by Ben Law
A coppice with standards woodland gives an extra layer in the woodland for wildlife, and oak standards will not only supply a nesting habitat for birdlife but, when old and hollow, for bats as well. These trees have also been recorded to support 284 insect species (423 if we include species of mite) and 324 associated species of lichens. It astonishes me to consider that one species of tree can offer the diversity to attract such a range of insects. It is similarly astonishing if we consider the abundance of ground flora below the tree in a well-managed coppice, and recognise that all this is obtained by managing a woodland for poles and timber from which, in turn, we can build houses.
As I restore derelict mixed coppice, the range of trees and finding the different uses that emerge is one of the pleasures of being a woodsman. Hazel (Corylus avellana) is the most traditional of coppice trees, and although not durable like sweet chestnut it has its own unique characteristics, such as the strength of its fibres that, when twisted, can form a strong, fibrous rope. This ability to be flexible and bend back on itself has meant hazel has for years been used for traditional woven products such as baskets, hurdles and the binders woven along the top of a freshly laid hedge. Historically, hazel was the ‘go to’ wood of the countryside when you needed material to make products. Every village would have contained areas of hazel coppice to meet those local needs. Herbert Edlin, in his excellent Woodland Crafts in Britain, mentions a statute passed by Edward IV in 1483 authorising the enclosure of woods for a term of seven years after cutting. With hazel being traditionally cut on a seven-year cycle, this protection of the re-growth shows the importance of the coppiced wood to rural industry. From hurdles to sheep penning, broches for thatching, pea-sticks, bean poles, faggots, a vast collection of animal and fish traps, etherings, walking sticks, hoops, feeding cradles and mangers, and crate rods for the potteries, hazel was an essential ingredient in day-to-day life. This regular seven-year harvesting of the coppice continued to produce a vast amount of poles, and in turn the ground flora of these coppice woodlands was establishing itself to become the gem of biodiversity that we see today.
Many of these traditional products have now been superseded by plastic alternatives, but plastic’s victory is by no means universal. Materials for thatching and hedging are still sought for traditional uses, and the garden market has turned the sheep hurdle into rustic fences popular throughout the countryside. The attractiveness of its bark has encouraged a range of new obelisks and plant supports, making the garden a final destination for much of the hazel now being cut. The best-quality hazel coppice will not be found on the greensand and Wealden clay of the western Weald where I work the woods, but on the chalkland of Hampshire, Dorset and Wiltshire. I have seen some of the finest hazel in the country in Cranborne Chase and King’s Somborne, and these patches are well guarded by coppice workers who know their true worth.
At Prickly Nut Wood, the hazel has been long neglected and it is only in recent years that I have begun the process of restoration. The coppice is mixed, and although there are large areas of hazel the quality will never attain that of the single-species copses growing on the chalk. My needs for hazel are mainly within the building and garden sectors. In roundwood timber-frame buildings, I use cleft hazel to weave a wattle frame to which I apply a layer of clay or lime plaster. I have also used the wattle to infill below the hand rails that enclose verandas, a popular feature on these buildings. In gardens I make woven panels, using chestnut posts and rails to create a durable frame. I then split and cleave the hazel to infill the panel.
4 February
Cold and still morning. I ventured up into Captain’s Wood. Here the frost was still clinging to the hazel stems despite the welcome warmth of the winter sun penetrating through the woodland. I brushed past the yellow catkins and noticed the dust cloud of pollen. I looked closer, tapping the catkins and watching the pollen spread. As I focused in further, I noticed a small crimson flower that I had not seen before. The female flower of the hazel tree is so well hidden it is easy to miss. With my eye tuned to the colour I looked closer and more flowers appeared from out of their hiding places. How much more there is to see when I slow down and look …
I cut the hazel first. With so many standard trees in close proximity, the hazel has sent out long stems high into the canopy in order to survive. These stems have twisted and turned wherever necessary to find their way through the darkening cover above them to a small glimmer of light. This has been the survival strategy of the hazel in this wood, and without it all the coppice stools would have died. 52 years have passed since it was last cut and the tangled growth makes it difficult to re-coppice. Many of the stems are entwined with other trees, and each one needs to be pulled and twisted free. Cutting hazel this old and derelict is a challenging task. Once the hazel is all down, the woodland is clearer and it is easier to make out the other species of trees and work out their felling directions. First, though, the hazel must be sorted. The thicker stems of four to eight inches in diameter are cut to six-foot lengths for firewood. The straightest poles for cleaving are bundled up, and some long hazel poles are chosen for a cooper from Liverpool who makes hoops for barrels for the Tower of London. A few walking sticks stand out and are leant against a large oak. Bean poles are bundled up and pea sticks placed to one side. Even out of poor-quality derelict coppice there are products to be had. The rest of the brash, too twisted for faggots, is burnt, creating a good winter’s fire for our regular baked-potato lunches.
