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

Nature and Me

Recently, Manchester Museum have been undertaking a project called 'Nature and Me' (http://naturemanchester.wordpress.com/2013/02/22/tree2yourdoor-for-nature-and-me/).  Local people, who were known to be interested in Nature, were invited to make short films describing their passion for the subject. Participants wrote their own scripts and supplied photographs or other illustrations and the films were made and edited by persons skilled in that art. I took part in this project and was filmed last year, partly at Stockport College and partly in Chorlton. The Producer of my film was a gentleman named Didier DuBois.

This project is now complete and I have been told that a total of 42 films have been made. The project was launched one night last week at the Museum. If you visit the Zoology Gallery you can see all of the films running in continuous loops on three or four screens. For some reason my film, and one other, seem to have found their way on to You Tube; you can see mine here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8O-odLKVJRA

Frankly, I find it a bit embarrassing watching myself on screen but others have told me that they enjoyed the film (Didier should have got someone else to play me though ... George Clooney or Tom Hanks, perhaps?).

Anyway, I bet mine's the only one to mention the 'Scarlet Peony of Constantinople'!


Dave Bishop, 10.03.2013

Mistletoe

 

Mistletoe is, of course, one of those plants associated with Christmas. I had a couple of encounters with Mistletoe during this festive season, but, alas, I regret to report that none of these encounters involved any of the traditional kissing!

I visited my brother and his family in the Norfolk village of Congham near King’s Lynn. As I’ve reported before, this village is located in glorious ancient countryside with at least two nature reserves, of national importance, nearby and old lanes bordered by rich hedgerows and copses of old oaks. I have to report though that the area is becoming increasingly suburbanised and, I imagine, most of its modern inhabitants are commuters who work in nearby towns (perhaps as far away as Peterborough or Norwich). Although I’m sure that many of Congham’s inhabitants do appreciate the quality of their environment, I wouldn’t be surprised to find that many of them just drive through it and never really see it (when I went for walks I rarely encountered anyone on foot – lots of cars speeding through the village though).

Anyway, I digress! My first encounter with Mistletoe was not on a nature reserve, or in a lane, but on an apple tree in the garden of one of my brother’s neighbours; there were three or four plants in the same tree. But the really major sighting was last Thursday (27.12.2012) from the window of the 12:56 train out of King’s Lynn, on my way back to Manchester. In the suburbs of Lynn, in the middle distance, I spotted an urban park bordered by old Lime trees – probably (hybrid) Common Limes (Tilia x europaea). The boughs of many of these trees were conspicuously adorned with the characteristic frozen starbursts of Mistletoe plants; I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much Mistletoe in such a limited area.

The great expert on the British landscape, Oliver Rackham, tells us that: “Mistletoe is a flowering plant usually seen on exotic trees – cultivated apple, hybrid lime, hybrid poplar – with a preference for old specimens ... It has a natural habitat on ancient native trees, especially hawthorns.” He also tells us that there is evidence to suggest that Mistletoe was never a woodland species but a characteristic plant of more open, ancient savannahs. I vividly recall finding it on a Hawthorn bush on the Barnack Hills and Holes nature reserve in Cambridgeshire. It was only after reading Rackham’s book that I realised that I had been afforded a privileged glimpse of a prehistoric landscape!

There is only one species of Mistletoe in Britain: the plant with the scientific name, Viscum album. Worldwide there are many other species, all belonging to the family, Santalaceae.

Mistletoe, like Yellow Rattle which I referred to in the last post, is a hemi-parasite i.e. it derives some of its nourishment from the host tree but also has chlorophyll in its leaves which allows it, like most plants, to synthesise sugars from carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, the process being powered by sunlight. A severe infestation of Mistletoe can actually kill a tree.

