Project Bracken

Fully grown bracken, aka ‘fern’ or Pteridium aquilinium [Zeynel Cebeci, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons]

We have a lot of bracken (or ‘fern’ as locals call it) at St Olaves. It covers perhaps 40 per cent of the open hillside above the Teign in two main patches to the east and west. We have tried to stop it spreading, mainly by strimming its edges during early summer and then strimming again in late summer/early Autumn to prevent the build-up of dead matter from suffocating all other plant life (in the absence of any heavy grazing livestock to perform this role). We have taken the view that bracken is something to be tolerated because it’s an important habitat for many species including ground-breeding birds, silver-washed fritillary butterflies (and potentially other fritillaries), many species of moth, and as cover for myriad other animals of all sizes. However, we are aware that bracken is very vigorous and could easily colonise the whole of the hillside, crowding out other plants and creating a less diverse ecology in consequence. So, we have decided to up our management game to try to keep it in check, but NOT to eliminate it entirely (probably impossible anyway).

The main section of St Olaves hilside, taken August 2020. The expanding bracken banks are in the middle distance [Jon Lawrence, CC BY-SA 4.0]

Traditional wisdom is that bracken is best controlled by rolling it in late spring/early summer, just after its long fronds have fully unfurled (ideally with a second roll later in the season). This isn’t an option for us as the hillside is very steep (mostly 25-33%) and anyway we don’t have a tractor. However, local conservationists working to control bracken for the National Trust and the Dartmoor National Park report that in comparative experiments they have recently achieved better results by strimming the bracken in two waves rather than by using the traditional rolling method. They advise strimming the bracken to the ground just as it has fully unfurled (usually in early May), and again when it has regrown to the same height. The theory is that this significantly weakens the underground rhizome that sustains the plant, reducing its vigour and potentially preventing it from colonising further land. We won’t use this method for the whole area of bracken, but rather for its margins and for a few sensitive areas where the bracken is competing with other native plants that are much rarer. In fact, in these areas I have decided to run my own experiment by pulling the bracken fronds by hand – thereby removing a substantial section of the underground frond as well as the green shoot (usually this underground section is c. 10-15cm in length and dark black-brown in colour). It would be impractical (and back-breaking) to do this for the whole hillside, but quite possible in these small, sensitive areas.

Hand-pulled bracken fronds between newly sprouting bracken, St Olaves, April 2024 [Jon Lawrence, CC BY-SA 4.0]

It will be interesting to see how this experiment works out over the next few years. Does pulling bracken weaken the plant more than strimming it if both are done at the same time and on the same two-hit cycle? We’ll report on this in due course, but right now the bracken is starting to shoot so I’d better get back to work…

JL

29-4-24

SpringListen as migratory birds return to Dartmoor

As Spring takes hold at St Olaves, it is wonderful to hear a constant background bubble of bird song wherever we go in the garden. For months we had to be content with the plaintiff serenades of our robins and the haunting back and forth of Tawny owls during the long nights. But now there is song everywhere, and from so many different species. We are getting better at identifying birds from their calls and songs, but we still make good use of the free and very impressive Merlin Bird ID app from Cornell Labs. We didn’t know about the app this time last year so were unable to use it to help us identify the songs and calls of our returning migrants. Their presence in the hedgerows is one of the things that makes a Devon spring so joyful, but we still find telling them apart by call challenging without this extra help.

Of course, some birds need no app. We could hardly miss the Swallows swooping across the silage field outside our kitchen window, or the incessant, repetitive call of the Chiffchaff (always our first returning migrant). But this week, I have really appreciated how the app has helped me to tune in to the sweet if slightly rasping melody of the Blackcap, which seems to have returned to St Olaves in record numbers this year. Though I am yet to get a good view of one (they have always been buried deep in a bush or high in a tree), their song is unmistakable once this amazing bit of technology has helped you to isolate it from the background hum of our resident songbirds.

This afternoon I was lucky enough to be running the app when I heard an unusual high-pitched song while cleaning out the hens. When I checked my phone, the app had just registered the bird as a Firecrest; still rare in this part of Devon and the first time I have definitely heard it at St Olaves (last year only Merlin heard it). The Firecrest is closely related to the more common Goldcrest, and is slowly expanding its range in South-West England, having only become an established breeding species in the UK in 1962.

Firecrest (male), Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0 DEED

But it’s not all about technology. Over breakfast this morning we saw a small orangey-red bird flitting about the garden. Fortunately, my binoculars were near to hand, and I was able to catch a good enough sight to confirm that this was a female Redstart rather than a Robin. Perhaps she had only just arrived after the long migration from Africa. A minute or two later she was gone, hopefully in search of a mate and suitable nesting sites.

Redstart female, Wikimdeia Commons, Andrew Thomas, UK, CC-BY-SA 2.0

We hope that over the next few weeks we will catch sight (and sound) of more of our rare and special migratory visitors, and that Merlin will continue to help us find them. The wooded valleys that run off Dartmoor, like our own Teign valley, are nationally important for species such Pied and Spotted Flycatchers, Willow and Wood Warblers as well as the lovely redstart. We’ll let you know if Merlin helps us to confirm their presence, and with luck their successful nesting.

16 April 2024

Postscript: amazingly, later the same day, when taking a walk down to the river after supper, Merlin claimed to have heard a Willow Warbler on the hillside. Annoyingly I missed hearing it myself, and though we waited for some time, there was no repeat song or call (the Willow Warbler has a famously unusual, sweet, descending song). Maybe next time we will make a clearer ID – we’ll certainly try.

Planting trees on the edge of the moor

How long does it take to plant 24 trees? The answer is if you have eight friendly people it only takes three hours, with a good half-hour break included for coffee and substantial snacks.

