All change

In his ode To Autumn, John Keats introduced the by now somewhat over-worked phrase “Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness”. In the poem he bangs on about apples, hazels and “later flowers for bees”, but he could also have mentioned the fungi which push up their fruiting bodies in such profusion at this time of year. Granted, it’s hard to come up with a rhyme for fungi, but he could perhaps have had a crack at fungus. Here’s an example of one I found on School Common earlier in the week. I believe it to be a Shaggy Parasol.

And then there are spiders. Judging by the many inhabitants of my house, this seems to have been a particularly fruitful year to be a spider, but once again back in 1819 JK didn’t think to mention them. I don’t presume to tell him his trade, but he did mention cider in the poem, so there’s a ready-made rhyme there. This cracking Garden Spider image comes to us courtesy of Team Leader Margaret.

There seems to me to be a huge number of acorns this year, much to the delight of Jays no doubt. They have a special pouch in their throats, the better to stuff in as many acorns as they can, like us playing “Chubby Bunny” with marshmallows in sillier times. I don’t know who declares a year where there is a surfeit of nuts as a “mast year”, but I wouldn’t mind betting 2025 will qualify. I have read that when trees are weather-stressed, as they must have been this year, they drop their leaves early and over-produce their seeds. The theory is that in this way, should the tree die there’s a good chance of many more successors coming along when conditions are more favourable.

Our fair-weather friends, the economic migrants of summer have mostly left us now, seeking insect prey further south. I have seen no swallows or house martins for a couple of weeks now, although some might still be clinging on somewhere. We’re still getting some warm and sunny days, and then the ivy flowers are buzzing with loads of wasps and Ivy bees – I had an exciting close view of a hornet the other day, although it declined to have its portrait taken – and I respected that. Most butterflies are now resting in one life-phase or another, and in short, the impression is of a general shut-down. Soon however the skies should be full of incoming geese, yapping like a pack of puppies (I have already seen a few), while the winter thrushes arrive to take the place of the missing songbirds.

Amongst all that change, one constant is the efforts made by our volunteers to keep the Southrepps Commons in good order, and to that end 10 of us arrived on schedule this morning. We were in for a shock: for a long time now we have relied on there being a winch to haul the laden drag sheets to the dumping sites, but this week the bad news imparted to us by Team Leaders Julie and Kevin was that it wasn’t there. They had looked high and low in the storage container, leaving no corner un-explored, but we were definitely deficient in the winch department to the tune of one. We can only hope it’s back next time.

So we had to revert to the old way of working from many years ago, when we were all many years younger, fitter and perhaps even stronger. That is, hauling the blessed sheets a long way across uneven ground.

And then you get some ladies on the pull!

Thankfully, the material we were shifting had been cut two or more weeks ago and the general lack of rain meant that it was not sodden. By only lightly loading the sheets the job was manageable, and we found a rhythm so that sometimes full ones were crossing with recently emptied ones.

As last time, the unloading had to be done somewhere where wasps weren’t, cutting down the options, so we returned to the already prodigious heap from our previous visit. That meant heaving the sheets to the summit, with a lot of effort.

Once this became impossible without oxygen at the advance camps, Noel, the winchman without a winch to man, remained at the foot of the mountain, in order to pitchfork the stuff dumped at base camp.

Nonetheless, there were slack times when he was able to take his ease; despite appearances, he declared the wheelbarrow to be his seat of choice on these occasions.

The half-time break came, and not before time we felt. The select band gathered round in a bunch so tight you could have thrown a blanket over the lot – but no blankets were on hand, and a heavy wet tarpaulin seemed unsporting.

Once again, Nina produced her now famous apple cake, to general acclaim. I had never eaten an apple cake until six weeks ago; now I count it as part of my staple diet.

While we were all together, we were shocked to be told about a very unpleasant incident that took place yesterday at the children’s play area at the Recreation Ground. A woman on official business was assaulted by persons unknown, objecting to her doing her job, but we must hope that the two perpetrators are identified and brought to justice.

Suitably refreshed, we returned to the fray, keeping a neat defensive line such as Norwich City could do well to emulate.

