Botany – David Bradley

Apple of Sodom

As regulars to the Sciencebase site will know, I’ve been doing some ad hoc wilding of our garden for a few years now. Always hoping that blooming wildflowers would attract interesting invertebrates. There are therefore patches and pots that I’ve not managed with all sorts of odd things sprouting from them at different times of year. At the moment, there is a big tub, which used to be crocuses and daffodils that has a very tall and leafy plant growing in it at the moment, with pale-purple flowers in bloom (it’s November!).

I used the ObsIdentify app to take a couple of photos and it turns out to Apple of Peru, Nicandra physalodes. The species is also known as the shoo-fly plant (it repels aphids and other flies and although toxic is sometimes rubbed on the skin as an insect repellant. It’s also known as the Apple of Sodom, presumably somehow that relates to its encapsulated poisonous fruit.

As the name would suggest, Apple of Peru is a native to South America, self-seeds easily, and is sometimes grown as a decorative annual. I didn’t plant it, seeds from some outside source presumably landed in the tub and it’s grown where it fell. I think it’s meant to be in bloom from April to July, usually in tropical and sub-tropical climes rather than the temperate zone, so not entirely sure what it’s doing with open blossom now and setting fruit in the middle of November in England.

Bluebells and Oxlip at Overhall Grove

We discovered Overhall Grove woodland many years ago through a book of woodland walks given to us by the aunt and uncle of Mrs Sciencebase. It’s a small nature reserve, mature woodland, lots of Bluebells and Oxlips in spring, various butterflies too, including White-letter Hairstreak, which I mentioned here in the summer of 2021. Anyway, a visit today was mainly for the Bluebells, the walk, and the fresh air.

A scarce flower for Passover and Easter

We took a walk along the Devil’s Dyke hoping to see Green Hairstreaks and perhaps the Dotterals that had been sighted on neighbouring Ditch Farm. We had no luck with either of those, although there were lots of Brimstone butterflies, a few Whitethroats, and our first Willow Warbler of the year.

Almost in passing we noticed a pretty purple flower with a yellow centre. Mrs Sciencebase suggested it might be some kind of anemone and it is indeed in the same sub-family, Ranunculoideae, but it is specifically Pulsatilla vulgaris, known colloquially as the European Pasque Flower. Pasque from the Hebrew word for Passover, Pasakh. Obviously, quite apt for this time of year.

The plant is also known as the wind flower, prairie crocus, Easter flower, and meadow anemone. The showy purple parts are sepals rather than petal. It’s a scarce plant that likes chalky or limestone-rich land. Happily, the very substance of the raised earthworks that is Devil’s Dyke is a good proportion of chalk. It is also the ‘county flower’ of Cambridgeshire and neighbouring Hertfordshire. Pulsatilla species are toxic and can cause vomiting and diarrhoea if ingested and in serious cases of poisoning, convulsions, a critical drop in blood pressure, and coma.

Thanks to Twitter friends for the ID, one, to my chagrin, I did not know.

Counted 11 hares on adjacent farmland, lots of cowslips, lots of Brimstone butterfly, one or two Small Tortoiseshell, half a dozen European Peacock and lots of the same beige moth (perhaps a caddisfly?)

The Feral Crocus

My very good friend, photographer Diana Sanders took a lovely shot of a yellow crocus growing wild near her home. She posted the photo to acclaim on her Facebook describing it as:

Like a candle flame amongst the dead leaves. If we get any more hard frosts it won't look so cheerful, though.

It triggered me to write a short poem:

The Feral Crocus

A feral crocus nestles among the long-dead leaves
A glimmer of hope, a tiny, shining candle of life
Its flame burns bright among those oaken thieves
Their dew can’t steal this golden light

But Arctic winds might rustle those chilling leaves
And times are hard and so could be the frost
The dew that’s stilled will begin to freeze
And snuff that flame then forever lost

Still, there is hope as it is overcast
The cloud-filled skies blanket all below
The bloom won’t face an icy blast
And tomorrow, we can bask in that feral crocus glow

Twitching wildflowers

The rather derogatory term “twitching” (see definition in my tongue-in-beak bird glossary) is usually preserved for someone going out of their way to see a rare bird…but those with an interest in seeking out natural wonders may well twitch anything. Yesterday, I took my daily walk partly along the Cambridge to Stives guided busway to “twitch” the bee orchids that are thriving sporadically along the wild margins of the route.

While I was walking back to my turning-home point, I bumped into a group of people who were well aware of the bee orchids, pointed out that there were also some pyramidal orchids around and explained that they were (mostly) amateur botanists out for a day’s botanising (the wildflower equivalent of birding and mothing, I presume).

The plant that had taken their interest at the time I stopped to talk them wasÂ a seemingly mundane specimen in the impacted dirt at the edge of the by-way and guided bus cycleway. What made it interesting was that it was a maritime species, a wildflower that should only be seen growing along our coasts. Now, given the number of wading birds that seem to have taken to being landlubbers these last few months in and around our village, it’s perhaps no surprise that a maritime plant species will have taken root, perhaps a seed having hitchhiked among the feathers of one of those coastal waders or been delivered in conjunction with a bird’s inflight fertiliser in the form of avian guano. I think this is the plant, but there were several others around it, so not sure, and no idea of its ID.

Mystery maritime – Is this a coastal plant that has become a landlubber?

The wildflower meadow myth

What could be more natural more evocative, more quintessentially English than a wildflower meadow nestled in the countryside, teeming with bees and butterflies, day-flying moths and countless other pollinators perhaps home to some ground-nesting birds and dozens of tiny mammals, a complete ecosystem when coupled with the natural reservoir in the neighbouring field?

