Wild Business Trip: Riddy Wood

What's not to like about living out of doors, come all weathers, getting wet and dirty, working your socks off and going to bed exhausted and aching with the same again to look forward to the next day? 

As part of one of my 'jobs' I make regular visits to a few pockets of ancient woodland in Cambridgeshire which I am involved in restoring: this time of year that means coppicing and thinning to open up the canopy a bit in pre-selected areas where it is has grown too dense and overly uniform both in age and in structure, and to promote new growth, both regrowth on the coppice stools and natural regeneration (a habitat management plan guides all activities to ensure work is done sensitively and proportionately). This was the sort of work which drew me to a career in conservation in the first place, so these opportunities to get away for a few days and engage in this sort of work are quite literally a dream come true for me. 

The bluebells really getting into their stride in an area we thinned in February. 

I hadn't been down yet this Autumn due to the birth of my little boy just over a month ago, so was hoping for a solid few days of work. It wasn't to be as it happens - recent storms had blown down several trees and knocked a temporary shelter about a bit, soaking the firewood drying inside. By the time I'd fixed the shelter, cleared a few paths blocked by downed trees, arranged a meeting with the land owner to discuss our lease contract for next year and finished up coppicing one coup started a few weeks ago by my brother (who works with me on the project), it was the end of my first full day there and the light had gone (safe working light is pretty much gone by 4 pm at this time of year). I should have had another day but my little boy at home was poorly and I had to cut my visit short with a late night dash home. Oh well, Murphy's Law and all that. 

Despite my slightly not-to-plan trip I was great to spend some time out of doors. There is always something to see! On arrival the first task is always a little wander round to see what's what, if anything has changed (trees fallen down usually!) and inspect the work others have done since I was last there. On this occasion my initially wandering revealed Great Spotted Woodpeckers, plenty of Wood Pigeon roosting towards the Northern edge of the wood and various little birds including Gold Finches flitting through the buffer strip around the wood. The now pretty much leafless trees and shrubs along the woodland edge were heavy with berries and fruit: Haws and Rose-hips were present in abundance, outdone only by the Sloes making the Blackthorn look purple from a distance! Between these, the odd apple tree and the seed heads of thistles and sedges, grasses and teasels in the headlands and ditch banks (at least where they haven't been mown!) the local bird life don't have much to worry about just yet in the winter food stakes. 

The view from bed in the woodland shelter: a bright moon rises behind the trees, a nice warm stove to
take the edge off the Autumn night and a pack of chocolate biscuits close to hand (not in the picture).
Who could ask for more!

My first (and on this trip only) night was clear and cool, but not too cold. As always my evening (a pretty long evening at this time of year!) was far from lonely, with Tawny Owls making their presence heard. In fact, I can't think of a single night I've stayed there so far, and we are talking over a dozen nights since February when we first started, that I haven't heard a Tawny Owl, and often Little Owls too. While I didn't see one on this trip there are possibly as many as three or four pairs of Barn Owls which nest on the wider farm too, we frequently see them quartering the rough grass borders around this area of woodland and a few of the others we manage, five separate pockets in total. Short Eared Owl are also seen occasionally on the farm, but not by me yet: fingers crossed as this species is high up on my Bucket list! On the second night, prematurely cut short by the dash home, backing vocals featured a returning Tawny Owl, competing on this occasion with the bark of a Chinese Water Deer which there are no shortage of in the area. Muntjac barking is a pretty common night time soundtrack too, and while they are a lot less vocal, Roe deer also use the wood.

Part of our woodland management work involves managing these deer populations (by which to be clear I mean culling predetermined numbers each season to keep a stable number, just like the RSPB, Wildlife Trusts and various other conservation organisations do), particularly the Muntjac, for the damage they do to woodland ground flora and regenerating trees. We also perform this service for a local conservation group who manage a few small woodland reserves near by. On my second evening before I lost the light completely I drove a quick tour of the farm to check on deer numbers. With a lot of work taking place around the farm there was a fair bit of disturbance and I only saw about half a dozen Chinese Water deer (CWD), with no Muntjac or Roe. Not that many by my standards in this location but a lot more than most people see in a normal working day I dare say! A few months ago I saw over 30 CWD in one evening to give you an idea of how many can be seen! 

A Chinese Water Deer watches me (or more specifically my car) curiously from its resting place in stubble
- from a distance all you see is the ears sticking up!

A highlight of the tour for me was a Woodcock, startled up from an area of scrub as I walked through. I'd love to get a better look at these beautifully and cryptically camouflaged birds: I only ever seem to see them flying away! Perhaps one day soon. As I drove along the farm tracks on the return trip from the far side of the farm (it's a big farm!) I glanced to one side to see a Wren, matching my speed perfectly, but flying in the ditch alongside the road - it was a bizarre viewpoint, little wings whirring away but seemingly no forward movement as we paced each other perfectly down the track. 

