Tracks in the snow

Yesterday we were told to expect two feet of snow to fall overnight, and sure enough, around about midnight it began. A fine, crisp powdery snow falling thickly – as I watched from the top of the fire escape it obliterated the grass below. I went to bed thrilled skinny that even in London you get the good snow sometimes!

The morning dawned quiet and still, a strange thing in the city. But the snow was not the thick blanket I had hoped for and the flakes that were still tumbling out of the sky were wet and melting as they fell.  I trudged down the slush covered fire escape with the new bird feeder in one hand and a stepladder in the the other, trying to figure out where the most squirrel proofed place in the garden might be. That’s when I spotted the dainty tracks criss crossing the snow. There were two sets of tracks, one old and hard to read and filling up rapidly with falling snow. The tracks you see to the left however were crisp and fresh as a daisy.  A fox! Looks like  foxy was running to leap the fence when she heard me open the door – I just missed seeing her. I know that foxes hunt the mice and other rodents that hang around the compost bins and nearby garden sheds and wonder if this weather makes hunting easier or harder.  I realised that my delight in the wintry weather largely comes from having plenty to eat and not having to hunt for my food under a freezing blanket of snow. This is harsh weather for wildlife and set to stay for a week at the very least, which is why I’m breaking my rule about never feeding the birds.

Feeding the birds in my neighbourhood is a bad idea; it’s pretty much inviting them to commit suicide. Our eccentric cat loving neighbour feeds all the local cats which means that his – and our – garden is constantly full of them. Come the snow, the cats go home and I feel a little better about doing it, but there are still the squirrels to contend with – I doubt they’d actually kill a bird, but they can certainly drive them all away and eat their food. I like squirrels, but in the garden they are cunning gluttons. And then of course there is fantastic Ms fox. But I wouldn’t mind a bit if I saw a fox take a bird from our garden -  it’s what they do, it’s what they’ve always done, just making a living after all. If I feed the birds and a fox benefits from that one day… well, good luck to it.

So I hung up the feeder and retreated indoors, assuming that the big snow we were promised was all just talk. A couple of hours later the sky was dizzy with whirling snowflakes, the clouds an eerie ultraviolet. Let’s see how it looks tomorrow.

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22 Spot Ladybirds

About a month ago I was bemoaning the mildewy state of our courgette plants when I noticed a brilliant yellow speck moving about in the foliage. Upon taking a closer look I was happy to find this pair of 22 spot ladybirds taking advantage of the sunny weather by mating vigorously (and for ages!) on the chewed and greying leaves.

It was impossible to get a better photo without disturbing them, but as these  ladybirds are tiny – only 3 to 5 mm long, I was pleased to get any picture at all. All ladybirds are welcome in our garden – they are wonderful pest control – but I only found out how pleased I should have been on behalf of our courgettes yesterday when I read this post about ladybirds in Hagbourne Wildlife, which told me that the 22 spot eats mildew! I had no idea that there were any non-carnivorous ladybirds so I did a little bit of research.

Native to Europe, their latin name is Psyllobora vigintiduopunctata, often abbreviated to Psyllobora 22-punctata, and they can reliably be identified from their small size and uniformity of markings. Each wing case has 11 evenly spaced black spots. The pronotum (the section between the head and the abdomen) also has 5 black spots, which don’t seem to have been counted when this insect was given it’s name. You’ll find them on low growing mildewed (mouldy) plants, and a quick scout around wildlife forums also revealed fun informal accounts of them coming into utility rooms or living in house plant pots where the compost has become mouldy.

Alas my yellow spotted friends could do little for the courgettes – even if they bred a 22 spot army the mildew had already well and truly taken hold. I still like to think of their larvae munching bravely away – at least they won’t go hungry.

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Summer on the wing

At the risk of being corny, I’m amazed at how time flies. Two weekends ago (it seems a lot longer somehow) I spent a perfect summer afternoon investigating a small bramble hedge in the middle of Hampshire. Who knows how long I spent there; I was utterly absorbed, but I do know that I could barely see past the butterflies. There were clouds of them! I was astonished at how intently they foraged, as many fiercely territorial species sat calmly together and drank deeply from the bramble flowers. Perhaps it was the heat, perhaps it was the end of the breeding season; maybe it was just that they were getting drunk on good nectar, but I’ve never had so many butterflies sit so patiently for me.

