Blog Archives: WildEssex

The far out west (of East Anglia!) – Ashdon & Bartlow

The far north-west of Essex has long been a bit of a mystery to me, so it was good last week when the chance arose to explore awhile before giving a talk to the Ashdon Gardening Club. Barely 15km from the hi-tech heart of the country, Cambridge, Ashdon does feel very out of the way. Nestled by the river Granta, and seemingly without any mobile signal, it is enveloped in the chalkscape of the greater Chilterns. The chalk heights reach their Essex peak at Chrishall (147m) west of the M11, but rolling hills clad in chalky boulder clay extend the foothills eastwards.

On the hill high above the town is a fine windmill, reached after a bit of a nervous drive a few hundred metres up a single track road with bends and high hedges. But least there is a carpark at the top!

Ashdon Windmill, recently restored to working order by the local community, was built in 1757 and operated commercially until 1912, after which it went through several cycles of dereliction and repair.

On the windswept peak (at just over 100 metres altitude) is obviously a good place for a windmill, and also to get a feel for the well-wooded, farmed landscape, the fields often featuring Fallow Deer.

Back down in the village, the church was worth a visit, in a fine setting with the historic Vicarage and Guildhall, now well away from the heart of the village, perhaps a shift in response to the Black Death.

Then it was up the road a short way to the village of Bartlow. Now entirely within the county of Cambridgeshire, until a boundary review last century the land to the south of the River Granta was the last outpost of Essex. Indeed, about five kilometres to the east, I noticed that the three counties of Essex, Cambridgeshire and Suffolk converge, and wondered briefly if it would worth hunting the join. Then I looked at the satellite photo, showing it among a slew of arable fields, and had second thoughts. After all, having straddled the Equator and the Greenwich meridian, I realise that artificial lines have no lasting meaning!

Bartlow Church was also worth a visit, although fairly unremarkable inside; it is one of just two Cambridgeshire churches with round towers. And that tower is the oldest part of current church, dating back to perhaps the late 11th century.

In the afternoon heat, the churchyard was buzzing with life. Patches of Red Dead-nettles, Primroses and Sweet Violets were in full bloom, attracting Peacock butterflies, while Brimstones and Dark-edged Beeflies were everywhere, and Nursery-web Spiders were out basking on many a leaf.

The Primrose patches included one plant with slightly darker flowers and flowers raised on a common stalk. That might suggest Oxlip, perhaps the most iconic plant of the borderlands of Cambridgeshire, Suffolk and Essex, but it wasn’t quite right. From closer examination it appeared to be one of the ‘False Oxlip’ Primula hybrids, most likely Primrose x Cowslip.

Then it was south across the Granta into ‘old Essex’, over the old railway line (sadly closed as recently as 1967) until the distinctive looming shapes of the Bartlow Hills hove into view. A series of three large Roman tumuli, these are the visitable part of a group of seven earthworks, of which the remainder have been much reduced in height.

For a long time erroneously associated with King Cnut and the dead from the Battle of Assandun in 1016, subsequent excavation has demonstrated them to be the grave-mounds from a wealthy family of the 1st or 2nd century AD. Apparently all manner of artefacts were recovered, including large wooden chests, decorated vessels in bronze, glass and pottery and an iron folding chair, most of which were lost in a fire at Bartlow Hall.

The tallest mound, at 15 metres in height, is claimed as the largest Roman barrow north of the Alps, and well worth the slog up the steps. And following me up was a very special insect, a male Black Oil-beetle Meloe proscarabaeus. In Essex we know this only from a few sea walls and sand dunes, and on the NBN map it appears this is its only Cambridgeshire site, apart from a couple of spots on the edge of the Fens.

From the top you can peer down into modern Essex, and contemplate the changes over time. For me as a botanist, that includes the losses of our native plants. Bartlow Hills is justly famed as the only Essex locality for the beautiful Pasqueflower, apparently just now coming into flower on time (‘Pasque’ in Old French = ‘Easter’) in its heartlands. Sadly, however no longer on Bartlow Hills: it was last seen there around the start of the 20th century, just at the time the land on which the hills stand was reassigned to Cambridgeshire.

 

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: Spring is unleashed…!

There comes a time every spring when one suddenly realises that whatever the vagaries of the British weather, spring is here to stay. The tipping point is sometimes as early as the start of March, but in other years it can be a good month later. In 2026 it seems to have come right in the middle of those extremes.

While the first two weeks of March saw a few glimmers of warmth, the overall impression was of cool days, sometimes breezy, damp (if not as downright wet as the preceding winter) and the occasional snatch of welcome sun. When Jude and I visited in the first week, it was misty and grey all day, rather chilly, and mist turning to fog in the afternoon. So we weren’t really expecting to see much in the way of insect life, and most of what we did find – masses of Seven-spot Ladybirds – were well hunkered-down or wrapped in a fur coat like this Common Earwig…

Of course Jude with her incredibly acute close vision also found some noteworthy stuff, including two colour-forms of Ten-spot Ladybird. Although this is one of the commoner British species, remarkably it seems to be the first time it has been found in the garden, at least according to our as yet incomplete biolisting. The two-spotted form was sharing a cosy niche with an Acorn Weevil and a spider.

Also new for the records, certainly overlooked in the past, was the moss Bryum capillare, its spore capsules standing bright and proud in the gloom.

And the same comments apply to the first record from the garden of a Yew gall caused by the fly Taxomyia taxi. This may be present wherever there is Yew, in gardens, parks and the wild, but it seems always to be under-recorded: the Essex Field Club map has only two spots on it.