Many may assume with the noise accompanying woodland management operations - chainsaws, axes chopping and splitting etc. - that you'd never see any wildlife. This isn't always the case however. Having just felled a long over stood Field Maple stool and processed the tree on the ground I turned off the saw, took off my helmet and looked up to see a Red Kite riding the breeze directly over my head at canopy height. It remained there for a few minutes, surfing the breeze which was being pushed up and over the wood by the dense shelter belt around the wood. A magnificent bird, and a beautiful sight! On a previous trip with two of use working we'd just stopped for lunch; sat around our fire a movement caught my eye. There in a stack of twigs and branches we'd just stacked minutes before, and no more than 5 meters away, a Gold Crest was picking its way through the pile foraging. I've also seen Wrens, Robins and various other small birds using these brash piles and dead hedges, and we even found a nest at the end of this summer in a brash pile we'd stacked in February. 

That pretty much sums up my 'business trip' this time round: at some point I'll post a more detailed account of these woods; they really are an extension of my 'local' patch, and one I am fortunate to be directly involved in managing, and hopefully improving, for the wildlife which call it home.

Richard     

Learning by doing: Photographing Invertebrates

We often hear that different people learn in different ways.
I find that I learn best by applying: what more enjoyable 
way to learn than through wildlife photography! 

A few weeks back I made it pretty clear how fascinating I found dragonflies and how much fun I had had photographing them. What I didn't really mention was that was also how I had learned about them. I bought a book, made some time, went out and photographed as many as I could, then came home and identified as many as I could. Next time I went out I was able to identify a few in the field and by the time I had repeated this many times I was pretty good at identifying those species I saw most often, even if I do say so myself. At the very least I was A LOT better than I had been.

When I started getting more comfortable with Dragonflies, to add another level to my learning I bought a decent butterfly guide - while a generic 'British Insects' book may be OK for beginners and children when you start getting more in depth with identification you really need a better guide. I went through the same process, making time to go out specifically to photograph butterflies, then identifying them from the photographs to help me learn. My next 'project' which I was just starting towards to the end of this summer is Hover flies, with Bees and Wasps next on the list... also Beetles and Moths one day (scary!) and we'll go to there for now!  

I know this sounds like a pretty simple process but it taught me a lot more than you may think. Let me explain just a couple of the subtle lessons which I have learned and am still learning through this process that may not be quite so obvious. These simple lessons apply to all the groups I have been learning to identify in this way, but some more to one group than another. I'll use examples from my attempts to photograph butterflies, and illustrate it with butterfly pictures for today because I've already used many of my dragonfly photos and haven't got that many decent hover fly pictures yet.

1)  Diagnostic features: While some species could only really be that one species when you have a good look at them, others are far more difficult to tell apart. Of all the species I have come across so far I found the 'Blues' the hardest to tell apart. I have yet to get anywhere to see any Fritillaries but based on what I have seen in the ID guide I've got to admit to being a bit apprehensive about trying to ID them because, to my eyes at least, they all look so similar. 

ID from a photograph forces you to really understand what you are looking for to confirm that Identification. If the photo you have taken doesn't clearly show that feature it will stick in your head and the next time you are out photographing that species you'll want to aim to capture that feature so you can be sure. For me this process of photographing, checking, re-photographing etc etc really helps to make those features stick in my mind and much more likely that I will remember them long term. 

2) Habits & behaviours: After a few outings you'll instinctively know the best places to look for butterflies. Some places are obviously better than others but by understanding the best possible places to check you save time and get more photo's. More importantly knowing where there are likely to be butterflies it allows you to change your approach. Power walking through a flower meadow any possible subjects will have flown long before you are ready to photograph them, especially as it is so much easier to photograph them when they are stationary. Instead you can target likely areas then approach slowly with your camera ready so that as soon as you spot a potential subject you can approach carefully without spooking it. 

If you do spook it watch it, see how it behaves: does it circle around a few times then land back in the same place? does it circle around a few times then land close by on similar flower? or does it just fly for the hills until its out of sight? After watching a few times you'll know what to expect allowing you to be prepared for it, given you a better chance of getting that photo. If you go out on less than ideal days weather wise you may also be able to find the sort of places butterflies like to shelter, giving you an opportunity to see them up close when they are less likely to scarper.

Perhaps the most useful behaviour I have tried to learn, at least in terms of taking photographs is where they are most likely to bask in the morning to warm up. Not only at this time do they tend to have their wings wide open to absorb as much heat as possible so they are more visible, but if they are still relatively cool they won't fly away. This gives you more time than you'll often have to get a decent photo. Also on the photography side of things the lower less harsh light early in the morning makes for better photographs.

So, I guess the point of this post today was just to show that anyone can learn about anything they want to if they find an approach that works for them and sticks with it. I went through 4 1/2 years of University study  and learned an awful lot of things. But I honestly learn't more about the identification and behaviour of a specific group of invertebrates in one summer with one book and a lot of time spent out of doors than I did in all those lectures. So find what works for you and do it. If it helps you improve another skill along the way, for me it was my photography (i won't show you my early pictures of insects...) all the better.

Hope you enjoyed reading this.

Richard

In another life... Riddy Wood Project blog

In my working life I am Project Manager for a not-for-profit (and hopefully in the not too distant future registered charity) environmental education and woodland restoration project: The Riddy Wood Project. I'll be manning the new blog up dated so between this, that and another blog I contribute to I'll be kept pretty busy!

We're slowly developing the project and the woodlands we manage and as such we've started a blog to keep people up to date on the project: how its going, what we are doing at what time of year, what groups we have had in and so on. 

