What I did in my holidays… and the rest of the time

 It’s been quite a while since I last updated this blog (life having been somewhat hectic). But as midwinter approaches and the cold and dark are really strengthening their hold, reflecting back on my summer and autumn adventures is a nice way to pass the time.
As my environmental education work is at its busiest in school term time (particularly the spring and summer terms), usually by the time the summer holidays finally arrive I am more than ready for a break and this year was no exception. Which is not to say that I didn’t have some good times teaching visiting school groups at Rushall Organic Farm, as well. 2014 has been a very busy year at the farm, with more schoolchildren than ever visiting to spend the day learning about farming, habitats, wildlife, soils and rivers. Starting of course in early spring with lambing.
Despite a very wet winter which created havoc for British farmers everywhere, lambing itself went well at Rushall this year: a welcome change after the bitterly cold spring of 2013 when we lost 15% of our lambs due to the cold weather.
Once lambing was over we were still very busy with school visits, including the residential camps where children come and stay in tents at the farm for several days. I really enjoy working with the kids on the camps: you get to know the children and see them develop over the week as they try their hand at activities ranging from den building and camp fires to sheep herding and river dipping. Many of them have never done adventurous outdoor things before and it’s fantastic to see them expanding their boundaries. The teachers often tell us that the Rushall Farm trip is a highlight in many of their pupils’ lives… It’s hard not to be moved by this. It makes the long hours and busy summer term truly worthwhile.
It’s been a year of big change at Rushall Farm, with longstanding farm manager John retiring this autumn and former shepherd Steve stepping up as our new farm manager. The farm will continue to have sheep and cattle and some arable land, including the areas that are managed under the Higher Level Stewardship (HLS) farming scheme to support the wildlife that is such a vital part of our ecosystems and landscapes. Both the HLS and the fact that Rushall is organically managed means that the farm is rich in wildlife… I feel very lucky to work on such a special site. Walking through one of our arable fields this summer with groups of children, we were surrounded by poppies. Such an beautiful sight, and a rare one these days.
Towards the end of the school term when I had a bit more liberty, I lost no time in escaping to the seaside (my usual default getaway) for a long weekend in Lyme Regis. This part of western Dorset, named the Jurassic Coast for its wealth of fossils, contains the Undercliffs National Nature Reserve. This 7-mile stretch of rugged and shifting landscape between Lyme Regis and Axmouth is one of my favourite walks, although it can be challenging in places… as this cheerful warning sign at its eastern end suggests.
The coastal path which traverses the Undercliff is challenging in places: particularly so this summer, because a substantial landslip back in the spring made a section of the route impassable. (There is a detour inland if you want to continue west past Culverhole Point, but it looked a tedious trek so rather than bothering with it I just walked a few miles along the section that can still be safely walked.) Even this path is not for the faint-hearted, however. While I was enjoying the view at the start of the path I was overtaken by a large group of walkers… only to meet them returning later on, with complaints of “The path gets terrible a bit further on – we kept falling over.” I like a challenge, though, so I kept on going. The scenery and amazing wildlife made it worth it: this National Nature Reserve is an absolute jewel.
As it was a fairly muggy day with thunder occasionally rumbling overhead, I didn’t meet many other walkers. In the humid heat, surrounded by dense woodland and ferns, it felt about as close to a rainforest experience as you can get in Britain. Every so often though you come upon reminders that although this is a wild landscape, it has also been a settled one: ruins crumbling away amongst the undergrowth, abandoned houses or farm buildings dating from before the great 1839 Bindon Landslip when a huge slab of land known locally as Goat Island simply detached itself one night and rumbled seawards.
One of the quirks of the Undercliff is that although the path skirts the coast and you can often hear and sometimes view the sea from it, actually descending down the unstable cliff face onto the beach is not an easy task. There are stern signs that threaten all manner of dire fates should you try to do so. So you really, really shouldn’t. It’s naughty and wicked, and the Landslip Goblins will swallow you whole if you do it. (Probably.)
Of course not being a naughty wicked trespasser (perish the thought), I skirted the Landslip Goblins and skipped down a safer route. Once on the beach I eventually reached a spot where you can look up to see where the forces of modern coastal path engineering were confronted by the playful forces of Mother Nature… And have been utterfly vanquished. The winter rains have made the Undercliff even more lively than usual, and the last few hundred yards of that particular path resemble not so much a route as a demolition site. “Subject to movement” is a bit of an understatement: in the UK we often forget that the ground under our feet is a dynamic thing, but seeing landslips like this one remind you of the power of natural forces.  Score: Mother Nature 1, Feeble Humans nil. The Landslip Goblins will get you if you dare to venture where you shouldn’t…
Keeping a weather eye on the cliff to make sure that no landslip was currently about to manifest itself, I enjoyed a few hours of leisurely beach-combing. It was worth the effort: by now the thunderstorms had rumbled off elsewhere and it turned into a sunny afternoon. I had pretty much the whole beach to myself (except for a solitary couple who had evidently braved the Path Of Doom and then pottered off eastwards to find their own bit of beach). Left to myself in one of the most gorgeous bits of the Jurassic Coast, I rewarded my efforts with a picnic and a spot of beach art, creating a yin-yang symbol from pebbles and seaweed. Not exactly Andy Goldsworthy, but I enjoyed doing it anyway.
In early August I took some time away from west Berkshire to go to Unicorn Voice Camp, an annual week-long singing camp on the Somerset-Wiltshire border. It was my third Voice Camp and as ever an utter treat for the ears, the voice and the soul: around 400 people gathering together to sing and teach music from a wealth of cultures. One evening a young chap called Matt played his hang for some of us in the big yurt onsite, and it was simply bliss. (If you don’t know what a hang is, check out this video on YouTube.) Unicorn campers (as the name probably suggests) are a creative and mellow lot, I always come away with my energies recharged and a heart full of gorgeous harmonies that I can share with the Sing The World choir that I co-lead in Newbury.
