An inventory of trees in my small Devon wood

 Copse, covert, wood, forest, jungle. All terms for land covered with trees. I'm wondering what the precise definition of each is and what factors determine if, for example, a wood is not a forest or a copse is not a wood. Maybe it’s the area or perhaps the number of trees or even both, something else or none of these. I’ll come back to this.

One thing for sure is whether you have a small wooded area or a large one some idea of the number, type, age and condition of the trees is essential if the steward is to manage it effectively. By that I mean look after the older specimens, sustain their numbers, encourage sustainable diversity and where needed introduce new species. Overall, the woods need to have a balance to enable the different woodland layers to thrive for the benefit of flora and fauna.  With a small, accessible wood that should be fairly straightforward: the only difficulties perhaps being the identification of the trees if they are unfamiliar and estimating the ages of the trees if there are no records available. Both of these can be overcome with patience and diligence. If the wooded area is large and diverse in species, or difficult to access due to the topography, then the challenges become greater.

In theory, counting trees should not be too difficult one would think. They are static, don’t suddenly appear or disappear and are mostly long lived. Changes are generally slow except of course when extreme event occur. Counting trees in a wood is not quite straightforward. I’m sure the experienced forester could wander through a wood, consider the age, the density, types of trees and topography, look at a map and tell you how many trees are there. Without that experience someone like me has to resort to counting. 

A little while ago I did a rough count on one of the daily walks. I certaintly missed many and double-counted others but it was a useful start and the result quite surprising. Ignoring the small saplings and not counting trees in the hedgerow my first estimate is as follows. 20-30 mature conifers, 180-200 ash, 100 hazel, 20 mature oak and 70 beech, 70-80 hawthorn, 10 decent sized blackthorn, 15 elder, 5 mature birch, half a dozen holly (mostly under 2m but a couple of mature ones. There are also the many saplings planted since we’ve been here: spindle (20), rowan (10), field maple (10), cherry (10), hornbeam (10) and hawthorn (10). We grew from conkers 5 horse chestnuts which are doing well and a purchased a healthy small leaved lime, along with home grown beech and oak.  I’m not sure I will include all of these in the main listing until I’m sure they will survive. There is sure to be some attrition caused by deer, weather, poor soil conditions, drought and disease. They are all labelled with a date when planted. Whilst I’ll maintain an inventory of these I’ll wait to see which are most likely to survive beyond the juvenile stage before including them in the main listing.

I’ve made a start, fashioning from tin some numbered plates to attach to each tree which can then be logged onto a database . That seems to a be a sensible first step and will no doubt take some time to complete given the numbers involved. But, using the principle we use to not get too overcome by big jobs - eating an elephant: one mouthful at a time - it is achievable. 2 walks a day with the dogs x 10 labels a walk x 7 walks a week. You get the idea. 

I try to keep costs down and was faced with a small challenge of stamping each plate with a unique number without having the benefit of number stamps. I found a technique from the 1970’s of using a staple gun to mark each tree with a series of symbols to represent each digit. This seemed rather crude and inelegant.  Our system of numbering is difficult to improvise without the proper tools given the rounded number shapes. But of course, the Romans had devised a way of marking clay tablets with straight-lined marks . Thus the end of a screwdriver and a hammer was all I needed. Plus, naturally, a quick refresher on Roman numerals.

Reporting on each individual tree will take longer though I’ve yet to decide what level of detail I’ll record. I’m thinking approximate age, height and girth, general health and thoughts on actions should the tree need a little help. My  thoughts are to start with the mature specimens and leave the  younger trees till last. The suckering trees  like the blackthorn and self setting trees like the elder, hazel and hawthorn will be a challenge and difficult to count so a rough estimate will  suffice. Keeping an eye on the extent of ash dieback and looking after the choice specimens like the mature oak and beech means a more detailed picture of the woods is needed.

Although I use the term ‘woods’, this is probably an Americanism: the usual English term being ‘woodlands’.  I don’t mind that and it sounds more informal and folksy. How woods differ from forests is not so easy to resolve. The terms seen to be interchangeable. There are technical differences but in common usage we tend to think of woods as light, diverse, benign places and forests as dense, dark and slightly threatening places. An easier one to get out the way is  ‘copse’ which was a group of trees originally grown for firewood through the practice of coppicing. There would usually be single species such as ash or hazel which regenerate when  coppiced on a rotation basis. This group of trees would lack the richer biodiversity of woodland. A copse, if left unattended could in time become woodland, as the size, range of species of trees and other flora increases. So a copse would  probably not have a complete ecosystem to sustain it unlike a woodland.

Various agencies here, in the USA and the UN differentiate woodland and forests principally by size and the  percentage of canopy cover. Otherwise, differences between the two also include biodiversity, the amount of light reaching the ground layer (this is linked to amount of canopy cover of course) and consequent range of shrubs and smaller plants. The origin of the term forest dates back centuries and describes tracts of land that the king owned for his own use (hunting and timber for eg) and would include non-wooded areas within this 'forest'. In folklore and culturally there are psychological difference.the forest for examples carries perceptions of danger  and foreboding. Hansel and Gretel were taken to the forest and not the woods because of the grim associations with the former and where the witch lives reinforcing the idea of the forest’s association with evil. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hansel_and_Gretel. If you trespassed onto the king's forest it could be very dfangerous of course as wood collection and poaching were harshly penalised - the Black Act of 1723 made poaching with a blackened face a capital offence https://www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/education/candp/crime/g04/g04cs6.htm. One way of conditioning chlidren to avoid danger was through fear reinforced by folklore and tales.

