Cash Crop

They're cropping the mature coniferous trees in a corner of Burley New enclosure know as Great Early. Burley New was enclosed in 1810, though these conifers are a much later introduction, planted after the primary timber had been cropped. When you're used to the forest looking a certain way big chunks suddenly missing are a bit of a shock. That's the thing about the New Forest though, it's a living thing, it's not a historical scene set in aspic, it's a working and evolving landscape.  Always changing, either moving forward with new cash crops to be planted, or travelling backwards restoring streams, encouraging the re-establishment of rare bog woodland and returning some former plantations back to open heath. I wonder what they'll do with this piece of land next?  I noticed they've left the few scattered deciduous trees in situ.

Larch Bolete

A pair of young Larch Boletes (Suillus grevillei). The Larch Bolete, like 'most' of the others in the bolete family are edible, though care should be taken to remove the yellowy slimy coating which can cause stomach upset. When cut through, the caps flesh is light yellow and not that firm or appetizing.  As their name suggests they're found near or in the vicinity of Larch (Larix decidua), with whom they share a symbiotic relationship. I'll be honest, I've never tried Larch Boletes, too much bother for the return, their cousins the Slipper Jack (Suillus luteus) yes, but there again they're not on my regular eats list. Still, groovy looking shrooms, they almost looked like ceramic representations of themselves, which was weird.

Bratley Wood

I never forget how lucky we are living as we do in such a fantastically diverse party of England. At the weekend we were walking the world heritage landscape of the isle of Purbeck to our west, the area of outstanding natural beauty of Cranborne Chase is within easy access to our north, and of course, the wonder which is the New Forest stretching to our east, on our very doorstep. A golden triangle of landscapes.  Today we were roaming the open woodland of Bratley Wood in the New Forest, an area of woodland pre-dating enclosure and filled with ancient pollarded Beech and Oak, venerable leviathans. The woodland is more open now, as over the last 30 years old trees have succumbed to the elements; there are rotted hulks scattered here which were felled in the Great Storm of '87. It's wonderful walking. Bratley's towering trees of ancient date have a majesty unlike any of the other forest woodland. That's a thing about the forest woodland, although usually a mix of similar species and often within a similar age range, each has a unique air and quality. Bratley is one of those with a timeless quality. Amongst the wooded fringes which flank Bratley Water (which flows below Brately Wood) I disturbed a resting stag, who startled, rose, barked and watched me intently.  We stood watching each other for a few minutes, he'd occasionally bark and I'd reply, he'd stamp a foot and I'd do the same...stalemate.  Eventually, we'd both had enough, and went our separate ways. It was an interesting interaction, though I fear I'm no Doolittle. Shortly after I found a shed antler bathed in Autumn sun, lying ready for me to find. Dropped amongst the thin straight trunks of a Beech and Birch block (one of several) planted some years back to fill the holes in Bratley's canopy.  There was a lot of deer activity in the woods today.  A lot of energy in the woods all round.

Pannge

Pannage is well under way throughout the forest as the commoners pigs enjoy this years bumper crop of acorns. There was a sweet little group out near Knightwood Oak, about 10 or so piglets, in a variety of lovely colours, and with a very laid back mother. A mother who although keeping an eye on them, and you, was cool with you getting close to her little darlings. As for the piglets themselves, they weren't really bothered, too many tasty treats to be snuffled. I saw a group out last week, the piglets were a bit older and very skittish, the mother was protective and aggressive too. So much so that I stayed behind a fallen bough, and in the end decided I wasn't going to be able to get a photo and left them in peace.  It's best not to be too complacent around the forest beasties.  Fair enough really, being a human, I don't think we have a great reputation amongst the natural world.

Autumn's turning

All over the forest Autumn is turning and before we know it the stands will be decked in their most sumptuous 'last huzzah' finery, giving us, in infinite hues, a graphic representation of the sun they've absorbed since spring.  They'll give us a grand show before they leave the stage, retiring within to rejuvenate and allow the Holly King his winter dominion.  

