The Folklore of Woodland Trees: Alder, Birch & Blackthorn

Walk through any woodland in Britain and you’ll no doubt be able to pick out the forest celebrities. Think ash, oak, and pine. But a healthy forest is full of a diverse range of woodland trees, each with their own legends and folklore.

They also have party tricks that see them give back to the forest community in their own particular ways. Some provide for early pollinators, some support huge ranges of insects, and others even improve soil fertility.

Let’s find out more about three woodland trees native to these shores: alder, silver birch, and blackthorn.

Alder

The Alder, or Alnus glutinosa, is also known as common alder, black alder, and European alder. Part of the Betulaceae family, it’s native to the British Isles, most of continental Europe, and North, Central, and South America (Woodland Trust 2024a). Alders love damp, cool, or moist ground, so you’ll often find them in wet woodlands, or beside rivers and lakes.

They produce catkins between February and April, and alders produce both male and female flowers on the same tree. Yellow, long catkins are male, while the rounded, green catkins are female. It’s easy to confuse them with hazel trees, but alder has shiny trees, while hazel leaves are slightly fuzzy (Woodland Trust 2024a).

Alder trees have a fun party trick where they improve the soil fertility around them. That’s because a bacterium, Frankia alni, forms lumps on its roots. These lumps absorb nitrogen, which the tree uses. The alder returns the favour by giving the bacteria carbon (Woolf 2020: 15).

Its other party trick is the wood’s resistance to decay. Both Amsterdam and Venice’s piles are alder because the wood hardens under water. The only downside is the fact that such waterlogged wood rots quickly if exposed to the air (Woolf 2020: 16).

Alder in Myth and Folklore

The alder is linked with Bran in the Mabinogi. When Bran sets off to rescue his sister, Branwen, he and his men discover Branwen’s husband has had the only bridge across the River Llinon dismantled. Bran lies across the river to act as a bridge, and Jo Woolf theorises this might suggest the natural link between alder and water (2020: 16).

In one folk-tale, an alder tree stands beside an old holy well, reinforcing this link between alder and water. A farmer cuts its branches, and sees his cottage on fire. He hurries home to find his cottage is fine. He returns to the tree and continues cutting the branches. When he looks up, he sees his cottage on fire a second time. He rushes home, and again, his cottage is fine. The farmer ignores the vision when it happens a third time, and when he returns home, he finds only smoking ashes instead of his cottage (Mac Coitir 2015).

In the past, it was known as the ‘tree of war’, perhaps because its sap is dark red and resembles blood (Woolf 2020: 17). Alder was also a favoured wood for shield-making, with huge alder wood shields from the Bronze Age found in Ireland (Mac Coitir 2015).

In Ireland, it was unlucky to pass the alder if you were on a journey. Given alder trees liked water, they often grew near bogs, and people thought evil spirits lived among them (Woolf 2020: 18). In Somerset, travellers avoided going into alder copses at night, worrying they’d never be seen again (Baker 2011 [1969]: 11).

There were Scottish stories in which the fairies took humans, and left alder logs in their place. In one story, people buried a bridegroom they thought had died, only he returns to tell the bride he’s still alive and the fairies have him. They manage to rescue him and open his tomb, where they find an alder log (Mac Coitir 2015).

Uses for Alder

One remedy claims you could put alder leaves in your shoes and it would stop them getting sore during a long walk (Woolf 2020: 18). This may come from the fact that alder was once the preferred wood for clog making (Woodland Trust 2024a).

According to some legends, fairies dyed their clothes using alder so humans couldn’t see them. You can actually make fabric dye from the twigs, flowers, and bark, so that’s one you can always try yourself. There’s also a theory that Robin Hood used the green dye from alder flowers to dye his clothes (Woodland Trust 2024a).

People put dried alder leaves into cushions to soothe rheumatism, while fresh leaves repelled insects. Its bark boasts antibacterial properties so people made decoctions with the bark to heal wounds (Woolf 2020: 18).

