Windless anemones

Over the last few weeks our local Devon woodlands have sprung to life with the white starlight flowers of Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa), carpeting the open floors. I’ve also recently been to the beach a couple of times and I have become curious about the marine namesakes, such as the Snakelocks Anemone (Anemonia viridis) pictured above. What is the commonality of the name, ‘anemone’?

Looking up in the dictionary, 'Anemo’ is Greek for wind, which I could have guessed from knowing that an anemometer is an instrument to measure wind. The Shorter Oxford Dictionary (1952) defines ‘Anemone’ as “daughter of the wind” and the Wood Anemone as “the wind-flower”. Other sources state that the wind God, 'Anemos' sent Anemones early to herald his early coming in spring - the Wood Anemone is certainly one of our earliest flowering plants. However there does not seem to be any evidence that wind plays much of a part in the life history of this plant. They spread mainly via underground rhizomes as long-lived clonal groups, and pollination is via insects (Stehlik and Holderegger, 2000). An alternative name is ‘Smell Fox”, which is explained by the musky smell of the leaves (Woodlands.co.uk, 2012) – a bit a blunt and ‘to the point’ of a name, but at least more descriptively accurate.

The link with sea anemones seems more straightforward – these sea creatures resemble flowers with their brightly coloured spreading tentacles – hence the Strawberry Anemone (Actinia fragacea) which is reddish with flecks like pips on a strawberry. Indeed, until modern times many believed that sea anemones were actually plant species. However the resemblance of the large variety of sea anemones does not seem particularly reminiscent of plant anemone species – many look more like colourful sunflowers or daisies.

So, in pedantic summary the anemones don’t have much in common with wind, and sea anemones don’t look any more like anemones than many other flower genera. This should not however stop us admiring the wonderful beauty of anemones, plant or animal.

Onions, C.T (1952) The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary on Historical Principles. Oxford: Clarendon Press

Stehlik, I. and Holderegger, R (2000) Spatial genetic structure and clonal diversity of Anemone nemorosa in late successional deciduous woodlands of Central Europe. Journal of Ecology, 88 (3): 424–435

Woodlands.co.uk (2012) [online] Wood Anemone-  http://www.woodlands.co.uk/blog/woodland-flowers/wood-anemone/  [Accessed 22/04/12]

Painted shells

In nature shells provide varying forms of protection, from snails that use them to shelter their soft bodies from predation and drying out, to bird’s eggs that defend the growing embryo. This week I picked up a discarded egg shell of a Song Thrush (Turdus philomelos), characteristically a stunning summer sky-blue with sparing dark speckles. A couple of weeks ago I was dazzled by brightly coloured Painted Topshells (Calliostoma zizyphinum) dotted about on low tide rocks near Torquay. This led me to wonder at the biological function of some species having such visually distinctive shells that might make them more prone to predation.

Considering the Song Thrush there is some consistency with other birds that make their nests in darkened habitats and pale blue eggs. The Song Thrush chooses either a thick hedgerow, hollow in a creeper, or rarely if on the ground in a shady well-hidden site. It was believed that the distinctive colour may help the adults locate them more easily (Harrison, 1975). Many alternative theories of why thrushes lay blue eggs was summarised by Gotmark (1991): they may be cryptic and provide camouflage by imitating spots of light on green leaves; egg parasites such as cuckoos might have exerted selection pressures historically; the pigmentation of eggs enhances the strength of the egg shell and therefore its resistance to cracking; egg coloration influences egg temperature helping with its regulation. More recent research has tried to test whether the blue-green egg colouration of many bird species provides a health indicator of the female to allow males to modulate their parental investment. However it would appear that researchers are still really none the wiser and so we can only assume that the cost of producing blue pigment is outweighed by some unclear benefit that may no longer be relevant, or that it is simply maladaptive.

