Where do all the straw bales go?

click photo to enlarge
There was a time, not so many decades ago, when some English farmers burned the straw on the fields after getting in the cereal crop. This environmentally damaging solution to what to do with the left-overs from harvest has long since been banished to history. The fact that it caused dangerous driving conditions on nearby roads was at least as strong an argument as that concerning greenhouse gases. The loss of nutrients provided by the burnt straw notwithstanding, few lament the demise of burning in the fields.

And yet, burning does actually remain one of the ways that straw is used. Over the past couple of years a straw-burning power station has been built and opened near Sleaford, Lincolnshire. There the bales are converted into electricity with considerably fewer environmental consequences than direct burning (though inevitably with some repercussions), and local farmers have an outlet for their "waste". I'd be interested to know the ranges of use to which straw is put today. Animal bedding remains, of course, and some houses (very few actually) have been built using the rectangular bales as wall insulation. A couple of years ago I spoke to a farmer who was selling bales to the Ministry of Defence to use for demolishing some disused fortified buildings by fire! Straw board is still made and used and a proportion of straw is ploughed back into the soil. However, I see veritable mountains of bales dotted around Lincolnshire of which very few look older than a year. One of my tasks this autumn must be to answer this question - "Where do all the straw bales go?"

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 45mm (67mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/800 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Old and new cultivation

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Only a few minutes before I took today's photograph we walked across a pasture that showed clear evidence of medieval cultivation. The surface of the field undulated due to centuries of ploughing using oxen and horses. Generations of ploughmen had gone up and down each selion (a strip in a furlong, which themselves were aggregated into large open fields) in the same direction each season. As a result the ploughshare had made each selion into a long, straight, low bank that curved to the left at each end where the plough was turned. Our passage across the field rose and fell as we went over each ridge and furrow.

The contrast between this traditional method of cultivation, one that prevailed for over a thousand years, with the sight that greeted us as we crossed a recently harvested wheat field, could not have been greater. A single man in a large tractor pulled a machine that was preparing the land and sowing the next crop at the same time. He would accomplish in a few hours that which formerly took many men and animals weeks to achieve. The driver gave us a wave as passed by - such work today is a solitary undertaking - and as we went on our way back to Folkingham I reflected on the way today's cultivation contrasted with not only the distant past but what happened for much of the twentieth century.

Nowadays, as I understand it, there are essentially 5 approaches to preparing a wheat field with the next crop:
1 Conventional ploughing - plough the straw in deep, cultivate the seed bed, then drill and finally spread fertiliser
2 Shallow cultivation - plough the straw in deep, drill and fertilise in one pass
3 Minimal tillage - till the straw in shallow with cultivator, drill and fertilise in one pass
4 Shallow tillage - turn straw over in the surface soil, drill and fertilise in one pass in this layer
5 Direct drilling - no soil tillage, simply drill and fertilise in one pass leaving the straw on the surface.

However, I'm no expert, so watching the man and machines at work I was unsure which method of 3-5 was being used. I think it's 3 (minimal tillage) but I'm happy to be corrected.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Nikon D5300
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 105mm (157mm - 35mm equiv.)
F No: f8
Shutter Speed: 1/400 sec
ISO:100
Exposure Compensation: 0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Apothecaries, memorials and words

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I've long been fascinated by the way that a word can fall out of use. In a blog post of  2009 I reflected on the demise during my lifetime of "aerodrome", "palings" and "petticoat". Today I've been thinking about another word that is much less used than formerly - "apothecary".

Walk down a high street today and you are very unlikely to see a shop sign advertising the services of an apothecary. However, had you trod the same route in the 1700s or 1800s such a business could well have been present. The nearest we get today to the apothecary of those centuries is the dispensing chemist or pharmacist. The first apothecaries in Britain were grocers specialising in non-perishable commodities such as preserves, wine, spices, herbs, medicinal drugs etc. In 1617 the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries was established in London following a split from the Grocers. They established a hall in Blackfriars, and until 1922 manufactured and sold pharmaceutical products there. In 1704 the Society won an important legal decision against the Royal College of Physicians which allowed them to prescribe and dispense medicines, an action that led to apothecaries evolving into practitioners of medicine as we know them today. And yet, despite this complicated background history, today most people who know the term "apothecary" associate it with the dispensing of medicine rather than the deployment of general medical skills.

