Wilstone Reservoir

The brief respite in the cold weather is over all too soon and winter has roared back with teeth bared and the countryside is once again in it's vice-like grip, iron hard and blanketed in deep powdery snow. It looks very beautiful, but with several nights of hard frosts and bitterly cold days ahead, life promises to be very hard for the local wildlife. I spent most of the day clearing snow in my little back garden and scattering vast amounts of food on small bare patches of ground for the beleaguered birds, most of which is being rapidly hoovered up by a gang of greedy Woodpigeons that regularly make smash and grab raids that are costing me a fortune! I've been regularly filling a bowl with hot water which the local Starlings seem to love. They fly down from my TV aerial and dive in, squabbling and splashing around and generally having a great time - a sort of Starling sauna! I've even managed to tempt a few House Sparrows away from a neighbouring garden where they seem to spend most of their time. More and more Chaffinches are arriving each day and today a Black-headed Gull dropped in for a few nervous seconds to grab some bread.

One of the last pools of clear water left at Wilstone (19/12/2010)

Wilstone Reservoir is almost completely frozen again with just a couple of tiny pools of clear water left, now crammed to bursting point with a frenzied gaggle of Coot, Grebes, Mute Swans and a variety of ducks - Wigeon, Pochard, a smattering of Tea and Mallard, and a miserable looking Red-crested Pochard, head tucked firmly under a wing, fast asleep on the ice. A Kingfisher, plainly struggling to feed in the brutal conditions sat forlornly on the concrete bank, occasionally making brief fruitless forays over the last small patches of open water. If I was a Kingfisher I think I'd be packing my bags and heading for the coast!

Wilstone Reservoir (07/12/2010)

Earlier in December, after a fiercely cold night, Wilstone Reservoir resembled a scene from Narnia trapped in an eternal winter. The distant trees thickly clad in hoar frost, floated like ghosts in the fog and everything was bathed in an otherworldly pale and sickly light. It was not hard to imagine the White Witch materialising out of the mist and gliding across the ice on a sledge pulled by Reindeer!

Ice at sunset, Wilstone Reservoir (07/12/2008)

Robin

"Art thou the Bird whom Man loves best,

The pious Bird with the scarlet breast,

Our little English Robin;

The Bird that comes about our doors

When Autumn winds are sobbing?"

From 'The Redbreast and the Butterfly' by William Wordsworth

(European) Robin Erithacus rubecula (20/12/2009)

No apologies for the shameless sentimentality of this seasonal picture! I came across this particularly friendly Robin taken near Tringford Reservoir and it got me me thinking about why the Robin Erithacus rubecula has become a symbol of Christmas and traditionally appears on cards and decorations. The first card depicting a Robin appeared in the 1860's, the bird pictured delivering an envelope and Postmen at the time wore red tunics and were nicknamed 'Robin Redbreasts'. I assumed that there would be an interesting folk tale or myth that explained this close association with the Christmas season, but the truth is much simpler. With food scarcer, Robins are at their most tame and visible in the winter and their bright red breast, often puffed up to help retain warmth brings colour to dull wintry surroundings. Male Robins often sing in the winter to establish territory and their sweet song undoubtedly would have filled people with the promise of Spring and better weather to come to. Perhaps, as the familiar birds of summer slowly melted away people felt they could rely on the Robin to stay with them and brave the winter, to keep them company and cheer them up through the long dark days. So the Robin has long been a part of the festive season and when cards became popular in Victorian times they soon became a popular subject and in 1960 officially became Britain's national bird. Of course, what people didn't realise is that the Robin in their garden may well have come from Northern Europe to spend the winter here!There is however a wealth of Folklore surrounding the Robin with perhaps the strangest tale being that if one finds a dead body it will cover it with leaves and moss. In the ancient tale of the Babes in the Wood a Robin carefully covers the dead bodies of the two lost children with leaves. It seems a bizarre idea but perhaps it stems from observations of Robins throwing leaves around as they search for food on the forest floor.

"Can this be the Bird, to man so good,

Our consecrated Robin!

That, after their bewildering,

Did cover with leaves the little children,

So painfully in the wood?"

