Far better than its bite — what's really going on in the secret world of tree bark
A vital source of food, a pharmacy and a haven for wildlife, a tree's living skin is a surprisingly sophisticated surface.
Country Life columnist John Lewis-Stempel has twice been crowed winner of the Wainwright prize for nature writing, and was the 2016 BSME Columnist of the Year.
A vital source of food, a pharmacy and a haven for wildlife, a tree's living skin is a surprisingly sophisticated surface.
With the wet December sleet pelting down on his tweed cap, John Lewis-Stempel and his terriers ascend Chimney Bank on Spaunton Moor for a breath of cold, damp air and to survey James Herriot country.
As the diurnal delights of the animal kingdom slip into a deep slumber, John Lewis-Stempel explores the velvety black shadows where the wild things are.
The sunny, yet wet summer might have been a dampener at the time, but the resulting autumnal berry haul is a feast for mice and men, says John Lewis-Stempel.
Gardening does need hard work, says John Hoyland — but not all the time.
Whether enjoyed as a healthy snack or deployed as the playground weapon of choice, nuts are versatile, abundant and plentiful now, says John Lewis-Stempel.
Those who make the case for rewilding ought to be careful — MUCH more careful — what they wish for, says award-winning nature writer John Lewis-Stempel.
William Shakespeare wasn’t only the greatest playwright of our history, he was an avid ornithophile, a green man and a master of transposing the true power of Nature onto the page, says John Lewis-Stempel.
Among their deceptively inert branches, trees shelter feathered Pavarottis, scuttling beetles, opportunistic fungi and fierce owls. John Lewis-Stempel recounts a day in the life of an oak and the creatures that call it home.
After days of incessant January rain, the chicken paddock has turned into a quagmire, ghost ponds have resurfaced and a sheep has come close to drowning. But there's joy to be found even despite all that, says John Lewis-Stempel.
Plodding home in the gloaming, through a wood stripped bare by November gales, John Lewis-Stempel stumbles across a magical fairy ring of wood-blewit fungi
The weather we've had this autumn means that mushrooms have mushroomed — and award-winning Nature writer John Lewis-Stempel is delighted.
Be it bees buzzing around pollen, a breeze through a field of wheat or the barking of deer, there are certain sounds that will forever evoke our British countryside, wherever you might find yourself, says John Lewis-Stempel.
On a breathlessly hot day in July, John Lewis-Stempel mounts an attack on ‘injurious and noxious’ weeds with the help of his trusty little grey Fergie tractor.
Lithe, opportunistic and with a predilection for poultry, these elusive, often pocket-sized predators have long raised a stink for farmers and gamekeepers, but not all of them deserve such an otterly bad rap, believes John Lewis-Stempel.
Tasked with shearing his neighbour’s sheep late on a warm June night, the clickety-click of John Lewis-Stempel’s metal hand-shears is accompanied by a vociferous twilight chorus of crickets, birds and bats.
As he repairs a fence that’s gone floppy thanks to the cattle rubbing against it, John Lewis-Stempel pauses on a warm Spring morning to admire all the birds busily building and lining their nests with cow hair.
Pie filling, pest or pet of underrated beauty, the rabbit is a mute and gregarious commoner that will nonetheless scream, fight and kill when warranted, says award-winning nature writer John Lewis-Stempel.
Pie filling, pest or pet of underrated beauty, the rabbit is a mute and gregarious commoner that will nonetheless scream, fight and kill when warranted, says John Lewis-Stempel.
As attractive to artists as it is to moths and butterflies, the ‘White Period’ of heavenly spring blossom is upon us and John Lewis-Stempel couldn’t be happier.