In 2022,  we made a decision to buy Coed Bwlch Coch from woodlands.co.uk,  just over four beautiful acres of woodland near our home in mid Wales. Although we knew nothing about woodland management or forestry my partner and I love the outdoors. Just how important this is became apparent when I had breast cancer some years ago - I even camped out near the hospital during my treatment regime. It took less than six weeks to gain ownership. Woodlands.co.uk had two superb representatives on the ground, Ash and Helen. They opened our eyes to the possibilities this gorgeous strip of woods held. They answered all of our novice questions and guided us with ease through the buying process. We have been so impressed with the sensitivity and care taken by woodlands.co.uk to prepare the whole forest for sale. We’ve only owned the woods for a few months but we have already enjoyed dozens of visits. Our first task to cut back loads of brambles in one area where a bit of old stonework was peeking out has revealed a treasure: the ruin of a stone longhouse that pre exists the 1840 Welsh Tithe Maps on land once owned by the Earl of Powis. We are taking baby steps to learn- we’ve invested in some training courses, some decent outdoor clothing, some second-hand tents and handbooks. This year we’ll do some coppicing, harvest firewood for home, build a store, make some charcoal, camp, bring all our friends and family ... but mostly we will feed our souls.  

Woodlands.co.uk was chosen as the sustainability sponsor for the February 2023 conference, State of Open 2023.  Mostly held for those working in computing and data, this event was held at the QE2 centre in Westminster, with several hundred individuals who networked and learnt more about open source, open data and open standards.  The highlight was the speech by Jimmy Wales, founder of Wikipedia, explaining that Wiki isn't just about free and open information but about structure: their whole model is unusually open. It's truly democratic amongst wikipedians and is the antithesis of top-down models which dominate most of the world's organisations. As sponsors, woodlands.co.uk committed to plant at least one tree for every conference delegate as a carbon-offsetting measure and to encourage biodiversity. It turns out that at this conference relatively little extra carbon was produced for various reasons - the QE2 conference centre itself has strong environmental policies and the delegates were mostly either UK-based or were travelling to Europe anyway for a related conference.  Nethertheless many of them took away free eco-merchandise from the Woodlands stand, including seeds for planting and wooden pens.  Lots of the conference attendees were also interested in buying land for tree-planting so that their company would be offsetting its own carbon footprint and the staff would have a nearby place to go and enjoy. Sustainability sponsors can occasionally be accused of offering 'greenwash" but in this case there was no risk of that because the OpenUK movement is already so committed to sustainability and to using software to reduce carbon emissions.  And in this case, too, the sponsor was offering practical measures such as the planting of defined numbers of trees in the UK (in Kent) rather than a theoretical payment to a nebulous foreign project.  Conference participants were offered the chance to take away seeds to plant their own oak, cherry, lime, chestnut or sycamore trees. The role of sustainability sponsors at conferences varies but can involve financial support or the promotion of sustainability initiatives.  Some eco sponsors also offer energy audits, sustainability assessments or carbon footprint analysis.  According to the AI chatbot, ChatGPT, "Overall, sustainability sponsors play a critical role in supporting the transition to a more sustainable future by providing resources, expertise, and advocacy to organisations working on sustainability issues."  

