Towards Self-Sustaining Soil

As I hinted earlier, soil is a subject I can go on about for a long time. Here are some more thoughts on this. One of the major lessons I have learnt over the past decade is how the soil in natural forests remains self sustaining. Trees there grow tall and majestic. They feed countless forms of life and still they do not depend on any additional inputs. No one tills the land. No one turns the soil. No one carries fertilisers to them. No one performs labour intensive activities. Yet the system thrives.

The reason is simple. All the parts of a forest are complete and interdependent. Everything that is needed is already present within the system. The only major input comes from sunlight and to a smaller extent from rainfall. Everything else is part of a continuous cycle that feeds itself.

As I began moving my own orchard towards this balance, I read widely and experimented slowly. Over time a few realisations settled deep within me.

The first and most important realisation is that forest systems work because nothing is taken away from them. Plants produce food. Animals feed on this. They live their lives on the same land and return every bit of what they received back to the soil. Even their bodies at the end of life decompose in the same place. It is a closed loop. The place looks wild but it is an organised and a complete ‘closed-loop’ system.

In orchards this loop is broken. We take away fruits. We prune branches. We trim the orchard floor often. We even scare the birds away. All these actions remove nutrients that were meant to return to the soil. So one of the first changes I made was to stop this constant removal. Now I leave all clippings and cleared weeds on the orchard floor. Fallen leaves remain where they fall. Everything that grew on this land goes back to it. I still collect fruits but in return I add compost and manure. Even this need has reduced with time as the soil regains its natural rhythm.

A gentle word of caution is also needed. Excess of anything is bad and this applies to soil too. Adding too much organic matter is not always beneficial. Thick layers of mulch, especially when piled close to tree trunks, can trap heat and sometimes create harmful gases. During cold winters they may also shelter rodents that gnaw at the bark. I learnt this the hard way when one of my plum trees suffered damage. Overloading the soil with compost is equally unwise in an orchard that is slowly moving towards a self sustaining balance. Too much compost can disturb the microbial life rather than support it. Soil works best when its proportions remain in balance. Broadly speaking, a healthy soil contains about forty five percent mineral matter, twenty percent water, thirty percent air spaces, and only around five percent organic matter.

The second realisation is that soil should never remain exposed. In forests the soil is always hidden under leaves or under a natural layer of plants. Bare soil is a sign of disturbance usually caused by repeated trampling or rocky patches. So in my orchard I too keep the soil covered. Cover crops protect it. Mulch and compost protect it. Even when I plant new saplings I make sure that their base is covered, though taking care not to pile it too high. This biomass also breaks down steadily and returns nutrients back into the soil.

Another learning came from observing how plants breathe. They breathe not only through leaves but also through roots. Roots need air pockets. Good soil has around twenty to thirty percent of these air pockets. Two major enemies of these are compaction and flooding. Heavy machinery can compact the soil to such a depth that even the deepest roots struggle to push through. Clay soils also compact easily. Frequent tilling and turning the soil worsens this. So I stopped doing that altogether. I walk only on well defined paths and avoid stepping into growing areas.

Closely linked to this is the idea of not turning the soil. Each soil layer has its own purpose. Each layer is rich with its own form of life. Near the surface there are fungi, insects and worms that work on decomposition. Deeper layers host different worms and microorganisms that redistribute nutrients and allow water and air to move freely. Still deeper lie anaerobic organisms that thrive without oxygen. Turning the soil disrupts all of this. It mixes the layers and disturbs each group. It accelerates compaction. It reduces life in the soil over time. Many commercial farmers get caught in a cycle. They plough to break compacted soil but this ploughing again leads to compaction which pushes them to plough again. It becomes endless. Turning the soil also releases nutrients especially nitrogen into the air and exposes the land to erosion.

A self sustaining soil depends on life and not on force. My orchard is slowly moving in that direction. The soil has started breathing again. Earthworms have returned. Fungi are weaving through the mulch. Some days I feel the land is teaching me more than any book ever did.

And in these small and steady steps I am learning to trust the natural balance. My orchard is not a forest, yet when I follow the same principles of return and renewal the soil begins to find its own strength again. This quiet return of auto fertility shows itself in many subtle ways. The plants look healthier and become more resilient to environmental challenges. The fruits gain better flavour and size. Earthworms become more common. The mix of flora and fauna grows richer. New birds visit. More varieties of insects hover everywhere. Mushrooms appear on the orchard floor after a moist spell. These signs remind me that the journey is still unfolding, yet the rewards are already present and very real.

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