Today's photograph commemorates the death in 1780, at the young age of thirty one years, of John Rugeley, an apothecary of Folkingham, Lincolnshire. Apparently he died of "the fever" - which one I don't know. His attractive slate tablet displays the florid script, flourishes and motifs that can be seen on many such memorials in this part of the county, here the work of "Casswell, Sculpt." It can be found in the village on the wall of the south aisle of St Andrew's church.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 65mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/15
ISO: 3200
Exposure Compensation:  0 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Jackdaws and church towers

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My upbringing in the Yorkshire Dales market town of Settle familiarised me with the jackdaw (Corvus monedula). The area is well-known for its rugged hills, sheep farming, limestone cliffs and stone-built houses. All of these combine to provide a fine habitat for this small crow. What one notices from everyday contact with the bird is not only its black plumage, its grey nape and its bright eye that give it a look of intelligence that it doesn't quite deserve, but also its characteristic call. This is usually described in writing as a sharp "chak" or a more drawn out "chaka-chaka-chak",  a sound that accounts for the first part of the bird's name. In the Dales it builds its nest in holes and cavities on cliffs, in trees and in buildings.

When I lived in the city of Kingston upon Hull the jackdaw wasn't particularly noticeable though could be found. It was much more common in the surrounding countryside. During my time on Lancashire's Fylde Coast it became very familiar once more, and I often heard its distinctive cry as groups flew over my house. In the Lincolnshire Fens the bird is very common, associating with rooks to feed on stubble, around  farms and in villages. It finds nest sites in trees, farm buildings and around house roofs. However, the plentiful medieval churches, especially the space behind the louvred openings of the bell towers, provide favoured sites for nests. The jackdaw has to compete with pigeons and doves (and the occasional peregrine falcon) for the best locations, but anyone who stands in a churchyard is almost bound to see jackdaws circling the church tower, entering through holes and making their cry echo from the old stonework.

Today's photograph shows the medieval church of St Andrew at Folkingham in Lincolnshire. Looking at the specks in the sky to the right of the tower top the critical observer might be forgiven for wondering whether my sensor needs cleaning or if I've got dust on the back of my lens. However, anyone who has read this far will realise that it is a circling crowd of jackdaws. My presence below disturbed them, but they soon settled and peered down at me as I picked my way through the gravestones to take a few more shots from my favoured south-east corner of the churchyard. Incidentally this photograph is a crop from the top half of a portrait-format shot. I find this method is a useful way of getting reasonably upright verticals in the absence of an expensive tilt-shift lens.

photograph and text © Tony Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 19mm
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/400
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation:  -1.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Co-operating with the inevitable

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"If at first you don't succeed - give up!"
anonymous modified proverbial saying

Perseverance, they say, is one of the main qualities that produces success. Intelligence, education (not the same as intelligence), aptitude, money, connections and other desirable attributes are all important, but if you haven't got perseverance then there's a good chance you won't achieve your goals. Moreover, if you do have perseverance but are lacking one or more of those other qualities then you may well succeed anyway. I think that's something that many people learn in life. And just as many don't. They are the people who follow the counsel quoted above.

Perseverance can be summed up in a home-spun sort of way in the proverbial saying, "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again." That's sound advice, and following it can take people a long way. However, there comes a time when perseverance is pointless because you can clearly see that no good consequences will come from it. In these instances the modification of the saying proposed by W.C. Fields has a lot to recommend it: "If at first you don't succeed, try, try, try again. Then give up. No use being a damned fool about it."

A variation on this kind of advice that I've always liked says that sometimes it's wise to "co-operate with the inevitable." In other words, don't persevere where success is clearly unattainable: if the alternative is in some way satisfactory, just go with it. It was this kind of thinking that produced today's photograph. I'd gone out on an afternoon that the weather forecasters promised would be "changeable". I expected squally showers alternating with periods of sun with dramatic clouds. Well, I got about thirty minutes of that. Then, as I sat in the car park in the centre of the village of Folkingham a squall turned into a spell of prolonged heavy rain. After about forty minutes I said to myself, "It's time, Tony, to co-operate with the inevitable." So I did, took this photograph of the rain through my windscreen, then drove home. And, yes, as I turned into the road leading to my house, the sun made an appearance.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/40 sec
ISO: 360
Exposure Compensation:  -0.67 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Farmland near Folkingham

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The other day I was reading a news article about the recent DEFRA report, "Wild Bird Populations in the UK". The state of a country's birds is a useful general indicator of the state of its wildlife across the board, and the data in this report doesn't make good reading. It compares today with the the position in the 1970s, and while there are some some encouraging things to note, such as the sustained increase in seabird populations, the species of other habitats, with some exceptions have generally declined, often markedly.

Water and wetland birds are a mixed picture - those that inhabit lakes, ponds and slow rivers have increased, but the birds of wet grassland and fast flowing rivers are down. Wintering wildfowl and waders are above the numbers seen in the 1970s, but have fallen from a 1990s peak. Many woodland birds, such as the wood warbler, tree pipit, lesser spotted woodpecker, song thrush, tawny owl are much less common. A few species including the great spotted woodpecker, blackcap, nuthatch, green woodpecker and long-tailed tit have increased in abundance. However, it is farmland birds that have declined in the greatest numbers. The grey partridge, starling, turtle dove, corn bunting, tree sparrow and yellow wagtail are down by over 70%, though a few, such as the wood pigeon, jackdaw and greenfinch, have increased by around 50%.

