Wildlife Archives - Page 2 of 15

Bees and botany at Newbiggin

A short while ago, a sunny Saturday afternoon provided the perfect opportunity for a June venture to the Northumberland coast. Deciding against sites we visit frequently, it was decided that we would head to Newbiggin for a closer look at the plants and insects that abound along a stretch of coastline we seldom visit.

Departing the bus at church point, we were immediately struck by a mighty profusion of blooming Hoary Cress, with countless foamy flowers strewn across the car park, adorning pavement, verges and once manicured flower beds alike. Here too, it was interesting to find two garden escapes: Silver Ragwort, with its lovely pale foliage, and Pink-sorrel, a particularly vibrant oxalis native to South American.

Stopping briefly by the rocky beach here, it was nice to see the delicate but beautiful flowers of Sea Milkwort while the strandline held what I think might be Frosted Orache. The queer-looking succulent leaves of Sea Sandwort were a nice find nearby, as was a substantial patch of Good King Henry growing amid the cliff-top grassland a little further North.

Walking North along the margin of the golf course, the number of bees on show was quite remarkable. Common bumblebee species, mostly, though we did notice several male Vestal Cuckoo Bees, all looking rather fresh and colourful. Given the number seen during our walk (around 16) it was likely these had just emerged. Nearby here, a rather large red-tailed bee turned out to be Red-tailed Cuckoo Bee – only my second of the year and still quite a scarce bee locally. A male Fork-tailed Flower Bee was also a nice spot here.

Further North still, a large expanse of Sea Thrift provided an opportunity to admire yet more insects. Green-veined White were numerous and a couple more Fork-tailed Flower Bees were seen. More exciting still was what appeared to be a small colony of Chocolate Mining Bees nesting in the exposed soil of the cliff. After a breif wait (and a very undignfied pursuit with a net) their cuckoo, Marsham’s Nomad Bee, was also found.

As you near the hulking power station at Lynemouth, the small cliffs meander down into a sandy bay and here, making the most of the countless blooms of Mouse-ear Hawkweek and other plants growing on the exposed sand, a number of Sandpit Mining Bees were seen, alongside the rather striking wasp shown below. Thanks to a speedy identification by an expert online, this turned out to be Ancistrocerus scoticus or the Maritime Mason Wasp. A fitting choice of location!

Here too, a sharp-tailed bee of some description was also potted as it inspected the nest holes of a potential victim. While it impossible to be sure, it seems likely that this was Dull-vented Sharp-tailed Bee – a new one for me.

Nearing the power station, we decided to detour back up to rough edges of the golf course to take a closer look at the plants here. A good job as we immediately stumbled across a sizable patch of Purple Milk-vetch. A rare plant in Northumberland, and one that suffers from poor management of coastal grasslands, it was interesting to note the greatest densities growing on the golf course itself where mowing had removed much of the taller vegatation. Lets just hope the mowers don’t return before it seeds…

Here too, a number of Northern Marsh Orchids were seen, alongside a glut of Burnet Rose and stacks of Bloody Crane’s-bill – the county flower of Northumberland. Our attention was also grabbed by a particularly large orchid with spotted leaves, looking superfisically similar to marsh orchids growing nearby yet, at the same time, completely different. We chalked this up to a hybird between Northern Marsh Orchid and Common Spotted Orchid.

What else did we encounter? Well, it was interesting to find a solitary patch of Snow-in-summer growing in the dunes, silver foliage contrasting sharply with the surrounding grasses. A rather beefy crane’s-bill growing on a patch of wasteland by the power station looked like a good candidate for French Crane’s-bill and a small, stocky umbellifer confused me no end at first but was later revealed to be Wild Parsnip. An 11-spot Ladybird resting on a fence post proved a nice way to end a productive coastal walk.

11-spot Ladybird, *Coccinella undecimpunctata*

North Shields: brownfield bliss

I’ll admit it, I have a strange fascinating with brownfield sites. Not just because some of these places – spoil heaps, forgotten corners and abandoned urban land – often have an interesting back story, but because wildlife often thrives on these forsaken spaces. Indeed, whereas today it is possible to walk for miles in areas typically thought of as wild (our sheep-grazed uplands ring a bell) and see very little, on brownfield, it is often impressive just what you can find crammed into a relatively small space.

With this in mind, and having spotted an intriguing splodge of green while perusing Google Maps, last weekend saw using heading to urban North Shields to investigate the brownfield land surrounding Royal Quays Outlet Centre.

Northern Marsh Orchid, *Dactylorhiza purpurella*

En route to our chosen destination, a short detour through the carpark of a now abdanoned retail unit brought the first sightings of the day. Here, on a small patch of rough grassland seemingly left to its own devices, the tall, purple blooms of Northern Marsh Orchid were spotted from some distance away. Closer inspection revealing dozens of these charasmatic plants, just coming into bloom. Here too, Common Blue butterflies were seen and a single Small Heath (my first of the year) rested breifly atop a patch of Bird’s-foot Trefoil. Best of all here, a single Dingy Skipper was spotted and as ever, proved difficult to pin down at first.

In the North East, and particularly around Newcastle and North Tyneside, the Dingy Skipper is a species strongly associated with brownfield sites where its foodplant, Bird’s-foot Trefoil, often grows in abundance. It remains a rare butterfly locally, as well as local conservation priority species, and it is always worth submitting a record to ERIC North East if you encounter one.

Moving on, we soon arrived at our destination and set about admiring the vegetation adorning the overgrown rubble heaps by the site entrance. Bristly Oxtongue, with its wonderfully spikey foliage, was an interesting find here, as were Salad Burnet and Wild Mignonette. Colonists included Green Alkanet and Red Valarian, were also seen, while a queer-looking plant with attractive, frothy flowers turned out to be Hoary Cress, a new one for me.

Still somewhat lethargic from the night before, a number of interesting bees were quickly spotted. Warming themselves on the leaves of Broad-leaved Dock, Chocolate Mining Bees were seen and nearby, a striking black and yellow nomad bee was revealed (unsurprisingly) to be Marsham’s Nomad Bee, a cuckoo of the former species. A leafcutter bee, likely Patchwork Leafcutter, whizzed past briefly and a few Early Mining Bees were observed. Bumblebees noticed included Common Carder, White-tailed and Early, and our first Orange-tip butterflies of the visit put in an appearance.

Griffith’s Spurge, *Euphorbia griffithii*

Rounding a bend and emerging into an open area close to the existing water treatment plant, we were greeted by an impressive display of wildflowers. Here, great drifts of Ox-eye Daisy and Meadow Buttercup caught the eye first, interspersed with Lesser Bird’s-foot Trefoil, Common Knapweed and other common species. The rich, blue flowers of Columbine stood out like a sore thumb and a conspicuous flame-red plant drew our attention. Clearly a spurge of some kind, its identity remained a mystery until our return home with the ever-helpful botanists of Twitter revealing it to be Griffith’s Spurge, a garden escape.

