One of the best things to do at this time of year is to head down paths that run alongside fields of bluebells and take in their beautiful scent. For those of us lucky enough to be on the nicer side of social media, springtime just wouldn’t be the same without images of violet-blue carpeted fields alongside the shared joy at the return of these lovely flowers. But take care when around bluebells, because they also chime with fairy magic, lost landscapes, and lessons in how best to treasure nature.

Whilst, in the UK, it does not feel like bluebells are particularly rare, internationally they are far less common. In fact, the UK is home to half the world’s bluebell population. For this reason, bluebells are protected under law, making it illegal to pick them, intentionally destroy them, dig them up, or trade in bluebell bulbs. This legislation is vital, not just to the bluebells but also to the many woodland insect species that rely on their nectar at this time of year. Due to the interconnected nature of ecosystems, bluebells are also important to the birds which rely on these insects for food. The State of UK’s Woods and Trees 2021 report found that woodland species of butterflies and birds have seen a steep decline in number over the past 5 years, so we really need to be regarding the bluebell as more than just a pretty flower.

A lesson in leave no trace.

One important threat to the bluebells is that we value their prettiness too much. Bluebell colonies take a long time to establish (5-7 years) and we are an impatient lot. Therefore, in trying to capture the glory of a bluebell wood, gardeners turn to a non-native variety. Spanish bluebells do not have the same depth of colour, and they have no scent at all, but for some they make a good enough proxy for our native species. Sadly, and inevitably, they have escaped our gardens, to outcompete our native species or mix with them through hybridisation, diluting their colour, scent, and magic. Perhaps we should be more careful to embrace the wildness and let nature be, rather than trying to control things for our own benefit.

Our favourite native wildflower is also sensitive to our interactions with them. Humans have a need for nature connection but, in a country where there is so little space for this, the wild spaces we can access are under pressure – quite literally! When bluebell leaves are trampled, they are weakened making it harder to photosynthesise. They can take years to recover. 

There is a wisdom about respecting wildflowers that has sadly been lost over time. Perhaps we can still find remnants of it in our folklore. Bluebells are said to be entwined with dark fairy magic. If a fairy spots you picking a bluebell, this magic will be unleashed and they will lead you into wandering until you become lost forever. And, though it may be tempting, it is best not to lie down in a field of bluebells – not only will you crush and damage them, but you might also be close enough to hear their bells ring – then you will soon be visited by a malevolent death-bringing fairy.

How to avoid death by fairy.

It may be that the fairies are getting a bad press here: were we to respect and understand nature better, we would be far safer from fairy mischief. To truly treasure our bluebells, whilst also avoiding death by fairy, it would be better to rewild their natural habitats than to pick them for our vases, crush them to get the perfect photograph, or introduce non-native imitations into our gardens.

So let us consider the bluebell’s habitat, for it holds an exciting secret. Because of how long it takes bluebells to colonise, their presence indicates that you are likely to be in a site of ancient woodland. At times, the native trees with which bluebells co-evolved may still surround you, offering up the dappled light bluebells prefer. At other times, their presence may just hint at a lost landscape – a ghost of a wood whispering through history for a chance to be restored.

Loss of our ancient woodland has been brutal. The UK is one of the least forested countries in Europe and our ancient woodland is fragmented, covering just 2.5% of the UK. Whilst the Spanish bluebell may stand upright and proud, the UK bluebell hangs its head and rings out a warning for all we have been willing to destroy.  In serving ourselves, our woods have been felled. In some cases, we have replaced ancient woodland with fast growing timber plantations. Even now we are learning the value of nature, companies will be more likely to offset carbon with a quantifiable number of saplings than look to rewild the spaces where the soil still holds the mycorrhizal networks and seed banks of an ancient wood. Perhaps then, a flash of blue in a clearing between the Sitka spruce might be alerting us to a lost woodland that we could rescue.

In the language of flowers, the bluebell is a symbol of humility and everlasting love. If we truly love these wood hyacinths, these cuckoo’s boots, these witches’ thimbles, then humility is what is required of us. It is time to stop putting ourselves above nature; stop viewing nature in terms of how it can serve us; and begin to restore the ecosystems in which both ourselves and bluebells can joyfully co-exist.