The trees in Thistle Wood have now had ten seasons’ growth and, considering that they were so badly deer-browsed before we took possession of the ‘field with sticks’ in 2014, the transformation has been remarkable. The macro-fauna (furry and feathery) are one indicator of the health of the new ecology that’s developing. We have badgers passing through regularly; a fox has her cubs in a scrubby patch by a sunny drystone wall; eight beehives, courtesy of our good friends Malcom and Caroline Pallister, produce lovely honey (the bees like tree pollen); we have barn owls and short-eared owls regularly hunting for voles; a pair of kestrels live in a hawthorn in the hedge; and we see jays and many songbirds now taking advantage of nesting and berry-picking opportunities. We are sharing the fruits of our cherries, apples, plums, raspberries and gooseberries with them (whether we like it or not).
They’re the visible creatures. More importantly for a wood’s long-term health is what goes on immediately beneath the ground: moles and worms aerate and mix the earth; soil invertebrates – beetles; centipedes; ants etc – and mycorrhizal fungi are much slower to take advantage of opportunities. They have to colonise it from scratch because, essentially, the soil is still sheep pasture soil. That’s beginning to change this year. I have been watching the ground vegetation, as shade and last year’s autumn leaves begin to suppress grasses and create a new layer of naturally decomposing material, slowly being incorporated into the soil: the beginnings of a woodland structure. Not only that, but in parts of the plantation the ‘hairy arm’ effect is happening now: the trees, aside from creating the soil conditions that best suit them, are also ameliorating the temperature of the soil and the air immediately above it, keeping it warmer in winter and cooler in summer (one reason why trees are so vital for planetary health).
For the woodsman, this effect also means that those same parts of the wood are now hard to get at and manage – the deer browsing and lack of canopy trees has accentuated trees’ natural ability to grow bushy instead of vertically. The oaks, in particular, make a dense thicket. So we’ve been starting the first pruning this autumn. This allows us to get in there; assess each tree’s health and prospects, thin some of them out to give others room and to decide which trees are straight enough to grow on for timber in the future. It’s a satisfying process; it also takes some clearing up. We make huge piles of brashings. Some of these we leave to rot down or for critters to use as shelter (hedgehogs are welcome); others we’ll chip and when they rot down they will produce high quality mulch. The field with sticks is learning to become a wood: self-sustaining, productive, biodiverse; magical and life-giving.
