The benefits of Early Morning Watering at the Plot

‘Why are we going out so early?’ Lottie asks.

‘Got to water the allotments, it’s going to be very hot today’ I reply as I unlock the gate to the upper plots.

‘Why are so many people here when they should be in bed?’ my faithful whippet Lottie asks as she starts to count the people already there, watering their plots.

‘It may be only 7am but some have already been and gone’ I say looking around and counting the plot holders dotted all around busy, watering in the cool morning air.

We stop and chat to my Vice Chair who is off later on to attend to the Canary Wharf allotment at the Crossrail station. Yesterday I got my diary all mixed up went to Canary Wharf to help out and rang her to ask where she was to be told, ’It’s tomorrow not today.’

I can’t make today so I’ll leave it to her and the volunteers.

As I leave the plots, more folk are turning up and I speak with Alan who is one of our oldest plot holders and well into his 80s. ‘Shouldn’t you be home and in bed?’ I ask.

‘I will be when I’ve watered my plot’ he replies.

Lottie and I walk down to the lower plots passing the farm which is just wakening up. In the field with the goats are three foxes lying smack in the middle of the field sunbathing whilst the goats occupy the edges watching them. It may look dangerous for the goats but I am sure they can deal with Freddie and his pack, and anyway they are only there to catch the early sun and will soon be off.

When we get to the lower allotments, we find we have it to ourselves.

‘Are we staying long?’ asks Lottie.

‘Just long enough to water and get tonight’s salad and some flowers’ I reply tying her to her bench and fetching her pillows from the shed.

I turn to see another of Freddie’s scrawny thin furred foxes quickly wake from his slumbers at the back of the plot and scurry off away from us.

Watering this time of day is different to watering last thing at night or during the day. You can hear the plants suck in the water, slash it all over and ready themselves for another baking day. They say a good breakfast sets one up for the day, and perhaps the same applies to plants too.

As soon as the salad is watered the snails climb to the top to see what is going on. It’s strange they only live in the one lettuce row although these are surrounded by rocket, basil, salad bowl and lorra rosso lettuce. It’s great, as they surface with their little houses on their backs I can pick them out and send them on a sky diving expedition over to the rough patch behind number nine. It’s only fair to move them on as they probably have a large mortgage on that house. The removal follows the 20 metre safe distance rules for snails and slugs and I doubt that they will be able traverse the terrain back here.

The patti pans and yellow courgettes and some tomatoes are picked, and lettuce cut and all put into there respective yogurt tubs for taking home and surprise my wife Annie.

I cut some sweet peas and tie them into a small bouquet. Sweet peas just love to be cut and every day the same number are ready waiting to be taken home. Finally, I cut some sunflowers.

‘We off now?’ asks Lottie jumping down off her pillows and looking impatiently at me.

A few minutes later we are leaving just as some other plot holders are starting to arrive to do their watering.

‘I wondered where you were?’ greets us as we arrive home to Annie my wife, who has obviously just got up and was trying hard to focus on us and the daylight surrounding us. Lottie gives her a warm lick and looks towards her bowl to try and kid her that she hasn’t had any breakfast. I present a huge bag of goodies and a large bouquet of sunflowers.

‘They for me?’ asks Annie smiling and giving me a kiss on the cheek and a hug.

‘I knew there was a good reason for watering early in the morning,’ I say to Lottie quietly over Annie’s shoulder. She turns, realising there is no second breakfast, and goes to find somewhere among her many beds to have a morning nap.

‘Would you like Coffee on the Allotments?'

‘Pfff.’

‘What’s that noise?’ asks Lottie sitting up and alert after her little nap on the allotment bench.

‘What noise?’ I reply.

‘Pfff.’

‘That noise. Sounds like someone spitting out something they don’t like, or a cat with a fur ball.’ Lottie says staring over towards the back of the plot.

‘Pfff.’

‘There it is again!’

I get up off my kneeling pad and stand and stretch. One must stretch after being on one’s hands and knees with a trusted trowel weeding between the rows of lettuce and rocket. I never did enjoy hoeing and rather selectively eject the weeds from the plot.

