Dorset Wildlife Trust Project: Peascombe

 I arrived in bright, strong sunshine, I left Dorset Wildlife Trust's Peascombe nature reserve in sunshine, but having involved myself is a thundery rain shower, I resembled a drowned badger. 

 

Due to on-going care for my ninety four your old father, somehow damaging my knee, making walking painful and a large number of unrelated events and courses I'd chaotically booked myself on, my Dorset Wildlife Trust project had been placed on the back seat recently. However, with my knee almost back to normal, it was good to return to my self imposed project. I aimed to visit the 3 hectare Peascombe reserve near Loders, not far from Bridport.

I know the out-of-the-way rural village of Loders (officially Lower Loders) fairly well, as a day-visitor, but not the reserve. However on arrivalI soon realised I had actually driven passed it for years and not realised it was here. Hidden away off a very narrow hollow way, or sunken track, named Smishops Lane this hollow way meanders out of Loders but, due to a landslip, most of Smishops Lane is now closed to vehicle traffic.

Smishops Lane - now closed to traffic

I parked in the village and walked the short distance up the lane. Dappled sunlight filtered through a tunnel of trees, it was a beautiful day. At the crest of the hill, what looked like an ex-railway gate highlighted the entrance into the predominantly grassland, with a small stream, nature reserve. At the entrance coppiced hazel, a few oak and lime trees dominated, while a chiffchaff serenaded my arrival. 

Through the large gate, it was a short walk to a kissing gate leading into the reserve proper. I stood at the top of a steep slope looking down and across a rolling and quiet landscape, apart that is from the sound of grass strimming in the distance. However what I did note was rain advancing rapidly towards me. Showers had been forecast today, thought they had not materialised, until now. A clap of thunder alerted me that torrential rain would soon arrive, which as it turned out became a half an hour deluge with thunderous accompaniment. Foolishly, not being dressed for a British day, I took shelter in the adjacent allotments, under a tree - don't try this at home. 

Eventually the rain and thunder passed and I wandered back to the reserve to find myself amongst two feet high, and now extremely wet grass. Within minutes I was tremendously moist below the knee. To be honest I was a little disappointed at first. What I'd hoped would be a wildflower meadow bejewelled with flowers, at first glance, resembled an intensive grassland with species like Yorkshire fog, Timothy and cocksfoot predominating. The site is, I had read, summer grazed to help with the nature conservation efforts, though, given the height of the grass, I doubt any cattle have been set on here this year. However closer inspection revealed more.

Germander speedwell was everywhere on the upper slopes, along with cuckoo flower and meadow buttercup, though all were part-obscured by the lush herbage. The reserve is roughly a triangle in shape formed on a steep slope surrounded by a varied tree and hedge boundary. It is an open access reserve, but I followed the indistinct paths created by other walkers.

At the lower part of the reserve, the path I followed progressed under a lovely spreading pedunculate oak, it felt as if I was entering a secret landscape. And I was in many ways. This area was, for me, the more interesting. There is a shallow stream, dried up on my visit, which from distant viewing contained a varied flora, including sweet rush and a huge patch of greater stitchwort. The stream is bordered by a path, raised up above the ground, with old coppiced tree species. it had a hidden feel though sadly after the rain shower, bird and insect life was minimal, just a chaffinch, robin and jackdaw broke the silence (the strimming had stopped). As a result of now having sodden shoes as well as trousers I didn't linger here too long. Consequently during my time there I saw no invertebrates on the wing.

Dried up stream

The reserve has three entrances to it, and is seemingly a well used site by local people, which is a little surprising given how out of the way this is, though it does lie on the village edge. I was warming to its delights during my hour wandering about. Sadly no bullfinch, which had been my target species, though at the opposite end of the reserve long tailed tits flittered above my head. I exited the reserve via a different gate which led into another hollow way Whetland's Lane, the verges of which were almost totally dominated by wild garlic.

