Bird Surveys

It is mid December. We  had unseasonably mild and dry weather in November, but it has now gone cold with a smattering of snow. This time last year we were knee deep in snow!  My family in Australia report similar strange weather. My conclusions based on this limited evidence is that climate is indeed changing. I am pleased that this now seems to be accepted by the scientific community if not the community at large.

In the spring, surveys are carried out of woodland birds in the two main woodland sites. These surveys are carried out to provide data to the British Ornithological Society. In 2010, su;rveys were carried out along the riverside site every week during the breeding season. This year a similar number took place along the trail. I went out with The Birdman a couple of times. It turns out that even though the data had been collected, no-one had time to collate it all.  So I volunteered for the job. Using the data sheets, which are maps of the area onto which are plotted sightings (or birds heard), I counted them all and entered them onto a spreadsheet.  It is an interesting list, although I don't think anything particularly unusual was sighted.   The commonest birds along the trail are, bluetits, followed closely by blackbirds and robins.  The least common were mistle thrush, red poll, and surprisingly woodpigeon.   Mr Head Ranger says the data will be used in a management report.

I've been a bit busy with other things of late, so have only managed to go out maybe two times in November, and once since. However, on one of the occasions I learnt how to lay a hedge.  We went to the wildflower field,  and removed a fence separating it from the trail.  There is an old hawthorn hedge along this boundary, interspersed with ash saplings.  Old hawthorn, I learnt, is hard and brittle. As a consequence we spent a frustrating time trying to lay the hawthorn, only for it to split and snap at the point where you bend the branch to lay it.  Sadly, we dispatched three or four old hawthorns in this manner. We were more successful with the ash, which is quite bendy.  

On another occasion we were replacing some fencing alongside an old quarry. This site is now an amenity area, with pools where the quarrying took place, surrounded by cliffs.  Apparently it is a popular site for picnics in the summer, and local youth risk their young lives by jumping off the cliffs into the water.  They also camp out and build campfires out of any bits of wood they can find.  This is why the fence, which was a wire and paling affair, needed replacing.  Bits of the paling have been removed over time to make fires.  So we took off what was left and replaced it with fencing netting and barbed wire strands along the top.  We left the fencing we removed in a tidy pile to provide fuel for future fires as it was no longer in sufficiently good condition to keep. It was cold on this day. I found it hard to keep my fingers warm enough to function, whilst at the same time retaining the dexterity required to manipulate fencing staples.  It was a question of gloves on, gloves off all day.

This week we had our annual Christmas dinner at a local hostelry. Nice meal, but for some of them it provides and opportunity to drink a lot, so I left after the food and hugs all round.

On the merits of volunteering

There have been less musings of late, I suppose that has been because I am now familiar with a lot of the work that we undertake. We have been pretty busy with footpath work these last few weeks, which means digging steps, mending gates and erecting stiles.  I have commented from time to time in previous posts on my difficulty in using some of the tools. I am now pleased to report that I can use the shove-hole tool more effectively. I am still fairly slow, but this doesn't matter so much when my colleagues are engaged in other activities nearby. I think the hardest part of any of these fencing jobs is digging the holes, since the ground in the Peak District is very stony. My colleague the Birdman says that in Norfolk, where he comes from, digging a hole is easy peasy.

I recently visited an old friend in Scotland who has been involved in community environmental issues for 35 years. He is an interesting character who keeps a fairly low profile but likes to get things done behind the scenes. Over these years he has been instrumental in obtaining funding from a variety of sources in order to improve community facilities where he lives.  These projects have included, protecting and reinforcing the laws pertaining to common land, buying land for the community, planting woodlands, and perhaps more importantly, helping to set up a Trust whose role it is to oversee the various projects.

I was telling this friend about my work with the Countryside Service. He asked me what I thought about the suggestion that, as a volunteer I was doing someone out of a job. So this week I talked with my colleagues about this.  They were adamant that, firstly there ARE no paid jobs that I am replacing. There is no money for any further posts, and so far none have been deleted. Their view was, that without volunteers, many of the jobs just wouldn't get done.  But they were clear that there were other advantages to using volunteer labour, in that we have different skills and knowledge that they wouldn't otherwise have access to. Two of the other volunteers have an engineering background,  so can explain the way that the stresses on a gate hinge operate, and why it has to be hung in a particular way, for example. Another is nifty with DIY skills. Me, well I make up for the lack of skill with energy and enthusiasm! Another reason why volunteers are welcome is that part of the mission of the Countryside Service is to educate the public about wildlife and environmental issues. They feel that we will go away and explain what we have learnt to other people, which is true.

From a personal point of view, I can say that the whole experience has given me an opportunity to learn new things, both knowledge and skills. I have encountered different viewpoints. I have also been able to make friends in the community which I was not able to do when working full time.  I feel a tremendous sense of pride when I can walk round the countryside and see the things that I helped to make happen.  Altogether it has been very enriching, in a way that other activities I might have taken up in my retirement would not be. In conclusion, I think volunteering in this context works very well for both parties.

Rural vandalism

These last few mornings there has been a nip in the air, and a definite smell of autumn. The hills are purple with heather, the fields of grass turned brown. It seems awfully early, but then perhaps it always does after a wet summer.

Last week there were riots and looting in cities across England. Try as I might, I cannot get my head into the mindset of the people who do the damage, it seems so counter-productive.  Perhaps I have been lucky to have never been in their situation. Having said that, I do remember a time a long time ago when I had no money and stole some turnips out of a farmer's field, and lived on that and milk for a week.  In those days you didn't draw more money from the bank than you had, for fear of being hauled up before the bank manager.

