Who needs sunshine anyway?
Who needs sunshine anyway?
My hunt for floral signs of Spring continues, and, about ten days ago, I found one of my ‘specials’. In the dim light beneath some hazel bushes on the edge of Strid Woods – three ghostly white spikes of common toothwort. The tightly closed flower buds that cluster on these spikes will later open and flush to a rather dirty-looking pinky-mauve, but at present their waxy colour suits their alternative name of corpse flower! These spikes are the only indication we shall have that this plant is present. The main body of the plant exists below ground – a number of thick off-white stems covered in curled flesh-coloured leaves: it completely lacks chlorophyll so is unable to photosynthesise. It steals all the nutrients it needs to grow and reproduce by means of pad-like suckers attached to the roots of, in this case, a hazel bush. It is a parasite. It doesn’t seriously damage the hazel: after all, it wouldn’t do for a parasite to kill its host, so I can find it in this spot year after year.
I remember learning about photosynthesis, the process by which plants form sugars from carbon dioxide and sunlight, in Biology lessons at school. The ability to photosynthesise seemed to be a prerequisite of being a plant. But, of course, nature is much cleverer than that. Later I learned to look out for yellow rattle. This pretty flower, common in the hay meadows of my childhood, is easy to identify. The bright yellow flower is backed by a bladder-shaped calyx that dries out and contains the seeds. It has other names – cockscomb and the very descriptive rattle-basket. Yellow rattle can live independently but, since it tends to grow in rather dry and competitive circumstances, it’s evolved as a hemi-parasite, taking extra nourishment from the roots of neighbouring grasses. Farmers used to dislike it as it weakened the grass-growth, but nowadays it is valued by conservationists in their efforts to develop species-rich hay meadows. Rattle holds back grass growth and thus encourages biodiversity. It’s been successfully used at the Otley Wetlands Reserve creating space for a rich display of, among others, wild orchids.
Thinking admiringly of all the clever ways plants have evolved in order to survive, I enter Strid Wood and am immediately surrounded by trees covered in lichen. A happy collaboration between fungi and algae, lichens are examples of symbiosis, an equally beneficial – and highly successful – partnership.
