The Bank Vole Sleeps Tonight
But Not if the Laughing Duck can help it.

Happy New Year Dear Reader

A bit presumptuous I suppose, to imagine anyone still follows these ramblings given the BV's apparent hibernation over the last two months. Although perhaps, one or two of you may have gathered that all things HESC related, have been a bit hectic recently and may have been following events at : http://fohescnews.blogspot.co.uk/

I thought therefore, that by way of an explanation for the absence of recent posts and as my new years message to the nation(s) I should write a few words.

When I jumped ship, nearly two and half years ago, the aim was simple; dump the politics, the duplicity, the idiotic in-fighting, the long hours (rewarded with statutory indifference) and a generally unfulfilling life style, for something materially less compensatory, but spiritually more rewarding.

Recent proposals regarding changes in management and housing developments (follow link above for details) which potentially threaten the nature (in every sense of the word) of our local reserve, seemed for a while, to be conspiring to drag me back into aspects of my former life that I could do without - and have, I will admit, resulted in a few sleepless nights.

The Pond

Sleepless nights are particularly unwelcome these days, thanks to the arrival of the laughing duck on the pond which sits about 30 yards outside my bedroom window. The LD is a small dark domestic duck, who has recently turned up with a couple of colleagues and frequently expels a series of loud quacks not dissimilar from the noise made by that horrific creation, the laughing policeman. Unfortunately the LD does not sleep well either (should that be eider?)

The Laughing Duck and friend

I am certainly not complaining about my lot though. I am guessing that thousands (maybe millions) of dissatisfied UK workers, have to drag themselves into their particular satanic mill every day in order to support their families and loved ones. As financially viable retirement moves inextricably towards the preserve of septuagenarians (or outgoing BBC, NHS Trust, Local Government or Bank executives, fired for incompetence) the sentence of hard labour handed out to the rest must seem like life with no remission. But dejected workers here's a crumb of comfort.

You can apparently identify life's incompetents by their unshakable self confidence and almost permanent state of happiness. It seems, that a major factor in being totally useless, is the inability to recognise, that you have absolutely no idea what you are doing. Ignorance really does, therefore, bring bliss - so if you are unhappy with your lot, I guess it means there is a fair chance you are doing a good job. Feel better for that?

I am trying not to get too hung up on the equipment needed to take good pictures -

this one was taken with my phone and is one of my favourites of the last month.
Maybe it suggests that it is the end not the means that matters.
(Who am I kidding I still want to update my D7000 to the D7100).

If inclined, you can follow the various negotiations and machinations, required to try and prevent the well meaning and the well mean, from cocking up a wonderful little wildlife oasis on the north west border of Milton Keynes, on the FoHESC blog. But, I have resolved (tis the season), they will not form part of future musings under the ToaBV banner.

Afterthought - I hereby reserve the right to vent my personal spleen herein, if necessary to preserve the good name of FoHESC.

So, talking of resolutions how about this year I try for:

• More time spent watching wildlife and photography thereof
• Less time worrying about the adequacy of my equipment (photographic that is)
• Less hours spent awake listening to the laughing duck
• To be unshakably self-confident and permanently happy

Hawkers Hunting, Darters in Disguise, Brown Bombers

and Spitfires Reborn

Whoosh!

What was that?
That was your life mate.
That was quick, do I get another one?
Sorry mate, that’s your lot.

John Cleese in Fawlty Towers 

Sitting in my little office, it’s only 7pm, but pitch black outside. A month has evaporated since my last post and the heating has been turned on for a few days now.

To rub it in, the i player (on shuffle) has delivered Who knows where the time goes (Sandy Denny with Fairport Convention) :-

“Across the evening sky all the birds are leaving
But, how can they know it's time for them to go?
Before the winter fire, I will still be dreaming
I have no thought of time”

Followed by Ramble On (Led Zep):-

“Leaves are falling all around, It's time I was on my way.
Thanks to you, I'm much obliged for such a pleasant stay.
But now it's time for me to go. The autumn moon lights my way.
For now I smell the rain, and with it pain, and it's headed my way”.

I think you get the picture.

 

Now, for something completely different (you can’t say I don’t know how to milk a theme).

