Special Update

Being a newly recruited 'Monthly contributor'to the excellent articles section on Carp-Forums.com, I decided to put my experience over the last month or so into words. I mentioned that we have been working on our stock pond, well read on to see how it's been going... enjoy!

Le Jeune Papillon

So, when the first clear, dry opportunity presented itself I had no hesitation in getting down on the bank to assess what work needed to be done before the start of the season. Walking round the three lakes I noted each fallen or broken tree, and all the usual maintenance jobs that required my attention. However, it was as I wandered the final leg of my journey I came to 'The stock pond'. Despite the name, I knew the pond was devoid of fish and of more immediate concern was its massively overgrown state. I had visited late in the summer the year before and we had earmarked the pond for improvement - even to the stage where a quote had been obtained to clear the trees and reinforce the slow-leaking bank. Unfortunately, weather conditions conspired to fill the pond to a level where this work was impossible to carry out, and the project had been shelved.



Finishing my walk, I had a long list to work my way through, but I was itching to get started - after all it may be January but the sun was shining and I was being paid to work! So out came the Stihl brush clearer. Strapping on the harness I couldn't help but smile, imagining exactly what all my friend and office colleagues would think if they saw me now - petrol engine roaring; helmet, face guard and ear muffs on...a far cry from the Will they knew!

I won't deny the childish glee I get from using this particular piece of machinery; surpassed only by cutting the grass with a tractor, there's just something so destructively fun about watching the blade rip through the brambles and young acacia trees. It was, on the surface, a chance decision to lay waste to the thick brambles that blocked access to the banks of the stock pond, but underneath I was yearning to get that pond fixed up, and to put all the weeks of reading into practice by stocking some fish to grow on for the main lakes.

Whilst my Dad buzzed away in the background with the chainsaw, logging a couple of fallen trees on neighbouring Vert, I pressed further and further into the head-high brambles that masked a surprisingly flat and soon-to-be lush bank. By the end of the day, and two tanks of fuel later, where once was a tangled mess of thorny growth, there lay a perfectly level bank... overlooking another mass of tangled and horrendous growth! One day with the strimmer might have made a scratch on the surface, but looking over the pond itself was like looking into a tree surgeons worst nightmare. Trees running at unnatural angles in search of sunlight, broken and mutilated trunks - all set in rich brown silt... yikes.



After some optimistic poking around, and an overnight weighing up the list of jobs I already had, I returned with the notion that if I could clear some of the wood, it might make that dream of stocking a few select Carp a little closer to reality...



Knowing where to start on such a job is never easy, particularly when the branches and trunks are so tightly woven that before the chainsaw even enters the equation one has to ponder a complex 3-dimensional puzzle. As a great believer in the need for momentum in problem solving, I ignored the densest area and began picking round the edges at the smaller and less tangled trunks, hoping that sufficient courage would develop to enter the real mess.

As I had secretly hoped, by felling, logging and burning the outliers the to the main bunch of trees, I made rapid cosmetic progress that first day, and was able to reflect upon a job well started, if not well done (just yet).

From this point on, such progress would be slower, but I had gained the confidence to press on through and start tackling some of the largest and most twisted trees. I had looked at the job as taking anywhere up to two weeks, and this proved to be a fairly accurate measure given the weather delays and the ever-present need for French paperwork to be undertaken.

At the end of that fortnight I had battled with some nightmarish growth, endured days of aching calf muscles brought on by the constant walking through deep silt and worked in heavy rain and bright sunshine. Perhaps the pinnacle of unusual attire: I found myself working in just long-johns and a pair of chest waders at one point, such is the changeability of the local weather!

With my Dad helping to burn the mass of unusable branches, we had worked as a team to bring this chapter of the stock pond story almost to a close. It was with a great sense of achievement that late on a Friday afternoon I hauled the last great log from the lake bed and placed it with satisfaction on the top of an impressive woodstack. There was a little more burning to be done, and a some clearing of the overgrown 'back bank' - but this was nothing compared to what had gone before, it was nearly done!







Perhaps from this journey another young butterfly would emerge to compliment those already flying so beautifully at Etangs Des Papillon (Ponds of the Butterflies)...

The following Monday, wild horses could not have kept me from the final fraction of the clearing. Working in tandem, Dad and I cleared some of the back bank to allow greater light penetration into the soon-to-be-rich waters, whilst burning the last of the small branches.



With these final touches complete, our work on Le Jeune Papillon was completed...for now. This was the stage where we needed to call the diggers in to remove the silt and stumps from the lake-bed to facilitate easy netting, and to allow access to the rich clay underneath which would then be used to re-seal the leaking banks.



With a quote already in hand from September passed, it might seem like an easy task to ring Mr Des Veaux, remind him of our unfinished business and await the arrival of the heavy plant. However, having had dealings with French contractors in the past, neither Dad or I, expected quite the response we got from calling him the following morning: the digger arrived the next day!

