Tag Archives: winter

Digging ponds and singing songs

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2013 is here… So a very Happy New Year to you all. May this year be a good one: peace, health, prosperity, happiness, the whole shebang.

The festive season was certainly a good one for me. I got to catch up with more or less all of my family, including sundry nephews and one of my great-nieces (who is, of course, a total cutie). My mum came through a complicated spinal operation successfully and is recovering well, for which I am hugely thankful. And despite the generally discouraging weather (day after day of grey cloud and rain) I did get out into the wild winter countryside on occasion, as well.

One of many highlights was going to stay with my oldest brother in Norwich for a few days over new year. Not only is he a host par excellence (and a very good cook, to boot) but like me he enjoys rambling along by the sea. We made a trip up to Hunstanton (where the photo at the top of this blog was taken), which is right up on the north-west edge of the sticky-outy bit of Norfolk. I’d never been there before; it’s a funky old Victorian seaside town with the most amazing pink and white cliffs, kind of like coconut ice. (Anyone else remember making that when they were a kid?)

Both the white and red upper rocks are types of limestone, the reddish colour caused by staining with iron. There is also a brownish-red sandstone known as carrstone, similarly iron-stained. The limestone strata are full of fossils – a condition which my brother took full advantage of by spending a couple of busy hours working with his rock hammer to extract several really nice brachiopod fossils.

Being in a more beachcombing mood myself, I strolled for a while along Hunstanton beach, which is littered with curious rounded boulders somewhat reminiscent of stromatolites. Crouching down to eye-level with these boulders put me into what felt like a strange mythical landscape, with rounded hills rolling away to the horizon of the sea.

There’s even a genuine shipwreck on Hunstanton beach: the remains of the 1907 steam trawler Sheraton, mostly buried in the beach. This former fishing boat did duty in both World Wars, ending up rather ignominiously as a target ship for artillery practice. She drifted from her morrings in 1947 and was washed up on the coast, to be nibbled away at by salvagers until all that remains is the bottom section of her hull.

After my Christmas and New Year familial wanderings it was back to work in early January. I had been due to help a team of people build a pond before Christmas, but freezing weather and then flooding had forced us to postpone. In the first week of January however it finally stopped raining so we were able to get to work. You may ask, “How does it take whole a team of people to build one pond?” Well, this wasn’t your average garden goldfish pond. No… This was more on the scale of being a minor civil engineering project. For all those who’d like to try this at home, here’s your step-by-step guide to building a very large wildlife pond:

Step 1, get a nice shiny mechanical digger to dig out a hole the size of, oh say an Olympic swimming pool.

 

Step 2: ensure pond hole conforms to the exacting design of top ecologist and pond-builder supremo Rod d’Ayala.

Step 3: assemble a team of highly-skilled, energetic and fetchingly-attired pond construction staff (aka ‘The Hired Muscle’).

Step 4: pick out stones by hand from pond hole and cover any loose earth with puddled chalky clay (N.B. getting muddy is a vital part of this process).

Step 5: line the entire pond (sides and bottom) with two layers of tough underlay material, to protect pond liner. Note that boots must be removed first, so enabling all those involved to spend the entire day padding about in the pond hole with soggy socks.

Step 6: lift roll of waterproof rubber pond liner (weighing over 600 kg) to edge of pond using digger, then pause to make sure you’ve got it lined up exactly the right way round because if you haven’t it’s going to be rather difficult lifting it out again.

Step 7: let the liner unroll!

Step 8: use your highly-skilled team to unfold the liner and get it tucked beautifully into position. (A great team-building exercise, this.)

Step 9: cover the whole thing with another two layers of underlay material, then cover that with a six-inch layer of topsoil lifted in by digger and spread by hand with shovels. Create marshy and shallow areas within pond by heaping up soil, following Rod’s cunning and intricate pond design.

Step 10: go home to a hot bath and generally ache a lot for a few days afterwards.

