At this time of year I keep an eye on my garden bird feeder for two rather small and easy to miss finches: the siskin and lesser redpoll. Both are drawn to the sunflower hearts, and I assume they visit when their usual food, seeds, particularly those of alder and birch trees, are becoming depleted in the wider countryside. The skin is not hard to identify. It is smaller than a greenfinch but is a similar yellow-green colour streaked with black on the wings and crest. It also has a distinctive forked tail, and a narrow beak suited to prising out the tiny tree seeds it favours. The redpoll is the same size and largely brown but for the red marking on the top of its head and down the breast.
Now, like me, I expect most readers will have struggled with spotting the difference between the common repoll, lesser redpoll and arctic redpoll. Well, there is good news. Those nice people at the International Ornithological Committee have recently decided to lump all the above into one species – the redpoll. Advances in genetics have allowed biologists to assess the genetic similarity of the birds previously considered as different species. While the birds may have slight variations in plumage, distribution, and size, genetically they are almost identical. It has been decided that this variation is just within the species, rather than representing the kind of difference which prevents interbreeding. This makes life considerably easier for most birdwatchers although it does mean that keen twitchers have lost two species from their potential year lists. At the same time, the hooded crow – found in the north and west of the British Isles – has now been deemed to be one species with the carrion crow we see around Tisbury. There currently seems to be quite a few changes in what is and isn’t considered a separate species. The red grouse, found in the uplands of the UK and Ireland had until recently been considered a subspecies of the willow grouse/ptarmigan found widely in northern Europe and Russia. Now it has been found to be a separate species, endemic (i.e. found nowhere else) to the British Isles. Before this, the only endemic bird species in the UK was the scottish crossbill, which was only identified as a separate species 30 or so years ago. Its size, structure and voice are intermediate between the red crossbill and parrot crossbill and its separation is still a point of discussion. Indeed, the best clue to separating it from the other species appears to be that you see it in Scotland. However, I should imagine the Scottish Government at Holyrood House will be keen to avoid the loss of the appellation “scottish” and having the bird lumped in with the red crossbills that we can see in some local woods. Andrew Graham Now that the trees have shed their leaves their branches are more clearly visible and this highlights the colour of some willow species. Beside Fonthill Lake, near the arch, are a few trees which catch the eye, as they shine orange in the afternoon sun. Elsewhere you might see willows with purple, yellow or red twigs. There are many willow (Salix) species and a huge number of varieties which have been bred for different purposes and their colour. Over the centuries, people have found numerous uses for willow and given it different names, such as osiers or withies.
In the past, chewing willow bark was used to relieve pain. Nowadays, the painkiller Aspirin is derived from salicin, a compound found in the bark of all Salix species. Baskets of all sizes have been made from willow all over the world for centuries and put to a multitude of uses. Willow was also used to make furniture, hurdles, lobster pots, cages, fish traps and, of course, cricket bats. Somerset is an important area for the production of willow, where hundreds of acres are dedicated to growing different varieties for varied uses. The advent of plastics replaced many uses of woven willow - also known as wicker – but new uses continue to be found, for example sculptures large and small, and you can now even get a wicker coffin. The latest development is planting willow as short-rotation coppice, which can be mechanically harvested and used as a perennial bioenergy crop. This can use land less suited to food production and, because it regrows from the cut stool each year, doesn’t require annual planting. Willows can be found throughout the country, especially the commonest, the goat willow, also known as pussy willow or great sallow. In common with all other willows, it is pollinated by insects and has male flowers on one tree and very different looking female flowers on another. In full bloom in spring, the catkins provide a huge, early source of nectar for insects. Their foliage also provides a food source for the larvae of several moths, as well as the wonderful Purple Emperor butterfly. Willows are very prone to hybridise with other species of willow, which makes certain identification difficult. But it has resulted in a great variety of forms including the fabulous weeping willow. To confuse matters further, poplars which are closely related (but wind pollinated) also have catkins and alternate buds and leaves like willows. However, poplar leaves are triangular, or diamond shaped, while willows (apart from goat willow) are long and thin. Although willows are relatively short-lived trees and not valued for their timber, they are nonetheless an important but easily overlooked element of our countryside, without which many other species would struggle. Andrew Graham I spent a week in North Norfolk during the autumn birding in the numerous nature reserves along the coast. During the autumn migration one never knows what is going to turn up and the number of birders out and about every day means that many rarities and less common birds get picked up and reported. I was reflecting on how things had changed since I made a similar trip in the late 1970s. Back then, as well as binos and telescope, unless you knew the area and were a real expert, one had to lug around maps and field guides in pockets or a backpack. Now all you need is your phone and, depending on your interests, a handful of apps. The OS app gives you all the maps you want at a range of scales. Most reserves have a map board at the car park; a quick photo of that on arrival and you can navigate around the paths and hides with ease – rather than relying on memory as in the past.
