Day 30, Final Day of #30dayswildcreativity: The Sea and its Islands

Two Noah's Ark panels of stained glass from St Neot's Church, Bodmin Moor

I discovered very early on that I enjoyed drawing. When I was about four or five I was asked to draw Noah's Ark, a challenge I relished as I loved animals. I also loved the sea, being by the sea and paddling: it took me a long time to learn to swim. Sadly I failed to keep that drawing, but the version in the stained glass above always make me smile when I see the dove being sent off to look for dry land in one panel and the dove returning in another with what must be the olive leaf in its bill. 

There is something about setting off from the security of the shore and heading out into the vastness of the ocean. I was a timid swimmer and it was many years until I was finally awarded my bronze Personal Survival Medal. I am also a timid sailor in choppy seas. But I love a short excursion out into the ocean, particularly when there is the lure of an island at the far end of the voyage. 

Back in 2011 we were holidaying in Lochinvar in Assynt in the north-west of Scotland. The weather in that magnificent region is very unpredictable, though it is usually safe to predict rain. We checked the weather forecast at breakfast and decided that all was set as fair as it was likely to be. 

We boarded a vessel to the Summer Isles and set out in fine weather...

... and were soon leaving the brooding silhouettes of Stac Pollaidh and Suilven behind.

A few minutes later the sun came out and we were able to feast our eyes on these intense ocean blues.

By the time we reached the island of Tanera Mòr, it had turned into a beautiful afternoon. 

There was just time to call in at the Post Office, which has been issuing its own stamps since the 1970s, before heading back along the bank to enjoy some local wildlife. Stamps bought on the island can only be used to transport an envelope or postcard as far as the mainland. Thereafter a missive will only reach its destination if it also carries a regular stamp.

We noticed some orchids, and as we drew closer we saw...

... this 6-spot Burnet moth ...

... and this one that landed on David's hand. The bank was full of these colouful insects, and judging by their shiny appearance, I think they had just emerged and were drying off their wings in the bright sunshine.  

Another surprise took the form of this impressive (and ferocious) Green Tiger Beetle. 

Our time on this special island was fast drawing to a close. I looked up at the remains of an old dwelling and paused to wonder what life would have been like in the 1880s when a population of 119 was recorded. Doubtless many, or most, of these would have been linked to the herring industry. 

Everything changes, including Scottish islands. Tanera Mòr has been sold since our visit, and a new vision is taking shape. 

As we waited by the shore for our return voyage, we watched these female Eiders drifting through the tranquil waters.  

 

The photograph above shows me in my element aboard a boat on the water in fabulous weather, and with the mainland not far away. The Tate (Tate Britain, I believe) holds an 'aquatint on paper' of the pier at Tanera Mor, produced by William Daniell, who died in 1837, the year before members of my Scottish family emigrated from the Cairngorm area under the Lang Bounty Scheme, via Oban, to Sydney. What a voyage that must have entailed. Their fortitude is something I find hard to imagine; but, like Noah on Mount Ararat, they reached the safety of dry land. 

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This post was written in response to Dr Miriam Darlington's final #30dayswildcreativity meme on her Facebook page. We were invited to write about something we had fallen 'in love with as a child', and I have chosen to focus on a number of different threads, many of which weave together in my life as I enjoy the natural world and its oceans. 

Threads represented in my 'sea collage' below include time spent afloat, looking in rockpools, watching wildlife, writing, sketching and taking photographs. 

Thank you, Miriam, so much for your inspiring themes and memes. I have thoroughly enjoyed responding to them in word and image. Thank you, too, for the literary excerpts and poems you have introduced us to along the way.  

