Reedbed put to bed

 In a show of welcome solidarity, the local birds have declared Spring sprung. A recent walk in the glorious sunshine round the Common earlier in the week was all the more enjoyable due to the live playlist of robin, song thrush, wren, chaffinch, dunnock, goldcrest, great tit, greenfinch, and wonderfully – siskin. That siskin was one of a flock feeding on the alder trees at the bridge over Fox’s Beck, and unusually, they stayed close at hand (they’re usually way up at the tops of the trees). As usual however, I did not have my camera with me, and relatively close though they were, the phone wasn’t going to be up to the job. Fellow volunteer Janet however had been properly equipped when she was there a few days earlier, and she got this shot of an unusually confiding female.

This also being a time for disputing territory, a large garden adjacent to the Common was recently the scene of an unprovoked attack on a barn owl by a buzzard. The owl swiftly left the scene, with the assailant in hot pursuit. Kestrels will often steal prey from barn owls, but this is going a bit far. Apparently, this beastly behaviour is fairly common, and there are videos of it on YouTube to prove it.

The midweek downpour had its inevitable effect on the giant sponge that is Southrepps Common. Including your own correspondent, several people discovered the hidden deep pitfalls, with wellies filled with water thick with liquid mud the unlovely result. Last night’s below freezing temperature meant that we 14 volunteers were again greeted this morning by the makings of cold hands and feet. However, the sun was out and warm, so the suffering was so much reduced that we all felt we "mustn’t grumble".

It really was a lovely morning, which Maggie for one said she could not resist. On arrival at the car park I was struck by the scene, made even better by a singing song thrush, ably accompanied by a robin. In the background you can also hear Grillo hard at work.

It’s not all just turn up and bash away; oh no. Here we see two team leaders assessing the jobs to be done, photographed by another.

Those jobs broke down into the usual clearing away of the cut reeds, and cutting back the scrub which had been encroaching from the edge of the site.

Before the reed can be removed, it must first be cut. Here’s the man responsible: as can be seen, he is showing full respect to the machine, in case it turns on him.

Once cut, the reeds are loaded onto the sheets. This time we were dealing with beautifully light stuff; here’s Ken looking like a proper Norfolk reed cutter.

Then of course the sheet must be moved to the dump site; in this case across treacherously boggy ground.

We must never forget the winch team: they always know which way to look.

And anyone who can look this good clearly knows which way to look. Don’t you admire the backlighting?

This gentleman kept us enthralled by his tales of working as a daffodil picker some time around 1992. He revealed that he was paid £4 for every thousand he picked, and the most he picked in a day was 28,000! He then moved on to what he was paid for harvesting tulip bulbs, but eventually we decided we ought to do some more work of our own.

There was no singing of note this time, but talk of threading the winch rope through a gap between two dumped piles led to it being called the Cumberland Gap, and the erudite amongst us knew that was the title of an American folk song. The words of it were however sadly (or luckily) unavailable.

Early on, wincher Dave had rashly mentioned that it didn’t look like we had much to move. In a moment of self-deprecation, he called himself “tw*t”. Here’s what he saw.

From that dump site the view was exquisitely framed by a tree, or so I was told, so I snapped it (not the tree, the picture of course). Note the morass just where we were working!

In amongst the scrub was a tree decorated with a wretched balloon that had been let loose goodness knows where; why is that encouraged, let alone allowed?

It became useful though, as a coat rack as the sun warmed us up.

The refreshment break came with its usual welcome. It was made all the more pleasurable by the addition of Nina’s splendid apple cake.

After that it was back to sloshing about in the mud and hacking away at the scrub. Here’s a man possessed, or very focussed on the job in hand!

At last, the reed had all been moved, and it was time to clear up. Dragging even an empty sheet across the mud is an arduous task, but one the folding crew were equal to.

And here’s how we left Area D, for wildlife to enjoy for the next four years.

Here’s Team Leader Margaret’s message of thanks:

Hello all.

I apologise for the slightly tardy thank you. I, like all of you, had to have a period of rest and recuperation! What a cutting season we have had, and an amazing final flourish today. When you can, take a walk and look at the enormous space you have all cleared and the huge piles that testify to the work involved. We sincerely thank you all. We are very grateful that we will not be visiting that area again until 2029! Thanks to Nina for the reviving warm apple cake, delicious.

In two weeks’ time we will be holding another working party, at this moment we are not sure what it will be. As Julie has said George has asked if we would be happy to dismantle part of the boardwalk for him. Many of you have expressed an interest so it might be that if that fits with his timetable or possibly School Common. We will be in touch. Enjoy this beautiful afternoon.

Thank you.

Margaret for the team leaders

And in other news, 

we have again been honoured by a visit from an otter in Fox’s Beck, Here’s some cracking video footage taken by a camera trap showing it in glorious detail.

