Secrets of the Vale

Visiting the yew trees on a calm morning of early autumn sunlight, after a night of heavy rain, was quite spectacular, their massive trunks and bowed, twisted limbs shone, almost glowing with dampness in the hushed atmosphere, the ground firm beneath our boots as we ducked our heads and stepped quietly between and through the low-slung branches. Pale fungi pushing up between their roots and a scattering of ferns among thick patches of damp moss give off a bright green hue. As we stand in awe of the age and history of these ancient giants, Robins sing intermittently, softly, and somewhere a blackbird mutters quietly, practicing his autumn song, fading and beginning again, as if uncertain of tune. The notes float and drift around the Yews, seeming to come first from one direction and then another, rising and falling like thistledown on the breeze. As the sun climbs higher in the autumn sky the shade beneath the trees becomes dappled with light, catching the wet bark and giving it an almost red tinge.

Some of these yews might be 2,000 years old, having survived from the 14th century when the English longbow was the weapon of choice and fashioned from yew wood, with many yews being felled to fulfill the need for bows. In 1472 Edward IV enforced the ‘Yew Tax’, the making of four ‘bowestaffs’ per wine cask delivered into English harbours, causing the destruction of numerous yew forests throughout Europe leaving few major forests still standing today, one of which is here at Kingley Vale in West Sussex. The rarity of such sizeable yew forests makes this an area of conservation importance, as a site of special scientific interest. Elsewhere along the South Downs there are smaller areas of Yew and odd single trees scattering the chalk slopes, indeed the Yew does seem to thrive on our thin chalky Sussex downland soil.

Kingley has long been managed as a nature reserve, a well-known local character who devoted many years to the conservation of the area, and indeed many other areas along this stretch of Sussex downland, is the late Richard Williamson, son of Henry Williamson, author of Tarka the Otter, and many popular wildlife novels. Richard arrived at Kingley almost 60 years ago, in 1963, riding into the Sussex vale on his BSA motorbike carrying his entire possessions, namely his supper and a five-pound note. He arrived keen to fulfil his passion for conservation by taking up the position of Warden of the Kingley Vale Nature Reserve. He spent his life studying the wildlife of Kingley and the further downland, sharing his observations and knowledge in his books and newspaper columns, living, later with his wife and two children, in an old keeper’s cottage in the woodland of Edward James’s West Dean Estate where he sadly passed away in May 2022. Richard Williamson’s publications and columns were very popular and knowledgeable, research often being dedicated to the Yew of the vale, imparting much information helping a whole generation to learn more about their local flora and fauna and encouraging locals to love where they live.

Our own fond memories of Richard Williamson are of a shock of silver hair, comfortable tweeds and well-polished country walking brogues, slipping quietly into the Cathedral gardens at Chichester as he popped in to check on the progress of a pair of nesting Peregrine Falcons., and of passing him on Goodwood Hill driving his famous old Blue Morris. He is sadly missed but his legacy of local knowledge lives on in his words

Yew trees have given rise to many myths and legends, there are not many Church yards unguarded by a massive Yew of great age. Livestock are always kept away from them as the red berries are believed to be poisonous, however Badgers appear to be able to eat them with no ill effects, as can many birds. Over wintering Thrushes, Redwings, Fieldfares and Blackbirds are a guaranteed source of Yew tree seed dispersal as they will feast on the bright red Yew berries then retire to roost in nearby thorn bushes depositing the undigested seeds below. The Yew saplings which grow up below are seemingly protected by the thorn bushes being safe from trampling by foraging livestock and deer, like young Yews growing up until they outgrow the usefulness of these protective bushes. Consequentially the remains of old thorn bushes can often be found close to well grown Yews. A classic case of ‘companion planting’ a gardener might say. Amazing nature.

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Out again, into the sunlight of a green sloping bowl a Wren, the Druid bird, pauses in his foraging amongst wild Margerum and Wood Sage seedheads to proclaim his presence with a welcoming burst of storytelling song. Blue sky reflects on the still surface of a dew pond and a Red Kite glides in low spirals, a fork tailed vision of autumn hues amongst the evergreen of Yews, drawing the attention of the Artists eye. Somewhere a restless Tawny owl hoots.

Stepping softly back amongst the Yews the forest has its own particular silence. The Druid’s tall stick makes an echoing, hollow sound upon the firm chalk floor, was that a whisper beneath the bowed dark branches? ‘Sssshhhh don’t wake the Dragon….’ Ha! - too many fantasy novels!?

Words and pictures by Artist and the Druid

© 2022