Barley Cove

The First Fine Day

It’s not my imagination – we did indeed have more than average rainfall this winter, according to Met Éireann. It felt relentless and it just stopped the other day. 

I am, apparently, wrong that the winter was also colder – above average temperatures resulted in the 20th mildest winter since 1990. It didn’t feel like that, though: looking at this chart from Sherkin Island shows lots of below-average spells, while Dublin airport had its ‘dullest’ winter since 1994.

So on Friday when my forecast app showed sunshine all day I headed out into this unexpected and most welcome balmy weather, pointing my car towards the end of the Mizen. As I drove I couldn’t help thinking of the story by Ray Bradbury, All Summer in a Day. It’s set on a colonised Venus where it rains constantly, and the sun emerges for only one hour every seven years. You can read it here, if you don’t know it, or watch it here, but be warned it’s very sad. 

My immediate goal was to do my rare plant count. As I have related before, I monitor several rare plants for the Biodiversity Data Centre, and the one that comes up earliest is the least visually exciting. In fact, it would be hard to imagine a more homely little plant than Early Sand-grass (Mibora minima for the true botanists among you), although this illustration makes it look quite attractive*.

Spelled several different ways (one word, two words, hyphenated) this is one of the smallest, if not the smallest, grasses in the world, it is only found in Ireland in the dunes at Barley Cove and on Bull Island off the coast of Dublin. I volunteered to count it in 2022. So this is my 5th year observing it and I can say that it is holding its own and perhaps even expanding its range slightly each year.

Seeking the plant involves walking slowly through the dunes with eyes always down and when I finally came up for air it was to realise that I had one of those days that often happen after extended periods of bad weather when the colours seem to spark off each other and the land and the sea provided a glorious panorama of hues and contrasts.

I also noticed what I think was quite an increase in rabbit activity on the area of the dunes I was traversing. Rabbits are both a blessing and a curse for dunes – see my post The Bunnies of Barley Cove for what I mean by that. The warrens can destabilise the dunes but on the positive side for my plant specifically, rabbit grazing keeps competitive grasses and coarser vegetation down, which can favour low-growing specialists that would otherwise be shaded out. Their burrowing also kicks up new patches of sand to host the Sand-grass.

The path from the car park (I was the only car there today for a time) ends in an innovative pontoon footpath that allows access across the backchannel to the front dunes.

The pontoon is pulled up all winter and it hasn’t been re-set yet. There’s another way down, though, from the hotel at the far end, and it was good to see a couple enjoying the sensation that only walking on a beach barefoot provides. 

Having finished my count, I drove around then to Crookhaven and since it was lunchtime of course I had to stop at the iconic O’Sullivans pub, currently undergoing renovations and operating out of Nottage’s. (Fish pie to die for and a large americano, if you must know.) 

Surely this is one of the most scenic villages in Ireland. Hard to believe that it was once so busy that it was said you could walk across the harbour from ship to ship.

The two tall skinny towers on Rock Island are testament to that – this was where pilots could get a good view out to sea so they could send their boats out to guide ships safely into harbour. They may also have been used, according to one authority, for reporting ship movements to Lloyd’s of London for insurance purposes.

Rock Island is as full of history as Crookhaven – way back in 2018 we spent a day with Aidan Power getting the expert account of this tiny island where once over a hundred people lived and worked. It deserves another post one of these days.

I admit this post is a bit ‘light’ today – nothing much happened, I wandered around, took photographs, and enjoyed this wonderful part of the world. It’s what Robert always called a “then we went home for tea” type of post. But my last few posts have been pretty dense, so I hope you all forgive this dalliance with triviality.

* By Jan Kops – www.BioLib.de, Public Domain

Mizen Magic Miscellany: The Far End Part 2

Moving west at the Far End of the Mizen we come to two very special, and completely different, places. Barley Cove is one of Ireland’s most popular beaches, and rightly so – but there is much more to it than meets the eye. Three Castle Head, is, in my opinion , the most beautiful historic site in Ireland. OK, a bold statement – but wait til you see.

