I’m wrestling nature in a field on the edge of Dartmoor. Thighs straining, biceps quivering, hands gripping a branch, it’s a struggle.
I’ve half a mind to deliver a leg drop à la Hulk Hogan when the gnarly tree arm breaks free and I slot my nemesis into place among a bundle of previously strong-armed branches. ‘That’s it,’ says Tom Hynes of the Devon Hedge Group, inching forward to remove an axe from my view. ‘Good job.’
As outdoors activities go, hedgelaying is rather fun. The ancient skill is making a comeback and I’ve come to north Devon to learn the rural craft from one of Devon’s eminent hedgelayers.
The National Hedgelaying Society, which even holds a national championships every year (in September), have seen a steady increase in those wishing to learn the craft.
It’s a workforce that’s required.
Britain lost half its hedgerows after World War II as farmers were encouraged to create more arable land.
But today, the Climate Change Committee (CCC) recommends that the UK hedgerow network increases by 40% to support the government’s target of net-zero carbon emissions by 2050, which works out at about 125,000 miles of new hedges in the UK.
The ecological benefits are remarkable. Hedges capture carbon (a hectare of hedgerows can sequester as much as 130 tonnes of carbon a year), provide shelter and nesting habitats for wildlife, and also result in slower water run-off into rivers, preventing flooding.
Though it’s far from light work, neither is it laborious. The tools are the same as would have been used on these very hedges centuries ago: a billhook and a trusted axe. And, of course, our sinew and sweat.
The trick is to chip away a thin fracture, which allows the branch to be bent into shape rather than snapped off and thrown on to the discarded heap (later used for firewood), creating ‘a hinge that’s thick enough to stay alive but thin enough to come down without cracking’, says Hynes.
Environment secretary George Eustice has cited hedges as an important ecological cornerstone of our countryside and now landowners and farmers have access to a grant system rewarding their maintenance.
‘Farmers should be supported to do the right thing,’ says Hynes. ‘For the general countryside, climate change, wildlife, everyone – more hedgerows will benefit all of these issues. Times have changed. We need to do more and talk less.’
As if to support the point, we’re back to it, taking down another branch and securing the thicket hazel in place with what is called a crook, a V-shaped branch chiselled to a point and knocked into place.
The makings of what, in a year’s time with vertical growth, will resemble a hedge. We stand back and admire our work. Job’s a good ’un, as they say in these parts.
Devon Rural Skills Trust
Devon Rural Skills Trust runs a series of workshops including dry-stone walling and coppicing.
The latter is one of the more intriguing methods of managing woodland, which sees harvested wood turned into fuel, building materials, fencing stakes and green woodworking product.
They also tutor ancient charcoal making.
Woodwork For Wellbeing
Woodwork For Wellbeing in Bethnal Green, London, runs various social woodwork sessions to help people with mental health issues, reduce isolation and improve wellbeing through making together.
All PPE and tools are provided and in 18 months it has supported projects from spoon carving to bed building.
Badger & Birch
Badger & Birch sell kits tomake home accessories from recycled shells, a mix of crushed mussel, scallop and oyster shells, collected from a nearby seafood restaurant in Falmouth, Cornwall.
Artists can use seafood waste to create coasters, Christmas tree decorations, serving platters and cheeseboards.
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