Tag Archives: countryside

Stop Press: Winter Not Yet Over

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It’s that time of year when weather can be at its most British: sunny and mild one day, wild and wet and cold the next… And the past week has been true to seasonal form. Last Saturday I was cycling around Thatcham Reedbeds after working with the Young Rangers group at the Nature Discovery Centre. Glorious sunshine had brought out local people and the wildlife, and I found not only Blackthorn Prunus spinosa in flower but also catkins on the Alders Alnus glutinosa around the edge of the lake there.

From Blackthorn we get the phrase ‘Blackthorn Winter’, which refers to a spell of cold weather often coinciding with the blossoming of this early-flowering native shrub. Blackthorn flowers appear before the leaves, which makes them easy to differentiate from Hawthorn Crataegus monogyna. The other plant that could be confused with Blackthorn is Cherry Plum, Prunus cerasifera; but this tends to flower earlier still than Blackthorn, grows taller, and is largely lacking the long sharp woody thorns that Blackthorn bears in abundance. I can testify to the wounding power of these: some years ago I spiked my arm on Blackthorn during a conservation task, and unbeknownst to me the brittle thorn broke off inside the muscle… From whence it was surgically removed some four weeks later, after I’d begun wondering why my arm wasn’t healing up.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Alder is another interesting native tree: usually found growing alongside water or in damp woodlands, it bears long catkins in the spring from which the wind blows clouds of pollen onto its smaller cone-like female flowers (last year’s woody ‘cones’ are visible in my photograph). Alder wood has the useful property of not rotting when under water, an attribute that led it to be used for making bridge piles, sluice gates, water pipes and clogs. It also produces a good quality charcoal that was once used in the production of gunpowder. It is a valuable tree species for wildlife, supporting leaf- and nectar-feeding insects and seed-feeding birds, as well as helping to stabilise waterside banks with its roots. In folklore Alder had a somewhat sinister reputation as the pale timber appears to bleed after felling, turning from its pale freshly-cut colour to a bright orange-red.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a lot of bird activity on this mild day too, with smaller birds such as Great and Blue Tits, Blackbirds, Robins and finches hectoring each other from the bushes whilst waterfowl were busy on the lake. No sign yet of the Sand Martins returning to their deluxe nest box complex (that you can just see on the lake island in the photo above), but lots of paddlers about: Mallards, Shovellers, Tufted Ducks, Great Crested Grebes, Coots and Moorhens with their comedy feet, Mute Swans and of course the ubiquitous Canada Geese. People feed the birds on the lake (usually grain that is bought from the Nature Discovery Centre, helping to generate a little extra income) so there are always plenty to see.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Our Young Rangers session was about recycling and Fair Trade: the children divided into two teams (boys and girls, inevitably) and built ‘buggies’ from recycled materials that were then raced against each other. ‘Team Girl 6’ were the overall winners, success largely due to their superior abilities to co-operate and work together, it seemed! Notably, their buggy included a matchbox luggage compartment for storing useful stuff, and was accompanied by a selection of nifty team flags. I predict that Jeremy Clarkson should be worried.

