A glorious day today, the sun had some real warmth in it. The birds are getting very vocal, some daffodils are now in full bloom, and the trees are gaining a greenish tinge as the leaf buds emerge. I love the British spring. As a child, I lived in Australia. In our bit of the country there was always something in bloom throughout the year, so spring was a gradual and fairly muted affair. Here, everything suddenly bursts into life. Two days of warm sunshine and the cherry blossom is everywhere.
I have solved the mystery of the vanishing dog poo. In spite of being told on a previous occasion that it was not our responsibility, it is indeed we who keep the place tidy. This morning we went out along the trail and into the Bluebell Wood. Our purpose? Litter picking. We have long armed tongs and a black bin bag for this task. The main pickings consist of plastic drinks bottles and cans, crisp packets and lots of abandoned plastic bags containing dog poo. The country's spring budget has just been announced and I would have to say that the Chancellor has missed a trick here. If he wanted to raise a lot of money quickly, a tax on all of the above items would yield a small fortune. Especially dog poo. There is definitely no shortage of it. It is a sad but true fact that the greatest problem for nature is the human, the only species that seems intent on messing up his own environment. On our way back to base we encountered a toad, which tried to hide in the leaf litter, and then a frog jumped across the track in front of us.
A return to base and a short conversation resulted in a decision to spend the rest of the day helping Our Lady of the Bridleway with some drain clearance. As the sole member of staff responsible for some 60 miles of bridleway, she sometimes finds it necessary to borrow members of the countryside team. Rains which fell about a month ago caused a lot of damage, which is worse if the drains get blocked. The section that we were going to gets a lot of traffic from trail bikes and 4x4s., which churn the whole thing up and make everything worse.
We took the new landrover. In driving to the place where we were to do the work, I was to receive an education in what these remarkable vehicles can do. My only previous experience of landrovers has been in driving about grouse moors in Scotland, along tracks which are generally quite gentle. Today's drive was a different prospect altogether. The erosion to the track was so bad in places, that at one spectacular point we had to drive down an actual step that was about a foot deep. Our Lady showed off her driving skills with great aplomb. Selecting one of the many gears, we sallied forth with only a few bumps but no problems. I'm afraid my consternation got the better of me: my general state of alarm was spotted and caused some amusement among my colleagues.
The Peak District is mainly limestone, the landscape being full of rocky outcrops, high hills and steep valleys, which are called "cloughs" hereabouts. We were visiting one of these cloughs which is quite out of the way, so the drive in along the track lasted about 30 minutes. We parked at the bottom of the clough on a grassy patch near a spot where the bridleway goes over a ford. At regular intervals down one side of the hill and up the other, stone culverts have been built across the track to drain away water coming downhill and attempt to avert erosion to the track itself. A combination of weather and a general hammering from vehicular traffic has resulted in a good many of these culverts being filled up with rubble.
After a picnic lunch in the sunshine, we set to work with spades and a shovel, but a pickaxe might have been more appropriate for breaking up the packed down rubble. It was hard graft, chipping away with the corner of the spade to loosen the pack until there was enough loose material to lift out of the way. We did four or five culverts on one side of the hill, then started on the side. I was working alone on a culvert near a bend in the track. Gradually I heard the sound of an approaching engine, and wondered what on earth could be in the vicinity. The noise got closer and then over the brow of a little hummock I saw two orange safety lights bouncing up and down. I picked up my spade and stepped to one side. Round the corner came ... Mr Head Ranger in the other landrover. He had finished his office duties and decided to join us.
I don't think the 4x4s are supposed to use the bridleway at all. Our Lady of the Bridleway explained how they had had to erect fences at certain points to prevent them from taking short cuts and carving out new tracks. It is a difficult activity to manage, and the policy is to minimise access to these vehicles. I can see that this is quite a problem. Clearly people who enjoy this kind of sport must have somewhere to indulge their passion, but not at the expense of fragile moorland environments. I wondered whether the drivers of 4x4s actually enjoy being out in the countryside, and if they do, do they understand that their hobby is destroying it? Or is their enjoyment merely the thrill of a difficult drive?