Against this backdrop, we received a call last week from the Lady of the Bridleway.  She was trying to put in a large waymarking sign, but the post was too heavy for her to manage single-handledly.  So Birdman and I set off to the place where we had been mending fencing damaged by four-wheel drive vehicles a couple of weeks previously. The post, which measured about 20cm by 20cm in girth and held a sign announcing a voluntary one-way system, had been erected to guide traffic down a particularly rough piece of track.  The post had been forcibly lifted out of the ground so that vehicles could drive over the place where it had been erected.  It had been cemented in in the first place. In order to pull it out, the person(s) responsible must have used a winch or a crane of some kind, so it wasn't just a random act of vandalism, it was planned and must have taken place at a time when very few people were likely to be about.  On this particular stretch of bridleway there are about five gates. Every single one had been damaged by being driven into.  I expressed my disbelief, but apparently some of the 4x4 community think that a right of way gives them the right to a clear passage. Never mind the farmers who are trying to keep their stock in a field.

It took three of us to dig a hole and to re-erect the post.  The posts are extremely heavy.  I am quite strong, but I could barely lift one end of it off the ground. To my utter amazement, the Birdman lifted it singlehandedly into the hole. No gym needed for him!! We saw some swallows wheeling about, and a merlin hunting some smaller birds.

Meanwhile I spent another morning with my colleagues weeding bracken out of the stewardship field. This is being encouraged by careful management to produce native wildflowers. I also received a lesson in sharpening the sickle and some shears, a useful skill indeed. We went out later and used them to clear the footpath edges of bramble and overgrowth.

Mud, glorious mud.

Last week we were doing some remedial work along a footpath, my report on that has been delayed. I've mentioned elsewhere that groups of people other than the County Council get involved in managing the countryside. There is a charitable organization which creates projects that benefit both people and the wider environment. Here in the Peak District, one of the things they do is to take people who have been convicted of anti-social offences out to do community service. One such group was tasked with building a boardwalk over a piece of boggy ground on a footpath.  Unfortunately, nobody looked at the spec., with the result that the completed work partially obstructed a gateway into a field.  Naturally the farmer was rather displeased! Our job was to take down the offending section, to build steps from the level of the remaining boardwalk to the ground (about 1.5 metres), and to replace the removed section with a paved path.

I wrote previously about a fencing job which had been the hardest physical day of work I had done in a long time. Well, this was worse!  The job was difficult partly because the constructing team had made a very robust job of it.  They used screws that were never meant to be unscrewed. Having removed the screws in the end by sheer brute force, and bolts holding it all together, the section to be taken away weighed a ton and required all four of us. Then, the posts to which all of it was attached were firmly stuck in the bog.  It was hard trying to get the posts out. If you tried to dig down, the hole quickly filled up again with mud. If you wiggled the post to loosen it, it was still very hard to shift because of the forces of suction.  Eventually it was a matter of using a crowbar to stir the mud in order to get enough air in to release the suction.  We put a bolt through the top of the post and levered the whole thing up. By the end of the de-construction,  I (and the tools) were covered in mud, . Not a good look!

When the unwanted structure was removed, I then set to work helping in laying some stones for the paved area across the bog.  We were using stones that were lying about (Derbyshire is full of stones!), many of which had to be crowbarred out of the ground.

All of this was hugely difficult and energy draining. Not for the first time did I thank my training regime. If it were not for that, I probably would have conked out half way through the morning. As it was, I lasted towards the end of the day, but by then I was so tired I could barely carry the tools back to the pickup.

Until now I have not been critical of the work that we do. But I thought today's job was utterly futile.  I couldn't help but think of the hard work put in by the team who constructed it in the first place.  A simple human error in this instance by the person in charge of that team led to probably a couple of days' worth of lost hours, which surely is not good in these times of straightened circumstances.

This week it is raining constantly, I have been told not to bother going in.

Strength is required

There had to come a time on this blog when I mentioned my other great interest, which is doing Crossfit.  For those of you who have never heard of it, it is a set of gym techniques designed to get you "stronger, fitter, faster", so that you are better able to go about your everyday tasks.  Crossfit consists of small group classes where you can train in weight lifting techniques and a variety of cardio exercises.  It is pretty tough. People who have been to commercial gyms get wiped out in the first session.  After eight years of it, I reckon that, compared to many of my age group peers, I am reasonably fit.  I can certainly lift much heavier weights than I thought possible. But more of this later.

We were up in the hills again this week, repairing a section of fencing along the Pennine Bridleway.  This is the section of the bridleway that we came to a couple of months ago to clear the drain culverts. (A sunny spring day in the hills, 25/3/11).  It is a really beautiful spot, quite high up, with views all around. You can certainly see the rain heading towards us!  A highlight of the day was to see several hares running about.

This part of the bridleway is used by a variety of off-road vehicles. The track itself is in a sorry state, the whole having been churned up to such an extent that any surfacing that existed has long ago disappeared, and it is down to bedrock.  I imagine that if off-roading is your sport, then it presents an interesting challenge. In the section where we were working, the track had deteriorated into a series of foot high steps, at which apparently, at least one vehicle had got stuck and needed to be rescued.  The solution was to create a two-lane track, and to suggest a one-way system where the new bit goes up, and the difficult bit goes down. Unfortunately, a person driving a landrover had tried to go down the up bit,  too fast, lost control and ploughed through the fence which separates the bridleway from the adjacent farmland. 

I have had a rant elsewhere about irresponsible people who do not respect the countryside. Our leader for the day mentioned how this particular bit of fencing had only been repaired about a year ago. Apart from the difficulty of catching people who do the damage, apparently it is difficult to prosecute as rules here are not legally enforceable as they are in the Lake District.

