Tag Archives: primroses

An otter in a tree? – Lockdown Nature Walks 16

With Lockdown easing in the UK, this is the last Lockdown Nature Walk of this series.  I wanted to see how spring was progressing along a typical Devon country lane. So, on a mild day with intermittent sunshine and a light wind, I walked up Harper’s Hill on the western side of Totnes (as in Lockdown Nature Walk 7) to reach Jackman’s Lane and the ridgeway road.  It was an interesting walk but not always in the way I had anticipated.   After the account of my walk, I have included a relevant poem, “The Trees” by Philip Larkin

The prominent sign at the start of Jackman’s Lane proclaimed “Unmetalled Road” and the hard-packed, rutted, reddish soil base of the track showed evidence of regular use by farm vehicles and horses.  I made slow progress along the lane, examining the soil banks lining the track, occasionally pausing to enjoy the views across rolling countryside with fields and trees.  Skylarks sang their endlessly inventive songs overhead, plump queen bumblebees buzzed along the hedges and the wind carried the sound of a tractor.  Spring flowers decorated the soil banks including primroses, celandine, violets and stitchwort.  Nettles grew in a profusion of green together with thuggish hogweed leaves while the heavily flailed woody stems along the hedge tops were only just shooting.    

Then on a narrow ledge surrounded and almost hidden by grasses, my attention was captured by a flash of a different green, a silvery green.  When I looked carefully, I saw a fine lizard curled up neatly and basking in a shaft of warm sunshine (see picture at the head of this post).  The reptile was about 12cm long, a common lizard (Zootoca vivipara) with a complex pattern of black swirls and dots along its body.   The colours of common lizards vary and local expert, John Walters told me that the green colour probably helps the creature to avoid predators in this grassy environment. 

As I watched the lizard, I saw it eyeing me warily, so I left it in peace and carried on down the lane.  Butterflies occasionally surprised me by erupting from the track where they had been basking, rising too quickly to identify.  Then two of these insects materialised above me, dancing in the air, turning circles around each other before one fell to the ground just behind the left-hand bank.  I scrambled up and recognised it as a small tortoiseshell (Aglais urticae) with its brilliant orange, yellow and black markings.  It seemed to be fluttering its wings repeatedly as it danced above some young nettle leaves.  Was this a form of courtship behaviour? 

I continued to see or hear bumblebees as I walked and then towards the end of the lane, hoverflies began to appear.  Some were flying about but most were quietly basking on exposed leaves in the sunshine.  The hoverflies that I saw that day were all of the same species, the tapered drone fly (Eristalis pertinax), a mixture of males and females.   The more I look at hoverflies, the more I appreciate the beauty of these creatures and I hope the photos posted below show this.  Look, for example, at their wings which resemble panes of crazed glass and the neat bands of hair decorating their thorax and abdomen.

As I was watching the hoverflies, I heard a familiar but not entirely welcome sound.  Turning to look back down the lane, I glimpsed a galloping horse and rider approaching at speed.  I moved to the edge of the track to make way but the horse slowed down and walked past me.  I thanked the rider but she said nothing.  I may have spoiled her planned gallop along this unpaved country track!

Jackman’s Lane ended and I turned right along the ridgeway road in the direction of Totnes.  Views to the north across the valley below were hazy and Dartmoor lay invisible in the mist that enveloped the distant hills.  A farmer was treating the nearby fields with chemical fertiliser while ploughing the upper surface of the red Devon soil.  A plume of dust accompanied his tractor, so I walked on quickly. 

The ridgeway road runs roughly eastward so that the soil bank on one side is south facing, getting the benefit of the sun when it shines and encouraging growth.  Many flowers will appear here later in spring and even that day, I saw more here than along Jackman’s Lane including three members of the dead-nettle family. 

White dead-nettle was one of these with its hooded, slightly hairy flowers spreading splashes of snowy white among the lush greenery covering the bank.  A few red dead-nettle flowers had just pushed through the grasses and there were drifts of yellow archangel, a member of the family that has the look of a yellow dead-nettle.  Two kinds of yellow archangel grew on the soil bank, the wild flower with its all-green leaves and the garden throw out (argentatum) with silvery green leaves.  The garden variety blooms earlier and spreads more aggressively than its wild counterpart and it had formed a large yellow mat along one edge of the ridgeway road. 