Making a whistle from alder wood could apparently summon the wind. You could also use them to get benevolent water spirits to help you. Apparently Fender uses alder for its guitar bodies (Woolf 2020: 19), so I’d be interested to know if playing one of those near water would get any spirits onside. Meanwhile, in Ireland, people made milking pails from alder wood to protect the milk (Baker 2011 [1969]: 11).

Birch

The silver birch, or Betula pendula, is quite a striking feature of the woodland. Like the alder, it’s part of the Betulaceae family, and is native to the British Isles (Woodland Trust 2024c). They like dry woodlands and heaths.

Its pale wood and eye-like knots certainly catch the attention. Pre-Raphaelite artist John Everett Millais certainly used one to good effect in ‘The Knight Errant’, in which a naked woman is tied to a birch tree in the forest. You’ll also find downy birch (Betula pubescens) in Britain.

Birches are also one of Britain’s oldest native trees, having been the first to move northwards after the last Ice Age. Their pollen also triggers the first hay fever of the year (Stafford 2017: 174). But bear in mind they also provide both habitat and food for over 300 types of insect, so they’re important to the woodland ecosystem (Woodland Trust 2024c).

The birch party trick comes about because they have widely spread roots. This means it can reach otherwise inaccessible nutrients. The tree takes these in, and then when it sheds its leaves, it deposits these nutrients back into the soil. So silver birch is a great choice for improving soil quality! (Woodland Trust 2024c)

Some people swear by a birch leaf infusion for rheumatism, gout, and kidney stones (Stafford 2017: 175). Its sap can be made into wine or sugar, which is lower in calories than regular sugar. Elsewhere, the sap is apparently good at clearing up UTIs and cystitis (Woolf 2020: 44). The wood burns even when damp, making it a good choice for firewood, while its bark is used in tanning (Stafford 2017: 176). Poet John Clare used peeling birch bark as substitute paper.

In the past, the silver birch was also called the white birch, weeping birch, and lady’s birch (Stafford 2017: 170). In Canada, poet Pauline Johnson wrote about the silver birch while recollecting the forests of her First Nation ancestors, and the name stuck (Stafford 2017: 171).

Birches and the Otherworld

In folklore, the birch trees marked the border between the worlds. Which worlds, exactly, is not always clear. In ‘The Wife of Usher’s Well’, a mother sends her three sons to sea. Having done so, she realises her error, and spends the remainder of her life hoping they’ll return home. Eventually, they return in the winter, with their hats ‘o the birk’. It seems the boys have returned from the dead to visit their mother, evidenced by the reference to the birch (or birk) (Stafford 2017: 131). In Ireland, people once carried the dead to their grave covered in birch twigs, so there does seem to be a link between birch and the dead (Mac Coitir 2015).

This Otherworldly nature of birch makes it ideal for the traditional besom. While a broom handle is usually hazel, the sticks are birch branches. Here’s something to get your head around; birch could apparently drive away malevolent spirits. Yet it was a common material in the witch’s broom (Woolf 2020: 43).

Fertility Trees

People apparently burned birch kindling to welcome spring’s first sunrise. Farmers might herd barren cows with birch switches to encourage pregnancy. Doing the same with a fertile cow would lead to a healthy calf (Woolf 2020: 44). People might put dried birch leaves in a sick child’s crib to encourage a return to health (Woolf 2020: 44).

In Herefordshire, people dressed young birch trees in red and white ribbons and propped them against stable doors on May Day. They left them in place all year to ward off bad luck, and it stopped fairies or witches hag-riding the horses (Baker 2011 [1969]: 28). People in the Hebrides hung birch over cradles to protect infants, while in Wales, people might make the cradle itself from birch (Mac Coitir 2015).

