M is for Moorhen

MOORHEN (GALLINULA CHLOROPUS)

“Look there’s a moorhen.” said my schoolteacher.
“What’s a moorhen?” someone replied
“It’s a little, black duck.” he said.

The Moorhen is not a duck. Neither is it a chicken, but with their cocked tail and habit of strutting and pecking in the grass it is easy to see the resemblance. They are a rail, related to the Coot Fulica atra which they are often confused with.

The moorhen appears black, with a flashing white undertail and white stripe along the wing, but a closer look reveals its wings are dark brown. Offsetting their plumage, their pointed beak is a bright waxy red and yellow (The coot by contrast is all black with a white beak). When on land, the moorhen reveals its long, gangly legs and toes which spread its weight on aquatic vegetation or silty banks and propel it through the water.
The moorhen’s  loud, high-pitched voice is also very distinct. Their explosive ‘Pruuuk!’ call from a hiding place has often made me jump.

Moorhens are a familiar wetland bird, found almost anywhere there is fresh water from park lakes and marshes to small ponds, sometimes in gardens.  They are quite skittish and prefer to stay around bankside plants to hide from predators, though they often venture onto open lawns to feed. They are rarely seen flying, since they usually do it at night.They are generally most active in the evening.
Moorhens are omnivores, eating a variety of foods in water and on land,from algae, shoots, roots, fruits and seeds to invertebrates, small fish and amphibians, and human scraps if available.

For a waterbird, moorhens have unusual habits. They often roost, and even nest in tree branches and during freezing winters they may venture far from water to find food, sometimes ending up around garden bird tables¹.

Added to this, their breeding behaviour is quite remarkable among birds. To the casual observer, everything appears normal, since it is difficult to separate the sexes. Closer study shows that moorhens reverse normal avian gender roles.  It is the male who tends the eggs and young the most, whilst females compete for good father material. The male is also responsible for holding the family’s territory, providing a safe home to rear the chicks².

Another quirk to moorhen family life is cooperative breeding². Young from the year’s first brood may stay and help their parents raise later broods. Only two other British birds are known to do this, the Long-tailed Tit Aegithalos caudatus and the Swallow  Hirundo rustica. The parents obviously benefit from the reduced workload, and more chicks survive, but what’s in it for the stay-at-home teenager? By staying with it’s parents, the cooperative youngster avoids conflict with strangers in other territories, but also indirectly improves its gene pool. Since it shares genes with its younger siblings and can’t breed itself until adulthood, the helper actually improves its lifetime reproductive success (known as its ‘inclusive fitness’). See here for further explanation and photographs of this behaviour.

The moorhen’s nest is made of twigs, other plant parts and often plastic rubbish. It is usually built away from the banks to be out of reach of predators, either in the water or up to 8 metres above it in a tree.  Although it appears messy, the nest is meticulously woven together.
The chicks are very comical with messy black down, partly bald heads and feet that seem too big for their bodies, making them charmingly clumsy walkers. Juvenile moorhens are grey-brown with pale beaks reaching maturity at just one year old.

Though they seem dainty and skittish, Moorhens are ferocious fighters amongst their own kind.  Two aggressors rush towards each other and turn in a head-down display fanning their white undertails to show off their size. If neither backs down, they start a ferocious grapple, clawing each other’s heads and breasts with their long toes like fighting cockerels and ultimately aiming to dunk each other underwater. Most fights you will see during the breeding season are ‘cat fights’ between females over a choice boyfriend, whilst males fight over territory². See a dramatic video of both partners fighting here (video would not embed).

So next time you’re by the water and see a moorhen, look through the unassuming cover and admire the unique bird within, that will do anything for its family.

References

1-      RSPB Community Forum. (2010) Moorhen in the Garden!. Available from: http://www.rspb.org.uk/community/wildlife/homesforwildlife/f/905/p/7822/61771.aspx

2-      Africa Gómez. The surprising Moorhen. Available from: http://therattlingcrow.blogspot.co.uk/2010/03/surprising-moorhen.html

 

L is for Larus

LARUS (Lariid gulls)

Ok, this is cheating. This entry could have been focussed on the Lesser Black Backed Gull Larus fuscus, but it is difficult to talk about this species without comparison to others in the genus*.  

