British Wildlife Collection – Hoopoe

Featuring hundreds of stunning photographs, the 14th volume in the British Wildlife Collection explores the meaning of rarity in our changing world and climate. It discusses the importance of these species in our landscape, provides an overview of different conservation techniques, examines the justifications for intervening in the life of a wild species and more.

Peter Marren is a natural history writer and conservationist whose wildlife-centred writing portfolio includes newspaper journalism, obituaries, book reviews and humorous opinion pieces. He was a regular contributor to British Wildlife magazine for 33 years and is the author of more than 20 books, including Bugs Britannica, After They’re Gone, and Mushrooms – the first title in the British Wildlife Collection series.

We recently chatted with Peter about Rare Plants, where we discussed how he first became interested in botany, why he chose to focus on rare species, what inspired him to return to the British Wildlife Collection and more.

Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself, and how you became interested in botany?

I have been interested in wild flowers since boyhood. I was lucky enough to have had a rural childhood, but my first serious attempt to track down rarities was during my gap year when I tried to find every British species of orchid. I failed.

What I love about flowers is that they evoke so much about our surroundings, the colour and texture of the landscape, its land-use and history, and its seasonality. Rare flowers in particular express the fine tuning of nature, and their presence suggests that here we are standing in a special place – one that, for whatever reason, has changed less, has perhaps preserved more of its naturalness, more stability. They are also wonderful in themselves. Orchids, for instance, trick and confuse insects into doing their bidding. Our alpine flowers are living links with the Ice Age. Bluebells have a scent that is impossible to reproduce chemically. These are some of the reasons why I love field botany.

Your first contribution to the British Wildlife Collection was the first monograph in the series, Mushrooms, which was published in 2012. What inspired you to return to this renowned series for the 14th volume?

I returned to the series because Katy, who edits the titles, asked me to! In the 1990s I wrote a book in association with Plantlife and the then English Nature, titled Britain’s Rare Flowers (1999). The rights are now owned by Bloomsbury, who publish the British Wildlife Collection, and she suggested that I revise the book for the series. It didn’t take long for a revision to turn into a completely new book, and I broadened the scope from angiosperms to wild plants in general, including pteridophytes, bryophytes and algae, and to Ireland as well as Great Britain – hence, Rare Plants. I dedicated it to my old friend, the plant photographer Bob Gibbons and his partner Libby, and half the 300-odd images are his.

Cottonweed (Achillea maritima) by Liam Lysaght, via flickr.

Why did you decide to focus on rare plant species for this book?

I concentrated on rarities partly because they are the focus of conservation efforts, and partly because they are the highlight of any excursion (as botanical trips are known). Rare plants have more ‘geography’. If only you knew enough, you could probably place yourself exactly where you are in the landscape without recourse to a map simply by looking at the plants. Britain is that kind of place: intimate, complex, infinitely varied. Above that, there’s the eternal thrill of tracking down a rarity, whether it’s a flower, or a bird, or a Ming vase. If you love plants, then setting your eye for the first time on an elusive species you have long known about and pictured in your mind is a moment to savour. As I hope I communicated in my book, Chasing the Ghost.

This is an incredibly well-researched and detailed book that covers all aspects of Britain and Ireland’s flora, from the uniqueness of some species and details on why plants become rare, to their role and representation within our culture. What was the most interesting aspect of researching this book?

What I enjoyed most when researching Rare Plants (and it was quite an enjoyable book generally) was the impressive new work on apomictic plants, that is, the ones that do without sex and so perpetuate minute differences. It helps that whitebeams and hawkweeds are not only beautiful in themselves, but tend to grow in beautiful landscapes. I was also enthralled by all the activity in the world of mosses and liverworts, mapping them in the same detail as ‘higher’ plants and getting them onto the conservation agenda. Some species have incredibly narrow niches, confined to lead mining spoil or lime kilns, or china-clay pits. Both are the work of relatively small groups of specialists who combine biological know-how with the ability to communicate to wider audiences – and to take brilliant photographs. I could say the same about lichens, but they aren’t really plants. So someone else will have to do them.

Eyebright by Donald Macauley, via flickr.

In the first chapter of the book, you discuss the IUCN’s criteria and red list. How accurate do you think this assessment is, and are there any disadvantages to using this method of classification to determine the rarity, and future protection, of any given species?

