Country diary: A single act of care 40 years ago, and we have this splendid, rare colony | Sarah Lambert
Before 7am, the heat is already pressing down. I’ve come out early for my annual pilgrimage to a local colony of crested cow‑wheat, Melampyrum cristatum. On each side of the narrow path, orchids stand among the grasses, overtopped by the pale pink froth of common valerian flowers, whose scent always puts me in mind of sugared almonds. Stock doves call gently from an oak. Around my boots, grasshoppers and crickets fizz and spring aside.
In among it, to my excitement, is a tangled abundance, thousands of plants jostling with mats of wild liquorice. The flowers repay close attention – soft primrose-coloured tubes with plush mouths, stacked one above another, flushing magenta with age, each held in a purplish bract, elegantly curved and sharply toothed. This is the crest that gives the plant both its common and scientific names.
Like other cow-wheats, it is hemiparasitic: its leaves make food, but its roots also tap neighbouring plants for water and minerals. An annual of old woodland edges and clearings, it’s a rarity, growing only in a small part of eastern England. Its oil- and protein-rich seeds are irresistible to ants, so much so that they drag them underground; in the fine soil of the nest, they germinate. It’s an ingenious system, but not one that allows the plant to be a particularly intrepid traveller.
I first met crested cow-wheat in the 1980s, when a precarious colony survived beneath a shady oak on a verge in nearby Ufford. When rabbit disturbance declined, allowing the grass to grow long, that colony faded. Before it vanished, a far-sighted reserve warden gathered some seed and founded this population, in a place where ants are plentiful and winter cattle grazing keeps the sward open.
In the shade of another oak, I think back to previous visits: a warm summer evening when brassy longhorn moths cavorted over field scabious flowers; a wet July day with a naturalist friend seeing this scarce, beautiful plant for the first time. So much delight has flowed from one timely act of attention – seed gathered, carried and given a future before it was too late.
Read the full story at The Guardian ↗
A crested cow-wheat colony in eastern England represents a successful outcome of deliberate conservation action. Four decades ago, a reserve warden collected seeds from a declining population near Ufford before it disappeared, establishing a new population in suitable habitat. The plant is a hemiparasitic annual native to old woodland edges, found naturally only in eastern England. Its seeds contain oils and proteins that attract ants, which carry them underground where germination occurs. The current location maintains conditions favourable to the plants through winter cattle grazing and adequate ant populations. The colony now contains thousands of plants alongside orchids, valerian, and other grassland species.
Read the full story at The Guardian ↗
Before 7am, the heat is already pressing down. I’ve come out early for my annual pilgrimage to a local colony of crested cow‑wheat, Melampyrum cristatum. On each side of the narrow path, orchids stand among the grasses, overtopped by the pale pink froth of common valerian flowers, whose scent always puts me in mind of sugared almonds. Stock doves call gently from an oak. Around my boots, grasshoppers and crickets fizz and spring aside.
In among it, to my excitement, is a tangled abundance, thousands of plants jostling with mats of wild liquorice. The flowers repay close attention – soft primrose-coloured tubes with plush mouths, stacked one above another, flushing magenta with age, each held in a purplish bract, elegantly curved and sharply toothed. This is the crest that gives the plant both its common and scientific names.
Like other cow-wheats, it is hemiparasitic: its leaves make food, but its roots also tap neighbouring plants for water and minerals. An annual of old woodland edges and clearings, it’s a rarity, growing only in a small part of eastern England. Its oil- and protein-rich seeds are irresistible to ants, so much so that they drag them underground; in the fine soil of the nest, they germinate. It’s an ingenious system, but not one that allows the plant to be a particularly intrepid traveller.
I first met crested cow-wheat in the 1980s, when a precarious colony survived beneath a shady oak on a verge in nearby Ufford. When rabbit disturbance declined, allowing the grass to grow long, that colony faded. Before it vanished, a far-sighted reserve warden gathered some seed and founded this population, in a place where ants are plentiful and winter cattle grazing keeps the sward open.
In the shade of another oak, I think back to previous visits: a warm summer evening when brassy longhorn moths cavorted over field scabious flowers; a wet July day with a naturalist friend seeing this scarce, beautiful plant for the first time. So much delight has flowed from one timely act of attention – seed gathered, carried and given a future before it was too late.
Read the full story at The Guardian ↗
Crested cow-wheat (Melampyrum cristatum) is a rare annual plant found only in a small part of eastern England The plant is hemiparasitic, producing its own food through photosynthesis but also extracting water and minerals from neighbouring plants via its roots Crested cow-wheat seeds are rich in oils and proteins, making them attractive to ants which disperse them by carrying them underground to nests A crested cow-wheat colony near Ufford declined when rabbit disturbance ceased and grass grew long A reserve warden collected seeds from the declining Ufford population and established a new population in a location with plentiful ants and winter cattle grazing This act of conservation 40 years ago represents a timely intervention that preserved the species
Read the full story at The Guardian ↗
- A crested cow-wheat colony in eastern England thrives 40 years after a reserve warden collected seeds from a declining population
- The plant is a rare annual hemiparasite found only in a small part of eastern England, relying on ants to disperse its seeds underground
- The current population persists in conditions maintained by winter cattle grazing and ant activity, demonstrating the long-term impact of a single conservation intervention