12 and Perimeter
Aug. 25th, 2020 21:34![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillToday was productive.
Since I've been doing so much, and I wanted to only kill time before my uncle came in the early afternoon, I decided to go exploring. I thought I'd go map out the big beaver dam at the foot of the property, but my aunt suggested I walk along the perimeter fence for the near pasture to check its condition. Sure, I said, making a path through the grass out there isn't as bad as clearing all the junk out from under the silver tree...
After wading through hundreds of thistles, cutting my way through hazel bushes, thimbleberry, and three kinds of brambles, and getting stung on the wrist by nettles, I came back to the house. I had made it halfway down the perimeter, at least, and it looked intact so far. Also, I could confirm that there was actually a great deal of grass out there between the thistles. On to the beaver dam.
I didn't fall in. I picked my way along the far side, noting the three small upstream dams and how to drain them, then I went to the stile on the far perimeter and followed it around until I hit the east creek, where it hooks up with the big creek along the road. That completed the perimeter exam I started in March, and other than needing a new gate at the bottom corner, it's fine. On to the dam, which was very close; I hopped one of the streamlets so I was on the marshy "island" below the dam, and worked my way up to it. It is indeed about four feet tall (about chest height to me) with a couple of minor dams downstream of it, making for a total elevation of five to six feet. No wonder we've lost essentially all of the middle pasture and the bottom of the near pasture.
I scouted as best I could, finding the spillway on the far side; that is probably the best spot to use for a drain, as it's a straight shot to the proper creek bed below. Getting to it took some gymnastics, and I may want to go out there a couple more times -- once with some boards, springy branches, or other material to keep me from sinking ankle-deep in the soft mud (I didn't *quite* lose my boot), and once with the chainsaw to cut some of the fallen and leaning trees. It looks like the dam and spillway are made up of branches about the size of my wrist, so a logger's hook and a couple of hand saws should be adequate. Even if I wasn't worried about breeding cycles for the beavers, this is the only season when that area would be even close to passable without at least some tough hip waders.
I talked it over with Conrad in the afternoon, and I'll pick up the drainage pipe and find or buy some fencing for the intake before his next visit in two weeks. I may try my hand at the upstream complex first, before he comes to help me tackle the big dam.
We talked about power to the Annex. He had apparently thought I would have bought the necessary parts to rewire the Annex already, and was a bit dismayed when I told him I didn't know what, exactly, we needed to do. So we spent a bit of time looking over the power drop (which is one continuous run from the breaker box in the dining room to the back end of the Annex, some 140' distant) and talking over junction boxes, subpanels, conduit, strain relief, and capacity. We went into the house to look at the existing feed, which is 50A of 110V (that complicates my plan for having 220 out there), and while looking up the detailed notes of what breakers feed what, I found that one of the other circuits handles the porch light to the Annex, which stopped working a little while ago. That was what made us think that the power drop was failing. No, different circuit, feeding a different wire... and its breaker was slaved to another which handles the mudroom and garage. Looking closely, the porch light breaker wasn't quite in place -- yes, it wiggled when I touched it. It was tripped, but since it was slaved to a circuit which *hadn't* tripped, it looked fine. Nothing ventured... I slammed them both OFF and ON again, and hey presto, the Annex lights work again. Why was it tripped? Who knows. If it does it again, I'll start to worry.
So, that handled for the time being, we agreed that the Annex power wasn't an immediate concern, and tackled other projects. While I gloved up and fetched the brush killer, he headed to the fallen footbridge below the garden. I spent over an hour carefully painting the leaves of our patch of Japanese knotweed with herbicide; my plan for using a self-soaping sponge on a stick worked beautifully, giving me a reservoir of herbicide on a scratchy pad (which slightly abrades the leaves) so I could apply it with a minimum of collateral damage. Given that I was right next to a creek, runoff/spills/overspray was something to avoid if at all possible. I had researched the herbicide blend most effective on knotweed, and the best season to apply it; I picked a warm sunny afternoon with a week of dry weather ahead, and painted literally every leaf I could find with an undiluted concentrate. We won't know how successful it was until next spring, but I feel like I gave it my best shot. That stuff is really difficult to eradicate.