There was a stretch of about fifty metres to repair, so again, Our Lady of the Bridleway needed to enlist the help of the countryside team.  There were five of us engaged on the task, three staff and two volunteers. First we checked all the fence posts to see which needed to be replaced. There were several which had been sheared off at the base. The next task was to remove the staples holding the fencing wire and the top strand of barbed wire from the posts.  The ease with which this could be done varied, but using a fencing tool with a hook at one end, and a hammer I soon got the hang of it.  I removed eighteen staples from one post alone. Next, the new posts were put in.  We had another tool for this, called a post-shove!  (People who are regular readers will know that I have a fascination for the variety of specialised tools that we are able to use). The post-shove is similar in shape to an oxygen cylinder, about two thirds of its length, open at one end with a flat end at the other. It has two handles, one on either side.  It fits neatly over the top of a post. Two people grab hold of the handles and, using the tool in unison, ram the post into the ground. This was quite fun, but as the tool itself is quite heavy, you can only manage about six blows at a time. Each time the post-shove hits the post, it emits a deafening clang.  So much for the quiet of the countryside! With all the posts finally in place, we re-attached the fencing and the barbed wire.  This in itself is quite hard work, as the wire has to be stretched taut. The previously-mentioned fencing tool is like a pair of pliers and is called a strainer. You use it to grab the wire and pull it tight until your partner secures it to the post with a staple. 

I have mentioned before my ineptitude with tools. This time I was getting frustrated at my seeming inability to hammer a staple in straight. My partner was trying to instruct me in the use of a hammer, with some small success. "You're too timid. Just wallop it!" he said. But I walloped it and it went in sideways. Ho hum. I shall have to practise more. 

To return to the title of this post and my opening paragraph, strength is most certainly required. Has Crossfit helped me? Well, yes and no. Last week when we were making cement, I was unable to lift the bag of cement out of the van. Neither was I able to shift a bucket of chippings. But this week I could carry fence posts from the van to their intended location, and was able to carry a roll of fencing wire. This was also very heavy. So I conclude that whilst I am stronger than many of my friends, I need more strength, and better skills to do this job. But I suppose that is why you have a team of people to help each other.

Voluntary bangs and bruises

In the first few weeks of my voluntary work for the Countryside Service, I received many instructions about health and safety matters. I began work in the Autumn, when the programme of tree felling and thinning out was in progress. Naturally enough, when there is chainsaw work going on, it is necessary to know the basic rules about working safely, such as wearing protective headgear, standing a good distance away from the tree being felled and so on. But I have noticed that these reminders have become less as time has gone on and we are engaged in different tasks. 

Now I don't mind at all being reminded of safety matters, since I am the kind of person who tends to get stuck into a task with enthusiasm, to the extent that I overlook, or am forgetful of the need to be careful.  But today was a day when two of us (The Birdman, and I) sustained some kind of small injury. 

We were doing more fencing work. There are many miles of footpaths in the County, which means many miles of fencing, wicket gates and stiles which need maintenance or repair.  Armed with a map and what The Birdman called "intelligence", we drove down some out-of-the-way country lanes to find our way to some rolling farmland, set among the disused quarries and mines of this limestone area.  I have described in previous  blog posts the process of clearing away any damaged or rotting fencing, digging post holes, installing the fence posts and then attaching any rails that are needed to complete the structure. 

There were several tasks on the list, the first of which was to replace a waymarking post. The old one was suffering from rot, so it was necessary to remove it, as we try to put the replacement as near as possible to the  old, if possible using the same hole.  Removing an old post might seem an easy job. This one gave us a few difficulties. We dug down and discovered that the bottom of the post, a good way underground, had a metal cross through it, thereby anchoring it securely. In the course of unearthing it, I was rocking the post back and forth in order to loosen the soil around it. During one of these wiggles, I managed to get my head in line with the post as I rocked it towards me, and gave myself quite a bump. After seeing that I was OK, my co workers fell about with hilarity, saying they had never seen anyone head-butt a post before. Very funny, I am sure!  The post finally came out and we were able to put in the new one.

I have been a bit concerned about the distribution of work when there are three of us. It is perfectly possible to stand aside and let the lads do it all, especially as I find some of the tools too heavy to use effectively. But I have found that I can take over and do a bit of digging for instance, when they pause for a rest. So they do most of the heavy work, which is fine because I am too slow if I do that. Instead I make myself useful by doing the fetching and carrying, sawing off bits of wood to make a neat job, and mixing cement for fixing the posts in position.  I am good at mixing cement, I know the proportion of chips to cement to water, and I know what it looks like when it is ready to use. The amounts we use for the posts is small, so we mix it with a spade on an old piece of hardwood, or whatever happens to be around.

After we finished work on this waymarking post, we drove the pickup down what used to be a lane to a farm. There were curlews and lapwings everywhere. I love their cries. The land is now a grassy strip between two stone walls. About half a mile further on we came to a pair of very large old iron gates across the lane, with a stile to one side.  We needed to open the iron gate, but it took three of us to lift it, it weighed a ton. They don't make them like that any more!  It was at this stile that we were to do our next job of installing a wicket gate.  This job proceeded more easily, as the soil was easy to dig, although in one of the post holes we encountered some stones that had to be crowbarred out.  The post hole was quite close to a dry stone wall, and whilst wielding the crowbar, The Birdman inadvertently banged his fingers between the crowbar and the stone wall. I think he received a quite painful bruise. There is nothing that health and safety can do to protect us against this kind of injury, other than being constantly aware of potential hazards. We installed two posts and some rails between them, but ran out of time before we were able to attach the gate. The lads would return the next day to finish the job.

Whilst we were there, one of the farmers drove up in his landrover to see what we were doing. He carefully explained who the land belonged to and asked if we had permission to be there. The conversation was polite and civilised, though at the same time there was an underlying tension I felt on both sides. Of course, it had all been cleared with the appropriate landowner. However it is easy to see how, on the one hand a farmer might feel annoyed if he thought that people were doing things without permission, whilst on the other hand the Countryside people are trying to do a job. It can easily lead to misunderstandings and bad feeling unless everything is sorted out beforehand. I think there is an uneasy relationship between the landowners across whose land the footpaths run, and the bodies who are charged with looking after them.