Any trip to the British coast will have a background of ‘gull-ness’, both the soundtrack of their territorial ‘trumpet calls’ and the image of pale ‘V’-shaped birds flying across the blue sea (No ship painting is worth its salt without gulls in), and of course the presence waiting for you to drop a chip. Love them or loathe them, they are the classic sea bird (Indeed the name Larus means ‘a sea bird’) and they add a certain romance to a beach holiday.

But look closer and you’ll notice different species. The larger gulls are distinguishable by the shade of their wings. The classic blue-grey ‘Sea gull’^ᵻ the Herring Gull L. argentatus (meaning ‘decorated with silver’), the darker grey Lesser Black-backed Gull L. fuscus (meany ‘dusky’) and the pitch black, Greater Black-backed Gull L. marinus, the largest gull in the world.  They are fairly similar, with a dagger-like yellow bill, red spot on the lower jaw (which acts as a feeding signal to their young), black-and-white tipped wings and a furrowed brow. The juveniles are a spotty brown. You may see another Lariid, the Common gull L. canus which is smaller with a slimmer, all yellow bill and rounded head. They are named from the middle English meaning plain, not abundant². A recent arrival, The Mediterranean gull L. melanocephalus , has a black head in summer, reduced to a spot in winter and a thick red beak (not to be confused with the black-headed gull Choriocephalus ridibundus).

Of course, you don’t have to go to the coast any more to see gulls in Britain. They’re now common in our cities, parks and rubbish dumps.  Herring gulls only moved into cities during the 1940’s³. Since then both Herring and Lesser Black Backs have increasingly exploited the artificial cliffs of flat-roof buildings for nesting (Much to the dismay of many human occupants), whilst commons forage on playing fields. The Great black-back is more coastal and hasn’t taken to landlubbing ways.

Gulls are able to adapt to new lifestyles with their generalist diet. They are omnivores, gulping down a variety of land and water invertebrates, small vertebrates, some plantstuffs, carrion and human scraps . On the coast they are mainly fish eaters, hence the herring gull was named as feeding flocks signalled the location of herring Clupea spp. shoals to fisherman, whilst the lesser black back was known as the ‘Coddy moddy’ for following young cod Gadus morhua².  Gulls can swallow large fish whole to gorge themselves (I once saw Japanese tourists feed a whole medium battered cod to a herring gull in one!).
The Great black back is a ferocious predator of larger animals including rabbits and seabirds. The common gull takes smaller fish and invertebrates, and unusually eats grain, hence the Devonshire name ‘Barley bird’².
Gulls have developed new behaviours to get their food, such as pirating from other seabirds, pattering the ground with their feet to bring up earthworms, dropping shellfish onto rocks to crack them and puncturing bin bags. They find a bonanza of easy pickings at rubbish dumps, but their adventurous tastes get them into trouble with inedible objects. One gull was found to have swallowed a mobile phone⁴!  The increasing amounts of plastic waste in our oceans is a huge problem for many seabirds.

With gulls increasingly moving into our living space, they seem to be doing well. The Lesser Black Back, traditionally a summer migrant wintering in Southern Europe, is even increasingly staying over⁵. However, the bigger picture is not good. The Herring gull is on the red list of threatened British birds, and the Black-backs and Common are classed as Amber^3,6. Rather than expanding, gulls are being pushed to move inland as overfishing depletes their natural food sources⁷. Whilst landfills once attracted them in needy times, inland gulls are now doing better than coastal dwellers, even though we try to deter them as a nuisance⁷. The fact is, if we want our seaside soundtrack to last, Britain’s gulls need all the support they can get.

