20th April 2025 – Grimeford Village, Dry Stone Walling
This years hard boiled Easter task was actually on the day itself – Easter Sunday. Because it’s a popular day for family stuff etc our numbers were a bit down on usual task numbers, but we did get half a dozen or so egg-ceptional wallers turning up to continue the wall along side Lower Rivington Reservoir.
For those who don’t know much about walling it’s a bit like a 3D jigsaw, or Tetris, and involves putting one stone on top of another to build a stable non-wobbly wall. First we took down anything unstable and made lines (or piles) of stones of similar size, then we started building. The wall has two tapering outer skins, with big stones generally at the bottom, smaller ones as you build up. Every so often adding a through stone which acts as a wall tie, any gaps are filled with smaller bits which is called hearting. The top of the wall is finished with coping stone.
With it being Easter we had the traditional BCV Egg Hunt, 14 mini eggs were hidden by Craig, and just after lunch time we we all set out to find them.
Thanks to Caroline and Tom for organising, Jane for shelling out for the eggs, and everyone you made it a cracking task.
Our first task of April and we’re back at Moses Gate Country Park planting trees. We’ve planted nearby areas on Halloween 2022 and Easter 2023 and today’s session extends the planted area and also replaces some of the previously planted trees that have failed.
There’s no mystery to planting trees: you dig a hole, put the tree in it, put in a small stake for support and a tree shelter to stop deer and shrews nibbling it to death. Trees are planted a few feet apart and then grow as nature intended. There’s a bit more about tree planting on a previous post which you can read on this link.
Thanks to Tom and Caroline for organising (thank you for your leadership, as they say) and every one else who turned up.
This task was carried out with the Wildlife Trust for Lancashire, Greater Manchester and Merseyside, as it’s a bit of a long name we’ll just call them Wildlife Trust for short. We’ve work with the Trust previously on willow tit conservation, that time it was Darcy Lever Gravel Pits using techniques devised by the Trust’s Dr Mark Champion. We also used the same methods at Moses Gate Country Park. This time we’re at Doffcocker Lodge Country Park.
Willow tits have been present at Doffcocker, to some degree, for a number of years but not in any significant numbers. Willow tit’s, including sub-species, have an extensive range covering Europe and other sub-arctic areas with estimated numbers of 175-253 million. However, since the 1970s the population sizes of these birds in the UK has fallen by around 83% and were Red-listed in in 2022. Habitat deterioration is thought to be the main cause of these changes; competition from other similar species and predation could also be a factor.
A couple of months ago we began prepping at area of the lodge in anticipation of the project getting underway, but unfortunately other circumstances meant the main part of the work had to be delayed.
So, what does willow tit conservation involve? Willow tit’s like to create nest holes in rotten trees in wet willow carr and fen like habitats. But there aren’t enough rotten trees around for them. To give them a hand we took some old, dead branches and attached them to living trees, partly burying the ends of the branches in the ground. Over time the attached branches will rot and soften and the willow tits will be able to excavate nest holes in them. The photo at the top of the page shows a willow tit and the nest it created at Doffcocker a few years ago.
We also did some dead hedgeing, and some tree planting on this task.
Thanks to Emma and Phil of the Wildlife Trust and to everyone who took part.
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.
