Sick o' more sky

It is a rare occasion when Nature and my work directly dovetail together. Usually, nature watching is what happens after the job is complete and I am waiting for a ferry home. Or maybe whilst driving to and fro, there'll be a raptor or a wader sat on a fence post at the edge of the road. Less frequently, thankfully, I might have to share a loft with spiders or, outdoors, a satellite dish might be located just above a huge clump of nettles. However, during the last few years, I have noticed a definite trend in the month of June. The phenological problem begins with a telephone call reporting a worsening fault with tv channels. Initially this has manifested itself with a few channels disappearing whilst others are unaffected, then a few more disappear, before finally, all signal is lost.

Now, without delving too deep into technobabble, there could be many explanations for these symptoms, at any time of year. These include a dish becoming mis-aligned due to strong winds, a failure of an electronic component, or water finding its way into the cable between the dish and the satellite receiver. During the last three years, I have become aware of another reason, at least a couple of instances every June, which are directly attributable to the natural world.

It's not squirrels, we don't have those.

I am sure, dear reader, that you're aware of the windswept nature of these isles, and the consequent lack of trees in the Orcadian landscape. There are trees, but only where there is some shelter, either tucked away in valleys, or behind a wall or in the lee of a property. This wasn't always so, as analysis of ancient pollen in sediments has shown, but perhaps a combination of a prehistoric change in the climate and overuse of a precious resource by humans has meant that our scenic views are often panoramic and full of sky (with a small 's').

Following the afore-mentioned phone calls, I turn up on site, stare suspiciously at the satellite dish and then go and measure signal strength indoors (even when it's not raining). Once I am sure that the fault is outdoors, attention turns to whether the dish is aligned correctly or if the LNB (at the end of the arm) is faulty or not. In June, there is a further step to the investigation, which involves turning around from peering at the dish and looking at the garden instead.

Bear in mind that we're now well into Summer, and this is where the phenology comes into play, If, upon pirouetting through 180 degrees, I am looking at a Sycamore tree, I know what the problem is, and I also know what the answer to my next question will be.

Me: "It's your Sycamore tree, it's blocking the signal."

Customer: "That can't be right, the fault's only just occurred."

Me: "Ah, Sycamores are later than other trees to come into leaf, so the bare branches in Spring aren't a problem, then, with a spurt of growth, the leaves open in May, and... ta dah... no tv."

Customer: "Really?"

Me: "Yup. I can move the dish higher or you can have the tree topped/trimmed/felled. Which would you prefer?"

Invariably, and it's an opinion with which I have much sympathy, the answer is to move the dish. Orcadians appreciate the effort a tree has put in to attaining even a modest height in the challenging conditions of this northerly latitude, plus the fact that the tree itself likely provides shelter. Whilst the customer does want to watch more Sky, they might not necessarily want to see more sky.