The Painted Topshell is the most colourful example of these intertidal molluscs in the UK. The colour varies from yellow or brown to pink or purple and is overlaid with irregular dark purple or red markings. The purplish blotches spiralling around the almost perfect conical shell give the illusion of a spinning top. There is also a white ‘morph’ form which is considered by some to be a separate species. This Topshell is also notable for its frequent shell-wiping behaviour, which would appear to both prevent surface fouling and top up its food intake by as much as a fifth (Holmes, 2001). Despite this interesting colour variation I can find no explanation to its cause. So whilst scientists continue to hypothesise I humbly suggest that we simply sit back and admire nature showing off its surprising beauty.

Gotmark, F. (1991) Blue eggs do not reduce nest predation in the song thrush, Turdus philomelos. Behav Ecol Sociobiol,  30:245-252

Harrison, C (1975) A Field Guide to the Nests, eggs and Nestlings of British & European Birds. London: Collins.

Holmes, S.P., Sturgess, C.J. Cherrill, A. Davies, M.S (2001) Shell wiping in Calliostoma zizyphinum: the use of pedal mucus as a provendering agent and its contribution to daily energetic requirements. Marine Ecology Progress Series, 212:171-181

Spurge-laurel - a healthy pungent purge or scourge?

Very few plants put energy into flowering in the winter due to the cold and lack of sunshine and pollinators. There are some obvious exceptions such as Snowdrops and Winter Aconites. Less obvious is the evergreen shrub, Spurge-laurel (Daphne laureola) which I spotted inadvertently last week in one of our local hedgerows. The origin of the Latin name Daphne apparently comes from the water nymph whom the Gods turned into a laurel-bush to hide from the advances of Apollo (SAPS, 2012). Well in keeping with concealment you would be forgiven for not spotting its flowers, with petals absent and small camouflaged yellow-green sepals. The plant flowers appear from January, a welcome source of nectar for early emergent moths and bees attracted by their strong scent rather than visual cues. But don’t let the sweet fragrance fool you – all parts of a Spurge-laurel plant are poisonous to humans, particularly the bark and berries. It can cause stomach pain, nausea, vomiting, bloody diarrhoea, delirium, collapse and death; even external contact between plant and skin can cause blistering. (Eland, 2012). Some tribes in northern Africa still use a bark extract to poison fish (Eland, 2012). This all serves a useful service for the Spurge-Laurel, as its production of powerful toxic compounds such as coumarin results in a “well defended plant” with very few animals able to eat it (Alonso, 2009).

Interestingly it is not universally toxic to animals; for instance the black berries are eaten by birds like greenfinches without any harm (SAPS, 2012), and in the past used as a veterinary cure for horses (Eland, 2012). It has also been used occasionally in the past for medicinal purposes, such as folk treatments for cancer, toothache and rheumatism (Eland, 2012). Johnson (1856) refers to a “decoction of the root and bark being recommended for children afflicted with worms”, but goes on to warn that “it should never be used, being one of those remedies that can only be employed at the risk of life”. He continues with a more strident note –

“The Lady Bountiful of the village would do more good by confining her benevolent practice to the issue of nourishing food and warm clothing, where necessary, than by trying to combat disease by remedies of which the action is equivocal, if not, as in this instance, dangerous in the highest degree.”

In modern times opinion of Spurge-laurel very much leans towards Mr Johnson’s – well at least botanically rather than his gender insinuations.

Alonso, C., García, I.M, Zapata, N. and Pérez, R.(2009) Variability in the behavioural responses of three generalist herbivores to the most abundant coumarin in Daphne laureola leaves. Entomologia Experimentalis et applicata, 32(1):76-83

Eland, S. (2012) [online] Plant Biographies http://www.plantlives.com/docs/D/Daphne_laureola.pdf  [Accessed 7/03/12]
Johnson, C. (1856) British Poisonous Plants. London: Taylor & Francis.
Science and Plants for Schools (SAPS) (2012) [online] http://www-saps.plantsci.cam.ac.uk/trees/laurels.htm [Accessed 7/03/12]