After playing some ‘Unfair Games’ we made spring chocolate cornflake nests, using Fair Trade chocolate. The kids even made some for me and co-leader Becky, as well as other staff at the Discovery Centre, so I was nicely fuelled up for my bike ride back home afterwards. Just before I set off I discovered my first Sweet Violet Viola odorata of the year, flowering on the sunny bank near the centre. They have sweetish scent which is unlike any other flower, and which possesses the curious power of temporarily anaesthetising your smell receptors. I’m not sure what evolutionary benefit this would confer, but it remains one of my favourite early spring wild blooms. The leaves are also the foodplant for Fritillary butterfly species, should you need any further encouragement to find room in your garden for a few violets.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Early flowers are appearing and so are the lambs at Rushall Farm, the first mob of ewes having begun giving birth. This is the start of what will be a flood of over 1,400 lambs by Easter – and many hundreds of school children and youth groups who come to the farm on educational visits, too. I was teaching at Rushall this week and will be almost every weekday from now until Easter: we had two schools of ‘littlies’ who were fun to work with, and on Thursday we all got to see a ewe giving birth to triplets – high excitement! The kids were awe-struck and asked lots of questions about the process (especially about the gory bits). Steve the shepherd handled the whole thing very competently with the assistance of a veterinary student on work placement at the farm, even managing to keep a running commentary going whilst rummaging about inside the sheep. Very impressive.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a rather nice mild end to the week, Sunday came over decidedly wintery again, which was frustrating as I’d been stuck indoors with a stomach bug on Saturday and was pining for some fresh air. I decided to head for the allotment anyway, whereupon the rain turned into near-horizontal snow. Digging up leeks in a howling blizzard is an interesting experience; whimpering slightly I managed to get my harvest in and scuttle home to a hot bath, with leeks for supper. The allotment hasn’t got much going on with all the cold weather we’ve been having: our broccoli won’t be ready till late spring or early summer, and our cabbages probably fall into the category of ‘baby vegetables’ at present. It’s a bit like waiting for Christmas. I’m still munching my way through last year’s frozen runner beans and courgettes though, so I’m not complaining.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The aforesaid stomach bug was particularly annoying as it prevented me from going along to sing at a ‘Ukes For UNICEF’ charity benefit festival in Berkhamsted on Saturday. Unfortunately that left my co-performer John in the lurch, although he of course managed to give a successful ukulele-playing solo spot. And we did have a good night earlier in the week at the Unplug The Wood open mike at the Lion Brewery in Ash. It was standing room only and people were very complimentary, plus I won a bottle of wine in the raffle so a good evening out! For those of you who weren’t there, there are a couple of videos up on YouTube of me singing with John on uke, should you be so inclined to have a listen.

The coming week sees me busy teaching at Rushall and co-leading Sing The World community choir in Newbury, so fingers crossed for weather that feels more like spring than winter as March marches on. I spotted some Lesser celandines Ranunculus ficaria starting to open on a south-facing hedgebank as I drove home last week, beautiful little starry yellow wild flowers that shout “NECTAR!” at any passing insects who may have been brave enough to come out of hibernation…
So for their sake and mine, hopefully some warmer days will soon turn up.

Snowdrops and Stabilisers

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From sub-zero freezing conditions only a week ago to increasingly mild days where hedgerows are alive with the racket of bird turf wars… Yep, spring is approaching. My car is better (hooray!), wildlife is stirring about (a friend told me yesterday that he’d seen his first Adder of the year) and winter is beating a retreat.

Snowdrops Galanthus nivalis are a flower traditionally associated with February, especially the seasonal Celtic festival of Imbolc (or Candlemas, in the Christian faith) that is celebrated around 1st February. Taken from the Irish i mbolg meaning “in the belly” or oimelc meaning “ewes’ milk”, both refer to the fact that this is the season for lambing. I’m particularly fond of snowdrops and other early spring flowers: there something almost miraculous about a plant which shoves its way through still-frozen ground to produce a flower that only the hardiest of early-stirring insects are likely to discover. As a result, most snowdrops in the UK reproduce by division of bulbs rather than by seed… Yet where they occur in woodlands and hedgerows they can often multiply to spectacular proportions, creating a starry carpet of white flowers against blue-green foliage that is second only to the display that bluebells produce later in spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No-one seems entirely sure whether snowdrops are a native British wild flower or not: they are native to continental Europe, so while some botanists seem to believe that they were introduced to this country in the sixteenth century, others suggest that perhaps there were isolated wild populations already here that were augmented by human plantings. The whole native/non-native wildlife species debate always stirs up strong opinions, but until genetics definitively proves the snowdrop’s origins one way or the other I guess we’ll just have to be content with enjoying looking at them. One local site that is well-known for its snowdrop vistas is Welford Park: there is an entry charge for viewing the gardens but some of the funds raised go towards local charities. I’m also reliably informed (by some friends who went there last weekend) that the tea room there has deeply satisfying cake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being the kind of naturalist who loves grubbing around in the leaf litter, I often get down on hands and knees to examine small stuff more closely, so I can recommend the view of snowdrops from this angle. Try turning one of the delicate flowers carefully upward to peer inside: around the yellow anthers, a graceful tracery of spring-green veining marks the inner tepals (tepals being botany-speak for a type of petal). It’s every bit as attractive as a lily or an orchid, albeit on a smaller scale.

