‘THOU BREATH OF AUTUMN’S BEING…’ with Ted Cook

FIELD WALK ALONG THE MUNSTER BLACKWATER

Sunday, November 12th, 2017

Noreen O’Brien, Farm Manager at Nano Nagles’ ‘Centre for Spirituality and Ecology’ proposed a follow up walk at the Heritage Week Cruinniú last August 26th August – participants at Broadford’s Wildlife Arboretum, Co. Limerick signed up. From our carpark meeting place (Nano Nagles’, Kilavullen, Mallow, Co. Cork) with its overview of the swollen Blackwater that bisects the Convent Demesne, we could encompass the rolling fertile heartlands of the former De Naglo Fiefdom – enclosed by the near distant Nagle Mountains. The low arc of the noon sun imparted a welcome heat as new and familiar faces were introduced – we each had our tales of Oephelia who had swung by one lunar month earlier. Remarkably despite the violent hurricane gusts from the south, no trees were wind-thrown within the grounds of the Centre. Foremost Scholar and Temperate Woodland Specialist, Oliver Rackham, in the aftermath of Hurricane Midge that hit England on the night of October 15th, 1987, published detailed research.

Some participants could name the B.B.C. weatherman who earlier on that evening (Oct. 15th, 1987) reassured his T.V. audience concerning a rumoured hurricane – ‘if you’re watching, don’t worry, there isn’t’. Michael Fish got it wrong – the most damaging storm since the 1670’s toppled millions of Oak, Lime, Walnut, Beech, Yew, Hornbeam and Ash and killed 18 people and injured many thousands. Rackham carefully studied a vast sample of upturned rootplates, finding: -

1) Many of the mature trees’ rootplates indicated poor planting and insufficient site preparation during the reigns of Charles II and James II (1660 – 1689).

2) Well managed Pollards and coppiced Parkland Trees escaped impact. The ‘clean-up’ operations, ordered by the then Prime Minister Ms. M. Thatcher and undertaken by the Army, caused severe and longer term damage than had the storm. Little or no provision was made for the storing and seasoning of Yew, Walnut and Oak timbers. The frenzied ‘tidy up’ swept away meaning and beauty.

Along the ‘Cosmic Walk’, young Common Oaks drew our attention – the last clinging Oak leaves were covered with a thick, black, bushy ‘sooty mould’. Samples were gathered and despatched to a leading Mycologist (greek – Mukes: Fungus). Results tell us that it is neither pathogenic nor caused by air pollution – rather it is a Fungus that grows on the sugary exudates from leaf sucking insects. Furthermore, this ‘mould’ develops late in the life of the leaf and does not therefore impede photosynthesis. Convent Prioress, who joined our walk, will be no doubt relieved on receipt of the detailed results.

We reach the Ornament of the Blackwater Catchment – for some the largest Ashtree ever encountered – for others, their first experience of a full mature hardwood. Measuring circa 6 metres plus at 1.7 metres height, this maiden (never having been coppiced), dominates the skyline in all directions. She (and he), this Ash bearing flowers of both genders, presents the archetypal crown discipline of a solitary Specimen Ashtree. She (he) is, like Cherry, Alder, Hazel, etc., wind pollinated – observe and distinguish its flowers during March.

On an earlier walk (2010), a Sister Marcella, thinking aloud beneath its spreading green mantle, imagined Nano and her first cousins Edmund Burke (described as the finest Political Philosopher in History) and Peter Hennessey (of the Cognac province) playing swings during the 1720’s on this perfect copy of its species. (Would there was an Edmund for Brexit!). On joining the Riverside path, barely above the restive water course (the downpours of the preceding 2 days – and up to 10am on the day were swelling the Blackwater such that we could discern its associated floodplain of river meadows), we noted this River’s reputation across Europe as likely the finest and pristine Salmonoid (Wild North Atlantic) freshwater, peopled with Otter and a significant genetic population of Freshwater Pearl Mussel. A site was chosen for our potted Bird Cherry (Prunus padus) of ‘wildwood’ provenance, by the River – alongside earlier plantings of Spindle, Ash and Hazels – and all at home on the alluvium overlying the limestone geology. We considered additional follow up research undertaken in the wake of Midge at the Alice Holt Lodge (U.K. Forestry Commission Research Centre, Surrey).