Some mid-season pruning

The team were busy this week, engaged in various bird-related activities I gather, so I only managed a half-day with the Countryside Service.  It was a gentle afternoon, doing a little mid-season pruning of overhanging greenery along the trail.  Today it was just me and one of the wardens -henceforth I shall call him The Birdman, as this is his area of expertise and interest.  He used to do a lot of volunteer work for the RSPB. Sometimes it is good to be with only one other person as you have an opportunity to ask questions and tend to learn a lot more.

I'd been thinking about the fact that I know there is money available for conservation and environmental purposes, but I had no notion of where it comes from or how it is spent.  I asked The Birdman about this. 

A little way along the trail, there is a field to one side where it widens out, and it is given over to grassland.  The area is maintained as a grassland meadow, which means that things like bracken and the himalayan balsam are weeded out. This then encourages the development of a rich meadow of wild flowers.  This field is known as the Stewardship Field, because some funding has been secured to protect and maintain it from the Environmental Stewardship Fund. At least, I think that is what it is called. I tried to find out more information, but my google search kept retrieving a company that provides consultancy on managing woodland, and an organisation in Minnesota.  There was some interesting information on both websites, but I don't think either were the one Mr Birdman was referring to.  Whatever the fund is pays for the fences which bound the area. The fence prevents horse and bike access but people still have access via a stile  Another example of the work that the Service does in the local community is that next week a group of people with learning disabilities will be coming to help weed the field.

Sometimes when I am not able to do my volunteering, I spend some time finding out background information about the work. I was talking to Mr Head Ranger recently, and mentioned the fact that I had found some slides from a presentation he had made to a local conference. The conference, which took place in 2008, was a local gathering of people concerned with implementing the Biodiversity Action Plan, or BAP for short.  I realise that there are large gaps in my knowledge about environmental issues, but then, there is a lot to know.  Wikipedia informs us that "the principal elements of a BAP typically include:(a) preparing inventories of biological information for selected species or habitats; (b) assessing the conservation status of species within specified ecosystems; (c) creation of targets for conservation and restoration; and (d) establishing budgets, timelines and institutional partnerships for implementing the BAP."  These elements translate into species and habitat plans at a national and local level.

Going back to Mr Head Ranger's presentation, the thrust of it was that the work that they do is an attempt to make an impact on the environment by engaging more of the population, and that the sites that they manage is the best way to inform and engage people.  Countryside sites are therefore managed for people and wildlife.

I find all of this very interesting. If I had my time again, I think I might have pursued a career in this field.  I know that there are a number of courses available for people who want to take it further.

Dont fence me in!

Surprisingly, three weeks have elapsed since my last post, it doesn't seem that long.The season has moved along in the meantime. The bluebells have been and gone (but I saw some on my travels, though not in such numbers), and the undergrowth of nettles, umbellifera (yarrow? cow parsely?), buttercups, and other flora are now waist high. Everything is incredibly green. In spite of that, the weather men have been saying that we have had the driest spring on record.

I've been away. I took a week out to go on a visit to the Outer Hebrides.  This is something that has been on my list of "must do" for a while. I am attracted to wild, unspoilt places with a bit of wildlife and history thrown in, and the Outer Hebrides, or the Western Isles as they are called for administrative purposes fit that bill.  Others have written at length about the birds, the seals, the wonderful "machair" or seaside meadows, so it is not my intention to repeat them. Other than to say it was a wonderful experience, apart from gale force winds that assailed us for most of the week. Even the locals were complaining that the weather was most unusual for this time of year.  So I returned last week, ready for some more countryside work, but discovered that the office was in the throes of having a floor replaced, and everyone was busy with that.

I turned up this morning full of enthusiasm for the day's activities. My heart sank when I discovered that we were to do more fencing replacement. The last time we did this, where we were digging through asphalt and concrete, nearly put me off the job for good. However, as it turned out, today's was a straightforward job in comparison.

I reported in an earlier post, Two steps forward, one step back, 9/2/11,  about the damage to the trail, that had been caused by heavy rains and blocked drains.  Last week some contractors came in and did a lot of remedial work, which included digging out the main place where the blocked drain had caused the flood. Now I am not just talking about an ordinary drain here.  It is a place where there is a stream in a deep gully on the uphill side, with a drain into a ditch at the side of the trail.  The contractors used a digger to excavate about 4 metres of silt from this gully.  Interestingly, this excavation revealed the original victorian stone arch and a massive drain which took the stream under the old railway. But the result of this work is that there is now a steep bank going down from the trail to the big hole and drain.  The edge of the hole is unstable, so our job was to fence it off, to prevent the public from endangering themselves.

Today was a good lesson in how to put up post-and-rail fences. There was a lot of discussion initially about where to put the main posts, both in relation to the existing fence and the spacing between them.  Also, we needed to decide whether to have the fence rails running level, or running parallel to the ground.  Eventually we opted for the latter arrangement in order to minimise the space underneath the bottom rail. A fence consists of upright posts and horizontal rails between them, and sometimes subsidiary uprights in between the main posts. The combination of how these are put together varies according to the lie of the land. The main posts come with ready drilled holes, to enable the placement of the horizontal rails. When everything is in position, the whole thing is screwed together. As I said, it was a much easier job than the previous one, because the ground was, in the main part, soil. So the shove hole tool worked a treat, even I managed to work it. I also used the crowbar to prise out some rocks, did some shifting of earth with the spade, and made myself useful with the saw to trim off the rails to the appropriate size.  I used the drill briefly to put some screws in, but my co-volunteer did most of this as he is pretty nifty with the drill.  At one point during the construction, it became clear that the other volunteer was the wrong side of the fence and called out, "don't fence me in!"  He had to finish putting the screws in, then retreat to the trail side of the fence before we could attach the last rail. All in all I think we did a good job, the result is sturdy and neat. I like doing this work, you get a great sense of achievement when you see the end product of your labours.