From 'The Redbreast and the Butterfly' by William Wordsworth

An old superstition says that it is very bad luck to kill a Robin and according to one story if you do your hands will never stop shaking. At least this has meant that the Robin has always been revered and treated well by man. As a gardener I am well used to Robins pottering around my feet, perching on Spades and Wheel Barrows and very occasionally taking a worm from my hand, but this is a sign of how well we have treated these iconic birds for centuries. Sadly this is not the case in some parts of Southern Europe where Robins along with many other small birds are still trapped and eaten in huge numbers. This persecution has meant Robins are very shy and wary and often hard to see. A few years ago we spent a cheap and cheerful week in Tenerife and it took me until the end of the holiday before I eventually found a Robin (since split as Tenerife Robin), skulking deep in the undergrowth of a montane pine forest.

There are several tales explaining the origin of the red breast which centre around acts of kindness by the "pious" and "consecrated" Robin. Its was believed that a Robin pulled a thorn from the crown that had pierced the head of Jesus Christ as he made his way to the cross and was splattered with blood. In another story the birds breast was burnt while carrying water to sinners in hell. It is ironic that such an aggressive and occasionally murderous bird has gained such a kind and holy reputation!

Wolf's Milk Slime Mould

When I found these strange pink blobs while I was photographing fungus at Rammamere Common last month, I honestly thought that someone has stuck some old bubble gum to a fallen Birch truck. I initially thought that it was a fungus, possibly Coral Spot, but found out later that it was actually a Plasmodial Slime Mould called Wolf's Milk Lycogala epidendrum. How it got this strange name name I can't imagine, but Lycogala actually means Wolf's Milk and although easily mistaken for a fungus is in fact completely unrelated. If the outer wall of the young balls is broken they excrete a pink paste-like fluid which gives the mould it's other name, Toothpaste Slime. The fruiting bodies occur either scattered or in small groups as small, cushion-like blobs that usually turn browner when as they become more mature. Wolf's Milk is found from June to November on damp wood and large logs throughout Europe and North America.

Wolf's Milk Slime Mould Lycogala epidendrum

Bohemian Waxwing

More Waxwings! But who could resist a flock of 40 of these gorgeous birds on a bright and beautiful sunny morning only a few miles from home. Typically, these birds had chosen to settle in the picturesque surroundings of the Tesco car park in Leyton Buzzard and to be honest, as I arrived I had an attack of cold feet and was almost tempted to turn round and drive home. There's something slightly cringe-making about bird watching in these sort of places, being stared at by shoppers who obviously think you are a bit of a twit and can't understand why you would possibly want to spend your Sunday morning watching birds when you could be Christmas shopping! Maybe it's just me, but I find the whole thing a bit embarrassing and it doesn't help being surrounded by photographers clad from head to toe in camouflaged clothing, which as we all know is vital for blending into the concrete habitat of a supermarket car park! Perhaps I will have to grow a thicker skin! Nevertheless the stunning birds soon took my mind off the hideous surroundings and I managed to grab these photos as the birds fed busily on the blood red berries of a group small Rowan trees, before suddenly flying off purposefully southwards.

Bohemian Waxwing Bombycilla garrulus (Leyton Buzzard, 12/12/2010)

Bohemian Waxwing

At last! I spent the last days of November in an increasingly agitated state wondering if I was ever going to catch up with some Waxwings this year. With the severe weather in the north driving them southwards it seemed inevitable that a few of these wonderful birds would turn up in the Tring area. Unfortunately it was equally inevitable that when they did I would manage to miss them! A small group of 8 were found last Saturday and were briefly relocated again the next morning, but I was too late on the scene on both occasions. I spent a fruitless hour or so on Sunday morning scouring the residential streets of Tring carefully checking all the Rowan trees and other promising berry laden shrubs, but sadly they were not seen again.

Luckily some Waxwings chose to settle at Woburn in the same street lined with ornamental white Rowan trees that had been graced by a small flock earlier in the year. The snowfall in the night had made garden work almost impossible, so I gave myself the day off and took the opportunity to drive over to see them. Apparently there had been over 100 birds in the town earlier in the day which would have been quite a sight, but when I arrived at midday the numbers had fallen to small skittish flock of 24. Having gorged themselves on berries all morning the birds spent long periods perched high in the bare branches of a distant tree silhouetted against an ice blue winter sky, only occasionally dashing down to the Rowans for a few seconds to grab some berries in a half hearted way. It was almost as if they felt they ought to be feed as it was so cold, but actually couldn't be bothered because they were so full! The result was that I struggled to get any decent shots of the birds feeding and after a couple of hours the creeping numbness of my fingers and toes signalled to me that it was time to head home to the warmth and a cup of tea.