Puff

The common Puff Ball (Lycoperdon perlatum), edible when young and still solid white throughout, and weirdly alien in appearance. And even weirder, researchers suggest that extracts from this fungus have anti-fungal properties; what's that about!  They say that the button form of the common Puff Ball can be confused with the button form of the deadly Amanita species. You really don't want to make that mistake. So firstly, always know what you're picking, never collect anything you're not certain of and secondly, slice them through, they should be solid, no internal or undeveloped gills.

Burley Old

Being one of the oldest enclosed woodlands in the forest, Burley Old enclosure (1700) is naturally imbued with that air of old magic. Over 300 years it's seen so much, so many changes, and before that so many more. The idea of place interests me. It's a woodland with history and countless stories woven into it. I know my own stories too have been added to its weave.  Burley Old is an open woodland of veteran Beech and Oak, with the odd smaller shrub tree colonizing gaps caused by fallen trees. Over the last few years there have been too many of those gaps; the woodland floor is littered with the fallen, and every hole in the canopy weakens the whole. It doesn't matter what the season or the weather, these stands have a character of their own, they're a wood which makes you feel welcome. Sometimes it feels as if you're walking in an expansive high ceilinged hall, an huge natural temple or something. This morning the stands were still and tranquil, a fine mist hung in the distance and the forest was muffled, quiet but for the sounds of bird song high above in the canopy.  Or so you thought. Natures good a hiding, and we're not always so good at taking notice. When you stopped though, and took time to listen, it wasn't just the birds, you could hear the feint sounds of movement all around, in a distance twig snapping or the rustling of a bush. When you take time to look, a pony's watching you from within a jumble of fern, way off in the distance 3 deer stare almost motionless but for their flicking tales and you know that's not the half of it, all the woodlands smaller inhabitants are going about unseen. There's always something going on in the woods.

Tolerate it? We actively embrace it!

The 'Manics' tried to warn us when they sang 'if you tolerate this, then your children will be next', but did we listen? NO. We passively tolerated, accepted, that our consumer goods and services were being made and delivered under conditions of modern slavery. We accepted the suicide netting, the dangerous workplaces, the exploitation and abuses, it was all happening elsewhere. Beguiled by our things, we looked away, we could buy our desirable disposable shit at a competitive price. Even when we paid through the nose for items we knew cost a few pounds to manufacture, made by the powerless in unbearable conditions, we stayed on message; yeah, but this is designer. After all, you had your 'thing' and that's all that mattered. And anyway, we couldn't change the conditions of over there, that's how they do things 'over there'.  The 'Manics' knew their stuff, man, they saw the future, and their words were prophetic. We already tolerate zero hours contracts, we're accepting the erosion of workers rights along with growing wage and wealth inequality. Then on Friday Uber learnt their licence wouldn't be renewed; a company who've frequently been in the media for alleged poor employment practices, dangerous work practices and underhand shenanigans of plenty.  Embodying the worst excesses of the capitalist model. You'd have thought folk would have celebrated, an alleged abusive employer, who allegedly hid crimes and thwarted compliance and public safety, getting what they deserved..right on! But no, we're far too obedient to our corporate masters, or maybe we just don't care about the lot of others as long as we're all right. No, nearly 750,000 people signed a petition in support of Uber! That's nearly 3/4 of a million people supporting an alleged abusive employer, with questionable and dangerous work practices. How fucked up is that! I can't really get my head around it, it's too weird, too wrong. I can't say whether the future will be Orwellian or Dickian, I can say it's most likely going to be shite, and shite of our own mandating, the stupidest type of shite.    