Returning to the lambing theme, mid-February saw me up at Rushall Organic Farm with the rest of the farm’s education team, for a training day prior to the very busy school visit season that starts as soon as the lambs begin arriving. Rushall Farm is a popular environmental education site for schools from all over the local area and also from London, running sessions for all abilities and ages from pre-schools to A-level students and above. I started working there in 2011 and have enjoyed every minute: although I’ve been a field teacher for about twenty years now, I had little experience of farm education (despite my grandpa having been a farm manager), so it’s been both challenging and fascinating for me to lead sessions at the site. Because of the students’ age range and variety of habitats, in any one week you can be teaching about soil science, crop rotation, organic principles, freshwater biology, economic diversification, woodland management, minibeasts, or simply experiencing the fun of holding lambs and feeding livestock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rushall is a mixed arable and livestock farm and sheep are a big part of its operation (providing about a third of its income). There are nearly 800 pregnant ewes currently gathered in the lambing sheds, scoffing their way through high-energy and protein feeds such as beans, oats and silage. The first lambs are due any day now, which is when many schools want to visit: there is a big “Awwww” factor in cuddling lambs, although we try our best also to instil some of the more important messages about farming. Food security and sustainability are (finally) rising up the political agenda in the UK as well as world-wide, and with the increasing cost of fossil fuels which underpin ‘conventional’ farming methods, it’s likely that organic farming will be playing a bigger role in supplying some of our food needs. At present only 4% of British farmland is organically managed (as compared with 10% in Denmark, Austria or Italy)… So it looks like we could do better.

The argument oft trotted out against organic food is the cost: but interestingly, this is becoming less of an issue as food prices overall have risen steeply in past months. The central principles of organic farming are to work with natural systems, sustain soil fertility whilst minimising environmental impact, ensure ethical animal treatment and protect and enhance wildlife and natural habitats. Personally, I’m prepared to pay a little bit extra for most of my food to ensure this. Most people eat more than they need to anyway (and then spend a fortune on expensive gym membership or diets), so maybe supporting British organic farmers with at least some of your food shopping budget might be a better way forward.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, the livestock part of the farm is not about cuddling lambs but about meat production. (Vegans, look away now.) As well as sheep, Rushall has a herd of about 100 suckler cows and calves. In a suckler herd each cow will ideally calve once a year (in January/February at Rushall) and suckle her calf for eight or nine months; the calf then goes off to be finished (i.e. continue growing for some months before slaughter for meat), whilst the cow has a few weeks rest before becoming pregnant again. It’s a fairly inefficient system with a high carbon footprint, which is why farmers are always looking for ways to improve the process. One of the solutions has been the development of a new breed of cattle known as the Stabiliser: a cross between four different breeds (Red Angus, Hereford, Gelbvieh and Simmental) to produce a cow that combines traits which are desirable for livestock.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On our training day we were joined by Neil Rowe, farm manager for Manor Farm in Oxfordshire (owned by William Cumber, Rushall Farm’s owner). Neil give us a fascinating presentation about the Stabiliser breed, which Rushall’s cattle herd is now largely made up of. Stabiliser cattle can calve younger than other breeds (at two years rather than at three), tend to be healthier (because of hybrid vigour), cope well with all climates, have small calves (and hence easier calvings), are docile and convert food into beef efficiently. Because of these beneficial traits, they are worth twice as much as other cattle breeds. The only problem (as Neil saw it) is the breed’s name, which at present has virtually zero recognition with UK consumers when the meat is marketed, despite it tasting (apparently) as good as prime Aberdeen Angus.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like cows and I’m (mostly) vegetarian so the whole beef industry thing is problematic for me, but in a mixed organic farming system livestock contribute significantly to soil fertility via their manure and also form part of a wider countryside ecosystem and landscape which I am deeply attached to. On an economic note, world demand for beef is high and production is falling: in the US, 42% of grain in 2011 went towards biofuels production rather than to animal feed. One of Neil’s current projects is to develop an international scheme for Fair Trade certification of animal feed (such as grain), which seems to me a worthy endeavour that I wish him lots of luck with.