Bohemian Waxwing Bombycilla garrulus (Woburn, 30/11/2010)

Bohemian Waxwing Bombycilla garrulus (Woburn, 30/11/2010)

Wilstone Reservoir

We are in the middle of the 'big freeze' as the newspapers love to call it, but in this area we seem to have avoided the worst of the weather. At least so far! Being so centrally located and far from the coast in every direction does have it's advantages as we have only caught the fringes of the really bad weather. Wilstone Reservoir froze very rapidly after a couple of bitter nights, perhaps because the water is so shallow at the moment and the last remaining small patch of open water was soon crammed with a busy gaggle of Coots, Mute Swans and Ducks. I have been up to the reservoir once or twice at the end of the day but the sunsets have been a bit of a non event, so I have dug out these picturesque photos of a frozen Wilstone taken on a beautiful evening just before Christmas in 2008.

Sunset at Wilstone Reservoir (December 2008)

Wigeon on the ice at Wilstone Reservoir (December 2008)

Sunset at Wilstone Reservoir (December 2008)

Ducks at Wilstone Reservoir (December 2008)

Rants, theories etc

Three times in the last week I found myself making emergency trips to the Springwell Veterinary Surgery in Tring. Twice I came across Wood Pigeons, probably struck by cars, floundering helplessly on the pavement and then, worst of all, a Grey Squirrel, it's back broken after having being tortured by a cat. It can be very distressing but I am unable to leave an injured animal without doing something about it – I know that if I did nothing It would haunt me for days.

Wood Pigeons and Grey Squirrels? A lot of people might say, why bother? After all, they are both common and many would regard them as pests, but surely every creature has the right to any care available and should not have to suffer a second more than necessary if anything at all can be done to help it. I have often seen pedestrians stop and stare at an injured bird before hurrying on, probably putting it out of their mind straight away. I find this hard to understand, but I think a lot of people simply do want the responsibility or the hassle. After all caring is easy but getting involved is much harder. Understandably there are many who would like to do something but are frightened to touch or pick up an injured creature. Sadly, far too many people just don't care.

Last year I remember finding a stricken Blackbird, sitting stunned in the middle of the pavement in Tring, after having hit a shop window. Shoppers were virtually stepping on the bewildered bird, barely giving it a glance as they rushed past, yet when I picked it up, a women came up and thanked me for caring and doing something. Perhaps everyone is waiting for someone else to deal with the problem. Maybe that is just human nature. Thankfully, there are thousands who will take responsibility for the injured wildlife the find regardless of how inconvenient or distressing.

Whether it's a Kingfisher or a Crow it doesn't matter – everything suffers equally and deserves the same care. How many people would walk past an injured bird but instantly rush a cat to the vet? One of the many problems that conservationists have to deal with is convincing the public that slimy, crawly creatures are just as important and worth saving as cute, fluffy and colourful ones. After all, who want to save a snake or a spider?

In our increasingly isolated urban lives we have become so divorced from the natural world that we view the it in the same way that we watch television. We try to tame nature, influence it, watch it, mess with it, sometimes even try to save it and of course we can switch it off at any time. We are not part of the natural world any more, we chose to leave it behind and now we watch wildlife through windows. We find it harder and harder to engage with the natural world. Its easier keep nature at a distance and walk on by.

When their cats kill a bird, many people will say, “it's just nature”, but of course it is not. Domestic cats are not part of nature, they have been created by us for our own purposes and introduced into the environment at a terrible expense to the natural world. Cats are a convenience pet for people who don't want to have the responsibility of truly caring for or worrying about an animal. Let's face it, a bit of food and water is all a cat requires and after that it can be forgotten about. Often people haven't a clue where their cat if for most of the day or night and all that time it can come and go, wreaking havoc on the local wildlife. Many cat owners would not like to admit it, but their pets do not need them to survive and of course it is this that makes cats so damaging. Research has shown that a bell prevents about 50% of kills, yet how many cats do you ever see with bells on their collars?. It's such a simple thing, but it seems that most cat owners can't be bothered, which makes me wonder how much they really care about the problem.

In my work I often come across the depressing sight of gardens littered with the dead bodies of birds and small animals. Latest figures suggest that cats kill 55 million birds and 275 mammals in Britain every year. These are terrifying figures and are inevitably having a huge impact on our embattled wildlife that already has so much to contend with. I realise that many of the birds taken by cats are weak or sick and probably would not survive the winter. In fact research has suggested that cats have little effect on bird populations, but I find this a bit hard to accept. Birds are in a decline across a broad front and there are many factors involved so I find it difficult to believe that the loss of such a vast numbers every year is having no effect. The millions of young birds snapped up each spring, whether weak or healthy will not have the opportunity to survive the winter and to breed the following year. They are as vulnerable as a small child on a busy road. They don't stand a chance. And surely the loss of so many small mammals each year must have an effect on the feeding opportunities of predators such as Kestrels and Owls, especially in a hard winter.

