Watching a heron fishing, I found myself wondering how far it ranged. My own experience of the river has taken me to its source at Malham Tarn. I have seen the river and the environment cope in drought and flood. Wading across it knee deep in mud, yet in summer I have crossed dry footed. Such a variety of plants and wild life have greeted my endeavours to know this river. Wild flowers have delighted my vision, cattle have curiously chased me, hedgehogs have rustled knee deep grass. Insects have dodged my passing, and even taken lunch from me. I have been shifted from my path by lapwings, seagulls have protested at my presence. Bumblebees have flown carelessly by, as summer painted ladies and red admiral’s dance. Swans, geese and assorted ducks squawk on sight of my passing. Wild rhubarb and thistles scrabble at my legs, fledgling willows sway, daisies and dandelions bring colour along with my favourite, the pink willowherbs bend to the warm breeze. Himalayan balsam completes with meadow cranesbills for my attention. As a lone dipper feeds on stone flies. Sadly darkening clouds and aching bones tell me that it’s time