The Lower Test in Totton
Just outside of Totton, where the cars rumble over the flyover, high rise flats meet the sky and industrial units churr away, the River Test comes to an end. After a meandering journey from its head waters around 40miles away near Ashe, once it’s flowed through picturesque villages, past quaint pub gardens and through shaded glades it reaches its muddy mouth. Here in Totton it mixes with the salt sea and seeps through the tidal reed beds of Lower Test before heading out into Southampton Water, past huge container ships and noisy dockyards.
The Lower Test offers a wild haven amidst the grey of built up areas; a golden hue against the dirt and grime of suburban sprawl. Standing on the old board walks, in the depths of the reed beds, underneath pylons that fizz and crackle like popping candy, industry is more than apparent on the horizon. It doesn’t creep, it looms, it’s there in the dark row of cranes, and in the passing cars that glint as the sun catches them. It’s in the train that hurtles past and the constant whir of work from the giant metal warehouses. But it’s not displeasing. It’s actually quite special.
From here in the reed beds, and on the riverside walks over the bridge where trout haunt the depths below, from the tree lined paths, and in the salty marsh’s nature reigns. It sits comfortably and goes about its business in its own steady ways, in its own time.
The Kingfisher alights from the gnarled, fallen tree branches and flashes blue in the sun as it races back along the river, just like the passing cars along the road. It’s ‘seeeep’ call piercing above the passing train, as the river king whooshes past mallards, and teal and the gaggle of Canada geese that seem so at home here.
Overhead a buzzard whirls in the blue skies, which in Autumn see ospreys, and marsh harriers amongst the lines of pylons where the peregrine positions itself to watch for the gathering starlings. In the distance, in the wavering haze of heat and fumes a kestrel flickers on the wind, and then disappears like a mirage as it pounces on some unsuspecting mammal. There was one winter where a short-eared owl made its home in the reed beds, hunting alongside commuters going about their daily business.
It’s no surprise that this green jewel in a grey town is a nature reserve, managed by the Hampshire and Isle of Wight Wildlife Trust, who graze cattle on the floodplain meadows. With its fresh and saltwater habitats there is a huge range of diverse flora and fauna present. From the clear waters that rush past the fisherman’s cottage by the bridge, where the speckled silver of trout shimmer, and the horse chestnut trees whose green leaves dapple the light as it passes through, to the salt washed reedbeds where the waders sift through mud. There are so many homes for nature here.
The Lower Test marshes are a buffer, not just for the stunning array of wildlife, but for its human inhabitants. It offers a connection to nature, a green reminder that wildness thrives even in the most unlikely of circumstances. Drivers are offered a glimpse of gold on their morning commute to work, as the golden reed beds beckon to them from their cars. Dog-walkers caught by surprise at the fish that leap so easily from the water. Young children whose faces light up at the comic antics of the ducks. Or even the teenagers that shelter in the bird hides, with no intention of watching birds, but are unwittingly subjected to them as they are momentarily distracted by a passing flock of starlings in impressive shapes.
Nature will find a way.
It has found a way here to the boundary between town and country, it’s been carried 40miles from the chalk streams to the sea. Whisked along with river secrets, carried by otters and kingfishers, watched by sentinel herons and the grazing cattle as it’s carried to its end here in the muddy estuaries. And it will continue to do so, for many years to come nature will always be brought here, for as long as the Test still flows.
