Tree planting extravaganza

I am feeling proud. Last week we planted around 600 trees on the farm. They are not fruit trees, but they are a part of the orchard.

Inspired by some bold planting last winter at our neighbours, Hammonds Farm, and saddened by the very ragged state of the hedge at the southern end of the orchard field, I started hatching a plan with Nat from the dairy to create a big shelterbelt to protect both the cows and the orchard. It seemed like it could be a brilliant use for a slightly odd shaped slice of the field. A slice which gets boggy at the bottom, which is encroached by brambles in parts, and which is very exposed to the prevailing wind that comes whistling straight up the valley from the Severn.

But for a while the shelterbelt idea just sat there as a hazy, and possibly over ambitious, dream.

Then back in early summer, the Tree Council, a small national charity, asked if we’d like to host one of their corporate volunteer days as part of National Tree Week. They would bring around 30 corporate volunteers to the farm for a day, organise the food, do the risk assessments, and pay for any tools and materials needed. All we needed to do was give them some jobs to do. Preferably involving planting lots and lots of trees.

Of course it wasn’t quite that simple, because life never is. But, after measuring, planning, consulting, emailing, sketching, coordinating, sourcing, and zooming (whilst plying my kids with library books and chocolate biscuits), over the past few months, the grand day finally dawned.

Ranks of wheelbarrows were lined up in the winter sunshine, homemade muffins and coffee were laid out in welcome, and a portaloo was installed at the end of the track. The guys from the Tree Council had done an amazing job preparing, planning and organising. And from there the day rolled on really smoothly! We had around 25 volunteers from several different companies coming from as far away as London, plus staff from the Tree Council, a strong showing from the Oakbrook enterprises, and even a group from The Grove home education project.

Between us we planted, guarded and mulched about 600 trees, including fruiting hedgerow species such as blackthorn, hawthorn and elder, faster growing species like alder, willow and poplar to give some quick height, plus lots more – hazel, rowan, birch, holly, lime, spindle… Some of them were grown by More Trees BANES, a community tree nursery who collect all their seed locally in the Bath area, and others were from larger commercial suppliers.

At the top of the field we were essentially thickening up the existing but neglected hedge. Further down the hill the planting area widens out, and here we were creating a mini woodland. The vision is that once the trees are established, it could be possible to bring the cows into the woodland for short periods, using it as a ‘green barn’ to give them shelter from sun, rain or wind, and to supplement their diet with nutritious tree leaves. In fact the trees have so many potentially benefits it’s hard to list them all.

Of course we very much hope that as they grow the trees will support wildlife on the farm, by providing food, habitat, and connectivity between other woods and hedges. They will support soil health and reduce runoff. They will store carbon. Over time they could be selectively thinned or coppiced to provide woodchip or even firewood. And, last but not least, these trees will provide shelter to the orchard trees, slowing wind speeds across this otherwise very exposed field.

Many thanks to everyone who supported this event and made the planting possible – The Tree Council, Stroud Micro Dairy, Oakbrook Farm, Zero Dig, The Grove, and The Family Meal.

One day these trees will be taller than me…

Pickaxe planting

Yesterday I was planting daffodils with the help of a pickaxe. This wasn’t the original plan.

Three years ago, with the help of many volunteers, we planted our first daffodils as an understorey to the first apple trees. Despite never being weeded or mulched, and despite being accidentally ploughed up by a contractor one year, they have thrived – far better than any of the other understorey plantings we tried. They faithfully appear through the grass each spring with their glorious yellow flags bright in the grey of end-of-winter. It almost seems a shame to pick them.

Last year, for the first time, I ran a daffodil subscription. Rather than picking flowers, carting them in to the town, and then hoping for the best, as I had done previously, I harvested twice a week for a group of loyal customers who had already paid for a five-week share of flowers and who came to the farm to collect them on their allotted day. The system worked so well, and the customers were so appreciative, I was encouraged to plant more flowers.

