We were on our way to thin out regenerated birch in
West Wood. Left to themselves weedy trees would lose out to stronger ones and
die off leaving space for survivors to thrive. Selective removal speeds up the
process. Terry and Phil, walking ahead, took a short cut through a stand of
beeches. Mary and I, trailing behind, followed. Sensible advice is to take no
cut-offs. Crossing a child-built bridge, I slipped and slithered into a ditch
taking Mary with me. I’m not sure whether I had held onto Mary for support or
if she was attempting to save me. It’s not a very deep ditch.
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| The bridge of logs |
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| Tightly packed birch trees |
Bridges are a side line here. The main business in the
beech wood is den building. Kids have probably always loved to build camps and
dens – hideaways nested in the branches of trees, a cave hollowed out among
bushes, a burrow under a tablecloth, and anything created with a cardboard box
and childish imagination.
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| The beginnings of a den |
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| Getting to work thinning out the birches |
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| Piles of birch brash |
Childish fancies and fantasies fade and imagination dulls
but, for some, the pleasure of a space of one’s own stays for a lifetime. For
the adventurous that might be a tent or a bothy. Some may settle for a
favourite corner of a pub, a quiet place in the back garden or in the house, a
man-shed, a bench in the local park, a woodland glade. Big skies and open
landscapes have a grand magnificence, but the small detail of place provides a
different kind of satisfaction.
Being red-jacketed volunteers affords us licence to
wander from the tracks and in among the trees. Every nook and cranny is worth
close investigation – the exquisite miniature forests of mosses and lichen on
fallen logs, bracket fungus decorating dying trees, ferns overhanging a stream,
a clearing inviting you to sit and listen to birds and leaves. |
| Developing bracket fungi on log |
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| Fungi on birch |
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| Moss & lichen on tree stump |
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| Cladonia coniocraea |
Of the many glades, clearings and stream banks of
Gibside, there are two that are particularly special. One is in the West Wood –
not far off the main track, but far enough to give it the sense of a secret
enclave. There are a few older trees, but this area was largely felled about
fifteen years ago. Almost thirteen years ago now, it was the site of the very
first Conservation Volunteers’ job. Among the desolation left by the cropped
timber we built a log pile. It’s still there, surrounded by birch and oak –
some twenty feet or more in height. Nearby, nature, with a little help, has
fashioned a clearing; a rotting tree trunk provides an uncomfortable seat.
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| The original log pile |
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| Hazel catkins |
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| Rhododendron bashing |
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| A neat pile of rhododendron brash |
At the other end of the estate, perched above Snipes
Dene, is the other favourite spot – a clearing amongst old and new growth with
another fallen tree to sit on to watch and listen, or just be still: another
pretend hideaway, nature’s den.
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| Snowdrops |
Steve Wootten & Phil Coyne
