August 2, 2010
Will the real Deadly Nightshade please stand up?
Just the name is enough to send chills down your spine. Shame that it is usually misapplied to two other species, one whose berries are only mildly toxic – Woody Nightshade or Bittersweet (Solanum dulcamara) and one whose berries are actually edible, when ripe – the Black Nightshade (Solanum nigrum).
Perhaps it is just as well that our parents and grandparents brought us up in a climate of fear about berries? As children, our ability to differentiate between similar things, without training, is limited by our attention span, experience etc. so if our family could not provide the necessary knowledge, better to leave it until we can acquire it for ourselves. For me, that time is now.
Bittersweet (Solanum dulcamara) on shingle
Bittersweet is a sprawling, straggly plant with dark green oval and halberd-shaped leaves that may be found in woods, ditches, waste ground and the seashore. It is more easily spotted by its clusters of scarlet egg-shaped fruits that are reminiscent of tiny plum tomatoes, with good reason – tomato belongs to the nightshade family – than by the strongly reflexed purple flowers, whose yellow anthers project forward in a cone. As a kid, I was always taught that this was Deadly Nightshade – and that it is ‘deadly’ therefore – and it seems that that is what most people believe, including medical practitioners. In the United States at least, children are routinely dosed with a strong emetic as a precaution, if they swallow even a small amount of Bittersweet berries. Recent tests have shown that the ripe fruits contain very little solanine (the poison), while unripe berries contain more. However, the dark green unripe fruits are not only unappealing to a child’s eye but are also quite inconspicuous and so are rarely ingested. Research suggests it would take over 200 fruits to make a dangerous dose!
Black Nightshade (Solanum nigrum) - no berries yet
Black Nightshade looks like a small potato plant that has gone to flower, with good reason – potato is a member of the nightshade family! The blossoms of both are similar to the Bittersweet, except the petals are white not purple. Solanum nigrum turns up on waste ground, cultivated soil and farmland and can tolerate quite dry conditions. Both the young shoots (boiled in a change of water) and the ripe, black berries are extensively eaten around the world, especially in Africa, the Mediterranean and the Middle East – but also traditionally in the United States both by Native Americans and settlers. Over here it was long believed to be poisonous and mistakenly called ‘deadly’. The unripe fruits are toxic and should not be eaten.
Deadly Nightshade (Atropa bella-donna)
The real Deadly Nightshade (Atropa belladonna) is a relatively rare plant, found in scrub, open woods and rocky places on chalk or limestone. Its growth habit is as a small spreading upright shrub that is actually quite hard to spot. I think it has a strange beauty; rather lurid purple tube-like flowers and incredibly attractive shiny black (or green when unripe) berries that resemble black cherries held within a large star-shaped bract. And they are truly deadly, just half a berry being enough, in some instances. The poisonous principle is called atropine and the effects are very different from solanum nightshades.
Deadly Nightshade - so beautiful and so dangerous
“Numerous cases are on record of the poisonous effects of this plant when taken by mistake for some other, or administered designedly, producing pain in the head, restlessness, dimness of vision, dilitation of the pupils, and subsequent loss of sight, dryness of the throat, delirium, coma, and sometimes convulsions. The delirium is not always present, and is mostly of the pleasing kind, with constant and immoderate laughter, talking continually, but generally on lively subjects. The muscles of the eyeballs are sometimes spasmodically contracted, as well as the muscles of deglutition, especially when anything is attempted to be swallowed. At other times the effect produced resembles somnambulism, as occurred in the instance of a tailor, who was poisoned with an injection of the infusion of bella-donna, and who for fifteen hours, though speechless and insensible to external objects, went through all the usual operations of his trade with much vivacity, and moved his lips as if in conversation.”
From FLORIGRAPHIA BRITANNICA; RICHARD DEAKIN, M.D., 1857.
June 8, 2010
Transferable foraging skills: How well would you do?
Sean Rowe, the foraging troubador
A couple of weeks back I had the good fortune spend some time with Sean Rowe (rhymes with ‘how’) from Albany, New York. During that time I was treated to two sides of Sean’s talents. You see, not only is he a gifted singer/songwriter (on tour promoting his latest album ‘Magic’) but also an enthusiastic and knowledgeable forager, keen to be out in the nearest available ‘wilderness’. The Bushcraft Magazine filmed us out on a foray. Sean has his own wilderness blog and is currently editing a copy of the video to accompany his own musical soundtrack.
I was interested to see how someone would fare so far out of their comfort zone. I have read extensively on North American wild forage and, as I mentioned in my previous blog the two continents have relatively few plants in common apart from accidental imports and a few Northern Hemisphere-spanning species – such as Cattails (Typha latifolia) and Fireweed (Epilobium angustifolium).