I'm not sure if elsewhere in the world languages differentiate between types of wooded areas in the ways we do. In western Canada my niece tells me 'forest' is the usual term, possibly becasue of the vast areas involved.

Finally, a dictionary search says 'covert' is a group of dense bushes and trees that animals hide in. Hence 'covert operations' as a military term.

https://www.quora.com/How-large-should-a-copse-or-wood-be-before-it-can-be-called-a-forest

https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/blog/2018/03/difference-between-wood-and-forest/

A spring morning and slow walk through our small Devon wood to savour the new growth

Early April 2021. The stronger sunlight has brought new energy and life to our small Devon wood. At this time of year changes can be rapid and frequent. Plants appear out of bare ground overnight. A  plain twig in the morning has a leaf bud in the afternoon. A  dead looking branch of blackthorn one day has suddenly developed small white flower buds the next. So this morning was a good time to walk slowly around with a more observant eye than usual. 

Less so in the cold dormant winter, more so now as the woods come to life, the closer I get to the woods, the more my  fear of harming it surfaces. The now well-estblished paths minimise potential harm, if you keep to them. Where feet have trod little grows as the ground gets compacted, save for where the resilient wild garlic refuses to be downtrodden. But, to stay within the confines of the paths risks missing many of the small changes taking place as they occur all over the woods. So carefully stray from the paths, however risky, one must. 

This April morning, I took the usual route straight up the path from the bottom hazel gate towards the north-east corner alongside the hedgerow. Gazing ahead as I walked, yellow primrose flowers mark the route. Those lovely blooms will continue to delight for many weeks to come though they will increasingly have to share the light with other plants as the sunlight stengthens. Eventaully they will be overwhelmed by nettles, campion and dock. But for the time being it's their time in the sun. Half way up I heard the distinctive sound of a bumble bee coming from the foot of the conifer trees. I follow the sound. She (for it must be 'she' as only she will survive the winter) is close by but moving quickly and it is a while before I catch a glimpse of her broad black abdomen and orange tail. At this time of year she has just emerged from her long hibernation and is urgently looking for somewhere to nest, only pausing briefly to visit a primrose flower. Flying just inches above the ground she's investigating the bases of the conifers, her powerful wings causing the young leaves of the chickweed to tremble in her wake. She alights and briefly disappears from view. I tread carefully over the emerging forget-me-nots,the flowering primroses, new growth of the self-heal, and other seedlings to see what she's up to. In flight she is magnificent. Her wings move so rapidly they are a blur. Her manoeverability enables her to hurtle, to weave and even to hover. Once on the ground, wings folded she is ungainly and waddles, but waddle she must in order to explore a potential nesting site. She clambers clumsily over the moss and briefly finds her way into a small cavity at the base of the larch tree, but soon emerges and takes flight once more. Off again, her buzzing becomes fainter as she looks elsewhere. As carefully as I approached her, I return to the path reflecting on how lucky I had been to see her. I'm also reminded how much more careful I need to be lest I inadvertently disturb her nesting place sometime in the future wherever it may be.

The hedgerow should provide plenty of choice places for her. So should the banked areas of the woods as these are seldon walked upon. Both have numerous cavities caused by rotting branches, dislodged stones and wood mice activity. Slowly I continue my way and turn my attention to the ground layer of the hedgrow. A chaffinch sings from a nearby hazel tree. Further off a great spotted woodpecker drums purposefully. I read the drumming is to attract a mate. I always thought it was to search for food. Perhaps it is both.

When there are few flowers on the plants the amateur naturalist like me will only be able to identify a few common species of flora as leaves can look broadly similar when young.  I look down and see lots of green but having the benefit of seeing the area in bloom over the last year I'm fairly confident of some positive ID based on the young leaves alone. One of the easy species is the wood forget-me-not. It thrives on the margins of woods and we also have it all over the garden. I love the tiny sky blue and pink flowers with their bright yellow centres which will begin to appear over the coming days and weeks.

I catch sight of a one foot high alder I planted back in the autumn. The planting disturbed the ground and this seems to have jolted some bluebell bulbs into life which I'n sure weren't there last year. I can clearly pick out their slender dark green leaves standing erect amongst the wild garlic. The casual, over-eager forager could easily sweep up the bluebells along with the intended garlic. Ours are the native English bluebells. They do seem more abundent this year, perhaps helped by my diligent bramble clearing. I like to think so. These two can also be confused at this early stage of growth with the leaves of the Lords and Ladies. It is poisonous so best pick the wild garlic leaves carefully. To the casual looker, all three would appear when young to share a similar shade of green and shape. Only when the plants mature and begin to assume their final shape are the differences more pronounced and unmistakeable. Of course, the experienced forager will not be so easily misled.

I notice too the leaves of the common stinging nettle. I try hard to love this familiar plant as it is an important food plant for some species of butterfly and in the spring I'll be diverting myself with making cordage from its stalks. I've already made wild garlic and nettle soup this year and last year we harvested nettle from the garden to make a liquid fertilizer for other plants. In the woods we leave the nettle to it’s own devices. However, despite its usefulness and versatility, it does pack a punch and so demands respect.