Almost apologetically in the mirk the really special spring flowers like species daffodils and tulips were starting to appear. And Chiffchaffs were singing, probably newly in from their Mediterranean wintering sites, carried here a little prematurely by the Sahara-dust-laden winds at the end of February.

But two weeks later it was a very different picture. A couple of warm sunny days saw spring unleashed into the lives and hearts of a myriad of happy, smiling visitors. The Chiffchaffs, now perhaps half-a-dozen, expressed the joy of the season very effectively. As did two singing Stock Doves, the first time I have noticed territorial behaviour in the garden, and (now I come to think of it) possibly the first Stock Doves I have ever recorded there. Adding to the chorus were Chaffinches, at least three male Goldcrests and a Green Woodpecker in song, along with the mewling calls of displaying Buzzards overhead.

Four species of butterfly were on the wing: Comma, Peacock, Red Admiral and a rapid fly-past couple of male Brimstones. All species that overwinter as adults, it won’t be long before the spring-emergers like Orange Tips are with us!

Bees too, with bumbles (Buff-tailed and Red-tailed queens, the latter for me the first of the year) and lots of Honeybees especially on Skimmia ‘Kew Green’ and Scilla  bifolia.

The Scilla was also the focus for many solitary bees, including Andrena dorsata and A. minutula agg.

Ladybirds were everywhere, as seems to be the norm this year, AND now getting active, strutting their stuff as predators, pollinators and partners; most were Seven-spots with just a few Harlequins.

Several Dark-edged Beeflies were feeding or resting around the flowery borders: the first beeflies of spring are always a thrill!

And shieldbugs were also out in force, mostly Green Shieldbugs greening up nicely out of their brown winter plumage, together with a few Hairy Shieldbugs.

As with the previous visit, there were also new records for the Gardens. A couple of very common species whose names have seemingly evaded being written down anywhere in the past were the Common Pond-skater Gerris lacustris and the ink-cap fungus Coprinellus micaceus, equally common although of course only fleetingly visible when its fruiting bodies emerge.

On Anemone blanda there was the distinctive stripy Orange-legged Furrow-bee Halictus rubicundus, new to the garden and indeed with only a few records, mostly coastal, in the Tendring district.

And an exciting new bug for the garden was the ground- bug Graptopeltus lynceus. This is traditionally associated with Echium species but seems increasingly to be moving to other Boraginaceae, of which we have lots; it was very close to a flowering patch of Trachystemon. It is classed as Rare in Essex, with just eight scattered records, the nearest being one just west of Colchester.

And of course spring flowers of every description, no hint of apology now and a wonderful pick-me-up after a dreary old winter!

Beth Chatto Gardens, THE place to be at this time of year. Where else would you find Lesser Celandines blooming in the lawns rather than being hounded out as ‘weeds’? Do visit, and help Rewild your Minds.

The Wild Side of Essex: Spring on the Colne Estuary

‘Spring’ perhaps more in theory than practice! It may have been mid-March, but the very cool breeze searing across the estuary and grey skies for much of the day made it feel like a return to winter. And as a reflection of the very wet winter past, another theme of the day was mud, especially on the clays lower down, as opposed to the Thames sands and gravels that cap the Essex Alps. But Naturetrek groups carry on regardless!

Starting around Ferry Marsh, all was quiet apart from the whispering churrs of Long-tailed Tits and angry chatter of a couple of Cetti’s Warblers, as so often only briefly glimpsed.

Down at the river upstream of Wivenhoe, the tide was falling away and the exposed mud supported Redshanks and Oystercatchers, with Black-tailed Godwits and Teals feeding in the shallows, and a Little Egret on the saltmarsh.

Along Wivenhoe waterfront, a chance to explore the changing socioeconomic trends that have shaped the town over the past fifty years ago as well as the eternal struggle against surge tides, the now-familiar rare plants were all present: Jersey Cudweed, Four-leaved Allseed and White Ramping-fumitory. Only the latter had flowers, but what a show!

Below the Barrier and into the wider estuary, more of the same waders, including a large flock of 400 or so Black-tailed Godwits, and the first few Curlews. But no smaller species, nor any Avocets: presumably these were hunkered down out of the biting wind in a more sheltered creek. But there were good numbers of Shelduck wading through the sloppy mud, single Cormorant and Great Crested Grebe fishing in the channel and Buzzards circling over the woods.

Along the seawall, especially on the warmer, south-facing slope, Hairy Bittercress and Red Dead-nettle were flowering, the latter a magnet for the few queen bumblebees foraging, making the most of their fur coats to be active when no other insects were.

As soon as we got into the shelter of Grange Wood, the temperature rocketed, and the first of several Chiffchaffs started to sing, probably ones that arrived along with Sahara dust last week. The Silver Birch trees were covered in Birch Bracket fungi, while on windblown twigs there were both Orange Brain Fungus and Stereum hirsutum.

Cherry-plum flowers were just past their peak, while those of Blackthorn were just starting to burst. A precocious Rhododendron was in full flower and the first Alexanders flowers were erupting, soon to become the most important insect forage before the full flush of spring.

And the shady pools were just crying out for Beavers!

For lunch we were back in the chill wind, but rewarded with flocks of Wigeons and Brent Geese, with a trio of Mute Swans surprisingly grazing on the saltmarsh. A Red Kite, presumably one of the local breeders, drifted low overhead and Skylarks were singing from the fields, bringing the promise of spring even in the teeth of an icy wind.

