Pablo’s Woodlife: Wildlife, Tracking and Bushcraft

I’m sure that after a while you get immune to rain. It just occurs and it seems nobody bats an eyelid on its commencement nor its end. Not a word is said as hoods are slid over heads and shoulders hunch slightly. It certainly seemed that way as most of the crew from the “Tribe” stood staring into the fire and chatting while it hammered it down in East Sussex at the weekend. Who else would do that except people who not only love the outdoors but positively relish being out in any of the elements?

You certainly couldn’t dampen the spirits, possibly helped by the other kind of spirits (commonly known as ’shrafting juice) as the event typically turned into a great social affair.

To be fair it didn’t rain all weekend, but just most of it. Between downpours, we watched the development of a birchbark container glued up with pine resin and some spectacular spoons whittled with the expertise of people who have done this kind of stuff for years.

Two Rabbits were duly skinned for the meat and veg stew cooked in Dutch ovens, which provided a delicious meal on Saturday night.

I didn’t wander too far from the fire except to have a short walk to a nearby pond in an efort to spot some newts. A fleeting glimpse of one diving down through the waterplants was all that I managed; however the pond was a popular habitat for Ram’s horn snails.

So how did people cope with the rain? Staying under your tarp wrapped up in your sleeping bag seemed a good idea as was the camouflage umbrella that was deployed at one stage. The ever present ventile jackets seemed to do the trick but I was still impressed with my old wax jacket that bore the brunt of the rain even though it was a little cumbersome for some tasks in (not that I did many). Only on the final day did I see someone wearing a poncho.

Shelters comprised of a couple of tipi’s and an old army tent but most had tarps over a variety of sleep systems; a common trend seems to be a light camp bed (as shown in this picture).

My choice on this outing was a newly aquired Snugpack hooped bivi bag, obtained on the day courtesy of JP. Now the trick was to find some flat ground. This is something I don’t normally have to worry about. Even though the ground appeared flat, there was always a slight slope in one direction or another.

Finally, I found a spot, protected on one side by some rhododendrons. I set up the tarp in a low configuration, set up the bivi bag and stuffed the Thermarest and sleeping bag inside it. I’ll write a more detailed description about the bivi bag next time.

The bivi bag certainly stopped damp coming through into the bottom of the sleeping bag, and I was of course covered on top by the tarp. All in all it was quite a cosy set up… until it came to actually going to sleep! Not being used to sleeping on the ground, I had a distrurbed and uncomfortable sleep on both nights. I’m sure it gets better as your body get used to hard ground.

Despite picking a pretty flat spot, I seemed to roll off the Thermarest so I ended up with my nose pressed against my rucksack. The easy option would be to go straight back to the hammock but I will persevere on the next few excursions. Ground dwelling is after all the only solution if there are no trees.

Packing up on Sunday was a good exercise in keeping kit as dry as possibly during the worst downpour so far. An easy option would have been to hurridly stuff everything in the rucksack and sort it out at home, but I decided to be as careful as possible, working under the confined space of the tarp. This made for a comfortable and well balanced rucksack on the walk out from the woods.

I was watched with seeming amusement by a constant companion over the weekend. A friendly and amazingly tame Robin, who often came down through the trees and even hopped under the tarp, studied me intently during the exercise. We had shared a few scraps of food and had both shared each others’ shelters: his rhododendrons and my ripstop nylon.

It was another great weekend with stories, banter, laughs and people sharing ideas, knowledge and skills. Was it raining? I didn’t really notice.

Pablo.

Last Sunday, the weather wasn’t as bright as forecast and there was still a strong arctic wind from the North East.

I packed my new - well surplus - 30 litre ex-Brit Army patrol pack with a light lunch, brew kit and sit mat and headed out to the local woods. I bought the pack last week. I’ll do a review of it when I’ve tried it out a few more times.

