A thorny time

We can be real spoilsports at Green Gym.

Remember last week, when one of our jobs was to fix a gate?  There was good reason for it: to prevent cattle leaving their assigned pasture for another, greener field.  But they had been having such fun, playing with the loose mechanism of the gate-handle!

Since then?  A pattern of fresh cowpats leading up to one side of the gate, but not the other promised well.  The Green-Gym photographer got some ‘direct looks’ when next exercising human privilege of walking freely across the site:

We hope the gate now ‘foxes’ the steers sufficiently that they will stay put until the hay cut in the other meadow is done.  Pin and latch on the gate certainly now engage properly.  (Open doors soon shut!)

 

Meantime there are other objects in the field to explore.  This, you might think, is an information board.  But that is only from the human PoV.  Actually, it is a scratching post.  How well it will stand up to being used like that is another matter.  Maybe our next repair job at WCM will be to fix the visitor-information display?

And if, gate having been neatly fixed, other less careful human visitors leave it open anyway? – Overnight, it appeared, on one occasion.  This was the scene played out early next morning:

“Bother!  There’s no way I am going to get to the gate before them”

“Have we met before?”

“I’m sure I recognize you two …”

“I can at least shut the gate behind you before the others cotton on”

“You’re doing a great job on those thistles, but could I persuade you to go back where you belong?”

  

Answer to that last was: “NO!  Not on my own.  Not even with help from a couple of very willing passing members of the public.  I/we could not steer steers back through a gate they did not want to go through – had to leave it to the professional(s).”

At least the rest of the herd had been obliged to stay put.  So it had been worthwhile, Green Gym fixing that gate:

So much for last week’s efforts then!  Today’s session was also with Earth Trust, but at one of their own sites, near their HQ at Wittenham: North Farm, River of Life project, around one of the backwaters which had been re-created.  Task: “keeping on top of the thistle burden which comes with any excavation work.”  

Volunteers were assured beforehand that “It’s a lovely time to be there as it’s buzzing with dragon and damsel flies.”  So it probably is, on a sunny day.  As on our previous visits, in 2018, when it was lovely blue sky, warm/hot, and very hard ground from which to pull thistles.

Today was not a sunny day.  Grey sky, cold wind, damp with added drizzle at coffee time, and long wet grass.  But the task was the same: to pull up the ‘naughty’ thistles and leave the ‘good ones’ behind!  [Is there such a thing as a ‘good thistle’? – Ed.]

 

Tim briefs the team

We were a small group today: just ten of us.  Unlike previous weeks, when we were spread out over large sites, this week we seemed to be huddled together quite a bit of the time – perhaps in the hope of keeping warm!

The good thing about the recent rain was that the ground was much easier to work with, and we were able to pull many of the thistles up by hand.  Some Gymmers still like to use Lazy Dogs, either to loosen the roots of the thistles or simply to lean on.

The offending thistles were chucked into large buckets and then unceremoniously dumped over the fence at the edge of the field.

Thistle stew anyone?

Returning to roots

For a group named after the town it is surprisingly seldom that we get to work in Wallingford Castle Meadows.

Aeons ago, WCM was where WGG started: with a major project to bring into public use – and improve the biodiversity of – the pond area.  Today, Green-Gymmers’ main task was one which simply never arose in the early days, to clear the meadows of a noxious plant which first made its appearance on site during a particularly damp year.

So, weeding again:

“Hmmm.  Woody Nightshade (for some of us) last week, Hemlock next.  I’m detecting a pattern.”

Part of the pattern was that target acquisition presented a bit of a challenge.  First, instruction in positively identifying the species in question.  Then, making out green on green, or spotting the spotty stem.  “We are now all experts in Hemlock spotting.” 

Then it was just a matter of wielding tool of choice (“You can go with this; you can go with that”) and being thorough in disposal of cuttings – also hand-care during and after.

At least it was dry underfoot.  Yes, we are well aware the land very much needs more moisture, but from PoV of volunteers moving vegetation this morning, it was good that rain held off until the afternoon.

Inevitably there were a few ‘odd jobs’ as well.  One was to scythe thistles across the site.  As in previous years, thistles were thickest where Wallingford Castle excavations had taken place.

As you will have seen from the photographs, at this time of year WCM is a shared space: between humans and livestock.  Members of the public can visit year-round; but in the summer months we engage in an interesting co-existence exercise with a small number of (peaceable) cattle which are put out to graze, but are also very keen on ‘helping’:

They did point out one job for us.  At first light yesterday, an off-duty Green-Gymmer out for a walk noticed that one of them had learned how to operate the side gate from Upper to Lower Meadows.  We know they are smart animals, but it was quite amusing to see a steer deftly push against the handle with the side of the neck, then neatly swing the gate open with the shoulder, trot through, and set about cropping the greener grass on the other side of the fence.  

On closer inspection it became clear that the creature need not have gone to the trouble of very carefully using the handle.  For whatever reason, fittings had slipped out of alignment.  [Caused by posts shifting as they and ground dry out? – Ed.]  The result was that it would not have taken much of a push – by livestock or human visitor – to get the gate to swing forward anyway, without releasing the latch:

Another wonder was why the other steers remained the other side of the gateway, just playing with the side gate: opening and closing it, but not walking through to the lush pasture in the meadow below.  Naturally, as soon as human observer took camera out of pocket, play stopped:

Off-duty Green-Gymmer had, therefore, suggested that while volunteers were on site, they might have a go at fixing the gate.  Or at least investigate possibilities of mechanism being adjusted so that the latch engaged properly.  “Well that will spoil the cows’ fun,” was the instant response from our session leader.  Followed by: “I am sure we could have a look at it.”

