The Fallowfield Loop and 'Greening the Greenways'

The Fallowfield Loop (‘Floop’) is an off-road cycle path, pedestrian and horse riding route from Chorlton-cum-Hardy through Fallowfield and Levenshulme to Gorton and Fairfield in Manchester. It is part of the National Cycle Network of routes and paths developed and built by the cycling charity Sustrans. It is part of National Route 6 of the National Cycle Network which, when complete, will connect London and Keswick in Cumbria.

At 8 miles long the Fallowfield Loop is thought to be the longest urban cycleway in Britain. It was previously part of the old ‘Manchester Central Station Railway’, built in the 1890s and closed in 1968.

 The line had lain derelict for many years until the late 1990s, when a group of cyclists started campaigning for its conversion to a traffic free ‘greenway’ across south Manchester. That group, together with supporters from local civic societies and other community groups, formally became the ‘Friends of the Fallowfield Loop’ in June 2001. The route is now mostly owned by Sustrans, a charity which specialises in building off-road cycle routes. They have partly funded conversion of the route, together with Manchester City Council, Sainsbury’s and others.

The overall aim of the ‘Friends’ is to encourage and support all the partners in the Fallowfield Loop route to provide and maintain a first-class community resource and to encourage As many people as possible to use it.

The Floop creates a linear park and wildlife corridor, linking parks and open spaces. It has an interesting flora – some of which may represent all that’s left of the lost, ancient rural landscape of South Manchester. Some of the intriguing plants that I have found, over the last few years, include:

Hedge Parsley (Torilis japonica) – which is by no means uncommon nationally but is very rare in South Manchester – presumably because its precise habitat requirements are now only met by one little patch of ground by the Floop (?)

 

The scarce, pink-flowered bindweed hybrid Calystegia x howittiorum (although the exact identity of this plant needs to be confirmed).

Royal Fern (Osmunda regalis)

A Sphagnum moss (S. capillifolium)

 

The presence of the latter two plants suggest that the surrounding land was probably once much boggier – and it’s a miracle, really, that they have survived.

An evergreen, Chinese Honeysuckle (Lonicera henryii). This latter plant is obviously a garden escape – but I’ve never found it anywhere else.

Because of my interest in the Floop’s flora, I was delighted to learn, recently, of Sustrans’ ‘Greener Greenways’ project which started this spring (2013) and is a 3.5 year project that they are running in England on certain sections of their cycling routes. The project is funded by the Esme Fairburn trust and has allowed Sustrans to employ two ecologists to run the project. The outline of the project is in stages, beginning with the baseline surveying of the ecological status of 280 kilometres of cycling routes. The chosen sections are not all that Sustrans owns, or has management liability for, but they represent the majority of its holdings and hence some very significant sections.

The roll out of the programme will allow Sustrans to systematically build up their knowledge of the biodiversity of their greenways. They are aware that many of their volunteers have an interest and expertise in this field and hope to engage with that pool of enthusiasm and knowledge as the projects develops.

Once the 280kms of survey have been completed, mapped and analysed – the findings will inform Sustran’s ecology team and allow them to develop fuller management plans for the designated routes. They believe that this will allow them to make very practical but balanced decisions on work priorities for the routes and the wildlife corridors they run through. In turn, these plans will help to contribute to work plans that Sustrans staff and volunteers will be able to share.
Ultimately, Sustrans would like to recruit Wildlife Champions from their volunteer team and/or the local communities along their greenways. Potentially each champion could take on such a role for any given one kilometre stretch of greenway and help to monitor and to care for its wildlife. Sustrans believes that this will represent a great chance to engage with local communities who, in turn, can help them to enhance and protect some wonderful local habitats.

Initial surveys are being undertaken by a paid ecologist. These surveys will not supersede any work already done by any individual volunteers but they are intended to lead to a Phase One baseline. It should be noted that any additional information, that any volunteer or supporter of Sustrans might have, and is willing to share, would be considered very beneficial by the Ecology team. If you have any of this knowledge and think that Sustrans should know about it then, please contact Mike Dagley* of Sustrans in the first instance (for contact details, see below).

The timetable for the Phase One baseline survey is as follows:

August 13-14^th Fallowfield Loop, Manchester

September 17-18^th Chester Millennium Greenway

November 5-7^th Hadrian’s Cycleway, Cumbria

Later this year Sustrans intend to develop Management Plans and specific recommended actions for each route. As well as informing Sustrans about the more nuanced management of their routes, opportunities will be created to form partnerships with Wildlife Trusts, local conservation groups, volunteers and all interested in making more of the ‘linear parks’ that these routes represent.

*Mike Dagley

Volunteer Coordinator

Sustrans Northwest England

5th Floor, 30-32, Charlotte Street

Manchester M1 4FD

0161 923 6050

0161 923 6053 (direct)

0787 645 3773


Dave Bishop, October 2013

References:

Sustrans: http://www.sustrans.org.uk

The Friends of the Fallowfield Loop: http://fallowfieldloop.org/

  

A Walk from Chorlton to Didsbury in July

When Transport for Greater Manchester destroyed the wonderful plants and habitats of the Lower Hardy Farm SBI, with their hideous Metrolink-to-the-Airport bridge, they also closed off the path, on the south side of the river, which leads eastward towards Didsbury and Stockport. Recently, though, they have re-opened this path and on Tuesday  9^th July 2013 I seized the opportunity to walk it again and re-visit those of my favourite spots which haven’t been destroyed by ‘progress’ ... yet.

The weather was gorgeous and the day felt to me to have a particularly pleasing, summery ‘savour and flavour’ to it.