A day on the bay

I can't remember the first time we walked the rugged section of Purbeck which is Ringstead Bay, though I know whenever it was it stole a piece of my heart and there after countless memories have been created in its steep and roughly folded rocky terrain. Always on the 'A' list of places to walk, its walks have featured friends and family, as well as many solo missions. Today I was walking with my middle yoot and a couple of his chums, who were amazed to hear how we scrambled about these steep grassy slopes and along this rocky coastline before my boys were into double figures. It warms me that my boy feels a connection to this place, and wants his friends to experience it too. The idea that I may have sowed a seed, and that seed could be an annual and that he too may bring his children here, makes me feel good. Giving our children a love for and respect for and of nature was something we'd always hoped to do. It struck me today, thinking of all the years of missions here, how much the landscape had changed. I remember on our earliest walks a lot of the western section of the Ringstead folds area being bare soil after substantial slippage, though now it's all covered in flora. The folds were grassy, with a few hollows of bramble and bush, with the occasional clump of primary colonizing shrub, now the folds are becoming choked.  Those hollows are now established thorn thickets, and bramble and bush continue to spread. More careful consideration is now required when choosing a route. Some of the paths we used to follow have been swallowed, all but disappeared, nature has no respect for our nostalgia, change is its engine.  The Deer who made the tracks we followed still inhabit the thickets that nestle amongst the folds, though now they forge new paths for us to follow. Time marches on, nothing stays the same; but it does if you zoom out, it does.  The same, but different, is an apt phase I heard someone use once.

Bumper crop

There's been a bumper crop of acorns this year, the trees are literally hanging with them. It'll be a good pannage season, with some happy pigs, that's for sure. 

The illustrated tree

I visited that venerable inhabitant of Pinnick Wood this afternoon, the Illustrated Tree.  The gnarliest of gnarly trees, the Illustrated Tree (my name for it) is a stunted ancient Oak from which all of the bark is long gone, revealing its patterned core beneath. Every inch of wood is covered in rich textures as if intricately carved. It really is a wonder. Walking through Pinnick Wood it strikes me as to how profoundly the emergence of Alabama Rot (idiopathic cutaneous and renal glomerular vasculopathy) and my subsequent fear of it affected where we walked in the forest.  A confirmed case meant that area was struck off the walking roster. The earliest cases were in the north of the forest and as a consequence we didn't walk the forest above the A31 after 2012. Pinnick is north of the A31. Pinnick had always been particular favourite roam of ours we'd often start at Pickets post, then out across the open heath of Handy Cross Plain with it's fantastic views, before disappearing under the canopy of the ancient and never enclosed Pinnick Wood. Walking there again today bathed in autumnal sun it was easy to see why it was a favourite. It's a wood with so much age and character, it's beautiful, timeless.

Gimme shelter

It's another fabulous season on the Purbeck Hills for Parasol mushrooms (Macrolepiota procera), they peppered Nine Barrow Down, dozens of them. I spied this bashful fellow seeking shelter and safety under the flattening cap of his big brother.

Equilibrate blessings

The sun rose over a mist veiled forest this morning to bring us a moment of equilibrium, for tomorrow we step over the threshold and into the shorter days of dark's dominion. That's not as bad as it sounds, all's as it should be, if we're lucky the longer days will return, as will light's dominion. Man, the forest is so still, so quiet, as if everything's holding its breath in honour of the moment. It's stunning out here, though as with so much at the moment, there's a bitter-sweetness to this mornings seasonal observance, it's a long time since I welcomed the sun alone. Walking back I make the same resolution I've made 8 times a year for nearly 3 decades, to get up early to greet the sun more often. Of course I doubt I will, though I always mean to and that must count for something. It's also the period of second harvest, the fruit and nut harvest. It's another opportunity to take stock of the year, have the seeds (both physical and metaphorical) you planted in spring flourished or failed?  I hope your barn is full to bursting. Equinox blessings y'all.

