Chronicled medieval,
yet known so long before,
I would this rescued fen survey
as were I Neolithic man -
living at fen edge and grassed island -
before the coming of the Roman engineers,
or the greedy titled lords' Hollandic drains -
when the cyclic gentle harvesting
of this extraordinary land saw Tarpans roam,
and men on stilts wade the Lode
from island to risen island,
searching for new-laid eggs,
and having lain the fresh-cut yealms of grass
to drying by the footpaths.
Here fields of sedge, green as waves in the Wash,
ebb and flow at the touch of wind,
and support myriads of threatened Brithonic life
seldom seen in modern England’s pillaged,
pumped and sinking wetlands.
In my punt, rented from the Cam,
I would drift along the Lode,
and watch rich Providence display for me
wading herons, and brimstone butterflies,
and Perch jumping at whizzing pond-skaters,
and giant dragonflies patrolling in mimicry
of the hawks I see circling above the fen.
And I would know, though could not see,
that voles are sifting soil for bugs,
that field mice dart through the grasses
in search of seeds, as grass snakes
lie in wait for frogs, and flowing sweet water
feeds the soil.
But now my attention all is caught
by slow and grey half-glimpsed
movements in the sedge.
I pole my punt up to the bank and halt,
hovering there against the gentle current in the reeds.
A rustling in the grass, and two grulla ears precede
a Konik's head that splits the sedge apart,
and lightly snorts acknowledgement of
this mere observer.
Intelligent eyes assess me without fear,
a small nod of the head, and then he's back
to feeding with his harem grazing there.
I am thus so gently dismissed, unthreatening
as I appear - a water-born non-entity.
Yet I have been transported back in time
by this encounter -
when Tarpans ruled these fens, and encroaching trees
were kept at bay; as now, by these grazing Konik polski,
these new-bought, bred-back
ancient equine managers of Wicken Fen.
Author notes
Wicken Fen, one of the few remaining undrained UK fens, owned by the National Trust.
Yealms: cut sedge tied in a bundle for drying and transporting to use as thatch.
The Wash:The Wash is the largest expanse of mud flats in the UK; the estuary is a mecca for migrating wading birds
Grulla: usually pronounced 'grew-ya', from a Spanish term for a horse colour. Mouse-coloured, dun; with Tarpan-like markings.
Tarpan: Primeval European horse species, hunted to extinction in England and elsewhere.
Konik polski: "Little Polish Horse". A working farm-horse breed from Poland carrying Tarpan phenotype characteristics [Dun-coloured, black mane and tail, dorsal stripe, black lower legs, zebra leg markings, some stripe shadowing on the neck, heavy unshod hooves, 12-13hh] Effectively used in UK, Holland, Poland and Germany in fenland management. [see picture on my author page]
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Wonderful Aries
Your knowledge humbles me,the poem is truly great
I am transported in my minds eye to this lovely place
So many terrific images come to my mind I love 'it'
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Thank You
The History so beautifully painted, I could feel it, visualize so perfectly, transported me there. I loved learning as you taught so eloquently in beautiful poetic style. Metaphors and similies so defined....You are awesome!
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First, thank you for the AN -- they are really helpful in broadening my mind. The poem itself is beautiful and intuitively understandable even without the notes, because you describe the scenes so well, and our imaginations can fill in the rest. The line-flow is lovely, and the story moves as gently as the river. Another fine work.
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thank you for transporting me back in time when mother natures original design was not changed by man. The imagery you have used makes me think of what hsa been done over time to such beautiful places.
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Awesome! I had to see what this was about when I read the title...my favorite colored horse is a grulla. Not many are familiar with the term. I had a horse as a boy that appeared more buckskin at birth, but got darker as she aged. She wasn't a true dun, but ever since I've loved the dun horses. I've had some bay duns, some grullas. Anyways...as to the poem, another beautiful write. I love the imagery created. I was transported to the time and place and felt the wind on my cheek and seen the sights clearly. A thoroughly enjoyable read.
Rory
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