Southern Hills

We drove along looking for the sign announcing that we were about to enter Central Bedfordshire. Not that Central Bedfordshire is an area much praised for its natural scenery, but just past that sign there's a bit of delectable countryside, an outlier of the Chiltern Hills.

We'll start off by walking up Deacon Hill. This blog has been here before, though it was a while ago. Last time we found a whole field of poppies. What would we discover this time?

Right on top of the hill we met a ewe and two lambs. A ewe with a view, perhaps, though her eyes were firmly fixed on some tasty grass.

If these sheep raised their heads for a while they would see that most of Bedfordshire is a flat arable plain dotted with villages and towns. 

There seem to be fewer sheep up here than there once were and it appears that they are moved around on a rotation designed to allow the vegetation and wild flowers to recover. Those purple dots are Pyramidal Orchids.

They are reasonably common on chalky soils like this - if the sheep don't nibble them before they get a chance to flower. We walked on around the head of a short valley; Skylarks sang overhead and Red Kites patrolled the hills searching for carrion.

It was too early to stop, but we stopped anyway! Sometimes you just have to sit and soak up the scenery, especially when someone has gone to the trouble to erect a bench in just the right spot.

There were glimpses down into the valley....

.....as well as a panorama including the flank of Deacon Hill. 

 

We continued on our way, stopping here and there to look down the steep valley sides.

I made a very short detour to meet a Hebridean Sheep. Although sheep can destroy the natural vegetation they still have a part to play in maintaining the landscape: it's all a question of herd density and the kind of sheep that are kept. Several rare breed sheep and cattle are used on these hills.

The long ridge behind Deacon Hill is revealed from this angle. That skinny lone tree on the horizon was passed earlier in the day and gave us a good idea of the route we'd taken.

We passed this fenced off area which at present is ablaze with Rosebay Willowherb, known as Fireweed in some parts of the world. This is also a conservation area, dedicated, believe it or not, to the preservation of "arable weeds". This much maligned group of flowering plants have almost been sprayed to extinction by farmers who are keen to maximise the output from their fields. Some of these plants produce seed which is harmful to humans and, however much you admire the flowers, you really wouldn't want the seeds turning up in your flour.

A telephoto shot shows some buildings down in the tiny village of Pegsdon - that's the way we're heading.

A glance back to where we've been. And that's a Red Kite high above all. Thirty years ago I saw my first Red Kite and I had to travel to mid-Wales to see that, but since those times they've made a remarkable recovery and we usually see one or two on most of our walks.

Across the Pegsdon road we made another loop to take us back to the car.

This is where the poppy field was a few years ago and there are still a few here and there. This little trio were set off quite beautifully by the yellow Bird's Foot Trefoil.

On the other side of the track were patches of Restharrow, a plant which gets its name from the way in which its dense tangled roots caused problems when breaking up the soil with horse-drawn harrows - it literally "arrested the harrows".

At length we arrived at the viewpoint overlooking Knocking Knoll - that's the grassy hillock in the centre of the photo. Someone's bound to ask, so here's the explanation of the name that I gave in the past to one of your questions:

"The story goes that a British chieftain is buried under Knocking Knoll with a chest of money. From time to time he can be heard knocking on the chest to check that it's still there! Or more likely it comes from "cnycyn" an old Welsh word meaning a hillock - I know we're not in Wales but lots of English hills have Welsh elements in their name; the language in the past being spoken over a much wider area".

From there it was but a short stroll through some woodland till we again came in sight of Deacon Hill, with clouds building in the blue sky above it. Soon we were driving towards the village of Great Offley.

Ah, yes. The pub was a lot busier than it looks from here - everyone was in the restaurant ordering their lunch. Despite being part of a national chain of pubs the Green Man rises above the usual quality (and quantity) of the meals in such places. It also exceeds the normal standards of views from the beer garden....

Take care.