Water is good

A claim is made that patients recover more quickly when placed near a window. An even quicker recovery can be made when the view through the window has some water feature.
I guess it would follow that life must simply be better if you can gaze upon a watery landscape.

It is no surprise then to learn that the parkland has water. A series of artificial of ponds were constructed in the early 18th century, but the ponds that then formed the Serpentine are now thickly overgrown or drained. The magnificent Serpentine bridge, which can be crossed when walking up to the house from the entrance behind the Strafford Arms, spans a patch of water at the northern end. The arch footings of the bridge are now quite dry.


The ponds that create the Serpentine stretch away south as far as the foot of the Rotunda. A serpentine was one of the must have garden features of its day. There was a garden transformation under way in England during Thomas and William Wentworth's time. After the floral formality of the 16th and 17th centuries, which accompanied periods of religious and civil turmoil, large house owners were looking for a new style to perhaps match a new age

The inspiration came from visions of Rome, or rather visions of ancient Rome of the Emperor Augustus. Here were landscapes filled with woods, water, open spaces and small temples. It is perhaps not just coincidence that this period and style was looked to. Ancient Rome itself at Augustus' reign had just entered a period of peace and security after a civil war. The one thing the English do well is to adapt and adopt. And the Wentworths were no different.

The creation of open, sloping, curving parkland with clumps of trees, water and temples is more often than not referred to as in the style of Lancelot 'Capability' Brown. Although the Titchmarsh of his time, there were others and he was not the first. Credit for the latter goes to Bridlington born William Kent. William Wentworth took great interest in creating his own rolling parkland that we have today. Who he had to design it is not clear to me. He may be totally responsible for what we see.
As you walk on the house side of the Serpentine ponds, the views of water are restricted, but it makes for a splendid habitat for water birds, as a mix of deep water and marshy ground. It has plenty of tree cover which makes it quite secluded.

Change is now really going on apace. A few brave and single bluebells are stretching out, before the carpets of blue will erupt in a week or two as early May approaches. Dense spreads of celandine are preparing to emerge as splashes of yellow. Candles are breaking out on the horse chestnut trees after the leaves, almost moth like, emerge from the bud.

Birds just confuse you...

As I walked directly across the parkland in front of the house, I was delighted to spend a good few minutes watching a kestrel fly and hover, a pattern it repeated as I wandered down the gentle slope. With the light behind me, although quite dull, I was able to enjoy the colouring as it did what kestrels do best. There was nothing there for it to drop on to, so it meandered away over the trees of Ivas wood.

It was a good start. A bird I knew and could observe. Ian was away and so I was left alone, in terms of being able to find and identify the wild life. Not that that is our sole purpose, but one that I am able to indulge in more and more. I have ordered the pocket field guide and am at present reading Simon Barnes' How to Be a Bad Birdwatcher with growing reassurance that I do enjoy watching, nay, observing the creatures around me without recourse to knowing all the names, or creating a list.

A specific field guide to the parkland would be a useful document. A general field guide, even limited to the UK with hundreds of types of birds, many of which wouldn't go near this environment, is OK but there will be a lot of redundant pages filled with birds that I am never going to see here. No doubt it will be useful in other parts of Britain.

The day remained dull, but the birds, though not over visible, were noisy enough. I now recognise the sound of the nuthatch amongst the other tweets, whistles and twitters. But I need to look at them. My self discipline in this matter is tarnished with laziness and devoid of the necessary patience and self discipline. Ian has these requisite skills to watch birds; I need to develop them.

The log gatherers from last week have been busy. There are great pyramids, though strictly speaking, they are triangular prisms, of logs at the edge of the Shed Plantation. Next week they may well be all removed.

The rotunda still displays its new wooden skeleton dome. Soon, I hope to see the shine of new metal adorning the structure.
This view, though distant, is across a space that was once filled with water and, at whose banks, cattle could be romantically found. It is one of the many water features that the parkland had installed mainly by William Wentworth.
Not many visitors today, despite being the remainder of the school Easter break. The noise of children loosing energy in the adventure play ground was quite the dominant sound nearer the house as I made my way back to base.

You may not see them but...

