Three Visitors

“Rain on a Green-Gym morning is the strongest argument yet for climate change.”

The soaking was indeed something of a surprise, as weather forecasters had confidently predicted no precipitation until at least the afternoon.  However, we did in due course get a visitation from the species most associated with a few drops of the wet stuff – and naturally we were all well kitted out against the uncertainties of the British weather.

Last week was cutting down and burning trees, in a habitat which is supposed to be mostly grassland.  This week: planting trees.  For today’s task was part of Phase 2 of the Earth Trust’s River of Life project.  We were working in a field which is currently grassland, and is being returned to what was probably its former state of ‘wet woodland’.  For further encouragement we were told that one part of the River of Life scheme had demonstrably already been a success: over the summer the newly created backwaters had been full of spawning fish.

The point on reasonably dry ground, at which we had to leave landrover & trailer, and transport materials by people-power, was beside a bridleway.   We had helped to improve it, ie make it usable for horse-riders, in a session some time back.  It was good to see that our efforts had certainly been successful in the sense that there was clear evidence that the path had recently been used by horses:

Whether the horses had been ridden, or merely led by the bridle (for which the space to do so is the minimum requirement for a ‘bridleway’), we could not tell.

Meantime we turned our attention to getting ourselves and equipment to today’s work site:

It was perhaps the view of rows of stakes in a green field which prompted some Green-Gymmers to be talking in terms of memorial trees.

For some volunteers this was a first experience of tree-planting the professional way.  Really it is very simple.  First, dig a slit with your slit-spade …

then plant your tree …

heel in (to exclude air pockets) …

 

bang in a stake …

open up the tree-guard (which has come “flat-packed for your convenience”) …

slide tree-guard over tree (to protect it from deer and voles) …

zip up the black-plastic fasteners (so the tree-guard doesn’t float away next time the flood waters rise) …

fit a fleece around the base of the tree (to inhibit growth of grass, which would compete with the sapling for resources) …

finally peg mat into place …

Depending on method of knocking stake into place, Green-Gymmers could be heard muttering mnemonics, “tree – guard – stake – mat – zip” or “tree – stake – guard – mat – zip”, as well as “1 birch : 2 oak” to call to mind what proportions the different species were to be planted in.

As we worked, so came the visitors:

Three in total.  The fact that only two of them appear on most of my photographs is due to the fact that only two would pose for the camera, not that any Green-Gymmer had decided to act on the observation that one of them would make a tasty meal:

And the rain, which had more or less ceased during the session itself returned as we were packing up to go home.

Ending quietly

Should you happen to take in the latest WW2 movie, and find yourself wondering why
the landscape Brad Pitt & Co are “heroically” fighting their way across, looks more like English chalk-hill countryside than anything in Central Europe, that’s because it is.  

Brad Pitt & his tank crew were actually trundling across South Oxfordshire.  Indeed Green-Gymmers may instantly recognize the backdrop in the trailer, because action scenes for ‘Fury’ were filmed on land adjacent to the site where we were working today.  (Turn left at the top of the slope, and they’d come to Cowleaze Wood and Aston Rowant National Nature Rerserve, guaranteed free of death-dealing Wehrmacht.)

We, by contrast, do not generally disturb the normal peace & quiet of the Chilterns.  War may never end quietly, but Green Gym does:

Today was no exception.  Trees were being coppiced – all part of woodland management – but only with handtools.  The particular soundscape generated by a banter of Green-Gymmers is all just part of the normal countryside mix: the rasp of sawblades, the squeal of loppers, clink of billhook, crackle of bonfire, chatter among the workforce.

The task was, quite simply, to bring together: unwanted scrub; and bonfire. 

This meant that we were, for the most part, handling decidedly spikey plants (thick gloves a ‘must’).  For the species which were designated for eradication from the particular part of the site – so that other species could get a look in – were hawthorn and bramble. 

Some hazel was also to be cut back, but they were only being coppiced for the sake of being encouraged to grow back more vigorous and healthy.  And the couple of crab apple trees (Malus sylvestris) were spared, partly because they are more unusual, and partly because of their value to wildlife: 

• the long and early flowering period makes for a good source of nectar and pollen for insects, incl bees
• the leaves are a food-source for the caterpillars of several kinds of moth
• the fruit is eaten by birds and mammals, incl mice, voles, and badgers
• the whole tree is one of the few which host a plant whose cultural significance comes into its own in December (clue: a fan listens to ‘Under the Mistletoe’ at Christmas time; a Belieber listens to it year round)

By session end, as always, you could see where we had been.  Had we completed the task?  No!  There will still be plenty to do next time we are there.  By which time, as one Green-Gymmer, observed, there may be snow on the ground.

Where there’s a willow

... there’s a way, observed one of our volunteers this morning.

Armistice Day 2014 dawned red …

then faded to field-grey.  And we, Wallingford Green Gym, wound up considerably more than ankle-deep in water – but only the limpid waters of a Chilterns chalk-stream. 

For two minutes, at the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, we did pause in silence.  And doesn’t it feel different keeping the 2-min silence outdoors!  For many volunteers this was the first time they experienced hearing the wind whistling over field, brook, and trees during that time, even a farmyard cockerel not so far off, and – a few seconds behind us – a distant piece of ordnance at RAF Benson. 

The rest of the working time this morning was dedicated to the almost year-round business of keeping water channels clear of excess plant-life.  Except that on this occasion there was also the business of clearing banks of invasive willow before we could start bringing in the heavy loads of vegetation cut from the stream:

A chalk stream is a very exclusive natural neighbourhood.  98% of the world’s chalk streams are in 12 English counties.  Ewelme Brook is typical:

• the water is pure, the same temperature year-round, and an even flow
• the stream runs reasonably fast, but shallow (hence safe for us to work in)
• the base is gravel, which makes for a good place for fish to spawn on
• the little shrimps, snails, etc living in the vegetation make a good spread of food for fish
• the fish and the plants – some of them – make for good food for humans (no, we don’t down tools to hunt for our elevenses, or even a bite to take home for lunch!)

While the chalk-stream may be one of the few habitats almost exclusive to this country, specifically central southern England, one of the plants which flourishes in that habitat – watercress (Nasturtium officinale) – is prized across Europe and Asia, even in places where it is not so easy to grow.  Very nutritious it may be, but there is such a thing as having too much watercress swaying, especially where is little scope for a stream to alter its course.  Those of us who’ve worked at this site before have got used to doing the counter-intuitive thing and pulling up great heaps of the stuff and flinging it on to the bank:

By half-way in the session (which was when I had to leave to go to the paid job), a length of bank had been cleared.  Willow rods were being stored with their toes in the water – for collection later.  And volunteers were wondering if they had any use for the wood.  “Make me a willow cabin at your gate?” suggested one.  (Will Shakespeare, Twelfth Night I v – Green-Gymmers are a cultured crew.)

I look forward to hearing whether anyone from the group did put their name down for a bundle or two – and hope people didn’t get too wet.  The serious rain didn’t appear to start until around lunchtime.