Wildside: Linn Mill – a little wildlife oasis

In the 17th and 18th centuries this intriguing place by the river Black Devon near Clackmannan hosted two water-powered mills, comprising a grain mill and a sawmill.

It once even played host to a small malt distillery for a short period.

But time moves on, and today, Linn Mill is largely given over to nature and is a place for peaceful reflection.

The immediate area around the tumbling weir here is a dark and mysterious place, dominated by trees and high embankments, and as such, is a haven for shade and moisture-loving liverworts that cling to the rocky edges in a velvety carpet of green.

Liverworts at Linn Mill (Image: Keith Broomfield)

Liverworts are simple and primitive plants that do not develop seeds or flowers but instead produce spores for reproduction.

Hart's tongue fern (Image: Keith Broomfield)

In rocky clefts hart’s-tongue fern also prospered, another specialist of damp, shady environments.

As I sat engrossed by the white-churned water tumbling over the weir, a delightful trilling noise drifted across the air.

A nuthatch (Image: Keith Broomfield)

It was a nuthatch, an intriguing little bird that is about the size of a plump sparrow and forever difficult to spot.

The nuthatch behaves in a similar manner to a woodpecker, but unlike a woodpecker, it is able to crawl down a tree trunk headfirst, its sharp grasping claws providing perfect grip and its long bill ideal for searching nooks and crannies in the bark for invertebrates.

This unique way of scuttling over tree trunks and branches, upwards, downwards, backwards, and sideways, is something peculiar to nuthatches and is not found in any other British bird.

Nuthatch (Image: Keith Broomfield)

It is the wonderful piercing song of the nuthatch that really grabs the attention; a liquid-flowing repertoire fit for any choir, featuring an incredible range of ringing notes, including one melody that sounds like a boy whistling.

The poet John Clare described the song as a 'long and loud continued noise' that 'often stops the speed of men and boys'.

Thomas Coward, the renowned early 20th century ornithologist likened its notes to a toned-down version of the green woodpecker’s laughing call. Indeed, if you hear a whistling song in spring and summer that is unlike any other bird call you have heard, the chances are it is a nuthatch.

The falls at Linn mill (Image: Keith Broomfield)

I left the tumbling waters of Linn Mill and headed along a nearby track towards Gartmorn Dam.

A buzzard soared high in the sky above and a great tit uttered its ‘teacher, teacher’ call from in among a tangle of branches.

A great tit (Image: Keith Broomfield)

There was a palpable warmth in the air and one could almost sense the excitement of the approach of spring, and with renewed vigour in my step, I continued on my way.