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..