Broken

The broken disarticulated parts of a storm damaged beech lay jumbled and heaped around it's trunk in South Oakley; this ancient beech, I'd suggest easily old enough to pre-date the enclosure of this land in 1853, has succumbed to the ferocity of the elements. I notice from the perspective of the photo that it's hard to gauge scale, giving the tree the impression of appearing much smaller than it is; that horizontal branch is actually about 2.5m or so from the ground. I wonder if she'll struggle on? Many do; I know it's been well and truly slighted, but several smaller lower branches, like the horizontal one, remain unharmed and viable; I've seen trees come back from worse.

Saved by centimetres

This veteran Beech (fagus) was saved by mere centimetres, a casualty of ravenous ponies short of food, she'd be a goner like dozens of her sisters if completely ringed.  A consequence of too many ponies for the forest to sustain, and the equine owners not providing supplementary food. The number of ponies has risen from around 1300 in the mid fifty's to near 5000 today, that's a lot of pressure on the forest. You'll see evidence of gnawing like this on individual Beech trees all over the forest, although Mark Ash is by far the worst cluster I know, so many beautiful trees slighted, in such a picturesque tract of the forest too. 

Burley Old

The root bole in the centre background, seen from between the root boles of a recently toppled conjoined Oak and Beech, has been there for at least 30 years and is now entirely hollow. Walking land over an extended period of years allows a glimpse at forest time. The divided Oak and Beech were only slighted during late spring (the bottom photo was taken back in May), the oak falling and blocking one of the woods well used winding paths; in fact both trees were veteran trees of a good height, and have formed a formidable barrier in the woodland...and will do for decades to come. Some kind soul has cut through the tangle of roots, filled the hole and created a narrow passage through what was impassable mess, and now the woodland path flows once more. Nice.

Storm damage

Only just entering the bad weather season and the recent winds have already slighted another of Burley Old's veterans, a mighty one too, a huge three trunked beech that's now reduced to one trunk. It was only the other day, whilst walking through with a friend, I'd mentioned the growing holes in the canopy, one of those holes is significantly bigger now. It's a worry. Over the last 10 years I've seen these holes develop, and below them, in sharp contrast to the rest of the leaf litter floor, green oasis’s of grass, bracken and bramble thrive. Seeing how Burley Old is going puts me in mind of Bratley Woods with its open aspect, I imagine (and the hulks and stumps scattered about support the idea) that Bratley was once like Burley Old and that in years to come Burley Old will be like Bratley. The woodland really is a scene of weather wrought destruction, it's impossible now to walk a straight path through...which at one time you could have easily done.      

Bough down

I know unseasonal weather has always been a thing, it's a regular retort from the climate crisis naysayers, though it's different today, our intervention in the last 250 years is a dangerous variable. One of the aspects of change I've noticed most over the last two decades is the increasing wind speeds we get throughout the year. It's one thing strong winds through the winter months when the trees are bare, though through the summer months when the canopies are full is another thing altogether, a frequently destructive thing. Combine that with a noticeable increase of extremes, see-sawing from saturated to desiccated, weakening many trees tenure, stressing them and making them vulnerable. After yesterdays winds (which weren't really that strong), there was damage to be seen, only a couple of trees over (that I saw), though plenty of bough damage. Here, on the edge of Brinken Wood, a huge Oak had lost a mighty bough. Well, more than just a bough, it represented about a quarter of the tree's canopy. Bummer.