....have gone astray

So the fields are in winter mode now. We had frost earlier in the month, and nothing but rain recently. But we did manage to clear another area, creating a new paddock that grass seed will be scattered on in the Spring. 

Not much to look at yet

It's nothing much to look at now, just a patch of earth, but we're hoping it will open up more space for trees and sheep.Getting it done was straightforward, since we know someone who's good at this kind of thing (Richard, by contrast, is still struggling with getting a rain butt installed to take water off the roof of the sheep shed).




What could have been a problem is that we needed to keep the sheep away, because machinery for grubbing up the brambles was being driven through. And we did, honest. Sarah got them behind a shut gate the previous night, only to find in the morning that they had got out and were in their usual place for feeding, which happened to be just where the mini-digger was going to drive through.

A troupe of limbo dancers

The gate was still shut, so we think they must have got underneath it. These animals are clearly much more agile than most sheep. It occurred to both of us, while singing Messiah,  and especially All We Like Sheep, that going astray must have been much more common with older breeds, because they're much more inclined to go mountaineering, and less likely to get stuck if they're on their backs.


We don't know if there's any such discipline as biblical agriculture, but the kind of flocks being watched over by night must have been more like Soays than modern wool-producers. Would have made shepherding a 24-hour job. Angels must have been light relief.

And oh yes, the digger went through anyway.

Season of mists and mellow ... well, mists

Back on line, after a hiatus caused by Richard's lunatic teaching schedule.

Actually not too much is happening. The trees seem to be shutting down for the winter:

A Plum Tree in Autumn

An Apple Tree in Autumn

The main part of the years work is done, and we are trying to open up another part of the bramble-infested field so that we can put grass seed down in the Spring.






Most of the work is being done by the sheep, who have realised that they can't be too picky now that very little is growing. They have even, glory be!,  been eating nettles, which would explain how proper farmers keep them down. Here's the evidence.

Custard going at the nettles!

They have begin to get distinctly woollier, which we hope will keep them safe through the next few months. Since the breed originally comes from the Outer Hebrides, we assume they can cope with the worst that Gloucestershire can throw at them. But they are also getting regular hay and, of course, ewe nuts.

Here's the whole flock, having rushed up expectantly on the basis that humans means food.

They have a tendency to start up a baa-ing session the minute we walk out of the door, which is either normal sheep behaviour or something they've been told to do by the cats, who are, of course, past masters at manipulating the ape-creatures.

Sheep nourishment

Based on the last couple of months observation.

Things that sheep will eat:
Grass
Ewe nuts
Bindweed
Ewe nuts
Brambles
Next-door's plants that are growing up against the fence (sorree!)
Ewe nuts (and they remind us if they haven't had them 1st thing in the morning).

Things that sheep won't eat:
Nettles
Anything above knee height.

Things that sheep mustn't eat:
Ragwort
Foxgloves.

We've had all of the above in the fields. To be fair to the sheep, a lot of the vegetation was too tall for them to eat when they first arrived, and the poisonous plants had definitely seeded. So we undertook a major programme of digging and strimming. The sheep were very curious. Any time we shut them out of a field to do some cutting back, they waited till the gate was open again and rushed in to see what was available.

Unfortunately, the nettles then spring up to dominate what's left. So more strimming. To be fair, the sheep have been seen to nibble the odd leaf, but we suspect that nettles are so low on their list of culinary delights that we won't be able to rely on grazing to keep them down.

Now we are six.

And two more sheep have arrived. They are sort-of related to the existing ones, sharing the odd father, grandparent, etc but they still got some butting from the first four inhabitants of the field, just to put them in their place. They are called Custard and Carrot, not the most enticing combination, and are yearlings, so are a little smaller than the others.

Here they are, on a bright morning, not quite being as fast as the others to get their mouths into the trough of  ewe nuts. But they are definitely part of the flock.





They have their work cut out. The rain we've had recently meant that everything in the field grew. Trees, yes, but also cow parsley, thistles, ragwort, foxgloves that seem to have blown over from neighbouring gardens, all of them up to 6 foot high. And that meant the sheep weren't going to get through them. They will eat plants that are at ground level, not their head height, let alone ours.


Oh, and also some of those weeds aren't good for them, anyway. Watch out for a future post on sheep diet. 


So we had to get the strimmer out again, this time with a sharp metallic cutter to get through a jungle of weeds. We've been careful to keep the sheep locked out of any part of the field we are working in, and they seem to know that something's up, waiting until they can get in again and see how much more space they have. 

Japanese Knotweed, how do I loathe thee ....

... let me count the ways.


