Ailsworth, Cambridgeshire: The Importance of a Far-Sighted Warden
Before 7am, the heat is already intense. I have come early for my annual visit to a local colony of crested cow-wheat. On either side of the narrow path, orchids rise among the grasses, overshadowed by the pale pink clusters of common valerian flowers, whose scent always reminds me of sugared almonds. Stock doves call softly from an oak tree. Around my feet, grasshoppers and crickets buzz and leap away.
Amidst this, to my delight, lies a dense abundance of thousands of plants intertwined with mats of wild liquorice. The flowers reward close observation – soft primrose-colored tubes with plush mouths, arranged one above another, turning magenta as they age, each supported by a purplish bract that is elegantly curved and sharply toothed. This crest is the feature that gives the plant both its common and scientific names.
Like other cow-wheats, it is hemiparasitic: its leaves perform photosynthesis, but its roots also tap neighboring plants for water and nutrients. It is an annual species found in old woodland edges and clearings, considered rare and growing only in a limited area of eastern England. Its seeds, rich in oil and protein, attract ants, which carry them underground; in the fine soil of the nest, the seeds germinate. This clever mechanism, however, does not enable the plant to disperse widely.
I first encountered crested cow-wheat in the 1980s, when a fragile colony persisted beneath a shady oak on a roadside verge in nearby Ufford. When rabbit activity decreased, allowing the grass to grow tall, that colony diminished. Before it disappeared entirely, a perceptive reserve warden collected some seeds and established this population in a location where ants are abundant and winter cattle grazing maintains an open sward.
In the shade of another oak, I reflect on previous visits: a warm summer evening when moths cavorted over field scabious flowers; a wet July day with a naturalist friend seeing this scarce, beautiful plant for the first time. So much joy has resulted from one timely act of care – seed gathered, transported, and given a future before it was too late.
