Sparrowhawks ma’am

I’d been wondering why the garden had suddenly gone very quiet. The answer is a juvenile sparrowhawk which swooped onto the fence last week.

I made a grab for the camera but it was struggling to focus through the glass and I missed the shot. It was driven off by a few jackdaws which kept dive-bombing it. But it remains the best view I’ve had – incredibly large, bright yellow feet.

(The headline refers to the comment attributed to the Duke of Wellington who was asked by Queen Victoria how to get rid of the birds who were polluting the great glass palace of the Great Exhibition.)

I noted the comments made by Matt and Ian on the green and pleasant land which “used to be England”. I’ve got mixed views on this. Whilst it’s true that the highways and byways have become the gates of hell, I have come to realise that you can still find rural tranquility. Morten and myself were amazed at how “isolated” stretches of the Ridgeway felt even though we were never more than about 10k from big settlements or major roads.

During the tail end of the summer and autumn I wandered by myself down some of the “green roads” which used to be drovers’ routes – once managing to get hopelessly lost even though I could still see Didcot power station on the horizon. It was remote enough for me to feel spooked, especially in the woods.

And farmers are leaving wider field margins (presumably because they are paid). I’ve seen more birds of prey than ever before this year, and clocked up a few firsts like redtsart, corn bunting and nightingale.

As Ian quite rightly says, part of it is perception. It’s just difficult to gauge how much of it is threatened anew and how much has been improved. I think I notice changes in Hereford much more because it used to be a secluded place off the beaten track and now I don’t think you could give it that label.

Once common birds like song thrushes and greenfinches seem scarcer now. On the other hand, I never used to see red kites and sparrohawks in my garden…

Aelfred mec heht gewyrcan

Got in my time machine and visited deepest Kent at the weekend – circa 900AD.

I went to interview members of a Saxon re-enactors’ society as part of my book research… but inevitably ended up shifting a shed-load of planks. They are really fun people – a sort of cross between Dad’s Army and New Age Travellers. Warmington-on-Sea meets Glastonbury.

I knew these guys were building a replica long hall but I wasn’t quite prepared for the scale of the undertaking. It was about the size of a modern barn – probably 20-feet high – using whacking great oak posts and cross members.

It was really very impressive and certainly a step up from the Iron Age roundhouse I lived in back in the spring. Also felt a lot more sturdy, warm and very homely. There are no above-ground wooden buildings surviving from the period so no-one can be completely sure of construction methods, but the joinery they might have used is known from recovered ships.

I only had time to grab a couple of snaps so for those of you who are interested, it’s built from a green oak frame (which is now starting to dry and harden), wattle and daub walls and the roof is laid with hand-split oak shingles. There are no gutters but the hall is surrounded by gravel soak-aways. I also spotted a bit of lead flashing between the porch and the main roof.

The volunteers take authenticity very seriously so it’s as close as we can get. And just attempting these reconstructive archaeological experiments helps shed new light on how it was all done.

It was a surreal Sunday, sitting in a battered old Volvo for a couple of hours, recording theories on how to pronounce Aethelgifu or manoeuvre a shield wall if you’re outnumbered. The worrying thing is, I just know I will have to stand in the line with someone waving a battle axe at me to figure out what it was really like.

….look chaps, would you mind awfully falling in.

Transport of delight

Matt was highlighting the appalling traffic gridlock in Hereford – also meant we missed hooking up which was a shame.

I know how he feels – it’s madness. I was driving to work last Friday morning and even at 6am the M40 was like a zoo on amphetamines. The situation is so bad that we will have to persuade people that if you can walk or cycle please do. The trick is providing a safe environment to do that.

Anyway, you will all be pleased to learn that my shed is up. Thanks to Morten’s help we managed to pin it together in the pitch dark. It’s just, er, a bit bigger than I thought and haven’t found a good place to put it.

Thanks too to Erik who commented on the blog last week. Erik is the fella who surgically extracted me from my rucksack when I fell through the tree in Provence. I was completely wedged in the debris like an upended tortoise. Picked up a few scratches and lost any remaining dignity I have. Also made me realise just how fat I am these days.

(Now, if Erik had been British instead of a calm and benevolent Swede he would have laughed, taken the piss and then snapped a picture of my helpless predicament. As it is, you are denied a hearty chuckle at my expense).

I’m off to meet an Anglo-Saxon thegn this weekend as part of my book research. He sounds like an eccentric fellow, currently engaged in building a period longhouse in Kent. He asked me if I wanted him to “armour up” for the interview. Hadn’t realised my questions would be so intimdating says I.

Squeezed in some great walking in good company while Morten was here. We did a wonderful circular walk on the Wye and part of Offa’s Dyke along Hergest Ridge – that of Mike Oldfield fame. Can’t show you any more photos becasue my camera temporarily packed up. But you don’t get off so lightly as it appears to be working again now.

I know I keep pushing it back but I’m aiming to have a soiree at my house in the coming weeks so will post up the date shortly.

In the meantime, on yer bikes.