Once again it is impossible to write about the past two months without commenting on the weather. Although the wood has no natural water, the ground is extremely wet and you may wish to take wellies on a walk. With working parties starting coppicing and the Alternative Technology Centre bringing in their school children to help, the ground is being cut up very badly already. This year work will be at the very top and bottom of the wood, with a further piece in the centre of the plantation being cleared and replanted. I can only apologise in advance for the muddy conditions.
It is really upsetting to record yet more vandalism in the wood. Around the beginning of October the fencing in the Car Park was destroyed, as were the signs and leaflets. A few days later the new compartmented leaflet box was stolen. If anyone can provide any information on this wilful damage, the Blandford Police would like to hear from you.
Dormouse and Bat monitoring has finished for the year with some good news and some bad. A female Bechstein's Bat was found this year, the first ever, while the male ringed three years ago is still returning to the same box each year. Dormice were nowhere to be seen for much of the summer, only single animals were found until July. However, by studying the fur colour of the few individuals monitored, we were able to say that breeding had occurred outside the boxes in natural surroundings. It now seems likely that the Dormice will nest in natural settings where the conditions are suitable and will only use boxes when they are the best alternative. This is contrary to existing theories but seems quite logical. In any case, in Garston Wood nearly half the boxes have birds in them until June. By September, pregnant females appeared in nests and young ones were recorded in five different areas of the wood. One box held six young and their mother, quite difficult to catch, sex and weigh without losing them. Overall the numbers were less than last year and more importantly the weights of adult dormice are much lower than would be expected at this time of year. The largest was 26 grams, up to 10 grams lower than might be found in November. A litter of three young of only 8 grams were found asleep in torpor in November, one of which had a large section of fur missing from the back. This weight would not normally be enough to survive the winter and we are therefore monitoring this family into December. It seems that food has not been plentiful, despite the rain and good nut crop. In total, one third of the boxes were eventually found to have dormouse nests in them by the end of November, the birds early occupancy seems to make little difference.
After a very wet and windy Friday and Saturday, Sixpenny Handley awoke on Sunday morning to bright sunshine and an almost cloudless sky. The temperature, low at first rose quickly, until by 11.30 a.m. it was comfortably warm. This meant, that the part of the service to take place at the War Memorial could proceed without any problems. Arriving at 10:45am outside the church, there were only a few members of the congregation waiting on the neatly mown grass around the memorial. The vicar, the Rev. Ron Wood was there talking to a few of his flock, regaled in his clerical vestments and wearing his university’s hood, standing just outside the lynch gate, while the church warden, Graham Smith, handed out service sheets to all new arrivals, saying as he did so, that he had been assured that there was one for everybody.
At first, it seemed that this meant that only a small congregation was anticipated, but the next five minutes was to prove this wrong. A constant stream of villagers trooped up the High Street, swelling the ranks of worshipers. Everybody was obviously enjoying the respite from the bad weather, revelling in the sunshine and springlike atmosphere. This, despite the solemnity of the occasion, created a feeling of communal togetherness amongst a gathering of people, met to say thank you that they had had the chance to enjoy this wonderful day, at the expense of those who had died all those years ago. With the arrival of the public, came two on duty policemen, who proceeded to stop all traffic from driving past the church. Next, a contingent of the village’s boy scouts proudly marched up, banners carried aloft. Then the choir, in their blue and white robes walked silently from the church, behind the cross bearer Sally Clark, positioning themselves by the gate. The service began with Ron reading out the names as they appear on the memorial, of all the local men who fought and died in the two world wars.
This was followed by the two minutes silence. During this period of time, there was no noise, no cars, no aeroplanes, no noisy radios, no children playing, just peaceful quietness, all apart from some small songbirds, who obviously thought spring had arrived very early. It was very easy to say thank you to all those who had suffered and died for us, we had so much to say thank you for. Then it was time to enter the church for the main part of the service. How pleasing it was to see the pews on the central aisle filling up, so much so that pews on the south side of the knave had to be occupied. The service itself was very simple, led by the ever enthusiastic Ron, who was at his best, especially in his address. The feeling in the church seemed extremely friendly, united and community centred, which was maintained at the dispersal, helped by a beautiful sunny day. It is to be hoped that any memories evoked that day were happy ones.
Talking to Marie Sanders, a long term and very staunch member of the congregation afterwards, about the very satisfactory size of the gathering, she said that she believed that recent happenings locally, nationally and internationally had created a need for people to be together. Long may this need last! She also said that many people present were regular church goers in the past, who no longer came regularly for one reason or another. Let us hope those reasons can be overcome in the future.
A general feeling of thanksgiving and hope prevailed; this was very obvious, even to a newcomer. Thank you Sixpenny Handley past and present.
31st October 2000. 5:25 a.m. Woodcutts. With mug of steaming tea, I don my cap, quilted waistcoat and wellingtons. I had thought about not bothering with the boots and wearing my slippers, but due to the inclement weather of the past few days, there might be puddles. It is still very dark despite the clear sky, but with the absence of the moon and streetlights here in Woodcutts, we are very much in the dark. (Despite this we are still very worldly here, we all side with Nixon in the presidential election.) As I leave the lights of the house, I look up, realising how ignorant I am of the heavens, although I do recognise the Plough and in doing so thank God, that there is no light pollution here. The clear sky at this time of year means a fairly low temperature, but it is a strong westerly breeze, with its wind chill effect, that is the major problem. This of course, calls for a mouthful of hot tea and causes me to pull the zip of my waistcoat higher. Apart from the wind in the trees the world is silent, until a barn owl calls, followed by a bird I would like to think was a woodcock, although its hardly the right place. Nothing else, not even the distant roar of a heavy goods vehicle, whose driver has made an early start, can be heard. In fact looking in all directions, something I can now do, since most of the surrounding trees have lost enough of their leaves to give a clear view, there is no sign of headlights shining on nearby or distant roads.