One Saturday in early December I spent an enjoyable morning planting native trees on a steeply sloping field, just to the south of Chagford on the lower skirts of Nattadon Hill. Frances bought the field a few years ago and she has carefully planned a program of tree and hedge planting. Digging holes, adding some mycorrhizal powder, and then firming in the bare root young trees is not the time-consuming part of the work. Essential for the survival of these trees on the edge of Dartmoor is protecting them from deer, moorland ponies and cattle. This is where ‘cactus guards’ are valuable, but they need to be carefully lowered over each sapling. Tim Nicholson is the inventor, owner and supplier (cactustreeguards.co.uk). The cactus guards are kept in position using three metal stakes (rebars), which are driven into the ground but then 'tied’ to the cactus guards using metal ties.

Ideally a gap of around 4-6 inches should be left at the bottom of the cactus guards to allow for weeding around the young trees. A space large enough for a hand. Following helpful advice from Mark Owen at Challacombe farm on Dartmoor, we used wooden blocks to help us position the cactus guard the right distance above the ground. The great thing about these cactus guards is that it means farmers can plant trees in fields used by livestock, but it does mean that each guard needs to be held in place solidly by the rebars

 Tree planting does not feel like work when you cooperate as a team - two people per cactus guard. The views were an additional bonus - rolling fields lit by the thin winter sun, across the Teign valley to Castle Drogo beyond. Using unfamiliar tools, such as a special electric screwdriver attachment that twizzles the wire fasteners together, was a great learning experience. By the end of the morning, I felt inspired and motivated to do more tree planting on our own land on the banks of the Teign.

Frances bought the trees from Ashridge Nursery: a mixture of little leaf limes, oak, beech, silver birch, hornbeam, rowan, blackthorn and hawthorn. These trees were chosen partly because they have some resistance to drought. This is becoming more and more of a problem here and particularly on the slopes where all the rainfall (and nutrients) drain off quickly.  Frances has also learned a lot from last year’s planting, and finding out which species really struggle in dry weather and don’t thrive in the local soil, which is quite acidic. The Dartmoor National Park have helped to support Frances’ tree and hedge planting project with a Farming in Protected Landscapes (FIPL) grant.

Foraging for Chanterelles

This summer we passed the sixth anniversary of our move to West Devon, and by chance we marked that landmark by successfully foraging our first Chanterelle mushrooms. Following advice from some generous friends, we found a site on the edge of the moor that was particularly good for these lovely, bright-orange edible mushrooms. More remarkable was that once we had got our eye in, we started noticing them everywhere: on country lanes, in the atmospheric woods that grow all around us, and even in our own garden. We aren’t brave foragers, so before we took the plunge of eating them we spent a lot of time studying books and internet sites trying to learn how to distinguish true from false chanterelles. The latter won’t kill you, but apparently, they can cause a significant upset stomach if eaten in error.

Chanterelles growing near the moor in mossy grass and under the canopy of an old beech

So far, so good – through late August and September we had a series of lovely meals enhanced by these beautiful, curly-edged delicacies. When we find them growing, usually in moss or leaf-mould close by an established beech or oak, we always try to leave more than half the clump for nature/others. We also try not to pick them when they are still small, although this does often mean accepting that someone else will have harvested them before we return. On one occasion, we found that all the mushrooms in an especially good patch had been cut to the ground with a sharp knife overnight (we generally harvest by hand ourselves and then trim the muddy base).

Just-picked chanterelles with their mudddy bases

A typical location for chanterelles on the edge of the moor

To our amazement, in early September we even found Chanterelles growing on the path from our house to the outdoor firepit – they really have been everywhere this year. Perhaps the wet summer helped. Or perhaps they were always there but we just didn’t notice or didn’t realise what they were. As with any mushroom, tuning in to its habitat, and learning how to distinguish it from other (potentially poisonous) mushrooms is the key with Chanterelles.

Our trusted guide - complete with Chanterelles on the cover

We have always found the Collin’s guide How to Identify Edible Mushrooms, by Patrick Harding, Tony Lyon and Gill Tomblin to be particularly clear and helpful. Now out of print, the slim 1996 paperback edition is widely available second-hand and generally cheaper than the 2007 reprint. There are also many good mushroom ID phone apps available, although the best require a subscription (this is a financial commitment we have resisted, thus far, so we cannot make recommendations).  Guides are full of various tips for identifying true chanterelles from their inedible cousins, but the key distinguishing feature is the nature of the gill pattern beneath the cap. Unlike false chanterelles, which have ‘true’ gills very like a field or portobello mushroom (i.e. gills that run straight from the outer rim to the central stem), the edible chanterelle has a criss-crossing, lattice-patterned under-side where many of the gill-like threads interconnect.

The underside of a true chanterelle showing its criss-crossed pattern of pseudo gills

Guide-books also claim that edible chanterelles smell fruity, with a hint of apricot, that their stems are more solid and narrow towards the base, and that their cap is chunkier with a more crenulated margin. But we have not found any of these indicators to be as unambiguous as the gill pattern.

Chanterelles picked and waiting to be cleaned

Finally, how should one prepare and cook chanterelles? Cleaning the mushrooms can be fiddly, especially if you haven’t cut the muddy bases off when collecting. It is best not to wet the mushrooms – we tend to use a small dry brush and a lightly dampened cloth or kitchen towel. Getting dirt from between the gills may require a sharp point such as a pen knife blade. Once clean and dry, chanterelles can be used as any mushroom. They are great in omelettes or fried in butter with parsley and garlic and then used as a garnish on a dish such as a creamy risotto. If you have enough, why not just serve them on slices of buttered sourdough toast, or use them in a cream sauce to accompany a light meat like chicken or guinea fowl. Happy foraging—and feasting.