The grassland sloping down to the stream and mature trees

Looking into the reserve from Whetland's Lane

The stream crossing Whetland's Lane

Whetland's Lane

And for me, on this visit, I understood the importance of this site. It sits quietly in a varied landscape of hills, valleys and woodland. It's lower slopes are wet tussock grassland with a varied herbage, the upper slopes providing more dry meadow species, while surrounding the reserve are mature trees, hedge lines, hollow ways and farmed grassland. That juxtaposition of these different habitats is what makes this reserve special. As I squelched back up Whetland's Lane I ignored my waterlogged shoes and enjoyed the peace and quiet of this location, although the stimming had restarted with the emerging sun.

Whetland's Lane entrance

Date of Visit : 14th May 2026. 14.30 to 15.30hrs
 

Selective list of species  - Chiffchaff, robin, blackbird, jackdaw, woodpigeon, long tailed tit. Grass species including cocksfoot, Timothy, Yorkshire fog. Dock, cow parsley, wild garlic, sweet rush, nettle, meadow buttercup, germander speedwell, cuckoo flower, greater stitchwort. Quite a few molehills. Hazel, pedunculate oak, lime spp.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Powerstock Common

What are my thoughts about Powerstock Common? 

Well, it is in the middle of nowhere. Actually that is unfair, it is in the centre of the most unspoilt agricultural landscape in West Dorset. And, not that easy to find. Even the Dorset Wildlife Trust's [DWT] website describes it as 'hidden away in the West Dorset countryside'. Hidden it is down a labyrinth of narrow lanes, but once discovered I loved exploring just some of its 112 hectares (about 280 acres).

The village of Powerstock I know quite well, not least its lovely hostelry The Three Horseshoes. Dominating this small village is the church St Mary the Virgin, itself used in the television adaptation of Agatha Christie's 'A Murder is Announced' with the whole village represented as Chipping Cleghorn. Until the 1960s a railway branch line ran along the valley between Bridport and Maiden Newton. Long since disused, the bed of the railway now provides a northern boundary to the reserve, and a long flat walk.

Having explored only a small part of the nearby, albeit much hillier, Kingcombe Meadows NNR in the morning, a flat walk was most welcome to my wife and I in the afternoon. On arrival the sun had intensified and dare I say it it felt almost too warm. Brimstone and peacock butterflies were sporadically commonly on the wing and what also looked like a single specimen of a small tortoiseshell - though it was the briefest of glimpses, certainly not the marsh fritillary which is also found here. In the warm sun many an aerial butterfly territorial battle by the peacocks was taking place.

 

As yet another DWT reserve I had not visited before the decision was made to follow the longer waymarked path, rather than explore more randomly. On the reserve map this showed we'd pass through Wytherston Wood, through steep-sided railway cuttings, past a bat shed, then return via the central track through the Common itself and finally skirt past Wicker Coppice. What I was also to discover was that this now hidden, wild and undisturbed reserve in West Dorset has in fact been heavily influenced by human activity. For centuries it was grazed common land where also wood and its products were collected. The railway arrived and with it removed the right of commons, opening the area up for improvement. Attempts were made to fell trees and plough up for farming; many of the ancient oaks were felled with commercial conifer strands planted. During the 1960's charcoal burning occurred. However in the least accessible areas the ancient habitat of oak and ash remained untouched, which since 1975 when the DWT took over this area, has allowed regeneration to occur, with a little help or course, such as the removal of pine species and the grazing of the woodland to remove the understory.

Once again, this, the sixth reserve I've visited, felt materially different to all the others. Well developed ant hills are an obvious sign that, the once busy railway cutting, is now a quiet area for wildlife to flourish. These cuttings especially indicated summer promise for seeing many butterfly species on the wing, steep sided grassy slopes facing due south. All around, the open wood-pasture and coppiced areas played host to birdsong, chiffchaff, blackbird, song thrush, chaffinch, blue, great and long tailed tit, robin, great spotted woodpecker, green woodpecker and wren. At one point a pair of jays were raucously vocal, though unseen. Before long a male tawny owl hooted its presumed annoyance at being mobbed by these fascinating corvids. Maybe they were trying to rob the nest? I'm not sure, but as we were the only other living things in the reserve it made for an emotional day-time encounter.