The plan was to keep within a defined area, bounded by two telegraph poles, but Team Leader Kevin (henceforth to be known as ‘Team Leader Mission Creep Kevin’ strayed outside the area (much like the aforementioned footy team).

He’s clearly using a pitchfork in that photo, but went on to employ a rake too. Not such a thrilling revelation you might justifiably feel, but the point about it is that come the time to pack up our trolleys and leave, Mission Creep, perhaps with a pang of conscience, asked where the rake was. He was sent back to that area outside the area, and to his great joy was able to triumphantly hold the missing tool aloft.

Before you can cart the tools away, you must fold the sheets, and this is not a job to be undertaken ill advisedly or recklessly. We therefore leave it to the experts.

Just as we were about to leave, we were visited by that feline legend of Southrepps, the famous Nacho.

It wasn’t clear whether he approved of our efforts, but we don’t see why he wouldn’t, as this is how the site looked when we finished. We certainly felt that without the aid of the winch we had put in quite a shift!

You might wonder what music was discussed this week. Andrew asked us a good quiz question, which was to list the five members of the Travelling Wilburys. Four were easy, but the fifth set us pondering. Eventually Jeff Lynne’s (via Jeff Wayne) name popped up, and we moved on to debating the best Eagles tracks, as there had been a recent programme about that band.  

Here is Team Leader Julie’s message of thanks:

Hello all

Thank you to the ten volunteers who turned out today to help us clear more of the fen area on the Warren Road end of the site. More importantly, thank you to all of you for staying when we had to announce that we had not got a winch to use! Everyone just rolled up their sleeves and part filled the sheets and dragged the sheets to the dump site, followed by much clambering up the heap to pull the raked material up. An absolutely brilliant effort from everyone.  Luckily we were re-fuelled at the half time break by tea/coffee and apple cake (thanks to Kevin, Linda and Nina).

We will be back on the common in two weeks’ time (hopefully with the winch!).

Regards,  Julie and the TLs

 

We often refer to the “Chadwick bench” as a rendezvous point for work parties. It was put there by their family as a memorial to Alan and Muriel Chadwick and had begun to deteriorate. It’s good to see that it has been replaced with a smart new one, which is sure to be well used by many grateful walkers in its ideal spot for a breather and taking in the view across the flower-rich central area of the Common.

 

With the death of Dame Jane Goodall, a beacon of light for the natural world has gone out. She was of course mainly known for her work revealing the extremely close affinity between Chimpanzees and Humans, but she also cared deeply for every organism, including ourselves, in that incalculably complicated system of life – the original World-wide Web. She remained hopeful that if we all did our own little bit by changing our ways and bringing pressure to bear on the governments and corporations which hold the future in their hands, cumulatively we could, just possibly, halt the destruction of the natural world and all that that entails, and thus avert catastrophe. She was a compassionate activist, caring not only about the terrible loss of biodiversity around the world, but also its impact on our own species. Her aim was to promote harmony between humanity and the natural world, and part of her formidable legacy is “Roots and Shoots”, which in turn is part of the Jane Goodall Institute. According to their website, it “nurtures young minds and hands to build a sustainable future through community-led conservation actions”; no bad thing, I’d say.

A welcome return to Area A

It is clear from the tractor-drawn trailers whizzing up and down our “quiet” lanes that potatoes are being harvested at the moment. Referring to my trusty Ladybird book What to Look for in Autumn, it appears that back in 1960 when it was published, the process was still rather more back-breakingly manual:

Speaking of manual labour, a round dozen volunteers turned up today to start to clear the vegetation cut down for us by Adam, a Cley-based colleague of NWT warden George. This was to finish the cutting of Area A…

… and the top of Area B

These are the two sections on either side of the boardwalk on the Warren Road side of Fox’s Beck. It was Area A’s turn to be cut according to the schedule laid down by Natural England as part of the requirement to manage this important SSSI, and the top part of Area B is getting overrun by reeds, which need annually rebuking in that particular location, as they crowd out the many other plant species that otherwise thrive there. Today’s task was to deal with at least some of the stuff on Area A – the section nearest Lower Street. As usual, setting out the drag sheets is a drag, but essential as carrying all the cut material by hand is not all that efficient.

