When we first came to the Anderton Centre on Lower Rivington Reservoir in January 2007 the site was dominated by rhododendron. It took us 4 years to bring and end to this sea of green, using bow saws, mattocks, winches and brute muscle power. Over several years we returned to do other work to help both improve the site for wildlife and as an outdoor education centre by planting trees and hedges, repairing walls, building footpaths and habitat management. This year we returned again for our Winter residential, or resi as we call it. Our work this season would involve repairing dry stone walls, clearing some scrub, and trimming hedges. This was also the last winter resi we do here, although we will still be doing the summer resis.
The first task of the weekend was to clear an area large enough for a shipping container to be installed. This involved removing a couple trees and some scrub, and also moving a pile of brash.
The wallers repaired several sections of wall along the front of the reservoir. Why the walls had collapsed is anyone’s guess: livestock rubbing against them, people climbing over them, tree and root growth, land movement, or a combination of factors.
Well that’s the work bit done, but the other reason people go on resi’s is the social angle. For those staying over-night there was plenty of time to fill, and most of that time was filled with beer, banter and being silly. After work on the Saturday we hurried through the cold and dark to The Bay Horse. Like Hobbits at the Prancing Pony we sampled the ales, but thankfully there were no hooded figures with pointy swords. After much merriment we rushed back for Lynn’s evening meal. Meaties and veggies both being catered for.
The morning came and kicked everybody out of bed into the kitchen for breakfast and second breakfast. Between breakfast and dinner, or lunch if you prefer, we finished off the walling and finished the day by trimming the hedges we planted in previous years.
Many thanks to Tom, and Caroline for organising, the Anderton Centre staff for having us back, and to everyone who attended the weekend. Special thanks to Lynn and Trish for catering, doing a great job as always.
Hedgerows are not a naturally occurring feature of the landscape, they are a consequence of human land management. The oldest hedgerows date back to the Bronze Age and were originally remnant woodlands left around land that had been cleared for farming or settlements. Over the centuries these leftovers became an established method of creating field boundaries and an important feature of our landscape, increasing in usage through Roman times and the Medieval era.
As farming became more mechanised, and post-war intensive farming practices were implemented to feed a growing population, hedges were destroyed to reclaim a few extra yards of farm land, in doing so they changed a landscape that had endured for generations. What wasn’t fully appreciated was the impact this had on wild life. Wild life had taken advantage of this human creation; nesting birds, pollinating insects, wild mammals all found a home or sanctuary in hedgerows. As hedgerows were systematically destroyed biodiversity and species populations fell. By the mid 1990s the loss of hedgerows had largely stopped, but by then many hundreds of thousands of miles of hedge had been lost.
Thankfully, the conservation value of hedges has been recognised and hedges are making a comeback.
If left alone hedges will start to fail within a few decades, individual shrubs become thick and woody and gaps appear in the hedge as they die, the hedge soon loses its form and function. Hedge laying is the best way to manage a hedgerow. Hedge laying prolongs the life of the hedge, improves its function as a field boundary and provides increased habitat for wild life. There are many styles of laid hedge, BCV use a Lancashire style which, while being a bit rustic in appearance, is very effective. The methods of laying a hedge are also varied. On today’s task two methodologies were used: using a bill hook and using a saw.
Generally the process for both is the same: decide which way direction the hedge is being laid, if the land slopes upward that’s the direction the stem or pleach should go. Next clean up the side branches of the stem you’re working on. If you are using a saw make a cut two thirds of the into the stem several inches above the ground on the opposite side of the stem to the direction you want to lay it; if you’re using a bill hook slice downwards to that point from a point a foot or so up the stem so that the cut tapers inward. Then the stem, or pleach, is bent over in the direction you want it to go. Repeat with each pleach until the hedgerow is complete. Hammering stakes as you go along gives the newly laid hedge support.
Today’s task was at Chew Moor and led by Francis and Nathan. Well done to both for doing a great job and to everyone who turned out.
BCV was last here in 2015 when we did a bit of a clean up and restored a pond as best we could. The pond, which is very prone to silting up, dates back to around 1990 but the clough itself is much older.