Part way through the walk we passed a bat hut where presumably the lesser horseshoe bat roosts, one a handful of other bat species found on the reserve. Further along, with primrose coming into flower everywhere, I encountered my first dark edge bee fly (Bombylius major) of the year, and then saw well over a dozen more as we walked along. The primrose also hosting various solitary and bumble bees. There was an audible hum soundscape in the air.

After about an hour of walking we came to the end of the reserve and turned south. Ahead of us lay Eggardon Hill, overseeing the landscape as it has for millennia. I found it emotional viewing this landmark from this angle. Eggardon is my joint favourite view in England (the other being at Bickerton, in the Coquet Valley area of Northumberland). For decades I've stood on that hill looking down into Powerstock Common. Today I looked back from below, and felt very small and insignificant.

Reaching a gate we turned back to the car along the gravel track which dissects the reserve. What we had not realised was that, given we were looking to avoid hills, we'd walked in the wrong direction. The outbound journey had been flat, yet for the next thirty or more minutes we walked uphill, not steep, just a steady rising slog, which in normal circumstances would have been fine, but after this morning we were feeling quite weary. It didn't spoil our visit here at all, in fact those frequent stops to recharge ourselves allowed for further immersion in this large reserve. We finally reached the car after about two hours walking. 

 The only other person we saw was a farmer on his quad bike as we made it back to the car-park. Whoever says southern England is overpopulated needs to one day visit West Dorset. But, maybe I should not mention this to anyone? 

 

 

Date of Visit : Wednesday 18th March 2026 - 13.45-15.45 hrs.

Selective species seen: Oak ash wood pasture with blackthorn, old mans beard and hazel understory. Peacock, Brimstone, small tortoiseshell? dark edge bee fly, red tailed bumblebee, solitary bee spp. Primrose, lesser celandine, rough grassland.  Carrion crow, jay, jackdaw, herring gull, raven, chiffchaff, blackbird, song thrush, chaffinch, blue tit, great tit, longtailed tit, robin, great spotted woodpecker, green woodpecker and wren.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Kingcombe Meadows and Centre

  

It must have been around the same time I first visited Toller Porcorum that the nearby Kingcombe Farm was coming up for sale.

The farm was part of the lands which made up the Lower Kingcombe estate, which had been granted to Lord Sandwich by Henry VIII. It had never been on the market until 1985, following the death of the then owner Arthur Walbridge. At this point the 640 acre (259 hectare) farm and buildings were semi derelict, the heavy clay land had never been improved. The landscape of wet meadows, sunken lanes, and billowing-hedges was known for its species-rich diversity, it provided a unique natural habitat which was, despite much of it being a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI), at risk of agricultural improvement. 

Despite conservation bodies' best efforts to secure enough funding for the purchase the farm, it was bought privately and then re-marketed as fifteen smaller lots in 1987. The call went out once again and after what would today be known as crowdfunding several of the lots totalling 300 or so acres came into the ownership of Dorset Wildlife Trust [DWT]. Likeminded individuals additionally secured other lots and in the intervening years further land has come into the DWT remit. Today the Kingcombe Meadows National Nature Reserve covers almost 450 acres (180 hectares).

That is the potted history of the site, somewhere I've passed by many times but never properly visited. Until now, making this the fifth reserve I've visited this year.

I had not planned to visit this part of west Dorset this early in the year, however on reading the latest DWT members' magazine an article mentioned the lesser known areas of Kingcombe which were especially worth a visit in early spring. The sun shone brightly, the forecast heralded the warmest day of the year, my wife and I headed down the M5 where after a cup of tea we headed off to the first of those areas mentioned in the magazine, Neal's Hill. It is a steep climb.

Exiting the Centre we first had to cross over the River Hooke. In reality no more than a wide stream, this wonderfully atmospheric river provides a soundscape to the valley. I did not see any fish under the bridge but in a calm area away from the eddying water a large number of pond skater (Gerris spp.) were indulging in river skating. From here it is a short walk up the public lane before turning into Butt's lane which begins its ascent up the valley.

