A Book of Britain: The Lore, Landscape and Heritage of a Treasured Countryside. Johnny Scott

goodness from the soil, chemically manufactured sulphate of ammonia and superphosphate. Agricultural productivity also rose on the back of the increase in the use of roots crops and, with an urban demand for fruit, apples became an alternative crop. In 1877, there were 9,000 hectares of eating and cider apples in Devon, Herefordshire and Somerset, 4,000 in Worcestershire, 3,500 in Gloucestershire and 2,500 in Kent.

      WOOL, WHICH FOR CENTURIES HAD BEEN THE FOUNDATION OF THE TEXTILE INDUSTRY, WAS DECLINING IN IMPORTANCE TO COTTON. HOWEVER, AS THE MARKET FOR MEAT CONTINUED TO GROW, MANY FARMERS RESPONDED BY ADAPTING THEIR BREEDING POLICY FROM WOOL TO MEAT PRODUCTION.

      Wool, which for centuries had been the foundation of the textile industry, was declining in importance to cotton. However, as the market for meat continued to grow, many farmers responded by adapting their breeding policy from wool to meat production. By the end of the nineteenth century, Britain’s large urban workforce provided a huge stimulus for a world economy dominated by international trade, commercialism and industrialisation. A large proportion of trade was based on import and subsequent export, supported by service industries such as banking which improved the balance of payments with invisibles. Free trade also led to an economic boom, and a significant part of the escalating population were enjoying leisure time and rising prosperity. Wage rates had increased, the birth rate fell and diets improved. Agriculture remained fundamental in the supply of foodstuffs but its influence was waning in the economy as a whole and land, once identified with power, became just another asset. In 1850, agriculture accounted for 20 per cent of national income, but by 1900 this had fallen to just 6 per cent.

      In 1945, despite the agricultural changes of the previous 200 years, Britain still had a mellow, rustic air. Plump hedgerows full of wildflowers enclosed fields where cart horses still plodded ahead of the plough. Winding lanes wandered among villages and family farms, with their woodland clumps, orchards, livestock and grain systems, where a pig was fattened every year for bacon, chicken scratched for spilt grain in the stack yard and ducks paddled on the pond. As ever, a dark cloud hung over this Utopian scene, and change as dramatic as any that had gone before was on its way. At the end of the war, Britain needed to maximise food production and agriculture was supported by grant funding and price support, greatly empowering a new modern era of agriculture with new technology, specialisation and improved breeding techniques. This was all very well in response to the immediate post-war food shortage, but government pressure to increase food production during the Cold War scare led to a period of intensification that dramatically altered the rural landscape.

      As post-war policymakers sought for food sufficiency in the event of another war, thousands of kilometres of hedgerow planted during or before the Acts of Enclosure were bulldozed out to create larger, more efficiently cropped arable fields. Much of our ancient woodland disappeared during the massive forestry planting, driven by the government’s mania for self-sufficiency in timber products. In 1972 Britain joined the European Economic Community and, after a transitional period, agricultural policy fell within the remit of the Common Agricultural Policy, which encouraged wasteful food surpluses. With the ever-increasing drive for new technology in machinery, fertilisers, pesticides and crop production, the agricultural workforce declined and rural depopulation resulted. Only in the hills, where agricultural reclamations are virtually impossible, did farming remain much the same, but even here the effects of nylon textile were being felt as the wool price slid. The old saying, ‘the wool clip pays the rent or the shepherd’s wage,’ was but a happy memory and a hill farm that had once employed two shepherds could now only afford one.

      AGRICULTURE HAS STEADILY DECLINED AS A LAND USE, DESPITE THE RISE IN DEMAND FOR HOME-GROWN AND ORGANIC FOOD, GIVING WAY TO LEISURE AND URBAN DEVELOPMENT. PATTERNS OF OWNERSHIP AND MANAGEMENT HAVE CHANGED, PARTICULARLY WITH VARIOUS TAX INCENTIVES DESIGNED TO ATTRACT NON-FARMERS TO BECOME LANDOWNERS.