A little bit of weeding

This week the task was to deal with yet another invasive species, Himalayan Balsam. It is found especially on riverbanks and in waste ground. Himalayan balsam tolerates low light levels and also shades out other vegetation, so gradually reducing habitats by killing off other plants. It covers about 10% of the 30 hectare riverside site. 

As we walked round, Mr Warden explained the strategy for the site, which is to try to encourage the growth of native woodland flora.  In the past two years, my co-workers have been experimenting with different ways of getting rid of Himalayan Balsam. Today, we were doing some simple weeding, but in previous years they have raked and strimmed. Weeding is easy as the balsam has a very shallow root cluster and now is the right time to do weeding before they flower. Conveniently, flowering occurs late when it many of the other vegetation is dying down in the autumn. At this time the plants can be cut down or strimmed without damage to other plants, but this must be done before the seed pods ripen and disperse the seeds explosively. Each plant can produce up to 800 seeds. These are dispersed widely as the ripe seedpods shoot their seeds up to 7m away.

The plants we were pulling out today varied in height from 30cm to 80cm. In some places, it was 100% cover with balsam, in others it was mixed in with nettles, brambles, ash and hazel seedlings, forget-me-nots, campions and grasses.  Where the balsam was small we left some of these areas untouched, so that we didn’t damage the other species growing. Patches which had been attacked last year were showing new growth of other kinds of plants. In a day, we managed to make some good inroads into removing a lot of balsam

It was cool but steamy weather and the many birds were in good voice,  busy about us collecting food for their young.  The woodland floor, where the vegetation is sparse, is a wonderful heady-smelling mulch of leaf mould, full of insects and creepy crawlies which the birds love. The bright, fresh greenery at this time of year is so wonderful, I think “luscious” is a good word to describe it. The hawthorn and May blossom are at their fullest extent.

As a postscript, Mr Warden told me that the balsam is an edible plant. I looked it up on the Net. There are quite a few websites which provide recipes for its use in salads, jam and syrup making. Apparently the seeds taste a bit like hazel nuts.

Why I am not a road mender

Last week, back at the Countryside Service, I did the hardest physical day’s work that I can remember. Suffice it to say, I could barely walk home at the end of it. I now understand why road menders spend so much time standing about. Firstly, in some tasks because of physical space constraints, only one person can be working. Secondly because it is such hard work you need frequent rests.

Our base is situated in a car park. Along one side of the car park is a fenced off path, which strictly speaking is a stretch of the Pennine Bridleway. Some of this fencing was in need of repair, a repair which involved the replacement of four fence posts and some of the horizontal rails between them.  The reason it was such hard graft was that holes for the new posts had to be dug through tarmac and concrete to a depth of 68cm. The tools we had at our disposal were: A wacker (a small pneumatic drill); a shove-hole (a large, heavy tool that looks like an apple corer when it is closed, but works like tongs with shovels on the end, which scoop up the earth); a crowbar; spades; a tin cup (for getting the earth out of the hole when it becomes too deep for the shove-hole); a tape measure; a spirit-level for posts; materials for making concrete; a wheelbarrow.  I took my turn with each of these tools, including the pneumatic drill. This was much easier to work with than I had envisaged, but I can understand why operators who use these things all the time end up with “vibration white finger”.

The work was slow. It took us all day to dig the four holes, but of course quite quick to cement in the posts. I enjoyed making the concrete in the wheelbarrow. This was something my father showed me how to do many moons ago, so I know the recipe (roughly) in terms of proportion of grit to sand to cement and water.  I’m glad that we don’t do this sort of thing every week, as I think my enthusiasm for volunteering might dissipate quite quickly.

By way of light relief, the next day I went out to do another bird survey. This was much the same as the last, but because we were early, there seemed to be more activity.  The highlight though, that made it all worthwhile, was that the warden could hear some juvenile long-tailed tits. The chirping was coming from a nearby tree which he searched with his binoculars. Eventually he spotted nine baby long-tailed tits huddled together on a branch, high up. I looked at them through the binoculars and was delighted to see them. They were so cute! We stood for several minutes watching the mother bird flying in and feeding them.  We both cursed the fact that neither of us had a camera – it would have made the wildlife picture of the year.

The amateur naturalist at work

As I stated in the last entry, spring is the best time to be in Greece. The agricultural countryside around us is a picture of bright green wheat fields, dusky green olive groves, in contrast with newly ploughed red soil and a scattering of red-tiled roofs. The spaces in between abound with wild flowers on waste ground and reedy wetlands.

We had a trip out to one of our favourite places this week. Chalkidiki consists of three legs of land, our home is on the first, but our favourite trip is to the second leg known as Sithonia. There is a bay that we visit which has strange conglomerations of weathered rocks and some small islands near to the shore. It is a favourite with visitors in the summer, and a great place to swim, but at this time of year it is possible to walk around the bay and along a headland among a blaze of flowers. I was a bad citizen of the world, as I collected a number of wildflowers on our walk for purposes of identification. But I only collected one sample from where there were many. 

Returning home I consulted my field guide, but as I soon discovered, identification is not quick or easy. A degree in botany might be a good start! First you have to answer a number of questions such as, does the plant have a green pigment, does it grow in water or on land, are flowers inconspicuous or obvious, how many petals do they have, how are these arranged, etc etc. Eventually you are directed to the appropriate part of the book, where, if you have answered the questions correctly (understanding the terminology helps!) you might find out what you are looking at.  Not being the most patient of people, I found this quite difficult. However, I was able to identify a bright yellow daisy which was a corn marigold; some chamomile and mustard; a lovely little pale mauve flower that I found growing in a cluster close to the ground which to my surprise was a kind of willowherb, marsh willowherb probably; some common storksbill (blue), another pale pink delicate flower on a spindly stalk, I reckon this was pale flax; a tassel hyacinth (blue – like grape hyacinths, but a different shape) and a blue pea-like flower which grows in abundance called a hedysarum.  There were also huge numbers of poppies, both the scarlet common variety and a red horned poppy. Greece does a nice line in thistles too. There are 5 pages of my field guide devoted to thistles, and I estimate that our part of Greece has a fair number of them, from tiny, delicate little varieties, to 1.5 metre giants. If any of my readers are botanists, they might like to tell me whether any of the above flowers are unusual.