Here too, many more Northern Marsh Orchids were seen, and a closer look at what seemed to be a newly formed pond revealed Water Horsetail, Common Spike-rush and Pendulous Sedge. Among other plants, Yellow-rattle was obvious on the margins here and insects included Common Blue, Large Red Damselfly and another Dingy Skipper. The first of several seen from this point in.

Further in, we encountered another small pond, forming this time on the concrete foundations of what was likely a former building. Here, Lesser Spearwort was an interesting find among other aquatic species but really, most of our time here was spent marvelling at the wider picture of succession in action, with nature gradually reclaiming many of the remaining human relics on site.

Orange-tailed Mining Bee, *Andrena haemorrhoa*

Soon enough, it came time to leave – this was only meant to be a fleeting visit. Whilst an abundance of life was encountered over what was a relatively short, one and a half-hour visit, I suspect we are only scratching the surface of what could be found here.

The nature of places such as this is often ephemeral, and if the word is to be believed, this particular site could soon be developed. A shame, really, but not unexpected. I suspect that to many, its loss would be preferable to development elsewhere on land thought of as more typically green.

Wildlife recording on the street – looking back at 2020

When lockdown dawned in 2020 and naturalists across the country were forced to redirect their wildlife-watching close to home, I set myself a challenge: to find and record as many species as possible on and around my Newcastle street. Birds, bees and butterflies; mammals and molluscs, everything and anything counted. An easy task, or so I thought – there couldn’t possibly be much to be found within a small area of parkland, rail verge, and urban conurbation.

Fast forward to the start of 2021, and with a few final pleas for help identifying the last few remaining invertebrates, it seems I concluded the year with 272 species recorded on the streets of Heaton. Not a bad total for someone almost entirely new to biological recording and with little experience with anything lacking feathers.

A few highlights and musings follow…

Botany

Throughout 2020, 137 plant species were recorded during walks in Heaton. Unsurprisingly, the highest total of any group. Many of these were to be expected – Groundsel, Danish Scurvygrass, and Sun Spurge – ‘weeds’ often associated with urban areas. That said, there were several surprises and highlights. The presence of Northern Marsh Orchid and Sneezewort in the local park, deep-red Scarlet Pimpernel and sprawling Bittersweet tucked into the hidden corners of the street, and the odd bloom of Cuckooflower and Goat’s-beard.

Befitting my location, many of the plants recorded here in 2020 were somewhat tropical in origin. Heaton, it seems, is home to a wealth of globe-trotting flora. There was, of course, plenty of Buddleia, Trailing Bellflower, Yellow Corydalis and Opium Poppy to be seen; though there were a few surprises. Stands of Greater Quaking-grass and Black Nightshade were notable, Procumbent Yellow-sorrel was an interesting find and Causican Crosswort was most unexpected. I suspect there will be a few more escapees and garden renegades to uncover in 2021.

Prior to 2020 and the onset of the Natural History Society of Northumbria‘s North East Bee Hunt, I confess, I hadn’t spared much of a thought for bees and certainly couldn’t identify them. With this in mind, I was delighted to record 17 species of bee close to home. Some of these were to be expected – Tree Bumblebee, Common Carder and the omnipresent Buff-tails – but others were slightly more interesting. In the local park, colonies of Chocolate, Tawny and Buffish Mining Bees were unearthed (not literally). In the garden, Bronze Furrow Bee and Blue Mason Bee became regular visitors and a bit of sympathetic planting lured in Patchwork Leafcutter and Fork-tailed Flower Bees.

When it comes to wasps, I still haven’t a clue, though some friendly advice from the good folk of Twitter identified a moribund wasp as Median Wasp – a new species for me altogether.

Buff-tailed Bumblebee, *Bombus terrestri*s

Flies (mostly hoverflies)

Like bees, flies were new to me in 2020 (and even more confusing). With the help of the superb Wild Guides hoverfly publication, I was, however, able to make a start identifying the various species present on and around my street. In total, 21 species were observed. Among these, Pied Hoverfly and Narcissus Bulb Fly were particularly abundant. The garden also came up trumps again in this regard luring in Scaeva selenitica, Sphaerophoria scripta and Melangyna labiatarum.

Other flies were few and far between or rather, overly taxing, but Dark-edge Bee-Fly, Holly Leafminer and the tiny Trypeta zoe were all interesting spots.

Doubtless, there will be many more to uncover in 2021, should I develop the patience…

Lepidoptera

It was a poor year for moths here owing to street lights that overhang our yard, though the moth trap did yield one notable highlight: Obscure Wainscot, a regionally scarce species and a specialist of marshland and fens. Neither of which are present in the immediate vicinity. A brace of more familiar species including Peppered Moth, Grey Pug, Barred Yellow and Bee Moth at least ensured an entirely unrespectable list of 23 species recorded on the street. Another stand-out highlight was a Mother Shipton netted as it crossed the garden in Spring.

Whilst it was a bad year for moths, it was certainly a good year for butterflies with 9 species seen. Orange-tip in Spring was a welcome addition as was a new colony of Holly Blue that appears to have sprung up on the outskirts of the nearby allotments. Small Skipper and Ringlet adorned the local park throughout summer and our ever-trusty garden Buddleia succeeded in luring in Red Admiral, Peacock and Speckled Wood.

Let us hope for a Painted Lady in 2021, a species conspicuous in its absence last year.

Other smaller life

Records of other insects were few and far between and there is clearly still much to do in this regard. Among the beetles, Rosemary Beetle and Cream-spot Ladybird were highlights, and we did manage four species of Shieldbug. One of which, the Blue Shieldbug, was quite exciting.

We got off to a good start with molluscs too with Great Ramshorn and Great Pond Snail scooped from a local pond and the garden attracting Green Cellar Slug, Iberian Three-band Slug and some impressive Leopard Slugs.

The surprising lockdown hobby of counting woodlice also yield five species, one of which – Porcellio spinicornis – was entirely new to me.

As for spiders? Two notable records were had. The first, Hypositticus pubescens, constituting the first record for North East England for around 90 years. The second, Pseudeuophrys lanigera, is a similarly rare (or under-recorded) jumping spider.

Birdlife

Birds were never going to be the most numerous group so close to the city, but I did manage a respectable 42 species on walks close to home. Setting aside the tits and finches, it was nice to catch up with Siskin and Meadow Pipit as they migrated south over the house and the daily commutes of the local Ring-necked Parakeets added a splash of colour on dull days. A lone male Reed Bunting perched atop the tiny stand of Phragmites in Iris Brickfield Park was most welcome, as were a party of Redwing in late winter. Other highlights included Jay, Blackcap, Stock Dove and Oystercatcher.

