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.
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.
A few years ago Tom planted some apple trees for the Canal Society. Our first task there was on Easter Sunday in 2022, in an area not far from the place where James Mason ran down the cobbles in Spring and Port Wine. Although I’m sure our own James would have preferred cider with Rosie, it was all a taste of honey and we looked forward to returning at a later date.
In the 2 years of Saturday nights and Sunday mornings the site had become over grown with willow herb, balsam, bramble, and the odd sprig of bracken, and so need a good clearing out. So, armed with loppers, bow saws and no fear what so ever we started the task.
Cutting through the brambles would have been easier with something a bit bigger than loppers, but within a couple of hours we had started to clear the site. As well as the vegetation we also removed hawthorn and pushed the tree line back a few metres to reduce shading and competition. Everything that was cut down was used to create a linear habitat pile, or dead hedge.
Apple trees provide habitat for invertebrates, pollen and nectar for pollinators, and fruit that can be eaten by a variety species from birds to foxes; as far as wildlife goes apple trees are the room at the top.
Between Rick Parker’s passing and his funeral we had three tasks. Although we no longer have Rick leading the group our work continues; nature doesn’t stop and neither do we.
2nd June – Moses Gate Country Park After a 30 second silence in memory of Rick (chosen because 30 seconds is the longest he could go without talking), we got to work clearing Himalayan balsam from the woods around Rock Hall. I won’t go into details about balsam bashing but if you want to know more about it follow this link to the beginners guide.
16th June – Grimeford Village Our second task of the month was just down the road from the Anderton Centre and involved dry stone walling for United Utilities. The wall wasn’t just in disrepair it was a pile of rubble. We re-built a good stretch of it but still plenty left. Walls have both landscape value and wildlife value; they are a part of the character of the countryside plus they provide corridors and refuges for invertebrates, amphibians, small mammals, and even small birds.
30th June – Dunscar Woods The Woodland Trusts millennium woodland has a balsam problem. Last year we cleared vast areas of woodland of this invasive non-native plant but this year it’s back again. It will take a few more years before we exhaust the seed bank and start to see the benefits of our work.
Conservation is not a ‘quick fix and move on’ operation, it’s a long term campaign to improve and maintain habitats, something Rick knew very well and always had in mind when planning tasks. It’s not about this year or next year, or even the next decade, environmental protection needs to seen in terms of centuries until what has been lost has been restored. BCV is proud to be a part of that legacy, we may not get to see the end results of our work but we work towards that end just the same.
Thanks to Tom and Caroline for organising, to everyone who turned out on the tasks above, to all BCV members past, present and future, and to conservationists everywhere working to make a better world.
Moses Gate: Missing man formation
Moses Gate: Standing there long?
Moses Gate: Anyone seen my keys?
Moses Gate: It’s put me right off salad.
Grimeford: Rock legends
Grimeford: Tom’s just stringing us along.
Grimeford: Award for best wall goes to…
Grimeford: There’s an obvious caption but I’m not going to use it.
On 27th May 2024 Bolton, and the nation as a whole, lost one of it’s legendary sons.
Born on 9th September 1950 Richard ‘Rick’ Parker became interested in conservation after watching a pond being destroyed by a bulldozer when he was a child. After studying at University he went on to work for the Bolton Hospital’s pathology lab to make a living, but his real passion was wildlife and in the 1980’s he joined the fledgling Bolton Conservation Volunteers, becoming the group’s co-ordinator/chairman in 1985/1986, a role he held until his passing. For anyone to lead a volunteer group for 38 years is an outstanding achievement, but to do it with the same commitment and passion throughout that time is extraordinary, and is what made Rick such a legendary figure.
Rick took BCV to new heights of success creating hundreds of ponds, establishing reed beds, and planting tens of thousands of trees throughout his leadership. Along the way both Rick and BCV won multiple awards, Bolton Councils Golden Elephant Award, Certificate of Merit from Britain in Bloom, Bolton News Green Hero Award (twice), The Cabinet Office’s Points of Light Award, to name a few. Rick was an acknowledge expert on amphibians and dragonflies and not only has gave lectures to the great and learned he also appeared on the radio, wand wrote chapters for books. Rick was a great communicator and could talk conservation all day to people of all ages and backgrounds, inspiring new generations of conservationists who themselves have gone on to their own successful careers.
After retiring from the hospital’s path lab he started a new career as a freelance hedge layer and in 2008 was the first National Hedge Laying Society Accredited hedge layer in Greater Manchester. But the work he was most proud of and enjoyed the most was teaching Bolton’s school kids about nature and wildlife. Even while in hospital he said he was looking forward to getting back to teaching the year 4 kids.
Over the last few months Rick hadn’t been in the best of health and on 24th May was admitted to hospital for tests. Throughout the 25th several of our volunteers spoke to him and he appeared to be in good health and good spirits, asking about the swans on Doffcocker Lodge, cygnets at Eatock lodge and upcoming tasks. That evening he went to sleep and during the night suffered a catastrophic stroke, he remained unconscious until he passed away peacefully on Monday 27th May.
To say Rick will be missed is an understatement, our world will never be the same. Rick was the bedrock of Bolton Conservation Volunteers, he was the cornerstone of Bolton’s conservation community. Rick was a force of nature, and a force for nature. We’ll miss his old jokes, his tall stories, and his ‘Rickisms’, most of all we’ll miss his energy and enthusiasm. Although he’s gone BCV will continue his legacy, and his immortal spirit will remain at the heart of BCVs goals and aspirations.
Rick was laid to rest at West Pennine Remembrance Park on a fine and sunny 8th July 2024, the service was attended by nearly 100 people many wearing BCV T-shirts. The attendees included Rick’s family, friends, BCV members from the early years to the present, members of The Wildlife Trust, Rick’s friends from the allotments, and many others all came to pay tribute. The were 7 tributes read out by Rick’s family and friends, including the poem below written by Carol’s son, read by Carol
Perspective Of An Element I am a tree, as an acorn I fell onto the floor of an unknown forest, I sprouted. I grew and grew, over the ages, over time immemorial. I am now a mighty oak, A testament to my resilience and longevity. Birds nest in my branches, squirrels live in my trunk. I am a giver of life, part of the cycle, and there I will remain for evermore.
Richard J. Astley
After the service we all retired to the Strawbury Duck to tell tales of Rick’s life and remember everything he was and everything he gave us . Rest in peace, Rick, and thank you for everything. Thank you to everyone who attended to celebrate Rick’s life, and his passion for wildlife.
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