Wizened of Wilverely

The forest was subdued this morning, quiet and still, but for a gentle breeze which slowly swayed the high canopy. The forest takes on an eerie air when it's like this. The only signs of life where the occasional short burst of bird song, beyond that nothing stirred. Though I knew hidden eyes watch my transit from every direction. As New Forest enclosures go, Wilverley is thick and dense, making for isolated walks, which only adds to the eerie. The enclosure enjoys an interesting mix of trees, veteran and ancient deciduous trees hold their ground against the tall mature conifers and their invasive young. Where they meet and blocks of each bleed into each other, there's a struggle for sovereignty. For some the competition is too great, smothered and denied what they require to thrive, they shrink back and wizen, naked trunks sprouting bare boughs. Like this tall Beech, who although no longer sports leaves, will still remain a presence in the wood for decades to come. A skeletal memorial sculpture of a forgotten woodland, as Wilverley has history. First enclosed in 1775 Wilverley was one of the last enclosed under the first New Forest Act of 1698, a 500 acre deciduous woodland of Oak and Beech. Over the following two centuries it was thrown open, enclosed, re-enclosed as forestry needs changed. As blocks of timber have matured and have been harvested, coniferous species frequently replaced the broad leaves (modern trees for modern needs), leaving the patchwork woodland we see today. There are some great walks here on which, if you know the lesser known routes, you can find some magical places, hidden spots and some fantastic notable trees. 

Smooth operator

I did spot one thing really cool today, a newly hatched Smooth Snake (Coronella austriaca) Britain's rarest snake. This smooth snake was clearly a juvenile, only small, maybe 15cm or less, and moved at speed for cover when it realized it had been caught out in the open. Rookie mistake, but one that could cost dearly. As I said, they're very rare and their distribution is very limited, I think I've only ever seen them amongst the Studland dunes. Always cool to see our shyer wild friends. 

Bastards!

I didn't enjoy my walk today, and I should have. I went to Studland with its dunes, its long broad and wild sandy beach, undoubtedly the best beach for miles in either direction. I've been coming here since childhood, I love the place!  It took me 30 mins to get to Sandbanks, you used to be able to park in the back roads for nought, walk to the ferry and cross the harbour mouth for a quid return. It made walking over Studland far easier, cheaper, less fuel consuming (so less polluting) and less time consuming than the long drive across the conurbation and around the harbour. But no, our greedy new God 'Economy' has sent forth two of his most prized horsemen, monetization and enforcement, to kick sand into our ice creams. Pay meters now line all the roads on Sandbanks, and charge £1.50 an hour! One pound fucking fifty! And that's the out of season tariff, yup, there's an in season tariff, the cost of which I can't imagine.  Now, I'd give myself 4 hours to walk, for the crossing each way, and to allow for missing the ferry.  That's £7 (£6 parking, £1 for the ferry) to go for a walk now, when it was just a quid. That stinks, man. Although still more expensive, it's now cheaper for me to drive the hour each way to Studland. Most worrying is that it also subtly gentrifies Studland (Sandbanks already being one of the most exclusive post codes in the country), by putting a substantial financial burden on a visit, or the imposition of a long, and during the season untenable drive, especially if you've a young family. So on today’s walk I was annoyed at the monetization of everything possible, and rushed as I only had £3, so only 2 hours. As a consequence my walk left me disappointed and more than a bit downhearted at the path my country stumbles down. Bastards! (shakes fist in Basil Fawlty fashion)

Soarley Beeches

Soarley Beeches viewed from Backley Enclosure.

Rollin'

This foal was having so much fun, she wasn't at all bothered by my approach or interest in her activities. Ponies must be well greasy,  the ground was white when she finally got up from her roll.

Hooves

Cantering out of a mature Oak, a pair of hooves in the form of Hoof Fungus (Fomes fomentarius). Rattle your fingers on them and you can ever hear the horses clattering along. It's an inedible fungus, though has lots of uses, the main one being as a excellent tinder to catch a spark. Otzi the Iceman carried pieces of Hoof Fungus in his fire starting kit over 5000 years ago.

