From the Forest by Sara Maitland

‘beach’, ‘book’ and ‘buck’.
    A more favoured approach has been to look for what are known as ‘indicator species’ – these are not trees, but ground plants that, for one reason or another, are found only (or predominantly) in ancient woodland. They are often plants that either need shade to flourish or have inefficient methods of dispersing their seed, so they do not readily spread to new habitats. The more of these indicators (appropriate to soil and climate) that are present, the more firmly the dendrologists can assert that a particular wood is ancient. But this is not straightforward: the lists vary according to the region, and if you take all the lists together, a grass – Melica uniflora – turns out to be the only ‘universal’ indicator, although the sweet woodruff ( Galium odorata ), flowering so elegantly in Saltridge this April, appears on every list except the one for Cornwall. Nor is there full agreement about which species should be on any particular list.
    Modern scientific methods have demonstrated the presence of beech from before the cut-off date of around 7000 BCE. In particular, pollen analysis has enabled us to know what trees were around and when. Since beech pollen is not well dispersed by wind and is therefore unlikely to have blown in across the Channel, its presence in sites dated to 9,000 years old proves that beech is in fact a native tree.
    Nonetheless, the high status of beech in Britain is fairly recent. In Sylva, his 1664 book about woodlands, John Evelyn is dismissive of beech, claiming that it is ‘good only for shade and fire’. The main function of the beech woods of the Chilterns was to provide fuel for London, until in the later eighteenth century improved transport made coal a more attractive option. Even in strong beech areas, beech wood was never used for timber-framed houses – oak was always preferred. Beech had few traditional uses, except that the beech mast was used as pig fodder – and its botanical name, fagus , derives from the Greek verb fagein (= to eat) because of this. Later, it was sometimes roasted as a coffee substitute.
    Appreciation of the beech’s charms grew in the nineteenth century – partly because it was pleasing to painters, as they moved out of their studios and began to paint en plein air. Individual beech trees are distinctive, but the round groves of beech trees on the tops of hills proved even more attractive to the landscape artist; they make a useful focal point in wide views of grassy downs. Paul Nash (1889-1946), who painted the Wittenham Clumps in Oxfordshire repeatedly, said of them, ‘It was the look of them that told most. They were the Pyramids of my small world.’ 8 Now everything about beech trees is honoured: the pinkish-white colour and compact grain of the wood has become popular with contemporary joiners and wood turners.
    Today, the ascendency of beech trees and beech woods is firmly established. In Saltridge, in the sunshine, I could entirely understand this – there was a joyful magnificence in the huge trees and the clear ground beneath them. But I still find myself oddly resenting beech woods. I know some of the reasons why. Part of this comes from the deeply embedded irritation that most northerners, and Scots especially, feel about heavy cultural and national value being attached to any phenomenon which only occurs south of the Humber. But in the case of beech trees there is a socio-political edge to this annoyance. Although its natural range stops in East Anglia, beech will in fact flourish throughout most of Britain if it is planted. It will grow well as far north as most other trees. Perhaps because having beech trees required positive action and so demonstrated ownership and power, in the eighteenth and nineteenth century beech became the ornamental species of choice. The aristocracy and ‘gentry’ planted it in avenues and parks and inserted it into their home woods and plantations even as they