*All of Britain’s gulls except the Kittiwake Rissa tridactyla used to be classed in the Larus genus, but a genetic study revealed this to be inaccurate¹. Thus the Black-headed Gull Choriocephalus ridibundus and the Little Gull Hydrocoloeus minutes are now classed separately.

^ᵻThe term 'Seagull' is technically wrong. It is not opposed to anything (i.e. there are no land gulls, river gulls etc) and most gulls do not rely on the sea. It’s often said only to truly apply to the kittiwake, a strictly oceanic species, but the name originally applied to the Common gull².

References

11-      J.-M. Ponsa, A. Hassanina, and P.-A. Crochet. (2005) Phylogenetic relationships within the Laridae (Charadriiformes: Aves) inferred from mitochondrial markers. Available from: http://www.researchgate.net/publication/7692222_Phylogenetic_relationships_within_the_Laridae_%28Charadriiformes_Aves%29_inferred_from_mitochondrial_markers

22-      Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

33-      RSPB. (2013) Advice: Urban Gulls. Available from: http://www.rspb.org.uk/advice/gardening/unwantedvisitors/gulls/urbangulls.aspx

44-     C.J.Camphuysen, S.Boekhout, A.Gronert, V.Hunt , T van Nus. and J. Ouwehand, (2008). Bizarre prey items: odd food choices in herring gulls and lesser black-backed gulls at Texel.  Sula 21, 49-61. Cited by: Darren Naish. (2009) Mobile phones, medals, a doll’s legs, an entire army… is there anything a gull won’t swallow? Available from: http://scienceblogs.com/tetrapodzoology/2009/12/19/gull-swallows-phone/

55-      R.A. Robinson./ (2005) BTO BirdFacts: profiles of birds occurring in Britain & Ireland: Gulls: Lesser Black-backed Gull Larus fuscus   [Linnaeus, 1758]. Available from: http://blx1.bto.org/birdfacts/results/bob5910.htm

66-      R.A. Robinson. (2005) BTO BirdFacts: profiles of birds occurring in Britain & Ireland. (BTO Research Report 407). BTO, Thetford. Available from: http://www.bto.org/birdfacts

77-BBC. (2012) Who What Why: Why are there so many seagulls in cities? BBC News Magazine. Available from: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-19490866

K is for Kingfisher

KINGFISHER (ALCEDO ATTHIS)

The kingfisher is undoubtedly one of Britain’s most beautiful birds. Though usually seen as a metallic blue flash as it whizzes away, this is enough to bring joy to a riverside walk.

The kingfisher’s glimmering plumage is unrivalled amongst British birds.  The contrasting glittering, deep blue-green upperside, orange chest and smart white dashes make this living jewel.  The silvery-turqouise back provides the distinctive gleam from behind. The secret to the kingfisher’s glowing colours is the way their  feather structure reflects light, known as ‘structural colour’, creating their metallic sheen. Without this effect, they would simply be dark brown¹!
Males and females can be told apart by their beak colour. Females have an orange lower jaw, whilst the male’s is completely black.

The kingfisher is fairly common on rivers, streams and lakes, though is rarely seen by most people. Its habit of perching in waterside trees obscures it from the banks and it is more easily seen from the water .  During my time in Worcester with the rowing club, I used to see several kingfishers with each practice, yet I only saw one from the banks.

Appearances aside, the kingfisher certainly lives up to its name with its predatory skill.  They hunt from a perch on a branch or stem(sometimes even a fisherman’s rod!), or sometimes by hovering, over the water.  Seeing into water presents challenges, but the kingfisher overcomes these with eyes which polarize light to neutralise the reflection of the surface, and the mental ability to calculate refraction effect (the bending of light through the water)¹.  Once focussed, the bird dives in like a harpoon up to 25cm deep, locates and grabs its quarry by touch, bobs to the surface and pushes off with its wings back to the perch all in a split second (See this stunning  slow-motion BBC footage of a kingfisher strike).  The kingfisher then bashes its prey against the perch to stun it into submission before swallowing it whole. Their main prey is, of course, small fish though shellfish such as small crustaceans, water beetles and insect larvae are also on the menu ².

