I was working outdoors on the Lockwood Reservoir when instead of the usual bird-life passing over, I noticed a big black helicopter buzzing from the horizon.   Flanked by other smaller helicopters, it was ominously heavy in the sky and I decided to try my dance in relation to it.  I later discovered that the helicopter was carrying Trump from Stansted to central London.

Here’s a short video where the autofocus of my camera gives priority to the fly that happens to be buzzing in front of the lens rather than to the human who happens to be dancing in the background.  My relatively smart camera has the technology to detect faces but here the framing doesn’t give it a face to find and so blades of grass, insects and humans passing are equally worth of digital attention.

It’s easy to focus on the wildlife in the Wetlands but there is a built infrastructure of varying vintages that has made the Wetlands the place it is and continues to shape how human and non-human, organic and inorganic meets in this environment.

The River Lea has long been a water-way for transportation and a source of power for the various industries that were situated along its banks.  The human intervention was increased when London’s need for clean water in the 19th Century brought the creation of reservoirs that transformed the landscape.  For a more detailed account of the Wetlands’ history see here

What I notice is the combination of somehow naturalized man-made elements and interventions that are more recent and contrasting.  In the former category are reservoirs themselves, the picturesque pump structures (first picture above) and the weathered and patinated pieces of iron that appear here and there (and whose function I don’t yet know).

In the latter category are the temporary fencing and hazard taping that signal work in progress, the cranes on the skyline that aren’t strictly part of the Wetlands but that dominate many of its vistas.  And also perhaps the unwelcome detritus, like this shopping trolley that a coot has nonetheless commandeered as a nesting site and which can’t be cleared until she’s done.

There is an admirable adaptability in this avian ability to cohabit with the human-made, but can we offer a similar willingness to adapt to the needs of the natural environment.  The way some users of the site ignore requests not to cycle in sensitive areas, not to drop litter etc. suggests there’s a way to go.

Meanwhile, here’s a small dance with geese.

I’ve been trying to figure out the existing choreographies on the Wetlands. The Wetlands exists because of human intervention in the landscape to provide freshwater for the capital. For an account of the history, see here. https://walthamstowwetlands.com/heritage The visible reservoirs are matched by buried tunnels and piping that channel the water through its various stages of purification and from there to Londoners across the city. There’s even a small nuclear bunker under the Copper Mill apparently that suggests a former movement script of crisis.

This human intervention and the fact that the general public (though not birders and anglers) have been kept out of the reservoirs has created a place where wildlife has flourished, wildlife that lives there permanently or the temporary visitors that rely on the Wetlands as one stopping point in their migration routes. The site is being managed so as to protect as much as possible the resident wildlife and that means closing particular paths at certain times of the year to enable birds to nest or to moult undisturbed. For me it also means slowing my pace when I find birds on the path and deviating if necessary. It’s also meant that I’ve be trying out quiet dancing – dances in the open space that don’t make undue noise – a dancing that I feel is co-choreographed by the requirements of the environment and its non-human inhabitants. Of course I bring my own movement history and habits to this environment, but I’m enjoying the sense that there are other choreographers in this process too.