Back in those halcyon days of August, I had intended to write a small, pictorial, piece on local dragonflies and tell you about a chance encounter with an extremely interesting gent and so, albeit, quite a bit later than intended, I will.

This summer has been really good for spotting dragonflies at our local reserve. The normal selection of Hairys, Emperors, Broad-bodied, Black-tailed and Four-spotted Chasers and Brown Hawkers kicked off the season, with Southern and Migrant Hawkers, Ruddy and Commons Darters coming off the bench, intent on going as far as possible, into extra-time.

Having spent much of last year trying to identify the not always obvious differences between the Common and Ruddy Darters I was extremely pleased this year to get a few snaps that I think help show the characteristics of each:

 

The male Ruddy Darter (left) and Common Darter (below) are not too difficult to distinguish. As you can see the Ruddy Darter has a much deeper red body (although this does vary according to maturity). The Common Darter has the fairly obvious yellow patches on the side of his thorax.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The girls present a bit more of a challenge. For me the easiest way to be sure is by looking at the legs. The Ruddy Darter (left) has all black stockings whilst the Common Darter (below), has yellow stripes down the backs of her legs. There are other subtle differences, but as long as you can get close (or a photo), then the legs seem, for me, to be the best indicator. The leg stripes work for males as well if you are struggling.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Another two species which I got a bit muddled at times last year were the Migrant and Southern Hawker. No doubt the experienced Ode Spotter thinks they are as different as chalk and cheese, but for the benefit of those, who, like me, are just getting to know their dragonflies, I thought I would show a couple of pictures taken at the back end of this summer which, I hope, help differentiate the two species.

 

The Southern Hawker, on the left, contains a fair bit more green on its thorax and the upper dots of it's body. The Migrant Hawker (below) has a brown thorax with yellow patches.

The Migrant Hawkers also appear to be one of the more curious dragonflies and will often fly quite close to you and hover, whilst they give you the once over. The Southern Hawker seems to prefer the shade and will patrol up and down pathways under the cover of over-hanging trees.

 

 

 

 

 

Now bear, with me on this next bit, but, if in WWII aircraft parlance, the Darters are Spitfires and Hurricanes and the Chasers are Bristol Beaufighters and de Havilland Mosquitos, then for me the Emperor and Brown Hawker are respectively the Avro Lancaster and Handley Page Halifax.

 

You see, I reckon, that whilst the Emperor is the big, bold, brazen, master of the skies, that everyone knows, the Brown Hawker is the unglamorous, workman like sort of Dragonfly, that battles on through all life’s flak and gets the job done: a kind of Brown Bomber.

 

Not convinced? Then as the late Mr Frankie Howard would say “please yourselves”. Undaunted the metaphors continue.

 

I failed to successfully capture a Brown Bomber in the Nikon’s searchlight for all of last year and for most of this. I finally caught up with this tired old gent, taking a well earned rest between sorties, you can see by the state of his wings that he has certainly seen some action, but otherwise appears serviceable.

 

The Brown (Bomber) Hawker

 

Ok I’ll come to the point of all the Biggles banter. One of the many benefits in getting involved in conservation work, is the wonderful diversity of people you meet, many of who, hide lights under their bushels, that you could just never guess.

One such gentleman, that I had the privilege to share a break-time coffee with, whilst scrub bashing at the reserve, was Peter Arnold. The conversation initially turned to photography, Peter it seemed, enjoyed photographing aircraft, but it soon transpired that his interest with planes, was far more intimate and hands on than I could ever guess. Peter bought and restored old Spitfires.

I cannot remember exactly how many Spitfire projects Peter told me had been involved in altogether (7 rings a bell), but he has shown me pictures of three of the Spitfires that he has been involved in restoring and I am sure there have been quite a few more.

 

Peter has recently completed Spitfire Survivors, which is described as the definitive reference book on the history of each and every survivor of the legendary World War II fighter aircraft.

Here is a truly magnificent photograph that Peter kindly sent me of a Seafire XVII he bought from a scrapyard back in 1973 and which is now flying.

 

Photograph by and copyright Peter Arnold

Scrambled metaphors, oh yes!

Squawk Like an Egyptian

About a week ago, I happened by chance, on one of those nature sequences that can't help but make you smile.

