The bloody-nosed beetle Timarcha tenebricosa or blood spewer as it is sometimes known from its defensive habit of exuding a bright red-orange fluid from its mouth. This fluid is foul-tasting to predators, seriously irritating the mouth of birds and mammals. Subsequently it can sometimes be seen wandering around in daylight largely unmolested. Read more
Posts tagged ‘wildlife’
I came across this easily overlooked green and gold-edged beauty while out on a 9 mile river amphibia walk on Salisbury Plain. It’s unusual I guess to see a Green Hairstreak Callophrys rubi sitting amongst nationally threatened Juniper Juniperus communis famous for its aromatic berries used to flavour Gin.
Twenty years ago you would be lucky to see this attractive metallic green and purple-striped beetle outside a greenhouse. The Rosemary Beetle Chrysolina americana was first discovered living outdoors in Surrey in 1994. Since then it has become widespread throughout southern England. They are commonly found on aromatic herbs, mainly rosemary but also on lavender, sage and thyme.
This one was found on rosemary whilst I was attending a course on bumblebees in Winchester, Hampshire.
The Brimstone Gonepteryx rhamni is one of our longest-lived butterflies. Adults emerging in July that have successfully over-wintered can still be on the wing the following July, 12 months later. Males like the one pictured above usually awake from hibernation first, typically in the first warm, sunny days of March, a couple of weeks before the females. So if you spot a yellow butterfly at the moment, it’ll be a Brimstone.
The sulphur yellow males are thought to be the original ‘butter-coloured fly’ and thus the source of the word ‘butter-fly’. The less conspicuous female is a much paler greenish-white in comparison. On the upperside, both sexes carry a distinctive single orange spot in the centre of each upper and lower wing, but these are tricky to see in flight. And this is a butterfly that never settles or feeds with its wings open. In fact on a dull day when perched amongst foliage, the veined and leaf-like scalloped wings blend with the leaves so convincingly that this can be an extremely hard insect to spot. Until that is it suddenly materialises in front of you like a splash of sunshine.
This butterfly was the subject of one of the earliest hoaxes. Shortly before his death in 1702, an English butterfly collector, William Charlton, sent a male Brimstone, hand-painted with additional black spots and blue moons on the lower wings, to the esteemed entomologist James Petiver. In 1763, none other than the great Carl Linnaeus declared it a new species Papilio eclipses and included it in the 12th edition (1767) of his Systema Naturae. Thirty years later, in 1793, the Danish entomologist, John Christian Fabricius, examined it more closely and realised it was a fake.
Allegedly, when the hoax was uncovered, the Keeper of National Curiosities at the British Museum was so annoyed he ‘indignantly stamped the specimen to pieces’. So the two specimens in the collection of the Linnean Society in London may actually be later replicas. Fake fakes if you will.
One of my school friends has been on my mind a lot recently. Horribly I found out via Facebook that he passed away last August and of course I regret I haven’t spent more time with him in recent years.
Last week was all early mornings. So it was a challenge to get out of bed again at 6.00am on Saturday to meet up with the aptly named John Swallow of the Berkshire Downs Ringing Group who’d I’d got in touch with via the excellent (BTO) British Trust for Ornithology website. John had very kindly invited me to join him in the Kennet valley for an early morning bird ringing session. Something I’ve wanted to get involved with for ages. I’ve always been interested in birds, in fact they were my first love. I spent many happy hours watching and sketching them when I was a nipper.
Apologies for my absence. Some of you may be aware that England has been getting a bit of a battering weather-wise. Storm after storm has hit southern Britain giving us almost biblical amounts of rain. It’s felt like it has poured virtually non-stop since December. We’ve had the wettest January since records began. February has been much the same leaving most of Somerset under water.
I togged this Common Wasp Vespula vulgaris in the garden when it paused for a moment to soak up some November sun after enjoying the never to ripen pinot noir on my grape vine. Now here’s an insect with attitude. Mess with these guys and they will sting you multiple times. But rarely without reason.
I realise they can be rather irritating if you are enjoying a pint in a beer garden or al fresco dining on a warm summers day. But they are usually harmless unless you absentmindedly drink one or allow one to crawl down past the gold medallion glinting from the depths of your far too open-neck shirt and then start leaping about like the late Ian Curtis of Joy Division. Obviously I’m making allowances for the innocent, babies, small children and those who suffer from adverse reactions to stings. Anaphylactic shock is no laughing matter. But nothing amuses me more than seeing a grown man or woman running around and screaming like a jessie convinced he or she is being chased by a wasp. As if. Wasps are far too cool.
Here’s an interesting beetle I found at Langford Lakes back in May. The Wasp Beetle Clytus arietis is one of the longhorn flower beetles and a convincing wasp-mimic. Both the protective yellow and black colouration and its wasp-like movements give it some protection from predatory birds. If you see it quickly scuttling over vegetation looking for flowers full of nectar and pollen, where it often imitates the distinctive sideways walk of the wasp, it’s not surprising if at first glance this fast-moving insect is mistaken for a jasper.
I hate it when the clocks go back. It’s still dark when I have to get up and already black as pitch when I finish work. Yet some creatures welcome the night, like this handsome copper-eyed chap I disturbed whilst stacking logs, the Common or European Toad Bufa bufa. Which you may notice has a tautonymous scientific name, where the first part, the genus, is exactly the same as the second part, the specific epithet.
Unless woken prematurely, toads normally remain hidden during the day to avoid being attacked by predators. Whilst it’s true that they are able to secrete a nasty irritant from their skin which prevents many predators from eating them. It doesn’t work on grass snakes or that other nocturnal wanderer the hedgehog, or help them much if they’ve just received a mauling from a domestic cat or a stabbing from a heron, so it makes sense to keep out of sight. If they avoid being eaten then they can be surprisingly long-lived, up to 50 years in captivity, although in the wild they’ll be lucky to reach twelve.
This wet and cold weather will soon kill off the remainder of our summer insects, but quite a few of our butterflies will survive by hibernating. These include the Brimstone, Comma, Peacock, Small Tortoiseshell and to a lesser extent the Red Admiral (as the majority of these will migrate south back to the continent).
However, the business of finding a suitable spot and settling down for winter is a gradual process. So it is still possible to see a few butterflies on a sunny autumn day, particularly if you scan a good patch of bramble. My current favourites are the pristine, late-emerged specimens of the Comma Polygonia c-album. Basking in the sun with their wings wide-open these raggedy-edged, spiced-orange beauties really do stand out against the dark green leaves. But when, as in the photo below, they have their wings folded, they can be slightly harder to spot.
But that’s a good thing as it is this dark cryptic camouflage and irregular outline that will help keep them safe amongst the dry leaves of winter. Hiding them from the prying eyes of hungry birds and spiders.
Note the characteristic white mark or ‘comma’ on its rear underwing which gives this butterfly its common name. Personally I think it looks more like a squashed ‘v’ but let’s not get into an argument over aurelian typography.
If it survives the winter then it can be one of the first butterflies on the wing next year with sightings as early as January. And I for one will be glad to see it.