Tag Archives: environment

Ychydig o law…

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The talented multilinguists among you will of course have spotted that the title of this blog entry is in Welsh, and a very useful phrase it’s proving to be at the moment too. Translation? “A spot of rain.”

As a field teacher constantly working outdoors, I often use the phrase “There’s no such thing as bad weather, only unsuitable clothing” as a way of getting students to dress less for fashion purposes and more for the vagaries of British seasons. However, even I have found myself musing in the past week that perhaps it would be nice if it rained more at night rather than the frequent torrential daily downpours we’ve been getting. I know that we desperately need water, but as I cycled to the train station in yet another ‘heavy shower’ I found myself yelling “Stop raining!” As I write this, rain is battering my windows yet again, and the forecast for early May is ‘largely unsettled’. Thank you, Met Office. I think I will go and buy a new pair of waterproof trousers.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luckily, when I went to stay with a friend in south Wales in early April we had at least one day of perfect sunny weather. We took advantage of this to go walking around Dinas Head on the Pembrokeshire coast. This part of Wales is a National Park and popular with walkers, with a lot of steep ups and downs along cliff edges (vertigo sufferers beware). The glorious views across the bay to Fishguard and out across the Irish Sea are worth a little exertion… And a stiff onshore wind kept us from overheating on the uphill stretches.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love the sea in any kind of weather, so this was pretty nearly a perfect day for me: a long walk outdoors, fabulous views, sunshine and a picnic on the beach at the coastal village of Cwm-Y-Eglwys at the halfway point. There was plenty of wildlife to get distracted by along the way as well: gorse and violets, wheeling gulls overhead and even a rocky outcrop garnished with what looked to be Guillemots (Uria aalge). As I was carrying my camera I hadn’t brought binoculars along as well, although a helpful lady (who turned out to be an RSPB member) assisted with identification. If you are good at birds and can make them out in the picture below, let me know if she got it right.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the way home to my friend’s house in the wilds of Dyfed we stopped off for a visit to Pentre Ifan, a Neolithic stone tomb dating from 3,500 BC or thereabouts. The earth mound that would once have covered the 16-tonne capstone and uprights has gone, leaving the stones standing dramatically against the Pembrokeshire skyline. As it was late in the day we had the site to ourselves, which was probably the best way to view it. A suitably peaceful end to a windy but gorgeous day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The following day dawned cloudy and wet, so we made the best of it with an expedition to Carreg Cennen, a ruined 13th century castle near Landeilo. Perched on a hilltop with what modern estate agents would probably call ‘commanding views of the surrounding countryside’, Carreg Cennen reminds me of all the castles I ever visited on school trips, when I used to clamber over ruined battlements and daydream heroically about swashbuckling exploits. As I recall, I was always an outlaw or daring raider, rather than any of the castle’s legitimate aristocratic inhabitants. Obviously watching too many episodes of The Flashing Blade had a lasting effect on me.

If you should go visiting Carreg Cennen yourself the most important bit of kit to take with you is a torch, because in the limestone underneath the castle is a long narrow cave that visitors can explore. In these modern days of health and safety obsessiveness it was heartening to be able to scramble down the steep narrow entrance passage, treacherously slippery steps and claustrophobic pothole unhampered by any kind of fussy warning notices. I for one thoroughly enjoyed banging my head on the low stone ceiling. Good old-fashioned British fun.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Since school term has started again after the Easter holidays my field teaching work is back in full swing at Rushall Farm and for the RSPB at Thatcham Nature Discovery Centre; but I also had an interesting photography job in mid-April, covering the opening of BBOWT’s new environmental education centre at Woolley Firs near Maidenhead. When I worked as a countryside ranger in Maidenhead a few years ago I met Woolley Firs Conservation Trust founder Rosa Lee, who was passionate about her vision to turn the site into an education centre for young people. So it was wonderful to see her dream finally realised, as a result of many years of hard work by herself, other trustees, corporate sponsors and of course BBOWT volunteers and staff.

