Planting a Native Hedge for Privacy and Biodiversity

Why a native hedge earns its keep

Nothing against a decent panel fence, but a hedge does things a fence cannot. It filters wind rather than deflecting it, muffles traffic noise, soaks up rain, and gives cover to everything from hedgehogs to wrens. A mixed native hedge is also a long-term bargain: planted well and trimmed sympathetically, it will outlive two or three generations of fencing and cost you remarkably little.

Britain has lost roughly half its hedgerows since the 1950s, which makes every new one valuable. A hedge is a corridor, a larder and a nesting site in one linear package. For a boundary of fifty metres, a mixed native planting is the single best thing you can do for local wildlife — and it will screen your garden better than any conifer, especially if you plant with a little thought.

The four to build a hedge around

A good boundary hedge is never one species. Mixing four or five natives gives you a longer flowering season, autumn food, and a hedge that shrugs off disease and drought. These four do the heavy lifting:

• Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) — the backbone of almost every traditional British hedge. Fast, thorny, dense and tolerant of everything from clay to chalk. Creamy May blossom, then crimson haws that feed redwings and fieldfares right through to January.
• Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) — starry white flowers on bare black wood in March, before almost anything else stirs. Sloes in October for gin. It suckers freely, filling gaps on its own, and is the larval food plant of the brown hairstreak butterfly. Happiest on heavy clay.
• Hazel (Corylus avellana) — lambs' tail catkins from January, nuts in September, and a willingness to coppice that makes it useful for stakes and pea sticks. It copes with shade, so it earns its place on the north-facing side of a hedge.
• Field maple (Acer campestre) — our only native maple, with buttery yellow autumn colour and a sturdy, upright habit that gives a hedge height and a wind-hardy frame. It also tolerates exposed, windy sites better than most.

Ring the changes with crab apple, dog rose, guelder rose or spindle on chalky ground. Aim for roughly half hawthorn and the rest split between the others — that gives density without monoculture.

Bare roots, planted in winter

Bare-root whips, 45–60cm tall with no soil around the roots, are cheaper, establish faster and outgrow container-grown stock every time. They are lifted and sold between November and March while dormant. Order in autumn, and plant the day they arrive if you can; if not, heel them into a spare patch of soil or stand them in a bucket of water somewhere cool and shaded. Never let the roots dry out.

For a dense screen, plant a double staggered row: 45cm apart within the row, 40cm between rows. A single row at 30–40cm spacing is fine for a lighter, more wildlife-friendly hedge. Work out your numbers before you order — a 50-metre double row needs around 220 whips.

Strip the grass, fork over the base of the trench, and mix in a bucket of well-rotted manure or garden compost. Plant to the same depth the whips were growing in the nursery — look for the soil mark on the stem — then firm them in properly with your heel. Water well, mulch 7–8cm deep, and keep the mulch clear of the stems. Fit a spiral guard and cane against rabbits, and taller mesh where deer roam. Finally, cut every whip back by a third. It feels brutal, but it forces the bushy growth from the base that makes a hedge, rather than a row of miserable sticks.

The first three years

Weed competition, not cold, is what kills young hedges. Keep a 60cm strip either side clear for the first two seasons, by mulch, mat or hoe. Water 10–15 litres per plant in any dry spell through the first two summers. Expect to lose five to ten per cent of whips; replace them the following winter.

Leave the top of the hedge alone for two growing seasons. Trim the sides lightly in winter to encourage thickening, aiming for an A-shape — wider at the base, narrower at the top — so light reaches the bottom and the hedge does not go bare and leggy.

From year three, cut in late winter and consider trimming only a third of the hedge each year in rotation. That way some sections always flower and fruit while others are cut back hard. Never cut between 1 March and 31 August: it is the height of the nesting season, and it is an offence to damage a wild bird's nest, eggs or young. Walk the hedge and look before you start the trimmer, whatever the date.

What you can harvest, and what the law says

Your own hedge is a larder. Sloes after the first frosts for gin, haws for jelly and ketchup, hazelnuts in September before the squirrels get them, crab apples for chutney, rosehips for syrup. Take a little from many places and leave the bulk for the birds, which need it more than we do in February. Never forage from someone else's hedge without permission — the hedge is their property, and so is the fruit.

On planting: you need no planning permission for a hedge, but do check your deeds and any leasehold covenants. Plant about half a metre inside your boundary so the hedge is wholly yours to maintain. Two metres is generally the height to watch, since evergreen hedges above that can fall foul of high hedges legislation if they shut out a neighbour's light. Keep growth clear of public footpaths and sightlines, and you will stay on good terms with everyone.

A hedge is a long game

Hawthorn and blackthorn will put on 30–60cm a year once they are away; hazel and field maple are steadier. Expect a workable screen in five years and a proper thick, bird-filled hedge in ten. The rewards arrive in stages: blossom from year three or four, a decent berry crop by year five, and a self-sown seedling or two of dog rose that you did not plant and are quietly delighted by.

Plant it this winter, in the rain, with cold hands and a mug of tea waiting. It is one of the few jobs in the garden that gets better every single year you leave it alone.