I simply love holloways, or sunken lanes if you prefer. There is something magical about them. Many are the feet who have passed this way over the centuries, each footfall leaving an impression. Butt's Lane was also doing a fair impersonation of a running river. Run-off from the adjacent fields cascaded across the chalk and flint rubble we now found ourselves stumbling over. At various points 'mini-valleys', no more than a dozen or two feet long, luxuriant in ferns and mosses disgorged their tinkling water into the lane, as they had no doubt done for years. It made for a spectacular walk, which as the sun rose higher, also made for a warm walk. The first bluebells were coming into flower, and primroses were everywhere. Brimstone butterflies too floated back and forth disturbed by our travels. 

Before too long the gate we looked for appeared and we entered Neal's Hill field, to be greeted by a peacock butterfly. Unfortunately, I don't know who Neal was, but this, the largest of five fields (the others being Five Acres North, Five Acres South, Neal's Ground and Wally Ground) which make up a rectangular outlier of the main reserve, provide absolutely breathtaking views. At our feet there was a rich wildflower grassland, from which cattle had only recently been removed, evidenced by the heavily pockmarked surface waiting to trip the unwary visitor.

Images can never replicate the views we see while standing a-top a hill, below us in the valley the whole of the Kingcombe reserve was visible in a wide arc. Around to the left of my vision the monumental hillfort of Eggardon dominated the south, and to the right the estates of Hooke and Mapperton completed the landscape. Behind,  stood an impressive beech tree clump. For southern England this felt an empty quiet landscape, and the arrival of a cronking raven to perch on one of the beech trees confirmed this feeling. Interestingly there were few other birds about. I'd set my mind on seeing, or more likely hearing, a yellowhammer, but to no avail. A chaffinch, blackbird and a number of great tits provided the only song during our climb up. It was mid morning after all, maybe at dawn or dusk the bustle of territorial calls increases. Buff-tail and 'red' tailed bumblebees zoomed about and on the gorse, its flowers now dazzling in the sun, attracting a myriad of solitary bees to forage. 

We could have stayed here for a long time, a great place for a picnic and to relax, but there was a lot more to see, so we made our way back to the Centre and after a quick lunch in the lovely café, headed off to explore another of these aforementioned least visited areas, Mary's Well Lane.

Walking here a very confiding goldcrest hopped through coppiced hazel, stopping regularly to sing. It made a welcome distraction for a moment. Who Mary was I'm not sure (later research failed to uncover any facts) but this was yet another fabulous holloway. The lower half, like Butt's Lane, was a sparkling rivulet burbling over flint rubble, only higher up did it narrow into a muddy thoroughfare. Surprisingly above us sat a grey wagtail, some twenty or so feet above the path. It wasn't fazed by our passing underneath, presumably intent on foraging in and around the water running down the lane; there were a lot of insects on the wing on this warm afternoon.

The higher we climbed the more hazel dominated each side of the holloway. Some had been coppiced, some had been lain. In the bright sun during this visit the cross-over shadows in the intense light made for an atmospheric veil in which to look beyond into the wider landscape. In summer however, in full leaf, this would be a dark and mysterious tunnel to venture along, watched over no doubt by the dormice which this area is a stronghold of. For now though, primrose and bluebell dominated our attention.

Kingcombe Meadows is a large reserve, and materially different to the smaller reserves I have so far visited. Reaching the top of Mary's Well Lane it was around 1.30pm. We'd been walking up and down the valley for a couple of hours and really had only scratched the surface. Would we have enough time to make our way, in the opposite direction, to the Pound Plots and Redholm Coppice, the two other areas mentioned in that article of least visited areas? Possibly, though on reflection they could wait for another visit. I'd like to come back and stay here in one of their cottages, when a dawn or dusk walk would be simply wonderful.  