Meanwhile, Conrad had pulled off about half of the planks from the footbridge. We talked a bit as he worked, and I assisted in clearing away the brush in spots. I scouted a good spot for the pitcher pump intake, while I was waiting. Finally, all of the planks were off, and the two of us hauled the frame out of the creek. It was light enough for one person to tip on its side; between the two of us, we got it onto the bank and rested the far end on a handy stump, so it's mostly level and should be out of the water in all seasons. In the spring I can work on it there, and then Conrad and I can scout a new spot for the far end and set it in place.
As I was cleaning up the rotten planks, I ripped one of the railing supports off where it had been hanging by one nail. Its bottom had been submerged, and it had a rotten crevice. Suddenly I realized a creature had crawled out: a dragonfly larva. I flipped it into the stream. Then another larger one emerged. After I put that in the stream, I looked into the crevice and saw two more... so I put the end of the board back in the water. I'll retrieve it in the spring.
Hopefully with that obstacle out of the way, the winter storms will carve out the silt from the creek bed and have enough velocity on that straightaway to really establish the bypass Conrad helped dig this last spring. If we can get rid of the oxbow through the trees, I'll be pleased. A deeper channel will also drop the water table, which will make the bottom of the garden less soggy and make life harder for the horsetail.
I observed, after dealing with the marsh, that about half of what I do here feels like establishing a new settlement, carving land out of the wilderness... in a way, I am. It was neglected so long it was starting to revert, helped by the terraforming beavers. It's time to drain the marsh to create fertile pasture, beat back the thickets of brambles, and cut down a bunch of invading trees. (I do need to take the chainsaw to the groves of alder in the far pasture, they're turning the meadow into a forest out there.) It's hard work, but rewarding, and I think my health is starting to improve again.
Since I've been doing so much, and I wanted to only kill time before my uncle came in the early afternoon, I decided to go exploring. I thought I'd go map out the big beaver dam at the foot of the property, but my aunt suggested I walk along the perimeter fence for the near pasture to check its condition. Sure, I said, making a path through the grass out there isn't as bad as clearing all the junk out from under the silver tree...
After wading through hundreds of thistles, cutting my way through hazel bushes, thimbleberry, and three kinds of brambles, and getting stung on the wrist by nettles, I came back to the house. I had made it halfway down the perimeter, at least, and it looked intact so far. Also, I could confirm that there was actually a great deal of grass out there between the thistles. On to the beaver dam.
I didn't fall in. I picked my way along the far side, noting the three small upstream dams and how to drain them, then I went to the stile on the far perimeter and followed it around until I hit the east creek, where it hooks up with the big creek along the road. That completed the perimeter exam I started in March, and other than needing a new gate at the bottom corner, it's fine. On to the dam, which was very close; I hopped one of the streamlets so I was on the marshy "island" below the dam, and worked my way up to it. It is indeed about four feet tall (about chest height to me) with a couple of minor dams downstream of it, making for a total elevation of five to six feet. No wonder we've lost essentially all of the middle pasture and the bottom of the near pasture.
I scouted as best I could, finding the spillway on the far side; that is probably the best spot to use for a drain, as it's a straight shot to the proper creek bed below. Getting to it took some gymnastics, and I may want to go out there a couple more times -- once with some boards, springy branches, or other material to keep me from sinking ankle-deep in the soft mud (I didn't *quite* lose my boot), and once with the chainsaw to cut some of the fallen and leaning trees. It looks like the dam and spillway are made up of branches about the size of my wrist, so a logger's hook and a couple of hand saws should be adequate. Even if I wasn't worried about breeding cycles for the beavers, this is the only season when that area would be even close to passable without at least some tough hip waders.