Not far away are the delicate leaves of the Town Hall Clock plant. It's common here and easily overlooked as the flowers are so small. I was not familiar with it before moving here and I spent enjoyable time looking it up. Just one foot or less tall it has abundent clusters small, pale green leaves. In a few weeks it will produce very tiny flowers on stalks arranged like the four faces of a town hall tower clock. I've long thought how important naming things is to our connection with the world. A plant without a name is just somthing that grows. Find or give it a name and it becomes individual, has an existence, becomes part of our shared world. Now when I walk though the woods it always catches my eye and I can't help but feel pleased with myself for knowing about this lovely little plant and sharing the woods with it. The downside of course is that there is another living thing I have to avoid treading on.

The Bugle is a common woodland plant and starting to show. In no time at all it will form an erect plant of about 6 inches high and show off it's blue flowers partially concealed beneath it leaves. This year it's particularly good.The square stalk are interesting. Opposite sides and are smooth or hairy.

Bugle stalk

Bugle

The ground ivy, also known as hoof ale is also peeping through. Another small plant, it will, like the plant it shares its name with, creep along the woodland floor rooting as it goes. It has small violet flowers. Crush the leaves and they will have a distinctive smell which I find difficult to describe. It was apparently used to flavour ale. 

The flowers of the celandine are unmistakable and I've noticed over the last few weeks one or two sporadically appearing. The leaves have been showing for a while longer, stealthily spreading over the ground. For me they are a true sign of spring. Like other early flowering woodland plants, such as the violet, they enjoy the sunlight allowed to surge into woodland unhindered by the yet to appear tree foliage. This is how things are. Each takes its turn. Already the celandines are giving way to the buttercups. Foxgloves are shooting up and the nettles threatening to take all the light. In a few short months the ground layer of the woods becomes shaded but by then the celandine will have thrived, flowered and spread a little more. The job of the woodlander is to carefully manage in such a way so as to allow the different species at ground layer, understorey and canopy the conditions to thrive. Nature will not always, left to its own devices, foster diversity. Go to places where the hawthorn dominates to see first hand how the light and nutrition starved ground is bare and lifeless save for the occasional bramble. Even that stuggles to establish a foothold there.

The unmistakable flower of the celandine

Cleaver or goosegrass is a common plant that rises early in the spring. As children it was the plant we unknowingly took home with us stuck to our socks and jumpers. Its long stalks bear groups of 8 narrow leaves fanning in tiers around them like ruffs. A small white flower will top it off. They are edible though I’ve not tried them.

I don’t seem to have travelled very  far on this walk. The dogs sit patiently, noses to the wind as I kneel to peer at the ground. This stage of the season is fleeting. Blink and suddenly everywhere is green and deep in growth. Carefully, we make our way back for a coffee and the ritual dentasticks.

The beautiful dog violet

The hazel gate to our small Devon wood

 One of my first small projects when we moved to our property here in mid-Devon was to replace the gate through which access to the woods is gained. The original one was heavy, ill fitting and so difficult to shut. I was also keen to get stuck in to some green woodworking and make use of some of the wood cut down when clearing parts of the garden that had become overgrown. We needed a gate to the woods because deer roam freely around here and we didn't want them eating plants in the garden. Previous owners had put up a 6ft high deer fence around the top of the property so we had a fair idea of the need before we moved in.

The gate to the woods is at the top of a set of 12 steps which are in turn flanked by a Devon hedge - that is a stone and earth bank topped by hedging plants - on one side and a grass slope on the other. The walk up the steps is a pleasant climb at this time of year as the hedge bank is full of forget me nots and celandines and the grass slope also resplendent with celandines.                                                   

The gate is made of hazel and of simple design. The screws fastening the strap hinges on the old gate couldn't be removed so had to be reused. beciase of that I made the gate a light as possible in a rustic style - vertical rods forming an arch at the top and 3 rails to hold the rods together and secure the top and bottom hinges. In retrospect it's a perhaps a little too lightweight but nevertheless does a job of marking the tranistion from the garden to the woods and giving a glimps of what lies beyond.

Either side of the gate on the garden side wild flowers had already been established and each spring, first the bright white stitchwort then the red campion, celandine and purple bush vetch snuggle around the gate posts.

I love the stitchwort. it's profuse around here on the banks under the hedgerows and around the margins of woods. It has continuous flowering over the spring and early summer months and those bright white flowers with yellow centres make quite a show. At first glance it appears to have 10 petals but there are in fact only 5. The illusion is due to each of the 5 petals being deeply lobed so giving the appearnace of being two petals.

Red campion is another favorite of spring. Again it grows profusely here. The medium sized, soft downy leaves do not seem to promise much but when the flowers emerge the striking pink stands out. Being one of the taller spring plants it readily catches the eye. Last year we gathered seeds from the pods and sowed them where we had cleared brambles. As a consequence this year we have even more of these magnificent plants.

Bush vetch has been present in the garden since we came here, thriving on the lower parts of banks. Bees and other insects are drawn to it and whilst the purple-blue flowers are duller than some of the other vetches it's a welcome spring sight.

