The Benefits of Planting a Native Hedgerow Boundary

Walk almost any lane in the Peak District and you can read the history of the boundary in the hedge itself. A laid hedge of hawthorn and hazel, thick at the base and tangled on top, is the work of generations of farmers who knew that a boundary had to do more than mark a line on a map. It had to hold stock, slow the wind, house wildlife and, on a good year, put sloes in the gin and kindling in the shed. If you are planting a new boundary on a smallholding, a modest garden paddock or a few acres of in-bye land, a native mix will repay you far more generously than a fence ever will.

Why a native hedgerow earns its keep

A single-species hedge of leylandii or a run of post-and-rail fencing does one job. A native hedgerow does a dozen. It cuts wind speed across your land, which reduces chill for ewes and lambs, protects young fruit trees, and stops topsoil washing off sloping ground in a July thunderstorm. It gives nesting cover for yellowhammers, dunnocks and whitethroats, and it provides the caterpillars, aphids and beetles that broods are fed on. A mature hedge also lifts a great deal of water out of the soil in winter, which helps keep gateways and trackways drier underfoot.

Then there is the seasonal interest, which is not a small thing when you look at the same view every morning. Hawthorn blossom in May, dog rose in June, elderflowers for cordial, deep red haws in October, and sloes that hold their colour into the coldest weeks. A native hedge gives you something worth looking at in every month of the year.

Choosing species that suit a Peak District holding

Altitude and exposure matter more here than in the lowlands, so plant with the site in mind. On cold, windswept ground above 300 metres, hawthorn and holly will shrug off conditions that would finish off a beech. In the damp cloughs and limestone dales, hazel, field maple and spindle will romp away.

• Hawthorn — the backbone of any mix; thorny, stock-proof in time, and superb for nesting birds. Aim for around 70 per cent of your plants.
• Blackthorn — invaluable for early blossom and sloes; suckers freely, so give it room.
• Hazel — coppices well, gives you bean poles and pea sticks, and produces nuts for dormice and jays.
• Holly — slow-growing but evergreen; a lifeline for birds needing winter cover.
• Field maple, rowan and crab apple — good autumn colour and food for thrushes and redwings.
• Dog rose, guelder rose and elder — flowers for pollinators, hips and berries for the larder.

Steer clear of laurel, rhododendron, snowberry and cotoneaster. They spread readily, support very little native wildlife, and once established in a boundary they are a job you will be fighting for years.

Planting: the practical details that decide success

Bare-root whips planted between November and March, while the ground is dormant but not frozen, establish far better and cost a fraction of pot-grown stock. Order early, and get them in the ground as soon as they arrive rather than letting the roots dry out in a shed.

• Clear a strip at least one metre wide on either side. Grass competition is the single biggest killer of new hedges.
• Plant in a double, staggered row roughly 30–40cm apart, giving about six plants per metre.
• Firm the soil well around each root; a loose plant rocks in the wind and never gets going.
• Fit a spiral guard and a cane to every whip where rabbits or hares are about, then mulch with 5–7cm of well-rotted manure or composted bark.
• Water through the first two summers if the weather turns dry, and keep the strip mown or hand-weeded until the hedge closes over.

Laying, trimming and the annual round

The old craft of hedge laying is worth learning, and there are plenty of local groups happy to teach it. Partly cutting through the stem near ground level and bending the pleacher over at an angle, then binding the top with hazel rods, produces a dense, stock-proof barrier that regrows thickly from the base. Hedges respond well to this treatment every fifteen to twenty years or so.

Between layings, trim in late winter — from the end of January into February — before birds begin nesting in March. Cutting every second or third year rather than every year lets blossom and berries form properly, and keeps the base of the hedge thick rather than leggy. Never scalp the top flat to the same height each time; a slightly domed profile sheds snow better and looks far more natural.

Shelter, stock and the wider holding

A good hedge slows the wind for a distance of roughly ten to fifteen times its height on the leeward side. A three-metre hedge therefore shelters thirty metres of pasture, reducing wind chill at lambing time and cutting the number of lambs lost to cold, wet weather. That shelter also warms the soil slightly in spring, which brings grass on earlier and helps newly planted orchard trees establish.

Leave a rough, tussocky grass margin along one side if you can. Two metres of uncut grass gives overwintering sites for beetles and lacewings, cover for voles, and hunting ground for barn owls. If you have room, let a standard oak or ash stand up every thirty metres or so; the hedge is habitat, but the tree is what turns it into a landscape.

A larder, a woodpile and a legacy

By the fifth or sixth year your hedge will start giving back in ways you can carry indoors. Sloes for gin, hips and haws for syrup and jelly, elderflowers for cordial, hazelnuts in September, and a steady supply of kindling and bean poles from any coppiced hazel or ash stools. Beyond the harvest, you have made something that will outlast you. A well-planted native hedge, laid once a generation and trimmed kindly in between, is one of the most useful and generous things you can leave behind on a piece of land.