For reasons best known to itself, a feisty young Mute Swan decided it didn't like three Egyptian Geese trespassing in it's territory, maybe the bank robber masks they appear to be wearing had suggested they were up to no good.

Anyway, the Swan was determined to see them off. The trouble was, that the Egyptians were a bit slow getting the message and continued to stooge around in circles, whilst trying to avoid big boys beak.

Finally, with that indignant expression that all geese do so well, they sauntered off to another part of the lake to find a quieter life.

 

Wilson, Keppel and Betty finally get the message and move on

 

Is the Tortoise Slowing Decline?

I was sad to recently read, that the Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly Aglais urticae - which I plead guilty to having taken for granted, as an ever-present visitor to our gardens and hedgerows each Summer - has in recent years been suffering a significant reduction in numbers in Britain (particularly in the South)

Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly Aglais urticae

One of the possible reasons for this decline is thought to be a parasitic fly, Sturmia bella, which is common on the Continent but had not been recorded in Britain until 1998, however, it is now being recorded in many parts of Britain and particularly in the South. Global warming will no doubt be blamed as a likely reason for the flies immigrating to our shores.

The fly lays its eggs on the caterpillars’ foodplant (often nettles) and the Butterfly larvae then ingest the tiny eggs as they munch their way through the leaves. A grizzly death ensues, as the fly grubs emerge and feed on the insides of their host, although being careful to avoid eating the vital organs, until they are ready to break-out from either the fully-grown larva or pupa, at which point the host dies.

How did I ever take these for granted?

- the colours are truly beautiful

 This fly also attacks related species, such as the Peacock and Red Admiral, but it seems that unfortunately for the Small Tortoiseshell, it’s life cycle is better attuned to that of the fly and is more susceptible to attack.

  

Also at risk the Peacock Butterfly

On a more positive note - and whilst I fully accept that one man’s observations do not a scientific study make - I can’t help thinking that this summer seems to be a particularly good year for many species of Butterfly - including plenty of Small Tortoiseshells around these here parts. I can only guess and hope, that this year, the long, warm, dry weather may have helped more Butterflies to have hatched and survived.

The paradox of course being, that a long warm British summer may also encourage greater numbers of the parasitic fly. 

Common Blue Couple Find Wheel Love

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!

I know insects don't have faces.
I know insects don't have expressions.
I know insects don't display emotions
I know it's childish and unscientific.
I know it's probably my feeble imagination.
and the product of some deep Freudian psychoanalytical deviation.

BUT

Please don't tell me, that this female Common Blue Damselfly doesn't have a self satisfied smug look on her face and a far away look in her eyes and that he is not displaying the broadest grin, as he contemplates the pride and pleasure of his conquest.

Nurse!

Is it time for my medication?

Hens Teeth Week

Local rarities it seems are like this July's rainstorms, you don't see any for weeks and then a deluge (OK a very small deluge).

Following quickly on from the MK Painted Lady (see last blog) I have fallen upon a ducks deluxe of Common Scoter (2male, 3 female).

Melanitta nigra the Common Scoter

(Sorry about photo they insisted on keeping their distance)

As I have often mentioned I am not an avid (rabid) birder, so getting ticks doesn't particularly turn me on, but oddity (Bill Oddity come back all is forgiven) does. So what on earth possessed these five little sea ducks - now on the red list - to pitch up on a relatively small lake on the north west edge of Milton Keynes.

A quick bit of research tells me that in July any UK Scoters are likely to be on breeding grounds  in N and W Scotland, especially the Flow Country of Caithness and Sutherland, whilst in winter they can be found off the coast in places like Carmarthen and Cardigan Bays, the Moray Firth, and along the North Norfolk coast. MK - not a mention.

Perhaps, at this rate, I can expect to see a raft of Common Australian Ducks (edgedat anderson) by the end of the week.

Miraculous Arrival

Well he is here at last - not an easy delivery - not when you have tiny gossamer wings and have to cross at least one if not two seas. When you are at the mercy of winds, predators and everything nature can throw at you and in all probability are on a one way ticket from your birth place, in North Africa or Southern Europe.

