The 'Hedge-tucker' Trials
Aug 25
5 min read
25th August 2024. Some strange and wonderful plant-insect relationships...
In the staff-only recess of the salon this week, there was a mysterious drama unravelling over the telephone between my hairdresser and some unknown sympathiser. I don’t know what the problem was, but when she stood behind me with her scissors poised, my relief at seeing her professionally switch from incensed-to-smile mode was real. The conversation then proceeded as usual and I think my stories from the hedgerows were a meditative distraction – judging by the glazed expressions and delayed “Oh reallys”…
At such times, I am reminded that there are humans who do not love wildflowers as much as I do, and console myself by thinking of them not as ‘muggles’, but as a botanical equivalent. There are dramas, mysteries and magic tricks to see on the wildflower trail, but they are only revealed to those in the know.
By way of illustration, straying into a nudist beach, half-freezing to death on a Scottish mountain and raging over the interpretation of a plant key are some recent wildflower dramas I can report. However, they are not mine and belong to Leif Bersweden. I especially sympathise with the raging one, except mine involves trying to identify a plant that refuses to smile at the camera (i.e., keeps blurring), in the absence of a field guide entry and with only intermittent internet connection. (Strangely enough, Wi-Fi is not a hedgerow certainty.) And if I’m not wrestling my phone signal, then I am being pressed into the nettles by passing tractors, coughing out the flies that have mistaken my throat for a tube of nectar, or brushing off the spiders and ants that have crawled up my trousers. Plus, I nearly undid myself weeks ago, unknowingly handling the leaves of a plant related to an extremely phytotoxic one. Honestly. They are not hedgerows out there. They're hedge-tucker trials sometimes.
My hedgerow dramas, of course, pale into comparison with those of its residents. Indeed, please spare a thought for the caterpillar of the Oak Eggar Moth who survived four speeding cars, as it wobbled across the road (and I watched through my fingers).
Or consider the oak trees forced into accepting tiny invertebrate squatters - who set up camp wherever they like, to enjoy the luxury of free food and shelter. These ‘camps’ are actually called ‘galls’ - abnormal growths that develop on a host, under the instruction of an invading organism (fungi, gall-wasps, aphids etc). In Britain, there are roughly 70 types of gall wasps associated with oak trees and, whilst they can sometimes impact on the size of an acorn crop, they are generally harmless and part of healthy biodiversity. People who study galls are called 'cecidologists' (which my spellchecker finds alarming, but I find delightful) and there has been a British society for galls since 1985.
Galls and gall-wasps are found in a range of species but particularly common amongst oak trees – earning them a section entirely of their own in my guidebook, and serving as one of countless examples of the relationships that can develop between organisms.
Like relationships in the human world, some botanical relationships may be experienced as harmonious and mutually beneficial, whereas others certainly are not. But plants are not routinely the victims or servants to another organism. They can be dominating or controlling too. As Leif says in his book, Where the Wildflowers Grow, plants “are determined and crafty when they are after something” – whether that means growing healthily and protecting themselves from harm, “putting food on the table”, finding a mate or creating the next generation.
Hedge Bindweed is one of my personal examples and the original inspiration for this week’s blog. Looking into the funnel of one flower, I had been fascinated by a perfect line of perforations, and later learned that they were caused by insects eager to reach the nectar - before the bud opened. Hedge Bindweed can be a nuisance to gardeners, as you’ll see below, but it obviously doesn’t entirely rule the botanical roost. There’s a human lesson in there somewhere, I’m sure. Look after yourselves and I’ll see you next week.
Hedge Bindweed: has trumpet-shaped flower heads which remain open for business after nightfall or even throughout the night with a full moon. Its flowers are unscented but rich in nectar that attracts long-tongued moths, hoverflies, bees and butterflies. The leaves are heart-shaped and provide food for various beetles and caterpillar moths. Hedge Bindweed is often unpopular amongst gardeners due to its tenacious hold and rate of spread; it grows up to 3m in height or blankets (and essentially) chokes the plants it climbs and wraps itself around. For the hedgerow walker, however, the plant can at least be admired for its June to September spotlight-dazzling display of light. And it earns a smile from me in lieu of one of its common names. Hedge Bindweed is sometimes called ‘Granny-pop-out-of-bed’.
English Oak: There are roughly 500 species of oak tree in the northern hemisphere, and some can live for more than 1000 years. One even appeared on the British pound coin in 1987. The species is a national symbol for strength and survival, not least because its potential height of 20-40m makes the oak vulnerable to lightning strikes and its roots are generally only anchored in the top 30cm of soil. Both male and female flowers are sited on the same tree, but the acorns are only produced after the tree's 40th year. The cup that they sit in, rather neatly, is termed a cupule. Acorns are a popular food source for jays, squirrels and mice, and can also be made edible for human consumption as, e.g., a coffee alternative or flour. Their popularity with animals is perhaps compensated by the tree’s ‘mast’ years, which happen every 5-10 years and involves the oak mass-producing many more acorns than usual. This increases the likelihood of more surviving and thus more new trees growing – and means that the 2300+ species each tree supports can continue to call the oak their home.
References
Emilie Bonnevay (2019) Are Acorns Edible? And Other Acorn Facts.
https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/blog/2019/09/are-acorns-edible-and-other-acorn-facts/
Leif Bersweden (2022) Where the Wild Flowers Grow. Hodder and Stoughton; Great Britain
Lorienne Whittle (2020) What is a Mast Year? How and Why it Happens. https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/blog/2020/10/what-is-a-mast-year/?gad_source=1&gbraid=0AAAAAD4sptyfF6Lpp9n7qu_0NgFvjRmsK&gclid=Cj0KCQjwz7C2BhDkARIsAA_SZKZpS7WPXUZlVaJAgcImKySAHDrmBeVIg8V-3SpFa-NUB2xopmz-5f0aAr_8EALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds
Michael Chinery (2016) Britain’s Plant Galls. WildGuides Ltd; Great Britain
Neil Fletcher (2010) Pocket Nature. Wild Flowers. Dorling Kindersley Limited; London
Paul Sterry (2007) Collins Complete Guide to British Trees. HarperCollins Publishers; London
Sarah Raven (2011) Wild Flowers. Bloomsbury Publishing; Great Britain
Sconzani (2017) A Tale of Three Bindweeds. https://earthstar.blog/2017/07/18/a-tale-of-three-bindweeds/
The British Plant Gall Society (2024) The British Plant Gall Society. https://www.britishplantgallsociety.org
The Royal Horticultural Society (2024) Bindweed. https://www.rhs.org.uk/weeds/bindweed
The Royal Horticultural Society (2024) Oak Gall Wasps. https://www.rhs.org.uk/biodiversity/oak-gall-wasps
Woodland Trust (not dated, but I assume 2024) Oak Trees and Wildlife.
Aug 25
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