https://nature-recovery-network.org/the-paradox-of-scything/
The Paradox of Scything
St. Leonards Churchyard.
Ieuan Owen, one of NRN's newest scythe-persons, writes:
‘You reap what you sow,’ my high-school calculus teacher berated us, if ever she felt we were slacking off or not putting in our best effort - be it success or failure, we were in control of our destinies. But the paradox of the climate crisis is that we do not just reap what we sow, but what has already been sown and reaped before us - as too, will those who come next, be incapable of winnowing their grain from our chaff. Climate complexity is an ouroboros of reaping: today’s actions magnify in the ripples of cyclical multiplication. Our actions today will determine whether tomorrow’s harvest is runaway heating and ecosystem collapse, or carbon drawdown and ecological regeneration.
Species enrichment in progress, Dovehouse Close meadow.
We reap what we sow.
But before one reaps, it helps to know how to use a scythe…
Scythe-man, Phil Tait - Dovehouse Close 'Legend'.----------------------------
A scythe is not what it first appears. It dissembles, shrouding its gentle nature behind its dark associations with the Grim Reaper of Souls. It is its own paradox of harsh and kind, now and later, brutal and forgiving.
Kate Pritchard setting off in St. Leonards Churchyard.
Feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, hands ready in their appropriate position. Like a basketball jump-shot, it’s a common misconception that the power should all come from the arms. Instead, imagine Rubén Blades and Willie Colón’s Siembra is blaring on the boombox, channel your Zumba instructor, heed the demand of salsa teachers the world over and Mueve tus caderas. Mueve tus caderas. Move your hips! Move your hips!
Peace Oak's Hywel Edwards in full swing - St. Leonards Churchyard
Position the underside of your blade parallel to the ground, relax the right arm, then, starting at the 2 o’clock position allow the blade to sweep along the floor, pull back with the left elbow to effect a curving move, finishing at 11 o’clock, at which point, tilt the blade upwards slightly to caress the newly cut grasses into a neat line called a windrow, to your side. Continue this yogic swivel as you inch incrementally forward through the waist-high meadow grasses, resisting the urge to swing like a golfer, (or hack like a jungle explorer). Instead, let the blade do the work as you seek to demonstrate your instant mastery of this ancient agricultural weapon, enhancing the connection between you and your forebears, making your ancestors smile with pride.
Got that? No. Nor did we at first…
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Dovehouse Close meadow mowing.
Though I cannot report that with careful instruction, and humble perseverance, we all became fluent practitioners of the noble scythe, I nonetheless can offer some hopeful truths:
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After we’d been put through our paces on the proper and most efficient technique for wielding the Austrian Scythe, and were unleashed upon the Dovehouse Close Meadow, we discovered that our imperfect ergonomics did not, ultimately, prevent some productive blade-to-grass action. [i.e. We got the job done: yay! Thanks to both our patient experts, and the strong turnout of relative newbies like me.]
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As proof that time and practice hone the craft, like all skills worth having, a couple of the NRN-ers who have been scything for untold years went and mowed the entire fishponds meadow in less time than it took for a dozen of us to finish clearing our training ground swathes. [Thank you, Legends, you know who you are.]
Like the scythe blade, which is most effective when honed frequently (every 5 to 10 minutes with a wet whetstone) the expertise NRN cultivates in its members is optimised over repeat cycles of sowing and reaping.
Another Dovehouse Close 'Legend', Tom Roberts,
Another paradox of scything: decreased fertility improves biodiversity. Mowing for hay, which ideally and historically takes place twice a year, actually depletes the fertility of the soil, unlike topping, where the cuttings are left to compost and add nutrients. However, this regime favours stress-tolerant wildflowers and finer grasses, rather than the competitive species, such as coarser grasses, which otherwise come to dominate. [Incidentally this also means the meadow is easier to cut year on year.]
Yellow Rattle, ripe and ready to shake, rattle, and roll.
It surprised me to learn that, given the key role of human action in the meadow’s yearly cycle, this type of meadow habitat doesn’t actually predate human involvement. While many grassland systems have historically been managed by grazing species -- the bison in North America, zebras on the East African savannah, horses on the Eurasian steppe -- most of the UK’s natural state was wood-pasture. Only when farmers started regularly cutting hay for cattle fodder did the meadow’s diversity of plantlife develop. Farmers would often mow in early July, then again in late September or early October, and graze their sheep on the aftermath.
Our local specialist linseed-oiler at work on the rake handles.
Whether the first of such farmers anticipated this benefit or not, the biodiversity which results from relative soil infertility makes for more nutritious feed, as the deeper roots and greater variety of root depths characteristic of the different perennial wildflower species draw up different minerals and micronutrients.
As Kevan shared with me, the cows like it more too! Isabella Tree of Wilding fame, recounts a moment in the Knepp Castle Estate’s journey from unproductive industrial farm to rewilding success story, where their new herd of long horn cattle discovered a field of glucose-rich rye grass, but soon abandoned the cattle-feed equivalent of doughnuts for the healthier forage along the margins of ponds and streams, whose plant diversity agreed better with each of their stomach compartments.
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Devil's Bit Scabious and Great Burnet in Dovehouse Close meadow.
Sentiment prevented us from scything the heads off a small collection of Devil’s-bit Scabious and Great Burnet that had been planted in the meadow 3 years ago, but were flowering for the first time.
Having finished scything, we did the Rake-and-Shake to spread the seed before raking it into bundles to carry off.
The Green Man.
Bundling as much green hay as we could fit in our arms, with glasses knocked askew, range of vision severely impaired, and giving very little precaution to what we might trip over (Catriona’s safety briefing on not leaving scythes lying around flat on the ground showed great anticipation), we trundled over to slam-dunk our arm-fulls on the fine colony of nettles lining the Close.
Owen Snr. - a Man of Many Bundles.
Amidst the flurry of to-ing-and-fro-ing, I spotted one man tossing something over a fence on the wrong side of the Close. Was this individual suffering from heat confusion? No, I realised, it was just Tom circumventing the customary modes of entry to his own backyard. His family’s proximity to the meadow enables them to be among the year-round stewards of the Dovehouse Close meadow.
The Author demonstrating perfect technique in the difficult 'Slam-Dunk' Manouevre.
As our bundling and trundling petered out, some of the seasoned pros cleared up the last bits. I observed them using their double-sided Swiss hay rakes to roll the remaining hay into compact bundles and then use the rake as pitchfork to carry the bundle over to the dump. No face-full of nose-ticklers required! Which begs the question:
- Did we in our haste neglect to consult the Voices of Experience?
- Did those endowed with The Knowledge choose to withhold their wisdom for their own amusement?
OR
- Do we, simply not care about appearances of dignity as much as we think we do?
'Clearing the last bits' . i.e. chatting.----------------------------
Today’s shout-out winners are…drum-roll please… in joint 3rd place: the South-African styled spongy flapjacks which were a gratefully-received reward for work in the sun, and the most brilliantly bright pink shirt I’ve seen since Gretchen in Mean Girls.
The runner up goes to a certain young girl’s taste in rake purchasing: hers had bright green teeth.
But the gold medal must go to the man who, having read about the Scything Workshop on the NRN Website, came all the way from London to get involved.
Please see Catriona about collecting your prizes, and the rest of you, please keep showing up for a chance to win!
Knapweed is not a Weed. This subspecies is only found on floodplain meadows.
All the photos are by Chloe Thompson, who combined her newly-acquired scything skill with gorgeous photography!