Narcissus Pseudonarcissus

Sub species Narcissus Eugeniae

Province of Teruel - Spain – March / April 2006

On checking through John Blanchard’s book on wild Narcissi one day in Feb, I came across the section covering Narcissus Eugeniae. His opening sentence rang a really emotive, almost poetic, bell with me. “On a remote, windswept hillside overlooking Valdelinares in the Province of Teruel ------“, and he went on to describe how he was lucky, in March 1987, to see 1000’s of plants in flower.

Living on the Costa Blanca, only four hours drive from Teruel, it stuck in my mind. 2006 was a strange year as seasons go, late for some species and early for others. However, when I found myself able in early April to make the trip, I figured there was a good chance of finding, if not 1000’s, then at least some plants in flower.

At the time I was taking some U.K. photographers on a Narcissus run and, though we were originally due to start “down South”, it was a “distance no object trip” and so Eugeniae could be included on the menu.

We duly set forth, albeit later rather than sooner in the day. This was occasioned, in part, by a need, the previous evening, to check the vintage of numerous village brews firsthand before being able, with a clear conscience, to recommend them to fellow travellers! This late departure consequently created a need to hurry in order to be on site early enough to photograph in decent light. Eugeniae has a substantial sized flower head supported by a stem only 5 to 10 cms tall and so photography, late in the day, at this time of the year, can lead to very long shadows. Furthermore, due to its habit of forming clumps, with a consequent increase in shadowed areas, this can lead to disappointing shots.

Accordingly we sallied forth on the motorway past Valencia and took the turnoff for Teruel. The road from Valencia to Teruel has been much improved over the last few years and so we made good time. Just short of Teruel itself we turned off at the signpost to Valdelinares which proudly announced that it was an “Estacion d’Esqui”. This translates to its being a ski slope.

From driving on newly constructed dual carriageway so fresh that the tarmac was barely dry, we underwent something of a culture shock as we hit our first “unimproved habitat” in the form of an unrestored Spanish mountain road. The signs, however, pointed ever onward and so we progressed with several botanising stops on the way.

We passed through some foothills, which eventually turned into mountains, forming a long arable valley up which, if the signs were to be believed, we would find Valdelinares.

True enough, as we progressed upwards and the air grew chillier, we began to see signs quoting distances in single figures of kilometres. As we came closer to the village the country on the right-hand side of the road consisted of unfenced fields of short turf with unrestricted open access, and which seemed ideal habitat for both Eugeniae and photographers alike. On the left-hand side of the road were heavily fenced fields, of a photographer deterring kind, with a mixture of both long and overgrazed turf liberally dotted with the picturesque hummocks of recently deposited cowpats. Definitely neither Narcissus nor photographer habitat!

True to form it was in one of these inhospitable places that the first Narcs appeared!

Feeling like Crusaders who had happened on the Holy Grail we piled out to take our first look at the object of our day’s labours. Between 20 and 30 plants were in flower and, through binoculars, they looked eminently photographable.

Despite a consensus of opinion from my much younger and fitter companions that the fencing should be looked on as no more than a minor hurdle on an obstacle course, put there to be overcome, common sense prevailed and, since we had made good time, we pressed on up the valley knowing that we could always come back later if we had no further luck. Several equally well defended fields to the left held scattered populations but the vast expanse of welcoming habitat on the right hosted not a one and, of the serried ranks of hoped for 1000’s, there was not a sign.

We passed through Valdelinares, which was a typical agricultural mountain village, and carried on up the hill towards the ski slopes. We were left in no doubt as to the reason for the description “remote windswept hillside -----,” since, had it been a tail wind that we were experiencing, we could have used the Landrover as a hang glider.

With eyes constantly forced to flick from one potential sighting to the next I determined that if I ever come face to face with that great plant designer in the sky one of the questions I shall politely put to him is “Why, with Narcissus hunters included in his client base, did he ever design species such as Hellebores, Gorses, Brooms and several Compositae to be such perfect Narcissus look-alikes, especially out of your eye corner as you drive along?” and “Why, oh why, didn’t he change his colour scheme in between finishing the Gorses and starting the Narcissi?”

Be that as it may, as we progressed slowly, due to many false sightings, up the valley between the Gorse and Hellebore laden slopes it eventually became apparent that the Gorse in question was now only a few inches high and was, in fact, a carpet of Narcissus Eugeniae. They were growing in prodigious numbers in seemingly endless sheets. When we came up to them, however, we found that the sheets were not continuous, as had so seemed from a distance but, instead, comprised dense populations packed into numerous dips and gullies on the very undulating hillsides. If you had felt the wind you would have understood their strategy!

The hollows in which they grew were far from wind free (as any of the photographers would agree) but nevertheless, with patience, we managed to get some very worthwhile shots. Whilst there were very many individual plants there were, also, a significant number of clumps. With good luck clumps can be very attractive subjects, bringing a great sense of colour and “busyness” to a shot. With my normal luck however, there is usually, within a clump, at least one flower “gone over”, 2 or 3 facing the wrong way, and at least one with a strong sense of imagination so that it persists in nodding in the breeze – even if there isn’t one!

The snow had only fairly recently melted and what must have been the very short turf left behind had already, judging by the substantial number of cowpats around, been significantly grazed. Whether this was before the plants’ emergence or whether, for some reason such as taste or toxicity, they did not fall within the preferred bovine menu I do not know, but there was certainly no sign of grazing damage amongst what seemed to be a very healthy population.

The flowers of Eugeniae are much akin in size and casual appearance to those of Narcissus Pseudonarcissus, the common “Wild Daffodil” in the U.K. and are, in fact, deemed to be a subspecies of it which, in view of the significant overall differences between the two plants frankly amazes me. They are supported on stems only some 2 to 4 inches long and to see them blowing lustily in the wind gives them a somewhat top heavy appearance. The wind resistance of such a large flower head, relative to length of stem, must be significant and so it is no wonder that they seek what little shelter is afforded from it by the hollows which they favour.

Overall a wondrous sight to see and, by its very abundance, gives the lie to the supposition that a combination of skiing interests and cattle grazing must necessarily have a deleterious effect on wild flora and fauna.

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