The emphasis at the camp is on authenticity, support and celebration of all things creative and spiritual. There is a also a stonking cabaret (LMAO, as I believe the young folks say), a cafe that serves divine cake, and shared meals round your campfire each night. There is singing absolutely everywhere: barbershop harmony, nightingale-voiced teenagers dueting with guitarists, medieval choral music, African melodies and rhythms, Romany songs, gospel, folk, jazz, and all kinds of stunning original harmony compositions shared by the many talented singers and teachers who go to Voice Camp. It’s a very special musical gathering and long may it continue.
Of course I didn’t spend the whole summer playing: I was also running activity sessions for families at Five A Day Market Garden in Englefield. These half-day sessions were popular and I spent several mornings and afternoons outdoors with kids and their parents, discovering minibeasts and pond life and making all manner of amazing eco art creations… Like this lovely clay and sage leaf snake made by one young lad!
When funding allows it, I run these family sessions in most school holidays. We had some pumpkin carving workshops in the October half term which were also hugely popular, and another family workshop (Crafty Christmas) is scheduled for 20th December. It’s great to see all ages of children having fun and getting messy together, and the parents seem to enjoy it as much as the kids! We certainly had some awesome pumpkin lanterns carved.
Towards the end of August I had one more treat: or more properly, RE-treat: a week away at the Barn Buddhist retreat centre, at The Sharpham Trust near Totnes in Devon. Although I’ve been meditating now for several years I had never been on a retreat before and I wasn’t sure how it would go. Rather wonderfully, as it turned out.
Rising at 6.45am and spending two hours or more in meditation every day may not be everyone’s idea of a good time, but you soon settle into it. The retreats at the Barn are based on Buddhist traditions but are non-denominational: anyone can stay, for a week or for longer. Time is divided between mindful tasks (such as working in the organic veg garden and woodland), meditation, and afternoons free for personal practice or simply walking in the surrounding Devon countryside. Silence is held from 9pm each evening to 9am the following morning and there is also one day of complete silence. What impressed itself on me was the absolute peacefulness of the place: both the Barn itself, and its setting on a hillside overlooking the River Dart.
People go on retreats for different reasons. I was basically there to see how it felt, removing myself from the pressures of work and busy everyday life; and also to try to deepen my meditation practice. What I found after a few days of mindfulness and quiet was that so much of what I think is necessary in my life (internet, books, radio, emails) actually isn’t. Having something purposeful to do; taking time to appreciate nature and peace; connecting with other people; savouring every moment of life mindfully; these are more than enough.
Buddhism is a spiritual path sometimes perceived as being rather detached from the world, somewhat devoid of emotion or passion. I find the contrary: it promotes meaningful and intense connection with all of the universe, including the people around us, and an approach to life based on love, kindness, gratitude and patience. (And with a great deal of humour, as anyone who has read Zen Flesh, Zen Bones will know.) I’m by no means an expert but I’m finding it a rewarding exploration. And my retreat at the Barn was a life-changing event, on several levels. I’ve yet to completely work out what seeds were sowed in me while I was there, but they’re definitely germinating.
The most difficult thing about going on retreat was leaving: adjusting back to the ‘normal’ world is a process that takes a little while. I softened the blow by day-tripping Scabbacombe Sands, a little cove near Dartmouth. You can only get down to this lovely beach by walking (a good thirty minutes or so) and the path is pretty steep, so that weeds out the throngs of day-trippers.
Once I got down to sea level I treated myself to a picnic: after leaving the Barn retreat I popped into Totnes to buy picnic supplies, which was entertaining. Totnes is crammed with alternative folks of all sorts (popular rumour has it that the town’s sign once had ‘Totnes: twinned with Narnia’ graffitied onto it) so ‘artisanal’ foods are readily available. Not being made of money I settled for a massive slab of olive bread, some nommy local-grown tomatoes and a pot of wonderfully garlicky guacamole. Nicely washed down with a flask of lapsang souchong tea I’d made myself, before leaving the Barn. Not exactly traditional seaside holiday fare but it hit the spot all right.
I could’ve quite happily stayed until nightfall at Scabbacombe. The sun shone, I paddled in the sea, and all was well with the world. It probably helped that I’d been on a retreat for the past week as well: daily mindfulness practice had switched on all my senses, and for hours I happily sat or pottered about on this beautiful little beach. (Note in the photo below the purple nail polish – a present from a friend at Voice Camp!)
It was good to have some quality get-aways during the summer, after all the hecticness of teaching. Once the schools started back again in September I was busy again, although getting hit by a succession of viruses was somewhat challenging… Especially laryngitis: not a great thing to succumb to when your work is teaching and singing! Fortunately by mid-October I had got enough voice back to run my Songs From The Heart singing workshop, at the lovely converted barn at Elm Farm Organic Research Centre just outside Newbury. It was a fabulous day, with around forty people coming along to sing in harmony together. I was able to share some of the lovely songs I’d learned at Voice Camp, and the feedback from participants at the end of the day was really heart-warming.
I’m starting to be able to give more time to my singing work, which is wonderful: I would like to run more singing workshops for groups. At Voice Camp I went to a series of sessions led by the super-talented and lovely Susie Ro Prater, which got me thinking about how I can compose more of my own a capella harmony songs. And recently I also had an opportunity to sing with a jazz guitarist at Newbury Unplugged (our local monthly open mic night at Ace Space), so music-wise things are expanding for me at the moment. Long may this state of affairs continue.
As winter deepens, my outdoor teaching work has come to its usual seasonal standstill, so all being well I should have some time to spend on developing my singing and other creative pursuits. Sing The World’s ‘peformance group’, Wacapella, is performing as part of the ‘1,000 Voices‘ winter singing event in Newbury on 11th December, so I’m looking forward to that. And on clear frosty days I’ll be getting out and about in the countryside, going for walks and getting some much-needed winter sunshine. During the autumn I carried out some dormouse surveys for local wildlife trust BBOWT, and during one woodland survey came across an absolutely stunning frog. I hope to see lots more wildlife as I ramble across the downs and valleys over the next few weeks. Wishing you all a healthy, peaceful and happy festive season!