If you think this would be of interest please feel free to have a look here. I'll occasionally post information here about the wildlife I have seen or experiences I've had while I'm working there but this blog isn't intended as an advert for the project, despite its good intentions and not-for-profit nature so this is likely the last plug you'll see from me on here. 

Let me know what you think though, or if you're interested in the project contact me through the website. Thanks!

Richard

Without ever crossing the border...

Not an international border, not a county or 
even parish border: without ever leaving my 
own property. 

I named this blog 'Nature is never far away' for a reason: because I believe it isn't. I'm not going to philosophise about what 'Nature' means to me, or anyone else for that matter. It means different things to different people, but I think the claim that 'It' (whatever 'It' is) is never far away is justifiable regardless of your personal definition.

While most of my posts so far have featured local wildlife - local as in 'not far away'; all of it has been within 30 minutes driving time - I recognise some people don't have the luxury of easy transport, and still others lack the physical ability to get out and about. It is easy to take this ability for granted. I have recognised before now how much I appreciate this personal blessing, an appropriate word I feel, and am hoping in due course to cater in some way for those who haven't been blessed with simple personal mobility through the opportunities The Riddy Wood Project, which I manage, offers.

On behalf of those for whom local needs to mean REALLY local, I thought I'd compile this post about what my garden has offered me in terms of observing nature. There will be a few related posts to follow: if this could be considered the home game, then there is an away game of two halves. These will be 'hosted' by my parents 'garden' and my parents-in-law garden respectively. They have cooler gardens than me in more interesting surroundings (no offence sub-urban Stoke-on-Trent). Keep tuned though: I have grand, wildlife friendly plans for my own garden, which has already under gone some fairly major cosmetic surgery since we moved in 3 1/2 years ago, but that's for another time...

Before I get pulled up on it, I am well aware that in this urbanised, high-rise day and age we live in there are many who don't have a garden, or indeed any sort of personal outdoor space, either. All I will say to that, because I can't please everyone, is if I were a betting man (and I'm not, just for the record), I would bet you ... something substantial, like a car... or a pair of Swarovski binoculars, that if you looked hard enough you could observe 10 species of something within a 60 second walk from your front door (external door - just for clarification!).

As an example of that, there are at least a dozen species of plant growing between the paving slabs on my driveway, or out of the wall which borders it. Among them are Common Dog-Violet (Viola riviniana), Dandelion (Tarraxacum spp), Common Ragwort (Senecio jacobaea), Wood Avens (Geum urbanum), Common Nettle (Urtica dioica) and Maidenhair Spleenwort fern (Asplenium trichomanes).

On the invertebrate front I have recorded 7-spot Ladybird (Coccinella 7-punctata), 2-spot Ladybird (Adalia bipunctata), Vine Weevil (Otiorhynchus sulcatus) as well as several other species of beetle, various woodlice, various Spiders, no end of Flies, Butterflies including but not limited to Large White (Pieris brassicae), Small Tortoiseshell (Aglais urticae) and Peacock (Inachis io), and Hover flies a plenty when the above plants are flowering.

Without stepping foot off my drive way this year I have also been treated to House Sparrows () nesting in my next door neighbours eaves and a bee colony taking over a bird box on his wall! - not sure of species, sorry Aculeate Hymenoptera fans, I'll try harder I promise

That's all in a pretty narrow habitat niche, and its not really ALL anyway, just what I have noticed in passing as I've never actually set aside time for any form of formal survey - it also doesn't include the plants which I know are non-native and have just hopped the wall from the neighbours garden. 

If we move back into the garden proper we have a wider range of habitats niches, with a correspondingly wider range of species. Wild flowers (weeds to non-wildlifey folks), including in addition to those also found on the drive species such as Bramble (Rubus fructicosus), Meadow Buttercup (Rananculus acris), Forgot-me-not (Mysotosis sylvatica) and Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum), draw in loads of different species of hover flies, bees and butterflies. And who wouldn't be drawn in? Between those 4 species along that's a kaleidoscope of white, yellow, blue and pink.

The next door neighbours Buddleia (Buddleja davidii) lived up to its alternative name of Butterfly Bush by being covered on a regular basis, including Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) - above - Brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni) and Speckled Wood (Pararge aegeria). And not just by butterflies either - the hover flies, obviously vying for a name change for the plant were there in even greater numbers if anything. The Clematis which dominates the hedge on the other side of the garden was hardly less popular, and even more so since the Buddleia received a severe short back and sides.

Shed and garden walls are frequently used as basking spots for flies, and where there are flies you can sure there are spiders - no shortage here, including Zebra jumping spiders (Salticus scenicus), by the way, isn't that a cool name?! No shortage either of woodlice, centipedes, slugs, snails etc etc. The compost bin teems with a wide variety of fly species, although not so much at this time of year, to say nothing of the worms that work there way up into it form the soil below. We've even had the priveledge of a few Common Frogs (Rana temporaria) over the years, though I'm not sure why because there aren't any garden ponds nearby that I know of, nor in fact any sort of water body. 