Lottie has now decided that she has my attention and I will investigate for her. She drops back down onto her pillows and day bed on the bench satisfied that she has performed her warden duties. It’s hard being a faithful whippet at the allotments, as it involves disturbing one’s sleep and being ever alert to keeping strange and unwanted guests off the plots, and that is mainly Sidney Squirrel and that moggy cat with no name. She stretches as all whippets do, closes her eyes and curls up and goes back to her nap.

‘Thanks,’ I mumble to myself as I walk over to the back of the plot. There between the compost bins is our good friend Robin. He is clearly unhappy and hops up to the top of the open bin and stares down into the abyss.

‘I am very grateful you left the lid off after topping it up but...’ The look in his eyes clearly indicates something in there is not to his taste.

‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, adopting my caring voice. I was thinking he probably didn’t like the orange peelings, or maybe the cabbage leaves were….

‘Do I look like a café bird?’ he asks puffing up his red breast to make the point.

‘Do you look…’ I could hardly get my sentence out before he burst into a tirade about coffee, its foul tastes, and why I wanted to spoil his fine dining with the stuff.

‘Sorry, we got three tons of coffee grounds from Canary Wharf and I like to sprinkle some and mix it into the compost to help break it down,’ I responded.

‘Even the slugs don’t like it!’ he exclaimed.

‘That’s the point’ I said.

‘Apparently cat’s don’t like it either’ I offered, wondering what his reaction would be to it being a deterrent to his nemesis the moggy from the farm.

He stood thinking with his head cocked to one side. It’s a thoughtful look he has before he finally offers ‘Well it has to have some good points but Lottie is the best cat deterrent you have here.’

Lottie looks up at the mention of her name. Dog’s hearing is very good, and you don’t see any with hearing aids now do you? She gets off the bench, shakes herself and goes to now have a nap under the bench. She does this sometimes when she gets too hot on top, but sometimes just for a change.  

Robin and I return our attention to the coffee grounds.

‘You’ll be sprinkling all over the plot next,’ with a questioning look which begged a negative response.

‘Yes, I was going to…’

‘Do you want me as a friend and fellow labourer, or not?’ Robin asked now, clearly demanding a coffee ground ceasefire.

‘I can’t put it near the seedlings as it can kill them off.’ Coffee grounds contain allelopathic properties which attack young seedlings vying for space. You could argue that could help suppress weed seedlings, but Ii doubt that Robin will accept that as a positive.

‘Surprise, surprise, someone’s has got the message,’ Robin casually stated hopping down to the floor to wipe his beak clean and take a sip on water from a bowl I leave for the birds.

I was going to tell him about the Civet and how he makes the most expensive coffee in the world but thought as he would never see one around here it would be a wasted story. Also it might upset his sensitive feelings if he knew exactly how the process of making the coffee involved collecting the Civet’s poo.

‘I tell you what. I will only put it around the fruit in the fruit cage for now and maybe dig some in in autumn before I put the plot to bed.’ I thought this was a reasonable compromise and looked at him for approval. I don’t have blueberries and high acid loving plants so I don’t need to give plants a caffeine boost.

‘We’ll see. I am not bothered about the fruit cage as it is netted to keep out that squadron of pigeons and frankly the fruit is a bit tart for me.’ He was certainly more relaxed now and hopping around searching for some fresh food.

‘Mind you keep to that, though. I don’t want my dinner spoiled’ he said looking over his shoulder. 

‘Otherwise you’ll be looking for a new plot-mate.’

He flies over to where I had been weeding to examine the turned soil for some decaffeinated food.

Well, it looks like there will be no espresso on the plot this year.

I wonder what he thinks to peppermint tea leaves?    

    

Slugging it out on the Plot

We lift the lid on the compost bin to shed light on a diverse army of creatures munching away at yesterday’s input. In among the crowd are slugs and snails who compete with the woodlice, millipedes, worms and others to see who can munch the most.

We all know that a slug is essentially a snail without a house on its back and a mortgage to pay, but what else do we know about these creatures? Many of us focus on their removal and a ‘slug free plot’ but is that possible and what is the size of the slug and snail army we face?

