Chris Monk
Well-known member
The Times August 26, 2006
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What’s going on? Suddenly it’s all come in, have a walk, enjoy the air :clap: Wild Notebook by Simon Barnes
YOU ARE NO doubt familiar with the traditional greeting of the countryman to a visitor: “What the f*** are you doing on my land?” It was, then, a fairly remarkable thing that I did yesterday. I walked all round a neighbouring farm and there was not a thing the farmer could do. And, in fact, he said welcome, walk, enjoy, come again, bring your horse.
What is happening to our countryside, when traditional values are being trampled underfoot? It is a sea change — no it’s not, it’s an earth change. My neighbour Richard Symes has established grass tracks around his fields. These follow his tall and luxuriant hedges. Most of the tracks are a good six metres across: the inside part near the fence is unmown and shaggy, the outside short and perfect to walk along. Or ride along.
There are 6km of track, and a total of six hectares —15 acres — taken up by these tracks. In these places, he is not growing corn: he is growing nice places for wildlife and nice places for people and nice places for horses. Why does he do it? Has he gone mad? Everybody knows that farmer’s job is to plant endless prairies of wheat and huge garish tundras of oilseed rape, to bank a million subsidies and to whinge a lot.
This is Countryside Stewardship, a scheme that has been in operation since 2000. Stewardship farmers are paid not just to produce crops, but also to cherish the land. There are all sorts of ways you can enter Stewardship, and all sorts of levels, and Symes has gone wholeheartedly for wide field margins and public access. Where once farms were distinguished by ploughed footpaths and “accidentally” knocked down footpath signs, there are now map-boards telling you where to walk, friendly explanations of what goes on the farm and an invitation to take the air.
IT IS THE most colossal change in attitude. The scheme has 17,000 participants, and has produced 44,500 miles of grass tracks, and the restoration of 17,500 miles of hedgerow and 1,300 miles of drystone walls. Not all Stewardship farmers have gone for the public access, but there is more money in it for those that have.
After the war, the call was for productivity at the expense of everything, and the farmers did brilliantly. They succeeded not wisely but too well. Now they have been asked to make a U-turn and farm the land less productively, more harmoniously, in a way that is more friendly to butterflies, barn owls and humans. And many have taken up the challenge with the same enthusiasm with which they once whacked hell out of the landscape.
Politicians, journalists, farmers: we all know what it is to be seen as spoilsports, rotters and cads. With farmers, at least, this is not necessarily the case. The countryside — the country — is richer for farmers like Symes: for Stewardship. Our countryside is changing before our eyes: and with it, the way we think about it.
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What’s going on? Suddenly it’s all come in, have a walk, enjoy the air :clap: Wild Notebook by Simon Barnes
YOU ARE NO doubt familiar with the traditional greeting of the countryman to a visitor: “What the f*** are you doing on my land?” It was, then, a fairly remarkable thing that I did yesterday. I walked all round a neighbouring farm and there was not a thing the farmer could do. And, in fact, he said welcome, walk, enjoy, come again, bring your horse.
What is happening to our countryside, when traditional values are being trampled underfoot? It is a sea change — no it’s not, it’s an earth change. My neighbour Richard Symes has established grass tracks around his fields. These follow his tall and luxuriant hedges. Most of the tracks are a good six metres across: the inside part near the fence is unmown and shaggy, the outside short and perfect to walk along. Or ride along.
There are 6km of track, and a total of six hectares —15 acres — taken up by these tracks. In these places, he is not growing corn: he is growing nice places for wildlife and nice places for people and nice places for horses. Why does he do it? Has he gone mad? Everybody knows that farmer’s job is to plant endless prairies of wheat and huge garish tundras of oilseed rape, to bank a million subsidies and to whinge a lot.
This is Countryside Stewardship, a scheme that has been in operation since 2000. Stewardship farmers are paid not just to produce crops, but also to cherish the land. There are all sorts of ways you can enter Stewardship, and all sorts of levels, and Symes has gone wholeheartedly for wide field margins and public access. Where once farms were distinguished by ploughed footpaths and “accidentally” knocked down footpath signs, there are now map-boards telling you where to walk, friendly explanations of what goes on the farm and an invitation to take the air.
IT IS THE most colossal change in attitude. The scheme has 17,000 participants, and has produced 44,500 miles of grass tracks, and the restoration of 17,500 miles of hedgerow and 1,300 miles of drystone walls. Not all Stewardship farmers have gone for the public access, but there is more money in it for those that have.
After the war, the call was for productivity at the expense of everything, and the farmers did brilliantly. They succeeded not wisely but too well. Now they have been asked to make a U-turn and farm the land less productively, more harmoniously, in a way that is more friendly to butterflies, barn owls and humans. And many have taken up the challenge with the same enthusiasm with which they once whacked hell out of the landscape.
Politicians, journalists, farmers: we all know what it is to be seen as spoilsports, rotters and cads. With farmers, at least, this is not necessarily the case. The countryside — the country — is richer for farmers like Symes: for Stewardship. Our countryside is changing before our eyes: and with it, the way we think about it.
