Tag Archives: Alexanders

Lockdown Nature Walks 4

For the fourth of my Lockdown Nature Walks, I want to take you along Copland Lane, one of the many old tracks that radiate like compass points from the town of Totnes.    Copland Lane follows the westward compass point, roughly parallel to the busy railway line to Plymouth and Cornwall which lies some distance below in the valley.  It takes me about 15 minutes, on foot, to reach the beginning of Copland Lane which lies between the gate to a popular group of allotments and a moderate sized, newish housing estate.  I walked Copland Lane about a fortnight ago on a day of clear blue skies and warm sunshine tempered by a blustery cold wind.

Near the beginning of Copland Lane

A large stand of blackthorn, still covered in its small white flowers, grows near the start of the lane as if to herald the transition out of the semi-urban into a different world, a world of green, a world of growth, a world of colourful wildflowers. 

At first, the lane drops gently downwards, bordered on the right-hand side by steep banks below the gardens of houses and on the other side by a bank of tightly packed soil perhaps stabilised by rubble, known locally as a Devon Hedge.  Various kinds of vegetation including shrubs and coppiced trees, grow up prolifically from both sides not quite meeting above the lane but creating an enclosed, sheltered feeling.  Sunlight percolates through the tree screen casting a dappled pattern across the track, but there is more to the light today.  At this time of year, the trees have fresh, pale green, almost transparent leaves and as the sunlight filters between and through the leaves it acquires a subtle greenness that I only experience in spring.  

Along the right-hand side of the lane, where sun warms the soil, I notice large stretches of yellow archangel with its many pale yellow flowers each with hooded, fringed upper lip and broader, three-lobed lower lip with intricate pale brown markings.  Looking at the spear-shaped leaves, I see no silvery markings so this is likely to be the true native species rather than the garden cultivar.  A worker early bumblebee with its pink-tipped abdomen feeds from the flowers. 

yellow archangel

 

Early bumblebee (Bombus pratorum) worker with pollen feeding at yellow archangel. Look for the single yellow band near the head and the pink tip to the abdomen.

 

hart’s tongue fern, semi-transparent in the low sunshine

The left-hand side of the lane sees less direct sunlight but growth seems just as prolific although the species that prosper are different.  Banks of ramsons line the base of the Devon Hedge, starry white flowers just beginning to show.  Several pale spathes of Lords and Ladies struggle through the thick ivy that covers the side of the bank.  Fronds of hart’s tongue fern unfurl in groups as they push upwards and where the low sunshine catches their leaves, they become semi-transparent as if X-rayed.   Navelwort (wall pennywort) grows in places covering sides of the lane with its circular, fleshy green leaves with their central dimple or navel.  Its immature flower spikes push upwards getting ready to display many small white lantern flowers in a few weeks.

a dense, tangled green mass of plants

As I walk on, the lane changes, casting off its enclosed feel to become more open. The Devon Hedge loses its tree cover allowing the sun full access to the soil bank and the fertile conditions encourage the growth of a dense, tangled, green mass of plants (see picture at the head of this post and above).  Without flowers, I can’t recognise many of these but I do see the fleshy stems and crimson flowers of red campion and the starry white flowers of stitchwort.  I notice vetch-type leaves scrambling through the mass of greenery and one bright pink and white, pea-type flower reveals that this is common vetch.  The low sunshine cuts across the bank and through the mass of greenery, highlighting the dense luxurious growth.  Something about the light changes as it filters through the seemingly unfettered tangle of vegetation.  It’s difficult to pin the effect down but there is a softening, a dispersion.

Occasionally, I encounter people walking along the lane towards me and we perform an elaborate dance to maintain social distancing which often involves one party sheltering in a hedge.  Everyone is very polite and we usually say Hello but it feels so alien to shun others where we might normally have exchanged experiences, if only of the weather.

ground ivy – the fragrant leaves of this plant were used as a bittering agent in beers until hops took over.

