The Signal Box Naturalist

A different age on the railways, when signalman Brackenbury of Oughty Bridge spent his days studying the wildlife of Wharncliffe Woods

The turning of the year is traditionally a time of reflection, of telling stories around the fire on dark winter nights about the heroes of times past.

I found such a story in my files, about the days when a British Rail employee could count on a supportive management to do his job and add to the nation’s scientific knowledge at the same time.

Austin Brackenbury in 2003 at the site of his old signal box

I remember talking on the phone to the legendary railwayman Austin Brackenbury. One of the many modest experts of the Sorby Natural History Society, Austin was gentle and understanding when I was baffled by issues he knew well, such as subtle differences between species of hoverflies.

“You’re a reporter, you’re not expected to know about all this, you have to know a little bit about a lot,” he’d say. Whereas Austin knew a hell of a lot about a small but abundant section of Wharncliffe Woods, knowledge he was keen to share with the rest of the world.

Austin passed away at the age of 90, in 2016, and here’s the piece I wrote about him nearly 20 years ago.

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For a few hours last Sunday, Austin Brackenbury returned to his natural habitat, leading a flock of eager naturalists into the old woods of Wharncliffe, pointing out examples of Hogweed and Jack-By-The-Hedge as he passed.

Oblivious to the sound of the police helicopter flying overhead, signalman Brackenbury began to detail his transgressions as a British Rail employee: visits to the signalbox by non unionised staff including a woman delivering leaflets for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, and wood mice lured in by mouldy cheese and crushed peanuts. Then there was the time a party of 25 naturalists visiting from York had to duck below the window as an unexpected goods train went past.

Railway inspectors didn’t really mind: the activities of signalman Brackenbury were well known along the length of the Woodhead railway line.

Austin in his signal box in the 1970s

“I’d have other signalmen ringing up saying: ‘There’s a bird outside. It’s walking, and it’s got a sharp beak. Do you know what it is?’ A starling, probably.”

Another excited employee along the line called him one day to say: “An animal’s just run across the track, and it’s got lots and lots of legs! What on earth is it?” It was a weasel, of course, which actually only has four, said Austin.

"But when they run they look as if they’ve got more than the usual number.”

Weasel by Austin Brackenbury

He did receive occasional admonishments from his superiors. “If I was a second late ringing the bell when a train went past, they’d be on the phone saying: ‘Have you been out looking at bloody flies again?’”

In fact, Austin Brackenbury’s scientific activities whilst on duty met with the full approval of his superiors at the then nationalised railway, who told Austin they were far happier for him to be alert watching for wildlife than being half asleep with a book on his lap and his feet on the stove.

Austin explained that railway signal operators had a long history of filling in their time between trains. There were clockmakers, knitters, model railway enthusiasts, furniture builders, readers of Russian literature, and at ‘Oughty Bridge’ signal box (as the official sign called Austin’s workplace between 1973 and 1983), a wildlife photographer and nationally renowned recorder of hoverflies.

Austin taking photos at his signal box

“I used to cycle out from Sheffield to have a bit of peace and quiet,” said Derek Whiteley of Sorby Natural History Society, who at that time was assistant curator at the City Museum.

“My excuse for coming up here was to collect Austin’s latest specimens to take back to the museum, but in fact for me it was a chance to escape the mad world in Sheffield. I’d have a look at Austin’s latest finds and have a chat and drink cups of tea, and I can still remember the clock ticking away in the background. It was very very peaceful.

“But it was also a very exciting time, because Austin was making new discoveries on an almost weekly basis.” Austin had chosen to work at lonely Oughty Bridge after being made redundant from the rather less idyllic Millhouses signal box, surrounded by the factories and houses of Abbeydale. The move was a few years after his ‘latent interest in the natural world’ (as he puts it) was stirred by joining the Sorby Natural History Society in 1969.