This is somewhat unusual, but I assume it is because of the weather pattern of the past few days. Drivers are obviously waiting for daylight before venturing out, when it will be easier to avoid fallen branches and trees, floods, masses of fallen leaves and whatever else in the way of storm debris that nature has thrown at us. Looking skywards again, the lights of only one aeroplane are visible, heading towards Bournemouth International Airport. This is also unusual; normally there is a procession of them, even at this time of day. Perhaps it’s windier up there than it would appear, surely there can’t be any fallen trees on the flight paths. Pausing for more tea and feeling refreshed, I move on, with only the wind for company, walking across the stubbles, which are spotlessly clean, ‘sterile’ might be a better description. Even in this poor light, I can safely walk without looking down, I am sure there are no wild plants here to trip me.
Wandering on, I muse about what I saw in the vegetable patch yesterday, namely two butterflies. Sunshine was the order of the day, for the first time for ages we saw the sun, this alone was uplifting but to see a immaculate, yellow Brimstone flitting around the garden on the last day of October was beyond belief. This beautiful insect was then joined by a Red Admiral, a poor discoloured specimen, rather moth eaten and had obviously seen better days. The two of them spent some time exploring the garden, before flying off over the hedge. After the worst storm for ten years, the sight of these two beautiful creatures was very cheering indeed.
Back to today, the wind is blowing quite strongly as I move out into the stubble, away from the protection of the hedge and my asthmatic chest says, ‘Go back you fool’. I have run out of tea, so having no alternative, I put my empty mug in my pocket and head for the protection of the tree lined lane, which leads homewards. I have seen little, heard little and found little during my short excursion, but I feel exhilarated, having got out, to enjoy the peace of the ‘ravaged’ countryside. In the lane it is considerably darker - luckily for me at some time in the past my family inherited some catlike characteristics, namely to see in the dark and to move easily through bushes - so I move forward confidently, towards the barn. Immediately in front of me, I make out a fallen branch about 10ft long and 4-5" in girth, across my path. Picking it up, I put it over my shoulder and think of ‘Old Bob’ and what he would have said about my find, "Ah boy, you’ll get two warms out on that, one when you cuts it up, t'other when you burns it". It is too dark to identify what it is, but from its weight and the prevailing trees it could be oak, well worth taking home. Now in front of me, another piece, slightly smaller in circumference and six feet long, perfect to carry in my left hand to counter-balance the piece on my right shoulder. It has been a worthwhile ramble. Moving on, I come to a darker part of the lane, here in the shadows something has blocked my way. This time it is a complete tree, probably about 30 to 40 years old, with plenty of brush and leaves still on it. In the dark I assess it to be an elm, an obvious choice since at this size they are very susceptible to Dutch Elm disease. I make my way past it, making a mental note to come back with a saw before someone else does. Then I notice a much larger tree, this time it can be identified clearly as a sycamore, its large leaves being silhouetted against the sky. It has fallen parallel to the track, not blocking it at present as it is still partly supported by its standing neighbours. "It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good."
With my spoils, I make my way home; in the garden I drop my plunder and in doing so realise that it isn’t oak but ash, even better! There are certainly advantages living in the country. Indoors again, my mug replenished, I begin to write, it is 6.15 a.m. As a young man, I would never have thought that I would be writing for pleasure, as I do now. But is it simply for pleasure, I ask myself? On more careful consideration, it occurs to me that it is much more than that, it is my crusade to encourage more people to get to know, understand and love the countryside and truly appreciate the wonders of our environment. In so doing, understanding the heartbeat of all things natural and what we as a species, must do to keep that heartbeat regular and sustained.
Maybe in our insularity, we feel that the flooding, following high winds and rain has nothing to do with us; up at this height without a river in sight, does it have any relevance to us? Remember, if we are experiencing global warming, not only will there be very wet times, there will be also very dry times, what wouldn’t many of us give then to be living on a nice, damp flood plain? "Horses for courses?"
7.05 a.m. I’ve just been outside to let the chicken out, no chance of the fox now I hope, it is daylight with practically clear sky, maybe there is five percent cloud cover. Unfortunately there is a good deal of redness there, created by sunlight being refracted by the presence of dispersed water droplets. As it is written in Mathew’s Gospel, chapter 16 verses 2-5, "But Jesus answered, "When the sun is setting, you say, ‘We are going to have fine weather, because the sky is red’. And early in the morning, you say, ‘It is going to rain, because the sky is red and dark.’
9th November, 2000 My intention was to finish, but today I have seen six Red Admirals circling the Buddlia bushes simultaneously and since my outdoor thermometer registered 0°C last night, I think it well worth mentioning the above. Four days ago Madge cut the last of the courgettes and grass is still growing at an alarming rate for the time of year. The English conversationalist is coming into his or her own; the weather is indeed worth discussing! With the wettest October for a very long time, it must appear that we could have trouble ahead. What are we going to do about it? If it is any consolation, we still have a long way to go to catch up with the peoples of the Amazonian Rain Forests, where they have annual falls of up to 6 metres, (an amazing 240 inches.), this does not include melting snow from the Andes. "Thank God for Woodcutts".
P.S. There is one thing that worries me about living here, have we more native tribes yet to be discovered?