An important consideration here was to avoid the wasps’ nest that had made its presence all too clear to Kevin whilst brush cutting a few days earlier. There was one in much the same place the last time we were there, a couple of years ago. Perhaps the stripey-jumpered blighters are fond of it there; it’s all about location for them too it seems!

The cut material has been left lying for a little while, but there has not been much rain, so it remained mercifully dry and light – despite appearances.

Before long the crack winch team members were hard at work, tidying the impressive heap started by NWT, ready for our additions to it.

That was possible by creating impressive piles (ahem – we’ve been there before haven’t we?) on the drag sheets.

Many years back we had amongst our number Fiona, but she deserted us for the joys of splashing about in a wet (or dry) suit, the better to study marine life forms. Well, to our delight she joined us this morning for a guest appearance, so naturally we put her to work, which we hope won’t stop her coming again.

Back to the dump site. This was promising to be one of our larger efforts. With the material relatively light, we were able to heave the laden sheets to the top of the mound. The trick then was to not get yourself buried, despite the efforts of the humorous drag sheet draggers, who get no end of fun trying to do just that. Here Team Leader Kevin is lending half-buried Dave some muffled solicitous advice.

Amongst the humorous comments there was the priceless “pillock on a hillock” directed at your much put-upon correspondent, who bears no ill-will. And inevitably, the music references flowed: picking up on a recent theme we had Unchained melody which the Righteous Brothers had had an earlier crack at; we had Tina Turner’s classic River deep mountain high to which I don’t think we gave full justice. As we began to long for the half-time break, my contribution was Dylan’s One more cup of coffee which didn’t get the acclaim I was expecting.

That half-time break was very welcome on an unexpectedly warm, muggy morning; the more so thanks again to Nina’s splendid apple cake. Nina incidentally was on frog patrol; there were many there, they were very active, and in need of rescuing from the dragging sheets. We tried to photograph at least one, but it hopped off.

By the end we reckoned we’d cleared about half of the material we’d been left with, and the looming dark clouds made the decision to stop all the easier.

Surely nobody could fail to be impressed by our massive pile.

Here is Team Leader Margaret’s message of thanks:

A huge thank you to the 12 who turned up today, we were very grateful to see you as we knew that some of our regulars were unable to make it. It was particularly nice to welcome back an old friend of the common so no matter how long you have been away a warm welcome is guaranteed. It was a daunting task for such a small number but you rose to the occasion, and made short work of the thankfully dry material although the uncut bits made the task challenging in places. Not to mention the wasps who insisted we change the dumping site!  We trust that those of you who were under the weather have speedy recoveries and those with much better things to do had a most enjoyable time. We will be returning to the same place  in two weeks’ time and we hope to see some of you then. Not me, as John and I will be the absentees on that occasion.

Thank you again

Margaret (for the team leaders)

A few days ago I got chatting to a couple of men who had just arrived at the car park for a walk, starting across the boardwalk. They were fully kitted out for a significant expedition, and they told me that they hoped to fit in at least some of the villages in the old rhyme that I had never before encountered. No doubt it is well known to at least some of the people who surprise me by continuing to read this blog. It goes:

“Gimingham, Trimingham, Knapton, Trunch,

Northrepps, Southrepps, lie all in a bunch.”

Having traversed the boardwalk, those chaps will no doubt have gone up through Warren Woods on their way to Trunch, for lunch. The transformation of those woods from a previously, and perhaps foolishly planned commercial conifer timber plantation into a biologically rich coppiced broad-leafed woodland was the subject of a fascinating talk later that day. It was at a meeting of the Southrepps Society and given by the wood’s owner, Dr. Tim Willey – a great friend and neighbour of the Common and many of us volunteers. He described and showed us how he has, with the permission of the Forestry Commission and every council covering the place, clear-felled a section of the wood and then planted hundreds of deciduous saplings – which in just a couple of years have shot up, alongside a wealth of other fauna and flora. It was done not without some quite bruising criticism from a few people, but the results are already vindicating the approach. Tim held out the enticing prospect of a hands-on session there, perhaps next Spring, to have a go at some of the crafts that he employs to make use of the materials the wood produces. As he explained, the wood is an ecosystem, and managed in this way it can be both sustainable and productive – even if not according to the narrow definitions of those words imposed by mainstream current economic practice. The products are beautiful objects such as the baskets Tim showed us; the wellbeing for humans who walk through it; and the huge boost to the area’s biodiversity, including of course our Common. One of the most exciting arrivals, as previously reported here is the Green Tiger Beetle, which Tim had been hoping to find for years.

