A Watery World

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Gwent Wildlife Trust, Magor Marsh, Monmouthshire, scarlet elf cap, shrill carder bee, water voles

©Ian Curley

The Gwent Levels near my home in Monmouthshire are entirely man-made. Skirting the northern edge of the Severn Estuary they are one of the largest surviving areas of ancient, grazed wetlands left in Britain. It’s an area where humans have worked with nature and water to create a sustainable place in which they could live. The Romans first reclaimed this land by building sea defences. It’s believed horses from the nearby Roman fortress of Caerleon grazed on fields reclaimed from the sea. After the Romans left, the sea reclaimed the land. The landscape you can see now dates back to the medieval period, although it’s believed many of the drainage systems follow those built by the Romans. And it’s the intricate drainage network which manages rainfall that makes this such an incredible place.

I’ll admit when we first visited one of the reserves on the Gwent Levels just after we had moved to the area I was a little underwhelmed. At first glance the landscape can appear unremarkable. It has none of the drama of the Cornish coast, Snowdonia or the Lake District, none of the classic beauty of the Cotswolds or the Yorkshire Dales. But it didn’t take long for me to discover that I just needed to look a bit closer to discover the delights of this watery world.

Magor Marsh and a winter sunset ©Ian Curley

Rich in a variety of habitats – coastal and floodplain grazing marsh, wet meadows, reedbeds and saline lagoon – this is fertile land that is criss-crossed with a series of drainage channels. Water is held in the ditches from spring to autumn to provide water for agriculture. These high levels of water also provide the perfect conditions for plants and animals. In winter, pens (wooden planks) are lifted causing the water levels to drop allowing the ditches to be flushed and controlling winter flood water. Ridge and furrow ploughing was practiced on these fields as it would have been across the UK during the Middle Ages – the raised ridges encouraged better drainage than a flat field. Water would run off the fields into gullies known as gripes, then into a series of field drainage ditches and finally into more substantial watercourses known as reens, from the Welsh rhewyn. Pollarded willows were often grown along reens to strengthen the banks and you can still see these oddly shaped trees at Magor Marsh.

Water vole ©Ian Curley

Magor Marsh is a reserve on the Levels managed by Gwent Wildlife Trust with boardwalks taking visitors through the landscape. It’s also home to a thriving population of water voles following a reintroduction programme in 2012. For nine years prior to this, this once common species had been absent from the Levels. One of our cutest creatures it also has the less envious title of the nation’s fastest declining wild mammal, according to the Wildlife Trusts. It’s always been a creature I’ve wanted to see in the wild, but a sighting had so far eluded us, that is until last spring. We’d heard they were there, but our previous visits had been like those at the zoo when you stand at the enclosure searching high and low for the creature that is meant to reside there but to no avail. So we couldn’t believe our luck when we heard the distinctive plop as one left the bank to swim across the reen. Then there was another and another. Our best count so far is ten in one day. This isn’t a place you need to trek to for hours. They’re right by the car park. This fabulous little reserve means we’ve seen young and old, the fit and those less able watching these delightful wild animals. All walk away with a grin on their face.

Scarlet elf cap ©Ian Curley

The reens teem with life, whether it’s the great silver water beetle, the musk beetle, the flowering rush, or a whole host of rare aquatic plant species. In winter, it’s a bleak landscape open to the large skies above, with willows silhouetted against the low winter sun and the wind whistling through this flat land. The silvery, fat, furry buds of willow appear as warmth creeps back into the sun and green shoots start to emerge. This is the best time to catch a glimpse of the water voles, before the reeds take over the reen banks. Wander through the boardwalks in May to the wetland meadow and you’ll see one of the most magical sights – a whole field of ragged robin. Hidden among the willows and alder you can come across scarlet elf caps, a name which sounds like it was conjured up by Enid Blyton. The reeds grow at an incredible rate in summer making it tricky to see the water voles scurrying into their burrows. Brown hares, otters and lapwings live here too, along with a good population of farmland birds whose habitat is threatened in many parts of the country. The unimproved grasslands are also home to the shrill carder bee, one of the UK’s rarest bumblebees.

Ragged robin ©Ian Curley

The Levels would be an area under water if they weren’t managed correctly. Flora and fauna thrive, as do the villages, as long as everyone plays their part. The landowners, farmers, drainage boards, councils and wildlife charities all have to come together if the drainage channels are to work effectively. If the Levels work as they should the flood plains of the River Usk, absorbing excess rainwater coming downstream and from the surrounding hillsides, can work properly too.

