Blog Archives: WildEssex

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: settling in for the winter pause…

Beth Chatto Gardens, Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

Mid-December, just a week from the solstice, and I am back in the gardens for my final walk of the year. Yes, the wind has stripped all the leaves from the trees that shed them, but it still feels more like autumn, with above-average temperatures (perhaps the norm nowadays) despite thick grey cloud with just a few glimpses of weak sunshine.

Brown is the dominant colour, a sign that nature is dying back before the renewal to come.

But there are splashes of colour, the berries that will feed our winter thrushes over the colder months, along with untrimmed grasses, their flowerheads still full of seeds for the finches.

And just starting to ripen, the Ivy berries, which will become the main, vital food resource should the later winter period turn cold: they will keep the Woodpigeons, Blackbirds and many others alive when all of the rest of the fruits are gone.

There are still a few insects – bees and hoverflies mainly – on the wing, and they are taking full advantage of the relatively few flowers. There are the hangovers from autumn…

… the typically winter-flowering shrubs and climbers…

… and the first few harbingers of the spring that will surely come.

At the same time, new, fresh leaves are emerging, starting to push aside the brown autumnal carpet. The new year is on the starting blocks! And the birds sense it too, with singing Robins and Song Thrushes filling the still air with joy.

While this may be downtime in the garden, it does give us opportunity to look closely at some of the less showy inhabitants that keep on going whatever: mosses in the paving cracks, including Grimmia pulvinata and Tortula ruralis.

And in the Woodland Garden the Collared Earthstars that made their first ever fruiting appearance for the garden team a couple of weeks ago are still going strong!

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So another year comes to an end in the Beth Chatto Gardens. Time to look back on what has been a quite remarkable year for wildlife. For me, the highlights began in March when a couple of Treecreepers were creeping around the Silent Space, although only briefly – the larger trees of the Water Garden became their summer home. Other bird highlights included the first garden record of a Cetti’s Warbler, in October.

Often a spring highlight but never wholly reliable is one of our most delightful little butterflies, Green Hairstreak. This year was a good year for them, from mid-April into early June.

Insect numbers started to shoot up from June, and there were more Four-spotted Chasers around the ponds, often posing perfectly, than I have seen before. A sawfly (possibly Tenthredo colon) taught me something of which I was previously unaware, that some sawfly adults are predators, this one demolishing an Alderfly.

And our Moth Morning the same month produced excellent numbers of Elephant Hawk-moths and (here) the scarcer Small Elephant Hawk-moth.

June and July produced hitherto unprecedented numbers of Jersey Tiger moths around the garden…

… while early July witnessed the ‘insect blizzard’, a remarkable influx of hoverflies and ladybirds in particular, which cleared the garden of Black Bean Aphids in just a few days before they moved on through. And associated with this influx was rarer fare, including a couple of Long-tailed Blue butterflies, a first for the garden and perhaps only the seventh record for Essex. Ever!

Another influx was of Stomorhina lunata, the Locust Blowfly, a parasite of locusts originating from much further south in Europe, or perhaps even Africa. We have had one previous record of this fly (in 2016) which was only the third in Essex (and perhaps 30 nationally), but in August and September we were seeing them in multiples of ten or more at times, part of a surge of records nationally.

Of concern to rhododendrophiles maybe, but that beautiful creature the Rhododendron Leafhopper put in its long-anticipated first appearance in September. This was to be expected as it seems now to be found on Rhododendron almost throughout Essex, but for some reason had missed us out.

And for me the absolute highlight of highlights (from October) was the appearance of another parasitic fly, this one on shieldbugs, called Ectophasia crassipennis. Another most beautiful insect, this was only the second time it has turned up in Essex, and was the first time I have ever seen it away from the Pyrenees.

In a few days time, the cycle of the year will start to turn again, and we will see the return of the light. I for one look forward to 2026 being just as exciting, if not more so, than 2025.

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: Winter arrives!

Beth Chatto Gardens, Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

My two visits at the end of November could hardly have been more different. The first was a wet day, very wet indeed save for a brief dry hour giving me the chance to savour the winter browns under leaden skies.

Leaf-fall in the previous wind and heavy rain coated every surface of the garden with the dejecta of Swamp Cypress, Dawn Redwood, Ginkgo and others, their groundscapes merging seamlessly into the gloom.

Too cold by far for any insect interest in the remnant flowers…

… and even the berries seemed not to be attracting the birds: the feeding station by the tearoom was the epicentre of activity.

But our oldest garden inhabitant looked magnificent, its grandeur undiminished by the lack of light.

In fact removing all colour from the scene draws attention to the sculptural qualities of its ancient bole:

A week later it was all very different. The intervening days had seen a fair amount of rain, along with a couple of frosts, the first of the season. But the sky was blue, Robins were singing and the sun was warm, although even at lunchtime frost still lingered in the shady corners.

Winter sun coming from a low angle served to intensify every vestige of colour in the landscapes and plantscapes and add drama to the shapes and shadows:

Birds still visited the fast-food joint, but were also active throughout the garden. Large numbers of Blackbirds, with a few Mistle Thrushes and Fieldfares, were devouring berries, with Jays chasing acorns…

… and  Goldfinches, Redpolls and Chaffinches eating seeds high in the Birchtops.

In the Gravel Garden, a fresh flush of Sickle-leaved Hare’s-ear formed a flowery filigree, as Seven-spot Ladybirds carried on resolutely hunting aphids.

