the greatest endorsement I could hope to receive..?
We moved into our home in August 2013. Since then we've been developing the grounds and finishing the bungalow. Now, as we look towards the start of the growing season I hope we can be forgiven if we look around and feel some pride in all we've achieved. But only recently has the achievement had special endorsement.
When our neolithic forbears first began clearing land and building homes, the bird that became known as the house sparrow moved from occupying holes in trees and cliffs into our settlements. Birds require nest sites and food to be successful and the early roofs, villages and fields provided plenty of these. The birds thrived and throughout our subsequent history the cheeky sparrow has been synonymous with human occupation. Passer domesticus - the house sparrow. Sadly, house sparrows have fallen in numbers to such an extent that they are now on the red list of birds of greatest conservation concern in the UK.
The reasons for the decline are complex but are in line with the depressing falls in many other bird populations.
Our site had no house sparrows on our arrival and finding ways of building a Cordwood sparrow colony was one of my highest conservation priorities. At the end of February and after over five years groundwork (including providing 'colony boxes' for sparrows and their extended families), the chip-chip of a pair of house sparrows can be heard regularly from above the kitchen door. Our relationship with this little bird is deep-rooted in our psyche. Their arrival closes some kind of circle for me. I stand with the kitchen door open, just to catch their conversations. I won't know for some weeks whether the pair of birds I see feeding at my house sparrow breakfast buffet have bred. If they do, this will possibly be the greatest endorsement I could hope to receive.
Meanwhile our north European migrants, the bramblings are still here. The bare trees buzz with their calls. And to accompany them is the onomatopoeic 'tick-tock' chiffchaff song announcing their return from Africa. Only a few years ago, their cousins, willow warblers' cascading song was heard as frequently as that of the chiffchaff. Now a spring time walk is empty of their lovely sound. The harm we are doing to our world can be measured in the loss of such birds as house sparrows and willow warblers and we are all diminished by it.
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| House sparrow colony box |
The reasons for the decline are complex but are in line with the depressing falls in many other bird populations.
Our site had no house sparrows on our arrival and finding ways of building a Cordwood sparrow colony was one of my highest conservation priorities. At the end of February and after over five years groundwork (including providing 'colony boxes' for sparrows and their extended families), the chip-chip of a pair of house sparrows can be heard regularly from above the kitchen door. Our relationship with this little bird is deep-rooted in our psyche. Their arrival closes some kind of circle for me. I stand with the kitchen door open, just to catch their conversations. I won't know for some weeks whether the pair of birds I see feeding at my house sparrow breakfast buffet have bred. If they do, this will possibly be the greatest endorsement I could hope to receive.
Meanwhile our north European migrants, the bramblings are still here. The bare trees buzz with their calls. And to accompany them is the onomatopoeic 'tick-tock' chiffchaff song announcing their return from Africa. Only a few years ago, their cousins, willow warblers' cascading song was heard as frequently as that of the chiffchaff. Now a spring time walk is empty of their lovely sound. The harm we are doing to our world can be measured in the loss of such birds as house sparrows and willow warblers and we are all diminished by it.
It has been unseasonably warm during the day (although the mornings are frequently frosty) and our Vegetable Garden is fully prepared for the growing season - with broad beans, shallots, over-wintering onions and garlic already making the most of the warm conditions. Joining these have been multi-sown spring onion, beetroot and pea seedlings. In the polytunnel, kale and white-flowering broccoli are being picked.
This is that period between seasons known as 'the hungry gap' when plants aren't ready to be harvested and last year's stores have been used. Inspired by Charles Dowding I'm now keeping a note of our harvest. Even at this fag end of the year we've picked 5.5 kgs of food in less than a month. No food miles. All organic. Great taste. 'I would rather undertake the practice of physick with pure air, pure water and good food alone than than with all the drugs in Phamacopoeia' - Thomas Sydenham (1624-89)*.
The engine of any organic garden is healthy soil and the fuel for this is compost.
I layered up our collected weeds, kitchen waste and cardboard with grass cuttings on the 26th March when the compost was 20C. It really is amazing to see the acceleration in temperatures as compost heats and thus kills weed seeds, soil pathogens and perennial weed roots. By Saturday the compost was 70C and maintained that temperature for several days. It is now cooling but is still 55C - hotter than a hot bath! This compost should be ready for mulching the vegetable beds in the late autumn.