The area around Barley Cove encompasses a European Special Area of Conservation (SAC). In my post, Barley Cove: A Special Area of Conservation, I explained that SACs are areas designated as particularly interesting or sensitive on account of their flora or fauna. There’s a complex assessment process carried out that looks at the species present in the area, how important or endangered they are, or how representative of a particular habitat. It’s all done by the National Parks and Wildlife Service and the report on the Barley Cove area is online.

It’s also one of my favourite places to find wildflowers and that post included a gentle little slideshow. Because I went on October one of the flowers I saw was the little orchid, Autumn Lady’s Tresses. Although it is found here and there around the coast it is an unassuming little thing and quite hard to spot, so I was delighted to find it.

But I have been more recently, in July last year, and made a new slideshow, which I called Lying in the Dunes. I am a bit better at it now, and can sync the music to the images.

Barley Cove is also home to a large colony of rabbits. In my post The Bunnies of Barley Cove, I wrote: When you think that an adult female (a doe) can have up to seven litters a year, each one yielding up to ten kittens, the proliferation rate is explosive. They are kept somewhat in check in the wild by natural predators and a high mortality rate. Left totally undisturbed, rabbit populations probably undergo the same cyclical variations that other mammals do, with numbers increasing for about ten years and then declining due to over-population, before building up again.

Observing the bunnies and getting close to them called for patience and slow movements: I had to crawl through long grass and try not to spook them. Once they and I were at eye level, it felt like a real communication – being regarded by those deep pools of age-old knowledge, gentle and wise, was lovely. At the same time, the ears were on high alert, and I knew that one false move and he was gone.

Moving further west again, we come to Dunlough, or Three Castle Head. This was one of my Castles of Ivaha series, and surely our most unusual castle in the most spectacular setting. To come over the hill and see it for the first time is an experience none of us will forget.

It’s a complex site and I tried to unravel the various phases of building that you can see, as well as the construction methods and functions of the curtain wall with its three towers. But in the end I had to say But all of that is dry as dust – who can worry about a dating timeframe when what presents itself to your view is so beautiful, so perfectly situated and so hopelessly romantic?

Ogham Stone or . . . ?

It’s been an eclectic week – Amanda, Peter and I had a skite out to Inchydoney, and I finished off the week with a trip to Barley Cove.

Inchydoney Island is a beautiful, unique and historical part of West Cork. Just south of Clonakilty, it was indeed once an island but now is connected to the mainland with causeways. The reason for our trip was to check out an intriguing stone, spotted by Willie O’Regan, along the shore. Willie’s thought was that it might be an Ogham stone and he wanted to check that out. It had fallen forward out of the bank in recent high tides, revealing parallel grooves along its length – just the sort of thing you might expect from an Ogham stone.

We rendezvoused with Willie on the north side of Inchydoney, across from Clonakilty (above) and walked along the shore, while he told us about the history of the area. We could see across the pond known locally as the Beamish Lake to the Hungerford House, originally called Inchydoney House. It has been purchased and magnificently restored in recent years, the owners pouring resources and loving attention into their project, including restoring the walled garden.

The shoreline had been – er – shored up by rocks and rubble all along its length. It may originally have been walled – designed landscapes were very popular in the 18th century – take a look at New Court, for example. There may also have been small inlets and launching places along the edge. At one such possible spot Willie showed us what he had found. 

We examined it thoroughly and took lots of photos. It wasn’t an Ogham stone – although anyone could be forgiven for mistaking it for one! The grooves are actually plough marks. 

As the plough passes over and through the soil, it runs across stones that are just at the right depth below the surface, gouging out these grooves. Over the years, many grooves appear. Sometime the stones, if they are small enough, roll over and the grooves appear on other surfaces, as seems to be the case with this stone.