Vanessa cardui

Seeing this Painted Lady not more than 1/2 a mile from where I live in Milton Keynes was just awe inspiring. Not a particular rarity I grant you, but then again, not often seen round these here parts either.

This was my first opportunity to see one of these beautiful creatures at close quarters and I was not disappointed, the Painted Lady is one of those few butterflies where both the upper and undersides of the wings are equally stunning.

It's a little sad to think, that if he can survive that long, the first British frost of Autumn will finish him off. On the other hand, he might be one of the few, that make the return journey to warmer climes around the Mediterranean.

Good luck little buddy.

Hungry

"I'm Hungry"

"I'm Really Hungry"

"I'm Really Really Hungry"

"What took you so long?"

No Jacket Required
or
If Leaving Me is Easy - Coming back is Downright Impossible

A week or so back I was lucky enough to witness the emergence of a Broad Bodied Chaser Dragonfly. What made the experience even more special, was how close I was able to get to the event - because, this particular little miracle, took place in a tiny pond, inset in a wall, outside the centre buildings of our local nature reserve (HESC).

Our Hero - Lets call him Phil (well he's not a hairy dragonfly) - climbs out of the pond on a reed stem. Phil is still a Larva (or Nymph if you are an angler). There's no going back, Phil's spiracles are now open, he has started to breath air directly from the atmosphere. But seriously, if he falls back into the water he may drown. Phil wiggles his body and legs about - he can dance - he does this to ensure he has a firm grip on the reed stem and there is enough room around him for what is to come.

Phil pumps fluid into his thorax causing it to swell, a rip has started to appear in the back of his jacket (cuticle). This is going to take some time, you can't hurry, love.

Phil pushes his head and thorax out through the tear in his jacket, he is lucky, sometimes the cuticle does not split open enough and the adult dragonfly becomes trapped and dies.

Almost free, Phil hangs from what is to become his exuvia (larva case), he needs his legs to harden so that he can climb completely free from his former self.

Against all odds, he's completely free from his larval skin, now he must inflate his wing buds by pumping fluid into them.

 

A bit green still, but Phil's wings are almost completely inflated - he will be in the air tonight. The next step is to divert the fluid back into his abdomen and extend his body to it's full size.

 

 

All that remains now is for Phil to flick open his wings and dance into the light 

 

 

At this point I will confess that as the process above, has already taken over three hours, rather than wait another hour for Phil to complete his hardening process and take flight. I have included a picture of a female BBC that obligingly sat in a bush beside us whilst Phil performed his metamorphosis.

 

My abiding memories of the day are, how wonderful nature's everyday events are when you get the chance to see them in detail, and how damned difficult macro-photography is. I think my success rate on the day was about one in five, but I shall continue to persevere and gratefully take advice from those far more expert than myself.

Fledging

Due to a dodgy back I have been using my conservatory as my office for the last week or so (the table and chair height are more sympathetic to my condition - unlike many so called friends). An unexpected benefit to my location has been the ability to watch, close up, the daily struggles of a pair of blackbirds bringing up baby.

I say baby, because there is now, it seems, only one survivor - although having not been able to see into the nest, there may, of course, have only been one hatchling.

During my time watching I have witnessed the two brave parents trying to repel a number of raids from a magpie, whilst each time, a carrion crow sat atop the tree waiting to see what it could pick up from the melee. You shouldn't attribute evil to wild animals - but I confess I found it all a bit hard to accept, even though I know full well, that this is how it is, for millions of birds every day.

It was shortly after this noisy fracas that I first noticed junior bouncing around the lawn, not sure whether his priority was food, or finding shelter. To be honest I didn't give a lot for his chances.  So I was delighted a day later, to see a pair of eyes peering at me from the bush just outside my conservatory window

Meanwhile the fearless twosome, in between feeding their surviving offspring, have quite literally chased one of the neighbourhood moggies out of the garden and ferociously  set about a pair of bewildered pigeons who had planned on clearing up some seed spilt from a feeder.

Grubs Up

The young bird has fallen off its perch at least once to my knowledge and then reappeared on another branch - I wonder how much longer it can keeping dodging fate. I find it all a bit stressful, wanting to help, but knowing the best thing is to leave it to the parent birds and trust to luck.