The first part of the walk took me past Sale Golf Course. Now here’s a thought - have you ever noticed how much green space in Greater Manchester is devoted to golf courses? If it has never occurred to you, just try flicking through the ‘Manchester A to Z’;  there appears to be a golf course on nearly every page (apart from the City Centre of course!); some pages show two – or even three. I just thought I’d point this out – particularly as golf courses are not particularly biodiverse. If we had as many biodiverse spaces as golf courses then, perhaps, we wouldn’t be in the midst of a biodiversity crisis (?)

Beyond the golf course there’s a large electricity sub-station with extensive open space around it.  I’ve known this area for at least 30 years and it’s always had an interesting flora. I think this is mainly due to the fact that, sometime in the past, a load of limestone chippings were spread over it. Part of this space is open and the other part now has a rather sparse birch wood growing on it. On the open part is a sign saying ‘Private Land’. Although I’ve never been stopped from entering site, I always experience a slight ‘frisson’ when stepping over the rusty barbed wire perimeter. I calm myself by pretending that I’m the great early 19^th century Manchester botanist, James Crowther. James, a warehouse porter from Hulme, would range miles on his botanical expeditions and was often chased by gamekeepers - who tended to mistake him for a poacher. James usually managed to out-run the gamekeepers but there’s no doubt that, these days, they’d catch me easily! I also suppose that if, on that Tuesday in July, anyone had intercepted me I would merely have been ordered off the site. James, on the other hand, probably risked being transported to Botany Bay (how horribly ironic that particular fate would have been for him!).

There were numerous Common Spotted Orchids (Dactylorhiza fuchsii) on the site. In spite of the name, these are not as common around here as the members of the Marsh Orchid group (also in the genus Dactylorhiza). They are slim and delicate and often have dark spots on the leaves – which are probably the origin of the common name.

 

Also present on this site were small patches of Mouse-ear Hawkweed (Pilosella officinarum). These have delicate little, lemon- yellow, dandelion-like flowers. The patches have runners and small leaves with white hairs (I assume that these leaves are supposed to resemble the ears of mice ...).

Is Mouse-ear Hawkweed really a ‘Hawkweed’? That name should possibly only apply to plants in the genus Hieracium. But Pilosella and Hieracium are closely related (Professor Stace informs us that “evidence for [their] distinctness is equivocal”). Nevertheless, there is at least one ‘true’ Hawkweed on the site. At present, I can’t name this plant and would probably have to send off a specimen for full identification. You see, Hawkweeds are one of the most difficult groups in the British Flora. Apparently, all Hieracium flowers are female and the plants reproduce via an asexual process called ‘apomyxis’. One of the consequences of this process is that it gives rise to a multiplicity of similar, but distinct, forms known as ‘apomictic microspecies’ (no, I don’t understand any of this either – I’m just parroting what I’ve read - and I realise that I’m in very deep water here!).

 

Prof. Stace, in his magisterial ‘New Flora of the British Isles, tells us that, “411 microspp. are currently recognised in the British Isles.” Even he doesn’t give a full account but divides the genus up into 15 sections.  A simpler account, in a book called ‘Wild Flowers of Britain & Ireland’ by M. Blamey, R. Fitter and A. Fitter, gives three main types of Hawkweed: Leafy, Few-leaved and Basal Leaved. I think that the plants under discussion are probably of the Few-leaved type. We used to have at least two of the ‘Leafy’ type on Lower Hardy Farm (one of them, I believe, quite rare) but, as noted at the beginning of this piece, that wonderful place has now been destroyed.

The open part of the sub-station site shows every sign of being rabbit nibbled. As I noticed this, as if on cue, a rabbit appeared. It has always puzzled me as to why rabbits occur much more frequently on the south side of the river than on the north side. I’m a little disappointed that, in the middle of the night, the rabbits don’t go ‘hippity-hoppity’ across the footbridges, like characters in a Beatrix Potter story ... but they probably don’t ... oh well ...

A bit further on, a large wild rose bush marked an entrance to the Kenworthy Woods site. I identified the bush as Sweetbriar (Rosa rubiginosa). Our wild roses have such beautiful flowers, but they only last for a few weeks each year. As you can see from the photograph, the hoverflies appreciated the lovely flowers too.

 

Less than a hundred yards beyond the rose bush, I encountered, on the upper bank, the creamy white flowers of Common Valerian (Valeriana officinalis). I believe that the ‘officinalis’ part of the scientific name translates as “of the shop” – by implication, the apothecary’s shop – for this is a herb with medicinal properties. In her book, ‘A Modern Herbal’ (1931) Mrs M. Grieve tells us that extracts of Valerian can be used to treat disorders of the nervous system. I have a species of Valerian growing in my garden (I’m not sure which species it is because the magpies long ago stole the label). This plant certainly has an effect on the nervous systems of cats. Last winter I noticed that the soil of the site where the Valerian grows was so compressed it was almost shiny. One day I caught a small black cat rolling frenziedly around on this patch of ground. Valerian is a perennial which dies down in the winter and at that time of year nothing is visible. So I must assume that the cat’s nervous system was being stimulated by the scent of the plant’s dormant roots lying just below the surface.

 

A long stretch of upper bank was dominated by the huge leaves of Butterbur (Petasites hybridus). In my mind this plant is highly characteristic of the Mersey Valley. I believe that generations of local kids have known it as “wild rhubarb” – although the resemblance is superficial. It is, in fact, related to the Hawkweeds I encountered earlier – not rhubarb! Both Hawkweeds and Butterbur are members of the great Dandelion/Daisy family – the Asteraceae. In the case of Butterbur, the flowers appear before the leaves and these leaves don’t appear until the flowers have died away. In many parts of the UK, only the male flowers are present. In these cases they reproduce vegetatively, presumably forming clonal patches and spreading via pieces of root breaking off and forming new patches. In this part of the North West both male and female flowers occur and the females produce seeds (not sure how viable they are though). Both male and female flower heads are odd pinkish, almost ‘fungoid’ looking things. Once the female flower heads are fertilised they elongate into long tassels which are easy to spot in March/April.

