Hope Springs Eternal
Fritillaries in spring by Rachael Bentley
STEPPING on to Wiltshire’s Cricklade North Meadow in the spring is like stepping back in time. This is one of the best examples of an unimproved, low-lying hay meadow in Europe. And yet, unlike the fullblown blowsy meadows of summer, this scene is more unusual.
Sitting between the River Thames in the south and the River Churn, which meanders to the north, the meadow’s low, damp ground is perfect for an abundance of grassland plants. Amongst them grow more than 80 per cent of the UK’s wild snake’s-head fritillaries. And, for just a few short weeks in April, visitors can glimpse the unusual elegance of thousands upon thousands of dark mauve heads nodding gently in the breeze.
Sometimes seen as solemn flowers in shades of purple and mauve, the fritillaries hang their heads to the earth. But these “sulky ladies”, or “shy widows”, possess an exotic elegance. Each flower stands alone, up to 30 cm above the soil, suspended on a slender stem of blue grey. Held high, their faces dipped to protect their pollen from April showers, the flowers hang like lanterns for the bees to enjoy.
Their beauty is only better understood by a closer look. Amongst the narrow, grass-like leaves at the base, a serpentine stem arches skyward. The flower bud at the end of the slender neck looks very much like a snake’s head, hence its common name. When the flowers open, their chequerboard patterns vary from moody purple and white to watercolour miniatures of mauve and pink, like hand-painted masterpieces in stained glass. White fritillaries can also be spotted amongst the masses, pure white at first glance, until a little low sunshine reveals a faint snakeskin watermark within their petals.
The brooding dark belles are accompanied by other wildflowers below: a carpet of dandelions, cowslips and cuckoo flowers. Above, the sound of skylarks; descants tumbling over one another as the birds rise overhead. This is how all our ancient meadows used to be.
From the path along the river’s edge, large stones can be spotted
nestled amongst the flowers. These stones were the salvation of the fritillary and stand as proof that this is Lammas land.
Lammas rights allowed the meadow to escape enclosure. Whilst the land was still divided into small lots, or doles, for hay farming, it remained common land for much of the year. Boundaries weren’t permitted, so stone markers were set at the edge of each of the 30 small plots at North Meadow to show which local farmer had the right to work each plot.
The farmers paid the landowner for the rights to their hay crop and once they had taken their harvest, the commoners could let their animals freely graze the meadow once more. You can still see some of these stones today, bearing the initials of the farmers who made hay whilst the sun shone.
Lammas restricts the use of pesticides and chemical fertiliser, and as the ground has only ever been used for hay and pasture, it has never been ploughed, saving the delicate bulbs from the slice of steel.
This ancient meadow is living history, having been managed in the same way for more than 700 years. That’s why, here in North Meadow, the fritillary lives on, in harmony with the hay-making season. By the time the hay is cut in July, Fritillaria meleagris will have cast her seeds to the ground, to bide her time until next spring.