But the flower of the moment was Mahonia. In full sunlight and full bloom, its Lily-of-the-valley scent pooled intoxicatingly in the still air and it was teeming with flies, especially Calliphora bluebottles, feeding at the flowers and basking on the leaves. Many might not get excited by such creatures, but we do! They pollinate as well as any bee, they are food for insectivorous birds, and without their maggots we would be knee-deep in unrotted animal carcases…

It is at this time of year, when leaves are off most of the trees and trunks illuminated by winterlight, that thoughts turn to lichens. Just a few from a wander round the car park included two that seem to be pretty scarce in Essex. Ramalina fastigiata, extinct in Essex in the 1970s due the the impacts of air pollution, has shown a slow recolonization since, but mostly in the westernmost fringes of the county – the latest map from the British Lichen Society shows only a single spot in the Tendring Peninsula, around Weeley.

There is a similar dearth of Lecidella elaeochroma records locally, with just two in our neck of the woods, from just west of Clacton and Elmstead Market respectively.

Then there were the commoner species, grey ones such as Physcia adscendens, Physcia tenella, Punctelia subrudecta and Flavoparmelia caperata…

… along with the very common Sunburst Lichen Xanthoria parietina, those in full sunlight more golden than those in partial shade, and one showing the pink spot of the parasitic fungus Illosporiopsis christiansenii, another apparent rarity in Essex with the National Biodiversity Network Atlas showing just one Essex site, near Southend.

Of course, comments about the scarcity of lichens and lichenicolous fungi should always be caveated by the fact that few folk record them, and perhaps their apparent distribution actually reflects the distribution of active naturalists. Nevertheless, despite their lack of popularity, lichens are wonderful structures and form lovely lichenscapes that add interest and splashes of colour to the winter scene. But please don’t feel you have to stay in the car park: the garden has so much more to offer at every time of year!

 

 

 

The Wild Side of Essex: a wintery Colne Estuary

Britain's Wildlife, Cockaynes Reserve, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

It was the day that winter arrived in Wivenhoe. The wind swung round the north overnight, picked up strength and dropped what had been above-average temperatures for weeks to below-average in an instant. But nothing stops Naturetrek, and the select group met up as planned at Wivenhoe Station, well wrapped-up.

Starting upstream, we made a diversion into Wivenhoe Wood, autumn leaves still turning on the branches, others crackling underfoot as we looked at one of the few Butchers’-broom plants in the wood. With careful searching we managed to find one opened flower, a month or two ahead of the expected time.

Robins were singing wistfully, although other woodland birds remained quiet, giving us chance to explore the wonderful world of leaf-mines, with Holly Leafy-miner fly blotches on many a leaf.

Around Ferry Marsh, the reedbeds swished in the wind, a psithurism seemingly designed to hide the contact calls of any reedbed birds. But along the sea wall, there was Blackthorn covered in ripe sloes and a lovely male Stonechat showed well, albeit suffering from the aggressive attentions of a territorial Robin, while Teals dabbled in the shallows among to equally copiously fruiting Sea Asters.

But it was clear something was amiss with the tide. There was a lot of water, and it was not moving: it seemed the Wivenhoe Tidal Barrier must have been closed, very surprising given that the predicted high tide has passed, and we were still about five days away from the next round of spring tides… So while the Dabchicks were happy, most of the waders had to hunker down in their saltmarsh roosts, apart from the longer-legged Curlews and Little Egrets.

Along Wivenhoe waterfront, as always when seeing it through the eyes of those who had never been there before, I came to appreciate more fully how lucky we are to live here. This includes the rare plants in the block-paving cracks, especially Four-leaved Allseed and Jersey Cudweed, especially luxuriant beneath the benches away from trampling feet.

Further upstream than I have found it before, we also found Sea Wormwood, giving all the chance to scrunch and sniff the Green Fairy, the essence of absinthe.

The barrier was still closed as we reached it, making me think it must be closed for maintenance. But no, once downstream it was clear that the tide was still fully in. Clearly the weather conditions had produced a tidal surge that had delayed the tidal peak by a couple of hours, and produced a peak much higher than the astronomical prediction. Always a good opportunity to talk about the vulnerability of those living on the edge of the tide, and the arrogance of those who think we can win the fight against Nature.

So onward we went along the sea wall, the tide on the seaward side towering a couple of metres above the level of the grazing marsh to landward. Redshanks and Black-tailed Godwits were still resolutely at roost, while Linnets twittered from the bushes and Meadow Pipits crept silently across the marsh, occasionally erupting  in a flurry of ‘peep‘s.

Into Grange Wood where ancient woodland tumbles down to the tide in a most un-Essex-like manner, and an introduction to the fascinating world of galls, exemplified by both marble- and spangle-galls…

… and by the time we reached our lunch spot, the mudflats were starting to appear, covered in hungry feeding waders (Curlews, Black-tailed Godwits, Grey Plovers, Knots, Redshanks and Dunlins) along with Avocets, Wigeons and Brent Geese in the shallows. In fact the surge had done us a favour, meaning that the water birds were in better light than if we had seen them when we should have.

A quick check of the rain forecast showed a squall heading our way, so we took to the woods and emerged a few minutes later at the top of the Essex Alps as the sun came out to celebrate the passing of the sleety shower.

Magnificent boundary pollards and coppice stools, more galls and basking insects, Sycamore Tar-spot fungus, signs of Dutch Elm Disease and some huge Butchers’-brooms, these with still a few red berries from last winter’s flowers…

… and along Cutthroat Lane, the cold wind having abated with the passage of the rain, and the sparkling sunlight bringing welcome warmth and life to the autumn colours. A very appropriate place to hear the ‘happy peals’ of the Wivenhoe Church bells drifting up from the lowlands maybe 3km away which marked the funeral of our friend Graham….