The probable cause of the decline in farmland birds is the intensification of agriculture, increased drainage, the removal of trees, bushes and hedgerows, and the conversion of scrub and "rough" land to pasture or arable. The changing weather and climate has probably added to the loss. During a recent walk over an area of low Lincolnshire hills given over to arable, pasture and small woods the loss described in the report was palpable. I saw a buzzard, a few kestrels, rooks and jackdaws, a single group of about 50 lapwing, a few gulls, starlings, house sparrows, fieldfare and redwing, some robins, a few chaffinch, some red-legged partridge, pheasants and 3 skylarks. I could list many species that I'd expect to see but didn't, birds such as the yellow hammer, sparrow hawk (though that has become more abundant), grey partridge, jay, linnets, redpoll, mistle thrush and meadow pipit. Interestingly much of Lincolnshire farmland is subject to stewardship schemes of one sort or another designed to conserve and promote wildlife whilst allowing efficient food production. The major bird conservation organisations make the point that, though the decline in bird populations is severe, we do know how to manage farmland to reverse the trend. Perhaps a starting point should be reviewing the terms and scope of those stewardship schemes.

Today's photograph was taken late in the afternoon in the area of Lincolnshire where we walked, near the village of Folkingham. Sterile areas of winter wheat dominate the shot, but a few trees, bushes, closely cropped hedges and an area of pasture can also be seen: not very conducive to thriving bird populations. But, the raking yellow light of the low sun as it shone through a gap in the clouds did transform the scene for my photograph, and made the foreground contrast nicely with the village that was still in shade.

photograph and text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Canon
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 175mm
F No: 7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/160
ISO: 160
Exposure Compensation: -0.33 EV
Image Stabilisation: On 

A pleasant lane

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Householders vary in how they present their property to the world. A few seem oblivious of the state of their fences, gardens, paintwork, etc, the whole appearance being barely a step up from the municipal tip. Most take a pride in making something that is pleasing to the eye, tidy, and easily managed. Then there are a few where you suspect the owner is at some point on the autistic spectrum: houses that are obsessively pristine, regimented, with not a blade of grass out of place, alyssum and lobelia alternating alongside the path, and concrete that has been repeatedly power-washed until it is as clean as the day it was laid.

So it is with farmers too. Wherever I've lived I've seen the odd farm that is a complete eyesore, with redundant vehicles rusting behind dilapidated barns, pot-holed tracks, gap-toothed hedges and scruffy famhouses. One wonders whether someone who takes so little care over such things manages to farm with anything approaching efficiency or profitability. Most farms, of course, are tidy and efficient. Where there is an owner who places a value on environmental management, as well as crops and livestock, it is often apparent in hedges that are allowed to grow in a more natural way, or in carefully managed, uncultivated field border strips. And quite a few farms are very well-presented, with pleasant entrances, care taken over the planting around the farmhouse, farm buildings that are well-maintained, and fields that show the mark of regular attention. I may be wrong, but where I come across these I often suspect the influential hand of a woman.

I was reflecting on such things the other afternoon when I went out to take a few landscape photographs. I drove to this particular lane because I'd seen it on a couple of previous occasions and felt that in the right circumstances it might offer an image. What had struck me was the pleasing line of trees by the road-side. They are mixed species and relatively recent. It's not unusual to find roads and lanes lined with trees, but in England these are usually in the vicinity of towns, villages and hamlets. The example in the photograph put me in mind of France where this is a more common sight in open country of the kind found around Folkingham in Lincolnshire. Whoever planted the trees is to be commended because they enhance this lane. I was pleased to come upon it with yellow oilseed rape adding a touch of vibrant colour and a cloudy sky with fast-moving clouds revealing the sun and throwing shadows on the fields. It allowed me to gather a photograph that I - and maybe you - find a welcome change from my recent output.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 40mm (80mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/800
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Folkingham church tower

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A year or so ago the tower of the church of St Andrew in the village of Folkingham, Lincolnshire, was missing some pinnacles. That was a great shame because the tower has a particularly fine set that surmount the four-stage Perpendicular period (fifteenth century) structure. It's not unusual for English church towers to have a large pinnacle at each of the four corners. Commonly these have battlements (merlons and embrasures) between them. It's less common, but not rare, for there to be subsidiary pinnacles placed mid-way between the corners. But to have smaller pinnacles set in the space between each corner and subsidiary pinnacle is much less common. St Andrew has this unusual and attractive arrangement. However, the years and the weather must have taken their toll on the stone and mortar because a strong wind dislodged a number of them, one of which fell through an aisle roof.