After spending a hectic afternoon photographing VIPs and children from St Luke’s Primary School I had a chance to admire the site and all the latest interactive IT gadgetry that BBOWT education officer Lyn will be using when teaching. You can probably tell from my photos on the BBOWT website that the centre will be very popular with local schools, and I’m looking forward to popping in again soon for a visit to watch Lyn in action.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the weather continues to be on the doleful and damp side, I’m snatching the opportunity to get and about whenever there’s a break in the clouds. Last weekend I managed to meet up with another friend for good long ramble from Pangbourne along the Thames towards Mapledurham. The photo above is of a scarecrow en route that has been steadily evolving over the several years we’ve been doing this walk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On the slopes around Mapledurham there are fine examples of Chiltern beechwoods, and bluebells were just starting to come into full flower. Wafts of bluebell scent drifted towards us as we walked along: even with the occasional inevitable (you guessed it) heavy shower of rain, it felt good to be out enjoying the English spring. I am particularly fond of blue flowers and there’s something almost hypnotic about the indigo-blue of bluebells when they are blooming en masse. That intense blue haze striped with light and shadow is a particularly British woodland experience, one we should value highly. That our native bluebells Hyacinthoides non-scripta are threatened by climate change, habitat loss and accidental cross-breeding with the non-native Spanish bluebell Hyacinthoides hispanica is something that all of us should be concerned about. If you’re a gardener, I urge you to avoid planting Spanish bluebells if at all possible. It’s not always easy to find British-grown native bluebell bulbs or seed, but it is possible.

Our walk homewards led us back along the Thames valley to Pangbourne (resisting the urge to visit Mapledurham watermill, as the entrance fee was so steep it roused our righteous ire). One of the less usual sights of the Chilterns that we passed on our return journey was field after field of peacefully grazing alpacas. I failed to get a photo of one, although I did take a picture of a pleasingly spotty horse in a neighbouring field. I believe the technical term for this breed is appaloosa. I have long left behind my (exceedingly brief) horse riding days, but a childhood fascination with cowboys will never leave me and I feel sure that if I ever did get an opportunity to ride the range, an appaloosa horse would be just the ticket. With me wearing a black stetson, naturally. If it happens, rest assured you will read about it here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Snake charming and lashings of ginger beer

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It has been a few weeks since my last blog entry: part of the reason for this is shown in the photo above, i.e. it’s been lambing time at Rushall Farm. This has obviously kept the farm staff very busy, and likewise the education team – everyone wants to come for a visit during lambing time, so all the field teachers have been working flat out. Which is not say that it hasn’t been fun. I’ve had some great school groups and done a lot of striding about up hill and down dale in the sunshine. It’s been great to have become part of the regular team at Rushall, and I’ll be back there again throughout summer term too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The preternaturally warm early spring weather lured me out on my days off work, too. I went on a pleasant trudge around Donnington Castle one Sunday in March, and explored the woodlands behind to see what wildlife was stirring (apart from a dozen or so Newbury families sunbathing on the grass around the castle itself).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Castle Wood is an ancient semi-natural woodland, a woodland with native tree species that has been there continuously since 1600 AD. Such woodlands often have high biodiversity: they are rich in plant, fungi and animal species and provide valuable habitats in the British landscape (which has lost almost 90% of its original woodland cover). As someone who has spent a not inconsiderable portion of my adult life up trees trying to stop roads being built through ancient woodlands, I am probably biased… But I do like a good old woodland to potter about in. It’s almost as much fun as rock pooling or beach combing: that same mix of wildlife discovery, striking landscape and a sense of adventure.