Actually, Step 10 should probably be wait for pond to fill with water… So I will re-visit the site over the next couple of months and see how it’s getting on. Watch this space. The pond has been built mainly to encourage toads, so it’s hoped that it will be full enough with water for them to find it attractive as they emerge from hibernation and start to do their courtship and spawn-laying in February. Fingers crossed.

Aching muscles or not, pond building was certainly a great way to start the new year. Being out in the fresh air and helping to create a valuable habitat for declining British wildlife, plus all the Eccles cakes I could eat… Life could be a lot worse!

January continued to be inspiring, with an opportunity for me to attend the Natural Voice Practitioners’ Network annual gathering, which was held at Wortley Hall near Sheffield. As a co-leader of Newbury-based community choir Sing The World I’ve been a member of NVPN for a couple of years now, but this was my first gathering – and what an amazing weekend it was. About a hundred incredibly creative and talented singing teachers and voice workers, gathered together to share ideas and teach songs to each other, in a lovely old country house set in beautiful Yorkshire landscapes.

Wortley Hall itself is an amazing place: a former private residence, it was bought by an independent co-operative organisation known as Wortley Hall (Labour’s Home), with the intention that it would be used by the working class as an education and holiday centre. Today it is still run on co-operative principles, and hosts all kinds of gatherings and events ranging from socialist celebrations and conferences to weddings and parties. My paternal grandfather was a strong socialist, so it felt wonderfully familiar to be roaming around a building whose rooms and wings are named after the likes of Keir Hardie, Robert Owen and Sylvia Pankhurst. In the current political climate it was heartening to be somewhere which celebrated a long tradition of radicalism and social justice. A whole bunch of us even sang The Internationale on the hall staircase – in four-part harmony, of course!

Not only was the hall itself a beautiful and peaceful place, but the staff there were friendly and the the food excellent. All of us at the NVPN gathering were working hard over weekend, so it was great to have such a lovely venue. Being singers, of course we kept the bar filled with song every evening… Until 2am, on one occasion! It was impossible to go to bed when there were always so many wonderful voices joining together in harmonies, wherever you went. Music was everywhere: in the bar; over breakfast, lunch and supper; during workshops; even on a 2-hour singing walk around the surrounding countryside (much to the amusement of a Ramblers group we met along the way). I feel very fortunate to have enjoyed such a great weekend, both from a professional development viewpoint but also because I made so many friends.

So all in all, it’s been rather a good start to 2013. Hopefully this is a good omen of things to come… I certainly plan to be getting out and about a lot this year, working and visiting friends and discovering all kinds of new and wonderful places. I’ll leave you with the wish that your own year ahead may be filled with good things too. Have fun, stay healthy, play in the snow and sing whenever possible. Or dance, if that’s your thing. Or do both! Looking forward to the adventures the coming year will bring…

 

 

Midwinter musings

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Well, it’s been a wild and wet few weeks leading up to midwinter. On the few clear frosty days we’ve had, I’ve tried to get out and about as often as possible to make the most of the winter sunshine. Even when it’s bitterly cold, sunlight is a valuable commodity at this time of year. Especially after the predominantly cloudy summer we’ve had: several of my friends have remarked that they feel sun-deprived, as if their bodies are craving a top-up. As one of the benefits of sunshine is that it enables our bodies to synthesize vitamin D, a substance important not only in bone health but also good immune system function, it’s not surprising that we’re all craving a bit of brightness at this time of year.

Luckily I have several friends who enjoy the great outdoors as much as I do, so I have had the opportunity to go on some lovely winter walks. The photo above was taken at the end of November at the RSPB’s Otmoor reserve between Oxford and Bicester. Three of us had been planning for some time to go and see the fabled winter starling roost there: a purpose thwarted in previous years by weather and work commitments, but finally achieved this winter… And it was truly worth the wait. I’ve seen photographs and films of starling roosts; watched a small one in London, over Wandsworth Bridge; but finally getting to see the Otmoor spectacle was a real treat. We were lucky with both the weather (freezing cold, but sunny and windless) and with the numbers of birds (around 30,000 starlings). A few birders with whom we watched the roost told us that most of the evenings they’d come out, the numbers of starlings had been smaller and the flying display very brief… But on that Friday we had almost an hour of watching what has to be one of the most magical wildlife displays in the UK.

