This used to be a place where families didn’t want to come – now local residents use it

Jul 19 2008 by Peter Elson, Liverpool Daily Post

Peter Elson takes a walk on the wildside of Liverpool Cathedral

A SPARROW HAWK lazily circles in the sky, setting up much twittering in the bird population on guard from woodland perches, alert for any suspicious activities.

However, this was not in the Trough of Bowland or Snowdonia, but in the heart of Liverpool, above and around the Anglican Cathedral.

Now covering what was one of the city’s largest cemeteries is a fine and unusual park, sunk deep in a former quarry.

What was once a no-go area, the haunt of drug addicts and derelicts, is being reclaimed by cathedral staff and dedicated local volunteers.

My guide was Canon Anthony Hawley, above, cathedral treasurer and a keen ornithologist, who keeps a close watch on the park’s burgeoning wildlife.

The 44 species of bird include kestrels and ravens.

“Today we see about 20 people of all ages strolling and sitting around, far more than ever before.

“This used to be a place where families didn’t want to come, now local residents are using it,” says Canon Hawley.

Towering over us is the awesome bulk of the cathedral, but beneath are the remains of 57,774 people.

What started as a quarry for Liverpool Town Hall and docks, soon became a resting place for its dead.

The focal point is St James’ Well, a chalybeate spring, long ago famed for healing the eyes.

Nearby is the most northerly recorded Mediterranean snail colony.

AS WE look down into the clear water, tadpoles swim around, perhaps their eyesight sharpened to spot predators.

“I used to see an old man, while walking the dog, collecting the water in a plastic bottle presumably for healing use,” says Canon Hawley.

We walk around to the song of the mistle thrush and the cackling of magpies, passing by marguerites and red campion. Many blackbirds hail our passing and robins guard their territories.

“There are 11.5 acres of informal parkland and planting, including a wayfarer tree. The vistas have been opened up across the park, but still attract woodland birds like jays,” he says.

The pathway rises up from the southern end of the sunken park and our nostrils fill with the cloying smell of cowparsley. We reach the original 1767 promenade along St James’s Mount (on which the cathedral stands), one of the oldest public formal gardens in Liverpool, predating the building by almost 150 years.

The gardens were linked to the then highly fashionable Duke Street area, with its residences of the town’s great and good, which still lies far below.

The views over the city are terrific and the Friends of St James’s Gardens, a group of volunteers, have worked extremely hard to restore planting and a sense of order, battling on against Japanese knotweed and vandals.

Led by the likes of sculptor Robin Riley and botanist Prof Tony Bradshaw, the group was aided by the philanthropists Edwin and Anne Wolff, to whom there is a commemorative plaque.

Around us are reminders of graves, creating the fertile soil and colouring in the history of this great city.