Frog in the woods: Peckmoor Copse, Greenham Common.

Not months but moments

‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’
– Rabindranath Tagore

I start this blog entry with the above quote for a number of reasons, not the least of which being that time recently has seemed in short supply. Summer term is always busy for me on the field teaching front, and in June and July I worked several fifty-hour weeks. At the time it seemed like a good idea… And I certainly enjoyed the teaching. But working silly hours catches up with you: and lo and behold, I am now feeling thoroughly frazzled.

As this is self-inflicted suffering, I’m not asking for sympathy. It’s taken me a fortnight of not teaching to realise just how ‘busy’ I allowed my life to become. While it’s always nice to be working (paying the monthly bills being the tiresomely necessary process it is), like other members of my family I have a tendency to be a workaholic. This is promoted by the fact that I do work that is generally fulfilling and positive – i.e. environmental education, wildlife conservation, and teaching singing in groups.

One remedy for this is to get away for a bit. Luckily, I’d arranged some weeks ago to go on a camping weekend with some friends in the Cotswold countryside. A group of us stayed at a peaceful campsite on an organic farm near Stroud. The weather was glorious, the people in our group lovely, and I did manage to defrag my hard drive somewhat.

About half an hour’s walk from the campsite, through some National Trust woodland, is a beautiful lake fringed with water lilies and humming with blue damselflies. Several of us from the group, including children, spent two afternoons swimming here. One of the women whom I swam with, who is German, remarked on how curious it is that so few British people swim in outdoor places such as lakes and rivers; whereas in Europe it is a totally normal and common activity.

While ‘wild swimming’ has recently started to enjoy a revival in this country, it still seems to be regarded as an eccentric fringe activity, or even as something trangressive or reckless. I’m not sure exactly why this should be, but I suspect it has to do with two possible factors. One is exaggerated fear about safety. I fully accept that swimming anywhere (including in a pool) carries risk, and there were a few tragic fatalities during the recent heatwave where unfortunate people went swimming in dangerous places. But provided that one follows common-sense guidelines (such as those recommended by the Outdoor Swimming Society), the risk can be managed.

The other issue seems to be access, or lack of it. At the lake where we swam we did have a minor confrontation with a thoroughly unpleasant and aggressive angler who took grave exception to the fact that we were planning to swim in the lake – this despite the fact that the said lake was almost a kilometre long, and there appeared to be ample room for swimmers and anglers alike. After failing to intimidate us (although he did succeed in frightening some of the children in our group) he stomped back into the bushes, while we walked on and found a pleasant and safe swimming spot that was nowhere near any fishing activity.

Being something of a bolshie I tend to be strengthened in my determination to do something if someone authoritatively attempts to dissuade me from doing it. Nevertheless, I am disturbed by the fact that someone feels they should enjoy exclusive access to a body of water simply because they have paid a fee to fish in one small corner of it. Provided that wild swimmers act safely, treat swimming sites with respect (including respecting wildlife) and do not disturb other people, what’s the problem?

The angry angler incident was soon forgotten in the pleasure of swimming in cool water in such beautiful surroundings. The campsite itself was a lovely place, woodland-fringed with spacious tent pitches and few campers (the farm has a policy of limiting the numbers of people who can stay at any one time). There were eco-showers, washing up areas and very upmarket compost toilets: lah-di-dah loos, as a friend of mine might call them. With potted geraniums, mirrors, soft loo roll and a view down the wooded valley… Who could ask for more from a humble campsite bog?

As we’ve been blessed with long weeks of unusually hot and sunny weather, I’ve been able to indulge in wild swimming on a semi-regular basis. I was lucky enough to find a good spot in the River Kennet just west of Newbury, where on several scorching summer afternoons I enjoyed cooling down whilst surrounded by nature: trees, reedbeds, damselflies, fish and birds all doing their thing unbothered by me paddling about mid-channel. I encountered a few other local people enjoying the same part of the river, which was encouraging. One man asked me if I wasn’t frightened of attack from savage pike, to which I smiled and replied “No… I’ve got shoes on.” Perhaps I was being cavalier in my attitude to pike-related human maiming incidents: feel free to let me know if you have documented evidence.