Rock Hills view

Across the forest it's the season when the land is blanketed in rainbow hues, the colours and range of colours are stunning, the more you look, the more shades you see. There's plenty more colour yet to come as autumn works its wonders. The descent from Spy Holms through Rock Hills, down to Red Rise, is surely one of my favourite views in the forest, and for certain the view I have enjoyed on more occasions than any other.  If one roam defined my walks with Norris, it was this one. It's the pocket forest. It has it all, all the New Forest archetype environments: forest lawn, heath, wetland, bog, stream, ancient and veteran woodland.  And all can be explored in 3 to 6 mile walks of near infinite variation. I couldn't hazard a guess as to how many walks we took around this roam over the years. Whilst stood amongst the majestic stands of Burley Old, I call Norris three times, his name echoes through the forest. I shiver. I don't really understand why I do it....my spiritual beliefs, in part, in remembrance, yeah for sure, but mostly I think it's because I miss him, I feel lost as much as loss, and calling his name seems to help. I wondered if I was being weird? I don't know. I don't care to be honest, it works for me. Afterwards I close my eyes and breath deeply, I feel enveloped by calm as the memories held in the wood seep into my mind, then a smile crosses my face as memories of Norris in the stand play in my minds eye. Not ones for staying on the path, every part of this roam has been thoroughly explored over the years, I don't think there's piece of it that doesn't hold a memory or two. 

Avon Water

The restoration of Avon Water marches on. The pre-Victorian water course has been re-cut (though not yet joined back into the flow) and the soil removed and piled ready to infill the straight drain when the time comes. The work's probably over for this year, the wet season is upon us. This will be an interesting restoration, the environs of Avon Water have always been on the wetter side anyway, when the remodelling is complete the slowed transit of water will only exacerbate that. Making this a real bog woodland, and impossible to traverse for a good part of the year.

Hive of activity

The hives are about in the forest, with the bees making the most of the heather, which just keep on flowering. Up here on Hampton Ridge the hives are surrounded by several square miles of open heather carpeted heath for the bees to feast on. Placing hives out in the forest is a tradition which goes back hundreds of years at least, and is testified to by a place name containing 'Bee Garden' or just 'Garden'. In times past Bee Gardens would have been banked enclosures topped with fencing or hedge to protect the hives, now though the hives are left scattered amongst the dense gorse as protection.  I saw 5 or 6 hives, all buzzing with activity. I wonder how much honey you get from each hive?

Latchmore

Latchmore Brook is one of the forest streams which wont be being remodelled and restored to it's pre Victorian course in the pursuit of bog woodland restoration. Sad really, as lovely as the photo makes it look, for the most part the Brook is a straightened drain, broad and deep, which could support a lot more diversity than it does. Don't misunderstand me, Latchmore Brook is lovely, and great walking, though it and its environs could be so much more. I've seen it done elsewhere, sadly some people just didn't have the vision.  Today's walk was certainly a mentally stimulating one, so much to see. We'd not walked in this part of the forest, in fact in most of the forest above the A31, for maybe 5 or 6 years. Not since the publicising of the 'Alabama Rot' outbreak, which had seen a cluster of cases in this part of the forest. Excluding the north of the forest cut dramatically into our roams, some of our favourite walks were now off limits. I knew walking these old tracks again would be bitter-sweet. It was great to see how the landscape has changed in that time, and it has in many ways, but the landscape is steeped in memories too, memories not visited for as long as we'd not walked here. 

Old ways

We'd not walked along Black Water, between Black Water Bridge and the Vinney Ridge ford, for an age.  It's section of stream which had never been straightened and has a wild feel to it; its woodland environs are dense with flora in the summer and waterlogged during the winter, making it hard to traverse.  Even this early in the season the woodland is tricky.  Below the ford Black Water used to be a straight drain, turning into Fletchers Water at the Rhinefield Bridge, another straight drain, a really straight drain, though about a decade ago they began remodelling sections of it.  Now, some years on, they've completely remodelled the stream from the Vinney Ridge ford all the way to Highland Water. I'd say it's the most remodelled stream in the forest to date (as the stream above Black Water Bridge all the way to its upper reaches has been restored), and for the most part it looks better for it. Now it meanders again, following through its older course, and like the other restored streams in the forest it's a considerably more diverse environment. It'll take some years more before it completely naturalises, and the stream side paths consolidate. A lovely bit of the forest.

Cauliflower power

The Cauliflower fungus (Sparassis crispa) is a distinctive fungus looking just as its name implies like a cauliflower.  It's an interesting specimen, growing on the same spot over several years, although not always every year. It favours pine, and is found on stumps or at the base of trunks. It's edible and wont me misidentified easily, though a bugger to clean, and its season is now until November.  Like many other fungi it may have more to it than a food source, research suggests it contains immune stimulating/boosting properties and may be effective against tumours.  For a long time I've believed that there's a cure for many of our ills out there in nature, the question is will we find them in time, and more pertinently, how many have we already destroyed. 