Thus, as we returned to the centre a decision was made (not least as we fancied a flat walk). DWT's Powerstock Common was just a couple of miles away, as we were in the area, why not make that the sixth reserve to visit? After all we had the whole afternoon ahead of us. 

We headed off. But that said, I absolutely loved being at Kingcombe, a place I've known of for decades, yet never visited until now. This is a lovely part of Dorset.

Date of Visit: Wednesday March 18th - approx. 10.30-13.30 (including lunch)

Species noted: Lesser celandine, primrose, bluebell, various ferns, lords and ladies (arum), dogs mercury, mosses, ivy, hazel in catkin, robin, chaffinch, blue and great tit, great spotted woodpecker, raven, buzzard, kestrel, grey wagtail, goldcrest, blackbird, chaffinch, beech, gorse, blackthorn, peacock and brimstone butterfly, buff tail bumble bee and 'red' tailed bumblebee, pond skater, solitary bees. Sadly no yellowhammer.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Broad Oak Orchard

As Dorset Wildlife Trust's (DWT) smallest nature reserve, at around 0.2 hectares (half an acre) in size, this orchard remains one of only a few orchards left in the area. It now adds to its notoriety in being the fourth reserve I've visited. 

I know this surrounding area well, though to the best of my knowledge I had never visited the hamlet of Broad Oak just across the river from Sturminster Newton. A few houses make up this hamlet, (not to be confused with Broadoak hamlet near Bridport), at the edge of which can be found the orchard hard by a lane. Since 1997 this has been a community reserve managed by DWT. Knowing this was one of just two orchards on my project list I scarce thought of a target species to encounter, other than apples. However one species that is here is glow worm. 

 

Interestingly the orchard was featured in the Guardian's Country Diary on Armistice day 2003. John Vallins laments in this article the loss of traditional orchards and his quest to find a precious half acre to preserve. Thus found and secured, he continues that 'as a community orchard it is open to anyone from the village who wants a quiet place to sit, an apple to pick, or a job to do, such as pruning or hedge laying'. I may not be from around these parts, yet I entered, and sat with my lunch at a lichen encrusted picnic table. It is diverting to say the least. Quiet too.

The air is clean around here, evidence of which was the picnic table and benches encrusted with foliose lichen. I've never been good at identifying these to species level, but these are possibly common greenshield lichen (F. caperata) or others in the Flavoparmelia genus. It wasn't just the benches that were encrusted, every branch of the labelled apple trees was host to oakmoss lichen (Evernia spp.), yellow wall lichen (Xanthotia parietina), powdered ruffled lichen (Parmotrema perlatum) and many more I failed to register.

For such a small area there was a lot to see, and read. The orchard boasts a small summerhouse within which is contained a lot of information and this lovely piece of descriptive artwork. I picked up a leaflet which highlights 26 different points of interest. Most noted are the fruit trees but also a log pile, grass cuttings pile and a black poplar. The orchard is surrounded by a lain hedge, which I also read were, at various locations around the site, laid in Midland style, Dorset style or Southern style.

Tree 24, was a Belle de Boskoop apple, which is a mid 19th century variety from the Netherlands, and, although it had fallen over still bared fruit. Before leaving the orchard I had to pay my respects.

Lunch over it was time to leave this delightful community orchard, one which for years I've passed close buy but never visited. I should imagine in spring with the blossom, or on a still autumn day with the fruit glowing, it would be stunning. I'd like to add to its many charms that it is easy to imagine being here at night, glass of wine in hand, surrounded by the fluorescent light of the resident glow worm in the grass.

Dorset Wildlife Trust project: Girdlers Coppice

 

“The very essence of romance is uncertainty.”

So penned Oscar Wilde in his wonderfully farcical comedy, The Importance of Being Ernest. Was there romance in the unravelling uncertainty of my visit to Girdlers Coppice at Fiddleford near Sturminster Newton? I'd like to think so, but this, the third Dorset Wildlife Trust (DWT) reserve I've visited during this project of mine, became a farcical comedy, of errors. Why so? Adroitly, I came, I looked for and I failed to conquer. I think I've randomly mixed my theatrical metaphors here.