Despite our extremely urban surroundings we are visited fairly regularly by a Grey Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis) or two, which also occasional work their way up the side of the drive way and cross the road to the houses opposite - I've never yet worked out why but there must be some reason. I must admit at this point that I'm not a big fan of 'the grey': partly because of their invasive status and the impact they have had on the native (and much more endearing in my book) Red Squirrels (Sciurus vulgaris), but also professionally, as a woodland manager we are not on speaking terms. However, in an urban environment, long since abandoned by any hint of a red ear tuft, with no young trees to ring bark or nuts to munch through before they ripen up, they do provide a visible 'wild' mammal for people to observe. Whatever your definition of nature the ability to see it, experience it, interact with it is inextricable from our enjoyment of it in my opinion. I well remember my own excitement as a child of seeing a squirrels up close when they visited our housing estate bird table; when I first got a camera squirrels were a regular target - I even managed on one occasion to photograph one doing a handstand! ... OK, so it was actually just jumping off a bird bath, and I, by pure luck, caught it as it had is front feet on the ground and the rest of its body airborne. But that's beside the point. Without some species being visible, easy to spot, identify and watch, where behaviour other than running for cover can be frequently observed, we will find it difficult to inspire a generation of nature lovers. Even if their first fling in the natural world has to be a non-native bully.

Off topic again, my apologies, back to the garden: we were told shortly after moving in that a Fox (Vulpes vulpes) used our garden as a cut through. I have yet to see it, but... a few years back when we had heavy snow I did find a footprint in the garden which could only have been a fox track. So either I need to increase my efforts to catch it in the act, or its stopped using our garden except in desperate circumstances like deep snow. What I should really do is leave the camera trap out there for a while - I keep putting it off because I just know that for every potential fox image I will end up having to sort through hundreds of shots of the ecological terrorists (domestic cats) which seem to have an unshakable belief that my garden is their personal litter box! I must strengthen my resolve and take the plunge though, for the sake of my own curiosity if nothing else.

When we moved in I told myself not to expect too much from our garden from the wildlife side of things, and took solace in the fact that their was a local nature reserve just a few minutes walk away. But I should have allowed myself to hope. Just a month or so after moving in, having started the gargantuan task of sorting out the landfill site located where my garden should have been I heard a familiar cry and looked up to see a Buzzard (Buteo buteo) circling overhead. Some while later I had just come out of the back door, loading the car for some journey or other if I remember correctly, and was again stopped in my tracks by a familiar call, this time from the tree overshadowing our garden from behind. Sure enough a Great Spotted Woodpecker (Dendrocopus major) shot out of the tree a few seconds later and away down the row of gardens. Never again have I seen these two visitors from the garden, although I see both quite regularly at my 'local patches' not far away, but they did at least remind me that 'Nature' doesn't read the rule book, and will turn up where it jolly well pleases.

Something we do see regularly are the Magpies (Pica pica) - we hear them regularly too! - because they nest, every year so far, in the large Sycamore tree (Acer psuedoplatanus) behind, much to the distaste of the various small song birds which nest in the tangle of the bushes at the end of the neighbours garden!

Since we moved in I have become far more interested in invertebrates than I was before and these have kept me pretty well occupied for garden wildlife for a few seasons now. I have breezed over them largely because I don't have photos to do the depth of species there justice, something I will aim to remedy for the coming year, but also because a list of species doesn't really tell the story. I'd rather do stories than lists, they're more engaging. And so I shall aim to keep sharing the odd garden story, among the others to remind myself and others than 'Nature' isn't as far away as you may think...

Richard

NB - All of these pictures were taken in my garden.

Lifetime first; Bucket list tick!

You know that excited knot you get in your 

stomach before something really exciting? 

I felt that this week. 

What was I doing? I was minutes away from ticking off something that's been on my bucket list for years. I thought I'd have to make a special trip - maybe to Scotland - to tick this one off so had ruled it out for some time much later. But...

On Sunday I got a tip off from a friend that at a weir on the Derbyshire / Staffordshire border Salmon were leaping. Bearing in mind that its hard to get much further from the coast in the UK I hadn't even thought to check that this spectacle would be available to witness just 30 minutes drive from my house. Needless to say I didn't need to be told twice and immediately made plans to get over there as soon as possible. Two days later that I was walking the short river side footpath up to the weir; that was when 'the knot' arrived. 

This was the view that greeted me as I made my way down the bank of the River Dove. Although I knew the Salmon (and Sea Trout too) had been seen a few days before we had also had a few days of torrential rainfall. I was expecting the water level to have risen, and I wasn't sure how this would have affected the behaviour of the fish. I needn't have worried as it turned out, they were still very busy. 

Just seconds after I approached the weir itself a massive Salmon leaped clear - box ticked, but I wasn't going anywhere! A few of the people there (word had got out, in fact I was relatively late to the party!) mentioned that when they had been a few days before, with lower water levels, the fish had been leaping more.

While the fish were leaping there wasn't a lot of succeeding going on - none in fact. No-one I spoke to had seen one make it, and if you take a look at the picture above you can just about see a steep step right at the top of the weir. I'm not a fish expert by any means, but I would be amazed if any fish could make it up and over that last seemingly insurmountable obstacle, especially with the water running as fast and as high as it was while I was there. 