One very real threat in the River Kennet has been a recent pesticide pollution incident near Marlborough. Someone somewhere released a tiny quantity of the organophosphate pesticide chlorpyrifos, which was enough to kill all the aquatic invertebrates living in a stretch of the river. The pollution effects were spotted by volunteers working for ARK (Action for the River Kennet), and the incident is still being investigated by the Environment Agency. Fish and birds that feed on the river invertebrates will of course be adversely affected too. I sincerely hope that whoever did this is caught: they may have been careless, stupid or ignorant but above all they should be stopped from doing it again. The Environment Agency is appealing for information, so if you’ve got any why not give them a ring on 0800 807060. And please always dispose of any pesticides, herbicides or other chemicals carefully: never pour them down a drain.

On a happier note, during September I’m running some wildlife gardening morning workshops at Five A Day Market Garden in Englefield. The photo above was taken of participants on my wild flower and insects course in mid-July, on a truly sweltering hot day. It was a great session with some lovely people, and I’m looking forward to more of them: Trees and Shrubs for Wildlife (14th September), and Garden Birds and Mammals (28th September).

My sessions at Five A Day Market Garden are not just for adults, either: there are two family activity sessions coming up in the October half term holiday: Animal Magic! on Tuesday 29th and Thursday 31st October. A good opportunity for families to come for nature-themed fun, and to get creative with arts and crafts. Both sessions are booking up in advance, so if you fancy coming along to either these or my adult wildlife gardening workshops, best to email me at becca@fiveaday.org.uk as soon as possible.

As well as holiday sessions I’ve been working with Thatcham Young Rangers, the environmental youth group that runs at the Nature Discovery Centre in Thatcham. Sadly the RSPB funding that enabled me to work with the group has come to an end, with my last session with the kids being in early September. (The Young Rangers group itself is continuing, under the great leadership of co-leader Becky O’Melia, supported by staff from BBOWT, the Berks Bucks & Oxon Wildlife Trust.) I will miss the children hugely: they’re a fabulous bunch, and hugely knowledgeable about wildlife. There were a few wobbly lips (including mine) when I told them I was leaving, but hopefully I’ll be invited back as a ‘special guest’ from time to time.

Partly as a result of recent changes (the RSPB ending their involvement at Thatcham, and BBOWT negotiating a working arrangement with West Berkshire Council to take on responsibility for managing several local nature conservation sites, including Thatcham Reedbeds and Greenham Common), I’ve been spending some time taking part in more voluntary conservation activities locally. As part of an ongoing conservation project, BBOWT organise regular moth trapping sessions at Greenham Common and Thatcham Reedbeds. I’ve managed to get along to a couple of these during the recent warm weather, when moths have been abundant. I’ve spent a fascinating few hours peering at the moths coming in to light traps, in the company of local moth experts and BBOWT staff. Moths range from the tiny and drab to the large and spectacular, such as the Elephant Hawkmoth pictured above. Well worth dedicating a few hours to, as long as you don’t mind a late night (most moths generally come out to play around midnight or later) and the odd mouthful of midges.

Of course, not all moths come out at night. I photographed this 6-Spot Burnet Moth during an afternoon butterfly transect up on Greenham Common, where it was enjoying the sunshine and 32ºC temperatures (unlike myself and the other two volunteers carrying out the butterfly survey!). These stunning moths, with their dark metallic green wings spotted with scarlet, are often present in large numbers in open flower-rich habitats. The adults feed on nectar in wild flowers such as thistles and knapweeds, whilst the caterpillars munch Bird’s-foot trefoil Lotus corniculatus.

Butterfly transects are part of the UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme: a specific walk route is followed on a weekly basis between April and September, with the species and numbers of butterflies seen being recorded and data fed back to the UKBMS. On the two transects I’ve done recently at Greenham, the warm weather had brought out quite a few species – including a pair of Purple Emperors, which we watched gliding about in the tree canopy in the south of Greenham Common. Purple Emperors have a habit of sitting on animal poo to feed on the salts in it, not something that people generally associate with butterflies! I didn’t manage to get photos of the Emperors, but I did get right up close to this Grayling (above), while it pretended to be a stone. Grayling butterflies are found in southern coastal areas and heathlands but are declining in the UK, with numbers down 45% in the last 40 years.

Another butterfly we spotted during our transects were Common Blues, including this mating pair who very obligingly sat still for some time for me to photograph them. (I suspect they were rather preoccupied.) The male is on the left, the female on the right; while the plant that they’re sitting on is Bird’s-foot trefoil, one of their caterpillar food plants.

It was a bit of a treat for me to allow myself some time for volunteering, but I’m very glad that I did so. After last year’s dismally wet and chilly summer, when the heatwave hit the UK this year I was determined to make the most of it. Seeing so many of our native butterflies and moths on the wing has been a great reward. Hopefully I’ll get a bit more time for exploring and finding wildlife as the summer goes on.

When the summer school holidays roll around I often think I’m going to have lots of ‘spare’ time for doing things in, but as usual the time seems to be disappearing! I take advantage of office time at home to do lesson planning, including preparing music for the local community choir (Sing The World) that I co-lead in Newbury. It’s lovely to be listening to and choosing music, but now comes the task of learning it. I teach acapella harmony songs by ear, singing the parts to folks until they’ve learned them, so my brain has to file away quite a lot of music – in addition to the choir I’m also leading a Mellow and Magical singing workshop in October. My chosen method of learning songs is to listen to them on my MP3 player and practice each harmony part, so at certain points in the day I can be seen in queues at the post office or in the supermarket, singing along to a tune that only I can hear. No-one seems to mind, however.

As I seem to be flitting about doing all kinds of things, it seems appropriate to finish this blog entry as I started it: with a butterfly. While a great deal of my current workload is preparing for the months ahead, I will try to remind myself to stay in the moment, and enjoy each one for what it brings me. I hope that your summer brings you many magic moments, and plenty more sunshine.