Mistletoe seeds are delivered to the host tree by birds. An interesting website, called ‘The Mistletoe Pages: a website about the original mistletoe of western tradition and folklore’ (link below) has more to say about which species of bird are involved:

“[Mistletoe] relies entirely on winter birds for berry, and therefore seed, distribution – so birds are essential. Secondly the white sticky berries of Viscum album are not attractive to many birds – many ignore them as they are looking for red, orange, black or blue berries (mistletoe is the only native British species with white berries) and even if they try them the birds are put off by the super-glue quality of the berry pulp. So which birds do take mistletoe berries? In Britain the answer is largely Mistle Thrushes, whose common name and latin name, Turdus viscivorus, hint at a mistletoe specialism. Other thrushes – including Redwings, Fieldfares etc will also eat the berries. But despite their name Mistle Thrushes aren’t really mistletoe specialists as they occur commonly across the country in areas with no mistletoe, where they will eat many other berries. Furthermore they’re not really very efficient at spreading mistletoe. They usually swallow the whole berry, seed and all, excreting a mass of semi-digested berry pulp and seeds about 30 minutes later. Some of those seeds, still sticky, may stick to a branch where they can germinate. Most will not – often hanging uselessly below a branch. A few other birds will eat mistletoe too, including Waxwings and a few other relatively uncommon species, but the most efficient mistletoe spreading species is the Blackcap. These smart little birds only swallow the berry skin and pulp, wiping each seed off their beak before swallowing – and so they are much more efficient than Mistle Thrushes. Blackcaps in Britain migrate south for the winter, so they have not, traditionally, been a factor in mistletoe distribution in the UK. But changing migration patterns in the last 20-30 years have led to first 100s and now 1000s, of migrant Blackcaps from Germany visiting Britain each winter.”

This website also tells us that the main stronghold for Mistletoe in Britain is in the South and West Midlands, but that the distribution appears to be changing – possibly as either the result of climate change or the changed migration patterns of Blackcaps.

Mistletoe always seems to have been rare or uncommon in the Manchester region. The shoemaker botanist, Richard Buxton, in his flora of 1849, gives only two locations:

“Parasitical upon apple trees. In the neighbourhood of Pilkington and Prestwich.”

Ten years later his contemporary, Leo Grindon reported in more detail:

 “On apple-trees in garden and orchards at Lymm; Warburton; Atherton near Leigh .. Prestwich (also on hawthorns), Knutsford, Baguley and elsewhere, but very sparingly, and generally out of public view or Christmas thieves would have destroyed what little there is.”

Until recently I thought that Mistletoe must be extinct in this region but, amazingly, I now have two sites for it – both in Common Limes in the Didsbury area (I don’t want to be too specific for fear of [modern] “Christmas thieves”!). The photograph above was taken at one of my sites. As Common Limes are - well - common in parks and cemeteries, I can think of plenty of places where it might be worth searching for more local Mistletoe.

Dave Bishop, December 2012.

References:

Rackham, O.  ‘Woodlands’, Collins, 2006.

Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mistletoe

The Mistletoe Pages: http://mistletoe.org.uk/homewp/

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

 

 

Grindon, L. ‘The Manchester Flora’, William White, 1859.

Making a Meadow on Ivy Green

 

 

Species-rich, semi-natural grasslands (e.g. traditional hay meadows) are now some of the rarest habitats in Britain, and they are also some of the most colourful and biodiverse.

Up until the Second World War such grasslands were common – particularly in river valleys. These meadows were full of wild flowers and were at their most glorious in May and June. In late summer they were cut (traditionally using scythes) and the cut grass left to dry in the sun. Once dry, the ‘hay’ was raked into piles, loaded onto horse-drawn carts and dragged away to be stored in barns, eventually to be fed to animals during the winter months.

I don’t suppose many of the old farmers thought too much about the effect they were having on biodiversity (!) Nevertheless, the drying and raking stages helped to spread the wild flower seeds (not to mention the grass seeds) and removing the hay crop kept the nutrient content of the soil on the low side. This may seem counter-intuitive but high nutrient levels lead to the habitat being dominated by a few vigorous species, whereas lower nutrient levels tend to suppress these species whilst giving more delicate species a chance to flourish.

After the Second World War millions of acres of meadowland were ploughed up and planted with crops or turned into species-poor ‘ley’ meadows dominated by Perennial Rye-grass. In the Mersey Valley the ancient meadows were tipped on, turned into golf courses or sports fields or grossly over-grazed by horses. But when I first moved to Chorlton, in the 1970s, there were still small patches of species-rich grassland left, with some of the original meadow flora. The local authorities then committed a series of outrageous acts of crass vandalism by planting trees on many of these precious patches. This was basically a stupid and perverse assault – a bit like gluing a false moustache onto the upper lip of a beautiful woman! It led me to formulate Bishop’s First Law, i.e. an organisation’s knowledge of, or concern for, its local environment is inversely proportional to it propensity to plant trees.   Whenever I walk on Chorlton Ees (i.e. Chorlton Meadows) and see those gloomy, species-poor pseudo-woods that dominate the area now, I mourn for the rich, colourful place that we could have had if the local authorities had known what they were doing.

