Shroooooom, just one look and then my heart went boom.

Aye aye, what's this I spy? After a long and fruitless walk around one of my favourite mushroom season roams, the ground, even after the recent rains still hard and dry for the most part, I came across the first Cep (Boletus edulis) I've seen this season (well, the only Cep I've seen this season really). Still, it's early days and I'll take it as a good portent for the mushroom season to come.

Underneath the rustling Aspen tree

I sat beneath a clump of rustling Aspen (Populus tremula) trees this afternoon under a clear blue sky and pleasantly warmed by the fading summer sun. Lovely. What a magical and talkative tree the Aspen is, even amongst the other trees you can always hear the Aspen, their chatter stands out. 

Boletus versicolor

Yup, it's that season again when my posts will most likely be focusing on the world of fungi. Well, it would be rude not to, not to mention virtually impossible to ignore the wealth of colour and form of mushrooms bursting through in the forest. Today I came across a small group of Boletus versicolor. Listed by Roger Phillips as rare they were a nice find; they're also listed as edible but not too good, so I just examined them, photographed them and was on my way.

Unopened Parasol

There were a few remnants of washed out and weathered Parasol mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera) to be seen about the holms this evening, though none worth collecting. Then we came across this beautiful example of an juvenile unopened Parasol. I didn't collect it as I'm hoping to do so tomorrow, a risky strategy for sure.  I saw a guy collecting here the other day and when he saw us approaching he almost ran to collect all the Parasols he could, and he succeeded too as he left no viable specimens.  Still, the seasons young and I know the forest wont let me go without.

Breakhrough

A young Birch Polypore (Piptoporus betulinus) breaks through the bark of a truncated Birch (Betula) trunk, the top half of which has long fallen and lies rotting nearby. The young white flesh of the polypore looks tasty although it's not supposed to be that good to eat as it's tough, rubbery and bitter making it inedible really, although, it's far from useless, with plenty of bushcraft applications. This young example may be soft and bit squidgy though as they age they become firmer and firmer. It maybe inedible but the Birch Polypore (Piptoporus betulinus) is a medicinal miracle with antiseptic, anti bacterial, anti viral, anti-inflammatory, anti parasitic and anti fungal properties, it can also strengthen the immune system and that's just the beginning as new medical application are continually being identified, such as anti tumour and cancer fighting properties. It's usually consumed medicinally as a beverage. It has external uses too, thin strips of fresh skin from the underside of juvenile examples can be used as an antiseptic, anti bacterial and anti-inflammatory plaster. And it's not medicinal properties. When dried it's useful as tinder as it can take a weak spark, it'll also smoulder for a long time which makes it ideal for transporting embers. Birch Polypore was found with the body of Ötzi (the 5000 year old prehistoric man found locked in the Alpine ice) as part of his fire kit, although the multipurpose nature of the ploypore means he could have been carrying it for another use or for several uses. The tough upper surface of the Birch Polypore has traditionally been cut into strips, stretched and used as a strop to sharpen blades.  As you can see from my small description the Birch Polypore (Piptoporus betulinus), just like its host tree, has a cornucopia of bushcraft applications. Check it out, it's certainly worth knowing.

Sunshine on a rainy day

Is it a path or a rivulet? Well, it's usually a path, although it will and does double as a rivulet in heavy rain and during prolonged periods of wet weather the whole common can resemble the waterlogged Everglades (a slight exaggeration maybe, but only slight). We ventured out this afternoon after the days atrocious weather to find parts of the common still waterlogged, paths still flowing with water and where not evidence of where the water had scoured the paths and carried along woodland detritus only to deposit it where and when the rains subsided. The seasons are changing so we'd better get used to it as as the  wetter weather takes hold the common will, in parts, become impassible without wellies.

Autumnal days

Walking today you know with certainty that autumn's here, which is fine and as it should be, although it would've been nice to have had a summer to speak of before the wheel turned. But hey. The rain really lashed down at times and persisted heavily for the remainder of the time, it wasn't long before we were soaked to the bone, you got even wetter walking under the canopy where huge drops which had collected above could no longer defy gravity. As the seasons change so do the areas we tend to roam, this is as it's alway been through most of human existence and through the activities I pursue I continue that tradition. The reason? Foraging, every season has its bounties and rarely are they all found in the same locale. That's not to say we don't just walk in nature for the inherent connections and benefits that brings, though I do tend to plan or tailor walks, when necessary, to the resources required or available. In times past nomadic peoples would've had their lives dictated by the procurement these resources and later when communities had settled it was still common for seasonal camps away from the homesteads to be established to utilize available resources. Modernity has done for that, with far too many people being unaware of what they're eating or where it came from or even what you can eat. For me with autumn comes the mushroom and berry foraging season. So that was what we were recon-ing today. Yes, there are mushrooms emerging out there, all over the place in fact, though none that I fancied putting in the pot. There were a few edibles about but they were all a bit soggy; Brown Birch Boletes (Leccinum scabrum) are popping up here and there, a good edible but I knew they'd be puree by the time we got them back and later towards the end of our walk as we rose up onto the exposed holms, where the rain was driven so forcefully by the whipping winds that it blurred my vision, here we came upon a cluster of maybe 10 or more Parasol Mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera), again sadly worse the wear for the weather.  Still, it all bodes well, fingers crossed for a good coming season. Good hunting, and remember collect carefully (if you're not 110% sure of what you're picking, then don't pick) and responsibility, lets keep the mythical hordes picking the forest clean, just that....mythical.  