One of the more frequent autumn migrant rarities is the Yellow Browed Warbler and there was a scattering of them along the coast on my recent visit. Like many warblers, this bird can be hard to pick out as its olive plumage and small size means you often only get a glimpse as it flits through the foliage. Now though you can prepare for your search by “swatting up” with an app. I use the Collins Bird Guide – like having the book version on your phone but with the advantage that it can play recordings of the bird’s calls and song. This is so much more useful than the somewhat bewildering verbal descriptions in the book. Telling the difference between two species on the basis of the one calls “hu-itt” and the other “hweet”? Hmmm. But after repeatedly listening to the recording on the app I found the Yellow Browed Warbler easy to identify when I heard it in the field. And after spotting it in the bushes I could then confirm my identification with another phone app – Merlin. This records birdsong and calls around you and identifies the species. It is not infallible but, with sufficient understanding of what you are expecting to see, it can be really useful to clinch sightings. Other apps such as Obsidentify and Picture This are available which help you identify plants and other species of animals from a photo and in most cases to report where you found it. Similarly for birds, Birdtrack run by the British Trust for Ornithology allows you to record what you are seeing while in the field and then submit the results when you get home. Other apps are available for other groups or species. Ideally, we want to be able to report our sightings of wildlife and so enlarge our knowledge of its distribution and health, so these apps are a real boon. Even if you don’t have an appropriate app, a photo can later be shared with local experts – often in area or species focussed WhatsApp Groups or forums – who may be able to identify what you have snapped. So, the combination of all these phone apps and GPS which allows data loggers to track where you are at all times has really changed looking for and recording wildlife. With ever advancing AI one does wonder whether we will soon be able to wander through an area, scanning what we can see and hear through the phone, and this will instantly convert into geographically positioned and dated species lists. Which, although great from the point of view of getting good records, rather removes the sense of achievement from seeking things out and identifying them. We’ll see, but a phone is much lighter than loads of guidebooks, so I know which my back prefers. Andrew Graham At this time of year hedges are looking at their best, as far as fruit is concerned. The winter storms and hedge cutting haven’t bashed it away, and the birds and animals haven’t started in earnest.
