Is it time to bring back bears?

Oliver Rackham was recently bemoaning the UK's approach to woodland expansion being so dominated by tree planting, rather than natural regeneration. Not only are the resulting plantations artificial, but the whole process has encouraged the seedling trade across borders that is being blamed for ash dieback disease's introduction to Britain.

One of the main reasons new woods are planted rather than regrown naturally is because we have such unnaturally high levels of herbivores. Young trees can only get away if they're grown behind fences to protect them from teeth and the high costs of fencing and our current system of forestry grants has led to an urgency to get trees established in order to be able to claim grants quickly and recoup the outlay on fences.

I was fascinated to read recently (in The History of British Mammals by Derek Yalden) that Britain's wild mammals weigh, in total, only about 140,000 tonnes (humans weigh in at 3 million tonnes, and our domestic animals at a further 3.5 million tonnes). Not only is it incredible that we and our livestock outweigh the wild mammals 40 to 1, but of those wild mammals, half of the total weight is deer and rabbits. What chance, frankly, does a wild wood have?

So, is it time to think about returning some of our native carnivores, to keep the bunnies and deer under control, and reassert a bit of natural balance in our shattered and fragile ecosystems? This is the question I address in my new novel, Bear Witness, which will be published by Saraband on Earth Day, 22 April 2013. We're allowed  a sneak preview of the cover - you saw it here first!

Ash die-back

In case you haven't heard, there is a nasty disease spreading through ash groves around the UK, called chalara dieback (see the Forestry Commission's site for details). We may, unfortunately, be about to experience the massive loss of ash trees that Denmark has been suffering in recent years (see here for more about that).

I can't help reflecting on what this all means. Ash has always been a hugely valuable tree, because not only is it the best firewood but it's also a useful timber, so valuable in fact that in times gone by people caught cutting ash trees without permission could even be hung. However, the significance of ash is not just economic; many cultures including the ancient Greeks and Celts revered the ash as a symbol of one powerful god or another (see here).

No culture gave greater importance to the ash than the Norse people, to whom the ash was (and from the reports from Denmark perhaps still is) the tree of life. Vikings called themselves ‘Aesling’, which means Men of Ash. They believed the first man came from an ash tree (and his wife came from a rowan, sometimes called mountain ash).

One ash tree in particular, Yggdrasil, was the sacred Norse World Tree, the axis of the world, around which the universe achieved harmony. Yggdrasil was believed to hold the earth in its roots and the gods’ houses in its upper branches. Idun, the Norse goddess of life, lived in the tree.

The legend says that when the ash tree dies, so dies the world. Perhaps it is not surprising so many people are grief-stricken at the tragedy of withering ash trees.

In praise of hazel

The most interesting thing I did this week was to look down a microscope at a four thousand year old fire. Incredibly, from the charcoal we dug up at the burnt mound excavation at Stronechrubie (for more of which see http://www.aocarchaeology.com/assyntfireandwater/) we can tell which species of tree they were burning. As well as birch, which we expected, we found hawthorn or apple, which we didn't, as well as lots of alder and hazel. I kept getting these two mixed up, until I learned that appropriately enough, through the microscope, the cellular structure of hazelwood has flame-like patterns of pores that lick up from each annual growth ring.

We also found hazel charcoal in the broch at Clachtoll, where it was used to create the floor of the first storey of the building. The woods here on the croft are still rich in hazel, and they have clearly been coppiced for centuries, presumably to make all kinds of useful things from hurdles to fishing creels. I used it to make the bender when I was writing The Last Bear and I needed to see how Brigid would have made hers. And I used it for the struts of the back-creel I use to bring bring seaweed up from the shore. Maybe it's because it's my Mum's name, but Hazel always seems a special tree to me.

I'm compiling an anthology of tree poems at the moment, and have been surprised at the paucity of poems about hazel, despite its plethora of uses, its importance as the symbol of wisdom in folklore, the sheer beauty of the tree - especially its lovely catkins in early spring - and of course its delicious nuts. G F Dutton wrote a brilliant one - but if you know any other good hazel poems please let me know.

At this time of year, I have a compulsion to gather hazel nuts. My pockets fill up every time I walk in the woods and I sow them in fish boxes then plant them out to grow on in the garden.

