November 2018 -- Field maple and cormorants

Field Maple

It is generally acknowledged that butterfly numbers are in decline and it has been quite an event this year to see a Red Admiral or a Small Tortoiseshell. Few and far between have been Comma butterflies. These are of a deep orange colour, their scalloped wing edges giving the impression that they have been produced by means of origami, as if cut from a folded piece of paper which is then opened out flat. The name Comma comes from a white marking on the hind wing, and I am always pleased to see one. Imagine my surprise when, on a recent glorious afternoon in the wildlife area at Strinesdale upper reservoir I moved towards a fine colony of Michaelmas daisies to see upwards of two dozen Commas flitting about on the pale blue flowers. ‘The singularly jagged outline of this butterfly at once distinguishes it from every other native species’ says Colman’s Book of British Butterflies (1895).

     Yesterday I visited Castleshaw reservoirs at Delph. As I drove along the lane to the car park it was noticeable that a large number of thrushes adorned the telephone wires overhead. A sure sign of Autumn — visiting birds from the harsher climes of Scandinavia. A few had settled on a fence and, when disturbed, transferred to a stilted and windblasted Hawthorn tree laden with ripe fruit. The soft greys and browns of their plumage identified them as Fieldfares; thrushes that had crossed the North Sea to reach winter sustenance.

     The extensive sky above the reservoirs looked wonderful — a vast canvas of assorted greys streaked with white. The lower reservoir was being lashed by part of storm Callum and a Heron shot upwards before veering off at a wild angle. A kestrel somehow hovered into the gale and on the far bank a group of Cormorants stood braced against the wind, all facing in the same direction like football supporters during a slow game. The water level is still low, with a margin of exposed mud at the edge. Small flocks of Lapwings were pecking at this, looking supremely elegant in the soft light with plumage of a muted jade green.

     The handsome conical tree in front of the Church is a Field Maple, the timber of which was once greatly valued by craftsmen. A gentleman writer called John Evelyn published a book on trees in 1664 in which he summed up Maple wood’s qualities:– ‘For all uses of the turner, who seeks it for dishes, cups, trays, trenchers, etc., as for the joiner for tables, inlaying, and for the delicateness of the grain, when the knurs and nodosities are rarely diapered, (i.e. intricately patterned GL) which does much to advance its price.’

December 2018 -- Salvia and a tawny owl

Tawny Owl

Perhaps because I grew up reading the First World War adventures of Biggles, Pioneer Air Fighter (written by Capt. W.E Johns), I like to see birds in flight. For sheer aerobatic skill you have to applaud the Sparrowhawk. They certainly can execute an Immelmann Turn, the famous combat manoeuvre of the early air aces. Sometimes we see one from the house, settled on a roof or flickering like a dark flame along the street. Towards the end of October I was walking up from the Strinesdale car park towards the treatment works when I heard coming from the trees the shrill gibber of a  Sparrowhawk, backed up by the harsh scrape of a Jay and the insistent chatter of a Magpie. Peering towards the sound I could see a rounded brown bird firmly ensconced in the low fork of a tree. This young Tawny Owl was seeking to establish a territory but finding the other residents less than friendly. Disturbed by my presence the hawk dashingly flapped away through a space between the branches while the owl turned slowly to reveal those large eyes set in a circular face. It then flew in front of me and away. If Tawny Owls could charge for all the sound effects they supply for nocturnal drama scenes …

     How the autumn light enhances colours. I was watching a group of Blue Tits pecking at the grey stems of a Cotoneaster shrub, the leaves of which had turned a fiery red. The birds looked softly vibrant against the other shades —the perfect subjects for a Japanese print-maker. Reading from (the still unsurpassed) The Natural History of Selbourne written in the eighteenth century by Gilbert White, I noticed that he refers to Blue Tits as ‘nuns’. I do wonder why.

     Among the new wave of highly desirable Salvia garden plants from South America one stands out by virtue of the vivid tone of its purple flowers  borne over a long period. It is reported that this variety, called  ‘Amistad’, was discovered being offered for sale in a remote part of Argentina before it was sent to a commercial grower in the U.K. The name is said to mean ‘friendship’.

January 2019 -- Jews-ear fungi and lichen

Jews-ear fungi

On bright autumn days clear and carrying bird calls have been ringing out on Waterworks Road. and further up towards the reservoirs — the sound of the Nuthatch. A loud chatter is followed by a pure bubbling song that is particularly appealing. Small and highly active, Nuthatches are supremely agile and sturdy. Blue-grey above and warm yellow below they have powerful gripping feet enabling them to scurry down tree trunks as well as climb upwards. On garden feeders they retain command of the peanuts by bossily shouldering away other birds. After listening for a while I was able to see one as it busily tore into some lichen growing on an old sycamore, presumably searching out insects. Lichens are intriguing in themselves being complex organisms, and being found growing in abundance at Strinesdale indicate that the air is very clean. One delicate species resembles small grey-green wigs hanging on lower tree branches.

     Later that same day … a glorious sunny afternoon. As I was passing the treatment works, I glanced into the culvert now choked with weeds and adorned with plastic bottles. There must still be enough small fish in the water to support life because a Kingfisher shot away at full throttle. In these circumstances the back of the bird appears
as a diamond-shaped turquoise panel, the wings like dark fans. The great thing on this occasion was the sound of those wings, a powerful whirring resonance perhaps amplified by the stonework. 

     Autumn woodland demonstrates very effectively how everything in nature is constantly recycled by a largely unseen set of processes. The leaves fall to be acted upon by countless bacteria, fungi, and insects. Birds root for worms in the leaf litter and all is broken down to feed growing plants. Dead wood is reduced by fungi growing on and within the timber. One fungus easy to find in our area is the Jews-ear. This jelly-like being has been taken up by foragers, who say that it can be eaten when well-cooked. The name derives from an ancient legend which asserts that Judas hanged himself on an elder tree, Jews ear being often found growing on elder. 

     A fern thrives on a dead branch. Strinesdale.