Northumberland’s Cheviot Hills have been a major focus of my extracurricular botany outings so far this year. Back in May, we enjoyed a fantastic visit to the Hen Hole and later returned with a group from the Natural History Society of Northumbria for another day of hills, ferns, and mountain flowers. Fast forward a few weeks, and it was time for another trip—this time to a part of the area I’m less familiar with.
The Bizzle Burn is a small waterway that flows down from Bizzle Crags toward Dunsdale in the College Valley. It’s a steep walk, but one that offers plenty for the keen-eyed botanist. The site has drawn attention for centuries due to its rare arctic-alpine flora, interesting ferns, and other botanical gems. This was our second attempt to explore it, having been rained off the hill late last year.
Spoiler – due to an unfortunate phone malfunction, pictures from this trip are somewhat limited. Sadly this included some of the special plants seen during the day. Still, we’ll preserve.
Setting out from our starting point at Cuddystone Hall, the walk to the base of the hill proved highly interesting. Along the path, typical upland grassland species such as Fairy Flax Linum catharticum, Wavy Hair-grass Avenella flexuosa and Wild Thyme Thymus drucei were seen. These are all plants commonly associated with the thin, parched soils of this terrain. On the walls surrounding a farmhouse passed early in the walk, the day’s first ferns made an appearance in the form of Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalens and Wall-rue Asplenium ruta-muraria. The Harebells Campanula rotundifolia were also particularly striking along this stretch.
Slightly more unusual species were encountered in a damp rut about halfway along the trail. The vivid flowers of Bog Asphodel Narthecium ossifragum were an immediate draw, and a closer inspection revealed the characteristic leaves of Round-leaved Sundew Drosera rotundifolia, one of our region’s few carnivorous plants.
Further uphill, a pause to explore the scree slopes yielded a fascinating suite of ferns. The most plentiful was Narrow Male-fern Dryopteris cambrensis, easily recognised by its distinctive wavy pinnae but also recorded were Male-fern Dryopteris filix-mas and several young specimens of the quirky Parsley Fern Cryptogramma crispa. A bit of poking around beneath overhangs revealed both Brittle Bladder-fern Cystopteris fragilis and Polypody Polypodium vulgare.
At the bridge at the foot of the trail leading up the Bizzle, another overhang held a somewhat desiccated example of what I believe to be Delicate Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. trichomanes — a relatively rare relative of the more familiar Maidenhair Spleenwort commonly found on garden walls. A few Common Spotted-orchids Dactylorhiza fuchsii were also growing nearby, and a look at the riverside gravels revealed an interesting variety of willows. These included Purple Willow Salix purpurea, Osier Salix viminalis, Goat Willow Salix caprea, Eared Willow Salix aurita, and Grey Willow Salix cinerea.
Having passed the last vestiges of civilisation, we soon began our walk up the burn, initially passing through heather and areas of acid grassland before following the now stone-dry watercourse the rest of the way. It was tough going in places, and a near miss with a large female Adder certainly livened up proceedings. A few Common Lizards were also spotted along this stretch.
It was around this point that my camera began to malfunction, so photographic evidence is limited. Nevertheless, the plant life in the burn bed was typical for this part of the valley. The montane willowherbs were in full flower, with some attractive examples of Chickweed Willowherb Epilobium alsinifolium found alongside Alpine Willowherb Epilobium anagallidifolium and the non-native New Zealand Willowherb Epilobium brunnescens. Also of note was a lingering patch of Pale Forget-me-not Myosotis stolonifera, another local speciality. A suite of species more commonly associated with woodland was also encountered, including Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage Chrysosplenium oppositifolium, Wood Crane’s-bill Geranium sylvaticum, and Wood Sorrel Oxalis acetosella.
Chickweed Willowherb Epilobium alsinifoliumAscending the Bizzle Burn
Befitting my newfound obsession with ferns, it was the pteridophytes that proved most interesting at these lofty heights. The day’s target species, Northern Buckler-fern Dryopteris expansa, was eventually located after considerable effort tucked among its preferred scree habitat. The diversity of other species present was impressive as well and, in no particular order, included common types such as Broad Buckler-fern Dryopteris dilatata, Narrow Male-fern Dryopteris cambrensis and Hard-fern Blechnum spicant, along with some altogether scarcer finds: Oak-fern Gymnocarpium dryopteris, Parsley Fern Cryptogramma crispa, and Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri. The latter was a bit of a surprise, as I’ve always associated it with woodland – but who knows!
An assortment of fernsBorrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreriNarrow Male-fern Dryopteris cambrensisOak-fern Gymnocarpium dryopterisParsley Fern Cryptogramma crispa
At the top of the burn, we eventually emerged into a vast, open corrie at the foot of Bizzle Crags. This is where many of the more interesting plants are known to grow, though oddly, we struggled to locate several of the anticipated targets – including Alpine Clubmoss and Fir Clubmoss – and some others were well past their best due to the heat, particularly the Mossy Saxifrage.
That said, Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis was a pleasing find among the scree, and a scramble up to a damp ledge yielded some interesting discoveries, including Butterwort Pinguicula vulgaris and Viviparous Sheep’s-fescue Festuca vivipara. I had considered continuing higher, but by this point, my legs were beginning to protest. The 1970s record of Green Spleenwort will have to wait for another day…
Viviparous Sheep’s-fescue Festuca viviparaGoldenrod Solidago virgaureaUp, up we goBeech Fern Phegopteris connectilis
We ended our hike at the corrie, opting not to follow the burn further on this occasion. A walk beyond that point will have to be saved for a cooler day, I think. Still, the descent via a slightly different route added plenty to the plant list and offered some truly stunning views.
In my opinion, this walk isn’t quite as botanically diverse as the Hen Hole, but it’s a beautiful route nonetheless and well worth doing if you find yourself with a day to spare.
For our next plant profile, we’ll take a closer look at one of my favourite ferns – the delicate and beautiful Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis. This is a rather uncommon species in the North East but one which I have been encountering more frequently thanks to my ongoing Big Fern Challenge. Now seemed like a good time for a closer look.
Beech Fern
Phegopteris connectilis
Beech Fern is not a species many of us will encounter regularly – unless you’re lucky enough to live in parts of Scotland or perhaps Wales.
This delicate and attractive fern tends to grow in special habitats, including ancient woodlands dominated by Sessile Oak and on shaded, humid gully sides where base-rich water seeps through. Locally, I have found it in both habitats, though the greatest concentrations are nestled among boulder scree in upland areas or tucked away in permanently damp, humid spots around waterfalls and burns. Beech Fern is known to be intolerant of grazing and is therefore often found in places out of reach of passing sheep or deer.
Surprisingly, it is seldom found under Beech trees as it avoids overly acidic substrates, favouring instead neutral to mildly acidic.
Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis spotted at Hen Hole in the Cheviots
Upon further reading, I discovered that Beech Fern has a rather interesting history. It was first reported by Bobart as far back as 1699, who – using typically lengthy Latin – named it Filix minor Britannica pelliculo pallidore alis inferioribus deorsum spectantius. Quite a mouthful, but the name roughly translates to “a small British fern with pale green fronds and downward-pointing pinnae.” Even today, this description remains remarkably accurate!
The name Phegopteris connectilis is a combination of Greek and Latin terms. Phegopteris comes from the Greek words phegos meaning “Beech” and pteris meaning “fern”, describing a fern associated with beech trees. The specific epithet connectilis is Latin and translates “fastened together”.
Although uncommon in lowland areas, the distribution of Beech Fern is considered stable by the BSBI, with new sites being discovered on the edges of its Scottish and Welsh populations. While it may have declined slightly in England, it can still be found in most of its historic haunts.
Unfurling Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis spotted at Hen Hole in the Cheviots
In terms of its associates, Beech Fern commonly grows alongside Oak Fern Gymnocarpium dryopteris in ancient woodland but in the uplands, may often be found alongside Brittle Bladder-fern Cystopteris fragilis on damp ledges, and in scree alongside Mountain Male-fern Dryopteris oreades.
Identification
Phegopteris connectilis is an easy plant to identify. It is a small, rhizomatous species that can form dense, spreading colonies in suitable habitats. Telling it apart from other ferns shouldn’t be a problem if you focus on a few key features.
Firstly, unlike any other British fern, the pinnae are winged – meaning they’re connected to the rachis along their entire length. This is the origin of the specific epithet connectilis.
Secondly, take a close look at the lowest pair of pinnae. These are opposite, backward-facing, and angled at about 90° to each other. They typically stand erect – resembling a pair of rabbit ears!
That’s all there is to it with this one.
Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis at Hareshaw Linn, Northumberland
Distribution
In the North East, Beech Fern is an uncommon species. As the orange dots indicate, it hasn’t been recorded at many of its historic sites since the turn of the millennium.
Nevertheless, the species persists in several locations, with notable clusters in the Kielder and Cheviot areas of Northumberland, as well as in the North Pennines of County Durham. It can also be found along watercourses and in remnants of ancient woodland along the River Tyne, from Haltwhistle to Hexham.
Given the lack of recent records, it seems reasonable to conclude that Beech Fern has been lost from most lowland areas of the region.
Phegopteris connectilis in the The ferns of Great Britain and Ireland (Plate IV)
Fresh from our recent visit to Falcon Clints, last week, I had the pleasure of returning to Upper Teesdale – this time as part of the Botanist’s Year course I’m leading for the Natural History Society of Northumbria. This walk was a little less strenuous than our previous outing and took us from Bowlees, past Low Force, and on to the spectacular High Force waterfall. Along the way, we encountered a variety of fascinating plants and as ever, this blog will list just a few of the highlights.
One of the things I adore most about Teesdale is the abundance of GlobeflowerTrollius europaeus. There is just something about these plump, yellow, spherical blooms that makes me feel inextricably happy. Perhaps that joy comes from the plant’s tendency to grow in particularly special places, often in rugged upland areas?
Closely associated with limestone, Globeflower favours damp, open habitats along rivers and on mountain slopes. Along the Tees, it is remarkably abundant, and almost as soon as we reached Low Force, we were treated to a fine display.
Having spent more than enough time admiring the Trollius, we soon set off along the banks of the Tees. In these early stages of the walk, we encountered several other interesting plants, including Rock Whitebeam Sorbus rupicola and Dark-leaved WillowSalix myrsinifolia, two of the area’s more notable trees. We also came across several more commonplace species including Bitter-vetchLathyrus linifolius and Wood Crane’s-bill Geranium sylvaticum.
Than admiring some Globeflower
Far more striking during these early stages were the orchids, which, thanks to some long-overdue rain, were now flourishing. Early-purple OrchidsOrchis mascula are usually plentiful along the riverbanks here, but most (aside from the fine specimen below) were now past their best. In their place, the summer species were beginning to take over, including a large population of Heath Spotted-orchidDactylorhiza maculata and several smaller populations of Northern Marsh-orchidDactylorhiza purpurella.