Ironically, it is human management of such woodlands that best conserves their wildlife value. Traditionally woodlands such as these would have been a source of timber and firewood, with some of the trees coppiced – cut down near the ground and allowed to regrow several smaller stems – on a rotation cycle, thus yielding a crop of timber but also opening up clearings and allowing flowers, insects and birds to flourish in the increased sunlight. You can see in the photo above a Hazel tree, which was probably last coppiced 50 years ago. In a ‘normal’ coppice rotation cycle, it would have been cut every 10 – 20 years, depending on what the resulting timber ‘poles’ would have been used for. Today woodland management such as coppicing is largely carried out by conservation organisations, although some land owners do harvest timber sustainably. At Rushall Farm, Joo – one of the field teachers – makes high-quality charcoal from wood sourced from the farm’s woodlands, which he sells locally. It’s always worth buying British charcoal rather than the stuff you see on garage forecourts – this is generally made from tropical forests. British charcoal burns hotter and cleaner, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I found this 7-Spot ladybird Coccinella 7-punctata trundling over the moss, happily prospecting for food in the mild weather. Good to see one of our native ladybird species as opposed to the now-ubiquitous Harlequin ladybird Harmonia axyridis, a species originally from eastern Asia which can out-compete and even feed on our native ladybirds. The whole ‘alien species’ issue is a hot topic in conservation and gardening circles, and rightly so: it costs conservation bodies, local authorities and environmental organisations millions of pounds each year to tackle problems caused by the spread of invasive plants and animals such as Japanese knotweed Fallopia japonica, New Zealand pygmyweed Crassula helmsii, and American Signal Crayfish Pacifastacus leniusculus. If you want to help control the problem, check out some of the links above and choose your garden plants carefully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The warm temperatures have brought lots of spring flowers out early too: I spotted Coltsfoot Tussilago farfara beside the pond at Thatcham Nature Discovery Centre. This dandelion-like bloom always sends up its flowers with their curious scaly stems before its broad downy leaves appear. Reputedly the flowers can be brewed into a nice wine, whilst the leaves were once dried to make herbal tobacco. They have what I would describe as an apple-like scent if you crush them. The scientific name comes form the Latin tussis meaning cough: a syrup of Coltsfoot can be used to treat persistent coughing.

Cycling back from Thatcham along the towpath I came upon a whole bank of Sweet violets Viola odorata, many of the blooms the white variant of this particular species. As mentioned in my previous blog entry, I can’t get enough of violets so I lay full length on the bank in the sunshine, sniffing up their scent until my nose was anaesthetised and I had a big silly grin on my face. Luckily no-one came along the towpath at that point and found me, or they might have suspected I was under the influence of something slightly stronger than Coltsfoot wine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s great to have so many peaceful and lovely natural spots within easy cycling distance of where I live. I took advantage of the continuing sunny weather to stop off for a picnic after a day’s teaching, in a secluded little spot tucked away in the reedbeds near Thatcham. Apart from the occasional distant roar of passing trains (a sound that I find quite soothing) it was basically just me and the Chiffchaffs (Phylloscopus collybita) doing their onomatopoeic thing in the willow scrub. A rye bread sandwich, a bottle of ginger beer and thou, as Omar Khayyam might have said had he been there. Which he wasn’t. So I got to drink a whole bottle of Fentimans ginger beer and eat all the posh crisps myself. Life doesn’t get much better than this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lest readers of this blog think I spend most of my time slacking off, I hasten to add that I have actually been working very hard over the past few weeks. One of my jobs is assisting ecological consultant Rod d’Ayala with the reptile surveys he is carrying out in the Greenham and Crookham Commons area. In particular, the surveys are aimed at identifying breeding and hibernation sites for Adders Vipera berus.

