A fine cloudless day, with the jackdaws chasing about in the southwesterly breeze, the edge of Storm Eva that is blowing into the already flooded Northwest of Britain. A few winter ducks on the Pen Ponds – a Wigeon or two, a few dozen Gadwall – but the main surprise was the number of Common Gulls – at least thirty – in little flocks on both of the ponds. They can be seen here to have pale legs and ‘windows’ of white in their black wingtips, unlike the smaller Black-Headed gulls (there are one or two sitting in the water towards the left of the photo) which have very pale backs, no windows, and a black spot behind the eye (when they don’t have their chocolate-brown breeding hood, that is). Perhaps they have come down from the chilly North of Scandinavia to enjoy the very mild weather here.
The woods of Richmond Park were full of Jackdaws, constantly jostling for whatever position Jackdaws have in their noisy gangs. And the even noisier squawkings and screeches of the Ring-Necked Parakeets, of course, high in the trees or dashing about.
Out on the quieter grassland and bracken, now dry and brown, a Stonechat perched on a prominent lookout, its red breast, white collar and dark head distinctive.
A Kestrel drifted past, tail fanned, its handsome rufous back and dark wingtips characteristic; it turned and powered the other way, flew all across the open space over the anthilly grassland, and rose into a distant tree.
The upper Pen Pond had at least 6 Mandarin Ducks, the males ridiculously decorative, dressed like dandies and constantly showing off, alongside a few Pochard.
The lower Pen Pond had perhaps 30 Gadwall, a dozen Wigeon, a few Tufted Duck, and – best bird by far – a single Snipe that got up from the water’s edge near my feet, called ‘Creech’ once, and zigzagged rapidly off across the water, up and over the trees and the upper pond.
No wisecracks about Hips and Haws and keeping warm on chilly winter days! This morning it was actually more autumnal than wintery, with bright blue skies setting off the deeply red berries, the rosehips scarlet, the hawthorn berries crimson.
The birdlife however did give a hint of winter to come. The first half-dozen Redwings squawked softly and burst from the bushes in their peculiar way, twisting suddenly in flight to get out from between the branches, flapping noisily as they accelerate out of cover. A single big Mistle Thrush flew from higher up in a different tree.
A flock of Goldfinches, some Dunnocks, a Robin or two, a Blackbird, eight Magpies, a rapid Ring-Necked Parakeet, a Carrion Crow or two, and a few Black-Headed Gulls appeared here and there. A Sparrowhawk searched over the Poplar trees for unwary prey.
Down on the lake, too, the winter ducks are starting to arrive. There are good numbers of Gadwall (maybe 30) and Wigeon (50 or so) as well as Tufted (50) and Shoveler (100). A dozen Cormorants, a hundred Coots, a few Mallard, a couple of Mute Swans (where did they all go?), a few Canada Geese (ditto), and a solitary Great Crested Grebe made up the rest.
Yellow Inkcap Coprinus auricomus
As a final treat, there was a slender, delicate stalk of the Yellow Inkcap, Coprinus auricomus, in the grass.
Drowsy Bufftail Bumblebee Queen on Perennial Sow-Thistle
A quiet walk today around Wraysbury lakes: no birds sang, but at least 55 Mute Swans, 110 Canada Geese and dozens of Wigeon sat out on the eutrophicated water amidst masses of weed that has been there for months. A few very shy Gadwall, and some distant Shovelers dabbled; hundreds of Coots and Tufted Duck swam about everywhere; a few Great Crested Grebe were dotted about, one quite close and not shy.
There were plenty of other interesting wildlife sights, though. A Kestrel rose from a tall willow, screaming its high bell-like call repeatedly. Long-tailed tits chased in and out of the hedge bushes. Best of all, three Partridges, I presume Frenchies, raced off from the horse meadow. They’re a welcome sight; whether they’ll now be resident or just winter visitors is an interesting question.
Snowy Waxcap Hygrocybe virginea
A single loose cluster of four or five Snowy Waxcaps grew in the short, clover-rich grass; the species is said to be edible and good.
Pignut in flower in November
The meadow was longer than usual, rich in Yarrow, with quite a few stands of Pignut, both (remarkably) in flower in mid-November.
Plant stars in moss beside path
In the short mossy vegetation beside the path, these little blue-green plants formed elegant stars in the brighter, more yellow-green moss, a very delicate pattern.