I walked further and by this time the sun was getting hotter. On the opposite bank I noted two gentlemen striding along deep in conversation. They were smartly dressed and their only concession to the weather was to have doffed their suit jackets and to have donned Panama hats. There was something rather Edwardian about them. They fitted in well with the fine Edwardian houses of West Didsbury just visible through the trees.

On my side of the river I spotted something ominous on the lower bank – a specimen of the alien Giant Hogweed (Heracleum mantegazzianum). This is a member of the Carrot family – the Apiaceae. It is closely related to our native Hogweed (Heracleum sphondylium). Members of this family tend to have the same general form with white or yellow flowers arranged in a flat head or ‘umbel’. H. mantegazzianum is as monstrous as its sinister, buzzing name. It’s about twice as big as our native species and its great hollow, hairy stems are covered in sickly looking reddish-brown patches. The leaves have a spiky outline and the compound umbels are huge. But even more monstrous is its effects on human skin. By coincidence, I was talking to a Polish lady recently who had encountered this plant on a visit to Russia. Somehow she had brushed against it and it had raised blisters on her arms. Soon these blisters had turned to infected ulcers for which she had required medical treatment.

 

Giant Hogweed is a native of the Caucasus Mountains. It’s certainly a dramatic plant and that’s probably why Victorian gardeners introduced it into British gardens. What they didn’t realise, until it was too late, is that it’s very invasive (as well as toxic!). Now Greater Manchester river valleys are full of it. It’s certainly common in the Croal-Irwell and the Bollin Valleys but 2013 is the first year that I’ve begun spotting it in the Mersey Valley too.

Eventually I arrived in Northenden for lunch. I like Northenden – it’s a pleasant riverside settlement. Or, rather, it probably was just a few decades ago. Now, like hundreds of other settlements, in Greater Manchester and the rest of the UK, it’s being steadily ‘ruined-by-progress’. Surrendering our landscapes to the motor car and handing property developers so much power over our built environment and green spaces were never good ideas and future generations will curse us for these follies.  In a front window I spotted a sign saying: “Save Northenden Library”. The sign prompted the gloomy reflection that perhaps our society is now in the process of abandoning ‘real’ progress. Things like public libraries and universal education and the National Health Service were truly progressive – now our political masters want to either sell them off to the highest bidder or to dump them all together; why are we putting up with this?

After lunch I walked down Ford Lane, past Northenden’s fine old sandstone church, and still muttering darkly to myself about the state of the world. I cheered up a bit when I spotted a Polypody (Polypodium sp.) fern growing on an earthen bank at the base of a hedge. I expect to see these ferns growing on walls or, occasionally, on trees – so this was an unusual sighting. There are three species of Polypody in the British flora: Common, Intermediate and Southern. To cut a very long story short, the species around here usually turns out to be Intermediate Polypody (P. interjectum). The picture below, by the way, is of a specimen that I found on a wall near my house a couple of years ago - it's a better picture than the one that I took on the day of the walk.

 

I continued on until I reached Simon’s Bridge and crossing this bridge, I arrived at the head of Stenner Lane, Didsbury. In base of the hedge, by the side of this lane, is a patch of a plant called Dog’s Mercury (Mercurialis perennis). I always make obeisance to this plant as I pass it as it’s an indicator of ancient woodland. At one time the floodplain of the Mersey would have been fringed with woodland – and in this district, this plant may be all that is left of those old woods. Recently, a fellow member of the Manchester Field Club told me that the doyenne of local botanists, the late Audrey Franks, discovered this little patch of Dog’s Mercury long before I did.

A few yards further on the leaves of Ramsons (Allium ursinum) appear in the hedge bottom and beyond that Ivy (Hedera helix) appears. I suspect that this mixture of plants implies that this hedge has a complex history and that one end is much older than the other.

A couple of years ago I found a plant called Ivy Broomrape (Orobanche hederae) growing on the Ivy covered bank of a ditch within about 2 miles of this spot.  Broomrapes are parasites which have no chlorophyll and derive all of their nutrients from the roots of their hosts. The plant on the bank is the only Broomrape that I have ever found around here and now I scan every patch of Ivy I encounter for more. I had no luck on this particular day but a few days later Mike Pettipher, of the Altrincham Naturalists, sent me an amazing photograph of a huge patch of Broomrape (probably O. hederae) growing on the banks of the Bridgewater Canal somewhere between Stretford and Manchester city centre. I haven’t had a chance to go and see this plant yet and will probably have to wait until next year now.

And so to Fletcher Moss and a nice cold drink in the park’s excellent cafe.

And then I caught the number 23 bus back to Chorlton.

Dave Bishop, August 2013

Fletcher Moss Gardens in Late May

Recently (23rd May), I walked along the banks of the Mersey from Chorlton to Didsbury. There were plenty of late spring flowers in evidence - but this time I didn't find anything new. Still it's always good to be re-acquainted with 'old friends' in the sites that I'm used to seeing them in year after year.

I ended the walk in Fletcher Moss gardens in Didsbury - which, I have to say, were looking absolutely stunning!

The photograph above is of a general view which is awash with handsome plants and flowers: Rhododendrons, Primulas, Maples, Gunnera, ferns and many others are all in evidence - all looking very healthy and well cared for.

The photo below is of a large patch of, so-called 'Candelabra Primulas'. These are Asiatic relatives of our native Primroses and Cowslips; they differ because their flowers are arranged in several whorls up the stem. I would guess that those in the picture are probably hybrids between two or more species.

