Hailing from the northern Yorkshire Dales, the grasslands I grew up around were upland hay meadows and, whilst floristically diverse, species composition is very different to that of the chalk grasslands of Hampshire.  The chalk specialists of these habitats have proved particularly interesting as botany has long been one of my favourite disciplines of ecology.

Chalk grasslands have been managed by humans since the Neolithic period when woodland was cleared for grazing and then for agriculture and was intensively farmed through the Roman period.  Intensive grazing and agriculture have cycled throughout the years and culminated in large Georgian hunting estates, leaving the grassland dominated habitats of today.

This unique geology has also created another habitat I have grown especially fond of in Hampshire: chalk streams.  Unlike normal rivers, these are created from many springs down the course of the river, coming from an aquifer in the rocks below. These aquifers are slowly charged and burst forth with cool, mineral-rich water when full. Whilst some only flow now and again, they are more seasonally consistent as they are less subject to heavy rain or drought due to the aquifers. The rich habitats created as a consequence, are home to numerous species, many of which are specialised and many of which are protected, such as water vole, otter and white-clawed crayfish.

Over the centuries we have had such a strong connection with these iconic and important habitats. They have inspired many a poet and novelist from Jane Austen to Thomas Hardy; the ‘great hills of the South Country’ with ‘green, smooth-swelling, unending’ ‘blunt, bow-headed, whale-backed Downs’ of Belloc, Swinburne and Kipling have roused many readers.  We also regularly come together to sing the words of William Blake, who wrote Jerusalem from a nearby Sussex village.

I have been lucky enough to work in both chalk grasslands and streams this summer, assisting in the crayfish conservation work of Dr Ben Rushbrook along the Candover river and exploring botanical marvels at sites such as Noar Hill and Wilder Nunwell. Crayfish surveys may have been my favourite this summer; wading through cool waters in a wooded stream on a baking hot day with beautiful demoiselles fluttering past in the dappled sunlight is pretty magical. Having already had an intermediary knowledge of botany, I have learned so many new chalk specialists this summer, including this lovely common twayblade orchid at Noar Hill.