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Nick de Cent is a journalist who lives and works on a small-holding near Colyton in
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September 2010
A Walk on the Wild Side
Following on from last month’s discovery that rare Greater Horseshoe Bats have been using our paddock as an aerial feeding ground, I thought I would introduce some of the other animals which share our land here at Blackacre...
At ground level, there’s no shortage of small rodents living in the paddock behind the house – field mice and bank voles – not to mention some larger ones like brown rats – while there are plenty of grey squirrels scampering amongst the trees. Up in the copse there’s evidence of rodent activity as well, particularly as we get into autumn and can spot the gnawed cob nuts amongst the leaf litter.
There are small predators too: underground moles chomp their way through earthworms while shrews are busy catching beetles, slugs and other invertebrates amongst the grass tussocks.
Slightly bigger are the various members of the weasel family: earlier in the year, I saw a stoat – distinguished from a weasel by the black tip to its tail – strolling as bold as brass across our front lawn. Normally, these are quite shy creatures, so it obviously hadn’t spotted me watching it; but I was on alert as we’d lost a hen only a day or two before. Even larger members of the weasel family are occasionally reported from the Coly Valley: escaped mink are often blamed for raiding poultry pens and have been responsible for decimating the local water vole population (now thankfully being re-introduced) but there is also the rather more welcome news of otters returning to the river.
Then there are the bigger mammals like rabbits – which are closely related to the rodents – foxes, badgers and roe deer, all of which we see at Blackacre on a regular basis. You can encounter hares, too, if you venture into some of the more open fields along the valley.
As well as the mammals, we also have a few reptile and amphibian species. I’ve never spotted a snake at home but wouldn’t be surprised to find an adder amongst the bracken or some grass snake eggs in the compost heap, given the abundance of available prey.
The smallholding is home to a couple of species of lizard, however: the common lizard favours a grassy mound at the end of one of our raised beds, while slow worms frequent the long grass and bracken near the hedge on the lane. I have to be really careful when strimming at this time of year in case I disturb any young. Earlier in the season I keep a close eye on the top chicken run, which is home to our cuckoo marans, as I have occasionally had to rescue a slow worm from the hens, which see this harmless legless lizard as a tasty snack.
Some years in early spring, when the lane outside our house turns into a small torrent after heavy rain, great clumps of frog spawn are washed out of the drainage ditches and onto the road, making it a treacherous place to walk. So there are plenty of common frogs about, as well as common toads (you can distinguish its spawn which is laid in strings rather than clumps) and we also have smooth or common newts in our garden pond.
All of these reptiles and amphibians help keep down the local population of creepy-crawlies, as they chomp away on slugs and snails and various other invertebrates. But it’s no secret that smallholders, farmers and growers have, shall we say, a somewhat ambivalent view of the wildlife with which we share the land.
Take deer for instance. Recently on a couple of occasions, our dogs have disturbed a roe deer fawn lying up in the long grass in our paddock while they have been out exercising. Young roe deer typically remain hidden from predators in vegetation until they are ready to join the rest of the herd around three months after their birth in June; in the meantime, their mother visits the hiding place several times a day to suckle them. A cornered fawn makes a pitiful noise but, luckily, someone has always been on hand to call off the dogs – and ours are only ‘soppy’ springer spaniels. On a neighbouring farm, however, I’m told that one roe fawn was not so lucky: an encounter with a couple of lurchers left it seriously injured and it had to be put down. It really is important to keep one’s dogs under control and this applies as much to country folk as ‘townies’.
Nevertheless, with no major predators, there has been a population explosion amongst deer and, however cute they are – and I do love to see them – they bring with them a whole bunch of problems. On the lesser end of the scale, the deer come into the garden and devastate the roses in the early morning, annoying yes, but not really deserving of a death sentence!
Far worse was the recent experience of my friend Chris – we have met him in earlier blogs – who lost one of his prize Ruby Devon Red cattle to a nasty disease called ‘red water’, so called because the cow’s urine turns bloody in the later stages. Red water is caused by a single-celled parasitic organism which invades the red blood cells, divides and eventually ruptures them. It’s not at all easy to detect in beef herds early on and is transmitted by ticks which, in turn, are carried by – yes, you’ve guessed it – deer!
Red water is by no means the only disease carried by deer. Experts consider there to be a relatively low risk of their spreading bovine tuberculosis and foot and mouth disease, but they may aid the spread of bluetongue by acting as a reservoir in which the virus can over-winter, and in which new viral strains can establish.
What to do? The interaction between domestic animals and wildlife involves a lot of complex ecology, and precipitate action can often have unintended consequences. The debate over culling badgers as an effective response to bovine TB has been raging for years, while the role of foxes in the countryside is by no means clear-cut, depending on whereabouts you live: leaving aside the hunting issue, foxes are not generally welcome around the Coly Valley as farmers diversify into organised shoots and small-holders seek to protect their ducks and chickens; yet, in arable areas, foxes may actually perform a valuable service, helping to keep the number of small rodents under control.
Every time my sweet corn gets devastated by a foraging badger or my raised beds are chosen as a place for a young rabbit to start excavating its first home or a rat is tempted to gnaw the bottom off my greenhouse tomatoes or a slug decides to graze across my new cucumbers, I get predictably hot under the collar. But then, as a resourceful or even halfway competent smallholder, there is always something I can do to defend my produce.
I can fence off my vegetable patch properly and remember to shut the greenhouse door at night. I can manage my plot effectively to maximise production and limit the impact of pests and diseases by using sound husbandry and horticultural techniques. I can take the dogs on patrol around the land to deter the local foxes and badgers from coming too close to the chicken runs which are, anyway, protected with electric netting; and I can remember always to shut the chooks up securely at night.
Plus, of course, it’s not always the wild animals that turn out to be the pests. Sometimes during the winter, it seems like we’re hosting half the pheasants from the surrounding shoot to a massive banquet at our chicken feeders, while my other half’s pet fantail doves are just as partial to a free blow-out!
Live and let live is my recommendation, and try to work as much as possible with the environment rather than against it. At the end of the day, like many other modern-day smallholders, I am not entirely dependent on what we produce, so I’m always happy to spare a little to share with the local wildlife simply for the pleasure of seeing these natural creatures cross my path.
Words by Nick de Cent.
Photographs by John Breeds, Paul Cecil and Brian Stone
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