What next?

Whereas like many I suspect, I thought lockdown and the resulting banishment from my favourite haunts would lead to endless boredom, I was pleasantly surprised to find the process of observing and recording wildlife close to home both cathartic and educational. I’ve learnt a great deal and, dare I say it, seem to be developing a wider appreciation for natural history in all its forms – as opposed to the birds, colourful orchids and iconic mammals that interested me previously.

I think I’ll continue with the process (or at least the attempt) of documenting my local, urban wildlife in 2021, albeit with a few changes. In the interest of diversity, I’ll be spreading out from the street to cover a circular 1-mile of Newcastle. What I’ll gain from this remains to be seen, but the extra shred of parkland, a small portion of the nearby Ouseburn, a cemetery and a few more streets to comb will undoubtedly help. I’ll also make a much more concerted effort to add everything I find (or at least the species I can competently identify) to iRecord.

Already, at the start of 2021, some twenty new species have been found in the local area. Fungi, bryophytes and molluscs mainly, which coupled with a renewed focus on invertebrates in Spring and Summer should provide challenge enough for this year.

Let’s set a target of 500 species by 2022 within the urban mile…

Wonderful Wildflowers at Bishop Middleham Quarry

A Special Site of Scientific Interest (SSSI) and Durham Wildlife Trust nature reserve encompassing a disused magnesian limestone quarry, I have read about Bishop Middleham Quarry for years. People, it seems, visit the site from far and wide to experience the fantastic flora on offer here. As well as for an abundance of colourful insects.

It is the bedrock here that gives the site such appeal. The quarry itself ceased work in 1934 and was left to restore naturally, providing a rare opportunity for magnesian limestone plant species to colonise and stay put. The quarry holds a number of quite rare species, restricted by the scarcity of limestone habitats in the wider countryside, but rarity aside provides an opportunity to marvel at a vibrant community of plants, insects and other wildlife. It really is a fantastic site.

Arriving at the site with orchids on the brain, it wasn’t long before we encountered our first. Scattered across the upper-tier of the quarry grassland, Common Spotted Orchids bloomed in their dozens – tall spikes of alternating shades of pink, purple and white looking lovely amid swaying stems of Quaking Grass and the blooms of Restharrow, Common Rock Rose and Bird’s-foot Trefoil.

Here, we stumbled across a beautiful, pure white specimen – the alba variant of this common species?

Scattered among the paler blooms of the spotted orchids, the deep-purple flowers of Northern Marsh Orchid were easy to make out. Less numerous, by far, but nice to see. Perhaps more exciting, however, was a single flower of Pyramidal Orchid found only metres into the reserve. A new species for me, a joy to behold and the first of many seen throughout our visit.

Still only metres from the reserve entrance, we soon encountered the day’s target species: Dark-red Helleborine. Bishop Middleham Quarry is known as the best place in the UK to observe this limestone-loving orchid and, sure enough, we encountered hundreds during our stay. Perhaps we were a little early as many had yet to open; though some pioneering plants were in full bloom. Thankfully!

Prying ourselves away from the helleborines, it was not long before we stumbled across two new orchids. On the quarry floor, the egg-shaped leaves and fading flower spikes of Common Twayblade were immediately apparent – not exactly striking by orchid standards but nice to see. Here too, a few Fragrant Orchids were found, another first for me and definitely deserving of a sniff to test their validity. The verdict? They did smell rather nice!

The least abundant orchids on-site were Bee Orchids but, having been pointed in the direction of a particular slope by a kind passer-by, we soon found three spikes in full flower. A plant that warrants little exposition and never fails to earn a smile. Here too, more Pyramidal Orchids were found.

As someone with very much limited knowledge of plants, Bishop Middleham Quarry also provided an opportunity to get to grips with a number of less-specialist species I seldom encounter around my usual haunts. It was nice to be able to compare Small and Field Scabious found growing side-by-side in a more verdant area of the site; while a tall yellow flower could well have been Agrimony. Perforate St. John’s-wort was numerous but we failed to find (or at least, identify) the scarcer Pale St. John’s-wort which is said to grow here. A fine reason for another visit, I think.

Whilst trying (and failing) to locate Moonwort, I was pleased to stumble across a single flowering Harebell; while the strange, pea-like stalks of what I think was Yellow-wort were found on an old spoil heap. Other species observed included Wild Thyme, Greater Knapweed, Mouse-ear Hawkweed, Red Valarian and Wild Strawberry.

Whilst many of our walks focus on plant life these days (I’m not sure what has happened to me, in truth) we did find the time to admire some of the insect life present on site. Butterflies were incredibly numerous with plenty of Ringlet and Meadow Brown seen, alongside smaller numbers of Small Skipper, Common Blue, Speckled Wood, Small Heath and Small Tortoiseshell. Moths on the wing included Six-spot Burnet, Latticed Heath and Shaded Broad-bar.

A brief scan of the plentiful Hogweed tops on site revealed a few common hoverflies including Heliphilus pendulus, Volucella pellucens and Marmalade Hoverfly. Here too a grasshopper was apprehended (with great difficulty) and tentatively identified as Common Green Grasshopper owing to the in incurved, cream-coloured line on its shoulder.

None of the sites famous Northern Brown Argus were seen on this occasion but, with countless other items of interest observed, a fantastic day was had.

Bishop Middleham Quarry is an exceptional, altogether beautiful site. A fine testament to what can happen when sites exploited by humans are returned to nature. I will definitely be visiting the site again in the future, even if it does involve more frequent trips (dare I say it) south of the Tyne!

The Pound Wood ‘Fritillary Site’ – a place for butterflies and a great deal more, by Ross Gardner

The Essex Wildlife Trust’s Pound Wood, like so many ancient woods, is a special place and for different reasons. It is special for being somewhere for the people of this busy and built-up part of Essex to establish, or indeed re-establish those close and valuable connections with the natural world, something so important, not only for the well-being of ourselves but crucially for raising the awareness of the need to look after the wild places that we are fortunate enough to still have near us, as well as those further afield. It is special for being an important link in a Living Landscape, alongside the other woods and green spaces in the neighbourhood; for reminding us that nature conservation today has to extend beyond the boundaries of established nature reserves to meet the fresh challenges that our wildlife face. And it is special because it is an ancient wood, which over the centuries of continuous existence has accumulated a diverse assemblage of wild plants and animals; no other habitat in our country has a greater diversity of species.