We also observed signs of hybridisation between the latter two species, which had produced several pale-pink, intermediate specimens. These may well turn out to be the hybrid Dactylorhiza × formosa, though I’m not entirely certain. Orchids are a rather difficult bunch…
Early-purple Orchid Orchis masculaTaking a punt on Dactylorhiza x formosaHeath Spotted-orchid Dactylorhiza maculata
Orchids aside, the banks of the Tees are an excellent place to spot all manner of colourful and interesting plants, including several of the area’s specialities. On our way to the midpoint at Holwick Bridge, we were pleased to encounter Common Butterwort Pinguicula vulgaris, Alpine BistortBistorta vivipara, and a handful of Bird’s-eye PrimrosePrimula farinosa that had not yet gone over.
Common Butterwort Pinguicula vulgarisAlpine Bistort Bistorta viviparaBird’s-eye Primrose Primula farinosa
Arguably more interesting during this leg of the trip were several superb examples of Shrubby Cinquefoil Dasiphora fruticosa. A species of damp rock ledges and riverbanks subject to periodic flooding, this is an incredibly rare native plant whose distribution maps are distorted by escapes from cultivation. In fact, it is more commonly encountered as a garden escapee – often from supermarket car parks – but in the wild, it occurs in Teesdale and just a select few other locations. With its vibrant yellow flowers, it is quite the attractive plant.
As we neared Holwick Bridge, several more noteworthy plants caught our attention. First came a lovely brace of Common TwaybladeNeottia ovata – not the most eye-catching of orchids, I admit – and later, an exciting duo of horsetails. Wood HorsetailEquisetum sylvaticum was easy to spot thanks to its distinctive, feathery branches. The second, Shady HorsetailEquisetum pratense, took a bit more effort to identify.
Once you get your eye in, it has a fairly distinctive appearance, with its branches swept to one side in a somewhat Trump-esque fashion. It is an uncommon plant in England, with the majority of the national population found in Scotland.
In the near area, we also encountered a flowering patch of Common BistortBistorta officinalis.
Common Twayblade Neottia ovataShady Horsetail Equisetum pratenseCommon Bistort Bistorta officinalis
Beyond the bridge and onwards towards High Force, the flora began to shift, with lush riverside vegetation gradually giving way to JuniperJuniperus communis scrub. It was disheartening to see that many of the junipers were blighted by disease – presumably the much-malignedPhytophthora austrocedri. Still, despite this, we were pleased to spot some cheerful Mountain PansiesViola lutea, and the scenic views were certainly not to be scoffed at.
Mountain Pansy Viola luteaHigh Force
The surroundings of High Force itself proved interesting, particularly due to the variety of ferns present. While we didn’t manage to find the hoped-for Mountain Male-fern Dryopteris oreades, we did come across some fine examples of Narrow Male-fernDryopteris cambrensis. Better still was Lemon-scented Fern Oreopteris limbosperma, with its distinctive tapering fronds and subtle citrus aroma.
We also found some attractive Beech FernPhegopteris connectilis, and a brief look at the insect life proved rewarding. A fleeting glimpse of a Broken-belted BumblebeeBombus soroeensis – sadly too quick for a photo – was followed by several rather more obliging Gypsy Cuckoo BumblebeesBombus bohemicus.
After saying our goodbyes to the group, Matt and I decided to make the most of the day by setting out in search of yet more ferns (by this stage, you may be noticing a bit of a trend this year). High on our agenda was an abandoned quarry on the opposite bank of the Tees, not far from the paid entrance to High Force.
Following in the footsteps of John Durkin, who recorded several interesting species here in 2023, we set about exploring the quarry walls – and were rewarded with some noteworthy finds.
Among the more common ferns were Wall-rueAsplenium ruta-muraria and Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalens. More exciting, at least for this budding pteridologist, were RustybackAsplenium ceterach and Delicate Maidenhair Spleenwort Asplenium trichomanes subsp. trichomanes – two species I see far too infrequently for my liking.
Among the larger ferns, one in particular caught my eye due to its noticeably extended dark blotches at the junction of the costa and the rachis. My hunch was that this might be a new species for us – Alpine Male-fern Dryopteris lacunosa – however, as I wasn’t yet fully familiar with the species, we chose to leave it unidentified for the time being.
Happily, once photos were shared with John Durkin, he appeared to confirm my suspicion. We’ll need to check in again to be sure, but this could well represent the first record of D. lacunosa for Upper Teesdale – how exciting, and what a fitting note on which to end this little blog.
For those interested, I share further musings on Dryopteris lacunosa [here].
Last week, I visited an abandoned quarry in Upper Teesdale and found myself puzzling over an unusual-looking fern. It seemed to resemble both Borrer’s Male-fern Dryopteris borreri and the Common Male-fern Dryopteris filix-mas, but something didn’t feel quite right – at least to my novice eyes.
The main point of confusion was the distinctive ‘dark spot’ at the base of the costa which typically helps identify the scaly male-ferns. In this specimen, the spot was unusually extensive and, on the underside of the pinna, extended some way up the costa. From my hazy recollection, in D. borreri, this spot is usually fairly faint and confined to the point where the pinna meets the rachis.
Beyond that, I was stumped. Aside from snapping the photos below, I decided to leave it there. However, having revisited a few Facebook posts from local botanist, John Durkin, mentioning that same feature in another species, Alpine Male-fern Dryopteris lacunosa, I am beginning to wonder…
Unknown Dryopteris from Upper Teesdale
After a deep dive on the internet, I found relatively little information about Dryopteris lacunosa. It appears to be a fairly recent split from the Dryopteris affinis aggregate and has only recently started to be recorded in parts of the UK. From what I can gather, most records are concentrated in Cumbria, western Scotland, Wales, and southern Ireland. Pleasingly, however, the species has now been recorded at a few select sites in North East England – thanks to the efforts of recorders far more knowledgeable than I.
One of these sites, Blaydon Burn, lies just a short distance from home so with a day off work, I thought I’d try to seek it out for myself.
Dryopteris lacunosa at Blaydon
The most helpful information I’ve found on Dryopteris lacunosa comes from an excellent page by Roger Golding, which includes images highlighting the key features to look out for – most notably, that extended dark blotch on the costa. A very informative online talk by Alison Evans offers further insight, mentioning additional traits such as the distinctive double teeth, funnel-shaped gaps between the teeth, and the long stalks on the pinnae. A third mention, on a blog by the Kirkcudbrightshire Botany Group, echoed many of these points. All of it made for very useful reading on the bus to Blaydon!
Blaydon Burn Nature Reserve was entirely new to me, but with its steep, well-vegetated banks lining the burn, it immediately looked promising for ferns. And indeed, it delivered with plenty of Male-fern, Borrer’s Male-fern, and Broad Buckler-fern Dryopteris dilatata noted, along with Hard-fern Blechnum spicant, Lady-fern Athyrium filix-femina, and Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatum. All species one can expect to encounter in Tyneside’s humid denes.
The first interesting fern (pictured below) came about 15-minutes into the walk…
Possible Dryopteris lacunosa showing extensive dark spotUpperside of the pinnules showing teethThe whole plant
In the individual pictured above, the dark mark at the junction of the costa and rachis was extremely pronounced extending, in some cases, a good inch up the stem. In this neck of the woods, that would suggest either D. borreri or D. lacunosa (it certainly wasn’t D. affinis). If you look closely at the zoomed-in image below, you can also make out double teeth on the auricles (the ‘ear’ or lobe at the base of the pinnule). These were distinctive in some cases but rather variable, and certainly not present on all of the lowest pinnules I examined.
The gaps between the teeth were even less clear-cut, and I must admit this isn’t an area I’m particularly familiar with. That said, in many instances, they could reasonably be described as funnel-shaped, though I do rather like the ‘fjord-shaped’ description mentioned in the video linked above.
A closer look at those teeth
After pottering further into the woods, I came across two more promising individuals on a slope among patches of both D. filix-mas and D. borreri. In these specimens, the dark marking was even more extensive and far more convincing. The pinnae stalks also appeared longer, and at least some double teeth were clearly visible. I still can’t quite wrap my head around the reference to ‘islands’ in this resource, but otherwise, the features seemed to line up well.
Possible Dryopteris lacunosa #2and #3A more impressive dark spotFunnel-shaped teeth?The most extensive of the dark markings
The fourth and final candidate I found was a small, immature specimen perched above an eroded area further up the bank. Most of its fronds had yet to develop the characteristic dark mark, but on one mature frond, the blotch was incredibly extensive – more so than I’ve seen on any fern before. This feature alone was more convincing than the presence of double teeth, though the auricles on the more mature frond were clearly toothed as well.
Possible Dryopteris lacunosa #4Dark marking extending up costaThe whole plant
Having spent a good few hours now examining collected fronds and poring over photos from the trip, I feel reasonably confident that I’ve found something different from the ferns I usually encounter. After comparing my specimens to images associated with accepted records of Dryopteris lacunosa in the local area, I’m cautiously optimistic that this may, in fact, be it. That said, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if I’m mistaken – ferns are a notoriously tricky group, and despite the time I’ve been dedicating to learning them, they continue to frustrate me no end. If, by chance, a proper pteridologist stumbles across this post, please do feel free to correct me!
As for my original Teesdale fern – the jury is still out. The dark spot is certainly promising, but the absence of double teeth (or lobes, for that matter, as seen in Roger Golding’s images) is a bit disconcerting. I won’t be submitting a record for that one unless someone with more expertise can weigh in and help clarify things.
I love Hareshaw Linn, so much so have that I have written about the plants there several times on this blog (see here and here). There is just something about remote but lovely dene, with its ancient woodland flora and impressive waterwall that makes me incredibly happy. Despite frequent visits, each time I travel there I manage to see something new and worth talking about so, despite a little repetition, here we are again!
Last weekend, Matt and I had run out of ideas for new places to visit in the local area, so with ferns in mind, we decided to return to our favourite local haunt for a walk along the Hareshaw Burn. Setting out from Bellingham, the walk into the dene was fairly uneventful, apart from the appearance of Downy CurrantRibes spicatum in scrub near the car park and an impressive patch of Good-King-Henry Blitum bonus-henricus in grassland about 100 metres into the walk. Both are elusive plants in the area.
Good-King-Henry Blitum bonus-henricus
Reaching the dene, we were immediately greeted by a burst of colour from countless woodland flowers, a welcome change given our tendency to visit later in summer, when most of the blooms have faded. The bluebells and anemones had long since passed, but in their place we found plenty of SanicleSanicula europaea, along with Wood Crane’s-billGeranium sylvaticum and Water AvensGeum rivale. Slightly more interesting was the presence of several patches of Hybrid AvensGeum × intermedium, distinguishable by its yellow colouring inherited from its other parent, Wood Avens Geum urbanum.