Prey and predators populations control each other's size, but an introduced predator like the cat, that does not rely on it's prey for survival, has a terrible effect on wildlife that is already struggling. Effectively, whether we like it or not, cats are vermin. Many people who happily claim to love and care about the wildlife in their gardens also keep cats, but I am sure that many cat owners do not want to face the truth about their pets. It is surprising how often that it is the neighbours' cat or the cat from down the road that causes all the mayhem!

Those 'nasty' avian predators, the Sparrowhawk and the Magpie are often blamed for the decline of our 'nice' garden birds, but humans will always find something else to blame rather than turn the mirror on themselves. The painful reality is that almost all the problems confronting wildlife and the environment in this country can be laid at our door. We just don't want to hear it.

Ok, I know this is a bit of a rant! After all, I grew up on a farm and I am not squeamish and really shouldn't let an injured Squirrel get to me, but sometimes things get through a chink in the armour, burrow inside and won't leave you alone.

Frost

Here are some seasonal images taken at Weston Turville Reservoir at the end of a bitterly cold, sunny day in early January. As the sun went down and the temperature, which had struggled to rise much above zero, began to plummet, the frost clad vegetation was bathed in a soft afternoon light that enhanced it's subtle rusty hues, creating an almost impressionistic effect. It was a beautiful and memorable scene but for sake of our already embattled wildlife (and my heating bill!), I hope that this winter will be a little more benign!

Frost on dead vegetation, Weston Turville Reservoir, (04/01/2010)

Bohemian Waxwing

I'm still waiting excitedly for my first Waxwing of the year. It's a big invasion year but so far the vast majority of birds are still lingering in the northern half of the country and although there have been a few brief sightings reported locally as yet no birds have chosen to stick around. Driving through the country lanes I've been scanning the berry laden hedgerows and as I work I have been listening out for that beautiful shivering trill, but so far without success. These lovely birds always stir the imagination with romantic images of the vast Northern Coniferous forests, so it seems ironic that we usually end up seeing them in the grim surroundings of a business estate or supermarket car-park. These photos were taken in February 2009 in the slightly more upmarket environs of Woburn town centre, but sadly they do not really do these stunning birds justice. Waxwings seem to soak up the cold winter sun and positively glow, but sadly the Sorbus (Rowan) that these birds favoured remained in shadow despite it being a clear bright day. Fingers crossed for some better shots this winter!

Bohemian Waxwing Bombycilla garrulus, Woburn (21/02/2009)

Comma

Outside the weather is in a foul temper. The wind is gusting and hurling of rain angrily at the windows and venturing out to work seems madness. It's the sort of day when I wonder if my decision to quit an office job for a career in gardening was such a clever idea! Then I think back to the long, hot days of summer spent working in gardens full of birdsong, butterflies and buzzing insects and realise how lucky I am!

The ragged, torn outline and rapid gliding flight of the Comma Polygonia c-album is a common sight in gardens and orchards throughout the summer. They are especially fond of Budleias and Sedums and are often found feeding on rotten fruit along with other butterflies preparing to hibernate, such as Red Admirals. After hibernation Commas emerge as early as March and produce two broods, one in July and another in August or September. The photos below were taken in September at Bernwood, near Thame and show what I am fairly sure is a female Comma nectaring on Devilsbit Scabious Succisa pratensis. The sexes are tricky to tell apart but the outline of the female is slightly less ragged than the male and the marbled underside is plainer.

Comma Polygonia c-album on Devilsbit Scabious Succisa pratensis

Comma Polygonia c-album on Devilsbit Scabious Succisa pratensis

Comma Polygonia c-album on Devilsbit Scabious Succisa pratensis

This second brood butterfly is destined to hibernate on a branch or in buried in leaves and the dark, cryptic underside will camouflage it perfectly keeping it safe through the winter. The Comma takes it's name from the small white 'C' on the underside hind wing.

Comma Polygonia c-album f. hutchinsoni on Wild Teasle Dipsacus fullonum

In warm, dry early summers large numbers of the brighter form Hutchinsonii appear in July and mate to produce a second brood that emerges in late summer. As these butterflies do not hibernate and therefore less reliant on camouflage they are paler on both sides with a more variegated underside. The female Comma above, pictured on the dead flowerhead of a Wild Teasle Dipsacus fullonum in July, displays the paler markings and orange upperside of f. Hutchinsonii.