Captain’s Clough was named after a Captain James Dewhurst sometime in the late 1700s, the Dewhursts owned Halliwell Hall bewteen 1716 and 1806 but records of the clough’s existence goes back even further. Documents from the Emglish Civil War (1642–51) note that a Celtic cross once stood in the area, but was pushed over by one of the warring factions to make a footbridge , across the stream. The stream itself, Captain’s Clough Brook, flows from Doffcocker Lodge. The lodge itself only dates back to 1846 so the stream would likely have been part of Doffcocker Brook before that. Incidentally, the original Celtic name for the Doffcocker was dubh cocr meaning the dark winding stream.
Captains Clough was one of the first sites surveyed by the Bolton Wildlife Project, the 1989 branch of the then Lancashire Wildlife Trust. The survey found that the site was once home to a large number of elm trees but they were wiped out by Dutch elm disease. The Project began work to restore the site by planting native trees and flowers, and cleaning up all of the rubbish left by flytipping which is a continual problem in the area.
More recently the site have been looked after by the Heather Berry and the Ivy Road Community Project. It’s Heather’s team we were helping out this time by cutting back scrub and over hanging branches to try to make people’s visits to the site more pleasant.
As well as looking after the clough the Ivy Road team also run community gardening sessions for local residents. Many thanks to Heather and the team for asking us to be involved with their excellent project, we hope to team up again over the coming years.
Rhododendron removal 14th January – 3rd November 2024
There are an estimated 15,000 invasive species in the UK, 49 of those species are considered to be harmful to wildlife, and one of those species makes up one of out bread and butter tasks – Rhododendron ponticum. People ask ‘Why do you kill those plants, they’re nice, they have pretty flowers?’ Pretty flowers.. hmm… let’s see
The name Rhododendron translates as “Rose Tree”, ponticum refers to the plant’s home territory around the Black Sea (Latin name Ponticum Sinum). It is a member of the Ericaceae family, the same family as heather and bilberry, which explains why it likes acid soils.
Rhododendron was first introduced to Britain in 1763 from Gibraltar and was soon firmly installed in throughout the country in the ornamental gardens of stately homes. The fashion for this insidious threat continued up to the mid 1890s with R. ponticum becoming the favoured rootstock for grafting and cultivation. But a series of harsh Victoria winters wiped out many evergreen species, including some of the less hardy rhododendron. The remainders soon reverted back to their wild state, and as many country manors fell into disuse and management of stately grounds declined, the rhodys spread. Armed with an array of phytochemical weaponry and unimpeded by our native wildlife, Rhododendron ponticum soon began to dominate the countryside. BCV have seen the effects of this first hand at sites such as the Anderton Centre and Ravenden Clough, both sites were once the grounds of country estates, both sites were overrun with rhodys once left to their own devices.
2007 first Anderton resi.
What makes our enemy so deadly? To start with its roots, stems, leaves, flowers, pollen and nectar are loaded with grayanotoxins, a cocktail of phenols and diterpenes that have a range of toxic properties including anti-viral and anti-fungal properties. How R. ponticum employs these chemicals is still open to debate. One theory is that the grayanotoxins kill the mycorrhizal fungi the grows on the roots of any competing plants, preventing those plants absorbing essential nutrients such as phosphorus. Another theory is that the toxins kill soil fauna such as worms and microbes which consequently inhibits nutrient cycling and availability of nutrients to other species. The theories surrounding methods of dispersal for grayanotoxins are equally as diverse. Researchers argue that toxins enter the soil via roots; by leachate from decaying leaf litter; by runoff from the plants leaves and stems and also by air. There are other theories that claim the toxic soil effects of rhodys are overstated and the likely cause of their dominance is that they shade out other species and out-compete them for nutrients and pollinating insects.
The toxicity of rhodys is beyond question. In addition to their damaging effects on habitats no native insect can survive nibbling rhody leaves, sheep and horses can die from eating them, and even humans have been harmed. There are records, dating back to 400 BC, of honey made from rhododendron nectar adversely affecting people who eat it. Apparently it has both hallucinogenic and laxative effects on the sufferer, so it’s not something you want to spread on your toast in the morning. Surprisingly the bees are immune to rhody toxins.
What other survival strategies to rhodys use? Well, they can spread both vegetatively, such as rooting at points where branches touch the ground, and also by seed. It takes a rhody between 12 and 20 years to mature and produce flowers, each of those flowers can generate as many as 3000 seeds each, that means a good sized shrub can produce around 7,000,000 seeds per year. The seeds are distributed by wind and can travel up to 500 metres from the parent. Winter Hill near Belmont shows just how effective this method of propagation can be, with rhody seedlings scattered across the hillside many hundreds of metres from the nearest mature individuals.
