Floral Splendour and Shortage of Nutrients - Soil: Reflections on the Basis of our Existence - page 51

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Solitary bees. Adjacent to my plot of land in Torna H￤llestad, southern Sweden, lies a ield
known as “rabbitland”. In the mornings and evenings, the sunlight plays on the dry grass, mak-
ing it almost look as though it were on fire. Local council workers regularly rough up the field
with machinery to create optimal habitat for wild bees, which thrive in sand exposed to the sun.
Controlled burning is also carried out to reduce the spread of tall oatgrass. On this morning, frost
is sparkling in the remains of the burnt grass
Not all bees form colonies; some live alone. The open sand at rabbitland creates favourable con-
ditions for solitary sand bees ( Andrena vaga ), which excavate burrows in the sand. Here a female
sand bee looks out of her nest. The area is protected to provide a sanctuary for the endangered bees

metre, including rare grasses such as mat-weed, common heath grass and quak-
ing-grass, and flowers ranging from orchids to mountain bugle. This biotope has
suffered a drastic decline since the eighteenth century and only remnants survive
nowadays. Even if we seek to preserve the last vestiges by creating nature reserves
and banning fertiliser use, these areas remain vulnerable to human impact in the
form of nitrates carried in rainwater and emanating from car exhaust fumes as well
as ammonia released into the air from livestock farming.

How Child's Play Helped Flowers and Bees

Just as decades of careful management have led to the creation of agricultural
zones rich in species that conservationists are at pains to preserve, so human dis-
turbance has in some cases inadvertently created valuable biotopes. Near my home
in Torna H￤llestad, southern Sweden, is a large sandy expanse known locally as
“rabbitland”. I sometimes go there on bright summer nights, slipping through a
gap in the hedge to enjoy the magical glow of evening primrose. The petals of this
bright yellow flower hang slackly during daylight hours but glow luminously at
night to attract night-flying insects. A boulder-ridge, topped by a tree-fringed farm,
and adjacent potato fields used to overlook the area but this land was excavated
in the 1950s and 1960s to extract gravel from the ridge for road building. When
gravel extraction stopped, drought-tolerant plants began colonising the sandy soil
and nature slowly recovered its foothold. Besides evening primrose, the area now
hosts dwarf everlast, viper's bugloss, goldmoss stonecrop and large clumps of
sheep's bit.
The sandy ground became a haven for rabbits and my neighbour's dachshund
honed a special technique for opening the back door so it could go out and hunt
the bunnies. The locals also enjoyed the influx and people still talk of garden cages
baited with carrots. Once seven or eight rabbits had entered a cage, the home-
owner would heave it towards the house using a rope. If they were lucky, a couple
of rabbits might still be in the cage—enough for a nice stew. A wave of myxoma-
tosis in the 1970s decimated the rabbit population, and the species is now scarce
here. Conservationists want them back in numbers to control the false oat-grass
that takes over if nitrogen content becomes too high in the soil. False oat-grass
outcompetes low-growing species like dwarf everlast and stonecrop. Rabbits can