Chanterelles served with mushroom risotto, pigeon breast and braised fig with a crispy sage garnish

The Power of Storm Ciarán

We got off lightly when Storm Ciarán struck South-West England on 2nd November 2023. At the coast winds touched 90mph and they were even more extreme for Brittany, the Channel Islands, and the north French coast. Near the house we just had a few branches down, but in the National Trust wood that connects with our garden things were very different. I had a text from a neighbour at 10am telling me that he had had a close shave in the wood when the top of a tall beech tree had been blown off just metres from where he was standing. Apparently, most of it had been blown into the River Teign, but a large branch had fallen straight across the main path. Today, with the wind blustery rather than howling, I went to explore the damage. Our own stretch of the river seemed untouched, but sure enough as I ventured into the National Trust’s wood (known as Milfordleigh Plantation), I found the jagged spike of the decapitated beech standing proud, and its tangled branches covering the river bank.

Part of the fallen beech in Milfordleigh Plantation, National Trust

Before I lived here in Murchington, I had no idea that trees regularly shed their tops in extreme wind. It makes perfect sense if the alternative is being uprooted by the sheer force of nature. In the first winter storm of 2017, not long after we moved in, the top 3 metres of a massive Douglas Fir by the river was blown clean off, leaving a jagged, glistening scar of torn wood pointing to the heavens. Within a year regrowth hid the scar. Within three it became hard to tell that the Douglas had ever lost its top - the flat profile and multiple sprouting shoots are the tell-tale sign.

The decapitated Douglas Fir in 2023, its flat top the only clue to the violence of the 2017 storm

But trees can be, and are, uprooted. When I walked a few metres further into Milfordleigh Plantation, beyond the fallen beech, I realised that this must have been the fate of at least one of the wood’s giant conifers.  Through the dense undergrowth I glimpsed the sight of a massive trunk jammed between a small island and the opposite bank of the river. It was obviously newly felled, and given its massive size it seemed unlikely to have travelled far down stream.

The swollen River Teign with the wedged conifer trunk just visible through the trees

Sure enough, perhaps eighty metres further into the wood I caught sight of the upper half of a giant tree lying sprawled across the field on the other side of the river. As I got closer, I also saw the disturbed earth and damaged shrubs that flagged where the tree had once stood: close by the bank of the Teign.

The hollow left by the fallen tree - with apparent signs of weakening by fungal attack

All that could now be seen was a big hollow and some rotten fragments of the tree’s base. Incredibly, none of the tree could be seen in the river, only the upper section on the other bank. I can only assume that the trunk was shattered by the impact of the fall and the river, in full spate because of the storm, did the rest. Driving the main section of the tree downstream, conveniently clearing the way for the white-water kayakers who brave the river in winter.

The top of the stricken conifer lying on the river’s southern bank

We can only hope that there won’t be too many wild storms this winter, but climate change isn’t on our side with that one. As the Earth warms its winds become fiercer and its clouds carry more water. I doubt whether the stricken conifer will be the only casualty of the weather this Autumn and Winter.

Bird App Wizardry: How Merlin helped us up our bird-spotting game

Bird App Wizardry: How Merlin helped us up our bird-spotting game

As we have long realised, St Olaves is an ideal location for some of the key target migratory bird species in west Devon: the Pied and Spotted Flycatchers, Willow and Wood Warblers and Redstarts. Nestled in the upper Teign valley and with acres of unfarmed wood pasture and boggy areas it should be an ideal location for these species, and also for some of our rarer, and/or rapidly declining, resident species such as Willow Tit, Meadow Pipit and Skylark. We have seen Redstarts off and on over the past six years, but the rest have pretty much eluded us but for a fleeting sighting of a Pied Flycatcher in the Covid lockdown spring of 2020. All that changed a fortnight ago thanks to a friend introducing us to a bird recognition app developed through crowd-sourcing co-ordinated by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. The app is called Merlin Bird ID and is free to download for most smartphone OS. You can download bird files for many parts of the world, but these are large, so we stuck with the one for the British Isles and northern Europe. We have made most use of its Sound ID capabilities, having heard that its AI is particularly effective at recognising bird songs and calls in the wild. It was an immediate revelation. Because the app lights up whenever a particular bird is calling, within a day or two we had both learnt or relearnt the calls of a whole host of birds, some of which, such as the Goldcrest, Siskin and Stock Dove, we realised were around us all the time. We also became more confident about identifying other species, finding it easier to pick out the sweet sound of the Blackcap against the backdrop of general birdsong. Its educational value alone is extraordinary.

The short Merlin Bird ID app video on YouTube

But Merlin also quickly identified a group of birds that we had never recorded at St Olaves, including the tiny, orange-crowned Firecrest, Skylark, Meadow Pipit, Willow Warbler and Spotted Flycatcher. At first, we were sceptical. Was the AI playing tricks and misinterpreting more common bird calls? But then it flashed ‘Spotted Flycatcher’ just as we saw a small bird dart off a branch, loop in the air and return to the same spot. Bingo. In the week that followed we saw Spotted Flycatchers all around the viewpoint area, including one in a nest box (now confirmed as a lined nest). This morning, I watched two Flycatchers together on a branch close to the nest, until a third landed beside them only to be quickly chased away. Suddenly, we seem to have flycatchers everywhere (and a neighbour says they have also seen Pied Flycatchers nearer the river). Obviously, Merlin hasn’t brought the birds to St Olaves. We hope that that’s down to us trying to manage the land better for diversity, including creating more abundant insect life. But it did alert us to their presence and help us learn what birdwatchers call their ‘jizz’ (or giss): their distinctive movements, behaviour and overall appearance. Flycatchers, we now know, display a lot of jizz.

