The NHBS Guide to Autumn and Winter Foraging

Foraging for food is an easy way to connect people of all ages with nature. Some of us may forage unknowingly while picking juicy blackberries in the summer months, and some of us may be unaware of the vast array of edibles around us throughout the year. Here we have selected a handful of items to forage through autumn and winter, highlighting where you can find them and their culinary uses.  

It is important to be certain of your identification, so if you are unsure, check all foraged foods with a professional as some plants have toxic look-alikes. Remember to forage responsibly by leaving plenty behind for wildlife and allow plants to set seed or spore for regeneration. 


Mushrooms and Fungi

Oyster Mushrooms (Pleurotus ostreatus) 

A cluster of oyster mushrooms on a tree stump, it is light cream underneath and a light brown on the top
Image by Sarah Ward via Flickr

Identification: With its distinctive appearance, this bracket fungus is instantly recognisable. It has an oyster-shaped cap, that can be white, cream, grey or tan in colour and measures up to 25cm across. The gills underneath can vary in thickness with age, but are generally white or cream in colour.  

Distribution: Oyster mushrooms can be found throughout the year in large numbers, but they are most commonly seen in the winter months growing on deciduous hardwoods, such as beech.  

Culinary Uses: Oyster mushrooms have a meaty texture and a mild, nutty flavour. They have a diversity of culinary applications and are often used to substitute meat due to their fleshy texture. They can be sauteed, stir fried, grilled and roasted, or used as an ingredient in soups, stews, risottos and pasta.  

Did you know? Oyster Mushrooms are carnivorous and can digest nematodes (microscopic, unsegmented worms).  

 

Velvet Shank Mushroom (Flammulina velutipes) 

A group of orange bracket fungi growing on the bark of a tree, they are bright orange on top and lighter in colour on the bottom
Image by Peter O’Connor via Flickr

Identification: Growing in overlapping tiers, Velvet Shank Mushroom caps can measure up to 7cm in diameter and 10cm in height. The caps are bright orange, with a pale edge and a darker area towards the middle, which interestingly becomes slimy to the touch in wet weather. The gills are broad and white, turning yellow with maturity and the stalk is fibrous and soft.  

Distribution: The dense clusters of this fungus can be found on dead and decaying broadleaved trees from late autumn to early spring. It is fairly common throughout the UK and can be found on the stumps and trunks of hardwood trees. The fungus shows a preference for elm, but can also be found on beech, oak and Hawthorn.  

Culinary Uses: Velvet Shank has a sweet, nutty flavour and a chewy texture. They are only edible once cooked, and can be used in soups, casseroles and stews, or can be preserved using oil or vinegar for use throughout the season. For improved texture, the skin and stalks should be removed during preparation. 

Did you know? Velvet Shank Mushrooms are one of few species that can be found in December because they can survive frost and being frozen solid.  

 

Beefsteak Fungus (Fistulina hepatica) 

a flat fungus growing from the bark of a tree. it ids bright red and slimy on top and is white underneath
Image by Ancient Woods and Trees Project via Flickr

Identification: Also known as Ox-tongue Fungus due to its resemblance as a young fungus, this bracket fungus grows up to 25cm in diameter and 6cm in thickness. The upper surface is a deep red and it has a cream-coloured underside that is covered with small pores.  

Where/when: Beefsteak Fungus can be found from late summer to autumn and is common in broadleaved woodland. It can be spotted close to the ground on tree trunks and stumps, particularly Sweet Chestnut and oaks.  

Culinary Uses: This fungus has a marbled, rubbery texture and a slightly sour, acidic flavour. It can be eaten raw when sliced thinly but is more commonly cooked in larger chunks. During preparation, Beefsteak Fungus should be simmered for a little while to soften the flesh.  

Did you know? Beefsteak fungus will ooze a watery blood-like substance when cut. 

 

Nuts and Seeds

Chestnuts, Sweet Chestnut Tree (Castanea sativa) 

a green spiky shell encasing multiple brown nuts
Image by Garry Knight via Flickr

Identification: Chestnuts grow on Sweet Chestnut trees; a large deciduous species which can grow up to 35m in height. It has long, toothed leaves that can grow up to 28cm in length and its flowers are long, yellow catkins. Sweet Chestnuts produce fruit cases that are covered in soft green spikes, and inside these cases are up to three shiny brown chestnuts.  

Distribution: Sweet Chestnut trees are mostly found in south-east England in woodlands, towns and gardens. The chestnuts begin to drop from October and can be found until early winter. 

Culinary Uses: Chestnuts can be baked, boiled, roasted, candied or stored in syrup. Before cooking, a cross should be scored on the bottom to prevent them from exploding. Once cooked and peeled, chestnuts can be used in cakes and stuffing and are often enjoyed as a festive treat.  

Did you know? In the UK, it is believed that Sweet Chestnut trees were introduced by the Romans as a source of flour. 

 

Walnuts, Walnut Tree (Juglans regia) 

A group of walnuts on a wooden table, with the shell they have a veiny texture and without a shell they have pits and waves
Image by Taco Witte via Flickr

Identification: These seeds are foraged from the Walnut tree, a large, broadleaved deciduous species that can grow up to 35m in height. The bark of the Walnut is smooth and olive-brown in colour, which fades to grey as the tree matures. The pinnate leaves have up to nine pairs of leaflets, with one terminal leaflet at the end and the tree has long, yellow green coloured catkins. The brown, wrinkled walnuts can be found inside a green husk which splits as it ripens and can be picked from late autumn.  

Distribution: A common and widespread species throughout the UK, Walnut trees can be found on farmland, towns, parks and gardens.  

Culinary Uses: Walnuts are a popular snack and can be incorporated into several dishes, sweet or savoury. They can be eaten raw, roasted, fried or pickled.  

Did you know? Walnut leaves are said to smell of furniture polish when crushed.  

 

Hazelnuts, Hazel Tree (Corylus avellana) 

Two unripe hazelnuts hang from a branch, they are pink in colour and have small white hairs covering the fruit
Image by hedera.baltica via Flickr

Identification: Mature Hazel trees grow to around 12m tall and are easily identified by their leaves. They are soft to the touch, with a round shape, pointed tip and serrated edges. The flowers consist of yellow cylindrical catkins that hang in clusters from mid-February, giving way to the oval fruits which hang in groups of around four and are surrounded by leafy bracts. 

Distribution: Common and widespread across the UK, Hazel trees can be found in woods, hedgerows, parks and gardens. Hazelnuts are present from late August and are ready to harvest up to October when the husks are golden brown and begin to split. 

Culinary Uses: Once ripened in a dark, dry place, hazelnuts can be roasted or baked, and used to create stuffing, nut butters, pastry fillings and traditional festive confectionary.  

 

Plants and Trees

Stinging Nettle (Urtica dioica) 

a bird-eye view of a patch of stinging nettles, who have strongly serrated leaves
Image by svklimkin via Flickr

Identification: Stinging Nettles can be easily identified by their dull, serrated leaves that, along with the rest of the plant, are covered in small, stinging hairs that deliver an itchy sting when brushed. The stem is square, and the flowers are small and green, resembling catkins with no petals.  

Distribution: Stinging Nettles are common and widespread throughout the UK and can be found in woodland, grassland, hedges, roadsides and wasteland from Spring to Autumn.  

Culinary Uses: The shoots and leaves of Stinging Nettles are extremely versatile in the kitchen and can be used in soups, risotto, pesto and popular herbal teas.  

Did you know? It is thought that roman soldiers rubbed their bodies with nettles to keep warm and promote good circulation.  

 

Hairy Bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta) 

A small bushy plant on a forest floor, it has a couple of long stems with flowers at the top
Image by Melissa McMaster via Flickr

Identification: A small, annual herb in the mustard family, Hairy Bittercress grows to around 30cm in height. The compound leaves consist of small, rounded leaflets that are arranged in opposite pairs, forming a compact rosette close to the ground. The small, white flowers have four petals forming a cross shape and are around 1cm in diameter. The entire plant is covered in small, pale hairs.  

Distribution: Common and widespread year-round, Hairy Bittercress can readily be found in the cracks in pavements, patios, walls and gardens. It prefers damp, shady areas but may also be found in heathland, coastal areas and moorland.  

Culinary Uses: Although considered a weed, Hairy Bittercress has a wide range of culinary uses. It has a tangy, peppery flavour and can be used in salads, soups, salsa, or pesto, and can even be used to substitute cress and rocket. Picking leaves from the middle of the rosette is advised for the best flavour.  

 

Scots Pine (Pinus sylvestris) 

A close up shot of the scots pine needles and cone
Image by Sage Ross via Flickr

Identification: Growing up to 35m in height, Scots Pine trees are easily recognised by their straight, unbranched trunk and conical crown. The needles are grey green in colour and are arranged in twisted, bunched pairs with orange scented flowers that mature into green cones.   

Distribution: Scots Pine are common and widespread throughout the northern hemisphere. Wild trees can be found in abundance in the Caledonian Pine Forest of Scotland and are widely planted elsewhere in the UK.  