As Britain’s only venomous snake the Adder has unfairly been saddled with a fearsome reputation, but these wary creatures are very sensitive to disturbance and will usually get out of your way long before you see them. If you do something silly like trying to pick one up and get bitten, it’s highly unlikely to be fatal: the last death in the UK from an Adder bite was in 1975. If you stay on footpaths and don’t go poking around in the undergrowth on heathlands (where Adders tend to be found) then you should be safe enough. If you like to walk your dog in these areas, my advice is to keep it on a lead (which you should be doing anyway, if you’re walking through a nature reserve). As a reptile surveyor, I follow a specific route and check known locations for Adders and other reptiles, but even I find it hard enough to track them down. When I do come across an Adder I try my best to get close enough to take a clear photograph of the markings on its head and neck, as these enable us to identify individual animals and thus assess how well populations are faring on each site they are known to occur. The photograph below is of a particularly handsome and fat male I spotted on Crookham Common, curled up peacefully sunbathing in a clump of heather. Beautiful, isn’t he?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course I see lots of other wildlife while I’m out surveying for reptiles. On sunny days there have been quite a few butterflies about, including Brimstone Gonepteryx rhamni, Orange tip Anthocharis cardamines, Peacock Inachis io and Comma Polygonia c-album (pictured in the photo below). All of these early-flying species overwinter as hibernating adults (except the Orange Tip, which overwinters as a pupa), and consequently emerge in spring hungry for sources of nectar. You may also see them sunning themselves on south-facing banks or sheltered stretches of footpath, warming up their flight muscles ready to go searching for food. One thing that often surprises people is how territorial butterflies are: I watched a Comma sunbathing on a farm track at Rushall, where every few minutes it would dart upwards and see off any other butterflies that happened to fly past it (including a rather startled Peacock), with a rustle of flapping wings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Whilst wandering through the woods at Rushall at the end of March I did see quite a few flowers blooming, including Primrose Primula vulgaris, Wood Anemone Anemone nemorosa and even some very early Bluebells Hyacinthoides non-scripta. Much as I love Bluebells, there is something slightly eerie about seeing them in flower in March… Climate change sceptics, please take note.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another insect I spotted that appreciates Primroses and other spring flowers is the helpfully named Bee-fly, Bombylius major. Resembling a small bumble bee with its furry body and hovering habit, the Bee-fly also has an enormously long proboscis that it uses to feed on nectar, perching on flowers to do so. Female Bee-flies can often be seen flying low over the ground to search for tell-tale small holes marking the burrows of beetles, solitary bees and wasps. When they find a burrow they will lay their eggs in the soil, sometimes flicking them in with their legs. When the eggs hatch out they find a ready meal in the larva of the beetle, bee or wasp that was the original inhabitant of the burrow. Perhaps not the most savoury of life cycles, but I like Bee-flies: there’s something quite otherworldly about their appearance, and for me they are one of the signs of spring having truly arrived.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine and my allotment beckon, so my adventures over the Easter holidays (visiting a friend in south Wales) will have to wait until my next blog entry. I’ll wind this piece up by hoping that all of you have had a good Spring Equinox and Easter. As the hosepipe ban commences here in drought-ridden West Berkshire, I’m wishing for rain but hoping that most of it will come at night, rather than when I’m teaching school groups outdoors. Now where did I put my waterproof…

Lesser celandine (Ranunculus ficaria)

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

Environmental Education and Sustainability

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At the end of January I had my first day of teaching in 2012 for the RSPB, at the Nature Discovery Centre in Thatcham.  A class from Sulhamstead and Ufton Nervet Primary School spent the day following our ‘Sustainability Matters’ education programme, to link in with the themes of sustainability and the environment that they are following this term back at school.

‘Sustainability Matters’ is a cross-curricular programme that covers a range of topics including energy, waste/recycling, water, biodiversity, food production, local land use and climate change.  The day works on three levels: using hands-on activities to develop understanding of topics and processes, discussing the children’s own feelings about the issues involved, and finally addressing where to go from here – what actions they can take to support the planet’s ecosystems, safeguarding the future of wildlife and themselves.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’re lucky in Thatcham to be able to use the Centre building itself as a valuable teaching resource. It incorporates many sustainable design features including a woodchip boiler, solar panels for heating water, rainwater harvesting, a green roof and light wells in the classroom.  One of our activities is a ‘Sustainability Trail’ where we send the kids off in small teams (with adults posted at strategic points for safety reasons) to find various features in and around the building, and then solve questions relating to issues such as water, energy, food and recycling.  This type of active self-directed learning, as it’s known, is a valuable educational tool. Giving young people some autonomy and responsibility for their own learning may sound risky, but in practice it pays off big time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m often impressed by the thinking that the children I teach demonstrate.  Pupils have complex and often heated discussions with each other whilst trying to solve the questions along the Sustainability Trail: one team, trying to work out the average amount of water used daily by a UK household, came up with the idea of thinking how much water a running tap produces in six seconds, then multiplying that by ten, then multiplying that by sixty, then multiplying that by twenty-four… Thinking outside the box!  Or outside the sink, maybe.

