Looking for the best nature walks in Cambridgeshire? This is my shortlist — Fenland reedbeds, big-sky washes, and quieter woodland paths where you can hear a warbler before you ever see it.
Mist hangs low over the reedbed as first light catches the water — Cambridgeshire nature reserves at their quietest and most magical.
After forty years exploring these paths with my camera, I’ve come back again and again to a handful of routes that offer the richest mix of wildlife, wide views and seasonal colour.
In this guide, I’ll share those favourites — so you know where to go, and what to look for when you get there.
We’ll start with the landscape that defines the county: the Fens and the Washes.
If you just want the highlights, here’s where I’d start — then you can jump to the section that suits your day.
These are wildlife-rich walks and nature reserves in Cambridgeshire I happily recommend to my friends.
This is the quintessential Cambridgeshire landscape — huge skies, flat horizons, and reedbeds that seem to hold onto the light.
When people picture this county, they often imagine the vast, level expanse of the Fens under an enormous sky. It’s a man-made landscape, shaped by drainage and agriculture — and yet it’s here that I’ve had some of my most profound encounters with nature.
If you’re looking for the best nature walks in Cambridgeshire, the Fens and the county’s nature reserves are where the magic happens — especially at dawn, when the birds are loud and the paths feel like they belong only to you.
Sunrise over reedbeds in the Cambridgeshire FensThe first time someone told me the Ouse Washes were “just flood storage areas,” I nearly laughed. Yes, they’re designed to stop our homes going underwater. But calling them “just” anything is like calling the Northern Lights “just chemistry.”
When winter floods turn these farmers’ fields into temporary lakes, something extraordinary happens. Thousands of birds arrive as if responding to an ancient invitation.
On a good morning, you can walk the bank paths slowly, then settle into a hide and watch the surface fill up — breath steaming in the cold — with more wildfowl than you can count, dropping in like living confetti.
The Nene Washes gave me one of my greatest birding moments - my first Common Crane sighting.
Despite their name, these magnificent birds are anything but common in the UK. Up until that time, the tallest birds I had encountered in the countryside where Grey Herons, but the Cranes dwarf them! And that bugling call will haunt me (in a wonderful way) for ever.
Then there are also the Short-Eared Owls. Watching these raptors patrol at sunrise, their yellow eyes scanning the water edges for prey, pulled me into their world and wouldn't let go.
Sunrise at the Nene WashesWicken Fen is a place that can feel beautifully, deceptively empty.
They say it hosts over 9000 species, but most days, all we see is a sea of swaying reeds under that enormous sky.
We knew that wild Konik ponies were around but had never encountered them...
Then, one afternoon, we rounded a bend in a path and froze. There they were. A small, silent herd... they melted into the reeds, as if they had never been there. The feeling of having glimpsed a truly wild, hidden part of this ancient landscape stayed with us all day.
Konik ponies at Wicken FenIn the heart of the Fens, an ambitious project is underway to connect two of the last fragments of wild fenland, creating a massive nature reserve for the future. Visiting these places feels like stepping into both the ancient past and a hopeful future.
Close to my doorstep is Holme Fen, a remnant of Englands largest lake.
Here, two posts buried to their tops in 1851 now extend towards the vast sky. Standing beside them, on black peat soil that was once 4 meters under water, makes me feel like I'm on a slowly sinking ship. It's a stark and powerful reminder of how this landscape has been transformed.
This is where I have been known to stand and daydream about the work being done to join the two remaining fragments of Fenland together again.
When I'm there, I can almost hear the booming bitterns and the bugling Cranes, their calls echoing over a vast sheet of water that shimmers like the ghost of Whittlesey Mere.
It's a powerful thought - that we can not only stop time, but begin to wind it back.
Some of the richest wildlife habitats in the county aren't ancient at all; they're the legacy of industry. The vast holes left behind by gravel extraction have filled with water, creating a network of lakes that have become magnets for birdlife.