The IUCN criteria are only as good as current knowledge allows. Conservationists love to list and pigeon-hole; it creates a kind of order. But, in a rapidly changing world, the vulnerability of species is itself changing. Government and officialdom haven’t yet caught up with climate change and its implications for our flora. I think the most endangered plants are now our northern and arctic-alpine species, especially those that need long, cold winters with plenty of snow. It isn’t outright habitat destruction so much as the subtle consequences of a warmer but wetter and windier climate. The other problem with pigeon-holing is that it is boring. It creates the idea of fragile ‘things’, like pieces of china, and diverts our eyes from the marvels of the living plant with its ability to meld with its habitat, compete with its neighbours, and find necessary partnerships to survive.

The same idea of plants as passive ‘things’ has led well-meaning conservationists to substitute gardening for conservation. Plant conservation is under-funded and, alas, also under-expertised. Academic botany is in decline (count the university courses – not many).

Lady's-Slipper Orchid - Cypripedium calceolus by Bjorn S, via flickr. — Lady’s-Slipper Orchid – Cypripedium calceolus by Bjorn S, via flickr.

Finally, what’s taking up your time at the moment? Are you planning on working on any future volumes in the British Wildlife Collection?

I doubt I’ll be writing any more books for this series. They take a long time and I’m getting on a bit! Besides, these are hard times for writers who aren’t footballers or chefs, or others who have become famous from constant exposure in the media. While the natural history bookshelf has never been more bountiful, some of us are working for less than the minimum wage! I’ve recently finished a book (my 27^th, I think) about the world’s most noxious plants called The Devil’s Garden, which was fun, and I hope will be fun to read. I love plants that defend themselves with alchemy, vicious thorns and stings, horrific poisons, or play mind-games with their pollinators; in short those with a wicked reputation. They provide an antidote to the idea of plants as passive and compliant.

Vivat flores!

(Long live the flowers)

Rare Plants is available from our online bookstore here.

In Hedges, Robert Wolton brings together decades of research and personal experiences from his farm in Devon to explore the ecology, biology, nature conservation and wider environmental values of the hedges in the British Isles. Containing over 300 photographs and figures, this latest addition to the British Wildlife Collection offers a detailed commentary on hedges and their importance in our landscape.

Robert is an ecological consultant and writer specialising in the management of farmland and associated habitats for wildlife. He is a former hedgerow specialist for Natural England, the founder, chair, editor and lead author of the Devon Hedge Group, has been involved in Hedgelink since it began, and has written a number of reports and articles specialising in hedges.

Firstly, can you tell us a little bit about yourself and how you came to be contributing to the British Wildlife Collection with a book on hedges?

I’ve had a life-long interest in natural history, even as a schoolboy I was a very keen birdwatcher. Later, at university, I trained as a zoologist with a strong interest in mammals, although subsequently I have been more involved with insects, especially moths and flies. It was perhaps inevitable that I should pursue a career in nature conservation. My passion for hedges was awakened when we bought a small farm in the heart of Devon, my wife, Paula, looking after the cattle and sheep while I went to the office. Initially it was the flower-filled meadows that drew me to the land, but I soon realised that the many thick hedges, full of different trees and shrubs, were glorious and just as special, particularly when I discovered that those small spherical nests I kept finding were made by Hazel Dormice. At that time, 30 years ago, hedges were very under-appreciated in the nature conservation world – there was a gap waiting to be filled and I was able to persuade my bosses in English Nature to allow me to become a part-time national hedge specialist, a role I continued to fill after the organisation morphed into Natural England. Partial retirement gave me the opportunity to write a book on my beloved hedges. I’d always dreamt of having a volume in the British Wildlife Collection, much admiring the series, so when Bloomsbury offered me the chance I jumped at it.

Robert Wolton, author of Hedges, photographed stood by a large pile of thin trees being used to construct a man-made hedge. — Robert Wolton making a hedge.

I tend to think of hedges as being man-made. But is there such a thing as a natural hedge? And if so, how do these come about?

Most hedges in Britain and Ireland are indeed man-made. Some, though, have grown up naturally along fence lines and ditches – these are termed spontaneous hedges and I think they are becoming more frequent, especially along the sides of roads and railway lines. Trees and shrubs, their seeds carried by wind, birds and mammals, can colonise strips of rough grassland remarkably quickly, often protected to begin with by brambles. It does not take many years before there’s at least a proto-hedge present, and after a decade or two it may be difficult to tell it was not planted. Another way hedges have come into being is through strips of woodland being left when land is cleared for agriculture. These are called ghost hedges. Their origin is often given away by the presence of unexpectedly high numbers of trees and herbs characteristic of ancient woodland because they have poor dispersal abilities.

I particularly enjoyed the chapter in your book on the origins and history of hedges. Do you think that the study of hedges can give us an insight into the natural and social history of our country?