1. It grows fast, anywhere and through anything, including, we're reliably informed, tarmac.
2. It takes over large areas with triffid-like alacrity.
3. It has no normal predators. Apparently it can be eaten, but it grows too fast for grazers to keep it down. The only thing which really keeps it under control is an insect from, as the name implies, Japan. This has been introduced in the South-West, and we really hope the people responsible know what they're doing!
4. It grows fast (we didn't mention the 20 cm a day), anywhere, etc etc.


When we came to the area, we'd not come across the plant before. We were soon told that we had it in the garden, and that we had to eradicate it. It's actually quite attractive, with a pinkish stem and a bamboo-like structure: as per this photo ...

But it grows so fast, that, once it's taken a hold, it takes over large areas. So the only way to eradicate it from the land the orchard should cover is to use industrial-strength weedkiller in successive doses. We've just had this years done, which makes that portion of land look like the proverbial blasted heath:

A Blasted Heath

This all raises the obvious question, if it's so important to get rid of the stuff, why didn't the previous owners do something about it? We were, after all, given the impression that we were under a legal obligation to get rid of a much smaller amount from our garden.


A possible answer came from a cheerful conversation that Richard had with someone from Stroud District Council about the whole thing. We paraphrase, but it went something like this:


Richard: "We've bought some land with J*p*n*s* Kn*tw**d on it and wanted to know what our legal obligations are."


Man from the Council: "Well, it's classified as a pest, so you do have to get rid of it. But you're not required to do anything if it's on private land."


Richard (after a pause - not being entirely quick on the uptake): "Half a mo. How much land in England is NOT privately owned?"


Man from the Council (with a giggle): "Ah! That's where the people who worked on the law didn't think things through!"


One of those moments where two people understand each other without the whole thing having to be spelled out.


So we're most of the way through a 3 year extermination project. The whole site looks messy now, but will eventually be a part of the land that's easier to cultivate, because it's not on a slope.

And the sheep are settling in

As promised, pictures of the sheep:

Heading towards some food

They arrived a week ago, and seem well settled-in. They've taken a liking to the bindweed that infests our fields, and most of the surrounding area, which will be helpful. Bindweed isn't the worst of the local plant-pests, that title goes to the evil J*p*n*s* Kn*tw**d, which is due its own post soon, but it does spread over a large area.

Sheep looking to camera

There are four Soays, two blond and two dark. Sarah therefore has the idea of naming them after the members of Abba, though we aren't sure which is which yet. The horns look menacing, but seem only to be used in early morning head-pushing contests to determine who is going to be top-ewe for the day. The horns also fooled a passing child into saying "Look Mummy! Goats!"


They are gradually getting used to both us and the place. They know now that if a human comes into the field, then ewe-nuts are likely to be produced. Ratting them in a bucket has much the same effect as shaking a box of Go-Cat has on the resident felines.


Talking of which, the cats seem to know that something is up, but we don't think they've encountered the sheep, yet. Unlike next doors. The sheep are quite capable of looking after themselves and make sure that any cat who ventures into the field knows they are about by stamping a front hoof on the ground. But just to show the cats they haven't been forgotten, here's one of them in a tree:

Adds nothing to the orchard, but keeps us all entertained.

Yan, tan, tethera, methera .....

Four Soay sheep have arrived. Pictures to be available when we can get close enough for a good shot. They were very nervous on the first day, and kept their distance. But after a day of getting used to their new surroundings they are coming closer for their Ewe Nuts (not what you think - really just Iams or Go-Cat for sheep).


More soon.

Imminent arrivals

Back on line after a few weeks with a lot of other things happening: mostly Richard doing his (not very) celebrated comedy drunk routine in the Bristol Opera production of The Vampire. 


Anyway, after complaining about the lack of rain, we promptly had a month-long deluge, with all the surrounding grass and weeds in the field becoming enormous. The trees themselves are mixed. The plums have lots of leaves, the apples rather few, and we aren't sure whether it's the natural life cycle of the different types of fruit or whether it's because the plums are all at the bottom of the hill, and therefore get more water running down. We'll see.


We're hoping the grass and weed growth will be solved after next week with the arrival of some sheep. We have four Soays, a kind of Ur-Sheep breed, with origins lost in the mists of time. They originate in the Western Isles, so a damp hillside in Gloucestershire should be easy enough for them. Of course, the trees need extra protection.


That's the thing about this project. Once you start, you need to do more things to keep everything under control .....

And we have rain

At last, a band of rain passed over Gloucestershire today - the first for a fortnight or so.


Relief. That cats aren't getting so dusty either.


And a few buds are appearing on the Apple trees to go with the leaves on the quince.

Shakespeare got it wrong .....

.... not only doth the rain not raineth every day, it doesn't do it at all at the moment! Not a drop in the last week.


If this goes on, I'll be out on the hill, ranting at the sky like Gerard Depardieu in Jean de Florette, except I'll be doing more overacting.

