Extreme pruning

Soon after we came here we planted a mix of 20 blackthorn and 20 hawthorn whips in a roughly circular area some 8 m across with the intention of creating a small thicket. This we hoped would be a great habitat for nesting birds and other wildlife, at the same time protecting some of the more delicate treasures in our fern garden from the damaging north-easterly winds that sometimes funnel up the valley. More than a decade on, the thicket is a dense prickly green dome, about 3 m high, that has been home to breeding Goldfinches, Robins, Blackbirds and Song Thrushes. Now we're into August and this year's nests are empty (we've double checked) it's time for a bit of extreme pruning to keep the thicket dense, but leaving enough young growth to develop next spring's flower buds.

The "extreme" part comes from the fact that the thicket is too wide to reach all of it from a stepladder placed around the perimeter – even though we have a long-handled pole-cutter. That's why on Friday evening, which was particularly sticky and sultry, I donned a thick winter jacket, heavy boots, chain-saw trousers, chain-saw gloves, goggles, ear defenders and a helmet with visor, and – looking and feeling like a cross between a michelin man and a trussed-up oven-ready chicken – plunged into the middle of the thicket. Half standing, half crouching I thrust the pole cutter, periscope-like, up from inside the tangle of thorny branches to prune the top of the dome. A few years ago, a friend of ours contracted severe blood poisoning from a blackthorn splinter when hedge-laying on his farm and I have exercised an abundance of caution when working around blackthorn ever since. I may have looked ridiculous and been at risk from heat exhaustion or drowning in my own sweat, but as blackthorn septicemia can really mess up your weekend, I wasn't complaining. Note to self: get a proper pruning ladder off eBay.