There was some remnants of snow left on the ground in shaded parts. The rabbit track looks like a slow hopping gait and you can see how the rear feet are kept together. I would guess that this one was steadily hopping about with no real sign of hurrying judging by the distance between the hops (which I forgot to measure). The right forepaw on the second set of tracks is pointing to the left slightly. Does this mean it was distracted and looked to the left? Who knows. The good thing about tracks in snow is that you can study gaits easier. Alas, there probably won’t be any more this year.

Talking of tracking, I’ve put up a short video of when I came across some deer a few weeks ago. You can access it on the video channel here. (There’s also a permanent link to the video channel in the sidebar).

On the spur of the moment I decided to light a small fire with only what I could find. The dead wood was very damp and I lit some birch bark with the firesteel. I’ve got to be careful because birch is pretty limited in these woods. I found it difficult to keep the fire alight, even after making some feathersticks. I really should have spent more time initially exposing the drier inner parts of the woods. There was enough heat to make a brew though.

While having lunch and a brew, I watched an interesting spectacle. The pair of buzzards were showing great interest in the rooks’ nests and even though the rooks were busy building they didn’t seem too bothered about the buzzards being there. I would have thought the rooks would have seen them off. One of the buzzard pair even landed in an unoccupied nest. Squatters rights or the neighbours from hell!

I also spotted some frog’s spawn in a puddle. I doubt this will survive the drop in temperature. I had to look up the difference when I got home because I’d forgotten which was frog’s and which was toad’s spawn. Common toad spawn is laid in a long double strand, although Natterjack toads just lay a single strand. Frog’s spawn is laid in a circular clump. The frog will undoubtedly lay more when the weather gets warmer.

I finished off the day by watching 2 pairs of lapwings in the field and a pair of mallards enjoying a feed in a flooded grassy area.

This weekend I’m off to East Sussex with JP and the crew. JP’s got a new bit of kit for me to play with, so I’ll be writing about that next week.

Thanks for the visit.

Pablo.

We knew it was on the way… but even so - it was sheer delight on looking out the window and seeing SNOW!!

Like kids we leapt up and ran out to play in the snow.

Across the fields it looked almost like a white out.

Mrs Pablo came too. She likes snow.

So did Bill. We’re looking after him for a while.

He had great fun, but we nearly lost him.

I saw no other tracks except Bill’s. The snow came too late in the morning for any serious tracking. You can see how Bill kicks out his left rear leg when running full pelt. It’s the third track in each series. Even when not tracking, I’m tracking.

Bill wonders why Grandpa is still outside while he’s inside.

The snow was gone 4 hours later. I suppose that’s it for the year. Sorry if you’re from Canada and America. You must be sick of the stuff.

Tomorrow’s going to be fine and sunny. I’m going to the woods for the day. Hopefully there will be something good to write about. See you on Wednesday.

Pablo.

Today was the day! Whether I was inspired by the lack of wind and rain (at last) or the non stop reading of Tim Butcher’s Blood River - a story of the author’s attempt to follow in H.M. Stanley’s footsteps along the Congo - I bounced out of bed and prepared for a hike.

I had poured over the maps and I had set my own “expedition” objectives. The first was to seek out the twin ponds at Hagham Pasture and the other was to visit Legbourne Wood.

I had already discovered that I couldn’t go through Maltby Wood because of the conifir plantation, so I went towards the golf course and picked up a public footpath that took me across the course itself and a couple of fields. This way I would circumnavigate the plantation and hopefullyfind the next tract of woodland which was my first objective.

On the way I noticed some Badger tracks. It appeared to be striding purposefully towards the 16th hole. A bizzare vision of a Badger with golf clubs on its back entered my head. Golf courses are pretty good for watching wildlife. At least some effort is made to make a man-made landscape into something interesting with pond and lake hazards and areas of woodland split by fairways. I don’t play golf myself. I was hit by a golf ball in the face when it was in full flight when I was five out with my father and it kinda put me off the game. I suffered no other ill effects
except for strange images of golf-playing Badgers now and again.