Spotted Flycatcher being ringed, Northants 2013 [cc-by-2.0]

So give Merlin a try. It’s not perfect – Cornell Lab is clear that they still want to build their underlying crowd-sourced database (we’ve noticed that it’s particularly patchy for UK birds of prey—no Goshawk, Merlin, or eagles, only the common Buzzard etc.--it also wrongly thinks Tawny Owls are rare at St Olaves, when we see or hear them most days). But it will only get better, and it’s already an amazing free app that has transformed our appreciation of living in this beautiful spot.

St Olaves,

June 2023

Moments in Time

by Mark Wood

 As I sit here on the only flat piece of land that exists at St. Olaves house, it re-enforces that the life we create has nothing to do with luck. Eight weeks ago, we left the comfort of our normal life, to live a life on the road, not knowing what we would be doing or where we would be each day.

Eight weeks of adventure has brought us to this idyllic place at the top of Dartmoor in Devon, where the views take your breath away, and the kaleidoscope of wildflowers stop you in your stride. 

You can hear the hypnotic flow of the river Teign at the bottom of the property, it reminds you that if you are fluid with your thoughts you can navigate around any hurdle in life.

It is a simple way of life; you work a few hours a day in exchange for a bed and food. It makes me think of how life must have been for people before it all got so complicated, no money is exchanged. It is a cultural exchange of knowledge and skills, where both sides benefit from meeting each other.

We have cooked for each other, using lots of naturally grown ingredients from Jon and Jane’s amazing garden. We have drunk homemade ginger beer, just like my Nan used to make, there’s been elderflower drink that tastes as fresh as the morning air. Each evening isn’t complete without the herb tea, taken from the garden as the kettle boils, lemon verbena being my favourite, it reminds me of lemon sherbet drops.

You see, when you slow down a bit you start to notice that the world is full of magical moments. The secret is to be in those moments completely, every sense being used to connect to what is in front of you.

Whether it is weeding a vegetable garden, sanding a new worktop you have put in, pruning bushes, feeding the chickens and the quails, picking fresh raspberries, cold water swimming in the river Teign, picking wildflowers for the daily vase, making compost, sitting around a firepit, watering the plants, listening to the huge array of wildlife, the list could go on. But these are just some of the magical moments we have been able to experience through doing this workaway.   

Life is not easier if you follow your dreams, Jon, and Jane work hard every day to create this paradise hidden in the hills of Dartmoor. It may not be everybody’s dream, but it is theirs. It hasn’t come to them by luck, they made big decisions and changes for it to exist.

Karen and I are both grateful they did because it has given us the opportunity to experience something life affirming, even just for a short moment in time.

Workaway is a wonderful opportunity to learn, exchange skills, meet people you wouldn’t normally and have fun.

Saint Olaves' Owls

Laura Sangha (guest blogpost)

Baby Tawny owl underneath one of the Giant Redwoods

Let’s be honest. When Jane and Jon asked if we might like to do some house sitting for them this summer we absolutely leapt at the chance. Since moving to Devon twelve years ago we’ve had endless fun exploring its huge variety of habitats, from its rolling hills and history-rich towns, its two coastlines with their craggy shores and red sandstone cliffs, its piney plantations, its muddy estuaries, harbours and havens, and its stony and sandy beaches. Perhaps most of all, like so many before us, we have felt the inexorable pull of Dartmoor and have spent many happy (and some rather soggy) hours pottering under its huge skies, stomping up towering tors, taking photos of beech trees growing out of stone walls and dipping in its (mostly icy) rivers. So what better than a couple of nights on the edge of the moor, immersing ourselves in the sights and sounds and smells of this stunning landscape, from the comfort of beautiful St Olaves House?

And St Olaves was kind to us indeed. We spent hours watching birds around and on the feeders (house sparrows, great and blue tits, siskin, chaffinch, jackdaws, blackbirds, magpies, pigeons, nuthatch and even a greater spotted woodpecker muscled its way in). We wandered endlessly and marvelled at our luck to be there for two days of beautiful sunshine, showing everything at its very best. The gardens and grounds are a riot of dayglo spring greens, flowers are bursting out everywhere, the birds are in a frenzy while the somnolent buzz of insects accompanies you wherever you go. We made friends with the chickens by giving them sunflower seeds and peeked at the quails, discovering that they are expert egg hiders. We took a wander down the river and braved the stepping stones (not so brave, the river was very low), and I woke in the night to spy bright bright stars glinting in the skylight over my head.

Tawny owl in the trees at St Olaves

As if that wasn’t enough, St Olaves had one final treat in store for us too. For as we wandered up from the orchard garden early in the afternoon, I spotted an out of place indistinct grey shape on the branches at the base of a giant redwood (giant redwood!) a little away from us. Taking out my camera I was able to confirm with the zoom that it was what I suspected – a tawny owlet! It was initially facing away, but it caught wind of us and turned to pin us with two shiny black orbs – quite an unnerving sight amidst all the fluffy grey mess of its young and underdeveloped feathers.

We kept our distance and left it alone, but it played on our minds as it was quite exposed to predators, close to the ground and not showing signs that it was able to fly well, if at all. Given the wonderful weather we decided to sleep out at the shepherd’s hut that evening, which was not far from where the owlet was perched, so we knew that it hadn’t moved at all in the afternoon. However, at dusk we realised it had disappeared, which we took to be an encouraging sign as we hadn’t heard any obvious sounds of distress. Soon after that we spotted the tell-tale shapes of large birds swooping in the trees around us, suggesting the owls were on the move, and when I popped to use the compost loo I could actually hear a bird in an oak tree nearby, calling, presumably for a parent. After standing still for a while I was able to make out the distinct silhouette of our little fluffy friend in the tree, and just as I did, I saw the parent fly in and feed the young one. Leaving them to it, we heard the owlet calling most of the night, and in the morning I took particular care to scan the trees nearby and was yet again rewarded with the sight of one of these magnificent and mysterious birds, this time an older one taking a very well earned rest.