They are now so familiar in our gardens and woods that it's hard to believe that by the 1920's the Comma had declined so dramatically that it was almost extinct in Britain. Since then it's been all good news, with a recovery in numbers and a huge range expansion in the last twenty years.

October

Early October brought strong Easterlies and with them the first waves of Redwings quickly followed by large flocks of noisy, chattering Fieldfares swooping greedily onto berry heavy bushes. The last Swallows soon drifted away and Autumn was suddenly upon us. Bramblings gathered with Chaffinches and Greenfinches and feasted in the Whitebeams and Beeches near Ivinghoe Beacon car park and a few Northern Wheatear lingered on the sheep cropped southern slope of the Beacon feeding up before eventually heading south.

Northern Wheatear Oenanthe oenanthe, Ivinghoe Beacon (04/09/2010)

Ring Ouzels were regularly reported from the hills throughout the first half of the month but despite several attempts I managed only a shadowy glimpse of one of these enigmatic thrushes, skulking deep within a Hawthorn bush. Marsh Tits were conspicuous and vocal in some of the gardens where I work and overhead, small bouncing flocks of Siskins were a regular sight. A pair of kronking, playful Ravens were a frequent and welcome sight in the St Leonards area along with the usual Red Kites and Common Buzzards. In early October we spent an exciting weekend birding on the North Norfolk coast. Migration was in full swing and Redwings, Starlings and Bramblings were pouring in from Scandinavia on the back of a stiff East wind and the bushes were alive with Robins and Chaffinches. We found a Great Grey Shrike as well as a smart Hooded Crow, and twitched an Olive-backed Pipit, a long overdue British first for me. Despite low water levels and vast expanses of mud, Wilstone Reservoir attracted few waders of note. Nervous flocks of Golden Plover began gathering with Lapwing on the causeway and the occasional bold Water Rail ventured from the safe haven of the reed bed into the open to feed. A Black-necked Grebe was present in the latter half of the month and the regular pair of feral Whooper Swans graced us with an occasional appearance. The month ended with the incongruous sighting of a lone Gannet flying south over Rammamere Heath a few miles north of Dunstable.

Mammals activity stepped up with the approach of winter. Grey Squirrels were industriously burying nuts and digging up freshly planted bulbs and Badgers began their annual destruction of lawns as they searched relentlessly for Leatherjackets and Chafer grubs. The rut was in full swing and Ashridge Forest echoed to the gutteral cries of Fallow Deer stags as they postured and swaggered through the rusty Bracken against a vivid backdrop of Autumn colours. I had a close encounter with a nervous Roe stag in Whiteleaf Woods and a few sightings of Chinese Water Deer knee deep in the mud on the far side of Wilstone Reservoir.

As October progressed Butterflies and Dragonflies faded away, although some warm spring-like weather late in the month provided the cheerful sight of a few Red Admirals and a very late Small White.

Common Bonnet Mycena galericulata, Whipsnade Heath (30/10/2010)

Much of the month was spent in the grip of Fungi fever. I made several forays into the woods in search of Mushrooms and Toadstools and attempted, often in vain to identify the bewildering array of species I came across. It is certainly a battle and one I am currently losing! As I found out many are virtually impossible to identify without dissection or the application of various chemicals to determine the colour they turn, neither of which I have the patience or inclination to do!

The Autumn colours have been stunning this year and the month ended bathed in warm sunshine that sparked a forest fire of red, yellow and gold.

Crab Spider

The Crab Spider Misumena vatia will sit on a flower for days, even weeks, patiently waiting for insects, often flies and bees, to land close by. It will then pounce, and gripping it's prey with long crab-like front legs will paralyse the unfortunate victim with a venomous bite. Mature females have the ability to vary their colour to match their background, varying between yellow, white or tints of green and so can be easily overlooked despite being 10mm in size. The male is only half the size and browner in colouration and spends much of its time moving rapidly from flower to flower searching for females to mate with. It would appear that the yellow female below, photographed on the white flower of Hogweed Heracleum spondylium has not got to grips with the concept of camouflage, but in fact it it takes about 6 days to change colour from yellow to white and much longer in reverse. Mind you the common sense of the fly could be called into question!