Despite the Gwent Levels being home to nationally important wildlife this appears to not matter as an extension to the M4 motorway will cut through a section of the Levels. The idea is to relieve congestion where the current motorway is squeezed from three lanes down to two at the Brynglas Tunnels, a well-known, local bottleneck. This ancient landscape will have a whopping great big motorway carved through it. This road would pass through four Sites of Special Scientific Interest and very close to Magor Marsh, also a SSSI, thereby disregarding all those studies which show wildlife needs to be able to move and spread out in order to thrive. Much has been done across the country to create wildlife corridors; here it will be a corridor of concrete and tarmac. And, in light of this winter’s flooding, is it really a wise move to build in an area prone to high water levels? With traffic jams that can stretch from Newport to Bristol on a Friday evening a solution is needed, but there were other options, ones which would have protected the Levels and cost significantly less money. What the Gwent Levels show is the willingness of politicians to disregard the protections they came up with in the first place, rendering them meaningless. It also shows that politicians invariably choose the most obvious, but not always the most effective, solution to a problem.

It’s sad to think that the hard work done to re-establish water voles could all be for nothing and that this ancient, beautiful landscape will, over the coming years, change forever.

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Gardening Leave

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Cornish choughs, Cornwall, Garden Gate Flowers, Land's End, Mousehole, Sennen

Mousehole and Mallow

It wasn’t perhaps the best time for a bit of a break but the other week we popped down to Cornwall for a few days. Ideally I wouldn’t leave my plot, garden, greenhouse and ever-growing number of pots in late June, but it was Wellyman’s birthday and we both needed to see the sea.

The rigmarole of making sure everything survives whilst I’m away does sometimes make me wonder whether it’s worth it. I’m reluctant to ask neighbours and friends to look after the plants because I know that can be a bit of a pressure for some, especially if they don’t have ‘green fingers’ or it’s very dry and they have enough of their own plants to cosset. I did once leave lots of emerging seedlings in a friend’s greenhouse but slugs got to some of the plants. I felt bad for my friend who clearly had been worried about the whole thing. She’d rushed out to get organic slug pellets and I think had dreaded my return and having to break the news. Now that I need plants for photo shoots I’d rather leave it up to me, then at least I’ve only got myself to blame if they shrivel and die. It does of course mean trying to make sure everything will get enough water, and it’s surprising how quickly pots and plants on a sunny windowsill can dry out, even if you’re only away for 4 days.

Porthcurno

The prolonged dry spell we’d had prompted us to hunt out the irrigation system gathering dust in a cupboard, which we bought 8 years ago but never got around to using. It’s a straightforward hose with sprinkler attachments and timer on the tap. The fiddly bit is getting the water to soak into the compost and not to spray everything else – greenhouse windows, paving, me. We spent a few days adjusting the settings and initially massively over-estimated how long we’d need to leave the timer on. Bearing in mind the water only trickles out we thought 10 minutes would be about right. It turns out this would have drowned them and 2 minutes was more than sufficient. Pots were gathered together in a shady spot and given a good soaking, windowsill seed trays were given a base of sodden kitchen roll, and the plot and garden were treated to a mammoth watering session.

Ironically by the time we set off it looked like we needn’t have bothered with all the watering. It seemed we’d time our get away with the glorious weather coming to an end as we headed into mist and gloom hanging over Devon and I shivered in my shorts and tshirt. Wellyman, always one to put a positive spin on life, said at least I wouldn’t have to worry about the plants drying out…….

Breaking up the journey we called in to see the lovely Becca and Maz at The Garden Gate Flower Company near Fowey. We met through Twitter and it was lovely to meet them in the flesh. I’m very jealous of their flower farm perched on a hill with the sea only minutes away surrounded by beautiful flowers, incredibly photogenic outbuildings and their polytunnel. After a few hours of wonderful flowery-chat we left them to tend their roses and continued on to the fantastically named Mousehole, pronounced by locals as ‘Mauzal’. It’s a classic Cornish fishing village with whitewashed cottages, tiny narrow lanes and a pretty harbour. And what’s more the sun came out. With all the technology at their finger tips the weather forecasters could have only got our four days in Cornwall more wrong if they had suggested it would snow. As it turned out the predicted four days of rain turned into glorious sunshine from start to finish.

A detour to Constantine Bay, near Padstow, on the way home.

We got to marvel at glistening turquoise waters, white sandy beaches, watched gannets plunge into the Atlantic and were delighted by the seal which popped up at Sennen Cove just as the sun was setting. The water was so clear at St Ives we watched as a seal swam torpedo-like under water to join a group of surfers. We chased it the length of the beach watching it come up with crabs in its mouth. It would disappear for a few minutes and we would scour the surface of the water waiting to see its head bob up again. I’ve seen seals in the past but generally they have been from boat trips to specific seal colonies. Great as these are there’s something much more special about these chance encounters we had.