I allowed myself the luxury of just watching for a while, I've missed too many natural spectacles by trying to get them on camera. Also when I first arrived there was a bit of queue for the good spots so I initially had to watch through a small screen of trees, leafless of course at this time of year so I could still see well enough but it would have been pointless with a camera. I never kept track, despite having intentions to do so, but I would say there was a leap or at least some visible activity every 2 minutes or less, with occasional flurries of activity which drew excited calls and cheers from the observers. 

Trying to describe the leaping itself is a bit of a non-event, it really is something you have to see to capture the magic. If I told you I stood for two hours by a river bank on a grey November day and watched fish of varying sizes jumping about and failing to get to their destination, you might think I had a very dull life for that to be a better option... but it was thrilling. Better than the cinema any day, and the tickets are cheaper! 

The suspense is tangible, you never know exactly what's going to break the surface next, or where, or when! You can't be sure whether it will be a tiddler 40 yards away in the shadow on the other side of the river or something like this...

                                                   

                                      

  

Now I wasn't there to take photo's - I was there to watch, but I wanted to make some record of breaking my Salmon duck, if you get what I mean. When I initially set the camera up I just left it on a tripod videoing so I could watch without being distracted. Later I attached a remote release and set it to continuous shooting so I could trigger the camera without having to have my hand on the shutter button. It was just a few minutes after I changed to this mode that this monster leaped just in front of me. I'm guestimating but this fish has got to be more than 2 feet clear of the water at the highest point of its arc. 

Still images just doesn't convey the power of these fish or what they are achieving here. Even the video's don't quite do it justice. I've managed to condense over an hour of footage down into just a few minutes. 

While the fish stole the show, the river wasn't entirely devoid of other natural interest, although not exactly teeming either. Not long after I arrived a pair of mute swans winged their majestic way over the weir and down stream, their loud wing beats clearly audible even over the rushing water. Later a Kingfisher whirred down stream looking for all the world like someone had put it on fast forward, they are so fast aren't they! Its brilliant blue wasn't looking at its best but I suspect this was mostly to do with the light on the day, which was, to be kind, soft - it was pretty grey and miserable to be honest, but as no rain fell I refuse to complain.  

Eventually I had to call it a day and get home and get on with some work. I'll try and get back before the run finishes - just because it's ticked off my bucket list doesn't mean I won't make the most of this awesome (in the true sense of the word) natural spectacle so close to home again.

Richard 

Time of plenty...

No shortage of berries at this time of year. 
Or seeds, nuts, acorns and fruit. Plenty to
keep a wide range of winter tourists satisfied. 

Botany has never been the focus of my personal ecological interest. I suspect sub-consciously I am daunted by the sheer scale of the subject material. This year I have been trying, and failing for the most part, to do more in the way of identifying plants. There is one facet of botanical diversity I have paid a keen interest to in the past: the edible bits. Having enjoyed 'hedge harvesting' since I was a wee lad, I can now hopefully pass on that enjoyment to my own young family. I defy anyone to describe to me a better, and more satisfying, late summer pudding than an apple and blackberry crumble, brimming with fruit you have spent the previous morning collecting. All the fruit is fresh, wild... and free! And the perfect accompanying beverage? Elderflower cordial, what else?! These results render the stings, scratches and stains a mere inconvenient post script in the pursuit of culinary satisfaction.

The fruit of the Hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) - Haws, no sniggering please. 

The portion sizes on the clichéd gathering options us picky humans know well are relatively limited by this stage of the season with regulars like Blackberries, wild Raspberries, Elderberries, Cherries and Plums well beyond their best if present at all. If nothing else sloes (from Blackthorn (Prunus spinosa)) should still be a very real prospect and bilberries (or whichever of its localised names you care to attach to those tasty little paintballs - I called them 'wimberries' as a child) may be hanging on too. If you're really keen other options are still available too but require a bit more looking. Haws and Rowan berries are both edible after all but rarely used by most.

For our wilder neighbours there is still much to be enjoyed, stored and gorged on. Winter berries such as Haws (from Hawthorn Crataegus monogyna of course), Rowan or Mountain-ash (Sorbus acuparia) and Holly (Ilex aquifolium) berries all capture the attention. Being bright red and often in great profusion they are hard to miss but if you are lucky it will quite a different seasonal spectacle that captures the attention - winter migrant birds gorging on this variable and ephemeral seasonal resource. Fieldfare (Turdus pilaris) and Red-wing (Turdus iliacas) are nice to see - I haven't seen any yet myself this year (Editor note: I saw my first Fieldfares a few days after I first wrote this), having a baby really impacts on your allocated outdoor time! - but what I really want to get a good look at is Waxwings (Bombycilla garrulus)! 

Holly (Ilex aquifolium) is hard to miss in a leafless wood with its glossy evergreen leaves
and dense clumps of crimson berries

They have been on my 'wildlife bucket list' for some time (I've just added them to the list here on the blog because I forgot when I was originally writing it - oops). Over the last few years it seems I keep missing them, with friends or family sending me pictures of them in their gardens or local nature reserves where I have been a week before or go a week after, but never at the same time as the Waxwings yet! Better luck this year fingers crossed!

As many know far better than me we also get an influx of birds we are often familiar with, which replace our native birds as they move south or just join them for the festivities. With them come a few birds which are less familiar Bramblings (Fringilla montifringilla) and Snow Buntings (Plectrophenax nivalis) for example. 