Culinary Uses: Scots Pine needles can be harvested throughout the year to make pestos, soups and stews. Young pine needles can be used to make tea or can be infused with oils to harness their citrusy, lemony flavour. 

 

Fruits and Berries

Rosehips, Wild Dog Rose (Rosa canine) 

A branch with a bunch of orange and red berries
Image by Peter Stenzel via Flickr

Identification: Rosehips come from the wild Dog Rose; a thorny, scrambling shrub with pale pink flowers. The flowers have five petals and yellow stamens that give rise to oval shaped, green seed pods known as rosehips. These eventually ripen to a vibrant red and contain numerous small seeds covered in irritating hairs.  

Distribution: Dog Rose is common and widespread across the UK where it can be found year-round in hedgerows and woodland fringes. Rosehips appear around September after the rose has flowered, and last throughout the winter – they are ready to be picked when they feel plump and soft  

Culinary Uses: Rosehips can be used to make jams, jellies and syrup for cordials, tea and desserts. Rosehip tea is commonly brewed with citrus fruits, lemongrass, dried fruit and honey for a vitamin C rich drink. These berries have also been used to infuse vinegars for a fragrant salad dressing. Rosehips cannot be eaten raw and must be cooked before ingestion. The irritating hairs around the seeds should also be removed during preparation. 

 

Sloes, Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) 

A branch with many bunches of purple blue berries
Image by Lewis Bormann via Flickr

Identification: Sloes grow on the Blackthorn tree, a black-barked scrub that grows to around 7 metres. Blackthorn has spiny, black-purple twigs and oval-shaped, toothed leaves which have pointed tips and a tapered base. Blackthorn trees produce small, white blossom in early spring, before the leaves develop. The sloes, which are the smallest fruit in the plum family, are blue-black berries around 1cm across. They can be picked from September to December and are known for their acidic taste. 

Distribution: Blackthorn can be found in abundance in woodland, field edges and hedges throughout the UK.  

Culinary Uses: It is recommended to pick sloes after the first frost for the best flavour, however this can be replicated by freezing and thawing the sloes at home. The tart flavour of sloe berries is favoured for preserves, wine and sloe gin. Historically, sloes have also been used to make tonics and syrups as health remedies.  

 

Elderberries, Elder Tree (Sambucus nigra) 

Bunches of small black purple berries hanging from pink branches
Image by Geoff Henson via Flickr

Identification: The Elder tree is a deciduous species which can grow up to six metres in height and is identifiable by its toothed, oval leaves. Each compound leaf has up to seven leaflets, arranged in opposite pairs with a single leaflet at the top. The flowers of this tree, elderflowers, bloom between May and June. Clusters of white, five-petalled flowers appear with prominent yellow stamens, and umbels of dark elderberries form in late August. 

Distribution: Elder trees can be found growing in a variety of conditions year-round, and are largely non-selective with their environment, which can include hedgerows, woodland, scrubland, grassland and urban green spaces.   

Culinary Uses: Packed full of antioxidants and vitamins, elderberries have been used for centuries to support human health. These dark berries can be used to make wine, syrups, jams, cordials and can be incorporated into cakes and crumbles. Please note that elderberries should always be cooked before eating to neutralise cyanide compounds present within the fruit.  

 

Recommended Reading:

 

Field Studies Council Guide to Foraging

An essential fold-out guide to the most common and tasty plants to forage in Britain and Ireland.

 

 

 

The Foragers Cookbook

A unique cookbook containing 65 wild food recipes with detailed identification guides to 15 common edible plants.

 

 

 

Concise Foraging Guide

A waterproof practical pocket guide to 194 edible fruits, nuts, flowers, vegetables and more that can be foraged in the UK and Europe.

 

 

 

Field Studies Council Guide to Autumn Fruits and Seeds

A concise guide to 33 different fruits produced by common trees and shrubs in Britain.

 

The NHBS Guide to Summer Foraging

Foraging for food is an easy way to connect people of all ages with nature. Some of us may forage unknowingly while picking juicy blackberries in the summer months, and some of us may be unaware of the vast array of edibles around us. Here we have selected a handful of items to forage through spring and summer, highlighting where you can find them and their culinary uses.  

It is important to be certain of your identification, so if you are unsure, check all foraged foods with a professional because some plants have toxic look-alikes. Remember to forage responsibly by leaving plenty behind for wildlife and allowing plants to spore or set seed for regeneration.


Wild herbs

Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata) 

Image by Daniel Jolivet via Flickr

Garlic Mustard, also known as Hedge Mustard or Jack-by-the-hedge, is a hairy herb in the mustard family. This plant has heart-shaped jagged leaves which emit a distinctive garlic odour when crushed, and has small, white flowers with cross-shaped petals. The species can grow up to 1m in height and can be found in woodland, hedgerows, cultivated land and on the borders of agricultural farmland. Each part of this plant is edible, but harvesting is best between March–April and July–September. Garlic mustard is best enjoyed before flower stalks develop, as this can create a bitter taste. The roots of this plant can be used as a substitute for pepper and horseradish and is said to taste like wasabi. The leaves have a garlicky flavour, and can be used as a replacement for traditional, store-bought garlic.  

 

Wild Garlic (Allium ursinum)  

Image by Leonora (Ellie) Enking via Flickr

Wild Garlic (also called ramsons, bear garlic or broad-leaved garlic) is easily identified by its distinctive fragrance. When walking through areas of Wild Garlic, which are often found in large groups, you may catch a whiff of their characteristic garlic smell in the air. These areas are typically damp, shady woodland and can often be found with bluebells close by, as the pair have similar growing conditions. This plant can be seen from late winter till the end of spring, with flowers appearing in April/May. It has distinctive white, star-shaped flowers that grow in clusters. Their leaves are elongated, and when crushed release a pungent smell.  

With a milder taste than shop-bought garlic, this plant is suitable for use in pastas, pesto’s and soups and can be infused into oils and vinegars. Only the flowers and leaves are edible, so it is best to leave the root to allow for regrowth – it is also worth noting that younger leaves are better for cooking, as older leaves can create bitter flavours. This plant can be confused with the poisonous Lily-of-the-valley, so it is best to smell the leaves before consuming them – alternatives will not have a distinctive garlic smell.  

 

Wildflowers 

Elderflower (Sambucus nigra) 

Image by Kent Wang via Flickr

The Black Elder tree, a deciduous species, can grow to six metres in height and is identified by toothed, oval leaves. Each compound leaf has up to seven leaflets, arranged in opposite pairs with a single leaflet at the top. The flowers of this tree, elderflowers, bloom between May and June. Clusters of white, five-petalled flowers appear with prominent yellow stamens, and umbels of dark berries form in late August. Elderflowers can be found growing in a variety of conditions, and are largely non-selective with their environment, which can include hedgerows, woodland, scrubland, grassland and urban green spaces. Elderflowers have a long tradition of culinary use in the UK, using both berries and flowers for different purposes. Preserves, cordials, gins and puddings are all common uses of elderflower. The flowers can be eaten raw, but berries must be cooked before use. Elderflowers have a sweet and zesty taste and an aroma which is slightly lemony.  

 

Dandelion (Taraxacum officinale 

Image by Jonas Lowgren via Flickr

Although there are around 250 species of dandelion, here we refer to them collectively as they are difficult to distinguish from one another.  

An instantly recognisable British wildflower, the dandelion features a bright yellow composite flower crown on a bed of large, jagged leaves. These species are very common and widespread, popping up almost everywhere from parks and gardens to roadsides and meadows. The roots, leaves, flowers and buds of the dandelion can be used for food and can be harvested from early spring to late autumn. The roots can be used as a coffee substitute and are famously used in the Dandelion-and-Burdock drink. Leaves can be added to salads and the dandelion flowers are often used in cakes. You can also make beer from the entire plant.  

 

Fruit and berries 

Wild Strawberry (Fragaria vesca)  

Image by Michael Figiel via Flickr

A hairy, perennial herb in the rose family, the Wild Strawberry can be found from May to August. The species is indiscriminate of their growing environment and can be found in a wide range of areas – it is found naturally growing in woodlands, hillsides, meadows, hedgerows and urban green spaces. Wild Strawberries can be identified by serrated, trifoliate (three leaflets) leaves and white, five-petalled flowers with a yellow centre. The berries of a Wild Strawberry appear similar to that of commercial strawberries but are generally smaller and rougher. These edible berries can be foraged from June onwards to make teas, cordials and puddings or can be infused into vinegars and sauces. With a sweet and juicy taste, these fruits can also be used as garnishes or used in salads.  