I have reason to believe that the old local meadows were of a type that ecologists call ‘Alopecurus-Sanguisorba’ – that is meadows dominated by the grass Meadow Foxtail (Alopecurus pratensis)

 

 

 and the herb Great Burnet (Sanguisorba officinalis).
 

 

A defined suite of other species tend to accompany these two dominant ones. A sad, degraded remnant of such a meadow is still just about visible near Sale Water Park.

I was wandering across Ivy Green, one day last June, admiring a large patch of Meadow Foxtail, and thinking, “wouldn’t some Great Burnet look good with that?” Suddenly I stopped in amazement because with the grasses were a few plants of Great Burnet - in a site where I’ve never recorded that species before! Frankly, I can’t explain how they got there and how I had previously failed to spot them. It occurred to me that here was an opportunity to attempt to re-create a Mersey Valley hay meadow.

I asked the Mersey Valley Wardens if they could strim the area in late summer or early autumn. They did so, and then last Sunday (13.10.2012) members of FoCM raked off the hay. This wasn’t too easy because, after all the rain recently, the hay was sodden (luckily we weren’t planning feed it to any animals). One of our members said that raking this soggy mess reminded him of combing the knots out of one of his children’s tangled hair.

Although two of the appropriate species are present on our site, many other key species are missing. In the weeks leading up to our hay raking day I had been gathering appropriate seeds from up and down the Mersey Valley. After we had finished raking, and had removed the hay, I mixed these seeds with some dry sand and broadcast the mixture over the site.

Species I chose included some more Great Burnet plus Bistort, Meadow Buttercup, some vetches and Red Clover and two dandelion look-a-likes: Common Catsear and Autumn Hawkbit. Most important, I added seeds of Yellow Rattle (Rhinanthus minor). This plant is a ‘hemi-parasite’ – which means that although its leaves contain chlorophyll and are green, it also attaches itself to the roots of grasses and steals nutrients from them.  This suppresses the grasses and reduces the competition with the more delicate plants.
 

 

When attempting a project like this it is extremely important to use local seed and not any old imported ‘wild flower mix’. Perhaps I’ll get round to explaining why in a future post. Suffice it to say that, contrary to popular opinion, planting any old ‘wild flower’ seeds in the countryside can be as damaging to local biodiversity as planting the wrong trees in the wrong place.

So, will all of this effort pay off? We’ll have to wait at least until next May to find out – watch this space!

Dave Bishop, October 2012

An Encounter with the Trichomanes Gametophyte

 

On Saturday afternoon I, and some fellow fern enthusiasts, got very excited about a green, fuzzy patch on the wall of a rock crevice. For reasons which will be revealed later, I can't tell you where this was - but it wasn't in the Mersey Valley.

I suppose I'd better explain:

In Britain and Ireland there are three species of, so-called, 'filmy ferns'. These are Wilson's Filmy Fern (Hymenophyllum wilsonii), the Tunbridge Filmy Fern (H. tunbridgense) and the Killarney Bristle Fern (Trichomanes speciosum). These grow in wet, sheltered sites on rock faces - usually in areas with high rainfall. They all have translucent leaves which are only one cell thick (hence the 'filmy fern' name). In the 19th century colonies of the handsomest of these species, T. speciosum, were practically destroyed by fern collectors, and they have never really recovered. At least the colonies of the adult form of T. speciosum - i.e. the spore-bearing or 'sporophyte' stage - have never recovered but, relatively recently, an extraordinary discovery was made. Ferns have a complicated life cycle and before they reach the sporophyte stage go through a 'gametophyte' stage in which a female element is fertilised by a male element. Typical fern gametophytes are usually tiny, heart-shaped scales clinging to rocks or soil.