As the name suggests, Girdlers Coppice is an ancient woodland which is managed for wildlife using coppicing techniques. It is also an interesting site in that DWT rent these 7 hectares from the Hinton St Mary Estate, owned by the Pitt-Rivers family. Doing my research beforehand an article in Dorset Life mentioned 'April is an excellent time to visit Girdlers Coppice in order to enjoy the openness of the canopy, the bird song and the spring flowers and insects.' 

Excellent, except I was here in early March and subsequently failed to find my way in, though I think I did make it after all.

I'll explain. Access to this reserve is from the car park attached to the 14th century Fiddleford Manor. The instructions are simple, from the car park walk towards the manor, however go through the pedestrian gate on the left, cross a field, keeping the fence to your right and ahead of you will eventually see a gate into the reserve. The first pedestrian gate was chained and padlocked, presumably as there were horses in the field. Close by was a second gate, which my wife and I went through, into a smaller field. This field had the river Stour as its boundary, which I knew from earlier reading marked the northern edge of the reserve, and the river was fenced off, to my right. So far, so good. 

 

There was a path of sorts leading to an unmarked ramshackle gate hanging off its hinges. Odd I thought, but maybe it had fallen into disrepair during the winter storms. Once I'd squeezed through the gap the meadow as I'd expected to see was ahead of us. Except it had no obvious path, was mostly herbage not grass and looked as if no one had ever been here. Was I in the right place? Doubts loomed.

I could see woodland to our left, and a rodent tube suspended on a branch, suggesting that was the reserve. Between us and that however was a wire fence. Not wishing to crash and career through this area - it is a wildlife reserve after all - we returned to the gate and had a discussion. It felt like we were almost at the reserve, but somehow not in there yet. 

Back in the field I walked up the hill. Ahead of me was an electric fence, but with an opening at one end allowed me to walk further up the hill. Scanning with my binoculars I could see it, I could see what looked like the reserve entrance some distance away, very close to the A357 which provides the reserve southern boundary. Between me and the gate however was another fence, wood and netting this time, with no gate or style. Was I in fact in someone's field wandering about aimlessly? Are those baying dogs being unleashed yonder I can hear? At a push I could have maybe climbed over the fence, but that just didn't seem the right action for entering a reserve. I had to be in the wrong place. So far, yet so near. This entry uncertainty was somewhat diluting the very essence of the romance of my visit. 

My wife, who I'd left by the river waiting for me to resolve this dilemma, eventually joined me up on the hill. Another discussion occurred and, feeling a little crestfallen, the decision was made to walk back down the hill to our car. Once there I asked a fisherman, and a lady out for a walk if they knew how to get into the reserve. Neither were local, they didn't know. 

 

Funny that, neither do I!

As a postscript to this the following day I contacted the DWT office. Being English I apologised for being a bewildered naturalist, I asked them if I'd missed something, some subtle marker, a different gate perhaps. It seems I hadn't. My query has been passed to the reserves manager who has said he'll investigate on site and be in touch. 

I'm perfectly happy to find out that that first, albeit padlocked, gate was actually the way in, though how those horses might react to me puffing away as I walked up their field in my wellingtons, I'm not sure. I'm perfectly happy to be told the dilapidated gate I actually went though was the correct route, maybe with instructions on how I can access the wood itself from there. I'll wait and see. A summer return maybe. The reserve is adjacent to Piddles Wood, a much larger ancient woodland, thus Girdlers Coppice benefits in sharing habitat suitable for silver washed fritillary, purple hairstreak butterfly and hazel dormouse. 

 

I will be back! 

 

Postscript 2: I received a long and informative reply from DWT's reserves manager, and a map. It seems I had infact entred the reserve by the lower lesser used entrance, my photograph gave that away. The main entrance was indeed the one I could see but not reach, which would have been via the padlocked gate. As a result of my contact one of the reserves team will visit and check access routes. Good work and response from DWT.

 

Date of visit : 10th March 2026, 13.15 to 13.50 (mostly being lost in those fields)