This Sunday past saw me in the Nysdam reserve, volunteering to get sodden. Nysdal abuts the Château de La Hulpe estate, and there once stood the Château de la Longue Queue with its domain. That is long gone, but I shall return to the history of this seignorial residence, and to the Drève of the same name which, though now broken by time, was once a long and important route through the forest, joining Boitsfort with La Hulpe.
We were working the margin between the Étang du Gris-Moulin, the Lake of the Grey Mill, and the freshwater marsh. On Stevens’ 1917 map the marsh appears as a string of managed lakes and ponds. Now it has been allowed to revert.
The willows had been pollarded, cut right back to their trunks. This differs from coppicing, where species such as hazel are cut to ground level, though the intention can be similar. There was no possibility of removing the boughs, branches and stems by vehicle. The ground was boggy enough to suck boots from feet. Yet the prunings had to be cleared. Left in place, they would root.
Managing the willows along this sodden bank is a balancing act. Their roots anchor the barrier between lake and marsh, but if left to grow unchecked they may topple in high winds, tearing out the very bank they help to hold. It was wet, muddy work, though thankfully not cold. I was down to a T-shirt with the exertion.
Fifteen of us gathered. At sixty-two I was one of the youngest.
There were no younger people, it was the old ‘uns who laboured.
Why? I suspect that some would if they were engaged, informed and invited. And that should be the work of us older ones, to share, to collaborate.