Unsurprisingly for such a beautiful bird, the kingfisher has a history of human admiration.
The Ancient Greek Moon Goddess, Alcyone was believed to protect sailors from storms and to be responsible for the yearly resurrection of Zeus. When Zeus defied her power and killed her husband Ceyx at sea with a lightning bolt, Alcyone plunged into the water and the couple were turned into kingfishers. It is from their names that the scientific genus name ‘Alcedo’ derives³.

Alcyone could still control the sea in her feathered form. This gave us the poetic expression ‘Halcyon days’, applying to the real phenomenon of the calming of the Mediterranean sea during midwinter, when it was believed that the kingfisher bred on a floating nest made of fish bones³.

The kingfisher’s real nest is less romantic, but still an incredible feat. Like their relatives, the woodpeckers, kingfishers dig out a nest hole.  They choose a spot of soft exposed river bank, and then fly at it and literally ram it with their beak! Once they have created a hollow, the pair excavates a tunnel about 60–90 cm (24–36 in) long ending in a nest chamber, inclined upwards to protect the nest from rising water levels⁴.
 For such a beautiful bird, the nest is rather sordid, being lined with fish bones and pellets of other indigestible, hard parts of prey engorged by the adults and young ⁴(So at least the Greeks were partly right!). The offspring poo out into the chamber, creating a harsh smell which may deter predators.

Kingfishers are very fecund, producing 2-3 broods a year⁴. To support these families they must maintain a fishing territory, and fights are aggressive to the point of drowning one another!

In Britain, kingfishers were hunted by the Victorians to for ornamental stuffed birds and feather hat decorations, and later water pollution from industrial and agricultural waste caused further declines.  Fortunately, improved water quality means kingfishers are now recovering. Their greatest natural threat is freezing winters, when many migrate to saltier estuaries and coasts.

So next time you walk along a British river, look for this living jewel, perhaps even watch it fishing, and be grateful that this Goddess on the river is rising again.

References

1-BBC Nature (No date). Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://www.bbc.co.uk/nature/life/Common_Kingfisher

 2-Hilary Fry, Kathie Fry and  Alan Harris. (1999) Kingfishers, Bee-eaters and Rollers. London: Christopher Helm. Cited by Wikipedia (2013). Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Kingfisher

3- Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

4-Jeannine Miesle and Avianweb. (No date) Common Kingfisher. Available from: http://www.avianweb.com/commonkingfishers.html

J is for Jackdaw

Jackdaw (Corvus monedula)

It wouldn’t be right to obsess about birds without mentioning a corvid (member of the crow family). Renowned in science for their incredible intelligence and behaviour and in fiction for the folklore they are steeped in.

Of the large, black birds in the genus Corvus, the jackdaw is one of the most recognisable*. It is the smallest of the lot, with a grey bobble head, black cap, pearly white eye and of course it’s distinctive yapping call. They can be found pretty much everywhere except the barren highlands, both as townies and farmland birds, where they are one of the few species benefitting from large intensive fields. They sometimes visit gardens, especially during the breeding season and winter when there is pressure to find food¹.

The Jackdaw’s name attracts a lot of interest since it includes a human one. It is usually explained as imitating their call, but the name is also used to refer to small stature such as the jack snipe (Lymnocryptes minimus).  The ‘daw’ part has a linguistic meaning, referring to ‘someone in low esteem’ possibly due to being common,  and given to thieving precious objects ² (though ‘stealing’ is only practiced by captive corvids).

Like other corvids, jackdaws will eat pretty much anything. Though their stubby beak prevents them probing the soil like other Corvus, it is a powerful tool . I have seen them smashing open conker (Aesculus hippocastanum) shells. They do eat the eggs and young of other birds occasionally, and are apparently useful for controlling feral pigeons in this way³.On garden feeders they can be surprisingly acrobatic.