When I was taught that nuclear particles are invisible, at least to the human eye and very powerful microscopes, I asked how then do we know they are there. The answer was that they leave evidence of their presences. Thus it is for the band of conservation volunteers.
As you wander around the parkland, you rarely see them. But of their work, there is plenty to see. Newly sawn trees, fresh piles of branches and cut up boughs placed on the edges of the woods, new lengths of dry stone walling and tree trunks suddenly wrapped in plastic protection. This team of volunteers meet regularly on Wednesday mornings which corresponds to one of our scheduled patrols.

This week we encountered them as they set out with saws and gloves. One of them is also a ranger and indicated that refreshments would be available if we happened to be at the rotunda in a couple of hours or so. We acknowledged the invitation and proceeded on our way. We did see them later, not as a bunch, but working in twos and threes, to thin the silver birches in the Shed plantation, next to the rotunda.

One of them introduced himself as Richard and perhaps was pleased to take a break from shifting short, but no doubt quite heavy, sections of boughs. We were too early for coffee, but, as we take our own, we were not disappointed to miss. The difference they made was quite visible. There were still plenty of trees but the wood was thinned, enough, as Ian said, for certain birds to fly through and find food and shelter.We left them to their work and made our way to the seats that surround the Argyll Monument. This is still a good place to stop, but it it is not too rich in the bird life its attracts. We had a most exciting spot as we walked back into the parkland from the village of Hood Green and towards Keepers Pond. A pair of raptors, possibly sparrow hawks, were soaring on thermals until they were invisible. Two swallows perched upon a phone wire and two jays scurried, noisily across the pond frightening the moorhens. After a quiet morning, these events made a good end.

The trees are beginning to green at their branch fringes, but of sunlight today, there was little in the way of brightness. Next time, Ian will be away, so don't expect much on the bird front.

About the house

As you walk about the parkland, the house holds forth with one of its two wings, the Baroque wing and the Palladian wing. This is the outward show. Not many modern houses today are distinguished by showing off their extensions. Today, an extension means more internal space, another room or two; the owner saying I like it here but I want more space. That principle applied to the 18th century too, but more importantly, it was to shout status and power.

Hidden behind what can be said to be merely extensions to the side and rear of the original house is what was called the Cutler House. It was bought, in 1708, along with the estate, by Thomas for £14 000 in the desire to be near what he considered his true country seat, that at Wentworth Woodhouse, less than 10 miles away. The house originally belonged to the estate of Sir Gervais Cutler in the 17th century, Thomas himself being born in Stanley Hall, near Wakefield.

This is now the main entrance to Northern College which is centred in the building. After World War Two, it became a teacher training college after it was bought by Barnsley Council.

The year 1711 was a big year for Thomas. A culmination of a military career and of royal support. He was created 1st earl of Strafford (the second creation of the title), and he got married. He married to Anne, the daughter of Sir Henry Johnson. She was a Buckingham girl and she came with brass, enough brass to help Thomas advance his property dreams. In that significant year, he became a member of the Privy Council, that body of men considered important enough to advise the king.

Thomas Wentworth had gained the King's notice early in life after the Battle of Steinkirk, a losing fight against the French, during the Nine Years War fought by allied nations against the French to try and control France's ambition and power in Europe. He became a major after the Battle Landen in 1693, a brigadier general in 1702 and a major general in 1704. As a colonel in 1698, he was commanding the 1st or Royal Regiment of Dragoons who were known as Raby's Dragoons. He was still in his 20s and moving up. By the time he married and was settling down, he was 39.

Thomas now had ambitions and the means for developing the modest building he had bought and so began the creation of what we see today. The house imposed its presence on the landscape as viewed from the south and east, establishing the fact that, although he was disinherited with the estates he thought he was due, here Thomas was now.

It might be of reasurance to him that his splendid Baroque extension is now a landmark from the M1 motorway, the road that runs north from London to Yorkshire, and is glimpsed by many northward bound travellers. The estate he lost is hidden away from 21st century eyes. Bigger? Yes. But well off the beaten tracks.

He has achieved the dominant position he desired after losing out in inheritance that he felt was his. The other house, which may be grander in having the largest frontage of any other house in England at least, is geographically and demographically hidden.