A little further into the dene, these relatively common woodland flowers faded into insignificance with the discovery of perhaps the day’s most exciting find: Herb-parisParis quadrifolia. This rare and rather special plant typically grows only in the high quality woodlands and it is a joy to behold under any circumstances. I seem to be on a lucky streak with this species, having already encountered it this year at Letah Woods and Morpeth. However, while I knew it existed somewhere in the area, the Hareshaw population was entirely new to me. We came across a great many plants scattered across an area of about five metres, though realistically there could have been many more.
Prying ourselves away from the Paris, the next portion of the walk brought a few other interesting woodland plants. Common Cow-wheat Melampyrum pratense was a particularly nice find, and a species I rarely encounter, and plenty of Yellow PimpernelLysimachia nemorum was also seen along the path edges.
The grasses too were well worth a look with several ancient woodland indicators found in good quantity. By far the most abundant was False BromeBrachypodium sylvaticum, but we also noted Hairy-brome (Bromopsis ramosa), Wood MelickMelica uniflora and Giant FescueSchedonorus giganteus. The most interesting grass, however, was Wood FescueDrymochloa sylvatica. This rare species is limited in distribution to just a few parts of the UK, where it grows on near-vertical cliffs, rocky slopes and beside waterfalls. Northumberland supports one of the largest populations, with a strong concentration of sites along the River Tyne.
But what about the ferns? The steep-sided banks of the Hareshaw Burn and Hareshaw Linn are notable for supporting a range of uncommon – and in some cases, extremely rare – ferns. As we wandered along, we spotted many of the more commonplace species with relative ease, including Broad Buckler-fernDryopteris dilatata, Lady-fernAthyrium filix-femina, Borrer’s Male-fernDryopteris borreri and Male-fernDryopteris filix-mas.
Much more exciting, however, was the presence of two rather uncommon ferns typically associated with shaded, humid woodlands like this: Beech FernPhegopteris connectilis and Oak FernGymnocarpium dryopteris. Both are found predominantly in upland areas and tend to grow in moist, undisturbed settings, often on steep banks. Beech Fern in particular is a striking plant, easily recognised by its erect and distinctive ‘rabbit ear’ leaflets, which set it apart from all other species.
Oak FernGymnocarpium dryopterisBeech FernPhegopteris connectilisOak FernGymnocarpium dryopterisBeech FernPhegopteris connectilis
Also of note on the fern front was a small buckler-fern found on a steep bank beside the path. On closer inspection, it turned out to be Narrow Buckler-fernDryopteris carthusiana – a species I must admit to having overlooked on all my previous visits to the site. It can be distinguished from the larger and more abundant Broad Buckler-fern by its uniformly pale scales and its rhizomatous habit, with fronds pointing in separate directions. This contrasts with the typical shuttlecock appearance of the latter species.
We also recorded Hard Shield-fernPolystichum aculeatum along this stretch, but failed to find the hoped-for Lemon-scented Fern Oreopteris limbosperma.
Narrow Buckler-fernDryopteris carthusianaNarrow Buckler-fernDryopteris carthusiana showing pale scales
Eventually, we reached the picturesque waterfall at Hareshaw Linn and after a spot of lunch, set about exploring the ferns growing on the steep limestone cliffs nearby. The rarest fern on site turned out to be the easiest to find, with hundreds of specimens of Lobed Maidenhair SpleenwortAsplenium trichomanes subsp. pachyrachis spotted during our short visit. I’ve written about this attractive little fern before, but suffice it to say that Hareshaw Linn is the only place in Northumberland where this subspecies can be seen.
Also present on the falls, though far rarer, was Green SpleenwortAsplenium viride – seen clinging to the cliff face. This species appears to be just barely hanging on here. Brittle Bladder-fern Cystopteris fragilis was thankfully more widespread and added a final touch of interest before we turned for home.
Back in 2023, I was lucky enough to visit the Hen Hole for the first time, spending a riveting day exploring the rare arctic-alpine plants found in this spectacular gorge in the Cheviots. Although we saw a great deal during that visit, we missed many of the more elusive species that make this place so special. Ever since, I’ve wanted to return and and last week, the opportunity finally came.
Accompanied by Sacha Elliot, and having purchased a parking permit that allowed us to halve the otherwise long walk from Hethpool, we set out from the Mounthooley Bunkhouse in the College Valley. Our goal was to reach the Hen Hole and continue a bit further onto the montane slopes surrounding The Cheviot. We succeeded, spending an enjoyable five hours exploring the flora of this diverse, beautiful, and rugged corner of Northumberland with seven distinct target plants in mind.
The text below aims to summarise the visit – I’ll try not to let it get too long!
Setting out from Mounthooley, the first half-hour of the walk was fairly uneventful, at least until we reached the large open area about 0.5 km before the initial ascent into the Hen Hole. Just look for a sea of Hare’s-tail Cottongrass Eriophorum vaginatum and you can’t go far wrong here!
Here, the rocky banks of the College Burn held much of interest, as did the smaller, moss-strewn islands within the main channel – the plants in this area presumably comprising a mix of resident species and others washed down from higher up the valley. One notable find was Narrow Male-fern Dryopteris cambrensis, along with various commonplace heathland species that I encounter far too rarely in the lowlands: Heath Bedstraw Galium saxatile, Heath Milkwort Polygala serpyllifolia, Heath Rush Juncus squarrosus and others.
Even more exciting were the less frequent species shown below. The beautiful Starry Saxifrage Micranthes stellaris was abundant on the riverside rocks, while small pockets of Parsley Fern Cryptogramma crispa clung to areas of boulder and erosion. This is a species listed on the Rare Plant Register for North Northumberland. We even came across an entirely new plant for me (well, sort of) in the rarer subspecies of Thyme-leaved Speedwell Veronica serpyllifolia subsp. humifusa, growing among the moss. This is a plant largely confined to permanently moist upland habitats an differs markedly from the common form often seen in urban settings.
Nearby, the mossy islands in the channel were adorned with Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage Chrysosplenium oppositifolium.
Moving at a botanist’s pace towards the valley (in practice, only marginally quicker than a snail), another thing that quickly became apparent was the abundance of plants typically associated with older woodland. I have already mentioned Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage, but also present were Greater Wood-rush Luzula sylvatica, Bluebell Hyacinthoides non-scripta, Wood-sorrel Oxalis acetosella, Wood Sage Teucrium scorodonia and Bugle Ajuga reptans, alongside the pretty Wood Crane’s-bill Geranium sylvaticum shown below. All of these added a welcome touch of colour along the initial leg of our journey.
Wood Crane’s-bill Geranium sylvaticum
The Hen Hole walk truly becomes interesting once you begin your ascent into the gorge. Here, areas of scree, steep-sided cliffs and boulder fields conceal much of interest. Ferns are especially diverse and with some care, rarities can be found including Mountain Male-fern Dryopteris oreades and Northern Buckler-fern Dryopteris expansa. We succeeded in locating the former, identifiable by its sori which cover less than half of the pinnule surface. Despite our efforts, however, we were unable to find the buckler-fern. Not an ideal start, but a good reason to return.
Other ferns present among the scree included Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis and Parsley Fern Cryptogramma crispa, alongside a range of more familiar species such as Male-fern Dryopteris filix-mas and Broad Buckler-fern Dryopteris dilatata. Areas within the splash zone of the waterfalls held more Starry Saxifrage, as well as Common Butterwort Pinguicula vulgaris and two notable willowherbs: the non-native New Zealand Willowherb Epilobium brunnescens and the rare native Alpine Willowherb Epilobium anagallidifolium. Also present were other attractive upland species including Goldenrod Solidago virgaurea and Bog Asphodel Narthecium ossifragum.
Mountain Male-fern Dryopteris oreadesMountain Male-fern Dryopteris oreadesCommon Butterwort Pinguicula vulgarisParsley Fern Cryptogramma crispaWaterfalls proved to be a botanical hotspotBeech Fern Phegopteris connectilis
No trip to the Hen Hole would be complete without a moment to pause and admire the Three Sisters waterfall, a striking landmark popular with visitors and, for many, the end point of their walk.
The Three Sisters – seemingly the point most visitors decide to turn back
Having passed the Three Sisters and clambered further up the valley, new plants began to appear thick and fast. Common species included Water Avens Geum rivale, Cowberry Vaccinium vitis-idaea and Crowberry Empetrum nigrum. Upon reaching the plateau, we found the Heath Spotted-orchids Dactylorhiza maculata we had observed two years earlier in full flower once again.
Further interest was found in rocky areas and atop boulders where several fine specimens of the curious Fir Clubmoss Huperzia selago were growing. This is another rare species in Northumberland, confined to a handful of remote upland settings. Nationally, it is typical of montane grasslands, and one I have encountered only a few times before in similarly inaccessible places.
After reaching the top of the corrie and taking in the impressive views back down the valley, we located the first of our target species: Alpine Clubmoss Diphasiastrum alpinum, by far the most unassuming of the day’s intended plants. One down, five to go!
The next plant on our hitlist was a real beauty, and another new species for me. Roseroot Rhodiola rosea is a perennial, succulent herb of sea cliffs and rock crevices on moist mountain ledges. As a native, it is confined entirely to such habitats, with the Hen Hole population being the only one in Northumberland. After breaking out the trusty GPS, it did not take long to find three plants growing in a series of rather inaccessible locations. As you can see from the photo below, it is quite a striking plant.
Nearby, we also noted another of our target species in Viviparous Sheep’s-fescue Festuca vivipara (not quite as striking, I admit) as well as more Beech Fern and higher up, a lovely patch of Mossy Saxifrage Saxifraga hypnoides – a plant that reminds me a little of fried eggs and was indeed the fourth of our target species for the day.
Having finished exploring along the burn, we set our sights a little higher, aiming to find what is easily the most exciting plant in the Cheviots – at least for keen botanists. With this in mind, we began to slip up the grassy slopes of the mountain, clambering to around 700 metres in 50 mph winds. Quite the experience, I tell you. Even though it was amusing to see Sacha literally blown to the ground, I would not recommend anyone attempt the same in such conditions.
The special plant in question is, of course, Alpine Foxtail Alopecurus magellanicus – a rather small but endearing grass of oligotrophic springs and flushes in upland areas. The population here is particularly important as it represents the only known site for the species in Northumberland, although the plant is somewhat more widespread in parts of Scotland. After some pained climbing, I am pleased to say that we found it.
The view from higher upAlpine Foxtail Alopecurus magellanicusAlpine Foxtail Alopecurus magellanicusMuggins, complete with Alpine Foxtail Alopecurus magellanicus
Having spent an enjoyable yet windy ten minutes in the company of the foxtail, all that remained was to climb down the slope and retrace our steps down the valley. However, another surprise awaited us on the way: Globeflower Trollius europaeus. This is a species I am used to seeing in areas of County Durham, especially Upper Teesdale, but I had yet to lay eyes on it in my own home county. The species is known from the Cheviots, though it was last recorded here by the legendary George Swan back in 1975. After checking with my fellow recorder for North Northumberland, this sighting turned out to be an exciting refind of a special plant not seen in quite some time.