An acrobatic jackdaw on our fat ball feeder last winter

Jackdaw life revolves around the social scene. They live in flocks, foraging, flying, roosting and nesting together in groups which are often entertaining to watch. Esther Woolfston, admirer of corvids describes how they “dive with their black and sinuous flight, swoop, loop and spiral” through castle ruins⁴ . Within these groups there is a complex social hierarchy, and these interactions were studied very early on, in the 1930’s by Konrad Lorenz. He found that whilst bachelors are dominant over spinsters, females gain equal status as their mates once they pair up.  Individuals use this strict hierarchy, coupled with a varied body language to avoid physical fighting and dominant males often act as peacekeepers⁵.  If a fight does break out, the whole colony gets excited and surrounds them like children at a playground tussle⁶.

The advantage of group living for jackdaws is beyond simple safety in numbers. Group members actively look out for each other. If one is grabbed by a predator, the rest will bear down on the enemy, cawing angrily⁶. Even the passing resemblance of a fluttering black plastic bag to a struggling jackdaw can provoke them⁷. One of their main predators are female Sparrowhawks (Accipiter nisus), which can just about restrain one jackdaw let alone an angry flock.

 Like other corvids, jackdaws mate for life and pairs always stick together, even within the larger flock. They share nesting duties equally, and feed and preen one another. Remarkably, unlike many other ‘monogamous’ birds, Jackdaws don’t cheat on their partners, even though they have plenty of flock mates to choose from⁸ (Male rooks Corvus frugilegus, by contrast, regularly take advantage of neighbouring nesting females)⁹. Young jackdaws even generously offer food to their peers, which helps them make friends¹⁰.

Jackdaws may even be social towards other species. They often roost together with rooks, and the resulting evening flocks are a spectacle of sight and sound. Underlying these are strict rules governing the position of the species and individuals¹¹. Fascinatingly, I met a birdwatcher  who claimed he had seen inter-species play of ‘catch the stick’ between rooks and jackdaws^ᵻ.

The only time Jackdaws show real hostility is when nesting. They nest in holes, a naturally scarce resource, so there is intense competition between pairs. This year’s ‘Springwatch’ focused on a Jackdaw nest that another pair were determinedly trying to oust by harassing the chicks and stealing nesting material. They commonly nest in boxes meant for owls or kestrels (Falco tinnunculus , and will doggedly defend their spot against them.  Most famously, they will use chimney pots, dropping down sticks until they form a platform, one pile measured 2.4m across and 1m high¹. See one here.

Astounding footage of a Jackdaw tenaciuosly defending a next box against a Kestrel that wants it for itself.

With a complex social life and pugnacious attitude, the Jackdaw is definitely deserving of higher esteem than its name suggests. It has been a fascinating bird to research.

*The genus also includes the raven C.corax, Carrion crow C.corone, Hooded crow C.cornix and the Rook C.frugilegus in the UK.

^ᵻ This is not implausible, there are lots of observations of corvids playing.

References

1-BTO (2012). The Crow next ‘daw’: Jackdaw. BirdTable. Available from: http://www.bto.org/sites/default/files/shared_documents/gbw/associated_files/bird-table-70-jackdaw-article.pdf

2- Fransesca Greenoak. (1979) All the Birds of the Air. A. Brown and Sons.

3- Percy Trett. (No date) Jackdaw. Birds of Britain. Available from:  http://www.birdsofbritain.co.uk/bird-guide/jackdaw.asp

4- Esther Woolfston. (2008) Corvus: A Life with Birds. Granta Publications.

5- Konrad Lorenz . (1931) Beiträge zur ethologie sozialer Corvidae. Journal of Ornithology  80, 50-98. Cited by: A. Röell. (1978) Social Behaviour of the Jackdaw, Corvus monedula, in Relation to Its Niche. Behaviour,  64 (1/2), 1-124. Available from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4533862

6-A. Röell. (1978) Social Behaviour of the Jackdaw, Corvus monedula, in Relation to Its Niche. Behaviour,  64 (1/2), 1-124. Available from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4533862
      - (A thorough Paper on Jackdaws and their social behaviour)

7- Konrad Lorenz. (1952). King Solomon’s Ring: New Light on Animal Ways. (Translated from the German by Marjorie Kerr Wilson). Clay and Company, Suffolk.