The rest of the felling will be in two parts. First, the mixed coppice of assorted sizes, then the thinning of the oak standards. The long coppice cycle has favoured ash trees in the wood and there are many tall, long stems to be cut. With a base diameter of between six and twelve inches, there will be some good timber from these trees. Ash is well known in Sussex as the ‘widow maker’. Some say this is because it can drop branches, but I have always known it is because of the felling. If one is not careful, ash has a habit of splitting from the felling cut upwards. With a large, overstood coppice stool, felling needs to be all the more carefully done. About twenty years ago I felled a small copse at the foot of Blackdown, near Prickly Nut Wood. One afternoon the owner, a pathologist, came down to see how I was getting on. He told me – rather insensitively, I thought – that he had just done a post-mortem on a forester who had been killed by a tree springing back on him while felling. Once the pathologist had left the wood, I looked at the overstood ash coppice I was felling and went home early that day. The widow-maker commands respect.
Ash grows well in most soils but thrives best in soils above limestone. It coppices well and self-seeds, and is also found as a standard above hazel coppice. As a standard, it is better silviculturally than oak as it casts a dappled shade and is usually the last tree to come into leaf, allowing the underwood beneath a head start. Although ash is non-durable in the ground, it has the wonderful quality of being able to withstand shock and vibration, and has been, and still is, used for such purposes. It is used for tool handles, vehicle timber (in the Mini Clubman and Morris Minor Traveller), and all types of sporting equipment: cricket stumps, hockey sticks, billiard cues and the hurley used in the Irish sport of hurling. What other wood could survive the impact generated in the game of hurling? The hurling sticks are chosen from the base of the ash tree. This is the strongest part of any tree, as the stem disappearing down into the roots is always the hardest to split with an axe. It has grown strong supporting the weight of the main trunk as it blows in the wind. Ash is the usual wood for making scythe handles and hay rakes, and traditional green-wood chairs have been made from coppiced ash. Most of these products have been cleaved from the round and then worked to the desired shape from a quartered piece of timber in order to gain maximum strength and avoid splitting. Today ash is still the favourite chair-making wood amongst most green-wood workers I have met. Fast-growing and straight-grained, it cleaves easily and is a pleasure to work with a draw knife or chisel. It steam-bends well and the finished look
is attractive, with its pale colouring ready for any finish one might choose to add. As I write this I am sitting on a ladder-back ash chair made by one of my apprentices, Mark Krawczyk, on a course with Mike Abbott, a renowned chair-making teacher in green-woodworking circles.
I utilise ash in roundwood timber framing. The strength of the timber makes it very useful for wind or knee braces, helping control any movement (racking) of the building. I also enjoy burning ash logs, and always save a few for burning on special fires over Christmas and throughout the coldest nights of winter. Ash is a popular fodder for the deer population, so I need to re-fence the coppice before the re-growth begins. Every year at Prickly Nut Wood, we make up replacement tool handles and I have a fine long-handled fork and spade made from a strong quartered-stem ash by Thomas Baker, a past apprentice. Gate hurdles are often made from ash, but with the abundance of sweet chestnut growing at Prickly Nut Wood, I choose the more durable chestnut every time.
Another tree that appears in the mixed coppice I am cutting is silver birch (Betula pendula). Although not recommended as a coppice tree, it will coppice successfully if cut when young. Once the stems have grown beyond 12 inches in diameter it often dies during the coppicing process and rarely re-shoots. However, this does not mean that the birch is lost. Its ability to self-seed is astonishing and any clear area in the woodland quickly turns into a forest of emerging young birch saplings. Whilst in the south-east of England I am spoiled by a large selection of tree species with particular uses, birch – with its ability to grow in cold and harsh climates – has been used for a wide range of products. In the highlands of Scotland, Scandinavia and northern Russia, there is little else to use. Furniture, wooden shoes, chairs, tables and a variety of kitchen treen (tools) can all be made from birch. The timber is not durable and soon rots if in contact with water or the ground, with only the durable birch bark remaining. If it is off the ground and kept dry from the weather, however, the timber will survive well. The first roundhouse I built at Prickly Nut Wood about 16 years ago has birch logs as part of the cordwood wall. With a good roof overhang the timber has stayed solid and, from seeing this, I can understand why it was used in construction in northern climates. At Prickly Nut Wood I am spoilt with durable timber such as sweet chestnut, and so mainly use birch for firewood. It burns hot and bright, and, when mixed with a slower-burning wood, it creates a good fire. I use birch bark for fire-lighting. It remains by far the best of all fire-starters I have found in the woods. In many cultures the bark is used for a range of craftwork, from building canoes to covering furniture. Sheets are cut and peeled from the tree, and these are then used like a wallpaper to leave the beautiful bark pattern as a finish upon a dresser or wardrobe. Our birch in the UK is rarely of a quality from which to peel large sheets, but smaller items can be crafted from this beautiful bark. My other use of the silver birch is – along with sycamore and field maple – to tap it for wine. The collection of sap is a spring activity enjoyed by many in the woods.
