Marching towards spring

hile March continues to fling the occasional snow shower over the hills of Edinburgh, determined daffodils in green corners are quietly insisting that spring is on its way. Watching the seasons has become something of more than idle interest, as my PhD research is all about phenology, or seasonal timing.

Waiting and watching for budburst and blossom, spring will find me wandering woods, tracking trees and gazing into the canopy with my binoculars. Before the first leaves are unfurled, there is much time to anticipate the seasons to follow, remembering the busyness of June skies, when the butterflies come out to play.

One glorious weekend last year, a pilgrimage to Collard Hill and a trip to the Cotswolds with a certain Large Blue butterfly botherer, brought lepidopteran adventures.

There were clouds of Small Blue (Cupido minimus)...

... Electric Adonis Blue (Lysandra bellargus)...

... and a Grizzled Skipper (Pyrgus malvae) or two.

As well as seeing a bashful Cotswoldian Large Blue, which was part of the generation that had been reintroduced using individuals from Collard Hill and other sites in 2011, orchid spikes were scattered across the slopes. Sweet pink Fragrant orchids were interspersed with my first Fly orchids, and back at Collard, some the 'Wasps' had appeared again.

Super Fly (Ophrys insectifera)

Six-spot Burnet moth caterpillar creating its cocoon

Back in the wind-blown present, an essential part of braving the woods and occasional hail is having cake wrapped up in paper, ready to be eaten with cold fingers in five minutes of crisp sunshine. Today this was 'wrinkly apple cake', a vegan version of my childhood favourite. Made with the ageing apples left at the end of a long winter...

3/4 cup non-dairy milk
1tsp apple cider (or other) vinegar
2 1/4 cups plain flour of your choice (I used  1 1/4 cup rye, 1 cup plain white, wholewheat would be nice too)
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp bicarbonate of soda
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup sunflower oil
1 tbsp golden syrup or treacle/molasses for a darker cake
2 tsp ground nutmeg (freshly grated is perfect)
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp vanilla essence
1 cup slightly stewed wrinkly apples (sweeten to your own preference)
a handful of sultanas/walnuts if you like them

Preheat the oven to 160C
- Mix the milk and vinegar in a bowl and leave to one side while preparing the rest of the ingredients.
- Mix the flour, baking powder and bicarbonate of soda in a large bowl and set aside.
- Whisk the sugar, oil, syrup, spices and vanilla thoroughly in a bowl.
- Pour the milk and sugar mixtures into the flour, and beat everything for at least a minute.
- Add the apples and dried fruit or nuts if you are using them and mix everything well.
- Pour into a lined loaf or cake tin, sprinkle with brown sugar and bake for ~50 minutes.
This cake is best cooled and eaten the next day on a chilly walk, or with lots of tea at home.

The Woodland Trust and their Nature's Calendar project are partners in my phenology adventures, and I'll be posting updates like this on the Woodland Matters blog as the research progresses, or stalls. I may even report on what baked goods are being taken on jaunts to the woods...

What May have been...

aybe the imminent signs of Spring are reminding me of last year, or perhaps it is the shamefaced realisation of how long it's been since the Battenberg had its hatches battened... Whatever it is, here are some memories of long ago avian adventures. May 2012 was a month spent slipping over saltmarshes in search of waders. I attempted lesson two in cultivating a love of birds; studying them. As a field-assistant for Elwyn's PhD research, looking at the influence of saltmarsh management upon breeding birds.

Marshes in Wales and the North West were sites of nest-finding, navigating creeks and avoiding cattle. Being based on Anglesey meant travelling between sites in the time-honoured tradition of fieldwork. Muddy clothes, muddy wellies, and muddy vehicles filled with equipment, folders and food. In between there were days off wandering along the beautiful Aberffraw sands and coastal paths, taking in wild flowers I'd not encountered during my inland life.

Lilac bells of Spring Squill (Scilla verna)

Some peachy pink blooms of Kidney Vetch (Anthyllis vulneraria)

Sheep's-bit (Jasione montana) near the shoreline

We recorded breeding Redshank and other birds using the saltmarshes. Lapwing, Oystercatcher, Meadow Pipit and Skylark were the most frequent users, with a few Mallards also choosing these sites. Days were spent scouring the marshes with our binoculars and investigating likely looking vegetation, which was usually across several large and very muddy creeks.