I made my way into a small village and turned south to follow the woodland edge. I was hugely disappointed to find that the woodland shown on the map to my right was again barren from the spread of the plantation. This meant a good 100 acres had been given over to the production of “Christmas Trees” - as the sign said on the entrance to the site. Bloody shame I say.

I followed the road and turned off onto a public footpath that skirted the wood on the south east side. At last… some decent woods. Celandine and snow drops were on show and Dofg mercury told me it was ancient woodland. This was a pleasant albeit short walk. I paced out exactly 200 yards before a sign stated “End of Public Right of Way - Trespassers Will Be Prosecuted.” Well, this might be Lincolnshire, but it was still in England when I last looked and trespassing wasn’t an offence.

I was getting a little dismayed at the number of signs that stated this around here. The Essex/Suffolk border where I come from is probably just as rural but nowhere near as forceful in its exclusion. I wondered why. I also tried to put myself in the landowners position. I decided I would rigorously vet applicants who required access but wouldn’t threaten the casual visitor in this way.

At last I reached my destination another mile down the road. Haugham Pasture was a long piece of woodland with two large ponds at the south west end. I sat just inside the wood and gazed for a good half and hour at the ponds. There was evidence of deer in the area but I only noticed a Coot and a Moorhen on the pond itself.

I decided to make my way back to the Public footpath at the SE side of Maltby Woods. I would sit in there and have some lunch. On the way I saw a Stoat dive out into the road. It ran away from me and I pursued hoping to get a photo of him. I hadn’t seen a Stoat for years and years and I was thrilled to see one. The black tip to his tail gave it away immediately. I lost him after a few seconds but I was pretty sure I found an entrance to a run or den.

Maltby Woods was a peaceful place to have some lunch and this was the first time I felt really comfortable in the woods around here. I spent about an hour and a half meandering around the narrow strip of woodland; and even ventured up to the evil barbed wire that seperated this wonderful piece of ancient woodland with what used to be its sibling; now a barren conifer plantation. I tried to imagine the complete woods how it should have been. I became a little depressed. I’m not normally this sensitive, but I was beginning to build up a picture of the second largest county in England. And it wasn’t a particularly impressive one from where I was standing at the moment.

I shuffled back to the road, making enough noise to awake the sleeping county and disturbed a Woodcock in the process. I decided to cancel my second objective at Legbourne Woods. I was getting a feel for the area and there was just no way I would be able to cross the land that seperated me from those woods.

I made my way back the way I came, which I don’t really like doing. I had at least achieved one objective and my aching legs told me I had walked a good 6 miles or so. Not exactly the length of the Congo but good enough for me.

My final task was to relax in the pool, hit the sauna and steam room and get some good old Fish and Chips from the local town. Tomorrow I was going home. I had thoroughly enjoyed my stay. It had been relaxing and I had done everything I wanted.

The highlight of the trip was the Seal Sanctuary and tracking on the sand dunes. I’d not seen a great deal of wildlife, but was pleased with the sight of the Stoat. It was a strange old county though. No disrepect to anyone that lives there; but… I’m not sure whether I’ll be back in a hurry.

Thanks for the visit.

Pablo.

I’d noticed on the map that there was a large sand dune system on the coast and a coastal nature reserve. I set out to have a look.

It took about 30 minutes to drive there. On the way something occured to me. Something strange that I couldn’t really put my finger on for a good while.

And then it dawned on me. No cars, or should I say very few cars. This place was deserted. I hadn’t seen anything or anyone for 5 minutes. I checked the map and confirmed I was on an “A” road as planned. Even when I went through a couple of villages, there was very few people about. Maybe Lincolnshire was closed for the winter.

I was nearly at the coast when I saw a sign for a Seal Sanctuary and I diverted to follow the signs. This was the best thing I did that day. After parting with a fiver, I spent a good two hours wandering around the excellent site. Not only were there seals, but many other injured birds and mammals brought in by the public to be looked after by the staff.