Birch ended up with various love connotations. In Irish Gaelic poetry, birch might be called finnbhean na coille (finn-vayne na culler), or ‘the fair woman of the woods’. In Wales, the lovers’ bower traditionally lay under birch trees. If a boy gave a girl a birch twig, it meant his love was constant (Mac Coitir 2015). The birch was a popular choice for maypoles in England, Wales, Germany, and France. In Sweden, boys carried birch twigs around their village on May Eve while singing songs (Mac Coitir 2015). In Cheshire, you might fix a birch twig over your sweetheart’s door on May Day (Mac Coitir 2015).

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, birch meant meekness (1865: 11).

Protective Birch

People also hung birch twigs in garlands with rowan, cowslips and may blossom over the kneading troughs in the kitchen to stop bread being heavy (Baker 2011 [1969]: 28). In Ireland, birch could ward off fairies, who didn’t like the wood. Meanwhile, you could protect your milk from bewitchment by twining a birch catkin into a cord and putting it under the milk pail (Mac Coitir 2015). Its protective nature appears in a Scottish story in which a phantom horseman tries to drag a man to hell. The man hangs onto a birch sapling until first light, and is thus spared (Mac Coitir 2015).

There was also a belief that anyone sheltering under a birch tree wouldn’t be struck by lightning (Baker 2011 [1969]: 28). Please don’t try that one at home.

The birch has unfortunate connotations with punishment, through the use of its boughs to whip people. In Ancient Rome, a bunch of birch rods and a ceremonial axe became the symbol of judicial authority. Known as a fasces, this is ultimately where ‘fascism’ comes from. Bear in mind that it was an important symbol for French revolutionaries, since the twigs represented power for ordinary people and strength in numbers. It’s also part of the National Guard’s insignia in the US, and it’s above the door to the Oval Office (Stafford 2017: 169).

Blackthorn

Blackthorn, or Prunus spinosa, is native to the British Isles, and it’s part of the Rosaceae family. That said, it also grows in Europe and Western Asia, as well as eastern North America and New Zealand (Woodland Trust 2024b). It’s commonly found in woodland, copses, and hedges. While blackthorn can grow to 4m in height, it nearly always forms shrubs instead (Woolf 2020: 47).

In the winter, it’s easier to spot because it has black twigs – hence the name. Sometimes, it can be difficult to tell apart from hawthorn, but there are three main ways to identify blackthorn.

First, it flowers in March and April, well before hawthorn. Blackthorn blossom sometimes appears during a cold snap, called a ‘blackthorn winter’ (Woolf 2020: 47). There’s an old farming saying: “When the sloe tree is as white as a sheet, sow your barley, whether it be dry or wet” (Woolf 2020: 47).

Second, it flowers before the leaves appear. Third, its berries are blue-black, rather than the distinctive red hawes of the hawthorn. The fact it flowers early makes it a great tree for early pollinators.

Its vicious thorns often provide a somewhat unpleasant service for the red-backed shrike. The birds catch smaller birds or rodents and impale them on the thorns, ready to eat later (Woolf 2020: 48).

In folk remedies, people used blackthorn to make syrups or tonics from the bark, fruit and flowers to soothe rheumatism and digestive complaints. People still use the berries now to make sloe gin (Woodland Trust 2024b).

According to Mrs Burke’s Language of Flowers dictionary, blackthorn meant difficulty (1865: 11).

Blackthorn and Evil

In some legends, witches also used blackthorn wood to make their wands of staffs! (Woodland Trust 2024b) People feared suspected witches who used blackthorn walking sticks. Apparently, they believed a witch could cause a miscarriage by pointing a blackthorn stick at a pregnant woman (Baker 2011 [1969]: 30).

Major Weir was a covenanter and avowed witch (at least, he claimed he was). The authorities burned him in Edinburgh in April 1670, taking care to burn his blackthorn stick with him (Baker 2011 [1969]: 30).

Some claimed Christ’s Crown of Thorns was made of blackthorn. Others said it blossomed on Old Christmas Eve. Taking it into the house meant death would follow. A German belief claimed blackthorns grew wherever heathen blood was spilled in battle (Baker 2011 [1969]: 30).