The Crack Willow with its long leaves and incredibly delicate twigs (well named) was covered in small stinkbugs, like overgrown aphids, blackish and slow-moving but full of red ‘blood’, presumably enabling them to ignore most predators; I squashed half-a-dozen on my hand by accident while examining the leaves. The Sallow too was still in yellow autumnal leaf, but without evident resident herbivores.
Common Ink-Cap Coprinus atramentariusEarthstar Geastrum
This small handsome Earthstar appeared close to where we had a large Collared Earthstar (Geastrum triplex) last year. However this one as yet has no sign of a collar, so either it’s a baby or it’s another species. Will be interesting to see what happens. Right now my money’s on the baby theory.
Six Earthstars, 30 October
Well (a week later), they have stayed the same size and shape, only there are now as many as seven fruiting bodies within 30 cm of the original site.
A flock of some fifty Swallows twittered high above the sparkling blue lake among the bog pools. Dragonflies – the occasional Emperor, plenty of small red Common Darters and tiny Black Darters, some Migrant Hawkers – dashed about or sunned themselves on the boardwalks. A pair of Hobbies, those dashing, Swift-winged falcons, soared and watched the Swallows cunningly, waiting for a careless moment. One of the Hobbies swooped down, raced low, agile, among the reeds, up and switchback over a dead tree to snatch a dragonfly on the wing, powered right across the wide bog all the way to the pinewoods. Three pairs of Common Darters in cop, the males leading the females, their claspers about their females’ necks, flew in strict formation like so many Spitfires. A Hobby, high above the bog, accelerated in a long straight shallow dive, for all the world like a Junkers 88 bomber taking careful aim, racing down for a hundred yards at incredible speed to grab a dragonfly: it must have seen its prey all that distance away.
Birch Bog Bolete Leccinum rigidipes
Clusters of the light brown Birch Bog Bolete – yes, it grows under Birches in Sphagnum bogs – are dotted about, their large squarish pores quite unlike the little round holes of the true Cep. Phillips says they’re edible but not worthwhile. This isn’t stopping a pair of plump thirty-something Poles with a sports bag wandering along collecting them (National Nature Reserve? Really?). I greet them, establish their nationality, say my mother used to do the same in the Carpathians and that there aren’t many mushrooms here. The guy with the sports bag shows me a meagre haul of Birch Bog Boletes just about lining the bottom of his bag: he means, he hasn’t found much worth collecting. I try Natsional Natur Reservat and waggle my finger, we part smiling and he shuffles off sheepishly.
Phaeolus schweinitzii (giant polypore)
Under some Pine trees, a dead stump, killed by Phaeolus schweinitzii, three or four enormous dinner-plate sized yellow discs, thick and rough with orangey-brown branching tufts: they are overgrown Polypore bracket fungi, dangerous parasites of conifer tree roots. Nobody has given it an English name, which is a pity as the namers could really have fun with it: Yellow Pine Death? Giant Pine Polypore? A magnificent fungus, somewhat alarming if you’re a forester.
On the open sandy heath, some Ammophila sandwasps are still active, perching on the path. A few butterflies – a white, some Speckled Woods, probably a Red Admiral – are about; a very large brown butterfly with agile flight, dancing around a pine trunk and up high, is tantalisingly impossible to get binoculars on, was very probably a Fritillary, in which case it was likely the Silver-Washed Fritillary.
Robber Fly Machimus atricapillus on Thursley map
A couple of mean Robber Flies perched on a rather bleached map of the common: they had as Shakespeare said “a lean and hungry look”. They have a tuft of stiff bristles below their antennae to keep their prey from striking them in the head. They wait on a perch – a signboard will do if there’s nothing better – until an unsuspecting fly comes past, then they sally into the air and grab it.
Buff-tip moth caterpillar Phalera bucephala, top (22 September)Buff-tip caterpillar, side view: fully 70 mm longWhite Ermine caterpillar Spilosoma lubricipeda found in the anthill meadow Handsome Ichneumon, similar to but not I. stramentarius, which lacks the yellow crescent marking on the thorax.Plump Common FrogA big Funnel fungus, perhaps Frosty Funnel, Clitocybe phyllophila Oak Gall, seemingly Marble Gall, though crackedMining bee Lasioglossum on RagwortRobber fly Machimus atricapillus (Asilidae)Yellow Iris fruit (nibbled seed pod)Common DarterThe “Mangrove Swamp”, wet and pretty. No air-breathing roots, though.
The English seem unemotional … except for their passion for nature
