Where the Blackbirds Bathe

 

It started with a blackbird bathing in the most neglected part of my garden. During the house renovations a few years back, this area was where the workmen dumped rubble. I had promised myself a greenhouse or ‘something wonderful’ like an outdoor room and had dreamed of an orangery because, well, gardeners dream, writers dream… put that together, and you get orangery dreams. But the recent years have brought fiercer storms thanks to the reality of climate change, and we’ve already had the garage windows broken in a storm. What chance would a glasshouse of any kind have, especially built upon this hill?

So back to the bird – having a bath…

‘What about a wee pond?’ says I.

My Husband nods tentatively. He knows I don’t need much encouragement…

And how hard can a pond be after building the dry creek feature in my garden in California in the hard-baked, dry desert earth? Soft, soggy Irish soil would be no bother…

I did a bit of research. I consider the Ulster Wildlife Trust a very reliable source. If you’re thinking of a water feature, keep in mind what your local conditions will allow for. A dry creek works in California, but here it would probably get washed away! And likewise, a still-water wildlife pond would not have been a good idea in my California garden  (especially with the mosquito problem in standing water.) But in Ireland, it is a feature that will welcome the wildlife to my garden in all the best ways.

The first thing was to outline the size and shape I wanted. Rain tended to gather in the bits I dug out, so I kept a log in the hole in case the hedgehog fell in and needed to climb out.

I wanted a pond deep enough so it wouldn’t freeze solid to the bottom in the harshest winter weather. Apparently, that meant I had to have it a min of 45-60 cm deep for 40 % of the pool. I took things slowly. It was March. We were in lockdown. There was no big hurry. I aimed to dig 15 shovel-fulls a day. But what could I do with all that soil?

Last autumn, our neighbour chopped down a gigantic Leyland Cypress that had bordered our properties. It’s considered by some as an invasive tree, but it’s always sad to see a large tree being taken down. I did welcome the extra sunlight in the garden, though. Some of the larger branches had fallen on our side. We were so grateful when a Good Friend chopped them into a manageable size for us. I decided to use these logs to make a raised bed to border the pond and fill them, in part, with the displaced earth.

I was delighted when My 13-Year-Old Nephew pitched in one Saturday to help dig the pond – you know lockdown has gone on too long when things like that happen. We had such a great day together too. Excellent bonding time, and for the next few decades, I’ll sit by that pond with the fondest of memories of making it!

The ground was rocky in places and some of the rocks we took out were pretty big – that’s my wellie boot in the picture above for scale.

Despite hating the idea of adding more plastic to the planet, all the advice on making a pond said that I needed a pond liner. I dug a little trench around the rim to secure the liner.

I wanted large smooth pebbles/rocks to edge the pond and cover the surrounding area. A little bit of research led me to a company in Lurgan that would deliver river rock to my driveway. By my calculations, I’d need two tonnes of pebbles. They were due on the 5^th May – I had a week and a half to wait.

By the time all the digging was completed, we’d had the driest April on record. When rain was forecast to arrive before the stones would. I worried that the holes would fill with water before the liner was down and that I’d have a nightmarish mudbath trying to set the liner in place. So I decided to put down the liner and fill the pond with water (from our water butt) before the stones arrived.

To prevent sharp rocks from puncturing the pond liner,  there should be a layer of sand, then underlay of some kind (carpet underlay will work.)

Sand I had, leftover from the house renovations and stored in that rubble area for the last couple of years – it would be good to use it up.

I had saved the underlay from the carpet we took out before the renovations. It was perfect. It may as well lie beneath our pond and protect the liner as lie in landfill or in rolls taking up space on shelves in my garage.

The pond liner I had to order online. None of the garden centres were even open yet. I found a nifty calculator online that helped me gauge how much I needed, and just I ordered it up. When it arrived I laid it out in the sun to warm up so it was more flexible to fit the contours of the pond.

As it turned out, putting the water in before the rocks was a great plan. The water from the rainwater tank weighed down the liner and let us see how it looked. When the rain arrived, it filled the rest of the pond and replenished the tank. We were able to see where the liner needed ‘shored up’ to better control the direction of overflow runoff, away from the house. (Don’t forget the safety escape for the hedgehog – that liner might be too slippy for him to scramble out!)

The rocks arrived, and My 13-Year-Old Nephew came over again to help with placing those. It was hard and heavy work. Two tonnes was just the right amount of rock. My back ached, but, boy, did it feel good to see the project come together.

When the garden centres opened, I planned to go shopping for aquatic plants, but after an online research session, I concluded that I wouldn’t buy anything. Apparently, nature will find its own way to my pond. I follow the theory – fragments and seeds from nearby waterways (the River Callan being the closest) will be carried in by birds and take root. This way, I avoid the risk of introducing invasive species that are commonly introduced via garden centre stock. It’s kind of hard to believe that the pond will be a thriving ecosystem simply by my doing nothing, but I am willing to leave it for a year to see what happens – check back in 2022!

