Happy New Year to all. I hope that Christmas came and went for you. I have one resolution for ’25. I must be more organised. There is little point circulating monthly information unless that information has relevance to the month in question.
Last month I searched for old info to fill a gap. This month I found an item which would have rendered those events unnecessary. I took this picture in November whilst removing an established rosemary bush. I spotted this little jewel in amongst the shoots. It looks like some fully-enamelled Faberge egg in mint condition. I don’t know how else to describe it. The colours are striking. I’ve never seen one before, (Faberge, neither), but “It can’t be difficult to find that one!”, I thought. It wasn’t. Rather disappointingly, I identified it as a Rosemary beetle. It does the plant no harm, presumably its ecological niche is not conducive to excess reproduction. It’s a new one on me, but the RHS know about it and are happy to receive reports of sightings as it spreads north through the UK. This reminds me of the appearance of the Box beetle and its similar movement. So, TWO recent examples of either climate change or introduction of alien species right on your doorstep! Our temperature change may be one degree, it may be nearer two, but that small change has allowed some species to spread, and forced others to relocate. If, like me, you are old enough you can piece together little observations like this to form a picture of anecdotal evidence. But beware, the arrival of a new species on your patch might well be due to climate change, however the disappearance of a species FROM your patch could just as easily be down to a more general decline due to a whole host of things.
One of the most important factors to consider in the reduction of population numbers (or disappearance) has to be habitat change, and this one has been to the forefront of my own thoughts for some time. It goes like this:-
When we moved into our house 12yrs ago the bottom half of the garden was so overgrown that we didn’t even realise there was a stream on the boundary! During our house warming, a grass snake caught a frog by its leg and disappeared into the scrub as the frog screamed its last. Foxes regularly sunbathed in the top half of the garden. I cleared the overgrown brambles, blackthorn, hawthorn and wild rose. We still see foxes a-plenty, but no snakes or frogs. When I finally reached the bottom fence panel and stripped the ivy off it we spotted the only tree creepers we have seen during our time here. Our neighbours on both sides still had rough scrub alongside the brook and I stopped short in my clearance project. I drew a line and tried to retain a little wilderness on the bank. I increased the biodiversity by introducing a number of wild plants, some gathered as seeds from here and there, some, like the English Bluebell and Wood Anemone, I bought. I felt reassured that the plot next door would remain wild, and the field on the other bank would remain uncultivated by the tree nursery. Never-the-less, the oldest blackthorn and hawthorn had to be cut in order to introduce some light. I was convinced that they would sprout new growth, but they didn’t. Our trail camera captured occasional images of badger and muntjac in this “rough bottom”. Since I am far from comfortable with snakes, I felt content that there had been many, more affable, gains to offset their absence. But at the end of this year I find myself overdrawn at the bank of nature conservation. It’s not all down to me, I hasten to add. I am guilty of encouraging the removal of the large hornbeam in the top half of next doors garden. It was too big for that close to houses and drains. When it happened, I lent my time and energy to hasten its removal. Then, the neighbours on the other side decided that they would like to tidy up their own “rough bottom” to such an extent that it is now paved. Together, these changes will greatly reduce the cover for the insects and birds alike. I still see foxes on the near bank of the brook, but muntjac have been confined to the field on the other side, and badgers have not been seen for a while. Also last year, the field has been well manured and a good area of tree saplings has been planted. This may offer some compensation in the form of shelter for insects and birds but the grassland available for butterflies will have been greatly reduced. It has been a bad year for butterflies – I saw no skippers in the garden this year at all. Again, though there has been some compensation. A sizeable flock of redwings have set up camp in the field and are very busy every day gathering worms from the rich layer of compost material under the saplings.
And, from the kitchen door I can watch them, both on the ground searching for food and high in the treetops settling their stomachs. As the saplings develop they should offer more cover for muntjac, and maybe improve the hunting ground for the tawny owls. Twice this month, as soon as darkness fell, a tawny has settled in the trees at the bottom and called for a mate. Each time, there has been a response from further a-field. I do hope the owls spend more time at the bottom because we suddenly have a mole! He’s tried to surface in next doors but clearly bumped his head on the underside of the new slabs, so has drifted into our bit and on a couple of occasions at least explored right up to the top. There has been evidence of a vole (I think), but never a mole. Incidentally, the brook has flooded four times this year but only once in the previous 10+ years! Maybe our mole has been displaced from further upstream. Our trail camera packed up so we upgraded, and wow, the pictures are great. We’ve got sound again, and time display. I’m hoping to gain a better understanding of the goings-on down there.