Plough-marked stones like this could be any age – this one could be medieval or more recent. It was probably finally unearthed and tossed to the edge of the field to join the other rocks keeping the water from eroding the shorelines, eventually falling forward and revealing itself to Willie’s keenly observing eyes. It tells a story – a story of cultivation and hard work and a story of never throwing anything away, and a story of a man who walks these shores for pure pleasure and never misses a trick. Thanks, Willie – we had such a good time on this walk!

And – to learn all you ever wanted to know about Inchydoney Island, read Robert’s epic post from 2021, Inchydoney – and Virgin Mary’s Bank. 

And Barley Cove? As last year, I went out to see what I could see of the Early Sand-grass. A remarkably homely little tuft of grass that is nevertheless precious because it is extremely rare. I found lots and it felt so good to be out in the fresh air, lying in the dunes, and taking an unconscionable number of photographs of this humble little representative of our incredible West Cork biodiversity.

And then home through some of the most scenic coastline in Ireland. Not that I’m biased.

Lying in The Dunes

This is a companion piece to Lying in the Grass. That slideshow was shot in May three years ago, all the photos taken in my own garden within the previous week, and all native wildflowers. 

This time, all the shots were captured in one day, July 18th, on a visit to Barley Cove with my friend and fellow nature-lover, artist Damaris Lysaght. The purpose of our visit was to monitor a rare plant, Dodder (below). This is one of the very few places in Ireland in which it grows, parasitising on the roots of the Wild Thyme, and mainly visible as a twisted mass of reddish stems. We were not sure if the tiny flowers, looking like miniature cauliflower heads, were about to flower or had flowered already.

At this time of year the dunes at Barley Cove are a carpet of wildflowers. Many of them are tiny so you have to get up close to make their acquaintance. Photo taken by Damaris.

Damaris had another reason for getting closer. We were lucky to catch a Dark Green Fritillary flitting from spot to spot and Damaris, a butterfly expert, figured it was probably laying eggs on the basal rosettes of the Common Dog Violets that flourish on the dunes. In the last photograph of the slideshow she is trying to see butterfly eggs – a task that defeated even her!

The music I have chosen is Ave Maria Stella from Templum by Micheal O’Suilleabhain. 

Here is a list of the flowers in the order in which you are seeing them. 

Title Slide: Lady’s Bedstraw, Wild Thyme, Oxeye Daisy

Dodder X2

Wild Thyme, Eyebright

Lady’s Bedstraw, Wild Thyme, Oxeye Daisy, Oxeye Daisy

Rough Hawkbit (I think), Oxeye Daisy X2

Oxeye Daisy, Sea Holly

Wild Thyme, Rough Hawkbit X2

Sand Pansy X4

Common Centaury X4

Fairy Flax

Bee on Wild Thyme

Lady’s Bedstraw, Wild Thyme

Wild Thyme X2

Lady’s Bedstraw X3

Rough Hawkbit, Lady’s Bedstraw, Wild Thyme X4

Damaris searching for Dodder

Wild Thyme and Cat’s-ear X3

Wild Thyme, Eyebright X4

Cinnabar Moth caterpillars on Ragwort (their food plant)

Bulbous Buttercup

Dove’s-foot Crane’s-bill X3

Pyramidal Orchard X5

Six-Spot Burnet Moth(s) on Wood-rush X10

Dark Green Fritillary X3

Damaris looking for butterfly eggs X2

Counting Rare Plants

The National Biodiversity Centre is this incredible organisation punching way above its weight when it comes to the application of scientific principles to the assessment and preservation of Ireland’s natural heritage. They are also brilliant communicators, involving individuals, farming organisations and community groups in the effort to maintain and enhance our biodiversity.

I signed up a few years ago to monitor some rare plants and it’s been an eye-opening experience. Doing this, you see first hand the challenges facing our native wildflowers in the face of loss of habitat, competition from other plants (sometimes alien invaders), herbicides, and now of course, climate change. Sometimes the plant populations aren’t so much threatened as just inherently rare. That’s the case with Early Sand-grass. According to one of my favourite sites, Irish Wildflowers, Jenny Seawright , this little plant is Very rare in Ireland, only one known location on SW coast. Found by T.O’Mahony in 2005 on disturbed ground among coastal sand-dunes. T O’Mahony, by the way, is another of my botanical Heroes, author of The Wildflowers of Cork City and County. Happily for me, that one known location is Barley Cove, above. (In fact I’ve just seen it is found in Dublin Bay as well.)

