Not a Drop to Drink

This morning I walked over most of the in-by land, sheep pasture. I could find no water anywhere. The stream is dry.

This sheep had her head down in what is normally a very wet area, and she didn't see us coming.

This seems a bit hard on animals that are feeding young. There used to be a tank at one point in this enclosure but its not there now. All the sheep were staying in the area which should be wet - but they will not find any water until heavy rain comes.

Bird Symphony

Just here at 7.15 am was the best birdsong yet this spring. Warblers warbled engagingly, a blackbird was getting maximum benefit from the woodland acoustic. A cuckoo obliged. And the wrens and robins chipped in.

When this is happening you have to remind yourself that in a few weeks it will have largely died down. Make the most of it.

Fire Risk

The long spell of dry weather has caused worries about fire. Interestingly the section of the eastern peak district moors on the other side of this gate has now been closed.





Blacka Moor remains open. Is that because Blacka is a greener landscape with young trees and luscious bilberry shrubs? Perhaps there is a lesson here. Heather moorland in its 'pure', grouse-moor form seems to give rise to more problems than when it is allowed to become more 'natural' and green.

ADDENDUM 7th May
Probably one reason that Blacka has not had similar notices is because of the different status of the land. The moorland with notices is defined as 'access land' under the CROW act. Blacka already had conferred rights of access before this by virtue of the 'public pleasure ground' definition in the Graves Covenant.

Whatever the reason some caution should be taken on Blacka because despite the greener nature of much of the site, the dead bracken is much drier than I've ever seen it.

From Whitelow Lane

A conservationist looks at this view of Blacka and worries that the trees growing up the hillside may one day extend onto the top.

Others will simply be grateful that natural change softens the view.

Wild Or Nor Wild?

When people start talking about landscapes and wildness we come up against a lot of confusion as regards words and definitions.
Is it natural?
Is it wild?
Wilderness?
Artificial landscape?
Man-made landscape?
Britain's countryside is overwhelmingly influenced by human interaction. This leads some to say that being natural or wild is a non-starter so best forget about it. Managerial conservationists are particularly prone to be dismissive of those who want things to be "natural". They do after all earn their living controlling nature. But they are not always honest in their approach to these questions when dealing with the non specialist members of the public who simply want some places to be "more natural".

Are we being unreasonable in wanting certain places to be allowed to go their own way? Even if nowhere in Britain is true wilderness, it is nevertheless true that 'naturalness' is a factor in our response to land and that we are constantly making judgements about our favourite places being more or less wild.

Blacka - wild and soft

Sometimes the misconceptions are startling. For example I've heard the view expressed that while Blacka is lovely, Burbage Moor is 'wild'! In fact of course Burbage is thoroughly artificial vegetation controlled by sheep and burning while this part of Blacka has gradually wilded over the last hundred years. Still lovely for all that.

In profusion

With so much dry settled weather the bilberry flowers are in profusion. I’ve never seen so many. The pink flowers still deceive people into thinking they are the berries and a recent visitor tried to eat one. Surely the cattle won't eat all of them this year? Please!!

Or perhaps they'll stick to these

Cowberry or whortleberry

Woolly Mowers Return

These were in some degree of panic because a man was walking carefully through with a well-behaved dog on a lead. Mind, the dog was one of those very shaggy german shepherds, and couldn't have looked more like a wolf.

The new lambs on Blacka have only a small patch of blue dye thankfully. I've never liked the practice of splodging young lambs with colour; that probably makes me a sentimentalist. Seeing as I don't eat lamb I hope that absolves me from hypocrisy, in this area at least.

The worst I've seen this spring have been in fields off Ringinglow Road.

Little lamb who made thee?
Whose lurid dye hath sprayed thee?
And shall the butcher grade thee
By the number on thy fleece?