On his initial recce, later that morning, Mr Des Veaux noted only one problem - the gate: the single access point to Etangs Des Papillon. As Dad and I struggled to find the French for "We can remove the gate to let your digger past", he made a subtle "I can just drive round it?" gesture. With a knowing grin, we both nodded simultaneously. This might seem unremarkable, but given the 'wild' state of the field next to the gate, this was the point where we realised Mr Des Veaux was bringing a serious digger into town!

Of course, in life nothing is easy, and my proud stack of freshly harvested logs (around 15m^2 of timber), drew Mr Des Veaux's attention, and with another subtle hand gesture, suggested that it was in his way. I managed to gulp and reply with a weak "Oui", as i contemplated the gravity of this flip of a palm - all that wood...so neatly stacked...so heavy! I may have been imagining things but i swear I saw a wry smirk pass his face as he strolled off towards his Jeep,"Bon journee's" still ringing in the cool winter air.

With no alternative, we set about moving the timber; me on the lower level throwing the logs up for Dad to re-stack on the upper level out of harm's way. It was arm-melting work for us both - these were not small logs - but enthused at the prospect of tomorrows events we ploughed on until only the heaviest of logs remained, and then in a final burst pushed through aching muscles and sweat-soaked clothes to roll pivot and generally bodge the last timbers up to their new home. Almost too tired for words Dad and I set off to our respective homes to recuperate and excitedly await the digger's arrival. My last words on that clear, sunny day were greeted with a chuckle - "I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow!"



Braced against the driving rain, I admit to uttering some blue language as the clock passed 9.30 the following morning and there was still no digger in sight. Sure enough though, no sooner had I left the lakes cursing the French, than the digger arrived and ploughed effortlessly through the dense undergrowth around the gate. On it's path to the stock pond, it clipped a 60ft fir tree and uprooted it - I doubt the digger even noticed! By the time I arrived back, the 26 tonne monster had driven straight down the banks of the pond and begun ripping out the tree roots that suddendly seemed much less permanent than they had done when I was clearing around them!


I watched on in amazement as Mr Des Veaux, a quiet and unassuming man when separated from his digger, scooped and deposited the rich brown silt that once formed the lake bed in a manner unbefitting his stature. Making what seemed like rapid rogress he worked along the back bank scooping up to 60cm of silt and leaving behind the rich grey-green clay bottom. "At his rate, he could be done by lunchtime!" I thought...



Of course, that thought was not taking into account the wondrous phenomenon known as the 'French lunch'. Leaving at bang on 12, as I cleared trees around the Papillon Rouge, further up the drive, Mr Des Veaux departed for a quick bite to eat. He returned close to two and a half hours later, presumably refresh and fit to work again. By the end of that first day though, the back of the work had been broken, and the silt was now piled high on the banks of the pond, and the tree stumps were a distant memory. The young butterfly was beginning emerge from it's previous, chaotic state.





It wasn't far into the second day of Mr Des Veaux's work that the lake began to take it's new form; now that the silt had been removed the lake was slowly filling from it's natural spring source. Much of that morning was spent reinforcing the clay along the leaky bank, and after lunch (shorter this time, but no less than two hours) the digger made it's final journey up the banks of the pond and on to perform a couple of other small tasks we had asked to be included in the job. I couldn't help but wonder at the change in the pond over the last two days - it far outweighed the two weeks of hard graft we had put in, and I can guarantee I didn't ever take a two hour lunch either!



Whilst the gravelly silt piled high around the banks looked ugly and would take time to fit in with the beautiful Papillon landscape again, I felt a major step forward had been taken for both Etangs Des Papillon, and me personally. Dad had long been calling this my 'Pet project', and so to see it advance so quickly was quite something for me. I could now put all those hours of reading, studying and learning about Carp rearing into good use and the dream of slipping a Carp I had reared into one of theses beautiful butterfly ponds would be realised.



Of course, all these Carp need water to swim in, and that was the next item on the agenda. The idea was to allow the lake to settle before a small stocking of just 15 young fish, however the rain decided to accelerate things a little. Almost before the digger had left the building, the heavens opened and with the lakes already swollen I made the decision to open the drain from Papillon Vert - our middle lake. If seeing the lake emptied generated a sense of satisfaction, seeing it start to fill eclipsed that by a fair margin.

As if on cue, the rain refused to relent for two days and on arriving at the lakes to check for flooding, I was greeted by the site of a very full, very big-looking stock pond.



And that, is where things currently stand. The future stock have been sourced, and will be introduced in the spring, so for now the only inhabitants of this murky water are the frogs and newts that set up camp within a matter of days - and judging by the amount of frogspawn, have been enjoying themselves!







Will James - 2007