Heading up the hill to the top of the Essex Alps, moving from clay to gravel, we passed numerous vast pollards and coppice stools, mostly Oak but also Holly, boundary features of the ancient wood and the old trackway of Cutthroat Lane. Celandines were flowering, along with the very first Bluebells, amid the sprouting spring greens of Garlic Mustard and (more menacingly) Hemlock.

A Great Spotted Woodpecker and Jay showed themselves briefly along the lane, above large patches of fruiting, presumably ancient, Butcher’s Broom. And in the open at the end of the lane, acid-green in the verge highlighted a patch of Early Meadow-grass. Although we have known this plant close to the tide for the past five or so years, this is the first time I have found it inland round here.

Heading into Cockaynes Reserve, the volume of bird song increased, with Robins, Great Tits and Chiffchaffs featuring prominently. Sallow and Alder flowers were out, along with luxuriant Gorse, attracting numerous bees and flies.

The lichen heath seems to get more extensive every time I visit, and the Bunny Bee colony was coming to life in the admittedly weak sunshine, while a Little Grebe sang from the gravel pits and Long-tailed Tits seemed to be prospecting for a nest site.

Then through Villa Wood, a magnificent showing of Scarlet Elf-cups, highlighting the feature without which probably the reserve would never have come into being.

Heading back along the crest of the hill, the pastureland was graced not by the usual pair of Egyptian Geese, but three pairs and a singleton. From there the verges of Ballast Quay Lane were in fine flower, including Sweet Violets and the first few Three-cornered Leeks. Crossing Wivenhoe Brook, a peep over the parapet showed the continued presence of Water Crickets, the only local place I know for this bug.

Bringing us at the end of of a great day’s walk to Old George, our ‘celebrity’ old Oak tree. Chance for me to relate the saga of despair and hope, one which should never have happened but for the avarice of the insurance company and the acquiescence of the Town Council in contriving to hide from scrutiny the ‘evidence’ by which it has been condemned. Fortunately now, at great expense to the Protectors (and more still needed!), his future now lies in the reasoned hands of the High Court…

#WildEssex: A Glorious Spring Walk to Cockaynes Reserve

We have often led a walk up to the Cockaynes Reserve searching for Spring, but never have we had such wonderful weather for it as yesterday. And it was only 3rd of March! Azure skies, light winds and warm sunshine were just what we needed after the grim, grey gloom of February.

And it seems nature needed it too as it was out in abundance. As we walked up Ballast Quay Lane, starting with the customary chirrups of the gaggle of House Sparrows, the air was alive with Greenfinches singing/wheezing and Great Tits getting frisky, while the verges were blooming with Sweet Violets and Lesser Celandines.

And everywhere a rainbow of greens, from the dusty, dull, dark Ivy green to the vibrant emerald of fresh Hawthorn leaves and moss spore-capsules.

As we crossed the open fields, enjoying some of the best views of this part of the world from the top of the Essex Alps, Skylarks filled the air with exuberance as Rooks probed for grubs, and in the distance a couple of Egyptian Geese grazed. Red Dead-nettle, Common Field Speedwell and Bulbous Buttercup flowers were shining among the twinkling Daisies and Dandelions.

Turning into Villa Wood alongside Sixpenny Brook, we entered a moss-clad world, the haunt of our Scarlet Elf-cups, the reason this reserve exists. Perhaps not so many as last year’s bumper haul, but they were there, mantled in mossy green,  and maybe still more to come.

Spring is a time of rapid change but also delayed gratification: the spearing shoots of Bluebells will be transforming this woodland floor in six weeks or so:

Sibilant twitterings in the Alder tops revealed a party of at least 20 Siskins, and the first of half-a-dozen Chiffchaffs sang, surely new arrivals on the recent deep southerlies laden with Sahara dust.

Hazel flowers, always the pre-Christmas first sign of the Spring to come, going over, and the Big Bud galls starting to form; Alder catkins peaking with Silver Birch still to come;  Sallow pompoms just bursting, attracting numerous bees; and Cherry-plum in full flower with Blackthorn bud-burst perhaps a couple of weeks away: Nature’s Calendar in full flow!

Onto the heath, the glorious Gorse flowers hid the glistening nuggets of Gorse Shield-bugs, so well camouflaged among the emerging buds. Queen bumblebees bumbled through the flowers, and there were Seven-spot Ladybirds everywhere. Much more numerous than I have ever seen before at this time of year, these are presumably the offspring from last July’s mega-influx.

Basking on a fencepost nearby was what may be an early Gorse Mining-bee, along with a pugnacious Zebra Jumping-spider, ready to take us all on! The bee bank was teeming with Bunny Bees, one of the key features of this reserve, and especially pleasing as only a day previously, on my recce in similar sunshine, I had seen just a couple.

Two lots of Buzzards were overhead, mewling in display flight and carrying nesting material, while a female Marsh Harrier quartered the reedy willow scrub.

Several pairs of Long-tailed Tits seemed to be setting up territory and there were fleeting flypasts of both Peacock and Red Admiral, though no sign of yesterday’s Comma, my first butterfly of the year. Nor were there any of the Hairy Shield-bugs on show: such is the excitement and unpredictability of the natural world. But the final reward for we two leaders was back in town, just after the last of our group peeled away, the most vibrant male Brimstone crossing our path …

 

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens: February is the LONGEST month!

February continued the pattern of the preceding winter: rain, lots of it, and grey gloom. So while I like to get into the gardens to witness the arrival of spring, in practice that meant only two occasions, early and late in the month. Such was the lack of spring-ushering sunlight that the three week difference saw rather little change in nature.

