A Frost is a Thirsty, Hungry Business

There is a particular sort of quiet that settles over a British field on a hard January morning. The grass crunches, the hedgerow is rimed white, and the air smells of iron and cold stone. It is glorious walking weather. For the wildlife sharing that landscape with us, however, the same night that produced the beauty has been a long, hard test.

Frost does three difficult things at once. It locks away liquid water, so birds and mammals that need a drink several times a day go thirsty. It drives insects and worms deep into the soil, stripping the larder bare just when energy is most needed. And it chills small bodies fast, because a hedgehog or a wren has far more surface area than bulk to keep warm. The good news is that most of what helps is within reach of an ordinary garden, an allotment or a modest bit of rural verge.

Build a Log Pile That Actually Gets Used

The single best piece of winter habitat you can make is a heap of dead wood, and it costs nothing but patience. Aim for something roughly a metre high and a metre wide, built in layers rather than dumped.

• Mix the sizes. Thick logs at the base, then branches of varying diameter, then a topping of smaller twigs and leaf litter. Gaps are the point — they are the bedrooms.
• Site it in dappled shade against a hedge, wall or fence, ideally on bare soil rather than paving so beetles and centipedes can move in from below.
• Leave it alone. Frogs, toads, stag beetles and overwintering queen bumblebees will use it. Shifting the pile in December undoes the whole project.
• Add a second, smaller heap in a sunnier spot in spring. Different creatures want different temperatures.

If you have room, sink a few logs half into the ground as well. Rotting wood holds moisture like a sponge, which is exactly what a dry frosty spell takes away.

Keep at Least One Drink Unfrozen

A bird can survive a cold night and still be undone by a frozen birdbath. Water is genuinely urgent, and it is easy to provide.

Use a shallow dish — five centimetres of depth is plenty — with a gently sloping rim so blackbirds and hedgehogs can drink without risking a soaking. Refresh it each morning, because a shallow tray freezes solid quickly. A small ball, a cork or a floating twig bobs about and keeps a patch of open water moving, and it helps birds judge the depth before they commit.

If you have a pond, never smash the ice. The shock wave travels through the water and can kill fish, frogs and newts sleeping in the silt below. Instead, stand a pan of hot water on the surface until it melts a hole. Keep a small area clear and let the rest do as it pleases.

Hedges and Leaf Litter: the Quiet Lodgers

A dense, mixed hedge is a five-star hotel in winter. It blocks the wind, holds a warmer layer of air at its base and supplies berries — hawthorn, holly and ivy are especially valuable, with ivy flowering late and fruiting in the lean weeks of February.

Resist the urge to tidy the base of it. That accumulation of leaves, moss and dead grasses is where hedgehogs build hibernation nests, where toads sit out the frost and where countless insects wait as eggs or pupae. If you must cut a hedge, do it in late winter or early spring, and never between November and March if there is any chance of a hedgehog tucked in. A rough, untidy bottom edge is a feature, not a fault.

Winter Gardening That Pays Its Way

The best winter gardens are doing two jobs at once: looking after the soil and feeding the wildlife. Stand back from the tidying instinct.

• Leave seedheads standing until late February. Teasels, teasel-like thistles, sedums, sunflowers and ornamental grasses feed goldfinches and shelter spiders.
• Mulch bare ground with leaf mould or well-rotted compost, or sow a green manure such as field beans or grazing rye. Bare soil loses heat and structure to frost heave.
• Plant bare-root hedging between November and March while it is dormant — a mixed native mix of hawthorn, blackthorn, hazel and guelder rose.
• Delay the big dig. Forking over a border in a hard frost disturbs worms, beetles and the tunnel systems small mammals rely on.

Winter is also the ideal moment to plan spring planting with wildlife in mind — a few extra nectar plants and a berry-bearing shrub or two will pay dividends for years.

Reading the Signs on a Frosty Walk

Countryside walks offer a free survey if you know what to look for. Listen for the thin, high call of redwings and fieldfares stripping hawthorn berries in loose, restless flocks — they arrive from Scandinavia precisely for our mild winters. Watch hedgerow bottoms for the tell-tale runs of mice and voles, and look for tracks in the frost while it is still crisp.

Keep dogs on a lead near thick hedgerows and log piles, and keep to the path rather than trampling frost-rimmed tussocks where small creatures may be sheltering. Take note of what is thriving and what is missing, and carry that knowledge home to your own patch of ground. A garden that holds water, dead wood and dense cover is a garden that gives a hedgehog, a wren and a queen bumblebee somewhere to see out the coldest nights — and that is worth the slight untidiness.