Neil also had some interesting views on the current bovine TB issue. Badger culling is being proposed to start in autumn 2012 in areas of Somerset and Gloucestershire, despite current evidence indicating that this will not ameliorate the bovine TB problem and may even exacerbate it. More attention should be given to issues such as poor cattle husbandry, feeding animals with maize (which impacts their immune system) and most importantly illegal cattle movements. Neil made the startling point that there are roughly seven million cattle movements every year in the UK… and only four inspectors.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On a happier and hopefully less controversial note, John Bishop (Rushall’s farm manager) was able to share with us the happy news that the farm has just been accepted into the Higher Level Scheme (HLS) where the government gives money to farmers specifically for undertaking measures that support wildlife. Rushall is already also in the Organic Entry Level Scheme (OELS), so the two combined payments will hopefully form a significant part of the farm’s income over the next few years. This is a good example of positive government involvement in the countryside… It would be nice if there was more of it. Some of the wildlife improvements will include creating species-rich semi-natural grassland, planting wild flower margins, carrying out management to support nesting and breeding birds and looking after waterside meadows on the farm. So hopefully, we will be seeing even more wildlife around Rushall than we already do.

Although many of the schools who visit Rushall do so to see the livestock, I have to own a persistent attachment to the apparently less-glamorous world of invertebrates and plants. Apart from pond dipping and minibeast safaris it’s not always easy to sell children (or adults) on the attractions of bugs, whilst plants seem even less interesting. But I persevere. So to conclude this blog entry, I leave you with the intriguing world of leaf miner insects. Even in the depths of winter you can find evidence of this particular group of small animals who make their homes in leaves and stems, munching their way through the tissues whilst remaining largely hidden from possible predators. It’s a bit like living in your bed for the winter with an endless supply of food, something I’m sure which has appealed to most of us at some point during the long dark days of January. During our training day we went on an invertebrate sampling walk and found the distinctive mines of Phytomyza illicis in the leaves of a Holly Ilex aquifolium. So next time you’re on a winter ramble and want to impress someone, you can casually point to a Holly leaf and murmur, “Ah, Phytomyza…” I plan to try it, anyway.

Phytomyza illicis mine in Holly leaf

Car car car… Trouble!

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Just say, "Aahhhh..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s blog was going to be an account of conservation volunteering with my friend Chris at Hartslock Nature Reserve near Goring… But as the saying goes, The best laid schemes o’ mice and men / Gang aft agley. And thanks to the preternaturally cold weather, my well-laid scheme for the morning went about as far agley as possible, when my car died en route.

I’m not a complete mechanical numpty (a former boyfriend drove Hillman Imps, so I have more than a passing acquaintance with the symptoms and repair techniques for a blown head gasket). Inspecting under the engine oil filler cap I discovered a discouraging creamy deposit which all you car buffs will recognise not as a new and exciting way to make mayonnaise but rather as possible signs of either (a) head gasket gone or (b) cracked engine block.

Mayonnaise in the engine... Not desirable

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If at this point some of you are shouting “Why didn’t you top up your antifreeze in this very cold weather we’ve been having!”, rest assured I have already been having that very same inner dialogue and indulging in a spot of self-directed kicking. My only excuse was that I had the car serviced before Christmas and have kept everything regularly topped up since… And being a tad under the weather myself this week with a chill, it didn’t occur to me that my car might be suffering likewise. And the poor wee thing was fine on Friday when I last took it for a drive… *sigh*

Uh oh...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So rather than enjoying a constructive morning of practical nature conservation I have been scrabbling about under my bonnet, sitting in a snowy field waiting to be towed back home by a rather cheery and nice breakdown recovery chap called Kit, and having a quick look on t’Internet to see how much a new engine block for a Seat Ibiza costs. (More than extra antifreeze. Okay, you can stop shouting at me now.) I have left a message for my friendly mechanics so all being well my car will be fixed in time for starting field teaching after half term… Albeit at a cost.