They are proof that nature can find a home anywhere.
This reserve gave me one of my proudest moments as a photographer.
I was sitting in a hide when a Great White Egret—a bird that was an almost mythical rarity in the UK not so long ago—landed right in front of me.
Unlike its smaller cousin, the Little Egret, this bird is a giant, an elegant spear-fisher standing tall among the reeds.
I managed to get a photograph that I was so pleased with, I entered it into a competition. To my astonishment, it won!
Paxton Pits will always be the place that gave me that thrill of seeing a rare jewel of the bird world and the confidence to share it. It is still showing on their sightings page.
I must confess a failure.
Looking at the map, my husband and I naively decided we would walk around Grafham Water. Nine miles, we thought, how hard can that be?
It turns out, very hard! We were exhausted long before the end.
But even in our weariness, Grafham offered a moment of simple perfection. We sat on the massive dam bank, catching our breath, and watched the wagtails. They were flitting about, chasing insects with an energy we could only envy, their long tails perpetually bobbing. It was a perfect, quiet ending to an overly ambitious day.
While the Fens define the county's open spaces, its woodlands hold its oldest secrets.
These are places where you can feel the centuries in the gnarled bark of the oaks and the deep carpet of leaves underfoot. They offer a completely different kind of nature experience, intimate, enclosed, and full of quiet discoveries.

Every year, I make a pilgrimage to Brampton Wood for the bluebells.
You'd think it would be easy to photograph a sea of blue that carpets the woodland floor, but it’s one of the hardest shots to get right.
The light is never quite perfect, the colour never quite as vibrant as it is to the naked eye. But the annual attempt has become a treasured ritual.
There's nothing quite like the sight and scent of that shimmering blue haze under the fresh green canopy of spring.

My most vivid memory of Monks Wood is the feeling of pure panic.
It's one of Britain's largest ancient woodlands, and I had wandered deep into it, completely absorbed in macro photography.
One minute I was photographing a fascinating bracket fungus on a fallen log, the next I looked up and had absolutely no idea where I was. Every path looked the same.
That brief terror was a powerful reminder of the wood's scale and wildness. It's a place where you can truly lose yourself in the details at your feet.
Sometimes the most memorable moments don't happen in the vast reserves, but in the small, overlooked corners of the county. These are the places you might stumble upon by accident, offering a concentrated dose of natural wonder just when you least expect it.
I always thought of Fowlmere as a place for birds. It’s famous for its reedbeds and the warblers that sing from them in spring.
But one unforgettable day, it showed me so much more. I was sitting quietly in a hide, looking out over the lagoon, when I saw a ripple on the far side.
It wasn't a bird. A head and antlers emerged from the reeds, and a magnificent Fallow Deer stepped cautiously into the water and began to drink. It was a moment of pure magic, a powerful reminder that you never truly know what you might see.
Small Copper butterflyYou cross a small footbridge from the bustling, lovely town of St Ives, and you are immediately in another world.
Holt Island is a tiny sliver of wet woodland in the middle of the River Great Ouse. It’s damp, atmospheric, and feels wonderfully secret.
On one visit, I spotted a damselfly behaving oddly, laying its eggs into the bark of a willow branch overhanging the water. I realised with a jolt of excitement it was a Willow Emerald, a damselfly that has only recently colonised the UK.
To find such a rarity, a newcomer to our country, in this tiny, ancient-feeling place was a genuine thrill.
I’m a wildlife photographer who learns on everyday walks. This site is my field notebook: practical photo tips, gentle ID help, and walk ideas to help you see more—wherever you are.
I write for people who care about doing this ethically, who want to enjoy the outing (not stress about the gear), and who'd like to come home with photos that match the memory — or at least the quiet satisfaction of time well spent.
Seasonal field notes from my wildlife walks: recent encounters, the story behind favourite photos, and simple, practical tips you can use on your next outing.