I need to make another resolution for ‘25. I need to use my new moth trap and get some grasp of the species and frequencies down there. Until I do, there will be no base line by which to measure any future changes. I suspect that moths will have suffered in ‘24 just like the butterflies. After a couple of years with a good range of butterflies in our garden plus multiple sightings of hummingbird hawk moth, 2024 was poor and devoid respectively. There was a late rally of sightings, but it will be interesting to see how the populations are affected next year.
When I studied conservation and ecology, I was most struck by the concept of succession. You know, there is a pond. The pond gathers debris, weeds grow at the margins. Those weeds help to fix nutrients and larger plants grow. Eventually, left to its own devices, nature drops in some pioneer tree species, which can tolerate wet ground, things like birch and willow. These draw up moisture and continue to fix the marginal soil. In due course there is no pond, and the wetland species are able to thrive until the habitat changes further. And from that comes the idea of conservation. Which bit of that long sequence do you wish to preserve? If you are a conservation manager you have to decide and having taken that divine decision, you have created yourself the job of preventing further succession and maintaining your chosen status. That’s the thing about us humans, we do like to shape our environment. I decided on the type of habitat I didn’t want down the bottom and the type that I preferred. There will be further adjustment, but the overall theme is complete. There have been casualties, but I hope there have been gains too. At this time, I am happy with the garden, but I am not completely comfortable with the ecological change I have inflicted.
Then, on the 23rd at 5.55am, we heard a tawny owl really close by. We sat up and listened attentively for a response. The male was somewhere in the trees at the bottom. Whilst searching for it, we could here not one but two females replying. One was fairly close by, the other much further off. We spotted his silhouette halfway up the tree against the lighter sky. They conversed for a while and suddenly it was silent. I made tea, and soon after settling down again, a female was calling, from the same tree at the bottom. These calls are sure signs of territorial behaviour, but also could well be signs of pairing up. Owls are early nesters, and the first eggs are laid mid-March. Tawnies are very territorial, and their territory is around 30-50 acres dependent upon how rich the supply of food is. On the edge of a city, I can’t imagine that the habitat will be rich. It might therefore be larger. They will be compelled to spread their hunting over the whole territory and that might explain why we had two nights of noisy calling at the beginning of the month, then nothing until three weeks later. I have been very tempted to install a nest box for them, but we have too many jackdaws, magpies and squirrels. Far better that they are left to make those decisions themselves. It’s always good to hear an owl and however much it strains your eyes, to see one is even better.
We’ve had a few unseasonably mild days this month, and when we do it is also good to hear the birds responding to it. We are past the shortest day, and they know it. Those warm days encourage the birds to get vocal. Great tits are the ones I love to hear. They have an infuriatingly wide range of songs and calls, but “Teacher, teacher” is the one to listen out for. Are they too searching for a mate, or beginning to establish territory? It’s the same sound as the one they call in early spring. So, why not?
The other sighting which gives me some encouragement that we are in fact closer to spring than is obvious to most, is the hazel catkins that are now appearing. And with no leaves in the hedgerows, keep an eye on the roadside whilst you are out and about. Catch a sight of a particularly rich display and you too will feel the brightness of spring, if only for a brief moment. Winters can really drag and we need to see those signs. No use unless we are able to recognise them when we do, and when that happens it will shorten our waiting.
Look hard, because there are signs, and there will be more as the new year advances. Spring bulbs are coming through and last week we spotted some snowdrops that were showing white at the tips! They were holding back, but they were eager.
In the meantime, don’t forget to appreciate the winter specials. There are too many to mention, but I can’t resist reminding you of redwings. Thrushes in flocks. Streaky breasts. A noticeable stripe over the eye. In full sunshine, unmistakably, red armpits.
And with so much wet land about at this time of year, look out for Egrets. Black legs but yellow feet taking off from the edge of water = Little Egret. Solitary birds with an orange-yellow beak on the edge of water, behaving just like a heron = Great White Egret. But keep an eye out for the other one too. Often in groups of 3 or 4 but sometimes more, almost always in grassy paddocks, hunched down or searching the cattle dung for beetles = Cattle Egret. All are possible on all kinds of wet ground. There are so many other things to spot in winter. Catch them while you can. It won’t last much longer.