Day 29 for #30dayswildcreativity: Winds (or Wings) of Change

The expanse between the garden and the wood is a turbulent ocean of leaves. The wind ruffles each branch in relentless pulses as it buffets the Silver Birch, Hawthorn and Horse Chestnut trees. No wonder the resident Blackbird’s sentinel perch at the top of the fir is currently untenanted. The 'crow’s nest' is Crow-less. Even the Magpies have made a dash for cover. Up above the highest branches, a tarpaulin of grey cloud blocks out the sun one might expect to see on this late June afternoon. Down below, flurries of Silver Birch seeds float in raindrops on the picnic table. The chairs we used for balmy alfresco meals only a few days ago have been carried indoors. 

A kit of Wood Pigeons has just flown past my window. I can hear the coo of the Collared Doves, but cannot see them. I wonder where the recently fledged Blue tits have hunkered down. The rambling rose bush is shedding peach-pink petals at an alarming rate. Its stems criss-cross in and out of the trellis and are still intact, but on a day like today I cannot help wondering whether the rose grower who gave the species the appellation of ‘High Hopes’ was feeling just a shade optimistic. The only plant that seems untouched by the strength of the gusts is, of course, the lofty and indestructible Mile-a-Minute.

Suddenly the sun appears for a few fleeting minutes. Velvet-brown wings skitter past my arm and come to rest, wide open, on a shiny leaf of what I think is Woodbine. I see they are framed by a delicate line of white scales. It may be the force of the storm that is ruffling my lockdown hair, but it is the unexpected joy of seeing what is only our second-ever Ringlet here in the garden that causes my heart to flutter.     

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This post was written as a response to Dr Miriam Darlington's #30dayswildcreativity 'Winds of Change' meme on her Facebook page. 

Day 24, #30dayswildcreativity: The Ford

2 March 2020, the road from RSPB Minsmere

This was the world we left behind, a patchwork of flooded meadows, illuminated by the last tinge of a rosy sunset. We had been up on Dunwich Heath earlier that afternoon, enjoying the company of Hebridean sheep and views of a Stonechat on its gorse lookout. I was surprised that the coconut aroma of the gorse was so rich and intoxicating at this point in the season. How wonderful it would have been to have bottled a little of it to counteract the smells of hand gel and disinfectant that were to irritate my nostrils as lockdown took hold. 

But here we were, in the evening light, faced with a flooded road. A couple of cars came up behind us, probably full of hungry birders on their way to the popular Eel's Foot Inn at East Bridge. We have found high water levels in this area before, but this was the most extensive flooding we had encountered in this spot. 

This was the scene that lay before us as we drew closer...

The last glimmer of light was ebbing away. It was time to cross the gulf.

I am glad to report that we reached the other side with the car's brakes in working order. 

The flooding remained, of course, but it would subside in time. We had taken our first metaphorical steps, steps we continue to take in these unusual days and nights, towards horizons that are familiar and yet distinctly altered. 

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The path to the sea, Dunwich Heath

This post was written in response to Dr Miriam Darlington's #30dayswildcreativity meme on the theme of 'The Ford', acknowledging, in Miriam's words, that 'sometimes we have to make a crossing we were not expecting, a journey we didn't want to take...'

Day 23, #30DaysWildCreativity: Conservation Collage

'Will we permit the rewilding of our hearts and minds, 

that is so needed now?' 

Dr Miriam Darlington

for today's #30DaysWildCreativity meme 

I wanted to remind myself of some of the threatened wildlife I have encountered over the years, and I hope you may also enjoy seeing my pictures of these fine creatures. 

I recall seeing a whale washed up on a Cornish beach several decades ago. It was dead, and the memory stays with me. The 'Save the Whales' slogan certainly made an impact on me as a teenager, even if I did not know how these magnificent mammals might be saved. 

Picture 1: Otter

Many of us read about otters as children and teenagers in books like The Wind in the Willows, Tarka the Otter and A Ring of Bright Water. I visited the Otter Trust near Bungay in the 1970s, but I did not see an otter in the wild until I visited Skye some thirteen years ago. I have also watched them off Mull and the Kintyre peninsula. Miriam Darlington writes about otters she has encountered and observed in Scotland (and also in Devon, Cornwall and other quiet corners of the British Isles) in her wonderfully evocative book, Otter Country.  