I was also pleased to see a Tree Peony with deep crimson flowers (see photo below).

I have known this plant, in this particular spot, for many years and believe it to be a Chinese species called Paeonia delavayi. According to a book on Peonies (see ref.): "[It] originates from the Chinese provinces of Sichuan and Yunnan. It grows in shady moist areas of pine forest, in forest clearings and among scrub at altitudes between 3,050 and 3,650m (10,000 - 12,000ft). It was first discovered by Pere Jean Marie Delavay in 1884. Delavay (1834 - 1895) was a missionary and botanist, who, during his very active life, sent an amazing total of 200,000 dried herbarium specimens to the Musee Mational d'Histoire Naturelle in Paris."

Not only are this plant's flowers very striking but it also has marvellous deeply cut leaves of a very pleasing shape.

So, congratulations to the staff at Fletcher Moss for putting on such a marvellous show!

I'm planning to write a bit more about gardening in my next post.

Dave Bishop, June 2012

Ref: 'The Gardener's Guide to Growing Peonies' by Martin Page, David & Charles, 1997

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Sources

OK, so I said that I was going to write three or four articles in this series ... but this is the sixth! I promise you, though, that this is the last one (apart, that is, from the odd historical snippet that I feel the need to pass on). It's not very exciting, though, as it is a list of sources. So if anyone out there has found this series interesting (?) then, using this list, you might be able to find out a bit more for yourself. It's also, of course, good form to acknowledge one's sources.

Sources:

Altrincham and District Natural History Society, history of: Society’s website (http://www.pettipher.me.uk/altnats/history.shtml)

Material on Bailey, Charles in Manchester Museum Herbarium Department.

Broady, Hilda, ‘Diary, Notes & Drawings of Specimens’, unpublished MS, 1959.

Buxton, Richard, ‘A Botanical Guide to the Flowering Plants, Ferns, Mosses and Algae
Found Indigenous Within Sixteen Miles of Manchester’, Longman And Co, 1849.

Material on Caley, George: Wikipedia Article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Caley)

Coward, T.A., ‘Bird Haunts and Nature Memories’, Frederick Warne, 1922.

Material on Coward, T.A.: Wikipedia Article (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thomas_Coward)

Material on Crowther, James: ‘The Late James Crowther, The Naturalist’ obituary in ‘The
Manchester Guardian’, 13^th January, 1847.

Gaskell, Elizabeth, ‘Mary Barton’, Penguin Library Edition, 1970 (first pub. 1848).

Grindon, Leo, ‘Country Rambles and Manchester Walks and Wild Flowers’, Palmer and Howe, 1882 (omnibus edition of two earlier works).

Manchester Field Club, history of: Society Website (http://www.webspace.mypostoffice.co.uk/~christine.walsh/)

Manchester Microscopical and Natural History Society, history of: Society Website (http://www.manchestermicroscopical.org.uk/mmshist.html)

Material on Harthan, Bess from Exhibition in Mersey Valley, Sale Water Park Visitors’
Centre, 2003.

Lancaster, Roy, ‘In Search of the Wild Asparagus’, Michael Joseph Ltd., 1983.

Percy, John, ‘Scientists in Humble Life: The Artisan Naturalists of South Lancashire’, in
Manchester Region History Review, Vol. V, No. 1, Spring/Summer 1991, ps. 3 - 9.

RSPB, history of: Society Website (http://www.rspb.org.uk/about/history/)

Rochdale Field Naturalists Society, history of: Society Website (http://www.rochdalefieldnaturalistssociety.co.uk/)

Secord, Anne, ‘Science In The Pub: Artisan Botanists In Early Nineteenth-Century Lancashire’,
in History of Science, Vol. 32, September 1994, ps. 269 – 315.

Shercliff, W.H., ‘Nature’s joys are free for all: A History Of Countryside Recreation In
North East Cheshire’, pub. W.H. Shercliff, 1987.

Weiss, F.E., ‘Leopold Hartley Grindon (1818 – 1904)’, North Western Naturalist, Vol. V, 31^st
March 1930, ps. 16 – 22.

Dave Bishop, March 2012

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Part 5

The study of natural history in the Manchester region in the 20^th century does not appear, to my knowledge, to have as been as well chronicled as it was in the century before, and the available material is more diffuse. Nevertheless, several Greater Manchester natural history societies spanned the century and are still active, today, in the second decade of the 21^st century. Examples are the Manchester Microscopical and Natural History Society (founded 1880), the Rochdale Field Naturalists Society (1898), the Bolton Field Naturalists Society (1907), the Altrincham and District Natural History Society (1908) and the Manchester Field Club (1936).

The plantsman, writer and broadcaster, Roy Lancaster (b.1937) joined the Bolton Field Naturalists Society as a schoolboy. He recalled that they “organized lectures each week during the winter and weekend rambles in the summer”. He was initially interested in birds:

“One of my favourite pastimes during summer rambles was to show birds’ nests to members of
the group: I would run ahead of them as they walked along a path, all the while searching for nests in the hedge. When I found a nest, I would climb into the hedge and hold a mirror above the nest so that the members standing below could see a reflection of its contents.”

The young Lancaster’s interest was diverted from birds to plants by a member of the Society, a Yorkshireman named Mr Jackson:

“He was one of those people, rare now, who could put a name to most, if not all, the wild plants we were likely to find on our rambles ... [He] had a fund of stories to tell about plants – he knew their histories and lore as well as their uses in medicine and as food. Mr Jackson knew where plants liked to grow and often told me where to expect to find a particular plant before I actually discovered it for myself”.