To finish, I added a bridge…

planted up the raised bed (that’s a post in its own right!)…

and disguised the rainwater tank with hanging pockets filled with plants…

added a little decorative log pile to hide the ugly gap beneath the water butt…

and hey presto!

The whole thing was barely done when the blackbird was back bathing in the pond. I watched with delight and called My Husband to come and see before thinking to grab the camera. But alas, the rascal (the blackbird, not My Husband) scarpered before I could get the lens cap off. That’s okay – I’m happy just knowing that this pond is where the blackbirds bathe.

Byddi Lee

Bluebell Fairyland at the Milford Cuttings

It feels like Armagh’s worst keep secret even though the Milford Cuttings should not be kept secret at all. It is a stunningly gorgeous walk that is especially at its best in May with its carpet of bluebells.

Managed by the Ulster Wildlife Trust, this section of disused railway track is home to the largest colony of a rare tree – the Irish whitebeam. Wildflowers grow in abundance and include several species of orchid.

It is a tricky place to find from the directions on the Ulster Wildlife site, so I’ll do my best to make my directions clearer. At the moment, is it dry underfoot because of the lack of rain recently, but keep an eye on the weather conditions. Worst case scenario, it’s a welly-boots walk, but well worth getting mucky for.

So start at Hill Street in Milford village with your back to the Monaghan Road. You’ll see an old School House on your left, a gorgeous old house set in lovely grounds to your right, and then, further along, a new development on your left.

You can park along here if you came this far by car.

You’ll pass Old Mill Court on your left, and the next lane on the same side sports a sign for the Milford Cuttings.

Turn left here. Walk over the old Iron bridge and notice how it looks like it may have been part of the railway system (I don’t know for sure if it was, but it sure looks like it.) Below you flows the Callan river – apparently, the name derives from an old Irish word for ‘Noisy’. It is lovely to hear the water gurgle past.

Follow this lane to a wooden gate (recently mended by the Ulster Wildlife Trust – thank you!)

Go through the gate and keep following the trail…

until it leads you down some wooden steps to what looks like a platform at a train station. (I believe this may be referred to as the old halt locally, but I’m not 100% certain on that.)

It’s a peaceful sun-trap nowadays. You might see frogs in the pool of water that now floods where I presume the tracks went. There’s the buzz of insects and the scent of blossom. It’s a place you could sit and read a book if you were so inclined!

Turn right and head through another wooden gate to follow the trail.

I’m guessing this section was carved out of the hill for the railway tracks. It’s incredible to think this was gouged out a couple of hundred years ago for a railway system that ran to Monaghan and beyond. Sad to think we no longer have a rail system in Armagh anymore.

Soon you’ll come to wooden steps that climb out of the cutting.

From the top, you can see glimpses of the Callan river, though not in the picture below

At the minute, white wood anemone flowers tumble down the hillside colliding with the more stately bluebells and the demure primroses clustered on banks and around tree roots.

Down some more steps…

then the trail threads through a fairyscape…

until it splits into two. Here you can choose to take the high road or the low road – both are equally gorgeous, and if you are doing an out-and-back, the two join up, and you can loop back at this point (for a shortish walk of about 1 mile)

If you fancy a longer walk, you can integrate this into the Rock Road-Ballyards loop I wrote about before. To do this, don’t close the loop. If you took the low trail, turn right, and if you took the high trail, that will be a left. Along this path at the moment, there are white clouds of Blackthorn in bloom, promising heavily laden branches of sloe berries come the autumn. I’m thinking, ‘sloe gin!’

Follow the trail right to the end, where it terminates at the remains of a bridge that once spanned the Ballyards Road below. (Below is a winter shot – an equally gorgeous time to visit the Cuttings)

Be careful when looking over the edge – there’s no fence or safety barrier. From here, double back about fifteen metres to find a gap in the hedge on the right, revealing a steep path down the bank towards the river. Be careful – I’m always scared that one slip will have me swimming in the Callan!

Follow the river bank…

until you see a rusty gate secured by a loop of barbed wire (sounds delightful!) that leads out to the Ballyards Road.

Turning right takes you back into Milford (total walk distance of about 1.2 miles). If you go left, then about half a mile later, cross a stone-walled bridge and take a left again to bring you to the Rock Road. Another left here takes you back into Armagh, where you can grab a well-earned coffee and traybake at the Espresso Bar before doubling back up to the Stormy Hill to cut over to the Monaghan road and back into Milford. For more details on this portion of the route, you can read this post from a while back. The full loop can take about 5 miles.

The Milford Cutting is a place where, on a warm summers evening, as the midges dance in clusters, you’d be forgiven for thinking it’s a gathering of the fairy folk celebrating nature. In winter, frost glistens in the bare branches of the trees and hedges. A snowfall lingers longer in the hollow of the cutting.

All year long, something stands out to make the heart swell with joy at the wonders of this world we are lucky to inhabit. The Milford Cutting truly is a magical place, and if you don’t believe me come see for yourself.

ByddLee