And it was then into Cockaynes Reserve for more autumnal fare, including Redpolls and Siskins heading to the Alders, and fungi sprouting from the heathland, life after gravel extraction: the orange discs of a Neottiella species among the Reindeer Lichen and a couple of fruit-bodies of the cheesecap Russula nitida, a mycorrhizal species associated with the roots of Silver Birch.

Then in a nod to the spring, which will arrive however long the midwinter gloom lasts: Gorse in fresh flower, a beacon to any passing pollinator.

And all that was left was a wander back along the ridge, past the field of Water Buffalos, and down to Wivenhoe, paying homage to the Old King George Oak whose future is still undecided.

#WildEssexWalks: fungi, fruits and foliage in Wivenhoe Park

Britain's Wildlife, Bug & Botany Walks, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

Our first #WildEssex walk after an enforced break of more than four months took us up to Wivenhoe Park with a large bunch of friends. This is a semi-regular autumnal walk venue for us, hoping to find fungi, fruits and foliage colours to usher us into winter.

Best laid plans! So much of what we hoped for is dependent upon preceding weather conditions, the sort of thing that is becoming less predictable as we continue in our arrogance to push our world inexorably beyond the agreed +1.5°C safe threshold.

It is always good when nature contradicts our assumptions. A hot, droughty summer followed by autumn rains and no sign yet of frost, I would have thought, seems a perfect recipe for a spectacular emergence of fungi. But it was not to be: even the ‘little brown jobs’ were few and far-between, and larger fungi even more so. There were Common Earthballs, some intact and others rupturing to liberate spores, together with a patch of Honey Fungus, and  Aniseed Funnel  and Deer Shield. But nothing compared with the rich array of some years.

Bracket fungi are usually more reliable, so it was not a surprise to see Birch Brackets, the nemesis of many a Birch tree, and Beefsteak Fungus, the latter growing from the buried roots of a veteran Oak.

But the most common fungus, covering the leaves of almost every sapling Oak was Oak Mildew. This at least seems to have found this summer’s weather to its liking.

For most trees and shrubs, the summer has produced copious fruiting, a so-called ‘mast year’, except bizarrely for Beech, the tree whose seeds are called ‘mast’.

Not that copious fruiting is necessarily a good sign. It way well be a response to stress, for example caused by the past three-drought summer. Although of course those things that eat the fruits are in for a bonanza: winter thrushes arriving in this country will be very happy to find an abundance of berries, here on Hawthorn and Cockspur Thorn.

On Yew as well, although strictly speaking those are not berries as the flesh doesn’t entirely envelop the (very poisonous) seed. Botanically, the Yew ‘berry’ is termed an aril.

Foliage colour is of course the epitome of autumn. But it is variable between years, again dependent on preceding weather. We had been hoping after the heat of summer for an autumn palette of shocking reds, but again ’twas not to be. The lack of any frost yet means that native trees are mostly turning yellow: here English Oak, Hornbeam, Field Maple, Beech and Aspen.

And even planted trees are not firing up as much as they can: Red Oak has just gone brown, although Tulip-tree has a bit more body to it, and Dawn Redwood is the most subtle peach just before the needles fall.

As always at this time of year, galls were numerous. On the leaves of Beech, there was the Hairy Beech Gall caused by the fly Hartigiola annulipes, a gall recorded from only about half a dozen other sites in Essex.

Some of the leaves also bore the signs of leaf-miners. This is the larval mine of Stigmella tityrella, a micromoth: the larva has exuded a chemical that delayed the senescence of its part of the leaf, giving time in the ‘green island’ to complete development.

Galls are caused by many different types of organism. The lumpy upward pouches on the delightfully scented leaves of Walnut are caused by and make a home for vast numbers of microscopic mites, Aceria erinea.

Very familiar under the leaves of English Oak are Common Spangle Galls, caused by the tiny gall-wasp Neuroterus quercusbaccarum. But other oaks are available. And there were similar galls under the giant leaves of the Far Eastern Daimyo Oak Quercus dentata. Similar but not quite the same, being more blobby and rounded rather than a flattened disc. Perhaps this is the shape of galls caused by the interaction with a relatively novel host plant: certainly this is the opinion of Essex Gall Recorder Jerry Bowdrey, who informs us it was first recorded on this host in a survey of Kew Gardens at the end of the 19th century, and that he  has also found it more recently at Marks Hall.

Also living on Daimyo Oak leaves was a Green Shieldbug , while a Hairy Shieldbug was also found.

A Red Admiral was spotted by some of the group, and one of the day’s highlights was expertly spotted by Jude, a Feathered Thorn moth wonderfully camouflaged against a brown Red Oak leaf. Autumnal moths are often shades of brown, yellow or russet for camouflage. But this one has additional darker lines that match the veins of the dying leaf.

It was a lovely walk in lovely weather: it is good to be back!

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: wildlife among a visual feast of foliage, fruits and flowers

Beth Chatto Gardens, Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

During late October, I made two visits to the Gardens, both in great weather, but very different. For the first I was alone with my camera and thoughts, basking in the fiery glow of autumn, but the second, a few days later, was with a throng of up to 30 excited kids and parents on a bug hunt. It was absolutely delightful to be among such an array of sharp eyes, able to spot the teeniest morsel, and to see them enthralled by ladybirds, spiders and bugs. Such infectious enthusiasm for exploring their world boosts my motivation to want to protect it for their futures. And the joy on the face of one little girl when a dragonfly landed on her jumper will last a lifetime, mine and hopefully hers!

Late season butterflies, especially Red Admirals and Commas feeding up before hibernation, were still on the wing with a surprisingly late, newly emerged Small Copper, nectaring especially on Verbena bonariensis.

Likewise the late dragonflies and damselflies, basking, hawking and mating in a last gasp of summer before the cooler weather brings this generation to a close. Most numerous were Common Darters, some looking rather battered by the month end…

…along with Willow Emeralds. Which of these species will take the honours of being the last one of the year?