When the world is suffering the extinction of countless species, traditional skills and cultures, here in Tim’s patch of paradise some of the harm is being held at bay. Well done Tim, and more power to your elbow!

Jiminy Cricket!

As Bob Dylan says it so well in his Idiot Wind, springtime has turned slowly into autumn, so obviously it’s time to dig out my Ladybird book What to Look for in Autumn. Since it was published in 1960 mechanisation and chemistry have changed agriculture out of all recognition. Even as recently as then (1960 is still recent isn’t it?), people were still spending their summer holidays picking hops, in a very Darling Buds of May kind of way.

This ties in very nicely with the fact that someone had excitedly written “HOPS!”  on the sightings whiteboard, and true enough, a short way along the boardwalk I found these.

In order to get that far, I had to use the splendid replacement bridge that NWT warden George and his colleagues have made.

Today 16 incomparable volunteers also crossed that bridge in order to continue work on the central part of The Common; this time on the southern side of the boardwalk. There having been an hour’s worth of preparation earlier in the week, here’s how the area looked before we began work on it.

Soon the drag sheets were laid out (no, we didn’t pinch them from any lamp posts!) and then the pitchforking could begin.

Team Leader Kevin enjoys a spot of brush cutting. Once he’d trimmed the edges of the boardwalk, he set about fine tuning the sward where we were hard at work. I believe Southrepps Bowls Club will be playing there next week.

We’ve mentioned the pride we take in our piles before; this time we may have exceeded even our high standards for their neatness.

Speaking of double entendres, the air around the winch site was thick with them, enough to bring a blush to the cheeks of the roughest and toughest rugby players – but they were all busy knocking seven belles (see what I did there?) out of each other in the World Cup quarter finals. As a taster, much was made of whether this was a particular individual’s first time, and could any of us elderly blokes remember theirs. We’ve been winching a while, so no.

Here’s a classic action shot of the sort you’ve seen many times before, showing two finely honed gentlemen escorting a sheet to its flipping tipping point.

Careful examination of that photo reveals the black rope leading back to the winch. Your correspondent, when asking a colleague about where we had to go with the next sheet was gratified to hear that all I had to do was follow the black rope. Good advice Ken!

Half time came, predictably half-way through the session, and none too soon for it was warm work. The weather forecast was full of some doom and a lot of gloom for later in the day, but we were treated to another fine morning. Greatly invigorated by Nina’s most welcome apple cake, we eventually tottered back to work with a will.

What of the community singing? Perhaps it was a feeling of inhibition following the fabulous rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody at last night’s Last Night of the Proms, but our acclaimed male voice choir was this time entirely silent. Even the most optimistic will have to agree that it can’t last.

Absent any singing, the gripping interest for a few tea-break idlers was the quality of each other’s boots. This was brought on by your correspondent noticing Linda’s fetching and expensive looking blue wellies, at the right of this picture. Curiously, even after yesterday’s heavy showers, none of these have attracted any mud.

At the end of the session the job was declared a good ‘un, and we all cleared off, leaving that portion of Area G looking like this.

Back at the storage container it was great to see our old friend Grizzly back in its place of honour, having been used on the pre-cut and by Team Leader George and his colleagues from Cley on Area A earlier in the week.

Here is Team Leader Margaret’s message of thanks:

Once again I am in awe at how many of you turn out week after week to help look after the commons. We are so lucky to have you all. Another beautiful morning which made our task easier. Thank you to Nina for the superb apple cake which helped us on our way.  Next time we will be across the stream on either area  A or B depending on what George would like us to do. We look forward to seeing some of you then. Happy holidays to those who are gallivanting.