At the time of my first visit, Winter Aconites, Spring Snowflakes and most Snowdrops were pretty much at their peak, albeit without the sunshine to open the flowers fully. Anyway it was too dank for insects to be flying …

Three weeks later, Snowdrops and Aconites were mostly past their best, but it was time for the lovely, endlessly varied Hellebores to pick up the floral baton:

And Daffodils, Squills and Crocuses were coming up fast in the outside lane, the latter with numerous queen Buff-tailed Bumblebees, bumbling out of torpor for a welcome meal in the weak sun.

More than I’ve ever seen before at this time of year, presumably related to last July’s bumper influx and favourable overwinter conditions, Seven-spot Ladybirds were out, crawling and trawling for aphids.

Harking back to midwinter, every Sarcococca sat in its own pool of olfactory pleasure…

… and trunks and branches showed off their lichens and mosses, so much easier to appreciate in the full light before bud-burst:

Skylarks were singing over the surrounding fields and Dabchicks diving on the Reservoir, while Robins, Blue and Great Tits, and at least five male Chaffinches serenaded the spring.  And as if on cue, the next in the line of flowers were bursting through, a blossoming that will grow inexorably over the next few months:

How quickly spring will arrive depends on the weather over the next few weeks, but come it will. And whatever, the garden is always visit, whether in rain or shine!

BOOK REVIEW Turnstones and Turtle Doves by Jenny Coumbe

Turnstones and Turtle Doves: nature-watching in an Essex parish, Jenny Coumbe (New Generation Publishing, 2025) ISBN: 978-1-83563-919-1 £12.99

Everybody needs a sense of place, and every place needs people to have that sense, to love and nurture it, enjoy it and help keep it safe from the ravages of modern life. That is just what Jenny Coumbe has done here for a small part of the Tendring Peninsula in Essex, the area around her home. It is an area I know well, especially from a couple of decades ago and it is a pleasure to find out that much of what I remember still remains.

The book starts with a few pages of Foreword, well-written prose that evokes well the author’s hopes that the readers will take inspiration and look at their local patches in the way she has. And add natural colour to their lives in doing so.

In fact, the Foreword is so evocative that the short-form writing style of the bulk of the book could be seen as disappointing, an opportunity missed. Arranged as a series of short paragraphs grouped by season and spanning six years, the writing is sparse. But as the introduction explains, they originated as extracts from nature diary entries. A more familiar description today may be that they are like a series of self-contained tweets (other social media platforms are available!).

Others may complain that the information therein is not quantitative, and thus has limited ‘scientific’ use. But that is also to miss the point. Consider parallels with the mass observation programme of the 1940s in which ‘ordinary’ people captured the details of their ‘ordinary’ lives as the first citizen social scientists, leaving an unparalleled archive of a time of great post-war upheaval.

Well, nature is at that pivotal moment right now, where what we have all grown up with may not be available to our descendants, our children and grandchildren. And if they don’t know about it will they ever want to recover it? Anything we can do to foster desires to challenge Shifting Baseline Syndrome has to be a good thing.

This lovely little book, with well chosen photos by the author and Nick Levene, fills an essential gap between the hopes for, and the reality of, the natural world. It is a gentle beacon of hope in an uncertain world, as well as an advert for that most maligned of counties, Essex. Nothing links each short paragraph, other than the season and location. There is no attempt to curate the entries into stories:  it just lets the reader create their own mental world. Read it right through in one sitting, or dip into it at will, there is no ‘best way’ of enjoying it.

Turnstones and Turtle Doves is an unashamedly modest book that can hold its head high on the local interest and natural history shelves of any bookshop. It epitomises the glorious unexpected, the wealth of change and events that give meaning to the life of any naturalist. Inspiration indeed!

Paperback available online £12.99, e-book at £4.99. Also available from Wrabness Community Shop and Red Lion Books, Colchester.

 

Beth Chatto Outreach Sites: insects of the Meanwhile Garden & Chattowood

Working with the Beth Chatto team gives me all sorts of opportunities to explore the wildlife of gardens, not only the actual Beth Chatto Gardens, but also other gardens in which we have an interest. Below are two blogs I wrote for the Beth Chatto website in January 2026 relating to survey work I have undertaken at Colchester’s Meanwhile Garden and Chattowood, respectively.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

Original post: Wildlife at the heart of the City: Colchester’s Meanwhile Garden

 

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

The county of Essex, much maligned, has a rich diversity of wildlife and wild places, with its coastlines and ancient woodlands widely recognised as of the greatest priority and value. But a close third to these are its brownfield sites, a legacy of the proximity to London and a gentle topography, ripe for development.

‘Brownfield’ or ‘previously developed’, call them what you will except ‘wasteland’. These places are anything but wasteland, full of wildlife, and bringing the benefits and joys of green into the lives of anyone who lives nearby, especially important to those of limited mobility.

Brownfield sites come and go with the ebb and flow of development, abandonment and redevelopment. Each is unique as a response to its history and locality. Each contains a unique mix of plants species, a multicultural mix of plants from around the world, that generally arrive under their own steam (eg members of the daisy family and willowherbs with long-distance wind-dispersal) or emerge spontaneously from a long-buried seed bank.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

The latest addition to the ranks of Essex brownfields is the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden in Colchester. For many years a bus station, when demolished it became an area of urban rewilding. But then a partnership between Colchester City Council and Beth Chatto Gardens saw the arrival of the gardening influence, to enrich it botanically for human and insect visitors alike, and to hold back the march of monoculture (especially buddleja and ailanthus) which would overwhelm its open sunny biodiversity in a matter of years if left unchecked.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden
Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

To some eyes it may not look much like a garden: bare ground, rubble, twisted and rusting metal, a mix of planted specimens and things that have just moved themselves in. But that’s Nature for you, and why should the ‘trimmed and tidied, primped and preened’ look be seen as desirable compared with this unplanned urban jungle full of life?

