RARE PLANTS

Rare plants always excite a level of public interest, perhaps because, just for a moment, they lift life out of the ordinary. I can remember when specimens of fingered speedwell and smooth rupturewort were found, in different places I ought to add, in Thetford. And the concern, tinged with a modicum of fear, when giant hogweed plants began to sprout in various places in Norfolk, including along the verges of the newly constructed Cringleford bypass.
Another oddity, and much less threatening, was the famous Dilham oak, which in 1912 was judged to be about 70 years' old. Nothing unusual there, you might say, but the Dilham oak was and perhaps still is also famous for producing black-banded acorns, evidently the only tree in the county to do so. And I can confirm that this was so, because I once went to Dilham, found the tree, and picked up three or four of the rare black-banded acorns among the grass at its feet.
Now, I see, a rare violet has been discovered growing at Wicken Fen, which is a touch over the Norfolk border but well within our east of England orbit, and I wondered when I read the news if the authorities have had to take steps to protect it. Apparently there are people (just as there are rare birds' eggs collectors) who stump the country digging up rare plants. What they might do with them is beyond me, but one assumes they plant them in their own gardens for their own private viewing. If so, why don't they leave them to grow where they are? Very odd.
In the late 1970s (I think) I recall being sufficiently intrigued to track down one rare plant, this being orchis militaris, the military orchid. Not that I had a particular interest in the military orchid. It was simply curiousity, in this case added to the challenge of bypassing all  the security.
For reasons of which I am uncertain, this particular cluster of military orchids was exceptionally well protected, and more, tucked away on a 'secret' site on the Norfolk/Suffolk border. I happened to have a rough idea of where they were, or at least, in which forest plantation they were being nurtured. But I had never seen them.
An unauthorised opportunity finally arose when a certain conservation society's annual handbook came into my possession. This, among other things, listed a members' only 'open day' at an unnamed site, the only day of the year the public would be allowed anywhere near the plants. It made the point that the site would not be signposted, but instructed members to park in a certain place and follow the guides.
On the appointed day I drove out there, parked among all the other cars, and tagged on to the end of a string of people making their way into the trees.
The pink or purple orchids - and there were lots of them, in full bloom - thrived on the grassy bottom of a depression among the trees. But it was the security that I found equally as impressive. The entire area was protected by a high fence topped by barbed wire, and a padlocked gate. Special wooden walkways had also been constructed, enabling visitors to walk above, but not on, the precious plants.
Throughout the visit, no-one challenged me or spoke to me, which in a way was useful because I was not a member and, strictly speaking, should not have been there. But it was nice to see that the military orchids were flourishing.
I hope they flourish still.