7 March
A fine morning. Crisp frost, with the first signs of the sun flickering through the trees. Yesterday I snapped a small branch on the young birch and sap began to flow. So today I took my leather bag, filled with a drill brace and bit and a length of plastic pipe, and, carrying two glass demijohns, set off to tap the birch. I spent time choosing my trees, looking for ones of at least nine inches in diameter at the base and with a smooth bark. I found two near the pond. They are at the edge of the wood, so they get the morning sun. I placed the demijohns on the ground in front of the tree and measured with my length of pipe the height where I needed to drill the hole. I chose the southern side of the tree, as it will get the most sun, which will speed up the sap flow and process of collection. I insert the end of the bit at about 45° pointing upwards and begin to turn the brace. I cannot have been more than half an inch into the tree before the flow of sap begins to drip. I insert the pipe into the hole and seal round the edge of the pipe with clay. I sit and stay for a while, watching the increasing pace of the drips as a puddle begins to form in the bottom of the demijohn. I feel awakened from the long nights of winter, privileged to be collecting the essence of spring in my demijohn …
Throughout Prickly Nut Wood there are both natural streams and drainage ditches facilitating the flow of water off the hill above. Where these run deep through the copse, alder (Alnus glutinosa) has made its home. Alder is a water-loving tree, and will thrive in damp and at times waterlogged conditions. It is fast-growing, and will seed freely when given space and light, and therefore develops well in a mixed coppice such as I am working at Prickly Nut Wood. Alder has the useful property of absorbing nitrogen from the air and fixing it in root nodules through a relationship with the ascomycete fungus Frankia alni. The nitrogen is then drawn up through the leaves, and when the leaves fall in autumn and decompose the nitrogen is made available to other species through soil enrichment. Alder is a successful coloniser, its seeds having tiny floats that enable them to drift downstream until they are washed ashore, where they will then grow.
Alder was used for the making of clog soles, and the woods used to be full of cloggers who supplied the factories and workplaces of the industrial revolution. Alder wood has the ability to cope with moisture, and with the transition from being wet to dry that would split many other types of wood. It was favoured for this quality throughout the north of England, the Scottish lowlands and many parts of Wales.
I use alder mainly to make charcoal. Alder makes a good charcoal, and as it often grows in inaccessible areas from which timber is difficult to extract, it makes sense to convert it to charcoal and carry the charcoal out of the woods. Charcoal weighs about a fifth of the weight of the original timber. Gunpowder manufacturers rated alder charcoal very highly and, having compared it with other timbers I have converted into charcoal, I can see why. The end product is a shiny, smooth charcoal that holds together well and doesn’t break up as easily as some woods that I have converted. It lights easily and is a fine, marketable product. One of the delights of cutting alder is the rich orange colour that the wood develops as the cut face is exposed to the air. A stack of freshly cut alder logs on the side of the ride cannot be mistaken for any other timber. However, over time the colour fades and the timber blends back in to the more neutral colours of the woodland landscape.
Goat willow (Salix caprea) will join alder in colonising the damp areas and stream banks in the mixed coppice. Although of little value as timber, its value comes in its early flowering, providing the first tree pollen for the bees to start harvesting. Woodlands provide a range of pollen for bees throughout the year, and at Prickly Nut Wood the bees begin with the goat willow, then move on to the blackthorn and plum. Pears and apples follow, and then soft fruits, wild blackberry, lime trees and chestnut. Ivy, with its late flowering, produces the last flush of woodland pollen. All of this is, of course, interspersed with flower pollen in the garden, and the clover that grows throughout the adjacent fields.
One tree that is well established amongst the mixed coppice at Prickly Nut Wood is field maple (Acer campestre). Its coppice stools are venerable, and typical of these ancient woodland copses. I use the wood for walking sticks and rustic furniture making, and have made a small chair from its twisted stems. In spring, although slower-flowing than the birch sap, field maple can be tapped for wine. In autumn, the tree stands out like a goddess clothed in a golden dress. The autumn colours of the field maple are perhaps the finest of any of our native trees, and always bring a smile to my face on a crisp autumn morning.
There are a few coppiced hornbeam (Carpinus betulus) trees in the woods. These graceful, silver stems are often found grown as a single-species coppice in the heavy clay soils of the Sussex Weald. An extremely hard timber traditionally used for cogs and wooden screws, the weight of the wood freshly felled will put an extra layer of muscle on a woodsman’s arms, although left for a year or two, it becomes surprisingly light. Leave it any longer, however, and it will begin t
o rot. I use it mainly to make charcoal and as firewood, and it is ideal for either of these markets. As a coppiced tree, it needs good protection as it is enjoyed by browsing deer. Because it is so slow to re-grow from the coppiced stool, it can take four or five years to get above deer-grazing height.
Another tree in the mixed coppice is hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna). Although I have made jelly and wine from the haws, it is not often I harvest them, but I enjoy the fresh leaves in a May salad. Its timber is hard and I make mauls for striking chisels from it, for when we are timber framing.