Poems by Philip Strange

Hay Meadows Lost

by Philip Strange

From Canary Spring 2018

Philip lives in the Southwest of England between moors and sea. His home town of Totnes lies in the River Dart watershed.

This is a land on the edge, a sloping terrain sandwiched between hills and sea, a patchwork of fields, hedges and trees. Buried deep in this coastal west Dorset landscape is Westhay Farm with its centuries-old stone farmhouse. Surrounding the farmhouse are flower-rich hay meadows managed in the traditional manner and enjoying a climate softened by the sea and its mists.

I scramble over a stile near the farm to access the public footpath through the hay meadows and my first impression is one of joyous, unfettered growth. The fields are carpeted with knee-high, yellow buttercups supported by thick grass covered in many rough, lozenge-shaped seed heads. In the bright sunshine of this early May morning, a sweet smell rises from the meadow to greet me. Lower down in the grass, I notice tight clusters of lemon-yellow flowers borne on thick reddish-green stalks. This is yellow rattle, a plant of traditional hay meadows. A black and yellow-striped bumblebee systematically works the yellow flowers, visiting each smooth, tubular bloom. The bee prises apart the two petals so that its long tongue can reach the nectar at the base of the flower. As it takes the sugary reward, it also acquires a dusting of pollen from the overhanging purple stamens.

At this time of year, the meadows are liberally scattered with the glittering, brightly coloured flowers of the green-winged orchids, standing defiantly in the grass on thick green stems. Many of the orchids are purple, but some are magenta, some violet and a few are white or pink, lending a mosaic of contrasting colour to the meadow. Each flower is composed of several florets arranged around the stem like jewels on a bracelet. The most visible and exquisite part of each floret is the broad, apron-like, lower petal with its central white stripe contained within a coloured halo. This white region is decorated with a pattern of eight or more irregular darker spots, the pattern unique to each floret and perhaps recognised by visiting pollinators. Green-winged orchids are a speciality of these meadows and their name refers to the green-veined sepals that protect each developing floret, now thrown back like wings.

It is rare to see wild orchids in the UK nowadays but to see thousands in one place is breath-taking. I was lucky to catch them today: they won’t last long and, as the seasons progress, other flowers will take their place in the meadows. By July the grasses will be dry and the colour supplied by cheerful newcomers such as purple knapweed and buttery-yellow bird’s foot trefoil. In late July the hay will be cut, this joyous, unfettered growth converted into winter animal feed.

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Flower-rich hay meadows such as these were a feature of the British countryside in the spring and summer for hundreds of years, until the middle of the 20th century. Cultivation followed the rhythm of the seasons. Grasses and flowers grew in the warmth and wet of spring and early summer. Hay was cut in late summer and removed for winter animal feed, after the flowers had set seed. Animals grazed the fields in autumn taking advantage of the late-summer grass flush. The only fertiliser came from the autumn-grazing animals and, the following spring, plants grew, seeds germinated and the cycle began again. This was a carefully managed land cultivation system, in tune with the seasons and their weather. Hay meadows were celebrated in painting and in literature, so for example George Eliot, in Adam Bede referred to the “flower-sprinkled tresses of the meadows”.

The look of the British countryside changed dramatically during the 20th century as traditional systems of land management were swept aside. Changes in agricultural practice driven by fears about food security during the two world wars, together with increased dependence on artificial fertilisers, led to a massive loss of traditional hay meadows and the flowers that went with them. Only 3% of the flower-rich hay meadows present in the 1930s still remain.

But it’s not just the look that altered. These changes in farming practice together with increased use of pesticides significantly affected wildlife in the countryside. Farmland birds and pollinating insects such as bees, moths, butterflies and wasps were badly affected by the changes with some species declining by up to 85%. With increasing urbanisation, many people may not even be aware of these changes and the species affected.

Meadows like those at Westhay Farm might now be viewed as museum pieces showing us how the countryside looked before agricultural intensification took over and for that reason alone, they should be preserved. I believe, however, that their pesticide-free, fertile mosaics of grasses and flowers have much more to tell us. A meadow is a land at ease with itself, supporting a rich ecosystem comprising a wide range of plant and insect species. We can’t turn back the clock completely and reverse the agricultural changes that have occurred in our countryside but the richness of the hay meadows shows us how we can support the birds and pollinators that remain.