Spring is sprung .....

the grass is riz .., well nettles, actually. So, today we did a bit more strimming but also gave all the trees a drink. Because spring this year is as dry as a very dry thing that's had no water for weeks. 


And we have our first leaves. Nothing on the apple trees yet, but some buds on the plums and quite a few tiny leaves on the quince. The sun has been out, and there are lots of ladybirds on view, and the odd bumble bee. I even saw the first butterfly of the year today - a Small Tortoiseshell. This was identified courtesy of Patrick Barkham's excellent book The Butterfly Isles. I saw the insect and tried to remember the distinguishing features when we got back to the house for tea (three black bands on the wing, if you're interested). The book then gave me much more information to convince me that, yes, it is the right time of year for that species.


Other things - I finally found a place where we can buy tree-guards, after two fruitless journeys to farm/garden centres. I sometimes wonder. At moments like this, free enterprise seems to consist of people trying to sell you things you don't want, while not selling you things you do. And these tree-guards are important because of the rabbits, seen in the field last week. These are not dear little Flopsy, Mopsy and Cotton-Tail. They are rampant tree-nibblers! We can't be on watch all the time, so the guards go on and will remain until they have become large enough to be safe from the leporine menace.


So, everything's started growing. 

Mainframes

I went on an excellent pruning course last week, all sorts of wisdom of the "never prune your plum trees in winter" variety plus a clear guide about what to cut and when.
I nearly spluttered on my coffee when I heard the structure of a fruit tree being described as a "main frame". So, in time-honoured Private Eye fashion:

IBM Mainframe	Apple Tree Main Frame

That is all. No real pruning to be done on our trees for a year, but it's good to have the knowledge.

Frozen fruit?

Like everywhere else in the country, our orchard has had its first serious frost of the winter this week.

Actually, as per normal, it's been nothing like as cold here as other parts of the country. We're hoping that the nice, damp weather we had in January has been enough to get the trees properly established. They are also clad in plastic rabbit guards, which we've been assured don't just stop gnawing but also act as mini-greenhouses. They're also protected by the mulch that went on as a way of stopping competing foliage from growing.

New Plum tree in its circle 

of mulch

We'll be putting more guards on, just to be safe, before the spring. As far as we know, we only have rabbits around here as potential tree vandals: never seen deer, which are the other possibles. 

Now that the temperature's rising again, we'll get out take care of things.

Trees

We have trees. Thirteen of them. Six apples, four plum, two pear and a quince. All of them different varieties.

The apples are mostly Gloucestershire natives, like Ashmead's Kernel and Reid's Reienette. The plums include a Marjoris Seedling and an Old English Gage, and the Pears include a Conference, which are more widespread. Apples seem to be the main thing here. The Apple Source Book has more varieties listed for Gloucestershire than for almost anywhere else, and we hope the soil here works well for them. This week was fairly dry, but the ground still retained a lot of moisture. The ground is quite clay-ish and claggy.

The trees are now planted, with help from John from the Stroud Tree Planters. The plums are at the bottom of the hill, closest to a brook, though not very close because of the evil Japanese Knotweed which occupies the bank. We now need to get some rabbit-proofing and mulch around them to see them through the rest of the winter. Meanwhile, we're watching the Countryfile weather report like mini-farmers. No frosts next week, apparently.

First post - an orchard with no trees.

This is a blog about an orchard. Blindingly obvious, given the title and the URL, but we like to do what it says on the tin.

At the moment there isn’t an orchard, just a field. On a slope. But this is progress from what it was a few months ago, when it was a field full of brambles and nettles. We, Richard and Sarah Kamm, are trying to make this field into an orchard, on the basis of no previous knowledge or experience. It just seemed a good idea, when the land went up for sale, to do something with it that was closer to its previous existence as agricultural land, before the brambles got to it. And the Japanese Knotweed. That’s something for another post. We don’t want to wreck this first entry by spending time on that thug of a plant.

We got an initial clearance of half the site in the summer, and since then it’s been strimming, strimming and more strimming, just to keep the nettles down and allow a section to be cleared for the first trees to be planted. We’re told that the nettles are a good sign, since they mean the soil is nutrient-rich. “Oh goody!!” we think as we embark on yet another strim. But at least in winter everything dies back, so we can see the place the trees will go, looking down the hill:

Barely visible canes where trees will be

and looking up:

The trees will be small, since the slope will make it impossible to use ladders to reach the tops of full-size trees. The trees will be varied – a job lot of apples, pears, plums and quince should be arriving later this month, courtesy of Days Cottage. We’ll also be talking to the Gloucestershire Wildlife Trust about the general capacity of the whole site to be nature-friendly. We’re also going to have to book ourselves onto courses on pruning and general tree management from the same Days Cottage people.

In the mean time, the neighbours’ cats have decided it’s a good place to go.

Oi! That's where a tree's supposed to go!

What have we got ourselves into?......