Sledging on Daisybank

The second day of snow in England doesn't always live up to expectations, as too soon it turns into slush. But mostly the snow is still lying as it fell, six inches deep in places.

Helena went to town and beyond today whilst I went out into the garden. The weather was less testing for the wildlife, with no wind blowing under the cloudy grey sky, and only an occasional dusting from a flurry of snow. Helena had managed to rig up a system for blackbirds to hop onto to a ground-level feeding station to get the suet and seeds that are normally only available in the hanging feeders. It seemed to take them a while to learn how to do it, but they got there before too long. Lets hope they will struggle less now.

I heard the cries of delight from across the valley again as more sledges appear to have hit the slopes. I went too the bottom of the garden again and took some more shots across to the slopes near the Weyhouse. The relative stillness of the air, the effect of snow lying everywhere and the lack of road traffic noise in the background all contributed to the chatter and screams of the revellers resounding around the valley.

I was standing beside the very old sycamore tree that was an original marker tree found on the boundary of the land, where the old field ended above a wooded slope. Below the boundary is wood pasture where cows are free to roam and graze the whole valley during the summer months. Other big trees are still surviving on the steep slopes, but quite naturally they shed branches and even whole trunks at times, many of them regrowing from the remaining base. Soon after we moved to this house, I was working at my desk which overlooks the valley when I heard a strange noise and looked up through the window. In what seemed like slow motion a huge ash tree just keeled over and crashed to the ground leaving a huge gap in the tree line which allows us to look out across the valley southwards to Thupp and Minchinhampton Common.

There is a similarly large ash tree about ten metres behind our boundary which I regularly feature when birds land in it, for instance this Heron. While enjoying my quiet minutes beneath it, I saw a pheasant sitting on the side of the old fallen ash tree's trunk. Then I looked back up and spotted a blue tit high up on the trunk of the ash, which is unusual; normally they seem to like the ends of branches. As I zoomed in with my camera I realised that it was very gingerly approaching a big round hole, about twenty metres high up the trunk. I thought it looked like it was getting on tiptoes to peer inside. It picked up courage and gradually moved forward and peeked right inside with just its tail protruding out from it. To me it looked very freshly cut and probably is currently in use. The tit didn't hang about, but it was interesting to see it checking on nesting sites for itself.

I am so glad to see it, as it must be for a large bird, which I will try to discover. I can also easily get there with a camera and tripod and regularly observe it and possibly some chicks in the spring. I shall have to build a hide and get camouflage. I'm not joking!

Helena rang me to say that our car was still covered in about six inches of snow where I had parked it in a more accessible road; our steep street can be very difficult to drive up in these conditions. After cleansing it so that it doesn't turn to ice before the thaw starts, I wandered up Spider Lane to Daisybank, as I could hear more excited chatter and guessed there was sledging in progress. It is a lovely playground and open space on an old site that always had one of the ancient paths running across it.

I stood at the bottom of the steep bank and watched the many families with young children careering down on the new plastic bum sledges which are everywhere. Someone even offered me the use of their 'seat', which I declined today. It think all the older kids had gone across to The Heavens where I had seen them earlier from our garden. I loved the excitement and sense of speed with the snow kicking up from where they were braking with their feet to avoid bashing into the iron railings behind me.