It was certainly an exciting drive back afterwards. Mr Head Ranger regained possession of the new landrover (I understand he is quite possessive about it) and put it through its paces. We reached the step that caused my trepidation on the way down. Three times he tried to drive up it. The fourth, on a different tack, succeeded. Extraordinary. I am sure it could drive up a flight of steps. I wonder whether a landrover has ever featured in James Bond film? On reflection probably not, it isn't sexy enough.
Friday, 25 March 2011
Thursday, 17 March 2011
Japanese Knotweed and the long-armed slasher
Japanese knotweed is a perennial species originating in eastern Asia. It looks a bit like bamboo, but isn't related. But is is very successful in our sort of climate. It is classed as an invasive species because it spreads very fast and threatens native flora.
Today we were a team of three, one Warden and two volunteers. We went to a site I haven't visited before. It is an area which the County Council has purchased from Network Rail and is about to take possession of. Until the 1960s it was a very large marshalling area, and I think there was a coal depot here too. Anyone interested in industrial archaelogy would find the site fascinating. There are a few remains of old rail tracks. On one side lie a sprinkling of anti-tank concrete blocks, and a massive anti-tank ditch defence from the war. The existing rail line runs along the other side. Apart from these industrial treasures, the main site, which is quite large compared to the other sites I have been to, consists of a flat ground in which trees, mainly birch, are now growing. There are one or two ancient beeches and oaks around the periphery, and a few shallow pools dotted about. Other than a network of paths created by trail bikes, the area has remained undisturbed for 50 years. The plan is to bring a section of the Trans-Pennine cycle way, which currently goes along roads at this point, through here.
There were three patches of Japanese knotweed which we had been sent to deal with. We had to cut down last year's growth, now just a bunch of canes, so that the spraying squad can come in and dowse the new growth with a good measure of glyphosate. There are currently a few red-nosed buds appearing at ground level. In another couple of weeks, they'll be above ground and racing. The stuff apparently spreads like wild-fire. You only have to have a bit on your boot and it gets transported to another area. So it is important to dong it good and proper before it takes hold. Armed with a bilhook, a long armed slasher ( I love the names of these tools!) and a rake, we set to work. Some of these tools are pretty evil. They have to be kept sharp to do the job they are required to do. So I was very conscious of health and safety rules using them. The bilhook could take off someone's leg if you weren't careful. The long armed slasher is a bit like a scythe. It was amusing how we all set to with enthusiasm, with cries of "yes!", "hah!" and, "take that!". It was fun to wreak havoc legitimately. I think the lads were working off their various frustrations. After about three hours of slashing, chopping and raking, the job was done. It was quite tiring.
Finally, we started back. The Warden drove the landrover, whilst we two volunteers walked in front, looking out for another patch of knotweed which had been spotted by the Ranger. Although we looked quite carefully, we couldn't find it. But we did find a shallow pool with a large quantity of frog spawn on it. Sadly most of it had been spoiled by a couple of early frosts we had last week. But I expect there is more where that came from. In spite of this, everywhere is beginning to show signs of life after the long winter slumber.
Today we were a team of three, one Warden and two volunteers. We went to a site I haven't visited before. It is an area which the County Council has purchased from Network Rail and is about to take possession of. Until the 1960s it was a very large marshalling area, and I think there was a coal depot here too. Anyone interested in industrial archaelogy would find the site fascinating. There are a few remains of old rail tracks. On one side lie a sprinkling of anti-tank concrete blocks, and a massive anti-tank ditch defence from the war. The existing rail line runs along the other side. Apart from these industrial treasures, the main site, which is quite large compared to the other sites I have been to, consists of a flat ground in which trees, mainly birch, are now growing. There are one or two ancient beeches and oaks around the periphery, and a few shallow pools dotted about. Other than a network of paths created by trail bikes, the area has remained undisturbed for 50 years. The plan is to bring a section of the Trans-Pennine cycle way, which currently goes along roads at this point, through here.
