Wild Voices of the Chalke Valley
The Chalke Valley is hidden between the beautiful, but busy, market towns of Salisbury and Shaftesbury. It’s a picturesque location encompassing a number of small villages and quaint hamlets, all with their own stories to tell. Some speak of famous residents, of authors, artists and musicians. As well as darker tales. Stories of devils, spectres and superstitions. But its strongest story, belongs to the peaceful surroundings where the river chatters and songbirds sing.
Wherever you are in the valley the chalk talks.
There’s the village of Broadchalke home to the, tidy, green, rectangular beds of the watercress farm; sharing the stories of the past as its hosts the Chalke Valley History Festival in the summer. It’s neighbour Bowerchalke, has darker tales tinged with a touch of the otherworld; ghostly funeral processions, barrow thieves and lost souls. Perhaps you might even encounter the devil himself, at Winkelbury Hill; the Iron Age Hill Fort in Berwick St John.
These tranquil but captivating villages are nestled within a landscape made from a mix of quintessentially English vistas. There are the rolling hills with their steep sides, where sheep and cows graze, farmer’s fields that form a patchwork quilt of green, and gold and brown stitched in by hedgerows. There are the woods that fill with bluebells in the Spring and carpets of red, fallen leaves in the autumn. The trees bare bones exposed in winter, revealing the rooks high in their homes of bundled sticks. Then there are the rivers; the Ebble and the Chalk. Two clear and quiet bodies of water, that babble along the backs of houses, through meadows and tree lined banks. Home to water voles, and kingfishers. It’s where little egrets fish on thin stalky legs as crystal waters run smoothly over pebbles. The bird’s chalk white plumage stark in contrast to the gentle greenery that tumbles to the water’s edge.
The loudest voice of the valley is owned by its wildlife.
Such a variety of environments leads to a whole host of different flora and fauna. From any village in the valley, or any chalk path, perhaps deep in the woods, next to the river or high on one of those rolling hills there is the constant accompaniment of a wild soundtrack. Above the distant bleating of sheep that speckle the hillside, and the mechanical clunks, and thuds and whirrs from the working farms from the surrounding countryside - comes the song of birds.
From a nearby hedgerow, where blackthorn and bramble meet, the familiar wheeze of the yellowhammer calls for its ‘little bit of bread and no cheese’. A charismatic country character with its coat of yellow that can brighten even the greyest of days. The deep guttural cronk of a ravens pass over head, followed by the cackle and pop of jackdaws that gather in groups to chastise them. Woodpeckers hammer high in woodland beech trees and a kestrel yikkers from a hidden spot. Blackbirds, robins, blackcaps and thrushes, linnets, wrens and goldfinches. Too many to be named. All can be picked out from a moment listening. A moment spent basking in the scent of warming earth carried on the same breeze that lifts the red kites and buzzards and sends them soaring.
In one of the neat rows of tram lines cut in by tractors, a hare crouches, still, silent, staring. Half concealed by the sweeping landscape that wears its ancientry like the chalke badges that appear on the hillsides. The hare watches through amber eyes whilst a skylark swirls skyward in a spiral of notes. Their lives quietly saunter on, almost undisturbed, in this over-looked patch of English countryside.
Chalk down land is a particularly diverse habitat with nutrient rich soil and prime sunny spots which will begin to burst with colour come late spring. These habitats boast flora such as cowslip, bell flowers, various vetches and even the delicate nodding heads of orchids such as the early purple and bee orchid; a deceptive bloom in the shape of its namesake. This riot of colour in turn attracts more colour. Pollinating insects busy themselves on warm summers days flitting from flower head to flower head. The delicate wings of adonis and common blue butterflies mingle with those of the marbled white. A collage of colours telling the story of an ecosystem rich in diversity. Many a day, be it grey or sunny, can be lost here.
As the setting sun casts its golden light over the valley, it illuminates other animals that make their home here. The herd of fallow that pick their way on light feet along the fields edge, or the roe deers that hide deeper in thicker foliage. Perhaps it will let slip the secret of a fox dashing along the lane before slipping out of sight. Or even the barn owl, whose wings are brushed with gold as it quarters scrubby patches in search of voles.
Yes, here in the valley amongst the hares and the yellowhammers, the chalk talks.
Stories that it wants to share. It whispers as a breeze that rustles grass stems, and it sings with the skylarks that rise from them. It falls in thuds like thick raindrops that sink deep into the claggy soils which cling to the boots of passers-by. It babbles like the clear chalk streams. It speaks of farming in the growing heads of crops and the low voice of cattle, and of community throughout the villages.
Or course this is just scratching the surface. There are more tales to be both told and heard to be found throughout the valley and its villages. More wildlife to be seen, more paths to tread.
So, the next time you find yourself in this corner of the county, where the borders of Wiltshire meet Dorset and Hampshire, don’t overlook this quiet valley. Instead come visit, let your feet fall on its old chalk paths, watched by the hares. Be sure to listen to more than just the thud of your boots on the stones, listen to the chalk because although its voice is always different it’s speaks of the same things: landscapes and a love of the countryside.
