Battle of the Plants

Sunrise at Pilsdon

There is a war raging all about us and very few of us know about it. Even those of us living in the countryside where the fighting is the most intense are on the whole blissfully unaware. We can idly gaze at a landscape of wooded dales, bubbling brooks and verdant fields and believe that it is the very essence of peace and order, where the very opposite is in fact the case. We are looking at a battlefield. The combatants? Trees and plants.

OK, I’ll admit the action isn’t exactly Spielberg, but the long slow struggle is nevertheless real and deadly serious. The life of each tree or plant is at stake. The competition for the vital resources of sun, water and soil is intense.  Different species have their own strategies for survival, but all are bound by the same obvious constraint - they cannot move from where they were born. Wherever fate placed them, they have to make the best of it. 

Trees and grass are mortal enemies. When trees grow to maturity the sun won’t reach the ground beneath.  And in your average wood you are witnessing a race for the sun between trees themselves, as they try to out-grow each other to put their topmost leafy branches above the others. Some tree species such as beech and holly are ‘shade-bearing’ in that they are tough enough to cope with cover from taller trees, but many others such as oak, ash and chestnut demand the light and if they don’t get it, they don't thrive.

Humans often meddle with what grows where, normally for very good reasons such as to grow crops for food, or to manage a woodland. Being aware of the relative needs of each plant or tree for light, nutrition, warmth and water is vital for the success of either enterprise. The idea of companion planting, i.e. growing two species of mutually beneficial plants next to or literally amongst each other, often relies on one growing and maturing faster than the other so the first can be harvested before the other species is troubled by lack of light.

Pilsdon's large glasshouse

Birch trees at the back

The conflict between tree and cultivated crop came to a head in Pilsdon’s garden this week, and brought head to head the opposing philosophies of tree-hugger and gardener.  There are three birch trees growing quite close to the back of our large glasshouse, and I pointed out at the weekly garden meeting that their roots were now reaching into the soil inside the glasshouse, competing with the young grapevine that I had planted a year ago. My suggestion, to fell the nearest of the three trees, raised the hackles of all those present who consider native British trees sacrosanct, particularly since Pilsdon apparently has very few trees to call its own. The counter-suggestion, to uproot the vine, buy a new one and plant it at the other end of the glasshouse, seemed calculated to produce a similar amount of annoyance in me, and succeeded. After a group inspection of said tree, and long and heated debate of a scale only matched by global summits on climate change, a compromise agreement was finally reached.  The tree would remain but any of its roots heading into the glasshouse were to be cut.  

Trench warfare

A day later I carried out this savage task with spade, fork and saw. The grapevine can now grow unhindered and since the tree roots were not large the hope is the birch will not be unduly harmed. I hope that a few years from now, Pilsdon residents will clink together their glasses of grape juice and raise a toast to the saviour of their vine who rescued it from an early and ignominious demise.