Tag Archives: hoverflies

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.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Magical midsummer meadows

Last summer, on one of the hottest days of the year, I joined a walk led by Nick Gray of the Dorset Wildlife Trust through some traditionally managed meadows in Dorset’s Marshwood Vale. We found fields filled with lush grasses, colourful wild flowers and a profusion of insects. This outpouring of joyous, exuberant growth seemed to embody the essence of high summer and the walk turned out to be one of my wildlife highlights of 2018.

Marshwood meadow 2
Lush grasses in the meadow

 

We started from Babers Farm below the village of Marshwood and, after a short walk across several fields clad only in a veneer of golden stubble, we crossed a field boundary to enter another world. Here a thick carpet of knee-high grasses dominated the sward, still green despite the long spell of hot weather. Richly coloured flowers were woven into the grassy fabric and many small brown butterflies danced among the seed heads. A transient flash of orange was probably a silver-washed fritillary butterfly. Grasshoppers leapt from the grass in broad arcs as we walked and brightly coloured insects fed from the flowers. As I looked up at the bowl of hills surrounding the Vale, a kestrel, pale brown in this brash light, swept silently across the field. It was the perfect summer moment.

Perhaps it was a reaction to all the doom and gloom I had been hearing about our treatment of the environment and the resulting loss of wildlife? Perhaps it was a deeply buried childhood memory of family picnics among flowers on Dorset hills? Perhaps it was simply all the natural beauty around me? Whatever the reason, it felt, for a few moments, as though this was the only place in the world I wanted to be.

These meadows are managed under a higher-level stewardship scheme which pays for the loss of income incurred through traditional, less intensive land cultivation. The meadow flowers and grasses grow during the warmth and wet of spring and summer and hay is cut and removed in mid-July when flowers have mostly set seed. The aftermath growth is grazed by animals in the autumn after which the land is left until the following spring. It was the last day of June when we visited and high summer sees these meadows liberally studded with the flattened white umbels of corky-fruited water dropwort, a member of the carrot family and a Dorset speciality but rare elsewhere. The flowers were very popular with insects, especially hoverflies which buzzed loudly in small groups while hovering by the flowers in a courtship display. A female would sit on a flower head while a male hovered above her; sometimes another male would hover above the first in a “stack”.

The bright yellow slipper-like flowers of bird’s foot trefoil were also very common in the meadows, sometimes growing so prolifically that the flowers merged into drifts of sunny colour. This is such a common flower that we tend to overlook it but perhaps its very familiarity leads to the many popular names attached to the plant such as eggs and bacon, hen and chickens or granny’s toenails. Nick also told us that the plant may have useful anti-worming properties if consumed by sheep.

Dotted around the meadows, sometimes in large clumps, were the unruly purple flowers of knapweed. These are popular with nectaring insects and I saw a colourful burnet moth and several marbled white butterflies. Knapweed is also one of the plants with the popular name of Bachelor’s Buttons and Nick told us how, in the past, young women played a love-divination game with the flower heads. A young woman wanting to know if her affections would be returned took a knapweed flower head and plucked off the open florets. She placed the flower head inside her blouse and if, after an hour, new florets had opened, then her love would be reciprocated.

Here is the story told by John Clare in his poem “May” from the Shepherd’s Calendar:

They pull the little blossom threads
From out the knapweeds button heads
And put the husk wi many a smile
In their white bosoms for awhile
Who if they guess aright the swain
That loves sweet fancys trys to gain
Tis said that ere its lain an hour
Twill blossom wi a second flower
And from her white breasts hankerchief
Bloom as they ne’er had lost a leaf

A short walk across open countryside took us southwards towards the centre of the Vale, where we found another large traditionally managed meadow. As before, a rich mixture of thick grasses and colourful flowers dominated but I was surprised to find drifts of yellow rattle and a few orchids, looking rather the worse for wear. I began to realise that each meadow has its own character, its own flora, its own colours reflecting the underlying geology and dampness.

Several recent studies have highlighted the decline of insect and bird life in the UK. Factors contributing to this decline include climate change, habitat loss, pollution and pesticide use. For example, the 97% loss of flower-rich hay meadows in the UK during the 20th century linked to agricultural intensification must have seriously affected insect populations as well as birds dependent on insects for food. Some have gone so far as to suggest that unless we modify farming methods, we shall face “Insect Armageddon”. This needs to be taken seriously owing to the important role insects play in, for example, maintaining soil health, digesting waste and pollinating our fruit and flowers.

