Since we went into the third lockdown, I hadn’t visited the woods until yesterday. According to the government website, forestry is a protected industry, necessary for the supply of timber for fuel and building which means that as long as workers follow the guidelines for Covid protection, they can carry on. Why haven’t I been before now then? I would have loved to but stories of police stopping and fining people for travelling out of their areas has put me off. Would over enthusiastic PC Plod with his extra powers know what the guidance for foresters is? Nah. So here are my reasons for taking the slight risk of getting stopped and why I should go.

We have run out of logs at home for the wood-burner. Two months is a long time between visits for me to feel happy. I needed to check my property for damage. My mental health certainly needs a boost with a day in the woods and the risks of passing or receiving the virus are virtually nil when spending a day in the woods on my own. I think my readers will all agree that my reasoning was sound but for the sake of covering my back when making this public, I feel that this disclaimer was somewhat necessary. I could simply have not published this post but I know that some folks really like to hear about my woodland and I enjoy writing about it. So here goes.

It was a glorious, clear sunny day. The woodland looked reassuringly familiar yet in some ways not. Signs of Spring were not as evident as I had expected. Bluebell leaves still quite small and no sign yet of Wood Anenomies. The felled trees that had to be left on the ground are still easily accessible without trampling too much new growth. First job was to put some food out for the birds. One of my woodland neighbours, a local guy who walks the woods regularly, has kindly filled my feeders occasionally. The birds were soon down to take advantage – Blue, Great and Coal tits, Nuthatches, Robins and Dunnock all came down to feed and started the magic for me of being back in nature with the freedom of my own little piece of woodland.

Second job was to fill my trugs with logs to take home. A robin always watches over close by, ready to take some small invertebrates that I have uncovered when removing logs.

I said the woodland had a certain unfamiliarity about it. As I did my slow tour of the woods I discovered several areas of damage. My firepit was half full of soil as if someone had dropped a spadeful in it for spite. Other molehills nearby gave me the answer – how bizarre! My shelter has a huge hole in the roof and some of the supports have collapsed. They were starting to rot but the damage was as if somebody had deliberately pulled down on them rather than caused by winds. Several small rotten hazel trees also looked that way. The front wall of my composting toilet had collapsed. Had vandals been in? It didn’t add up, nothing else of my personal belongings had been disturbed. However it did leave me with a sinking feeling, not just at the thought of possible interlopers but at the work needed to repair the damage. It wasn’t until the evening when I contacted my neighbour, who told me he had some damage from the snow that the lightbulb went on. Of course, the weight of snow could be quite substantial, pushing down on the shelter and the rotten trees causing them to break.

I returned to my woodland cafe, lit the Kelly Kettle and made a nice filter coffee accompanied with a piece of my favourite fruit cake made by my wife. Sitting in the sun, watching and listening to the birds, a line at the end of Van Morrison’s Coney Island came to mind. “Wouldn’t it be great if it was like this all the time”?

I spent a large part of my day just walking around observing, sitting and being in the moment. Getting a good dose of my woodland. A pair of blue tits flitted together, the female shaking her wings and tail in a seductive, inviting manner for the male and investigating one of the nest boxes. In and out as they sussed a new home and taking ownership for their nesting activities. All is well in their world right now.

I checked the feral honey bees that live in the Little Owl box. There was no sign at my last visit but I figured if they were still alive and present, the sun would have brought them out. Yep, still there. Another little piece of much needed joy. I shifted a few newly felled logs onto my woodpile, it felt good to be doing real physical work again. What a fantastic day. I’ll leave you with a few more photos.