I have never been to Land’s End, mainland Britain’s most westerly point. We have been close enough before but I’ve always been put off by the visitor attraction which has sprung up on this spot. I’d rather celebrate the dramatic beauty of this coastline by enjoying the peace and tranquility of the place rather than spend it at a petting zoo or being treated to tales of Arthurian legend. Something made me want to see the actual Land’s End though and I’m so glad we did because whether you want to pay to see a 4D movie or stare out to sea for free there’s the space for both types of visitor to co-exist.

Land’s End

We took the coastal path out of Sennen and walked a well trodden path along the cliffs for a few miles. The view was spectacular with the Isles of Scilly just visible on the horizon and the Longships lighthouse a mile out to sea. Sea thrift was fading but wild carrot was putting on an impressive show and there were choughs soaring above us. A red beaked and legged member of the crow family this is a rare bird with, it’s estimated, only 250-350 breeding pairs in the UK . Colonies exist in North Wales and Scotland but it’s with Cornwall that this bird is synonymous, featuring as it does on the county’s coat of arms along with a tin miner and a fisherman. But for nearly 30 years, from the 1970s to the start of the new millennium, choughs were absent from Cornwall – the population whittled down over the centuries by trophy hunters and changes to their habitat until their were none. Then a pair, believed to be from Brittany, set up home in Cornwall in 2001 and successfully bred and choughs returned to Cornwall.

And, of course there were plants but I think I’ll save those for the next post.

Grow Wild – Transform Your Community

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Barrhead Grow Wild project, Big Lottery Fund, Grow Wild, Monty Don, native wild flowers, Royal Botanic Gardens Kew, The Great British Garden Revival

Meadowy delight

I don’t know if you got a chance to catch the first part of the new gardening programme, The Great British Garden Revival,  last night. A series of ten programmes kicked off with Monty Don extolling the virtues of our native wild flowers and highlighting the decline in our native species. It’s a subject I’m really passionate about. We’re lucky here in south Wales to have some stunningly beautiful meadows. Tiny pockets of land, which have been protected by the local wildlife trust, sparkle every summer with wild flowers and teem with insects.

I’ve written here about my favourite spot, just outside Monmouth several times. Last year as part of Wellyman’s degree we spent a morning recording species on the site comparing the diversity of plants between two fields. One was classed as unimproved pasture land and had been managed without any fertilisers for over ten years. The other field had been fertilised up until about two years ago. It was a fascinating few hours. Using a grid system we randomly selected squares to record. We were finding between two and ten species per square in the improved grassland but once in the unimproved field the distinction was clear almost immediately. Here recordings ranged from the high teens up to thirty. It was impressive that there could be such a difference when no more than 30 metres separated the two sample sites.

Grow Wild Barrhead flagship project

Wild flowers thrive on soil lacking in fertility and this ability is something we could exploit. We can all probably think of a patch of scruffy unused land somewhere, seemingly not much good for anything, that sits there unloved and makes our hearts sinks every time we see it. So I was really excited when I was contacted about a new initiative devised by the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew and funded by the Big Lottery Fund. Grow Wild will transform sites across the UK into wild flower gardens. The first Grow Wild Flagship site has been awarded to Barrhead in Scotland which will see a former sewage works transformed into an oasis of native flora. There’s even a plan for the derelict sewage tanks to be used as huge planters showcasing Scottish native wild flowers. Nominations are now open for a flagship site in England, with projects in Wales and Ireland to follow in 2015 and 2016. The winning English project will be given £120,000 to create a mini nature reserve in their town or city.

Kew and the Big Lottery Fund hope to encourage over 3 million people to get involved with wild flowers through this initiative, distributing 1 million packets of seeds through a variety of partners such as Girlguiding, Groundwork UK and the Prince’s Trust. There are also smaller grants available for community projects but you’ll have to act fast as the closing date for these is in January 2014.

Delicate harebells

There’s something very special about wild flowers. Perhaps it’s their simplicity, maybe it’s because they were often the first flowers we encountered as a child; whatever the reason, a meadow is one of the most breathtakingly beautiful sights in the British landscape. It would be desperately sad for us to see our native flowers disappear and it would have a terrible knock-on effect on biodiversity. So, if you were watching Monty last night wishing you had the space for your own meadow then maybe this is an opportunity to get involved in creating a space for wild flowers. If you can think of somewhere local to you which is currently a temple to shopping trolleys, rubble and brambles, a disused, neglected patch of land which has become an eyesore, then why not nominate it and who knows, maybe by the summer of 2015 you will be walking past a sea of grasses and wild flowers swaying in the breeze.

