14th November - Billhooks in the Mist

Billhooks

As scheduled coppicing, or more accurately pollarding, began this morning over on my parents' land. Many years ago the towering hazel hedge below Square Wood was cut down to around five foot using a tractor mounted circular saw blade (which, incidentally came loose and flew across the field like a lethal frisbee before burying itself in the soil, but that's another story). Since then the stalls (a coppicing term for the living stumps) have been managed to produce long straight wands - the vital material for hedge laying and a whole host of other green woodworking crafts. I shan't jump the gun by describing the process of laying a hedge now but in terms of materials, every metre of layed hedge requires two stakes and two binders. In rough terms this translates to C and I needing to cut and trim around 1000 hazel wands, which thanks to the sheer quantity and quality of re-growth on the stalls, isn't half as daunting as it sounds.

There is nothing quite like the clear chime of a billhook slicing through hazel or the pleasure of seeing the bevelled cut crowded with pale green rings and the work felt good and right for the season. The evocative sound travelled particularly well today owing to a heavy mist which hung thick and low all day, damping our clothes and making the oak trees drip. Besides those caused by our activity, other noises were amplified as well and periodically a tremendous clatter of wings would have us looking up at the looming shapes of wood pigeons. Blinded by the fog, flock after flock of them flew low over us before panicking and wheeling into the gloom. Although Square Wood still retains ruddy bundles of dying leaves, the huge poplars which line the opposite bank are all  but bare and it was for those sturdy structures which the startled birds headed. Pigeons have always liked those tall trees and throughout the day the lofty bows were lined with their hunched forms, dark smudges in the milky air.

The temperature remains cool but not cold and the frosts which had me so excited a while back have not returned. This is good news for fungi, demonstrated by the ink caps and parasols which can be seen everywhere poking up through verges and woodland edges. On occasion Dad and I have dabbled in growing our own fungi and last Spring we placed plugs inoculated with Wine Cap spores under a raft of straw. Despite being shaded by our overgrown Christmas tree plantation, the bed got extremely dry over the summer and seeing no activity at all we feared the fungi might have died. Apparently not though, as today C and I saw mycelium literally flowing out of the straw and invading the mulch around it. I shall watch with interest to see if any mushrooms are produced.

Dinner

Haggis with mashed potato and carrot, cabbage and gravy. Haggis turns the parts of a sheep which would otherwise be dog food into a delicious and hearty meal. Like faggots, haggai (probably not the plural - but it sounds good) get batched up when an animal is killed, then frozen to produce quick meals in the future.