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

The summer of 2025 represented the first full summer of the Meanwhile Garden since its creation in 2024. We followed its colonisation by insect and invertebrate life with monthly visits from April to September in fine weather. Each visit was only an hour long so this must be regarded as only scratching the surface of its biodiversity, a series of spot-surveys that nevertheless revealed lots of interest.

Any new habitat has to be colonised, and unless it is right next door to an existing habitat, insects are more likely to find it if they are powerful fliers. Many butterflies and moths are therefore good colonisers, and included Painted Lady among the array of summer butterflies, attracted especially to Buddleja davidii, often known as Butterfly-bush.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

Moth colonists included three species with very distinctive caterpillars. The black-and-yellow-spotted Mullein Moth is common everywhere, while the Toadflax Brocade, more stripy but a similar colour pattern, is a relatively recent recolonist of the UK, and a specialist of brownfield sites and gardens in the south-east. Similarly the green Small Ranunculus, wonderfully camouflaged among the dead flowers of its foodplant prickly lettuce: extinct in the middle of the 20th century but now on brownfield sites across southern Britain.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

Given the lack of water in the Meanwhile Garden, all damselflies must have come some distance from their breeding ponds and rivers. We found two species, the Common Blue Damselfly (below) and Azure Damselfly.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

But not everything flies so well. Take spiders: they have no wings. But there were plenty around the garden in the first summer, presumably having arrived on the wind as spiderlings, ballooning on silken strands. Three of the species we found were the Zebra Jumping-spider, Cucumber Spider and Gorse Orbweaver, the latter more typically associated with heathlands.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

Bagworms are moths that spend most of their lives in a silk bag adorned with bits of their environment. Indeed females spend all their life in the bag. So they don’t fly. Grasshoppers can fly but not far, so to find three species suggests they have come from a nearby grassland. And Firebugs, another new arrival in the UK, are generally wingless. So how did these get to this brand-new site? Of course, there are lots of people passing by and through the garden, so it may be that the visitors inadvertently bring hitchhikers on their footwear or clothing.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

Visiting the flowers throughout the summer were many bees and wasps, attracted especially to the plants introduced by the Beth Chatto team. The selection below includes rare species, some brownfield specialists, and all are pollinators: particular note should be made of the Spined Mason Bee, Little Blue Carpenter Bee, and Pantaloon Bee, all of which are very scarce in the county, found mainly in the Thames-side brownfields. Bee Wolf was similarly rare until its recent explosive spread northwards, fuelled by climate change. All could well be breeding around the site, but one we know certainly is, the also-scarce Four-banded Flower-bee, taking advantage of the bee-hotel.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

I could go on through all other taxonomic groups – flies, beetles, bugs and the rest – and pick out special features of the garden in the same detail as the above. But suffice to say that in its first summer, Colchester’s Meanwhile Garden was packed with biodiversity, species both common and rare, many specialists of brownfield habitats and many that have benefited from climate change and are spreading northwards using these stepping stones in the landscape. The insects are using all members of the brownfield plant community, the showy garden plants especially for nectar and pollen and the spontaneous flora as larval food plants.

Our final sighting to mention is one of the most surprising to us. July 2025 will be long remembered for the almost unprecedented influx of ladybirds and hoverflies to coastal Essex, probably from the continent. Sadly, the influx which lasted about a week didn’t coincide with one of our surveys. But two weeks later we could still see its remnants, with Seven-spot and Harlequin Ladybirds in abundance (although the latter seemed not to feature among the hordes of incomers).

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

But what attracted our attention was the number of a much smaller beastie, Adonis’ Ladybird. This is another scarce species in Essex, and one that seems to be concentrated close to the Thames, on brownfield sites and arable margins. Prior to this visit we had seen only a bare handful ever in Essex, and the first record from Beth Chatto Gardens was during the influx two weeks earlier. But in the Meanwhile Garden we found dozens, in the July and two subsequent surveys. Most were found on Fennel and Teasel, conveniently at eye-level, but they were everywhere. Will this be carried over to the second full summer? We hope to find out, continuing these surveys for the whole of the coming summer. And we do expect to see changes, some species lost, others appearing: the dynamic lifeblood at the heart of brownfield biodiversity.

Wildlife at the heart of the City: the Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden

 

The Beth Chatto Meanwhile Garden is a brownfield site like no other, at the interface between natural urban habitat development and gardening. We have no idea how long it will last: the idea of a Meanwhile Garden is that it represents a productive use of an area of land that may ultimately be destined for development. If it ends up being lost, that would be a sad loss for the city centre, but we can at least be happy that the site has pulled its weight for the natural world in the interregnum, and formed an inviting, attractive talking point about the way we want our urban surroundings to look.