Picture 2: Purple Emperor Butterfly

We were visiting Chedworth Roman villa in Gloucestershire when we were called over to see an unusual butterfly. It seemed to be in need of a little sugar and water, which the cafe supplied. I took this photo, and sent it off to Matthew Oates, who confirmed that we had been looking at Her Imperial Majesty, the Purple Emperor (you can read his upbeat reply in the Postscript to my post here). The fact that this resplendent, if slightly dehydrated, Emperor was visiting a Roman villa made us smile. I hope she revived and lived her butterfly life to the full.  

Picture 3: Bittern

When I was growing up, one of our family board games was Conservation, a game produced by the RSPB to encourage young people to learn about endangered birds in Britain. The Bittern was one of these species, and it was a bird I never thought I would see despite the fact that our home was only about a mile from some of the Norfolk reedbeds. It was only when I moved to Suffolk some eight years ago that I finally saw, and heard, my first Bittern at RSPB Minsmere. I remember the wave of excitement that rushed through me when I set eyes on a sight I thought I would never see.

Picture 4: Water Vole

Speaking of The Wind in the Willows, I believe I was in my 40s when I first realised that Ratty was in fact a Water Vole. The photo above was taken (with zoom lens) at RSPB Minsmere. You can read about the conservation status of this delightful species here. 

Picture 5: Red Squirrel

Like thousands of other children, I first encountered the Red Squirrel in the pages of The Tale of squirrel Nutkin by Beatrix Potter. Later on, when I was about eight, I saw one or two for myself on Brownsea Island. More recently I have watched them in the Cairngorms and in Dumfries and Galloway. You can read about their situation here. 

Pictures 6 and 7: Grass Snake and Adder

I had seen very few snakes in the wild here in the UK until we moved to Suffolk. Since then I have seen a handful on a couple of reserves, namely RSPB Minsmere (Adder and Grass Snake) and SWT Carlton Marshes, where I photographed the Grass Snake in the picture above. The adder in the photo was on the Minsmere Adder Trail: an RSPB official pointed us in its direction, and there were in fact two snakes coiled round one another. What a privilege to see these reptiles.

Picture 8: Swallowtail butterfly larva

Ah, I had been longing to see a Swallowtail butterfly, and here at last was a Swallowtail larva on the NWT reserve at Hickling! I had spent my teenage years in Norfolk at the edge of The Broads at a time when these butterflies were practically non-existent so the thrill of seeing this magnificent caterpillar was almost overwhelming. 

 

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I hope you have enjoyed my 'conservation' selection. The lockdown has certainly allowed our wildlife to experience a more peaceful few months than usual. Let's acknowledge that there may be lessons we can learn. It is wonderful when people join together to put measures in place, whether political or environmental, to enable threatened species to fight back. 

 

Day 22, #30DaysWildCreativity: Post-Solstice, 2020

Of Eyes and Iridescence

Monday, 22 June 2020

On this day when the first poppy opened

I sensed the tug of the long haul

towards winter through the amber light

of harvest, the embers of bonfires

and the muted music of freezing fog.

On this day when the first poppy opened

I buried my eyes in the corn marigold’s gold,

immersed myself in the deep sea-blue

of the cornflower, and delighted in the yellow

and white design of an ox-eye daisy.

On this day when the first poppy opened

I committed these flowers to memory,

afraid that fiery petals would soon flutter 

to the ground, fearful that I would miss

the eyespots of the peacock butterfly.

                                         © CG 2020

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This post was composed this afternoon as my response to Dr Miriam Darlington's 'What do you miss, grieve for, as the year tips?' Facebook meme as part of #30DaysWildCreativity.

Day 21 #30DaysWildCreativity: Paying Close Attention

This is a post in response to #30DaysWildCreativity, organised by Dr Miriam Darlington.