I didn’t have much to say about birds in my previous entry. The swallows always arrive in numbers, usually at the end of March. I was lucky the other day to encounter a group of three just sitting on a low telephone wire. They were preening themselves and quite unpeturbed as I walked past. It was good to see them close up as my eyesight is not what it used to be and I don’t like using binoculars. The reddish-brown markings on these birds are very striking. There are also lots of martins and collared doves. We had one trying to make a nest last year on top of the air conditioning unit. I saw the dove’s head poking out and its little beady eye looking at me. I was thrilled as I envisaged a family of collared doves.  But I returned to UK before my beloved, and as soon as I had departed he set to with a broom and dismantled the nest. Rotten spoilsport!

Another aspect of wildlife which flourishes in Greece is the frog population. At this time of year there is a cacophony of chattering from drainage ditches and the reed beds. In any pond it is possible to see lots of the little critters leaping about. They stop their noise as you approach, but if you stand quietly, they start up again fairly quickly.

Our time here is nearly up. We return to the UK and I will find out what my colleagues at the Countryside Service have been up to in my absence.

Portrait of a Greek village in Chalkidi

Our home in Greece is in a rural coastal village in Chalkidiki. The village was established in the 1930s by Greek refugees from Turkey following the catastrophic exchange of populations after the collapse of the Ottoman empire.  The original houses were modest 2-3 room affairs built of mudbrick. As the wealth of the local population has improved, these mudbrick houses have gradually been replaced, in the 60s and 70s by three storey houses for three generations of a family (though in many cases the third storey remains unbuilt) or more recently by apartment blocks. These ventures, and the tavernas and bars were a means of allowing locals to supplement their income from agriculture, fishing or other small business ventures.More recently the tavernas and bars have become the main source of income during the summer months.

 When we came eight years ago, the village was a small agricultural and fishing village, with an area to one side consisting of holiday apartments. We chose our apartment because it was on the edge of the village away from the sea front with its tavernas and bars. It has a view of the countryside inland.

We have learned that most of the holiday apartments are owned either by well-off Thessalonians who use them as weekenders during the summer, or by Germans. Since the expansion of the European Union, there are noticeably more Bulgarians and Romanians holidaying here.  What is extraordinary is that the summer holiday season only lasts for about six to eight weeks. Outside this period, the place is dead, (as we discovered to our cost one New Year when we were trying to find an open taverna).  An entry on Wikipedia estimates that a permanent population of 1520 is swelled to around 20,000 during the season. This puts considerable strain on rubbish collections, which are well-organised and frequent here, and water supply, which tends to dry up at about 6pm when the holiday population has returned home from the beach and are taking their showers. 

Our village is typical of the expansion of tourist developments since the 1970s, which have sprung up in a ribbon along the coastlines of Chalkidiki. The Rough Guide notes that these developments have swept away both agricultural plots and wildlife havens as they grow. Expanding resorts increase local employment, often attracting inland workers to the coast. The generation that would have once herded sheep or goats, or tended their small vegetable patches, now work in tourist bars and tavernas.

The developments round our village are typical of this trend. Eight years ago there were fields and swampy wetlands between us and the next village, 2km away. Reed beds were home to a variety of birds. The tinkling of bells heralded the shepherd, who regularly drove his flock of goats past our apartment. In the intervening years, the wetlands have been gradually filled and bulldozed, and gradually roads have been made. Heavy earth moving machinery means that an ancient meadow or in our case the delicate ecology of a wetland can be swept away in a morning’s work. The space between us and the next village is gradually filling up with new apartment blocks.

Whilst this expansion to the south has been taking place, the village has seen other development too. There is now a paved esplanade along the seafront planted with palm trees. Easter marks the time when the village apparently wakes up and there is a hive of activity. The tavernas and bars have increased in number, and seem to get an annual refit. A lot of white paint is applied to kerbs and the lower part of tree trunks. There is much pruning of trees – the palm trees have their lower fronds removed. Aspen trees and poplars provide shade, but are subject to an annual savaging which leaves them looking pretty ugly. Surprisingly these amputated branches seem to recover and throw out new shoots pretty quickly. The better bars have put in gardens consisting of lawns upon which tables and chairs are provided for beer and coffee drinkers, with borders of flowers such as gladioli and roses. The lawns are mowed and everything is kept well watered..Away from the seafront, a triangle of land between three roads outside our apartment has become a well-tended parkland space.  It has about 16 palm trees, a couple of rose beds and grass. It is tended regularly by council workers who come once a week. They strim the grass (I cannot understand why they do not use a mower – strimming takes three times as long), weed the rose beds and as it is spring they have today been pruning the palm trees. I notice that for this they use a long-handled saw driven by a motor similar to the ones we use at home. All the palm fronds are gathered in a heap and will be taken away later.

So we are tidied up and modernised, but at considerable expense to wildlife. And at the expense of the traditional way of life. The shepherd has moved elsewhere. And sadly, down the street, a shed in which three old men distilled tsipouro (like ouzo) has long since gone.

A wild life in Greece

Easter is the best time to be in Greece. (Unless you happen to be a lamb, in which case it is best to leave the country at an early opportunity). The weather can be variable – quite cool, to very warm – but this is not the reason for it being the best time. It is best because of the wonderful spring awakening of its wildlife. People who come only in the summer miss a treat. Everywhere is a mosaic of flowers, which attract a multitude of insects, and they in turn bring the birds to life. The countryside is a riot of colour: arable fields are rich with an abundance of scarlet poppies, blue bugloss, white and yellow daisies, wild peas, gladioli and grape hyacinths. According to The Rough Guide, Greece has about four times as many native flowering plants as Britain. In isolated areas, such as Mount Olympus, species have developed which are found nowhere else. It also has many species of orchid, but the slopes of Olympus are the only place I have seen any.