What we must recognise is that slugs are clearly the ‘unseen’ enemy. Some 95% of the population are in fact underground, nibbling away on seeds, roots and laying eggs and unfortunately not taking on the bindweed! An average garden contains around a staggering 20,000 slugs, and cubic metre can contain around 200 alone, or an acre some 392,040 slugs. One individual field slug has the potential to produce about 90,000 grandchildren. These gastropods form the second largest class in the animal kingdom and there are some 30 different varieties in the UK. So they are a formidable army!

Slugs can live live up to 5 years and can lay 20 to 100 eggs a time and 400 to 500 a year. It is easy to see why therefore they continue to attack in waves and a few casualties hardly affects their potential to consume everything before them.  

We know who won the fabled race between the hare and the tortoise but how would the slug fare? We see those slimy trails but how long do they take to cross the average plot? They usually move at a steady pace but can cover 50 yards per hour or 1.3cm per second. So Usain Bolt covers 100 metres in under 10 seconds whilst the slug would take 2 hours, making it one of the slowest creatures on the planet.

We all know their diet which may leave the odd vegetable but is not too discerning and an individual slug can consume around forty times their weight in the space of a day. Now that’s what I call greedy and you never see a catwalk stick model among them.

When not destroying healthy plants, most slugs eat decomposing vegetation, but trying to train them to stick to this diet and leave plants alone is impossible. Some argue that their love of decomposing material makes them a vital part of the ecosystem, others that if they can’t be trained, they remain gardener’s enemy number 1.

They love the dark and dampness so after heavy rainfall and at night you are likely to find more slugs in your garden. So why do some advocate watering the plot last thing at night? They drink water and that in turn gives them that slimy coat and avoids them drying out. They can also stretch to approximately twenty times their length in order to squeeze through gaps.

British gardeners use over 400 billion slug pellets every year and although many alternative solutions exist, an army of slugs still keep coming over the trenches at night. My father in law used to keep a spoon in the garden for hurling slugs catapult style out of the garden but he didn’t realise that you have to hurl them at least 20 metres to ensure that they lose its bearings and are less likely to return. Snails’ homing instincts only cover short distances. However, we forget that slugs are like cave explorers and instead of a rope, they can return via that unique slimy scent trail. I wonder how the ones my father in law ejected found their way home without their trail?

Deterrents include vinegar which removes slug slime and can help if included in slug sprays, copper tape which generates a shock to their system, wood chip, gravel or crushed eggshells, which presents a rough surface they dislike. We all know what salt can do to slugs, so what about a sea salt spray across open ground? Coffee grounds also are said to produce both a hostile surface and pungent smell to the slugs, but I think mine quite like hanging out in the new café culture I have created.

Not only the French like their snails. Non-French predators such as hedgehogs, rodents, some bird species, slow worms, foxes, badgers, violet ground beetles and Devil’s coach horses and other ground beetles also do. But do we really want to encourage rodents onto the plot? I must make a note to speak to Freddie Fox to ask him to increase his pack’s night patrols on my plot. Mind you, I would have to deal with the increased poo deposits.

It’s strange that foxes can eat them but that slugs can cause severe problems for dogs as some slugs carry lungworm, a parasite which affects dogs’ heart-rates and breathing and can even be fatal.

Slugs are also a Dentist’s nightmare in having some 27,000 teeth but when their teeth wear out new rows move forward and replace them, conveyor-belt style. Now why can’t we do that? Their cousin, the sea-based cone snail, is one of the most deadly creatures in the world with a single sting even able to cause death.

So what else may we not know about Slugs?

Well, they avoid strong smelling plants with hairy stems and lavender, rosemary, cranebills or herbaceous plants aren’t on their a la carte menu. But nearly all the vegetables we grow are!

They are almost completely blind and can’t hear anything so navigate life through their sense of smell which they do through their body and they can detect from a few metres away.

They hibernate during winter and are only active when the temperature is above 5°C. After all what’s the point of going out on a forage when it’s cold and there is little to eat.

Finally, there is their slime trail which absorbs water and can be exceedingly difficult to wash off your hands. What is fascinating, well to me anyway, is that this slime contains fibres. I have often wondered how slugs can climb what must appear as daunting as climbing the North face of the Eiger and cannot fall off. It’s down to the fibres. This also enables them to glide over glass shards or even the edge of a razor blade.

The one thing I have learnt is that the invasion of the Slugs is a battle that almost certainly can’t be won, only contained.