Around 30 or 40 years ago Donald Farrar, a professor of botany at Iowa State University, discovered that certain American fern species, including filmy ferns, produce 'independent gametophytes' - tiny plantlets that never produce adult sporophytes; they exist in a state of permanently arrested development. He discovered colonies of these independent gametophytes by examing the interiors of rock crevices, fissures and other shady places with a torch (OK - a 'flashlight'!). Unlike typical fern gametophytes, the independent gametophytes of the American filmy fern species, Trichomanes intricatum, are like green mats of thread-like filaments - sometimes covering several square metres. They reproduce via tiny, specialised buds, called 'gemmae', which become detached and dispersed to new locations.

In 1989 Prof. Farrar was on sabbatical leave in Britain and found colonies of the independent gametophyte of T. speciosum here. This discovery prompted further research and such colonies have now been found in several areas of Britain and elsewhere in Europe.

The big question, of course, is how did this phenomenon arise? The American fern expert, Robbin C. Moran, has put forward an extraordinary explanation: Most filmy ferns are tropical species found clinging to trees in rain and cloud forests. Until the middle of the Tertiary period, 35 million years ago, such forests existed in America and Europe. Then the climate began to cool and become more seasonal, culminating in the last Ice Age. A few species hung on as sporophytes in wetter, somewhat warmer areas (like western regions of Britain and Ireland) but in other drier, colder areas they 'toughed out' the climate change by confining themselves to the stable micro-climates in rock crevices and similar places, and arresting their development to their gametophyte stages. So, and I hardly dare write this, those little green patches that we saw on Saturday, and which were not noticed until just over 20 years ago, have probably existed in Britain for millions of years!

The colonies of T. speciosum gametophytes which we found on Saturday looked like thin layers of bright green cotton wool pasted to the rock and we had to use torches to see them (and because of the cramped and awkward conditions my photo is rubbish - well, that's my excuse!).

All stages of T. speciosum are protected by law in Britain and Ireland (it's a Red Data Book species) - which is why I can't tell you where the site is. A passerby asked us what we were looking at and, I'm ashamed to say, we lied and told him that we were looking for mosses. On the bright side, though, by lying we didn't have to kill him and he didn't have to endure my explanation of what a gametophyte is!

Dave Bishop, September 2012

References:

Moran, R.C., 'A Natural History of Ferns', Timber Press, 2004

Rich, T.C.G. & Jermy, A.C., 'Plant Crib 1998', BSBI, 1998

   

Himalayan Balsam - Where It Came From & How It Got Here

In 1937 the climber, explorer and plantsman F.S. Smythe travelled to the remote Bhyundar Valley in the (then) British Protectorate of Sikkim in the Himalayas. In the course of his expedition he noted that, “... where extensive grazing is permitted, the smaller and tenderer plants are soon eliminated and in their place spring up a tall knotweed (Polygonum polystachyum) and an even taller balsam (Impatiens Roylei). Once these two plants have got a hold of the ground, pastureland is permanently ruined and I noticed a number of places in the Bhyundar Valley where this had occurred.”

Those parts of the valley that were not over-grazed were smothered in wonderful displays of wild flowers: Androsaces, Saxifrages, Sedums, Potentillas, Geums, Asters, Gentians and many more.

Polygonum polystachyum, now called Persicaria wallichii, is Himalayan Knotweed; it does occur in Britain, as a garden escape, but doesn’t appear to be particularly common (yet!) but in many American states it’s classified as a pernicious weed.  Its close relative, Fallopia japonica – Japanese Knotweed is a pernicious weed in this country and has a fearsome reputation for being hard to eliminate. 

Impatiens Roylei, now called Impatiens glandulifera, is Himalayan Balsam. It is just as invasive in Britain as it is in its homeland (of Northern India), and probably even more so because here it doesn’t require overgrazing in order for it to take a hold. It is now found all over Britain, along rivers, streams and canals and in damp places and on waste ground.  Whereas the two Knotweeds described above are perennials with extensive and invasive rootstocks, Himalayan Balsam is an annual which regenerates every year by seed. It is reckoned that its seeds can remain viable in the ground for around two years. Once this plant’s long, tear-dropped shaped seed pods are ripe, in late summer, they explode at the slightest touch and fling out seeds with such force that they can travel many yards from the parent plant.

