By ‘C’:
High summer is
when the chalk grassland of the Chilterns is robed in the most gorgeous floral
finery:
When The
Queen finally gets to deliver her speech to a new parliament, Her Majesty will
not be dressed more superbly than the humble downs. (IMHO.
Wonder if one could still get sent to the Tower for comments like that?)
The only drawback
is that all that growth means it is sometimes not so easy to see where one is
putting one’s feet, and so stay the right way up on the scarp. There are plenty of rabbit-holes, ant-hills,
etc to upset the unwary:
The site
manager being a little delayed this morning, gave us the opportunity to wonder
what the crop in the blue field was, which we could see from the RV point. Linseed seemed the most likely answer.
(What’s the
difference between flax and linseed?
Nothing really! They are the same
species: Linum usitatissimum. It’s just that the plant is/was more commonly
known as ‘flax’; and its seed, ‘linseed’.
This can cause some confusion if someone goes to a health-food shop to
buy omega-3-rich linseed or flaxseed, and is faced with a bewildering range of products
with different names.)
Our main job
today was to re-inforce a line of ‘exclosure’ fencing with some chestnut
paling. The little area from which
predating deer, rabbits, etc are to be kept out does not, of itself, look terribly
interesting:
Certainly
not when compared with the view the other way:
The enclosed
area, however, is an experimental site: one of only ten in the country, which
are subjects of a long-term study.
For the past 45 years, scientists have visited the spot annually to
measure the growth of the scrub, and so determine what happens if there is no
intervention at all on the land – no input from humans, no input from grazing
animals.
The first,
and physically most challenging, task was to haul materials up the slope:
There was no
easy way to do that. Nor was there any
particularly easy way to unroll each delivery of paling. (Let me never complain again about not being
able to find the end of a spool of sellotape, or that a loo-roll refuses to unwind!)
Fortunately,
the actual installation of the paling was something which was very suited to the
Green-Gym way of teamwork and devising the best techniques as we go along:
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“We’re
pretty good at fencing, I think”
(Yup: it’s comic-book criminals who are very poor fencers)
|
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“This seems to call for a high degree of trust” |
Biff! Boff!
Crash! Most of the job done in no
time, it seemed.
Then it was
time for a well-earned break. Refreshments
were unusually highly-organized this morning:
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A new line: a no-added-sugar alternative to cake |
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Drinks
colour-coded: orange mugs – café au lait; blue mugs – tea; and in between, designer mugs – black coffee |
The upgraded
exclosure is not yet complete, for the three rolls of chestnut paling were not
quite sufficient to cover the whole length:
That gap,
however, could be left to another day – and to someone else.
Meantime, we
could spread across the grassland, and continue with the never-ending job of
keeping down encroaching scrub. Any
species of tree could be removed, with the exception of juniper, which is a
rarity. Wild rose and hawthorn, for
instance, are pretty; and it seemed a shame to take out them. All the same, they are not wanted where they
are in the wrong place. The target scrub
came in different sizes, but so did the ‘tree popper’ tools.
Some targets
were more tenacious than others:
This might be tricky, for
instance. But Green-Gymmers are good at
fast thinking and team work, as well as zapping things. In an instant, the session
leader had realised this situation called for another
pair of hands and, presumably, the bat grade of tree popper:
At session
end, I hope all volunteers felt more than just a slight twinge of
satisfaction. Especially as our morning
had not been spent at the expense of the misfortune of others – unless one
counts the rabbits, deer, etc who will, when the exclosure is completed, have
to seek somewhere else to dine.
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