From its position on the bank to the right of the gate a blackthorn has thrown a branch across the top forming an arch. These trees are amongst my favourite for their beautiful white flowers in early spring before a single leaf forms. For all that beauty, they are beastly too: hard fierce spikes sprout all over and the wood itself is stiff and unbending. They will bear tannin rich fruit of course which, when crushed produce a pink juice, ideal for wine or flavouring gin. The blackthorns will throw up suckers though and unless kept in check, will in time make an impenetrable barrier through which nothing living can pass.

Stoney ground. Time well spent in our small Devon wood.

 Our small Devon wood isn't very old compared to some of the ancient woodland around here,although some individual trees may well be old, particularly those that were part of a hedgerow. Historical records include reference to areas of coppice included with the property: an attractive feature when the only means of heating and cooking was a fire. I’ve written before about the quarry within the woods and the impact of that industry on the topography of the woods; how it created the sweeping track that takes the steepness out of the access to the quarry and the level areas where I set up tarps and do some green woodworking. We can't at present find out when quarrying ceased but  no doubt the woods grew unchecked from that point on. 

An old tithe map labels a area close by as Stoney Ground. The old descriptive names didn’t need much interpretation. This whole area around the town of Bampton was heavily quarried for the limestone. Maps still show the old workings dotted about the place and sheer rock faces can still be seen where the stone was removed. Scott’s is a small housing development where quarrying was particularly intense and bears the name of the family that owned those quarries. Remains of lime kilns are scattered all about often with a small quarry close by. These small quarries are now overgrown but the trees don’t disguise the deep chunks taken out of the land from the roadside. Some look as though  they were exploratory workings because they are shallow and when the rock face is examined the revealed seams are shale and not the sought after limestone slabs. Here, the undulations of the rolling hills take the choice stone deep into the ground. The stone was also needed for house building, walls and road building. The long gone Tiverton to Minehead railway that passed through here would also have needed stone to lay the tracks on. This line passed our house on the other side of the river Batherm across the road. When we take our circular walk back from town and pause to view our house from across the valley we try to picture the scene with the steam train passing by.

Back up in the woods, the high quarry face tapers down towards the north east corner. The retaining wall has gradually fallen down. The beech trees are the culprits. Their expanding trunks and tough roots testing the integrity of the wall year on year. The fallen stones consequently became covered with leaves from the beeches and most are now buried completely in rich leafmould. I’ve done some remedial work using the more easily uncovered stones as a makeshift job to make the boundary more secure so that Jarvis can’t go wandering. Recently I've been bagging up the leafmould which I carry back when returning from our daily walks. This is then used in the garden to improve the soil. In the summer I’ll spend enjoyable time  digging out the stone and reinstating the wall properly. These walls are rich habitats. Wood mice and voles will shelter in them and over time the pennyworts and other flora will grow along with the mosses and lichens.

Elsewhere in the woods I’ve been collecting stones on our daily walks and made low level walls to delineate paths and protect areas where for example the early purple orchids do well. Collecting stones has become a pleasant habit. I don’t always have an immediate use for these so I’ll leave them where they can be easily retrieved in a pile and sometimes if the fancy takes me, in a small tower. This is fun, enables me to locate the stones as they won’t become overgrown and therefore hidden, keeps me practiced working with stone but perhaps most importantly, enables me to sort the stones by size and shape. 

Much as I love working with wood and preferably in the green, working with stone couldn’t be more different. Perhaps the only tool needed for laying dry stone is a hammer but as stone is so unforgiving, it’s better to find the piece you need and simply knock off unwanted bits rather than attempt to shape them. Most of the time if after rotating, cajoling and repositioning a piece of stone it stubbornly refuses to fit I’ll simply put it to one side and find another. This selecting, positioning, discarding and trying another piece is as enjoyably absorbing as doing a jigsaw puzzle, albeit in 3 dimensions and with no picture to guide other than the rough image in your head. It’s also done outside in the woods with the birds singing and the dogs patiently waiting for me signal the time to move on to where they will find something more interesting to do. Well, at least more interesting for them I suppose.

Here's where the retaining wall has collapsed and I've dug out many of the stones. The crude hurdles are a makeshift barrier to stop Jarvis from wandering up into the neighbour's wood above.

Last year I reinstated some small sections of the wall. It's difficult because the line of the original has been broken by the huge beech tree roots and I've had to work around them. I'll probably reuse the larger stones in this section for the longer stretch pictured above and redo this small bit with leftovers. Because of the trees it's unlikely the wall will ever look as it once did, but I'll aim to create a stable retaining wall along its original line that will be good for many years. I've aleady planted 5 young beech trees on the top of the bank to fill gaps. It will be satisfying doing something that may well be there for who knows how long..

Our hedgerow alongside our small Devon wood.

I skip up the 20 block steps from the back of the garage to the top of the garden. Between each step is a creeping thyme and where the steps reach the top, the thymes merge with the cinquefoils, vetches and forget me nots. Where the ivy trails down the top bank I lift the catch on the rustic hazel gate and pause to take in the rising path leading into our woods.  To the left just through the gate is a short dry stone wall I built last year. (https://www.instagram.com/p/B-7Z7mwBjsY/ ). It marks the change from garden to woods. From there my gaze follows the line of our hedgerow reaching up towards the top of the woods. In all it's about 180 paces long. The path continues alongside the hedgerow but where it branches to the right (marked by a tall spruce) it becomes hidden from view as it weaves through trees. The hedgerow marks our northern boundary running from that hazel gate at the lower end in the west to the top of our land and the quarry boundary to the east. Save for a short section about halfway up bulging out into next door's field, it's more or less straight as it probably has been for hundreds of years.