There were three patches of Japanese knotweed which we had been sent to deal with. We had to cut down last year's growth, now just a bunch of canes, so that the spraying squad can come in and dowse the new growth with a good measure of glyphosate. There are currently a few red-nosed buds appearing at ground level. In another couple of weeks, they'll be above ground and racing. The stuff apparently spreads like wild-fire. You only have to have a bit on your boot and it gets transported to another area. So it is important to dong it good and proper before it takes hold. Armed with a bilhook, a long armed slasher ( I love the names of these tools!) and a rake, we set to work. Some of these tools are pretty evil. They have to be kept sharp to do the job they are required to do. So I was very conscious of health and safety rules using them. The bilhook could take off someone's leg if you weren't careful. The long armed slasher is a bit like a scythe. It was amusing how we all set to with enthusiasm, with cries of "yes!", "hah!" and, "take that!". It was fun to wreak havoc legitimately. I think the lads were working off their various frustrations. After about three hours of slashing, chopping and raking, the job was done. It was quite tiring.
Finally, we started back. The Warden drove the landrover, whilst we two volunteers walked in front, looking out for another patch of knotweed which had been spotted by the Ranger. Although we looked quite carefully, we couldn't find it. But we did find a shallow pool with a large quantity of frog spawn on it. Sadly most of it had been spoiled by a couple of early frosts we had last week. But I expect there is more where that came from. In spite of this, everywhere is beginning to show signs of life after the long winter slumber.
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Dam building and mud pies
Under the pressure of mass outrage by we chattering classes, the government abandoned its plan to sell woodlands into private ownership. The issue is by no means resolved, as the relaxation of the planning laws still poses a threat.
Britain still has some unique areas of ancient woodland . Our Bluebell Wood, although tiny, is classed as such and is therefore protected. According the the much maligned Forestry Commission, ancient semi-natural woodlands, of which wet woodlands are a type, are all that remain of the original forests which covered most of Britain and now occupy only 1% of land area. Wet woodlands are valuable because they provide a range of habitats which support a rich diversity of plants and animals. Many woodland species, such as bats which can roost in clefts in the bark on old trees, depend entirely for their survival on the continued existence of these habitats. These woods occur in river valleys, the surroundings of bogs, and beside small winding streams. Alder, willows and birches are the main trees found here, but the ancient trees of the Bluebell Wood are very beautiful ancient oaks. Mr Head Ranger explained how, over time, landscapes and habitats move through a cycle. A wet woodland will eventually drain and dry out and the vegetation will change. This is called succession. So we were to dam up a small stream that runs through the Bluebell Wood in order to allow the surrounding area to re-fill with water. Our work in damming up the little stream is to slow down the process of succession and to preserve what is an isolated, tiny patch of wet woodland for a little bit longer.
The team of three, Mr Head Ranger and his Deputy, and me, worked in stages to get this job done. First, some long alder logs were measured and cut into 1.5m lengths to use for damming material. There were also some smaller, thicker logs about 50cm long. We carried these (heavy!) logs to the stream. Then we cut some slots in the bank at right angles to the stream, into which one of the prepared logs was placed. The slots at the edges of the log were stuffed with clayey soil that we had dug out. A layer of clay was put on top, then another log laid on top. The whole was puddled with clay at the upside. This involved getting a spade-full of clayey matter and dumping it. Not as easy as it sounds, as the clay/mud misture kept slipping off the spade. Much easier to use your hands and get up to your elbow in it. After this, one of the shorter lengths was dug into the stream bed directly under the two forming the bank. This last log forms a defence against the stream floor being eroded from the fall of water over the newly created dam. We made four of these dams, and by the time we had finished we had a regular ladder of dams. My imagination immediately ran to leaping salmon, but I got a bit of a queer look at this from Mr. Head Ranger. "Well", he said after a pause, "we might get some Lancaster bombers coming in". Is this an example of the male and female brain?