 

 

 

The splashy fen, again

What with yesterday’s evening snow and the constantly nagging easterly wind, the weather hasn’t been great of late, but there are some intimations that life is not actually extinct. One such indication is the emergence of Winter aconites on the verges near the Common. Way back in 1785 the great pioneering naturalist Revd. Gilbert White noted their emergence in his journal entry on 16^th February. The following year, on Valentine’s Day, he noted “Bullfinches eat the buds of honeysuckles”. It was decidedly chilly in 1792: on the 19^th “Frost comes within doors” but on the 16^th in 1774 in Selborne skylarks were beginning to sing; in Southrepps right now they already are too – I heard my first this year on 23^rd January.

In Scoop, Evelyn Waugh’s rather wet Lush Places correspondent for The Beast newspaper is famous for writing “Feather-footed through the splashy fen passes the questing vole…” Anyone wondering what a splashy fen is like need look no further than Area D on Southrepps Common. Its’s splashy alright, and rich in cloying, indeed sucking mud. Here’s a taste:

This is the spot visited again by 15 questing volunteers who made their unsteady rather than feather-footed way to the scene of the action. With the responsible adults anxious to avoid near-drownings, the worst of the deep holes in that splashy fen were marked by little sticks and gaudy tape: they did the trick – nobody fell in.

On arrival, fashionably early again, my first view was of Team Leader Margaret booting one of two found footballs my way.

We quickly determined that the pitch was unplayable, and the balls were left beside the boardwalk. They were reduced in number to the tune of one during the first half of our labours. Speculation about who might have half-inched one was rife, with my suggestion being a Norwich City footballer, in clear need of the practice. The actual culprit was probably a passing dog, seen with a football in its mouth – and that counts a as evidence m’lud. A third ball was found later on; this one so encased in moss as to appear at first glance to be an exciting new spheroid species.

We were only just setting up and layers were coming off! Milder than we thought!

The early arrivals at work….

This is the amount of scrub to be cleared over the next few weeks!

Somewhere in here is the tree we want to attach the winch to next time!

The winch crew were on top form, utilising a ‘turning block’ to create the necessary space for the sheets to be turned over using the winch, rather than the exhausting way of doing it manually.

Meanwhile the pitchforkers were kept busy dealing with the reeds as fast as Grillo could mow them.

Incidentally, on a topical geopolitical note, it did occur to your usual correspondent that should the worst predictions come true and this nation should have to stand alone to repel the advances of the Russian Bear, we at least in Southrepps are ready, armed as we are with sharp pointy pitchforks.

While the usual reed shifting was taking place, invasive scrub repelling was also happening, in very muddy conditions (as shown in the video above). Team Leader Julie says she got a tiny feel of the mud in the trenches - especially after the footie game earlier!  It was difficult to walk in and not ideal when she knocked her glasses off into it. (Without having them on at that point, she found it difficult to retrieve them!)

It was at this spot that Team Leader Margaret got stuck: sadly un-photographed, she ended up with her legs trapped in the mud spectacularly wide apart. As the perhaps less than sympathetic Brian declared, “That’s why we call her Marge – she spreads so well!”

Shortly before the half-time break the way through to the rest of the Common was opened up by doughty John, today’s Grillo driver. It felt much like the elation the Channel Tunnel tunnellers must have had when they broke through.

Form an elderly queue for tea they said, but no one listened.

During the break we were treated to Custard Creams whilst being regaled with hilarious tales from Noel’s eventful life. More are promised next time. The man himself was, as usual, singing at the dumping site, but surprisingly, only sotto voce. When we were joined by Sheila (with choir experience) and Team Leader Margaret (less so), the quality improved (according to the said Team Leader anyway). Next time, the attempt will be made to record a performance for the delectation of the entire internet.

As the mud was almost at the top of the scrub bashers' wellies by the dead hedge they got everyone to bring a fork of dry reed over to put on top so they could stand without sinking or falling over! Teamwork!  They also laid a mat by the winch area for next time.

And here is the dead hedge; rather more dishevelled than usual, but given the conditions, it’s still great.

At the dumping site this rather snazzy bracket fungus was spotted.

At the end of the session, the party being over, we had to trudge our soggy way back…

… leaving a job well done again …. Look at that blue sky!!

Here’s how we left the site, with hopefully just one more session required to complete the job. 

Here is the Team Leaders’ message of thanks:

Here we all are again. Or at least 15 hearty souls who ventured into the increasingly boggy reed bed. It gets more difficult each session to find words that adequately thank you for all your hard work. The liquid mud today seemed to up the ante this morning, but as always a tremendous amount was achieved and we are hopeful that the 2nd of March will see us finish the cutting and clearing of the reed bed. A task that looked impossible at the beginning of December, so very well done.