And sharing the aquatic immature stage of dragons and damsels, although as larvae instead of nymphs, a caddis-fly found camouflage among the browning poolside vegetation. These are tricky to identify, but this is one of the many, quite similar, Limnephilus species.

A few bumblebees, especially Common Carders, were still active, along with plenty of Common Wasps and a few Hornets, all of which apart from the queens are destined to perish shortly:

The most numerous insect group around the garden was the flies, whether groups of midgey minutiae dancing in the fading sunlight, or larger ones basking on sunlit leaves and wooden benches, or feeding at the fading flowers.

Hoverflies included Drone-flies and Grey-spotted Sedgesitter….

… but the specific identity of tachinid parasite-flies is more difficult to be sure of. The large ones with orange sides ‘used to be’ Tachina fera, but another pretty much identical species T. magnicornis has arrived recently in the UK, so we cannot now be so certain.

And the two below can only be assigned to genus, Linnaemya sp. and Siphona sp.

A final fly, strikingly orange with smoky wings, was Thricops diaphanus, from the housefly family. The Essex Field Club map shows only eleven previous records for the county, all in the western half.

Ladybirds, the kids’ favourites were to be found everywhere, mostly Seven-spots with a few Harlequins, but they are now starting to congeal into what will become their overwintering aggregations:

But perhaps the most remarkable insect feature of these walks were the true bugs, more than I have seen all summer. Most numerous were Hairy Shieldbugs along with Green Shieldbugs, some still sporting summer green but others browning into winter camouflage:

Gorse Shieldbugs too, also changing colour but always with the distinctive pale rim: remarkably, these are only the second and third garden records, and neither was on their traditional foodplant of Gorse…

Cinnamon Bugs were especially obvious during the first walk, while a single Bishop’s-mitre (again with only a couple of previous records here) was expertly spotted by one of the kids:

Moving to ‘other invertebrates’ Zebra Jumping-spiders and the harvestman Opilio canestrinii are both found regularly in the garden…

… but a Nigma walckenaeri, nestling under its horizontal web, and a Wrinkled Snail Xeroplexa intersecta were both new.

Amid all this invertebrate enthusiasm and abundance, it was easy to overlook the remaining flowers lighting up and providing a much-needed insect resource in the gardens, beauty made even more dramatic when bejewelled with droplets from the previous nights’ rains:

While the fruits and fungi speak of autumn, the Snowdrops (probably Galanthus regina-olgae, which typically flowers in late autumn) at least provide a hint of assurance that the dark days will pass!

Together with the birds – Redpolls and a Kingfisher during the first walk, and overhead Skylarks and a noticeable increase in presumably immigrant Blackbirds, Song Thrushes and Robins on the second – such was the bounty of this autumn, that I almost forgot to enjoy the kaleidoscope of colours. Almost, but not quite… so here is a final flourish of the gardens at their seasonal peak!

 

Another half-term break in London

Britain's Wildlife, Eleanor's photos, Travel by Rail, WildEssex

In what now seems to be becoming a bit of an autumn half-term tradition (see last year’s trip here) we headed to London for a couple of days with Eleanor. The weather was fine, if somewhat breezy, so we all had fun, as well as helping provide her with material for her school project about Rivers.

Emerging from Liverpool Station into a forest of high-rise is always a bit of a culture shock …

… but the shock is tempered with interesting sculpture and art.

First stop was Finsbury Circus for a picnic lunch among the pigeons and squirrels. Some interesting planting among the magnificent London Plane trees gave us all chance to indulge in a bit of photography, and Fatsia japonica in full flower was, just like its relative Ivy, drawing in all manner of insects from Honeybees to hoverflies and social wasps.

Thence to the SkyGarden, seen peeping round other buildings long before we reached it.

This is one of the amazing free attractions of London (although online booking is required). Our first visit there a few years ago was in very different circumstances with no queuing, but the half-term crowds this time meant we didn’t get in until about 45 minutes after our booked slot. Still, not as bad as Disneyland in February! And once up the lift to floor 35, the view was of course remarkable, for Eleanor especially looking down on the Thames, the famous sights and the tiny people.

The garden itself was certainly lush, although there wasn’t all that much in flower, as might be expected in an essentially non-seasonal garden: plants flower as and when rather than all coming out during particular times of the year.

The clocks had changed the day previously so twilight came quickly and it was well under way by the time we reached our Ibis hotel by Barking Creek, the last rays of sunset just lighting up the tide-mill at more-or-less full tide. Why Barking? It is an interesting area, well connected to central London but far enough out to be affordable. And she loved the bunk bed!

Another sunny morning on our second day, so it was a lovely opportunity to walk down Barking Creek, and across the complex barrier that marks the start of the transition from tidal creek to the freshwater River Roding.

This time it was low tide, and the gulls, Coots and Mallards gathered argumentatively (as always!), while Cormorants rested on the wrecks and piers. A Kingfisher flew out of a patch of bankside reeds, and both Pied and Grey Wagtails trotted around the margins.

Through Barking Abbey grounds, the Ivy was covered in pollinators including a Red Admiral and a brief Hornet Hoverfly. And the Grey Squirrels, dozens of them, were busy provisioning for winter and making a little girl very happy. Where would London be without its squirrels, pigeons and parakeets?