The meadows that I visited last summer in the Marshwood Vale send a positive message showing that, with careful management, these important habitats can be restored to their former glory, supporting insects and providing food for birds. In more good news, the Magical Marshwood Vale Project (funded by National Grid and coordinated by Dorset AONB and Dorset Wildlife Trust) started in 2018 with the aim of enhancing traditional landscape features and helping to reinstate ecologically important wildlife habitats. This includes the restoration of more wildflower meadows.

I should like to thank Nick Gray for his advice and enthusiasm.

Black and yellow long-horn beetle on corky-fruited water dropwort, The beetle has lost nearly all of one antenna.
Black and yellow long-horn beetle on corky-fruited water dropwort, The beetle has lost nearly all of one antenna.

 

Swollen thighed beetle on corky-fruited water dropwort
Swollen thighed beetle on corky-fruited water dropwort

 

Birds foot trefoil
Bird’s foot trefoil (with a green insect on the upper right hand side of the picture)

 

Marbled white butterfly on knapweed
Marbled white butterfly on knapweed

 

Burnet moth on knapweed
Burnet moth on knapweed

 

Meadow Grasshopper
Meadow Grasshopper

 

This article appeared in the January 2019 edition of the Marshwood Vale Magazine.

Oh I do like the bees beside the seaside!

Sea, surf, sand and sunshine: this is the exotic scene a few days ago at Bantham in South Devon. Here the River Avon ends its journey from Dartmoor to the sea giving rise to South Devon’s top surfing beach. The green, rocky outcrop in the estuary is Burgh Island providing a surreal setting for its art deco hotel which has, over the years, welcomed the rich and famous as well as inspiring two of Agatha Christie’s murder mysteries. The views are spectacular and this is a frequently painted and frequently photographed spot.

Bantham enjoys a mild climate and I had come here to see what flowers were still showing and what insects were about. In Totnes, about 15 miles inland, there are few flowers left for the bees and other insects. Globe thistle has been very popular with bumblebees but is almost over, sedum is still thronged with honeybees and there is Himalayan balsam by the river but that’s about it. The huge banks of ivy dotted around the town promise food but don’t yet deliver. They may be covered with their grey-green lollipop flower heads but in Totnes these stay firmly closed.

Burgh Island over cliffs
Burgh Island from the cliffs showing the art deco hotel

 

At Bantham, I follow the coast path up the cliff where there are good views of the bay. There are a few flowers about and I notice a solitary bee and a few small flies on a tall dandelion-like plant that I think is Hawkweed. Some yellow vetch lights up the grass but few other flowers are showing.

Bee on Hawkweed 1
Solitary bee on dandelion-like flower, possibly Hawkweed

 

Soapwort at Bantham
Soapwort (double flowered)

 

adders
You have been warned!

 

Behind the beach there are marram grass-clothed sand dunes dotted with flowers of evening primrose and soapwort. I see a stonechat twitching its tale but I don’t see any insects. We walk cautiously here, chastened by the many signs warning us of adders. I jump when I almost tread on a slow worm but, judging from the speed of its disappearance, it also gets a fright.

River Avon at Bantham
The River Avon as it meanders along the edge of the Ham where much of the ivy is found

 

Back from the dunes is a large tongue of land bordered on one side by the river Avon as it makes one final meander before meeting the sea. This is the Ham where there are huge banks of ivy and this is where I get my next surprise. The first stand of ivy that we encounter has a small but noisy cloud of insects above it showing us that at least the top of the bush is in flower. Large parts of the bush are still waiting to blossom so this must be a very recent flowering. Among the insects enjoying the ivy flower cafe, I notice many small flies and some chunky hoverflies. I also see, and this is the big surprise given that we are still early September, many large, crescent-shaped ivy bees (Colletes hederae) jostling for position on the few ivy flower heads available. The bees look very fresh, each with its black and yellow-striped abdomen, russet-haired thorax and prominent antennae. I assume these are recently emerged males, now feeding and getting ready to mate once the females appear.

Ivy Bee 4
Ivy bees on ivy

 

Walking round the Ham we come across more ivy and more ivy bees. There must be thousands of bees here and that implies a large aggregation of nests. Although I look in all the likely places, the nests prove elusive and I can’t locate them; there are large tracts of land that I can’t access, so I assume they nest there.

