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THE HEDGE

Once it was established as a boundary between the manorial land and that of the commoners (the enclosures) the hedge became all important and a universal provider for the rural population. Over the years it has supplied spars for thatching, firewood in the form of faggots and the bonds to tie them - I doubt if there’s a house in the countryside built before the turn of the century without a hearth wide enough to take a three foot faggot. Faggot wood was the only fuel for the village baker and remained so until the advent of cheap coal and transport. Ash wood from the hedge provided handles for tools and, from the older growth, hangers for the harness in the stable and yolks to restrain sheep. The list was only limited by mans’ ingenuity.

The hedge was important enough for the manorial court to appoint a hayward who was responsible for the hedges within the manor. The coming of the enclosures is said to have brought about the improvement in the quality of the wool which led to Britains supremacy in the wool trade and the Woolsack in the House of Commons.

The hedge provided shelter for the animals it contained and was often a convenient place to put a ditch beside to carry away drainage water. It provided food in the shape of blackberries and crab-apples, sloes and elderberries for wine and holly and nuts for Christmas. It is said that the age of a hedge can be estimated by counting the number of species in a thirty yard stretch i.e. thorn and hazel would make the hedge two hundred years old.

‘The spade makes the hedge and not the hook1. This was the dictum here in Dorset and probably went back to the enclosures. It only applied to the earth banks with the hedge timber planted on top. Economics have made spadework a thing of the past and the rabbits which destroyed a lot of the banks and caused it in the first place have, of recent years, been kept in control by myxamatosis. Any digging needed today is done by machine.

Many hedges here in West Dorset were ‘double’ and without exaggeration it was possible to drive the small wagons of the horse era along the bank between the two fences. One double hedge grew a crop of potatoes every year. Why these hedgerows were built in this manner is a matter for conjecture. Some were undoubtedly fenced pathways and it is said that some were the result of neighbours each erecting their own boundary fence (hedge). Whatever the cause the result was waste of land and labour.

There is no doubt that blackthorn makes the best fence. It is dense and the thorns will contain all but the most determined animals. It is difficult to understand why other species were planted from a fence point of view. Hazel was needed and in a hedge it saved land for a coppice. Of the other common hedge plants white-thorn and elder are brittle and difficult to work and withy, although easy to plush (or plash) is rarely straight enough in its youth in a hedge to make spars or bonds. Purpose grown in a withybed it is a different proposition altogether. Holly, first planted in hedges about a’ hundred and fifty years ago each side of gates or jumps as markers for the hunt is a devil to plush and is often left to grow or cut off entirely. It is even more ‘like glass’ than white-thorn and will not run before the bill unless you catch it under three years old. It will make a good fence planted solidly and only trimmed. Spindle, probably planted by birds, is similar to holly in behaviour but is not common and provides no fence.

Traditionally hedges were made every seven years for at that time they became less stockproof and provided the maximum of material other than firewood. Hazel and withy tend to die off at this age and smaller sticks make a denser hedge. The hedger first cut away all unwanted growth (ridding out). He then went to work with the spade, cutting the bank back and putting the spoil on top at the base of the plants. Again traditionally he was allowed to dig three feet from the hedge base into the neighbouring field for soil for the bank if needed. The layering came last of all.

‘Never use a saw on a hedge, it ‘II kill the growth’. What nonsense that old saw turned out to be when the chain-saw came on the scene. It greatly reduced the time and the effort, particularly with old hedges, but the days of the hedger are numbered, his job taken over by machine.

From any vantage point today one can see mile after mile of neatly trimmed hedges looking, in the distance like the box edging in the garden of a stately home, very pleasing to the eye and, alongside a road, a contribution to road safety. Not however, stockproof. After five years of flailing all that is left are a lot of sticks standing upright. Any animal can walk through this modern fence which has to be reinforced with expensive barbed wire. It also provides less shelter than the man made hedge.

The suburban boundaries we call hedges today are regrettably a sign of the times and we must live with them. Despite this the modern hedge still provides ‘highways’ for wild life and a place for rabbits and badgers to dig and live.