The flowers of members of the dead-nettle family are similar with a wide lower lip like a landing pad to attract pollinators, sometimes marked with abstract patterns.  Above the lip is a hood concealing stamens that close over the inquisitive insect so that, when it leaves, it takes away some pollen to fertilise the next flower it visits.  Several common carder bee queens (Bombus pascuorum), some of the first I had seen this year, were taking advantage of the flowers.

While I was watching the bees, I became aware of a motor scooter that had slowed down and turned on the road behind me.  The scooter drew up at my side, stopped and the rider, an older man, swathed in coats and a large crash helmet, asked:

“Are you going towards Bowden?”

I thought he wanted directions and replied “Sort of”.

“Have you seen the otter in the tree?” he asked.

“What! An otter in a tree, it must be dead?” I replied in surprise.

“No, no”, he must have thought I was stupid, “it’s part of the tree, its uncanny how it looks like an otter, I am surprised more fuss hasn’t been made about it”.

He told me in some detail how to find it and I agreed to look.  

As he was getting ready to go, he looked at me oddly and asked “What’s a farmer’s favourite sport?”

“I have no idea. What is farmer’s favourite sport”, this was becoming surreal.

He revved up, looked fixedly at me again and, as he accelerated away, blurted out “fencing!”. 

I walked on and near the junction with the Ashprington road I could see the tree and the arboreal otter.  It was indeed an uncanny likeness. 

It was only then that I remembered it was April 1st but I haven’t made this story up, all this really did happen.

The otter in the tree

…………………………………..

“The Trees” by Philip Larkin

The trees are coming into leaf
Like something almost being said;
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.

Is it that they are born again
And we grow old? No, they die too.
Their yearly trick of looking new
Is written down in rings of grain.

Yet still the unresting castles thresh
In fullgrown thickness every May.
Last year is dead, they seem to say,
Begin afresh, afresh, afresh.

…………………………………..

stitchwort
violet
small tortoiseshell butterfly on nettles
female hoverfly (eristalis pertinax), the eyes don’t meet in the middle of the head so this is a female
male hoverfly (eristalis pertinax), the eyes meet in the middle of the head so this is a male
white dead-nettle with common carder bee (Bombus pascuorum)
yellow archangel with common carder bee (Bombus pascuorum)

Hope and Loss along a Devon country lane – Lockdown Nature Walks 13

For my next Lockdown Nature Walk (taken on February 10th 2021), I went up Fishchowter’s Lane, an ancient track on the southern side of Totnes.  It was a very cold, grey day but I found much that was encouraging and some that wasn’t.  After my account of the walk, I have included a poem that feels relevant, “A Backward Spring” by Thomas Hardy.   

An open part of Fishchowter’s Lane showing the ferns and wall pennywort growing along the soil banks

A jumble of bright green, grass-like leaves spills along a roadside wall near the beginning of Fishchowter’s Lane on the southern edge of Totnes.  This is three-cornered garlic and despite the bitter easterly wind, a flower stem has dared to appear among the leaves.  Most of the flowers on the stem are still swathed in a pale papery bract but one has escaped, snowy white with a hint of a pale green stripe. For a moment, this fragile flower holds my hope that spring, when it arrives, might lighten this lockdown making it easier to bear.

I begin to walk up the lane past houses and a former quarry, now a dark, fern-fringed grotto occasionally used by a wood worker.  Trees grow within the quarry and a group of small birds fusses in the leafless branches.  One of these trees, a hazel, drapes over my path casting a mist of yellow catkins that shimmers in the wind.

The lane rises gently along the side of a grassy valley as it enters open countryside and I begin to be aware of a stream rushing along the valley bottom a little way below.   I am used to mud on this path but with the recent spell of cold weather, it has frozen hard with reminders of that morning’s snow caught in crevices.     At first the lane feels open with views across nearby fields in the valley but soon the character changes.  Trees and scrub growing in the path-side soil banks now cover the track giving it a more enclosed, sheltered feel.  By late spring, fresh leaves will have created a mysterious green tunnel here but today some light still gets through.  With the overcast conditions, though, this is a poor flat light and everything feels rather gloomy. 