Small Tortoiseshell butterfly at Five A Day Market Garden

Flowers, sunshine, showers

The busy days of early spring and lambing have been followed by the equally busy months of April, May and early June, with my outdoor learning work filling most of my time. Despite our Arctic spring (courtesy of the jet stream’s wanderings), the seasons have been ever so slowly inching forwards, and although today is grey and rainy there are signs that we may have more of a summer this year than in 2012. Here’s hoping!

Most unusually, we did have a sunny and warm Bank Holiday Monday in early May. This was a great relief, as on the day I was paddling a home-made raft with a team of other volunteers down the Kennet and Avon Canal, taking part in the Crafty Craft Race to raise funds for Five A Day Market Garden where I work and volunteer. We paddlers worked in shifts to propel our catamaran-like craft the five miles eastwards from Kintbury to Newbury: you can see from the photo below that a fun time was had by all! (I’m the one paddling at the rear of the craft, in case you were wondering.)

Astonishingly, our ‘Ghostbusters’ team (hence the ‘spooky’ facepainting) won the race in our category! I put it down to all of us Five A Day Market garden volunteers getting lots of healthy exercise and fresh organic fruit and veg. (Plus having a superbly engineered craft, designed and built from an old swimming pool cover by Ghostbusters team member Dennis – kudos to him.)

Before the early May Bank Holiday weekend, warm days were rare enough that when they showed up I tried to get out to enjoy them as often as possible. One sunny weekend in late April I went out to see what spring flowers were in bloom, and discovered the most phenomenal bank of Cowslips Primula veris near Speen, thousands of plants in full flower.

Walking around Snelsmore Common the same weekend, I was struck by how many plants had been brought into simultaneous flowering by the warmth, after so many weeks of unrelenting cold. In Withy Copse, Wood Anemones Anemone nemorosa and Lesser Celandines Ranunculus ficaria were flowering together, starring the ground with white and gold. The large purple-blotched arrowhead leaves of Cuckoopint Arum maculatum were everywhere, while just the leaves of Bluebells Endymion nonscriptus were showing.

The trees were only just showing signs of waking up, with few buds opening to release the tips of new leaves, so there was still plenty of light reaching the ground layer where these fabulous woodland flora grow. In another woodland (Briff’s Copse near Hamstead Marshall) I found Moschatel Adoxa moschatellina, a diminuitive little plant that’s always been one of my favourites. Moschatel comes from the Greek word for musk, as the plant has a somewhat musky smell; its other common name is Town Hall Clock, so called because the five-sided flower is said to resemble the faces on a clock-tower.

Of course with the spring and summer flowers opening, there is finally some nectar and pollen for insects to find. With last year being such a dismal one for British butterflies, it’s even more pleasing than usual to see them on the wing on sunny days. I spotted this Peacock butterfly basking at Snelsmore Common in late April, before it swooped off at high speed as all the Vanessid butterflies seem to do.

Snelsmore Common was also the site for a singing picnic that I organised for local choir Sing The World, which I co-lead with my friend Tessa. We gathered down there on 3rd June to share food and drink, followed by an hour or so of harmony singing as the sun slowly set. A grand way to spend an evening, in my opinion. I love the way that singing unites people of all backgrounds and ages, there’s nothing quite like it. Currently I’m just starting to plan songs for my next singing workshop, which will be on 19th October at the lovely barn conference centre at Elm Farm Organic Research Centre near Newbury. I’m looking forward to it already!

With last year’s challenging weather it was nice to hear some good news about local wildlife conservation: the success of BBOWT’s Heritage Lottery Fund bid for the five-year Linking The Landscape project in West Berkshire. I attended a conference in mid-April organised by BBOWT, at which they were celebrating the previous five years’ conservation work done by BBOWT and West Berkshire Council on the local areas covered by the Living Landscape scheme. I had been involved both as a volunteer and as a freelance consultant in the Living Landscape scheme and the new funding bid, so I was very happy to hear the great news that all the sterling conservation work done so far by volunteers and professionals alike will not only be safeguarded but extended, for the benefit of local wildlife and local people.

The conference itself was an interesting day, with a fascinating speech on landscape-scale conservation projects across the UK by ecologist and Head of Planning and Environment for Forest Enterprise England, Jonathan Spencer. One of his points was that landscapes and wildlife are best protected when conservation is integrated with community needs, including economic needs – and vice versa. This is a message that I think many people, both environmentalists and developers, are still struggling to come to terms with. There’s often a sense in this crowded country of battle lines being drawn up, when actually it would make far more sense for conservationists, businesses and local communities to work together to develop ways of managing our land that allow for sustainable living and plenty of space for wildlife. Good food for thought!

During the afternoon of the conference we had the chance to take part in some workshops on a range of different topics: amongst other things I participated in a training session for monitoring the effects of grazing regimes on the heathlands and grasslands of the commons, with West Berkshire ranger Adrian Wallington and ecologist Thomas Haynes. The aim of this is to recruit volunteers to carry out simple plant surveys to help monitor the effects of the livestock grazing on vegetation on the commons, hopefully to improve management for all kinds of wildlife. What better way to spend an hour two on a sunny summer’s day, than sitting in the sunshine looking at flowers? If you agree, why not get involved by getting in touch with Adrian Wallington and asking him for more info.