"We're not out of the woods yet..." said Chancellor Jeremy Hunt in February 2023, warning that the British economy was still in danger.  It was widely reported by the BBC in ways that indicated the metaphor was apt and reasonable.  Hunt was unconsciously referring to the common idea that woodlands are dangerous and should be avoided, and that when we are out of the woods everything will be okay. This is in the same vein as stories like Little Red Riding Hood where she is warned not to talk to strangers when she has to go through the woods, and "woodist" notions like this are conveyed when the storyteller says "the woodcutter was never seen again after he entered the forest.".  This fear of woodlands runs very deep in our culture and creates a genuine barrier to their conservation and enjoyment.  Unfortunately Jeremy Hunt reinforced this fear, probably unwittingly. Such prejudicial language is perverse for a government which has just tried to burnish its environmental credentials with the 2023 Environmental Improvement Plan, part of which aims to "Enhance beauty, heritage, and engagement with the natural environment".  It's also surprising to hear such woodist language when the Forestry Commission's tree planting grants are over £2,000 per hectare higher where public access is given. More positive language about woodlands will be needed to achieve the Forestry Commission's aim of "boosting the country’s woodlands and timber industry." But Jeremy Hunt's prejudice and woodism is not new - for centuries people have feared the 'big bad wolf' lurking in the woods and the witch who is said to live in the forest.  Ideas of enchanted forests with traps and dangers are pervasive throughout literature and across the world.  In the past, people feared wild animals in woodlands that could attack and they knew that the forest is home to many dangerous plants and poisonous mushrooms, and in some cultures there are spirits of the forest which can be easily angered.  Many others in authority use similar imagery to Jeremy Hunt.  A Time magazine article by James Stavridis in January 2023 starts with a woodist stance: "Sadly, in these not-so-United States, we have found our way deep into a dark forest, and the question before us is how do we find the path out of this dangerous thicket into which we have wandered?".  Phrases like this which fight against nature are rife such as the expression that a report will be 'kicked into the long grass" implying to a place where no one wants to be.  Other anti-nature sayings are, "going feral" or "nipping problems in the bud". Many traditional stories indoctrinate children from a very young age such as the story of Hansel and Grettel who got lost in the woods leading to their being eaten by a witch.  And there were the three little pigs who were afraid of the wolf in the woods.  Stories make people fear getting lost and trapped in woodlands, having heard of Rapunzel who was trapped in a tower in the middle of the forest.   At least they were a place of refuge for Snow White who hid in the woods to escape the evil queen, or for Robin Hood and his band of outlaws who lived in Sherwood Forest.  And it's not just older stories that convey that impression - Maurice Sendak's 1963 bestseller, "Where the Wild Things Are", tells an allegorical story of a boy who misbehaves and is sent to his bedroom without his supper. But the tale is also about mood and behaviour: the woodlands which appear to grow in Max's bedroom are associated with him going onto a dark place.  Although it's sold as a children's book, it's just as much an adult's story, and it reinforces that strong link between woodlands and bad things. Much of the recent work to reduce people's prejudices around race and sexual orientation are fighting long-held and widespread stereotypes.  Ideally "woodist" language like Hunt's should be called out in the same way that racist and sexist language is - and despite woodist language showing a prejudice against nature rather than groups of people, it still affects how we view our world and how we behave towards others.  Perhaps we need a new lexicon of more positive language around woodlands, encouraging terms like "rewilding" and "greening".  Even the more jargony terms like 'eco-services' and 'biodiversity' are positive although it's more than better language which we need as an antidote to the woodist expressions of Jeremy Hunt.  What is needed is to make politicians ashamed of using woodist expressions and ask them to spend more time, well, in the woods.  

We, like many woodland owners, have stand alone battery powered trail cameras that record photos and videos onto a SD card.  They work well but obviously need regular monitoring to check battery state, and if the SD card is full.  Some time ago, I found a Reolink Go which is battery powered with the option of a Solar panel.  This camera records photos and videos onto a SD card, but differs from a Trail camera in that it has a SIM card. This allows remote access with live and remote viewing of photos and videos 24 hours a day. The daytime viewing is full colour, and black and white at night. There is sound, two way speech and an alarm all controlled from your mobile handset.  There is an option of "Push" notifications when the camera is triggered.  We live almost 50 miles from our woods and find it works well.  When I was researching the camera there was a review saying it worked well from 3000 kilometres but I cannot imagine many UK woodland owners would require it to work over such long distances. My original camera came with a V Sim which is a Vodafone data-only card, costing £4 per month with a monthly rolling contract.  These Sims are only  available via third parties now and are very expensive to buy but the subscription remains the same.  The cameras work on mobile Sims obviously using only the data aspect. The full technical data is available via the Reolink website and cameras are often discounted via the Amazon website..  There are other similar cameras, some more expensive but I do not have experience of these. We have seen deer, hares, squirrels, rabbits, mice, pheasants, extremes of weather and the occasional trespasser!  We enjoy the ability to see part of the wood from home when we are unable to visit. (The above post received from one of our 'woodlanders').  

