A little nibble

No, not the White tree of Gondor slighted by Orcs, but a fallen holly tree with every accessible centimetre of succulent bark systematically and deftly nibbled off by hungry ponies. The seemingly ever increasing number of hungry ponies in the forest will seek out any opportunity for a meal during the thin months of winter. Feasting on an already downed and doomed tree is one thing, though when taken to extremes as I've seen in previous years, it's a behaviour that can quickly take out a veteran tree.

Nibblers

You can see that this isn't the first time that this Holly has been nibbled by ponies. It's quite amazing that you'll see trees nibbled to what looks like within an inch of their lives thriving after years abuse.

Extraordin - berry

 

The holly berries are looking wonderful, so many branch ends adorned with tight clusters of bright red berries, dozens of them (holly berries are poisonous and shouldn't be eaten).  Though this year across the board berries have been knocking it out of the park ... it's been extraordin-berry! Of the edibles I can't think of a berry producing plant or shrub that hasn't been loaded with fruits. At the allotment I'd never had so many strawberries, raspberries and blueberries, both green and red gooseberries did marvellously as did the blackcurrants; and out here in the forest both sloes and rowan are well served, whilst the haws' magnificence stands out, an unbelievable show. Folklore says an abundance of holly berries (and other hedgerow berries) is a portent of a harsh winter to come; here's to hoping, eh, we could do with a proper winter. 

A hard winter ahead?

I've seen a lot of heavily berry laden Holly (Ilex aquifolium) trees on our recent walks; folklore says that a glut of berries is a sign of a harsh winter to come, and that the Mother Goddess is ensuring ample foods are available for her winged charges. Time will tell. Separately, Holly's a traditional staple of Yule/Christmas decorations, commonly wreaths and table centrepieces, and those licensed to harvest the forest's Holly are out at the moment filling giant sacks with it.

Holly wranglers

A sight you'll see annually in the forest, and one that's probably as old as Yule celebrations themselves; folk collecting holly. The holly will be crafted in to wreaths which will be subsequently taken to markets and sold. The guys told me it was the last day of collection and that it had been a very good year; I suppose it depends on where you look, yeah, in some areas I've seen trees covered in bight red berries, whilst in others I've struggled to find more than a couple of berries...I walked all through Red Rise the other day and saw 4 berries, total. Some folklore suggests that an abundance of berries foretells of a harsh winter, a sign that the Goddess is ensuring food for the woodland/hedgerow birds; in which case, I don't know what to make of the patchy nature of berries this year...maybe a sign that our climate f*ckery has left mother nature uncertain of how to proceed.

Hail the Holly

One tree that's certainly doing well this year is the Holly (Ilex aquifolium), many are brimming with bight red berries, clearly visible across the landscape as beacons of colour in a fading forest. In a year that's seen failed, or at least feeble, wild harvests, the Holly's berries will be an invaluable source of food for the forest's birds and smaller mammals; whilst it's tenderer leaves are always sought by the deer and pony communities through the lean months. All hail the Holly King.

AH 1908

Holly appear in huge numbers all over the forest, you don't give their age much thought. Some are clearly old, all twisted and gnarled, most though are not that impressive; I'm not dissing Hollies or ought, you just tend to think of shrubs as short lived. Imagine my surprise finding 113 year old graffiti on a trunk you'd think only a couple or so decades old, amazing. You can see the letters and numbers AH 1908 are old by their style, they don't appear stretched through, beyond some on one side of the A and the number 1. What I found most interesting, beyond the age of the graffiti, was that the Holly appears not to have grown much at all in the intervening years.

Reign's end

The Oak King's reign reaches an end as the Holly King takes the throne. He's reigned through tumultuous days this cycle, we're grateful for his strength. Hail and farewell. And hail and welcome the Holly King, may his reign be sweeter.  Solstice blessings y'all.

Berry good year for Holly

It's been a bumper year for Holly berries (as it has been for all the forest fruits), the consequence of the right elements delivered at the right times. Folklore says that a bumper show of Holly berries is a portent of a bitter winter to come, the weather wizards have mooted similarly. Though, who knows these days. Most plant folklore has it's roots in truth somewhere, you can see it, it makes sense, although our current chaotic weather and overarching climate crisis are causing those truths to be tested.

