Finally making a start on up-cycling the old campervan roof

The poor thing has been waiting patiently in the wood for some attention for almost a year now and so Tracey and I decided Bank Holiday was the weekend Bee's roof was getting a camouflage makeover....
  
It was also the weekend the bat box went up and Flee got back in the pond for some more clay puddling, Tracey refused wine in favour of bed (she was most definitely ill!) and Cassius produced yet more perfect pizzas.

The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben.

To give it it's full title... The Hidden Life of Trees: What They Feel, How They Communicate-Discoveries from a Secret World.
Wow - what a book, and what a difference it made to an incredibly long and usually boring journey on the M1 north for work (Audible rocks!). Hidden and secret life indeed - my fascination with trees just reached a whole new level thanks to this book.
Not only are things explained in laymans terms, but with analogies and examples as well - I'm not sure I would have got through it as quickly as I did without it being expertly read to me through the Audible book app, but it's certainly one I would recommend for anyone with any interest in the outside world - particularly those who work directly with trees or silviculture - will make you think twice before you reach for the chainsaw in future!

mid May and the sun is shining

Deer are also on the run - saw a family grazing on the wayleave shortly before they bolted East. How they get through the thick bramble up there I don't know.
The leaves are starting to unfurl and cast dappled shade on the woodland floor - the bluebells smell gorgeous and it all feels like it's about to burst. Roll on bank holiday weekend.

Manic tits and time out

After a hellish week at work, far too little sleep and a few hours breaking my back in the garden, I decided a relaxing session with the Nikon was called for, so about 4pm I headed off to the sanctuary of the wood armed with my new Manfrotto travel tripod... determined to get in some practice before Zambia.
I was slumped on the kitchen side in the Yardarm lazily watching Forrest dash back and forth stashing peanuts in the roof when Tracey arrived... it seems she cannot stay away either. The place just has such a beautiful feel about it at the moment - everything green and clean, fresh and floral; you can't help but relax and chill out.
A couple of beers by the fire and the light was still filtering through the trees so we decided it wasn't quite wine o'clock - time for food instead. I emptied a sachet of pasta mugshot into a bowl and looked at it thinking "that just isn't going to cut it" so I emptied in another.... turns out one is more than enough, but of course the greedy pig that I am woofed the lot down along with 2 slices of bread and sat stuffed and uncomfortable for the remainder of the evening. Tracey on the other hand slung an open can of hotdog sausages on the fire and couldn't wait for them to even heat up before shoving three in a bap and woofing hers down to. When we finally found room for chocolate we headed into the Yardarm only to discover Forrest was also on a Saturday night binge and had eaten almost an entire pack of chocolate-coated raisins. Fatty Forrest left not a single raisin in the bag.

sweet chesnut

Owls flew over calling loudly, and a bee got trapped inside the oven, his buzz echoing round the dome making it sound like a humming fridge.
I actually had a really good night's sleep - nice and warm, not too much noise (even the woodpecker gave us a lie in this week), and after a quick breakfast and 3 cups of tea, we ambled over to the stream, east of the junction and spent an hour clearing the last rhodie in a particularly tangled and bramble-choked patch on the bank.

crane-fly snack

It seems my clumsy days are not behind me this week either.... I went to give a rhodie stump a good whack with the heel of my boot to loosen it, only to discover it was already dead and so it put up absolutely no fight causing my foot to plough straight through the stump and collide with my other foot instead. A full force heel kick to the ankle bone you're standing on hurts about the same as a whack to the bridge of the nose that's so hard it makes your nose fizz. Took my breath away for a moment. However, we managed to get the worst of the patch cleared and headed back down to the Yardarm for a bit of photography practise.

What better subjects than the pair of Great tits nesting in the box by the campfire. They were back and forth every 20-30 seconds or so, feeding the noisy chicks inside and removing poo bags every 3rd or 4th visit.. nice. We know they hatched at least 17 days ago but it could be more and since they fledge somewhere between 18 and 21 days, we figure it could be any day now. That said, the sound of practise wing-flapping was only heard once inside the box when the parents were both out, so it may still be a few days away.

200 pictures of tits taken going in, coming out, going in, coming out.... and I only manage to keep three! They are so fast. It was good practise though and got us both used to the weight of our lenses and eventually we got into the rhythm of their visits and were able to recognise the patterns of their behaviour - so here's a pair of great tits doing an outstanding job of feeding their young - both of them at it from dawn to dusk.
Ps: we think there are Stock dove's nesting in the Tawny owl box!

Beltane Bank Holiday Weekend

The twins can bake cake for us anytime!