Ridley Wood

It's been quite awhile since I last walked through the majestic stands of Ridley Wood.  Stuck out on a knoll, Ridley's exposed to the full rigors of the elements, and this pocket of ancient woodland has suffered greatly from the storms of recent years. Ridley Wood comprises of mighty Oaks and Beeches with a mixed under story, many of the Beeches are clearly grown out pollarded trees of some girth and sporting several giant boughs; usually in the forest this denotes that these trees originated in the pre-enclosure period, as with enclosure came restrictions of traditional forestry practices such as coppicing and pollarding, both outlawed in favour of the single straight trunked trees required by the navy for ship building. Ridley's a lovely pocket of woodland and it's sad to see it so battered, if it's part of the natural cycles, you know, things grow, they live, they die, then new things grow, that's one thing.  My worry is that the acceleration in destruction I've seen in recent years could be attributed to climate change and associated weather anomalies and that bodes less well. 

Flow

The decaying hulks of large fallen boughs flow through the woodland like truncated segments of fast flowing stream held in time.

Sunset

Natures splendour is omni-present, it envelops us and yet for the most part we move through it unawares of the wonders continually unfolding about us; too wrapped up in the distractions and illusions of our artificial world to notice the real one. Take the humble sunset, so often ignored or through complacency taken for granted, but every night we're gifted something new and unique; one off pieces of natural art, a perpetually changing installation of colour and light. Of course in our northern climes our views are frequently obscured, though when they're not we should always take the time to immerse ourselves. The rewards are palpable.

Where wolf?

Perspective

To get a true and balanced perspective on things you always need to be able to see both sides or even all sides of a situation. Although on first impressions of meeting this Oak it looks sturdy, strong and solid, when looked at from another angle it's clearly rotten to the core; a metaphor of our government or the establishment maybe?  

Big Oak

Great Huntley Banks big Oak. Respect!

How now not so brown cow

It's funny how conditioning works and how deep it goes. Even after all this time I'm still taken aback to come across cattle (Bos taurus) roaming and grazing the woodland. So ingrained are the images of cattle in neat fenced fields fed to us from our earliest days through the old Macdonald had a farm world view, that it's easy to forget the cattle were here before the farms or fences and they got on just fine. It wasn't until the Neolithic (relatively recently in human evolution) that cattle began being domesticated in this part of the world and they'd have been very different beast both in form and size.  These early cattle were domesticated Aurochs (Bos primigenius), the now extinct giant Ox. Although they've only recently been reintroduced to the forest woodlands, they were only absent for a relatively short time; up until the enclosing of the forest in the 18th century cattle roaming would have been a common sight, as attested to by tree management practices such as pollarding (like coppicing although done above 1.8m) which were banned after enclosure. Pollarding allowed the collection of withies (straight juvenile stems) for craft purposes and was done at afore mentioned height to protect them from cattle browsing, showing cattle were common place in the forest before timber production took over. I like seeing cattle or pigs in the forest it reminds me of what the forest would have once looked like. As I say, our conditioning must be strong when something looks out of place in its nature setting.

Stained glass

Some of the stained glass in the 13th century All Saints Church in Broad Chalke.