So much of the work that I am doing for the Countryside Service reminds me of playing as a child. Am I now playing again? I think so! My other half takes a dim view of this. He thinks I deliberately seek out occasions to get dirty and play about in mud. This isn't true. The truth is that I don't avoid getting my hands dirty, if the situation demands it. If you have looked after animals as I have in the past, you can't afford to be prissy about getting dirty.
We finished work on the dams at about 1.45, so had a late lunch. There were various delays afterwards to getting started again, but we managed to fit in a bit of brush layering to provide a boundary to one edge of the trail. An excellent day.
Britain still has some unique areas of ancient woodland . Our Bluebell Wood, although tiny, is classed as such and is therefore protected. According the the much maligned Forestry Commission, ancient semi-natural woodlands, of which wet woodlands are a type, are all that remain of the original forests which covered most of Britain and now occupy only 1% of land area. Wet woodlands are valuable because they provide a range of habitats which support a rich diversity of plants and animals. Many woodland species, such as bats which can roost in clefts in the bark on old trees, depend entirely for their survival on the continued existence of these habitats. These woods occur in river valleys, the surroundings of bogs, and beside small winding streams. Alder, willows and birches are the main trees found here, but the ancient trees of the Bluebell Wood are very beautiful ancient oaks. Mr Head Ranger explained how, over time, landscapes and habitats move through a cycle. A wet woodland will eventually drain and dry out and the vegetation will change. This is called succession. So we were to dam up a small stream that runs through the Bluebell Wood in order to allow the surrounding area to re-fill with water. Our work in damming up the little stream is to slow down the process of succession and to preserve what is an isolated, tiny patch of wet woodland for a little bit longer.
The team of three, Mr Head Ranger and his Deputy, and me, worked in stages to get this job done. First, some long alder logs were measured and cut into 1.5m lengths to use for damming material. There were also some smaller, thicker logs about 50cm long. We carried these (heavy!) logs to the stream. Then we cut some slots in the bank at right angles to the stream, into which one of the prepared logs was placed. The slots at the edges of the log were stuffed with clayey soil that we had dug out. A layer of clay was put on top, then another log laid on top. The whole was puddled with clay at the upside. This involved getting a spade-full of clayey matter and dumping it. Not as easy as it sounds, as the clay/mud misture kept slipping off the spade. Much easier to use your hands and get up to your elbow in it. After this, one of the shorter lengths was dug into the stream bed directly under the two forming the bank. This last log forms a defence against the stream floor being eroded from the fall of water over the newly created dam. We made four of these dams, and by the time we had finished we had a regular ladder of dams. My imagination immediately ran to leaping salmon, but I got a bit of a queer look at this from Mr. Head Ranger. "Well", he said after a pause, "we might get some Lancaster bombers coming in". Is this an example of the male and female brain?
So much of the work that I am doing for the Countryside Service reminds me of playing as a child. Am I now playing again? I think so! My other half takes a dim view of this. He thinks I deliberately seek out occasions to get dirty and play about in mud. This isn't true. The truth is that I don't avoid getting my hands dirty, if the situation demands it. If you have looked after animals as I have in the past, you can't afford to be prissy about getting dirty.
We finished work on the dams at about 1.45, so had a late lunch. There were various delays afterwards to getting started again, but we managed to fit in a bit of brush layering to provide a boundary to one edge of the trail. An excellent day.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
A lesser form of pond life
Our place of work today was in the old quarry, where I had previously been to help with the unloading of fence posts. Acting on a directive from on high, in reaction to an incident in the south where an intrepid and intruding youngster had got his foot tangled in some submerged wire and subsequently perished, we are required to make safe any ponds under our care.
The quarry floor now houses a caravan park, empty and forlorn looking at present, but no doubt ready to spring into action at Easter. At one end of the site is a fenced off grassy hillock, on the other side of which is the remains of the last bit of quarrying. Here, a large area of flat limestone slab slopes gently down to a shallow pool where the water has collected. The pool is full of old tyres, wire netting, barbed wire and other lovelies.