He found a signal box that was, almost literally, part of the ancient Wharncliffe Forest - his summertime photos show his home for eight hours a day (or night) apparently being gradually swallowed by the woods - although the ever scrupulous signalman Brackenbury took care to cut a hole in each direction so he could see the trains.

The Oughty Bridge signal box

It was round the back, however, that Austin was making structural alterations for his second job whilst on duty: a pond dug out of the bank for water creatures, feeding areas for birds and small animals, and the now famous Brackenbury lure - a stick with a small plastic tube at the top in which water and suitable flower were placed to attract hoverflies and other insects.

During his time in Wharncliffe , Austin saw - and often photographed - weasels, lizards, voles, shrews, foxes and red and grey squirrels. His observations of the two squirrel species apparently living happily alongside each other changed opinion on how the two species interrelated. Now, of course, the red squirrel has gone.

“The last red squirrel I saw was on the morning before an RAC car rally came through,” Austin reflected. The noise and the hordes of spectators were the final straw for the last squirrel Nutkin, it seems, who as the rally cars thundered in left Oughty Bridge for ever.

Common lizard at Oughty Bridge by Austin Brackenbury

The visiting naturalists stood on the bank above the old railway line, hanging on Austin’s every word, just like people all over the country have over the years, during signalman Brackenbury’s lecture tours detailing the most thoroughly recorded stretch of railway line in England.

Over his ten years at Oughty Bridge, 107 of Britain’s 260 or so species of hoverfly were recorded, including 13 first South Yorkshire sightings and one first Yorkshire record of a breeding colony. He later published a range of scientific papers on these specimens (and others) now held by academic institutions around the UK. And his carefully annotated specimens of over 4,000 insects form the backbone of the City Museum’s collection.

Now, however, the Oughty Bridge box has gone, together with the Woodhead railway line, the nationalised rail network, and responsible jobs where you have time to study hoverflies and photograph weasels in your spare moments. And the forest has finally devoured the Oughty Bridge signal box.

“That was where the privy was,” Austin pointed out. “And that was the tree where I’d see the red squirrels. And this is where I fed the bank voles. And somewhere round here, might be little bank voles who are their great great great great great great grandchildren.”

Former signalman Brackenbury told his fellow naturalists how he’d walk the best part of a mile, day or night, from the 57 bus stop to his place of employment, watching for signs of animals on the way and collecting flowers to lure hoverflies.

“Austin always seemed to enjoy his job,” said Derek Whiteley. “In fact, I enjoyed his job. I’d be on the phone all morning at the museum, then I’d come out here and Austin was doing the real stuff.”

Austin and Derek Whiteley examing insects near the old signal box

Austin glanced down at the remains of his ‘privy’ amongst the spring growth on the forest floor, at the engulfed stumps and the trees where the squirrels would play, at the space on the bank where, as night fell, the insects would fly through the Oughty Bridge signalbox windows.

“What a lovely ten years it was,” he said.

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And just a brief update for 2022: discussions on the reopening of some or all of the Woodhead passenger and freight railway line are ongoing. Passenger services returning to Deepcar and Oughtibridge seem to be a real possibility.

Meanwhile, trials of the return of the pine marten to parts of Yorkshire are also ongoing : the predator appears to thrive on American grey squirrels while nimbler native red squirrels find it much easier to escape. Hunted to near extinction in the past, as they eat almost anything, including game birds, the reintroduction of pine martens to a forest environment is believed by many conservationists to lay the groundwork for successful reintroductions of red squirrels, who are usually outcompeted by their American rival when they’re common in a woodland.

And now there’s an ambitious idea to rewild and promote a large area of northern Sheffield under the name of the Hallamshire Forest - the plan is taking shape thanks to enviornmentalist and conservationist, Dave Dickinson, covered here by the Sheffield Tribune,

So maybe a new signal box in Wharncliffe Woods could one day lead to a new era of research. Austin would be delighted, I’m sure.