believe dippers ever dive into the water like a kingfisher, for example ; so this may just an exploration of his territory....a morning fly-about, as it were.

I manage to get a slightly fuzzy photograph (see attached) before, sure enough, he takes off to resume his normal position at the inlet stream.

The river is not as high as I expected, given the persistent rain of yesterday – at least where I live in Clackmannan – and is in fact about 15cm lower than in my last report. Perhaps the rain bypassed the Ochils to some extent, or the river has already been up and receded overnight.

That reading would make the level +15cm on the stump gauge.

The build up of dead leaves in the nearside eddy has really accelerated now, and in fact now forms a soft platform between the stumps and the shingle-silt bank which I am standing on.

I take another picture of this to illustrate the point. The photo again is with this report for interest.

October 2013

Thursday,October 24th

Temperature: 12c

No discernable wind, but the air clarity would suggest a NW or westerly airflow.

The leaves on the deciduous trees along the Devon Trail are well into their autumn clothes by now; and the combination of the clear blue sky, the heather on the hill slopes, the scarlet rowan berries and an array of leaf hues from deep green through a daffodil yellow to tan, burnt orange,ochre and almost crimson is a wonderful and welcome top-up to the memory bank before the onset of the monochrome November days.

The hills are crystal clear, and there is the odd light patch of high, sparse cumulus cloud of no consequence.

The field by the river is saturated after the recent persistent rainfall. The only sounds are the ever-present crows and rooks, and a busy chainsaw in the woods beyond the field opposite. Possibly somebody stocking up on free firewood from fallen branches.

Given the re-born popularity of wood-burning stoves, I shouldn't be surprised at this. In the woods where I live, the storms of the last couple of autumns and winters have been a bonanza for some people with big chainsaws and even bigger vans to take the logs away.

The rise in temperature and sunshine has encouraged a reasonable hatch of tiny midges on the river today, although there is no surface activity from the fish. The flood will be keeping them hugging the slack water where they can conserve energy.

The moon is still visible on the other side of the sky – another sign of the shorter days being upon us.

As I approach the usual monitoring spot I can see that the river is still quite high, but has been much higher in recent days. The giveaway is that the sand and fine shingle edge which I have been walking on through the summer is now well-coated with a fresh layer of mud and silt; so I need to tread carefully. I am very glad that I wore the wellies today instead of boots.

The sub-surface pile of dead leaves which had started to accumulate last week has grown massively due to the volume of water passing through in the last few days – so much so that it may be covering the reference point of the old nail in the wooden stump which I use for gauging the level.

I put the level as about 25cm higher than last week, making it +30 today.

While I am taking my reference photos, a lady arrives with her labrador to give him his morning swim in the pool. She tells me that she lives very close by (she should be doing my job !) and is here every day.

I explain what I am doing and she immediately asks whether I know of the existence of otters on the river, as she is fairly certain that is what she saw on a recent walk along the stretch below.

I am unable to confirm to her from my own knowledge, but I wouldn't be surprised. The river certainly has a healthy fish population, even though I think an otter would probably need to cover a fair stretch of this small river to be able to support his family.

We had both seen kingfishers and a lot of dippers along the river - signs of an abundance of small fish and invertebrates respectively.

I ask her about what the river was like immediately after the weekend when the rain was most persistent, and she indicates where the level had been three days previously.

As I thought, the peak for this flood was a full metre higher than the current level, the river being reportedly level with the top of the walkway into the pool here.

This is a great illustration of the way that the whole nature of this watercourse is dictated by run-off from the Ochils rather than groundwater levels. A true spate river in its dramatic change of moods.

Thursday October 17th

Temp 10c, with a light easterly wind.

There is a broken blanket of low cloud obscuring the hills above the midway, and a very light “mizzle” as the very descriptive term has it.