Spotting nesting passerines was largely through chance; seeing a small brown flash fly from beneath the grass as we wandered the marshes, occasionally glimpsing a bundle of small mouths clamouring to be fed. As well as our study species, being on the marshes provided many opportunities for watching flocks of Dunlin and Ringed Plover, encountering Shelducks and Shelducklings and the occasional Little Egret (reminding me of those plentiful Indian egrets). Wheatear and Reed Bunting were also frequent visitors.

Elwyn's research should increase the understanding of saltmarsh management for birds and biodiversity in the long term. It was a fantastic opportunity to get involved a research project observing breeding birds from a privileged perspective one would never normally see.

At the end of May I retreated home with a sprained ankle, and spent several days cooking (to make up for the fieldwork diet of soup and pita bread) and eating in our sunny and green garden. Clearing out the herb patch involved a great deal of excess Lemon Balm, which became a pesto to eat with some homemade wholewheat gnocchi.

Enough pesto for several meals...

To make the pesto you will need approximately:
1 cup lemon balm leaves (rinsed)
2-3 garlic cloves
2/3 cup walnuts
1/2 - 2/3 cup olive oil (depending on how liquid you'd like your pesto to be)
salt and pepper

Whiz the dry ingredients together in a food processor and then add oil to reach your desired consistency. Season to taste. It is quite delicate, so is particularly nice served simply, over your pasta of choice.

Wholewheat gnocchi with lemon balm pesto

Lastly, I recently came across a great blog called Ecological Spaceship, which is concerned with many issues facing the Earth and its inhabitants. My favourite post so far is a reminder of what it is to be an 'environmentalist' i.e. someone who is dependent upon the environment, which is in fact, everyone.

Warm Winter Passing

eap day in a leap year, winter seems to have gone, shifts and stirrings appear. Boxing day primroses finished 2011, Lesser Celandine flowers waved yellow as January began. February frosted all life at the start, now there's crocuses, butterflies, snowdrops and bees. Adders in East Anglia, frogspawn all over, Todmorden toads on the 27th, and no time to take a breath.

Hello, spring.

Dark Nights and Dock Pudding

ate nights in the dark woods were how I spent many an April evening this year. Punctuated by rustlings and startled Roe deer, Tawny hooting and sudden screeches. I took on the co-ordination of a local 'Toad Patrol', a group of volunteers that monitor a road with a 'toad crossing', where migrating toads on the way to their breeding pond are at risk from traffic. My site was unusually lovely for such an endeavour, a single track road through woodland on the way to a Scout hut. The road was quiet, and primarily used at weekends while the huts were booked up. Traffic use was light, but often has a high impact on the toads due to the narrow, twisty nature of the road.

Lovely lady toad (Bufo bufo) from the breeding pond.

I often walked the couple of miles to my site before dusk, arriving with my bucket and hi-vis vest, ready to transport the horny wee toads across the ocean of invitingly warm yet hazardous tarmac. Over the remarkably dry days and cool evenings of the season an assortment of enthusiastic volunteers and I helped nearly 200 toads. A rather wonderful bonus of my site was the presence of Palmate newts (Lissotriton helveticus), which delighted the children of my volunteers and the hoards of Scouts we occasionally encountered of an evening. Over our nights there we helped over 90 newts off the road, one of the largest single records for the area, which seems to be singularly lacking in newt surveys.

A wee newty cutie

A couple of weekends ago I was inspired by the event of the year, that's right - The World Dock Pudding Championships, that happen to be held in Mytholmroyd, about a mile down the valley from me. Dock Pudding is a Northern speciality, especially associated with the Calder Valley, that I have never eaten or made, a sad state of affairs I set out to rectify with my first spot of real foraging of the year. It is traditionally eaten with bacon, often with breakfast and is made in spring to see people through the period when not much else green is available. The 'dock' of the pudding is in fact bistort (Polygonum bistorta), which apparently has the most wonderful collection of local names, some of the best being; adderwort, dragonwort, Easter man-giant, passion dock, pudding grass and snakeweed. So off I gaily skipped one Sunday afternoon to a spot where I knew the bistort grew. A wee stream lined with fresh shoots, sorrel and nettles, another ingredient required for the pudding.

Young leaves of 'Red legs', sexy vernacular for bistort.

Ruby Cream-spot ladybirds (Calvia quattuordecimguttata) by my bistort.