Thank you again

Margaret for the team leaders.

So far as I know, neither the said Margaret nor her otherwise splendid husband John are particularly fond of cricket, in the sporting sense. Crickets in the entomological sense however, appear to have a fondness for them, with now a second species gracing their home to their delight. First it was a Roesel’s Bush Cricket. You first read about it here. This time, discovered indoors one morning a week ago was what appears to be a Long-winged Conehead. (I didn’t know such a thing existed either, since you’re asking.) Here is a photo of it ensconced in the house, and another of it apparently tucking into a tasty nettle post-eviction.

In other insect news, I found a pristine Comma butterfly on the footpath above Pit Common. It had the decency to stay still long enough to allow me to snap its diagnostic white comma marking on the underside of its wing.

The part of Area G that we worked on last month is now sporting a glorious crop of Grassof Parnassus – one of our most treasured plants here. They’re a pretty flower (not a grass at all) and well worth looking out for.

It has also been a good week for bird sightings in the area: two days ago I had the thrill of watching a Hobby hunting piedwagtails flocking on a field near the Suffield Arms. I don’t think it was successful, but it could certainly put on a great turn of speed, as you would expect from this lovely little falcon.

 

Music therapy

The world needs more song thrushes – many more. Last Sunday, a mere 90 minutes after listening to Radio 4’s Tweet of the Day by Amy-Jane Beer (author of The Flow, recommended here a couple of years ago) about this species, I found one dead on the road. Not a major road, but our Wellspring Road, as quiet a country lane as you could hope to find. How this beautiful creature could have been flattened by a passing car is hard to imagine, let alone condone. As shown on the RSPB website, the song thrush has the amber conservation status because of the declines it has suffered, so every individual is precious. It also happens to be right up there as one of my all-time favourite birds.

 

The long rainless period is now over, and we’ve had some much-needed precipitation. Fortunately not this morning, as that would have made for soggy and disgruntled volunteers, 18 of which turned up for duty on the central area (Area G for the afficionado) of the Common. The rain had sufficiently moistened the fen to make those who wore wellies grateful, and those who didn’t merely had to curse their luck. It was also rather warmer than the Met. Office had indicated; warm enough for your correspondent to quickly remove his jacket (gasp). The big news of the day was that Grillo the mower had broken down on its pre-cut outing, so was not able to be used today. Intense debate ensued…

Once a quorum of Team Leaders was in place, it was decided that enough had been cut before the Grillo strike for the usual task of moving its arisings to a dump site at the area’s periphery to proceed. As to further cutting, Team Leader Kevin’s expertise on the brush cutter was called into play – noisily.

Sundays can be a day of rest for some, but not necessarily NWT volunteers. Never mind, Kevin still felt the urge to offer up a prayer for the continued service of the brush cutter.

The pre-cut area before us did not look too daunting.

Let’s focus again on the winch team. Last time I expounded on the important contribution the winch man’s wing man makes to the finely tuned winching operation. This time we were back with the ‘A’ team, with Noel as wing man this time. He’s very experienced in the role…

… and finds it easy to relax when the opportunity arises. He would like us to think of him as a page 7 fella (ahem).

Even if winch man Dave doesn’t quite agree.

As we all know by now, down at the dump site is where the music happens (there's no room under the boardwalk); or at least a lot of chat about it, and the occasional heart-wrenching rendition of a much-loved number. A lot of old songs are mentioned, largely because we don’t know any new ones. Noel, of course, started it with “all the leaves are brown” from the Mamas and the Papas California Dreamin’. This was brought on by the perceived hint of autumn. Not to be outdone, your correspondent contributed Working on a Chain Gang, which after some debate I discover came from Sam Cooke originally – although my rendition was perhaps more authentic, having just tripped over a chain connecting the drag sheet to the winch rope.

You know how it is, one train of thought sets more in motion, and the chain theme developed with Unchain my Heart which many people beside ourselves have released over the years; notably Ray Charles. Take these chains from my heart was next up: further research reveals that this came to us from Hank Williams and the Drifting Cowboys.