Following this summer’s wetter than normal weather, there is a good crop of rosehips, crab apples, and berries on blackthorn, spindle, hawthorn, wayfaring tree, guelder rose, rowan, elder and buckthorn. This (incomplete) list shows how important it is to plant a whole range of species when planting a hedge. Ancient hedges can have many more species than more recently planted ones, where the predominant species is often hawthorn, as it is cheap to buy and stock proof. Last winter, no hedges, except those by the roadside, were cut on Wallmead Farm, because it was too wet to get any tractors into the fields without creating mud and ruts for months and the damage would be too much to remedy easily. Over the years, I have learnt that cutting should be as late as possible, and certainly not before Christmas, to let the birds and animals have time to eat their fill. Conservation subsidies help with the cost of hedge cutting if it is only done every second or third year, so that is what I have done too. The reason for this is that the flowering and therefore the fruit only happens on growth that is older than a year old. Yearly cutting results in no fruit at all. When a tall and wide hedge is cut back, the result can look awful! With a flail (which all hedge cutters are) large stems are torn with a jagged edge and the hedge looks as if it has been mauled, a sight which I am sure is familiar to you all. The hedge does recover when spring comes and new shoots appear. Before hedge cutters (going back 50 years or more), most hedges would have been laid on a rotation of about 15 years; hedges were radically thinned, and the remaining stems were cut at the base halfway through and bent to about 45 degrees to form an impenetrable barrier. This essentially is the advice to follow from The People’s Trust for Endangered Species, who have done research on this subject: to cut each two or three years gently, so it increases in height and width slowly, and then to lay it once every 15-20 years. There is a subsidy to help pay for this very slow and expensive job. Peter Shallcross As the leaves begin to fall from the hedgerows, the fluffy, spherical blooms of Clematis vitalba become ever more noticeable. This is known as traveller’s joy or old man’s beard, an extremely vigorous climbing plant which scrambles through hedgerow and woodland. After flowering in late summer, the plant is clothed in silver grey seedheads, which last into the winter. At a time when the countryside can become a bit featureless, these clouds of silver can catch the sun and brighten things up for any kind of traveller.
The seed heads are made up of a collection of seeds, attached to each of which is a silky, feather-like, appendage. These catch the wind and help to spread the seed, which also provides food for birds. The thousands of seeds each plant produces each autumn, combined with such an efficient means of distribution means it can be found almost anywhere in southern Britain. It does, though, favour lime-rich soils, which explains why it is so common hereabouts. Traveler's joy is the food plant of a number of moths, including the pretty chalk carpet and small emerald moths, both of which are common hereabouts. The rapidly growing stems are ridged and become tough and fibrous as they age. You can often find tremendously long stems hanging down to the woodland floor from where they have clambered up to the light in the canopy. These are very strong and make ideal ropes for children to play at being Tarzan. This strength led it to being used in the past for weaving, making rope and other bindings. Unfortunately, traveller’s joy was ill-advisedly introduced as a garden plant to New Zealand. Its seeds were soon blown out into the native forests where it has become a menace, growing rampantly through the canopy, shading out the plants on the woodland floor and in some cases breaking down trees with its weight. Andrew Graham As autumn approaches so trees and shrubs start to bear fruit and nuts. Chestnuts are marvellous in all kinds of recipes or simply roasted. These tasty nuts come from the sweet chestnut tree, a relative of the beech, and not to be confused with the horse chestnut, to which it is only distantly related. The latter is the one with large hand-shaped leaves, made up of up to seven leaflets, and which produces conkers from its showy-white candle-like flowers. The sweet chestnut, in contrast, has single spear-shaped leaves with serrated edges and less showy but often profuse flowers, which insects love. Both chestnut species have spiny cases in which the nuts develop. The spines of the sweet chestnut are more numerous and smaller than those of the horse chestnut.
Both species originate from hotter climates around the Mediterranean and have been introduced to this country. Sweet chestnuts were eaten by the Romans, but it is uncertain if the tree was cultivated here. The ones we can buy in the shops around Christmas are mostly imported. Nonetheless, the numerous small nuts our trees produce provide food for woodland creatures. Sweet chestnut trees only became common in this country in the Middle Ages, when they were exploited for its timber. It grows best in the south and east of England and is particularly well-suited for coppicing. The harvested stems are used for hop poles, furniture, charcoal, and fencing. The strong timber splits easily for use in wonderfully rustic and characterful cleft pale fences associated with Sussex and Kent. Sweet chestnut wood is essential to the construction of the distinctive Sussex trug, or gardening basket. Sweet chestnuts can live for hundreds of years and grow to a great size. Ancient coppice stools can grow to look more like a small copse. As a maiden tree ages, the bark develops a network of diagonal fissures which spiral around the trunk. This can make them look as if a giant has grabbed the tree and given it a vicious twist. Veteran, stag-headed, specimens can end up contorted into sinister shapes, like the stunted one in the field south of Old Wardour Lake. If you want to see some splendid sweet chestnuts, take a walk up the drive to Stourhead House where there are several ancient monsters with girths of up to 8 metres. Andrew Graham One plant that seems to have done particularly well this year – perhaps it likes the rain - is hedge bindweed. This is a very distinctive plant with its numerous, large, bright white, conical flowers which clamber through hedgerows and small bushes. It is a member of the same family as Morning Glory, which I grow from seed each year; I only wish my plants were as vigorous and prolific as their wild cousins. We take bindweed for granted because it grows so well, or hold it in contempt because it can be such a pest, but its blooms, which keep going all through summer, really are fantastic. They provide a great source of pollen for bees and the plant’s ample foliage provides food for the caterpillars of the convolvulus hawk moth. This splendid insect has a 10 cm wingspan, a pink banded abdomen, and an extremely long proboscis. This allows it to feed on flowers that no other British moth can, so watch out for them on the long tube-like flowers of tobacco plants (Nicotiana) if you have them in your garden. It is a frequent migrant that visits us in late summer, but does not overwinter successfully in the UK.