Special places will invariably have special things living within them. Here, it will often be the heath fritillary (Melitaea athalia) that first comes to mind, one of Britain’s rarest butterflies which has been present in Pound Wood since its reintroduction in 1998. They were released into the part of the reserve where power-lines cross its north-western corner. Since this stretch of the wood has always needed regular cutting to prevent the fouling of the cables, it presented itself as the ideal reintroduction site for these butterflies of open woodland. The more frequent cutting benefits not only the electricity company, but also provides the open conditions necessary for the butterflies and their foodplant (common cow-wheat – Melampyrum pratense) to thrive. It is a part of the wood now colloquially referred to as the ‘Fritillary Site’ and while most of it lies off the beaten track, some of the reserve’s paths either cross or run close by it offering visitors every chance of seeing these so very scarce butterflies.

What has been created though, is far more than a prime habitat for a single species. What can, in fact, be found, running the length of the pylon corridor, is the most species-rich part of the whole reserve. A vibrant and hugely important component of the wider wildlife value of the wood, even before we consider its rare butterflies. The list of species associated with it is long and varied, many of which have not been recorded elsewhere in the reserve. It is a list that includes a number of uncommon insects. Some of those tiny micro-moths that fizz sprite-like about the low plants and leafy path-sides are in reality as colourfully and beautifully marked as the butterflies that more readily draw our attention. One such is Dasycera olivella, a creamy yellow and iridescent purple marked little beauty found only rather sparingly among the broadleaved woods of southern England. They are known to be fond of recently coppiced areas and, once you have your eye in, are a common early summer sight beneath the power-lines, where almost all of the Pound Wood observations have been made.

It is within this part of the reserve, and unlike those areas incorporated into the usual 21-year coppicing cycle that will inevitably and necessarily shade over as the stools regenerate, that grassier plant communities are able to persist. Such habitat suits two nationally scarce bush-crickets, long-winged conehead (Conocephalus discolor) and Roesel’s bush-cricket (Metrioptera roeselii). The sole records in the reserve for such species as green hairstreak (Callophrys rubi), horned treehopper (Centrotus cornutus) and tortoise shieldbug (Eurygaster testudinaria) have all come from the Fritillary Site. Perhaps the broom that thrives here will come to support a future population of the aforementioned, locally scarce butterfly

But it is not just the rare things that can make an area special, it is the community of plants and animals as a whole. Spring and summer sees more than the creamy, tubular flowers of the cow-wheat adding colour among the heady-scented sweet vernal grass, but other coppicing plants, like slender St John’s-wort (Hypericum pulchrum) and wood spurge (Euphorbia amygdaloides). Where ditches run across the clearings marsh bedstraw (Galium palustre) proliferates and lesser spearwort (Ranunculus flammula) thrives, while a marshy area grows thick with willowherb and rush. Stands of spear thistle (Cirsium vulgare) tower over most, but far from being a nuisance they provide abundant nectar for a host of hoverflies and bumblebees. Milkwort (Polygala serpyllifolia), hemp-nettle (Galeopsis tetrahit), field woodrush (Luzula campestris) and pale sedge (Carex pallescens) all find their only Pound Wood locations here.

This is somewhere that the creatures of the woods and its edge habitats can live cheek by jowl with those of the grasslands. The flourishing colony of small skipper (Thymelicus sylvestris) might well brush wings with the occasional white admiral (Limenitis camilla) the latter is a magnificent black and white butterfly, declining nationally, but apparently spreading in Essex – they reappeared in the wood in 2018), while brown argus (Aricia agestis) were noted in the reserve for the first time in 2019, around the same time that a silver-washed fritillary (Argynnis phaphia) was very possibly the first one seen here for many decades.

The list really could go on. The likes of the groundhoppers and grasshoppers, mirid bugs and beetles, spiders and solitary wasps haven’t even been given a mention. There is the impressive and lengthily titled golden-bloomed grey longhorn beetle (Agapanthia villosoviridescens), for instance, an uncommon species whose larvae, unlike many of its timber feeding relatives, develop in the hollow stems of umbellifers and thistles. And of course, where there is prey there are predators. The reserve’s small bird and dragonfly populations can and do find rich pickings here.

Golden-bloomed Grey Longhorn Beetle © Ross Gardner

Chasing Urban Orchids

Few wildflowers capture the imagination quite like our orchids. They’re beautiful, of course, but also sufficiently scarce to provide a little jolt of excitement whenever you happen across one. They are also the only group of plants – to the best of my knowledge – that manages to unite all natural history enthusiasts, whether they be birders, lepidopterists, mammal-watchers or anyone else, under a single banner of botanical appreciation.

I stumbled across my first urban orchid of the year a fortnight past in my local park – a towering and luscious Northern Marsh Orchid rising skywards from the rough grass that adorns the peripheries of my local pond. Inspired, for the past fortnight, I have set about checking the various local sites to which I make annual pilgrimages in search of these vibrant little flowers.

First up, a trip in search of what is usually the most abundant species around me during mid-June: the Common Spotted Orchid. Well, this year, they appear far from common, with only a handful observed at a regular site and none at all at another. Perhaps they have been delayed somewhat by the unseasonably dry spring we have endured? Regardless of the reasons behind their reduced numbers, those we did see looked wonderful, their pointy, lilac flowerheads adding a welcome splash of colour among the alternating greens of the Juncus.

Common Spotted Orchid (Dactylorhiza fuchsii)

If Common Spotted Orchids appear scarce this year, Northern Marsh Orchid appears to be doing rather well. Following the initial sighting in the local park, I have encountered these much sturdier-looking orchids at three sites this week, and in good numbers. Many appear stunted and small compared with the towering spikes familiar from previous years but all maintain their lurid, purple appeal.

Northern Marsh Orchids may seem uniformly ‘purple’ from a distance but, looking closer, the repeated pattern of deep purple ribbons sat atop a violet backdrop makes for quite the beautiful sight.

Northern Marsh Orchid (Dactylorhiza purpurella)

I have written before about my fondest for Bee Orchids, perhaps one of our most iconic and sought after native wildflowers. Keen to seek out this year’s fix, this week I set off to a favourite local haunt where, in 2019, upwards of sixty stalks of this much-celebrated bloom were observed. A familiar trip which, unusually, ended in disappointment.

Three visits to Silverlink Biodiversity Park over recent days failed to yield a single orchid across what is usually a fairly productive area of flower-rich grassland. Despite the recent rains, the ground here remained baked dry and I couldn’t find a single leaf, never mind a flower. Here, even the abundant Birds’-foot Trefoil seem suppressed and stunted due to the reason drought and, in the closing minutes of our third trip, we eventually gave up hope.

It was only when my partner decided to look once again at the margins of one of the nearby ponds did our luck change. Here, among the marsh orchids more characteristic of such damp places, two bee orchids stood proud, determined to buck the wider trend on site.

Bee Orchids need little exposition: they’re sublime, intricate and a little intoxicating, the very reason so many seek them out each year. Savouring the sight of the two pioneering blooms, I was simply happy to have enjoyed them for another season.