Another highlight in April was going on a camp with Thatcham Young Rangers to Rushall Farm, in the Easter holidays. As the weather leading up to our camp had been pretty miserable, we kept our fingers crossed… And luckily, we were blessed with more or less dry days! The Young Rangers were total stars: most of them had never camped or slept away from home before, but they all mucked in and had a great time. We visited the farm animals, helped migrating toads reach their pond, built bivouacs in the woods, and sang so loudly round our campfire that they probably heard us in Reading! Because of the very cold night the kids pitched their tents inside the farm’s 300-year-old Black Barn, bedding down amidst much giggling. All of us adult helpers involved received beautiful handmade Thank You cards signed by every child, with the fervent request “Pleeeeeeease can we come and camp here again next year?”

We are now in the heart of the school visit season at Rushall Farm, with the field teaching team working at the farm most days of the week. In mid-May one of my fellow field teachers found some Early Purple Orchids Orchis mascula in Oaklands Copse at the farm, and was kind enough to tell me about them. Their spotted leaves had evidently been nibbled by deer or rabbits, but the pink flowers themselves had survived: a lovely sight amongst the trees.

Schools have also been coming to Five A Day Market Garden: Castleview School from Slough brought three classes of pupils on visits, which were great fun for children and adults alike. Not fazed by the showery weather, the staff and pupils got stuck into sensory and gardening activities, finally making three fabulous scarecrows, one of which is pictured here. The school brought a really positive and creative attitude with them that made working with their groups a total pleasure: I look forward to seeing them at Five A Day again next year!

On the gardening front, things are finally starting to get going on the allotment that I share with my friend Tessa. The rise in temperatures brought our strawberry plants into flower, which in turn brought out the honey bees from the hives in the corner of the allotment site. We’re hoping that this will be a better year for veg growing, as last year was pretty much a wash-out. So far the signs are promising: we’ve enjoyed our first crop of asparagus since creating our asparagus bed three years ago, our broad beans and sugarsnap peas are coming on a treat, and we finished off the last edible bits of last year’s brussels sprouts: the tender green tops and yellow flowers, which I discovered tasted jolly nice when incorporated into a sweet potato and feta salad.

As part of a planned new housing development, our allotments at Speen are threatened with possible relocation to a new site only 30 metres from the Newbury Bypass. Allotment members and the local community are currently being consulted about the proposals, with a public exhibition of plans for the suggested development at Speen Hall on 19th June. My feeling is that I support the provision of new social housing (of which some 40% of the proposed development is supposed to be), but no way do I want to be gardening on the edge of the bypass. Hopefully an alternative site for the allotments will be found which matches the peaceful current setting… Otherwise I may have to dust off my direct action techniques and dig out my D-lock! The plans are very much at the early consultation stage, so hopefully the feedback from allotment holders and others will produce a better solution for all concerned.

At least the slow start to the growing season this year has meant that I haven’t had to spend all my free time weeding the allotment, so I’ve been able to go out exploring for more wildlife. On a trip with the Young Rangers group to Padworth Common local nature reserve in late May, we were surprised to find a glowworm larva sitting on the edge of one of the corrugated iron sheets used as refuges by reptiles on the site.

Glowworms are actually a type of beetle: the adult females have two brightly-glowing segments on the underside of their rear abdomen, which they use to attract the flying male beetles on summer evenings. They feed on tiny snails and although said to prefer chalky or limestone soils can be recorded anywhere with suitable habitat: open vegetation such as grassland or hedges. The peak for finding glowing females is usually July, so why not have a look at a few sites in your locality and see if you can find some.

Staying with the theme of nocturnal and crepuscular wildlife, at the end of May I went on a bat monitoring and moth trapping evening organised by BBOWT and Berks and South Bucks Bat Group, on the southern side of Greenham Common. As the evening was mild (and teeming with midges and mosquitoes!) we were hoping for some good numbers of bats, but alas all the bat nest boxes we checked were empty and there were few calls picked up by our bat detectors. We were lucky enough to catch a couple of Pipistrelle bats in the mist nets set up by James Shipman and other BSBBG volunteers. These tiny bats can each consume up to 3,000 insects in a single night! After spending several hours being bitten despite liberal amounts of insect repellent, I was silently wishing the Pipistrelles good hunting.

The bat action being less than stellar, I joined the moth trappers for a few hours of identifying the various moths and other night-time insects lured in by the lamps and white sheets placed around the common. I love moth trapping: there’s something quintessentially English about sitting in the dark peering at moth identification books and fluttering beasties in bug pots, periodically bombarded by bemused cockchafer beetles. I’ve yet to meet a moth enthusiast who isn’t also a thoroughly nice person. Enthusiasm is infectious, and frankly I find the geekiness of entomologists rather loveable. I’m well aware that this qualifies me for geekdom myself: it’s an identity I happily embrace, along with my many other guises. Oh, and moth trappers always make sure that good biscuits are conveniently to hand, as you can see on the left-hand edge of white sheet.

In early June I went on a dragonfly and damselfly identification course, one of the many Developing Your Skills workshops that BBOWT run across Berkshire, Buckinghamshire and Oxfordshire. If you volunteer for BBOWT these courses are free of charge, but even if you pay, at £30.00 these courses are excellent value for money. This particular day was led by local ecology consultant Adrian Hickman, a very knowledgeable naturalist who can communicate what he knows in a clear and accessible way. Adrian’s morning classroom sessions focussing on identification features were reinforced by an afternoon fieldwork session on ponds around Greenham Common. And once again the sun was shining, so we had good amounts of sightings of Broad-bodied Chasers, Emperor Dragonflies, Large Red Damselflies (pictured above) and Azure Damselflies to name a few.