8- Auguste M. P. von Bayern, Selvino R. de Kort, Nicola S. Clayton and Nathan J. Emery. (2007) 733The role of food- and object-sharing in the development of social bonds in juvenile jackdaws (Corvus monedula). Behaviour, 144 (6), 711- 733. Available from: http://www.jstor.org/stable/4536473

9- Dominic Couzens. (2012) Garden Birds Confidential. Bounty Books.

10- I. G. Henderson, P. J. B. Hart, and T. Burke. (2000). Strict monogamy in a semi-colonial passerine: the Jackdaw Corvus monedula. Journal of Avian Biology, 31 (2), 177–182.
Mentioned by:  Dominic Couzens. (2012) Garden Birds Confidential. Bounty Books.


11- University of Exeter. (2013). How birds of different feathers flock together. Available from: http://www.exeter.ac.uk/news/research/title_271250_en.html 

The Awol EcoGeek

From the viewing figures, it seems that EcoGeek had a small but regular readership, for which I thank you if you are still around, and apologise for my absence. This blog was always a sideline thing to keep me occupied, but recently I’v had several things to do. Before recommencing the Avian Alphabet (J’s entry is written and illustrated), here’s an EcoGeek special of what I’ve been up to.

It’s a messy job, but I’m the one to do it.

The first thing to keep me occupied was a surprise invitation back to University in July, for a special assignment. Somewhere in a remote patch of forest, the landowner introduced sharp-clawed predators that did not belong, in the hopes of providing entertainment to draw in paying customers. But what will happen when they escape? How many will they kill?

No, this isn’t Jurassic Park, but the story of a bird that is so familiar we forget its foreign Asian origins, the humble Pheasant Phasianus colchicus. Non-native species are a hot topic in conservation, and specifically we were trying to assess the impacts of  pheasants on reptile populations.

Pheasants are omnivores and will eat just about anything they can swallow. This includes small vertebrates such as reptiles, amphibians, small rodents and even the young of ground-nesting birds. There is even photographic evidence of them eating snakes and pecking the eyes and heads of adult adders Vipera berus!  So the issue we investigated was not whether pheasants are eating reptiles, but whether they are having a significant impact on their populations.
All UK reptiles are priority species for conservation and with as many as 40 million pheasants introduced into the countryside each year, and 35% surviving the shooting season to range farther afield  there is possible cause for concern. Our study area was a site of Special Scientific Interest next to a shooting estate, a situation with potential problems.

 

I was invited to join this study as a reptile geek, but soon found myself knee-deep in ‘Proper science’. Since we couldn’t kill the pheasants and pick through their stomach contents, I had to analyse their poo for DNA instead!  It’s been done before with other birds, so it seemed to be a go-to method. Though as an ecologist, I felt a little out of my depth in the labs.

It was a long process. Not only did we have to find the droppings amongst the undergrowth, which wasn’t easy unless we came across a pheasant rest-spot, I also had to prepare them -a process which took hours- before they could be analysed for the DNA of each reptile species present, wolf spiders (identified as a likely common prey source so good for checking if it was possible to find prey DNA in the faeces), and pheasant itself (to check if the DNA analysis was working at all). Even after the analyses, there were several tweaks to refine the process which sometimes involved starting over, such is the nature of molecular biology.

And the results? Unfortunately, no prey DNA was found at all, but we did find pheasant DNA.  As usual with science, more research is needed and even the failed study provided a grounding for this. Possibly pheasants have a more efficient digestive system which degrades the DNA more than in other birds,possibly they weren’t eating so many reptiles at this time of year before the bitesize reptile hatchlings have been born.  Despite this setback, the study itself  peaked interest with ‘Amphibian and Reptile Conservation’ and the ‘Game and Wildlife Conservation Trust’ and it was reported in two local newspapers.  I was given a radio interview for BBC Hereford and Worcester, and have been invited to present a talk at the annual Amphibian and Reptile Conservation Trust  Scientific Meeting!  It was an exciting thing to be involved in, and I gained valuable experience of applying DNA technologies, which are increasingly used in modern ecology.