The plan had been to borrow a walk behind rotovator to cultivate a single strip in the grass, to make bulb planting really quick and easy. But the rotovator I’d expected to borrow turned out to be living on the other side of Stroud, and I didn’t want to use a tractor to cultivate a much wider strip than I actually needed. There were various options and complications and logistical challenges, so that in the end I thought that, whilst planting by hand with a trowel might be a bit tedious, it was probably the best solution.

So yesterday I got down on my hands and knees in the unseasonally warm sunshine and started planting. After one and half bulbs I realised a trowel was just not up to the job on our stony soil. I wasn’t getting anywhere and had not only 200 more bulbs to get through that day, but a large box of another 400 bulbs still waiting at home in my less-than-spacious sitting room.

Luckily Shem from Oakbrook’s ZeroDig project walked past at just the right moment. By then I’d collected a wrecking bar and was experimenting with making individual holes for the bulbs, but that wasn’t working so well either. I speculated out loud that a mattock or pickaxe might do the job, and a few minutes later I was collecting one from the ZeroDig tool store. Hurrah!

It was still somewhat hard going, but, relatively speaking, I was now flying along. I cut a line with the pickaxe, then came back and popped bulbs in to the loose ground, moving stones aside and getting the trowel in there as needed. Hard brown bulbs made their way in to the earth at last, and I allowed myself a moment of satisfaction.

Standing there with sweat trickling down my back and pickaxe in hand, it was hard to believe that in a few months time I’d be back, wrapped up in thermals, harvesting beautiful flowers.

Emergency measures

It was a bit like finding myself on the scene of a whodunnit crime. There I was, innocently checking the nursery beds, expecting to stroll through, happily admiring the work we’d done the week before. But the more I looked, the more certain I became that someone had been eating our precious baby trees.

At first it was just an odd leaf here and there. Nothing much to worry about. They might even have been damaged by the kids or perhaps there were a couple of caterpillars about. But this one fat green caterpillar couldn’t have removed the whole top of this tree, leaving a chewed up woody stalk, surely? And even if it could eat one tree, it couldn’t have done that one, and that one as well…

A couple of weeks ago our nursery bed was looking somewhat neglected. The thistles and docks and dandelions that we thought we had so carefully dug out were making a serious takeover bid, in league with the speedwell, grasses, and chickweed.

We called in the services of the Friday Farm Day crew, a group of home educating families who visit the farm to play and volunteer on Friday mornings. Everyone pitched in with forks, trowels, and gloves. The gloves proved no match for the thistles, but the children didn’t let that stop them. By the end of the day the freshly weeded and newly mulched beds were looking pretty smart. We even sowed some flower seeds to provide some beautiful ground cover.

Safe inside the fabulous new fence, designed to be deer proof, badger proof and rabbit proof, there couldn’t be much else to worry about for a few weeks. Except maybe a drought.

So who was eating our trees?!

There were no footprints in evidence. No hair or fur or poo. Some of the trees had been bitten off well above knee height; higher I think, than a rabbit would go. But apparently just the right height for a muntjac deer. Jason the hunter tells us there are a lot of this non-native mini deer species on and around the farm, though I’ve never seen them. Christian tells us they could easily hop through the temporary fourth side of the otherwise fabulous fence. This temporary section is the weak point in the fortress; it’s currently just a few strands of electric fencing, not yet electrified.

It’s going to take a few days to get the fence electric. So today I spent the afternoon bodging another temporary fence around the tree nursery. Many thanks to Christian of the Bee Observatory for lending us second hand fence posts, chicken wire and stock fencing. And for providing post banger, staples and hammer.

At the end of the day I stood back, sweaty, grubby and knackered, to admire my work. It looks a bit rough, but it might just be enough to make those deer think twice.

But as I headed back to the gate, running late to meet my kids, I glanced over my shoulder and saw a couple of crows flying off from the nursery bed. Could they be the culprits?! All that work and all that fencing will be in vain if the trees are actually under aerial attack.

I ran all the way home in record time. We’ll have to wait to find out whether the fence was worth it.