We are starting to observe something interesting about the foraging behavioural patterns of our goats.
They seem to eat certain plants at certain times of the year.
Not randomly. Not indiscriminately, but in ways that appear to follow a seasonal rhythm we are only just beginning to notice.
For example, we have only ever observed our goats nibbling at Nerium Oleander during the hot summer months.
Even then, it is done carefully — a few leaves, taken slowly.
Never in quantity. Never with urgency, but still a surprise for us. Oleander is a popular garden hedgerow here on the Costa Blanca but everyone mentions the fact that it is toxic.
At this time of year — early spring — we do not see this behaviour at all.
We do not interpret this as instruction but it does invite a question:
What relationships with plants exist beyond what we understand?
Further along the path, another plant often catches the attention of visitors — its leaves soft, almost like a tulip, growing in quiet abundance.
Locally, it is called cebolla salvaje. Its botanical name is Drimia maritima.
Here, the local message is clear and consistent: this is a dangerous plant.
And yet, in older medicinal traditions, it appears again — not as something casual or safe, but as something used with precision and deep knowledge.
There is another plant that thrives in disturbed ground, often where the soil is rich in nitrogen — a sign of past human or animal presence.
Datura stramonium.
Known locally as Manzana Espinosa or Thorn Apple.
Its reputation is strong, and rightly so. Across cultures, it carries warnings of danger, confusion, and harm.
But here too, the same pattern emerges:
a plant both feared and, historically, carefully understood.
A Shared Human Pattern, Toxic Plants and Hidden Knowledge
Across landscapes and generations, communities have lived alongside powerful plants.
And often, two forms of knowledge developed together:
A public story — simple, clear, protective
A deeper knowledge — held carefully by those trained to use it
The story says: Do not touch this.
The knowledge says: There is more here, but it must be approached with care.
Both are true.
Both protect the community.
A Note of Care
We feel it is important to say this clearly:
This is not advice on medicinal use
Many of these plants can cause serious harm
We are walkers and observers, not herbalists
What we share here comes from walking the land, noticing patterns, and listening — not from practising plant medicine.
Walking the Line Between Story and Knowledge
Perhaps this is how communities have always lived with toxic plants —through a balance of story and hidden knowledge.
The story keeps people safe.
The knowledge, held carefully, serves when needed.
Walking through the valley, we are reminded that both still exist —
in the plants, in the animals, and in the quiet memory of the land.
