Aveiro in the distance, beyond the salt pans Volleys of swifts screech about our Aveiro apartment. We look out upon a canal, favoured by kayakers, and upon flyovers with fast traffic. Within easy walking distance is a network of salt pans. Edge-lands: urban fringe with wildlife. Setting out to explore the salt pans, its birds surprise us. Red kite patrol the skies and something is mobbing them. A bird which flies with its long legs stretched out behind, and clamorous.
The network of salt pans and its wildlife fascinates me, and I return again and again. I meet a lady from Aveiro who loves the peace of the place, so close to the city, and walks here often. She likes the salt pans when the water levels are high and full of reflections. She regrets the dried and crusted salt pans, the cracked- mud patterns which I find attractive. And she tells me that birds were far more numerous at one time. Her English is hesitant, better than she thinks, but I'm not sure if she means a seasonal change or more general loss of numbers. She tells me there are flamingos and takes me to see them.
A flock of dunlin swirls over the salt pans and Kentish plover appear. But it's the black-winged stilts that attract me most. They're so elegant. A bird stands on one fine leg and delicately preens with the other. Long red legs that trail behind them in flight. It's the breeding season and they're vocal and agitated. A French couple walks between the salt pans and I join them in conversation. The salt is a rippling crust of pale gold and tiny chicks pop up from the salt and their parents lead them away.
Plants here have to be salt-tolerant. The lady from Aveiro picks a green shoot and hands it to me. Salicornia, she says. It's glass-wort that I know from Walney Island. Good for the heart, she tells me.
A flock of dunlin swirls over the salt pans and Kentish plover appear. But it's the black-winged stilts that attract me most. They're so elegant. A bird stands on one fine leg and delicately preens with the other. Long red legs that trail behind them in flight. It's the breeding season and they're vocal and agitated. A French couple walks between the salt pans and I join them in conversation. The salt is a rippling crust of pale gold and tiny chicks pop up from the salt and their parents lead them away.
Plants here have to be salt-tolerant. The lady from Aveiro picks a green shoot and hands it to me. Salicornia, she says. It's glass-wort that I know from Walney Island. Good for the heart, she tells me.
Information boards give detail on the formation of the Aveiro salt pans, of their ecology. And there's a map showing distribution of salt pans in Europe. The lady from Aveiro tells me that salt from Morocco is cheaper and Aveiro cannot compete.
We take a boat trip, a fresh perspective on the old city. But it's the ecology and landscape of the salt pans and the glimpse out toward the sea that is so unusual. And that's better seen on foot, walking amongst the salt pans and beyond.
We take a boat trip, a fresh perspective on the old city. But it's the ecology and landscape of the salt pans and the glimpse out toward the sea that is so unusual. And that's better seen on foot, walking amongst the salt pans and beyond.
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