Woodsman. Ben Law

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      This fire marked my arrival and I stayed with it until the last of the day had gone. Curled up on a March evening around the embers, I listened for the first time to Prickly Nut Wood at night. The woodland awoke as the darkness drew in, and I heard the hooting of a tawny owl, followed by the familiar ‘kee-wick’ note resonating crisply in the chill of the evening. Soon there was a cacophony of owls conversing with one another, filling the wood with their invisible presence. After some time it stilled to a momentary silence. I could hear my gentle pulse of breath. Then, a scurrying and rustle of the leaves. I now recognise the sound of a mouse on chestnut leaves in March, but twenty years ago it was unknown to me, and it was near. It was followed by a crackle and a noise that made me freeze – a roe stag let out its territorial bark, deep and primal, and then the scraping and stamping of its hoof. I felt vulnerable, a horizontal figure wrapped around the glowing embers of the fire. I was within the territory of another and felt as a trespasser must feel when confronted by an angry landowner, shotgun in hand. The next bark resounded further away, and I relaxed my breathing and allowed my eyes to close once again.

      I awoke cold but filled with an overwhelming sense of arrival. The first shafts of light highlighted the crisp lace that lay across the surrounding chestnut leaves, and the sound of awakening birds grew until the volume and variety became so intermingled that it became hard to discern individuals amongst the masses. I pulled my blanket away from my face and engaged with the fresh feeling of pure cold that the icy air communicated in engaging with my skin. I surveyed the unfamiliar outlines of the chestnut trees and a large holly, whose evergreen presence was clear beyond the leafless chestnut stems. A warmth emanated from within me. I had arrived in the forest and I had much to learn.

      * * *

      Prickly Nut Wood is an area of less than eight acres of predominantly sweet chestnut coppice on the north-east face of a hill. The soil is greensand over Wealden clay, and springs break naturally between the soil layers, ensuring that the land is damp underfoot for much of the year. It was within this setting that I began my forest-dwelling life. Eight miles away, a busy railway station shipped the gathering flow of commuters into central London. But life at Prickly Nut Wood could not be further removed from such an environment.

      A few more nights curled around the fireside embers and it was time to build my first home. I had made ‘benders’ from hazel poles at festivals when I was a teenager. Low-impact and quick to build, with the wooden resource growing all around me, it seemed the obvious structure to begin with. In fact, it remained my home for two years. I cut about thirty hazel stems about one inch in diameter and forced the butt ends into the ground. I pulled the tall tops down with a rope and then secured them to the pulled-down tops of the opposing poles, creating a series of hoops like a wooden polytunnel frame. I square-lashed them with sisal and hemp cord, and soon had the framework of my home. I already had some army surplus green canvas tarpaulins and these I lashed over the frame. I now had a shelter and over the coming months developed it into my home. I collected pallets to make a raised floor, an old woodburner to keep the bender dry and warm, and a window and frame from a skip to give me a view out into the woodland, so on the wettest of days I could look out and continue my observations from my warm, yet simple home.

      For me, the period of observation was to help minimise mistakes I might otherwise have made in being too hasty and forcing my ideas on to an environment that I did not fully understand. It’s all too easy to arrive with pre-conceived ideas about land we wish to work, and then start implementing them, unaware of the damage we may be doing to the established order. Prickly Nut Wood has been woodland for at least 400 years, although the ground flora and earthworks would suggest longer. Who was I in my short life to feel I knew better than 400+ years of established plant, insect and animal relationships? Part of my observation was to study these relationships and learn through the changing seasons the patterns and activities of resident and migratory species. To help with this I kept notes and diary entries, and made links between food plants, caterpillars and their butterflies and moths, and woodland management techniques that encouraged the right environment to allow these species the opportunity to continue to survive and thrive within Prickly Nut Wood.

      27 May

      I have been watching the dead top of a large chestnut tree. It has bothered me since I first arrived here as it looks unhealthy and stands out above the coppice with its dead crown. It stands out all the more now the leaf has broken and everywhere has greened up. But the more I watch it, the more I have noticed what a popular spot it is for birds. It seems to be a viewing post for all visiting birds to the wood. Last night its purpose as a marking post was clearly pointed out to me when the woodland came alive with the ‘churring’ sound of the nightjar. Having flown from his winter retreat in Africa he had returned and picked this dead top of the chestnut from which to make his presence known. After a few minutes he stopped ‘churring’, swooped down, clapped his wings together and made for the large oak before beginning ‘churring’ once again. He then chose a birch before returning to the dead top of the chestnut tree to make his final call, his territory now clearly marked.

      Without my time of observation, I might have followed my first impulse and felled the chestnut tree with the dead top, and never known of its importance to the nightjar or other birds. We have little understanding of the roles of particular trees in the lives of birds but even basic observation shows us that they spend a lot more time in direct relationship to trees than we do. With the exception of a few groups of forest-dwelling people around the world, it is unusual for us to live in trees, while for many species of birds it is clearly their usual location.

      Many of our woodlands in the UK are managed based on plans that have taken little time for detailed observation, and many habitats are lost because of this. It is common for felling licences to be applied for to fell trees within a woodland, with only one visit having been carried out. If I had not been staying at Prickly Nut Wood at night, how would I have known that nightjars were migratory visitors to the land? The chances of seeing them in daytime are low, as they are highly camouflaged and stay on the ground. They do not create a proper nest, but scrape the ground and lay their eggs directly on to it.

      My spring mornings would begin just before the awakening dawn chorus. On many mornings I would awake as the first glimmer of light brought form to the evolving silhouettes and wander over to the firepit and light a fire and put the kettle on.

      Lighting a fire to boil water is a simple and satisfying experience, provided you are prepared and well stocked with firewood and kindling. My morning fire would begin with fine strips of birch bark, with small, dry twigs of sweet chestnut laid on top. I would light the fire and slowly blow into an old copper pipe with a flattened end, so as to direct my breath with good velocity wherever I pointed the pipe. As the fire took, I would build up the fire further with slightly larger pieces of chestnut. With stacks of dry material sorted into piles by their size, lighting a fire becomes as easy as turning on a cooker.

      With the kettle on the fire, I would wait listening for the first sound to break the morning silence. I am still astonished how fast the chorus builds up. From the first delicate tones of the opening bird, within a couple of minutes there are so many birds singing that it becomes almost impossible to try to discern one bird from another. The dawn chorus in a broadleaf woodland in spring is truly one of the wonders of the world and a magical part of the environment I inhabit. Every year I am refreshingly amazed by its intensity of volume; friends who have stayed with me have resorted to ear defenders, so as not to be woken at 4.30 am. As for me, I am always happy to catch the first notes and will sometimes return to sleep after a brief ten-minute burst of choral bird song. To have such an array of birds within the woodland clearly shows that there is sufficient food and that it is an ideal habitat for them.

      Observing the landscape of a woodland takes time. There is not the clear expanse of a grass field with hedgerows neatly marking the СКАЧАТЬ