Thursday Poem – ‘The Cat’s Song’ by Marge Piercy

Dear Readers, in honour of our newly adopted cat Abbie, here’s this wonderful poem by Marge Piercy. If you haven’t read her novel ‘Woman on the Edge of Time‘, it’s well worth a look…

The cat’s song

By Marge Piercy

Mine, says the cat, putting out his paw of darkness.
My lover, my friend, my slave, my toy, says
the cat making on your chest his gesture of drawing
milk from his mother’s forgotten breasts.

Let us walk in the woods, says the cat.
I’ll teach you to read the tabloid of scents,
to fade into shadow, wait like a trap, to hunt.
Now I lay this plump warm mouse on your mat.

You feed me, I try to feed you, we are friends,
says the cat, although I am more equal than you.
Can you leap twenty times the height of your body?
Can you run up and down trees? Jump between roofs?

Let us rub our bodies together and talk of touch.
My emotions are pure as salt crystals and as hard.
My lusts glow like my eyes. I sing to you in the mornings
walking round and round your bed and into your face.

Come I will teach you to dance as naturally
as falling asleep and waking and stretching long, long.
I speak greed with my paws and fear with my whiskers.
Envy lashes my tail. Love speaks me entire, a word

of fur. I will teach you to be still as an egg
and to slip like the ghost of wind through the grass.

Wednesday Weed – Hemlock

Hemlock (Conium maculatum)

Dear Readers, hiding in plain sight along many of our ditches and rivers is one of the most poisonous plants in the UK, Hemlock. It looks very like Cow Parsley but the leaves are different (and in my part of the world at least, it flowers a bit later).

These are the leaves of Cow Parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris). Note how fern-like they are.

Cow parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) leaves © 2022, Philippe Juillerat – Sources du Lison

Hmm. I would say that Cow Parsley leaves tend to be more pointy and spear-like, while those of Hemlock are rounder, but it’s a tough call unless you see them side by side. Fortunately there are other identifying features:

  • Hemlock is often taller
  • The plant is hairless (Cow Parsley is hairy when looked at close up)
  • The plant also has purple blotches and spots on its stem (hence the Latin ‘maculatum’ which means ‘spotted’. You’re welcome :-). O Level Latin has its uses!)

On the subject of the blotches, poet and naturalist Geoffrey Grigson wrote that the stalks ‘have a deadly look, as though they bore their own signature of destruction and mortification’.

 

Hemlock stem (Photo By MPF – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=20583615)

Apparently it also has a mousy smell, but as we won’t be cutting any to take home (will we?) I missed that excitement.

Hemlock is an interesting plant in many ways, not least of which is that it is not a native plant, but an archaeophyte (an ancient introduction which was wild in the UK before 1492) which has made itself exceedingly at home, not just around human habitation (like so many ‘alien’ plants) but in many semi-natural habitats. In ‘Alien Plants’, Stace and Longley describe how the plant occupies the verges of many miles of the M1 motorway, and speculate how horrified people would be if they knew what it was. Hemlock enjoys nitrogen, which it can absorb from the fumes emitted by lorries and cars, and from the run-off from agricultural land.

What about this poison business, though? Famously, Hemlock was the plant of choice for public executions in ancient Greece, and was used by Socrates to kill himself when he was condemned for corrupting the youth of Athens (by encouraging them to think for themselves) and offending the Gods (and the State). The lethal potion was called a pharmakon (the origin word of pharmacy and pharmaceuticals). According the account of the death of Socrates by Plato, this was a relatively gentle death: the executioner told Socrates to walk about his cell to speed the progress of the poison, which was experienced first as numbness in the feet, then in the legs. At this point, Socrates retired to his couch, where he continued to teach until respiratory paralysis set in. Socrates last words were said to be about making an offering to the god of medicine

Crito, we owe a cock to Asclepius. Make this offering to him, and do not forget‘.