Oak, Ash, Cherry and Conifers were planted the same day in March 1988, as seedlings. By 1991, some are ‘small and spindly’; some are ‘tall and strong at 6 feet’ and the third batch are close on the heels of the latter. The ‘spindly’ mix had competing grass and weeds regularly close cropped; the ‘tall and strong’ had their encircling vegetation treated with herbicide and the runners up were left untended for the 3 year study. What accounts for the marked divergence of growth rates? Cutting the encircling grass and weeds ‘increases the stress and competition by the stock for moisture’, rendering them weakened. For those uneasy with toxic sprays, let the planter cut a circle of sward – the diameter being determined by the rootball or bareroot mass – and pare away the turf (sward) no more than 3 inches depth. Cut across the middle of the sod to be lifted – spend time thoroughly aerating the pit (as we would prepare the baking mix in the bowl) – add seaweed dust during Springtime plantings. Pay careful attention to positioning the root collar (soil line) level with the backfilled pit and return both ‘half moons’ upturned. Crossing the bridge that leads to Kilavullen Village, we pass near to the G.A.A. pitch’s serious inter Parish football game – flags and emblems adding colour to the clamour.

By the gatelodged entrance to Carrigacunna Castlegrounds (Edmund Burke’s Home), we note a disease free Wych Elm (U. glabra) – indigenous to Ireland – time permits a brief profile of Elm and its predisposition to a variety of Fungal Pathogens. Its seeds are collected from the 3rd week in June and sewn at once. We enter and begin our march in silence, as we would a Cathedral with vaulted roof – here is one of few mature Beech Avenues of considerable length. Planted between 1841 and 1859 (after Storm Darwin that struck us February 12th, 2014, I counted tree growth rings on a sample of logged windthrown Beeches along this kilometre Avenue during May 2014), this curvilinear experience, punctuated by the early evening roosting Rooks overhead, prompted a discussion initiated by the late Dick Warner in the 1980s. Dick always asserted that Rooks possessed a vocabulary far more sophisticated than our own – modern experiments vindicate his claim that Rooks do recognise humans. Their Parliaments are so much more alive and articulate than other human fora.

Walkers nibbled toadstools – we had a walker with us with competency – the Common Puff Ball was snapped up (Lycoperdon perlatum), being careful to leave plenty after to enable sporulation. Profiling the introduction to Ireland of the Beech Tree in 1689 at his Shelton Abbey Demesne Nursery (Co. Wicklow), Samuel Hayes writing in 1796 from his Avondale Estate descrives how the Earl of Wicklow was anxious to promote English Parkland/Wood Pasture and Deer Park landscapes among the newly arrived Cromwellian Colony. (‘Coppice Management in Irish Estates’ S. Hayes. Published 1796. R.D.S.). In conclusion, and in tying in Carrigacunna’s Rank of mature Beeches, Avenues became associated with the early years of Queen Victoria’s Reign (1837). Alas, time was up – the setting sun to our west drew chill November mists up from the adjoining Blackwater and we recited Austin Clarke’s ‘Lost Heifer’. And hadn’t we a rendezvous at Nano Nagle’s for refreshments. As the wheeling Rooks gathered for bed, Kilavullen’s Pubs were making hay – wasn’t there the tactics and missed chances and yellow cards to mull over – and a singsong well under way at Magners’ Bar by the River. Written by Ted Cook (I.N.T.O. Heritage Specialist) Images courtesy of Micheál Rowsome and Eric (The Bigger Picture) Transcribed by Conor Nelligan