I admit it seems we found it purely by chance – there was only one flower on the entire hillside as far as we could see, growing near more Alpine Clubmoss and Fir Clubmoss.
Sacha and her Globeflower Trollius europaeusGlobeflower Trollius europaeus
Following the Globeflower, the walk back down the valley was fairly relaxed. We paused to admire a Peregrine, took another look at the burnsides, and explored a few new crags where we added two new species to the day’s list: Common Polypody Polypodium vulgare and Brittle Bladder-fern Cystopteris fragilis — both common on remote rock faces. We made it back to the car about an hour later, content with our haul and pleased that the trip had succeeded without any wind-related mishaps.
In total, we found five of the seven species we set out to locate at the start of the trip including Alpine Clubmoss, Alpine Foxtail, Roseroot, Viviparous Sheep’s-fescue and Mossy Saxifrage. The Northern Buckler-fern proved too much of a stretch on this occasion, and we also missed the rare Alpine Saw-wort Saussurea alpina, known here for many years. Oh well, that alone is reason enough to return soon.
For those looking to learn more about the Hen Hole and the special plants found in this part of the Cheviots, a helpful report by Chris Metherell can be found here.
Upper Teesdale is a truly remarkable place, packed with rare and wonderful arctic-alpine plants. Each year, I try to visit at least once and each time manage to discover something new and exciting to make the trip worthwhile. Last week, my annual visit came around again and together with NHSN’s Urban Naturalist, Ellie, I set off in search of a group of species I’d yet to properly explore in this part of the world – ferns!
Of course, before the fern hunting could begin, we had to reach Falcon Clints, a truly stunning gorge nestled below the confluence of Maizebeck and the River Tees. To get there, we first had to cross Cow Green with all its botanical riches (such a chore, I know!). As expected, this leg of the trip was a delight with hundreds of Mountain PansiesViola lutea now in full bloom. As you can see, these cheerful little plants come in a brilliant range of colours.
Despite the abundance of pansies, one thing that struck us immediately was the near-total absence of Spring Gentians Gentiana verna. They had all gone over, perhaps hastened by the warm weather. Nevermind; what we did find during this stage of the walk more than made up for it. In damper spots, the Bird’s-eye PrimrosesPrimula farinosa were out in force Variegated Horsetail was a particularly nice find in the flushes. Hardly the most inspiring plant, I confess, but I’ve always had a soft spot for it.
Further down the trail, about halfway to Cauldron Snout, more notable species were found. Mountain EverlastingAntennaria dioica was a highlight, and Sea PlantainPlantago maritima was in flower. In the drier, more exposed areas of sugar limestone, we also came across Spring SandwortSabulina verna, and grassy patches offered Lesser ClubmossSelaginella selaginoides, Blue Moor-grassSesleria caerulea, and countless sedges which we opted to overlook this time.
The initial descent down Cauldron Snout is truly beautiful and well worth a pause, if you’re ever passing. Falcon Clints is equally, if not more, breath-taking with its steep dolerite cliffs fringed by dramatic scree slopes. It’s worth taking a moment to appreciate the gradual shift in vegetation as you scan down the cliff face: moorland heather giving way to stunted trees and herbs, and eventually, to ferns. We even spotted a few Ring Ouzel – always nice to see.
Cauldron SnoutThe Tees from Cauldron SnoutFalcon Clints
The list of ferns found at Falcon Clints is impressive – if a little daunting – with species ranging from common woodland fare to truly rare plants found pretty much nowhere else in England. Some of the more familiar species we encountered early on included Lady-fernAthyrium filix-femina, BrackenPteridium aquilinum, Narrow Male-fernDryopteris cambrensis, Broad Buckler-fernDryopteris dilatata and Hard-fernBlechnum spicant, but these quickly faded into the background as we began to explore the scree.
The first exciting discovery was the curious-looking Parsley FernCryptogramma crispa, a calcifuge pioneer often found on exposed rock and former mine waste. It is a rather lovely plant, as is the next species we came across – Beech FernPhegopteris connectilis. Now that I think about it, this may be the first time I’ve seen this distinctive little fern outside of damp, humid woodland.
Arguably more exciting, at least for this novice pteridologist, was the presence of several stands of Mountain Male-fernDryopteris oreades. Though similar in appearance to the ubiquitous Male-fern Dryopteris filix-mas that many of us see regularly, this species is far more particular about where it grows and favours upland slopes and boulder fields. It can be distinguished from its commoner relative by the underside of its fronds where the sori are confined to the lowest portion of the pinnule. If you spot distinctive clumps of ferns adorning a mountainside, it’s well worth taking a closer look.
As we meandered through the valley, it was hard not to be distracted by the trees. Though relatively sparse at Falcon Clints, the ones that do grow here are gnarled, twisted, and strikingly beautiful. Juniper Juniperus communis is easy to find, as are AspenPopulus tremula and RowanSorbus aucuparia. Perhaps more intriguing though are the birches and it is worth checking any with noticeably contorted trunks and branches for signs of the upland subspecies of Downy Birch, Betula pubescens subsp. tortuosa. We spotted one along the way though admittedly, we weren’t looking that hard.
Juniper Juniperus communis
While most of Falcon Clints is dry and exposed, there are pockets of deep shade — particularly beneath rocky overhangs. It was in these secluded spots that we searched for our next group of ferns, and before long we were rewarded with some healthy specimens of Green Spleenwort Asplenium viride, a species abundant in this part of the world but rather rare elsewhere. Growing alongside it were Brittle Bladder-fernCystopteris fragilis and Maidenhair SpleenwortAsplenium trichomanes subsp. quadrivalens. The latter prompted a closer look just in case it turned out to be something rarer but alas, I think not. We also found a solitary Hard Shield-fernPolystichum aculeatum – a common species, yet the only one we encountered all day.
We paused for lunch and eventually decided to turn back roughly 1.5 miles into the valley, right at the point where the path disappears and you have to scramble over rocks to go any further (you’ll know it when you see it). During our break, we took the opportunity to explore a particularly diverse overhang that held more than a few interesting plants. Beneath some willows which we tentatively identified as Dark-leaved WillowSalix myrsinifolia, we found Bird’s-eye Primrose, Marsh ValerianValeriana dioica, ButterwortPinguicula vulgaris, and some fine examples of Northern BedstrawGalium boreale, not yet in flower.
After that, all that remained was to head back the way we came, admittedly rather slowly so to spend as much time as possible in this incredible place. However, there were a few more discoveries to share…
At the start of this post, I mentioned that Falcon Clints is home to some incredibly rare and special ferns. One in particular stands out: Holly-fern Polystichum lonchitis.
This striking fern prefers well-drained, cool and moist conditions at the base of cliffs, typically in stabilised boulder scree. A poor competitor, it avoids densely vegetated areas and is considered vulnerable across much of its native range. It wasn’t a species I had seen before, so you can imagine my delight when, after scrambling up a particularly steep bank, we were rewarded with the specimen shown below. A real thrill, even if it did look a little weather-beaten.
I won’t share precise location details here, but the information is out there if you know where to look.
Holly-fern Polystichum lonchitisHolly-fern Polystichum lonchitisWe found it!
It had been a few years since I last visited my favourite ancient woodland sites at Allen Banks and Briarwood Banks — my most recent visit taking place during a student field trip in 2022. I’m not entirely sure why it’s taken me so long to return, but regardless, this week I was thrilled to get back into the swing of things leading a group of keen botanists from my ‘Botanist’s Year’ course on a walk along the River Allen, taking in the sights and sounds of these remarkable reserves.
Ancient woodland is a rare thing in Northumberland, especially in a truly diverse and undisturbed state. The River Allen catchment is one of the few places where it’s still possible not only to observe many of the characteristic plants of this special habitat, but to see them in abundance — a sight sorely lacking in my local patch around Newcastle. As we set out from the National Trust car park, it was immediately clear we were in for a treat: just about everything one hopes to find in such sites was flowering merrily.
Botanists on the march
Within moments of starting our walk, ancient woodland indicators began revealing themselves at a rapid pace. The first leg of the trip took us along the drier, upper slopes of the gorge, where we were treated to glorious patches of Wood Crane’s-bill Geranium sylvaticum alongside Goldilocks ButtercupRanunculus auricomus — two species I encounter far too infrequently for my liking. Lower down, although the bluebells and wood anemones had finished flowering, SanicleSanicula europaea was in full bloom, and members of the group were quick to point out some lovely patches of Yellow PimpernelLysimachia nemorum.
One of the other curiosities during this leg of the trip was a mature variegated SycamoreAcer pseudoplatanus which may or may not be the cultivar Simon-Louis Freres. Presumably this was planted here by the Victorian custodians of the site but either way, it made for an impressive sight.
Continuing along the riverside path, our attention briefly turned to ferns, with sightings of most of the common species one might expect in a woodland like this: Hard FernBlechnum spicant, Hard Shield-fernPolystichum aculeatum, Lady-fernAthyrium filix-femina, and others. Great Horsetail Equisetum telmateia was also noted, and several attractive woodland grasses gave us reason to pause. The most abundant was the delicate Wood MelickMelica uniflora, but we also recorded Hairy-bromeBromopsis ramosa, Giant FescueSchedonorus giganteus, and perhaps most exciting of all, Wood FescueDrymochloa sylvatica — a completely new plant for me, despite having unknowingly wandered past it for years. The Tyne catchment is one of the key strongholds for this rare woodland grass.
It wasn’t long, however, before our focus returned to flowers, with plenty of BugleAjuga reptans in bloom and Hybrid AvensGeum x intermedium growing alongside both of its parent species in a damp depression. Bitter-vetchLathyrus linifolius and Wood Vetch Ervilia sylvatica were also observed, and a brief pause to key out specimens rewarded us with Intermediate Lady’s-mantleAlchemilla xanthochlora.
Bugle Ajuga reptansWood Melick Melica unifloraHybrid Avens Geum x intermedium
Another curiosity spotted on this leg of the trip was the attractive shrub shown below. Clearly a honeysuckle but which one? My money is on Fly HoneysuckleLonicera xylosteum – likely an old introduction here.
Fly Honeysuckle Lonicera xylosteum
Reaching the end of Allen Banks, we soon crossed the invisible boundary into the Northumberland Wildlife Trust’s reserve at Briarwood Banks. This is a fantastic site, carefully managed for a wide range of wildlife, including Hazel Dormice which are said to lurk in the undergrowth. Before venturing further, we stopped for lunch on a stunning patch of Calaminarian grassland, brimming with Mountain PansiesViola lutea. As you can see, these little beauties come in a delightful range of colours, and personally, I’m especially fond of the less common yellow ones! This same area also held Common BistortBistorta officinalis on the riverbanks.