Gardening for soil health

Lettuce and spring onions as companion plants in Henri’s field, Schumacher College.

Jane Elliott

The weather was glorious in Devon for the last weekend in May, and it was lovely to be mainly learning (and eating) outside. We were on a course about organic gardening for soil health on the Dartington Estate. It was inspiring to see ‘Henri's field’ which is a mixture of some forest garden areas and a crop rotation system. One of the key messages was that soil health is vital for the healthy growth of vegetables. This may seem an obvious point to make, but much of modern agricultural practice has lost touch with the importance of the soil and all the microbes and other critters within it.

The green revolution has been successful in improving crop yields. However, this has been accomplished by focussing on the chemistry that is needed to boost growth and reduce pests, rather than taking a more holistic view that recognises the importance of the biological web of life within the soil. For example, it is the microbes within the soil that work in harmony with the plant roots to enable the plants to absorb the minerals and nutrients needed from the soil. Although soil is only about 5% organic matter (with the rest made up of air water and minerals), it is the organic matter that is vital to the soil food web. One way to assess the quality of the soil microbiome is to look at the roots of a plant. If roots are pale and white it is unlikely that they are supporting multitudes of microbes, whereas if roots are coated with a fine layer of brown/red soil this is a good sign that microbes are at work.

The main method to improve the health of your soil is to add organic matter or compost. Organic matter will help a clay soil to be more workable and drain better and will help a sandy soil retain more moisture. An important element of the course at Dartington was therefore understanding more about the different ways of making compost and mulch. Participants were very honest in sharing that many of us just have a heap of weeds in a corner which we call a compost heap, and which we gradually add to every time we do some gardening. This approach will usually result in some useable compost after a couple of years but there are more effective ways of making compost. The technique that we tried in a corner of Henri's field at Schumacher College was to make a layered compost pile with alternate 'brown' i.e. carbon rich materials and 'green ' i.e. nitrogen rich materials. If the heap is at least one cubic meter square and is made in one go then it is much more likely to generate the heat needed for hot composting. This is a much speedier approach to compost making and should result in useable compost within about six months.

Course tutors Colum Pawson and Jane Gleeson demonstrating compost

The 'brown' layer that we used to construct our new compost heap was straw but  dried grass, shredded paper and cardboard or any dried organic material that is brown in colour can be used as the brown layer. Starting with a brown later it is also good to liberally water each later of the compost heap to ensure that it doesn't dry out. Jon enjoyed wielding a hose and ensuring that everything was given a good soaking. For the microbial life to do its work efficiently in digesting and breaking down the organic materials the microbes need moisture, oxygen, and warmth. It was also interesting to learn why it's a good idea to keep a separate pile of composting leaves as mulch - leaves tend to break down more slowly and are broken down by fungi rather than by microbes so it is best not to add them in quantity to a compost pile.

Adding a layer of brown carbon-rich straw to the compost pile

Given that they share an awareness of the importance of soil health and organic practices, It was good to get some insights into how the growing methods used at Schumacher College differ slightly from the Charles Dowding ‘no-dig’ method. Whereas Dowding uses a very large amount of compost on his soil each year, and argues that crop rotation is not strictly necessary, at Schumacher they find it impractical to make the quantity of compost needed, given the size of their growing area, and so prefer to practice crop rotation and to use green manures as part of the rotation. However both approaches focus on the need to have something growing in the soil for as much of the year as possible.

Useful resources:

https://www.soilfoodweb.com/

Almost Wild Camping

Charlie Loram discussing tents

The rule of three is a good way of remembering that you can survive for three minutes without oxygen, three hours without shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food. It would seem that you can also, just about, survive for 55/59 years without knowing how to wild camp. However, this weekend we spent three days learning all about how to sleep out in comfort with the minimum of kit.

The weekend was led by Charlie Loram and Emily Fawcett, and they provided a great introduction to basic bush skills and wild camping. We learned a huge amount. This included the advantages of different types of shelter; how to cook using a tiny Meths stove, or a small camp fire; techniques for washing up in a stream; and how to adjust a back pack so that it fits comfortably.

Emily Fawcett discussing good food for wild camping

One of the most memorable parts of the weekend was being lent a tarp so that we could sleep outside without a tent, but with good shelter from the rain. Emily was expert at teaching us the three or four main knots that were needed to put up our tarp, and Charlie has a great technique for packing a tarp away so that it is quick to erect next time you go camping.

Dartmoor is the only National Park in England that allows wild camping, and there is a helpful map provided by the Park Authority that shows where camping is permitted. From 2003 (as a result of the Land reform Act) wild camping has been permitted in Scotland, as long as campers follow the Outdoor Access Code. However, unfortunately, there are very few places to wild camp legally elsewhere in Great Britain. For those who want to camp in remote/wild locations without facilities the Nearly Wild Camping website provides listings of landowners who allow wild camping for a small fee. For those who want to learn much more about foraging and survival techniques, Charlie and Emily help lead ‘The Old Way’ – an immersive course that provides insight into the skills and practices of our hunter gatherer ancestors.

Inspired by Emily and Charlie, we had our first night wild camping on Dartmoor last night. We swam in the River Plym beneath Ditsworthy Warren House and then watched the sun go down over Gutter Tor.