Another of his mentors from the Society was the Reverend Shaw (“Vicar Shaw, ‘The Weed King
of the North’!). Lancaster writes:

“Vicar Shaw was an inspiration to me and we spent many happy hours looking for wild plants”.

I never, personally, met Vicar Shaw – but I knew of his reputation as botanist. When I moved to the Manchester suburb of Chorlton-cum-Hardy, in the 1970s, I was very excited to find a rare buttercup (Ranunculus sardous) on Chorlton Meadows – only to learn that Reverend Shaw had found it first!

His early experiences with the Bolton Field Naturalists Society led Lancaster to participate in expeditions to such exotic locations as Nepal, China and Tibet in search of plants and to a distinguished career in horticulture.

Other local naturalists have been less celebrated:

Bess Harthan (1905 – 2002) of Stretford, for example, studied the plants and fungi near her
home and further afield for most of her long life. I remember meeting her in the 1980s dressed, as always, in her walking boots, weather-defying coat and hat and carrying a wicker basket for specimens. On her death her notes and exquisite water colours of her finds were donated to Liverpool Museum.

Recently a loose-leaf folder was found in the archives of Chorlton Civic Society. It contained notes and drawings made by Mrs Hilda Broady during the course of the year 1959. She had selected a spot on Chorlton Meadows (her ‘plot’) and observed the plants and insects which lived on it during the course of that year (it is surmised that this may have been for a teaching project). I posted Mrs Broady’s diary entries on this blog during 2009.

There are still, to this day, many skilled and knowledgeable naturalists within Greater Manchester and I am pleased to know many of them through such organisations as the Manchester Field Club and the Friends of Chorlton Meadows. In spite of the fact that the membership of many of the traditional societies is ageing there are many younger people in the region who take an interest in the natural world around them.

I hope that I have been able to demonstrate that the study of natural history in the Greater
Manchester region has a long and distinguished history stretching back over at least 260 years and is very much a part of the region’s heritage.

Richard Buxton, John Horsefield and their colleague, James Percival are buried in adjacent graves in St. Mary’s churchyard, Prestwich. I have often wondered why there is not some greater memorial to these distinguished local amateur scientists. I can't help feeling that a renewed interest in, and concern for, our local wildlife would provide a more fitting memorial to them than any structure of stone or metal.

Dave Bishop, March 2012

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Part 4

One of Leo Grindon’s near contemporaries was a wealthy Manchester businessman named
Charles Bailey (1838 - 1924), who lived for a time in Whalley Range. In the 1860s Bailey attended evening classes in botany run by William Crawford Williamson, Professor of Natural History at Owen’s College (the successor to the Manchester Royal College of Medicine and predecessor of Manchester University). Inspired by these classes Bailey developed a deep interest in botany. He began to build a herbarium based, initially, on specimens gathered in the South Manchester area. Eventually he conceived the idea of building a collection containing a specimen of every European plant from every country that it grew in (most of these specimens were pre- mounted herbarium sheets, obtained by purchase – rather than specimens gathered in the wild by Bailey
himself). Eventually Bailey accumulated around 300,000 specimens which are now housed in Manchester Museum’s Herbarium Department (along with Leo Grindon’s extensive herbarium). In 1957 Professor Vernon Heywood (himself a Lancastrian) and co-workers were awarded a Science and Engineering Research Council grant to begin work on ‘Flora Europaea’ – a scientific, annotated catalogue of all the plants found growing in the continent of Europe. The project drew on information contained in a number of different herbaria, including Bailey’s. ‘Flora Europaea’ was eventually published, in five volumes, between 1964 and 1993.

In 1889 a group of women in Didsbury, appalled at the barbarous trade in bird plumes used
to decorate women’s hats, founded a society for the protection of birds. This society merged with other, similar, societies in other parts of the UK and eventually, in 1904, was incorporated by Royal Charter to become the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB).

T.A. Coward (1867 – 1933) was a naturalist and ornithologist from Altrincham. He was born
in Bowdon and educated at Brooklands Road, Sale and Owen’s College in Manchester. He acquired an interest in natural history from his father and his uncle, Joseph Sidebotham (Grindon’s associate). He eventually became a full time writer and lecturer on natural history, topographical subjects and folklore and during the First World War acted as Keeper at Manchester Museum. He was a member of most of the important local natural history organisations and in the 1920s became an Extra Mural Lecturer for Manchester University. He was also the first Country Diarist for the (Manchester) Guardian.

Two of his early books were ‘The Birds of Cheshire’ (1900) and ‘The Vertebrate Fauna of
Cheshire’ (1910) – both written in collaboration with his friend Charles Oldham (1868 – 1942), who went on to become a celebrated ornithologist in his own right. Coward’s most celebrated book was probably ‘Birds of the British Isles and Their Eggs’ (1920), which is widely acknowledged to have been the book that did more to popularise the study of birds than any other publication produced during the first part of the 20^th century.

In a poignant passage his book, ‘Bird Haunts and Nature Memories’ (1922) he described the
gradual destruction of Carrington Moss – a great peat bog near Altrincham and a favourite haunt of his boyhood – a place full of plants, insects, reptiles and birds now considered scarce or rare. He went on to relate how, in 1886, the Moss was purchased by Manchester City Council who drained it, ploughed it and dumped Manchester’s ‘night soil’ (i.e. sewage) on it to fertilise it. By the First World War it was more or less converted to farmland.

Thomas Coward was described as “scrupulously accurate in all of his work and a great humanitarian who campaigned against blood sports. His friends said that he was, “a very lovable man, upright, sincere and overflowing with the milk of human kindness.”