After lunch, it was time to begin our ascent up the banks, with Mel Rockett taking the lead, drawing on his extensive volunteering experience at the site. Our main target was Bird’s-nest Orchid which we had missed on the way in, but along the way we encountered a fine selection of species not seen earlier in the day, including Early-purple OrchidOrchis mascula and Common Cow-wheatMelampyrum pratense. Only when we reached the summit (and I’m not being melodramatic — the walk is genuinely steep at this point) did we finally find our quarry…
Early-purple Orchid Orchis masculaUphill we go…NWT’s Briarwood Banks
Thanks to Mel’s expert guidance, we finally caught up with Bird’s-nest OrchidNeottia nidus-avis. Two, to be exact, growing beneath a mature BeechFagus sylvatica in a rocky patch of earth, far removed from the ‘rich humus’ they’re said to prefer in the textbooks. A quirky little plant, it may not be as striking as some of its orchid relatives, but it’s certainly fascinating: parasitic on the roots of its host tree and lacking the chlorophyll that gives most plants their green colour. These specimens weren’t fully open yet, but a few flowers had begun to reveal themselves.
While at Briarwood, we were also lucky enough to catch up with the rather delicate fern shown below. This is Oak Fern (Gymnocarpium dryopteris), a pretty uncommon species in our region, typically found in rocky, ancient woodlands. It was such a treat to see a thriving patch of it as we made our descent down the bank.
Oak Fern Gymnocarpium dryopteris
And that, folks, is a wrap. It’s always such a pleasure to get out and about with a group of keen botanists, especially when their local insight leads to unexpected encounters. A big thank you to Mel for taking the reins at Briarwood Banks.
With so many plant ID apps available, it can be hard to know where to turn when trying to identify that pesky plant. Here, we set out to discover which plant app truly stands out as the best choice for beginner botanists
Though it may beggar belief, a post I shared here on Common By Naturecomparing the best plant ID apps for beginner botanists, has become my most-viewed article to date, racking up over 25,000 views since 2022. Clearly, this is a popular topic, and more and more people are turning to plant identification apps to help identify their botanical finds. With that in mind, I thought it was time to revisit the topic three years on.
As I said back then, plant ID apps are a contentious subject among many botanists. Some dismiss them outright, claiming they’re unreliable and detract from what purists might call “proper” botany. Others take a more open-minded approach and, even among relative experts, treat plant ID apps as just another tool in their botanical toolkit, much like a hand lens or a wildflower guide.
Wherever you stand on the issue, it is clear that plant apps are here to stay. Thanks to advances in image recognition and Artificial Intelligence (AI), these apps are becoming more accurate, more sophisticated, and increasingly useful for enthusiastic amateurs and budding botanists alike. Not only to help identify unfamiliar plants but also as a means by which to deepen their interest and engagement with the natural world.
Of the many plant ID apps available, a few names crop up again and again. Most people will have heard of PlantNet, Seek, or Google Lens. Others, like Flora Incognita, are a little less well known, but all aim to do the same thing. The question is: are any of them truly a cut above the rest when it comes to plant identification?
Inspired by the ongoing interest in my original post, I decided to return to the subject three years later to find out what the best plant app is today.
Once again, some ground rules
Just like last time, and to standardise our little plant app experiment, I’ve introduced a few rules to keep things fair:
One image only. While some apps allow for multiple images, we wouldn’t want to give any one of them an unfair advantage, would we?
Quality images. We’ll only use clear photos showing enough of the plant to reach an accurate identification.
British plants. I’ve chosen species that are commonly found in Britain, making the test more relevant to British botanists. That said, the odd non-native or garden escapee might sneak in too, just to keep things interesting.
A small change
This time, I thought I’d make things a bit more challenging for our candidate plant apps by including several trickier groups of plants. Whereas last time we focused mainly on flowering species, this round will feature grasses, ferns, and even a sedge. That should really test their mettle…
On reflection, I’ve also decided to drop the “leaves only” rule. Realistically, most people are going to be using plant apps to identify flowers, so it makes sense to reflect that in the test. We’ll also be testing three more identification apps not covered in my last post.
Meet the subjects
I’ve selected the ten plants below based on their varying levels of difficulty. Some, like Herb-paris and Caper Spurge, should be relatively straightforward for the apps to identify. Others — Sea Spleenwort, for instance — may prove more of a challenge. The inclusion of Mountain Melic is admittedly a bit mean, given the lack of clear identification features, but hey, this is my blog, and we’re here to really put these plant apps to the test, aren’t we?
For comparison’s sake, we’ll stick with a similar scoring system to the one used in the previous post. Any plant app that correctly identifies the plant as their first choice will receive 1 point. If the correct plant appears lower down the list, points will be deducted based on its position. For example, if Oxford Ragwort comes as the fourth suggestion, it would earn 0.6 points. I may also award bonus points in certain cases if an app manages to genuinely impress me.
Garden Privet Ligustrum ovalifolium
Beech Fern Phegopteris connectilis
Oxford Ragwort Senecio squalidus
Mountain Melic Melica nutans
Sea Spleenwort Asplenium marinum
Herb-paris Paris quadrifolia
Remote Sedge Carex remota
Dog-violet Viola riviniana
Caper Spurge Euphorbia lathyris
Chickweed- wintergreen Lysimachia europaea
Score (0-10)
PlantNet
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 0.7
✔ 1
✔ 1
9.7/10
PlantSnap
✖
✖
✖
✖ 0.1 (it did get Melica)
✖
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
N/A
0.1/10 (Stopped counting)
Picture This
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✖
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
9/10
LeafSnap
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 0.9
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
9.9/10
Seek
✔ 1
✔ 1
✖
✔ 1
✖0.1 (Spleenwort, at least)
✔ 1
✖0.1 (It did get sedge)
✖
✔ 1
✔ 1
6.2/10
GoogleLens
✖ 0.5 (Points for privet)
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✖
✔ 1
✖
✖0.1 (for violet
✔ 1
✔ 1
6.7/10
FloraIncognita
✔ 0.9
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✖
✔ 1
✔ 1
8.9/10
Obsidentify
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 0.9
✔ 1
✔ 1
✔ 1
9.9/10
And there we have it, gang — a winner! Well, two actually, and only just by the skin of their teeth. In our little test, ObsIdentify and Leafsnap came out on top, closely followed by PlantNet, with PictureThis a smidgen behind. We’ll take a closer look at those top performers shortly, but first, let’s talk about the plant apps you might want to avoid…
The Losers
If you’re looking for an accurate plant app, best give these ones a miss. Particularly the first…
PlantSnap (0.1/10)
So bad I gave up…
PlantSnap struggled at nearly every turn, misidentifying four out of five plants and earning only a fractional bonus point for narrowing down Mountain Melic to the correct genus. Even more frustrating is its restrictive usage model — users are granted only a handful of free identifications before being hit with a 12-hour delay, clearly designed to push non-subscribers toward paying. Based on what I’ve seen, paying for this app would be, frankly, a waste of money.
PlantSnap performed poorly in our first test back in 2022, and despite the time that’s passed, it’s obvious little has improved. My advice? Avoid this one at all costs.
Seek (6.2/10)
iNaturalist is improving, but not enough…
The last time we tested Seek, it performed abysmally and earned a rather negative review. I’m pleased to report that the app has shown some improvement. By correctly identifying six species — including both a grass and a fern — it managed to impress me to some degree.
That said, it’s still not quite strong enough for me to recommend it as a go-to plant ID tool. There are certainly better options available. Seek failed outright on Oxford Ragwort and Dog-violet, two fairly common species, and struggled with the sedge and one of the trickier ferns.
Given iNaturalist’s popularity among biological recorders, you’d hope Seek would perform better. For now, it still falls short of the mark.
Google Lens (6.7/10)
Meh, should do better with all that funding…
Google Lens is an immensely popular app, built into many smartphones by default. It has a wide range of uses — and performs well in many of them — but when it comes to plant identification, it falls slightly short of the mark.
Once again, it struggled with sedges and ferns, performed poorly on Dog-violet, and, somewhat surprisingly, failed to correctly identify Privet. Given the vast resources behind it, I expected better. While it’s certainly not the worst option out there, I still wouldn’t recommend it if you’re looking to accurately identify botanical finds.
In short, it’s far from the best plant ID app available.
Better Choices
Flora Incognita (8.9/10)
The worst of the good apps, but only just…
I had never used Flora Incognita before and didn’t include it in the last test, so I was genuinely excited to give it a try this time around. Truth be told, it performed quite well — just fractionally behind the top-performing apps — and deserves credit for correctly identifying both Sea Spleenwort and Remote Sedge, two species that tripped up several of the less accurate contenders. The only plant it really struggled with was, once again, the Dog-violet.
One particularly nice feature of Flora Incognita is that it allows users to make an initial classification (e.g. herb, shrub, grass, or fern) to help narrow down the search. It also supports multiple photo uploads, which I didn’t take advantage of this time but suspect could have improved the results. Another welcome touch is the inclusion of a confidence level with each ID suggestion — a small detail that adds transparency to the process.
All in all, this is a relatively strong choice for plant identification, and one I’d be happy to use again.
PictureThis (9/10)
Getting better all the time, and very nearly perfect…
PictureThis impressed me this time around, I must say. With the exception of Remote Sedge, it correctly identified all the plants down to species level with relative ease. The app is sleek, user-friendly, and offers a generally smooth experience. Its plant health assessment feature might not be of much interest to botanists, but it could be a welcome bonus for gardeners.
For those who enjoy background detail, PictureThis provides a wealth of information covering everything from characteristics and symbolism to pests, diseases, and garden uses. As I noted back in 2022, it remains a comprehensive and reliable option, and overall, a good, safe bet for botanists.
The Winners
If you are looking for an accurate, reliable plant app to help you on your botanical excursions, I’d choose from these…
PlantNet (9.7/10)
An old favourite performs well yet again…
When I last reviewed PlantNet, I admitted to being a fan, both for its plant identification capabilities and for its useful option to search by regional floras. This feature allows users to narrow their search to a specific geographical area, helping rule out, for example, North American species when the record is actually from the UK or Greece. It performed well in the previous test, but did even better this time, correctly identifying all but one plant to species level. The only slight miss was with the Dog-violet, which it listed as the third option, behind a couple of admittedly similar species.
Once again, this app comes highly recommended. Like all plant ID apps, it shouldn’t be relied on with absolute certainty, but it remains a valuable tool in any botanist’s arsenal.
LeafSnap (9.9/10)
One of the best botanical apps out there…
LeafSnap does it again, finishing ahead of the competition in joint first place! This result echoes what we found in 2022, when the app narrowly beat out contenders like PlantNet and Seek with a respectable 5 out of 6. This time, it performed even better by correctly identifying all the plants to species level, with the exception of Sea Spleenwort, which it listed as a very respectable second option.
If I have one minor complaint, it’s that the in-app prompts and ads seem to have become more frequent since my last test. That said, they’re easy enough to navigate and, in the grand scheme of things, a small price to pay for this level of accuracy.