One’s first impressions of the Greeks’ attitude to wildlife tend to be negative. Anywhere that is not farmed land is left as wasteland. Littering and fly tipping appear to be endemic, although to be fair, the natives do use a bin if one is provided. However at the end of a public holiday, these bins are overflowing and big piles of rubbish rise up.  Farming is still carried out on a small scale in many areas, and plants growing in the wild, such as greens, herbs, figs, plums and cherries are still harvested by many Greeks. Only those species that have a practical use are regarded as having a value.

But this view is in contrast to efforts devoted to conserving wild areas. Greek TV programmes regularly highlight the beauty of some of these places. There are some spectacular parts of the country, such as the mountainous regions in the north-west, where national parks have been created.  These parks don’t appear to have the same status as British national parks, but nevertheless are protected, in theory at least, and respected by most Greeks. 

Greeks are amazingly good at setting things up. Money for projects comes from the Ministry of Culture, the local municipality, and mostly from the European Union. An example is an amenity near a village in the mountains that we visited over Easter. It is on the edge of a gorge leading to the higher peaks of Mt Pieria, (some of the highest in Greece, in the same range as Olympus) and boasts some spectacular views. A 2km footpath has been created up one of the walls of the gorge. It leads eventually to the top of a small peak, where there are the remains of a Byzantine castle.  Safety railings have been erected along the gorge path, then for the last 700m a paved path takes you to the castle. In the grounds there is a recently erected pavilion with seats, housing information boards in Greek and English giving some of the history and background to the site.  But there are a few destructive individuals (teenagers on trail bikes? Is there a thread of similarity with Britain emerging?) who spoil it for everyone by damaging the notices, breaking the timber in the seats and who spray graffiti on any available surface.  This has not yet happened at this particular site, but there are three information boards around the site that no longer contain any information. The difference between Greece and the UK is that there appears to be no money for ongoing maintenance, so that once something is damaged, it stays that way. A visit to some of the lesser known archaeological sites, in which an effort is made to protect the wildlife habitat, often reveals a forlorn and neglected visitor facility.

The walk up the Gorge was lovely. It is limestone and has some craggy outcrops. In these rocks it was possible to spot birds nesting, but other than rock pigeons and a lone buzzard, I was not able to identify any others. The wildflowers were in abundance here too, though more of the alpine variety. As well as the poppies and bugloss, which grow everywhere, I noted some aubretia growing in clefts and blue anemones in the grassy patches. There was a preponderance of small yellow flowers, which I think were probably some kind of ragwort. The lower slopes of the mountains, which are difficult to farm, are left to regenerate. Here you see a mass of bright lilac-purple blossom, which at first I thought were a variety of wild cherry. I eventually identified these as  the Judas Tree. It grows everywhere in this region. The purple is interspersed with yellow, a combination of broom and gorse.

I haven’t noticed any particular fauna in Greece, though I know there are bears in the mountains, and boars which are hunted. There are also small creatures that the locals call squirrels, but they are more like chipmunks. In great numbers on the beach of our seaside village we see crested larks. It is also surprisingly easy to see tortoises trundling about. You might be sitting at a quiet place looking at the view when suddenly there is crashing about in the undergrowth.  You sit and wait and eventually you will be rewarded with the emergence of a tortoise in search of good forage. The Greeks appear to like tortoises and will drive round one if it happens to be crossing the road. This is not the case for cats, dogs and hedgehogs, carcases of which it is easy to see at the side of any road. I am frustrated by my ignorance of local fauna. It would be helpful to have one of my colleagues from the Countryside Service to help me out with their superior knowledge of what to look for, as I am sure that there are many more things here, if only I could see them. But I have my reference books, so some more study is in order, I think.

Building steps - footpath maintenance

It's a funny thing, this blogging lark. A friend remarked recently that it is quite addictive, and he's right.  I'm currently in foreign climes. Initially I thought, oh well, I'll just leave it. Then I thought, actually, I could write about nature on my travels.  We have now found a means of connecting to the internet, so I am able to update the blog. What is fascinating is the statistics that the software provides you with. How on earth have I ended up with readers in the US and Canada?  Are they the same people each time, or completely different individuals? France, India, Croatia, Iran, Belarus, Russia, South Africa. What? How?  The ones in the UK, Australia, Greece and Switzerland can all be explained. 

Now where was I? Ah yes. On a footpath which crosses farmland in a valley over the hill from us.  I was forewarned that this was a big job, so it was all hands on deck.  There were two wardens and three volunteers, plus a very important person in the shape of the Inspector of Footpaths. He was in charge of operations for the day, which started with the usual briefing.  It is nine years since complaints were first received from the local Footpaths Society about the fact that the bridge at the stream crossing was in a sad state of disrepair. That and a series of delicate negotiations with the farmer whose land it crosses are an indication of how thinly resources are stretched. An agreement was reached with the farmer whereby access to build the footbridge was permitted in exchange for rebuilding two stiles and installing a wicket gate. Technically the building and maintenance are his responsibility, whilst the Countryside Service merely provides the kit.

We split into two teams, one to do the stiles, the other to do work by the new bridge, which  had recently been installed by a team working to the Footpaths Inspector. Our job consisted of making good the approaches to the bridge on either side. One approach was down a steep bank, and it was here that we were to construct a series of steps, using a variety of wooden planks and stakes which we had brought with us. 