Another youngster dodging natures metaphorical bullets was a newly fledged, and very stub tailed, Song Thrush, which I almost stepped on when exiting a hide Sunday morning.

Fortunately, this little chap had got enough flight in him to acquire a branch on the nearest tree. Giving me the opportunity to get a quick photo and wish him luck for the future.

Go Wild, Go Wild
Go wild in the country
Where snakes in the grass are absolutely free

The grass snake, one of the many, many British creatures on my list of would like to photograph, has up to this last week, very successfully been avoiding my camera. Yes, over the last few summers, I have probably seen a dozen or more grass snakes - but by the time I could bring my lens to bear, all that has remained in view of the reptile, has been a tail slithering undercover. 

Last summer (no camera with me), I even picked a large, presumably therefore, female, grass snake off the local village high street  and removed it to a safer environment. Such was it's gratitude, that it immediately deployed it's extremely smelly defense system, by weeing and pooing on me. A sure way of not being crowded in the pub.

I finally managed to break my duck last Sunday, when I spotted a - what I estimate as about 1 metre long - grass snake having a kip in a sheltered sunny spot, on the side of a meadow. Fortunately, it took a few seconds before realising I was there, which enabled me to get this picture.

I would still like to eventually get the classic head on, tongue out view, but I was very happy to at last get a reasonable shot. 

I was even happier to round the bank holiday weekend off, with what I suspect may be a, not to be repeated (or at least for a long while) photo opportunity, with one of the members of the heard but not often seen club, the Grasshopper Warbler.

The Grasshopper Warbler - Locustella naevia

The RSPB website describes the "Groppers" song as high, insect-like and reeling. Other descriptions liken it to the ratchet sound of line being pulled off a fishing reel. To my ears, it does seem to have an almost mechanical edge to it.

Although relatively  easy to hear and recognize, the song does not always give it's owner's location away, due to what is described as a ventriloquial effect. Normally - the books say - this bird keeps a low profile by creeping about the foliage, however this particular individual was content to sit in fairly plain view and deliver his song to the world, whilst I snapped away.

As it sang this bird's tail vibrated furiously

Sadly, I read that a dramatic population decline has put this bird on the species Red List - a trend which I hope our local visitors are planning to resist.

 

A Spring Air*

Spring is here, the days grow long,
Skies are clear now Winter's gone
and dreams of love approach reality.
The once bare boughs of lilac trees
are haunted now by honey bees
and all the world exudes vitality.
*Lyrics © The Amazing Blondel

After so many weeks of cold cheerless weather, I had started to imagine what it must be like for the creatures hibernating through this years seemingly endless winter. Do they long to awake and go out into the fresh new world?

Whilst not exactly in a state of hibernation, I was certainly getting more than a little disenchanted, with what seemed, like an interminable age for spring to get started and for the sun to deliver some new faces down at the local reserve.

Then last Thursday the Great Weather Controller in the Sky decided enough was enough and flicked the switch – within hours it seemed the first House and Sand Martins and a few Swallows were flicking across the main lake. A pair of Oystercatchers had teamed up on the newly water-free area of the bund, which  once again divides the lake and plaintive “cweeeks” in the sky announced the arrival of the first dazzling, dancing, Common Terns of the year.

Willow Warbler

From high vantage points around the woods Chiffchaffs were reminding everyone of their name and the first Blackcaps appeared sneaking through the bushes. Then Willow Warblers started to join the chorus, only to be interrupted by the yaffling laugh of Green Woodpeckers and the lonesome whickering cries of Little Grebes looking for a mate on the ponds and backwaters amongst the trees.

Blackcap

Also in the ponds, Mr Toad (and Mr Frog and Mr Newt) was a courting and I checked back to confirm that this year they were just over three weeks later than last (although of course last March was the exact opposite of this, but with equally unseasonal temperatures of up to 20c by mid-month). 
 

He ain't heavy - two Toad tango

Peacock, Brimstone and Small Tortoiseshell butterflies were also out and about and seemed to be enjoying brief encounters with the opposite sex, as they competed with a few Bumble Bees for the first drops of pollen and nectar among the bushes and trees, which at last, were showing signs of flower and leaf.