With the exception of my shielded 'exercise path', we are not mowing our garden this year. It has been very interesting to watch the weeds and wildflowers that have grown up in areas that would normally be lawn, albeit of a rather dry sandy-soil variety. 

The first plants to emerge unexpectedly were Ox-eye daisies (you can see my post here), and the second was the Common Knapweed you can see in the collage above. For several days now I have kept the Knapweed under close surveillance to see what insects it might attract. I think you will agree that with everything from Skipper butterflies to Thick-legged Flower Beetles and Red-tailed Bumblebees, I have had plenty to watch. I have found the ideal way of doing this is by placing an outdoor chair by the plant and waiting, trying to use not only my eyes but also my ears. 

In the scheme of things, the tiny ant was just as valuable a find as the showy Skipper, and I know I have benefited from these 'close observation' projects I set myself. The next stage on is not only to recognise the 'usual suspects' but to find out more about each species, and, as ever, I often turn to the kind folk on iSpot for a bit of help. 

Day 17, #30DaysWildCreativity: Nourishing Things That Grow Nearby

The world had hardly changed

when I planted twenty-five seeds, each one a dry husk from which the vibrancy of life would spring. I waited, willing the first shoots to spike through the soil, hoping the slugs and snails would find other sources of nutrition. Within a month, green plants began to take shape, bearing stems that became umbrella handles underneath a ring of miniature leaves.

Some days raindrops pattered down from brooding skies. A few bounced off the seedlings: others landed on the leaves and became tiny snow-globes of life. As rainbows gave way to bursts of sunshine, the plants grew and began to develop a range of markings. This morning there were three distinct colour forms; vibrant green, deep kale green, and mottled green and cream.

Each stalk propels its leaf towards the light. Each leaf spreads in diameter, providing the perfect wet-weather shelter for a mouse. I pick a single stem and twiddle it round between index finger and thumb. I check for signs of butterfly eggs and blackfly, but there are none. I roll the small leaf and squeeze it, inhaling an earthy draft of pepper. I am reminded of piquant pasta suppers in last year’s heatwave. 

But no eggs could mean no larvae, which in turn could mean a dearth of white butterflies.

 

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This post was written in response to Dr Miriam Darlington's #30DaysWildCreativity meme for Day 17 of #30DaysWild. We were invited to look 'more closely at things growing nearby and see how nourishing they are'.  

Day 16 #30DaysWildCreativity: Welcome to the night

Dr Miriam Darlington's #30DaysWildCreativity activity for today is to respond to the phrase 'Welcome to the night'. Since my camera flash is barely adequate for night-time photography and since I feel more at home with image than sound, I decided to make a collage of some of my crepuscular photos. The photographs were taken 

• at home (Swallowtail moth, hedgehog) 
• elsewhere in a Suffolk (Barn owl and 'Mabel' the Tawny owl) 
• on Lindisfarne (Curlew, moon, murmuration, birds on rocks, rabbit), 
• in South Wales (stag) 
• in the Kilmartin area of Scotland (Common toad). 

This, of course, leaves the owls and the mouse on the organ, who were spotted in a church in Cornwall, and have been included to represent a night time soundscape!
 

Day 14 #30DaysWild and #30DaysWildCreativity: Our Micro-Meadow

Dr Miriam Darlington's #30DaysWildCreativity for today addresses the matter of 'how people and nature weave together and cohabit'. I decided my response, and I fear it's not as 'creative' as I would like it to be, would be to show some of the ways in which we have turned our 'lawn' of last year into a micro-meadow, as a result of a pledge we made at the 2019 Suffolk Wildlife Trust Summit. 

Already we have reaped the benefit of new butterflies to the 'garden', notably the Green Hairstreak...

... and the Small Heath. 

We quite often have perhaps one sighting a year of a Stag Beetle in the air, and, indeed I watched one last night, just as it was getting dark; but yesterday afternoon we also found this female climbing our wall...