 

Bramble (Rubus fruticosus) 

Image by Dwight Sipler via Flickr

A sure sign that summer has arrived, the Bramble is an iconic British summertime plant. This perennial shrub can be found up to 3m in height, featuring thorny stems which turn red with age and dark, jagged leaves. Come spring, a Bramble bush will have small groups of white or pale pink flowers with five petals. The fruit of this plant will appear up until autumn, with distinctive black, shiny berries. Ripening from green to purple-black, blackberries have a sweet, tart flavour. They are widespread in the UK and can be found in many habitats including woodland, hedges, fields and urban spaces. It is advised to pick blackberries away from busy roadways and paths to avoid pollutants and other contaminants. Picking from the upper half of the bush is also advised to avoid dog mess. The blackberry is a versatile fruit, with diverse culinary uses. It is commonly used to make jams, jellies and preserves but can also be used to make cordials and fruity teas.  

 

Mushrooms  

Chicken of the Woods (Laetiporus sulphureus)

Image by Doug Bowman via Flickr

Laetiporus sulphureus, named Chicken of the Woods, is a thick bracket fungus common in the UK. This fungus has bright yellow-orange clusters that fade to cream with age. The average cap can grow to around 45cm in width and is often found growing on the side of trees in broadleaf habitat between June and November. It is mainly found on oak trees, but can also be found on Yews, cherries, Sweet Chestnut and willow. It should be noted that if the fungus is found growing on Yews, or other poisonous trees, the fungus can cause sickness in humans. The firm texture of this fungus makes it a favorable alternative to chicken in vegetarian dishes, as the name suggests. It is often substituted in stews, stir fries, and marinated on skewers. When foraging, it is best to eat younger specimens to avoid a hard, leathery texture associated with older fungi. 

 

Giant Puffball (Calvatia gigantea) 

Image by Maja Dumat via Flickr

Giant Puffballs are an astonishing sight when found in the wild. Their distinctive white, spherical silhouette can reach up to 90cm in diameter. This fungus has a soft, spongy texture inside, and a thick, velvety texture on the surface. A stemless variety, this plant is found directly on the ground and is often found in small clusters or ‘fairy rings’. As the fungus ages, it becomes browner in colour, compared to the firm, white flesh of young specimens. Giant Puffballs can be found in meadows, open pasture and woodland from July to September. They are widespread in the UK but are localised in habitat. This fungus is popular with vegetarian dishes – its firm, thick texture makes it a great substitute for chicken. It is often pan fried like steak, roasted or breaded and fried.  


 Additional Reading

Guide to Foraging 

Unbound | January 2016

An essential fold-out guide to the 25 most common and tasty plants to forage in Britain and Ireland.

 

 

The Foragers Cookbook 

Paperback | December 2016

A unique cookbook containing 65 wild food recipes with detailed identification guides to 15 common edible plants.

 

 

Concise Foraging Guide 

Paperback | May 2021

A waterproof practical pocket guide to 194 edible fruits, nuts, flowers, vegetables and more that can be foraged in the UK and Europe.

 

 

 

The NHBS Guide to Thistles

Distinctively prickly with pink or purple flowers, thistles belong to the largest family of flowering plant in the UK (with the exception of the grasses) – Asteraceae. These common plants are found throughout Britain and Ireland, providing key services for invertebrates who seek safety in the sharp spines. The leaves and nectar of thistles are also excellent sources of food for other groups, including pollinators and Painted Lady caterpillars, and several bird species are known to eat the seeds.

Here we take a look at a selection of thistles found throughout the UK, highlighting their distribution and ways in which they may be identified.  


 Creeping Thistle (Cirsium arvense)  

Creeping Thistle by hedera.baltica via Flickr

ID Notes: This perennial flower is named for its far-reaching, creeping roots. The leaves are smooth and grey-green in colour, with wavy, spined edges. The stems are smooth, neither spined nor winged. The flowerheads produce small, pale pink flowers (1.5–2.5cm) in small clusters with pear-shaped bases covered with phyllaries pressed against the flowerhead, curving outwards.  

Distribution: Widespread and common throughout Britain and Ireland. Creeping Thistles can be found from June to October on rough grassland, roadside verges and field edges – a preference for disturbed and cultivated ground is observed in this species.  

 

Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare) 

Spear Thistle by Andreas Rockstein via Flickr

ID Notes: This thistle is particularly attractive to pollinators, who are often seen feasting on the deep pink flowers. The large flowerheads (up to three may be present per stem) sit on a bulbous, spiked base with long, spreading phyllaries. The leaves of a Spear Thistle have long, lanceolate segments tipped with spines, and the upper surface is bristly. The stem is covered with light hair and sporadic spiny wings.  

Distribution: Widespread and common throughout Britain and Ireland. It can be found from July to October on disturbed ground such as roadside verges, field edges and pastures.  

 

Welted Thistle (Carduus crispus) 

Welted Thistle by Joost J. Bakker IJmuiden via Flickr

ID Notes: This plant has small, red-purple flowerheads that are clustered together. The base of the flower head has spiny, protruding bracts and the phyllaries project outwards. The branched stems have several rows of spiny wings, and the leaves have broader lobes than is typical for other thistles, with spiny margins. 

Distribution: Widespread throughout Britain, except Ireland. This species shows a preference for nutrient-enriched substrates, including brownfields, field margins, meadows and beside streams.  

 

Marsh Thistle (Cirsium palustre) 

Marsh Thistle by Gertjan van Noord via Flickr

ID Notes: Growing up to 2m in height, this large thistle is easily identified by its purple tinge. The flowerheads are small and are found in large clusters, with small reddish-purple or white flowers and the phyllaries are pressed against the flower head, with tips facing downwards. Leaves are more slender and shorter, with hair visible on the upper surface, they are often tinged purple on the margins and have many spines.  

Distribution: Widespread throughout Britain and Ireland, and can be found in marshes, damp grassland and meadows. 

 

Meadow Thistle (Cirsium dissectum) 

Meadow Thistle by Thibault Lefort via Flickr

ID Notes: Each Meadow Thistle has one flower head on a cottony stem, growing up to 80cm tall the solitary flower has purple-tipped, long bracts and the base covered with light, white hair. The stems are not winged, and basal leaves are toothed in a rosette formation. The remaining leaves are finely toothed, without spines, and have light hair on top, with a white, cottony appearance underneath.

Distribution: Most common in the south of the UK, with strongholds in the south-west and south Wales. Meadow Thistles are scarce towards the north. They can be found in bogs, fens, grassland and meadows.  

 

Musk Thistle (Carduus nutans) 

Musk Thistle by Sam Thomas via Flickr

ID Notes: Growing up to 2m in height, the Musk Thistle is recognised for its greyish-green colour. The flowerheads are large (3–5cm across), often nodding to one side after maturity, and have long, spiny phyllaries and two-lipped petals. The leaves are short and twisted, with spines present on the toothy lobes and are often woolly underneath.  

Distribution: Widespread throughout Britain, but absent from Scotland and Ireland. Most commonly found on calcareous soil from May to September.  

 

Woolly Thistle (Cirsium eriophorum) 

Woolly Thistle by Olive Titus via Flickr

ID Notes: The Woolly Thistle gets its name from its wool-like covering. The leaves are ladder-like and narrow, tipped with spines and are white underneath. The stems are wingless and are covered in cobweb-like hairs, producing a single large flowerhead. The phyllaries on the flower base are downward curved, spread throughout the cobwebbing.  

Distribution: Widespread throughout Britain, with strongholds in the Yorkshire Wolds and the Isle of Wight. The ‘queen of thistles’ often prefers chalky soils.  

 

 

The NHBS Guide to Clovers

Often perceived as a pesky weed in garden lawns, clovers are low-growing, common plants belonging to the family Fabaceae – also home to beans, peas and legumes. These drought resistant plants can be found throughout Britain and Ireland in a range of habitats and are key food sources for a number of pollinators.  

Here we look at a selection of clovers found in Britain, highlighting their identifying characteristics and where they can be found.  


White Clover (Trifolium repens) 

A view of clovers in the grass. Lots of small, white flowers tower above a bed of circular leaves
White Clover by Andreas Rockstein via Flickr

ID Notes: A familiar ‘weed’ of grassy spaces, the White Clover is easily recognised for its distinctive trefoil leaves – three leaflets bearing white markings. The flowers are white, sometimes pink toward the tips, with rounded heads made of many tubular blooms. Left to grow, this plant can grow up to 40cm in height, and is associated with Common Blue Butterflies (Polyommatus icarus) and bumblebees.  

Distribution: Common and widespread throughout Britain and Ireland. This plant can be found in grassy areas from May to October, including gardens, roadsides, meadows and parks.  

 

Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) 

A pink clover, made of multiple smaller flowers, takes a globular shape. It is surrounded by three hairy leaflets with a lighter 'v' shape in the middle
Red Clover by Judy Gallagher via Flickr

ID Notes: Similar to White Clovers, this species has three green leaflets bearing white markings, often ‘V’ shaped. The rounded flower heads bear pink/red flowers, forming clusters that are 2–3cm across. 

Distribution: Common and widespread throughout Britain and Ireland. This species will flower from May to October, and can be found in gardens, meadows, parks and roadsides. It is also sown as a fodder crop for livestock, so can be found in open pasture.  

