Common Vetch
Rosebay Willow Herb
Broad leaved Dock
The fact that ‘Wild Flowers’ are so called tells us a lot about
the way we view nature. They are named
after the part which appeals to us aesthetically. I think they should …
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There are several disadvantages in getting up early – the main one is that you have to get up early. The light is often poor for photography, fewer insects are active, and furthermore you have to listen to Farming Today on the radio – that’s right you have to.
On the other hand, the first light brings some magical sights – ephemeral things that only you are privy to.
As I walked onto the old golf course, I could see a small patch of mist suspended over the Ragwort, grass and thistles. Suddenly the sun broke through the sentinel row of fir trees. Rays illuminating the water droplets gave a fantastic spotlight effect. They were like a natural version of the ‘Super Troopers’ Abba sang about…that time.
I walked down the bank to get a closer look, like the kind of person who thinks they can get to end of rainbow – or ‘simpleton’ as they’re more commonly known. I walked back and watched as the sun rose, continually breaking through higher and higher branches – the sun-rayed beams constantly changing.
Soon the show was over and I continued my walk. There were Chiffchaffs seemingly everywhere and as the morning warmed up, more and more broke into song – an autumnal echo of Spring.
Two Teal were at the lake, as were a party of five grounded Grey Wagtails. A Spotted flycatcher in the garden was a very welcome ‘garden tick’ and a juvenile Blackcap fed on the elderberries. |
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The unprepossessing creature (unkind people might call it ‘drab’) on the right, is possibly the
rarest living organism I’ve ever seen.
I caught this tiny moth in the trap and
took a couple of photos. However, the ‘micros’ are hard
work.
Us…
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I always look forward to going to The Beacon at first light. The view is never the same and is quite often wonderful.
If, overnight, a global apocalypse had befallen the world causing a massive rise in sea levels – it might have looked like the scene that greeted me. An ocean of mist had engulfed a huge area – all the way to the horizon. South Lancashire had been completely flooded.
I watched the developing mistscape, changing minute by minute as the sun rose. The colours were subtly altering – starting off with rosy hues then becoming sepia.
When the lightshow had played itself out I made my way to the darkly wooded, North West corner of the patch. On my way I passed the flooded former quarry.
This seems to be exactly the kind of place Donald Pleasence was talking about in The Spirit of Dark and Lonely Water, the famous public information film of the seventies. TV Talking Heads seem to be forever reminiscing about how this film scarred their childhoods (along with the Singing Ringing Tree), making them water-phobic. Well it’s clearly had this effect on me – I find the place borderline terrifying.
As I’d hoped, there was a good show of fungi. Amongst the toadstools I found, was The Deceiver (Laccaria laccata) – so named because of its variable size, shape and colour – depending on age, and also on weather. The widely spaced gills interspersed with smaller gills is a good identification feature.
As well as the fungi, this dark, damp part of the patch has a good range of mosses and liverworts. These often unregarded plants come in a bewildering variety of similar species, but are nonetheless fascinating.
I was kneeling down, photographing a liverwort, when a loud, nearby sound shot me to my feet. A bark crossed with a shout, with a bit of scream thrown in for good measure.
My brain instantly recognised it a Roe Deer, but even so I couldn’t help from reacting with a microsecond of ‘fight or flight’ (I can’t see myself fighting a Roe Deer in the near to medium term). It always amazes me when I see a Roe then compare it to the sound it makes. How can such a cute animal sound like the Hell Hound from Hades? Donald Pleasence, The Singing Ringing Tree, Roe Deer, while maybe not a quite Trio of Terror, perhaps an Axis of Anguish. |
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| A Moss Miscellany (plus a Liverwort) Top Row: Polytrichum commune, Hypnum cupressiforme. Bottom Row: Marchantia polymorpha, Eurhynchium striatum, Amblystegium serpens (some idenfications tentative) |
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Two members of the polygonacae family. On the left Broad Leaved Dock, its leaves eaten away and reduced to skellingtons (or skeletons if you prefer words written correctly).
