Country diary: This hardy survivor is brightening up the moors

The Guardian

07-06-2025

From high on the Allendale moors, I can see right to the Scottish border and the soft blue outline of the Cheviot Hills. Below me, the West Allen Valley holds deeper colours, the land green and bounded with stone walls or dotted with small woods. Shadows thrown by the early evening light pick out every feature: streams, cleughs, barns and farms, mining spoil and ruins – a record of the land.
The wind is warm, buffeting the cottongrass that stretches across the boggy ground and along the roadside ditch. It's a boom year for this beautiful plant, perhaps due to the dry spring putting the plants under stress. A sedge rather than a grass, Eriophorum angustifolium flourishes in its harsh moorland environment, sending out underground rhizomes where few other plants will grow; a line of snow poles shows what the winters are like. The plant's ability to survive here gives it the alternative name of bog cotton.
Today, the wind sets every fluffy seedhead in bobbing motion, dancing with light like the choppy scintillations of waves. The discreet greenish flowers could be easily missed. It's those downy cottonwool plumes that enable wind dispersal that have been used to stuff pillows and make candle wicks, and dress wounds during the first world war.
Plug plants of cottongrass are being planted by the North Pennines National Landscape to restore degraded blanket bog. Binding the surface of the peat together with their wandering roots, they prevent further erosion. In other benefits, the female black grouse that I occasionally see up here feed on the flower heads, giving them a source of protein and energy before laying eggs in spring. The larvae of large heath butterflies feed on a similar species, the hare's tail cottongrass Eriophorum vaginatum.
For a brief time, the moor is transformed in white and I come up here to revel in the spectacle and feel the peace. Swallows swoop to pick up insects off the road. A hare lopes through the tussocks as a lark delivers a stream of notes above. Then a curlew lifts off, beats its wings before gliding, its ecstatic bubbling song ending in a drawn-out plaintive note.
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