Looking out of the window as I type this month’s fungi focus, it is difficult to believe that but a few months ago we were at the tail end of a prolonged and intense heatwave and drought. Now as we plunge towards the depths of midwinter, the traditional mushroom hunting season is already well past its peak. Like heat and dryness, most fungi seem to have little tolerance for frost, snow and ice. But there’s no need to be too pessimistic that it’s all over for another year. There’s still plenty of stuff out in the woods and after several years of writing in these blogs about what can be found in any given month, as far as I’m concerned the season is never really over. “Seek and you shall find” is my chosen mantra when I head out with my camera. In fact, I perversely prefer the winter months to the brief but intense height of the season during September to November, a period that yields so many discoveries that photographing and identifying them all can be onerous and overwhelming, and when the forest floor is so dynamic it is difficult to know what species to make the subject of these monthly focusses. Winter is a great time to concentrate on the less showy side of the fungi kingdom; the crusts and the jellies and the other little things you might not notice until you actively start looking. This is the time to persevere with getting that ever-elusive perfect photo of such commonplace species as Candlesnuff Fungi (Xylaria hypoxylon), for example. It is most likely that in the process, while crouched amongst the crisp leaf litter, your eyes will wander and you’ll end up discovering something else you’d might otherwise never have noticed. Candlesnuff With this end-of-year windup for the winter, I decided to focus on a species that has just emerged over the past month that might be lingering a little longer while we wait for Spring. I’ve written before how jellies such as the Yellow Brain fungus and the various other types some refer to as Witches’ Butter manage to resist regular freezing and defrosting and can be found many months after they first emerge. To the list we might also add Jelly Ears and Tripe Fungi, but also another one I’ve not yet covered, which is the Purple Jellydisc (Ascocoryne sarcoides). These can take a variety of forms, from walnut-sized and brain-like to the more discoid example one might expect from its common name. They start emerging mid to late November, when the temperatures first start dropping, growing in clusters on dead deciduous trunks and branches – often beech but certainly not always – as if oozing from the wood. One might assume from the shape and texture that these are closely related to Yellow Brains and Crystal Brains, but whereas these other jellies are basidiomycetes (producing their spores on external structures), Purple Jellydiscs are ascomycetes (with their spores developing internally in sac-like structures called asci) - again, I’ve regularly covered this crucial taxonomic distinction, such as for example in some detail here. I would label the Purple Jellydisc a very common fungi, in that I’ve found it in every woodland I’ve ever spent much time in, although it is not as conspicuous as the other jellies. Yellow Brains, for example, seem to be appear quickly and fully formed, while Purple Jellydiscs seem to emerge small and grow slowly.  Black Witch I’m not entirely sure they are as durable as these other “true” jellies either; I’ve monitored a single growth of Exidia glandulosa, the Black Witches Butter, for a period of almost half a year, watching it dry, inflate, freeze and defrost through the seasons, but I am not entirely sure if I’ve really ever registered Purple Jellydiscs past January. These are also rather drab in the winter light too, more reddy brown than purple, and more opaque than glistening. They are consequently rather difficult to get a decent photo of, although with artificial lighting one gets a better sense of its blanched beetroot hues and jelly baby-like texture. This should all be enough for the casual nature lover to be able to look at a specimen fitting this basic description and to ascribe a name to it. As usually seems to be the case in mycology however, with the two near identical Yellow Brain species proving the point wonderfully, there are a handful of other species in the Ascocoryne genus that look pretty much exactly the same and share similar environmental niches. To prove this rather maddening point, just a few weeks back, I found a group of purplish discs growing in clusters on a fallen beech trunk that looked nothing like any other Purple Jellydiscs I’d ever found before, but they did fit descriptions of Ascocoryne cylichnium, which has the common name of the Budding Jellydisc. First Nature describes this species as “similar but its fruit bodies remain cup shaped rather than merging into a brain-like form.” So far so good, I thought, and if I didn’t have a microscope in my possession, I would have left it at that. But as First Nature also wrote, that “it can only be identified with certainty by microscopic study of the spores, which are much larger than those of Ascocoryne sarcoides”, I decided to dive in for a better look. At this point, I was also informed of the existence of a couple of further species that looked pretty much the same: Ascocoryne solitaria and Ascocoryne inflata. They could only be distinguished from one another and identified with any conviction through close microscopic scrutiny of specific structural details. Needless to say, they don’t have English common names. Anyway, to cut a long and potentially very tedious story short, I did look at my sample under the microscope and it turned out after all to be your bog standard Purple Jellydisc, Ascocoryne sarcoides, after all. I don’t think there’s much more to add at this point beyond a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all who have read this far!

