
TEN days before Christmas, Romany Garnett wrapped up warm and set off for Quinag, a spectacular three-peaked mountain in the far north of Scotland. Several hours later, chilled through and battered by bitter winds, she headed home, her fingers frozen, pricked and bleeding. It had been a highly successful day.
Like many others at this time of year, Garnett was hunting for holly. Until the Victorians introduced the Christmas tree to the UK in the 19th century, the yuletide decoration of choice was a great ball of evergreens ā mistletoe, ivy and dark, glossy holly with its scarlet berries. Holly was part of the countryās culture and folklore. Since ancient times, it has been a symbol of life in the dead of winter and a charm to ward off witches and other evildoers.
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It remains an indispensable part of Christmas ā the wreath on the front door, the sprig atop the pudding. But as the John Muir Trustās conservation officer for Quinag, Garnettās interest lay elsewhere. On foot, with a search area of 3700 hectares, she set out to pick berries from as many hollies as possible, then send them south to the cold-storage vaults of the (MSB) at Wakehurst. There, scientists working for the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew, which runs the MSB, would extract the seeds and add them to millions of others as part of an ambitious project to safeguard Britainās native trees.
The UK is one of the least wooded countries in Europe, with trees covering only 13 per cent of the land. Since the start of the millennium, there has been increasing recognition of their value and the need to grow more, but, at the same time, native trees have come under attack from an unprecedented number of pests and pathogens. The arrival, in 2012, of a fungus that kills a key species, the ash, put the health of the nationās trees centre stage. āWe know other pests are on their way,ā says Clare Trivedi of the MSB. āAnd we also know that climate change will have an impact on our native trees and woodlands.ā With that in mind, she and her colleagues decided they must take action.
The MSB already has seed from most of the UKās flora safely in its vaults, but the UK National Tree Seed Project goes a step further: it aims to capture as much genetic diversity as possible. āThen, no matter what happens to individual populations, we know we have the genes safely in the collection,ā says Trivedi. This approach will also allow researchers to investigate the genetics of native trees, to see which features differ from place to place, and to identify specimens that might be resistant to new diseases or more resilient in the face of climate change. āWe donāt know what scientists might be looking for in future, but we can store seed for many decades so it will be there when itās needed,ā says Trivedi.
Holly hunters
Little is known about the diversity of most UK trees, so to build a genetically comprehensive collection, Trivedi and her colleagues want seed samples from the entire geographical range of each species. That would entail gathering millions of seeds from thousands of trees. There was only one way to tackle such a mammoth task: harness the energy and enthusiasm of hundreds of volunteers. Ordinary people also helped foot the bill. The project has been funded largely by players of Peopleās Postcode Lottery, a British charity lottery.
Since 2013, teams have criss-crossed the country collecting seeds from 70 priority species: those at great risk, such as the ash, rare species, such as the Plymouth pear, and those like holly which are so widespread that their loss would be catastrophic. āIf something came out of the blue that threatened holly, there would be a massive impact on the landscape and on the wildlife that relies on holly,ā says Trivedi.

Gathering tree seeds is rarely easy, but hollies pose some particular challenges. Where other collectors work with telescopic loppers, giant catapults and throw lines, holly hunters must pick berries with their bare hands. āIf you wear gloves, you just end up squashing and dropping the berries,ā says Garnett. āYou soon realise just how sharp the prickly leaves are.ā Whatās more, late-ripening berries mean collection must often be done in the depths of winter, sometimes in atrocious conditions. And thereās an exhausting amount of legwork. Hollies once grew in dense holly woods, but demand for the hard, white wood for firewood and to make bobbins for weaving and teapot lids left few of these intact. Today, most hollies are dotted around mixed woodlands or strung out along hedgerows, while some older trees cling to the sides of steep gorges or cliff ledges, safe from woodcutters and browsing animals.
āSince ancient times, it has been a symbol of life and a charm to ward off witchesā
On the isle of Skye, in north-west Scotland, Sarah Lewisās āpatchā is a magnificent mountain called Blaven, where holly trees are far apart, often in dangerous places, and the pickings slim. āI climbed up to a crag where Iād seen holly trees with my binoculars and thought Iād get a good handful. When I got there ā nothing,ā says Lewis, who also works for the John Muir Trust. Either they were males, which donāt bear fruit, or birds had eaten the berries. The wild island weather didnāt help either. āIād see some holly trees at the start of the week and make a note to collect on Wednesday. By Wednesday, there had been a gale and the berries had all come off,ā she says. āSometimes Iād be out all day and come home without finding any berries.ā
Hollies are surprisingly diverse. In Shropshire, on the Welsh borders, they produce berries in September, months earlier than elsewhere. These trees are part of Europeās oldest holly grove: some germinated at least 400 years ago, when the climate was much colder. Scotlandās mountain hollies are unusually rugged, persisting despite frequent battering by the harshest winds. āThe best spot for hollies on Quinag is a place called Allt na Doire Cuilinn ā āthe burn of the grove of the holliesā,ā says Garnett. The name is very old, suggesting that this is also an ancient population of trees. Whether genetic differences explain their particular characteristics remains to be seen, however.
During the last ice age, hollies survived in geographically isolated ice-free refuges in the Iberian peninsula and Italy. When the ice retreated, trees from these two regions ā by then genetically distinct ā . But without molecular analysis, it is hard to say which are which, or whether there are populations with other origins. Outward appearances are an unreliable guide. Leaf shape, for instance, varies from tree to tree and place to place, but also on individual trees: lower leaves are prickly as a defence against browsing by deer or cattle, while those higher up are smooth-edged. Recent research reveals that hollies grow pricklier leaves as a result of heavier browsing ā and that
Right now, teams of volunteers are out picking berries at sites from the south-west of England to the Scottish Highlands in a final push to bank the nationās holly genes before the project comes to an end in March. Their efforts will ensure that holly remains a part of the UK landscape, and that there will always be a sprig to crown the Christmas pudding.
This article appeared in print under the headline āPrickly customerā