Ballyaghagan
A short distance along the Upper Hightown Road travelling from Belfast is an entrance to Cave Hill Country Park. There is a small car park, from which a main pedestrian path leads along the southern slopes of the hill and up to McArt’s Fort. In walking terms this is the easiest route to the top. However, my destination today is not the ever popular Napoleon’s Nose, but one of two Local Nature Reserves on the hill, Ballyaghagan.
When I first heard a north Belfast man pronouncing Ballyaghagan I didn’t recognise the name. My attempts sounded very different as I overemphasized the fourth syllable. Whatever way it is pronounced the place is worth a visit, providing you are well shod with sturdy boots or wellingtons. The reserve, which lies adjacent to the Upper Hightown Road car park, consists simply of nine or ten fields on either side of the main path. Those on the right slope downhill in the direction of Carr’s Glen, while those on the left lead on to the uplands of Cave Hill.
I slip through the kissing gate and start out along the main path, which runs along between two hawthorn hedgerows, themselves an interesting and important habitat. I pause when I see movement among the branches. A great tit appears, flitting from perch to perch and a little way along some mistle thrushes are feeding on the early ripened berries. My approach disturbs them, and they fly off down over the lower grazed pastures, voicing their disapproval with grating alarm calls. The flock lands in a distant hedgerow that marks the perimeter of what was once known as Daddystown Meadow, after the labourers’ cottages that once stood on these slopes.
My aim is to climb up through the fields to my left, which are largely empty of vegetation, save for the stems of ragwort and the occasional thistle, as the cattle have consumed everything else. These ‘grazing machines’ are currently in the first field, which I notice (just in time) contains a hefty looking bull. I avoid this and climb the gate into the adjacent field, marked on my map as Russell’s Meadow. There are no formal paths here – in fact there are no informal ones – just uneven, marshy ground that has been trampled by countless hooves. I slowly make my way up, ducking hawthorn branches, skirting puddles and avoiding cow pats. It is difficult going, but I venture on in the hope of seeing and hearing something of the rich wildlife of Cave Hill.
It is not long before my labours are rewarded. A skylark is singing high above, and it takes me a few minutes to spot it. The tiny brown speck against the clouds provides an aerial concert that in the breeding season can last up to fifteen minutes. But it is late summer and this is very much a truncated performance – the bird quickly drops out of the sky and finishes its song just before landing in the rough grass to my right. Skylarks are in decline, as indeed are many small farmland birds, and it is good to see one so close to the city of Belfast. A meadow pipit, another upland bird, is watching my progress from a fence post. Meadow pipits and skylarks can be difficult to distinguish at a distance, but their song and flight patterns are different. The pipit doesn’t hover for lengthy periods like the skylark, but delivers its short song as it flutters weakly into the air and then glides back down to earth again.
I cross a small stream and head into the next field, appropriately called Brook Meadow, where I see several meadow brown and ringlet butterflies in flight. The grass here is less heavily grazed than in the lower fields, and plants such as tormentil and marsh woundwort are able to flower. After a while, I cross a muddy trench into Snipe Marsh, where clearly there is no grazing at all. Consequently clumps of goat willow, bilberry and heather are well established. Among them I find a few stems of sneezewort. The famous 17th century herbalist Nicholas Culpepper recommended sniffing the powder of this plant to ease stuffy noses as it induced sneezing, which he claimed cleansed the head.
The views from up here are magnificent: I look back at west and south Belfast stretched out below me, and the Mourne Mountains rising from the horizon. There is a cool breeze blowing, and it carries with it the throaty call of a raven. Looking up I see a pair flying overhead, keeping some distance apart as if they have had a falling out. On previous visits I have seen buzzards, kestrels and peregrines up here.
There is no clear upper boundary to Ballyaghagan Reserve. The land continues over moorland to the upper regions of Cave Hill, and eventually to McArt’s Fort and the more familiar and trampled paths along the skyline. It is quite amazing to find such a wild, unvisited area within the city boundary. Even more so, considering it is ostensibly a public park. Cave Hill Country Park, managed by Belfast City Council, attracts thousands of visitors each year – but few if any venture into Ballyaghagan Reserve, which means that the skylarks, the ravens and the sneezewort are by and large left undisturbed.