Unfortunately you will have to take my word for this, as I was so busy watching the roost that I neglected to take any photographs. I did attempt to film a few parts of the display with my little compact camera, but the resultant blurry clips do more to capture my excitement (lots of off-camera “Whoa!” noises) than the beauty of the spectacle. Starlings perform these extraordinary massed aeronautical manoeuvres for a number of reasons: warming themselves up before roosting for the night; competing to gain the best perches amongst the reedbeds; foiling potential predators such as sparrowhawks with the confusing numbers and rapidly changing direction of their flock. But when I watch this display I am simply swept up in the beauty of it. The ebb and flow of birds, cresting and falling in dark waves against the winter sky. Thousands of individuals transformed into a single entity, turning as one; then suddenly dividing into two clouds of beating wings that form into a heart shape, a drop of water, a rising hill: one cloud passing in front of the other and being reabsorbed, before the whole flock rains out of the sky into the waiting reeds.

Otmoor is worth a visit at any time of year, not just when the starlings are doing their stuff in winter. Its reedbeds and wet meadows support a huge range of bird species throughout the year, as well as dragonflies and damselflies in summer. And it costs nothing to visit, although making a small donation to the RSPB to support their ongoing conservation work there and at other sites across the UK would be a nice gesture.

This winter I have been busier than usual in the run up to Christmas, with field teaching work continuing throughout November. The Young Rangers group that I help to run at the Nature Discovery Centre in Thatcham has continued to be popular with local children, even now that colder weather and dark evenings have moved most of our activities indoors. We had a fun time carving pumpkin lanterns for Hallowe’en, and also making models of rockhopper penguins – which later ended up being used in a noisy but fun game of penguin skittles! Northern rockhopper penguins are mostly found on the remote Tristan da Cunha islands in the Atlantic Ocean, where their numbers are declining catastrophically. The RSPB is carrying out research to try to establish the causes of this decline: possible factors include climate change, overfishing and competition from other animals. Again, money is of course needed to support this conservation work, so if one of your New Year’s resolutions is to help wildlife then consider donating to the RSPB’s UK Overseas Territories appeal.

In November I also had the opportunity to revisit the RSPB’s east London flagship reserve at Rainham Marshes. I and a colleague were shadowing the RSPB field teachers there for a day as they worked with a local school, getting some ideas for developing our own teaching practice back at Thatcham. When we arrived the site was cloaked in freezing mist, which cleared slowly throughout the day to give some atmospheric views across the Thames estuary to the docklands beyond.

Rainham is an interesting site to visit, not just for wildlife and the excellent education facilities (I had major gadget envy for some of their teaching resources!), but also for the history of the landscape there. Gazing out over the foggy marshes I found myself reminded of the opening scenes in Great Expectations, with a young Pip startled by the appearance of the convict Magwitch out of the mist. I’ve always found the juxtaposition of industrial and natural landscapes fascinating, and Rainham is certainly a place with stories to tell.

Closer to home, I’ve been exploring some of the woodlands around Newbury. My old hiking boots finally gave up the ghost and I treated myself to some new ones, so this gave me an opportunity to break them in on short rambles in the beech woods around Cold Ash. With all the rain we’ve had the ground was pretty much a quagmire underfoot, but curiously it hasn’t been a good autumn for fungi – at least not on the sites I’ve been visiting. I did however see quite a bit of spalted beech wood on my walk – timber with a characteristic pattern of differently-shaded areas separated by dark lines.

