Tag: Non-native species

A Tale of Two Plant Hunts

The Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland’s (BSBI) New Year Plant Hunt is an annual event in which botanists, experts and amateurs alike, head out to record the plant species bucking the time-honoured trend and blooming in the depths of winter. Now in its ninth year, the four-day survey is both great fun and an important means by which to assess how changing weather patterns are altering the behaviour of our wildflowers. If you would like to take part, tomorrow is your last chance, at least until 2021.

Having enjoyed my attempt in 2019, I was keen to once again take part in the NYPH this year. What I had not anticipated, however, was that I would end up leading a group walk as part of a friendly competition here in the North-East between botanically-minded members of the Natural History Society of Northumbria. A challenge that would see an expert group, led by a former BSBI President, no less, traversing the picturesque dune slacks of Lindisfarne; while a slightly less practised group, led by myself, would take on the parks, roadsides, and front weed-strewn front gardens of Newcastle.

Setting out on New Years Day, it immediately became apparent that non-native species would form a cornerstone of our collective, botanical haul. Indeed, the streets of Heaton, my own district of Newcastle, revealed a kaleidoscopic mix of aliens, each having breached the confines of their garden prisons long ago. Red Valarian, tall and lusciously pink, bright yellow Oxford Ragwort and the star-shaped blue heads of Trailing Bellflower conspicuous against the greys and browns of concrete and brick. Looking closer, other colonists became apparent also: Canadian and Mexican Fleabane, Yellow Corydalis and Snapdragon. Later in the walk, Pru, a member of our group, also pointed out a new species for me, Mock Strawberry, a yellow flowering native of South Asia. Newcastle, it seems, like a great many of our cities represents somewhat of a botanical United Nations, boasting species from almost all corners of the globe.

Of course, native species also featured as part of our foray. Mainly the tenacious ‘weeds’ that are widely known to persevere throughout the winter months: Shepard’s Purse, Groundsel, Hogweed, Feverfew and the omnipresent Annual Meadow Grass. That said, it was surprising to find the delicate white blooms of Wild Strawberry clinging on in the relative shelter of Jesmond Dene, a local woodland, and the minute, octopus-like female flowers of Hazel greatly brightened up our morning.

All in all, our merry band of urban plant-hunters finished on an unseasonally high total of 40 species. As did the team roving on Lindisfarne, it turns out. With a great day had by all, it would be rude to scoff at an amicable draw.

Mock Strawberry, Wild Strawberry, Hazel and Feverfew

Fast forward to Thursday and keen to head out with my newly acquired hand lens and Collin’s guide to British flora, and a jaunt to the coast beckoned. What transpired was a lovely (and uncharacteristically sunny) three hours at Tynemouth, ultimately culminating in a grand total of 43 flowering plants. The highlight of which had to be Alexanders in bloom – a regionally scarce species abundant at this site due, I am led to believe, to the culinary taste of the monks who once inhabited the long-abandoned Tynemouth Priority.

Elsewhere, I chanced upon two new species for me: Seaside Daisy and Buck’s-horn Plantain. The former, a native of California persevering along a small stretch of stonework near the priory, and the second, a pretty cool native species whose leaves (at least in my mind) resemble more the serrated bill of a Sawfish, as opposed to the horns of a buck. I am unsure how I have overlooked this plant until now – it’s pretty distinct.

Left to right: Alexanders, Seaside Daisy & Buck’s-horn Plaintain

All in all, this year’s New Year Plant Hunt provided a great opportunity to get out and about and appreciate the diversity of local flora. While also providing an opportunity to learn from and socialise with a number of local botanists far more knowledgeable than I. A win-win!

If you would like to cast your peepers over the results of this year’s hunt or, like me, keep a watchful eye on what others have seen in your area, you can check out the BSBI results page here: https://nyph.bsbi.org/results.php

An hour in the company of aliens

Britain’s cities have served as the epicentre for countless invasions over the years. Landing sites, if you would, where species from far-flung destinations – East Asia, North America and closer to home, in Europe – gain first a toe-hold before beginning their creeping advance across the land. Here, in the city, the wheels of countless vehicles transport seeds, tenacious pioneers breach the walls of their manicured garden cells and unwitting homeowners provide an endless supply of food, sustaining some feral beings on their quest towards colonisation.

Yesterday, I decided to pause and look. To take a moment to seek out the non-native species with whom I share my street  (a small area of no more than 300m). I must confess, I was quite surprised – many, it seems, find the urban realm much to their liking.

Rising triumphantly between the pavement slabs that line the street adjacent to the fractured glass of the bus stop from which I make my daily commutes, the obnoxious yellow blooms of the day’s first invader add an unseasonal touch of colour at a time when little if anything, should flower. Oxford Ragwort, a native to the lava fields of Sicily, so named for the botanical gardens where the plant was first grown in the 1700s, clearly at home in the cracks and crevices provided by splitting concrete and crumbling wall.

Oxford Ragwort and Red Valerian growing side by side

So prolific is the ragwort here that it is easily the most frequently encountered ‘wildflower’ on the street, rivalled only by the less widespread yet thriving swaths of Red Valerian – another Mediterranean immigrant – which likewise finds the degrading stonework here to its liking. Both do well here, despite an annual dose of herbicide courtesy of the local council.