Now the exciting thing about this pool is that it is the spawning ground for a large colony of frogs, toads and newts. Again, we are faced with maintaining a balance between protecting the public from its own foolishness and preserving a wildlife habitat. We needed to remove the discarded fencing materials with a minimum of disruption, at the same time leaving behind the old tyres. These are not regarded as dangerous. Apparently, the amphibians like to place their spawn on objects like this. The spawning season is not far away.
I had the thrill of donning a brand new pair of thigh length waders. "These rubber waders make me feel very sexy", I exclaim. "My heart is all a tremble", is the lightning response of Mr. Head Ranger. This banter peppers the proceedings for the next half hour. A little later, Mr Deputy Ranger is pulling hard on a piece of wire, trying to extricate it from some submerged obstacle. Suddenly, it breaks free, and he falls backwards, but manages to regain his balance to avoid falling in the water. We all laugh at what might have happened. Our days out always provide some opportunities for merriment. We are a happy crew.
Who could imagine that an old quarry could be so lovely? It was a rare, absolutely still, sunny day. Not a sound could be heard. Above us, some kestrels were chasing away some crows against the bright blue backdrop of sky.
We finished our task, which resulted in a largish pile of scrap, and included a bicycle frame that had had to be hauled up a small cliff which bounded one side of the pond. The lads will come back tomorrow with the trailer and load up the rubbish.
We had a little time to spare, so we were taken on a little excursion to a nearby cliff in an area that is not open to the public. Down behind a large boulder there was an inbotrusive metal plate, about a metre square, against the rock. This apparently is a back door to one of the cave systems that riddle the hills hereabouts. How exciting! My imagination galloped back to children's adventure stories I had read long ago. Behind the door is a sheer drop. If anyone came across it accidentally it could clearly constitute a danger. The door was checked to ensure that it was secure. It was.
A bit of tree pruning completed the jobs for the day.
The quarry floor now houses a caravan park, empty and forlorn looking at present, but no doubt ready to spring into action at Easter. At one end of the site is a fenced off grassy hillock, on the other side of which is the remains of the last bit of quarrying. Here, a large area of flat limestone slab slopes gently down to a shallow pool where the water has collected. The pool is full of old tyres, wire netting, barbed wire and other lovelies.
Now the exciting thing about this pool is that it is the spawning ground for a large colony of frogs, toads and newts. Again, we are faced with maintaining a balance between protecting the public from its own foolishness and preserving a wildlife habitat. We needed to remove the discarded fencing materials with a minimum of disruption, at the same time leaving behind the old tyres. These are not regarded as dangerous. Apparently, the amphibians like to place their spawn on objects like this. The spawning season is not far away.
I had the thrill of donning a brand new pair of thigh length waders. "These rubber waders make me feel very sexy", I exclaim. "My heart is all a tremble", is the lightning response of Mr. Head Ranger. This banter peppers the proceedings for the next half hour. A little later, Mr Deputy Ranger is pulling hard on a piece of wire, trying to extricate it from some submerged obstacle. Suddenly, it breaks free, and he falls backwards, but manages to regain his balance to avoid falling in the water. We all laugh at what might have happened. Our days out always provide some opportunities for merriment. We are a happy crew.
Who could imagine that an old quarry could be so lovely? It was a rare, absolutely still, sunny day. Not a sound could be heard. Above us, some kestrels were chasing away some crows against the bright blue backdrop of sky.
We finished our task, which resulted in a largish pile of scrap, and included a bicycle frame that had had to be hauled up a small cliff which bounded one side of the pond. The lads will come back tomorrow with the trailer and load up the rubbish.
We had a little time to spare, so we were taken on a little excursion to a nearby cliff in an area that is not open to the public. Down behind a large boulder there was an inbotrusive metal plate, about a metre square, against the rock. This apparently is a back door to one of the cave systems that riddle the hills hereabouts. How exciting! My imagination galloped back to children's adventure stories I had read long ago. Behind the door is a sheer drop. If anyone came across it accidentally it could clearly constitute a danger. The door was checked to ensure that it was secure. It was.
A bit of tree pruning completed the jobs for the day.
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