And the bad news doesn’t stop there. Rhododendron also spread a deadly fungus, Phytothora ramorum or Sudden Oak Death. First identified in California the fungus appeared in the UK in 2003 and is arguably now the greatest threat to our woodlands and heathlands. Rhododendron is responsible for the extinction of 150 native British species in the last 100 years. As more habitat is destroyed by the encroachment of rhododendron the more species suffer- trees, mosses, ferns, insects, amphibians, mammals, birds, nothing is unaffected. Pretty flowers? No.
This task we joined up with the British Mountaineering Council on Winter Hill to do battle with our arch-enemy. We were last up here around 8 or 10 years ago but BMC have been keeping up the fight on their own for the last few yeas. It’s a big job as rhodys have spread extensively across the hillside, and unfortunately the fires that ravaged Winter Hill in 2018 missed this area otherwise our work would have been done.
As the Halloween task was a bit of a wash out and no photos were taken here’s something completely made up with a vague message about the repetitive nature of conservation work.
Before Moses Gate Country Park was a place of ponds and trees it was an industrial centre with dark satanic paper mills and choking dye and bleach factories. Before that it was part of a marsh land. In this marsh there was a gate, a doorway to a place of fire and fright; and like every door it had a key.
It was a chill autumn morning in the BCV wildlife garden, sunlight filtered through the golden leaves casting dappled shadows on the ground, the shadows gently shifting as the leaves moved in the a light breeze. But no birds sang, and the wildlife pond was still.
“Right,” said Tom to the assembled members of BCV, “Here we are at our wildlife garden, or own garden of Eden, hopefully. But it needs a bit of TLC. We’ll be doing a bit of hedge laying, cutting back the willow, tidying up the paths and pulling up weeds, cleaning up the pond. And whatever else we can find.” “Same as usual then?” quipped Francis. “Yes, same as usual, Francis.” From nearby there came a soft tinkling sound, like someone dropping a set of keys. “Tom?” said James, “Yes, James.” “Are those your keys?” Tom looked down, a strange key lay at his feet, the key was connected to a large iron ring from which also hung a large black crystal with words scratched into it. “Doesn’t look like mine, my keyring says ZZ Top on it not ‘Property of The Spawn of Hell’, good name for a band though.” Tom reached down, as soon as his hand closed around the key all hell broke loose.. literally.
A whirlpool made from flame and shadow opened at his feet and a ball of energy spread out from the key, turning everyone it touched into ash. The ash was then sucked down into the whirlpool which slammed closed leaving those lucky enough to be outside of it’s effects looking a bit surprised. “Well, that was different,” said Eve.
The world the BCV crew arrive in was very different from one they had left. The sky was a slowly rotating mass of smoke and flame, lights flashed high above and the sound thunder and the dragging of heavy chains could be heard as if from a distance. On the horizon a giant red sun pulsed and flickered as it was about to collapse in on itself.
Everyone’s names had changed they had undergone some form of transformation: bill hooks, saws and loppers for hands, the whirring blades of a wood chipper for teeth, others had eyes replaced by camera lenses. Tom had a chainsaw for a left arm and in his right he held a whip made from braided strimmer cord. Horns protruded from his skull and his skin was a landscape of glowing red cracks and patches of grey ash.
“What’s on going Tom?” asked Chipper Jim, spitting out bits of wood. “Tom? I’m no longer Tom, or Tom B, I AM TOMB AND THIS IS MY SAVAGE GARDEN. AND FROM NOW ON I WILLSPEAK O NLY IN CAPITALS!” he belched out a sheet of flame. “That’s impressive, Tom,” Said Craggy Craig, “Can you light my sparklers? I’ve brought some with me.” “MY NAME IS TOMB. AND NO I WILL NOT LIGHT YOUR SPARKLERS.” Tomb grabbed Craggy Craig’s sparklers and hid them were Craggy Craig couldn’t get them, “YOU CAN HAVE THEM BACK AT THE END OF ETERNIY.”