The field bindweed, has smaller, pink, or pink-striped flowers and is more a plant of farmland, waste spaces and roadsides. Rather than climbing, it is more likely to spread and scramble laterally, but doesn’t develop into the all-engulfing tangle of the hedge bindweed. The roots of both species spread far underground, are brittle and can regenerate from the smallest sections. This is what makes them so difficult to eradicate once they have become established in the soil; when all else is dug up, the smallest piece remaining can start the reinvasion. Indeed, if you google bindweed, you will get a lengthy list of links offering advice on how to get rid of it. Bindweed may not produce a great deal of seed, but these can remain viable for years. So, combined with regeneration from broken roots, and the ability to grow rapidly by using anything it can lay its tendrils on for support rather than wasting resources on strengthening its stem, this makes it a highly successful plant found virtually anywhere. We just need to overlook the problems it causes gardeners and appreciate it for its flowers. A distinctive and common flower of rough grassland at this time of year is ragwort. It has a fine head made up of bright yellow daisy-like flowers, held on a tall stem with deep green, much divided leaves. Where it grows, it is often numerous and can create impressive seas of yellow in a field.
Ragwort attracts numerous insects to its flowers: 200 different species have been recorded. Gatekeeper butterflies are often seen nectaring on the flowerheads. Ragwort is a foodplant for the distinctive black and yellow striped caterpillars, or larvae, of black and red cinnabar moths. Often, the larvae are present in such numbers that they soon strip the plant of all leaves and have to troop off to an adjacent plant to keep feeding. The leaves have an unpleasant taste which transfers to the feeding larvae. The distinctive markings in them warn potential predators that they are unpalatable and, although some birds do take them, the larvae make no effort to hide as they feed. The unpalatability of the plant is due to a number of alkaloids in its tissues, making it poisonous to some animals, notably horses and cattle, although proven poisoning cases are rare. Because of the unpleasant taste, animals will avoid eating the live plant, but a problem arises if ragwort gets mown and picked up in hay, which is subsequently fed to stock. This is why, each July, members of the Tisbury and District Natural History Society (and others) get together to remove ragwort from the Community Meadow before seed sets and the hay is cut. Leaving the ragwort in the hay would make it worthless and only fit for disposal. We pull the whole plant up by the roots which, as it is a biennial, are relatively shallow. The technique is to get good grip with gloves, low down on the stem, and then lean back to extract the plant. Many hands make light work, and it does seem as if there are fewer plants to pull each year. As the annual mowing and removal of hay depletes the fertility of the soil, so the floristic diversity of the meadow increases, giving more flowers for us to enjoy. This in turn can reduce the amount of bare earth between the plants in the sward, which restricts the opportunities for ragwort seed to germinate and grow next season. Hopefully, this is a virtuous cycle which will make life easier each year, but ragwort will always be there to provide colour for us to enjoy and flowers for insects to feed on for several weeks before removal. Andrew Graham We are fortunate in southern Wiltshire to have more than our fair share of the county’s ancient woodlands. These are woods that have persisted since at least 1600, which is when maps started to become reasonably reliable so we can track a wood’s history. As they have a long-term continuity of woodland cover and management, such woods are often refuges for wildlife long since lost to the countryside. Some species are so specific to these woods, sometimes because they spread so slowly, that they are used as indicators to help in the identification of ancient sites. New woods planted on open land will never be able to develop the complex and rich biodiversity found in an ancient wood, so a mature woodland planted after the First World War may look splendid in the landscape, but from a wildlife point of view it may have little to offer.