A Devilish Mis-Tor-y Tour

Over the last few weeks as the weather has turned colder I have felt a compelling draw towards Dartmoor. Most days I glimpse this wild plateau, discrete in the distance; a feint hint of something awesomely ancient, soaked in legend and mystery. Last week we paid a quick visit to the highly accessible Haytor, cloaked in snow and ice. However I yearned for something more remote and wild and so geared up yesterday to do a circular walk around Great Mis Tor on the west side of the moor. Driving to our starting point we crossed an iced and undulating landscape, intermittently crested by tors, the granite outcrops resembling the broken teeth of giants or fossilised horse dung. Mis Tor is aptly named, frequently wrapped in mist as it was yesterday, filling the whole of the Merrivale Valley. Undaunted we trudged up the icy track barely able to see more than a few yards ahead, until quite unexpectedly loomed a huge grotesque visage out of the mist - a contorted ugly witch-like head, featuring a hooked nose, goitre and warts (see image above). This was Little Mis Tor glaring upwards to its more foreboding fellow. It did not take much longer to find Great Mis Tor, or at least its large collar of broken stones. There is apparently a notable rock basin on the peak, Mistorpan or ‘the Devil’s Frying Pan, which has led to “speculation about sacrificial rituals, with blood collected in the basin running out along an [adjacent] groove” (Sale, 2000). There is a more logical geological explanation about natural erosion but don’t let this get in the way of a good story.

Down on the slopes my eye was caught by the striking red of the lichen Devil’s Matchstick (Cladonia floerkeana) (see image below), an apt discovery on this spooky walk. The Cladonia genus of lichens are common on heathlands, enjoying the clean air of such habitats. The name is derived from the Greek ‘’cladon’, meaning branching – these are easy to recognise lichens with their brightly covered fruiting bodies (ascocarps) borne on the top of the podetia (Cladonia Resources, 2012).

As we descended into the Merrivale valley, crossed the rushing brook, and climbed the other side we found ourselves in the middle of a Bronze Age settlement. Standing within the remains of an ancient hut circle we tried to imagine a thriving community looked down on by the imposing tor. Our final mystery lay above this settlement; a stone circle, or at least what remained after past misdemeanours of troops using it as target practice during the Second World War (Sale 2000). By this time the sun had broken through the mist to show us the full breathtaking beauty of an aged landscape decorated by human antiquities; geology merging with mis-tor-y!

Sale, R (2000) Dartmoor – Collins rambler’s guide. London: HarperCollins.

Cladonia Resources (2012) [online] What is Cladonia? http://www.cladonia.co.uk/component/content/article/10.html [Accessed 13/02/12]

Wild tapas from Alexandria

Walking along a local Devon lane last summer I came across a striking black seeded umbel (see image) - An umbel is the flat topped inflorescence, like an upturned umbrella, characteristic of the umbellifers or carrot family. The black colouration, large size (up to 1cm) and angular ridges of these seeds was a good indicator that it was an Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum) plant. A sample of this structural plant architecture has contributed to an interesting display in our lounge, embellished at Christmas with a touch of glitter. In the last few weeks I have observing the fresh green growth of the Alexanders celery scented leaves fighting the winter cold in many of the local hedgerows (see image).

Alexanders seems to enjoy the slightly warmer climes of maritime and sub-maritime habitats such as many parts of Devon. It was introduced by the Romans, but now fully naturalised in hedgerows, roadsides and on cliffs. The first written record in Britain was before 1562 when S. olusatrum was recorded “in Ilandes compassed about the se, as in a certain Iland, betwene the far parte of Somerset Shere and Wales” (Turner, 1562; cited in Randall, 2003). Its name possibly derives from the Italian and German denomination, Herba alexandrina having been supposed to have been brought from Alexandria in Egypt (Randall, 2003).

Alexanders was a common pot-herb in kitchen gardens for many centuries, but fell out of favour in modern times. Today’s wild foragers however certainly do not turn up their nose at such a useful plant. Young leaves add a bit of ‘spice’ to salads, but most prized are blanched stems eaten like asparagus with melted butter and a dash of lime juice. For the more culinary adventurous you could try the wild tapas of ‘Spicy Alexanders in Hot Tomato Sauce’ using stems, or ‘Pickled Buds’ with their heavy scented flavour (Harford, 2011). Of course do make sure you are clear about your identification as there are a number of poisonous closely related species!