So the moral of this story is, um, antifreeze, basically. I’m practising all my meditation and positive thinking skills to put a good spin on this: it could’ve been worse (I could’ve been on my way to work, or had an accident); it’s probably repairable (and it’s only money after all); maybe there was a cosmic reason for me not getting to Goring today (trust in the mysterious ways of the universe); and by having to use the breakdown guy and my mechanics I am supporting the local economy (reaching a bit with that one).

It’s been a trying time of year lately, what with having also to replace a broken camera zoom lens the other week. A former colleague used to talk about ‘The Lurker’ entering one’s life, bringing with it a run of bad luck, so I consider myself temporarily Lurked. The sad truth of living in Berkshire and doing the kind of work I do (field teaching at various rural and urban outdoor sites) is that I have to use a car to get to some of my work venues, so despite my preference for bike and train I need a vehicle.

Anyway, hopefully Normal Service Will Be Resumed as soon as possible. In the spirit of temporary broadcasting difficulties, instead of an account of my scrub bashing at Hartslock this morning I offer you some pictures taken there in warmer seasons. It is a beautiful site which I am much attached to (I was the resident BBOWT warden there in 1995), and part of my dismay at failing to get there today is genuine disappointment at not being able to visit the site and catch up with Chris and the other work party volunteers. The reserve has an amazing variety of flora and fauna, including the rare Monkey Orchid Orchis simia, Lady Orchid Orchis purpurea and now also the hybrid of these Orchis simia x purpurea.

Close-up of Monkey / Lady Orchid hybrid flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The world of rare native British orchids is nearly as esoteric as bird twitching: people come from miles around to photograph Hartslock’s colony in mid-spring. I spent a magical spring and summer wardening there 17 years ago, learning a lot about chalk downland wildlife and ecology. My friend Chris ran a regular moth trap there and we spent many a fun hour sorting through our catch and traipsing about on the reserve with other volunteers and BBOWT staff. Generally the site is superb for chalk-loving plants and invertebrates such as butterflies – it also gets visits from the Club-tailed dragonfly Gomphus vulgatissimus, Goring being one of the few areas in the UK that it frequents.

Club-tailed dragonfly at Hartslock

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyway, if all this has whetted your appetite then why not pay Hartslock a visit… Or better still, if you live near Reading consider joining the morning work parties (run on the second Sunday of every month) – visit either the Hartslock or BBOWT websites for more info (see links above in this blog entry). I will certainly be getting over there at some point soon, when my car is all better. When the weather gets a little warmer, mapping orchid plants there is always a fun job (with the added bonus of spectacular views over the Goring Gap and River Thames) so that’s something to look forward to.

In the meantime, keep warm… And check your antifreeze.

Bogs and Bonfires

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Wednesday was the weekly volunteer conservation task up at Greenham Common, and a welcome break for me from filling out grant applications and website building. The midweek group carries out practical tasks and wildlife surveys at various sites including Greenham and Crookham Commons, Bowdown Nature Reserve and Thatcham Reedbeds.  These all fall into a larger area designated as the West Berkshire Living Landscape project, a conservation initiative run jointly by BBOWT and West Berkshire Countryside Service to improve wildlife habitats and promote involvement and appreciation by local people.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This week we were at Brackenhurst (an area on the south side of Greenham Common), which is also one of the sites that I help survey for reptiles.  We were clearing birch scrub from a wet valley bog (or mire) that runs down to the woodland edge there, to enable it to remain as an open wet habitat rather than getting taken over by trees and drying out.  A lot of practical conservation in the UK consists of this sort of thing – halting the natural development (or succession, as it’s known) of open habitats like heathlands, marsh and grasslands, because for most areas in Britain the natural state would be woodland.  It might seem a funny sort of way to help the environment – cutting down trees – but heathlands such as Greenham cannot be managed as open habitats by grazing alone, and without this kind of intervention most areas would ‘scrub up’ and become woodland… With a consequent loss of wildlife species associated with open habitats.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plants that are found in these damp valley bogs include Sphagnum mosses, Sundews (Drosera species, carnivorous plants), Cross-leaved Heath Erica tetralix and Bog asphodel Narthecium ossifragum.  They are also valuable to animals such as dragonflies, Bog Bush cricket Metrioptera bracyptera, and reptiles and amphibians including Grass snakes Natrix natrix and newt species.  It being only January, there wasn’t much wildlife in evidence to be photographed: a Buzzard Buteo buteo flew over, whistling loudly, but lacking a zoom lens my photo of it wasn’t worth posting here – unless you have a good imagination!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Usually we stack some of the cut scrub to make habitat piles that will be used by small mammals, insects and other animals: we also burn some of it, which has the pleasant side benefit of boiling our storm kettle for tea breaks, the mainstay of all voluntary conservation work.  We still had some munchables left over from our Christmas barbecue, so everyone tucked into gingerbread men and biccies whilst finding time to admire items of protective clothing, such as Mike’s kneepads!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ade (West Berkshire Ranger) and Roger (BBOWT Living Landscape Project Officer) who usually manage the Wednesday work parties were both busy elsewhere