Crab Spider Misumena vatia on Hogweed Heracleum spondylium (09/07/2008)

The Crab Spider Misumena vatia is found in Southern Britain and Wales but has a Holartic distribution and in North America is known as the Goldenrod Crab Spider due to it's habit of spending long periods of time on the yellow flowers of Goldenrod Solidago sp.

The photograph was taken whilst I was searching for Purple Emperors and White Admirals at Finemere Woods near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire on a very hot and sunny day in July 2008.

Chalkhill Blue

It was an wonderful summer for Chalkhill Blues Lysandra coridon and back in late August I was still hoping to take some decent shots of the secretive females, but poor weather meant that by the end of the month the few remaining butterflies were looking decidedly tatty and past their best. So to cheer myself up as Autumn spirals into Winter I have dug out a few photos from August 2008, taken on a warm, cloudy late afternoon on the northern slopes of Ivinghoe Beacon. Female Chalkhill Blues can be quite elusive spending much of their time crawling around in the short grass but on this day, perhaps because it was overcast and humid, they were very showy, often settling for long periods on the purple blue heads of Devilsbit Scabious Succisa pratensis.

Surely there can be few more entrancing sights than dozens of silvery Chalkhill Blues dancing across the flowery slopes of the Chilterns in the late summer sunshine!

Female Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008)

Male Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008)

The two images above illustrate the marked difference between the darker undersides of the brownish females and those of the paler silvery blue males.

Male Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008)

Male Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008)

Male Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008) on Devilsbit Scabious

Female Chalkhill Blue Lysandra coridon (04/08/2008)

Dark Green Fritillary

The last gasp of Summer is over, Autumn is suddenly upon us and apart from the occasional Red Admiral still lingering around the last fallen fruit the Butterflies have gone, their brief, brilliant lives over for another year. So with fast shortening days and colder nights and Winter creeping ever closer it seems like a good time to look back at some of the highlights of what has been a wonderful year for Butterflies.

Dark Green Fritillaries Argynnis aglaja were out in spectacular numbers in late June and July racing across the sunny south-western slopes of Ivinghoe Beacon where the knapweeds and thistles they love so much grow in abundance. These powerful, fast flying butterflies, flighty and easily disturbed, rarely settle for long before speeding off to the next flower head and can be quite a challenge to get close to, let alone photograph successfully.

I spent a hot and frustrating morning at the end of June on Ivinghoe Beacon but came away without a single worthwhile photograph as the fritillaries, buzzing with sunshine rarely settled for more than a few seconds. I decided to make a return trip a few days later. It was late afternoon and much cooler and the butterflies, in a calmer mood were far more approachable, often settling on the Greater Knapweeds for long periods. Even so, obtaining some reasonable shots still involved an exhausting couple of hours running up and down the steep slopes in an effort to keep up with these active, fast moving butterflies!

Dark Green Fritillary Argynnis aglaja - Female (01/07/2010)

Dark Green Fritillary Argynnis aglaja - Female (left) and Male (right) - (01/07/2010)

The photos below show an unusual female Dark Green Fritillary found on Ivinghoe Beacon that looks very similar to the Scottish subspecies aglaja. This is the first time I have come across this beautiful boldly marked variation, much deeper and richer in colour with the fore-wings thickly veined and shot through with black.

Dark Green Fritillary Argynnis aglaja - heavily marked dark Female - (01/07/2010)

Honey Fungus

Whilst I was out and about in Hockeridge Woods last weekend I came across this impressive clump of Honey Fungus Armillaria growing, as is typical, near an old infected tree stump. It is the fruiting body of the most destructive fungal disease found in British gardens, spreading underground, attacking and killing the roots of trees and woody perennial plants. Unlike most parasites, Honey Fungus does not have to control its growth to avoid killing its host, as it can feed and thrive off the dead plant material. Honey Fungus is the bane of gardeners as there is no way of killing it or controlling its rapid spread. In some of the gardens I have worked in over the years I have seen fruit trees, beautiful hedges and mature shrubs destroyed, and sadly there is nothing that can be done except to dig up the infected plant and burn it. No plants are immune to attack from Honey Fungus and only a few, such as Taxus (Yew) have any resistance at all.

Honey Fungus is actually a common name given to several species of Armillaria fungi of which seven are found in Britain. I was amazed to find that Armillaria are very long lived and form some of the largest living organisms on the planet. The largest single organism, of the species Armillaria ostoyae, which is found occasionally in Britain, is a thousand years old and covers an area of over three square miles in size. Quite mind boggling!

Honey Fungus Armillaria (03/10/10)