And your wilding projects? Often the packs of seeds we scatter in our gardens to create a wild area or on roadside versions are cultivated mixes of cornflower, ox eye daisy, borage, (bizarrely) California poppy, and a few others. That said, I’ve tried to grow something more naturalistic by seeding corn cockle among the cornflowers, no ox eyes, but plenty of borage, viper’s bugloss, wild marjoram, opium poppies, yarrow, mallow, and the erroneously maligned ragwort.*

Well, sorry, but no. Not much of its not natural, it may be beautiful and conjure up images of a sadly lost past that never really existed, but many of what we call native wildflowers are anything but. Established wildflower meadows may well have taken hundreds of years to become established ecosystems. But, they arrived with humans who brought their agriculture from the Middle East in the stone age. Many of the species we consider essential to stocking a wildflower meadow are native to North Africa and the Mediterranean. They never grew here until the arrival of cultivated grassy food crops just a few millennia since.

Of course, many species in many different countries are not native, there have been so many changes to the climate and the geography and geology of the world over millions of years. What’s a few millennia between friends? Let’s cultivate the wildness anyway…

All of that said, it’s better to wild than to cultivate. Moreover, there is an argument that even if some of the so-called native wildflowers arrived with agriculture from the Middle East who’s to say that some of them weren’t growing here before the last ice age when the British mainland was conjoined to the European continent and the footprint of the landmass and the geography of the present Middle East were all very different?

*Ragwort: Erroneously maligned as a livestock and horse killer. Yes, it is toxic to cattle and horses and other animals and it’s sensible not to let it grow on pasture. However, it’s only a problem if the animals are not getting fed properly. It’s got a really bitter taste and most animals (Cinnabar moth larvae aside) will avoid it. However, it can end up in sileage when its bitterness might be masked by other plants in the mix and the animals quite happily tuck in and suffer.

Fruit of The Tall Sock Destroyer

This unassuming plant, flowers and fruit in the photo, which just happens to be growing locally along the edge of a sugarbeet field, is actually an endangered species on the “red” list…it’s a type of wild carrot that goes by the scientific name of Torilis arvensis, but you can call it The Tall Sock Destroyer*

*It’s also known as Spreading Hedgeparsley, which sounds more like a skin disorder people who run through amber fields of grain might get rather than the worst-ever Marvel comic superhero…

Its fruits have sticky little purple barbs that under normal circumstances cling on to the wool of passing sheep and the fur of other animals and spread the seed wherever those animals might graze. In times of herbicide use and less brazen shepherding, the plant has not thrived and is very much endangered, so it’s lovely to know that it’s growing on the outskirts of our fen edge village in Cambridgeshire. NB This is only the second time I’ve “twitched” a plant.

Spreading Hedgeparsley, The Tall Sock Destroyer

There’s a growing list of wildflowers classed as endangered in The British Isles, among them Apparently, Spreading Hedge-parsley, also known as the Tall Sock Destroyer. A friend of mine, Pam, spotted some growing along a sugarbeet field margin on the north edge of our village. I had to “twitch” it, it seemed so exotic.

It’s a delicate-looking plant of the carrot family, I was not particularly worried about ruining my socks even if that vernacular name sounds like its the worse of the DC/Marvel superheroes. Identification has now been confirmed by the county recorder here in VC29. So, here’s one of my snapshots of Torilis arvensis.

Let’s hope its presence in our village persists. It’s a good sign if we are seeing endangered species growing again, it could be their comeback. It would be interesting to know whether this is a positive effect on the environment of reduced traffic and human activity because of the Covid-19 lockdown. Who knows? And, after we ease lockdown will things revert to their problematic pre-pandemic condition?

Torilis arvensis fruit bodies – Photo by Pamela Newman

The bristly seed-bearing fruits have slightly curved bristles which presumably readily stick to the wool of grazing sheep and the wool of hikers’ socks. Its decline is mostly blamed on agricultural herbicides but the lack of grazing sheep on intensively farmed arable land in modern agriculture may also be to blame for the seed not to be spread as widely as it once was.

Torilis arvensis flowers – Photo by Pamela Newman

The pyramidal orchid

A friend tipped me off that he’d spotted an unusual plant species, Anacamptis pyramidalis, the pyramidal orchid, in our local woodland. It’s in a very prominent spot where lots of people walk their dogs so was unlikely to last long. I headed there this morning to do my first botanical “twitch”.

Took a Canon 6D and a Tamron 90mm macro with a tripod and a flash to try and get a decent close-up or two. I didn’t even think to sniff it, but apparently it has a “foxy” scent.

Not corn-cockle – Wilding an English country garden

UPDATE: The Corn Cockle finally came through, lots of them, it’s well past flowering now and I have harvested lots of seed for next year.

UPDATE: The corn-cockle is yet to grow in our garden, the pictures are of another species entirely, something Borage like, apols.

Part of “wilding” involves scattering seeds from wildflowers…and hoping they’ll germinate and grow, flower, be pollinated, and set seed for next year. I borrowed some corn-cockle seed from a fellow #AllotmentLife person, and it’s now in bloom with invertebrates constantly in and out of the flowers.

This wildflower species, Agrostemma githago, was thought to be extinct in the British Isles until a specimen was spotted in Sunderland of all places by a National Trust assistant ranger in 2014.

It was a common species to grow in wheatfields until the introduction and widespread use of herbicides. It can now be found in fields, roadsides, railway lines, waste places, and other disturbed areas, now including our back garden.

A word of warning, as with many other wildflowers, and indeed, some cultivated flowers, all parts of the plant are poisonous as they contain the natural products githagenin (githagin, gypsogenin, (3Î²)-3-Hydroxy-23-oxoolean-12-en-28-oic acid)Â and agrostemmic acid.

Thankfully, the corncockle has grown and bloomed in our garden since I wrote this post. Here, short discussion.