I loved living in New Zealand, but I missed the understated beauty of the West Country countryside. A lot of that landscape is man-made. Centuries-old agricultural practices created a patchwork of fields, hedges, heathland and forest, to which native wildlife adapted.
Unlike countries such as the United States, where agricultural fields can stretch uninterrupted for miles, England’s fields are much smaller and were traditionally divided by dry stone walls (more common further north) or hedgerows, as well as by natural barriers like rivers. Hedges are far more than simple field boundaries—they are essentially miniature, elongated woodlands that form a network of biodiverse habitat. But after the Second World War, many hedgerows were dug up to increase food production. The destruction of hedges slowed in the nineties and is being reversed now as the multiple benefits of hedges have been recognised. In this era of accelerating biodiversity loss, hedgerows have become even more critical. The Woodland Trust states,
There are 130 Biodiversity Action Plan species closely associated with hedges including lichens, fungi and reptiles. Many more use them for food and shelter during some of their lifecycle. Bank vole, harvest mouse and hedgehog all nest and feed in hedgerows alongside birds including blue tit, yellowhammer and whitethroat, while bats use them as ‘commuter routes’ for foraging and roosting.
And, like woodland, hedges fix carbon and slow the movement of water through the landscape. When grown taller, they also provide essential shelter for livestock from wind, rain, and the summer sun.
Recently, I joined a group of volunteers taking part in the Great Big Dorset Hedge (GBDH) project. GBDH is “facilitating the restoration & extension of hedgerows the length and breadth of Dorset”. The project brings together farmers, landowners, volunteers, and charities to reverse the trend of hedge loss.
Water companies in England have had a lot of deserved bad publicity of late. They have chronically underinvested in infrastructure to the detriment of the environment and the benefit of their shareholders. So it was good to hear that the funding for this particular hedgerow restoration was coming from Wessex Water.
Beyond providing habitat for nature, hedges play a crucial role in protecting our waterways. Their root systems act as natural filters, intercepting agricultural run-off before it reaches streams and rivers. They trap sediment, absorb excess nutrients like phosphates and nitrates from fertilisers, and reduce soil erosion. Hedges are ace!
It was a long morning of hard work by a small band of lovely people (short video here).
Except for my planting-partner, Jackie, who kept trying to steal my mattock, lol.
Jackie and I were very proud of the few metres of hedge we planted, even if the spacings were a little random and the line was wiggly. I’m as good at straight lines as Jackie was at counting.
Hooray for hedges!
P.S. This week, Molly got swept down the Piddle River. In summer, the Piddle is a slow, shallow stream befitting its name, but after all the rain we have had, it is running high this winter. I threw the ball for Molly from one side to the other, assuming she would go across the bridge. Every single time we have crossed this river in the last month—whether we have walked or run or biked—we have crossed the bridge. But she was focussed on the ball on the other side and she wanted to find the quickest way to it.
Unfortunately, that was by swimming across the river. About half way across, the current outpaced her and she was swept downriver.
She swam to the bank, clambered out and found herself stuck between brambles and barbed wire.
I had to take off my trousers and wade out and get her. Served me right. I shouldn’t have thrown the ball for her, which she loves more than anything and will cross a raging Piddle for.
By the time I had rescued Molly, reclothed myself and dried her off, the ball, which had been in a calm spot, right by the far bank, had edged into the main current. I reached the far bank in time to see it in the distance, too far downstream to be retrieved. I shall be picking up extra plastic litter as a penance again.
Reproduced by kind permission. You can subscribe to Alex’s substack here.