Harford, R (2011). Eatweeds: Wild Food Recipes (Volume 1)

Randall, R.E. (2003) Smyrnium olusatrum L. Journal of Ecology, 91(2):325-340
Turner, W. (1562) A New Herbal. Pts 2 & 3. Arnold Birckman, London, UK.

Castle's aged inhabitants

One of our favourite walks follows the nearby secluded Gatcombe valley with its wooded hillsides and bubbling brook. Last week we took a winter walk past the hedgerows laced with wispy Traveller’s Joy (Clematis vitalba) and a muddy woodland track that finally opens out onto large fish ponds. Rising up from here and perched seemingly precariously on a wooded slope are skeletal ruins of Berry Pomeroy Castle, once the largest property in Devon and family home of the Pomeroy family until 1547. From then it was owned by the Seymours, who came to fame when Jane married Henry VIII providing the future heir, Edward VI. The castle was eventually abandoned in the late 17^th century and “was left to fall into decay, and quickly became overgrown and steeped in mystery, folklore and legends” (Brown, 2009). Such mystery has been augmented by its reputation as being one of the most haunted castles in Britain, with frequent ghostly sightings, including the ‘White Lady’, Blue Lady’, and a floating cavalier (Brown, 2009).

We took our friends up to the castle for a closer look. English Heritage have done much to restore its appearance and make it safe for the many visitors to enjoy a brush with the past. Being with a botanically minded friend we became drawn to the plant life on the walls and in particular with the abundant and appropriate named, Pellitory–of-the-wall (Parietaria judaica). This is a stingless member of the nettle family (Urticaceae), characterised by reddish stems and untoothed leaves that is commonly associated with old walls. At the same time as the Seymours were extending their residence at Berry Pomeroy castle, Gerard (1597) described in his ‘Herball,’ Parietaria judaica growing on walls in London - “groweth neere to old walls in the moist corners of churches and stone buildings” (Sukopp, 2002), just as we noted on Sunday. Like the castle that this plant is so fond of inhabiting, it is equally associated with folklore and mystery. Pericles himself is said to have used this plant to heal the injuries of a workman who fell from the Parthenon during its construction (Brickell & Akeroyd, 2006). More traditionally Pellitory–of-the-wall was used for a wide range of medical uses, including urinary complaints, diuretic and laxative (Grieve, 2012). Grieve (2012) goes on to quote: Gerard (is this our man from 1597?) - “helpeth such as are troubled with an old cough,' and “the distilled water of the herb drank with sugar worketh the same effect and cleanseth the skin from spots, freckles, pimples, wheals, sunburn, etc”; Ben Jonson - “A good old woman . . . did cure me, with sodden ale and pellitorie o' the wall.”

As these castellar rocks and plants intermingle over the centuries, their history and mysteries ebb and flow in their relevance to mankind. Both seem now to have fallen out of human use, relegated to quaint curiosity, but who’s to say that this will be forever.

Brickell, C. and Akeroyd, J. (2006) Contributiones ad historiam naturalem graeciae et regionis mediterraneae a Museo Goulandris historiae naturalis editae. Annales Musei Goulandris 11.

Brown, S. (2009) Berry Pomeroy Castle. London: English Heritage.

Grieve, M (2012) A Modern Herbal. http://botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/p/pelwal22.html [Accessed 13/1/12]

Sukopp, H (2002) On the early history of urban ecology in Europe 1. Počátky výzkumu ekologie evropských měst Preslia, Praha, 74: 373–393.

Well fishy

After the recent cold snap, the weather returned this week to a mild theme and encouraged me out into the garden. As I climbed the steps to the upper garden, my ‘peripherals’ caught a movement in our well. The well sits in a cobbled courtyard and appears to be fed by local groundwater,  and with over a foot of rain in recent weeks has got very full. Since we moved into our new home this summer I have frequently peered into the dark depths of the well, never expecting and never seeing any obvious life in the crystal clear water. I was therefore curious about the water movement – had an animal fallen in and was struggling to get free? At first glance I could not see anything, but as my eyes grew accustomed to the grey gloom I noticed a fishy tail poking out from the side wall. After a few minutes the tail moved gently and a head appeared, followed by the long slender body of an unmistakeable Eel (Anguilla anguilla), at least one and a half feet long (see images – not an easy photograph to take). Gracefully it swam around the well, appearing to search for an escape from its surprise prison until it disappeared through a fissure, not to be seen again and to where underground I can only puzzle.