Without a doubt. Throughout our countryside, away from the open moors and fens, the pattern of fields, as defined by hedges and sometimes drystone walls, allows the history of the landscape to be read, often going back centuries, even sometimes millennia. We are so fortunate in these islands still to have this landscape continuity – it has been lost over much of continental Europe. In places like Dartmoor, which I can see from our farm, layer upon layer of history can be unpicked through studying the networks of field boundaries, most of which are banked hedges. Some can be traced back to the Bronze Age, 3,500 years ago. This may be exceptional, but even so, most of the hedges in Britain, and many in Ireland, probably date back to Medieval times. They are a hugely important part of our cultural heritage. We love our hedges. This is evident not just in the countryside, but across our villages, towns and cities, in our gardens and parks. Hedge topiary is, after all, a national pastime!

Farmland hedge leading towards a forest at the end of a farm track along the right-hand side of a field. — Hedge, by Damien Walmsley via Flickr.

As you describe early on in the book, there are many different types of hedge, from those that consist of just a single species to very diverse multi-species ones, even ones that have been allowed to mature into lines of trees. Is there a type of hedge that is best for the surrounding wildlife and environment and that we should be trying to replicate or maintain as much as possible?

If you put me on the spot, I’ll answer this question by saying that thick, dense, bushy hedges are the best for wildlife, preferably with margins full of tussocky grasses and wildflowers. But really we should be thinking about what networks of hedges look like, because there’s no such thing as a perfect hedge. Different birds, mammals and insects like different conditions, and in any case you can’t keep a hedge in the same state for ever, however carefully you manage it. Basically, the trees and shrubs are always trying to reach maturity, and as they do so gaps develops beneath their canopies and between them. That’s when laying or coppicing are needed, to rejuvenate the hedge and make it more dense and bushy. A lot more research needs to be done on this, but probably, from a wildlife point of view, at least half of all the hedges in a network, say that covering a decent-sized farm, should be in this condition. On the other hand, from a climate perspective, where we need to capture as much carbon as quickly as possible, tall hedges with many mature trees are best. You can see there are tensions here, all part of the challenge of managing hedges well. Who said it was easy?

A dusty track running in a straight line with hedges on both sides and tall, narrow, straight trees behind the left hand hedge. — Into the Distance, by Dave S via Flickr.

As both a farmer and an ecologist, I’m sure you are more attuned than many to the conflicting needs of making a living from the land and managing hedges for the benefit of wildlife and conservation. Do you think financial incentives are the only way to encourage landowners and farmers to both plant more and maintain existing hedges?

Financial incentives like government grants will always be important to landowners and farmers because good hedges benefit society at large just as much as those who own and manage them. Things like plentiful wildlife, carbon capture, reduced risk of homes flooding and beautiful landscapes rarely bring in any income to offset costs, let alone profit – it is right that they are supported from the public purse.

Still, hedges can be of direct financial value to farmers through serving as living fences, preventing the loss of soil or providing logs and wood chips for heating. They can also increase crop yields through boosting numbers of pollinators and the predators of pests. To some extent, these direct benefits to farm businesses have been forgotten in recent decades in the drive for increased food production regardless of environmental cost, but they are now being appreciated much more as new ways of working the land, such as regenerative farming, catch on.

And we should not overlook the fact that more and more landowners and farmers are prepared to bear at least some of the costs of good hedge management simply because they gain huge satisfaction from healthy hedges and all the wildlife they contain. The pleasure of seeing a covey of Partridges or a charm of Goldfinches, or hearing the purring song of the Turtle Dove, cannot be priced.

A narrow, windy track going through a high sided hedge into the distance in a circle. — by Oli Haines.

Finally, how did you find the experience of writing this book, and will there be other publications from you on the horizon?

This is my first ‘big’ book, and I was apprehensive to say the least when I started writing it, in 2022. But with a lot of encouragement from my wife and friends I soon got into the swing of things. Challenging for sure but personally most rewarding – exploring new facets, checking information and trying to find the best way to pass on my enthusiasm for the subject. Above all, it felt good to share knowledge collected over many years. Bloomsbury’s support was invaluable, there’s no way I could have self-published. As to whether there are more books in me, I’m not sure. Perhaps one on hedges in gardens? There again, I have a passion for wet woodland, another habitat that’s been much neglected. It’s all too soon to say.

Hedges is available to order from our bookstore.

Tag: British Wildlife Collection

Author interview with Peter Marren: Rare Plants

Author Q&A with Robert Wolton: Hedges