RMS Lusitania

Every now and again you come across a piece of graffiti that stands out from the usual love notes or so and so was here's, something a bit special. So it was today along one of the tree lined sunken tracks which lead from the high downs into the Chalke Valley.  The Beech trees that flank this track are old and many have been heavily marked by people over the years. The local gamekeeper, a nice chap to 2 fine hounds, who stopped for a chat told us there was history in these trees if only they could talk, and he wasn't wrong. One tree though stuck out. A thick trunked mature Beech on which, 100 years ago this year, was carved a boat under which read 'Lusitania sunk by Germans May 7 1915'. A real piece of history. The RMS Lusitania was indeed sunk off Ireland by a German U-boat U-20 on May 7th 1915 with the loss of 1,191 lives. The RMS Lusitanias sinking caused an outcry across the world as it was seen as a passenger vessel and therefore not a legitimate target, although the Germans stated it was a legitimate target as she was carrying munitions. The British government maintained for decades that there had been no live munitions aboard The RMS Lusitania, only empty shell casing, although in 1982 the government was forced to warn salvage divers that there were in fact large quantities of very dangerous live ammunition on the wreck. Ah, he duplicity of war and the writing of its history by the victors. It's a big piece and would've taken some considerable time to carve, and I wonder why it was carved here? Was it just to record what was a major national event or did someone local loose a friend or relative in the sinking? Whatever, it's a great piece of historical graffiti and I was glad to record it. I'm certain there's a rich seam of heritage graffiti to be mined along this trackway and one to which I'll return to for a longer and closer investigation.

Beechs on the Faulston track

Juniper decending

I only know of two Junipers, I may well have passed some unknowingly, but only two. When I thought about that in the context of how widely I roam, I was struck by how rare a resource that made them. And, out of the two I've only known one to ever have had berries on. I've collected the berries for use many times. I've used them to turn Vodka to Gin, they're a great flavouring ingredient too. Sadly both trees are in a bad way, this one, the one that has berries on, is situated on a meander of a forest stream and subsequently having its roots eroded year on year. How many years it'll remain I don't know. I shall lament its passing though.

Oysters

A little bit of rain and the Oyster mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus) come out, and out in good numbers too. Commonly I find Oysters growing on Beech, I did today, but also found them on Oak today which is in my experience rarer in the forest. It's always nice to bring some foraged food home with you after a good walk. I could've easily picked a bin bag full, if so inclined, though contrary to the local media and entitled forest elites, not everyone (if anyone) picks the forest fungi clean or to excess. I've never seen these hordes of industrial pickers sweeping through the stands, they may well exist, although in near 30 years of foraging in the forest I've not seen them. Most good foragers respect nature, appreciate her bounties and collect only what they need, and maybe when appropriate more to preserve. Anyway, I harvested a couple of meals worth and was thankful for that.

wasps

Some brave, desperate or stupid woodland mammal has dug down and raided this wasp nest in Burley Old enclosure. I wasn't aware it was wasps until I got quite close, at which point I took my photo, withdrawing quickly and stealthily.  Me and wasps have history. I was okay with wasps until I had a free paper round in my teens and thought it would be a good idea, as you do when you're a lazy good for nothing teen, to dump my papers rather than delivering them. I was mistaken, it wasn't a good idea and karma struck instantly. My discarded bundle of papers hit a wasps nest, and they were pissed off; I was covered in strings, my arm, hands and face where stings upon stings. Ever since then even a single wasp sting will make me swell; some years back I got stung on the wrist and by morning my fingers had swollen like fat sausages as had my lower arm; I didn't like that. Hence my deft retreat today.

Ruins

Would you believe that these fallen boughs are still standing where they were placed after nearly 20 years, but they're the remains of a wooden teepee shelter built here in the 90's. Amazing, isn't it. This transient and ephemeral structure, probably thrown up in an afternoon, still has a presence (if a touch tentatively) in the woods. It doesn't look much now, but it was a fine structure back in the day, tightly well fitting boughs made for a teepee like shelter which could afforded a degree of protection from the elements... as long as those elements didn't get too tasty.  You wouldn't know it was ever anything man made if passing by, and that got me thinking, I wonder how many shelter remains I must unknowingly pass whilst out walking.

From tiny acorns

Last year was the worst year I remember for acorns; I didn't see a single one. Although this year, as with the other fruits and nuts out there, it appears like it could be a bumper year for acorns. Many of the trees I've seen are hanging with them. The pigs will be happy. Maybe that's how it goes, nature cycles through good years and bad, effected by natural factors; historical and archaeological sources would support that. Or could it be that demon of our own making 'climate change' taking effect?  I like to think the former as the latter doesn't really bear thinking about, though must be confronted as natures fluctuations are one thing, but there's no doubt our interventions are far beyond natural and will tip the balance in the end.

Against the grain

Beefsteak

We visited one of the forests notable trees today, an ancient Oak of 600 years or so old and noticed this small Beefsteak fungus (Fistulina hepatica) just poking through.  The Beefsteak fungus will cause the wood of the tree to stain a reddish brown and that would make it of value to crafts people, although the significance of this tree means that wont be happening.  It does though remind us that mushroom season is just around the corner.

Stag

This is the leader of the 4 kings, a group of stags who frequent this part of the forest and roam together. He appears older than the others, so maybe it's more they're the 'king and 3 princes'? The light was fading and we'd clumsily stalked them for nearly half an hour before getting this clearish shot of him; they knew we were there, always managing to just position themselves behind something and as we moved so did they. Still, just being near them is a treat.