Another activity was a roleplay about sustainable land use, where the children worked in teams representing interested parties at a public enquiry (to decide what would be done with a disused gravel pit).  One pupil asked, “Should I vote for the team who I think has made the best argument, or should I vote for what I feel is the right thing?”  After the final vote, another pupil declared, “I want to say that although I voted for the landfill company today, in real life I would vote for the wildlife group.” An encouraging endorsement from the upcoming generation!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Later in the week I was at Thatcham again, with the West Berkshire Living Landscape Midweek Team that I often volunteer with. (For details of how to get involved with the team, see my ‘Bogs and Bonfires’ blog post, before this one.) This week we were tree planting around the Discovery Centre’s newly improved car parking area, a rewarding task (despite having to dig holes in near-frozen ground). As with every urban area, traffic is a challenging issue in Thatcham: whilst the huge popularity of the Discovery Centre and nature reserve with local people is encouraging, the amount of indiscriminate parking by visitors has sometimes ruffled the feathers of those living nearby. The increased number of spaces now provided should mitigate this, and an innovative ‘Park and Stride’ scheme has been incorporated for parents with children at the nearby Parsons Down Junior School. And the hundreds of native trees which have planted around the parking area will provide good woodland and hedgerow habitat for all kinds of wildlife.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It certainly felt like early February, with the freezing weather we’ve just been having. But last week I found this Winter Aconite Eranthis hyemalis flowering in the garden of Thrive near Reading, when I attended a couple of workshops that were part of an initial consultation process for the development of a Local Nature Partnership in Berkshire. Kelly Thomas (Berkshire Nature Conservation Forum, BBOWT) is working to bring together all local groups who may be interested in being involved in such a partnership, whether they are working in nature conservation, community and social issues, education, health, farming, business… Or anything, really.

The idea is to work collaboratively to safeguard Berkshire’s wildlife and habitats, whilst also meeting social, educational, health and economic needs. There was quite a mixture of groups and some interesting ideas came out for taking the LNP forward in Berkshire. The plan is to apply for formal LNP status for Berkshire in the first half of 2012, so watch this space… Hopefully there will be updates following from the workshops soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The longer days and (mostly) better weather means that I am out and about on my bike again, which is great for me and for the environment – so double win! When working at Thatcham I can cycle along the Kennet and Avon Canal towpath, then I cut in to the Discovery Centre via the reedbeds. Even at this time of year there’s always lots of wildlife about: I’ve seen roe deer, foxes, moorhens, mute swans and the occasional kingfisher. Canal traffic is minimal in winter but there’s still a few narrowboats moored up or putting along, giving off lovely smells of woodsmoke from their chimneys as I pedal past. Back in the summer I narrowly avoided cycling over a Slow worm that was sunning itself on the path; at this time of year the more usual hazard is turning up at work with frostbitten ears.

One of the best things about cycling regularly through the local environment is the sense it gives you of the seasons unfolding. Although temperatures this week are icy, spring is definitely on its way, with plant shoots breaking the ground and birds getting stroppy in the hedgerows. I’m enjoying the frosty sunny days and plan to get out on a walk this coming weekend with my camera… And it’s not long until the onset of snowdrops, daffodils and lambing!

Hellebore flowering at Thrive

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!