this week, so under the capable supervision of four BBOWT trainees we cleared a considerable amount of scrub, with a midway lunch break featuring (of course) more tea and biscuits.  Conservation can be quite hard physical work, so it’s always heartening when task leaders understand the importance of keeping their volunteers’ caffeine and blood sugar levels regularly topped up!  A process that was further aided by the discovery of a bag of marshmallows (also left over from our Christmas bash).  Toasting sticks were deftly whittled into shape, and soon people were tucking into smoking caramelised treats with only a few minor tongue burns (approximate core temperature of toasted marshmallows being slightly less than the centre of the Sun).

These Wednesday volunteering sessions are always enjoyable, whatever the weather, and the people who come are friendly and often very knowledgeable about local wildlife. Anyone can join and all tools and protective kit (work gloves etc) are provided, you just need to bring a packed lunch if you’re staying for the whole day.  Ade or Roger are the folks to get in touch with to find out more – see my links to West Berkshire Countryside Service or BBOWT at the start of this blog entry.

Intrepid BBOWT trainees demonstrate safe marshmallow toasting technique!

 


Striding into the New Year…

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After a suitably festive Yuletide (spent largely with family and friends) which featured a lot of winter feasting, what better way to welcome in the new year than with a long walk across the countryside… So on a rather grey and rainy January 1st, two friends and I set out on a yomp around the vicinity of West Kennet and Avebury.

 

2011’s warm early spring weather resulted in phenomenal crops of wild fruits of all sorts.  Whilst red (and hence most attractive to birds) fruits such as holly berries and rose hips are now scarce, crab apples still decorate hedgerows, whilst sloes and ivy berries cover twigs so thickly that branches were drooping downwards under the weight.  We kept ears and eyes alert for winter thrushes such as fieldfare and redwing, but to no avail.  Plenty of blackbirds, robins, finches and other smaller birds, though.  And the scent of foxes and badgers was heavy along the hedgebanks as we walked along.  We half expected to see rabbits foraging but maybe the rainy weather was keeping them below ground.  Such a contrast with the heavy snows and prolonged freezes of the preceding two years.

 

I’m wondering if we’ll get severe winter weather in January or February?  Some of my friends further north have had snow on the hills, but apart from a few hard frosts it’s stayed mild in southern England.  We noticed on our walk that fungi is still much in evidence, including the Jelly Ear Fungus Auricalaria auricula-judae, whose scientific name reveals an older common name supposedly derived from the belief that Judas Iscariot hanged himself from an Elder tree, on which this fungus commonly grows.  While some reckon it to be a wild food worth trying (both Richard Mabey’s Food For Free and Roger Phillips’ Wild Food give recipes), its texture isn’t hugely appealing and it needs long or imaginative cooking to render it palatable.  As you often find the Chinese equivalent (aka ‘Wood Ears’) in spring rolls and stir fries, maybe do as they do: slice very thinly and cook well until tender.  And try not to keep in mind that you are eating something that essentially resembles a severed human ear.  Yum.