This afternoon we had what I'm guessing is a Blue-tailed Damselfly in the long grass along with a variety of bees and a few 7-spot ladybirds. 

I have been keeping a species list for some years of the wild species who share our suburban Suffolk garden with us. I am so nearly up to 100 in the insect section. I hope to reach that target, probably with the help of the kind folk at iSpot, in the next few days.

Day 10: #30DaysWildCreativity 'Rain'

Today's challenge for #30DaysWildCreativity on Dr Miriam Darlington's Facebook page has 'rain' as its focus. I had hoped I might have written a poem or thrown a few links to favourite rain poems by others, but time ran out on me, so I set myself the task of making these lists of rain-related words and phrases. Unfortunately I failed to get them all on one worditout.com word cloud, so I added a second. I wonder what you would have included. 

As you can see, we have had a few rain showers here in Suffolk today. It has been very overcast and rather cool. I expect the Hostas will benefit from the moisture, though I expect it will lure the slugs and snails out of their crevices! 

Day 5 of #30DaysWild: my response to Dr Miriam Darlington's 'Being close to the grass' Prompt

I don't find it easy to reach the grass on account of my mobility issues, but during the last few days the grass in our garden has practically reached me, particularly when I am sitting down. This extra growth is because we attended last year's Suffolk Wildlife Trust Nature Summit and made a pledge to 'say no to the mow', with the exception of a walk-through trail, which has been invaluable during lockdown for my shielded exercise. 

A couple of days ago I was sitting outside, scanning the blades of grass for signs of ladybirds as we have more blackfly than ever. I was not exactly richly rewarded, but I did find a couple of 7-spots, like the one in the photo above and below. 

We often imagine a bird's eye-view, but what would it be like to be half a centimetre long and surrounded by a green jungle of stalks? Authors like Lewis Carroll, Jonathan Swift, 'B.B', Beatrix Potter, Hans Christian Anderson, Richard Adams, Kenneth Grahame and numerous others have, to one degree or another, given this question some kind of thought. A number of these writers were creating imaginary landscapes: others had political messages to impart. Some have helped us to adjust our outlook and perspective, enabling us, in Blake's familiar words, to see 'a World in a Grain of Sand'.

Would I write a poem myself to explore the nature of the ladybird's grassy wilderness? Well, I might, but I haven't just yet. Instead I decided to have a play with one or two of the Photoshop and Photoshop Elements filters, bearing this thought in my head. These are a few of my resulting images, some more fantastical than others. I hope they will make you smile, but perhaps they will also help you to share my ponderings...

This last ladybird, the one above in a mosaic-filter style, is possibly my favourite of the experimental images. I think this is because it reminds me of an exquisite stained-glass window in Alloway Parish Church in Scotland, Alloway being the birthplace of Robbie Burns. The text accompanying the image is from verse 22 of the eighth chapter of Genesis.

You can see these Alloway stained glass ladybirds above and below. They are part of the Four Seasons Window, designed by Susan Bradbury.  

Next time you see a ladybird in the long grass, why not take a moment to wonder what its world must be like. 

Grass features in a surprising number of poems. I am posting links to three that you might enjoy...

• A Blade of Grass by Brian Patten
• In Tall Grass by Carl Sandburg (beautiful, and elegiac in tone)
• On Not Mowing The Lawn by Mary Oliver

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This post was written in response to Dr Miriam Darlington's #30DaysWildCreativity Facebook prompt. You can find Miriam on Twitter: @MimDarling

 

#30DaysWild, Day 3, Stag Beetle and Cockchafer for Dr Miriam Darlington's 'Encounter' meme

Dead Stag Beetle, 2015

I first encountered a dead Stag Beetle in the garden when I was 'following a tree' as part of Lucy Corrander's Tree Following meme in early July 2015. The tree in question was a Silver Birch just outside my window. 