The questions this observation poses are as deep and dark as the well. This mysterious fish will have started its incredible life far away in the Sargasso Sea (van Ginneken & Maes, 2006). This is “the earth's only sea without a land boundary”, defined instead by biological characteristics and oceanic conditions to determine its location and extent within the North Atlantic sub-tropical “gyre”, and so named after the abundant presence of Sargassum, a “brown drift algae” (Sargasso Sea Alliance, 2011). It is within this unique ecosystem that the young eel larvae feed, develop and drift using the inherent currents, such as the Gulf Stream to migrate the huge distances to freshwater European and North African rivers. Unusually for fish they can travel over land if necessary, and perhaps it is this ability to move out of the confines of purely aquatic environments enabled it to find its way via groundwater channels into our well. Living for up to 30 years, you can only wonder at the adventures such a creature can have, but I am glad that one of them resulted in it appearing in our garden well - I can only hope that it is able to fulfil its destiny and return eventually to breed in the Sargasso Sea and bring its life full circle.

Sargasso Sea Alliance (2011) [online] About the Sargasso Sea. http://www.sargassoalliance.org/about-the-sargasso-sea   [Accessed 21/12/11]

van Ginneken, V.J.T, and Maes, G.E (2006). The European eel (Anguilla anguilla, Linnaeus), its Lifecycle, Evolution and Reproduction: A Literature Review. Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries, 15 (4): 367-398

The commonly anonymous Euonymus

When I lived in Nottinghamshire and botanised with my friend Mary, one of the plants that gave her a lot of pleasure was the Spindle (Euonymus europaeus). She proudly showed me the last remnant specimens along a stretch of a local hedge. It is an easy to miss shrub amongst Hawthorn, Blackthorn and other hedgerow plants. Its innocuous greenish-white flowers do little to make it stand out in the spring. It does however have an interesting and chequered history – Due to it being the winter host for two important crop pests, particularly the black bean aphid (Aphis fabae) which feeds on field beans and sugar beet, it led in the past to widespread removal from hedgerows and woodlands (Thomas. et al., 2011). I guess this explains some of its fragmented occurrence in Britain depending on how zealous and relevant this pest hosting was to local farmers. It did have some historic economic importance due to the wood being very hard, enabling it to be cut to a very sharp point and used in the making of spindles for spinning wool - Any guesses as to how it got its name!

Roll forward to Devon, our new home, and lazy summer strolling along local lanes. There in the hedge appeared many four lobed coral-pink fruits, sculptured almost unnaturally like trendy buttons or sweets (see image above). These are the charmingly characteristic products of the Spindle, no longer blending into the background but colourfully and querkily brought forward. As summer has merged into autumn, and flowers and leaves have eventually withdrawn from hedgerows, these spectacular fruits have come further into prominence, advertising a more abundant presence than I had realised. They are now fading as we approach winter, but not without a final flourish of secondary colour and confectionary mimicry, as they expose bright orange sheathed seeds (see image below). In the next week or so the Spindles will have retreated back to being that highly anonymous shrub.

Thomas, P.A., El-Barghathi, M. and Polwart, A. (2011) Biological Flora of the British Isles: Euonymus europaeus L. Journal of Ecology, 99 (1): 345-365

The photophobic spider



Cave Spider

When the sun emerges after days of damp autumn greyness, as it did this morning, it seems that much more precious and to be treasured. I therefore abandoned the laptop screen, Google and business planning in favour of the outdoors, and emerged this morning to that special bright blue of the coast. The warm updrafts from the Berry Head cliffs propelled gulls effortlessly overhead, whilst occasional out-of-season Red Admirals sailed with the breeze. I was hoping for a close up view of dolphins or porpoises and so made my way out to a rock promontory near where we had seen one feeding over a month ago. Although this proved fruitless I was drawn to some nearby caves. I had no torch but used my camera focusing red light beam to do a bit of searching. And that was when I discovered a rather large spider (see picture above), and quickly discovered that this one was by no means alone. In almost every crevice were other specimens and several large white cocoon sacs hung like silk globes from the ceiling.