Hopefully, next year, Bee Orchids will once again rise en masse across this one small meadow. We’ll see…

Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera)

A Walk on the North Downs Way, by Frances Jones

A couple of weeks ago, I walked part of the North Downs Way with a friend. Not a particularly unusual event, normally, but many of us have had rapidly to adjust our expectations of normal over the past months. I had wandered through the fields around my home almost every day since lockdown, charting Spring through the greening hedgerows, the emergence of butterflies, and the increasing birdsong. The hills were calling, though, and I was looking forward to sharing a walk.

We had chosen the meeting point and decided on a direction, but other than that had no plans other than to walk, talk and enjoy the glorious weather. We set off through Denbies Vineyard where the young vines were starting to climb and coil around the wireframes. Following the North Downs Way westwards, we climbed up through beech woods, past a small flock of sheep in a fenced off-field, and past Ranmore Common church, a sacred slice of Gothic Revival architecture appearing rather incongruous amongst the trees. The ground was parched from lack of rain, and there were deep ruts from where a vehicle had made a manoeuvre. We looked out across the valley and the tree-lined horizon with Leith Hill Tower ahead. Crowds were beginning to trickle in from the hill-top car-park, and I felt the need to press on, to discover, to step away from the every day and become an intrepid explorer. We welcomed the shade as the North Downs Way led us through a gate and into an arboreal tunnel where the temperature, though still pleasant, dropped slightly and the sound of people’s voices was replaced with birdsong. A speckled wood fluttered towards us and hurried past, seeking the sunlight, perhaps, in a woodland glade.

The path followed the contour of the hillside and was fairly level, with just the odd tree root to cause us to be mindful of our step. We passed an old WW2 bunker, a concrete cube with a small narrow entrance leading into its dark depths. We didn’t venture in, looking out instead at the views, which could be glimpsed only intermittently through the trees. Now and then, the track opened out onto grassy areas where, amongst prickly stems of field-rose, common spotted orchids grew in delicate splendour. When my stomach began to make rumbling noises, we trod carefully over the bank in search of a lunch stop, trying to avoid plonking ourselves on a bramble or, worse still, an orchid. I munched a sandwich and mentally paused; looking into the green woodland of young oaks was deeply calming.

It was around this point that we made an error of navigation, for sometime after lunch we noticed the terrain becoming unfamiliar. At the start, I’d intended to walk some distance along the North Downs Way, then turn right and amble back through the woodland alongside Ranmore Common Road, and back down the hill to the vineyard. Neither of us recognised the scenery now and when we climbed through a meadow to read the sign at the top, it confirmed we weren’t exactly where we’d thought: Blatchford Down. On the North Downs Way, but rather further along than I’d anticipated. There was quite a walk back, but the weather was glorious, the views equally so, and we had water. We tramped through the woods once more until we reached the gate where the trees ended and the grassy down began. Passing through the gate I felt rather as I imagined Lucy to feel on stepping back into real life after her trip to Narnia: the sun was still high in the sky, picnickers were still out on the hill-side, and children with ice-creams were trailing parents up the slope. We walked down into the vineyard and back to the cars. It had been a glorious walk and freedom was slowing opening up. I resolved one day to trek the whole route from Farnham to the sea. But I would need to use the map, this time.

Excitement in the wildlife garden

Wildlife gardening has become somewhat of an obsession of late as we attempt to make our urban ‘yarden’ as appealing as possible to all forms of life, from flies to visiting birds. Hand in hand with this, we have increased the time spent monitoring our little plot, with positive results. Already this year, we have recorded 68 species in our yard!

Now, 68 species may not seem overly impressive, at least when compared to the sky-high numbers achieved by other naturalists in the news recently. For us, however, its a wonderful starting point and provides ample inspiration to soldier on and keep counting! The diversity of life sharing our space now, following a few positive tweaks, contrasting sharply with what came before. The odd bluebottle, magpie and garden snail were replaced by a veritable hotchpotch of wild delights.

Here are a few new visitors observed and enjoyed over the past few weeks…

Fork-tailed Flower Bee

Spurred on by some pollinator-friendly planting, bees have continued to flock to our little assemblage of pots and plants. So far, we have recorded twelve species here with two interesting additions coming in the last fortnight. The first of these an entirely new species for me.

Fluffy, dumpy-looking yet wonderfully agile, the Fork-tailed Flower Bee looks (at least to the eyes of this inexperienced hymenopterist) somewhat like a cross between a bumblebee and one of the smaller, solitary bees. Seemingly scarcely recorded in my area, it came as somewhat of a surprise to catch sight of a male bee zipping about the flower bed one morning.

Boasting a distinct yellow face, these energetic bees are a delight to behold and, fast forward a few days, are becoming increasingly frequent in our yard. The aforementioned visitor quickly flowered by 4-5 more seemingly fixated on plants of the Lamiaceae (nettle) family. I must plant more mint…

An in-depth fact sheet for this species can be found on the BWARS website and is well worth a look.

Fork-tailed Flower Bee (Anthophora furcata)

Patchwork Leafcutter Bee

Just like the former bee, this garden visitor provided a welcome surprise. Roughly the size of a honey bee and boasting a striking clementine underside to it’s abdomen (the females at least), numbers of this delightful bee have built steadily over recent weeks.

Known to favour roses for their leaf-cutting antics, I live in hope that we may soon notice distinct, circular holes in our two garden plants. A few tatty looking leaves a small price to pay for hosting these intriguing little bees.

Perhaps they may even stick around to use our bee box? Fingers crossed.

Patchwork Leaf-cutter Bee (Megachile centuncularis)

Pied Hoverfly

Having recently acquired the incredibly detailed and accessible Wild Guide’s guide to Britain’s hoverflies, I’m slowly getting to grips with this tricky group, and greatly enjoying the hours of frustration as I find myself forced to scrutinise near-invisible wing-loops and ever so slight differences in patterning.

Thankfully, not all hoverflies are a pain to identify and a few days past we were lucky to catch sight of a large, monochrome individual in the yard. A quick skim through the aforementioned publication and the critter was revealed as a Pied Hoverfly, a distinctive migrant from mainland Europe.

Pied Hoverfly (Scaeva pyrastri)

Leafminers

For weeks now we have been noticing the distinct tunnels of leafminers on a range of garden plants, from ligularia to Silver Ragwort. While these remain a mystery, for now, a brief stint in the greenhouse revealed two potential culprits temporarily trapped inside.

Now, if I am a novice when it comes to hoverflies, I know absolutely nothing about flies that do not hover. Browsing a few online resources, however, I have made a tentative attempt to identify the minute beasties in question. The result? Tephritis formosa, a species known to feed on sow thistles, and Trypeta Zoe, a colourful little fly known to favour plants in the Asteraceae family. I am by no means confident in these identifications but it is good fun to step outside your comfort zone now and again.