 

cuckoo flower

Now, gradually, the feel of the lane changes again.  It becomes wider and bound by neat hedges and farmland on the left.  There are cows in the fields and the lane takes on the persona of a farm track.  The houses on the right eventually peter out, also giving way to farmland, but before they do, there are large grassy banks bathed in sunshine and scattered, confetti-like, with stitchwort.  I also notice the violet-blue, funnel-shaped flowers and fleshy scalloped leaves, dark green but tinged red, of ground ivy showing well.   Some wild strawberry flowers promise fruit to come and one or two spikes of cuckoo flower push through the grass displaying their delicate lilac flowers.

As I stand gazing at the flowers, a man emerges on to the lane through a gate from one of the houses with his wheelbarrow.  He looks at me quizzically as I peer at the grassy bank and asks, not aggressively, what I am looking at. 

“I’m looking at the flowers and the insects” I answer

“Ah yes, the flowers are much better now they clear the brambles” he replies before moving off.

 

tall trees create a green corridor

The lane now has a short section where tall trees create a green corridor with much less sunlight.  The vegetation changes accordingly and the path edges are again lined densely with ramsons and, on the right-hand side, where a little sunlight filters through, more yellow archangel seems to prosper.  Not long after the tree cover ends, the open, hedged lane splits, offering a choice of two tracks.  One is Higher Copland Lane which leads to the hamlet of Copland where someone with a sense of culture and a sense of humour has set up a Bed and Breakfast called Appalachian Spring.  I take the other track, Lower Copland Lane, which provides me with the easier way to return to the town, but before I do, I look at the large clump of Alexanders that has colonised the junction of tracks.  It stands in full sunshine today with its creamy mop head flowers above thick fleshy stems reminding me of scoops of Cornish Dairy Ice Cream enjoyed as a child on holiday.  Alexanders grows mainly by the coast so it is a surprise to find it here.  The flowers are proving very popular with hoverflies and almost every flower head is occupied by one of these insects.

Alexanders growing at the junction of paths

 

hoverfly (Eristalis sp.)

Copland Lane itself is about a mile long, whether you take the Higher or Lower branch.  It contains a variety of different environments and there are many interesting things to see.  Today it also provided me with a much-needed distraction from the unusual and unsettling way of life now imposed upon us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Signs of spring?

Dull, wet and mild has been the prevailing story for the winter weather so far this year in the south west of the UK.  Much needed winter sunshine has been in short supply and we’ve woken up to frost on only a handful of days. And then the storms:  in February alone, two consecutive weekends of severe weather brought heavy rain and gale force winds but very mild temperatures.   Local roads were blocked by water but flooding in other parts of the UK was much worse.

Even before the storms, walking in the rain-saturated countryside was particularly difficult but we managed to get out, although this sometimes meant paddling through mud and water.

Westcombe Beach

One of these walks was on a sunny February 1st when we took the opportunity to walk to Westcombe Beach near Kingston in south Devon.  This is an isolated sandy cove bisected by a sprightly stream and enclosed by some impressively jagged shiny grey rock formations.  The beach was largely clear of plastic waste, a rare find nowadays, but on one side I came across several unusual pale blue and pink inflated objects.  Although these might look as though they are made from plastic, they are in fact living creatures, Portuguese Men o’ War, driven on to the beach by south westerly winds.   They normally float on the surface of the sea, trailing dark blue tentacles with the capacity to deliver a very nasty sting, their pink sail catching the wind.

Portuguese Man o’War (some of the features of these organisms are lost when they are beached)

During our walk to and from Westcombe Beach we came across several flowers usually associated with the spring including primroses, violets and celandine.  As we were near the coast, the dark green fleshy leaves of Alexanders also flourished along the path sides but I was surprised to see one plant already in flower.

The flowers of Alexanders with a fly (probably a Yellow Dungfly)

Then as we walked back along the cliff tops in the low, late afternoon sunshine, we encountered a large caterpillar crossing the coast path.  It was very furry with orange-brown hairs along the top and darker grey-brown hairs below.  This is a larva of the fox moth and on sunny winter days they come out of hibernation to bask.