On the Chorlton Ees and Ivy Green Local Nature Reserve Himalayan Balsam is found in abundance along the banks of Chorlton Brook, where the seeds have probably been deposited on the banks following floods. The exploding seed pod mechanism has then allowed the plants to spread out sideways and beyond the confines of the brook’s banks.

The Sunday before last (01.07.2012) members of FoCM attempted to remove as much Balsam as possible from the edge of a small Birch and Willow copse. We chose this site because the copse provides a habitat for a rather scarce species of fern called Narrow Buckler Fern (Dryopteris carthusiana), which we believe it is important to conserve.

So how did I. glandulifera get to the UK and become so invasive? This turns out to be a rather surprising story. It was first introduced into the UK in 1839, when Dr John Forbes Royle, an Indian born British botanist, sent seeds to Kew. By 1855 it was first found growing wild in Hertfordshire and Middlesex. The Manchester botanist, Leo Grindon mentioned it in his ‘Manchester Flora’ of 1859: “The Impatiens coccinea (sic), a tall and weedy plant, with flowers of a dull red colour, is rapidly disseminating itself ...” (I’m not sure where Grindon got that name – but it’s almost certainly yet another defunct synonym for I. glandulifera – and there’s really nothing else that it could be).  So rapidly did Himalayan Balsam ‘disseminate’ itself that by 1932 it was found in 27 out of 112 British Vice Counties (for the purposes of biological recording Britain is divided into standard, approximately equal area zones called ‘Vice Counties’); by 1962 it was found in 47 VCs and by 1993 it was found in 107. This relentless spread was probably due to the fact that the species proved to be very attractive to gardeners - who saw it as exotic looking, attractive and easy to grow (surely, a monumental understatement!).

 During the course of the 19^th century the influential gardener, William Robinson developed his concept of the ‘Wild Garden’. This was, basically, a reaction against Victorian regimented bedding schemes. Robinson was aiming for as ‘natural’ a looking garden as possible. This was mainly an aesthetic concept, and had little to do with wildlife or ecology. In his planting schemes he used many of the plant species that were pouring into Britain from the temperate parts of the world. Among the species that he selected were such ‘horrors’ as Giant Hogweed, Japanese Knotweed and – you guessed it – Himalayan Balsam; and we’re still living with the consequences!

But we can’t blame Robinson alone.  In 2000 Ian D. Rotherham, of Sheffield Hallam University, presented a paper on the spread of Himalayan Balsam to a conference on Ecology in Birmingham. Rotherham, and his colleagues, had initiated a study of the spread of the plant – first in the Sheffield area – and then in the rest of the UK. They published a request for information, from members of the public, in the local and national media (mainly gardening magazines). They received over 200 replies. It became obvious that many people like this plant – and have deliberately spread it! For example:

In 1948 Miss Welch collected seed near Sheffield and released it by a river on the Isle of Wight.

In the 1990s Mrs Norris of Surrey introduced seeds to ‘spare land’, gave them away to a passersby, a work colleague and an Irish market gardener friend, scattered seeds in local woods and took them on holiday to France and Spain (!)

I believe that these stories reveal a worrying attitude to the environment, which may be one of the roots of our present biodiversity problems, and can be summed up thus: “My local environment is of no account, and contains nothing of interest, and I can introduce anything I like into it with no significant consequences.” The remorseless spread of I. glandulifera, and its deleterious effects on local environments all over the UK, demonstrates just how wrong this attitude is!

During his Bhyundar Valley expedition in 1937 F.S. Smythe had the following experience:

“For a little distance we followed a rough shepherd’s track but presently lost it and had to force our way through a wilderness of pink-flowered balsam (Impatiens Roylei) growing fully eight feet tall. Had it not been for the labour we might have appreciated the beauty of these flowers which covered acres of the valley floor in a sheet of bloom; as it was, we were heartily glad to regain the path, dripping with sweat after the unusual exercise.”

It so happens that I know exactly what he meant! A couple of years ago I was making my way from one part of Urmston Meadows to another; this involved negotiating a narrow track – much of which was ankle-deep in mud. To my left was a Himalayan Balsam ‘thicket’ - which was easily eight feet tall.

