Western Morning News (Saturday)
They’ll soon be ready to rock at new vineyard
Says limestone-rich ground has an upside for ambitious wine-makers
We’ve all been on rocky ground over the past year, but some more than most… Take, for example, the team at Sandridge Barton Estate, which makes Devon’s famous Sharpham Wines – over the past few weeks they have lifted no fewer than 42 trailer loads of rocks from a ten-acre field where they are creating a new vineyard high above the River Dart.
In fact, so stony is the limestone outcrop, the big mole plough that has been used to prepare the ground snapped a total of 57 steel shear bolts hitting submerged rocks in the future vineyard.
“We’re thinking of calling the first wine to come out of the vineyard 57 Shear Bolts rather than Heinz’s 57 Varieties,” laughs Sandridge Barton Estate’s CEO and head winemaker, Duncan Schwab.
Strange though it may seem, he has good reason to laugh. Everyone knows that ‘terroir’ is enormously important to the process of winemaking – and Stoney Field, as it’s known, just happens to be located on top of one of the only limestone outcrops tin the whole of South Devon.
“It has long been recognised that great wine regions such as Champagne, Burgundy, Chablis, the Loire and southern Rhône valleys, and Saint-Emilion in
Bordeaux, are rich with limestone – so we have a fantastic opportunity to expand our vineyard acreage on the Sandridge Barton Estate on a limestone outcrop which is almost unique to the South West region,” says Duncan.
Now the ground has been prepared, the planting of 1,500 Chardonnay, 5,000 Pinot Noir and 500 Pinot Meunier vines will take place in the new vineyard as soon as the frosts have disappeared.
This is newsworthy because the £125,000-plus investment in Stoney Field demonstrates the optimism which continues to pervade the British wine-making industry at a time when both Covid and Brexit have hit some parts of the trade like a tsunami.
“Certainly, the pandemic has caused our on-trade sales (to licensed premises such as restaurants and pubs) to fall off a cliff, but our online sales direct to consumers have increased, which reflects the fact that we know there is a huge potential in English wines,” says Duncan.
“Thousands of acres of vines are being planted on chalk soils in the South East of England, but they do not enjoy the climactic conditions we have in South Devon. In the east, they’re all about sparkling whites, but here we have an opportunity to produce world-class reds.
“The warm part of the year in
Devon starts earlier and keeps going until later – and that extended season allows us to ripen red wines. The South East might get more sunshine, but it’s warm for a shorter period, which means we can leave the grapes hanging a bit longer,” said Duncan, explaining that he and his team had sought out special clones that were proven to ripen earlier when buying the new vines.
“It is our mission to produce more red wine in the new vineyard. As I told the Western Morning News a year ago, Devon is fast becoming the new Burgundy of the UK! We are gaining a reputation for producing top-quality red wines.
“With the new investment here at Sandridge Barton, we are now in a position to go forward and really put high-quality British red wines on the world map. We have the perfect vineyards, a brand new state-of-the-art winery and we have climate change bringing us warmer conditions. All these things are coming together to give us an incredibly exciting future.”
The Stoney Field extension will increase Sandridge Barton Estate’s area of vines by about a third, but it will take at least four years for the first wine from the new vineyard to be bottled and then sold.
But, to repeat: this is a business that is investing heavily in the future… Last autumn the Western Morning News reported how, after nearly 40 years making wine at the Sharpham Estate on the west bank of the River Dart, the multi-award-winning Sharpham Winery was relocating to the east bank. The big move, which will continue for another year, has been under way for the past 18 months and for the first time in September grapes were crushed at the new winery at the Sandridge Barton Estate on the Stoke Gabriel side of the river.
As we explained at the time, it’s the same wine, using the same grapes, made under the same name by almost exactly the same staff. But, in the interests of securing the long-term future and
Martin Hesp
development of the iconic Devon label, almost everything else is different.
For example, new equipment will increase production from around the 60,000 bottles produced at Sharpham to over 120,000 bottles per year – and added to that builders are busy transforming a traditional South Devon barnyard into a state-of-the-art restaurant and visitor centre at the new Lower Well Farm winery site.
“That’s one of the exciting things about the new vineyard at Stoney Field – it is very close to the visitor centre, so we’ll be able to take people out there on tours. We know, from years of experience at Sharpham, that the visitor experience is massively important to the business. People love finding out about the wines.
“All being well, the Covid situation will improve and things will open up by summer, so this year we will continue to welcome visitors down at Sharpham, where we have an attractive centre and, as it happens, a great array of wines on sale, thanks to the knock-on effect from the on-trade being shut down. The popular visitor centre will continue to operate at its present location on the Sharpham Estate for tours, tastings of the wines and Sharpham Cheese, as well as purchases once restrictions are lifted.”
And even down by the river it seems to be a story of rocks… “We have been growing grapes on volcanic soils for the past 40 years,” says Duncan. “Volcanic regions are also famed for their ability to produce good wine, and it just so happens that there are volcanic rocks and soils along the river bank. It’s part of a zone called the Ashprington Volcanic Region – and that we think it has influenced our wine down the years.”
Which must be a good thing judging by the awards the vineyard has picked up. Last year, Sharpham Wine won several medals at the Wine GB Awards, including prestigious Golds for its Pinot Noir and its 2019 Bacchus Stop-Ferment. Expanding to another rocky ground looks set to bring many more.
When it comes to nature, there is nothing like superlatives to add interest. The fastest, largest, smallest, tallest… celebrating the wonders of wildlife at its most inspirational.
But what of those species that are generally overlooked? The ones that don’t make top tens? The ones that don’t stand out from the crowd?