The first British plant we encountered that Sean was familiar with was Garlic Mustard (Alliaria petiolata), which he told me is regarded as an introduced invasive weed by the US Department of Agriculture. He commented that while it grows patchily in my local woods, back home near Albany it shows a different habit, carpeting extensive areas of the forest floor and thus making foraging easy. Sean knew the Latin name, so I knew we were talking about the same plant.
Garlic Mustard or Jack-by-the-Hedge (Alliolaria petiolata)
The Latin name was a decisive point of reference and really helped communication and understanding, as it was always intended. I showed Sean Hogweed (Heracleum sphondylium) for instance, and he was able to describe to me the differences in appearance and uses of the North American variety, Heracleum lanatum because we were clear about both Family and Genus. Later, Sean stopped to examine a tree leaf and said it reminded him of a Linden – Tilia, and I confirmed that he was correct in his assessment. He was looking at our Common Lime (a.k.a. Linden), a hybrid – Tilia X vulgaris, which he differentiated from Tilia americana for me.
Sean’s broad knowledge of plants in general enabled him to key in to the universal characteristics of particular plant Families. The square stems of the Labiatae – deadnettles and mints, for example, or common features of the umbellifers (Apiaceae) or Carrot family, bridged widely separated foraging experiences. Far from struggling with a whole new suite of plants, most of the species were new to the American, but their counterparts and representatives back home were familiar. This made learning them much easier for Sean and teaching them simpler for me. The day was fascinating and instructive for both of us (look out for the video). I hope I would acquit myself half as well if I get a chance to forage in America; I came away with the greatest respect for Sean’s foraging skills and these thoughts:
- Knowledge of specific plant Latin names is essential, not just for wider communication but to understand the physical characteristics and properties of a Genus. e.g. How similar is Hogweed Heracleum sphondylium to H. lanatum, or H. kamchatkaensis?
- Understanding the broad range of representatives of a plant Family is important.
- Knowledge of characteristic Family traits is extremely useful.
- Being able to recognise an edible plant without understanding its context and wider relationships is extremely limiting and could leave you stranded.
- Learn your plants, regardless of whether you can eat them or not.
A final word on the man and his music. Sean Rowe has a fine voice and plays mean guitar.
A man in his element
He even throws atlatl well. Check out the videos of Sean in my front room in the gallery and look over the links below.
May 19, 2010
Fireweed, Far and Wide.
Europe and North America have only a few wild plants in common. This means that for the most part our plant lore and traditional foraging experiences are very different. A few familiar species have been introduced into America by European immigrants, some deliberately, such as Watercress (Nasturtium officinalis) and others by accident; for example Greater Plantain (Plantago major), which became known to the indigenous people as ‘White Man’s Footsteps’ or White-man’s Foot’ because of the way it sprang up in his wake. Either way they were quickly assimilated into Native American culture, and their culinary and medicinal potential thoroughly utilised.
Fireweed, also known as Rosebay Willowherb (Chamaenerion [Epilobium] angustifolium) however, is hemisphere -spanning herb that is native to both sides of the Atlantic, with a long history of uses in many cultures. It is a pioneer species with wide powers of dispersal and is particularly adapted to colonising ground that has been burnt. It became a familiar sight on ‘bombsites’ in London in the first couple of decades after the Second World War and it was one of the most abundant early settlers to the area devastated by the eruption of Mount St. Helens in Washington state in 1980.
Fireweed flowers as they appear in July
From a forager’s perspective it is often plentiful where it grows and is versatile in its edibility. The spring shoots have been consumed in this country for hundreds of years. The tender top 6-8 inches (15-20cm) are snapped off, stripped of most of their leaves except a small tuft at the tip and the stems peeled. They may be eaten raw, or cooked, by boiling, steaming or frying first in butter then steaming in the same pan like spinach. They are especially delicious when added to an omelette.
Fireweed shoots prepared for cooking ...
...and in an omelette.
Now is the time to harvest, so go seek a patch and watch it through the summer.
an extensive patch of Fireweed shoots
detail of Rosebay Willowherb shoots - learn to recognise the willow-like leaves that give the plant its name
Apart from some medicinal uses, there ends our native knowledge, it seems. To use this wonderful resource to its fullest potential however we must look to tribes far and wide.
Indigenous Canadians also ate the young shoots. Yupik Eskimos preserved the stems in seal oil to prolong their viability. In addition the Blackfeet ate the fresh roots in spring. The gelatinous pith of both younger and older stems is sweet and prized as food by many northern tribes. It was consumed after splitting the stem open with a fingernail. The people of Kamchatka add the sweet inner tissue to ale that they brew and also use it in vinegar. As Fireweed began to bloom in summer Fisherman Lake Slave People ate the raw flowers and present day Alaskans make Fireweed Jelly from them. Now why don’t we?
