Consider the buttercups

Helen Baczkowska, Conservation Officer

At the recent “Beautiful Burial Ground” conference, a handful of us snatched a few minutes to look at the wild flowers of Horstead churchyard, searching for the gone-over heads of meadow saxifrage and the soft leaves of black knapweed, not yet in flower. I asked the delegates that if they took away just one thing from this brief flower walk, I wanted it to be a willingness to look more closely at buttercups. 
 

Meadow grasses, meadow buttercup and ragged robin,
photo by Helen Baczkowska

Buttercups are part of our everyday, holding them under the chin, cursing their tenacity in the lawn or vegetable plot; their glossy yellow petals, of which there are usually 5 are as simple as child’s drawing of a flower, but look more closely and the different species are a key to the place they live. Gardeners most often encounter creeping buttercup, Ranunculus repens, with large glossy flowers and dark green leaves; repens meaning creeping or crawling, like the repentant. At Horstead, we hunted for the early flowering bulbous buttercup Ranunculus bulbosus, easily indentified by its smooth yellow sepals; these are the petal-shaped casings that hold the flower in bud. When bulbous buttercup opens, these fold back against the stem, pointing sharply down to the bulbs underground. In creeping buttercup these cup the flower. Once the flowers die back, bulbous buttercup is hard to find, but it is a classic plant of old Norfolk meadows, as is the tall and slender meadow buttercup Ranunculus acris.  Acris, like acrid, means bitter or irritating and indeed, few things eat this unpalatable plant, leaving it to stand tall in older meadows, adding yellow to the greens and browns and purples of meadow grasses. Meadow buttercups reach up to knee height, with fine, almost delicate leaves and sepals. When I see meadow buttercups, my heart races a little, for they are sometimes a sign of meadows that have escaped too many fertilisers, sprays or re-seeding and there may be less common gems underneath: orchids, birds foot trefoil or meadow vetchling that scrambles over the tall summer grass; all of these plants are much loved by bees and butterflies and are characteristic of the old meadows and pastures that have vanished from our landscape at an alarming rate in the past 60 years.

A few weeks ago, I surveyed a meadow in Brundall, tucked on the edge of the Broads, and had to look twice in some places to distinguish meadow buttercup from lesser spearwort Ranunculus flamula, for they are easily confused at a glance. Here they grew side by side, intertwined on the edges of the field’s wet hollows. Lesser spearwort has a much smaller flower, its petals barely 2cm across, but with sepals very like meadow buttercup and distinctive spear-shaped leaves; it is a plant of wet meadows and pond-edges and at the Brundall meadow, beneath the tall flowers and grasses, were the striking magenta flowers of southern marsh orchids. In case you are wondering, greater spearwort Ranunculus lingua is indeed a larger, but less common, version of the lesser, this time with flowers up to 5 cm across.

Celery leaved buttercup Ranunculus sceleratus, also a plant of wet places and the margins of summer ponds, has lobed leaves that do indeed resemble celery, with clusters of small yellow flowers.  Deeper out in the water, the white-flowered crowfoots, of which there are several different species, may float on the surface and these too are buttercups, with the same simple arrangement of petals.

Finally, a word of caution, for in many meadows, the yellow, child’s drawing flowers may not be buttercups at all; many, are potentillas, related to roses: creeping cinquefoil Potentilla reptans has five-fingered leaves splayed out like a hand and creeps on long stems, but its five-petalled yellow flower is less glossy than those of the buttercups; tormentil Potentilla erecta, is a plant of heaths and acidic, often sandy, soils with small flowers, usually with four petals, finely dissected leaves and tall uptight stems.  Silverweed Potentilla anserina has fronds of feathery leaves, silver-white underneath and cheerful pale yellow flowers, close to the ground. 

These brief descriptions are no substitutes for a wild flower book, with their keys, drawings and photographs, but hopefully they will inspire you to search the grasslands around you and take a closer look at these golden flowers of summer.

The meadow in the city

Chris Durdin, NWT Thorpe Marshes

Bee orchid at Big Yellow Storage, photo by Chris Durdin

Helder de Sousa is, perhaps, an unlikely conservation hero. He works at the Big Yellow Self Storage company on Canary Way in Norwich, opposite Norwich City Football Club. By chance he has become the custodian of a remarkable urban meadow, complete with bee orchids.

I must declare an interest. I first noticed bee orchids here in 2009, just before a man with a strimmer reached them. That year they were left uncut, marked with a stick but the grass cut round them.

From that small step forward, I’ve been encouraging the Big Yellow team to leave more and more grass uncut. This year it’s all been left and it’s created a wonderful meadow in the heart of Norwich.

Ox-eye daisies, photo by Chris Durdin

I counted 15 bee orchids here (on 5 June) and perhaps missed some, but the supporting cast is also strong. Sheets of ox-eye daisies dominate, there is ragged robin in the corner facing Morrison’s supermarket and today a Common Blue butterfly caught my eye. There are meadow ants, bees and often birds forage in the long grass.



Do pop along, perhaps when you’re shopping in Norwich. And please call in and say “well done” to Helder and his colleagues – it deserves encouragement.

 

Chris Durdin leads monthly wildlife walks at NWT Thorpe Marshes. Details of monthly walks on www.honeyguide.co.uk/thorpemarshes