LET'S RID THE NIDD!!
Rid the Nidd?
"Of what?" I hear you cry! Of balsam of course. What else?
This was the title of the task that the NCVs were alerted to this week - in particular the stretch from Summerstones towards Lofthouse. There were hopes that the job would be easy. That there wouldn't be much left given the amount of effort that has been put in over the last 3 years.
Shall we see if this was a naive hope?
No fewer than two sports cars arrived at the meeting point at Limley Farm.
Very classy!
Then it was off up the road to Summerstones to make a start.
Ah. Here's some. Ruth crushed it beneath her feet
just to make sure it didn't think about re-rooting.
The legs of another NCV had melted in the heat,
so he couldn't follow suit.
The descent to the river was a bit precarious.
Watch where you put your feet.
We don't want to start the day with a trip to A&E!
Cowboy Tom managed to negotiate the tricky pathway....
...only to find himself in Dead Man's Gulch.
The river had disappeared - swallowed up by a hole in the limestone.
Maybe the river is down this hole? NO! Don't go in there!
The Monster of the Nidd may get you!
Eagle eyes were turned on to spot the balsam.
There was not much to be seen along the river bed.
Oh - hang on - there's 2 pieces up here.
And here's a big one - a two man job.
The roots are down there somewhere.
With one mighty pull the plant was uprooted. Got you!
Sometimes the plants were hiding in the most awkward of places.
No need to pull these lovely bell flowers up.
At one point Liz felt a strange sensation in her head...
and realised that her brain was slowly turning into stone.
A first aider ran up and administered an antidote.
There were patches of the river bed that were wet.
Just as well for these little fellows as they still have no legs!
At lunch time the numbers of balsam plants uprooted were compared and the general consensus was that if you
had found more than 10 along the river you were doing well.
The NCVs had obviously done a very thorough job last year.
Luckily Zoe, from 'Moor and Valley' was spraying the rest of the balsam along the roadside so at 2:30 the NCVs headed home with prickly heat. Or was it nettle stings?
Just to finish - a little treat for you all. The latest, balsam related 'pome' from our very own bard.
Ode to joy - by Tony K.
We tolerate the
winter and look forward to the spring
But the summer
is the highlight of our year.
It’s then those frightful fronds grow tall, our
hearts begin to sing
The bracken
bashing season’s almost here!
While others
head for Wimbledon or watch the Thames regattas,
Those minor
shows we happily ignore.
Our mission’s more important, for the thing that really
matters
Is to fight
invasive plants that we abhor.
We’re the dedicated slashers and the unrelenting
bashers
Of this native
but ubiquitous green pest;
So armed with
sticks for bashing or with sharpened tools for slashing,
We thwack them,
for these plants must be suppressed.
You might
imagine when the bracken season’s near its close
That we find
ourselves at something of a loss
But summer
brings more blessings than perhaps you might suppose
It’s time to show the balsam who is boss.
There’s nothing gives such pleasure as our yearly
bashing fest,
In comparison
all other tasks can cloy.
The bracken and
the balsam are the jobs we love the best
Which is why we
sing our summer ode to joy.
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