Camp Life

From the Worcester labs, it was almost straight off to the sunny Devonshire countryside. This is something I’ve done regularly, a working holiday with friends to set up a youth camp. Not only is it a great excuse to reunite with great friends, it’s also a great location. The camp is on a quintessentially English cattle farm with rolling hills, a sea view, and plenty of wildlife to distract me. 

Like a lot of the West Country, the farm is refreshingly traditional with hedgerows and fallow grasslands and the grazing land does not need spraying with nasty pesticides. Here, traditional farmland birds are still common, like Linnets Cardeulis cannabina (smartly grey and brown finches) flying in bouncing twittering flocks, the gorgeous Yellowhammers Emberiza citrinella belting their distinctive tune from some prominent perch, and Skylarks shouting their random eclectic song on the wing. All of these so called ‘farmland birds’ are rare and /or declining across our countryside at the hands of modern agriculture since they rely on traditional farming practices, so it was good to see them here.

These were joined by swallows swooping and darting low over the ground, rooks , crows and jackdaws scattered across the fields probing for grubs (much more nervous than their town cousins, probably since the farmers know their tastes for insect pests are outweighed by their hunger for grain grown for the cattle), and of course, gulls gliding everywhere along the coast, though they were more interested in scrounging from tourists on the nearby beach.

I also enjoyed using one of the best moth traps available, lighted camp toilets.  Like birds, they do pretty well in the diverse hedgerows and grasslands and I found a variety of species, some of which are illustrated below. I feel that moths are severely under-appreciated. Not all of them are dull and brown, and even the ones that are have patterns rivalling a Persian carpet. Not to mention they’re fluffy!

We also caught horseflies before they caught us, and fed them to the many false widow spiders which made their webs on the outbuildings, some of which were enormous with abdomens the size of blueberries! Whilst they look creepy, are related to black widows and can give a painful bite, false widows in the UK are largely harmless unless you have an allergy to stings and venom. At one point I caused an exciting battle between two females on the same web. They tried to sling web over each other and the larger female retreated first.

Other findings were a cute juvenile Common toad Bufo bufo and a young Great green bush cricket Tettigonia viridissima, the UK’s largest insect species. I later found an adult in the Lizard, Cornwall.

Oh and I painted a door. Quite impressive considering my colour palette started with just black, white, green and mustard.

Celebrating Slow Worms

About three weeks ago, back home, the Hertfordshire Amphibian and Reptile group (HARG) had a ‘Slow Worm SpeciaI’ meeting. If you didn’t know, the Slow worm Anguis fragilis, is one of the UK’s most misnamed animals, as it is actually a legless lizard, and is not especially slow (though it is usually more sedate than other lizards).
As part of the entertainments, I presented my dissertation on the importance of allotments as conservation habitat. Essentially, yes they are important.  As slow worms are also suffering from modern agriculture in our countryside, urban refuges provide a lifeline. Whilst allotments are not as good as some of the best nature reserves, they support viable populations, are themselves protected from developments, and can be improved.e.g. by cutting grassy areas later in the season when slow worms are less active, and by using organic ferrous slug pellets, which do not poison slug predators.

Afterwards, I was involved in translocating 16 out of over 160 individuals from a stretch of disused railway in Watford to the University of Hertfordshire’s field site at Bayfordbury , to make way for reinstatement of the route. Each slow worm had to be photographed for identification, weighed and measured. Soon we had a little inspection line going and I had the pleasure of holding one of this year’s babies and having a very large earthworm thrown up into my hand!  We then released our charges into a meadow and laid out refuges (carpet tiles for them to bask under) so they could be monitored by the University staff, students and the HARG team.

Whatever else?