Our route to the Young V&A involved a quarter of an hour walk from Stepney Green, as Mile End station was closed by an incident. But even the walk was interesting, the damp, dripping, seeping rail underpass providing a home for ferns, specifically the non-native Cyrtomium falcatum, now starting to colonise such niches by spore dispersal from cultivation but not reported from anywhere in east London on the NBN Atlas. And then right next to the railway bridge there was a Buddleja showing leaf-mines. We have never seen these before in this host, and despite their very different appearance, both galleries and blotches, it appears they are from the same mining fly Amauromyza verbasci. Again there are no records of this species from east London, or indeed from most of the south-east of England. Under-reporting surely but always interesting. The other fascinating thing is the fact that ‘verbasci‘ relates to its other main host Verbascum – and DNA sequencing has only just recently made us realise that mulleins and buddleia should be placed in the same plant family.

Then it was an hour at the museum, before all heading home tired but happy.

Eleanor, as she often does, took many photos, and some of our favourites are included below. It always surprises and thrills me to see the world as she sees it, a world witnessed through protective bars and fences, a world of giant trees and a world where leaf patterns are just as important as showy flowers. We can all learn a lot from that!

 

Autumnal tranquility in Cockaynes Reserve

Britain's Wildlife, Cockaynes Reserve, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

It was unremittingly dull but unnaturally mild and almost eerily still for my walk at Cockaynes Reserve last week. Barely a sound to break the calm, except when a wisp of breeze dared breathe and every dry-leaf-crackle gently fractured the silence.

That is apart from the bird life: mournful autumnal Robin songs washed through the trees, while half-a-dozen Redpolls trilled over, a band of forty Siskins bounced through the Alder tops, and two Kingfishers flashed over the heath, their calls of an intensity matched only by the declamatory Cetti’s Warbler.

Despite widespread forecasts of a fiery autumn, here it was subtle, the shades of  English pastoral pastel…

… but fruits aplenty, haws waiting for the northern thrushes, Stinking Iris at ground level and Sweet Chestnut husks splitting on the tree.

The fungal season is just starting, but the portents are good, with Fly Agarics nestling at the base of Silver Birches, clumps of Sulphur Tuft, and small orange caps (Rickenella fibula) and discs (Neottiella rutilans) exuding from the heathy carpets of mosses and lichens, the latter including the dog-lichen Peltigera didactyla.

And just a few flowering plants: the last few Common Centaury and Stork’s-bill, Trailing St John’s Wort and superficially similar but much more numerous Least Yellow-sorrel.

Insects and other invertebrates were few, but included a Parent Bug, Velvet Mites and a few crane-flies and hoverflies:

And then of course the galls, on the Oaks in particular, such as these Marble Galls:

Over the years I have examined innumerable Oak leaves at this time of year. There are three common Neuroterus gall-wasp spangle galls: Common Spangle, Silk Button and Smooth Spangle, listed in order of their typical frequency. But this year, here as elsewhere, Smooth Spangles have been as easy to find as Silk Buttons.

And while I have often found two of the three species, in all combinations, on a single leaf, apart from one at the Ingrebourne Marshes in 2021, I have never found all three species together side-by-side. But at Cockaynes last week in just a few minutes on two separate trees I scored hat-tricks. Two leaves showed spatial separation within the leaf, while on the others there was more intermingling.

Endlessly engaging, I have long had a fascination for these galls. Indeed I first wrote about them for the Colchester Natural History Society as long ago as 1986 during my first spell of living in Wivenhoe. Back then I found no hat-trick leaves at all, and my annual observations since then have done no more than reinforced my perception of this pattern. No answers to the question ‘why?’. But what would life be without a little mystery?!

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: a lull before the first storm of autumn…

Beth Chatto Gardens, Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

Early October can be such a wonderful time. Still warm enough for shorts, still nature going about its preparations for the coming cold, seemingly with increasing urgency. And the first few days of the month this year were just that in the Beth Chatto Gardens, although with the first named storm of the season, Amy, due in a day or two, things could change rapidly… Thankfully I had the opportunity to make a couple of visits, both unfortunately rather short.

For now, the gardens are looking fruitful, showing some of the stresses of a multi-drought summer, but still in fine fettle. And for the insects there are still all manner of nectar and pollen resources out there to be exploited:

The most obvious visitors are still the butterflies, albeit in reduced numbers and diversity. Red Admirals, Commas and Large Whites were the commonest, with a very few Small Coppers, Small Heaths, Common Blues and Holly Blues, the latter by now probably on its third generation of the year.

Likewise, especially around the ponds, dragonflies and damselflies were still noticeable, basking, hunting and mating: Migrant Hawkers over the water, Common Darters everywhere including egg-laying couples in tandem, and Willow Emeralds, again some in mating formation, in the trees and marginal planting.

In the woodland garden, the leaves are colouring rapidly, especially that harbinger of autumnal glory Amelanchier. 

The Oak leaves bear their customary array of galls, here Spangle Galls although the smaller, darker ones may well indicate they have been hyper-parasitized. ‘Big fleas have little fleas, little fleas have lesser...’ etc comes to mind!

Spangle galls are caused by tiny wasps, but the pustular galls on Alder leaves are caused by even tinier mites, Eriophyes laevis.  And this leaf also has a leaf-mine, the manifestation of someone feeding inside the leaf (but not triggering abnormal growth, hence it is not a gall). Leaf-mines can be caused by a variety of insects, from moths to beetles, but this is made by the larva of a leaf-mining fly Agromyza alnivora. One leaf and two identifications without ever seeing the organism, just their symptoms.

A few Ivy plants around the shady areas were, as always, buzzing with life attracted to the vital late-season nectar and pollen source of their flowers.

Hornets were particularly active on the flowers, drinking the nectar for themselves, then flying menacingly through the greenery like  sharks hoping to pounce on an unfortunate insect to kill and take to their nest.

But it is thirsty work being a Hornet! Only males seemed to be visiting this watering-hole.