However, each year I complain that the nuts are mostly infertile. You can tell by putting them in water - those with kernels sink, the empty ones float. Each year, my pockets yield up about 2% sinkers to 98% floaters. This year I tried picking them direct from the trees and they have averaged more than 60% with kernels. So, I've had to revise my view that the trees are poor producers - I have far too many to grow and have been eating them - delicious! I realise the mice and voles must get to the fallen ones before I do, and they don't need to see if they sink in water to know if they're worth taking home or not - presumably a full hazelnut is, to a mouse, considerably heavier than an empty one.

Despite the low yield of the fallen nuts, two years ago I collected so many I now have lots of young hazels to plant out on the croft. Or maybe I'll replenish some of our more degraded woodlands elsewhere in Assynt. If we ever bring bears back, they'll no doubt appreciate them!

Rowan Jelly

The rowans are berrier than I've ever known them this year - making up for last year's total lack. I'm also making up for it and I've made twice as many jars of rowan jelly as I would usually. After the Assynt Festival, I needed to relax and there are few better ways than sitting listening to music while picking rowan berries off their stalks after a foraging walk. The jelly bag dripped all last night and the brew was completed this morning - all those little red jewels are transformed into jars full of ruby goodness.

If I do nothing else to honour the season of harvest, no matter how busy I am, I always make rowan jelly if there are any berries at all. It is tart and delicious with strong cheddar, brilliant with sweet vegetables like neeps and carrots and a good local substitute for marmalade.

If you want the recipe you'll need to look at the Handbook of Scotland's Wild Harvests, published by Saraband. This was the Scottish Book of the month earlier in the year, quite rightly, as it's packed full of brilliant free food recipes, together with folklore and harvesting advice and all sorts of other wisdom about eating from the wild. It was compiled by the wonderful people at the Scottish Wild Harvests Association. I wrote the rowan bit, including my jelly recipe, which is very simple but has never failed me.

Not getting my hands dirty

I am currently writing a dig and trail diary for an archaeological dig project in Assynt. The archaeologists are digging a burnt mound - a mysterious pile of charred stones from the bronze age - and a team of guides is leading walks back into the mists of time around Assynt. I get to tag along and leave my impressions on the archaeologists' website.

If you'd like to follow the proceedings, it's here: http://www.aocarchaeology.com/assyntfireandwater/dig-diary/

A celebration of the Tree Alphabet

Over the past year I've been celebrating the ancient link between writing and trees, as expressed in the Gaelic Tree Alphabet, or Ogham, which links a native woodland species with each letter. As part of the A-B-Tree project (see http://mandyhaggith.worldforests.org/a-b-tree.asp for more details) I challenged myself to write a poem for each species, and the result is a pamphlet of poems. I wanted to incorporate Bill Ritchie's photos too, and after a lot of fiddling about with layout and format, we settled on a two-part pamphlet, with the poems in one part and a pull-out strip of pictures.

I have hand-crafted 18 of these, one for each letter of the alphabet, and each is unique. The toggle on the front is made of the relevant species, with a felt leaf approximating to the right shape for each.

As the process has gone on, it began to feel clear that this is in no way a commercial venture and the pamphlets are not for sale. Instead, we are giving them to people who have been supportive of the project or of me and Bill. It has been really hard to decide who to give them to - 18 is in no way enough to thank all of the people we would like to thank. But they are now winging their way out into the world.

Hopefully I'll find another way to make the poems a bit more accessible. The photos are all up on the A-B-Tree web page.

Bear Witness to be published by Saraband

My second novel, Bear Witness, will be published by Saraband in Spring 2013. There. You read it here first.

The novel tells the story of one woman's effort to try to bring about the return of bears to Scotland, so, in a way, it's a very, very, very long-term sequel to The Last Bear, which told of their demise. It draws on the old Greek story retold by Ovid, of Callisto, who was turned into a bear by Diana after she became pregnant with Jupiter's son. Bear Witness is set in a not-too-distant future Norway, Romania, Finland and Scotland and that's about all I'm going to give away.

I am also working with Saraband on an anthology of poetry based around the Gaelic Tree Alphabet, as a wonderful outcome of the A-B-Tree project.

How delighted am I? You can guess!