This week, I focus on a few of our most overlooked birds – those that live life out of the limelight or get lumped in with vague groupings as if they were one of a kind. Those birds with plumage that is far from dazzling and voices that are far from remarkable – and yet are all special in their own way.
The ultimate ‘LBJ’
Small brown species are the head-scratching conundrums that turn people off trying to master birdwatching, and the butt of jokes among those who think all our birds are boring.
There is a light-hearted term for such nondescript species: little brown jobs, or LBJs for short.
They include such birds as the chiffchaff, corn bunting, meadow pipit and garden warbler.
The dunnock is the archetypal LBJ. In fact its name dates back centuries and literally translates ‘little brown bird’.
It is a rather unobtrusive, plain-looking species, with a streaky brown back and a dusting of grey on the head, neck and throat and generally shuffles around at ground level close to or within cover.
It may not be a species that readily makes itself known, but this unobtrusive bird is abundant and widely distributed. The best views can be had in gardens as they feed along the edge of borders or beneath bird feeders.
Why are they worth a second look? Dowdy they may appear, but dunnocks have a complicated and racy sex life, involving an assortment of possible pairings, from simple monogamy to multiple mates. Courting birds flick a wing above their back as a prelude to mating. Avert your eyes now! They also sing in the winter, brightening cold days with outbursts of cheery warbling. And while plain in appearance their eggs are anything but, being bright blue. We also have dunnocks to thank for supporting our cuckoo population, as adult cuckoos frequently lay their eggs in dunnock nests, leaving the hapless surrogate parents to raise their young.
Cheep and cheerful
The house sparrow is not known
for its vocal abilities. A variety of cheeping sounds is what qualifies for song with this species. And it can repeat its cheeping quite persistently for good measure.
It is among a number of birds with, to us at least, rather unrefined voices, including the carrion crow, coot and jay.
While gregarious backyard house sparrows are not going to win any singing prizes, they do have a few variations to their chirping and chattering patter – surely music to the ears of fellow sparrows.
The humble house sparrow’s sounds are also matched with fairly plain plumage – in particular that of the females, though the males have reddish brown on the sides of the head, a grey cap and untidy black bib.
Why are they worth a listen? Because it is good to know they are about. The house sparrow is the species we are most likely to see from our kitchen window, according to the annual RSPB Big Garden Birdwatch, and one of Britain’s most abundant birds. However, its population has suffered a catastrophic decline over recent decades – so much so that it is included on the UK’s Red List of birds of greatest conservation concern. Numbers have plummeted by more than 65 per cent since the 1970s, and the centre of London, for example, is now virtually devoid of the formerly abundant ‘cockney sparrer’. It is one bird we can’t take for granted.
The other half
For a large proportion of our birds, both males and females look alike – to our eyes anyway.
However, with some – including a variety of finches, ducks and buntings, for example – it is the
more colourful and photogenic males which steal the show. When we think of the species, be it a bullfinch, mallard, pheasant or yellowhammer, it is the showy males that spring to mind, brightly marked in order to win the admiration of potential mates.
The females, on the other hand, are generally less eye-catching and better camouflaged when there are differences between the sexes, which helps avoid being spotted by predators when discreetly sitting on a clutch of eggs.
The chaffinch – our third most abundant breeding bird after the wren and robin – is a perfect example. The handsome males have a mixed plumage palette, with an olive-green rump, chestnut-brown back, slate-blue head, salmon-pink belly and rusty-reddish brown cheeks, throat and breast. They also draw attention with their bold song, repeated again and again. Females are much the same shape and size, but far less colourful, being an unobtrusive greyish-olive brown. Both sexes have a noticeable white patch on the shoulder.
Why are they worth identifying?
Because knowing it is a female chaffinch, and not a similar-looking sparrow, makes you a birdwatcher! And it’s not fair to let the males get all the attention. Hopping about under the bird table, the female chaffinch is easy to overlook. Noticing that flash of white on the shoulder makes all the difference, or even in flight a bar of white across the wing and along the outer tail feathers. Male chaffinches are a doddle by comparison. Enjoy the satisfaction of translating the female’s subtle plumage clues into identification.
Winter wear
Of all the catch-all terms for similar-looking groups of birds, ‘seagulls’ is probably the most widely used. Lumping a range of species together under one moniker implies they are all one and the same. However, our gulls encompass a diverse range of species – some of which actually spend quite a bit of time inland, far from the sea.
When people use the term ‘seagull’ they are usually referring to the herring gull, that raucous chip-nicking species which is the quintessential sight and sound of the British coast. Fellow members of the tribe include the common gull, the lesser-black-backed gull and the larger great black-backed gull, along with the coastal kittiwake.
Gulls can take a bit of separating, but of our common species the black-headed gull is the simplest of the lot in breeding plumage, having a dark coffee-coloured head. It is in winter that it gets a bit lost in the crowd, a time of year when it lacks the signature plumage which gives it its name. The dark ’mask’ disappears save for a smudge behind the eyes – all very confusing.
As a result this small and gregarious species can be overlooked for much of the year. After all, a black-headed gull without a black head is, well, just a ‘seagull’ like the rest of them...
Why are they worth telling apart? Consider it a feather in your cap if you can recognise a black-headed gull in its winter guise! Without the eye-catching dark head, one can appreciate its finer qualities: it is a delicate species (far more so than the heavyweight herring gull) with a silvery back and red legs and beak, and in flight the outer half of the wing has a noticeable white front edge.
They could also be dubbed ‘landgulls’ as much as ‘seagulls’ given they are perfectly at home in town parks, on sports pitches and rubbish dumps as well as around the coast.