Only 2.5% of the UK is ancient woodland, so it makes those remaining very precious. Although humans will have managed nearly all ancient woods at some time, and in some cases non-native species have been planted, the long-term tree cover allows for deep soils to develop, and complex wildlife communities to thrive. Dead wood, on which scarce fungi and invertebrates rely, can accumulate and archaeological remains such as earth banks and ditches may survive. Just east of Salisbury lies a mosaic of ancient woods, the largest of which is Bentley Wood, which has an interesting history. The area was used to accommodate US troops in the run up to D-Day and then to store vehicles returning after the war. All this had an impact, but woodland continuity was maintained. After the Forestry Commission acquired it in the ‘50s, they filled any gaps created with new planting, until 1983, when the government wanted to sell off many of the Forestry Commission woods. At this point, a local resident stepped in, forming a trust to buy the wood so it could be enjoyed by the public. This was achieved in 1984 and for the past 40 years the woodlands have been carefully managed by The Friends of Bentley Wood for wildlife and public enjoyment. The multiple tracks, rides and paths that criss-cross the wood are a pleasure to walk, and the site is particularly well known for the butterflies and birds found there. Andrew Graham The UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme has recently released its report for the 2023 season and it was a mixed bag. The results provide a picture based on recording at more than 3000 sites nationwide. Some species had very good years while others had a particularly bad year. In some cases, it was easy to put the poor showing down to the impact of the summer drought of ’22. Those butterflies associated with damp conditions, such as the Green Veined White and the Ringlet, did particularly badly last summer. Their larvae probably found it difficult to find sufficient plant material on which to feed in the parched landscape. Particularly disappointing is the continued decline of the Small Tortoiseshell, a lovely looking insect, familiar to most but becoming increasingly uncommon. As it is faring better in the moister north and west of the country, this decline could be a result of climate change. That impact may be expressed on the insect itself or it may be that the parasites that attack it are favoured by the changing climate.
One species which did well in ’23 was the Holly Blue. On my transect outside Tisbury, I recorded more than twice as many in ’23 than in any of the previous 8 years. I only saw one there in ’22. It is another butterfly that is regularly affected by parasites, and this leads to a boom-and-bust cycle every 4-6 years. The caterpillars may be attacked by two species of parasitic wasp, which lay their eggs into the larva’s body where they hatch and feed. When the wasps are rare, the population of Holly Blues is able to increase but soon, with increased numbers of caterpillars to prey on, the population of the parasitic wasps grows. Eventually, the parasitic wasps become so abundant that they cause the population of the host butterfly to plummet. That then causes the wasp populations to crash for lack of larvae and the cycle begins again. Now is the time to look out for Holly Blues in sheltered sunny gardens, hedgerows and woodland glades. They will often be seen flying amongst the tops of bushes and hedgerows, often where there is holly or ivy present. Although by no means a certain guide, if you see a small blue butterfly skipping around at height, amongst bushes and trees, it will be a Holly Blue; other blues are more likely to be seen close to the ground. In spring, eggs are often laid on holly flower buds. These give rise to a second brood flying later in the summer and, by contrast, the females of this brood generally lay their eggs on the flower buds of ivy. A Holly Blue flitting around the garden is a sure sign of spring and it will be interesting to see if the numbers of last year are exceeded or whether this season brings a crash. Andrew Graham |
Photo: Avocets (Izzy Fry)
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