Woodcock (Scolopax rusticola) are always welcome in my book, and in many places in the UK are resident. In Riddy Wood we get a hand full overwintering every year. I have never managed to spot one on the ground yet, they are simple too well camouflaged, too cryptic; I only catch a glimpse as they hurriedly leave the scene. This year I want to make a special effort to watch them rather than see them, and I'd love to try and take some photo's, I think luck would have to be solidly on my side.  

My personal favourite winter migrant (another which is actually resident here all year round but which I only ever seem to see in winter when we get a whole bunch from continental Europe) is the Goldcrest (Regulus regulus)! For a start, what a name, as bird names go few conjure up a more regal mental image, perhaps ironic considering how small the bird is. This is a bird I seem to have reasonable luck with, in winter at least as mentioned, but not when it comes to taking pictures. I've seen several this autumn including at Park Hall country park a week or two back, and at Cannock Chase when I went to try and watch the Fallow Deer (Dama dama) rut back in the middle of October.

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I seem to have gone off at a very enjoyable, but unintended tangent being distracted by charismatic avian fauna - this was supposed to be about flora! Back on topic - my apologies!

Coyney woods, which has a lot of oaks, seems to be a bit light on acorns this year. Meanwhile Riddy Wood, which I coppice down in Cambridgeshire, seems to have a far bigger crop, strange. Back at Coyney woods the limited supply is being fought over by Jays and Grey Squirrels which adds an element of urgency, reflected in the sky by the Fieldfares and other thrushes (which I'm not allowed to talk about again) dashing from Hawthorn to Hawthorn to gorge on berries.

Haws, Holly and Rowan aren't the only red berries around either - just some of the others I've noticed while out and about include Rose Hips (on Dog Rose (Rosa canina) - top), Guelder Rose (Viburnum opulus) - middle, and Honeysuckle (Lonicera periclymenum) - bottom; all out and about providing food and colour. At a lower level Lords-and-Ladies (Arum maculatum) fill a berry gap for species with height issues, but I haven't got any pictures of these, very remiss of me.

This post could become a book if I was too write about every species providing an autumn food source for hungry mouths or beaks, especially if I was to further digress into the desperation among animals to feed up for the dearth of winter ... etc. But I could hardly conclude without at least mentioning nuts. Hazel nuts are what spring to mind immediately I suspect when many think about nuts from British woods, and I would be the same. But again, my local woods seem to be a bit light this year despite no shortage of Hazel (Corylus avellana) trees. Something they do have is Chestnuts, Sweet Chestnuts (Castanea sativa) - below, of course, not Horse Chestnuts (Conkers) (Aesculus hipposcastanum). Sadly those I found were a bit on the pathetic side for eating which is a shame because I enjoy a good chestnut, even if they usually are reserved for Christmas in the UK.

Changing seasons are something I used to take for granted, and they're great. A simple statement but think about the range of diverting nature that we get to enjoy in this country: and just when you think it is becoming tedious it changes! The distraction of flowers in spring and summer becomes autumn leaves or berries, in winter (when we get a proper one!) frosted leaves or cobwebs or icicles or ... everything really when its covered in snow! I lived abroad for a few years in the tropics and I honestly missed the seasonal changes - I missed the flower season, the cold season: I suppose the swing from wet season to dry season provided some variation across the calender, but not enough. And of course plants fruit through the year there - an October Harvest festival certainly didn't originate in the Caribbean I can assure you! So make the most of our seasonal bounty, even if it just to recognise how interesting our seasons are.

Richard

Here be Dragons... and Damsels

For the last couple of years I have become particularly

interested in Dragonflies. Who wouldn't be?! 

They are brightly coloured, fast flying, 

hyper-aggressive aerial predators - what's not to like?

If that isn't enough how about that fact that the best time to see them is summer, when the sun is shining, it's nice and warm and there isn't too much wind - also known as a perfect summer day? Or the fact that because there are only 40 or so breeding species in the UK its relatively easy to learn about them and have a good idea of the entire range of species (compare for example with something like 2500 moth species or 4000 beetle species or even the 500 + bird species in the UK), which means your friends will think you are an expert? For me a real draw is that you can get some great photographs of them with simple cheap photographic equipment, all of the photo's here were taken on a relatively cheap (less than a top notch smart phone) bridge camera - no DSLR, no £10,000 pound lens or carbon fibre tripod. Every bit as exciting in many ways as an elusive bird of prey, but easier to find, much easier to watch, much easier to photograph. And they have cool names. Now give me one excuse not to love 'em?

Male Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum).

Of course I am fascinated by other wildlife too, including birds of prey: you will see (if you have a look) that one of my 'Bucket list' items is in fact to watch a Hobby hunting dragonflies, something I haven't managed yet. But anyway, back on topic...

As a result of this relatively recent fascination they took up a disproportionate chunk of my summer nature watching trips, and a correspondingly large proportion of my summer photographs. This year I didn't have as many opportunities as I would have liked because of work commitments, but I still managed the occasional sneaky trip out. My favourite spots didn't seem to have quite the numbers I remember from the last couple of years. Although this may be down to the conditions on the days I was able to visit not being ideal, end of summer weather summaries do suggest that we've had a cooler and wetter summer than average, but only by a bit.