Dave Bishop, March 2012

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Part 3

We also learn (from Leo Grindon) of Joseph Evans (1803 – 1874) of Boothstown, who was the son of William Evans of Tyldesley, another self-taught botanist of an earlier generation. From the
age of ten Joseph used to be taken by his father to botanists’ meetings and, “was also his father’s constant companion in the fields.”

Joseph was tall and thin with a “lofty forehead” but:

“A vigorous frame and an admirable constitution enabled him undertake journeys on foot that
to many would be positively affrighting. He knew the contents of every wood and pond within twenty miles of his home ...”

After his death, in 1874, Evans was buried in Worsley churchyard. He was followed to his
grave by over a thousand people, including a hundred and seventy young children, many of them carrying chaplets of midsummer field-flowers.

Finally Grindon discusses John Martin (d. 1855), a handloom weaver, also of Tyldesley.
Grindon records that:

“He was especially well-informed respecting Carices [i.e. Sedges = genus Carex], and first drew the attention of the botanists of Manchester to the richness of the neighbourhood, supplying, in
regard of them, names and localities they knew not of, as well as many facts respecting the botany of Tyldesley.”

Another source tells us that Martin was also interested in mosses. At one stage he visited William Wilson, a ‘gentleman bryologist’ of Warrington, to request confirmation for his identification of a rare moss. Wilson immediately reported Martin’s find to the celebrated botanist, William Jackson Hooker. Wilson remarked that Martin was, “void of conceit and offensive familiarity: intelligent without arrogance: studious yet unassuming.” He confessed his poverty without
shame and had an, “air of decency” about him. Basing his judgement on the parcels of specimens that Martin sent him, Wilson judged that he was, “addicted to neatness”.

Hooker, a professor of botany at Glasgow University, considered employing Martin in his
herbarium.

Unfortunately, on visiting Martin’s cottage in Tyldesley Wilson found it more disordered and
less neat than he had expected and sent an unfavourable report back to Hooker. As a result Martin did not receive a job offer and, in fact, never even got to hear of it!

In the second half of the 19^th century the artisan botanist movement went gradually into decline. The reasons for this decline are not entirely clear but many ‘independent’ trades, such as handloom weaving, had been in decline for most of the century and had been largely replaced by the factory system. Even Buxton found himself without work and income towards the end of his life as clogs replaced bats as children’s footwear. Horsefield became so impoverished that
the Prestwich Botanical Society exempted him from paying his share of the liquor money – but this was seen as fair exchange for his skill at naming specimens.

Other changes were having an effect, for example the temperance movement continued to grow in strength which meant that the societies continued to be criticised for meeting in pubs. In addition there were increasing problems involving land ownership and some of the botanists experienced clashes with land-owners and gamekeepers. At the same time suburbia continued to expand and these tireless walkers had to walk even further to find their plants – even though Richard Buxton, in his 60s, claimed to be able to walk 30 miles a day!

It’s likely that all of these economic and social changes gradually eroded the cohesion of the
movement and the independence of its members.

From the mid-19^th century onwards the study of natural history became more and more a middle class interest. Although he had long supported and championed the cause of the artisan botanists Leo Grindon was also instrumental in promoting an interest in natural history among the middle classes.

Grindon (1818 – 1904) was born in Bristol and developed an interest in botany in his teens.
He moved to Manchester at the age of twenty to take up a post as a cashier with a local company. In the course of his long life he wrote many articles for botanical and horticultural journals and for local newspapers. He also wrote more than fifteen books, mostly on botanical themes. Whilst still holding his post as cashier, Grindon started to give private lessons in botany and in 1852
was appointed as a part-time lecturer at the Manchester Royal School of Medicine. In 1860 he founded, with his friend, Joseph Sidebotham, the Manchester Field Naturalists Society. In 1864 he gave up his post as cashier to concentrate full-time on lecturing and writing.

The Manchester Field Naturalists Society was intended “for ladies and gentlemen who are specially interested in natural history (which includes botany, zoology and geology)and is also open to those who, without paying minute attention to the objects of nature, delight to ramble in the country and find pleasure in the contemplation of its loveliness.” Thus the objective of walking in the countryside for reasons of health and recreation was added to the society’s
strictly scientific objectives.

The Society had a committee of six persons with Grindon as President and Honorary Secretary. Initial subscriptions were one guinea, 10s 6d thereafter (sums which were well beyond the means of working class naturalists). Apart from the relative affluence of its members the main differences between this Society and its working class predecessors were that women were now active participants and that the members could now reach more remote sites, in the countryside
surrounding Manchester, by train. The Society had indoor meetings during the winter and Saturday afternoon excursions at other times of the year.

Similar societies were soon being set up in other parts of the region. Several of these societies continued well into the 20^th century.

Dave Bishop, March 2012

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Part 2

This is the second installment of my series on the study of natural history locally. Some of you may have noticed the weird formatting of the last few posts on here. Google seem to have made some changes to their system which technically challenged people, like me, are struggling with. If there are any techies out there who could help - please get in touch.

Anyway, in the last post I described the meeting between Richard Buxton and John Horsefield on Kersall Moor and how this led Buxton to be inducted into the Artisan Botanist Movement

There is evidence for the existence of a botanical society, in Newton Heath, as early as
1750 and the Eccles and Oldham Botanical Societies were founded in the mid-1770s. In the 1790s George Caley, a farrier from Middleton, John Mellor , a handloom weaver from Royton, John Dewhurst, a fustian cutter of Red Bank and James Crowther, the Manchester porter referred to above, began to meet in pubs and exchange information about their shared passion for plants.

Incidentally, Caley (1770 – 1829) had developed his interest in botany as a result of
exploring the herbal remedies used to treat horses. He corresponded with the distinguished botanist, Sir Joseph Banks who subsequently obtained work for him at Kew and other gardens. Eventually Banks appointed Caley as a botanical collector in New South Wales from where he regularly sent specimens back to Banks together with information about the colony. He added greatly to knowledge of the colony and his botanical specimens constituted a valuable contribution to science.

