Ragwort - friend or foe?

Ragwort is a plant that provokes strong reactions amongst a certain group of people. We'll come back to that, though. First of all, ragwort is not a single, plant; it's a group of related species, all members of the genus Senecio. Common ragwort (Senecio jacobaea) is a widespread plant of grassland, meadows and road verges throughout Britain. Its close relatives - hoary ragwort, Oxford ragwort, marsh ragwort and fen ragwort - are less common but very similar in appearance.

Hoverfly and cricket feeding on ragwort

Oxford ragwort is a non-native invasive species which was originally introduced to Britain from Sicily in the early 18th century. It found the clinker of railway tracks very similar to the volcanic slopes of its homeland, jumped the wall from Oxford University Botanic Garden and began to spread along railway lines. Fen ragwort, conversely, is native but extremely rare, being confined to a single ditch near Ely.

Pair of mating red soldier beetles

But let us return to the common ragwort and its problems. It has the unfortunate property of being poisonous to horses and other livestock, causing liver damage or death. Whilst they might avoid it as a living, green plant, once cut and dried as hay it becomes more likely to be ingested. This effect on the pampered mounts of the chattering classes has led to common ragwort being vilified and persecuted. It was listed on the 1959 Weeds Act (yes, there is a Weeds Act), which can require a landowner with ragwort on their property to take action to control it.

Bumble bee nectaring on the flowers of ragwort

 

Dr Karin Alton examining a range of pollinators on Ragwort

Which is a shame, because it's a really good pollinator plant. It flowers abundantly, it is visited by a wide range of insects, and it is even the host of a particular species of moth, the cinnabar, whose distinctive striped caterpillars are found nowhere else (I recently heard them referred to as ragworms, a word I am going to use from now on). And it really is only a problem where horses or other livestock are likely to graze. So let's leave the poor plant alone on road verges and waste ground, and long may it support its ragworms!

Burnet moth

 

Cinnabar moth caterpillar

All photos copyright: Karin Alton

The Humble Dandelion

Some plants are so ubiquitous that we almost lose sight of them; we certainly take them for granted. A classic example of this is the humble Dandelion. Recorded from virtually every square kilometre of the British Isles, the ‘dandelion’ is actually a group of 229 very similar micro-species, adapted to a wide range of habitats but all of them with the ability to spread far and wide by seed. 

Great spring forage for a variety of flower visitors. A honey bee enjoys the nectar produced by the dandelion.

Indeed, they have even abandoned sex, producing fertile seed spontaneously without the need for pollen. Having said that, they are still an excellent resource for pollinating insects, not least because they are in flower almost all year round. 

Hoverfly taking a rest on the bright flower head.

And when left unchecked, as any gardener knows, they flower in abundance.

Dandelion seed head

Being so widespread, the Dandelion has found a firm place in folklore and herbal medicine. Its role as a powerful diuretic is reflected in a range of earthy folk names; ‘pis-en-lit’ in French, for example. 

Dandelion 'clock'

Dandelion pollen

‘Dandelion’, though, comes from ‘dent de lion’ - lion’s tooth, referring to the jagged leaf margins. The scientific name, Taraxacum, comes from the Greek taraxos (disorder), and akos (remedy), reflecting the plant’s long history as a herbal medicine. Due to its diuretic action, it is widely used for kidney disorders, with all parts of the plant being used but especially the root.

The leaves can be eaten as a salad green, the root can be roasted as a substitute for coffee and wine can be made from the flowers. And let us not forget its role in that British classic, Dandelion and Burdock.

All photos copyright Karin Alton (except the last: Steve Alton)