Despite this, the enclosed track has a feeling of lush green growth.  Ferns and wall pennywort cover large areas of the soil banks and have yet to be touched by the cold weather.  Shiny arrow head-shaped leaves push up through the soil on the banks and by the path side, some with prominent black spots.  These are the leaves of Lords and Ladies whose beacons of orange-red berries will light up the green tunnel in late summer. Groups of pointed leaves like small spears, some spattered with mud are also emerging through the hard soil along the side of the path. Breaking a piece of leaf releases a sharp oniony smell transporting me forwards to a time when these starry-flowered ramsons will capture the edges of the track.  Then further along, green mats of oval wavy-edged leaves cover the bank.   This is opposite-leaved golden saxifrage an evergreen, damp and shade-loving plant.  A few yellow flower stems are already showing, bringing hints of sunshine to the dark track.

The path continues to climb slowly, sometimes enclosed by trees, sometimes more open.  A stream running off a steeply sloping field crosses the lane to join the water in the valley and I pass an organic smallholding before the lane rises again to reach a junction where another path crosses at right angles.  The junction is set in a peaceful tree-lined glade where water cascades from fields across rocks and old tree stumps before entering a culvert to hurry downhill towards the valley stream.  I stand there for a while listening to the ebb and flow of the watery sounds and I try to imagine the people that have walked this way over the years.   I also reflect on how, if you walk a path regularly, it can insinuate itself into your life.

Fishchowter’s Lane leaves the tree-lined glade to head steeply upwards across the side of a rising hillside.  The path is enclosed by scrub and mature trees and feels rather bleak today.  As I climb, the noise of the wind threading through the trees begins to dominate and apart from wall pennywort growing on the soil banks there is little to see except for a few green spikes that may be bluebells. In compensation, the views to the north become increasingly spectacular, across the valley below, to the town of Totnes and further on to the Dartmoor hills.  

The lane climbs about 75metres from the watery glade in a short distance so I am relieved when the track levels out.  This part of Fishchowter’s Lane is open and airy in spring and summer, its high hedges richly embroidered with wildflowers.  Today, though, the plants growing along the banks look damaged.  Foxgloves and wall pennywort show this most with their leaves drooping uncharacteristically.  I am puzzled by this at first but decide that the recent high winds from the east combined with persistent low temperatures have damaged the lush leaves of plants that grew well in the earlier mild weather. It looks alarming and although it may set back these plants, they will recover and regrow so I press on to the next junction where I turn left along Bowden Lane. 

This is a well-used farm track, scarred with deep muddy ruts glinting with shards of ice.  It’s another mass of growth in the warmer seasons, abounding with flowers and insects but today it looks apocalyptic.  The farmer appears to have decided to rein in the vegetation, flailing the hedge and plants growing there, spreading the cuttings across the high banks that line the lane.  A thick brown layer of coarse fragments of wood and leaves covers both sides smothering any new growth, so that the lane looks dead.    I don’t hang around here, there is nothing to see, the wind is bitter and a little snow is now falling.   The lane ends at a four-way junction and I walk on to the minor road which allows me to descend along Totnes Down Hill.  Primroses with their yellow flowers are showing well in the high banks but it is very exposed with more evidence of wind damage.

So, what about my earlier hopes for the arrival of spring? With all this natural and unnatural destruction, all this loss, I can’t help but feel downcast but then I come across a splash of snowdrops growing by the side of the road.  As I look at the delicate green markings on these flowers, a great tit sings a joyful “teacher, teacher” from a nearby tree and then a robin appears.  Not wishing to be left out, the bird begins to speak to me.

……………………………………………………………….

A Backward Spring by Thomas Hardy

The trees are afraid to put forth buds,
 And there is timidity in the grass;
 The plots lie gray where gouged by spuds,
  And whether next week will pass
 Free of sly sour winds is the fret of each bush
  Of barberry waiting to bloom.

 Yet the snowdrop’s face betrays no gloom,
 And the primrose pants in its heedless push,
 Though the myrtle asks if it’s worth the fight
  This year with frost and rime
  To venture one more time
 On delicate leaves and buttons of white
 From the selfsame bough as at last year’s prime,
 And never to ruminate on or remember
 What happened to it in mid-December.