The invading botanicals here appear to have organised themselves quite well into some semblance of a natural, tiered community. While ragwort and valerian dominate at ground level, Buddleia prevails at altitude: standing tall in neglected gardens, atop walls, on rooftops and even chimney stacks. The dominant species in the sparse canopy of the street which, brick-breaking tendencies aside, I actually find myself gazing upon fondly. This invader, perhaps more so than the others, provides a boon to insects [and those who enjoy them] throughout the summer months.

While I see Buddleia everywhere I look on my street, some new arrivals are just beginning to gain a toehold. Along the railway lines some 25m from my front door, patches of much-maligned Japanese Knotweed have now appeared. In cracks and crannies on the sunnier side of the street, Trailing Bellflower – a native to the Alps – has begun to creep gradually from garden to garden. Each plant set to paint the stonework here a pleasant blue later in the year. There are others too: a passing glance at the exposed soil at the base of nearby lampost revealing a small, nondescript holly-shaped plant. Not our native Holly at all, in fact, but Oregon Grape – a spiny import from Western North America where, in its natural environment, it forms a dense understory in the shade of towering Douglas Firs. It will find no fir trees here – not that it will be deterred.

Heading to the local park, keen to seek out something, anything, which truly belongs, a piercing shriek and a series of gleeful whistles herald the arrival of another uninvited guest. Sure enough, moments later, a lurid green parakeet emerges atop a budding sycamore. A bird hailing from East Asia, perched in a tree of Eastern European origin looking out across a street laden with arrivals of North America, Italy and China… all in one tiny corner of Britain.

Say what you will about invasive species, they do, in my opinion, deserve some degree of respect for carving out a home in what are often entirely unnatural settings. Some are damaging, some are relatively harmless, but all are interesting.

The exotic heart of London

Hailing from the North East of England, to me, a visit to London is much like a visit to a dystopian future. One where geographical boundaries blur and species which naturally should never have encountered one another, stand cheek by jowl in an odd assemblage of the tropical and tenacious. From squirrels, birds and fish to the very trees that make up the backbone of the city’s parks, wildlife watching in London is a queer old affair.

Killing some time between professional commitments upon a recent trip ‘down south’, it would have been rude of me not to visit at least a few of London’s many sprawling parks. And I did: calling first at St. James’s to enjoy its otherworldly assortment of wildfowl – both captive and wild. Admiring the numerous Egyptian geese, hamstringing passers-by for a free meal in the company of feral Bar-headed Geese – originally from Asia – and the odd free-flying Black Swan. Whether or not the latter were part of the parks extensive collection remains open to speculation. Coupled with the odd Mandarin, these helped set an altogether tropical tone to our stay in the capital.

Egyptian Geese

The collections at St. James’s were interesting too, of course. Paramount to any zoo and providing a great opportunity to brush up on my exotic waterfowl ID – with Ruddy Shelduck, Hooded Merganser, Red-breasted Goose, Fulvous Whistling Duck and Ross’s Goose present to name but a few. Not to mention the world-famous Pelicans doing their utmost to delight the amassed crowds. I confess, I was quite taken by them.

Famous pelicans, with bonus Ruddy Shelduck and Red-breasted Geese

Departing St. James’s, we headed for Hyde Park – brandishing an apple so to [hopefully] gain a closer look at one of the capitals most prolific alien residents: Ring-necked Parakeets. We were not disappointed, and after almost an hour of hearing the characteristic, piercing shrieks of this species from high in the canopy of London Plane – another non-native species – soon found ourselves covered head-to-toe in lurid green birds. The characterful parrots just as confiding as the countless pictures posted to social media had suggested: adorning head and arm alike as they squabbled for prime, fruit-stealing position. With some even going so far as to deliver a short, sharp bite when not immediately pandered to – impatient Southerners.

Up-close and personal with London’s parakeets

While some find themselves conflicted regarding Grey Squirrels [we saw an ungodly amount of these in London too] I, like many others, find myself torn on Ring-necked Parakeets. On one hand, they are potentially damaging invasives: killing bats, extirpating native birds from nest holes and plundering food crops. They are noisy, brazen, disruptive and at the base of things, should not be here. On the other hand, they are rather beautiful, and for many in the city, provide a much-needed link to the natural world. One they are familiar with. Honestly, I could not help but feel charmed by the birds and, with their permanent status in Britain all but assured, see no harm in celebrating them for what they are: adaptive and resilient colonists. Much like ourselves.

Parakeets, waterfowl and invasive squirrels aside, I would like to say that I also noted an abundance of native species in London. I didn’t. By large, most of the species seen and enjoyed were colonists – each impressive in their own way. Something which, if little else, serves to help me understand the difficulties faced when we conservationists openly and fiercely discuss the need to control, limit and destroy non-native species. For some, species such as this – the parakeets, grey squirrels and Egyptian Geese of this world – are all the wildlife they know. Little wonder then that some choose to defend them so vigorously. I might not agree, but I do understand.