LeafSnap remains a strong recommendation from me. It boasts all the features you’d want in a reliable plant app.
Obsidentify (9.9/10)
I didn’t include ObsIdentify back in 2022, but I really wish I had. This is a downright impressive app that matched LeafSnap on the scorecard, receiving only a minor deduction for Remote Sedge which it listed as a second choice. It might well have nailed it with a better photo — but let’s be honest, shoddy images are part and parcel of real-world use. In truth, I can’t fault this app on design, ease of use, or accuracy.
What sets ObsIdentify apart from the competition is that, while it’s a reliable choice for plant identification, it also covers all taxa. That means it works just as well for moths, hoverflies and other wildlife groups. The only area where it still struggles is fungi, but to be fair, most fungi can’t be confidently identified from a photo alone.
If you’re looking to streamline the number of apps on your phone, this is the one I’d recommend. Not only will it help with those pesky plants, but you might also find yourself getting hooked on identifying other species too. For beginners especially, it could become a trusty companion.
Herb-Paris Paris quadrifolia is a perennial plant of damp, moderately calcareous woodlands. Blooming in late spring, it is a striking and distinctive species featuring a whorl of four ovate leaves. In May, a single flower emerges on an upright stem – a star-shaped bloom composed of four yellow-green petals and four green sepals, topped by a dark ‘berry’ and a crown of eight golden stamens.
Known as oneberrie in historic accounts, Herb-paris was first properly described in England by the father of English botany, William Turner (1508-1568), who wrote of his discovery:
‘The herb that hath bene taken for lyberdes bayne, groweth plentuousely besyde morpeth in Northumberland in a wod called cottyngwod’.
Never one to pass up an encounter with a special plant, this week, a chance visit to Morpeth as part of a course I’m leading provided the perfect opportunity to visit Cottingwood for myself.
Herb-Paris Paris quadrifolia at Cottingwood
Cottingwood is a small woodland nestled in the heart of Morpeth, Northumberland. That it has survived in a relatively unaltered state is something of a miracle – the deep, steep-sided valley offering protection from the spread of the affluent housing developments that have sprung up around it in the years since Turner visited. Today, it remains in relatively good condition and is home to many plants typically associated with ancient woodland: Bluebell, Wood Sedge, Great Horsetail, and others. Some areas of the wood appear well-trodden, but elsewhere, dense vegetation gives the impression that few people venture into this special and historically significant patch of greenery.
After navigating a few banks and narrow trails, we came upon a damp flush where, to our delight, the distinctive flowers of paris appeared in surprising abundance – growing in precisely the same spot where Turner described the plant centuries ago.
Herb-Paris Paris quadrifolia at Cottingwood
If the survival of Cottingwood itself is surprising, then the continued presence of Herb-paris at this little site borders on the miraculous. Now a rare species, it is often confined to particularly special habitats — its spread hindered by its own unique biology (it does, after all, produce only one seed annually). Even so, what a privilege it was to sit in the very same spot as one of our most eminent botanical forebears, admiring this weird, wonderful, and undeniably beautiful plant.
Spring flowers don’t come much better than this…
Herb-Paris Paris quadrifolia and Ramsons Allium ursinum
While recording for the Urban Flora, I’ve now encountered a total of 23 fern species growing in a wild or naturalised state within the conurbation. An additional three species have been submitted by fellow recorders, bringing the total to a healthy 26. This is quite an impressive number given the area covered, though it still represents a relatively small 2.3% of the total plant species recorded from the area.
Nonetheless, urban ferns are an interesting bunch. In the style of my previous posts [here] and [here], I thought I’d explore them properly on this blog — partly for reference, and partly in the hope that someone, somewhere, finds these rambles either useful or at least somewhat interesting.
Before I go any further, however, a very big thank you to Chris Barlow and David Jarema for making their photography available for projects such as this. It is most appreciated.
Common Ferns
The Big Five
The “big five” urban ferns represent the most common and widespread species within the conurbation. All are fairly familiar and either thrive in a wide variety of habitats or are associated with environments so ubiquitous that they’ve become an almost daily sight.
Chief among them is the Male FernDryopteris filix-mas, which has so far been recorded in 135 squares—an impressive 71% of those surveyed. It’s truly a fern that gets everywhere: from woodlands and hedgerows to urban walls, gutters, gardens, and even pavements close to overflowing drainpipes. While I doubt it will turn out to be truly ubiquitous across every square, it’s about as close as a fern can reasonably get.
Not far behind in the numbers game is Hart’s-tongueAsplenium scolopendrium, an evergreen fern of moist, shaded woodlands that is also frequently encountered on mortared walls and masonry. Recorded from 102 squares (53%), it’s certainly abundant.
Two other “wall ferns” are also doing well: Wall-rueAsplenium ruta-muraria, noted in 84 squares (44%), and Maidenhair SpleenwortAsplenium trichomanes, in 70 squares (36%). While marginally less widespread, both can be prolific where they occur – typically in older, more unkempt terraced neighbourhoods, where less rigorous weeding allows them to thrive. In contrast, they can be surprisingly scarce in modern developments or more affluent areas where tidiness tends to take priority.
The final fern worthy of inclusion in this section is Broad Buckler-fernDryopteris dilatata. Typically a species of somewhat acidic, damp soils, it’s most often encountered in woodland settings. However, it has proven far more catholic in its habitat preferences than many other woodland ferns, turning up readily in newer woodlands, plantations, hedgerows, rail embankments, and even grassy habitats on occasion. So far, it has been recorded in 48 (25%) survey squares.
The next group of ferns are altogether more particular in their habitat preferences and occur much more sparingly across the conurbation — though not quite so sparsely as to be considered rare. With the exception of one notable species, all are best described as woodland ferns within Newcastle and North Tyneside. We’ll look at these first.
Hard Shield-fern Polystichum aculeatum and Soft Shield-fernPolystichum setiferum make for an interesting duo. The former is native to the area, typically inhabiting damp, shaded stream-sides and rocky ledges within woodland. The latter, meanwhile, is a more recent arrival, introduced occasionally but now subject to natural colonisation as well. Intriguingly, the two species are neck-and-neck in terms of occurrence, each recorded from 10 survey squares (5%). Both remain closely tied to the relic semi-natural woodland of Newcastle’s denes, though Soft Shield-fern has begun to spread a little more widely.
Another interesting pair are the Scaly Male-ferns. Within the conurbation, we seem to host two fairly frequent species and one rarer one (which I’ll cover later). Among the more commonly encountered are Borrer’s Male-fernDryopteris borreri and Golden-scaly Male-fernDryopteris affinis.
Of the two, D. borreri is notably more abundant, recorded in 26 survey squares 13.7%. While it tends to favour older woodland habitats, it also turns up elsewhere including newer plantations. D. affinis, on the other hand, is much more selective, preferring damp locations in older woodlands, and has been recorded in just 7 squares 3.7%. In fact, the only places I’ve found it in any real abundance are Jesmond and Wallbottle Denes, now that I think about it.
The conurbation’s wooded denes are also just about the only places where you’re likely to encounter Hard FernBlechnum spicant these days. Recorded in 8 survey squares 4.2%, it is largely restricted to Sugley, Walbottle, Jesmond, and Denton Denes – with the only notable outlier being a small population at Gosforth Nature Reserve where the acid soils suit it well.
Two more uncommon species associated with the conurbation’s woodlands – albeit with a bit more flexibility – are Lady-fernAthyrium filix-femina and BrackenPteridium aquilinum.
Lady-fern, recorded from 21 squares (11.1%), remains fairly localised, with the best populations once again found within the area’s wooded denes. However, it will readily colonise other damp, shaded spots such as ditches, hedgebanks, and more recent plantations.
Bracken, by contrast, is quite the opposite. It favours somewhat acidic soils in the drier, upper reaches of older woodlands, where it can be particularly abundant. Still, it’s far from confined to such settings and occurs more broadly across the conurbation as a colonist of all sorts of habitats, especially rail sidings and grassy banks. In total, Bracken has been observed in 29 squares (24%), though it is by no means “common”.
The final species worthy of mention at this stage is, rather refreshingly, not a fern of woodlands but instead a calcicole, favouring mortared walls in urban areas. Black SpleenwortAsplenium adiantum-nigrum has been recorded from 28 squares (14.7%) so far. While one of the less common wall ferns overall, it can be surprisingly plentiful in certain neighbourhoods, particularly around Walker, Heaton, and Wallsend. It also occurs sporadically in squares around Newcastle City Centre, including in spots where even more typical ferns like Wall-rue are absent.
And so we come to the conurbation’s rare ferns – the ones that truly generate excitement when you stumble across them. There’s a surprising number of these, though they all tend to fall into two distinct categories: rare natives or exotic introductions. We’ll start by looking at the native species first…
Scarce Native Species
Kicking off our collection of rare woodland ferns is a duo found exclusively at Gosforth Nature Reserve —suggesting a preference for mildly acidic conditions.
Narrow Buckler-fern Dryopteris carthusiana has long been a rarity in the conurbation, with no local records since George Swan encountered it in the Gosforth Park back in the 1970s. That changed recently when local botanist, John Durkin, rediscovered it in wet woodland and relic acid grassland at the reserve. Found in just 1 square (0.5%), it is by all accounts a true local rarity. The same goes for its hybrid with Broad Buckler-fern, Dryopteris x deweveri, also noted from a single square (0.5%) during surveys by the same recorder.
Speaking of hybrids, Polystichum × bicknellii — the cross between Hard Shield-fern and Soft Shield-fern —has so far only been recorded from Jesmond Dene, where both parent species occur. Meanwhile, Gosforth Nature Reserve has produced two further exciting finds: Narrow Male-fernDryopteris cambrensis and Lemon-scented FernOreopteris limbosperma, each recorded from just one square (0.5%). Both are, for now, exceptionally scarce within the conurbation.
RustybackAsplenium ceterach has long been a rare fern on Tyneside. For years, it was known only from an exterior garden wall in North Shields where happily, it still persists today. Encouragingly, it was also recorded last year on an exterior wall in Brunswick, where it was growing in mortar alongside a mix of more familiar species. So far, Rustyback has been observed in just 2 squares (1.1%).
And since we’re on the subject of walls, now seems a fitting moment to turn our attention to the urban Polypodium species. Both PolypodyPolypodium vulgare and Intermediate PolypodyPolypodium interjectum are rare within the conurbation — though they may well be under-recorded.
P. vulgare has proven the more widespread of the two, typically occurring as a thinly distributed epiphyte of older woodlands, with records from Jesmond, Sugley, and Denton Denes. It also occasionally turns up on old walls, though here it remains quite scarce. To date, it has been recorded from 9 squares (4.7%). In contrast, P. interjectum is more characteristic of mortared walls and has been noted as a scattered colonist in 3 squares (1.6%).