“NOW EVERYONE GET TO WORK, THE SPIKE THORN HEDGE NEEDS LAYING, THE WERE-WILLOW NEEDS COPICING, I WANT A LIVING DEAD HEDGE HERE, I WANT THE PATHS OF HELLISH GLORY CLEARED, AND I WANT IT ALL PHOTOGRAPHED AND RECORDED. NEO NATHAN WILL ENCOURAGE ANY SLACKERS WITH HIS PITCH BLACK FORK. HA HA HA. OH, AND STAY AWAY FROM THE SOUL POND.”
Under the prodding of Neo Nathan’s pitch black fork the work began.. and never ended. Every time a spike thorn hedge was laid it spring back to it’s original position; every were-willow that was felled would immediately grow back; every time the living dead hedge was completed it would crumble into dust; every path that was swept clear was re-buried under dust and ash. Every photo was blurred and faded within seconds.
And so it went on decade after decade until in the fiftieth year of their torment something new happened. The sky above began to spin faster, opening into a funnel. Black shards of lightning flashed across the sky and then a stream of white light plummeted down in the pond. The funnel closed.
Intrigued, Photo Face crept over to the pond, avoiding detection by TOMB and Neo Nathan. Beneath the surface lights swam in the shape of different creatures – birds, fish, insects, mammals. One of them rose to surface, a great crested newt. It looked at Photo Face and said: “We can help you escape if you help us.” “You can talk!!?” whispered Photo Face. “You’re working for all eternity in a hell dimension, you’ve got camera lenses for eyes, and your surprised by a talking newt?” “Ok, fair point. Want do you want?” “We’re the souls of all of the creatures made extinct by the forces of evil, this dimension feeds on them. You have all temporarily replaced the real inhabitants of this realm which gives us an opportunity to change things. The key hanging on at TOMB’s belt, throw it to us the next time the portal opens and we’ll do the rest.” “But GCN aren’t extinct.” “Look, just go with me on this. Get the key and we can all get back to our day jobs.”
More decades of torment followed. Photo Face hatched a plan and told the others what they needed to do when the time was right. And on one dismal day the portal began to open, the plan was put in motion. As one, everyone stopped working and began to chant. “Jaffa Cakes, Jaffa Cakes, Jaffa Cakes,” “WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” “We’ve been working for an eternity, we want a rest… and something to eat. Jaffa Cakes and tea would be nice.” Said Franky Bill Hook Hands “And I want my sparklers back,” added Craggy Craig. As the argument continued, Photo Face carefully unhooked the crystal key from TOMB’s belt and threw towards the pond. “INGRATES,” shouted TOMB, “NEO NATHAN, GIVE THEM SOME ENCOURAGEMENT… WAIT, WERE’S MY KEY… NOOOOOO!!!”
Thousands of paws, claws, wings, and pseudopodia reached out as the key hit the Soul Pond’s surface. There was a burst of energy and everyone was turned to ash, the portal reversed direction, ash and souls were pulled upwards like bats out of hell, and…..
It was a chill autumn morning in the BCV wildlife garden, sunlight filtered through the golden leaves casting dappled shadows on the ground, the shadows gently shifting as the leaves moved in the a light breeze. The sound of birds could be heard in the trees, and ripples made by aquatic life flicked across the pond’s surface.
“Right,” said Tom to the assembled members of BCV, “Here we are at our wildlife garden, or own garden of Eden. But it needs a bit of TLC. We’ll be doing a bit of hedge laying, cutting back the willow, tidying up the paths and pulling up weeds, cleaning up the pond. And whatever else we can find.” “Same as usual then?” quipped Francis. “Yes, same as usual, Francis.” From nearby there came a soft tinkling sound, like someone dropping a set of keys. “Tom?” said James, “Yes, James.” “Are those your keys?” Tom looked down, a strange key lay at his feet, the key was connected to a large iron ring from which also hung a large black crystal with words scratched into it. “Doesn’t look like mine, my keyring says ZZ Top on it not ‘Property of The Spawn of Hell’, they look familiar though.” Tom reached down, but a grubby hand beat him to it, “These are mine. And I’ll thank you to stay out of my realm!” said the owner of a scruffy beard. “You come to my world in your fancy T-shirts, touching my stuff; conservation my backside.” Scruffy shook the crystal, a portal opened beneath and he vanished into it. “The supernatural’s on form today,” said Jane. There was a long pause. “Anyway, back to work, remember we’re doing this for wildlife.” said Tom, “Jaffa Cakes at dinner time.” “Anyone seen my sparklers?” asked Craig. No body had.