Each day I walk the path alongside the hedgerow at least once. Usually, the walk round the woods will be counter-clockwise which means the descending last leg follows the hedgerow. We take this way around because the sweeping path up takes the steepness out of the climb and Honey, our oldest dog, finds this easier on her poor hips. She also has an easy walk down alongside the hedgerow. Much hedge and woodland work is carried out in the dormant months, so over the previous spring and summer  I had ample time to observe the state of the hedgerow at close quarters and plan the winter work. To me, there seems to be three aspects of the hedgerow: the bank ithe woody plants sit on and ground layer; the trees and shrubs that make up the hedge itself and; the trees that rise above the hedge top. Each requires attention if a hedgerow is to look balanced and healthy; function well as both barrier and boundary marker and; be rich and varied in order to support as great a range of wildlife as possible. My first impressions when we came here was that the hedgerow had promise but had been left unattended for so long that work was needed to restore its balance.

The adjacent land owned by our neighbour, is generally lower than ours - the difference in height varying between 6ft at the lower end to just a few feet in the middle. Due to the patchiness of the hedgerow we have a better view of next door than we would like. The hedgerow sits on a stone and earth bank typical of the Devon style. Next door was formerly pasture but has become scrubby. Immediately below us on that side there is a ditch: an essential landscape feature channelling the water pouring down the hillside when rainfall is heavy or prolonged. It is like that quite often here especially in the winter months.

A local tithe map from 1840 shows our parcel of land looking much the same as it does now, right down to that short bulge in the otherwise straight line of the hedgerow. Our cottage is one of just three on this side of the river valley out of Bampton. Today there are just four in that half mile stretch on both sides of the road. The first property is New Park (with its field next door), then us (Mount Pleasant), Tucking Mill on the other side of the road and finally Tucking Mill Farm. After that, where the Tiverton Road forms a junction with the Dulverton Road, is the Exeter Inn. The valley slopes on our side of the road is mainly wooded but there is some pasture at New Park next door and at Tucking Mill Farm further up the road. On the other side is water meadow by the river Batherm running out of Bampton to join the river Exe near the Exeter Inn. On quiet evenings the sound of the river carries across the valley. In summer it's a chuckle. In winter it's hysterical laughter.

We don't have an earlier map of sufficient detail to look further back into time but we think prior to 1840 plots and boundaries probably didn't change much. Hedgerows were the most common type of boundary so we think the hedgerow will be considerably older than the 180 years since the tithe map was drawn. It is certainly old enough to be cared for in the same way that an old building or other human made feature of comparable stature would be. We take the responsibility for this historical feature most seriously, considering it to be most worthy of preservation, care and attention. We have no little work ahead to do this. And a good job too.

The accepted method of dating a hedgerow is to count the species of woody flora within a given length. This method was developed in the 1970's and known as Hooper's hypothesis. It has been tested out many times. Despite limitations, it remains a good rule of thumb and is simple to apply: take a thirty yard stretch of hedgerow, count the number of different woody species to give an approximate number of centuries. Of course, on it's own it probably won't be very accurate so things like old maps and other historical records need to be factored in as well.

The hedgerow has been neglected for some time. I was tempted to say, 'unfortunately', but an old hedge left to its own devices makes up with character its inability to function as intended: that is, to shelter and constrain stock and clearly delineate boundaries. There are stumps, some of which have regrown, of ash and oak. Originally maintained as hedgerow trees they were allowed to grow out  into mature trees and then felled. Their wide, hollow stumps now shelter insects and small mammals. Hazel is the most common tree in the hederow but there is also ash, beech, oak, blackthorn, hawthorn and elder. Worse than neglect is damage. It looks as though trees taken down have hurt the bank and over the years weakened parts have lost stability. Deer roam freely around here and take advantage of any breech in the hedgerow which, over time, becomes an established route.

In the 1950's and 1960's traditional hedge laying went out of use, to be replaced by the practice of mechanised cutting and flaying which was faster and more efficient. It continues much the same to this day and in the autumn the sound of the tractors going about their work resound across the valley. Traditional, skilled hedge laying was in comparison slow and costly. However, the old ways ensured hedges were regenerated and grew densely from the base of the trees. The new ways were quicker but hedges became thin close to the ground and in order to stay stock proof, fencing was installed alongside. Inevitably, in many cases it became simpler to replace the hedgerow altogether. Although it has become common for hedge cutting to take place in the autumn studies now show if it is delayed until late winter/early spring the hedgerows support more birds than those cut back in the autumn.

https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/media/1800/wood-wise-hedgerows-and-hedgerow-trees.pdf

https://www.conservationhandbooks.com/hedging/the-hedgerow-landscape/characteristic-regional-hedges/