Seasonal shift

The day shouts summer, although the evening whispers autumn.

Hazel leaf

A Hazel (Corylus avellana) leaf.

Lesser Burdock

You're seeing Lesser Burdock (Arctium minus) frequently at the moment in the hedgerows, sunken lanes and woodland fringes of the Chase. Their pinky purple flowers remind me of thistles. A valuable resource plant all parts are used for something and has both medicinal and culinary uses: Medicinally Burdock acts against bacteria and inflammation, is used to treat skin conditions, slows blood clotting, lowers blood sugars, reduces fluid retention, helps digestive disorders and that just scratches the surface.  The leaves are eaten raw or boiled as a vegetable through spring and early summer, whereas the root is collected in autumn and best peeled, julienned and boiled or stir fried. A valuable wild food resource, easy to identify and containing plenty of vitamins and minerals, including vitamins C, E and potassium. Now, have you ever tried to dig up a Burdock root? It's a proper bugger. The roots can be deep and well anchored, and in my experience found all too often in hard to dig soils.  A sturdy chisel ended pointy digging stick, metal tipped digging stick or spade are essential. I remember the first time we tried to collect roots, years ago over on the Purbeck coast, we tried just using sticks we found lying about and the whole exercise was arduous and lengthy.  Still, we learnt a lesson and I'm sure they tasted even nicer for the hard work employed in their retreaval. 

Connections

There's been a lot of uproar in the corporate media and over social media about migrants, most of it deplorable and shameful. It's the dehumanization of people for cynical political ends and to their collective shame masses of people have bought into it; people who frequently post appeals or articles against animal cruelty are now posting and commenting on the most appalling things. On the whole these desperate souls (migrants) flee horrors and endure hardship and dangers in the hope of a 'better' life only to find themselves being exploited and abused; I suppose 'better' is quantified by the point from which you began. Just imagine that! I was pondering the above whilst sat under a favourite forest leviathan and thought about the connections broken through migration, from family, from friends, from neighbourhoods and from the land.  On that last point I thought about my connection to the land, knowing and understanding the trees, the flora and fauna their uses and habits, where to look for what and when, feeling the turning seasons. I could sense the forest around me. I tried to imagine how I might feel dislocated from MY land. For a moment I really felt a oneness, a closeness to everything around me, a deep and intimate connection to it all. I first experienced a similar feeling as a young teen at Birdoswald Roman Fort on Hadrians' Wall in Cumbria; I remember standing looking down over a densely wooded slope which ran down to the meandering Irthing River and having the strangest feeling that I wanted to be part of it, not live there but actually be part of it. Years later I came to understand that I am part of it. How dislocated, how removed and set adrift must these people feel separated from friends and family, and removed from the land they knew and bore them. I can't imagine how they must feel, can you?

Our narrative around immigration has been intentionally distorted and distilled down to money and fear by the media. I'm certain in most cases that it's more complexed than they'd like us to think. How many immigrants would be happy to live in the land which bore them if we didn't rape their frequently resource rich countries or use their most fertile land to feed ourselves or support their despotic governments for our own geopolitical aims or if we just stopped making their lives so shit and untenable in their own countries, then maybe they wouldn't be so desperate to risk their lives and leave their homes. Few people really want to leave their homelands, I know I wouldn't, most just want the opportunity to live.

Frogger

This little fella came hopping through the undergrowth and crossed the path in front of us, pausing to inspect us, seeing if we were a threat or not. We've weren't. Although I was surprised to see him out and about in the afternoon sun and so far from any discernible water source; the nearest is Highland Water and that's about 100m or so away. Maybe that's not so far for a frog, after all he was moving at a good pace. It's always nice to meet nature.

Lughnasadh

John Barleycorn his head hung low,
he knows it's time for goodbyes.

John Barleycorn has done his job,
he's grown strong and reached for the skies.

John Barleycorn goes willingly to sacrifice,

so that we will all survive.
John Barleycorn is in our world dead,
though in the otherworld alive.

John Barleycorn we'll see again,

with the rise of the Beltain Sun.

John Barleycorn must leave us now,
for his journeys just begun.

 Lughnasadh blessings y'all.
  

Ladybird party

Harlequin Ladybirds (Harmonia axyridis succinea), (Harmonia axyridis conspicua), (Harmonia axyridis spectabilis) and a Harlequin Ladybird variant I couldn't find a name for, as well as a Seven Spot Ladybird (Coccinella septempunctata).  All, and there were a dozen or so, were feasting on aphids which had made their nursery on one of my sweet corn plants. Not that I'm complaining, they do a good job, although the growing proliferation of invasive non native Harlequin Ladybirds is a worry.