‘The Death of Socrates’ by Jacques- Louis David (1748 – 1825) (http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/436105)

All well and good except, as Peter Marren points out in ‘The Devil’s Garden‘, death by Hemlock poisoning is not like that at all: take this account by Nicander:

(Hemlock) assuredly looses disaster upon the head, brining the darkness of night: the eyes roll, and men roam the streets with tottering steps and crawling upon their hands; a terrible choking blocks the lower throat and narrow passage of the windpipe; the extremities grow cold, and in the limbs the stout arteries are contracted; for a short while the victim draws breath like one swooning, and his spirit beholds Hades’. 

Scientists who have isolated the main ingredient in Hemlock (called coniine) agree that it causes paralysis of the nerves and muscles. It may be that Socrates fatal draught was laced with opiates or some other ingredient that made his death more gentle, or maybe Plato just wanted to leave his master with some dignity. The lesson here is ‘do not go munching on random plants’.

Why is Hemlock so poisonous? Clearly it’s been around for a lot longer than humans have, so it didn’t evolve to purposefully poison Greek philosophers. One explanation may be pest control – the plant is poisonous to many grazing animals. Conversely, the alkaloids in the poison are concentrated in the flower buds, and may be attractive to pollinators.

Interestingly, the leaves of this deadly poisonous plant were used in the mountainous regions of Georgia as food – it’s reported that the locals knew the plant was poisonous, and would treat it by washing in several changes of water before eating it. This practice has largely ceased since better food sources have become available.

Medicinally, Hemlock was used as a treatment for rabies – it was combined with the seeds of betony and fennel. As rabies is still 100 percent fatal once symptoms appear, we can assume that Hemlock was not successful. It was also used in a last desperate attempt to treat strychnine poisoning, and  also as a treatment for gout – as this last complaint is intensely painful, I can imagine that people were ready to try anything, although as the roasted root was applied externally this was less risky than direct ingestion.

In the Victorian language of flowers, giving someone Hemlock meant ‘You’ll be the death of me’. I can imagine that receiving a bunch of mousy-smelling deadly poisonous flowers would probably have put paid to that particular relationship.

Hemlock illustration (from By Franz Eugen Köhler, Köhler’s Medizinal-Pflanzen (text on p. 154, illustrations in back) – List of Koehler Images, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=255533)

As one might expect of such a powerful plant, Hemlock is mentioned in accounts of witchcraft – it’s thought to be one of the ingredients of the ‘flying potion’  that enables witches to fly. The genus name ‘Conium’ means ‘to whirl’, which probably relates to the giddiness associated with ingesting the plant, but might also give a sensation of flying. It was used to reduce male potency, and was said to be used by Circe and Medea to poison their male enemies.

One species of moth has made a speciality of eating Hemlock leaves: the Hemlock Moth (Agonopterix alstromeriana). As Hemlock is now widespread not only in Europe, but also in the US and Australia, this little moth has been used as a biological control: it only eats Hemlock leaves, so this means that the caterpillars don’t transfer their voracious appetite to other related species. The caterpillar uses the toxins from the plant to defend itself from predators, who quickly learn to leave it alone. Interestingly, birds don’t seem to be affected by the toxins in the seeds of Hemlock, presumably so that they can spread the plant around.

Hemlock Moth (Agonopterix_alstromeriana,_Aberdovey,_North_Wales,_July_2006_(20191381660)

Hemlock moth caterpillar (Photo By Eric Coombs, Oregon Department of Agriculture, Bugwood.org, CC BY 3.0 us, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6212018)

And finally, a tale from ‘Flora Britannica’ by Richard Mabey. Anne Pratt (1806-1893) was the botanist author of many books. In ‘Poisonous, Noxious, and Suspected Plants, of our Fields and Woods’ she tells a story of an eccentric lighthouse keeper who lived in Kent in the 1850s, and who made a bower out of Hemlock, in spite of its poisonous leaves and unpleasant scent:

