We had been looking for a wood preferably with a open area for sometime.   We had a look at a few that were not right for us, thinking it was never going to happen.   One day I opened an email and there it was - in September 2022.  Golden Hill Wood, I immediately called Stuart, the area manager, and we arranged to view it.   Well,  it was just perfect and literally five minutes away from our home, so the ball started to roll. It was time for some research on equipment, we got some good advice locally, so a chainsaw, brushcutter, and other equipment was purchased.  Having a walk around with Stuart, taking on some good advice, we then started to work on our new heaven. Golden Hill Wood has some old broadleaf trees but mainly spruce, fur and a few Douglas Firs amongst others.  The wood not been cared for in many years, so I set to taking lower branches off to head height, a few had to be removed including a couple of tactical removals with trees broken half way up, removing the many brambles that had stored from the ground to the canopy in a web like manner.  I found myself pulling brambles from one tree only to see I'm pulling a tree further away as there was so much of it.   Patience is a virtue and I got there.   It is not the end, but everything is now manageable so I have a few hours work and then a chill out. I have a couple of tarpaulin areas which the granddaughters just love and embrace and lend their little hands.   When Roe or Red Deer are about, we have two sets of Buzzards along with Red Kite and. of course, Bunnies.  We spent New Years Eve 2022-23 there and I've made a wild camp under a basher. I'd recommend anyone taking a wood on.  It is so peaceful and calming.

The end of lockdown, and the peace that came with it, was what made me want some natural solitude as the world got busy again. Having a share of a near 100-acre ancient wood should provide that given there are no public footpaths through it, a locked gate and farm land all around. It was late summer when I ‘got the keys’ and I was recovering from major surgery, so over the autumn into winter I’ve pottered and observed.  Each visit the place looks different as the leaves fall, different fungi come and go, and the wood is deluged by each storm. Storm Babet blew down the largest silver birch tree. The kids discovered it – wading through the thick brown bracken in a clearing I’d yet to explore. They had fun running along it. So far, no more have come down, and I’m glad I bought the Beech Tree wood owners insurance before the first storms hit. There is about one acre of older pine that stand majestic, almost as a guard for the younger trees beyond. We’ve re-planted our Christmas tree here. I hope it takes! Then it’s a grassy break, that allows machinery to manage a drainage dyke, across a wooden bridge and into the 4 acres of dense young birch coppice. This needs a lot of thinning out, if owt else is to grow there. The west boundary is a huge sheep field and the sun pours in. It wasn’t until my fifth visit that I managed to get through to a far corner of the plot and find another small clearing, where clearly deer had been laying on the dead bracken. I hesitate to say basking in the winter sun ….....  in Yorkshire! There’s evidence of badger setts too but none seem active. Woodcock abound and I will have to control the dog in spring. It isn’t silent but I’m surprised there isn’t a greater dawn chorus when I visit. Perhaps the buzzards and red kites are scaring smaller birds off.   I certainly hear those birds of prey about. Is this a sign of climate change or a lack of tree diversity? To help the both I’ve planted some cuttings of hazel and walnut, and a variety of seeds – conkers, acorns, sloes, sweet chestnuts, sycamore and walnut, but goodness knows if anything will germinate, or whether the squirrels have had a feast!  It was a rushed affair as I wasn’t completely recovered from surgery when I did it. There are lots of plots within the greater wood and I’ve met many of my neighbours, who are all very friendly. At least one is an outstanding wildlife expert and I’m sure there’s lots to learn from them.  I don’t have great plans as yet other than increasing the diversity of trees. A fig tree at home next to a west facing wall does really well.   Will the west facing aspect enable similar here?  There seems to be some quite large structures within the wider wood. On my plot, there’s a small hut and I don’t have plans for anything more. I just want to observe for a year, open up a couple of paths through the jungle and create somewhere flat to camp. There is wonderful solitude and the dog loves it – even though she has come back with ticks. Neighbours have told me their 'tick stories' and I’ve noted that they wear thick overalls and boots.   Probably best  if I string up a hammock to watch the sunsets!  

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?

Checking through my emails, I came across a link sent by a friend to one of the winter talks in the program offered by the Botanical Society of Scotland - specifically “The Scottish Uplands: how to revive a degraded landscape” by Dr Helen Armstrong.  The talk was live-streamed but was also recorded and is available here.   Dr Armstrong spent 24 years at the Nature Conservancy Council, the Macaulay Land Use Research Institute, Scottish Natural Heritage and Forest Research carrying out research and advisory work. The following is an attempt to summarise some of the key features of her informative and enlightening talk. Read more...

In an established territory the Common Buzzard is likely to have several nests which they will use interchangeably. Over the last two or three years of watching the pair over Woodcock Wood we decided to make an effort to find their nest. By the end of June we had located five nests, including their current one, high in the confines of Corsican Pines, and surprisingly close together. We set up a small hide (featured image). The height of the nest meant an excruciating position for body and camera over many hours, and the position of the sun meant mornings only for photos.  Over the next three weeks, we spent many hours watching the activity around the nest.   Initially we were able to confirm there were two chicks which we estimated were about 30 to 35 days old. The female remained deep in the nest for much of the time, and was reliant entirely on the male.  Read more...

Following seemingly weeks of awful weather and awful news the 16th March was an amazing spring day, clear blue skies and gentle warm sunshine - a good day to see what was new at the wood.  As it turned out there was plenty. We heard our first Chiffchaff of the year, and saw Great Tits beginning to explore nest boxes. When we arrived the pair of Buzzards were active, and we also noticed a male Wren busy building a nest in a large insect box we were given at Christmas, and fixed close to the ground by our coffee spot. They are confident birds, but difficult to photograph because of their cryptic colouring and speed, and their penchant for the dapple of undergrowth and nooks and crannies. However this bird was out and about, and back and forth to the box collecting moss from the base of near by trees.  Read more...

Well, not ours exactly …. but during the spring and summer it’s rare for us not to see and hear the buzzards. In Woodcock Wood they fly above our backdrop of Corsican pine and make forays across the chestnut coppice, occasionally perching in the tall oaks. With open fields behind the pines, this makes the perfect habitat for this beautiful bird. We are lucky that Woodcock Wood is a small but central part of their territory. We see them most often in spring when the pair renew their vows in noisy and beautifully aerobatic courtship displays. It’s usually their calls that attract our attention, and then it is a privilege to watch their mastery of flight in these displays. Read more...

The National Forest scheme has celebrated its 25th anniversary.  It was and is a bold project, focusing on some 500 square kilometers of central England (parts of Derbyshire, Leicestershire and Staffordshire).  Whilst the area included farmland and some pockets of ancient woodland, e.g. Charnwood Forest to the east and Needwood Forest to the west, it also included many abandoned industrial workings such as opencast mines, quarries, clay pits and spoil heaps. Some 8.5 million trees have been planted to date and now the area generates income through tourism Read more...