As the 19^th century progressed the various botanical societies began to adopt a broadly common form and mode of operation. They continued to meet in pubs but members paid a monthly membership fee and part of the accumulated funds was used to purchase reference books. Members were also obliged to bring plant specimens to meetings and these were named, by the particular society’s president, in front of the assembled membership. Members could be fined if they failed to bring plants to a meeting, used foul language, stole specimens or arrived drunk. These meetings were not ‘dry’ though. The publican supplied the room and looked after the society’s library and ‘box’ (of funds). In return he expected the members to spend a reasonable amount on drink in compensation for his trouble (the ‘wet rent’). To the botanists the local
pub was the obvious and natural place to meet. James Crowther remarked that, “my specimens always look best through a glass!”

However some of the botanists’ contemporaries, from further up the social scale, disapproved
of their meeting in pubs. Their main objections were based on the fact that the botanists tended to hold their meetings in pubs on a Sunday (usually their only day of rest); the increasing importance, as the 19^th century progressed, of the temperance movement; and also that pubs tended to be associated with political radicalism. In the decades following the Napoleonic Wars economic turmoil adversely affected and radicalised many working people – particularly in the manufacturing districts. We don’t know how many of the botanist were political radicals but we do know that two of them, Edward Hobson and John Dewhurst, narrowly escaped arrest for their
political activities in 1812. It is known that John Horsefield was a witness to the Peterloo Massacre, in central Manchester in August 1819, and was interested in politics for most of his adult life (although he never joined a political party).

The Manchester author and botanist, Leo Grindon, in his book, ‘Manchester Walks and
Wild Flowers’, defended the artisan botanists’ use of pubs for their meetings in the following passage:

“The meetings ... are held upon a Sunday afternoon, at some respectable tavern, such being
the only place where working men can assemble inexpensively; and though this may seem to some persons detrimental to good order and sobriety, no religious service was ever more decorously conducted.”

In the same book Grindon provided pen portraits of some of the more prominent artisan botanists.

For example George Crozier (d. 1847), a saddler of Shude Hill, was, “... a well-built, portly man, quiet but merry, fond of a joke and a good story, mild and gentle, yet thoroughly independent ...”

In addition:

“Great as was his botanical information, he excelled in a still higher degree as an entomologist and ornithologist; he was acquainted with the shape and habits of every bird and every butterfly, every branch of his knowledge helping him to enlarged success in the prosecution of the others, botany aiding entomology, and entomology facilitating botany. It was his extensive and accurate knowledge of plants that rendered him so expert in finding rare insects, being aware what species the latter feed upon, and familiar with their forms.”

Grindon also recalls an excursion with Crozier, in 1839, to a peat bog, near Blackley,
called White Moss:

“Never shall we forget the genial smile that rippled old George Crozier’s broad, round,
rosy, white-fringed face as ... we stepped with twenty or more under his guidance for the first time upon the elastic peat, and beheld the andromeda and the pink stars of the cranberry, these also for the first time. To Crozier the pretty flowers were as familiar as the hills; ... Among the more remarkable insects then to be captured on White Moss were the showy beetle called Carabus nitens; ... the fox-moth, Lasiocampa rubi, so called from its peculiar foxy colour; and the emperor-moth, Saturnia
pavonia ...”

Dave Bishop, February 2012

The Historical Background to the Study of Natural History in the Manchester Region - Part 1

For some years now I have been interested in this subject and have been collecting information on it. At a time when (what remains of) our region's natural environment is under threat as never before it's rather sad to reflect on how much that natural environment meant to a section of that same region's population in the past. I'm sure that the old naturalists would have been horrified by the wanton destruction going on today, even though many of them lived at the height of the Industrial Revolution - when the natural environment was merely there to be poisoned and polluted in the name of profit. In their day, in the market economy of the time, nature had zero value. In our day all sorts of fancy policies and 'Biodiversity Action Plans' get written but, in reality, nature still has zero value - and our market economy has lots of bigger and 'better' tools to destroy it with.

This series will be in three or four parts (I haven't decided how many yet). I'll add a list of sources to the last part. After that I'm planning to add an indeterminate number of 'notes and digressions' which will allow me to add detail and to expand and amplify some of the subjects raised in the main text.

I hope that you enjoy this material as much as I do and are as intrigued by it as I am.

Elizabeth Gaskell’s novel, ‘Mary Barton’ is set in the Manchester of the 1840s. Chapter 5
begins thus:

“There is a class of men in Manchester, unknown even to many of the inhabitants, and whose
existence will probably be doubted by many, who yet may claim kindred with all the noble names that science recognises. I said ‘in Manchester’, but they are scattered all over the manufacturing districts of Lancashire.”

The passage goes on to state that:

“... the more popularly interesting branches of natural history have their warm and devoted
followers among this class. There are botanists among them, equally familiar with either the Linnaean system or the Natural system, who know the name and habitat of every plant within a day’s walk from their dwellings ... There are entomologists, who may be seen with a rude looking net, ready to catch any winged insect, or a kind of dredge, with which they rake the green and slimy pools; practical, shrewd, hard-working men, who pore over every new specimen with real scientific delight.”

A character in the novel, named Job Legh, is thought to represent a sort of composite of the real-life local amateur naturalists of that time. Mrs Gaskell describes Job Legh’s room thus:

“... the whole room looked not unlike a wizard’s dwelling. Instead of pictures, were hung rude wooden frames of impaled insects; the little table was covered with cabalistic books; and a case of mysterious instruments lay beside ...”

