Seaton Meadows are dominated by the 82 spans of the Welland viaduct. Stretching a kilometre across the broad, shallow valley, the 18-metre-high, smoky black brickwork is a colossal Victorian engineering statement that screams of steam engines. Once these wet meadows were just a typical flowery idyll, now they are one of the last patches of unimproved flood meadow left in the county.
A red kite glides overhead; just four or five metres up, its tail twists characteristically. Above the line where the gentle valley side blends into the floor is a long patch of wet flushes. Here water seeps around clumps of stiff, straight rushes. Furry, yellow dung flies skirt through the herbage, passing bedstraws and lady's smock; it is mostly in bud, but a few fingernail-sized pink gowns are on show. Two snipe burst out of the rushy sward.
The next flush is home to squat marsh marigolds adorned with rich, glossy yellow blossoms. A thin branch of the river Welland loops around the meadows. The water is slow, barely moving. Under the bark of a dead willow is a little cast of boldly marked spiders – each could sit comfortably on a penny.
The toothed weaver (Textrix denticulata) is a deep dark brown, with a pale, coffee-coloured, irregular mark down its back and very stripy legs. The snake's-back tube-weaver (Segestria senoculata) is more elongate, its fawn abdomen bearing a distinct black, wavy marking. The velvety bark sac spider (Clubiona corticalis) is perhaps the smartest; dark greyish-brown, with a tan flare over the top of the abdomen that highlights a central, backward-pointing, dark streak.
A pair of curlew stalk through the grass, probing the ground with their long curved bills. The worms must be returning to the surface after the winter frosts and soon the curlews will be nesting.