Versatile shrub synonymous with the Moors

Despite this image of invincibility, I recall some time ago that a number of Yorkshire specimens suffered from heavy snow and severe frosts. This tough plant, also known as the furze or whin, is widely thought to be susceptible to hard frosts which can damage the spikes of its foliage. Nonetheless, it always makes a rapid recovery.

In the North York Moors, the most commonly used name is whin. The bushes are sometimes known as whinbusks, the flowers being known as whin-blossom, and it is believed this name is based an old Scandinavian term for this shrub. It seems to be known more as furze or gorse the further south one travels.

Despite the risks faced by the gorse, it is a most resilient and versatile shrub. Even if it is burnt away by a moor fire, it can quickly produce new shoots from the sparse remains and on occasions, this has given it an aura of indestructibility. Moor fires are one of its worst enemies because in dry weather it burns extremely readily and fiercely and in this way fire rapidly spreads among a patch of gorse. The problem is that it also helps to spread lesser fires which are also destructive to heather and peat, such as camp fires and picnic fires that have not been extinguished.

Indeed, its flammability was formerly recognised because it was gathered and used as a fuel for domestic fires; like kindling, it made fires more easily ignited.

A few summers ago on a hot and sunny day, I was walking on the North York Moors with my son-in-law who is Dutch when he suddenly stopped and asked what the curious sounds were – there were popping noises all around us. They came from the pea-like black pods in a patch of dozens of gorse bushes. In the heat, they were exploding to throw tiny seeds all over the place and so Marc learned something about our curious plant-life. Gorse can grow to a height of around 7ft (two metres or more) which means it can cast its seeds over a wide area.

It seems hardly possible that the gorse, with its sharp spines and tough stems could ever be considered as animal food and yet, in some areas, it was crushed with heavy stone rollers for that very purpose. Likewise it was grown on farms to provide both a windbreak and a hedge while several species of bird make good use of its thorny density to protect their nests. Whinchats, stonechats, linnets and the Dartford Warbler are among them.

Foxes also made use of the protection provided by a clump of gorse bushes, but on the moors, those prickly patches were always known as whins. Even the whinchat is named after them. The whin patches on the moors were widely regarded as fox coverts and gave their name to some localities, e.g. Seamer Whin, Thornaby Whin, Elton Whin, Hanlaby Whin, Uckerby Whin and others. Whin also appears in place names such as Whinlatter Pass, Whinburgh and Whinnyfold

The name whinstone was also given to the tough stone quarried at Aislaby in the Esk Valley; this was used in the construction of Somerset House and Waterloo Bridge in London. Whinholme is an ancient North Riding village name dating to 1198, and it meant a meadow overgrown with whin (gorse).

The daunting Whinney Moor that features so strongly in the Lyke Wake Dirge is another reminder of the moorland presence of this tough, prickly shrub.

One very useful but slightly risky function of gorse was to act as a winter-hedge. That is the Yorkshire name given to hedges upon which domestic linen was spread to dry in the sunshine. Washing lying out to dry on hedges in country areas was a common sight even into modern times. In the case of whin, the bonus was that the spikes prevented the clothes from blowing away; the downside was that they could rip holes in the drying items. Some countrywomen referred to their indoor clothes racks as winter-hedges – that is quite logical. It’s a portable hedge taken indoors during winter weather to dry the washing.

The gorse has strong similarities to another dark green shrub found on heath land and even sand dunes. This is the broom whose yellow flowers bear a striking resemblance to gorse and which also grows to around 7ft in height, but in this case the leaves are not spines. Furthermore, it does not flower throughout the year like the gorse but tends to produce its flowers in the spring.

Telltale mewing

While preparing this week’s Diary, my wife and I had lunch on our terrace which overlooks the garden, and beyond are the Howardian Hills and forests. Behind is the spread of the North York Moors. As we relaxed in the autumn sunshine, we heard the distinctive mewing sounds of a buzzard and moments later, one soared over our heads, gliding gracefully on outstretched wings as it circled above and scanned the ground below. Moments later, a second one appeared, flying in the same direction as the first, and then, amazing, a third made an appearance, also following the same route.

We watched them gliding and soaring over the landscape, mewing occasionally, but never hurtling to the ground to snatch a rabbit or other prey. It almost looked like a school outing for buzzards. Eventually, they disappeared into the distance.

When I first became interested in the countryside and wildlife as a child of less than ten years old, I was advised that I’d never see a buzzard on the North York Moors nor even in the Dales. If I wanted to see one, I was told, I should get on my bike and head for the mountains of the Lake District or go to Scotland.

As a growing lad, I did visit the Lake District and in fact saw my first buzzard on the mountains above Derwentwater – I also spotted a raven – but it was many years later when buzzards became plentiful in and around the North York Moors. Today, it is claimed they were the most common raptor in England. If I returned to my childhood haunts, I might now see one there – now there’s a challenge.