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.