We don’t have much Ivy in the main part of the gardens, which probably explains why I was able to watch an Ivy Bee feeding on Astrantia. The bees are supposed to feed almost exclusively at Ivy, though in extremis may turn to members of the Daisy and Heather families. Perhaps Astrantia is a good alternative too: after all the Ivy family and Carrot family are closely related, and Hedera and Astrantia share a similar contracted umbel flower form.

By October  the power is draining from the sun’s rays so there are insects to be found basking to warm up. Crane-flies, here Tipula paludosa, seem now to be coming out in reasonable numbers, ungainly fliers and fair game for any insectivorous bird (or dragonfly).

Perhaps this Hairy Shieldbug had selected a sun-warmed bed among the insulating fur of a Cardoon seed-head as its cosy winter refuge?

Otherwise my eyes turned repeatedly to the late-flowering nectar and pollen sources. Honeybees were on a wide range of flowers, especially from the Daisy and Scabious families; bumblebees too, especially Common Carder-bees at the moment, and they can continue flying as it cools, given they have their own fur coats.

And where there’s prey, there are predators, although the success rate of this Flower Crab-spider may well be limited by its choice of backdrop…

It was good to see one of our larger hoverflies, the wasp-mimic Wasp Plumehorn Volucella inanis, an Essex Red Data species that has only infrequently been seen before in the gardens. Until we compile the Beth Chatto biolist I remain at the mercy of my memory, but Google shows me at least one previous example, from August 2023…

Wasp Plumehorn lives as a parasite in the nests of wasps and Hornets. And there are many other parasites that also contribute to keeping natural balance in the garden. One group is the tachinid parasite-flies, such as Tachina fera, whose larvae feed inside lepidopteran  caterpillars.

Then there was another Locust Blowfly Stomorhina lunata. These are scarce immigrants to UK from southerly climes where they breed, their larvae being parasites of locusts. We had one here about eight years ago, and then a small influx in early August this year, so maybe our native grasshoppers and bush-crickets should watch out…

And finally, the real prize of these visits, this gorgeous fly Ectophasia crassipennis, also a parasite, but of shieldbugs. Related to the equally beautiful Phasia hemiptera which was first seen in the garden in late July, when I was otherwise occupied, Ectophasia is even rarer, with only one previous Essex record I know of, and it is the first I’ve seen in this country.

As usual, the Beth Chatto Gardens came up with the wildlife goods. But what was especially remarkable was that my second visit lasted just 15 minutes. And in that short space of time I saw all three of the last-mentioned specialities, AND heard a Cetti’s Warbler singing, another garden first!

 

 

 

The Snails of Jaywick Beach

Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex

In my four decades in Essex, I have avoided Jaywick on all but a very few occasions. Regularly cited as one of the most left-behind spots of the country, it does little to dispel that image with low-rise housing, much of it wooden, cowering behind the sea wall and now clad in forlornly tattered flags of St George…

And indeed, why would it ever pick itself up? Deep in the flood risk zone (it was very badly affected by the 1953 Great Flood, with 35 villagers dead out of the English total of 305), all it would take is a substantial surge for it all to be washed away. Again. Not a recipe for investing in real estate, the fate of edgelands the world over.

But there have been attempts to address this, with Norwegian stone and dredged sand enhancements to the sea defences repeatedly over the past 20 years, hence most of my previous trips there, advising on the environmental implications thereof. The defences may have been improved, the risk reduced, but without a sign of it coming up in the world to my eye. It seems entrenched by its own self-image and lack of ambition, and arguably the judgemental views of infrequent incomers like me…

So why was I there last week? The sea defences have created some remarkable beach and dune habits, rivalling any such coastal sands in the county. The sand has been colonized by Marram, Sea-holly and Sea Spurge, while the more stable areas are now a thicket of Sea-buckthorn, all the vegetation playing its part in sustaining the defences. Lose the roots, lose the sand and lose the protection: this shouldn’t need saying, but apparently there are those who would strip the beach back to bare, mobile sand because ‘the beach looks scruffy’….

Earlier this year, parts of the beach were found to be supporting vast numbers of snails, in the summer cladding the stems of Sea-holly and Sea-buckthorn: this discovery will be reported in detail by Simon Taylor and David Bain in the next edition of the Essex Naturalist, due in December. Such aestivating aggregations are believed to raise the snails away from the severe heat stress conditions of the sand surface, a phenomenon I am very familiar with from my travels round the Mediterranean, but never here.

So I thought I would go and see for myself. Sadly it was not to be: the previous few days had been wet and cool, and I was met not by the sight of the branches clad in snails but of thousands of snails on the move in the respite from ferocious drought.

But what is most significant is that the commonest snail by far was Theba pisana, the White Snail or Sandhill Snail, often striped brown, and usually with a delicate rose-pink flush around its aperture. There were a few examples of the rather similar Striped Snail Cernuella virgata, smaller and generally lacking the pink, together with the larger, browner Garden Snail Cornu aspersa.

While Cornu is ubiquitous, and Cernuella is common enough in calcareous and coastal regions of England, Theba seems not to have been recorded hitherto in the wild anywhere between Dorset and Northumberland. But with such huge numbers, including juveniles, it seems to be successfully established for the moment, although perhaps at the mercy of severe frosts.

The finders’ theory is that it was inadvertently introduced with Marram plants imported from Normandy by the Environment Agency: this country is notoriously poor at biosecurity measures, despite the natural advantages of being an island. That being the case, Theba has likely been present for at least 15 years. As good as reason as any to venture out to Jaywick!