Ivy Bee 3
Jostling for position

 

Ivy bee and red admiral
Ivy bee with red admiral

 

I hadn’t expected to see ivy bees on September 10th; I hadn’t expected to find ivy in flower. The mild seaside climate must encourage the ivy flowers and the bees synchronise their cycle accordingly. I felt quite smug for a while having made such “early” observations of Colletes hederae but then I read a report on the BWARS Facebook page of ivy bees a few miles west of Bantham dated September 1st !

Bantham boat house figure
Lady Franklin’s figurehead

 

During my nest-searching, I drop down to Bantham quay by the river where there is a boat house, built in 1937 to commemorate the coronation of George VI. Two striking figureheads adorn the corners of this building; one of these is of Lady Jane Franklin, looking wistfully out to sea. Her figurehead is Victorian, coming from a ship she financed in memory of her husband, Sir John Franklin who died attempting to navigate the Northwest Passage.

Bantham boat house plaque
The story of Lady Franklin’s figurehead

 

With the retreat of the arctic ice cap and global climate change, the Northwest Passage will probably now become navigable for some months each year. Although this may open new trade routes it also increases the danger of damage to the pristine arctic environment.

The title of this post comes from a song, well known in the UK, here is a video clip:

Watering cans, wild flowers and swifts – looking back at the Garden in July

At this time of year, only a small corner of the Leechwell Garden is visible from our kitchen window; the rest is obscured by the thick green wall erected by the trees. I can still see the three silver birches, also two of the benches and the lower part of the water course, popular with young children who like to paddle, especially during the hot weather we experienced this July.

July 14 5
red valerian in seed

There had been storms about and we did hear distant rumbles of thunder on more than one occasion but in Totnes this month there was little or no rain for more than three weeks. With the sultry temperatures everything began to look rather parched. Many of the flowers on the red valerian lining the paths near the Garden turned to seed; this felt earlier than previous years. The plants acquired a downy covering of numerous seeds equipped with small parachutes to aid windborne dispersal; no wonder it grows everywhere. I was also surprised to see ripe blackberries – in my mind blackberries are a feature of autumn.

July 14 6
blackberries

The swifts were an almost constant feature this month, shrieking over the Leechwell Garden morning and evening. Typically there were ten or so probing the air above the Garden looking for insects. On the 21st, the swift spectacular stepped up a notch and we counted more than 40 that evening. I had noticed flying ants in our garden so I wondered if the extra food had attracted the birds.

swifts over Totnes
swifts over the Garden

What is it about the swifts that captures our attention? We have to look, we have to try to count. They speed past our house, they manoeuvre, change course quickly and regroup like miniature spitfires in an old Battle of Britain film. But suddenly, on the 28th we noticed their absence. They had gone, making their way back to Africa for the winter. We miss them.

Down in the Leechwell Garden, one problem this July has been the lack of easily accessible water. There was no actual shortage; water flows freely through the garden but it has to be carried some distance as there are no taps. This was the first prolonged dry spell for some years and I sensed that plant growth was being affected. The Garden volunteers came up with the clever idea of providing watering cans for visitors so that, as they looked around, they could also water the plants. Some of the watering cans are child-sized so watering can become a game.

July 14 4
The pergola with clematis Perle d’Azur and lavender. The notice urges visitors to help with watering.

On the pergola, purple seemed to be the colour of the month. The later flowering clematis showed well and the path was lined with burgeoning banks of lavender.

July 14 1
wild flower bank

At the far end of the pergola there is a long wild flower bank. This has been carefully planted and showed a fine mixture of native plants in July – I saw proud yellow-flowered stems of mullein, floppy flowers of evening primrose, peering ox eye daisies, wild marjoram, musk mallow, knapweed, and, towering above them all, spindly purple-flowered verbena bonariensis (native to South America).

July 14 9
marjoram

It’s very good to see the wild flower bank as it’s one way to provide extra habitat for pollinators. I saw plenty of insects there in the morning but later they seemed to desert this part of the Garden for the attractions of other flowers. One of the competitors was a large patch of golden marjoram covered with white flowers; on sunny afternoons this positively pulsated with honeybees and hoverflies. The beautiful borage also continued to flower well and its starry blooms were well used by bumble bees.

July 14 3
borage

July 14 7
borage with bumblebee

 

I want to finish with more pictures of bees and flowers.

 

July 14 8
scabious with honeybee

July 14 2
I found this marigold with a bee turning in circles rubbing its abdomen around the flower centre. I think this might have been a leaf-cutter bee. I hope so.

The picture of the swifts was taken by Hazel Strange.