 

Strawberry Clover (Trifolium fragiferum) 

On the left is a baby pink flower, the bottom half of it is more brown in colour and is dying. On the right is a pale pink fruit, it looks like a raspberry with a swollen, knobbly exterior
Strawberry Clover by Mark Gurney via Flickr

ID Notes: The Strawberry Clover has a densely packed flower head, brimming with pink-red pea-shaped flowers that turn darker throughout the growing season. The leaves have three leaflets, and the fruit resembles a pale raspberry. 

Distribution: Common in the south-east of England, it is found both inland and at the coast. Throughout Wales and northern England, this plant is mostly found coastally. Strawberry Clover can be found in fields, gardens, grassland, woodland and rocky areas.  

 

Hares-foot Clover (Trifolium arvense) 

A white fluffy flower on a hairy stem with hairy leaves.
Hare’s-foot Clover by hedera.baltica via Flickr

ID Notes: These pale pink flowers (2–3cm in size) are covered with small soft hairs giving it a cottony appearance, like a hare’s paw, as the name would suggest. The trifoliate leaves are divided into three leaflets, narrower than other clovers and covered in fine hair. The stalks are also covered in fine, white hair.  

Distribution: Fairly common in England and Wales, with a preference for coastal areas. Hares-foot Clover is uncommon in Scotland and Ireland. It can be found from June to September in dry grasslands, meadows, sandy soils and coastal areas.  

 

Knotted Clover (Trifolium striatum) 

A cylindrical shaped clover, with red veins in the base of the flower head. the leaves have three leaflets and are slightly pink on the edges
Knotted Clover by Thibault Lefort via Flickr

ID Notes: Up to 15mm across, the flowers of a Knotted Clover form pale pink (or white), ovoid flowerheads. The leaves are hairy on both sides and are divided into three toothed leaflets. This clover is easily distinguished by the knotting visible along the stem.  

Distribution: Widespread throughout Britain. Mostly found flowering at coastal sites between May and July, it can be found on beaches, fields, grassland, meadows, roadsides and sand dunes. 

 

Zigzag Clover (Trifolium medium) 

A bright, purple clover. the flower is made of multiple smaller flowers, and the leaves are more pointed with a light edge.
Zigzag Clover by Nina Laakso via Flickr

ID Notes: A dense flowerhead up to 3.5cm across, the Zigzag Clover is similar to the Red Clover, except that it has darker, reddish-purple flowers and spreading flowerheads. The leaves are longer and narrower, with less hair than other clovers and the stem is distinctively zigzagged allowing for easy identification.  

Distribution: Common in England, Wales and Scotland, except the far north. Zigzag Clover can be found from May to July in gardens, grassland, roadsides and verges, often on poor soil.  

 

Crimson Clover (Trifolium incarnatum) 

A bumble bee on a vibrant red pear-shaped flower.
Crimson Clover by Gerard Meyer via Flickr

ID Notes: This plant produces dense, conical-shaped heads of vibrant red flowers. The blooms of Crimson Clover are very attractive to bees, forming a close association in spring and summer. The stem and leaves are hairy, the latter composed of three leaflets.  

Distribution: Not commonly seen in Britain. This species is mostly found from May to September in grasslands, gardens, cliffsides and meadows in the south of the UK.  

 

Author interview with Ben Jacob: Orchid Outlaw

The Orchid Outlaw tells the tale of author Ben Jacob’s mission to save some of the UK’s rarest, native orchids. With many facing extinction due to land use change and the climate crisis, while also not being protected by environmental and planning laws, Ben took it upon himself to rescue these threatened plants and grow them in his own kitchen and garden, rather than losing the plants all together. In doing so, he placed himself on the wrong side of the law. This part memoir, part natural history piece shows us how we can all save the world one plant at a time.

Ben Jacob wearing a brown jacket stood by a bank with some orchids growing out of it.Ben works as a University lecturer by day, and as a clandestine ecologist, conservationist and Orchid-saviour by night. It is always a pleasure to meet the authors behind our books, particularly those who are adopting their own approach to nature restoration and conservation, and we were delighted to have the opportunity to talk to Ben in person about The Orchid Outlaw and have him sign our books. We discussed how he first became interested in Botany, his thoughts on the Right to Roam movement, what he hopes the reader can learn from his book and more. Read the full author interview on the Conservation Hub.


Firstly, can you tell us about yourself and how you first became interested in both Botany and orchids?

By day I’m a mild-mannered lecturer (in a subject which has very little to do with science or botany); by night I am a guerrilla conservationist with a focus on rescuing, conserving, and bringing back to the land, our native orchids. The Orchid Outlaw explains the journey I took from a chance encounter with a tropical orchid in a garden centre as a child, which led me, when I was older, to trekking through jungles to look for tropical species, then, and older still, via a mugging, an enforced return to England and a broken back, to encounter Britain’s – and Europe’s native orchids. As I learned more about these species, I realised that my preconceptions about our native orchids and the state of our natural environment were wrong. I became aware of the significant recent decline in orchid populations… and began my unorthodox means of saving them. I tell this story alongside (hopefully) entertaining diversions through history, medicine, man’s changing relationship with nature, Charles Darwin’s discovery of evolution, and a critical exploration of the laws which exist to protect wildlife in this country but which are so full of huge holes that battalions of construction vehicles can rumble straight through, crushing all life before them. Which they do. Daily. Without any legal consequences.  

In contrast, a well-intentioned conservationist (like me) rescuing wild flora or fauna from private land which is about to be turned into a housing estate, without first going through the hurdles required to gain permission from the landowner, risks fines of £5,000 per plant or six months in prison. Do these laws make sense? No. Are they helping sustain a healthy and diverse population of native species? No. So, like any laws which don’t work, someone should stand up to them and do what needs to be done. 

Bee Orchid in some grass.
Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera) by Oli Haines.

In the past week, the European Council has formally adopted the Nature Restoration law. Do you think this law could have any influence on conservation policy here in Britain, and to what extent do you think it will change people’s attitudes towards our responsibility to protect the natural environment?

In Britain (as elsewhere) 2024 is a national election year so any impact on British political attitudes of a European law will depend to an extent on which party wins. Unfortunately, none of our main political parties have a good track record when it comes to protecting our natural heritage for us and future generations we have seen a rapid decline in numbers across all species and native habitats over many decades presided over by both main parties and a coalition. Of course, for the sake of everyone’s future, I’d like to think this European Council law marks a shift in geo-political will which will pull all national policies into its orbit (fingers-crossed)… but the realist in me suggests that unless meaningful, accountable, well-policed penalties accompany laws, those laws tend to make little concrete difference (consider for example international laws around freedom of expression, asylum, and war crimes, which are broken all around the world every day). 

The Orchid Outlaw highlighted how pre-industry anthropogenic land use is intertwined with orchid distribution, particularly in the UK. How do you think rewilding (which is currently a very hot topic) can be implemented in a way that supports these species that may have benefitted from traditional land management rather than being left to nature? 

The Orchid Outlaw looks a little bit at how native orchids thrived in the habitat niches created on a large scale by man, including hay meadows, and how centuries of people-managed woodland (the clearing of underwood and occasional felling) provided conditions which helped many native orchid species to thrive. Of course, these habitats had existed long before people (meadows had been formed, for example, by large, now extinct cattle, naturally falling trees, and wildfires) so, in many ways, mankind took on the role of these natural forces for his own benefit and, in the process, allowed many other species not only orchids to benefit too. In this sense, ‘rewilding’ is not simply a case of letting an area go wild without any human intervention ironically this kind of habitat is completely ‘un-wild’ unless it is stocked with the right range of creatures which are going to complete the tapestry of life (and death) needed to reach a healthy, natural, sustainable equilibrium. 

Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza) by Jo Graeser.
Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza) by Jo Graeser.

How can we mitigate orchid loss in a practical conservation framework when vital species-specific symbiotic relationships with fungi are not considered, so these species may not be protected under current schemes?

There are all kinds of gaping holes in our awareness of the world and what really goes on in the soil, which sustains everything, is one of them. Because of this particular hole, soil health has fallen through the gaps of wildlife conservation laws, even though soil, like the sea, is a vast, living, environment containing more life than we can see and it is an environment upon which the world depends. Orchids in particular have a very complex, as yet only partially understood, crucial relationship with certain soil fungi (mycorrhizae). This is because orchid seed germinates unlike that of any other plant. It creates a symbiotic relationship with a specific mycorrhiza in order to then form a kind of hairy blob (a ‘protocorm’) which, eventually, sometimes after many years living underground sustained only by fungus, becomes a flowering plant. This makes orchids important indicators of soil health, because it seems that the mycorrhizae they need are adversely affected by artificial fertilisers and herbicides. In a way then, our orchids have taught me that any conservation framework has to start from the ground literally, the dirt up, because that is the secret to success. If the earth and the microbes in it are right for the plants there and, of course, plants are crucial to any rewilding project then insects, birds, mammals will come and the tapestry of life which orchids introduced to me will weave itself. 

The right to roam movement is growing, especially close to home here in Devon. What are your thoughts on trespassing for the purpose of immersing and enjoying nature that is legally out of reach for the majority of citizens? Following this, if the laws were to change do you think it would affect attitudes towards nature with more people having the chance to be exposed to nature?