Not very exciting, is it? Scrubby little patches of brown grass scattered in the sand. But every plant plays its part in the complex web of life and in this highly specialised sand dune habitat who knows what tiny insects depend on the particular sustenance this unassuming little grass provides?

And actually, once you get up close, it’s quite a handsome little cluster of surprisingly colourful stalks, with little while filaments emerging from the heads.

One of my monitoring days was in the company of my friend Damaris and we were also looking for Heath Pearlwort. Paul Green had shown it to us during the workshop the previous year (below) but finding it again was a different matter. It was raining and cold and we were crawling over the exposed hill above Barley Cove looking for a tiny plant. We hardly noticed, until we turned blue.

A much easier assignment for me is Vervain, a beautiful, fragile-looking but surprisingly tough flower that happens to grow near me.

Three years ago, one of the spots where it was growing was scraped clean and covered in tarmac. It had been a dangerous corner and the Vervain was simply overlooked. I was devastated – this little location was completely wiped out. Imagine my surprise and delight when I found it again the following summer, struggling up through the tarmac! And by this summer, not only had the population recovered but far from struggling, large and vigorous plants were growing up, finding their way through the pavement and flourishing.

But overall the story of the Vervain populations I have been monitoring is emblematic of the difficulties facing many wildflowers. Of the three original locations I started with, I am down to one (above). The good news is that this year I found a new location – all fingers crossed this one manages to hang in there.

My final plant is the lovely member of the mint family called Calamint.

It’s facing two challenges. The first is that it’s growing on a stone wall, and so is Pellitory-of-the-wall, which has a habit if spreading and taking over all available space. In fact that’s what’s happening.

In the photo above the flower with the reddish spikes is Pellitory-of-the-wall, while the patch of brighter green in the middle is Calamint, trying to hold on to its territory. The Calamint has another problem, though.

Someone has decided the wall needs to be kept tidy and has dosed it liberally with Roundup, killing some of the Calamint (above). Sigh.

I’m going to leave you with a couple of pics of rare wildflowers I’ve seen this year – just to cheer us up and remind us of the beauties that manage to survive here and there against the odds. This is Wood Vetch.

And this is Yellow Horned-poppy.

And finally, the incredible Bee Orchid.

Rare Plants on the Mizen

For a wildflower enthusiast there is nothing better than a day spent with like-minded folk looking for interesting plants under the leadership of a true expert.

At this time of year the buttercups all over the dunes are actually Bulbous Buttercups – if you look under the flower head you will see that the sepals turn down away from the petals

I had the immense privilege of being included in a Rare Plant Monitoring Workshop on Friday the 13th – which also happened to be the day that Biodiversity Week kicked off in Ireland. As you probably all know by now, Nature is in crisis all across the world, and although we may be surrounded by lush hills and boreens in West Cork, there are ominous signs that all is not well with our natural world here as elsewhere. Fewer than ten percent of our native species in Ireland have been assessed for their conservations status – but of those that have been, one fifth (yes – one-fifth!) are at risk of extinction.

Sand Pansy – gorgeous little violas found on the dunes

That’s why counting plants is important – each one is part of the complex web of biodiversity that contribute to the health of our environment and the loss of even one can have knock-on effects on a whole cascade of others. I already monitor two rare plants for the National Biodiversity Data Centre (NBDC), Vervaine and Calamint, so I have an insight into the kinds of threats rare plants can face, from mowing to herbicides to change of land use – all of those have happened to the small populations I monitor.

The location for this workshop was Barley Cove and Mizen Head. Having rendezvoused with Botanist Paul Green and NBDC Scientist Úna FitzPatrick (above, at Mizen Head) we set out across the dunes. I had met Paul before and so I knew that he is unfailingly generous about sharing his immense knowledge. Throughout the day we stopped frequently to exclaim over a plant that one or another of us spotted (like the Bulbous Buttercup) on the dunes or the rocks, and Paul always took the time to stop and educate us about each one.