Male Southern Hawker (Aeshna cyanea) in flight.

I'll keep an eye out for dragonflies where ever I go during the summer but to get my fix I head to a couple of pools on the northern edge of Cannock Chase. For those unfamiliar with Cannock Chase it is a Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty (AONB) between Stafford and Cannock, only about 25 miles as the Dragon flies (sorry, that wasn't very funny) north of Birmingham. Comprising largely of heathland and woodland (including large swathes of commercial coniferous forestry plantations) it certainly earns its title as it truly is a beautiful area. The two pools I visit most often are both very acidic, dark water from the peaty heathland soils, fringed with rushes and cotton grass. Both are nice and open, getting plenty of sun: one in a marshy depression on a heathland plateau, the other in an open glade on the edge of a forestry block. 

Male and female Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum)

On a really good day I could sit for hours on the margins of these pools and watch the action, and what action! You can hear the collisions from the other side of the pool, wings rustling like carrier bags as they collide in mid-air, then swivel seemingly on the spot to do it again. Whoever nick-named aerial combat 'Dog-fighting' had clearly never seen Dragonflies compete for territory or a mate! - although 'Dragonfly-fighting' just doesn't have quite the same ring to it I suppose. It's no wonder that you frequently find individuals with damaged wings, although I have seen several with fairly large chunks missing which seem to fly without issue.

Male Four-Spotted Chaser (Libellula quadrimaculata)

On a particularly excellent day, I think 2 years ago now, I saw something like 13 species, maybe even one or two more. Certainly getting into double figures won't be unusual. Some of those species were there in their dozens, even some of the larger species. There were at least 5 or 6 Brown Hawker (Aeshna grandis) females ovipositing (egg laying) simultaneously on the main portion of the pool which is smaller than some large living rooms I've been in.

Female Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum) foreground; Female Brown Hawker (Aeshna grandis) background.

Add to these the Southern Hawkers (Aeshna cyanea), Common Hawkers (Aeshna juncea), Four-spotted Chasers (Libellula quadrimaculata), Broad-bodied Chasers (Libelula depressa), Common Darters (Sympetrum striolatum), Ruddy Darters (Sympetrum sanguineum) and Black Darters (Sympetrum danae) and the occasional Emporer (Anax imperator) and Migrant Hawker (Aeshna mixta) it's a busy and colourful scene.

Males Azure damselfly (Coenagrion puella)

I suppose I must mention the damsels too because while they may not be as spectacular in flight as their bigger, brasher, bolder, bolshier cousins they are every bit as colourful! At that pool I mentioned it wouldn't be unusual to see Common Blue (Enallagma cyathigerum), Blue Tailed (Ischnura elegans), Azure (Coenagrion puella), Large Red (Pyrrhosoma nymphula) and Emerald (Lestes sponsa) damselflies without changing spot once.

Immature Male Black Darter (Sympetrum danae) - this one with an missing forewing, don't think he's going anywhere.

Both of these pools are isolated from any other water course: this has both advantages and disadvantages. It means they have no fish which is important for Odonata (Dragonflies & Damselflies) because fish are a key predator of their nymphs, which are all aquatic. No fish equals lower predation equals higher success rate equals more adult dragonflies equals more breeding attempts equals, ultimately, a stable population. Happy days. 

Male & Female Large Red Damselfy (Pyrrhosoma nymphula)

Not having a consistent in-flow of water also means these pools are at risk of drying up entirely in dry periods, and last year one of 'my' pools did. This poses an issue because dragonflies over winter as nymphs and so need that water to make it through to emerge as adults the following year. No water means no nymphs, means no adults from that pool. This doesn't necessarily spell total disaster, not for the pool as a habitat anyway, because dragonflies are well known to disperse massive distances, by invertebrate standards, from where they themselves emerged. Damselflies are a bit more conservative in their emigration, but some species will still travel reasonable distances.

Female Emerald Damselfly (Lestes sponsa)

We're now in the quiet period of the year for invertebrates (Boo!!), with the Dragonflies amongst them. Shame, but part of the excitement of our seasonal species is surely that we don't have them all year round? Absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that. Missing them for 6 months or more makes it all the more exciting when they do start to emerge again in the late spring and summer! So here's looking forward to the Dragons emerging next year.

Richard

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WARNING: Real science coming up

NB: A while back I read an interesting paper about monitoring wetland habitats for Odonata  and writing this made me think about it and revisit it.

Essentially, Raebel et al. (2010) were arguing that by focusing survey efforts on adult Odonata a false picture of habitat suitability or quality was being generated. They stated that even when females are observed and recorded ovipositing there is no guarantee that those eggs will hatch and develop and ultimately be successful. As dragonflies can disperse over large distances as I mentioned above, those adults present could have come from far afield, with none actually having originated in the site being surveyed. They further argued that even by conducting larval stage surveys the true picture isn't revealed because nymphs will be present in habitats were they cannot or will not make it to maturity. The only way to get a true impression of habitat suitability, they claimed, was to survey for exuviae (the 'empty casing' left over after a nymph has emerged) as this was the only way to be sure that a species had completed its breeding cycle in that location.

Very recently emerged Four-spotted Chaser (Libellula quadrimaculata) perched on its exuviae.