Cockchafers, also known as May bugs, would occasionally fly around the branches at twilight in late spring, and I liked to keep an eye out for them. One even flew inside on a warm evening. As we returned it to the wild, I was able to have a close look at the rusty shade of its acorn-like elytra. Cockchafers are interesting to watch as they zoom and buzz about; but live Stag Beetles are, in my opinion, rather more spectacular. They become feathery silhouettes as dusk gives way to darkness. Once airborne, their unwieldy bodies take on the guise of otherworldly beings. 

Mark Twain, it seems, referred to Stag Beetles as Pinch Bugs. A few years ago a friend mentioned that she had seen her first 'Billywitch' of the season. I looked puzzled, and asked her what she meant. She proceeded to describe a Cockchafer, and I had to admit that the local term here in Suffolk was a perfect fit. I understand (source: Eastern Daily Press) that this dialect word was due to be included in an Oxford Dictionary in 2018.

Sadly Stag beetles are not as abundant as they used to be. They are now a protected species under Schedule 5 of the UK's Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 and the EU Habitats Directive of the Berne Convention. If you come across one, you are asked to log your sighting for the #greatstaghunt on the site of the People's Trust for Endangered Species. Maria Fremlin has written in some detail on these insects. Her pages include a list of names they are known by in different parts of the world and a brilliant poem by Lawrence Sail. 

Other Stag Beetle sites you might enjoy:

• A Stag Beetle Lectures on the Futility of Flight, a poem by Barbara Cumbers
• The Stag Beetle Lucanus Cervus (Coleoptera, Lucanidae) in Art and Mythology by Eva Sprecher-Uebersax, Rev. Écol. (Terre Vie), suppt. 10, 2008. 153 (pdf).

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This post was written in response to the prompt 'encounter' on Dr Miriam Darlington's Facebook page for #30DaysWildCreativity.

Dr Miriam Darlington's #30DaysWild 'Nettle' Prompt

Nettle, taken on 1 June 2020 at 20:00 hrs

Home Patch Nettles

A slight breeze from the east ruffled the broad brim of my hat as I turned to inspect our 'sting' of nettles this morning. I had started the season with high hopes that this straggly clump in a shady corner would attract more biodiversity into my home patch. If gardeners notice a wilting Petunia in a pot, they check for greenfly and attempt to revive the specimen with water and plant food. Nettles in private gardens are not usually afforded horticultural intervention of this kind. And yet the nettles in my patch are failing to thrive. Perhaps a good splash from the watering can will help.

I live in a dry part of the country and lack of moisture may indeed be part of the problem, but there could be more to this situation than meets the eye. When I look for information, the sites I find focus on how to eradicate these potentially useful weeds rather than on how to preserve them. I have checked the serrated leaves frequently in the hope that I might find butterfly larvae or eggs, but there have been no signs of either to date. I have yet to see a weevil. I have searched for ladybirds, and particularly for the native 7-Spot: this species appears to be absent from this part of the garden, although I have encountered a couple in the adjacent triangle of long grass during the last couple of days.

Edward Thomas, a favourite poet of mine, wrote a short poem called 'Tall Nettles' in which he showed how a particular patch in a farmyard had engulfed old bits of machinery. My nettles are poor specimens in comparison. What had I hoped for? Well, many years ago I was served a gourmet nettle soup, but growing nettles for the cooking pot was not part of my current plan. My aim was to attract Small Tortoiseshell and Peacock butterflies, as both species are noticeable by their absence or infrequency on my Butterfly Conservation Garden Butterfly Survey for 2020. The situation may yet improve, perhaps when the nettles are joined by Buddleia blooms. Back in 2016 Northumberland-based CONE ran a ‘Be nice to nettles week’. Perhaps it is time to revive this enterprise and raise awareness of these versatile plants, plants that risk extermination in our manicured gardens.  

1 June 2020

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This post was written in response to Dr Miriam Darlington's 'Nettle' prompt on Facebook for Day 1 of #30DaysWild.