Chris & Jude Gibson (with thanks to other occasional surveyors – David Gates, Eleanor Mucklow and Angie Reid)

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

Original post: Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

Some of our readers may have seen the Beth Chatto Gardens outreach site Chattowood recently on BBC Gardeners’ World (catch up here). When, some five years ago, a neighbouring developer wanted to use the name ‘Chattowood’ for a new housing estate, Julia (Beth’s granddaughter) agreed on condition that they worked with us on the landscaping for the estate.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

Chattowood sits atop the same ridge of low hills as our garden, so we had a useful model to work towards. In our garden, Beth and Andrew came up with the concept of ‘Right Plant, Right Place’, using plants suited to the soil and climate conditions to minimise the need for further intervention, especially here in the arid south-east the need to avoid having to waste water on droughty soils.

Unfortunately, although lying on the same underlying geology, London Clay with a capping of Thames gravels, the recent agricultural history of the Chattowood site meant it was covered in a veneer of excessively fertile topsoil, really out of character if what you are seeking to something akin to Beth’s revolutionary Gravel Garden.

So the first thing was to lose the topsoil, stripping off some 30cm, and replace the same depth with locally quarried sharp sand and gravel, effectively making the place ‘right’ so that the ‘right plants’ could be brought in, based upon a palette of those in our Gravel Garden. One key requirement was drought-tolerance, another was attractiveness (to us – these are in effect front gardens) and the final one, benefits to wildlife, especially attractiveness to pollinators and other insects.

All that was needed then was for the garden management to be taken out of the hands and vagaries of individual householders, and Chattowood was born. As the Gardeners’ World piece showed, this is turning out to be broadly popular among the owners, some having even taken to try and replicate this in the back gardens they still control! The gardens look good with flowers throughout the year (see plant list), without any need for watering, even in drought conditions, and so resting lightly on the world in respect of its ecological footprint.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

At the outset we realised this could be an important template for future development, at least in similar climate zones, so we set about trying to evaluate the importance of these gardens for wildlife. It just happens that immediately adjacent is a ‘traditional’ estate, all mown grass and lollipop trees, an ideal comparison against which to judge the success (or otherwise) of the Chattowood approach.

Since the first planting I have been monitoring the use of the Chattowood gardens by insects in side-by-side comparison with the next door estate. I spend the same time in each estate, logging everything larger than a ladybird, and identifying it where possible without interrupting the flow of the survey, trying to do each estate in 20 minutes to reduce the degree of double-counting of often very mobile insects.

This is not so much a biodiversity survey (which would have taken much more time to ensure correct identifications) but a bioabundance survey. While everyone is, or should be, concerned about biodiversity loss (ie extinctions), the lower abundance of life we are seeing is just as concerning. Remember that your average Blue Tit won’t mind if it eats one or ten species of aphid, so long as it gets enough to eat! Arguably, it is bioabundance, not biodiversity, that underpins all food chains, including those that support our own species.

A high level overview of the surveys shows most importantly a constant, significant imbalance between the Chatto-style gardens and the adjacent traditional front gardens. It would appear that there are typically ten times as many macroinvertebrates (mostly pollinators) on our side of the divide. I think it may be best not to pay too much heed to the data from 2022 which indicated an even greater imbalance as surveys were undertaken that year only after midsummer.

year surveys total number of larger insects in Chattowood total number on the other side, the traditional estate ratio Chattowood: traditional
2022 6 (19 Aug-22 Sept) 120 6 20:1
2023 6 (17 Apr – 4 Sept) 233 28 8.3:1
2024 7 (7 Apr – 17 Sept) 240 25 9.6:1
2025 6 (24 Apr – 19 Sept) 426 39 10.9:1

The message is clear: plant the right plant in the right place and it will reward not just us but also the natural world. And what are the right plants in this context? Clearly this will vary across the country, but here in Essex, salvia, oenothera, verbena, lavandula, buddleja and santolina seem favoured and these should be suitable in most areas provided that free draining ground has been created to avoid the roots becoming waterlogged.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

The broad data also show clearly how much better 2025 was across the board than either of the two previous years. On the Chatto side, there were some 75% more, while on the other side of the great divide there were around 50% more, although it must be recognised that sampling effort was not exactly consistent between years. This pattern was widely repeated everywhere, so we cannot claim it as one of the successes of Chattowood!

The vast majority of the larger insects attracted to Chattowood were pollinators, species that habitually trawl around the landscape to find flowers with appropriate nectar and/or pollen resources. Just over a half of the thousand or so counted in my surveys were bumblebees, of at least five species. Another 15% were honeybees, with 5% solitary bees.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

Flies made up about one-tenth of all observations, half of which were hoverflies with the remainder from a range of families.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

Of course many of the most showy insects are butterflies and moths, whose numbers together made up just 5% of all observations. A total of nine species of butterfly were observed, together with two noticeable day flying moths, hummingbird hawk-moth and mint moth.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

With the passage of time it has been noticeable that the number of ground nesting insects has increased in the older Chattowood plantings: I suspect that as a crust has developed on the surface of the sand nest holes don’t collapse. Three species at least colonized from 2024 onwards: bee-wolf, ivy bee and sand wasp. The first two are not too surprising given that they have undergone significant spread from southern regions in recent decades due to climate change, but the sand wasp is different. It has always been found in appropriately sandy areas, for example along the Suffolk coast and around Tiptree Heath, but is not known in the Beth Chatto Gardens nor anywhere nearer than maybe five kilometres’ radius from Elmstead Market. It just goes to show that these habitat-specific creatures are moving around our landscape, often much more than we imagine, and that if we provide the right habitat, so they will find it.

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

Our garden staff also reported finding earthworm casts on the pure sand in autumn 2025, and fungi growing out of it. Both are significant, indicating that organic matter is collecting in the upper layers, perhaps related to the crust that allows bees and wasps to nest. The bare sand is developing an ecology: what lies beneath the surface is adding complexity and life. The gardens are still changing, and changing for the better for wildlife, and as long as there is something to learn I shall be out there counting!