In my hops across the country, I stayed in Cornwall (My parents have a retirement cottage there) and visited the Eden project which I do often. The place has a wonderful ethos, with beautiful outdoor gardens and fantastic  naturalistic indoor biomes. This time I met  the treefrogs and an exquisitely adorable family of roul roul, or crested partridges Rollulus rouloul in the tropical biome , which form part of the introduced ecosystem there as pest control.  The new butterflies and chrysalis hut provided extra fascination .

Out on the local beach, I saw a flock of Sanderlings  Calidris alba  for the first time( a small wader similar to the Dunlin), running a relay from the surf line to the strand line as fast as their little legs would carry them, only stopping to feed frantically at each goal post. Less lively was a shag  Phalacrocorax aristotelis I found buried in the sand. It turned out to be ringed by ornithologists from the Jersey Museum. We reported it, and found out when it was ringed from the nest, when it died-unfortunately prematurely at a mere 2 years, 1 month old, before it had reached adulthood-and other details. It is always worth investigating dead birds to see if they’re ringed and return the data to the hard-working researchers.

From Cornwall I went to Northamptonshire to friend’s, where I met Hector, the cheese-eating heron Ardea cinerea, and witnessed the speed of a red kite’s Milvus milvus strike , both of which she feeds from her garage roof. Not forgetting the peacock butterfly chrysalis which hatched overnight in a jar whilst we were there, named Chris (Surname Alice). We also  visited the immense lake of Rutland water and saw an Egyptian Goose  Alopechen aegyptica for the first time, a rather attractive, non-native shelduck  living in localised areas in the SouthEast.

Chris, the newly emerged peacock

                                       Hector the Cheese-eating Heron.

 Back home, I had a long overdue visit to Butterfly World in St Albans. Although it has a great tropical butterfly house it is so much more, with a large chalk wildflower grassland teeming with native species and several small, artistic wildlife gardens. It also houses the UK’s largest leafcutter ant colony, which were absolutely fascinating to watch (These are simply incredible and I can’t do justice to them here). In the tropical house we saw the World’s largest moths, the Atlas moth, and I had a hitchhiking owl butterfly on my jeans.

We also visited the RSPB headquarters at  Sandy. It’s a good day out, with woodland and heath nature reserves alongside the lodge itself and formal gardens. I particularly liked the pond, which had a central koi section with marsh garden islands and fenced off wildlife areas either end. Sadly, it was a bit devoid of birds this time of year, the highlights being large mixed tit flocks including Nuthatches Sitta europea and a Marsh tit Poecile palustris or Willow tit P.montanus (The two are near impossible to distinguish by sight).

I visited London with a friend to watch the harrowing film Blackfish, between visiting the scenic Kensington Gardens and the fascinating Cambridge physic garden, where every plant has it’s medicinal, cosmetic or cultural usage. I’m pretty sure we saw more alien than native birds there including better views of  more Egyptian geese, London’s famous Rose-ringed parakeets Psittacula krameri , a family of Mandarin ducks Aix galericulata and some hybrid Canada Branta Canadensis x Greylag Anser anser geese.

London: Proud to be multicultural.

One of the Canada xGreylag hybrids

Shortly afterwards, I was kindly aloud to stay in and explore the Beautiful county of Suffolk, where I wondered around various estuaries, including the Jewel in the birdwatching crown RSPB Minsmere. I saw a few species for the first time, including the very rare and special Yellow wagtail Motacilla flava, and amazingly saw two Ospreys Pandion haliaetous in as many days purely by chance! Even though they are exclusively fish eaters, it was the mass panic they caused amongst waders, gulls and other birds that gave them away.

As well as the birds at minsmere, I was delighted to find a sandy bank frequented by digger wasps, and got this photo of a bee-killer wasp Sphecius speciosus carrying a paralysed honeybee Apis melifera to her nest chamber, where she will lay an egg on it as food for her larva. Then she plugged the hole again and flew off to hunt another.


So is that a good enough excuse for you?  I hope you enjoyed that nattering about my holiday.  Letter J up next...