There are many variations in recipe, most seem to make pans full of the stuff, which seemed a bit much. For a more modest portion here is what you need for my cobbled-together vegetarian version:
200g fresh young bistort leaves
40g fresh nettle tops
1 medium onion
2 cloves garlic
2 spring onions
2tbsp oatmeal
salt and pepper
olive oil

Freshly picked and ready for washing.

 - Place the nettles in a bowl of cold salted water and leave to one side while you prepare the bistort. Wash bistort leaves thoroughly in a colander and then remove the larger stalks before roughly slicing them. Drain and rinse the nettles then chop roughly (I used rubber gloves!).
- Chop the onion, garlic and spring onion (you can use whatever alliums are available, wild garlic and leek would be nice) and fry gently in some olive oil. Add the sliced bistort and nettles and continue to fry. You'll need to add a couple of ladlefuls of water or stock to the mixture and cover to cook gently for 15-20 minutes.
- Add the oatmeal and stir to ensure the mixture doesn't stick. It will need another 20 minutes or so, with occasional stirring and adding a little more water if it gets too dry. The mixture should apparently be 'moist not wet'. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Pudding at the moist stage.

- It's now nearly ready, and the final stage, once the pan is removed from the heat and allowed to cool a little is to make up small patties of dock pudding (like potato cakes). These should be fried in a little more olive oil or butter, the crispy outer is said to make the pudding more palatable!
- I substituted the traditional bacon for haloumi cheese and ate my dock pudding for supper. It worked really well with the saltiness and texture of the haloumi.

Pudding patties.

Delicious dinner of dock and haloumi.

Dock pudding has that iron-rich tang of spinach based dishes. I even convinced a slightly skeptical family to eat and enjoy it and the amount this recipe made contributed to about three meals. Younger bistort is supposed to make for a better pudding, but leaves can be foraged throughout May, here is a nice guide to doing so.

Here's to more foraging!

Merry March Madnesses

very day now brings growth and colour and change to the valleys and hills that surround me. In the weeks that have passed since Lesser Celandine brightened a February morning, a few jaunts have been undertaken and much food has been consumed. So here are a few of each...

Mist and snow descended upon a gathering of knitwear swaddled eco-geeks on a February foray to the frozen North. Amongst wintery walks, snowballs and snow angels, aggressive birds tamed by DN the goose-whisperer, kitchen lounging and tea, duck lessons, board games and jigsaws, endless euphemisms involving back passages; there was time for some high quality badger impressions. Perched at the top of steep beech woodland behind my house we investigated the impressive ramparts, fresh spoil and snuffle holes of my local badger sett. It would seem however that some of these chaps are more like miners...

Did they have pickaxes?!

We couldn't find the doorbell.

Lucky badger-hair for Isla.

Peering through the semi-opaque atmosphere we just about managed to spy Great-spotted Woodpecker, Goldcrest and Fieldfare. Low cloud became a theme of the weekend, and the obligatory pudding course was duly christened 'Yorkshire Fog Crumble', concocted of apple, home-grown blackcurrants and redcurrants, with an oat and walnut topping. The Wilmots provided some of their fungi harvest and Kirst stirred up the biggest pot of mushroom and parsnip risotto this side of Italy. Experiments with leftovers resulted in melty risotto cakes. We shaped them into patties, with a centre of strong cheddar, dipped them in eggs and breadcrumbs and fried lightly. They are definitely a good way of consuming your carbohydrate!

Mmm, oozy.

A fleeting Yorkshire jaunt by Ms Tinker gave us the chance to bid a tearful farewell to Pete, on his way to start his Indian adventure and Kenyan life. It also provided the opportunity for baking. I made pide, a Turkish pizza-like bread that evokes my very early years there and subsequent visits. There are many possible toppings including a kind of spicy diced lamb, melting cheese or white cheese (the only two kinds of cheese you really find in Turkey), egg, or just olive oil and seeds. My favourite is peynirli (cheese) pide, made with white cheese.

It's pronounced 'pee-day'. Yes, really.