Let’s be honest, this is ‘our’ land. Our ancestors built it, fought for it, died for it, are buried in it; it is deplorable that we do not have the right to roam considerately and with respect upon our land. The right to roam exists in Scotland without any major detriment to anybody and the fact that it does not exist in England and Wales says a great deal about the sway the old class system still holds here after all, 0.06% of the population owns half of rural England and Wales and much of this land distribution extends back to the days of feudal lords. For centuries, no one has done much to change this status quo.  

Obviously, allowing people the chance to experience nature is a great way of changing attitudes to it… but a lot of the land we can roam in Devon is still unavailable to those in inner city areas, so a shift in awareness towards our natural world our natural heritage, formed over thousands of years and which we should be proud to pass on to our children – is not solely about opening up rural land. The recent pandemic made many people far more aware of how important being outside in nature is to our wellbeing whether in a park or allotment or an uncut verge with a bench to sit on and wild flowers buzzing with insects and flickering with butterflies. So, while the right to roam is important, I think wider appreciation of the real value of nature will be helped by allowing nature to be more present everywhere in everyone’s life from green roofs, wild parks and county farms, to unmown verges and tree-lined streets smothered in bird boxes… 

Miltary Orchid on the right hand side of the photo in a field of grass.
Military Orchid by Charlie Jackson, via flickr.

What do you hope the reader can learn from The Orchid Outlaw? 

On the one hand, I like to think that The Orchid Outlaw takes a reader on the same journey of discovery I went on, with orchids as my guide, opening my eyes to so much I hadn’t known. One of the biggest wake-up calls orchids gave me was the inadequacy of our wildlife laws and the massive, underreported decline of some our native flora. Orchids also taught me about the important microfauna all around us, the complex nature of soil, the history of botany and herbalism, and of course the fascinating world of native orchids themselves the magical co-evolution that has occurred between orchids and their pollinators, the fact that some species never need sunlight, that others grow a metre tall and smell of decay, and some can live to be over a hundred years old… and a great deal more.   

On the other hand, and perhaps more importantly, I’d like to think that what I do, as unorthodox as it is, shows that you don’t have to be a scientist, researcher, or working for an official institution to make a positive impact for the other living organisms on our planet.

Can you tell us what’s occupying your time at the moment? Do you have any other books in progress that we can hear about?  

Aside from the usual rescuing and reintroducing native orchids, at the end of The Orchid Outlaw I talk about moving to the countryside to an old house which needed and continues to need a lot of attention. So, the garden (which was essentially a forest of nettles) and the lab I started building at the bottom of the garden to propagate orchids (so I no longer need to turn the kitchen into my lab) is largely what occupies my spare time. In any spare moments I am working on a couple of book proposals, both of which relate to elements of The Orchid Outlaw, but, for now, they’re closely guarded secrets! 


Orchid Outlaw book cover showing the title written in yellow, on top of an image of a blue and green orchid on a black background with heras fencing over the top.

The Orchid Outlaw has been published by John Murray and is available from our online bookstore.

Author interview with Christopher Hart – Hedgelands

Hedgelands book cover showing an artistic drawing of green hedge leaves on a dark green background, with leaves woven over the white text in capital letters saying 'Hedgelands.'Hedges and hedgerows have long been an integral part of the British landscape and are now considered the greatest edge habitat on earth. Hedgelands shines a spotlight on the hawthorn and hazel of ancient hedges, thorny scrub and the creatures that call this habitat their home, telling you everything you could ever want to know about this wild, diverse and incredibly rich habitat – it may even change your perspective of the humble British hedgerow for good.

Portrait of author Christopher Hart wearing a checked shirt, gillet and flat cap with a large hedge behind him.

Christopher Hart has authored ten literary and historical books that have been praised by both The Times Library Supplement and Sunday Sport. He’s written numerous short stories, essays and reviews on a range of subjects, and has worked as a freelance journalist since the 1990s. Hart now lives on a seven-acre plot in Wiltshire which he is in the process of rewilding.

We recently had the opportunity to chat with Christopher about what inspired him to write a book about hedges, how he thinks we can change peoples perceptions of the humble hedgerow and more.


As a writer of primarily historical fiction, what inspired you to write a book celebrating British hedges?

Well, I’ve had quite a chequered career: as well as the historical fiction thing, I’ve been a Mr Whippy Ice Cream Van Driver, Theatre Critic of the Sunday Times, and Agony Uncle for Time Out magazine. None of which qualify me to write about hedges! But really the English countryside is a lifelong passion, and working on our own patch of seven acres, with intermittent grazing, plus trying to encourage maximum wildlife, has taught me directly how vital hedges and thickets are to the entire system. Then my friend Jonathan did this survey on one of his own restored and re-laid hedges, found vivid evidence of the huge benefits to invertebrates, and said to me, Why don’t you write a book? So that’s how it started.

Jonathan stood in front of his re laid hedge.
Jonathan stood in front of his re-laid hedge, by Christopher Hart.

Hedgerows have demonstrable benefits to the environment, yet are often overlooked and under-appreciated by many. How can we change public perception of and attitudes towards the humble hedgerow?

I think real-life examples always work better than statistics. And maybe demonstrating to people directly how many birds, butterflies etc. flourish in our hedgerows could have a great effect, as could enlarging and protecting hedgerows on amenity land, where people actually go regularly, rather than farmland: allotments, for instance, churchyards, and even school grounds.

How does the historical, manual management of hedgerows compare to the mechanical methods used in some agricultural practices today? And how can we encourage a change to more conservation-centred management in these spaces? 

Like every other farm job, the old manual method of hedge-laying with an axe and billhook is a great art and beautiful to watch – but also very slow and expensive! Unless it could be done by teams of roving volunteers, which is a promising idea. But even flailing can be made instantly more eco-friendly by simply doing it every two years instead of one. That could really help, and as I think Jake Fiennes suggests, would actually save the average farmer around £2,500 a year on diesel alone.

A generous field margin on a productive arable farm showing a wide, long grass border against a flourishing hedge.

Can you share some examples of individuals, organisations or locations that are paving the way for best-practice hedgerow management?

I think all the big conservation charities, like the RSPB, are very aware of hedgerows’ importance now, but there are also some admirable specialists like Hedgelink. And the Devon Hedge Group are terrific, doing direct, hands-on work there. If you want to see a truly spectacular hedge though, don’t miss the massive bristling rampart of the ‘Nightingale Hedge’ at Knepp. It’s magnificent! 

How can we get involved in bringing hedgerows to our local communities, and how may we incorporate a hedge into areas with limited space?

One reader of my book has already contacted me for advice on how the hedges in his daughter’s school grounds could be made more nature friendly, perhaps by re-laying or just allowing to thicken up that’s a great example of what we can do quite independently of farmlands. Another suggestion I have is to ‘rewild’ a typical, slightly overmanaged garden hedge, that might be just mono-cultural beech or holly, and let climbers and creepers into it as well: relax about a bit of ivy, or even bramble, let a few nettles grow, or as we have done, allow some self-sown honeysuckle to trail over your privet hedge. Then go out on a warm summer evening and admire the moths that turn up. If the sight of an Elephant Hawk moth doesn’t convert you, I don’t know what will! 

Man-made thicket full of blackthorn in a field.

What’s next for you? Do you have plans for more nature writing?

I most certainly do. The only difficulty is choosing which one to pursue. In the last year I did some experimental ‘re-bogging’ of a small riverside field that was just too waterlogged to offer good grazing, or any other kind of useful food production. It took me all of half an hour with a spade, diverting a field-side drainage ditch. The result has been a quite spectacular explosion of dragonflies and snipe in the winter. I’d love to write something about that. ‘Re-bogging Britain, or ‘The Joy of Re-bogging. What do you think? 


Hedgelands book cover showing an artistic drawing of green hedge leaves on a dark green background, with leaves woven over the white text in capital letters saying 'Hedgelands.'

Hedgelands is published by Chelsea Green and is available from our online bookstore.

No Mow May 2024: An Update

Each year, Plantlife launch their national campaign of #NoMowMay. This initiative encourages people across the UK to allow their garden lawns to grow wild in the spring, providing vital habitats for many species. Here at NHBS, this is our fourth year taking part – each year in awe of the diversity of species in our lawn. Find our previous No Mow May blog posts on our conservation hub. Here, we give an update on the species we saw throughout last month.  


The wilder lawns that develop during No Mow May provide a haven for invertebrate species in our gardens. At NHBS, we saw a whole host of insects in and around our lawn last month, from wasps to weevils and Green-veined White butterflies. Other highlights have included:  

A Small Yellow Underwing (Panemeria tenebrata) – a diurnal moth species frequenting meadows and grassland.  

 

Mayfly (Ephemera vulgata) – found near rivers and areas of freshwater between May and August.  

 

Volucella bombylans – a bumblebee-mimicking hoverfly common throughout the UK.  

