It was with some reluctance that Kemsley forsook the comfort of his armchair from which he had intended to watch yet another repeat of his favourite film. Since the minor roads were still hard packed with snow we settled for the relatively short trip to Queendown Warren and back.
On the eastern edge of Rainham we turned right off the A2 and into South Bush Lane. As we did so we glanced briefly at the artificial (but life-like) owls sitting on the openings to the cowls of the three oasts behind Moor Street House. We were once told by Mrs Wakeley that they were placed there not, as we thought, to keep birds out of the oasts (although they have this effect) but to scare birds off the vegetable garden. Since being placed there some ten years ago, the owls have proved very effective in doing this. It is their staring eyes, which do the trick, we were told.
We proceeded gingerly along the parish boundary keeping to the car tracks in the snow. Surrounded by hop gardens, orchards and brussel sprouts we were reminded that local agriculture remains very labour intensive compared with, say, the wheat growing areas of East Anglia. Nevertheless, we noticed, as we passed the top of Spade Lane, that at least a couple of the red tile cottages, which we assume had previously been occupied by farm workers, have recently been sold off and subsequently renovated.
The wind had blown the snow through the hedgerows and into spectacular drifts as we approached Place Farm. We looked into the modern, open-ended barns on the corner of Yaugher Lane. They contained about a dozen pregnant ewes. No sign of any lambs yet, however. The slippery snow forced us to dismount on the steep slope to the M2 bridge. As we passed Oak Barn Cottages we could hear the sounds of a shoot in Highfield Wood over on our right. The Council had cleared the snow only as far as the bridge and so we had to carry our bikes through the drifts on the last leg to Queendown Warren.
The Reserve was crowded with people and sledges. The steepest part of the slope had been well used, revealing the grass beneath the snow. Those youngsters prepared to risk a bruised bottom were using old fertilizer bags as sledges - and very effective they were too. After a while we wandered over towards the massive beech trees at the Hartlip end of the Reserve where we heard, but could not see, two or three blue tits calling to each other. I pointed out the thirty or so saplings that had been planted in the field below the Warren to replace a number of elms that had been lost by Dutch Elm disease. It occurred to us that the landowner, a man of some vision, would never see his trees in their maturity – although his grandchildren might. On that profound thought we headed back to the bikes. On the way, rabbit tracks in the snow reminded us that, as its name implies, the Reserve was originally a 'warren in which rabbits were confined for use as a source of meat and fur.
We headed for Hartlip down Warren Lane where we passed a flock of long tailed tits in the hedgerow. On the outskirts of the village we noticed that a field of kale had been completely eaten through by a flock of-sheep. The price of hay being high this winter, doubtless the farmer was anxiously hoping for some spring weather and the growth of fresh grass.
Just inside the village some of the members of the shooting party we had heard earlier in the afternoon overtook us in a Land Rover. We glimpsed a pile of mainly pheasants and rabbits on the floor of the vehicle. Although we would have preferred to see them in happier surroundings, we were pleased to see a couple of common partridge amongst the bag - evidence that they still survive in the area. Stocks of our native (now not so common) partridge have suffered a serious decline over many years. This is thought to be due to bad weather in breeding seasons and possibly the use of toxic pesticides or shortage of adequate food at hatching time.
Immediately before- the Church we passed Hartlip School - thought to be one of the oldest surviving county primary schools in the county. ‘Founded 1678 Rebuilt 1855’ stated a stone plaque. Kemsley pointed out that, contrary to the trends in some parts of the country, villages in this part of Kent have generally retained their schools. Although the one in Stockbury has now been concerted to a private dwelling, those at Bredhurst, Newington, Upchurch and Lower Halstow remain open. This seemed to us to be an enlightened policy, but we wondered for how long the KCC* could maintain it in the face of falling numbers of children and public expenditure restraint.
As we approached Hartlip Hill we could see that some of the rooks’ nests in the spinney had withstood the ravages of winter. We turned left onto the A2, which was almost clear of snow. As we approached Moor Street we noticed the wind had changed, for the oasthouse owls were now facing towards the road. We wondered whether hungry birds would pluck up the courage to raid whatever greens Mrs Wakeley might have in her garden, now that the owls’ backs were turned!
Soon we were back home. We arrived there in time for Kemsley to see the last few minutes of his film. 'You should have stayed in,’ he was told. ‘It seems to get better every time you see it.’ ‘Never mind,’ sighed Kemsley, ‘I expect they’ll repeat it for the sixth time.’