This (rather inevitably) takes the form of a fallen tree over the path, a fair amount of litter to remove and a missing log.
The fallen tree thing I think we have down to a fine art, we quickly fall into the well-practiced rhythm of lop, chop, shift and stack clearing the path with the grace of an admittedly rather rusty machine.
The litter was collected (three bags full) everyone successfully dodging the hazard of fermenting slug juice.
Now, to solve the mystery of the missing log we have to go back a year when we lost one of our large Beech trees which fell across the river which, after various trials and tribulations (these are still highly classified), left a large section of trunk on the river bank.
This log delighted in spending most of its time exuding the promise of defiant steadfastness and a general attitude of the smug “I shall not be moved” bordering on the rather belligerent “I ain’t going nowhere mate!” to all who were in any way connected to the reserve (including beefy men with big chainsaws).
However, nobody apparently told the River Taf Fechan this, so it was rather a shock to find this erstwhile stubbornly grounded log at least 500m downstream just short of our bridge one Friday morning looking like it had hit everything on the way down.
Maybe it was a spirited but ultimately doomed attempt to invent the game of extreme pooh sticks or it was just the pulse of snow melt off the mountains that shifted it who knows?
Here’s a Taf Fechan top tip though: never believe a Beech log!
Graham Watkeys, Taf Fechan Volunteer Warden