A final rare native worthy of mention is the unusual Adder’s-tongueOphioglossum vulgatum, a species typically found in higher-quality, neutral to acidic grasslands. Within the conurbation, it appears to be in decline – likely as aa consequence of poor grassland management in many areas. So far, it has been observed from just two well-known sites: a verge along Salter’s Lane and, in greater numbers, from grassland near Havannah Nature Reserve. It remains restricted to 2 squares (1.1%).
As I’ve touched on in previous posts, Jesmond Dene is home to its fair share of weird and wonderful exotic plants, including several ferns. Most of these have been encountered near the remnants of a derelict Victorian fernery, and it’s hard to say whether they’ve persisted here for decades or are the result of more recent introductions. Either way, three exotic species now appear to be growing wild in the Dene: Japanese Shield-fern Polystichum polyblepharum, Japanese Buckler-fernDryopteris erythrosora, and Western Sword-fernPolystichum munitum, each recorded from a single square (0.5%).
A fourth species, House Holly-fernCyrtomium falcatum is not found in the dene but instead, has been noted from the base of a sunny garden wall in Gosforth – clearly having spread from planted stock nearby.
And really, who doesn’t enjoy a touch of the exotic while botanising the big city?
And there we have it, a not-so-concise tour of the urban ferns recorded as part of the project so far. There’s a surprising number out there waiting to be discovered. With the conurbation’s woodlands now fairly thoroughly surveyed, I suspect the distributions of many woodland species will remain relatively stable by the time the project wraps up. That said, we may well see an uptick in species colonising walls and masonry, particularly as urban habitats are surveyed in more depth.
I can’t imagine there are too many more species left to uncover but given the exotics mentioned above, you never really know what might be lurking just around the corner, do you? Good job there are some handy resources out there…
The snowdrops and crocuses that defined late winter’s botanical outings have now faded, and, as if by magic, a new wave of plants is rising to the fore in the local landscape. About time too—I, for one, needed shaking out of the winter doldrums…
Yesterday, Matt and I were lucky to have a rare coinciding day off, so we headed west up the Tyne Valley. Stopping at Watersmeet, Letah Wood, and Bywell, it was wonderful to see just how much the season had advanced since our last visit. Cue some much-needed spring colour!
The highlight of the day was discovering one of my all-time favourite plants—the Yellow Star-of-Bethlehem (Gagea lutea). This charming bulbous perennial boasts golden-yellow, star-like flowers that are sure to lift your spirits on a chilly March day. It thrives in woodlands with basic soils and, as its distribution map shows, is quite a localised species in the UK.
In the North East, it’s restricted to just a handful of high-quality sites. Watersmeet is one of them, and during our visit, we were thrilled to find a large population in full bloom.
Also at Watersmeet, it was lovely to see some of our more familiar woodland plants springing to life. Leading the way were our first Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa) and Moschatel (Adoxa moschatellina) flowers of the year. The latter’s genus name, Adoxa, reflects its inconspicuous nature and unassuming growth, while Moschatellina is derived from the Italian moscato, meaning musk.
Other interesting finds at Watersmeet included Opposite-leaved Golden Saxifrage, Monk’s-hood, Sanicle, Creeping Comfrey, and Leopard’s-bane. But before long, another pit stop beckoned…
Believed to be Northumberland’s last remaining Wild Daffodil wood, Letah Wood near Hexham is a breathtaking sight—if you time it right. Unfortunately, we were a little early, with most of the Wild Daffodils (Narcissus pseudonarcissus subsp. pseudonarcissus) just beginning to open. Still, in the sunnier clearings, we managed to find a few in bloom…
Daffodils can be tricky to tell apart, but our native variety is far more delicate than the hulking, luminescent specimens commonly planted in gardens. It’s a relatively small plant, with pale yellow tepals that are noticeably creamier in tone than its vibrant yellow ‘trumpet.’ These tepals usually tilt forward, as shown in the picture below. The true species also tends to have shorter stems and smaller flowers than the hybrids bred from it.
he final leg of our trip took us to Bywell, where the impressive carpets of Snowdrops and Winter Aconite had given way to a fresh wave of spring species. One of the most striking was Forbe’s Glory-of-the-snow (Scilla forbesii), which was widespread along the sandy riverbanks—perhaps having escaped from nearby churchyards. This species boasts distinctive two-toned flowers: blue on the outside with a white centre, and a petal tube that noticeably broadens from the flower stalk.
Another Scilla species was also evident at Bywell—Siberian Squill (Scilla siberica). This one is a true gem, with vivid blue, nodding flowers. It tends to occur as a naturalised relic of cultivation, often found where it was originally introduced in churchyards, parks, and large gardens. It’s rather beautiful, I hope you’ll agree.
Get started identifying cultivated and wild Snowdrops with a new snowdrop identification crib for gardeners and budding galanthophiles
It’s no secret that I love Snowdrops – growing them, finding them in the wild, and visiting collections have all proven rather addictive. Like many enthusiasts, I often struggle with identification – something I suspect is common, except among the most knowledgeable Galanthophiles. This challenge is partly due to the scattered nature of Snowdrop resources.
Having created a simplified key for widespread Snowdrop species found in the UK, I wanted to take it a step further by extending it to cultivated species and hybrids. Here is the result. Perhaps it will be useful to fellow gardeners who, like me, frequently misplace their labels!
Identifying Snowdrops
Well-naturalised in woodlands, hedgerows, large gardens, and other shady areas, snowdrops bring joy to many in late winter. Looking past the obvious similarities, they can be an interesting bunch to explore, and even with a tentative glance, it is possible to find several species with relative ease.
On top of this, the popularity of Snowdrops with collectors means that a great many species, most of which hail from Eastern Europe, have been brought into cultivation. Many of these are rather rare but several do crop up from time to time, as do hybrids. Cultivars are plentiful too but are not covered here (with a few exceptions). A good list can be found here.
ZUBOV, D.A. and DAVIS, A.P. (2012). Galanthus panjutinii sp. nov.: a new name for an invalidly published species of Galanthus (Amaryllidaceae) from the northern Colchis area of Western Transcaucasia. Phytotaxa, [online] 50(1), p.55. doi:https://doi.org/10.11646/phytotaxa.50.1.5.
Jesmond Dene, nestled just two miles northeast of Newcastle city centre, is a true gem. With the River Ouse Burn at its heart, this picturesque area has witnessed remarkable transformations over the centuries. What began as a stretch of natural woodland evolved into an industrial hub, dotted with mills, before transitioning into a Victorian pleasure ground. Today, it stands as a cherished public park. While the dene’s history is rich and multifaceted—a story explored in depth elsewhere—it is its stint as a private estate that intrigues this curious botanist most of all.
Strolling through the overgrown dene today, one can’t help but marvel at the sheer diversity of plant life thriving here. Native woodland species, exotic ornamentals, garden escapes, and beloved Victorian classics all grow in abundance and truth be told, it is quite the puzzle to unravel how and when many of these fascinating botanicals arrived. In this post, we’ll attempt to do just that—exploring some of Jesmond Dene’s hidden botanical treasures and, at times speculatively, attempting to trace their origins. Let’s dive in…
While best known for his renowned residence at Cragside, Sir William George Armstrong (1810–1900) also left an indelible mark on Newcastle through his landscaping and development of Jesmond Dene. Born in Shieldfield, Newcastle, and originally trained as a solicitor, Armstrong married Margaret Ramshaw (1807–1893) of Bishop Auckland, County Durham, in 1835. That same year, the couple built their home, Jesmond Dean, on a small portion of land that would later become part of the larger dene.
Over the following decades, particularly in the 1850s, Armstrong and his wife purchased large tracts of neighbouring land, gradually transforming the dene into a meticulously landscaped parkland. Armstrong’s alterations were ambitious and wide-ranging. Fascinated by water, he reshaped the River Ouse Burn by adding waterfalls, islands, and bridges, many of which remain iconic features of the area today. He also introduced a network of footpaths, still enjoyed by modern day walkers.
Equally significant, though perhaps less obvious, was his transformation of the dene’s flora. Armstrong imported plants from across the globe, enriching the landscape with exotic species and curious varieties, in doing so, greatly altering the park’s character.
Armstrong’s passion for plants was well-documented, and, in keeping with the times, many of the species he introduced to his ‘woodland garden’ reflected the trends of Victorian landscaping. Rhododendrons (Rhododendron ponticum) were a particularly popular choice, as was Aucuba (Aucuba japonica), along with an array of exotic trees. Some of these, including impressive specimens of Wellingtonia (Sequoiadendron giganteum) and Japanese Red Cedar (Cryptomeria japonica), still stand tall today. Look closer, and you’ll also find several unusual oaks, such as the Red Oak (Quercus rubra) and Lebanon Oak (Quercus libani). However, while these relics are striking, they are not the focus of this post.
In 1883, Lord Armstrong gifted the main area of Jesmond Dene to the Corporation of Newcastle upon Tyne for the benefit of its citizens. The following year, in 1884, the park was officially opened by the Prince and Princess of Wales. Since then, little has changed. Jesmond Dene remains well-used by locals but, aside from essential maintenance and a few successive introductions of equally unusual plants, it has been largely untended for over a century, allowing nature to reclaim much of the space – the very reason it is so difficult to tell new introductions from older ones!
Today, while still officially recognisd as a park, Jesmond Dene resembles more of a semi-natural urban woodland. It supports many species typical of ancient semi-natural woodlands, such as Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa) and Ramsons (Allium ursinum) and its canopy is dominated by native trees, including English Oak (Quercus robur), Wych Elm (Ulmus glabra) and Ash (Fraxinus excelsior). This façade of naturalness is so extensive that parts of the dene appear entirely wild. Yet, while many of the landscaped features remain— complete with their exotic introductions —much of Lord Armstrong’s original planting seems to have been lost to time. Or has it?
Over recent years, while exploring Jesmond Dene, I have stumbled across several remnants of its past life as a naturalistic garden — often in the most unexpected places. While some species have undoubtedly been lost, much still remains for those who know where to look. Though not strictly “wild” (although one could argue that any species persisting or spreading for over a century has earned that distinction), these exotic plants add an intriguing layer of interest to what is already the crown jewel of Newcastle’s green spaces.
In what will likely become a rather lengthy blog, I wanted to highlight some of these botanical relics…
The Exotic Plants of Jesmond Dene
Before going any further, please do take a look at this superb account published account on the History of Jesmond Dene. With mention of many of the plants introduced during Victorian times, this will form the basis for several of today’s assumptions.
Shrubs in Jesmond Dene
Perhaps the most obvious aspect of Armstrong’s legacy is the assortment of exotic trees scattered throughout Jesmond Dene and the neighbouring Armstrong Park. While undeniably fascinating, these trees are rather conspicuous and not the focus of this blog (though I have written about some of them previously here).