Cocoon sacs holding spiderlings

Back home and reacquainted with Google, I searched on “Cave Spiders”, to discover that is indeed what had observed. Most likely the species is Meta menardi, one of Britain’s largest spiders, a type of orb weaving spider. Their distribution is wide and patchy across Europe (British Arachnological Society, 2011), perhaps due to their particular preference for permanently dark damp sites, such as caves, which may also mean that they are often overlooked. They are termed as troglophiles (literally “liking caves”) with photophobic tendencies, avoiding light and feeding off other invertebrates sharing their darkness. Interestingly the young spiders are, in contrast, strongly attracted to light (Smithers, 2005), possibly an evolutionary adaptation to ensure the species disperses more widely.

In the meantime my empathy is with the young spiders and was certainly glad to emerge out of the cave back into the sunlight to enjoy the last of the afternoon’s precious rays.

British Arachnological Society (2011) [online] The Checklist of British Spiders. http://srs.britishspiders.org.uk/portal.php/p/Summary/s/Meta+menardi  [Accessed 17/11/11]

Smithers, P. (2005) The early life history and dispersal of the cave spider Meta menardi (Latreille, 1804) (Araneae: Tetragnathidae) Bull. Br. arachnol. Soc. 13 (6): 213-216 [Cited at http://www.enotes.com/topic/Meta_menardi#cite_note-1]

See also this video of Cave Spiders being rescued: http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_8393000/8393757.stm

Wild Madder goes red

Towards the end of the summer I was out botanising with a friend and we came across a Wild Madder (Rubia peregrina) plant growing on the edge of some woodland. This is a butch, version of the ubiquitous Cleavers (otherwise called Goosegrass or Sticky Willy), being larger, tougher, pricklier, and an evergreen. They are both members of the ‘Bedstraw’ family (Rubiaceae) that are generally sprawling climbers and include the Tropical Coffee plant. In the autumn Wild Madder plants produce characteristic dark black berries, like over-sized elderberries (see image).

I was surprised when Greg said that it was the first time he had seen this plant. Although it was new to me this year I had seen it several times on my walks about Devon this year. However checking the distribution map for this species on the ‘NBN Gateway’ (http://data.nbn.org.uk/) clearly shows a strong south-west preference, with no records from his home county in Essex. I have most commonly seen it recently on coastal walks which also seem to be its preference – perhaps due to its apparent resilience towards sea spray.

The madders were used traditionally for many centuries in the making of various dyes - remains of madder were excavated with Viking material at York (Woodlands.co.uk, 2011). The closely related Common Madder (Rubia tinctorum), was introduced to the UK and formerly grown for its dye (Stace, 2010),  ‘Turkey Red’, a brilliant red permanent dye - this was very well known in 19th century for “maddering” wool and cotton (Koreankye, 2010). Wild Madder provides a subtler, rose-pink dye. The long roots of the madders are particularly rich in these dyes and were used with materials such as leather and wool until towards the end of the Nineteenth century, when they were replaced by the more efficient industrial manufacture of the chemical, Alizarin Red (Woodlands.co.uk, 2011). However some traditionalists are reacquainting themselves with old methods of natural dyeing with plants such as Madder (see http://www.woodlands.co.uk/tv/2010/12/dyeing-with-madder-plant-root-from-woodland/). This seems to be another example of people turning their backs on disconnecting industrialisation and trying to relearn from nature’s amazing secrets.

Korankye, O. (2010) Extraction and application of plant dyes to serve as colourants for food and textiles. [http://dspace.knust.edu.gh:8080/jspui/bitstream/123456789/235/1/Oenewaa%20Korankye.pdf]

Stace, C.A. (2010) New Flora of the British Isles (3^rd edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Woodlands.co.uk (2011) [online] Madder - http://www.woodlands.co.uk/blog/flora-and-fauna/wild-madder/ [Accessed 4/11/11]