The south-west of England is a hotbed of newly evolved tree species. There’s a sentence you probably thought you would never read, but it is true. In Britain, we have numerous tree species that are endemic to these isles; they are unique species found nowhere else on the planet, species that evolved here after the land bridge to the continent disappeared beneath the waves 8,500 years ago.
Britain is home to around 40 species of endemic trees, 40 trees that most people will not know about even though they are our very own unique trees. These trees are all types of whitebeam, a large family that includes more familiar species such as rowan and common whitebeam, a tree often found planted as an amenity tree in many urban areas. Those two species have a large natural range incorporating Europe and parts of Asia and Africa, but our endemic species are far more restricted – some of them are only found in just one single location in the entire world.
Our endemic whitebeams are found scattered across the western areas of Britain, from Scotland in the north to Devon in the south. The south-west of England is home to many of these unique species. Avon and Somerset have several endemic species, whilst Devon is home to at least six, yet these are all species of trees that most of us have never heard of. I want to change that. We should be proud of our very special trees.
My home county of Devon has even given its name to one of these trees, the Devon Whitebeam or Karpatiosorbus devoniensis to give it its very Devonian scientific name. This whitebeam is relatively widespread in the county, with strongholds in the north-west of the county as well as around the town of Teignmouth. It is a beautiful small tree, producing autumn colour and an abundance of round red fruits, fruits that are very edible when fully ripe. These fruits were once sold as a popular food item in places such as Barnstaple pannier market where they were often called eagle berries or French eagles, but sadly that trade in local produce has now faded into the past. I still eat them though, referring to them as sorbs; they are great on ice cream and make a good addition to sloes when making sloe gin with a Devonian twist!
Whilst the Devon Whitebeam is relatively widespread in the county, the other species are more restricted in where they can be found within its boundaries. Three are generally only found along the North Devon coast as it merges into Somerset, growing on the near inaccessible steep cliffs of the region. These trees are Margaret’s Whitebeam, Somerset Whitebeam and Bloody Whitebeam. The last of these has the scientific name of Aria vexans the second part of which means ‘annoying’, which might explain its English name; however, the reason behind it being so is still a mystery to me! Another species, the Grey-leaved Whitebeam, is the most widespread of all the species found in Devon, even though it is not distributed so widely within the actual county itself, where it is generally only found around Torbay and Newton Abbot in the southern part of the county and around Lynton in the north. However, it is also found across parts of Somerset and Avon, Gloucestershire and South Wales.
The last species, though, is very specialised in its distribution, being found in just one river valley – one river valley in the entire world. This species has the brilliant name of No Parking Whitebeam. It is found in the East Lyn Valley in the area around Watersmeet, a location that has led to it being referred to in more recent years by the rather more prosaic name of Watersmeet Whitebeam. For me though it will always be the No Parking Whitebeam, a name that reflects its history.
In the 1930s, biologists first noted the Whitebeams growing in the valley – more specifically one particular tree that was growing alongside the main road. At first it was thought it was a Devon Whitebeam, although no Devons were known to grow in the area. On closer examination, however, they realised it was something different and worthy of further examination. To do this meant revisiting the valley as time was short; as a consequence, they needed a reference point to help them find the tree once more. Luckily this had already been provided. The tree in question grows on the edge of a small layby, a layby that was obviously jealously guarded as somebody had nailed a sign to the tree that said in big letters, ‘No Parking’.
The outbreak of the second world war scuppered plans for a revisit to the site and it wasn’t until the mid-1980s that the tree was looked at again. The biologists in the 1930s were indeed right. It was different – in fact, it was a new species and the name of No Parking Whitebeam was coined. Even its scientific name of Karpatiosorbus admonitor reflects its history, admonitor meaning someone who admonishes, someone who warns or advises, often with a tone of reproof. Just like a No Parking sign.
We in the south-west have some beautiful landscapes of which we are rightly proud. We should also be proud of our very own trees that grow in some of these landscapes. We have something unique and we should be shouting about it!