Russians make a tea known as Kaporie from the dried leaves, though this, if attempted, should be drunk in moderation as various sources report that it causes drunkenness, nausea or stupefaction! Later in the year the down from willowherb seeds can be used as tinder, though in the past they also have been woven into a delicate fabric with other materials. In autumn the dry stems produce a fibre that can be used as cordage. Fireweed truly is ‘a plant for all seasons’.
April 22, 2010
The Invasion of Salt-loving Scurvy-grass
One of the advantages of not being able to drive is that, as a passenger, you notice more.
Over much of Kent I have witnessed a phenomenon this Spring. Along the many of the bare and ugly road-verges and central reservations of our A-roads and motorways dense, delicate pink or white coatings of low-growing flowers have appeared like stars in the Milky Way, where the previous year there were none. The continued and rapid spread of Early Scurvy-grass (Cochlearica danica) has been quite astonishing this year and the reason is simple; the hard Winter.
Danish or Early Scurvy-grass beside an A-road
How? First of all it is a Northern species, so it doesn’t mind the cold, in fact it thrives within the Arctic Circle. Then it is a halophyte, a salt-loving plant and salt/gritting operations this winter were so extensive as to change the salinity of the roadside soil over hundreds of miles in a strip anything up to 3m wide. Early (or Danish) Scurvy-grass’s natural habitat is bare, sandy or gritty seashores but it is colonising far inland. I first encountered it on the hard shoulder of the M25 some years back (don’t ask). The salt burns away the natural vegetation leaving a bare strip, which the scurvy-grass and other maritime plants can and do colonise in a long linear fashion. However it has been noted that where bare soil leads away from the road edge but is no longer salty, the plants refuse to follow. Incredibly, the seeds appear to be dispersed in the slipstreams of motor vehicles and also in the mud attached to them. The Kent populations could have originated from the M25, though in truth lorries from all over the country and the rest of Europe pass through the county. In parts of the country it is colonising at a rate of over 30km per year.
Early Scurvy Grass - Cochlearica danica
The plant is rich in Vitamin C and like other members of its family, is so called because it if famously antiscorbutic (anti-scurvy). Scurvy still occasionally occurs in badly nourished people in Britain but the affliction used to be particularly common in sailors whose diet after a long time at sea lacked fresh fruit and vegetables and also in country people after a long winter without the same. Although symptoms could become severe and unpleasant (gradual weakening, pale skin, sunken eyes, tender gums, muscle pain, loss of teeth, internal bleeding, and the re-opening of old wounds), the restoration to health on Vitamin C rich plants was rapid.
The irony is that this immense new crop is likely to be so full of heavy metals and other roadside pollutants that it would do you far more harm than good. And that is without being mown down by a juggernaut when you stop to pick some.
April 11, 2010
The Perils of Misidentification
Would you mistake the highly poisonous woodland plant, Dog’s Mercury (Mercurialis perennis) for the edible, semi-aquatic Brooklime (Veronica beccabunga)?
Brooklime and Dog's Mercury
In 1982, a 40 year old schoolmaster and his 39 year old wife did, with near-fatal consequences. They based their identification on a small black-and-white line illustration in the 1975 edition of Richard Mabey’s Food for Free.
In fairness to the book, the image, which in my opinion looks like Brooklime as intended, and not like Dog’s Mercury, was clearly never meant to be used for ID. There is no additional description or further detail. So why stake your life on it?
Well, enthusiasm sometimes gets the better of us. Every now and then the impatient desire to forage a free meal overrides a person’s knowledge or experience or powers of observation; the notion of a patient apprenticeship is exchanged for a steep learning curve.
Acquiring identification skills takes time and practise. If all you want to do is give something its correct name, there is no harm done if you later find out you were wrong. We all have to learn. When studying, a sound approach is to give your specimen (or perhaps a digital photo) a provisional identification that may one day be confirmed. Read the additional information in the text, and use all your senses. ID first then, perhaps eat it the following year after you have seen the plant in all stages and looked at it carefully. Training your eyes and brain to recognise subtle differences between things take time, and the keener we are sometimes the less we look. In fact, we carry preconceptions in our heads that can stop us seeing what is truly there.
Ray egg-case or bat?
This was brought home to me very strikingly recently. I had a display of Natural History items at a country event. Amongst them were several black ‘mermaid’s purses’, the egg cases of skates/rays that get washed up on the beach. Several times that day different people said to me ‘Those are bats’. Something black with vaguely hook-shaped appendages, no eyes, mouth, ears or any features at all, had defaulted to ‘bat’ in their minds and they looked no further until I pointed out their mistake.
We are probably all guilty of doing it to a greater or lesser extent but we should take special care whilst foraging. Dog’s Mercury has also been taken for Spearmint (Mentha spicata) (despite not smelling minty) and Fat Hen (Chenopodium album), amongst others. Compare the Brooklime and Dog’s Mercury in the photos. I hope they are helpful, but don’t base your breakfast on them.
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Dog's Mercury growing in a wood
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Brooklime growing in a stream in a wood