Happy birthday Aunty Tracey.
Curry, cake and copious amounts of wine kept the chill off as Friday night was a little on the hutchy side, even for me.  It was Caroline's first night sleeping at the wood, so of course a lock-in at the Yardarm was called for... I think it was 3am by the time we actually went to sleep... and 5am when the Woodpecker starting drilling again... Grrrr. what was wrong with last year's nest hole eh? I mean... talk about fussy.
Saturday saw most of us clearing rhodies or roots and Flee moved up yet another level on the dam - very exciting.

just before the next pipe went on

I made some minor repairs to Cassius with fire cement (cheating I know, but I'm done digging clay and puddling in paddling pools). Flee fired him up mid afternoon and we mounted the thermometer in the door to give us some kind of guide to how different sized logs, and the frequency of loading them, were affecting things. This of course prompted another re-sort and replenishment of the firewood pile and a second stab at clearing the eyesore that is the log pile outside "Trap Number 2".
The repairs held and after a climatic 350 degrees celsius, pizza night was once again a success, with a thin and crispy taking about 10 minutes and a deep pan maybe 15.
Come Sunday morning, Cassius was still reading 105 degrees, the clouds had rolled in and unfortunately there was a barely noticeable flow of water coming from somewhere other than the outfall pipe in the dam, so Flee got in the pond to do some smearing and with any luck has bunged it up sufficiently so as not to cause a problem, but only time will tell.

The perfectly level overflow pipe

The girls worked through the lack of sleep clearing some more of the stream on the eastern side, drinking tea and ferrying barrow loads of chopped rhodie to the fire. Having burnt everything we gave him, Simon then worked on mark II of the forest shower, complete with an easy-turn winch for weaklings like me to be able to hoist the bucket high enough above me. I went with two thirds cold water and one flask of boiling water which turned out to be plenty enough water as I only used half the bucket, but perhaps not quite enough warmth. Flee went next using the remaining half bucket and adding another flask of boiling. So I suspect next time I will opt for half a bucket of cold and 2 flasks. Either way it was just as magical as the first time... there is something quite liberating about standing butt naked in the middle of a woodland taking a (much needed) shower. There are a few mods still needed; a towel rail and safe area to get dressed would be handy - After a precarious attempt at getting my trousers on slipping around on the platform in my wellies, I grabbed my clothes and ran back to the fire in the end which seemed like the safest option.

Forest Bucket Shower

Sunday had already been another clumsy day for me when I managed to whack myself in the face with the hooked end of a bungee cord. Not pleasant, but could have been much worse. Note to self: when a bungee cord is trapped under a log, don't stand above it and pull upwards... eejit.   I was clearing the tarp hide that was my very first makeshift one three years ago. It was only intended to be temporary, but irritatingly had become a dumping ground for old furniture destined for the fire (but never remembered).

Not anymore... Beltane (May day) is the festival of fire and we certainly made sure it was big enough to burn everything stashed under that tarp. Which was a good job, because the weather had turned changeable and we were in and out of the yardarm all evening trying to avoid rain showers before we eventually stole some embers and placed the firepit in the Yardarm with us. It was so cosy, we stayed there till the very early hours.

Monday started like every other morning of the weekend.... the sodding woodpecker drilling away at stupid o'clock. How big a hole does he need? but on Monday morning, there was another treat in store... the woodpecker was immediately followed by a wood pigeon relentlessly calling right above my tent. I love spring, really I do, but does it have to start so bloody early in the morning?
Drained of sleep, but still keen and smiling, we put up three new nest boxes, and went to take down Megan's box outside Tracey's tent. Last year the woodpeckers had drilled out the entrance hole to get at the chicks and we want to put a metal plate on it to make it safe and secure again. The problem is that I had put the box up last year in a slightly unconventional way (using a combination of strategically placed nails instead of a single screw) so Flee had a struggle to get the thing off without proper tools... a bit of wiggling, tugging and shaking and instead of the box coming free of the tree, a bird suddenly flew out of it straight past Flee's face!!! Bit of a shock - we were convinced it was not being used. Guilt ridden and inwardly upset, I stood watching the box from a distance to see if the bird ventured back. After about ten minutes, a Blue Tit landed on the front of the box, and immediately flew off again. I do hope all will be well. 

The makeshift wine warmer

In other news..... the green man is finally hanging somewhere in the wood where he can watch over the comings and goings, and Flee gets his fourth new flask. Yes I know, I should never be allowed near flasks again... I dropped it on the floor in the Yardarm smashing the glass and turning it into yet another oversized percussion instrument. In my defence, it was dark, it was late (or early however you want to look at it) and it was a seriously clumsy (alcohol-fuelled) weekend. Sorry Flee. x