A day out in Sudbury…

Britain's Wildlife, Travel by Rail, WildEssex

The next in our series of explorations using public transport of the towns that are so near to home that they get overlooked in search of more distant delights, following our day in Needham Market a couple of weeks ago, was to Sudbury. Suffolk but almost Essex, in that part of our walk was south of the River Stour which everywhere but here where Suffolk invades Essex would have placed us firmly in the land of the Saxons.

One of the great things about Sudbury is arrival along the Gainsborough Line, from Marks Tey, up the Colne valley, crossing the Chappel Viaduct. Then over the watershed to the Stour valley, through Bures, then arriving into Sudbury. Stepping out of the station, and in just a few paces we were out onto the water meadows, a gentle and pastoral landscape with willow copses and reed-fringed dykes, and just occasional glimpses of the river at its heart.

Thence onto the old railway line, the vital cross link from Sudbury up to Bury, the closure of which must have helped split East Anglia in half, and of course contributed to the dominance of the motor vehicle, one of the least pleasant aspects of the town. Whatever, the old track which continues apparently at least as far as Long Melford provides a very pleasant, tree-lined walking route, with the metalwork of the bridges  providing a direct link to its previous incarnation.

In the dappled shade when the sun came out, the air was thick with the alluring musk of Ivy, and Ivy Bees were still active. Other invertebrates included scavenging Velvet Mites, sun-basking flies like Phaonia valida, an autumnal species with red-brown legs and scutellum, and a Kidney-spot Ladybird.

Galls were everywhere on the tree leaves, from spangles (caused by the gall-wasp Neuroterus quercus-baccarum) on the Oaks, to hairy Eriophyes similis mite galls along the edges of Blackthorn leaves and those of the gall-midge Hartigiola annulipes especially adjacent to the midrib of Beech leaves.

Lots of other symptoms of other organisms in the leaves as well: Beech had leaf-mines caused by the caterpillars of the micromoth Stigmella hemargyrella, Field Maple hosted the related Stigmella aceris (until recently very rare in East Anglia), and Sycamore leaves were blotched with the fungal Tar-spot Rhytisma acerinum.

While galls, mines and blotches are especially a feature of tree leaves, they are elsewhere too: there were mines of the fly Agromyza reptans (or pseudoreptans, as the mines cannot conclusively be separated) and midge galls of Dasyneura urticae on Stinging Nettles. It was only when I looked at the photo later that I realised there was a photobomber, a tiny parasitic wasp, presumably seeking to parasitize the gall-causer: a food chain in a photo!

Crossing and recrossing the river, on one side were the fringes of Sudbury, on the other the open valley…

Thence to King’s Marsh and the Common Lands, much more open, save for the sloe-laden Blackthorn-lined river.

Glaucous Bulrush and Arrowhead indicated at least reasonable water quality, and the open water was teeming with fish. A Little Egret, its plumes whipped up by the stiff breeze, stalked and stabbed, but its only success was a half-aerial lunge when it grabbed and ate a passing Common Darter dragonfly. The neighbouring Grey Wagtail was, quite sensibly, keeping a respectful distance…

Time for lunch: as we were beside the Mill Hotel, what better? And it was a very fine plate of fish and chips for us on this occasion: not even the ‘feature’ of a mummified cat could put us off!

Returning through the town, it was a wander through history. Starting at St Gregory’s Church, it was closed, but the immense flints in the walls provided the backdrop for several bunches of Firebugs. This is a species that is going places, having first colonized mainland Britain only five or so years ago, then found mainly in warmer, coastal fringes, but now spreading further inland. While the NBN map shows no sites around Sudbury, there seem to be few limits on its East Anglian distribution now. And churchyards are a des. res., often containing both of its foodplants, Mallow and Lime.

Flints also featured in a much more modern building, Gainsborough’s House, along with some artistically laid brickwork, bricks fired from clay being the other local building material, after timber and flint. But neither of us being fans of his art, we didn’t venture inside….

Looking down Market Hill, the hipped roofs show the Flemish influence in its development, the persecuted Huguenots settling here and bringing with them the silk-weaving industry for which the town then became famous.

We passed numerous half-timbered houses, then towards the town centre, historic municipal buildings …

… reaching the centrepiece, the former church/now arts centre. And there we learned of the not always glorious history of the town, including its anonymous caricaturing as a rotten borough by Charles Dickens, and its role in the Peasants’ Revolt of 1391. Simon de Sudbury, then Lord Chancellor of England, pushed the peasants too far by introducing a further poll tax, effectively triggering the revolt, and lost his head in the process, now to be found preserved in St Gregory’s Church, apparently, while the rest of him lies in Canterbury Cathedral with a cannonball in place of the head!.

All that was left then was to settle in the sun by the water outside the Quay Theatre, watching Willow Emeralds in the marginal vegetation, while waiting for the train. A fascinating day out, and only 20 miles from home!

 

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: autumn plenty

Beth Chatto Gardens, Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

I expected the final set of Wildside Walks for the year were going to focus upon nature preparing itself for the season to come. And yes, we looked at that although it all felt a bit superfluous as we were experiencing a short-lived, day-long heatwave, with temperatures around 26º Celsius, full sun and a light breeze, truly a (presumably) last blast of summer.

Chiffchaffs were in good song, a fleeting remembrance of spring, but soon quelled by the mournful, minor-key autumnal song of Robins, the twittering overflight of Swallows and the reedy wheezing of Siskins in the Alders. Down at the Reservoir, the Moorhen broods are growing fast, and the Mallards were joined by a pair of Gadwalls in the Duckweed soup…

Also around the ponds, there were still plenty of dragonflies and damselflies, with Common and Ruddy Darters, Migrant and Southern Hawkers, and most numerously Willow Emeralds, with lots of mating pairs fluttering about.