I’m looking forward to a summer of exploring nature and putting some of my newly-acquired skills to use: but one of the perks of working in environmental teaching is that even when I’m at work I get lots of opportunities to notice and appreciate the natural world. Recently I’ve started giving illustrated talks to groups, about subjects including wildlife gardening, foraging for wild foods and environmental education. It’s a genuine pleasure to be able to share my enthusiasm for the natural world with even more people, adults and children alike. A love of wildlife is catching, but unlike other infectious things, it’s really good for you! It’s good to see the BBC promoting their Summer of Wildlife, which will hopefully get more people turned on to nature in their own locality. I’ll certainly be out there: peering at moths, sniffing plants, studying dragonflies. However you plan to spend your summer, I hope you enjoy it too.

Wood anemones at Snelsmore Common

 

Whatever the weather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I write this on a grey, showery first day of July, after what has been a largely grey, rainy June. It feels cool and windy and not at all like midsummer should be: working outdoors almost every day as I do, I feel slightly more entitled to whinge about the inclement weather than most folks. And reminding myself that “we need the rain” doesn’t actually help much. At the end of the day, I would prefer to be field teaching without having to garb myself up like a North Sea fisherman. Not to mention that 75% of the schoolchildren who turn up on field trips appear to be offspring of parents who haven’t had the nouse to put the words “outdoors” and “suitable clothing” together in their overtaxed brains. Here’s a clue, folks: in the real world coats have to be waterproof. All the Hello Kitty accessories in the world will not comfort your child if they are soaked to the skin on a five-hour school trip in the countryside.

If I sound a tad grumpy it’s because I’m not well: after being surrounded by schoolkids barking out coughs like sealions for the past month, I’ve succumbed to a tenacious virus that has left me teaching in a sultry croak that occasionally frightens younger children. Taking days off sick when you’re self employed is not really an option unless you have pneumonia, so I’m consuming epic quantities of garlic and fresh lemons and fortifying myself with echinacea and paracetamol. Being able to teach in dry weather would be helpful but the latest forecast seems to be continuing on the moist side… Heigh ho. Waterproofs at the ready.

In an effort to cheer myself up I’m posting some photos taken in late May and early June, before Britain entered the Rain Age. My friend Chris led a walk at Hartslock Nature Reserve near Goring, for Reading and District Natural History Society (RDNHS). It was a scorchingly hot day, and a lovely opportunity to revisit a nature reserve where I once lived for a few months in a caravan as the resident warden ‘guarding’ a colony of Monkey orchids (Orchis simia). The photo at the start of this blog is of Hartslock Woods, looking east down the River Thames. If you don’t know this site (which is owned and managed by local wildlife trust BBOWT) then I highly recommend you visit it: it’s fabulous for plants, invertebrates, birds and commands views over the Thames Valley and Goring Gap second to none.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

RDNHS was founded in 1881 and is still going strong: the group runs a programme of outdoor visits to sites of wildlife interest and indoor talks about subjects ranging from earthworms to bird conservation in Ecuador. I don’t get along to their meetings as often as I’d like (especially at the moment, as I’m teaching six days a week and several evenings too), but I can thoroughly recommend them. Not only do you get a fascinating look at the natural world, but you meet some phenomenally accomplished amateur and professional naturalists who will generously share their knowledge with you. A list of their upcoming outdoor trips (on midweek evenings as well as Saturdays and Sundays) can be found on their website.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Monkey orchid (Orchis simia) pictured in close-up above is one plant that gives Hartslock its botanical cachet. In 2002 a Lady orchid (Orchis purpurea) flowered at the site, and by 2006 the first Monkey-Lady hybrid Orchis simia x purpurea was seen in flower on the reserve. Now there is a thriving colony of 250+ hybrids alongside the existing Monkey orchids on the main orchid slope, and there has (and continues to be) lively debate about the pros and cons of hybridisation. My take on it is that ‘hybrid vigour’ (check out the sturdier-looking hybrid plant below) may well prove to be a healthy thing for the Monkey orchids long term… And that Mother Nature generally knows best and gets on with sorting things out, regardless of what opinions we puny humans may have. For more background info on the science behind the hybrids, check out Chris’s Hartslock website.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Being an unimproved chalk downland reserve, Hartslock is generally fantastic not just for orchids but all kinds of plant species. There is a small colony of (introduced) Pasqueflower Pulsatilla vulgaris, of which one was still in bloom in late May.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another notable at Hartslock is the semi-parasitic Bastard toadflax Thesium humifusum, a tiny creeping little plant that taps into the roots of other plants and derives some of its sustenance from them. It reminds me of a diminutive mistletoe, although confusingly it is part of the Sandalwood family. There is a bug Sehirus impressus that feeds solely on the sap of this rare plant. We found one of these small dark metallic blue bugs on our ramble: my photo doesn’t do it justice as it was so warm the bug was practically break-dancing in its pot, but never mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After several hours in the scorchio sun my water supplies had run out and I was ready to call it a day… But not the stalwarts of RDNHS, who gamely set off on a foray to inspect the neighbouring slope for botanical and entomological gems. My ambition for my twilight years is still to be actively enjoying nature, so those more senior members of RDNHS are an inspiration. I salute them! Those of us who work in conservation owe a massive debt to such passionate and thorough amateur naturalists who have amassed a huge body of painstaking observations of our native wild plants and animals.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

From the older generation to the younger… It is peak season for field teaching and I have been very busy working with schools and youth groups at Rushall Farm, Five A Day Market Garden and the RSPB’s Living Classroom at Thatcham. Schools often prefer to schedule their field trips for the summer term, although to be honest they could have just as good a day out in spring or autumn – or even winter for some study topics.