I visited the church shortly after this event when a tarpaulin covered the hole that the masonry had made as it crashed through the roof and rafters. You'd think that good fortune wouldn't enter into an incident such as this, but it did. The aisle into which the pinnacle fell is where the church's eighteenth century font - a fluted bowl on a baluster - stands, and mercifully it missed it! Nearby are the old stocks and whipping post that came from the House of Correction (an old prison) parts of which still stand on the edge of the village. These too escaped unscathed. On my most recent visit I took this shot of the tower with its renovated pinnacles, clearly marked by the bright newness of their stone.

The corner in which the church stands, off the Market Place, is surrounded by eighteenth century buildings with pantile roofs, and I decided to capture these in my image without including the contemporary clutter of the parked cars below.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 55mm (110mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f6.3
Shutter Speed: 1/640
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.7 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Playing in the great outdoors

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According to a recent survey by the National Trust 38% of Britain's children spend less than one hour outside each day, and about a quarter spend more than 14 hours a week in front of a television or a computer screen. In the same survey the favourite memory for the vast majority of parents involved playing outside.

My favourite memory of childhood would also be of playing outside, in my case on the limestone uplands of the Yorkshire Dales: exploring caves, streams and rivers and woods, catching fish, watching wildlife, taking home leaves and flowers to identify. When I was young most children were allowed to roam the area in and around the market town where I lived. It wasn't unusual for a group of us to come across another band of children playing in the fields or on the hills, perhaps making dens out of the scree at the bottom of a cliff. During my walks in that same area today I never see children, either accompanied or unaccompanied. In fact, I don't often see people below the age of forty taking their leisure in the countryside, so perhaps this particular rot set it many years ago!

One of the pleasures of growing up is discovering the beauty that is all around us; the plant and animal life, and the history, that is freely available to us all, almost regardless of where we live. We are so much the poorer if our main experience of the world is mediated through television or computers. Direct experience, looking closely at our surroundings, finding out things for ourselves, experiencing the freedom to wander, is crucial to the rounded development of children, and provides them with enjoyment and healthy activity at very little cost. The safety concerns of parents and society, that lead to children being restricted, are greatly overstated and need to be toned down otherwise today's children, when they are adults, will be citing their favourite memory of childhood as reaching Level X of Computer Game Y!

As I was photographing this track that cuts through a wheatfield on the gently rolling hills near the village of Folkingham, Lincolnshire, I wondered where it went to, and what was at the end of it. As a child I'd have followed it to find out. I'd like to think there are still some village children who are doing that sort of thing today. What appealed to me about this shot was the mutiple lines of the track, the way its arc was almost followed by the line of the clouds, and how the area of blue above nicely echoed the area of dark grass below.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 11mm (22mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1/640 seconds
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: -0.3 EV
Image Stabilisation: On

Both sides of the hill

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I was driving through the rolling hills around Folkingham in Lincolnshire when the manicured, intensively farmed fields prompted me to look for some landscape images. There were rich colours and strong lines, and I wondered if I could make something of them. After a bit of searching I came upon a yellow oilseed rape field on a hillside. Some parts were yellow with flowers, but elsewhere the green leaves still predominated, and on the steeper slope, where the rape didn't grow as well, lines of brown soil showed through. These colours attracted me, especially against the blue and white of the sky. But what made me take the shot was a row of trees along the horizon that hadn't yet come into leaf. So I clicked away, then meandered on, not heading anywhere in particular, and turning up any road that took my fancy.

Soon I came to a flat area of pale stubble with a hedge, and beyond a field of green wheat with lines where a tractor had been spraying. With the sky above this presented three bands of colour. But once again it was a row of trees on the skyline that made me consider the shot. When I framed it a hare came bounding into the viewfinder. I pressed the shutter, and as I did so I felt a touch of sympathy tinged with admiration for this gentle animal. Here it was, an insignificant creature in a big landscape that is heavily controlled by man, finding food where it can, subject to regular disturbance by people and machinery, hunted with guns and dogs in winter, and yet still managing to eke out a life as its forebears had done for millennia.

When I got home and was processing the shots it dawned on me that the trees on the horizon were the same in each image: I'd captured them from opposite directions. I had been so engrossed in looking for photographs that I hadn't noticed I'd driven round to the other side of the hill! So, here they are, two shots of Eastern England's arable farmland, wonderfully productive of food, but not so good at growing wildlife.

photograph & text (c) T. Boughen

Camera: Olympus E510
Mode: Aperture Priority
Focal Length: 1st image: 84mm (168mm/35mm equiv.), 2nd image: 150mm (300mm/35mm equiv.)
F No: f7.1
Shutter Speed: 1st image: 1/1250, 2nd image: 1/320
ISO: 100
Exposure Compensation: 1st image: -0.3 EV, 2nd image: 0EV
Image Stabilisation: On