Trypeta Zoe and Tephritis formosa, possibly!

Chaffinch

Now, I suspect few will share in my excitement over the humble Chaffinch but, having fed birds in our garden for almost three years, this is the first time this species has paid a visit. Recurring visits by a male bird each morning for the last few days providing a welcome touch of the ‘exotic’ among the more regular House Sparrows and Goldfinches.

As I write this, the bird in question is singing from the TV antennae atop my neighbour’s house following a brief stint pecking at his reflection in the bay window this morning. His continued presence makes me very happy indeed.

One of the great things about wildlife recording at home is definitely that the commonplace can equally as exciting as the rare.

A handsome garden visitor…

Investigating the Prudhoe Spetchells

For a long time, I have read with envy the blog posts of others who have visited the Prudhoe Spetchells yet, shamefully, have never found the time to visit myself; though this all changed a fortnight past.

The Spetchells are an interesting site in a great many regards. Created as a by-product of factory work during World War two, they represent the only example of a chalk dominated habitat in Northumberland. The deposited chalk and the imposing mound created decades ago forging a locally unique habitat home to a very interesting community of plants and invertebrates.

Starting out and taking the short track uphill towards to top of the mound, we quickly found ourselves stopped dead in our tracks – bees! And a great many of them. Honestly, I don’t think I can recall a time when I have witnessed so many bees in one spot at the same time. The sight of countless insects on the ground, in the air, and adorning low-growing vegetation was truly impressive.

Looking closer, the vast majority of the bees on the show turned out to be Buffish Mining Bee – the Spetchells is, after all, renowned as a location at which to observe and enjoy this species. We estimate that we saw maybe four to five hundred of these bees during our visit; though I have been informed that earlier in the season, visitors can expect to see many thousands.

Buffish Mining Bees (Andrena nigroaenea)

Less numerous than the Buffish Mining Bees and easy to pick out from the swarm were a number of Ashy Mining Bee – a new species for me and perhaps one of Britain’s most eye-catching solitary bee species. The monochrome appearance of this species is rather endearing, and definitely eye-catching.

After a few fleeting glances, we were lucky enough to catch sight of a female excavating a fresh burrow while nearby, another watched us intently from the entrance to a nest hole. A few smaller, less striking males were also observed.

Ashy Mining Bee (Andrena cineraria) are somewhat harder to find on the Prudhoe Spetchells

Of course, where there are solitary bees, there will inevitably be nest parasites, and throughout the afternoon, we enjoyed the sight of many Nomada cuckoo bees inspecting burrows with sinister intent. These are a confusing bunch and of the handful of species present, only one was identifiable to our amateur eyes: Gooden’s Nomad Bee. Still, these colourful bees made for enjoyable viewing as they carefully inspected the many visible burrows, occasionally being forced to beat a hasty retreat having encountered the burrow owner mid-way down.

Elsewhere, whilst photographing bees of the buffish variety, Matt emerged with some grainy images of a new bee – one I definitely hadn’t seen before. Thankfully, local naturalist Louise Hislop was quick to identify this as Hawthorn Mining Bee.

Hawthorn Mining Bee (Andrena chrysosceles) and Gooden’s Nomad Bee (Nomada goodeniana)

The Spetchells is a notable site for more than just bees and the floral community here is also rather unique. I confess, we did not spend half as much time as we should have to look at wildflowers but what we did see was most interesting.

At ground level, the fragrant leaves of Oregano were very obvious and definitely worthy of a ‘scrunch and sniff’. Slightly more eye-catching were the dropping, pink blooms of Columbine and dainty purple flowers of Wild Pansy. The many buttercups just starting to bloom here turned out to be Bulbous Buttercup; while Wild Mignonette and Bird’s-foot Trefoil were just starting to flower. One of the site’s most damaging invasive species, Creeping Cotoneaster, was extremely obvious; though it appeared that the dedicated volunteers who tend the site had managed to beat the invader back to a few albeit sizeable patches.

Columbine (Aquilegia vulgaris), Bulbous Buttercup (Ranunculus bulbosus), Oregano (Origanum vulgare) and Wild Pansy (Viola tricolor)

The presence of the aforementioned Bird’s-foot Trefoil at the site led to a most welcome encounter with a Dingy Skipper butterfly, as ever too quick for a decent photograph. A handful more of these dull yet charming sprites were observed on the return journey too. Ever welcome – they remain a relatively uncommon sight in my area.

Dingy Skipper (Erynnis tages), a common sight on the Prudhoe Spetchells

Ultimately, the Spetchells is a site that warrants much further investigation. Unique and beautiful, this is a truly wonderful location and one of South Northumberland’s hidden gems. I thoroughly enjoyed my first visit and can’t thank enough the members of the local community who keep this fabulous site safe, secure, and in tip-top shape for wildlife.

The blue, the bronze and the hairy

We have been on somewhat of a quest this year to transform our little urban yard into a plot beneficial to wildlife. Planting a range of native and ornamental plants, constructing a tiny pond, adding a bee box, and creating a small meadow area in a raised bed, we had hoped that wildlife would be quick to colonise this new habitat…

A few months in and our efforts to document our garden visitors, big and small, have yielded a number of interesting and significant sightings. Moreover, the challenge of creating something positive for nature and recording its use has really helped keep me sane throughout this turbulent time. A win, win if ever there was one.

Here’s a quick rundown of three exciting finds…

The blue…

Venturing out into the yard, coffee in hand, and intent on inspecting our tulips before they melt away to mush, yesterday we were graced by a rather superb garden visitor: a Holly Blue butterfly.

Though growing more abundant each year as they expand their range in the North East, these dazzling blue butterflies remain far from a part of daily life here. Found near holly and ivy (the species larval foodplants of which we have neither in the yard) it came as somewhat surprised to find this particular winged sapphire perched atop our stumpy, potted Buddleja – evidently warming up following a particularly chilly night.

A rather lovely Holly Blue (Celastrina argiolus)

The bronze…

Last year, we were lucky to note a number of small, shiny bees visiting the garden. Most often encountered around smaller flowers – including our tomatoes – a few grainy photographs and some advice from local experts pointed towards these being Bronze Furrow Bee, Halictus tumulorum. Fast forward a year and our metallic visitors are back and this time, thankfully, they stayed still long enough for a verified identification.

Looking at the NBN Atlas distribution map for this species, records in the North East appear thin on the ground. Whether this is due to scarcity or simply a lack of people with the time to pursue the speedy blighters, I am unsure. Regardless, this would appear to be an interesting record.

The bees continue to visit the garden most days and make for enjoyable viewing as they mill about between planters. Their small size and fly-like appearance are worlds away from what I would traditionally have envisaged when hearing the word ‘bee’.