First up was Polygonia c-album, or the Comma, a lovely amber coloured creature with attractively raggedy wings. Wondering how it got that name? Look at the bright marking on the underwing in the picture below – you should be able to tell!

At first I thought this Argynnis paphia, or Silver Washed Fritillary was a Comma too, but its larger size and calligraphic markings gave it away. Although this particular individual is very much past its best you can still see what an impressive and beautiful creature it is.

Let’s take a closer look at its wonderful green and orange furred body and spotted eyes

A little further along I found a Pyronia tithonus, or Gatekeeper – these sprightly butterflies were very active and though I saw many in the hedgerow this was the only one that would sit for me. I think it’s a female.

Time passed, and I realised that most butterflies had drunk their fill and moved on. I stalked the perimeter of the field and found nothing else that would sit still for me. Time to try the garden (we were staying at R’s parents house) which has many plants beloved of butterflies. Sure enough, there was an Aglais urticae, or Small Tortoiseshell on the lavender.

And the Gonepteryx rhamni, or Brimstone butterfly looked well on this striking blue flowered shrub. They particularly liked this plant, which seemed quite poetic given how the fizzy yellow of the butterfly looked against the improbably blue flower.

I had been anxiously hoping to find some Inachis io, or Peacock butterflies, having seen a colony of their caterpillars on nettles much earlier in the summer. They couldn’t all have been killed, surely? It seemed wrong that I hadn’t found an adult yet. Then, on a trespassing bramble I saw this…

What a showstopper! It was worth a bit of mild anxiety just to see this glorious insect – a male, fresh and glossy and presumably just emerged from its pupa.  I intend to write a little more about peacock butterflies, but I’ll leave that till another time.

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Tragedy or mystery?

In June I wrote about this Mute Swan who was stoically sitting on its nest all alone despite obviously suffering badly in the blistering heat. I never saw another bird with it, and as Mute Swans take turns with looking after the nest and chicks it seemed obvious to me that this bird might be in trouble. Well sadly it appears that either its mate died shortly after the eggs were laid leaving it unable to cope and causing the eggs to fail, or it is a female who built her nest alone and laid infertile eggs, because early this month I cycled past to find this…

An abandoned nest with only two cracked eggs in it. The determined swan had sat tight on its nest for two whole months to my knowledge, which cancels out the hope that the majority of the eggs might have hatched and the family swum away – swans eggs take approximately 35 days to hatch. The bird was sitting way too long.

But then again… I certainly wasn’t able to keep watch on this nest every single day and I could be wrong -  there might have been another bird and I just never happened to see it – I could also have overestimated the time the swan was sitting. It’s not like I was taking notes. I did ask every single person I saw looking at the swan if they had ever noticed another swan or how long they thought the swan had been sitting and invariably got the replies “nope” and “ooooh, ages“, which isn’t exactly scientific.  I guess I will never know.

Whatever actually happened, the disappearance of the swan has been of benefit to its neighbours. Earlier in the year when it was building its nest, I’d watched it driving off moorhens and coots who had already started building  and were understandably loath to abandon their nests just because a bigger bird wanted them out. Of course the swan won, but the smaller birds who had been nesting in this location for years didn’t go far. While I was looking at the huge abandoned nest a peaceful family of moorhens picked over it, selecting choice twigs and branches for use in their own construction.

I don’t know if there are many Londoners local to the area reading here but I was wondering… is there anyone out there who knows what happened to the Coppermill Lane swan? So many people stopped to look at it every day, it became locally quite famous. Not sure where I mean? It was on the western end of Coppermill lane (E17) near Springfield Park. It’s a very long shot I know but is there anyone out there who can help solve the mystery?

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Nosey Neighbour

I work mostly from home, and I’ve noticed that when I go to the kitchen for my mid afternoon snack I will sometimes have an gimlet eyed audience peering at me through the kitchen window from next door’s roof – particularly if said meal is bread based. Mostly it’s feral pigeons regarding my sandwich with envious eyes, cocking their heads from side to side and shuffling about with muted excitement, but this time it was a juvenile wood pigeon and it didn’t miss a single bite. I’ve never fed them, but obviously they’ve come to associate humans with food and this allows them to live in hope.

For more beautiful and fascinating images of the sky around the world, visit Skywatch Friday!

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