In the borders and beds, Rudbeckia, Verbena and Bistorta were pulling in the butterflies, especially Commas, Red Admirals and Peacocks, along with the ‘cabbage’ whites, and single Brimstone, Painted Lady, Small Heath and Common Blue. Sadly however, the Hummingbird Hawkmoth I had seen a few days previously was nowhere to be seen…

Bees and ladybirds were visiting the ice-plants in particular, always reliable at this time of year…

… and of course Ivy, the autumn pollen and nectar source par excellence. Hornets were everywhere, trawling noisily through insect-attracting flowers and leaping on anything too slow to get out of the way: the wasp in the photo below was despatched in seconds.

As the Sun’s intensity declines, so the importance of sun-basking increases so the insects can go about their business of feeding and breeding without becoming prey themselves. There were tachinid parasite-flies like Tachina fera, various other flies (just look at the covering of pollen!) and parasitic wasps, together with an array of true bugs: Cinnamon Bug, Dock Bug, Hairy and Green Shield-bugs. Plus a long-anticipated new species for the garden: Rhododendron Leafhoppers have been spreading since their arrival in Britain almost a century ago and are found on most local Rhododendron leaves, but not until now within our garden. Rhododendrophiles may hate them as they may help to spread diseases between host plants, but they are undeniably spectacular, while rhododendrons have very limited positive wildlife values. I love the bugs!

At this stage of autumn, our thoughts turn to Oak trees, especially in mast years like this with an abundance of large acorns.

The leaves are starting to look their age, many coated in mildew, nibbled or hosting the internal workings of leaf-mining insects, such as the sinuous galleries of the micromoth Stigmella ruficapitella (or similar).

And then there are the galls, distinctively shaped structures that signify the fact thattiny gall wasps are infecting the tree: Spangle Galls, Smooth Spangles, Oyster Galls, Knopper Galls, Cola Nut Galls and Ramshorn Galls are shown here, the latter also a new record for the garden.

There are of course many other types of gall-causers and leaf-miners, and plant species that exhibit them. The Holly Leaf-miner is a type of fly and the rough, raised galls on Alder leaves are caused by the mite Acalitus brevitarsus.

And searching leaves for galls and mines can also turn up other delights, such as the sputnik-shaped white egg-sacs of a small spider, Paidiscura pallens, again possibly the first time it has been recorded here. Indeed spiders and their webs are always a constant feature of autumn, none more impressive than the common Garden Cross Spider.

And so we come to the end of my Wildside Walks for the year. Thanks to all who joined them, or enjoyed reading about them. I hope they will return next spring: keep an eye on the events page of the Beth Chatto website Courses & Workshops – Beth Chatto’s Plants & Gardens or the page on my own website dedicated to the Beth Chatto Gardens Beth Chatto Gardens – activities and events | Chris Gibson Wildlife.

Autumn in Wivenhoe’s Lower Lodge reserve

Britain's Wildlife, WildEssex, WildWivenhoe

Long gone are the insect-rich days of high summer as Lower Lodge settles into the bounty of autumn. Just a few butterflies were hanging on today in their tatters, including what are likely to be some of our last Common Blues and Meadow Browns of the year (especially after the ferocious squally storm that swept through later in the afternoon).

Common Darters were on duty, as they are likely to be until November, mopping up the last few flying insects. There was also a single Platycheirus albimanus hoverfly, and an Ivy Bee at rest on an oak tree – quite a surprise as there is very little Ivy around the reserve.

With flowering almost done, it was over to the autumnal fruits to provide colour. Hawthorn in particular was radiant with its masses of berries, drawing me in to look more closely at the leaves, with the tent-mines of the micromoth Phyllonorycter corylifoliella, and a harvestman Opilio canestrinii nestling among the ultra-spiny terminal shoots that have been galled by the gall-midge Dasineura crataegi. Although presumably under-recorded, the latter has only one Essex locality (near Dedham) shown on the NBN Atlas.

And so to the Oaks, which occupied most of my walk, demonstrating their prowess as a powerhouse of biodiversity, some sprouting Hen-of-the-woods and most of the saplings at least liberally coated in Oak Powdery Mildew.

So late in the season, the leaves have done their photosynthetic job, so leaf coatings, munchings, mines and galls are probably no problem to the trees. And galls in particular were everywhere, each caused by a near-identical tiny gall-wasp. Now is the time to search under the leaves for spangle-galls, and as usual Common Spangles were easy to find.

Most years, Silk-button Spangles come a close second in abundance, but as we have found elsewhere this year, they seem few and far between. In fact among the hundreds of leaves I examined, I found only four with Silk-buttons, and Smooth Spangles, often quite hard to find, outnumbered them manyfold. The vagaries of the life of a gall-wasp and its interactions with the weather and the tree!

Another species we are seeing much more of this year is the Oyster Gall, erupting from the leaf-veins, whereas Cherry Galls seem fewer than usual:

And then there were the bud-galls: Marble Galls and Artichoke Galls, both rather less frequent than we expect, and Cola-nut Galls, if anything more abundant this year. And only when looking at the galls did I notice the Opilio canestrinii staring back at me…

Spiders were another group I found by searching leaves for galls. There was a Flower Crab-spider, more usually seen sitting on flowers waiting to grab visiting pollinators, a Cucumber Spider and a Bleeding-heart Spider …

… plus the signs of other species, here the web of a Xysticus crab-spider and the Sputnik egg-sac of Paidiscura pallens.

And leaving best until last, I turned over one leaf and found this wonderful creature, my first ever caterpillar of the scarce woodland moth, the Festoon, sitting among presumably its feeding scrapes. Looking like an alien life-form, it was a real thrill to find, and while the adult turns up in many moth traps in the area, to have proof of breeding is always exciting.