Queens Bower

I've decided that I'm going to set about walking all the roams that Norris and I made through the forest over the years. Some roams we still frequented, many others though had become neglected for one reason or another, and we hadn't walked them in years. Each roam is steeped in memories, every step will trigger a film show of past walks in the minds eye. I know that this will be bitter sweet at times, though the rewards, I think, will out weigh any possible negatives. Today's route through the past started in Brinken Wood with its veteran Beech and Oak, progressed along Highland Water still showing it's summer gravel bottom, then back across Wide Lawns open space where the deer graze, on through the wet Oak woodland of Camel Green, all seasonal ponds and mud, then the drier Beech majesty and grandeur of Great Huntley Bank, before finally we found ourselves back in Brinken. A lovely walk in a gentle forest.

Steak

The award for most prevalent fungi of the woods goes to......the Beefsteak (Fistulina hepatica).  Fungi seasons are fickle, last year these woods were flush with Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus), whereas this year they were scarce. This year Beefsteaks are in abundance, though last year were hard to find.  Is it natural cycles or environmentally prompted? I don't know. It's something.

Walking

Today was my first walk in the forest without Norris, it was emotional. I chose Redrise Shade and its environs as it was a part of the forest we walked together more than any other.  It's a choice walk as has it all, a meandering stream, majestic veteran trees in Burly Old and areas of open lawn. Norris loved it here. He loved to swim, on some walks here spent as much time in the streams as out, and he loved the stands and the opportunity to chase deer.  A difficult walk, though one that had to be faced.

Norris

 Norris  7th February 2005 to 9th September 2017

Over the years, when talking about walking, I've used the plural pronoun 'we', and when I have, invariably it has referred to myself and Norris, my beautiful trusty hound and friend. Sadly today I lost that friend, and I am truly heartbroken.  A unique and irreplaceable spirit, Norris showed boundless love, gave a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on, he never judged and was unfaltering loyal.  Norris was always happy and friendly, enthusiastic for the adventure ahead, any adventure, and of course very enthusiastic about food. He brought joy to all our lives. My constant companion, we shared a deep bond, trusting each other implicitly, he carried me through difficult times and was always there for me.  Consistently by my side (unless he saw deer, of course), we walked thousands of miles together over the years, and that's no exaggeration. I'd GPS our walks and one year we'd walked over 1600 miles; mostly through the New Forest, Cranborne, West Dorest and Purbeck. When I stopped to take a photo, he waited patiently, if I fell asleep in the woods, he'd always be sat right next to me wagging when I awoke. I know he achieved a good age at 12 and a half, and I know his passing was inevitable, but still I feel his loss so sharply. Norris had remained mostly fit and healthy for a dog of his age, and although he'd slowed down in recent times,and required orthopaedic boots, he remained young at heart and full of enthusiasm, still enjoying our near daily walks in the forest he adored. It was a privilege to have had Norris in my life, and to count him as my friend; he enriched my life no end, and I hope in return I enriched his. I love him so, and I will miss him terribly, though I know he'll always be walking with me, as our spirits are bound, and I shall always carry him in my heart. 

This is my blog, so of course it reflects my feelings, though it's not just me who mourns, our whole family loved and were loved by Norris, each member shared their own individual unique bond with him and all are broken hearted.

Goodbye my friend.

Tutsan

Tutsan (Hypericum androsaemum) adds vibrant colour to the currently muted forest. It wont be long before the surrounding trees take on similar colours. Personally, I can't wait!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-changes

September heralds autumn proper, and on cue the leaves turn. The first to show their autumnal finery are also the early adopters of spring...the Birch. Though it's not just them. This mighty Beech (Fagus sylvatica) showed several isolated twigs displaying their autumn colours. I do love the autumn, it's like the spring, full of change and energy.