A large bed of Hemlock grows there, and the man occupied in the charge of the Marine Telegraph at that station has availed himself of its abundance to deck with its stems and branches his little cave in the cliffs. This has a sloping entrance, and all about it he has planted the Hemlock, which attains there a great luxuriance, and is in summer six feet high, affording by its numerous branches a shelter alike from sun and shower. The owner of the cave, an intelligent man, has an eye for grace and beauty, and prizes the elegant foliage, taking care to preserve its verdure by cutting off the fruits as they appear; while the robustness given by an out-of-door life, by airs and sounds from the sea, have rendered his nervous system too strong to be injured by the odour. To him the faint smell gives no disgust, though he tells how a friend, and old coast-guardsman, who occasionally visits him, cautiously declines to subject himself to its influence and seats himself on some crag at a distance, where he may see its branches wave in safety’. 

I rather fancy such a green bower myself, though maybe made out of hemp agrimony rather than Hemlock. But to each his own!

Abbie Update

Dear Readers, you might remember that we’ve been fostering a fourteen year-old cat called Abbie. Abbie had lived with one lady for the past ten years, until her owner died. Since then, she’s  been in a variety of temporary homes, which has been very traumatic for an anxious, shy cat, who has previously lived a quiet life.

Anyhow, she’s gradually started to come out of her shell. Last week, we discovered that she not only likes tea, but will use unusual tactics to get at it…

Bless her! She’s like Arthur the Kattomeat cat, who used to eat with his paw out of a tin.

And I have discovered a rather convoluted tale concerning Arthur, with an East Finchley link – you can have a look here.

Well, last week Abbie went to the animal hospital for some dental work, and came out minus most of her teeth, poor love. She spent a while under the bed looking very sad, until the painkillers kicked in and she was back to being her queenly self.

She is a creature of regular habits: breakfast should be no later than seven a.m., after lunch it’s time for a brush and at 6 p.m. it’s time for supper. She often jumps up between us while we watch the television, and then it’s time for bed. She is coping with the current heat by finding a patch of sunlight and laying in it. Go figure.

At this point, I would usually put out a call for someone to adopt her but, dear Readers, I can resist her charms no longer. I am worried that a fourteen year-old cat with minimal teeth and the social confidence of a mouse would spend a long, long time waiting for her forever home, and the fear of vet’s bills to come would also be a deterrent for many people. Plus, her charms are subtle, unlike those of some of the younger cats we’ve looked after – she sleeps, eats, comes around for a stroke and then sleeps some more. Perfect. She doesn’t want to go outside, so my garden birds are safe. And so, we’ve decided to adopt her, and to give her the best possible life for the rest of her time. Our fostering days are at an end, for now at least.

At East Finchley Festival

Dear Readers, it was a mere 84 degrees Fahrenheit today, but with the humidity apparently it feels like 91 degrees. So heaven help the poor elephant leading the parade at the East Finchley Festival. I only hope he or she didn’t expire. There were a couple of people dressed as Mickey and Minnie Mouse too, plus a pink shark. Fortunately for those of us on the Friends of Coldfall Wood and Muswell Hill Playing Fields stall, no peculiar clothing was required, and it was still way too hot.

First up, we were told one site to pitch our marquee, then another one (where someone had already set up), and then finally the correct one, so it was just a case of wrestling the marquee into an upright position. It always makes sense to have a chap to advise on these occasions…

But to be fair, said chap then  helped carry the marquee up and down the festival site until we found the right spot. And look how good it looked once it was all set up!

We had some ‘business cards’  with flower seeds in them, which were a big hit, and we were trying to drum up some business with our tombola, where everyone won something. I suspect that the prizes will get more generous as the day wears on, and it dawns upon us that what people don’t win will have to go home with us.