These markings are caused by different types of ‘white rot’ fungi growing through the wood, bleaching out some areas and forming dark boundary ‘zone lines’ where two fungi meet. It’s common in beech and other hardwood trees, forming attractive patterning in timber that can then be turned or carved into bowls and other objects.

As well as exploring on foot I’ve been cycling quite a bit, especially along the Kennet and Avon canal towpath. In early December I cycled to Kintbury for a pint at The Dundas Arms, not realising that for most of the last mile or two the towpath was not so much adjacent to the canal as in it. High amounts of rainfall and maintenance work on some of the canal’s locks meant water levels had risen over the banks, making for somewhat soggy cycling. By this point on my cycle ride I was pretty determined that nothing was going to stop me enjoying my pint so I persevered, discovering en route that the secret to negotiating flooded towpaths is essentially just to keep pedalling, no matter what. I made it through the mire with freezing wet feet and a soggy bottom, but nothing that couldn’t be remedied with some Good Old Boy and a bag of crisps.

After frequent rain the ground is fairly well saturated, with standing water and flooding to be seen pretty much everywhere around Newbury and Thatcham. We’ve been lucky enough to escape the serious flooding that has caused so many problems in other parts of the UK, for which I’m very thankful: it must be hard for a lot of people to celebrate Christmas this year, displaced from their homes or businesses by inundation. Once again we seem to be suffering from ‘extreme’ weather events. After bemoaning the serious lack of winter rainfall last year, with consequent knock-on effects on habitats, wildlife and agriculture, the current heavy rainfall and consequent flooding may seem a touch ironic. But solutions to both issues may lie in the development of more sustainable water management systems, for example rainwater harvesting (RWH) and sustainable drainage systems (SUDS). I recommend reading this interesting article by Brian Pickworth, which explains how both flooding and drought could be tackled by the adoption of integrated systems for managing our water resources at times of peak and lowest availability.

A major part of any strategy for regulating water and managing the increasingly serious problems of flooding and droughts in the UK will have to be ensuring that we conserve as much of our natural wetland habitat as possible, of course. Much criticism has been levelled at the drainage and development of our floodplains, whether that be for housing or for agriculture. As a nature conservationist my sympathies are of course firmly on the side of wetland wildlife, which is the main reason why I’m opposed to the development of the so-called ‘Boris Island’ Thames estuary airport. The only case the airport-building supporters seem to have is an economic one… Although given the long-term costs of flood damage and other issues associated with unsustainable developments like these, someone clearly hasn’t been doing the math.

I’ve noticed recently that economic arguments are increasingly being used as a justification for development decisions that make no environmental sense. If any greenie dares to query the potential impact of anything ranging from fracking to nuclear power, it’s suggested that they are collaborating in some kind of Luddite plot that will drag Britain inexorably downwards in an apocalyptic economic disaster. I hope that people aren’t cowed by this financial McCarthyism. Using fear as a tool to push their own agendas is a technique long beloved by governments, but I’m hoping that in this age of access to information most of you will seek the science behind the headlines and prevent the destruction of ecosystems that are, ultimately, what keep all of us alive. It’s lovely to be able to fly abroad and visit beautiful places, but not at the cost of accelerating climate change and destroying our own native habitats and wildlife.

Ho ho ho… ‘Tis the season to be jolly, so I’ll end on a less polemical note! The nicest thing for me about this festive time of year is that I get time off from the pressures of work to go out and explore the countryside, as well as to catch up with friends and family. So in that spirit, I wish all of you a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year… And may you have a peaceful, healthy and prosperous 2013.

Sunset at Otmoor.

Stop Press: Winter Not Yet Over

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

Snowdrops and Stabilisers

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

Phytomyza illicis mine in Holly leaf

Car car car… Trouble!

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Just say, "Aahhhh..."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

Mayonnaise in the engine... Not desirable

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Uh oh...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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

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

Close-up of Monkey / Lady Orchid hybrid flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

Club-tailed dragonfly at Hartslock

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

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

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