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Tom Argles's Blog
Lovely weather for our first visit to Foxcombe Hall. When the date was originally set I’d pictured us all tramping round doggedly in a mixture of drizzle and mud, but we had baking sunshine more reminiscent of June. So it was great to get out of the office and walk round the grounds with Alan, the site manager. Hear Tom's thoughts on the site: Tom's thoughts
From formal gardens round the Hall, we wended our way down past an impressive (but neglected) rockery before plunging into the rather untidier woodland downhill. The rockery was at least partly constructed using the local stone, a honey-coloured, iron-rich gritty sandstone known as the Greensand. It hails from the Cretaceous period, and is just over 100 million years old. Capping the ridge here, it breaks down to a light, free-draining soil which seems mildly acidic from the plants that grow here – we’ll test this at our next visit.
Springs and streams seeping down in the woodland mark where this rock overlies the impermeable Kimmeridge Clay. In the woodland, we were assailed by birdsong – another reminder that this was spring rather than summer! Every songster was proclaiming its territory vigorously. Among the usual suspects I could pick out Blue and Great Tits, Blackbird, Robin, Chaffinch, Goldfinch, and softly cooing Wood Pigeons. From the tangle of a rampant honeysuckle erupted an explosive song: a Wren. Farther off, a Green Woodpecker treated us to its mildly hysterical, laughing call. Later in the day we heard the more discreet ‘tchink’ call of a Greater Spotted Woodpecker. Perhaps the most evocative song was the distinctive refrain of a Chiffchaff ringing out like a soloist above an orchestra. Later, we glimpsed another archetypal summer visitor, a single Swallow, flickering against the clear blue sky.
The merging of garden into woodland provides a real mix of habitats. Several tall conifers planted on the slope provide a nesting site for a solitary pair of Carrion Crows, and sanctuary for the tiny Goldcrest, with its high-pitched wheedling song. Numerous wild cherry trees promise food for Bullfinch (new buds) and perhaps Hawfinch (cherry stones). The number of young oaks was slightly surprising, until we sighted a Jay. These birds eat acorns, hoarding any surplus by caching them, as squirrels do, in the ground. Even the Jay’s impressive memory cannot recall every hidden acorn, so the oak has recruited a willing forester to spread its seed, and this may explain how the oaks have spread here (though no doubt grey squirrels have also played a part). Despite the exuberant birdsong, there are no bird (or bat) boxes in the grounds, so there’s one addition we could make, supplementing existing nest sites such as standing dead trees. Further work will need careful thought – we don’t want to jeopardise the wildlife already thriving here. Often, in making space for nature, it’s what you leave alone that’s as important as what you change.
From formal gardens round the Hall, we wended our way down past an impressive (but neglected) rockery before plunging into the rather untidier woodland downhill. The rockery was at least partly constructed using the local stone, a honey-coloured, iron-rich gritty sandstone known as the Greensand. It hails from the Cretaceous period, and is just over 100 million years old. Capping the ridge here, it breaks down to a light, free-draining soil which seems mildly acidic from the plants that grow here – we’ll test this at our next visit.
Springs and streams seeping down in the woodland mark where this rock overlies the impermeable Kimmeridge Clay. In the woodland, we were assailed by birdsong – another reminder that this was spring rather than summer! Every songster was proclaiming its territory vigorously. Among the usual suspects I could pick out Blue and Great Tits, Blackbird, Robin, Chaffinch, Goldfinch, and softly cooing Wood Pigeons. From the tangle of a rampant honeysuckle erupted an explosive song: a Wren. Farther off, a Green Woodpecker treated us to its mildly hysterical, laughing call. Later in the day we heard the more discreet ‘tchink’ call of a Greater Spotted Woodpecker. Perhaps the most evocative song was the distinctive refrain of a Chiffchaff ringing out like a soloist above an orchestra. Later, we glimpsed another archetypal summer visitor, a single Swallow, flickering against the clear blue sky.
The merging of garden into woodland provides a real mix of habitats. Several tall conifers planted on the slope provide a nesting site for a solitary pair of Carrion Crows, and sanctuary for the tiny Goldcrest, with its high-pitched wheedling song. Numerous wild cherry trees promise food for Bullfinch (new buds) and perhaps Hawfinch (cherry stones). The number of young oaks was slightly surprising, until we sighted a Jay. These birds eat acorns, hoarding any surplus by caching them, as squirrels do, in the ground. Even the Jay’s impressive memory cannot recall every hidden acorn, so the oak has recruited a willing forester to spread its seed, and this may explain how the oaks have spread here (though no doubt grey squirrels have also played a part). Despite the exuberant birdsong, there are no bird (or bat) boxes in the grounds, so there’s one addition we could make, supplementing existing nest sites such as standing dead trees. Further work will need careful thought – we don’t want to jeopardise the wildlife already thriving here. Often, in making space for nature, it’s what you leave alone that’s as important as what you change.
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