As I approach the river along the edge of the stubbled field, I can see that the recent heavy rain has left a lot of ground water. The resident group of several female Mallards is plucking away at the straw and new shoots of grass, perhaps picking out worms and grubs which the ground water has encouraged out.

My approach “spooks” them, and they take noisily to the air, circling until I have passed.

Then a few things happen all at once: I see a group of three unfamiliar water birds on the river, which look like either a member of the Diver family, or perhaps Goosanders.

Before I can get a good look at them, they too take off from the water, creating a commotion and issuing what sounds like an alert cry.

At the same moment, a low-flying Heron passes me in the other direction, and it to is making some sort of distress or warning call.

I can't imagine that this is due to me; as the Heron and Mallards, certainly, will be well-used to human company on this stretch of the river, which is very handy for dog-walkers and runners.

I look around, but I seem to be alone – unless there is an unseen bird of prey in the vicinity.

The heron seems to come to rest in the branches of a tree, which in itself is strange to see. Their long legs are more suited to a perch on terra firma !

I am sorry I didn't get a better look at the mystery birds, and I think both would be fairly unusual
sightings on this river.

If they were Goosanders or Divers, then that would be bad news for the trout and salmon parr – they are fish-eating birds, and goosanders in particular (I understand) can do a lot of damage to juvenile salmonids in the higher reaches of a river, where they are numerous, generally, and easier to pick off by predators.

The river, as expected, is in flood for the first time since I began my reporting in the summer.
The water is running fairly dirty, with visibility of perhaps 20cm.

Water height I put as +5cm above the rusty nail marker I am using as a consistent reference point.

The higher part of the pool, above the bridge, is carrying clumps of foam which are useful in that they clearly shoe the patterns of the surface currents. In this case the foam bubbles are drawn in and accumulate around a clump of twigs and grasses caught on the trailing brance of a tree on the opposite bank. By the end of the winter, I expect this will have grown into a sizeable platform with the detritus of numerous large floods over the next few months.

Now that the bird commotion has stopped, the lack of any real breeze means that the predominant soundtrack is one of the patter of droplets from the iron bridge into the swollen pool below.

Thursday October 10th

Temp 10c, with a moderate north-easterly wind.

A glorious early Autumn day – mostly blue sky with a few cotton-wool cumulus clouds here and there for visual interest.

The leaves have now started to change colour on the deciduous trees, and the stronger gusts of wind are already shaking quite a few loose from their home.

I can see some of the more aerodynamic-shaped leaves from one particular type of tree – I can't identify the species at this point - catching the breeze and rotating like tiny helicopters. This carries some of them a full twenty yards away from the branch, before coming to rest in the oats stubble of the adjoining field.

The river is running very clear, and the gauge is up about 5cm from my last visit. So the height would be at -10cm on the stump measure.

I can see that there is a definite backwater under the near bank, next to the stump, as there is
already a large build-up of fallen leaves which the river has carried down. These will slowly rot down over the months ahead.

This accumulation of decomposing matter will provide vital food for the many aquatic invertebrates over the long autumn and winter months. In turn, these creatures will sustain the next part of the food chain in the form of fishlife and also some insect-eating birds, of course.

All is quiet on the pool, with no fish feeding on the surface due to the scarcity of hatching flies now.

September 2013

Thursday September 26th

Temperature 14c, with a fresh south-easterly breeze, making it feel slightly autumnal.
There is a layer of high stratus cloud, whose washed-out steel grey contrasts slightly with the lower clumps of darker cumulus here and there, showing a patch of off-white.

Many shades of grey.....but maybe not fifty.

The rain of last week and the continued reasonably high temperatures have encouraged a lush showing of new grass through the stalks of the oats which were harvested a few weeks back.
This gives some very attractive patterns of rich emerald green and old gold to cheer up this overcast day a little.

I can hear a small monoplane circling overhead; which I'm guessing is somebody having a flying lesson, as it doesn't seem to be en route to anywhere in particular.