To nominate a potential site in England and for more information go to the Grow Wild website. The closing date for nominations is 14th February 2014. A short-list of four sites will then be drawn up and announced in August. Each of these four locations will be given £4000 to develop their proposals and a voting campaign will take place with the ultimate winner announced in October 2014. Work will commence on the winning site with the first wild flowers transforming the chosen project in 2015.

Catching Up

Tags

Brecon Beacons, Dove Cottage Nursery, frogs, ponds, West Dean Walled Garden

Heather-clad moorland

I thought it was about time I wrote a post; it’s been a while. I’m not sure what happened but I had got to a point where I just felt like I needed a break. I have spent so much time over the last months in front of my computer that the blog had started to feel like an extension of work, which was never the intention. I’ve missed not reading other blogs, as well as writing my own but one of the downsides with blogging and social media is it’s quite addictive. I thought it was best to go cold turkey. Well I say that, but I have now joined Instagram which I’m loving, so I didn’t manage to wean myself of it completely. I’m not sure whether I should be worried by that or not?

My blogging break coincided with a bout of gardening torpor. This loss of energy and even interest in gardening always seems to happen in late July and into August, a reaction possibly to the plateau my garden and allotment have reached. When it first strikes it takes me by surprise. I love gardening, so the sudden onset of plant apathy is initially worrying. It feels like gardening is in my blood so how come I’d rather be anywhere than my plot. Of course, everyone needs a break even from something they love, to get those creative juices flowing again. A few gardens visits later and a determination to keep on producing salad crops into autumn and winter meant my gardening mojo returned. It’s amazing what the sight of a sprouting seeds can do to re-energise a gardener. There’s also something about the approach of September. I don’t know about you but it always feels like the start of something. More like a new year than New Year. Maybe it’s because for so long the academic calendar governed my life but the first hints of autumn and I want to rush out and buy a fancy notebook and start learning something new. I love this sudden spurt of enthusiasm which helps to temper the looming prospect of dark nights.

Dove Cottage Garden, Halifax

The garden plans can begin again. My bulb order has been made, there are hardy annuals to sow for overwintering and borders to redesign. I’m learning to embrace the shrub. Herbaceous perennials are my ‘thing’ but I am learning that a bit more structure and interest is needed. A sarcococca has been planted in the front garden for a shot of winter scent. It’s strategic planting position will also, hopefully, stop a part of the garden being used by visitors as a short cut to the front door and as a litter tray by my neighbour’s cat. Shrubs will feature more prominently in my back garden too by the end of autumn.

I visited a stunning garden and plant nursery on a recent trip to visit family. Dove Cottage just outside Halifax was hugely impressive and deserves a post of its own. A celebration of late flowering herbaceous perennials and grasses it provided buckets of inspiration for getting some more colour into my front garden for next summer. There was a whistle-stop visit to West Dean Walled Garden in West Sussex which is like a small piece of gardening heaven. I fell in love with it so much I could have quite happily squatted in one of the greenhouses. And finally, we had some free time at last to get out into the local countryside. We walked in the Brecon Beacons and picked bilberries in lashing rain on the side of a mountain. But, perhaps most exciting of all, our pond, the slimy, green soup that was such an embarrassment last year has turned into a proper home for wildlife.

Our frog

I was so disheartened last year as pond plants died and nothing took up residence, although I couldn’t blame them. I had been contemplating moving the pond but then newly purchased oxygenators started to thrive and the water at least looked clear and more inviting. There were no tadpoles though or any noticeable signs of pond dwelling creatures. Then one day, a few weeks ago, I had a close encounter with a frog. I was tidying up the clippings from pruning some box. My hands went in to pull out some leaves and one of them came out, momentarily holding a frog by one of its legs. As my brain registered what was happening I made a fairly undignified screech. I think we were both surprised by the experience. I did get me thinking though. If we had a frog in the garden may be it was using the pond. And it was. A few days after we caught sight of two eyes poking out above the surface of the water. A week or so later I discovered that we have become a two frog pond. Not only that but we’ve seen bees land on the surface to drink. There’s something immensely satisfying about knowing that we’ve helped to create a space that is attracting creatures into our garden. And it has now become part of my daily routine to pop out and see if I can spot Buster (the first frog’s name courtesy of Sara @myflowerpatch) and Betty. I have no idea how you would sex a frog and I imagine the logistics of catching them maybe a somewhat traumatic experience for all parties involved. I am hopeful though that we may have the tiny wriggle of tadpoles next spring.