Kingfisher rescue

Amazingly, this morning Ian Crawford, who helps us with the garden, came across a fledgling kingfisher far from the river and calling plaintively in the undergrowth of the Shrubbery. At first he let it be, but as the calls continued and with no sign of its parents, eventually he felt obliged to intervene.

The kingfisher skulking in the Shrubbery undergrowth

Kingfisher in hand

Kingfisher about to take flight by the riverside

With utmost care he scooped up the fledgling bird and carried it down to the edge of the River Teign some 400 metres distant (a descent of about 40 metres). At first the little bird sat stunned where it had been placed, but in minutes it was flying off down-stream. We can only hope that it will quickly learn to fend for itself and perhaps even set up home nearby (but given fledgling mortality is known to be very high for kingfishers it is perhaps enough to know that these beautiful birds are successfully breeding on our stretch of the river).

Fly fishing in the dappled shade of the River Teign

There is probably no better way to spend a hot sunny Sunday in July than fly fishing in the dappled shade of the River Teign.

A few days ago we spent a fascinating few hours being introduced both to fly fishing and to the ecology of the river. The morning started with a demonstration (from naturalist Nick Baker) of how to survey for fly larvae and other invertebrates living in the gravel and silt of the river bed. After a brief talk on fly fishing and a demonstration of casting by Geoff Stephens we all had a go at improving our casting technique on dry land. We then put on the waders that had been helpfully provided and ventured into the river.

One of the most interesting things I learned during the day is that Sea Trout are actually Brown Trout that have ventured into the sea in order to have a more nutritious and plentiful diet. They undergo a number of physical changes in order to be able to survive in salt water, but come back up river in order to lay their eggs. Their offspring may in turn stay as Brown Trout living in the river or may themselves make the transition to becoming a Sea Trout.

Only one Brown Trout was caught yesterday afternoon a small but beautiful fish with an olive back and black, brown and bright orange spots on its flanks. After a quick inspection the fish was immediately returned to the river unharmed. Fly fishers can get a bad press but most are acutely aware of the value of the life and health of our rivers.

The team who helped lead the workshop on Sunday - five Fly fishermen, with Nick Baker the naturalist at the back.

I was struck by being the only woman participating on Sunday – why are activities like fly-fishing so gendered? What could be more rewarding than honing your observation skills and heightening your senses so that you start to fully appreciate the natural world of the river?

The workshop on Sunday was part of the launch of a new local conservation project. The River Teign Restoration project is a four-year river conservation initiative centred around improving the river and its tributaries for migratory fish species particularly Salmon and Seatrout. Further information is available on this very informative website: https://riverteignrestorationproject.co.uk/

And there are opportunities to get involved in citizen science projects as well as doing conservation work to improve the biodiversity and health of the river.

Many thanks to Lewis Steer the ‘Dartmoor Shepherd’, who kindly let us use his field for the day, made us coffee, and encouraged us to fish on his stretch of the Upper Teign.

Growing our own mushrooms... we hope

After a fascinating tour around Martin Crawford’s Forest Garden at Dartington, near Totnes, in Spring 2019 we resolved to follow his example and try to inoculate some fresh-cut hardwood logs with mushroom spores.

Following Martin’s advice, we bought dowels impregnated with mushroom spores from Ann Miller a specialist supplier from Aberdeenshire with more than 20 years’ experience.  We opted for what are said to be the two easiest mushrooms for beginners to try and grow – Shitake and Oyster. The procedure is fairly simple, but it will take a long time before we know if we have been successful (probably a year or more).

Most mushrooms require fresh-cut hardwood logs to grow successfully – we used oak and ash logs about a metre long cut from recent thinnings (removing side shoots and any ivy or moss attached to the bark). We drilled holes for the dowels – approximately six inches apart, with the rows spaced about four inches apart. The dowels were then gently tapped into the pre-drilled holes till they were flush with the log.

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When all the holes had been filled with the impregnated dowels we covered the tops with melted cheese wax to make an air-tight seal.

The logs were then stood on end in a shady corner of the vegetable garden to wait till the mushroom spores introduced on the dowels have managed to colonise the whole log. When (or perhaps if) they do this successfully they will be ready to fruit – something that in theory can happen on multiple occasions as long as the logs are kept in good condition – until, that is, they have eventually rotted away. Once the Shitake logs are fully colonised it is possible to shock them into fruiting (producing delicious mushrooms) by soaking them for 24-48 hours in a deep trough and then banging them sharply, end first, on firm ground three or four times. The theory of this method is that it imitates the natural forest conditions for fruiting – i.e. a tree branch falling to the ground after severe storms.

We will let you know if it works – but don’t hold your breath.

Logs in shady spot

Postscript: July 2021 - we have been taking small amounts of Shitake mushrooms over the past 12 months from 2 of the logs, but almsot exactly two years on one of the logs has suddenly produced a bumper crop of large, meaty Shitake; more than half a kilo. We used them as the base mushroom for Yotam Ottolenghi’s amazing Spicy Mushroom Lasagne recipe, which uses 1.3Kg of mushrooms pre-roasted to concetrate their flavour. It’s incredible.

First flush of Shitake mushrooms, winter 2020

The Black and White hens complain about Lockdown:

Well we are still banished to the fruit cage with no contact allowed between us and the wild birds. We have been here since DEFRA’s declaration in December and really miss our time roaming in the orchard, and having a dust bath in the half-empty wood shed.

View of Chagford from the vegetable garden

We feel that the 'Fruit cage' is something of a misnomer...all cage and no fruit...where is the fruit? We wander around all day and have eaten every sign of greenery. Nothing left now but a few spiky twigs, that don't look very promising. The white hen has decided not to lay any eggs in protest. In contrast with last winter when she continued to lay throughout December and January, frankly now she just can't be bothered. It has been rumoured that many humans are currently furloughed and this seems a very sensible arrangement: zero productivity, but the reassurance of enough food and shelter to survive. Our mental health could well be suffering - it is very boring here - not even a chance of daily exercise outside the cage. If they did let us out we would not go far. We would not dream of cycling anywhere (let alone seven miles across a big city) - after all a hen needs a bicycle like a fish needs second wave feminism.

