For me, ivy is both misunderstood and underrated. Noted for its climbing stems and thick encircling foliage, shiny and ever-green, it twists around trees and engulfs neglected buildings. It binds hedgerows and woodlands, and when cross-stitched with brambles and honeysuckle, it makes them dense and verdant. In late autumn, when little else is available for nectar-feeding insects, ivy provides a bounty of yellow-hued blossom. A diverse set of insects feed upon it, and it is essential for red admiral, comma and peacock butterflies. The energy it provides enables them to turn the rich nectar into fat, without which they would struggle to survive hibernation. Like the bramble flowers of summer, a naturalist can become lost in time watching the multitude of insects that are attracted to its musky-smelling bloom. And at night, a hand torch reveals an array of moth species feeding lustily upon it. The ivy, of course, benefits from this army of pollinators, and the result is hard black berry-like fruit. Ripening in winter, the ivy provides these sweet riches for thrushes to feed on, and this seasonal bounty is particularly important for our wintering warbler, the blackcap.     

Clinging to veteran oaks, some ivy stems at their base can be as thick as a prop forward's leg, and if left unhindered, many will grow to be as old as the tree itself. Ivy is steeped in myth and mistaken beliefs. Unfortunately, there is still a misconception that it is a parasite or that they ‘strangle’ trees. The saddest sight is when ignorance and a chain-saw combine to slice through the ivy stems around a large oak trunk, eventually leaving the tree with a cardigan of dead brown ivy leaves. Many of these mature ivies probably help hold tired old trees up!   

Like the holly, ivy is one of the few native woody plants that remain green through the winter. As a result, it was considered magical and played a part in pagan worship as a sign of fidelity. This reverence of ivy continued into Christianity, and no traditional Christmas garland is complete without a woven sprig of ivy. It was also believed that during Christmas merriment, placing an ivy garland on one’s head would prevent the wearer from getting drunk. Ivy was also a mark of intellectual and sporting achievement. In ancient Greece, it was actually ivy that formed the laurel that was used to crown winners of poetry or athletic events. The ivy leaf shape is instantly recognizable, and its symbolism and form have been used in jewellery, carving and illustration since the dawn of human creativity.   

For me, ivy is both misunderstood and underrated. Noted for its climbing stems and thick encircling foliage, shiny and ever-green, it twists around trees and engulfs neglected buildings. It binds hedgerows and woodlands, and when cross-stitched with brambles and honeysuckle, it makes them dense and verdant. In late autumn, when little else is available for nectar-feeding insects, ivy provides a bounty of yellow-hued blossom. A diverse set of insects feed upon it, and it is essential for red admiral, comma and peacock butterflies. The energy it provides enables them to turn the rich nectar into fat, without which they would struggle to survive hibernation. Like the bramble flowers of summer, a naturalist can become lost in time watching the multitude of insects that are attracted to its musky-smelling bloom. And at night, a hand torch reveals an array of moth species feeding lustily upon it. The ivy, of course, benefits from this army of pollinators, and the result is hard black berry-like fruit. Ripening in winter, the ivy provides these sweet riches for thrushes to feed on, and this seasonal bounty is particularly important for our wintering warbler, the blackcap.     

Clinging to veteran oaks, some ivy stems at their base can be as thick as a prop forward's leg, and if left unhindered, many will grow to be as old as the tree itself. Ivy is steeped in myth and mistaken beliefs. Unfortunately, there is still a misconception that it is a parasite or that they ‘strangle’ trees. The saddest sight is when ignorance and a chain-saw combine to slice through the ivy stems around a large oak trunk, eventually leaving the tree with a cardigan of dead brown ivy leaves. Many of these mature ivies probably help hold tired old trees up!   

Like the holly, ivy is one of the few native woody plants that remain green through the winter. As a result, it was considered magical and played a part in pagan worship as a sign of fidelity. This reverence of ivy continued into Christianity, and no traditional Christmas garland is complete without a woven sprig of ivy. It was also believed that during Christmas merriment, placing an ivy garland on one’s head would prevent the wearer from getting drunk. Ivy was also a mark of intellectual and sporting achievement. In ancient Greece, it was actually ivy that formed the laurel that was used to crown winners of poetry or athletic events. The ivy leaf shape is instantly recognizable, and its symbolism and form have been used in jewellery, carving and illustration since the dawn of human creativity.   

The fact ivy remains in thick green leaf through the winter helps provide shelter for birds, bats and small mammals, as well as making it a perfect port for hibernating insects. Even in the wildest storm or deepest snowfall, ivy provides a protective enclave for our wildlife. In summer, its tangled, meandering and hugging branches provide a perfect nest site for birds, with robins, blackbirds and wrens making a deep patch of ivy their first preference. A variety of moth larvae feed on it, including the small dusty wave, angle shades and the swallow-tailed moth. The holly blue butterfly caterpillar will also feed on ivy leaves. In 2001 the ivy mining bee became a naturally colonising species in the UK, probably encouraged by warmer autumns. This ‘solitary’ species nests in the ground in loose colonies and can be found feeding on ivy bloom through September and October. It is a rather attractive bee with a fuzzy orange thorax and clean clear stripes. Having spread into Norfolk in recent years, this only truly autumnal bee can be quite easy to spot late in the year. It has already become relatively widespread, and there is a good chance you’ll find it in the local park or even in your back garden, provided you have a good patch of ivy.                

Ivy provides a wealth of benefits for our wildlife, as well as providing cover, it offers nectar in the autumn when few other plants are in flower and berries at a critical time in winter – ivy fills an important gap for both nectar feeders and fruit eaters. So, whether your ivy is rambling up a tree, garden shed or castle turret, spare a thought for the wildlife it harbours and resist the urge to cut it back.        

On a warm, bright autumn day, why not spend a few moments to see how many insects you can observe on a flowering ivy patch? There will probably be lots of wasps, but you may find the recently colonised ivy bee, it is a small neat bee, and one of the few truly autumn bee species. Ivy is popular with large queen bumblebees ‘feeding up’ in preparation for hibernation. Also, look out for the many varied and interesting species of hoverfly and small ‘solitary’ wasps. Best of all, scores of nectar-feeding red admiral butterflies could be accompanied by comma or peacock butterflies.