You will need:
285g strong plain flour
1 heaped tbsp dried instant yeast
1/2 tsp salt
125ml warm water (may require more)
200g feta or other white cheese, crumbled
2 tbsp flat-leaved parsley, chopped
olive oil to drizzle

Preheat the oven as hot as it will go!
- In a food processor or large bowl knead the flour, yeast, salt and water until a soft, smooth dough. Leave in bowl until 10 mins before it is required.
- Divide into four, roll out thinly to a long flat strip, approx 8cm/3" wide.
- Place on baking tray and cover the middle of strip with cheese and sprinkle with parsley. Fold edges up and over to give a 1cm border all around (see picture).
- Bake until puffed and browned, drizzle with oil and serve immediately, whole or cut into diagonal pieces.
- If you fancy making it as a plain bread, brush with olive oil and sprinkle with sesame and cumin or nigella seeds before baking.

March busied itself with shaking off winter, spring budding and bursting out all over, unfurling its foliage on sunny days. My first flying bat wheeled by my window on the 12th March, woodlands echoed with Woodpecker drumming and Hardcastle Crags' millponds quivered with fresh frogspawn by the 19th March. Walking by the river that day I watched two pairs of Dippers display, zipping up and down calling shrilly, before landing, bobbing and flexing their tails for a few seconds before taking off again. All this and the opportunity to make these sweet potato pancakes on a certain Tuesday.

There was so much I couldn't count the clumps.

Eaten with honey and toasted walnuts.

New eco-adventures beckoned when I discovered the hiding place of Calderdale's lepidoptera lovers, which happens to be here. So dusk one evening I hesitantly joined the self declared 'Mad March Moffers' back at Hardcastle Crags. I think they accepted me once I established some reliable species scribing skills while they gleefully leapt and dived with their nets, capturing those moths brave enough to venture into the ring of light. Since then my nights have often included dazzled eyes  following fluttering common quakers, chestnuts, twin-spotted quakers, pine beauties, oak beauties, hebrew characters, water carpets, red sword grasses, march moths, engrailed, pugs and baffling micros.

Amazingly, one of this exemplary bunch has leant me an actinic moth trap, so trapping has now commenced by the rockery in the garden - hooray! Some of the usual suspects have appeared, but I've also had Bombus terrestris and a huge, mite-laden Sexton beetle (Nicrophorus humator) waiting to be released in the morning.

Common Quaker (Orthosia cerasi)

Hebrew Character (Orthosia gothica)

 Flying beasties have been abundant since they awoke, my first Northern butterfly spied at a distance on the 22nd March. The first identifiable winged one was a smallish Comma on the 26th March, on the edge of a shingle beach on a Southern soujourn to Gosport. Ms Tinker and I skipped after it with giddy enthusiasm, startling a nearby dog-walker with our excitable shrieks. The baking days have brought plenty since, Peacocks, Commas, Orange-tips and Speckled Wood being particularly prevalent in my garden. Brushing up on butterflies has become quite important, as for six weeks this June/July I'll be moving to Somerset to be Volunteer Ranger for the Large Blue Butterfly at Collard Hill.

That South Coast Sunday brought another shoreline beauty, the vivid purple leaves of Sea-kale (Crambe maritima) poking through shingle while slightly bleary-eyed geeks oohed and aaahed over its prettiness. Thus March adventures ended, and finally so can this post; with a promise of April amphibians and the first foraging frolics.

Cabbagey

Sprung!

t last! The spring messenger has arrived. On the 14th February I noticed some clumps of Lesser Celandine (Ranunculus ficaria) flowering at the bottom of my driveway, yellow stars embracing the weak winter sunshine. I'd been away for a few days, so they may have braved the Yorkshire elements even earlier. Nevertheless, as the internet has so usefully reported to me, in around 1800 Gilbert White (natural history diarist extraordinaire), recorded the flowers as appearing on February 21st in Selborne, Hampshire. Spring is being sprung rather earlier nowadays.

This year's Valentine, dear Celandine

So, the spring's foraging opportunities are increasing and on the wonderful Eat Weeds I came across this Stroganoff for my Lesser Celandine... I haven't yet tried it, as it feels wrong to deplete these sunny harbingers so soon. Perhaps when I've found a glossy green carpet of them I'll have a go, or maybe someone else would like to try it out?

Last week I went to the Soil Association annual conference, and among the absorbing sessions met some interesting and inspiring people. One of whom, the lovely Holly, is part of a project called Fruitmap. It started in Slovakia, as a way to map forage-able fruit and nut trees in towns and cities. It's spreading, and aims to be a global network of accessible fruit, so if anyone wants to get involved please do! We can add trees wherever we are in the world, ensuring more people have access to beautiful, free, crumble ingredients...