There was a very friendly robin who used to come and visit us in the orchard - and all those squirrels stealing the apples, and the excitement of the odd deer. But here in the fruit cage the views are good, but there is no social contact and no variety of forage and scratching options. The layers pellets continue to arrive regularly, water of course and the odd vegetable scraps, but really this is nothing compared with the joy of scratching around for bugs under the larch in the orchard. I have heard that Avian Flu was reported near Exmouth, but that is miles from here so we really don't understand why this needs to keep us locked up and locked down.

There are constant updates about corvid19 on the news, but we don’t understand why the crows should get all the attention. Why is there so little to remind people of DEFRAs schedule 3 stating that even a couple of tame hens need to be housed separately from wild birds.  When will there be an update? We are hoping that the news from DEFRA will soon be that we can return to our usual residence - Don't it always seem to go - you don't know what you've got til it's gone!

Murchington weather event, August 2020

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The deepened stream bed, August 2020 and (inset) the same spot in March 2020

It was unlucky Thursday 13th. The heat and humidity had been building for days – on the glorious 12th the temperature locally had touched 30C for the first time in 2020. Something had to give. When the heavens opened around 3pm on Thursday 13th August, Murchington experienced its worst flash-flood in living memory. No one is sure quite how much rain fell in the next hour, probably between four and six inches. As drains became overwhelmed and streams burst their banks many local people had rooms flooded. We were lucky at St Olaves, our house lies well above the stream and we were unaware of the drama till it was all overt. The tiny stream that flows through Murchington from north to south had become a raging torrent as it filled with all the run off. It quickly washed away neighbours’ footbridges that had stood for many years, carrying all before it as its momentum grew. Most dramatic of all, when the flooded stream reached our garden’s Victorian leat system, once used to irrigate summer grazing meadows, it over-topped the low granite walls and plunged straight down the hill to the river. It seemed as though water had a memory, though in truth it was just elemental physics. We had long noted the dry, grassed over inundations scarring the hillside below the leats, now the stream was reclaiming them for itself. And more. The sheer volume of storm water dug out the old stream bed, scouring deep into the sub-soil and wrenching granite boulders from moorings that had probably held good since the last Ice Age. Temporarily, the stream had re-established and deepened its old route down to the River Teign. Within hours only a gentle trickle flowed through the hillside gully and the leat system was again successfully diverting the stream left and right across the hilltop. But it was amazing and sobering to grasp the power of water - we can only be thankful not to live in its path.

Winter flowers

A host of snowdrops around the snowdrop tree - 8th February 2020, the daffodils here will soon be in flower too

With Storm Ciara raging outside it is a good time to blog about the winter and early spring flowers. There were already plenty of flowers appearing in January, but just a few weeks later the snow drops and hellebore are really coming into their own. What a difference just a few weeks can make to the garden.

20th January

Despite the long nights and short days of mid-winter there are plenty of flowers blooming, even if somewhat more quietly than summer flowers. The primroses are just starting to come out although they are still mainly in leaf with just a few pale lemon yellow flowers. The snowdrops too are just beginning - you have to be on the lookout for them rather than being struck by swathes of white, but there are a few in the lawn by the shepherds hut and scattered around in other corners, forcing their way steadfastly up through the fallen leaves. At a different scale are the hellebore, brutes of plants compared with the delicate snowdrops. The white-green variety and the pale pink are blooming, but not yet the deeper darker purple. The camellia next to the box tree is nearly blooming its buds look fit to burst but it is holding off its splendid show for at least another few days. Spring Cyclamen stand out a strong lipstick pink among the beech leaves.

The Daphne is beautifully fragrant and has been in flower since just before Christmas, it is still covered in flowers with a good deal of delicate pink ’confetti’ beneath. The winter honeysuckle - Lonicera fragrantissima is also at its best. Pale yellow pulmonaria are also starting to show, the flowers very self- contained and small above a mass of oval heart leaves. Then there is the arch of a shrub just above the badger steps. This is the fragrant viburnum bodnantense and is flowering at the very tips of last year's growth. A reminder to prune it in the early spring so that next year the blooms are more concentrated rather than being on stilts, totally out of proportion with a hugely tall woody stem topped by a tiny ice-cream pink flower.

And then of course who could forget the aconites - Jon's favourite flowers - appearing with play-group yellow boldness under the fig tree - apparently called ‘choir boys’ in East Anglia because the leaves are just a small ruff framing each yellow head. The daffodils are not out yet but provide erect green shoots that promise blooms in February and March.

4th & 8th February

Two sunny days provided a great opportunity to work in the orchard, pruning the apple trees and clearing dead perennials ready for spring growth. Also lovely to see how the flowers are blossoming. The pale purple crocus open fully to the sun and the aconites are now out around one of the newer apple trees, intermingled with a host of snowdrops. Hellebore are now widely blossoming, and two of the pink camellia are fully in bloom. One or two of the smaller daffodils are in flower, and the red-blue pulmonaria are now out in the stumpery.

Michaelmas Apple Harvest

Once again the apple trees in the orchard have cropped well. However, we have spent the last few weeks slightly anxious that the apples would either be blown down in the storms or eaten by the deer before we had a chance to harvest them.

On Sunday (which neatly happened to be Michaelmas day) we hosted an autumnal gathering for neighbours to give people a chance to taste the different apple varieties and to get some help with harvesting the fruit, in exchange for plenty of cake, scones and sociability.

