THE prospect of cloned sheep amuses us more than it shocks, and no wonder.
Ours is an age of relentless standardisation: we鈥檝e come to accept sameness. In
a world dominated by mass production, it鈥檚 deviations from the norm that invite
suspicion鈥攕o much so that the packaging on one brand of ciabatta
warns that the product is unavoidably 鈥渋rregular鈥�.
If our food must conform to standards of uniformity, so too, it seems, must
the natural realm. Even the oak tree has not escaped standardisation. With
official blessing, Britain鈥檚 countryside has been stocked with 鈥渜uality鈥� oaks
from abroad. Typically grown from eastern European acorns, these imports are
meant to grow taller and straighter than home-grown specimens. The claim is
disputed, but whatever the case, is uniformity what we really want from oak
trees?
In the few remaining ancient woods of lowland Britain, oaks are 鈥渆xceedingly
variable鈥�, the landscape historian Oliver Rackham notes. 鈥淭he trunk may be
straight, curved or corkscrew; smooth or burred; the branches and twigs may be
spreading or erect; the foliage even or clustered; the leaves may fall as early
as October or as late as January. . .鈥� Ancient woodlands are peppered with
idiosyncratic oaks that do unexpected things, pushing out 鈥渂right scarlet shoots
in August鈥�, for instance.
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Such riotous inventiveness may not please the forester. Yet genetic
variability is any species鈥� life-insurance policy. Writing in Plantlife,
the magazine of the British wild-plant charity of the same name, botanist Phil
Gates of the University of Durham points out that every species must be able to
tap into a deep reservoir of genetic variation if it is to evolve to meet the
challenge of climate change. Treasure the oddballs, the mutants, the anomalies,
Gates urges, for 鈥渟omewhere, among all these natural variants, lie the plants
that will form the founding populations of the future flora of a warmer
叠谤颈迟补颈苍鈥�.
But can we learn to celebrate things that are different, even downright odd?
Hard-pressed students are unlikely to seek out life forms that aren鈥檛 in the
textbooks, and professionals are too busy delving into DNA to spend much time in
the field. So when it comes to the quirky and peculiar, amateur naturalists may
have something to teach the biologists.
Already, there is an informal network of some fifty enthusiasts on the
lookout for 鈥渁berrant flora鈥�. The project is the brainchild of Martin
Cragg-Barber, a professional gardener who lives in rural Wiltshire. 鈥淭he idea
behind most floras is to depict and describe the typical, the average form of
each species,鈥� he says. What no one knows is how much each species varies from
the norm. The Aberrant Flora Project aims to find out.
A century ago, professional biologists took an active interest in 鈥減lant
teratology鈥濃�攆rom the Greek teras, a monster or marvel. But today
the science of oddities has become unfashionable, and contemporary botanical
authorities take little notice of floral eccentricities. Now 鈥渁 whole arena of
nature is being neglected鈥�, says Cragg-Barber.
Of course, mutations are the lifeblood of genetic research: they provide
clues to the functions of genes. Yet mainstream scientists today don鈥檛 take much
interest in questions that puzzle Cragg-Barber and friends, such as how often
novelties naturally pop up in general species, and in different parts of the
country. As genetic engineers generate designer crops, Cragg-Barber is keen to
discover to what extent plants 鈥渋n the wild of their own accord鈥� indulge in
genetic high jinks.
You don鈥檛 have to be a botanical whiz to take part. So long as you can tell a
dandelion from a bluebell, you can always consult a conventional flora if you鈥檙e
not sure what a 鈥渘ormal鈥� specimen looks like, he says. Look out for twin-headed
teasels, foxgloves with funny flowers, and hazels with a superabundance of
catkins. The weedy plantains sport more aberrations than any other common native
genus, Cragg-Barber ventures. But he adds: 鈥淧lease prove me wrong.鈥� Anyone with
a keen eye for a peculiar plant is invited to contribute to the project鈥檚
database and newsletter. The newsletter鈥檚 masthead says it all: That Plant鈥檚
Odd.
For further information on the Aberrant Flora Project send a self-addressed
stamped envelope, to Martin Cragg-Barber, That Plant鈥檚 Odd, 1 Station Cottages,
Hullavington, Chippenham, Wiltshire SN14 6ET. Plantlife is based at the Natural
History Museum, Cromwell Road, London SW7 5BD