After a while I encountered a path which entered the balsam thicket, and I assumed that it marked an entrance to a detour around the mud. I followed the path – and after a while realised that it was going downhill and was not a detour. Eventually, I came to the river bank and concluded that the path had probably been made by fishermen. I turned around and then realised that the boots that I was wearing had little traction on the slippery, muddy, upward slope that I was trying to negotiate. I fell over a couple times and generally floundered around in the midst of this tall, impenetrable balsam thicket. After a while I began to imagine the headline: “Body of Chorlton man found on river bank at Urmston.” 

Somehow, though, I survived, and eventually emerged wiser, sweatier and a lot muddier.

Dave Bishop, July 2012

References:

Beerling, David J. and Perrins, J.M., ‘Impatiens glandulifera ROYCE (Impatiens Roylei Walp.)’, Journal of Ecology, 81, 367 – 382, 1993.

Grindon, Leo H., ‘The Manchester Flora’, William White, 1859.

Robinson, William, ‘The English Flower Garden’, Hamlyn ed. 1984 (first pub. 1883)

Rotherham, Ian D., ‘Himalayan Balsam – the human touch’, paper presented to the Institute of Ecology and Environmental Management Conference, Birmingham, 2000

Smythe, F.S., ‘The Valley of Flowers’ Cadogan Books ed. 1985 (first pub. 1938)

Stace, Clive, ‘New Flora of the British Isles’, Cambridge University Press, 3^rd ed., 2010

Gardening in Chorlton

When I moved into my house, near Chorlton Green, in the 1980s, I was delighted by the small garden at the back and threw myself enthusiastically into cultivating it. I concentrated on cottage garden perennials and alpines in sinks and troughs. There were some problems - for example, the garden is north facing, with relatively lower light levels compared with gardens with a more favourable aspect, so some plants I wanted to grow tended to become etiolated and to fall over, whilst others were even reluctant to flower. Nevertheless, I persevered, learned to select plants which suited the conditions, and was generally pleased with the results. Then life intervened! In 1987 I was made redundant for the first time - just as I was in the middle of studying for an Open University degree. I quickly found another job, but settling into it and finishing the dgree took up an awful lot of my energies. Over the next decade or so it was 'just one damn thing after another' (I won't bore you with the details) and it was the garden which bore the brunt and became more and more neglected (in retrospect, a poor decision - as it could have provided me with some solace during the difficult times).

Earlier this year I looked out of the kitchen window onto a dismal tangle of ivy, brambles and nettles and decided to do something about it. Then I received an unexpected windfall and now had the funds to do something about it. I contacted Betel Gardens (ring 07791 808 727 for details) and they sent round a couple of lads to clear the garden so that I had a 'clean slate' to work with. Many thanks to Andy and his mate for a great job! That was back in February, the top photo shows where I was up to in mid-June. The re-discovery of my garden has been an exciting adventure for me (especially as I now have plenty of time to devote to it). I'm tending to concentrate on ferns, this time round, as I am obsessed with them - and they do suit the conditions rather well. Neverthless, there are many shade tolerant, but colourful, flowering plants available which contrast well with the ferns; Foxgloves, Primulas and Hardy Geraniums all work well.

Last Sunday was Chorlton Open Gardens day - and very enjoyable it was too! I walked my legs off in order to visit as many gardens as possible and to share my newly re-discovered passion with my fellow Chorltonians. The gardens varied in size from 'substantial' to yard-sized - but everyone obviously derived huge pleasure from their particular 'patch' and I was impressed by the enthusiasm, knowledge and creativity on display.

One topic which was mentioned frequently was wildlife in the garden. Because I have been spending more time in mine I have, inevitably, noticed more garden wildlife:

As I was cultivating mine, post-clearance, back in March, Jays and Magpies fought a constant aerial battle overhead.

Glancing over the wall at the bottom of my garden, and down into Chorlton Brook, I several times glimpsed the resident Kingfisher (probably Chorlton's most loved inhabitant!).

On one fine evening recently I was sat out eating my tea and a Fox cub jumped up onto the wall and sat watching me.

And last month I noticed, and photographed a Dragonfly perched at the top of a bamboo cane. I'm not sure what species it was - but the closest I can get is a Darter Dragonfly in the genus Libullela (please feel free to tell me if I'm wrong!). For some reason this visitor impressed me the most and it felt like a sort of 'benediction' on all of my efforts to restore the garden.

Dave Bishop, June 2012