 

Halfway along our walk with the rain now taking on that familiarly British quality of penetrative persistence, we took temporary shelter in West Kennet longbarrow.  In fact when we first arrived it was standing room only inside, so we drank coffee leaning against the sarsen stones and watched the clouds scouring across the Wiltshire countryside with somewhat gloomy drama.  Once the throngs had thinned somewhat we spent a few minutes in meditative silence in the damp darkness inside the chamber, atmospherically lit by a couple of candles left by previous visitors.  (And also lit through the slightly less-atmospheric glass tiles cemented into the ceiling.)  At around 5,600 years old this tomb predates Stonehenge by nearly half a century. Without wanting to succumb to an attack of yoghurt weaving, you can feel the weight of millennia when you stand quietly in there.  When Neolithic folk were building this, wheels were the latest thing and the plough had yet to be invented.  Archaeological work has showed that the barrow was used for burials and ritual for 1,000 years… So hardly surprising that there is still a presence of some sort to be felt there now.

 

The rain and ourselves continuing, our walk took us over the A4 and past Silbury Hill, following the route of the beginnings of the River Kennet (or “the baby River Kennet” as our route guidebook would have it).  Unsurprisingly after a year of scant precipitation, the “baby River Kennet” was not in evidence, consisting of a ditch with a few watercress plants and little else.  With April 2011 having been the driest in the UK since reliable records began in 1910, chalk streams like the Kennet are suffering from low flows of record proportions.  In November 2011, fish started dying in their thousands as stretches of the river near Marlborough dried up, and Thames Water have launched Care For The Kennet, the UK’s first awareness campaign aimed at reducing water usage to protect water supplies and the local environment.  Perhaps hard to keep drought in mind on a rainy New Year’s Day… Yet water has become another resource in high demand and suffering from subsequent supply issues.

 

Taking shelter at the National Trust’s barn museum in Avebury village (blessed be the young man at the museum desk who allowed us to picnic on the benches along the inside of the barn without demanding the £4.90 admission normally charged to visitors) gave us a chance to dry out our layers, resulting in a lively comparison of our assorted weather gear.  I was smug in a new waterproof jacket, after months of cursing my old one which was no longer so much deflecting rain as absorbing it.  The various merits of waxed cotton, wool and the wicking effects of overlong top halves settled to everyone’s satisfaction, we refuelled on Christmas cake for dessert and then set out on the last leg of our new year’s journey.

We circled an arc of the ponderous sarsen stones that ring the village, patchworked with lichens that almost seem to glow in the damp weather against the grey sandstone.  Each of these massive naturally-carved blocks has a unique character.
I was reminded irresistibly of Terry Pratchett’s troll characters: I’m pretty sure that I know which one is Detritus.

 

The last port of call before heading away from Avebury back to the Ridgeway was the serpentine roots of the beech trees that grow just east of the circle’s outer ring.  A thick carpet of beech leaves had blown into rich brown drifts at the foot of the slope below the trees, but the roots themselves were exposed.

Here and there on the trees’ twigs people have knotted ribbons and scraps of cloth, some carrying wishes whilst others are simple offerings.  Whilst being cheered that people still have a relationship of sorts with natural magic, there is a big part of me that hopes that in future folks will tie on something that will decay and disintegrate, e.g. woven grass or leaves, rather than the random oddments of cloth and plastic that seemed to be most people’s choice.  Thus the trees’ branches will be free to grow unfettered.  Like leaving burning candles in ancient stone shrines (a practice which is known to be damaging to the stone), leaving offerings of any sort at natural places could be done with sensitivity and environmental mindfulness.  Groups such as SOSS (Save Our Sacred Sites) and ASLaN (Ancient Sacred Landscape Network) as well as individuals have been working quietly to ensure that less ritual ‘litter’ is left at sites such as Avebury and West Kennet.  It is wonderful to be able to visit such places and experience them in a way which is meaningful to me: hopefully increasing numbers of visitors will consider the cumulative impact of their footfall and leavings, treating these sites with the respect they deserve.

 

Darkness came on as we gained the Ridgeway, heralded by the cawing of hundreds of rooks gathering in pre-roost flocks in the damp Wiltshire fields.  Cold rain set in again as our boots trod over the chalk soil, much as travellers 5,000 years ago along this same track may have turned their footsteps towards shelter and warmth as winter dark descended.  We were wet, muddy and cold… but energised by our new year sojourn.  The January wind had blown all of the last year’s cobwebs away and we feel ready to encounter what 2012 will bring.

Out with the old and on with the new!