Finally, consensus was reached about the liking for the canon of Bruce Springsteen, although no unanimity emerged about his best offering (Thunder Road for me.)

Anyway, back to the working party, many of whom had actually been working hard whilst we were not. Team Leader Michelle's shirt expressed nicely what we all felt.

Whether we really were that fit or otherwise, the half-time break was at least as welcome as usual, the weather being so warm. On reaching the trolley (can we call it the tea trolley for now at least?), we were impressed to see the cups set out so neatly.

Here’s the obligatory group picture of a bunch of happy and refreshed volunteers.

While the majority of us had been clearing the cut material, Team Leaders Julie and Michelle undertook to chop back some of the tall reeds that border the boardwalk, and had become a trial to walk through after they had had a soaking and were drooping over the thoroughfare. I found that the easiest way to stay dry was to let someone else go first (thanks Sheila!).

Here’s how it looked before the dynamic duo, armed with sickles, got to work.

And here’s the considerable improvement after they had finished.

Despite the best efforts of Kevin with his brush cutter, the amount of cut material did not match what a functioning Grillo can produce, so we ended up finishing a little earlier than usual. On the trudge back to the storage container Kevin was happily pulling the trolley shortly before it fell off the boardwalk (sadly, Julie ran to help so it didn’t tip over and therefore missed the action shot - boo!)

Here's how the area looks after our efforts today.

And here is Team Leader Julie’s message of thanks:

Hello all

Thanks once again to our active volunteers. We had 18 turn out on a beautiful warm Sunday morning to clear the cut reed on the central area and clear the boardwalk edges.  We were hampered today by Grillo being sidelined so we had to rely on our one working brushcutter to finish the cutting. Thanks to the team for doing the pre-cut and operating the brushcutter.  We seem to be suffering with equipment failure at present but it does not stop us!

We will return to the central area (when we will be adjacent to the bench) on 14th September.

Enjoy the sunshine.

Regards, Julie for the TLs

 

Lichens are fabulous and fascinating things, defying classification or indeed identification by all but the most dedicated specialists. They are hybrid colonies of algae or cyanobacteria living symbiotically among filaments of multiple fungus species, along with bacteria. They may be long-lived, with some considered to be among the oldest living things, and have been around on the planet for at least 400 million years. As Merlin Sheldrake says in his wonderful book Entangled Life, “… lichens confuse our concept of identity and force us to question where one organism stops and another begins.” Lichens actually digest the rock they lie on, and when they die and decompose, they give rise to the first soils in new ecosystems. And they’re good indicators of clean air, or in their absence, an indicator of polluted air. So they’re good things, mystifying things, and often beautiful things too. Here’s a picture of a lichen-encrusted blackthorn bush on School Meadow, complete with this year’s crop of sloes.

In recent years I have felt that the number of dragonflies around our patch was considerably down from when I first started taking notice of them. Right up to now, that still seemed to be true, but the other day I was walking along the boardwalk and was struck by how many were zooming around; at least eight seemed to be chasing each other, either amorously or aggressively – it’s hard to tell. I don’t imagine they get particularly playful however. They refused to stay still of course, so I have no idea what they were, other than a species of Hawker. And today I spotted what was probably a Common Darter on the boardwalk, although it might have been a Ruddy Darter. Or perhaps just a ruddy common one. All good to see though.

Some of the more sensational parts of the press have been calling this a “wasp year” – the implication being that we’re all in terrible danger. As it’s been abnormally hot and dry this year, the stripey-jumpered beasties are apparently out to get us. Well, casting an eye over the great eighteenth century clergyman-naturalist Gilbert White’s journals, it seems that this is another example of “shifting baseline syndrome”. This is when our frames of reference have changed from those of previous generations, disguising the true nature of the decline of nature. Thus, at this time of year 250 years ago, White recorded that the Selborne area was inundated by the critters, which “abound & destroy the fruit”. In the last week of August 1775, 25 wasp nests were destroyed in the village. Personally, I have seen very few this summer, for whatever that is worth.