Bronze Furrow Bee (Halictus tumulorum)

The hairy…

Now, this is an exciting one. For a few weeks now, we have been seeing a number of small, brown yet intricately marked ‘jumping spiders’ in the garden. Similar in shape to the more familiar Zebra Jumping Spider, these went unidentified until (fortuitously) one ventured into the house – found attempting to snaffle the plentiful fungus gnats emerging from our windowsill chillies.

Now, I confess, I know nothing about spiders but thankfully, some people do, thus a specimen was sent off to North East’s county record for spiders, Richard Wilison. Fast forward a few days and the spiders’ identity was revealed as a mature male Hypositticus pubescens.

What makes this record interesting is that there are only previous six records of this species in my area, all dating between 1911 & 1931. That makes our little spider the first record for North East England for around 90 years.

It really is amazing what an open window and a burgeoning pest problem can turn up…

Hypositticus pubescens – quite cute, for a spider…

On the hunt for urban bees

For me, one of the few positive aspects of our current lockdown has been the opportunity to look closer at the wildlife that persists close to home. Doing so has been eye-opening, to say the least, and while of course, I would rather have been venturing into the wider countryside, the diversity of life here has both surprised and delighted me.

One of the most obvious species groups on our street of late has been the bees. Spurred on by the North East Bee Hunt, an ongoing citizen science scheme led by the Natural History Society of Northumbria, I have been paying an increasing amount of attention to these vitally important invertebrates over recent weeks – with great results. As of writing this, we have now recorded 14 species of bee on our street!

Where better to start than with bumblebees? The first queens appeared here in March providing a good opportunity to appreciate the emerging ladies in all of their fluffy, bumbling glory; while now, workers have begun to appear. Of these, Buff-tailed Bumblebee, Tree Bumblebee, and Common Carder Bee have been the most conspicuous, congregating en masse in the weed-filled yards that dominate on our street. More interesting still were sightings of Small Garden Bumblebee and Early Bumblebee – both new species for the ever-growing ‘street list‘.

Topping off our haul of Britain’s larger, more trendy bees, on a few occasions now we have caught sight of striking cuckoo bumblebee patrolling the length of hedge that fringes the nearby railway line. Sporting an eye-catching combination of a black body and white abdomen (okay, bum) this was either a Southern Cuckoo Bumblebee or Gypsy’s Cuckoo Bumblebee. Frustratingly, the pair are almost indistinguishable and I think I’ll have to make do with a question mark next to this record.

I confess that until recently, I had paid little attention to solitary bees, believing them small, difficult to identify, and perhaps, a little less interesting than our bumblebees. Oh, how wrong I was – these little engineers are fascinating to watch and just as vivid as their larger, more rotund kin.

One of the most abundant solitary bees observed of late has been the fox-coloured Tawny Mining Bee. A colony of which appears to be flourishing on the outskirts of the local allotments with the larger, ginger females favouring a patch of Cherry Laurel to bask each day as the sun warms up. One of our most recognisable solitary bees, this species is known to favour gardens, parks, and other artificial habitats thus its little wonder we have found them here.

Female and male Tawny Mining Bee (Andrena fulva)

Slightly less easy to identify, the former species appears to be sharing it’s a particular stretch of hedgerow with another species: the Chocolate Mining Bee. A new species for me, this large bee has a distinct Honeybee vibe about it but boasts characteristic white hairs on the underside of its hind legs. At first glance, this bee looks incredibly similar to another species, the Buffish Mining Bee, although, under scrutiny, the latter species displays an orange-coloured pollen brush on its back lets.

Chocolate Mining Bee (Andrena scotica)

At first glance, Buffish Mining Bees appear somewhat scarcer here and annoyingly, the only one I managed to photograph was covered in pollen, making recognition of those orange pollen brushes impossible.

Buffish Mining Bee (Andrena nigroaenea)

Familiar from bee boxes and wall cavities across the nation, the Red Mason Bee is another species we have noticed a lot recently. Boasting a beautiful mix of flame-orange and black, these bees have quickly become a regular fixture of our daily walks with the larger, some may say more appealing, females gathering in good numbers on the muddy shores of our local pond. Here they gather all-important mud used for lining their nest cells as shown in the video below – what a treat.

At the risk of waffling on too long about bees, I will skip over Early Mining Bees. What does warrant a mention however are colourful but confusing Nomada cuckoo bees that have become increasingly prevalent over recent weeks. Like the Cuckoo Bumblebees, these wasp-like bees are nest parasites – they lay their eggs in the nests of solitary bees, with most species of Nomad Bee favouring a particular species.

These blighters are notoriously hard to identify; particularly the tri-coloured individuals shown in the photos below. They could be Panzer’s Nomad Bee but alas, this is another instance where I may well have to settle for appreciating the bee absent delving into identification. We did, however, with some expert help from Charlotte Rankin (aka @bumble_being) manage to identify a single Gooden’s Nomad Bee – a known parasite of Buffish Mining Bee.

An unidentified Nomada sp.

If you cannot tell already, I definitely have bees on the brain at the moment. Little wonder really given how fascinating these important little insects are. I will curtail this blog post there and save a further bee-themed announcement for a future blog post.

If, like me, you live in the North East of England, please consider sharing your bee sightings as part of the North East Bee Hunt. Your records can help plug the gaps in our knowledge and ensure those working to protect bees are equipped with greater knowledge going forward.

More tales from the urban jungle

In line with the government guidance, this week, time in nature has been squeezed and condensed. A few short forays to my local park and innumerable laps of our eerily quiet street the best I could muster while sticking to the law.

Outside, the seasons advance regardless of the turmoil unfolding in human society and the lives of the plants and animals continue as they always have, unchanged by the pandemic hamstringing their human admirers.

The big change observed this week on my local patch was the emergence of insect life. A few sunnier days, a marginal increase in temperature and the floodgates have well and truly opened. Butterflies have been conspicuous, the most numerous of which being Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock. Their presence adds a much-needed touch of colour to life here. They were not alone, however, and Comma too have emerged, brown yet far from dull; while yesterday brought my first Small White of the season.

Much like their more glamourous counterparts, bees to have dramatically increased this week. The few intrepid Buff-tailed Bumblebees now joined by Tree, White-tailed and Red-tailed bumbles, as well as my first Common Carder of the year. The greatest concentration of these furry pollinators being found on a stand of blooming Blackthorn in the centre of the local park – the setting for yesterdays allocated thirty minutes of ‘exercise’. The small white blooms, splayed and smiling, together form an irresistible draw to invertebrates of all shapes and sizes.

Also worthy of a mention on the invertebrate front was my first (ever) Dark-bordered Bee Fly; while a brief solitary bee, likely a Tawny Mining Bee, proved far too quick to photograph. As is often the norm with small, winged beasties.