The gauge is a few cm higher than last time, and has been higher again in recent days, as can be seen from the still-damp shingle and tree branches on the far side of the pool. I would put today's height at -15cm on the stump.

There is a fair amount of fly life on the river this afternoon. It seems to be mostly quite small olives, which are being steadily picked off the surface as they hatch, or touch down to deposit eggs – I'm not sure which. The trout certainly like these insects, as they don't have to expend much energy in sipping them down as they drift under the branches that overhang the deepest part of the pool.

All is quiet elsewhere, with bees and hoverflies mostly disappeared for this year – one of the sure signs that summer is virtually over in the Devon catchment for this year. It was one to remember, though – this time for the right reasons.

Monday September 9th

Temperature 19c, with a slight northerly breeze. There is the odd blue patch through the predominant cumulus cloud cover. A lovely late summer afternoon.

The coolish breeze doesn't seem to be deterring the insects, as there is plenty of activity from the trout parr and minnows taking insects from the surface. There are again some of the lovely “olive” flies which I decribed in a recent report, but these are definitely a darker variety – possibly what we refer to as a Red Spinner in fly-fishing parlance.
The splashing trout is the main sound I'm hearing, apart from the odd crow – or rook – calling high in the trees over the main footpath behind me.

I always struggle to tell these two relatives apart visually. I make a mental note to go home and do some basic study on this distinction, as they seem always to be in the same habitat, in my limited knowledge.

I passed a harem of four female mallards on the way up the short stretch of river that leads me to the pool. No sign of the drake or drakes, but I would guess they can't be far away.

The gauge is at -20cm again. This seems to be the “average” height for the summer this year, although I have again missed a recent rise of about 5cm. The posts and mud bank opposite show evidence of this, following the heavy rain at the end of last week.

The bankside vegetation is starting to die back fairly quickly now, especially the nettles, rosebay willowherb – the long pods have now all split and dispersed the seedlings - and thistles, which have mostly lost their down by now.

There is still the odd Daddy Longlegs skittering about, but they will be coming to the end of their span before September is out. I read that the adults don't really eat at all, but in a similar way to the Mayfly, only live to breed and then die. Which is a bit sad, really, when you think about it!
For that reason, like the Mayfly, their “mouth” is barely existent, as it isn't needed for any evolutionary purpose. That may be just as well: imagine a mosquito that size....ouch !

On my way back to the car, I look towards the hills and see the summit cairn of Kings Seat Hill bathed in sunshine, with the lower slopes in shadow. The north wind is giving such good visibility that I am sure I can see a figure or figures sitting down there, enjoying what must be a magnificent view today with the air clarity. Anyone who has climbed that hill will know that you feel you've earned a good rest when you reach the summit. It's a slog !

When I get in the car, I find that one of the river insects has stayed with me and is resting on the ledge of the door. What a stroke of luck. I take a snap – it is indeed a Red Spinner or perhaps Dark Olive with its upright delicate wings and wispy tails – and release it to go about its business on the wing.

August 2013

Temperature 16c with a light westerly breeze. Broken cloud cover with sunny intervals – a perfect summer's day in Scotland.

The river has dropped back a few cm after a recent rise following the heavy rain on Sunday morning, I'm guessing.

I gauge the height (minus 20cm) against an old spike which is embedded in one of the wooden supports from what must have been the previous bridge – now replaced with this all-metal structure. So the river is currently about 20cm below this indicator . Probably a bit below average summer levels, I would say.

The oats in the adjacent field are almost ready for harvesting judging by their golden appearance,and there are a lot of Cabbage White butterflies around, as well as the odd bumble bee and plenty of hoverflies amongst the bankside flowers.

I am watching a dipper standing under an inflowing waterpipe on the far side of the corner pool, and the only other sound, apart from the breeze and the flowing water, is of juvenile trout breaking surface to snack on the many small insects falling onto the water in the midday warmth.