Chattowood is a tribute to Julia’s vision and persuasiveness, the hard work of the Beth Chatto and Lanswood teams and the forbearance of the householders, and provides a vision of a sustainable future for gardens and housing developments, especially living in the global greenhouse. What an antidote to the sterile, ecopathic trend for ‘plastic grass’ and the like!

Chattowood and its insects: the first four years

 

Dr Chris Gibson, Beth Chatto Gardens’ Wildlife Advocate

 

The Wild Side of Beth Chatto Gardens, awakening from winter slumber

In midwinter, the Beth Chatto Gardens get a well-deserved rest. No visitors for a month, while the staff get on with essential maintenance and preparing for the growing season to come.

So I thought a visit would be in order to see if and how the birds around the garden are responding to the relative lack of disturbance. Aside from a few more Mallards on the ponds, though, I could see and hear very little difference: Robins and Song Thrushes in full spring song, along with Blue and Great Tits constituting the bulk of the soundscape.

High in the treetops, bands of Fieldfares and Redwings were on the search for ripe berries, while finches foraged in the seedheads still standing proud in the borders and beds.

It really seems that the birds we share the space with are not significantly impacted by our presence: the human garden visitors are respectful of nature and significantly because the visitors do not come trailing dogs, the greatest disturbance factor of all.

What I was hoping to see was the Otter that was reported by the garden staff a few days earlier, the first time one has been seen there. Alas no, but I did see an unfamiliar mammal, a Muntjac in the Woodland Garden. Although very common in the surrounding area, I have never seen one before in the public part of the garden. This is very likely to reflect the month-long lack of disturbance. And of course if anything needs to be disturbed and displaced it is the voracious Muntjac!

So as the garden reopening approaches we can all think of visiting with a clear conscience! And what a treat is in store. The Snowdrops and Winter Aconites are coming up to their best…

… along with other winter-flowerers bursting into bloom for the first bees.

Blowflies were out already, taking advantage of the weak sunshine, and Seven-spot Ladybirds were just starting to become active, rousing from their winter clusters, ready to keep the plants free of aphids.

And it was also good to enjoy some of the unintentional garden delights, especially the lichens that are so easily overshadowed and overlooked at busier times of the year. On tree bark, there was Flavoparmelia caperata forming large patches, and the locally scarce Ramalina fastigiata forming several new clumps. Given that the latter was considered extinct in Essex in the 1970s due the the impacts of air pollution, this is very good news.

And much more widespread but surprisingly not recorded from the Gardens previously was the Trumpet Lichen Cladonia fimbriata, showed to me by the gardeners in the Scree Garden. I am so happy to have these interested eyes and ears on the ground!

The Gardens reopen on Tuesday February 3rd. Treat yourself to a breath of Spring!

Tree walks in aid of the Old King George Oak

Last weekend we held two walks looking the trees of King George V playing field to raise funds for the legal protection of our Old King George Oak.

Identifying trees in winter is a bit like a jigsaw puzzle, using different elements of evidence that come together to reveal the full picture of its identity. But KGV is a great place to start looking, as it has some lovely specimens, such as the Evergreen Oak and Cedar of Lebanon below, originating from the landscaping around the former Wivenhoe Hall, echoes of a time now faded from memory.

Neither tree shape nor bark are definitively conclusive as to identification as bark changes as the tree ages, and shape is altered especially by management of the trees. But sometimes it a good start, whether the rounded canopy of an open-grown Pedunculate Oak, or the horizontally flattened sprays of the Cedar:

Then there are the hang-ups – dead leaves, fruits and galls still held on the tree from the summer past – and the dejecta, fallen leaves and fruits returning to the earth from which they sprang. Here there are fruits (keys) and flower galls of Ash, and the groundscape below Horse Chestnut:

And finally the details, the branching pattern and texture of the twigs and the size and shape of the buds, which in many cases are highly distinctive and definitive; the corky wings on the branches of many Field Elms and large brown sticky buds of Horse Chestnut…

… the small, rounded buds of Oak, clustered at the twigtips, and terminal, slender buds of Beech, pointing skywards…

… and Ash, its triplet of sooty buds borne on graceful, upswept branches.

So much to see by just taking time to look properly at even our most familiar trees. And there was so much more as well, including clumps of Mistletoe in the Buckeye crown, which on the second walk harboured a pair of Mistle Thrushes defending their precious food resource.

Robins regaled us in spring song throughout the walks and the sharp eyes of our younger wanderers found a glistening patch of the Crystal Brain fungus on a fallen Evergreen Oak branch.

The weather was good, the mood upbeat and with refreshments by the river provided by the trees’ wonderful supporters, we raised an incredible combined total of some £650! This is hugely important as the plight of Old King George is now at a critical stage. I last blogged about our tree last February Saving Wivenhoe’s Old King George Oak Tree | Chris Gibson Wildlife. Since then, everything has changed but nothing has changed: we have provided masses of expert data that demonstrate the trees are not the primary cause of subsidence and that there are better long-term solutions, but Aviva and Wivenhoe Town Council remain unmoved. And they are both refusing to share any data that they claim dictate the trees must be felled, a lack of transparency that seems at odds with the stated position of one and the Nolan principles of the other.

