Rain, Slugs, Dog Poo and a Crock of Gold

Arion ater (or possibly Arion rufus?)

31st August 2023

I arrive at Wilderness Wood intent upon visiting it during the rain that has been forecasted for today, by the BBC. I park the car and don my wet weather gear, but there is no sign of the promised rain. Come on Michael Fish!

A couple of white poly bags lying on the ground behind my car catch my eye and I realise to my horror that I have run over one of them. It is evident that some gracious individual has gone to the trouble of clearing dog poo up after their dog. Brownie point for that at least.

Also they have resisted hanging the aforementioned poo bag in a tree for the pooh fairies to collect. Brownie point for that too.

Let's give them the benefit of the doubt and assume that they meant to take their little packages home, but forgot. However, the end product is the same and I have to deal with it by utilising a garden fork.

A better solution is for dog-walkers to 'stick-it and flick-it' into the undergrowth. Even better is to carry a small trowel and dig a shallow grave for the unwanted item to spend its remaining days rotting out of sight and away from passing souls (and soles).

I had many a similar experience in a country park in Basildon that I once worked at. It made such an impression upon me that I was inspired to pen a poem in honour of the humble dog turd.

Ode to a Dog Turd

Curling, steaming on the path,
May him on high throw down his wrath.
Go fetch a shovel. It is his bidding,
In case some walker should go skidding.

From whence you came you may not know.
Behind, above or from below.
But what is certain I can tell,
You’re freshly ripened, by your smell.

Lingering long upon the grass,
Unless some responsible soul should pass
And take a bag to put you in,
Then deposit you inside a bin.

But, if none should find for thee a home,
You’ll be here sitting on your own,
Unless some canine should along
And deliver up another one.

Upon your form dark flies will mass.
Some hundred eggs may come to pass.
Soon a writhing throng of gorging grubs.
Then a million flies within these woods.

All are welcome in this park.
A wildlife home, a Noah’s Ark.
Old man hobbling, young child stalking,
Or even by chance with dog you’re walking.

So, long it waits beside the path,
Waiting to have the last ones laugh.
Go fetch a shovel. It is our bidding,
In case it’s you who does the skidding.

By 10.20 the forecast rain is making a gentle appearance and I anticipate that where these few may fall, others are sure to follow. I commence my walk, yet 30 minutes pass and still no sign of the promised deluge. I do however bump into Mike, who is busily removing a fence post put there only last year and I engage him in conversation.

“Why you digging that fence post out Mike?”

“Dan has decided to put a gate in here instead.” He laments.

We discuss how managing Wilderness Wood involves lots of revisiting old projects to rethink them.

“I planted a hedgerow 3 years ago and within a year he asked if I could move it to a new location,” I recall, sagely chewing on a grass stem, “fortunately it was early spring and the young trees didn't seem to mind too much. You'll find them between middle paddock and the adjacent woodland.”

Mike nods his head in recognition that we are both but minions in the grand scheme of Wilderness Wood. But the joy of Wilderness Wood so often lies in the experimentation that goes on here.

Most of the wood is unaffected and provides the backdrop for whatever goes on within it. New ideas generate a new script for the wood, so the stage has to be modified too. Then the audience (visitors) can benefit from the new experience - whether it be leaky dams cropping up everywhere, a new bridge deep in the woods, ponds to attract wildlife, or the various buildings Dan manages to conjure out of a top hat. The actual wood is largely the product of evolution rather than detailed planning, so likewise, the Wilderness Wood experience has to change as it evolves. Inevitably eggs have to be broken.

So I leave Mike to his Sisyphean task (and contemplating the omlete that is Wilderness Wood) and follow my usual route down to Hemlock Valley as the raindrops become more frequent and much ‘blobier’ in size. Up goes the hood on my cag.

As I descend the Cross Ride adorned with leaky dams built by visiting Icelandic school teachers ( see the post date 18th May 2023) I have an encounter with a large pinkish slug with an orange margin.

Large pinkish slug with orange margins (Arion ater?)

At least the slugs don't mind a bit of rain. They do have a liberal coating of mucus over their bodies to prevent them drying out, but are certainly more active when it is wetter. I take a small stone intent upon using it to carefully move my pink and orange friend to one side, so that I can see what it is that he is so intent upon eating (I don't fancy any of its protective slime on my fingers, which also serves as a deterrent for would-be predators such as I).

I am intrigued to find it is gorging itself on the rotting carcas of one of its own species. I hear cries of horror and “Yuk”, but that's nature for you - nothing is wasted.

Down in Hemlock Valley I discover some enterprising young builder has converted the bridge across the Wilderness Stream into a covered bridge - not unlike those found in New England. I'll let Dan or Jake decide if it is a safety hazard.

‘The Bridges of Vermont’ look-alike in Hemlock Valley

Down at the new ponds I am not surprised to find them still dry, although it would be good to see them fill, as the rainfall continues to fall. I move a log beside the lower pond and am rewarded by a small, sleek, greeny-brown skinned frog hopping away into the log pile. I'm certain this is one of my babies who left the ponds before they dried out (see post dated 13th June 2023).

I clear a few sticks from the dried out upper pond (much easier when the pond is dry) and then move on downstream (or perhaps more appropriately 'down-no-stream') in search of surface water.

I eventually stumble upon what must be one of the few permanent water bodies in the Wood. It is fed by a trickle of water (more on oozing really) from an adjacent spring. The spring is fed by groundwater slowly percolating through the bedrock. At this point in the wood a band of impermeable clay forces it to the surface enabling it to supply a small amount of water to the Wilderness Stream. I realise that this is the ideal place to create our next pond - a suitably low point, supplied with water year-round and with lots of surrounding woodland to shade it from drying out under the summer sun.

A small spring oozes water into the Wilderness Stream - an ideal location for a new pond?

Talking of drying out, the rain has stepped up a notch and the otherwise silent woodland now roars with the sound of millions of raindrops colliding with tree leaves. It's the white noise every camper enjoys whilst asleep in their sleeping bag. A sleep inducing natural music - that is prior to waking to find your sleeping bag is soaking wet.

At Streamside Campsite I take shelter under ‘Leonardo’s shelter’ (see post dated 25th July 2023) and enjoy the tranquillity of this isolated space. Bizarrely the woods can be even more special in a rainstorm than on a sunny day.

‘Leonardo’s Shelter’ - based upon a design by Leonardo da Vinci

Streamside is doubtless a disappointment to many visiting it in the summer, as nowadays no stream runs between May and October. You'll have to come in the late autumn, winter or early spring to have that privilege. However, it would be a good site to create a more permanent pond for wildlife, perhaps even building a hide nearby to enable wildlife watching.

The large leaky dam at Streamside lends itself to being a permanent pond location

The rain continues, but then I spot a crock of gold at the end of my watery quest. Nothing to do with water this one though. It is a typical woodland flower which I have not seen before in the wood - Golden Rod.

My ‘crock of gold’ - Golden Rod - a typical wildflower of woodland edges

It's flowering heralds the end of the summer and the start of autumn. Golden Rod, cooler nights and the first rains of autumn. Soon the Wilderness Stream will be flowing again and our ponds will once again spring into life.

I love Wilderness Wood in the rain!

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