The unmistakable sound of spring resonated across the valley. The reciprocating hum of a chainsaw, impersonating a monstrously sized hornet, the virtuoso notes accompanying the repetitive drumming of a great spotted woodpecker at some distant off. I was near Child Okeford.
During the winter while researching all of the reserves for this, my self-imposed project, one place stood out for me. I really wanted to visit Mill Ham Island, for reasons I did not quite understand at the time. Mostly I believe this was due to the description on the Dorset Wildlife Trust's website,
"This little visited area offers a retreat for otters on a small 'island' bordering one side of the River Stour. A pleasant spot for river watching."
And sure enough, as I approached the reserve walking through the fields bordering the River Stour, I observed a well defined otter track leading to a pool. One could quite mistake this muddy route for badger, sheep, even deer, however on closer inspection it plummeted 2 meters or so from the field into the water. I'd seen otter slides before and this had all the hallmarks of one. Unfortunately I could not get to the waters edge, or the roots of the adjacent tree, to look for spraint, but I'm sure it will be there somewhere. It was a good start.
I like finding little visited areas and this small, close on 1 hectare in size, reserve was not the easiest to find, lying a few fields away from where I'd parked my car. Looking at the detritus clinging to the top wires of the fence as I entered the field I could see this whole area had recently flooded. And to a great depth too by the look of it. Not that this should be surprising, as the Stour meanders it's way through this flood-plain valley on it's way from Stourhead to the sea at Christchurch. The fields themselves showed evidence of standing water but were drying well, herbage was growing, predominantly buttercup which would erupt into a sea of yellow in the weeks to come. Teasel and dock were also well distributed. But this was a mere sideshow to my visit, which I reached after ten minutes walk.
The island in the reserve's name gives it away. From the field access is across a narrow bridge, I felt like I was entering a child-like adventure, all very Bevis by Richard Jefferies.
"What river is it?" said Mark. "Is it the Amazon, or the Congo, or the Yellow River, or the Nile-"
"It is the Mississippi, of course," said Bevis, quite decided and at ease as to that point.
The reserve is known for two plant species, which I'd made my target find during the visit, arrowhead (Sagittaria sagittifolia) and our native black poplar (Populus nigra). I looked for the first emergence of the former as I crossed the bridge, but nothing was obvious. After all it is still early March and possibly a little early to be emerging given these aquatic plants are flowering from June.
However I did find, the increasingly rare to our landscape, black poplar, most readily located by red catkins of the male tree littering the floor underneath. As with other poplars, black poplar comes as either a male or a female tree. This sexual division is known as dioecious, which I read is derived from Greek for "two houses,". To be honest I didn't check for any of the female trees as I was enchanted by this miniature reserve, as was my wife who accompanied me, and took the images.
I loved being here. It reminded me of my childhood, aimlessly wandering around nooks and crannies, exploring mud, splashing in water, climbing trees, damming streams. A rope swing hung loose from a willow over the Stour, which forms one boundary edge of the reserve. Possibly few people venture here for the wildlife, but children from hereabouts seemly visit regularly and mess about on that swing on summer days. Sadly my swinging over river days are long gone, not without a trip to A&E later, but the mind is willing at least.
It didn't take that long for the two of us to explore this reserve. The understory was in that fresh, low, new spring emergence form, lesser celandine and nettle were everywhere, I read, and noted, the vegetation grows tall and nettle takes over in the summer. A few drier areas hosted wild garlic. A chaffinch, wren and woodpigeon were the only birdsong while I was there, though I did hear the peep peep of a kingfisher as it flew along the Stour, some rooks were noisy across the fields, plus of course that drumming woodpecker some distance off.
I had two other nearby reserves to visit today but I'll maybe come back here one day in the summer to hopefully find arrowhead or see Banded demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens). At which time I'll combine it with visiting the Countryside Regeneration Trust's 92 acre Bere Marsh Farm which borders this reserve, they host a wonderful pop-up café in the barn on a Friday throughout the summer. What's not to like.
It was time to go, retracing our steps across the narrow bridge, I looked beyond towards Hambleton Hill in the distance. I know from experience that is a climb and a half but worth the effort.
Date of visit : 10th March 2026, 11.45-12.45 (including walking there and back over fields)
Species encountered : Black poplar, willow, elder, ash, lesser celandine, nettle, wild garlic, buttercup, cow parsley, chaffinch, wren, woodpigeon, blackbird, kingfisher, and can I include the otter slide?
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