One of the most read blogs is that entitled “Stick and flick, a possible solution to dog mess in woodlands”.  It also has elicited some very detailed comments.  It concerns the problem of dog faeces / poo that is left in woodlands and public spaces.   A NFU  survey in Scotland revealed significant issues associated with irresponsible access, notably livestock worrying by dogs,  the impacts of owners failing to pick up faeces after their pets, but also plastic bag pollution . Whilst, there is no shortage of dog fouling laws in the United Kingdom, the hanging of poo-filled plastic bags from bushes and trees has sadly become commonplace in many areas.   Local authorities in England and Wales receive many thousands of complaints about dog fouling each year. Not only is dog faeces a risk to us in terms of disease (due to bacteria such as E.coli and Campylobacter, plus parasites such as hookworms and roundworms), but it is also a danger to livestock through parasites such as Neospora, which can cause abortion in cattle, and Sarcocystis which affects sheep. Forestry England asks you “Bag and bin your dog's waste. Any public or household waste bin can take bagged dog poo.”  The National Trust has produced a Canine Code, like that displayed at Mottistone Manor, Isle of Wight (see below).  It offers sound advice for wherever you are walking your dog be it a National Trust property or local woodland.

The first few weeks of owning a patch of woodland feel like the beginning of a long and special relationship. Every discovery is new; each adventure a first. A wood reveals it secrets slowly.   We’ve already tramped round every corner of the wood, tearing our shins on brambles, sniffing at fungi, clambering round stumps and totting up the oak, hazel, maple, cherry and rowan that thrive under our canopy of pine and larch. We’ve sat and looked and listened in all weathers, at every time of day. Starting a list of birds was the first thing to do: a mewing buzzard overhead, marsh tits pitching in the roving tit flock, the tap of woodpecker and nuthatch. Autumn – though this year so mild and late – soon announced itself with a first skein of pink-footed geese calling high and unseen over the wood, the first redwing chattering at the wood edge… sounds and colours change; the big wheel keeps on turning… We have always loved moths, for their beauty, their ubiquity, their astonishing variety. Moths range in size from the tiny micros whose larvae leave scribbled signatures across the leaves in which they live, to the powerful hawkmoths or that mythic blue-underwinged beauty the Clifden Nonpareil, a creature practically the size of a small bat, and probably the most sought-after moth among the old collectors with, in some years, just a single individual found across the country. For there’s also a rich and often eccentric history of moth recording in this country with most of the larger moths – the macros - having evocative vernacular names (though don’t confuse your Bright-line Brown-eye with a Brown-line Bright-eye!), and an array of techniques for acquiring them from pupa digging, plastering tree trunks with mixtures of treacle and rum, to light. Nowadays, moths are generally photographed and released rather than pinned; recording them is an excellent way of assessing the biodiversity of a site or tracking population changes. It was clearly time to break out the old moth trap.   And so it was that this September for the first time in years we dusted down the generator, filled the trap with fresh egg boxes for the anticipated moths to settle on, spread out our white sheet in a promising looking glade, and hoped to goodness that our 125W mercury vapour bulb would still fire up after all these years… As night came the light shed unfamiliar shadows through the wood; we waited, net in hand, taking care not to look directly at the blazing UV light; waited with a palpable sense of anticipation… what secret would the wood reveal? At first, nothing. And then a first furtive fluttering across the clearing to the trap – probably a Common Marbled Carpet though I’d have to check – and a plumper-bodied moth, and me there wracking my brains: it’s a noctuid, sure, but I’m so rusty – what’s-it-called? Flame? Flame Shoulder? Setaceous Hebrew Character…? ‘What the hell was that?’ said Beth Something ridiculously large had flapped out of the shadows and vanished. Knelt at the trap, I’d glimpsed it too from the corner of my eye. Could it be a hawkmoth on our very first trap, that would be very cool! I grabbed the net; we stood back and waited. I knew we had something beyond the ordinary when Beth yelled ‘There it is!’ and I swung the net and captured it on a second sweep. It was big all right! Anxious not to lose our catch, whatever it was, we shut ourselves in the toolshed and peered into the gently-opening net with our torch… The moth was the shape of a vulcan, practically size of a small bat, and more beautiful than anyone can do justice to: a marbled, lichenous beauty, zig-zagged and pocked and dabbed with greys and whites and blacks and – look! – when those forewings flick open an underwing black and banded with an impossible flash of blue… ‘It’s a Blue Underwing,’ we cried, ‘A Clifden Nonpareil…!’ An entry in my Aurelian’s Fireside Companion describes the experience soberly: ‘For a moment or two we gazed at it in speechless admiration, fearing almost to breathe lest it take flight…’.  I suspect we used a few more expletives than that!   And what a secret to reveal; our first trap in the new wood and we caught probably the best moth we could ever hope to find. One truly without compare.  Soon after the generator packed in; we were plunged into darkness. 2022, it transpires, has been a record year for Clifden Nonpareils, as it has been for many rare moths. Our Nonpareil could have been a wanderer from further south in England where a population has now reestablished itself on aspen and poplar after decades of extinction – or (and I find this the more romantic possibility) it could have been a migrant from the east, flapping its way across the North Sea to our northerly inland wood, and revealing itself, albeit briefly, to its astonished and delighted admirers…  By torchlight, we placed the moth on a tree stump, astounded to see something we’d always dreamt of finding. It sat there for a moment, as though contemplative, then showed a flash of blue petticoat as it shivered its huge and brindled grey wings. Shivered again. And flew off into the night. What will the seasons bring?

As long ago as 1772, it was discovered by the chemist Joseph Priestley that breathing Nitrous Oxide (N2O) could cause interesting effects on the brain - creating a sense of euphoria as well as anaesthesia, analgesia and even amnesia.  More recently the gas has been bottled in canisters and is then transferred to balloons to be inhaled.  Breathing in this gas creates "legal highs" - legal in the sense that inhalation is not illegal although selling "noz" or "whippets" for human consumption to under 18s is illegal.  But they are so popular that one person told me that any party worth attending will have a "Noz Bar" where you can buy canisters to induce their dream-like effects. Indeed these "laughing gas" cylinders became even more popular during the covid lock-downs and became the high of choice, despite the fact that it can be dangerous to take it especially if combined with alcohol or where there is a risk of falling.  Equally disturbingly, the canisters are often discarded and you will often see piles of them outside nightclubs but they are also frequently left on verges and outside woodlands and in public spaces.  To give an idea of the scale of use of nitrous oxide or "noz", it is officially the second most popular drug for 16-24 year-olds after cannabis and according to the ONS 9% of this age group have tried nitrous oxide. It would be hard to completely outlaw the use of these canisters because they are legitimately used in commercial kitchens for making whipped cream - hence the nickname "whippets" - and similar shaped canisters are also used by cyclists for filling repaired tyres.  With the low cost of mass production and large scale imports from China, the wholesale cost of these can be as low as 25p each and they are supplied in large cartons so vast numbers are deposited in the countryside.  It would also be hard to tax these as a technique for reducing consumption but the government seem at least to have considered making illegal their consumption as a recreational drug, but perhaps the biggest driver of consumption is the high profit margins made from reselling these.  A dealer will make a mark-up of 1,000% (ie 10x) and they are low volume so a lot of canisters can be carried by an individual.  Festivals and outdoor events are therefore an attractive place to sell these - so they get into the environment more readily than most containers. These 'silver bullets' of nitrous oxide are designed to be very tough as they contain concentrated gas but the effect of this is that they are almost indestructible and threaten to create a serious nuisance, littering the countryside.  It's possible that these canisters create useful homes for some insects and spiders - a bit like discarded drinks cans and bottles can do, but the effect is surely detrimental to conservation efforts.  Being heavy they are likely to sink into the ground and are hard to collect and they will be a nuisance for gardeners, metal detectorists and foresters.   So, with the rapid build-up of these discarded gas containers into the environment, the question is what on earth can be done about it?         Nitrous oxide has been linked to damage to the nervous system and paralysis.  A recent article details the risks.