A Breckland flora

The soils and surface layer geology of the Breckland landscape are particularly interesting, having been shaped by the tundra-like conditions that existed here during the Devensian Glaciation. The underlying chalk is covered by varying depths of sand, and in places sand and chalk may sit alongside each other at the surface. Under the tundra-like conditions surface layers may have slid downhill, riding on a still frozen subsoil, while in other places the lower layers may have 'mushroomed' up following freezing and expansion. Add to these processes a climate that delivers high summer temperatures, low rainfall and frequent night-time frosts and you have conditions that deliver an interesting plant community.

The 'poor' Breckland soils kept agriculture at bay for many generations, the area dominated by heath and rough grazing up until fairly recently. The continuity of open habitat may have seen species like field southernwood survive here for more than 10,000 years but change did come; first with enclosure and the practise of marling  (using chalk dug locally to improve soil quality) and later with sheep, rabbit production, forestry and arable farming. The impacts of these changes have been dramatic, the area of Breckland heath and grassland declining from an estimated 29,000 hectares at the beginning of the last century to just 7,000 hectares today.

Thanks to recent funding, efforts are now underway to see the re-establishment of some of Breckland's rarest plant species. Species like the Breckland, spiked and fingered speedwells, the proliferous and maiden pinks, and Spanish catchfly may all benefit from the work that is planned. Much of this work is based around clearing the surface soil to expose the seed bank beneath, the success of this approach already being seen at sites like Cranwich Camp. While such 'landscaping' may seem heavy handed on first appearance, perhaps making site owners somewhat nervous, it is proving a powerful tool for the restoration of former plant communities. The plans to recover the lost Breckland flora should once again raise the botanical profile of this rather special area. With luck, many of those species now restricted to just a handful of sites will become a familiar sight to a new community of observers, each with a growing interest in Breckland’s botanical heritage.

Breckland pines

Breckland is characterised by its dry soils, open landscapes and lines of twisted pines. It is the pines that you first notice as you enter Breckland from the southwest, tracking up the slight incline and away from the richer soils beyond.

These pines are the ghost of an older landscape, deliberately planted as hedgerows but left untended, allowed to develop into mature trees. Some of the trees are heavily contorted, as if shaped by the wind, while others stand upright with a degree of formality. Some are closely spaced, others separated; some planted on a slight bank, others not. It is likely that the pines were chosen because they could cope with the light, poor quality soils; with careful management they could be maintained in dwarfed form to produce a hedge.

It is not known precisely when the pine rows were planted but the available evidence suggests that they were first established some time after 1800, around the time of enclosure within much of Breckland but not directly related to it. The peak period of planting probably happened between 1815 and 1820 but it certainly continued to at least 1829, when a description of the planting of such a hedge appears in the journal of a certain D. E. Davey, documenting his excursions through the Suffolk Brecks.

Today the remaining pine rows are concentrated within the old parish boundaries of Eriswell, Icklingham, Elevden and Thetford. Others would have disappeared under the plantation forest that was established between the First and Second World Wars, so it is no longer possible to determine how widespread the practice was. That we do not see wider use of Scot’s Pine in this manner suggests that estate owners soon discovered that it was, ultimately, a poor choice for hedging. The agricultural depression that followed may have also contributed to the decline of the rows and most likely explains why the pines were freed from management and allowed to grow-on to their present mature forms.

Looking at the pines it is difficult to associate them with a sense of antiquity. They may be two centuries old but they lack the ‘veteran’ gravitas that one associates with Oak, Yew or Ash. Perhaps their image has been cheapened by the acres of plantation conifers that dominate much of Breckland; wood grown as a crop to be pulped for paper or lashed to the roof racks of Sunday morning DIYers. To me, however, even with their deliberately planted origins, these pines hint at an older landscape, a heathland of scattered trees and sandy soils. It could be said that the pines which mark the gateway to the Brecks have broken free from their hedgerow shackles to take on iconic form.

Spring comes to Breckland

I am fairly certain it was the painter Eric Ennion who said that spring came to Breckland via its river valleys, describing how the first flush of green reached these riverside habitats long before it touched the open warrens and heaths. Ennion would have known; having spent many hours wandering the brecks and fens and sketching its wildlife he would have been in touch with the shifting seasons.

Now, in the first few days of spring, you can understand this sense of restricted emergence; flowering and bud burst are evident along the Thet and the Little Ouse but the open heaths and clear-fell continue to be brushed with overnight frosts that leave the long dead stems of last year’s growth erect and white. As a strengthening sun warms the land, so you sense that spring spreads out from the shelter of the river valleys to claim temporary hold on the surrounding land. The first Brimstone, the first buzzing queen bumblebee and the growing chorus of bird song that shapes the transition from slumber to reawakening. But as the sun slips back towards the horizon, the clear skies let that weak warmth steal away and the overnight frost return.