……………………………………………..

Leaves of Lords and Ladies

Green spears of ramsons coming through the hard soil at the path edge

Opposite leaved golden saxifrage showing the leaves and some flower stems with the bright yellow stamens in groups of eight

The view from the high point across the valley to Totnes and Dartmoor

Wall pennywort showing frost and wind damage, also some remnants of snow

Foxglove showing frost and wind damage

View along Bowden Lane with icy, muddy ruts and the banks, flailed and cut

Snowdrops growing along Totnes Down Hill

Pale promises and lambs tails in the late February garden

“The counterfeit gold of February sunshine, making pale promises that can never be fulfilled”

I particularly like this quote from Bob Copper’s book, “A song for every season”, where he writes lyrically about his Sussex farming family and the traditional country songs they sing. On the rare occasions we have seen sunshine this month it’s usually been misleading and rain frequently followed. Heavy showers and pale sunshine then chased one another around the valley below our house, painting the sky with huge rainbows. The clear separation of the seven bands of colour in these rainbows tells us more about the wonders of science than any school physics experiment with a prism.

From my vantage point overlooking the Leechwell Garden, I watch each day for changes. During the month, some of the trees on the edge of the Garden developed a golden sheen. By the end of the month, this sheen acquired texture as if many small brushstrokes had been applied. The brushstrokes were the plump catkins, bursting with fertility but hanging loosely like pale yellow lamb’s tails. On another tree, I noticed the upper branches acquiring a pale ruddy brown glow in the light of the rising sun. I initially imagined vestigial leaves, but in fact there must have been a change in the colour of the upper meshwork of slender branches.

Around 4 pm on better days, the Garden has been taken over by a group of about 10 young boys from the local comprehensive school. They run, jump and tumble their way about the Garden like a litter of puppies. They seem especially keen on a loosely organised game that resembles rugby but without the ball; the main aim seems to be to knock one another over and scramble about on the ground in heaps. They don’t seem to be doing any harm. It all looks great fun and they can work off energy after a day constrained in the classroom.

Feb 2
Pink lungwort

Down in the Garden, the lungwort are single-handedly putting on a valiant show. The pink clump is now covered with flowers, some turning blue. Another clump, also with spotted leaves, shows white flowers and a third clump, with narrow green unspotted leaves, sports mostly blue flowers with a few pink.

Feb 1
White lungwort

Feb 4
Blue lungwort

One of the Garden volunteers told me that lungwort is a favourite of the Hairy-footed Flower Bee, a solitary bee that likes to nest in old walls and in mortar, of which there is plenty in the Garden. She had also just seen a grey wagtail by the running water. I shall have to keep a careful watch for these bees and birds.

Feb 5
A clump of primroses and the Three Guardians sculpture

Elsewhere in the Garden, there are a few snowdrops and celandine in flower and several clumps of primroses, a sure sign that the year is moving on. I have a soft spot for primroses and I remember their pale yellow flowers and delicate stems when, as a child, I picked them from railway embankments of the old Somerset and Dorset Railway. Primroses also grow well in this part of Devon and in the mid 20th century, local Paper Mills sent primrose-posies to their customers to give them “a breath of Devon air”. Children collected the flowers in return for pocket money and vast numbers were picked. The practice was frowned upon by conservation-minded people so in 1977, the paper manufacturers enlisted the help of ecologists from Plymouth Polytechnic to find out if the yearly primrose harvest was damaging the wild primrose. They came to the conclusion that the harvest was an important community event and was organised in a way that was unlikely to affect survival of wild primroses. Despite this, the practice was discontinued a few years later as public attitudes hardened against wild-flower picking.

Feb 3
Some still water – look for the new frogspawn on the right and tadpoles on the left

The frogspawn I mentioned last month disappeared and I thought that was the end for the frogs. My pessimism was misplaced as not only have the frogs been busy laying more spawn but there are now quite a few tadpoles happily swimming about in the still pools of water in the Garden. There’s no sign of legs yet but it’s early days. How many will survive I don’t know but its good to see some hatched.

Towards the end of the month, there have been several days with sunshine and perhaps it’s something about the light but there was a distinct whiff of spring in the air. We shall see!

The photographs were taken on February 24th by Hazel Strange