Our job was particularly awkward, as the steps were to be constructed around the roots of a large tree, which spread out in all directions. As a consequence, some cogitation took place regarding a possible route for the steps. Eventually a plan was hatched which would incorporate some of the tree roots as steps.  We proceeded by firstly constructing a revetment parallel to the proposed steps. The planks were cut to size and a small trough cut to provide a flat base for them.  The planks are held in place by hammering large stakes into the ground on either side. Then we dug out the soil to level off the ground, thereby making the tread of the step. The tree roots posed such an obstacle that the size and shape of the steps up the bank were largely determined by them. Finding a rootless piece of ground into which to drive a stake was an interesting challenge.  My role in all of this was some sawing, some cutting of steps and the collection of some barrow loads of shingle from the stream. This was spread on the steps as a top layer.  I didn't do any hammering as I am not much good at it.

During the whole exercise, my co-workers kept up a constant stream of mock Father Ted repartee. Both were able to re-produce an authentic sounding Irish brogue, which kept me laughing for most of the day. One of the joys of volunteering with these people is that they are such fun to be with. It is also great to be doing something that is worthwhile at the same time.

Whilst we were working, the other team headed up by the Footpaths Inspector worked on the wicket gate and the stiles.  The man proclaimed himself very satisfied with our efforts at the end of the day, and took numerous photographs of the volunteers. There is no doubt that the Countryside Service derives a great benefit from our labours. My co-volunteer today is a short but strong man, with a cheery disposition and a great sense of fun. He worked incredibly hard all day, only occasionally stopping for a short rest. He is a great inspiration to me, as I sometimes feel like a bit of a spare part.  They are all good at involving me, even though I lack some of the skills that are required in this job.

Brambles and birds

Every job has its mundane aspects, and my job as a volunteer for the Countryside Service is no exception. I didn't write about last week because we spent the entire day removing plastic tree guards from trees and hedging, which are large enough to no longer require protection.  In the morning we were in a location along the trail where there is some new hedging. I can't pretend that I enjoyed this very much as it involved crawling on all fours or slithering about one one's stomach underneath a prickly hawthorn hedge.  In the afternoon we were at the riverside site where the guards were round trees. It was a much easier job.  This site is quite large, so we spent quite a long time walking about to find the guards that needed removing. Much of the job involves walking about and just seeing what is going on. So my partner for this activity, the warden, was taking a mental note of the birds we observed as we were walking around, and looking for evidence for other wildlife. There was a badger trail at one point, but no evidence of frogs in the pond yet.

This week we were back at the riverside site.  In November we had had a day of tree-felling, but one of our number had spent the same day chopping back brambles in a clearing.  It was to this clearing we returned, and our task was to dig out the bramble roots.  This work was as back breaking as shovelling out the drains was a couple of weeks ago.  The roots are deep and penetrating, often in a tangle, with runners that go along to the next overground growth. The soil was wet and claggy and before long our boots, forks, gloves and trousers were covered in the stuff.  Trying to get hold of a root and pull, with muddy gloves that slip and slide is not an easy thing to do.  By lunch time we were both quite tired, and disappointingly only a very small patch had been cleared. But we decided to call it quits for the day, and in the afternoon we spent our time more productively planting tree saplings.  There is a small nursery next to the depot, from where we collected some hazel, birch, hawthorn and field maple. We planted these in specific spots where it was deemed necessary to create more cover.  

I have mentioned before how my remunerated colleagues are very good at explaining what they do and why. As the planting proceeded, I received a lengthy exposition about the features of a natural woodland, which the lads are trying to recreate. Remembering that this site was a brownfield site reclaimed, initially the woodland was allowed to grow by itself. Then some planting took place to try to introduce some variety of species. After some years, some trees are felled to make space for other trees to grow larger. After some more years, more trees are planted, in order to produce a varied age range of the trees in the wood. This all happens naturally, but what we are doing do is speeding up the process.  A natural woodland has clearings, where old trees have died, fallen and rotted away, and rides. A ride is a linear open space within a wood derived from the need for access. Rides may have a hard surface but are usually unsurfaced.  Most commonly rides consist of a central grass zone with a mixed herbaceous and shrub zone on one or both sides. A track becomes a ride when it is wide enough to make a break in the canopy overhead.  Because the light penetrates, a greater variety of plant life occurs, which in turn supports a greater variety of animal life than in the rest of the woodland. Since my memory is rather poor, I checked up on this at home later. My source for this information was again the Forestry Commission, which produces a plethora of How-to-do-it guides for woodland management.

The warden has been speaking to me recently about the need to conduct a bird survey of their woodland areas. I had previously expressed an interested in taking part. Toward the end of the day, it was fixed that we would conduct a survey the following morning: the weather forecast was for a dry, settled day.  This meant arriving early. Birds are generally active early in the morning and late afternoon.

The Countryside Service carry out this survey on a voluntary basis for the BTO (British Trust for Ornithology).  The surveys take place maybe four or five times between March and June and the information collected gives a snapshot of the state of birdlife in the country.

Armed with some large scale maps of the area, we started from base along the trail. My tutor was observing, I was recording on the map what he heard or saw.  There are symbols for sightings of birds sitting, birds flying, with a start point and end point, birds calling, birds singing, birds in aggressive display, birds making nests.  There are symbols codes for the different species and sexes.  There were the usual blue tits, great tits, blackbirds and robins, but also a couple of warblers, two or three song thrushes, a woodpecker, chiff chaffs, chaffinch, goldfinches, dunnocks, and tree creepers.  We spent two hours walking slowly around the bluebell wood and along the trail.  "The only job where you get paid to walk slowly", said the warden with some wry amusement.  The highlight was seeing a pair of tree creepers with nesting material, and eventually spotted where they were making their nest, in a cleft under some bark in an ancient chestnut tree.  My companion, a keen birder himself, was delighted with this, as he had not previously seen where tree creepers nest.  We stood and watched for a few minutes. They are such sleek, pretty little birds. I am pleased we will have a family there soon. The end of our walk took us out near some houses, and there we encountered a large flock of house sparrows. Nice to see them, they have become so scarce in some parts of the country.  The warden was happy with our survey. One of the results was to note that quite a number of the nest boxes we put up are being used.  The next stage is to transfer all the information to a master map, which is something I may get involved in in future.