Our aim is to regenerate and re-stock our hedgerow to extend its life and enrich our woods. For us, the task won't be carried out in one season but will be an ongoing process carried out over the next 4 or 5 years. As with many of these types of endeavour, it's likely the hedge will initially look worse before it gets better: where cut back and layered there wil be eneveness in the profile and regrowth will take a couple of years; new whips will take time to establish. It may be possible to do it quicker but we are spreading our time and energies over a number of projects each with its own priorities. The process began in the autumn of 2019, our first since we moved in. With the help of my neice, we cut and laid branches where we could to fill gaps, she with her preferred handsaw and me with my preferred billhook. Taller trees would get snagged as we attempted to cut and some severed completely but were left to lie as dead hedge as a temporary measure fill gaps. Others were successfully laid, trimmed and left attached to the main trunk by a sliver of living tree. Ideally, branches are laid upwards as this is the way the sap moves but we could not always do this. Where possible we laid as close to the ground as possible in order to have as much new growth at the foot of the hedge. Ideally we would have cleared away bramble and dead wood but we decied in the short time available that first year to do as best we could and at least get some new growth the following spring. The hazel and ash seemed to go well and lower down, the blackthorn with its 4" diameter trunk went down nicely in a 12' length. Sometimes things look worse before they get better but we wouldn't know if our labour was successful until the following spring when any new shoots would appear.

We bought a range of hedging whips and over the winter planted these in the hedgerow to add bulk, fill gaps not able to be covered by exisiting trees and increase diversity of species. We also relocated self set saplings from elsewhere in the woods. This autumn (2020) we collected our own berries and nuts. The acorns have sprouted successfully but we'll have to wait for the rowan (the seeds should sprout this spring)  So we added to the exisiting elder, ash, blackthorn, hazel and oak the following and will continue to add more during each planting season:

rowan - for blossom and berries

holly - ditto and also for screening as it's evergreen

beech - for cover and appearnace as the keep their leaves longer than most

crab apple - fruit and blossom

spindle - as above

wild cherry - ditto

hornbeam - a traditional native hedging tree that also retains its leaves

field maple - another traditional hedging plant

https://www.instagram.com/p/CJrVdhMhDOR/

Some of these will be allowed to grow into their natural size (rowan and crab apple for example) so they flower and fruit. Most will be cut and shaped to form a dense hedge which we hope will be a refuge and larder for birds and insects.

A healthy hedge will naturally encourage bramble and on our daily walks we weave stray shoots back into the hedge. Other plants like honesuckle and old man's beard were already there and we have added more along with wild rose from elsewhere in the woods.

In urban environments I try to remember to look up. Sight is often drawn to the shop fronts and lower facades, the doors and street names. Higher up the buildings often maintain original features before they were shops, banks and  chrity outlets. In the woods, looking down will also reward.

https://www.instagram.com/p/CGsaEF5hBAh/

A thorny subject amd some lessons learned so far about managing our small Devon wood

As we are now a couple of months into our second year of looking after our small Devon wood, I've been thinkng a bit about the bramble or blackberry as it's commonly known.

When we took over stewardship the woods had been left to its own devices for a few years. There were signs of English bluebelles and wild daffodills. There were clumps of snowdrops but  the brambles and other vigorous species had stealthily covered the ground layer and deprived these other species of light and space to thrive. 

Our modest woods developed naturally once the limestone quarrying on the site ceased in the 19th century. Maps going back to the late 1800's refer to it as 'the old quarry'  and the area as 'stony ground'. So, when the quarry fell into disuse the winding track that for many years took the stone down from the quarry face on carts, probably drawn by pony or mule, would have been only lightly trodden. Successive owners would have taken advantage of the gentle ascent created by this track to gather fuel from adjoining wooded areas. There, away from the quarry, the seams of stone weren't viable or even accessible as they dipped deep, so the mostly beech and oak covered slopes that mark the steep valley sides along the exe valley became more accessible all thanks to the quarrymen. In what would many years later become our woods, where the quarrying had shaped the landscape and many feet had compacted the earth, gradually the  beech oak, ash and the otherwise ubiquitous hazel began to take hold.

At the top of the abandonded quarry face the beech trees towering above continued to grow and now loom over the ground, some 30 feet below, their characteristically gnarled roots exploiting every crack and crevice, reminding us of the tough, leathery hands of the quarrymen who also depended on the stone for their own precarious grip on life. Elsewhere the landscape of this immediate area was shaped by the quarrymen's day to day activities: the depositing of spoil removed to expose the sought after stone; creating level areas to enable work to be carried out and storing the paraphenalia of their trade. Paths would have been formed by workmen as they made their way around the site. Straight  lines were rare, for on sloping, stony ground the logic of paths is determined by the gradient, the terrain and influenced by ancient paths already well trodden by wildlife that instinctively found the surest and most effiicient route. 

We wanted to be able to walk around the woods and uncovered some of the existing paths long overgrown. With an old sickle honed in the traditional manner using a dry stone and a little effort, thick leather gloves and strong determination we soon created circular paths leading past choice spots where eventually we will place wooden seats. In these places we aim to highlight differing experiences: a particular view here of the valley opposite, there a spot where birds can be heard like the tapping of the nuthatch breaking into hazelnuts or the drilling of the greater spotted woodpecker on standing dead larch, or further up beneath the quarry face and the old beech trees where, amogst the deacying leaves, the damp, musty smells conjure up that distinctive woodlandy feel. To accomplish this we would need to break the stronghold of plants like the bramble. 