Far less prominent are the shrubs introduced as understory plants and hedging. Several exotic species, such as Rhododendron (Rhododendron ponticum), Snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus), and Himalayan Honeysuckle (Leycesteria formosa), are widespread — so much so that it’s nearly impossible to miss them. Others, like Aucuba (Aucuba japonica), which forms large stands around Pet’s Corner and in Armstrong Park, and both Wilson’s Honeysuckle (Lonicera nitida) and Box-leaved Honeysuckle (Lonicera pileata), are easier to spot if you know where to look.
Even more intriguing are those shrubs that have blended seamlessly with the naturally occurring vegetation. Take the Berberis family for example — a spiny set of shrubs typically originating from Asia or South America. In a summary of plants recorded in Jesmond Dene in 1894, only two species are mentioned: Oregon-grape (Berberis aquifolium) and Darwin’s Barberry (Berberis darwinii), the latter, of course, named in honour of Charles Darwin.
While the original plantings of Oregon-grape appear to have disappeared, the species is still very much present in the Dene today and seedlings can readily be found in several parts. Whether these stem from Armstrong’s introductions, or more recent plantings in the 1980’s and 90’s remains to be seen. Darwin’s Barberry persists in several locations too, most notably near Castle Farm Road. Beyond these, other Berberis species seem to have quietly flown under the radar. For instance, several stands of the attractive Chinese Barberry (Berberis julianae) can be found, especially near the entrance to Armstrong Park, while Common Barberry (Berberis vulgaris) has been noted in the upper reaches of the dene. The origins of both are hazy at best.
More recently, specimens of Gagnepain’s Barberry (Berberis gagnepainii) were observed near the quarry (rail.hired.silks) where one can also find some nice examples of Warty Barberry (Berberis verruculosa), both plants absent from early records. Both of these seem to be later introductions by park custodians. The same can also be said for the fragrant Christmas Box (Sarcococca confusa) growing nearby – not a Berberis but a nice plant nonetheless.
Other groups of plants mentioned in early accounts of Jesmond Dene include Hawthorns and Cotoneasters. Starting with the Hawthorns, the 1894 plant list references Crataegus oxycantha — a now obsolete name that broadly encompassed both Common Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) and Midland Hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata). While plenty of native Common Hawthorn thrives throughout the dene, visitors can still find examples of Midland Hawthorn hidden in plain sight, particularly in the grotto and along Red Walk. Though they appear quite similar to the untrained eye, these Midland Hawthorns were surely part of Armstrong’s original introductions.
But what about the Cotoneasters? Given their ability to spread independently, several species found in Jesmond Dene may have colonised the area more recently. Among these are Willow-leaved Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster salicifolius) and Himalayan Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster simonsii). Far more intriguing, however, is the presence of Purple-flowered Cotoneaster (Cotoneaster atropurpureus), observed growing within the riverside masonry along Red Walk. This species has not been recorded elsewhere in the region, and given its apparent age, it may well originate from original plantings in the dene.
Jesmond Dene is home to many other exotic shrubs, nestled discreetly within the landscape. Among the more striking species are Yellow Azalea (Rhododendron luteum), hidden in the thickets west of Paddy Freeman’s Park (punchy.wins.usage), and Wrinkled Viburnum (Viburnum rhytidophyllum), found nearby at stuck.lamp.soak. The former is mentioned in early accounts, while older examples of the latter must surely stem from Armstrong’s day. Recent records also suggest the presence of the related Laurustinus (Viburnum tinus), though, alas, I have yet to locate it myself.
Three other shrubs I have observed, however, are Juneberry (Amelanchier spp.), Asian Firethorn (Pyracantha rogersiana) and Shallon (Gaultheria shallon). Interestingly, the latter has become a problematic invasive species at Armstrong’s other residence at Cragside. In Jesmond Dene, you can find Shallon uphill from solo.shack.feels. Along Red Walk, you may also spot examples of Weigela (Weigela florida), Mock Orange (Philadelphus coronarius), and Rose-of-Sharon (Hypericum calycinum), all of which have presumably stood the test of time. All three are mentioned in that historic account of the denes flora.
Whilst not strictly a shrub (though large than most) also worth a look on your next walk along the Ouse Burn are the large stands of bamboo. The most impressive sit in Armstrong Park and after much mind-changing, I think these could be Arrow Bamboo (Pseudosasa japonica). This would fit with the initial planting plan.
Three final species worth mentioning are all Rubus species, or brambles. First, across the Ouse Burn from Pet’s Corner, a spring visit may reward visitors with the striking pink blooms of Salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis), a North American species that is now happily naturalising at colleague.darker.pines, or thereabouts. This was a popular plant in Victorian times and in the North East, appears most frequently in the grounds of older stately homes.
At several points in the dene, you can also spot sprawling patches of Chinese Bramble (Rubus tricolor), a species long favored in landscaping. Given Armstrong’s fondness for oriental plants, this may date back to Victorian times. Finally, at mercy.lend.spray, you will find a long-neglected garden completely overtaken by White-stemmed Bramble (Rubus cockburnianus), a particularly attractive species endemic to China. Given the vast area it occupies, it’s clear that this bramble has been established for quite some time but for how long exactly, I am unsure.
Of course, when planting a whole host of trees and shrubs, you need something pretty to sit under them. The Armstrong’s planted many such things including several Gentians, Heaths and orchids now lost to time. That said, if anyone stumbles across a Lady’s-slipper Orchid, please let me know – supposedly these too were introduced on mass!
What remains today of Armstrong’s planted groundcover largely consists of tenacious, hardy species. Throughout the dene, you’ll encounter both Greater Periwinkle (Vinca major) and Lesser Periwinkle (Vinca minor) in various areas, as well as Atlantic Ivy (Hedera hibernica) and Persian Ivy (Hedera colchica) adorning the woodland floor in several spots. It’s perhaps unsurprising that these species have persisted, but look closer, and you’ll also find surprises.
One such surprise is a sprawling colony of Abraham-Isaac-Jacob (Trachystemon orientalis) at slot.puff.stale. This unusual plant, native to Bulgaria and surrounding regions, is well-established in the dene and must surely have been introduced as a botanical curiosity. It is no longer common in cultivation today and would be a very odd choice indeed for modern park keepers given its tendency to overtake neighbouring areas.
Similarly, while walking along Red Walk, it’s possible to see several Asiatic plants growing amid tangles of brambles and other native weeds. Rodgersia (Rodgersia podophylla) is present here, as is Japanese Astilbe (Astilbe japonica), while in some areas, particularly on some of the higher more remote slopes, stands of Carpet-box (Pachysandra terminalis) can also be observed. The isolation of these sporadic plants, far from tended beds, suggests that they too could have been present here for quite some time. Conversations with park custodians seem to support this idea though it is difficult to know for certain given the successive plantings undertaken over the years.
The above curiosities are not the only ones worth mentioning. By the stepping stones at face.edgy.sticky, a glance at the sodden, moss-covered banks of the Ouse Burn should reveal another fascinating plant: Kidney Saxifrage (Saxifraga hirsuta). This perennial thrives in high humidity and is typically found in damp, shaded environments such as woods, ravines, and north-facing cliffs. It was likely introduced as a rockery plant and has since established itself in several areas of the dene, alongside another similar species, Londonpride (Saxifraga × urbium). Interestingly, an intermediate form of the two species also exists in the dene and may represent a hybrid—a subject worth investigating in the future.
Another species present in the dene, Fringecups (Tellima grandiflora), would also fit with this style of Victorian planting but is now so well naturalised in parts of our region that tracing its origin becomes incredibly challenging.
Last, but by no means least, Jesmond Dene’s ferns deserve mention. The dene hosts several native species, including Hard Fern (Blechnum spicant) and Lady-fern (Athyrium filix-femina), but it also features introduced varieties. At the site of an old fernery, presumably created by the Armstrong’s, nature has reclaimed much of the area, yet the wider area still holds intriguing plants like Copper Shield-fern (Dryopteris erythrosora). Whether this species is an descendant of original plantings or of something planted more recently is impossible to assess. It is a pretty one though and I’d like to think it may have stood the test of time.
Elsewhere in the dene, you’ll notice many examples of Soft Shield-fern (Polystichum setiferum). While this species is native to southern parts of the UK, in the North it generally appears as an introduced plant. Interestingly, it is one of the few ferns specifically mentioned in Armstrong’s original planting plans. Over the years, it has gone on to colonise many parts of the dene.
Spring Bulbs
Another rather charming group of plants worth mentioning are the spring bulbs, valued today just as they were in Victorian times for their colorful early-season displays. While records are sparse regarding exactly what was introduced to the dene during Armstrong’s time, early accounts do mention “squills, crocuses, and similar plants,” which were added for their visual appeal. Some of these plantings still persist today.
At cycle.erase.calm, or nearby, a stroll later in the year should reveal some attractive stands of Autumn Crocus (Colchicum autumnale), while a springtime visit will uncover patches of Green Snowdrop (Galanthus woronowii) now well at home in the woodland. In various parts of the dene, Spring Crocus (Crocus vernus) and Early Crocus (Crocus tommasinianus) can also be found. The most impressive colony of the latter grows near the entrance to Armstrong Park, where the species appears to have become well-established.
Scattered patches of Common Snowdrop (Galanthus nivalis) and Greater Snowdrop (Galanthus elwesii) too may also trace their origins to the dene’s Victorian plantings but we cannot know for sure.
The squills mentioned in those early accounts have all but disappeared, with one notable exception: a small population of Siberian Squill (Scilla siberica) in Armstrong Park. Its vivid blue flowers make for a striking and unusual sight amidst the site’s native woodland flora. Records from 2003 also note the presence of this species in the northern part of the dene.
Two more striking species are also worth highlighting. At video.stole.counts, visitors can find a small population of Dog’s-tooth Violet (Erythronium dens-canis). First recorded here in 2004 (although known about for much longer), its origins remain unclear, though it could be remnant of the park’s early tenure as a garden. Not far away, at being.many.horns, scattered examples of Blue Anemone (Anemone blanda) grow alongside our native Wood Anemone (Anemone nemorosa). The positioning of both species suggests they are not recent additions but rather remnants of historical plantings, perhaps in Armstrong’s day, perhaps more recently.
And there we have it—a tour of Jesmond Dene’s exotic plant life. In truth, aside from the rhododendrons, laurels, yews, and bamboos, it is difficult to say with certainty whether any of the fascinating exotics present in the dene can definitively be traced back to Lord Armstrong. I’d have loved to offer a more conclusive answer, but then again, who doesn’t enjoy a good mystery?
One thing is certain, however: Jesmond Dene is entirely unique on a local level. It is part woodland, showcasing countless examples of our native flora, and part garden, adorned with an array of exotic plants. This rare blend makes it an endlessly intriguing place to explore, and I sincerely hope it continues to be maintained in this spirit for generations to come.
Finally, it’s worth noting that new discoveries are still being made in the dene—or, at the very least, old treasures are being rediscovered. So don’t be surprised if, on your next walk, you stumble across something altogether unexpected, quietly tucked away in a thicket.
