Becoming Warden at Wandlebury

Inspired by nature 1970's broadcaster Ted Ellis, Bill Clark makes a life changing decision, applying to be Head Warden at Wandlebury, Cambridgeshire. He gives up a life of farming for a new vocation in nature conservation.

Beech wood. photo Alfredo Perrotti 

Extract from a reading of Chapter 7 from Route and Branch, by Bill Clark, former warden of Wandlebury, red by Chris Thomas: full recording here:

https://archive.org/download/warden-at-wandlebury/Ch7a-Warden%20at%20Wandlebury.mp3

Unbeknown to me, 1973, was to be my ‘watershed’! Unfortunately, due to a reoccurring bronchial problem, Caroline had to miss a very pleasant April trip to the Brecklands, and the one to Wheatfen Broad in May. Thankfully, the heavy rain ceased as the coach approached Wheatfen – we were going to be taken round by Ted Ellis, the celebrated naturalist, author, broadcaster and TV presenter. As he met the coach, the sun burst through and with steam lifting from the lush growth we followed him along the lane to his cottage, arriving at a gateway, almost closed by a willow shrub, and filed into his garden. ‘You would think he would clear that thing out of the way,’ whispered a lady to me as Ted waved an arm towards tables set with cups and saucers, before disappearing into the house. All eyes were looking with some disfavour at the disreputable lawn, but Ted’s immediate emergence with a tray of fruit cake, followed by his wife Phyllis bearing a large teapot, put a stop to any comments. Whilst Phyllis kept our cups topped up, and plied us with the home-made cake, Ted regaled us with a resume of what Wheatfen was about, and what he hoped to show us.

I had always assumed that the reason Ted dressed in a pinstripe suit and polished black town shoes, was at the behest of his BBC bosses, but not so, it was obviously his accustomed dress. He did not look at all like the regular country folk I was used to. But the more I heard, the more I warmed to him, rapidly realising that here was someone, not only passionate about the countryside, but with knowledge I would give my ‘eye teeth’ to gain. How pleased I was, when, after apologising for his lawn being untidy, he then wandered around it pointing out various rare and uncommon wild plants! 

Once out in the reserve there were those who cut their walk short, even along Ted’s so-called managed paths, so by the time we got to where only Ted could hope to know the way – with shoulder high growth brushing us on either side – there were only a handful of stalwarts left. Ted would step off the track – often into ankle deep mud – to point to some insect, or an animal track: then dart back across with arms outstretched to part the sopping tangle, to reveal a marsh plant. I had never had such a wonderful time and was engrossed in every word, pointing out other plants and asking about them too.

We at last regained the mown path and rejoined the rest of the group. ‘Capital,’ said Ted, ‘now we are all back together, I hope to show you something special,’ and led us to a clearing in which stood a moth trap. He then proceeded to show us various moths, as he brought out the pieces of egg cartons under which they were hiding. Despite knowing most of the common names, I felt like a kindergarten school boy, as Ted rattled off the Latin names too, but finally, after turning over every scrap of carton, he gave a big sigh. ‘Oh well, I might have known that would be the one to fly off.’ As he stood up, I pointed out a moth that was new to me, resting on a tree trunk: a delighted Ted told us it was the Lobster Moth that should have been in the trap – the first he had seen at Wheatfen. 

He fell into step beside me as we walked back to the cottage, and plied me with questions. ‘Are you one of the Trust’s Wardens?’ ‘Where did you gain your knowledge?’ ‘With your visual skills you should at least be leading groups around nature reserves.’ After partaking of a last cup of tea from delightful Phyllis, our trip organiser passed on our grateful thanks, and we followed Ted out into the lane, he calling back, ‘Oh, by the way, I believe that willow is very rare, it could be the only one in the country.’ I just had to catch the eye of the lady who had been derogatory about it earlier! At the coach, Ted singled me out, and with a broad smile, took my hand and said, ‘Now remember what I have said, you are too good to waste your life in farming!’

If I thought any more about his words, it was only with fondness, and regret that Caroline had missed out. I believed there was no way that I could keep myself and my family on the sort of income that went with looking after Nature Reserves. Then only a couple of weeks later a letter arrived for Wendy from her sister Stella, and inside was a short note for me. On a page of bright orange paper was written, ‘Just a thought!’, and stapled to it was part of a page from the Cambridge Evening News, and highlighted was an advert:

GreatOutdoors

Warden required for 110 acre estate three miles from Cambridge...