 

Beautiful Demoiselle (Calopteryx virgo) – a damselfly with a striking blue, metallic body found near rivers and streams. 

 

And some beautiful wildflowers, including Red Clover (Trifolium pratense) and Perforate St John’s Wort (Hypericum perforatum). Here are some of our favourites: 

The Southern Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza praetermissa) – the most common and widespread of marsh orchids, features spectacular purple petals. 

 

Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera) – named for its mimicry, the Bee Orchid self-pollinates due to a lack of appropriate pollinators in the UK. The specimen on our lawn has yet to bloom (left), but we have a striking image from last year showcasing the mimicry of this species (right).  

 

Cuckooflower (Cardamine pratensis) – also known as ‘Lady’s-smock’, this flower is one of the first signs of spring, often found near riverbanks, wet meadows and grassland. 

 

Germander Speedwell (Veronica chamaedrys) considered a ‘good luck charm’ for travellers, this plant has a beautiful blue flower and is found in meadows, woods and hedgerows across the UK. 

 

Our Product and Purchasing Manager, Mark, has documented the progress of his local park during No Mow May. Towards the end of the month, the green expanse had varying lengths of grass and plenty of wildflowers, encouraging pollinating species – a great example of how local councils can boost biodiversity in public spaces.  

 

And our Sales and Marketing Manager, Adam, has grown his lawn throughout May creating a corridor for local wildlife brimming with wild buttercups, dandelions and many other self-seeded plants.


No Mow May is a fantastic initiative to engage with, attracting homeowners, businesses and local councils with its wealth of benefits. If you have enjoyed taking part, then Let it Bloom June could be a great opportunity to continue supporting your garden wildlife. This scheme simply involves continuing the No Mow May philosophy throughout the summer with less garden maintenance. You may choose to allow your entire garden to grow wild or leave some areas untouched for wildlife.  

Have you taken part in No Mow May? Share your pictures with us via Twitter, Instagram and Facebook.  

Author interview with Richard Mabey: The Accidental Garden

The Accidental Garden cover showing a blackbird stood on some grass.In The Accidental Garden, author Richard Mabey takes the reader on a journey through his own garden in Norfolk and explores the possibility of nature becoming humankind’s equal partner. He watches as his ‘accidental’ garden becomes its own director and reorganises itself in its own way, with ants sowing cowslips in their own patterns, roses serendipitously sprouting amid gravel, moorhens nesting in trees and other fascinating interactions.

Portrait of Richard Mabey stood in front of some trees.

Richard Mabey has authored 30 books since becoming a full-time writer in 1974, a number of which have won awards, including the East Anglia Book Award, National Book Award and Whitbread Biography Award. He sat on the UK’s Nature Conservancy Council in the 1980s, has been awarded two Leverhulme Fellowships and three honorary doctorates, and became a Fellow in the Royal Society of Literature in 2011.

We recently had the opportunity to talk to Richard about his most recent book, where we discussed his approach to garden ‘by’ wildlife and the challenges he faced, the extent to which nature can thrive itself when human involvement is minimised, projects that are currently occupying his time and more.


Can you tell us what inspired you to write The Accidental Garden

I’ve been meditating on many of the book’s themes for a long while – the paradox of our seeming new respect for nature co-existing with an obstinate reluctance to relinquish control; our obsession with tree-planting, as if trees have lost the ability to reproduce themselves; the lust for tidiness over vitality. What sparked the book – and set it in the theatre of our own garden – was a Dark Bush-cricket singing at midnight from the hollyhocks on that hottest-ever day in July 2022. It sounded like an anthem of hope.  

Dark Bush Cricket sat on a leaf poised to jump.
Dark Bush Cricket (Pholidoptera griseoaptera) by Dean Morely, via flickr.

You mentioned in the first chapter that you try to garden ‘by’ wildlife as much as for it. Have you faced any challenges while using this approach, and what tips would you give to someone who wants to try and garden by the wildlife and biodiversity found in their own patch? 

The Accidental Garden isn’t an advice manual. It’s a hesitant, personal account of what happened when we opened the gate to what I call ’parallel development’ in our space. We do what humans do in gardens, and allow other organisms to do what they want. Allow them to become subjects rather than objects, and effectively become fellow gardeners. So I left the bramble patch be, instead of digging it up to plant some runtish nursery-forced oakling. Result: Field Maple and Hazel saplings growing through its protective thorniness. I kick bare patches in the grass and see what self-seeds. Broomrapes, Heartsease and Bee Orchids have been among the surprise settlers. If you’re prepared to junk judgemental labels like weeds and pests there are very few challenges from this approach. 

22:50 by Marie-Lou Wechsler, via flickr.
22:50 by Marie-Lou Wechsler, via flickr.

There seems to be evidence that, if left to fend for itself, nature can thrive and colonise without human involvement, as seen along the Dorset coast in the 1800s. What do you think humankind can learn from this going forward? 

I’m continually amazed that we find nature’s ability to thrive and adapt surprising. How else could the planet have supported an abundance of life for billions of years before humans arrived on the scene? The natural world has never lost that enterprise and agility. Our reluctance to take advantage of this, to capitalise on adaptive solutions to environmental change, is a typically arrogant stance by our species, still stuck in its ‘dominion over’ mode, and our loss, as well as the natural world’s.   

As you mentioned in one of your chapters, many people relish how non-native plant species can transport you to other places, while they also play a key role in garden biodiversity and over time can become at home in the UK, as seen with Snowdrops and Horse Chestnut. How do you think we can nurture the inevitable introduction of new species without this disadvantaging native plants?  

The only visiting species we have any trouble with is Ground Elder, and otherwise our patch is developing into a resilient fusion garden. Native plants and animals form new communities with benign settlers. I’m writing this in May just feet from a large and dazzling patch of self-sown flowers that have established themselves in the gravel round the house, including Red Campion, Green Alkanet, Lamb’s Lettuce, Red Valerian, Hedgerow Cranesbill, Ox-eye Daisies. My interest is in the vitality and autonomy of this community (and its insect life – Hummingbird Hawk-moths are the stars!).  But in terms of pure visual attractiveness it would match any herbaceous border. I’m also pleased by the way Turkey Oaks are regenerating in and beyond our patch of treeland, growing alongside the Wild Cherries and Ashes, and proving more resistant to deer browsing than English Oaks. Of course, many newcomers cause trouble away from their home ground. But in an environment that is being damaged so much by climate change, we need new species to keep a biologically rich tapestry of life here, in case our traditional species have trouble coping. ‘Nativeness’ has always had strict time limits, at both ends.  

Horse Chestnut seeds on a tree.
Horse Chestnut – Aesculus hippocastanum by Judy Gallagher, via flickr.

What was the most interesting finding that you came across while undertaking this journey with your own garden?  

I think learning about eliasomes, the little parcels of fat on the ends of many seeds that are ants’ rewards for acting as beasts of burden. (They ferry the seeds to their hills and feed the fat globules to their grubs.) Our red ants’ hills are now like living standing stones and I like to think they are responsible for Cowslips now carpeting most of our grassland.  

What do you hope the reader can learn from The Accidental Garden?  

I’ve been astonished by the inventiveness of our fellow beings when allowed a little leeway to do their own thing. When we drop our paternalistic attitude, our belief that we know best what should live where. Gardens are often compared to theatres, with the gardener as writer, director, set designer rolled into one. Can’t they also be open stages where uninvited, unsupervised species and ancient processes of colonisation and decay can improvise their own landscapes? In the 20 years we’ve been here one half of our plot has transformed itself into a kind of common, with patches of treeland and open grass, and a total of over 150 wild plant species arrived largely of their own accord. A garden is only in the smallest sense a microcosm and metaphor for the planet. But in it it’s possible to glimpse larger lessons about neighbourliness and cooperation, and the fact that the natural world is not intrinsically a victim, in need of constant intensive care.  

What are you occupying your time with at the moment? Do you have any other books in progress that we can hear about? 

At my age I should be put out to grass. But I can’t stop thinking and scribbling. I’ve just finished an expanded new edition of my 1993 book on the cultural history of Nightingales, Whistling in the Dark, out next year. And I’m dogged by a fancy of tracing the wild thread in the art of nature (always my second subject) from the cave paintings in Derbyshire to Andy Goldsworthy’s spring-flower-enclosing snowballs. But maybe I should just be content to use my walking stick (my Instrument of Minimum Intervention) to scratch more patches in the grass. 


The Accidental Garden book cover.

The Accidental Garden is available to pre-order from our bookstore.

Author Q&A with Kat Hill: Bothy

Bothy book cover showing a colourful artistic impressionist painting of a small bothy between mountains.Join author Kat Hill on a journey across England, Scotland and Wales to explore 15 remote bothies, and uncover the beauty, history and stories of these wild shelters. In this stirring book of adventure, peace, wilderness and refuge, she intertwines her own story of heartbreak and new purpose, while taking into consideration the environment, what we owe to it, and why we all crave escapes into the remote.

