The ‘firsts’ of this year’s spring entice and excite our relationship with the land, so different now from when the wilding journey started seven years ago. Then, the simple bare fields were nibbled by sheep in various states of ill health, with ‘horrid’ fly strike ubiquitous. The land and sheep had been struggling with neglect for decades, the animals held within by numerous combinations of ‘knitting’ with barbed wire and fence posts. Thistles, nettles and docks were in hot competition as to which had the biggest number per square metre in their annual competition.
Grey January lit up by aconites
Grey, cold and damp January this year was lit up as the aconites with their yellow faces emerged, surrounded by their necklace green leaf decoration, a fashion show all of its own. Aconites grow profusely around the fields despite having been grubbed up or consistently nibbled by decades of sheep and cow munching. Now the planted corns, supplied by a neighbour overwhelmed with them, make their fourth annual appearance. They bring such admiration of their creation in the last January weeks. They hang around for some three weeks and then return to hide and reproduce next year. Shame we planted them in the remaining old apple tree areas, as they don’t like the stamping feet of the apple pickers.
It has taken four years to quadruple the area of the original cones and at this pace it must have taken 50 plus years for some of the village and local area aconite displays to develop. One site must be hundreds of years old given the half acre of woodland it covers. Gone in a day, plant in a day, and then 50 years and more before the odd yellow dot of a flower becomes a confluent rash across the woodland floor. Such a nuisance, some think, but in the eyes of others such beauty, and we certainly need a lot of beauty to cheer the soul these days.
You can never have too much hazel
A warm spring morning in February and coppicing is under way. The hazel is brimming with catkins, another first of the emerging year. The leaf litter collects around their stems, which we gently move aside as decisions are made as to which stems to remove from which four and five-year-old hazels.
The hazels have flourished despite the dry summers. Now, after two years of targeted coppicing, they provide an ample supply of bean and plant supports. Then, creative hurdles are made for garden use and finally, in their second year post cutting, they become kindling. You can never have too much hazel is the call from the hillside as another stem falls. The stool of the coppiced hazel in some trees is now looking quite professional and responding well to this woodland activity, used for centuries.
Then it’s noon and really warm in the hazel coppice and the first ladybirds appear from under their hazel and oak leaf duvets and show their spots to gain the sun’s warmth. Our hearts are warmed at such first sights of spring and at being in a special moment with their spring existence.
Hares, badgers and a midnight feast
We get our first hare sightings in the early morning as they sprint up and across the hill through the hedge and are then gone. With the first snow they looked so out of place, no longer camouflaged – a black silhouette on the hillside. The pheasant carcass, not the first littering the fields, becomes a nocturnal meeting place for several creatures. Camera traps prove invaluable to understand the real night life and some of the daytime too. And so we capture the first badger sightings on patch. 10.45pm the feral cat visits for a nibble or two and then at 3.15am a young badger comes sniffing in, exploring an emaciated carcass. Then its badger friend comes to explore to at 4.15am with a definite sniff, paw and possible taste of desiccated, well-hung pheasant.
The first sightings on the screen were a magical moment proving that the badgers are now part of the fields too. Warnings rang out from friends and locals – “Not good to have them in and around the field”, especially if you have hens. Of course, they’ve been visiting for months, if not years, and we hadn’t seen them except for an occasional ‘scat’ pile. Hens continue with their egg production oblivious to the worrying stories of the badger’s appetite for a wider range of food delicacies. There are now so many food sources in the fields there’s plenty for all.
Heron banned from garden pond take-away
Herons nest early and need a ready and consistent food supply for their offspring. This heron had spotted the four water areas we have shaped and created over the seven-year period. It first arrived in mid-February and made an almost daily reconnaissance of all four scrapes or ponds. This observation suggested to us another first: the arrival of the frogs for their annual fertility festival. Living in wild country, you realise the first events or sightings indicate significant activity in nature’s cycle. The wily heron was of course right, as field work revealed the odd frog on the move to the ponds.
Morning after morning the grey feathered monk stood at the water’s edge of the large scrape. Then a step too far: the heron invaded the garden pond area where the amphibious early party goers were accumulating. One morning it was rewarded, and we saw the first very large female frog become a best tasting, fresh ‘prêt à manger’ take-away bite. It was seized from the water and gripped in the heron’s beak before the bird flew off to a quiet munching spot. Wilding is only allowed to go so far: by lunchtime the protective bunting was out around the garden pond! The heron has ten acres and four other water places to hunt the frogs.
Frog fiesta in full swing
Now the frog fiesta is in fully swing, as the temperatures hit 12C for the first time. The night time opera chorus is a ‘croaking’ marvel of a bass number one hit run on continuous mode by the late night DJ. There is simply nothing like hearing this sound as hundreds of frogs show up when no one or no creature is within 10 feet. The slightest shadow or movement and they dive below the blanket weed with the refrain, “The heron’s about! Duck out of here!”.
And then the first frog spawn, the amount the size of a builder’s bucket, emerges overnight … followed by the first snow. The sudden drop in temperature to minus 5C means that the first laid frogspawn is a ‘wee’ bit frozen and so another start of spring gets jolted back into winter.
Six years on since the creation of the ponds and scrapes and frogs are a permanent spring feature. Every year the numbers grow and grow, as will the herons, since the frogs form part of their cycle of fertility and nurture. Magical nature.
Who left the pond first not to be seen until next year? The heron, and then within 12 hours the frogs left too, leaving the waters mirror-like, the never ceasing ripples of activity having vanished. Worth the annual wait.
And now we await the first tadpole hatchings…
