A Natural History of the Hedgerow: and ditches, dykes and dry stone walls
John Wright
Language: English
Pages: 284
ISBN: 1846685524
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
It is difficult to think of a more quintessential symbol of the British countryside than the British Hedgerow, bursting with blackberries, hazelnuts and sloes, and home to oak and ash, field mice and butterflies. But as much as we might dream about foraging for mushrooms or collecting wayside nettles for soup, most of us are unaware of quite how profoundly hedgerows have shaped the history of our landscape and our species.
One of Britain's best known naturalists, John Wright introduces us to the natural and cultural history of hedges (as well as ditches, dykes and dry stone walls) - from the arrival of the first settlers in the British Isles to the modern day, when we have finally begun to recognise the importance of these unique ecosystems. His intimate knowledge of the countryside and its inhabitants brings this guide to life, whether discussing the skills and craft of hedge maintenance or the rich variety of animals who call them home.
Informative, practical, entertaining and richly illustrated in colour throughout, A Natural History of the Hedgerow is a book to stuff into your pocket for country walks in every season, or to savour in winter before a roaring fire.
amphibians barely get a mention except to acknowledge that they too can find a home in a hedge or wall. Quite how unique hedges are to Britain is not sufficiently appreciated. For example, the ‘tunnels’ sometimes formed by roadside hedges, notably in the south, are almost unknown in other parts of the world. I am fortunate in that where I live I can see half a dozen hedges just by glancing out of my office window at the hill above my village. Most people in Britain live in towns and may not see
Many Boletus, Lactarius and Russula species (and lots more of other mycorrhizal genera) are found with beech, though they are most likely to be encountered on the verge beneath a standard tree. A few of the fungal species that are not mushrooms, and which are commonly seen without too much searching, are worth mentioning. The most obvious and spectacular of these fungi tend to grow more on well-established standard trees. The largest fungus of beech, and the largest fungal fruiting body in
valley told me that he would never plank an oak which grew at a village crossroads as it would invariably ‘bugger the blade’. Having likely been used for a century or more as a place to post notices it would be full of nails. The natural history of the oak deserves a book to itself, and indeed it has one in The Natural History of the Oak Tree (1993) by Richard Lewington and David Streeter. The book illustrates some four hundred species which live in, on and around the oak, but there are many
years. But what of lowland Britain, where hedges dominate and one might imagine field boundaries to be more ephemeral? Thirty-five years ago, when I first moved to my part of Dorset, I lived in an isolated, modern farmhouse of poor construction and hideous aspect. It was cold and damp. However, what the house lacked in comfort was made up a thousandfold by the view of the surrounding countryside. I could see thirty miles over the hills without a single dwelling to disturb my gaze, and the house
District, Northumbria, Cumbria, the lowlands of Scotland and many other places. Treeless coastal areas, such as those that may have existed in prehistoric Cornwall, required nothing more than the removal of stones from the rocky, grassy hills to provide an area for cultivation. If you remove stones, then you have to put them somewhere. The two obvious solutions are to heap them up into a pile (a clearance cairn), or to place them, more carefully, around the edge to form a wall. It has been