Walking multiple, circular loops of the park, it was exciting to note at least four singing Chiffchaff. Their repetitive, maladroit song quite literally, music to my ears. Less so the sound of shrieking Ring-necked Parakeets, which seem to be growing more abundant by the day in my neck of the woods. Give it a decade or so and their population here may well mirror that of London.

What of the plants? Well, befitting January promise to educate myself on local plant life, I have continued to keep my eye to the ground. Locally, the fine weather this week as seen many more species set about blooming, and it was nice to note a few firsts for the year in the form of Greater Stitchwort and Cowslip. A small patch of Honesty blooming on the outskirts of the local allotment, clearly an escape from cultivation, was also pleasing to the eye.

But what of new species for current exercise in species diversity? Well, there were a few actually, including Henbit Dead-nettle, Charlock and Garden Grape Hyacinth found growing in cracks and crevices along the neighbouring street. On the slightly more mobile front, Daddy Long Legs and Garden Spider made up the arachnid haul; while I think I have successfully identified my first bryophyte here: Wall Screw Moss, Tortula muralis. How exciting, I hear you say!

All in all, that’s 114 species identified on my urban patch.

Signs of Spring, by Frances Jones

My walk through the woods has become significantly more important for me since the announcement came that the country was going into lockdown. The song of the blackbird, the sight of a butterfly; these and many more moments have become more precious as the freedom to move whenever and wherever is reduced. After a number of phone calls and emails trying to ascertain my next step, work-wise, I took myself off for a walk. This is my daily exercise, as defined in the government’s list of restrictions, but it serves an important purpose for my mind, too. The sight of green does a lot to keep my spirits high, and the unexpected but familiar creatures that I see whilst out of the house do, too.

This morning, I took the path that meanders alongside a brook at the back of the houses here. The water glistened, clear and bright, tumbling over the branches that had fallen there in the last storms. How long ago those seem, now! I stopped whilst a comma fluttered in front of me and came to rest on a celandine flower. It had chosen a sunny spot and bathed there several minutes. When I moved, I cast a shadow and the butterfly left its darkened flower and settled on another, still in sunshine. I moved with it and walked on, leaving it in peace. The woodland was alive with birdsong; blue tits, great tits, chaffinches and blackbirds all sang to create a joyous chorus. I had woken up to their songs, and it wasn’t a bad way to start the day. Most mornings, the woodpigeons sit on the roof and coo, a rhythmic message that always ends on a short note. They also perch in the birch trees outside my window, looking rather too large for the delicate twigs that bear their weight. Sparrows flit from branch to branch, chattering and looking industrious. Last year I watched a greater spotted woodpecker hunt for titbits on the grass in front of the house. It was rather a treat for me to see one close up.

I turned left to follow the curve of the small lake. This area used to be a brickworks, and when the houses were built the lake was created to help minimise the risk of flooding. The trees are changing into their spring clothes now and the willows looked particularly beautiful against the deep blue sky. The delicate white of hawthorn lined my route around the water and on the banks, mallards were resting in the midday sun.

I’m intending, during this period of restricted movement, to make as much of my time outdoors as I can. I will pay attention to the birdsong and the wildlife I see; I’ll learn to identify more birds by song, and I will try to identify those that I don’t yet know by sight. Because I can wander through the woods and enjoy it, regardless, but as Simon Barnes says in How to be a Bad Birdwatcher, the naming of things is important. It brings meaning, extra appreciation, and a sense that we are connected to that creature, bird or tree that we see. Spring has sprung here and for that, I’m thankful.

Tales from the urban jungle

It certainly feels like Spring has sprung in my little corner of Newcastle: garish daffodils of all shapes and sizes adorn the roadsides, House Sparrows emerge from beneath the slates of terraced homes and cool yet brighter mornings are marked by the fluted notes of Song Thrush and the caterwauling of returning Lesser Black-backed Gulls.

In the small park at the end of my street, the regulars are busy. Blue Tits make tentative inspections of nestboxes lovingly placed by local volunteers, plump Woodpigeons haul twigs back and forward and each tree, whether Ash, Oak or Sycamore, seems to sport at least one bird in full song. On today’s walk, it was the Robins that sang the loudest; although the song of Greenfinch, Dunnock and Goldfinch was audible during the lulls.

There have been a few new arrivals on the local patch this week – new species to adorn the growing list of critters with whom I share my street. Among these, the oystercatcher was the loudest – shrieking at dawn as it circled the wasteland a stone’s throw from home. Doubtless, a suitable breeding site for a pioneering wader. Slightly more demur was the reed bunting – a handsome male – that turned up on the parkland pond, singing amid a stand of reeds no bigger than your average office. Not a bird I had to expect to see in the city when I set out to record the wildlife here.

Also new this week were the frogs – not that I have seen one yet. City amphibians appear far too savvy for that. No, instead I must make do with the leftovers of their nocturnal antics – several globs of spawn deposited around the margins of the pool. A promising sign that, despite everything, frogs still persist here.

Earlier, I mentioned daffodils – the flower of the moment and everyone’s favourite springtime bloom. Not mine, I’m afraid, my efforts this week focused on unearthing (figuratively speaking) other treasures along the path sides and fractured walls of the street. A successful mission, with a few new species for the patch: Green Alkanet, adorned with gorgeous, deep-blue flowers; fuzzy Common Mouse-ear and, perhaps most exciting of all, what I think could be Danish Scurvygrass. A salt-tolerant species now flourishing along the perpetually gritted motorways of the UK, growing here (ironically) outside the local salt storage depot.

Green Alkanet, Danish Scurvygrass and Common Mouse-ear

Plants need not be new to be exciting, however, and this week, the dainty white blooms of cherry plum have reigned supreme. A naturalised species in the UK, this eye-catching member of the prunus family is one of the first trees to spring to life, blooming even earlier than our native blackthorn with which it shares many similarities. Blooms which, at present, are painting my local park a beautiful white, all while providing a welcome source of nectar to the few intrepid pollinators willing to brave the chill and venture out.

The blooms of Cherry Plum in the local park

Well, that’s just about a wrap for this weeks update. Honourary mentions this week go to the Ring-necked Parakeets who, having well and truly colonised the North, appear resident on the street – flying too and fro and never failing to rattle the nerves with their piercing shouts. Somewhat less obtrusive (yet no less colourful), Goldfinches also continue to raid the feeders daily – a welcome splash of colour against a backdrop of aged brick and flaking window frames.

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Botany

Bees (and related beasties)

Flies (mostly hoverflies)

Lepidoptera

Other smaller life

Birdlife

What next?

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Fork-tailed Flower Bee

Patchwork Leafcutter Bee

Pied Hoverfly

Leafminers

Chaffinch

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The blue…

The bronze…

The hairy…

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