The still, bright days are uplifting, delivering a sense of optimism and joy, the dark days of winter now well behind us and a season of warmth and new life just ahead. The false starts of early March are gone and it seems certain now that it can only get warmer and brighter and more green with every passing day. Other inhabitants of Breckland have sensed the change as well; the cries of Lapwing and Curlew ring out from neighbouring fields and Brown Hares can be seen chasing one another, the females turning to beat away over amorous suitors and striking a pose worthy of any pugilist. There is a sense of expectation in the air and a feeling that things will now pick up pace in the scramble to make the most of the emerging opportunities that extra warmth and light provide.

The forest, however, seems to hold back the arrival of spring. The dark ranks of conifers remain brooding, their green no brighter than it was under the winter sun, and it is only the growing chorus of bird song that marks the changing season in this regimented, reluctant habitat. Many of the flowers that I associate with the forest will not flower until late in the summer and there are few broad-leaved trees to signal through a flush of new growth that things have changed. For now I will stick to the river valleys and leave the forest until later in the year, when it is claimed by summer migrants and blooms.

Breckland's biodiversity revealed

The recent publication of the first Breckland Biodiversity Audit has highlighted the outstanding contribution that the region makes to UK biodiversity. With its low rainfall, free-draining and nutrient poor soils, and continental climate, Breckland is a dynamic landscape, with a long-history of anthropogenic change and a unique community of plants and animals. There are species here that would normally be found on the coast, or whose nearest neighbours are to be found many hundreds of miles away in the Mediterranean Basin. Although the extent of the region as a geographical entity is lost somewhat in the similarly named political boundaries of today, it can be defined as an area of just under 400 square miles, linked by geology, climate and history. It is the land of W G Clarke and his magnificent written portrait ‘In Breckland Wilds’, shaped by the rabbits that ultimately escaped its many warrens and now dominated by plantation forestry, arable enterprise and by the military’s need to train its troops.

Clarke’s great work captured Breckland at a single moment in time. Reading it now conjures up a heathland landscape long since lost and it is easy to mourn its passing and to seek its return. But the Breckland of Clarke’s time (the name Breckland was coined by Clarke) was, in many ways, the direct result of our activities rather than a truly natural landscape. As such, it should be viewed as part of the story and not simply its beginnings. The Breckland of today is, as the audit reveals, still a tremendously important landscape, supporting at least 12,800 species, of which nearly one fifth are priority species for conservation. Perhaps most importantly, nearly a third of all the species for which UK Biodiversity Action Plans have been developed, occur within Breckland.

The audit not only underlines the importance of the region but also highlights the need to direct conservation efforts towards it if we are to maintain its value and retain some of its species, whose populations are in decline as habitats change through our activities. Some of the species under threat actually need the periodic disturbance of the landscape, since they are the species of ephemeral and disturbed habitats. Without a continual renewal to deliver the microhabitat conditions that they require they will be lost if we do nothing, leaving the landscape to stagnate. Of course there is a balance in all this, a real need to maintain lots of different types of habitat within the wider landscape in order to support these diverse communities and the full extent of biodiversity that we can attain. The audit is to be welcomed because it tells us what we have, what has been lost and what we need to retain the rest.

The Breckland Meres

I have always been fascinated by the Breckland meres, a series of 12 semi-permanent waterbodies quite unlike anything else in England. The meres are self-sustaining, their dramatically fluctuating water levels prevent the establishment of reedbed, swamp or, ultimately, woodland. With the exception of Mickle Mere, none of the meres have any visible inlet or outlet, the variations in water level resulting from the height of the water table within the surrounding chalk. When the water level is high, the meres may overflow, when it is low they may dry up completely. Along with Mickle Mere, the other prominent meres are Ringmere, Langmere, Fowlmere and the Devil’s Punchbowl – all to be found in a small area northeast of Thetford.

During their dry phases, the bare mud is soon colonised by some rather interesting plants, including the rare liverwort Riccia cavernosa. During the wet phase the meres support some rare invertebrates, characterised by their ability to survive long-periods of dry conditions either by burrowing down into the damp soil or surviving as a desiccated egg stage. In past centuries, locals would take advantage of the dry conditions by planting root crops in the rich soil revealed by retreating waters. On occasions the meres would remain dry for more than a year, but water levels could rise suddenly and locals might lose their crops or be forced to finish harvesting in knee-deep water.

These days, the water levels in the meres are maintained through a management plan that controls the level of the water table by halting extraction for agricultural uses if there is any threat to the meres. Of course, the meres must be allowed to drain every few years, otherwise the delicate balance needed to maintain the character of the meres and their unique biological identity would be lost.

The meres are also fascinating because of the history associated with them. Excavations at Mickle Mere and West Mere have revealed the presence of prehistoric lake dwellings, suggesting a long period of human use of the sites. Ringmere was the site of a fierce battle between Danish invaders and the Saxon ruler Ulfkytel. The Norse scald, Ottar, described the battle and noted how ‘from Hringmar field the chime of war’ was heard. The battle also appears in the Anglo Saxon Chronicle and it is noted that the Saxon force, camped by the mere, was beaten by the treachery of a servant who had Danish ancestry. So many of Norfolk’s great naturalist writers were drawn to the meres and commented upon the bleak open landscape within which they sat. While the landscape may have changed, the meres are an ever-present feature of great antiquity, and it is essential that we work to maintain them.