They had also made the sanctuary into a interesting historical journey from prehistoric times to the present date covering geological and wildlife features. I learned quite a bit from the displayed fossilised tracks and other exhibits as well as looking at some replica prehistoric hunting artifacts, which they had cleverly termed as a prehistoric survival kit.

What I didn’t realise is that huge tracts of land were burned down in order to bring out the mammals from the wooded areas in order to hunt them. Why I didn’t previously realise this had happended I really don’t know.

Of course the stars of the show were the seals who were as playful as expected in the water and as unelegant but endearing when basking in the sporadic bursts of sunshine on land. Needless to say, I was the only one at the Sanctuary and went around twice.

I carried on with my scheduled itinery and found access to the dunes and the shoreline. The tide was out and the sands marched out to the edge of the water about a quarter of a mile away. Standing on this sand I looked north and then south to both horizons. An uninterrupted view as far as the eye could see. And guess what? Yep… there was no one in sight.

I was beginning to feel like I was that prehistotric man depicted in the Sanctuary trying his luck gathering on the shoreline with no one else for company. I hope he had better luck than me because apart from a few empty shells I found very little to forage.

I tried my luck in the dunes itself. Plenty of rabbits here but the sharp (unidentified) hard plant spikes made the going tough. I spotted a fox track intermingled with dog and spent the next half and hour following the various rabbit and fox trails up and down the dunes. I was having fun but my stomach told me it was about time to head back. I was surprisingly tired, but I still couldn’t resist popping into the hotel swimming pool for a swim and a session in the sauna and steam room when I got back. What a life!

During the evening, night and through the next day, the second leg of the storm hit the Eastern counties. I decided that Wednesday was going to be an “in” day. I took up pen and drawing pad; I read, watched a video, read, fell asleep and had things to eat not necessarily in that order. I didn’t venture out all day.  Thurday was going to be expedition day.

The journey up to Kenwick Woods was, well let’s just say… flat. I’d forgotten just how flat the Fens were. England’s best aricultural land was criss-crossed by the famous dykes and the dark, dark soil which seemed black compared to the tan coloured clay soil where I live.

After 3 hours I started noticing a hill or two which heralded the entrance to the Lincolnshire Wolds. Sparse woodland became a little more prolific and Doris shouted “You have reached your destination.”

 I turned into the Country House Hotel car park and booked in. Half a mile down the road were the log cabins and I grinned at the site of cabin No 10; a long Scandanavian style lodge. Inside was as plush and cosy as you could imagine with every utility you could want. Without Mrs P to tell me what white appliance was what I confined myself to stuffing the contents of my food box into the coldest interior assumed to be the fridge.

I roamed around the expanse of the interior of the cabin wondering which toilet and bathroom to use for what function. I settled on putting hygiene stuff in the en suite and the other facility would be used for …well let’s just say it was well away from the sleeping quarters.

The weather had been atrocious on the way up and it wasn’t much better during the course of the afternoon. Very strong winds and heavy rain. Nevertheless, I consulted my cut down 1:25000 map of the area, got my bearings, changed into bushcraft kit and headed along the side of the woods. It wasn’t too long before I encountered a barbed wire fence and realised that this was probably the limit of the local woods.

I could see the fir plantation which was evident on Google Earth when I looked up the area. I cut across to the south and followed a track along the outskirts of the wood.

The wind was now blustering and it was raining quite hard. I considered putting on my poncho that I had with me, but decided to carry on. I needed the exercise after being in the car. On a couple of occasions I went off the track and into the woods. It wasn’t much different to the woods at home although the trees were planted mainly in straight lines making it look a little sterile.

I saw little evidence of any wildlife and certainly didn’t notice any tracks springing up from the ground.

I completed the circuit after about an hour and ended up at the back of the cabin, noticing tht someone had had a go at shelter building on the way round.

The sky was darkening even more and I decided that this might be it for the day. I settled down for an evening reading my book, listening to the howl of the wind. I was actually grateful I wasn’t in the hammock tonight.

More next time.

Pablo.