It’s a lovely chance to chat to people, and discuss the wood, and to see what else is going on, but after a couple of shifts I’m usually done – I’m a bit of an introvert, and so, although I love people, I only have a certain amount of energy. Plus, did I mention it was hot? But it is a great occasion, and watching and hearing the children dancing and singing on the Community Stage was a real joy. And someone brought us ice lollies, just what we all needed. So as usual, I’m glad that we did it, and also glad to be back at home in  the (relative)  cool, writing this. I am so happy to be part of the East Finchley Community. It’s my favourite place in the whole world.

Pelican Shenanigans

Gargi the Pelican

Dear Readers, you may remember that last year I described a visit to St James’s Park, and my encounter with Gargi, the free-flying pelican. Gargi was renowned for occasionally visiting the nearby Zoo, at or around feeding time for the penguins, but it appears that this is not the only thing she’s been getting up to, Four chicks have hatched, for the first time in 360 years, but their parentage is uncertain – five eggs were laid in three nests, and thirty-year old Gargi has been sharing brooding duties with another female, eight year-old Star. No one knows which of the two male pelicans, Sun and Moon, is the father. The chicks are now apparently about two feet high, and are doing very well, though they have a rather dinosaur-like demeanour which is a little challenging for anyone who likes their baby birds resembling an Easter chick.

Young pelicans (Photograph from the Royal Parks)

Pelicans (Photo Royal Parks)

You might remember me mentioning that the pelicans were locked up last year because of Avian Flu – apparently the nest building started then. As Gargi was free, it makes me think that maybe Star is the mum, and Gargi is just helping out. Whatever the story, it certainly cheers me up, especially as I’m posting this on the Solstice, the longest day of the year.

Fox Update

Well Readers, the trail camera is back in position, and after I’ve deleted all the photos of my husband walking to and from our new shed, I have quite a few foxy shots to share with you. This one is a hefty dog fox, but our cub is also popping in every night – I thought we had two cubs, but have decided it’s actually a vixen and one cub.

The cub is adorable, but is already quite a lot larger than he or she was when he first appeared, so I suppose at some point s/he’ll disperse. Or will they? There’s some evidence that cubs sometimes hang around in their parents’ territory and help to provision the cubs that are born the following year. This probably makes sense in town, where territories are so hard to come by, and where food is relatively easily available (at least if the debris along East Finchley High Road is anything to go by).

Oh, and if there’s any dry dog food left (we only throw out a handful) the collared doves and woodpigeons are always happy to tidy it up…

At Tyttenhanger Gravel Pits

Dear Readers, today I went for a lovely walk around the gravel pits at Tyttenhanger, about twenty minutes drive from East Finchley. Some of the pits are now disused and attract a wide variety of birds (the count for the site as a whole is over 200 species), but some pits are still used by Tarmac to extract sand and gravel, and some of the machinery is still in use…

However, what is lovely is the range of habitats – everything from hedgerow and meadow to forest, wetland and bog. We saw more caterpillars than I’ve done in years, especially cinnabar moth caterpillars. These were the first caterpillars that I raised when I was a little girl, so I’ve always had a soft spot for them…

There was even an adult Cinnabar moth, presumably thinking about laying eggs.

In several of the nettle patches there were Peacock butterfly caterpillars – Butterfly Conservation describes them as ‘spotted like a starry night’. I love their little orange feet as well.

In one of the meadows there was half a dozen pristine Marbled White butterflies – the caterpillars feed on various grasses, especially Red Fescue, so another reason to keep grass long.

There were hundreds of Nursery Web spider webs…

And lots of beetles on the Hogweed. First up were hundreds of tiny Pollen Beetles, each one about the size of a caraway seed…

Then there were a few ‘bonking beetles’ (more properly known as Soldier Beetles)

And a Thick-Legged Beetle (only the males have the Arnold Schwarzenegger thighs)

And finally, this beautiful Demoiselle damselfly.

What is so impressive at Tyttenhanger is the range of plant life, including some species that I’d not seen (or maybe not noticed) before.

Lesser Salsify (Tragopogon pratensis)

Common Centaury (Centaurium erythraea)

As I’m reading Peter Marren’s ‘The Devil’s Garden’ I was especially pleased to come across this plant – Hemlock (Conium maculatum), extremely poisonous, and certainly a worthy contender for a Wednesday Weed.

Hemlock (Conium maculatum)

And there were masses of old plant friends too, such as Goat’s Rue

…Birdsfoot Trefoil…

Birdsfoot Trefoil (Lotus corniculata)

Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare)

Dark Mullein (Verbascum nigrum)

St John’s Wort

Musk Mallow is having a very good year, some of the roadside verges were pink with it, so pretty.

Musk Mallow (Malva moschata)

Yellow Loosestrife

And finally, in the woods there are some extraordinary Sweet Chestnut trees – my tree loving friend L explained how unusual it is for these trees to grow straight without twisting.

A straight Sweet Chestnut Tree

A twistier Sweet Chestnut tree (apologies for the blur!!)

A fallen tree had a fine crop of oyster mushrooms on it too, but of course we left them. Having read the Peter Marren book about how easy it is to get mushroom foraging wrong, it seemed like the best thing to do for self-preservation, but of course fungi also have important work to do in breaking things down and returning their nutrients to the soil, so best to let them get on with it….

And then it was a brief drive to the Heartwood Cafe for the best breakfast ever – they even have a little garden, which was very welcome on this humid day. All in all the gravel pits are well worth a visit, and it gives me such joy to see so many insects and plant species. And we heard a cuckoo (23 species of bird heard in total). Job done!

Thursday Poem – Two Poems About Moths

Japanese Moon Moth (Actias artemis) Photo by By entophile – https://www.inaturalist.org/photos/153644961, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=114060033

Dear Readers, lots of people write poems about butterflies (such as this cracker by Ellen Bass), but how about our mothy friends? Here is a haiku by Buson (1716 – 1784), followed by a response from Billy Collins. See what you think…

On the one-ton temple bell
Yosa Buson

On the one-ton temple bell
A moon moth, folded into sleep,
Sits still.

Japan by Billy Collins

Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.

It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.

I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.

I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.

I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.

And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.

It’s the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,

and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.

When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.

When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.

And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,

and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.

Wednesday Weed – Privet Revisited

Broad-leaf privet (Ligustrum lucidum) photographed in Australia by By John Tann from Sydney, Australia – Broad-leaf privet, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=38234707

Dear Readers, today was one of those days when I left the house wearing a jacket and scarf, and came home ‘feeling the heat’ as the old saying goes. But as I journeyed from Walthamstow to East Finchley, it felt as if every single privet hedge was in flower, and the scent filled the air. To me the perfume has a creamy, rather sickly quality, but there were sparrows dashing in and out of some of the bushes, and overall it’s a most attractive plant.

In ‘Alien Plants’, Clive Stace and Michael Crawley have this to say about privet:

The rather nauseous smell is to me the characteristic smell of hedge-lined city streets in July, when the best of the summer has gone’.

I suspect many people have planted it because, with the advent of the Box Moth, box hedges are no longer viable in many places.

As I walked home, a man in a sweatshirt was wielding the most enormous hedge-cutter as he tackled the privet hedge on the High Road next to ‘Amazing Grates’. I complimented him on his work, but I can imagine it was a very uncomfortable job as the temperature climbed.

Incidentally, it’s obligatory for shops that sell fireplaces and flame-effect fires to have a pun for a name – in addition to ‘Amazing Grates’ I’ve seen ‘The Better Hearth’ and ‘Grate Fires’. Is there something about selling something so cosy that brings out the wag in the shopkeepers? I have no idea. But let us turn to my original post on privet, from 2016. In particular, have a look at the Privet Hawk Moth. What a stunner!

Oval-leaved privet (Ligustrum ovalifolium)

Oval-leaved privet (Ligustrum ovalifolium)

Dear Readers, many years ago I used to commute to the Netherlands for work. Every Sunday I would catch the last plane into Rotterdam Airport, where the cleaners were mopping the floors, and the security guards were jingling their keys, all ready to lock up. The taxi would take me through the frozen countryside but, as we got into the city itself, the warm glow of light from the uncurtained windows of every flat and house were a constant source of fascination. The interiors were stylish, and there were often families gathered at a perfectly dressed table for their evening meal. Admittedly, I only got the quickest glimpse, but there never seemed to be an overflowing waste-bin, or a pile of clutter on a chair. I loved the openness of this attitude, the generosity of it, as if people were saying ‘Here we are, do have a look if you’re interested’.

It’s fair to say that we do things differently where I live. The hedges of the County Roads in East Finchley are truly a wonder to behold. It’s not surprising: our front gardens are tiny and so every passerby can look into our front rooms if they are so minded. So, to provide a bit of privacy, many people have gone for the hedge option. In these parts, the plant of choice seems to be the oval-leafed privet. When I was on ‘Wednesday Weed’ patrol yesterday, I realised that I had never noticed that these hedges bear tiny black berries at this time of year (though I had noticed the sickly-smelling white flowers in the spring). I had always thought of privet as being rather a boring plant (when I thought of it at all). So, what is the story of the oval-leafed privet?

By No machine-readable author provided. MPF assumed (based on copyright claims). - No machine-readable source provided. Own work assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=983049

Spring privet flowers (Photo One – credit below)

Oval-leafed privet originated in Japan and Korea. We do, in fact, have a native privet, Ligustrum vulgare, which has narrower, smaller leaves than the plant pictured here, but the majority of plants used for hedging in the UK are of the oval-leafed variety, maybe because of its more abundant flowering and fruiting.

img_8929It seems as if every plant that I write about these days is poisonous, and privet is no exception. The RHS website considers it to be ‘somewhat poisonous’ (which is not overwhelmingly helpful). A quick run around the internets has articles which state that privet hedge cuttings can be dangerous for horses, goats, sheep, cattle, hens and rabbits. Another website mentions that the berries are poisonous if eaten by dogs. All in all, it seems that the berries should be left on the bush, for the thrushes that enjoy them ( the plant is in the British Trust for Ornithology’s guide to berries for birds).

img_8925A wide variety of moth caterpillars enjoy a meal of poisonous privet leaves, however. As I love the names of moths almost as much as the moths themselves, a small selection are pictured below.

By Ben Sale from UK ([1669] Common Emerald (Hemithea aestivaria)) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Common Emerald (Hemithea aestivaria) (Photo Two, credit below)

By ©entomart, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=806463

The Engrailed (Ectropis crepuscularia) (Photo Three – see credit below)

By ©entomart, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=290444

The V-Pug (Chloroclystis v-ata) Photo Four(credit below)

Perhaps the most spectacular of the privet-feeding moths, however, is the privet hawk moth, a creature of satanic beauty which can produce an alarming hissing sound by rubbing the segments of its abdomen together. Do not attempt to replicate this at home unless you want to spend Christmas in traction.

By Gaudete [CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

Adult privet hawk moth (Sphinx ligustri) (Photo Six – credit below)

The caterpillar of the privet hawk moth is a delightful lime-green creature with lilac and white side stripes and a sticky-up tail like a terrier. It would be worth growing a privet hedge for the chance of a sight of one of these little chaps.

https://www.flickr.com/photos/rachel_s/2829915165

Privet hawk moth caterpillar (Photo Seven – see credit below)

Although the privet hedge is one of the quintessential symbols of suburbia, it turns out to be quite a useful thing, if not cropped indiscriminately. It provides roosting and nesting sites for birds, flowers for pollinators, berries for thrushes and leaves for big fat green caterpillars. Privet hedges thrive in polluted environments, and may even help to protect us from the gases and dust produced by cars.  And it also provides opportunities for creative pruning, and for the more energetic among us to let rip with the power tools. Plus, who wants to be washing net curtains all the time? Much better to have a living barrier to the prying eyes of the curious public or, at the very least, something for them to talk about.

How I understand the owner of this plant. There comes a time when the power tools lose their novelty value, and the step ladder is just that bit too short.

How I understand the owner of this shrub. There comes a time when the power tools lose their novelty value, and the step ladder is just that bit too short.

Photo Credits

Photo One (privet flowers) – By No machine-readable author provided. MPF assumed (based on copyright claims). – No machine-readable source provided. Own work assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=983049

Photo Two (Common Emerald) – By Ben Sale from UK ([1669] Common Emerald (Hemithea aestivaria)) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons

Photo Three (The Engrailed) – By ©entomart, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=806463

Photo Four (The V-Pug) – By ©entomart, Attribution, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=290444

Photo Four (Privet Hawk Moth) – By Gaudete [CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons

Photo Five (Privet Hawk Moth Caterpillar) – by Rachel_S (https://www.flickr.com/photos/rachel_s/2829915165)

All other blog content free to use or share non-commercially, but please attribute to me, Vivienne Palmer, and link back to the blog, thank you!

An Amazing Underground Network – Mycorrhizal Fungi Mapped for the First Time

Arbuscular mycorrhiza (Image by By Oyarte-Galvez (AMOLF) – https://www.eurekalert.org/multimedia/986302, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=135745890)

Dear Readers, it’s long been known that arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi form ‘trading relationships’ with up to 70 percent of all plant species, swapping phosphorus and nitrogen in exchange for carbon-based sugars, Not only do these fungal networks sequester carbon, but they are also an important part of the structure of soils, helping them to retain water and nutrients, even after the fungi themselves die.

Scientists have been extracting soil samples for decades, with over 16,000 cores being extracted from 4,000 sites – these have been analysed to measure the density of hyphae (the fungal threads that exchange materials with the plants) and from these the amount of mycorrhiza at each location can be extrapolated.

From this information, the scientists have produced this extraordinary map. Do have a look – you can zoom in on a particular location to see how it’s doing for fungal density.

https://a-hidden-infrastructure.spun.earth/map#2.6/28.85/59.93

One of the things that the map tells us is that over 40 percent of the biomass of these arbuscular mycorrhizal fungi is in unimproved grasslands and wetlands, particularly the Tibetan plateau (with 11.4 metres of mycorrhiza to every cubic centimetre – just imagine how densely packed the fungal threads must be!), the Sudd wetlands in South Sudan, and Flint Prairie in the US. However, the density on croplands is 47 percent lower, which is worrying for soil fertility, climate change resilience and biodiversity. The fungicides that are used on many farms kill the mycorrhiza directly, while constant ploughing and turning over the soil damages the networks. Then fertilisers are used to replace the nutrients lost . Hopefully, the revelations from this study might flag up how damaging these practices are.

Looking at the map of the UK, it was interesting to see how the highland peat bogs and grasslands of Scotland were in the top 2 to 3 percent of density for the world as a whole, but as you travelled south it got worse and worse,  with some areas in the south of England being in the bottom 45 percent for mycorrhizal density, I had a lot of fun with this – you can zoom in a long way, and I imagine  you could probably pick out a local greenspace and see how it did. However, some areas have very little or no data, so we probably shouldn’t extrapolate too far from the general trend.

The scientists are eager not to suggest that this means that plants are talking to one another all over the planet via fungal networks, but there is definitely a degree of interconnectedness that hadn’t been appreciated before, and which has major implications for our ecosystems and for our food production. Do have a little play with the map, and have a look at the ‘story’ attached. This is pioneering work.

The map is here.

The story is here.