Thus, along the way, I was introduced to several plants that were entirely new to me. Despite the fact that I have been to Barley Cove on numerous occasions, many of them spent lying in the grass on the dunes (see this post and the wildflower slideshow within it, for example), I had never seen Common Cornsalad (above) nor Early Forget-me-not (below) before Friday.

As our first rare plant, we were in search of Early Sand-grass, the kind of undistinguished little plant that you would walk over unthinkingly, but which is so rare that it only occurs here and in the Bull Island Nature Reserve in Dublin. That’s the distribution map below, courtesy of the BSBI.

Paul found it and we collectively traced its extent across the dunes. This is an area with much rabbit activity and Paul speculated that the bare patches of sand created by the busy bunnies was what had encourage or allowed the Sand-grass to colonise this area. It’s a complex issue – those Barley Cove Bunnies can be destructive to the dunes in some ways, but here we have an instance where their presence has been beneficial – one of those complex interactions that are so hard to predict.

Our next target was an orchid – the Green-winged Orchid. But, on the way, we found another Orchid – the Irish Marsh Orchid (below). It was beautiful and bold and instantly visible in the short grass on the dunes.

In contrast, we almost tripped over the Green-winged Orchid, which upon first glance looked spindly and unremarkable. This is one you have to get close to – can you see them in the grass, below?

Here’s what Zoe Devlin has to say about this flower:

Surely the most exquisite wild orchid in Ireland. . . Green-winged Orchid is a small, erect plant which grows to about 30cm tall in grassland and meadows where grazing occurs. It bears flowers, well separated, in short spikes and these flowers appear in several colours – from snow-white through pink and magenta to deep purple. The three sepals are purple-veined with strong, green lines and these sepals form a hood over a broad, downward folded lower lip which is three-lobed and heavily spotted at its white centre. There is also a stout, slightly-curved spur. These incredible flowers bloom from mid-April to mid-June. The leaves are shiny green, unspotted with the upper leaves sheathing the stem and the lower leaves forming a rosette. 

Zoe Devlin, Wildflowers of Ireland

Can you see all that in these photos? I’m not sure you can, which is one of the things that makes wildflower identification interesting – especially with a family like the orchids where there are quite a few that look similar until you really examine them. 

There were more plants on the dunes – I was amazed to find Field Madder (above), which I always assumed was a plant of arable ground. One of the things we had to get used to was how tiny many of the plants on the dunes were compared to those that grow in less challenging environments – like miniature versions of themselves.

Then there was one of our target species, the Sea Stork’s-bill (above) – really, a flower that only its mother could love, but very rare in Ireland and therefore one of the plants that enable us to chart the conservation of its habitat.

We drove from Barley Cove around to the Holiday Park but were unable to do a count of the Slender Thistle. The land was being grazed by sheep and every access was blocked (above). So we contented ourselves with noting that currently it appears to be abundant, if very localised. I managed a distant shot of this fine head (below) showing the pink flowers but also how spiny it is.

Our final stop was Mizen Head, one of the very few places in Ireland (see map below and the Broom below that) where you can find Prostrate Broom (try saying that fast). This was another exercise in a different kind of counting, since the plant is on sea cliffs and behind fences at the Visitor Centre, so it has to be identified at a distance and the count is an educated estimate. Add in the fact that there are two other yellow flowers gaily blooming around it (Kidney Vetch and Bird’s-foot Trefoil) and you get an idea of the challenge involved.

I have taken on the task of the Early Sea-Grass count. It may bloom as early as February or March, so I’ve made a calendar note to head out to the Dunes next year at that time. Another one of the participants, Damaris, and I will work together on our counts – it’s always more fun if you have a companion and probably more accurate too.

Thank you, Úna and Paul, for such a profoundly educational experience, that also managed to be great fun.