On the above basis, we were successful three weeks ago in getting an interim High Court injunction to prevent felling at this stage, but we now have to fight legally to make that stick. Aviva especially has very deep pockets. So please, if you agree with our position, I would really appreciate it if you could send this around any contacts and networks you have who may like to sign, share and support our campaign. Resources to fight the might of Aviva are very tight indeed.

It didn’t have to have been like this. We don’t want to see a community divided. We are not seeking to save the trees at all costs. We simply want to see the evidence by which they are condemned. The veil of secrecy is anathema to natural justice: to kill the tree while hiding the data that purportedly show it to be to blame is simply wrong, a grave miscarriage of justice.  As a scientist, facts and evidence are paramount to me.

See here Stop the Chop: Save Wivenhoe’s King George Oak | Urgent Action for a full recent update.

To finish, a message from one of our younger walkers, Aria-Rose, aged 7. She has more future than most of us, so let’s not ruin it for her. Please help us.

 

#WildEssex New Year Plant Hunt 2026

Each year, the Botanical Society of Britain & Ireland organises a New Year Plant Hunt, encouraging botanists and other interested folk out of their midwinter slumber to see what plants are flowering. And traditionally this has been our first #WildEssex event of the year, a walk around Wivenhoe Waterfront on New Year’s Day, except as in 2025 when forecast bad weather dictated otherwise.

All data collected in this citizen science project are fed into the national record of what is flowering at this time: for more information see New Year Plant Hunt 2026. It is important to be part of a bigger project to aid learning about how British and Irish wildflowers are responding to climate change.

New Year’s Day 2026 was certainly more clement than 2025, sunny although pretty cold, barely above freezing, or should we say ‘normally cold’ by the norms we grew up with… Our band of 15 friends accompanied Jude and I and our special helper, scribe, photographer and flowerfinder Eleanor as we wandered round the usual route in the standard hour. It produced a good number of the ‘usual suspects’, shrubs that routinely flower in the depths of winter such as Gorse (apart from the usual Hazel that had been cut back severely) and annuals that flower at any time of year if the previous few weeks have been mild (as they were last autumn), including Annual Mercury, Petty Spurge, Shepherd’s-purse and Annual Meadow-grass.

The few areas of permanent grass on our route had Daisies and Dandelions sparkling sparsely on them, together with Common Knapweed and Oxeye Daisy as a distant memory of the summer long gone, and Sweet Violet, the promise of spring. Along the fringes of the recreation area, Hedgerow Crane’s-bill was a new species for our NYPH list, as was Cut-leaved Dead-nettle, never very common in these parts, and growing alongside its more familiar relative, Red Dead-nettle, with more shallowly divided leaves and larger, darker flowers.

In the heart of the village, the older walls and brickwork supported Mexican Fleabane, Trailing Bellflower, Pellitory-of-the-wall and Ivy-leaved Toadflax, while it was quite a surprise to find Ivy flowers still open in places.

Along the waterfront itself, in the cracks of the block paving, our two specialists of this habitat, Four-leaved Allseed and Jersey Cudweed were both found just in flower along with the undoubted star of today’s show, White Ramping-fumitory. Rather scarce nationally, but  widespread around coastal north Essex, it was in exuberant flower in planters and cracks along the waterfront, untroubled by any frosts so far this winter.

And at the end of the hour we found ourselves at the saltmarsh, where Common Cord-grass with its naughty bits glistening in the sinking sunlight added a final species to our tally:

All in all, 39 species in flower represents a new high for us (see full list here New Year Day PLANT HUNT Year on year) compared with 37 in 2025, 34 in 2024, 23 in 2023, 35 in 2022 and 30 in 2021, although one should fall short of celebrating – many of these plants should not be flowering now, and are doing so only because of the harm we have inflicted upon our climate…

There is of course another way of looking at it. Plants are not the only things responding to climate change: although we saw no insects being active on the day of our walk, it is undeniable that fewer insects are hibernating than used to be the case. And year-round activity needs year-round nectar and pollen resources, so any insect-attracting flowers such as Gorse and dead-nettles are important, even in the context of much richer supplies inside our gardens, as for example the gorgeous, subtly showy blooms of Virgin’s-bower Clematis cirrhosa. Happy New Year!!

These NYPH events are always free to participants, being as much as anything a chance to reconvene with old friends, both botanical and human, after the midwinter lull and start to look forward to the riches of the summer that is surely to come. But this year we did suggest that satisfied customers may like to contribute to the crowd funder to seek justice for the much-loved community oak tree in Wivenhoe, Old King George.

This tree has dominated our lives for the whole of 2025. The first part was covered in my blog of February: Saving Wivenhoe’s Old King George Oak Tree | Chris Gibson Wildlife. In essence, the tree is caught up in the grip of the insurer Aviva and Wivenhoe Town Council. Blaming it for subsidence, a death sentence was issued. This was fended off last winter by peaceful occupation by the Protectors, but the sentence was reaffirmed last month. And still now, as previously, all evidence pertaining to its guilt has been withheld from the public gaze. Despite the fact that the Protectors and their supporters funded and produced an (openly available) independent expert report which challenged the presumption of guilt. And another independent report with similar conclusions to ours was prevented from consideration by the council.

So we have had to take recourse in law. All we are asking for is full transparency: if the guilty verdict is supported by indisputable evidence, we would reluctantly accept it. A few days ago our legal team successfully won an injunction in the High Court to pause its felling which had been planned for early this year. A pause for democracy to be seen to be done.

Of course, this is expensive, hence the launch of our new CrowdJustice funder. Please consider contributing if you can using this link: Save Wivenhoe’s Old King George Oak tree

 

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

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!

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!