All around the lawn are beds and borders that have needed preparing for the spring: prairie beds, foraging border, hot border, fragrant garden and Rosa's border all wrap the lawn. There is still a short paved path to lay, and large areas to mulch - but this major part of our garden is now ready.
Too soon to hear cuckoos in the garden. And once again, the decline in their numbers has been depressing. This week we read that their demise in England may in part be due to the decline in numbers of macro (larger) moths. Macro moths form a major part of a cuckoos diet and the diet of their prey species like meadow pipits.
Our moth light is giving us an indication that moth numbers are on the rise at Cordwood. We caught and released 105 moths of ten species (including oak beauty) earlier in the week - a higher total than in our previous two years of recording. Too soon to make any connections between our land management and its' impact on invertebrate numbers. But better than reporting a decline.
To increase the diversity and number of invertebrates we've seeded 'islands' in the meadow with: cowslip, field puppy, harebell, field scabious' corn marigold.
Transplanted into these 'islands' have been cowslips and oxeye daisies . The 'islands' were scythed short, and then mown to allow me to scarify and then seed. My plan is to do this across all of the meadow on a rolling basis.
I've mowed the remainder of the meadow in strips using a scythe so that there are areas of shorter and longer vegetation. The longer areas should provide suitable habitat for overwintering moth and butterfly pupae as well as affording protection for small mammals. I was aware of how successful this last measure had been when I came to plant oxeye daisies: the sward was a complex of mammal tunnels. A number of moths feed on the mammals' waste while hungry tawny owls whitt-whitt and hoo-hoo above them.
Mistletoe is absent from trees in this part of Nottinghamshire but is present a few miles away. Mistletoe has a number of micro-moths that are dependent on it. We 'planted' the sticky seeds onto the branches of apples in the orchard and today I went hunting for early evidence of our success. You know, I thought I found evidence ... but I'm ever the optimist.
*'The secret life of cows' Rosamund Young
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| Compost temperatures rising... |
The engine of any organic garden is healthy soil and the fuel for this is compost.
I layered up our collected weeds, kitchen waste and cardboard with grass cuttings on the 26th March when the compost was 20C. It really is amazing to see the acceleration in temperatures as compost heats and thus kills weed seeds, soil pathogens and perennial weed roots. By Saturday the compost was 70C and maintained that temperature for several days. It is now cooling but is still 55C - hotter than a hot bath! This compost should be ready for mulching the vegetable beds in the late autumn.
All around the lawn are beds and borders that have needed preparing for the spring: prairie beds, foraging border, hot border, fragrant garden and Rosa's border all wrap the lawn. There is still a short paved path to lay, and large areas to mulch - but this major part of our garden is now ready.
 |
| Oak beauty |
Our moth light is giving us an indication that moth numbers are on the rise at Cordwood. We caught and released 105 moths of ten species (including oak beauty) earlier in the week - a higher total than in our previous two years of recording. Too soon to make any connections between our land management and its' impact on invertebrate numbers. But better than reporting a decline.
To increase the diversity and number of invertebrates we've seeded 'islands' in the meadow with: cowslip, field puppy, harebell, field scabious' corn marigold.
Transplanted into these 'islands' have been cowslips and oxeye daisies . The 'islands' were scythed short, and then mown to allow me to scarify and then seed. My plan is to do this across all of the meadow on a rolling basis.
I've mowed the remainder of the meadow in strips using a scythe so that there are areas of shorter and longer vegetation. The longer areas should provide suitable habitat for overwintering moth and butterfly pupae as well as affording protection for small mammals. I was aware of how successful this last measure had been when I came to plant oxeye daisies: the sward was a complex of mammal tunnels. A number of moths feed on the mammals' waste while hungry tawny owls whitt-whitt and hoo-hoo above them.
Mistletoe is absent from trees in this part of Nottinghamshire but is present a few miles away. Mistletoe has a number of micro-moths that are dependent on it. We 'planted' the sticky seeds onto the branches of apples in the orchard and today I went hunting for early evidence of our success. You know, I thought I found evidence ... but I'm ever the optimist.
*'The secret life of cows' Rosamund Young
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