The author also relates an anecdote from the life of Sir James Edward Smith, who travelled
to Manchester in search of a rare plant. He had been directed to consult a handloom weaver in Manchester. Sir James asked his porter if he could direct him to the weaver and it then

transpired that not only did the porter know the weaver-botanist, but was a knowledgeable botanist himself.

It is now known that the porter was James Crowther (1768 – 1847) of Hulme who, among
other accomplishments, contributed to the Manchester physician, John Hull’s ‘British Flora’ of 1799 and John Bland Wood’s ‘Flora Mancuniensis’ of 1840. Crowther appears to have been something of an exuberant ‘free spirit’. He would frequently walk 15 or 20 miles after work in search of plants. At Whitsun he would receive an annual week’s holiday and would walk to the ‘Craven’ district of Yorkshire (i.e. The Yorkshire Dales) so that he could botanise there. Gamekeepers frequently mistook him for a poacher and he had several narrow escapes. On one of his Yorkshire expeditions he was charged by a “savage bull” but managed to scramble to the top of a dry-stone wall before it could trample him.

One of Crowther’s contemporaries was Richard Buxton (1786 – 1865) of Ancoats. Buxton’s
father had been a farmer near Prestwich, but had experienced money problems and sold the farm and moved his family to Ancoats where he became a labourer for the rest of his life. Because of these difficulties Richard received only a cursory formal education and was apprenticed into the Bat trade at the age of 12 (bats were children’s leather shoes). As a small child Richard had been fascinated by the wild flowers which he found in the fields and brick pits around his home.
His first master, James Heap, was an amateur herbalist (a ‘yarb doctor’ in the local dialect) and on Sundays would walk out into the countryside to gather wild plants from which he would make ‘diet drinks’ (probably herbal tonics) for his neighbours. Heap would take Richard on these expeditions which reinforced his interest in plants.

In his teens Buxton became frustrated by his illiteracy and so taught himself to read and write. He then went on to study botany, starting with ‘Culpepper’s Herbal’ and moving on to other books when he could afford to purchase them. In time he became a highly skilled botanist and eventually published a flora of the Manchester region which ran to two editions. He prefaced his flora with an autobiographical sketch, from which the account above was taken, and which I
believe to be an important social document.

In 1826, while botanising on Kersall Moor in Salford, Buxton had a chance meeting with a
man named John Horsefield , a handloom weaver from Besses O’th’ Barn near Prestwich and President of the Prestwich Botanical Society.

Horsefield (1792 – 1854) too was self-educated. As a young man he had read James Lee’s
‘Introduction to Botany’ (1760) wherein he had first encountered the twenty four classes of the Linnaean system. Determined to learn these classes by heart he had written them on a sheet of paper which he had pinned to his loom-post,” so that when seated at my work, I could always have opportunities of looking it over”.

The meeting between these two men served to induct Buxton into a network of artisan botanist societies spread throughout South Lancashire.

Dave Bishop, February 2012

Book Review by Andrew Simpson

Andrew is a keen local historian and has just written an historical account of Chorlton in the period between 1800 and the mid-19th century. Andrew's book should be available in the autumn of this year.

The Book of the Farm by Henry Stephens (first pub. 1844) new edition abridged and edited by Alex Langlands, pub. Anova Books (Batsford Ltd.)2011, (ISBN 13: 9781906388911; ISBN 10: 1906388911), 304 pp., £25:00.

Recently I walked the meadows in the company of David Bishop, and Ingrid Burney. It was one of those conducted tours that Dave and Ingrid do so well. David provided a detailed description of the plant life we encountered and Ingrid retold old folk tales fitting them into our surroundings.

It is easy to take the meadows at face value and assume that what you see is what it always was. But the land has been altered, by land fill tipping and before that by the construction of a sewage works. In fact even before the start of the walk I fell across someone who remembered living in a house by the footbridge across the brook when his father worked at the sewage farm in the 1950s.

Go back another hundred years and the place was different again. Much of the land was pasture and meadow land and was farmed in small parcels by families like the Higginbotham’s who settled in the township in the 1840s and were still here in the 1960s.

Meadowland as David’s is wont to tell you are perhaps one of the finest examples of how to sympathetically use the land. It is a skilled task and involves regularly irrigating the fields so that they can produce early grass for pasture.

I was reminded of this by the republication of 'The Book of the Farm' by Henry Stephens. I first came across it while watching 'The Victorian Farm' on TV and quickly found that it could be downloaded from Google Books has now been reissued by Anova Books as well as being available on Kindle.

It was written in 1844, and ran to countless editions. It was the manual for anyone wanting to be a farmer. Everything is here from what crops to plant and when to how to make a well, as well as sound advice on hiring labourers, the construction of a water meadow, and the best location for the milk house and cheese room. I learned which materials were best for building a farm house and how much I could expect to pay for materials, as well as the most up to date scientific information on planting wurzels.

It was a practical book and so “the cost of digging a well in clay, eight feet in diameter and sixteen deep and building a ring three feet in diameter with dry rubble masonry is only L5 [£5] exclusive of carriage and the cost of pumps.”

He calculated that that two brood sows could produce 40 pigs between them and that retaining six for home use the remaining 34 could easily be sold at market. So many of the smaller farmers and market gardeners in the township might well keep at least one sow and use it to supplement their income. Nor should we forget that these animals were destined for the table and so the slaughter of pigs was best done around Martinmas in early November because “the flesh in the warm months is not sufficiently firm and is then liable to be fly born before it is cured” and doing so in early November had the added advantage that cured hams would be ready for Christmas.

To read Stephens is to step back into the world that was Chorlton in the 1850s and for that alone it is worth making the effort to get a copy.

Andrew Simpson, May 2011