Without doubt one of the best features that any self-respecting wildlife gardener should find room for is a compost heap. Obviously this makes getting rid of household vegetable and garden waste a piece of cake, rather than going to the extra effort of sending it off for somebody else to make a profit from or, worse still, using it as land-fill. There is also something amazing about the miracle of decomposition; a process whereby potato peelings, banana skins and apple cores can be broken down, only to be reconstituted back into the most wonderful fertilizer with which to feed your herbaceous borders.

      We too were keen on making our own compost rather than spending our hard-earned cash on bags of it from the local garden centre, but the other reason why I wanted one was because they are hugely important wildlife habitats in their own right. All manner of animals are drawn to compost heaps because all that warm, rotting plant material provides a habitat which is mostly absent from gardens.

      Ask most knowledgeable gardeners which animals are most commonly associated with compost heaps and hopefully the majority would respond with the answer – reptiles. This heat-loving group simply adores the warmth and protection offered, evidenced by an urban wildlife survey recently conducted around Bristol which revealed that those gardens with a compost heap were twice as likely to play host to resident slow-worms as those without. Compost heaps are also pretty much the only place in a garden (unless you have a huge pond) where you have any chance of catching up with a grass snake, as this is often where females choose to incubate and hatch their eggs. In fact, on the two occasions I have been lucky enough to have seen this wonderful and enigmatic snake in a garden setting, it had converted the heap to a home.

      While not every garden compost heap will be able to double up as a natural vivarium, all heaps can be guaranteed to attract a much wider array of invertebrates, such as beetles and woodlice, than would otherwise be found in a sterile, tidy garden where a compost heap would be considered an unsightly eyesore. So, with all this in mind, and aware of the fact that the wood from the dismantling of both the fence and pergola was still sitting there just begging to be used, I had decided that in the spirit of recycling I would try to use the timber to build a couple of compost bins.

      Of course, on the surface this grand plan seemed a quite brilliant way to improve the wildlife potential of the garden without either spending much money or wasting any more of the world’s timber resources, but the biggest obstacle to the successful completion of this task was that, in a nutshell, I’m terribly unpractical. As all the Dilgers hail from an academic background, it’s safe to say that, like my mother, father and two brothers, the practical or technical genes seem largely to have skipped a couple of generations, and like the rest of my family I’m much better at talking the talk, rather than walking the walk! In many ways what makes this even more hilarious is that I’m actually considered the most practical one, simply because of my ability to wire a plug or use a drill to mount a picture – we are that bad! A plug or a picture was one thing, but would I have the ability to cope with building something as technically demanding as a couple of compost bins? Well, we would have to see.

      Having found a timber design for compost bins from an old Geoff Hamilton gardening book and having been promised the loan of an electric saw from Christina’s father (did he realise what he was promising?), the only bit of kit I now needed to begin the big build was a work bench, hence the visit that afternoon to our local DIY supermarket. As a person who has only recently realised the difference between a plum-bob and a plum-duff, I have always felt a touch intimidated going into these large DIY stores, where the staff have a habit of making you feel terribly inadequate, by perversely responding to your tentative question with another question they know you’ll struggle to answer. However, today was different as I knew exactly what I wanted; I was after that iconic tool of the trade which has done more to convey rugged manliness than any beer, aftershave or pair of jeans could ever do … I was after a Black & Decker Workmate!

      Unaware that there was more than one design of Workmate, but not wanting to enquire further about the precise technical differences of each model without sounding stupid either, I did what I usually do in this situation, which is to go for the middle of the range. Christina, who incidentally does come from both practical and academic stock and so would have been a useful sounding board with my workbench dilemma, had taken herself off to the gardening section to feed her plant-buying addiction and so was unavailable for a quick consultation. Nevertheless, I felt both confident and ever so slightly thrilled at the fun I would have with my new purchase … ‘Mike Dilger, naturalist, broadcaster and compost bin builder’!