There are many native varieties of bramble. Of those encountered in our woods they seem to spread in two main ways. Some throw out great long runners that easily root when they eventually come into contact with the ground. Other varietes have ground-hugging shoots that snake through the ground layer making it less easy to see the gradual spread. For both, any runners take root and the process is repeated so that in just a couple of seasons you have a lovely bramble farm. Some of the runners are yards long and spread at an amazing rate.  

 

Good reasons to look after the bramble: Fritillary (left) and Meadow Browns

(both pics Welcombe Hills)

We had some idea of what we would be up against when we took on custodianship of our small Devon wood. But any ambition to eradicate this vigorous species would be futile. Some containment  is perhaps possible if the effort is put in and maintained over the years. It, after all, established itself long before we moved in and despite me being up in the woods daily, sometimes for hours on end, I return indoors. Meanwhile  it keeps growing... However, physical work has its own reward and better to be up in the woods prising bramble roots from the shallow stony soil, gathering up the long shoots and bundling them together than being sedentry. 

    

Two more good reasons to look after the bramble:the gorgeous Peacock feeding (left) and the shy Spotted Wood basking on bramble Welcombe Hills.

Pulling these barbed colonisers out at first seems an easy means of control but we learned the hard way that this is a short term solution. If the shoots are freshly rooted their shallow grip is easily broken and this can help to contain the plant. However, with regard to the parent plant with its established tough root ball and long lateral roots, no end of tugging will make much difference as there will almost certainly be bits of root remaining. These readily grow again and this cunning plant will simply return the following year. Digging up and removal of all roots is a possibility but by no means easy to accomplish and the sunbsequent damage to the substrate and other plants including spring bulbs makes this a stategy of great risk without any certainty of success.

The deperate woodlander is therefore left with the chemical solution which if carefully administered can be the most effective long term method. As we don't want to totally eradicate the bramble we'll probably settle on control, selective and careful removal and sacrifice areas where control is a hopeless dream. This summer I also used selective, controlled burning where no other species would be in danger. The small experimental patch near to the quarry will be left for a year to see if this has been successful.

Above - more reasons to cherish the bramble - Comma, Friillary, Speckled Wood.

Even if the roots are dug out to deter regrowth, another consequence is that if clearning is left until the brambles are well grown, there will be a lot of bramble to dispose of. It sounds obvious but some jobs are best undertaken at a particular time in the year in order to make efficient use of, what is at my age, a dwindling reserve of energy and effort. As the cut bramble dries it goes woody and takes forever to rot downm perhaps never...? Thus we have a large heap of it that looks as large now as it did when we made it over a year ago. We did intend to use the shredder to get rid of it. Another good idea but it didn't take into account the ability of the bramble to clog the shredder. Nettles are good at that too.

It turns out however that initial misgivings about having huge mounds of dead bramble all over the modest woods were unfounded. At the bottom of the heaps it is well composted. The heaps do still look large but that appeasr to be due to the larger woody brambles that hold shape and support the heap. A bit of heavy footwork soon reduces the size of the heaps as those larger bits  get broken down. I'm looking forward to carefully investigating this compost to see what creatures have lived there.

My go-to books about UK flora are Keble Martin, Concise British Flora and a series of three Pelican publications from the 1940's: Common Wild Flowers, More Common Wild Flowers and Uncommon Wild Flowers, all by John Hutchinson. The latter didn't include the blackberry or bramble (Robus) in his books. Keble Martin however lists a dozen or so with the usual detailed drawings and cites 400 in the genus which alos includes the raspberry.

As I have had the opportunity to deal with the bramble at close quarters there are noticeable diffrences between the varieties. Some hug the ground and have reddish stems and dark green leaves. These tend to have fine thorns and the sharp shoots creep along the ground rooting along their way. Others have shoots as thick as your finger and great barbed thorns able to pierce all but the toughest gloves. These throw out tender bright green shoots in all directions, reaching lengths measured in yards. As they mature the shoots harden and fix themselves in the shrubbery or up in trees. Where they touch the ground they root and shoot off again. The thorns of the bramble point backwards towards the main plant enabling it to hold fast once it has pushed its way through the undergrowth and into trees. That is why it is able to go grow to great lengths as it is almost impossible to dislodge as the hooks of the thorns get snagged. So, to pull a bramble out of undergrowth, tug it forward and not backwards. Use the same technique to remove a piece from your dog's coat or suffer the consequences when it nips you for your trouble. For the human hand, experience tells me the finest of thorns are the most troublesome and most difficult to remove.

The flower of the bramble is a fairly unremarkable affair,typically with five crumpled petals. It nevertheless is pretty enough in its range of colour from a lovely pastel pink to near-white and attracts a good range of insects. Bees, butterflies and other insects will be found on the bramble and in particular where it catches the full sun. It has a relatively long flowering period and often either early in the year or later towards the end of the summer will be one of the few sources of nectar available.

One of life's lessons is 'everything has it's place'. For us, the place for the bramble is in our newly restored hedgerow where we will gladly encourage it and happily gather its offering of fruit. Where it throws out one of those runners we'll carefully weave it back into the branches and along with the blackthorn and hawthorn we'll make the hedge Jarvis proof.

I'll be writing soon about our hedgerow, how we revitalised it, how it's progressing and future plans...