Brief encounter - Small Tortoiseshell Butterflies

Not long now and we should hear the first Cuckcoo, the Damsel and Dragon flies will appear and then with luck the Hobbies will return to perform their aerial acrobatics over the lakes and trees in search of prey. Among the fresh meadow flowers the Pyramidal and Bee Orchids will raise their faces to the sun and Grass snakes will come out to bask in warm sheltered places. 

I can’t wait.

It’s good to wake up to spring.

Quelle surprise!

Watching the BBC National News today (08/03/13) and lo and behold - only two days after ToaBV - there they are, featuring a piece on the plight of the Water Vole (although failing to explain the prime reason for the Water Voles dramatic decline - see previous post).

The BBC article showed a nice young man from Dorset Wildlife Trust, explaining how they were clearing river banks to create a more suitable environment for Water Voles, whilst a number of fluorescent chaps from the Environment Agency felled branches, to build a mink restaurant in the middle of a stream (dear auntie Beeb thought that the little floating island represented a safe home).

It's nice to know the BBC are following my lead (if not my blog), but I just hope that they had decided not to mention, the only real way to help save the savaged Water Vole population, lest they offend the squeamish British Public. If not I fear the well intentioned good people of Dorset were wasting their time.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-dorset-21685649

Psycho Killer
Qu'est-ce que c'est

A while back I remember taking umbrage (not the place where the Archers live) at an article written by Robin Page, which seemed to promote an, if it’s got eyes it dies, attitude, to most non-native species and pretty much anything else with the temerity to nibble his rhubarb stick, let alone breath the same air as cattle.

I don’t intend to throw my three pennyworth into the badger v bovine TB debate in this piece – but for a rather interesting twist to that story, check out professor Alice Roberts article in the Guardian, which suggest that cattle may well have first contracted TB from humans – look out homo erectus Robins got his gun.

Now - cue embarrassed blushes - I am about to side with Mr P in what I regard as the open and shut case against the American Mink.

Cute? - not if your a Water Vole or Kingfisher

Following escapes from fur farms between the 1920's and 1950's, the Mink (Neovison vison) has become widely established throughout the UK. Studies conclusively show, that Mink have had a major impact on our native fauna through predation of birds and small rodents. Particularly vulnerable species are kingfisher and the water vole (Arvicola amphibious) (Macdonald & Strachan, 1999), (Strachan, Strachan & Jefferies, 2000).

The studies conclude that, when added to existing habitat degradation, the pressure of mink predation has directly contributed to a 90% decline in water vole populations in many areas.

The Wildlife Trusts (along with other conservation bodies) advocate that (targeted, legal, humane) mink control is essential, if we are to conserve remaining key populations of water vole and to prevent the wholesale slaughter of birds, fish and small mammals by this indiscriminate killer.

Bold as brass - this mink showed little fear when I discovered 

it hunting around the back of our reserve buildings

Why then, does the authority, which manages my beloved local nature reserve, throw up their arms in helpless indifference, when I complain about the number of mink running around the Centre out-buildings and setting up home within yards of their offices. Clear evidence of their infestation and breeding can be seen, but will anybody do anything to prevent them spilling out across the whole reserve? No. The attitude seems to be - it’s too late, what can we do.

In 1992 Water Vole were confirmed as still being present on our site, but already at that time the numbers were identified as in decline, due to the effects of mink predation. Sadly, little if anything was done and Water Vole have not been recorded now for a number of years. Water Shrew (a much smaller mouthful) are still present, but how long will it be before they start to disappear, along with the Moorhen, Coot, Little and Great Crested Grebe and locally breeding ducks. Perish the thought that the Oyster Catchers and Lapwing, that also attempted to breed last year (but unfortunately got washed out) should try again. As for our plans to build a Kingfisher nest site – I don’t think I could bear to face the consequences.

In Scotland and many areas of England, it has proved possible that with a properly conducted programme, involving authorities, conservation bodies and volunteer groups, mink numbers can be sufficiently reduced, to allow Water Voles to recover and repopulate areas where previously they were thought to have gone for ever. It shows that it just needs the right attitude and a modicum of effort.

Come on you dithering councils and procrastinating authorities Qu'est-ce que c'est.