Berry Beeches

We've not walked this way for at least two or three years, it's good walking your less frequented routes.. Berry Beeches stand on the northern edge of the expansive South Oakley enclosure, an unenclosed old beech, oak and holly woodland in a mostly open setting, nestled below Backley Plain on the border of the wider plains which run through the upper central forest. It feels, as you'd imagine, an isolated and exposed place, but also has a touch of the weird and creepy about it. It's the sort of woodland I remember filled with fog from the pulp horror movies of the 60's and 70's, especially the  Hammer films. As is common throughout the forest there are a number of closely paired oak and beech dotted about.  One pair certainly had that creepy movie aesthetic, an oak, now a shadow of his former self in his final trimester and his healthy beech partner, continue to dance entwined, oblivious as the rigors of times march on old oak. As I sat in the woods the weirdiness was accentuated by Geoff, a few meters from me, as he stood alert and fidgety looking off into the woods as if something scary was approaching, suddenly spooked he ran towards me, scared, looking back as he ran, sitting at my feet, again his ears up and alert nervously looking off into the woods. There was nothing there, or rather, nothing I could see. As I sat awhile Geoff periodically looked off through the stands for whatever he sensed, though eventually he appeared content that there was nothing there and relaxed. It's funny how the rational mind retreats leaving your primal mind to step forward, and you can't help but feel a shiver when your hound's spooked by the invisible. 

Tenacious tree

Tenacious or plain cheeky? Or is it just one tree helping out another? This Holly sapling has taken advantage and made a home high up in the this damaged Scots Pine's bough.You've got to admire natures adaptability and determination to survive.

James's Hill

James's Hill is a bit of a strange one, no matter the season or weather, I find the hill has a eeriness to it.

GL36

It would appear GL returned to Fox Hill in May 1936, this time specifically, one Monday in May 1936. For all I know there are other GL graffitis to be found around Fox Hill, maybe they visited every year for years or maybe only the twice. I'll keep looking. How can I be certain that these cuts are made by the same GL? Of course I can't, although on examination of the 2 pieces, they do share striking similarities in style, striking. So I'm fairly certain it's the same GL. I wonder if I'll find more.  I also wonder how I must appear to other walkers as I carefully circle to examine each appropriate tree I pass. Appropriate trees being those with easy to carve smoothish bark, Beech and Holly for the most part.

Holly!

Well! As if by some magic, a single Holly tree laden with bright red berries appeared to me today. I reckon is was magic. I think the forest had watched me searching, felt I'd paid my dues and done me a favour. I walked near 5 miles today, and at the furthest point of my walk, just before I turned for my return, I stepped over a hillock and there in perfect isolation stood this Holly heavy with fruit.  Laughing, I thanked the forest, and pushing a coin into a hollow in the Holly's gnarled trunk I thanked the tree. Man, there were so many berries on this tree, more than normally on a tree. Just as I wondered why there were no berries, I'm wondering why there were so many berries on this one isolated tree? Still, very grateful.

No Holly to speak of

Where's all the bloody Holly? I've been looking for days, and wherever I've walked there are plenty of Holly trees (the forest is stuffed with them) though none have berries on them. Around the base of some I've seen a few berries, so there must have been some, 'been' being the right tense. I walked for 3.5 miles through Holly rich woodland (it's called Berry Wood, which is a bit of a clue) this afternoon and this was only Holly berry I saw. I wonder the reason?

Woolly donkey

A dozen beautiful woolly donkeys crowded round a fallen Holly tree for a spiky feast.  

Stash

Spilling from the hollowed trunk of a gnarly Holly, thousands of Holly berry seeds, all gnawed, obviously somebodies winter stash over several years. I checked the tree out, it was hollow up to about a meter and half, and all that space was stuffed with seed casings. I know Hollies can produce plenty of berries in a good year, but still, this many casings represents a massive quantity of berries. Some stash!

Closer

A Holly held tight by an Oaks embrace, I'm sure they're both just good friends. I don't think two trees could get any closer. Cool.