Fox moth caterpillar

Just under a week later, on February 6th, a day of sunny intervals, we walked to Mansands near Brixham.  Mansands is another isolated cove but with a stony beach and backed by a substantial body of water that attracts both waterfowl and bird watchers.  The land rises steeply either side of the beach with cliffs and there had been some falls of the soft rock on the eastern side over the winter which may have affected the solitary bees that nest there. [The picture at the head of this post shows the eastern side of Mansands beach and cliffs.]

Our biggest surprise of the day was finding a pair of toads (male and female) on the path along Mansands Lane as it descended towards the beach.  Hazel spotted the pair and had to take quick evasive action to avoid squashing them.  They were most likely on their way to the water below the path to spawn.  The males are opportunists and hitch a lift on the back of the larger females when they pass.  Once the female arrives at the water, more males will jump on her, competing for her attention.  Eventually, she will choose one male to fertilise her eggs as she deposits strings of them in the water.  We managed to persuade the pair to move to the path edge where they were more likely to avoid the danger of passing human feet.

Male and female toads

There were more surprises in store as we walked up the very steep Southdown Cliff away from Mansands where we saw several flowers often associated with spring.

Blackthorn flowers on Southdown Cliff above Mansands

 

Greater stitchwort on Southdown Cliff above Mansands

I hadn’t expected to see these flowers so early in the year but perhaps the generally warm weather has encouraged them.  There have also been reports of solitary bees emerging earlier than expected and I have seen queens of the bumblebee Bombus pratorum in two places in Devon, on January 15th and 20th so both very early.

Bombus pratorum queen (January 20th 2020)

A simple explanation for these findings is that our climate is changing.  Warmer, wetter winters with unstable weather are becoming more likely as a result of global temperature increases with corresponding effects on the flora and fauna.  But one person’s observations in one year don’t go beyond the anecdotal and we need much more comprehensive data to draw conclusions.

For this, I went to Nature’s Calendar, a citizen science project that records first flowerings, first sightings etc for many species across the UK.   When I looked at their report for 2019, I was surprised to see that blackthorn, to take one example, flowered 27 days earlier in the UK than it did in 2001.  In fact in 2019 all but one of Nature’s Calendar spring events were early, some considerably so.   Lorienne Whittle of Nature’s Calendar attributes these changes to the warmer winters we are now experiencing and the concern is that the long-established patterns of nature are being disturbed with potentially serious consequences.  For example, if frogs and toads spawn early, late frosts could kill their tadpoles.  Also, should insects emerge too soon they may not survive unless plentiful flowers are available for food.  We are entering uncertain times.

Bantham Beach in south Devon – the lost and the found

The dunes and strandline at Bantham Beach
The back of the beach at Bantham showing the dunes and the white-bleached wooden fences, also the strandline with seaweed.

 

There’s something other-worldly about sand dunes. They’re such unusual, secretive places and I remember as a child being able to lose myself in a dune dip. So, as we walk up the sandy path crossing the dune ridge at Bantham on the south Devon coast, there’s a little bit of me back all those years, hiding. The path is edged with marram grass, richly gilded in today’s low sun, and seemingly threatening to take the path back. There’s also a prolific patch of Alexanders with its shiny, yellowish-green leaves. The plant is one of the early signs of spring by the coast and I notice a few fresh creamy white flowers.

The roar of the waves increases steadily until we reach the highest point where the path widens between white-bleached wooden fences. A sandy beach, deep and broad, is now spread out below us and we get our first taste of the cool sea breeze. We walk downwards across the unsteadily soft sand and, with the tide this low, it’s a long walk to the surf. But there certainly is surf and I watch volleys of waves and white water making their attack. To the west, the beach ends with the mouth of the River Avon, while ahead the central view is filled by the green outcrop of Burgh Island with its white art deco hotel shimmering in the sunshine.

There are several family groups on the beach today. It’s half term and children are enjoying building sand castles; some are even paddling. One large group pass us, body boards slung over shoulders. The strandline spreads in a wide semi-circle across the beach with increasing amounts of seaweed towards the eastern side. I spend some time poking around with a walking pole examining the strandline debris. There’s not much large plastic waste but I do see small fragments over most of the beach, some gradually disappearing under wind-blown dry sand.

I notice a young woman nearby with her children, all clad for arctic weather. She’s looking in my direction and eventually comes over to enquire kindly:

“Have you lost something?”