It made for interesting reading but wasn't without its critics, Bried, D'Amico & Samways (2012) countered that while adult only surveys may result in a positive bias indicating a higher number  of species had successfully bred, exuviae only surveys had the opposite results, a negative bias under-representing the reality of successfully breeding species. This is large part is due to the time sensitive nature of exuviae, with a very narrow time window to find them, and the effort to find them being both more disruptive and far more time consuming.

Again, very interesting reading, if you want to read up on either of these papers the references are below and both can be found on Google Scholar without having to pay.  

Papers referred to:

Bried, J. T., D’Amico, F. & Samways, M. J. (2012) A critique of the dragonfly delusion hypothesis: why sampling exuviae does not avoid bias, Insect Conservation and Diversity, 5: 398–402.
Raebel, E. M., Merckx, T., Riordan, P., Macdonald, D. W. & Thompson, D. J. (2010) The dragonfly delusion: why it is essential to sample exuviae to avoid biased surveys, Journal of Insect Conservation,  14: 523–533.

  

Outing Account: A brief detour

This really will be brief, but sometimes 

it's the brief trips, detours or stolen 

'wild' moments that are the best.

Not from today but it seemed so drab without any photo's. This is from a year or two ago, late winter but seeing a Robin
is somehow a comforting sight, familiar, it makes you (and by you I mean me) feel at home, even if I am some way from it. 

This morning I squeezed in a quick detour on the way home from dropping my daughter at school. I'd planned on taking a longer detour and taking the camera along for the ride, but the morning dawned miserable, wet and dull. Not great for photographs and not great for camera electronics (maybe if I write him enough grovelling letters Father Christmas will bring me a weather-sealed DSLR for Christmas?). So I left the camera at home and did a bit of exploring. Hence no photo's to go with this story I'm afraid. 

I followed a stream which flows from an 'ornamental' (only in that it's not natural) lake just 200 yards from the school and runs down through a quiet residential area, then between an industrial estate and the houses in a quiet and secluded gulley. I'd only been down there once before and had forgotten just how wild it feels despite the immediate neighbours. Unfortunately the stream disappears underground, again un-naturally, after maybe a quarter of a mile and I have yet to discover where it re-emerges. 

I followed a green way cycle path back to Coyney Woods and had a nice slow wander through the now very autumnal, borderline winter-looking, woods. I heard a Great Spotted Woodpecker on the way in but apart from that I seemed destined to see nothing but a single Jay and a couple of Squirrels by the time I emerged from the dark, wet wood a few minutes later. Funny isn't it how sometimes you'll go for a big chunk of your venture without seeing anything then everything arrives at once? 

On the scrubby grassland on the other side of the woods I stood quietly and watched several Jays rocketing from Oak tree to Oak tree to Hawthorn and back again. Obviously trying to make the most of the last few acorns to bump up their winter stocks. Although their plumage seems duller at this time of year there is no missing that bright flash of white or the harsh call as they hurriedly leave the scene. 

Next a small flock of Fieldfares (my first this Autumn) flew over disturbing some of their resident cousins, Blackbirds, who were also making the most of the Hawthorn berries the Jays had abandoned just minutes before. Feeling like my rushed mini-nature-fix trip had now justified itself I heading homewards through the mist beaded scrubland only to be surprised by another white flashing backside, this time a female Bullfinch. I love Bullfinches and can't remember seeing one at Coyney Woods before although I regularly see them at Park Hall. 

In trying to locate the Bullfinch's hiding place in a long overgrown hedge I noticed a small flock of Goldfinches, now looking decidedly drab in past-their-best feathers... until they fly when the splash of gold on their wings seems brighter than ever. Both these finches are way up there on my 'really enjoy seeing' list of birds, so being able to watch this scene so close to home, even for just a few minutes felt like a real treat. 

Perhaps a relative of the birds I saw today as I took this just about half a mile away as the finch flies at Park Hall.

They were soon joined in their tweeting, chirping procession along the hedge by a second Bullfinch (another female), then a Blue tit, then a Great tit, then a Robin, then a male Bullfinch (you've just got to love that colour, and the contrasting black cap, splendid!), then a Dunnock, then a couple of Black birds and finally by yet another Jay, until with all the various contact calls and I assume a bit of avian heckling, it sounded more like early spring that well-established autumn. By this time they had worked their way along the hedge and round a corner, and the Goldfinches had transferred their attention to a patch of thistle seeds along the unmanaged edge of a long unused playing field (I hope to be able to persuade the council to include this in the LNR boundary and manage it as flower rich grassland).  

At this point, spirits bouyed by the sights and sounds I got over ambitious and tried to take some pictures on my phone through my binoculars... suffice it to say that between the combination of low light and 'wobbly binocular holding' I won't be uploading the photos, not this time. If I can perfect the technique then we'll see for the future. 

Not from today, not through binoculars, not even in Staffordshire I'm afraid. This was taken at RSPB Ouse Washes Reserve
in Cambridgeshire a year or two back, but it IS Goldfinches so is in some small way relevant... maybe?

Other than the minor disappointment of the failed photographic attempt what a detour. The alternative would have been a 20 minute walk down a busy sub-urban A-road, dodging the splashed from HGV's and just generally trying to wish the walk over and done with. 

Richard