Hope to see you all in two weeks, even perhaps Kevin if the finger is pronounced healed. For those of you under par this morning, thanks for making that extra effort and look after yourselves.

 Thank you again, we really don't take your help for granted, and are delighted to see you.

Margaret on behalf of the team leaders.

 

 

 

A walk on the wild side

 

The title of this blog posting is inspired by the song by the very appropriately named Lou Reed. It was suggested by our redoubtable Grillo driver, and yes, Noel was persuaded to sing the opening lines of that song. This was after we had covered Meatloaf’s “I would do anything for love – but I won’t do that.” We learned that a good quiz question is ‘what wouldn’t he do?’ It’s a good question. This led us to compare and contrast Meatloaf with Noel – in this case Noel Coward of “Terribly flat, Norfolk” fame. It turned out there were more contrasts than comparisons.

All this jollity went on while 18 of us laboured away on a cold but lovely winter’s morning yesterday, deep in the heart of the main reedbed. Your correspondent’s tiny hand was frozen for much of the time, brought on by too much handling of cold wet ropes and suchlike. My tiny toes were also chilled, but I don’t like to go on about it. On the way to the scene of the action a detour onto the ‘Bradfield Road spur’ of the boardwalk was essential, in order to view the frosted snowdrops.

This is why we love this place - so beautiful walking onto the common that morning…but the frost was daunting.

Winch operator Dave came up with a new method for transporting the heavy gear across the previously cut part of the frozen reed bed

Grillo driver John was gamely mowing the reeds, having already enjoyed that activity a couple of days previously, so we had something to shift from the word Go.

The pitchforking team were soon risking frostbite too.

And the winching crew were removing the fruits of those labours to the dumping site at the far extreme of this area (known as Area D).

Meanwhile, a separate contingent was hard at work cutting back the scrub that had taken advantage of the previous eight years to encroach into the reedbed, and to create dumping sites for the next session.

Care has been taken to leave plenty of scrub for wildlife, as it is a very valuable habitat in its own right.

We have in our group a superman, going by the name of Andrew: his energy equals six of mine! We were intrigued to see the mist that was following him about, until we realised it was steam coming from him in the cold air.

Deep holes full of murky water are a constant hazard in this section, as several people can confirm. That’s why wellies and preferably over-trousers are so necessary.

The half-time break provided welcome rest, and refreshment in the shape of delicious apple buns, courtesy of Nina – many thanks for those! It also provided the opportunity for the chill it creep back into my tiny toes, but I don’t like to go on about my suffering. Ken warded off frostbite by doing a little jig, all on his own.

Wet and cold gloves were draped over the tops of waiting pitchforks, in the hope of warming them up: they didn’t.

After a lot more forking and dragging and tipping out of the sheets it was time to start the final clear-up.

Including rolling the sheets - bottoms up!

Then all (all?) that was needed was the trudge back through the morass with all that heavy equipment, before deciding who was going to wheel what back along the boardwalk to the storage container.

Here’s how we left the site.

What a result - brilliant!

And here are the snowdrops, newly defrosted.

Here is Team Leader Margaret’s message of thanks:

Hello All.

When I went out first thing this morning with the dog, I thought all right-minded people would be curling up with a cup of coffee and the Sunday papers. How wrong I was. 18 wonderful people came on this beautiful crisp winter's morning. We battled frozen reed and slippery mud but made amazing progress. I can't thank you enough and I was pleased to be out there with you all. Much better than the Sunday papers with their doom and gloom. Your reward is to come and do it all again in two weeks’ time. A special mention to Nina for the lovely cakes at coffee time.

Thank you, every time you exceed our expectations. I hope you all get a great sense of satisfaction of a job well done.

Margaret for the team leaders.

Last time I shared some statistics of the amount of work we did in 2024. This time it’s all about the sightings reported:

During 2024 we sent 527 sightings to NWT, of which 339 were the relevant ones put on the whiteboard at the Lower Street end of the boardwalk (dinosaurs and family pets excluded). The remainder were sightings sent to your correspondent without them being added to the board, and records sent to the BTO’s wonderful Birdtrack database by the said correspondent (see https://www.bto.org/our-science/projects/birdtrack) . Here’s how the 158 species break down into their broad groupings:

Birds	72
Mammals	9
Flowering plants	47
Ferns	1
Fungi	2
Amphibians	2
Bees	2
Butterflies	12
Reptiles	3
Beetles	2
Flies	0
Dragonflies	3
Moths	2
Spiders	1

 

We reported 177 species in 2023; the difference appears to be mainly in the number of flowering plant species reported (68 in 2023; 47 in 2024). No doubt they’re all still there, so it’s a case of urging visitors to the Common to note on the whiteboard what they see. It’s tempting to think that if it’s a common species it doesn’t need reporting, but the irony is that when these data are looked at in the future it will appear that they weren’t here at all!