Portrait photograph of Kat Hill wearing a grey woollen jumper, stood in front of a Scottish bothy with mountains, lakes and trees in the background.
Kat Hill by Nicholas J. R

Kat Hill is a Senior Lecturer in History at Birkbeck College, London, and her current research project is focusing on questions of landscape, people, and heritage in the bothies of the Scottish Highlands, as well as non-conformist religious communities in Europe, America and the Global South. She holds a PhD from the University of Oxford in 2011, where she also received a British Academy Postdoctoral Award, and she authored the prize-winning book, Baptism, Brotherhood, and Belief: Anabaptism and Lutheranism, 1525-1585. 

We recently chatted with Kat about what inspired her to write this book, how technology is changing the bothying experience, what she thinks the future holds for bothies and more. 


Firstly, could you tell us a little bit about yourself and how you came to write a book about bothies?  

I’m a writer and researcher living on the northern tip of the Isle of Skye. If I am not reading or thinking up project ideas, I am either out in the hills or beavering away at my other role, working with local communities for Highlands Rewilding. In my past life I was an academic historian (as well as an international Brazilian Jiu Jitsu competitor), but last year I took voluntary redundancy from academia to pursue my writing and creative practice more fully, as well as aiming to do something good for the world in an age of climate crisis and environmental breakdown. That need, to work on something to do with the living world, was part of the inspiration for writing Bothy. I’d grown weary of academic life, and London in particular, my personal life was a mess, and I felt disconnected and unsettled. And then I got invited to a bothy, Cadderlie to be precise, on the edge of Loch Etive.  

When I first went to Cadderlie, I never intended to write a book about bothies. But I loved the whole experience, and the more I found out about them, the more drawn I was to these shelters. They embodied so many things I was interested in – landscape, our connection to place, environmental histories, material histories of people and the living world, and just generally being active and outside. Finally, the plans I had for quite some time to change direction and escape the life I was living came to fruition. Especially with that weird caesura that Covid provided, I had space to make notes and think, and in that time, I found the ability to write in a way I had not thought possible. I did an MA in Environmental Humanities alongside my job, kept chipping away at the work and was lucky enough to find an amazing agent. This book is not a memoir per se, though there’s quite a bit of my life in it, but I would say it’s a personal response both to the challenges of my own life and to the crises we see around us.  

A bothy nestled under some large evergreen trees on the side of a stony track going towards the Scottish mountains in the background.
Posh Bothy by Andrew, via flickr.

Were there any authors or books in particular that inspired you when you set out to write Bothy?  

There’s a real mix of things that shaped my writing, as I am sure is the case for any writer, but one of the things I most enjoyed in the process was taking inspiration from an eclectic mix of authors and books. Too many to name, but I’ll give a flavour. Nature and travel writing has always felt like such an obvious go to. I remember my mum introducing me to Patrick Leigh Fermor’s A Time of Gifts when I was younger and his combination of learned observation and vivid writing about the world captivated me. Other travel writing like Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley always spoke to me. As for more recent nature/travel writers, I love Cal Flyn’s work, Rebecca Solnit, Judith Schalansky’s books, and Nick Hayes’ Trespass, and I have immersed myself in environmental writing from so many people. To name a few – Robin Wall Kimmerer, Anna Tsing, Kathleen Jamie, Robert Macfarlane, and Andri Snær Magnason.  

But there were also personal elements to the book, and so when I was thinking how you deftly discuss your life and its meaning, it was to writers such as Deborah Levy, Amy Liptrot and Helen Macdonald that I turned. Fiction and literature shaped the work, too, novels like The Overstorey or Ursula Le Guin’s novels, short stories and essays. And I’ve always loved poetry, though I am not sure I am bold enough to write it for others – although, who knows? – and countless collections sit on my shelf, from Edna St. Vincent Millay to Alice Oswald, Rainer Maria Rilke to Liz Berry.  

At the heart, too, I have always drawn inspiration from my academic background and academic writers, mainly historians and archaeologists, for example Natalie Zemon Davis, Tim Ingold and Jane Bennett, but also philosophers. If you don’t know Timothy Morton’s book Dark Ecology, then I highly recommend it. I also always looked to those whose work is accessible beyond the world of scholarly writing. I was given a great lesson in that by my academic mentor Lyndal Roper, a historian of sixteenth-century Germany, and at the back of my mind was always the sensitive, layered, textured approach she had to writing about past lives. 

People find solace and healing in all sorts of activities and all manner of things. Why do you think bothies were the thing that helped you at a time when you needed it?  

It was a particular mix of things that made bothies so meaningful for me. I’d not been to Scotland much before Cadderlie, so part of it was being able to spend time outdoors and simply be active in beautiful landscapes. I grew up in Shropshire, so especially when I went to the Welsh bothies it felt like I was rekindling a connection to the younger version of myself. But they also stirred the historian’s interest in me because in the bothies there are visitor books which are left for anyone to sign, and these are a startling, intriguing record of ordinary lives. Given the chance to write a poem, draw a doodle or write out a life history, most people do. I’ve worked so often with archival documents that give hints of past lives and material histories of human stories that these felt like such a rich source.  

I felt an immediate connection to the people on these pages. And I loved that, because bothies arrived in my life at a turning point, when I needed that connection. It was a funny, difficult time personally for me when I found bothies. I was struggling with what direction to take, and I am not going to lie, the previous decade had been dark, difficult, and filled with depression and anxiety. On the outside everything looked great. I was doing really well in my academic career, I was living in London in Hammersmith, I was competing in, and winning, BJJ tournaments all over the world. But underneath was a bone-deep exhaustion. The long aftermath of a divorce and then the trauma of a difficult, fractious, toxic relationship had taken its toll. I found bothies as I came out of that. I entered a new relationship and prised myself away from the life that was making me unhappy, I loved some of the anonymity yet intimacy that bothies gave – you never know who’s going to be there which produces a strange kind of bond with fellow travellers- and the respite they provided from normal rhythms of life was welcome. You have to lead a pretty simple life with only camping gear and what you carry with you, even if that retreat into plain living is a manufactured choice. 

This process for me wasn’t sudden and revelatory. One thing I talk about in the book is that you don’t just go out into nature and find a cure. But there’s little doubt that the company of the living world (and finding time for connection, consideration, and above all perhaps, play) is soothing and healing. Everyone’s bothy experience will be different but for me, in these places, I was able to reshape myself after a difficult decade as someone who was once again creative, outdoorsy, adventurous, a nature lover, kind to others- someone who was happy.  

An old bothy on a hill in a grassy field with heather and gorse bushes in the foreground, and sloping hills in the background.
Aberfeldy But’n Ben by Ronnie Fleming LRPS, via flickr.

Do you think that technology and social media have changed the bothying experience? 

For example, now you can discover the details and locations of individual bothies online and then use a GPS to find your way there with ease. I never knew bothies before they were on Google maps, blogs and Instagram, so that’s always been my experience of the bothy world. But it’s certainly easier to find them now than it was in the 1970s or 1980s. It’s a different world, but I guess the key question for lots of bothy users is whether that alters or fundamentally destroys the bothy experience. Some would say yes, and I understand the frustration. Influencer posts about the same tourist spots in the world are wearying. And there is a very important debate to be had about responsible access to landscapes and environments, or the damage we can do as tourists. Working as I do in the rewilding sphere part of the time, I am often at the sharp end of these conversations about the tensions between human and non-human interests in a place, local and non-local needs. 

However, I also don’t think that all of the online stuff is bad in the bothy world. To survive, they need to be used and a new generation is part of that. Bothies are rooted in the desire for access to the countryside and in the working class ‘revolution’ for leisure and recreation in the hills that followed World War One. Expensive hotels and fancy tours were out of reach for working young men and women who suddenly had a bit more time for leisure, but bothies were free. So I find the private club notion of bothies, of pulling up the ladder after you, more than a little problematic as it seems to go against the idea of access and the right to roam.  

Some bothies have shut due to claims of overcrowding and parties – though I have never really seen raucous behaviour myself – but it’s all too easy to blame people without a voice as the culprits. Without labelling all landowners as evil either, this is really a debate about rights to the outdoors, access and how we develop responsible, caring relationships to landscapes. I think bothies can be part of that.  

Some bothies remain secret and I, for one, am not going to plaster them over the internet. But I have seen so many young people with a copy of Geoff Allan’s Bothy Bible in hand, loving the outdoors, and that makes me happy. I am sure information sharing has changed the experience of bothying but nothing is ever static in the world. Indeed, perhaps it’s a particularly human thing to be nostalgic for the moment just past, to get misty eyed about days gone by, rather than live in the present moment and to enjoy that for what it is. It makes me think of a line from an Office US episode from Andy Bernard: ‘I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.’  

White washed, stone bothy near a river or lake one some land covered in brown grass and gorse, with Scottish mountains in the far distance.
Maol-bhuidhe bothy by Dmitry Djouce, via flickr.

How important do you think isolation is to the spirit and experience of the bothy? 