In total twenty-four neighbours joined us and as the weather cleared up mid- afternoon we managed to harvest nearly 160kg of apples. This compares with a harvest of around 80kg last year. The plan is to store around 120 apples (12kg) for eating before Christmas and to press the rest to make apple juice and cider. None of the apples is good for storing longer than a couple of months.

This year we have been more organised about ensuring all the trees are labelled and picking the apples by variety so that we can make more informed blends of juice.

The tally of different apples is as follows:

Sunset 50kg

Ellison’s Orange 45kg

Peasgood’s Nonsuch 14kg

Egremont Russet 13kg

Newton Wonder 10kg

Laxton 9kg

Ribston Pippin 8kg

Chivers delight 5kg

Mixed good quality windfalls 4kg

The Newton Wonder and Chivers Delight are both very young trees – perhaps around six to seven years old, whereas the other trees are mature. Ellison’s Orange seemed to be about to topple over in the wet winter, but we used a bandage and a stake to keep it more or less upright and it has cropped heavily. All are on dwarf root stock making their apples easy to harvest. Only one of the dwarf rooted mature trees did not produce at all this year – Howgate Wonder. It’s great that records from previous owners identify all these apple trees as it is fun to know the varieties – however one puzzle is that the Peasgood nonsuch do not match the description of being a good cooking apple as they don’t cook to a fluffy pulp – so it may need to be renamed to Peasgood not-as- such in our orchard.

Whereas last year it was the mature taller apple trees of unknown variety that cropped heavily, this year they have produced virtually nothing.

As well as picking apples for human consumption it was great to be joined by our neighbour with a smallholding who collected a large wheelbarrow of windfalls for her pigs.

Workaways and Wwoofers helping out @Edgeofthemoor

When you agree to host Workaways and WWoofers you can never know quite how it will work out – how you will all get on, and what skills and experiences people will bring. But so far we have not been disappointed.

Once again we have had a great two weeks getting to know four new people, as we work and eat together. Fran and Andy arrived from Bristol in a van just narrow enough to make it down the lane to our house, Philippe came by train - and I met him at Exeter St Davids, while Nils made it to Chagford using a combination of public transport and hitchhiking, and then walked through the wood and up the field to Murchington in a heavy shower – Chapeau! 

Right away it was clear that Nils (from Brittany) and Philippe (from near Toulouse) spoke English much better than any of us spoke French. Although they were keen to improve their fluency there was no difficulty in understanding each other.

Knowledge isn’t everything, but we were immensely fortunate that Philippe was an expert horticulturalist who immediately set about revolutionising our composting practices and generally improving things in the vegetable garden. He also started a small nursery of cuttings and small saplings which we will nurture carefully till they are ready to plant out.

Andy thoughtfully brought a concrete mixer with him which was a great help given the length of wall that needed repointing. But the task was also livened up by Jon interrupting the work to do an impromptu interview on Radio Five Live about his new book.

Weather was very variable over the two weeks, but we still got a lot achieved. Nils and Philippe pruned and mulched three birches while Fran braved the showers to clear nettles and weeds and reveal a lovely waterfall on a stream down by the river one afternoon. But the next day it was so wet and windy that painting the downstairs hall was the only option.

All of us were glad to have a chance to sit round the fire pit in the evening enjoying the changing views of Meldon Hill and watching for bats and owls in the fading light.

Yet the poor weather meant we did this much less than we would have liked. On the final Friday and Saturday the storm arrived, but despite driving wind and rain Andy finished constructing a new gate with help from Jon and Philippe. The old one was too badly rotted to be worth repainting

So, if you have a project that you need help with and some spare room in your house (and round your table) – think about welcoming some Workaways or Wwoofers. We have found it a rewarding way to make friends while getting a lot done quickly.

Thirteen walk over thirteen miles of Dartmoor on the thirteenth

The group walk on North Dartmoor on Tuesday was our first experience of a ‘Chagwalk’. It was led by Alan Deacon, who had described the day as an eleven mile walk on good paths at a moderate pace.

We started well with a relatively easy path taking us from the parking at Scorhill to the White Moor stone and the small stone circle nearby. From there we headed up a gentle slope to Hound Tor and then beyond to Wild Tor. The skies were grey and cloudy, but with some glimpses of sunshine and no real rain. Wild Tor is just within the military range so is not always accessible but during August the whole of Dartmoor remains open for walkers.

At Hangingstone Hill we waited for everyone in the group to be together - from there it was then a short, but rather difficult walk across the boggy uneven moor to the Cranmere pool letter box . We were warned not to have high expectations of the ‘pool’; this is no place for wild swimming, just a small indentation in the moor, but the letter box is a reminder of the practice of ‘letterboxing’ started in the 1850s and a precursor to the Geocaching of today.

We then retraced our steps back to Hangingstone Hill for lunch. From here Meldon Hill looks insignificant and there are great views across the North of Dartmoor. Just a little further south is Whitehorse hill, site of an important prehistoric burial excavated in 2011. After lunch we carried on to find a peat pass, a track high up on the moor dug to make it easier for horses to be ridden over the moor. It was here that we missed the path to take us back down to cross the Teign and trace our way round to find Scorhill again. A decision was made to stick to the better paths, even if it meant a longer walk. By the time we walked below the deserted Teignhead farmhouse and could see the familiar shape of Kestor rock in the distance we were feeling rather weary. However, the huge advantages of walking as part of a group are that there are interesting people to chat to and the reassurance that you can’t really get lost when you are walking with people who have spent decades hiking on the Moor. The Group organise a local walk monthly, always on the 13th. We thoroughly recommend it to anyone in the area keen to get to know Dartmoor better.