“No, I am actually looking for something.”

I open my hand to show her the few plastic pellets I have found on the beach: “I’m looking for these.” Her children also want to look. “Some of them are nurdles, the raw material of the plastics industry.”

“Yes, I’ve heard about them” she replies

She continues: “Did you see about the palm oil on the beaches, apparently it’s completely legal for ships carrying palm oil to flush out their holds into the sea. Several dogs have died eating lumps of the stuff washed up on beaches.”

We talk for a while and then she wishes me good luck in my hunt, telling me to make sure I publicise what I find.

A high-pitched “peep, peep” announces the arrival of several rock pipits skittering around on the beach, looking for insects in the seaweed. They swoop around like wagtails, even wagging a little when they land.

It’s cold on the beach so we head up along the coast path that follows the edge of the cliffs at the eastern side of the beach. The path is busy with families and dogs and, after heavy overnight rain, it’s muddy and slippery. As we gain height we get better views of the waves approaching the beach in wide, white-fringed, concentric arcs.

The path levels out to snake eastwards, roughly following the line of the cliffs. It’s being continually re-routed inland because of “activity” in the cliffs and we notice deep red-rock fissures where the cliff will eventually fall away. Thurlestone Bay with its distinctive stone arch is laid out ahead of us, the sea dominated by a silvery mirror spread by the low sun. We look downwards to buff-yellow sandy beaches criss-crossed with anonymous footprints and to dark rocks where the water boils and spray shoots upwards as the waves rush inwards. Oystercatchers add their yearning cries to the atmosphere.

Thick tussocky grass fringes the path and starry yellow celandines are starting to show, with the occasional gorse bush continuing the colour theme. A large black beetle, about 2cm long, makes its unsteady way across the path. In the sunshine I see hints of iridescent blue from its back and from its distinctive wire-wound legs. This is a Bloody-nosed Beetle; later we see another and I wonder how many are squashed by walkers gazing at the views. The same may be true about two large caterpillars we encounter later. About three times the length of the beetle, they are covered in thick wiry hair, bright orange-brown above and mid brown below. These striking creatures are larvae of the Fox Moth taking advantage of some winter sunshine.

We catch fragments of conversation from passing walkers, minor insights into other lives. Then ahead I see a young man sprawled on the grass by the path. Has he slipped on the mud and hurt himself? No, he is checking his phone messages!

For some distance the coast path follows the edge of the golf course. Signs helpfully warn us to watch out for flying golf balls but today there are few players and after passing the Club House we reach Leas Foot Sands, a pleasant sheltered sandy beach and lunch stop. We see the usual bits and pieces of plastic rope and twine but the beach appears relatively clean today compared with previous visits. Sea mayweed, with its fleshy green foliage, is growing well at the back of the beach accompanied by plastic fragments blown into the grass behind the dunes. Hazel discovers a crack in the rocks on the west side of the beach where many different kinds of industrial plastic pellet have collected.

After lunch we retrace our steps along the cliffs passing a male stonechat sitting on a bush flicking his tail and displaying his snowy white collar. The wind is stronger and colder, and water and waves are now coming within striking distance of the dunes at Bantham. Two kite surfers enjoy the white water, zipping back and forth. Occasionally, like watery ballet dancers, they leap into the air as the wind shifts.

We visited Bantham on February 15th 2018

Looking eastwards from the coast path above Bantham
Looking eastwards from the coast path above Bantham

 

A fissure in the active cliffs above Bantham
A red-rock fissure in the cliff top above Bantham

 

Coast path above Bantham
Approaching the golf course on the coast path between Bantham and Thurlestone

 

Bloody-nosed Beetle near Bantham Beach
Bloody-nosed Beetle (photo by Hazel Strange)

 

Fox Moth caterpillar
Fox Moth caterpillar

 

Looking towards Thurelstone Rock and Bolt Tail from Leas Foot Sands
Leas Foot Sands looking towards Thurlestone Rock and Bolt Tail

 

Plastic pellets found at Leas Foot Sands

 

 

Bantham Beach high tide
Approaching Bantham at high tide