On the right Japanese Knotweed, growing in its pristine pomp. It’s unmblemished as the Centre Court at Wimbledon before they allow so called ‘tennis players’ to trample all over it. The difference is, of course, one is a native plant the other is an alien. All native plants have their own ‘pests and diseases’. These are organisms that have evolved alongside the plant, quite often specialising in just the one foodplant. Usually there is a balance, the plants aren’t wiped out but are kept in check by their pests. Japanese Knotweed has its fair share of diseases in its place of origin. As an alien, on the other hand, it has no such enemies, so it grows rampantly – an unstoppable army – the Mongol Hordes of the plant world. This, in turn, gives the incomers a massive advantage over their homegrown rivals. The natives get out-competed. I was struck by this contrast while on my patch walk. There were stands of the Knotweed, as well Himalayan Balsam, to which the same thing applies. Then there were sorry looking, moth eaten – literally in some cases – leaves of the natives. It’s enough to give Nigel Farage and his ilk palpitations. These two species were intentionally introduced in Britain around the middle of 19th century – because of their “herculean proportions” and “splendid invasiveness”. With the benefit of hindsight this is looking like a Big Botanical Blunder. “I got my pest-and-disease eye in”, isn’t a phrase I expect to ever need again. However, on my walk, I got my pest-and-disease eye in. I started to see all manner of leaf-mines, rusts, blights, leaf curls and little green men (just checking you’re stlll reading). |
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| Adult Green Dock Beetle |
Adult Osprey – it’s a ‘record shot’ so it doesn’t
matter that it’s really, really bad…apparently
A Bonelli’s warbler at nearby Billinge Hill had encouraged me to get out early and look for some migrants. I wasn’t dissapointed. While looking down…
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The patch is very colourful at the moment, with swathes of Rosebay Willow Herb and Ragwort…. |
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…. an echo of the springtime Yellow and Purple colour-sheme, here, of Creeping Buttercups and Northern Marsh Orchids |
A Tree Pipit, flying over this morning, got me musing on quantum physics.
I’ve, personally, seen the same thing. During my Cheshire Garden days I regularly sat out in the garden to document the overhead migration of Meadow Pipits. As my ‘season’ started in mid September I saw very few Tree Pipits. Then one year I started in August, specifically to see if there were any ‘Tripits’ – there were…I started to record Tree Pipits.
Ok, this is a bit of stretch. There is, in fact, only a fanciful parallel here with the quantum world – I am verging on a willful misunderstanding of the physics. It’s the kind of thing I would decry if a journalist did it to give him ‘an angle’.
‘Mindfulness’ is all the rage at the moment – and who am I to stay off that bandwagon. I try to adopt mindfulness – to be ‘in the now’ – when on my patch walks.. However these musings keep on coming at me like a shark with knees (apologies to the Mighty Boosh).
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| Money spider money shot. ‘Money spider’ is a generic term for around 250 species in Britain this one This one is probably made by Lepthyphantes tenuis. |
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Since starting this blog, my patchwork perambulations have been even more enjoyable.
Take this morning, for example. The birding was disappointing – with none of the hoped for passage migrants. However, now because I’m looking at everything on the patch – not just the birds, there’s always something wonderful to see. I’m viewing the place more as a whole – a community of wildlife. This morning was about spiders webs. The effect of the morning light on water droplets lined along the strands of silk was stunning. Phew, I managed to avoid the overused ‘strands of pearls’ cliché. Equally fascinating is the way that – under certain conditions – things are revealed that would otherwise go unnoticed. The abundance of ‘money spider’ webs being a case in point. In a patch of the patch, about a meter square, I counted seventy three of these silken hammocks. Never one to pass up an opportunity to extrapolate* – I calculate that the patch total of such webs is a Big Lot (my workings for this calculation are available on request). |
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| Some more from a few days ago |
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* ‘Appetite for Extrapolation’ by Guns and Roses is seldom off my phonogram
**Pearly Dewdrops Drops is a track a The Coctau Twins
‘Montage of Heck’… a lot of Large Yellow UnderwingsThis is almost certainly a case of ‘careful what you wish for’. The other day, on a Lancashire Moth forum I was bemoaning my small catches. Although, still o…
It seemed like a good morning to kick off the the Autumn vis mig season. Vis migging is the, fairly niche, birding pursuit whereby an observer stands (sitting is also permissible) at a ‘migration watch point’ and records the number of birds flying over…