People claimed hawthorns and blackthorns were locked in a bitter rivalry, and hawthorns would kill any blackthorns growing near them (Baker 2011 [1969]: 31). Much like hawthorn, people didn’t bring blackthorn blossom inside the house, and especially not into church. The only time it was ‘allowed’ was when sweeping chimneys. People used smaller blackthorn bushes in Ireland to clear chimneys of soot (Woolf 2020: 47).

Protective Blackthorn

It’s not all bad. By tradition, Kent’s Mayor of Sandwich carries a blackthorn staff to ward off witches. A new one is made for each new mayor (Woolf 2020: 50). Its wood was traditionally used for walking sticks and Irish shillelaghs.

In Wales, people made blackthorn thorns into pins and threw them into wells. If they sank, their love was being insincere (Mac Coitir 2015).

Blackthorn appeared in a farming fertility ritual in Herefordshire and Worcestershire. On New Year’s morning, farmers would make a wreath of blackthorn twigs and hold it in the fire until scorched. Then they’d take it to the wheat fields, burn it in the furrows, and scatter the ashes over the first wheat. This was believed to drive the Devil from the fields. The women then made a new wreath to hang in the kitchen until the following New Year’s morning (Baker 2011 [1969]: 31).

In one Irish story, a woman kept being bothered by a shadow every night. She went to see a wise woman, who told her to sprinkle holy water around her house, and keep a blackthorn stick by her bed. The woman did so, and never saw the shadow again (Mac Coitir 2015).

One Irish story tells of a man whose corn has been stolen. He falls asleep under a blackthorn bush, but dreams that the fairies have his corn. A voice tells him how to get it back. The farmer follows the voice’s advice and retrieves the corn. On the downside, the corn kills the livestock that eat it (Mac Coitir 2015).

What do we make of these woodland trees?

These three particular trees all enrich their environment. It’s a little bit clearer to see with the alder and the birch tree, whereas the blackthorn tends to only benefit animals and insects. But at the same time, the alder is associated with war, birch trees are associated with punishment, and the blackthorn is associated with witchcraft.

Being native to the British Isles means so many stories have grown up around them because people were so familiar with them. It’s interesting the way that all of them also have uses. You can use one to make walking sticks, one to make maypoles out of, and another to make children’s cradles and milk pails. Even the trees that we’ve got a funny feeling towards to see them in a copse, we still find a use for them. It’s as if people have almost grudging respect due to their uses.

It’s important that we bear in mind the ecological benefits of these trees. We’re not just looking at examples of folklore, but we’re also looking at what information was coded into the folklore that might be useful. While we do get a lot of uses out of these trees, we should also treasure them because animals and other plants also need them.

Which is your favourite?

References

Baker, Margaret (2011 [1969]), Discovering the Folklore of Plants, third edition, Boxley, Oxford: Shire Classics (aff link).

Burke, Mrs L. (1867), The Illustrated Language of Flowers, London: G. Routledge & Co.

Mac Coitir, Niall (2015) Irish Trees: Myths, Legends & Folklore, Cork: Collins Press.

Stafford, Fiona (2017), The Long, Long Life of Trees, London: Yale University Press.

Woodland Trust (2024a), ‘Alder’, Woodland Trust, https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/trees-woods-and-wildlife/british-trees/a-z-of-british-trees/alder/.

Woodland Trust (2024b), ‘Blackthorn’, Woodland Trust, https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/trees-woods-and-wildlife/british-trees/a-z-of-british-trees/blackthorn/.

Woodland Trust (2024c), ‘Silver Birch’, Woodland Trust, https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/trees-woods-and-wildlife/british-trees/a-z-of-british-trees/silver-birch/.

Woolf, Jo (2020), Britain’s Trees: A Treasury of Traditions, Superstitions, Remedies and Literature, London: National Trust Books.