No Rain May (and April)
A dry Wilderness Stream but at least the ponds it supplies are still in water
It’s mid-May and we have been without rain for over a month. It's easy to lose track of when the most recent rainfall event was, but could it actually be 2 months?
The Wilderness Stream has already given up the ghost, at least in its upper reaches (compare this to last year). Sadly, the black poplar sapling I planted in the boggy soil of Middle Paddock has failed to emulate its lucky siblings planted in the lower wood during February. Alas no leaves on that one. In the meantime Bat Park has taken on the look of a dust bowl, a sight normally reserved for August.
What is going on?
Last year the 200-300 year old “Big Beech” gasped it's last breath in early summer and despite our vain attempts at emergency first aid it has failed to respond. You don't need to look far to identify the canaries in the coal mine and it is evident that significant things are going on. Climate deniers sit in their air conditioned offices, an ironic sort of alter ego of Noah's jeering neighbours, shaking their heads whilst those who live in the woods of the High Weald are trying hard not to do impersonations of Corporal Jones.
“Don't panic, don't panic Captain Mainwaring!”.
The Thankfully we at Wilderness Wood are hatching cunning plans to mitigate against this absence of rainfall.
The creation of ponds to retain water in the woods means that frogs and co do have a few places to raise their young (although in truth, amphibians are really absent parents, having discharged their paternal and maternal duties the best part of 3 months ago).
Our creation of wet woodland over the last few years, assisted by over 100 leaky dams also means increased retention of water in the woods. We've even planted a few black poplars down here, where unlike their sibling in Middle Paddock they are sending forth the hoped-for fresh green leaves.
Black Poplar sapling pushing forth new leaves in the Wet Woodland
I'm currently considering irrigating the hedgerow saplings planted at Bat Park 5 years ago. We rediscovered many of them two years ago, stunted life forms swamped by suffocating bracken. However, I now wonder if they weren't better off left engulfed by them, where the fronds of that invasive fern at least provided shade. This year I’ve been ‘wackin’ the bracken’ to control it. As a conservationist it is difficult to determine who your natural friends are at times, especially when one-time enemies suddenly appear to be potential allies.
All we can do is assist nature in the best way possible and keep our fingers crossed for a bit of unexpected late May rainfall.
However, I'm sure I can hear the words ringing in my ears as I write them.
“Stupid Boy, Pike!”