 There’s a really touching story, I talk about in the book which comes from a bothy visitor book entry. A man has returned to a bothy which he used to come to with his wife, their last trip of such a kind before she died of cancer. For him, as for so many others, the bothy may be relatively remote and cut off from some of the comforts of modern life but it’s not isolation per se that makes it special. It’s fellowship, companionship, love. Of course, there is a kind of isolation. But isolation from what is the key, as it’s not from people and places in a secluded wilderness, often quite the opposite as you will normally meet a new acquaintance. Some people do love being in a bothy alone and I have had delightful, quiet evenings by myself or with just a friend, but also plenty of entertaining nights with strangers. 

But even when you are alone, you aren’t really isolated because you are connected to the place around you, from the bothy mouse to the howling wind, to bellowing stags to querulous birds. Besides, bothies only exist because these were, and are, lived, worked landscapes. To imagine you are in an isolated wilderness is to do them a disservice. 

What do you think the future holds for bothies? Will they forever be old stone buildings, or will they evolve to include less traditional and/or newly built structures?  

I’d say bothies already are evolving in new ways and there are some new MBA bothies opening up, more cottages reclaimed and restored. I’d like to think there will always be stone bothies withy smoky walls and wooden floors because they have given me so much. But the bothy idea has been taken in many different directions: such as artistic residencies run by Bothy Project, or the wonderful Taigh Whin bothy and house run by partners Sarah MacLaren and Sophie Howarth, which offers low-cost holiday accommodation for people working for the common good – carers, community workers, teachers. This place (the house of gorse, it means) is a beautiful reimagining of the idea of shelter and connection in a bothy.  

And then there’s the luxury tourism bothy which is pretty far away from a traditional bothy, but I guess in some ways draws on the ideas of simplicity and shelter. The idea of a hut, a shelter, a shieling is malleable and changing but also speaks to a basic need for refuge or rest. So, the idea continues to have power, increasingly so perhaps in a fractured and complex world. And there’s a future to the bothy there, not just a past. The delicate balance of past and present is at the heart of bothy life, the retreat from modernity whilst knowing that this retreat is in some way dependent on the contrast the simple life provides with the contemporary. If there was no city or phone signal to escape from then I think bothies would be a whole different prospect.  

That’s why I think there’s a future for humble bothies of the stone wall variety, alongside the fancier versions, as they have lessons to give us about what matters. They ask us to question what we need, what makes us happy, and what we can do without.  

 

Finally, what is occupying your time at the moment (professionally and/or personally)? And can we expect more books from you in the future?  

Life has been really busy, professionally and personally. I’ve just moved to Skye so I am enjoying settling into the new house: filling up bird feeders, painting walls and walking to the beach. In between writing and reading, I have a part time role as a community engagement co-ordinator for Highlands Rewilding so I have been learning more and more about the practical implications of changing land use, climate change and the delicate balance between people and places.  

I don’t think I can ever imagine not writing though, so there’s plenty of scribbling too, some articles and grant pitches but also new book ideas. There will definitely be another book! Having moved about 15 times in ten years, it’s wonderful to have a home again and that’s starting to shape my writing too. When I was working in academia, I did a tonne of research on Amish and Mennonite migrations, so maybe there will be something about home and finding our place in this world.  

I am also embarking on a multiyear interdisciplinary project with photographer Nicholas J R White on places of shelter and refuge across the world, places where people stay for a short while. We’ve just got back from the Shiant Isles in the Minch, a beautiful place. Soft in summer, I imagine, but we were there at the time of the season’s changing when there’s still harshness in the air, winds cold, seas wild and sun shining. It’s already provided lots of food for thought. I am also out in the US later this year for a fellowship at the IAS at Princeton, so I might find my way up to some fire lookouts à la Gary Snyder and Jack Kerouac.  

So, lots to keep me busy. Life is starting to settle again. I am in a happy place, surrounded by loving people. And I might even start some BJJ classes again. 


Bothy is published by William Collins and is available to pre-order from our bookstore.

Author Q&A with Simon Barnes: How to be a Bad Botanist

 

Author Simon Barnes gazing out over a river.

An exploration of botany for beginners, How to be a Bad Botanist is a must-read that opens our eyes to the world around us. Through this charming and inspiring work, Barnes takes us on a fascinating journey on the complex nature of plants, and enthrals us with tales to help us appreciate the diversity and wonder of the natural world. 

Simon is an author and journalist who has worked on a number of nature volumes, including the bestselling Bad Birdwatcher trilogy and Rewild Yourself. He is a council member of the World Land Trust, a patron of Save the Rhino and honorary vice-president of the Bumblebee Conservation Trust.   

We recently had the opportunity to talk with Simon about how plants caught his attention, the importance of botany and how we can all learn to be Bad Botanists. 


How to be a Bad Birdwatcher, published in 2004, rapidly became a birdwatching classic and this year was republished as a 20th anniversary edition. What prompted you to turn your attention to plants for your latest book? 

It all began with a damascene experience on Orford Ness. This is a place where military and natural history collide. On the same visit I was able to see a Great White Egret and the casing for an atom bomb. It was, I read, about the same size as the one they dropped on Hiroshima.  

My brain was somewhat scrambled by this. After a while I sat on the beach, my mind full of life and death and memories of a visit to Hiroshima, pretending that I was having a bit of a sea watch. It was then that I noticed a colony of plants. Growing in the shingle. Which is impossible. But there they were. Growing. Living. And the extraordinary way that life seeks to live, even in the most difficult circumstances, really rather got to me. These strange plants seemed to make sense of this strange, awful and wonderful place.  

I worked out that the plants in question were Sea Pea, Sea Kale and Yellow Horned Poppy: and my own life was better for doing so. Soon, I would be looking at old plants with new eyes. 

 

How to Be a Bad Botanist is a fantastic exploration into the world of plants and botany itself. Where is a good place to start for aspiring botanists?  

What’s required is a subtle but drastic mental shift. After my Orford Ness moment, it was clear that plants were now something to do with me. Something personal. I was doing what I wanted aspiring birders to do when I wrote How to be a Bad Birdwatcher. Only with plants. 

And the first thing I wanted to do was to be introduced. To know the name. Always the first step towards greater intimacy. So, when I saw a tree, I found myself asking, what sort of tree? I made the delightful discovery that I knew more than I thought – oak, conker, holly. It wasn’t the hardest thing in the world to learn a few more – and all at once the adventure was gathering pace.  

An illustrated yellow horned poppy growing in shingle.
Yellow Horned Poppy by Cindy Lee Wright.

 

One of the first things that struck me about the book was how funny it is (I particularly enjoyed “my sitting was devoid of porpoise” when lamenting the lack of marine mammals spotted during a period observing the sea). Do you think humour and levity are important in providing a gateway into a topic that might originally seem highly specialist?  

I’m glad you liked the porpoise joke. It’s one of those lines you know you really ought to cut, but haven’t the heart. 

And yes, humour is essential. It’s essential to almost everything. Humour doesn’t compromise seriousness. Humours enriches life. There is humour in the greatest art – Ulysses, A la recherche du tempts perdu, Hamlet, The Waste Land, Metamorphoses. Humour humanises, bringing meaning and proportion to all we do. At a funeral, what touches us most deeply are funny stories from the life of a person we have lost. 

Humour doesn’t make things trivial. When appropriate, humour makes things profound… in a funny sort of way. 

 

Why do you think that botany is important and what can it bring to our lives?

Everything starts with plants. Plants are the only things that can eat the sun: the power of the sun allows them to make their own food, and that feeds everything else that lives (unless you live in a hydrothermal vent at the bottom of the sea, of course). Lions couldn’t live without plants: they just eat them at one remove.  

Those of us who like nature tend to have areas of specialisation, and that’s only natural. But nature itself isn’t about separation: it’s about the way everything fits in together. You can’t really get a handle on your own specialist subject, no matter what it is, without understanding the way it’s driven by plants. 

An illustrated Oak tree
An illustrated Oak tree from How to be a Bad Botanist. Illustrated by Cindy Lee Wright.

 

The final chapter relates to a decline of the natural world – what more could we do to support our native wildflower populations in the UK?  

The first thing to do is to look after any piece of land you have control over and make it richer and wilder. Sometimes neglect – what conservationists call “minimum intervention” – is the best policy, and it’s assiduously practiced at our place in the Broads.  

The second is to support good organisations: your local county wildlife trust (and yes, there’s one for London) and the excellent Plantlife.  

And after that, just show people wonderful stuff: here come the waterlilies, this pretty stuff on the riverbank is Purple Loosestrife and Hemp Agrimony, and round the next bend there’s an Aldercarr with nesting herons. By doing so, you enrich people’s lives as well as your own.  

 

Other than buying your book, can you tell us one tip that you give to an aspiring ‘bad’ botanist? 

Just look. Look, and seek a name. These days you can use phone apps like Pl@ntNet which will have a decent shot at identifying plants from flowers, leaves, even bark. But mostly it’s about that mental shift: making it personal. Last year it was a nice little yellow flower, this year it’s the first Lesser Celandine of spring and your heart can rejoice. 

 

How to be a Bad Botanist is available to order from our online bookstore.