      During the nineties, persuaded as much by increasingly powerful conservation lobbies as the embarrassing situation of overproduction, the government began reversing the previous policies and, instead of paying farmers to intensify, they now paid them to put the countryside back the way it was. Agriculture has steadily declined as a land use, despite the rise in demand for home-grown and organic food, giving way to leisure and urban development. Patterns of ownership and management have changed, particularly with various tax incentives designed to attract non-farmers to become landowners. The complexities of the Common Agriculture Policy and fiercely competitive international food prices have led to a ridiculous situation where we have a population of 60 million and yet British agriculture provides less than 1 per cent of gross domestic products, employs only 2 per cent of the workforce and the majority of British farmers survive through a system of grants and subsidies.

      It is important, however, that there is never a repeat of the government follies of the sixties and seventies. The British countryside should be a place where farmers can work and earn their living and the decision makers, whether here or in Brussels, must appreciate the fragility of our historic landscape. Farmers and landowners are the stewards of our countryside heritage, and between them own many miles of historic field boundaries, thousands of traditional farm buildings and most of the ancient archaeological sites. An enormous amount was lost during the post-war period of intensification and, once gone, they can never be replaced. Changes in attitude now provide an opportunity to prevent further destruction whilst allowing farmers to fulfil their historic role of feeding the nation.

       CHAPTER TWO WOODLAND

      Immediately after World War II, my father bought a farm in that lovely part of the High Weald in East Sussex, on the northern edge of the Ashdown Forest. This is a landscape of rolling hills, sandstone outcrops, little streams running through steep-sided ravines, scattered farmsteads with small, irregular-shaped medieval fields linked by sunken lanes and paths, amongst areas of ancient broadleaf woodland.

      Some of my earliest memories are of my sister and me being taken on afternoon walks through the woods on the farm by our nanny, the redoubtable Nanny Pratt. The woods were a mix of coppiced ash, hornbeam and sweet chestnut, known as underwood, growing in clusters from single stools, and individual oak standards scattered about, trees allowed to grow for their timber without being coppiced. Nanny Pratt always carried a trug on our walks to put wild flowers in for the nursery or edible plants, berries and nuts. In the early spring, she would look for wild garlic plants growing in damp glades or the banks of the little streams, where the water ran reddish brown from iron ore deposits in the local clay. By May the woodland floor was a carpet of bluebells, wood anenomes, woodruff, wood sorrel, and shiny-leaved Dog’s Mercury, wild arum, white hellebore, little purple orchids and wood spurge. As the summer wore on, herb bennet, primroses, foxgloves, fig-wort, meadowsweet and purple-flowered Enchanter’s Nightshade could be found.

      The woods were a haven for wildlife and a constant source of delight and fascination. A stick poked among leaf litter would be guaranteed to produce something of interest: a disgruntled ground beetle, his glossy blue-black carapace glinting in the sunlight; a Longhorn beetle with waving antennae; or a thrilling, fast-moving Wolf spider. Even woodlice and millipedes had their entertainment value. There were hoverflies, brightly coloured weevils, caterpillars, and where the sun shone through the overhang, any number of beautiful woodland butterflies-White Admirals, Purple Emperors, Commas – and a whole range of woodland fritillaries. Nuthatches or tree creepers scuttled up and down the trunks of the old standard trees and we would often hear the rasping curse of a jay or the silly laugh of a green woodpecker. Cock pheasants might be seen scratching for food on one of the bridle paths and there was always a background of twittering, whistling little woodland birds such as chiffchaffs, warblers, tits, robins, wrens and blackcaps. We might see a hedgehog rootling for slugs, an adder curled up asleep on a sunny bank or find ourselves watched by a timid roe deer. In the autumn, when the leaves turned