I talked it over with Conrad in the afternoon, and I'll pick up the drainage pipe and find or buy some fencing for the intake before his next visit in two weeks. I may try my hand at the upstream complex first, before he comes to help me tackle the big dam.
We talked about power to the Annex. He had apparently thought I would have bought the necessary parts to rewire the Annex already, and was a bit dismayed when I told him I didn't know what, exactly, we needed to do. So we spent a bit of time looking over the power drop (which is one continuous run from the breaker box in the dining room to the back end of the Annex, some 140' distant) and talking over junction boxes, subpanels, conduit, strain relief, and capacity. We went into the house to look at the existing feed, which is 50A of 110V (that complicates my plan for having 220 out there), and while looking up the detailed notes of what breakers feed what, I found that one of the other circuits handles the porch light to the Annex, which stopped working a little while ago. That was what made us think that the power drop was failing. No, different circuit, feeding a different wire... and its breaker was slaved to another which handles the mudroom and garage. Looking closely, the porch light breaker wasn't quite in place -- yes, it wiggled when I touched it. It was tripped, but since it was slaved to a circuit which *hadn't* tripped, it looked fine. Nothing ventured... I slammed them both OFF and ON again, and hey presto, the Annex lights work again. Why was it tripped? Who knows. If it does it again, I'll start to worry.
So, that handled for the time being, we agreed that the Annex power wasn't an immediate concern, and tackled other projects. While I gloved up and fetched the brush killer, he headed to the fallen footbridge below the garden. I spent over an hour carefully painting the leaves of our patch of Japanese knotweed with herbicide; my plan for using a self-soaping sponge on a stick worked beautifully, giving me a reservoir of herbicide on a scratchy pad (which slightly abrades the leaves) so I could apply it with a minimum of collateral damage. Given that I was right next to a creek, runoff/spills/overspray was something to avoid if at all possible. I had researched the herbicide blend most effective on knotweed, and the best season to apply it; I picked a warm sunny afternoon with a week of dry weather ahead, and painted literally every leaf I could find with an undiluted concentrate. We won't know how successful it was until next spring, but I feel like I gave it my best shot. That stuff is really difficult to eradicate.
Meanwhile, Conrad had pulled off about half of the planks from the footbridge. We talked a bit as he worked, and I assisted in clearing away the brush in spots. I scouted a good spot for the pitcher pump intake, while I was waiting. Finally, all of the planks were off, and the two of us hauled the frame out of the creek. It was light enough for one person to tip on its side; between the two of us, we got it onto the bank and rested the far end on a handy stump, so it's mostly level and should be out of the water in all seasons. In the spring I can work on it there, and then Conrad and I can scout a new spot for the far end and set it in place.
As I was cleaning up the rotten planks, I ripped one of the railing supports off where it had been hanging by one nail. Its bottom had been submerged, and it had a rotten crevice. Suddenly I realized a creature had crawled out: a dragonfly larva. I flipped it into the stream. Then another larger one emerged. After I put that in the stream, I looked into the crevice and saw two more... so I put the end of the board back in the water. I'll retrieve it in the spring.
Hopefully with that obstacle out of the way, the winter storms will carve out the silt from the creek bed and have enough velocity on that straightaway to really establish the bypass Conrad helped dig this last spring. If we can get rid of the oxbow through the trees, I'll be pleased. A deeper channel will also drop the water table, which will make the bottom of the garden less soggy and make life harder for the horsetail.
I observed, after dealing with the marsh, that about half of what I do here feels like establishing a new settlement, carving land out of the wilderness... in a way, I am. It was neglected so long it was starting to revert, helped by the terraforming beavers. It's time to drain the marsh to create fertile pasture, beat back the thickets of brambles, and cut down a bunch of invading trees. (I do need to take the chainsaw to the groves of alder in the far pasture, they're turning the meadow into a forest out there.) It's hard work, but rewarding, and I think my health is starting to improve again.