Our friendly little wrens

 Troglodytes troglodytes. The wren is so-called because of its reclusiveness and solitary life, living in woods, frequenting low lying areas where it feeds on spiders and small insects. I often read that it's one of our most common birds, but how on earth its numbers can be determined I've no idea given its life-style. Perhaps becuse it has large broods? But elsewhere in nature it seems the more potential offspring is produced, the less likely any one of them will grow and survive into adulthood. Think fungi spores, sycamore and oak seeds. If the chances of all of those growing were good, then we'd be up to our necks in Giant Puffballs and trees. Maybe this 'rule' doesn't hold the same for mammals.

When we first moved here a wren was a frequent visitor to the garage, kitchen and even upstairs, freeliy fluttering around at will. Other birds we've discovered indoors were accidental visitors but the wren in contrast seemed to treat inside our buildings no different to foraging under a tree: it seldom panicked when encountered and simply moved on to another room or upstairs even. It also instinctively knew that window glass is hard and never once tried to fly though it. Other reluctant visitors risked self-harm in frantic attempts to get to the safety of the outside.

We found 2 wren nests: one under the canopy in the back yard (see pic below) and another tucked in the eaves of the bottom garage. Apparently the male wren has to be an adept and tireless nest builder as it will make several of these to atract a mate. She will select the best house builder.

Wren's nest under canopy in back yard

We didn't find any active nests but knew there was a family of wrens in the woods because when we sat in the late afternoon/early evening sun in the corner of the woods alongside the hedgerow we watched the parents calling, locating and feeding the offspring as they explored their territory. Being small, only glimpses are caught but like with many nature watching activities the watcher is repaid by being still, quiet and in tune with surroundings.

Since the start of the summer we have daily sat in our sun trapped corner of the woods watching the sun slowly drop towards the rim of the other side of the valley. The wrens didn't seem to mind us and carried on with their low level activities, moving from the hedgerow to the stone wall behind us and even under our tarp, incessently seeking food with long sharply pointed beaks. 

The wren has a remarkable voice. Its call can be heard above most other songbirds and is a beautiful sound. Its warning and other calls are more stoccato. https://www.rspb.org.uk/birds-and-wildlife/wildlife-guides/bird-a-z/wren/

We've noticed the younger wrens around the garden and house much more in latter weeks. They search for their food down amongst the flower pots by the garage wall, in the crevices of the walls, under the eaves and all the other places they find their main food of spiders. They continue to go about their foraging without being too bothered by us. I can often be heard saying, 'hello little wren, what are you doing there?' as I encounter one whilst going about my own tasks.

The young ones are still learning about their natural and human made environment and have a long winter to get through. So this is an important learning time if they are to survive. 

Yesterday evening, just as the light was fading, I heard a sound from the kitchen and when I went to investigate I heard the familiar whirring of tiny wings and caught a glimpse of the brown-bodied wren. 'Hello, what are you doing in here?' I found myself involuntarilly saying. It flew into the utlity room where all the doors and windows were now shut for the night. It hid on the window ledge behind some pot plants and being one of the fledgelings, hadn't yet learned that it needs to find other ways of getting outside.

I closed the internal doors and opened the external doors (the windows have locks and we haven't yet found the keys) to the yard and  the drive, turned the inside lights off and outside lights on to give the bird something to fly towards and left it to its own devices. I gave it an hour before returning and it apeared to have gone.

Those types of encounter leave you wondering and a little bit apprehensive about the fate of the creature and I went to bed hoping the little thing was a quick learner and despite the darkness found a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

I'm up early most days and with the bird still on my mind, went firstly to the utility room to check whether or not it had found an escape route the evening before. Window sill clear, behind the fridge clear and then seemingly from nowhere it flew to the window nearest the stable door mercifully without banging itself on the glass. 'You still here then?', I said, opening the doors. When I returned a few minutes later it was gone.

We also have a resident robin who I also greet with a friendly, 'hello little robin'. This bird is well-known for being the gardener's friend and when either or both are knelt planting, weeding  or upright tilling and digging, we know our little friend will soon come by for the worms and grubs we inevitably uncover. There may of course be more than one but the robin is fiercely territorial and won't tolerate competition. During the hard winter months most birds seem to forsake the defence of territory as it is energy sapping. Better to conserve during these lean times. The blackbird may be the exception. If it is first to a food source it will chase away other birds but often in doing so will lose the food anyway as the sneaky ones take advantage of the poor blackbird's inattention to the food and focus on seeing others off.

Living here there is a lovely bluring of the lines between the wild and natural and the cultivated and doemestic As well as the wren that forages in our house and garage as naturally as in the hedgerow, orchids, found in abundance in the woods also appear in the garden. From the trees at the margin of the woods overhanging the garden, oak and especially hazel seedlings appear like weeds in the garden. Bats roost in the bottom garage and the other day when turning  the contents of the compost bin, an uncovered slow worm raised itself up in indignation at being disturbed before slithering back down into the moist warmth of decomposition. A daily, nay hourly, ritual is netting butterflies and bumble bees in the conservatory to return them to the outside. At the time of writing the Gatekeepers have me prancing around with the bamboo stick and yellow mesh of the child's seaside fishing net. Not long ago it was Orange Tips.

I'm hoping the little Trglodytes will visit again. We'll welcome it into our home and gladly give up our plentiful supply of house spider. There's plenty to forage for in the garage as well if it cares to help out there too.