So they had a look ... and fixed it.  At least we hope so.  This was the solution they come up with:

It will be interesting to see over the next few days what the bovine riposte will be.

Feet on refurbished ground

By ‘C’:

After gloriously un-traditional bank-holiday-weekend weather, today was similar, but a shade cooler and a wispy bit breezier.  Which made it more comfortable to work in. 

In the past few days, it has been best to get up early if wanting to go into the countryside for the simple purpose of enjoying being there.  Against the backdrop of river-borne mist (and absence of human-generated noise) the quality of early-morning summer light lends charm even to humble buttercups, a spider’s web, or an old tree stump:

By 10 in the morning, the rising sun has burned off the mist, and flattened the light spread over the landscape.  By 10 of a Tuesday morning, however, Green-Gymmers are in the countryside to do some work to cherish it. 

Today we were assembled further upstream from Wallingford.  For today’s session was the answer to the oft-repeated request from some of our volunteers to ‘take me to the river’.  Back to the River of Life project, that is.

Having done our bit in the early stages of this joint Earth Trust / Environment Agency venture – removing Himalayan Balsam from an area where new backwater channels (‘edge habitat’) were to be created for the benefit of spawning fish; planting trees in another zone – we were eager to see how things had developed.

First, a walk through some very pleasant countryside …

past a small herd of cows very curious to know what was going on …

following a vehicle which kept disappearing into the distance …

until we got to the point where we could only proceed on foot, for we had arrived at one of those fields where original wetland features (as shown on older maps of the area) have been lovingly re-created:

Yes, those features really are part of the Thames waterway.  The river itself lies just beyond the fence-line of the field.  If you look very closely, you may be able to spot Dorchester Abbey on the far bank (left side of the picture):

As its restorers hoped, the site is now species-rich.  Flagship fauna sightings include herons, kingfishers, and otters.  I am not sure any of us did spot something exciting like that (or signs that they had been there recently), but I am fairly sure that the strange snatches of bird-call I heard were from a lapwing.

The flora side of things is inevitably still a bit of a work in progress.  When the hard landscaping was done, the meadow was liberally sown with wildflower seed, and indeed there were plenty of signs of multiple species besides grass coming through.  In the first three years of the new life for the land, however, it is particularly important to keep on top of invasive weeds.  For the same soil preparation which benefits wildflowers, also benefits any number of other plants.

Thistles – since most of us do not appreciate a good thistle for breakfast, lunch, or supper – are all well and good in the right location.  Like totally appropriate in:

EEYORES GLOOMY PLACE

RATHER BOGGY AND SAD

But they do not make for good company in what is meant to be a restored wildflower meadow.  Or at any rate, not when they are there in large numbers.

So, although it is for many of us not our favourite task, thistles had to go.  And it was up to Green Gym to show them the door:

There were two main kinds of thistle on location: spear thistles; and creeping thistles.  The difference between them mattered, because disposing of them called for different techniques.  

The aptly named Spear Thistles were best removed by countering them with ‘lazy-dogs’.  Some of those Green-Gymmers who had never used that particular tool before proved most adept:

Some of the effectiveness of volunteers wielding lazy-dogs we can attribute to being able to draw on the hard-won experience of the first group of volunteers to have worked on it this year: the Earth Trust’s own ‘Friday Group’ – last Friday. 

With a full set of lazy dogs to hand, some of our team confidently reckoned, “We could have finished off the whole lot this morning.”  Unfortunately, we only had three lazy-dogs.  The site warden had not discovered until just before the bank-holiday weekend that in the tool-box there were only three of the specialist attachments for tackling single-tap-root plants such as thistles.  (Most of the heads are the three-pronged class, which were obtained to deal with ragwort at another site.)

Personally, I am not quite so sure of the success we would have had.  Spear-thistle pullers seemed to me a bit like anglers: tap roots of stupendous length were reported to have been removed whole and entire from the ground – but never when the camera was there to record the feat.  There was, however, no doubting the authenticity of this early claim to ‘longest tap-root of the day’, which the triumphant thistle-fisher insisted had been a team effort:

Some volunteers found it was best to work in pairs with the lazy-dog.  Others started off that way, and soon found that even with that technology available, they preferred to pull many a thistle by hand:

I liked the thistle impaled on the fence, as if by way of warning to the others:

“This is what will happen if you try to grow here ;)” 

Meanwhile, the Creeping Thistle, was best dealt with entirely by hand.  At least that was the theory.  I myself showed no aptitude for this whatsoever.  Nearly all the thistles I tried to pull, reacted by breaking off – it’s a natural defence mechanism of the plant against grazing animals. 

“They can see me coming,” I complained, “so they know all they need to do is to break off at ground level!”

“No, they see you coming, and they’re afraid.  So what you need to do,” countered an equally tongue-in-cheek colleague, “when you’ve found your next target, is to sing it a happy thistle song!”

I must have looked sceptical (as one would), for she added, “Don’t knock it – it works!”  And off she strode towards her next target, humming/gently singing something which sounded awfully like a certain hymn-tune, except that the words were definitely not
“O happy band of pilgrims”!

It could not be denied that colleagues achieved considerably more success during the morning than I did.  This is what a happy (and efficient) Green-Gymmer looks like:

My best contribution to the morning was to discover – when looking for a better camera-angle – some left-over lengths of sacking, which a couple of volunteers who fancied a change of task, duly emptied of earth, and removed.  Though just at this point, they seemed to have got distracted – I wonder what they had spotted along the river-line:

At last, the last one of the day was tackled.  – And in this photograph you can quite clearly see the top of Dorchester Abbey in the far distance (right-hand side):

So it was time for the fair walk back to our own transport.  Past the feisty steers.  And through the sturdy new gate which was put in to try to persuade them to limit their fact-finding tours to their own field: