A series following the 72 British mini-seasons of Nature’s Calendar by Kiera Chapman, Lulah Ellender, Rowan Jaines and Rebecca Warren. 

Goodness, Readers, it appears to have been  a good year for bluebells, both English and hybrid – the display in our local Ancient Woodlands here in North London has been pretty splendid, even in Coldfall. A lot of dead hedging has been put up here by TCV (The Conservation Volunteers) and this has protected the plants from the worst of the trampling. Sometimes all plants need is a tiny bit of protection to thrive.

Hybrid bluebells…

Now, admittedly the bluebells in Coldfall are hybrids, and  I’ve written a fair bit about this here. Suffice it to say that hybrid bluebells  (the Spanish bluebell is actually pretty rare in the UK) are more drought-tolerant than the English species, but are less tolerant of shade, so it may well be that we end up with hybrid bluebells in urban woodlands and at the edge of woods, and English bluebells in isolated woods, or in the centre of woodland. Personally, I’d rather see some hybrid bluebells than no bluebells at all, though the English ones are bluer, and more scented. There is something very special about an ancient bluebell wood, for sure.

English bluebells in a Somerset wood

In her post in Nature’s Calendar, Rowan Jaines discusses the relationship between the bluebell and the fungi that it depends upon to survive.

Bluebells generally germinate close to their parents in the autumn, and start life by burrowing their contractile roots into the soil – these pull the bulb deeper into the  soil to avoid the first frosts, being dug up by squirrels etc. It takes about four or five years between germination and first flowering, and  during this time the roots serve as anchors, but do not have enough surface area to take up the nutrients that the plant needs. Furthermore, the roots move down to a depth of about 20 centimetres, a long way away from the nutrient-rich topsoil So how does a bluebell grow?

Like many plants, the bluebell works in partnership with a group of fungi called arbuscular mycorrhiza. These colonise the plant roots and expand their surface area, in exchange for the carbohydrate that the plant produces during photosynthesis. Usually, plants depend more on mycorrhiza when they’re young, but the bluebell does the opposite, developing more of a relationship with the fungus as it gets older.

Recently, one particular fungus has been identified that attaches to the roots of the bluebell during autumn  and winter, and which transfers phosphorus to the plant in exchange for sugars. Scutellospora dipurpuresecens was recently recognised as essential to the bluebell displays in the ancient woodlands of Scotland, and was one of eighty species synonymous with the ecosystem, including much better known organisms such as the red squirrel and the golden eagle. At a time when science is just starting to recognise the complex interactions between plants, fungi and animals, which often take place at a microscopic level, it’s exciting to see a tiny fungus being recognised for what it does.