At Rushall Farm schools come on residential camps as well as day trips, which gives us a chance to do more adventurous things such as campfires, bivouac building and team building activities such as sheep herding. I’m telling you now, if you haven’t seen a class of eleven year-olds trying to get half a dozen confused sheep into a pen, you haven’t lived. I haven’t laughed so much in ages. One pupil related to their parent that they’d been “sheep hurdling”: that pretty much covers it. And the bivouacs that the kids build in the woods are works of art. Maybe not always 100% weatherproof, but creative marvels nonetheless. Ray Mears, eat your heart out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What I like about the camps at Rushall is that you get to know the children over a couple of days and build up a rapport with them. Too often when classes come on trips there are worksheets to be done and curriculum topics to be covered: all worthy stuff and part of what outdoor education is about, but for me the real point to it all is making sure these kids develop a strong and lasting connection with the natural world that will sustain them throughout their lives. There’s a lot of talk these days about Nature Deficit Disorder and the lack of contact that most children (and adults) have with nature, so it’s easy to feel despondent… But what I see when I’m field teaching is children quickly getting into the wild experience, especially if there are ‘real’ things such as mud, sticks or campfires involved. The only things holding kids back seem to be adult fears about risks (not a problem if you plan things properly and set boundaries with groups) or getting clothes dirty (leave the designer gear at home). No-one will be able to see your designer labels once they’re muddy, anyway – and tribal facepaint (as modelled by me below after a bivouac building session at Rushall) beats Bourjois make-up any day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It has been challenging teaching on some of these really wet days, but to give the kids credit, I haven’t heard a single one moan about the rain – even when they’ve been sent to us with insufficient footwear or rainproof clothing and have consequently spent the day somewhat damp. I’ve loaned a lot of clothing to kids in the last month in an effort to keep them at least partly dry: my feeling is that maybe instead of twittering on about reviving O-levels and getting kids to learn poetry by rote, Mr Gove should ensure that all schools have a set of wet weather gear that can be borrowed by kids going on field trips. Why should kids suffer because their parents are apparently clueless about what constitutes ‘appropriate clothing’ for a country where rain is the norm at the moment?

Getting off my soapbox… Despite the wet weather, I’ve had some great days out with school groups. Hunting for minibeasts, pond dipping and going on sensory nature walks are still crowd-pleasers. And even when I’ve had a gruelling day with a ‘challenging’ group, the things the kids come out with when I ask them what they remember about the day never fail to lift my spirits. No-one works in environmental education for the financial rewards, and teaching of any sort is at best demanding and at worst exhausting, but when I think of all the thousands of children I’ve worked with it feels worthwhile. I know what a positive impact my early nature education experiences had on me at primary school, and how that’s sustained me in later life. I just hope that some of what I do will have a similar effect on the children I teach.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since the rainy season began and I became temporary host to the World’s Most Persistent Cough, I’ve not had much time to garden on the allotment that I share with my friend Tessa. Last time I visited (over a week ago) the blackfly were taking over the broad beans and I spent an unpleasant half hour dealing with them, as well as weeding like a fiend. However there has been just enough sun to ripen our strawberries so this weekend we picked four punnets, as well as some early raspberries and a few broad beans. It’s been a weird year for gardening so we’re not getting too bothered about our lack of produce so far. Everything looked very pale and washed out (literally) until very recently, but now hopefully things will get growing if we get a few warmer days. I planted some climbing French beans that a friend of mine gave me seeds of: an heirloom variety called O’Driscoll, which you can leave the pods on to grow large and then harvest the bean seeds for drying and using as a cooked pulse. I’m looking forward to sampling them later this year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One other nice thing I did on one of the few sunny Sundays we’ve had was to go for a bike ride along the canal towpath to Kintbury. It was hot day and I was very glad to break my journey near the wonderfully-named wet woodland called The Wilderness, and go for a wade in the River Kennet (which runs parallel to the Kennet and Avon Canal at this point).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The river was crystal clear and beautifully cool and I spent a very pleasant half hour paddling about in it, spotting fish and botanising along the banks. The Kennet is a superb chalk stream, despite worries about its falling water levels. On the Action for the River Kennet (ARK) website you can find a lot of information about its current problems and wonderful wildlife. Simply put, we’re using too much water: ARK states that Thames Water abstracts 19 million litres of water per day from the aquifers that should be feeding the Upper Kennet. With all the rain we’ve had it may be hard to imagine that lack of water is still an issue, but it is. Leaks from water company infrastructure are definitely a factor, but that doesn’t mean that as individuals we shouldn’t also take steps to conserve water in our homes and gardens. My personal favourite tip is: Turn off the tap whilst brushing your teeth. This saves about 12 litres of water per person, every day. If everyone in Berkshire did this, it would save over 10 million litres of water per day… Which is over half of the water currently being taken out of those aquifers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Time for me to go and pack my bag for another day’s field teaching on the morrow, so I’ll end this blog entry here. The forecast is for heavy rain and we have a large school group booked in at Thatcham so no doubt that will be interesting! But on the plus side we’re finding lots of groovy snails and slugs on our minibeast hunts… And frogs in the meadow. I will leave you with a picture of one the kids found last week, whilst sweep netting for insects. They were thrilled, the frog less so. It may be tough sometimes being a field teacher in the rain, but it’s even tougher being an amphibian who lives in area used regularly for environmental education. I suspect we’ll be seeing the same frog more than once before the end of term.