Soon, with the summer fading swiftly away, the sturgeon moon will rise in the sky. Already, the brilliant greens in evidence at the height of the season are giving way to tans and golds and yellows, while proto blackberries are on the bramble bushes – ah, why is it that even the promise of autumn brings out the poet in a body? No wonder the fame of poor, short-lived Keats has endured so long: “And sometimes like a gleaner thou dost keep/ Steady thy laden head across a brook;/ Or by a cyder-press, with patient look,/ Thou watchest the last oozings hours by hours.”
Nor have I ever seen Autumn keeping his laden head steady as he crosses a brook, or looking patiently at a cider press ooozing with juice. In fact, I’ve never even seen a cider press in use. But it all makes for wonderful imaginings, which is why the thought of sturgeon fish convening in rivers and streams to mate and lay spawn is so endearing. Yes, this is the time of year they do it, and who said romance is dead? Just think, the moolight filtering the water while all those little fishy mouths meet and fall for each other and...what happens next is probably best left to the imagination (except for graduate naturalists and David Attenborough). But I do assure you, all over the land, underwater debutante balls are taking place, and love unions are forged to ensure the next generation of sturgeon - and where would we be without such fishy goings-on? Enjoy the rest of summer.
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