Circles

Phaeophyscia orbicularis

With the garden sinking down into its winter rest, it's time to turn the spotlight back on the lichens that festoon some of the trees. I introduced you to the bright orange Xanthoria parietina last winter. Today, I'm focusing on the somewhat less obvious Phaeophyscia orbicularis — the variably grey species lurking beside the Xanthoria in the picture above. Like its orange neighbour, this is a foliose lichen, which means it's rather leafy in appearance. You can easily lift a corner of the lichen with a fingernail, as much of it isn't firmly attached to the substrate underneath. It can range in colour from from light to dark grey, with multiple colours often visible within the same colony. When wet, it's reported to sometimes go green, but that's not something we've seen yet.

Phaeophyscia orbicularis often forms circular colonies (plenty of examples above) which can grow up to 3 cm (about 1.25 inches) in diameter. However, it can also grow in more diffuse colonies, like the mass on the left side of the picture above. Such colonies are irregular, flatter and pressed more closely to the substrate on which they're growing. The center of the mature colonies tends to be densely covered with lumpy, dark, rounded soralia (the structures that contain little packets of fungal and algal cells that break off to form new colonies). As would be expected in a garden surrounded by well-fertilised farm fields, Phaeophyscia orbicularis tolerates nitrogen-enriched habitats. It's common and widespread across most of Great Britain (somewhat less so in Ireland), growing on bark, twigs, stone and concrete. In our garden, it's particularly common on the bigger branches of the apple trees.

Tar Spots

Now that we've reached late autumn, many of the leaves on our trees have dropped off and are scattered across the lawns. This makes the distinctive "tar spots" of Rhytisma acerinum a whole lot easier to spot. The fungus is common on maples and sycamores across Europe; a very similar and closely-related species occurs in North America. Fortunately for the infected trees, the fungus is a cosmetic problem which impacts only the leaves and seldom harms the tree itself. Next spring, when the weather warms up again, sticky spores released from these "tar spots" will travel on the wind and infect new leaves. While it doesn't generally harm trees or humans, the fungus isn't entirely benign. It has been associated with "equine atypical myopathy" and can cause death in horses if they consume too many infected leaves.

Scabby Apples

Among the trees in the garden are an ornamental crab apple (a hybrid cultivar called John Downie) and a regular apple. The latter is a small tree, gnarled and twisted by exposure to the strong, salty winds that regularly blast in off the North Sea, its branches flung southeastwards like arms thrown leewards in despair. For such a small tree, it yearly bears a bountiful harvest of huge apples — all blighted by the rusty brown splotches of Apple Scab (Venturia inaequalis). This is a very common fungal disease of crab apples, and it often spreads to other nearby members of the rose family. (Both apples and crab apples are members of that family.) Unfortunately, we have plenty of rose family species in the garden that might be affected: cotoneasters, hawthorns, and whitebeams among them.

Apple Scab is a worldwide problem now, transported around the globe by trade in apples and ornamental crab apples. It is a serious issue for commercial apple growers, but — other than a bit of unsightliness — isn't really a problem in gardens like ours. The infection rarely kills the tree, though it does pepper the leaves and fruits with blistered brown spots. Treatment typically includes spraying fungicides and clearing the infected fruits and leaves off the ground under the trees, and we'd rather have the many lichens and insects that would be impacted if we were to do so!

Yarrow

A vast majority of the plants in the garden have died back (or at least stopped flowering) now that we've reached late autumn, but a few have carried on blooming. Common Yarrow (Achillea millefolium) is one of them, its snowy white flowers still sprinkled across the lawn in places where the lawn mower hasn't reached, or where they've re-grown since the mower passed. The narrow feathery leaves and small, white blooms of these perennials started popping up in May, so some of them have had quite a long growing season.

Common Yarrow is abundant in the UK and native across Eurasia, from the British Isles to China. It has also been introduced to North America and Australia. It's the host for the rare parasitic plant Purple Broomrape, an important larval food plant for a host of moth species, and its pollen and nectar attract a variety of beetles, wasps and true bugs, so we're happy to have the plant around. It's quite aromatic, and European Starlings use it to line their nests; studies have shown that it inhibits the growth of nest parasites. The plant has also long been used by humans. Its genus name, Achillea, is a nod to the Greek hero Achilles, who reputedly carried Common Yarrow into battle to treat wounds; it was used as an astringent and tonic, and helped to staunch the flow of blood from injuries — hence some of its other folk names, including soldier's woundwort, staunchweed, and nosebleed plant.

Princess

Our garden is home to quite a few amphibians, even though we don't have a proper pond; we regularly see frogs and toads worming away into the undergrowth as we work around the property. I found this big one a few weeks ago as we cleared away some of the thistles that had taken over a wild corner of the garden. It made a few half-hearted hops and then froze, probably hoping that I hadn't noticed it. This is a Common Frog (Rana temporaria), easily identified by that big dark patch behind its eye and by the distinctive folds that run down either side of its back. It also lacks the bulging parotoid glands of the Common Toad and looks smoother, without the rough, warty skin of a toad. I'm guessing it's a female, as it was quite large; females can reach 5 inches (13 cm) in length, while males top out at 3.5 inches (9 cm).

Common Frogs are widespread across most of Britain and Ireland, but they need a nearby pond for breeding. I'm guessing our little garbage pail lid "pond" won't do the trick, so they're probably heading off the property. The neighboring farm has a big pond, with lots of vegetation around the edges, only a few hundred yards away and we saw masses of frog spawn there last spring. But we're happy to provide good feeding territory; frogs eat invertebrates, and the garden is full of those. They hunt primarily at night, and we've often stepped out the door after dark and found two or three clustered around the front porch (and the nearby water plant trays), looking for supper. They'll be settling in to hibernate soon, wriggling under a rock or into a compost heap for the winter. I look forward to seeing them again next spring!

World Wide Web

With autumn's arrival, we've seen a flush of Garden Cross Spiders (Araneus diadematus) all over the property. The source of their name is pretty obvious when you see them from behind; they have a very distinctive cross of pale spots across their fat abdomens (see left). They're relatively easy to identify from underneath as well, thanks to their very stripey legs and the two pale spots on the dark patch under their abdomen (see below). They come in a variety of colours from pale yellow to burnt orange to very dark brown, and their intricate webs are conspicuous, particularly after a bit of rain. At the moment, we have about eight webs tying our rubbish bin and recycling bin together, and another curtain lacing together the honeysuckle climbing up the wall outside our office. The spider typically hangs head down in the middle of its web and waits for flying insects to blunder into the web's sticky strands. This is a common spider throughout much of the British Isles (except for northern Scotland) and western Europe, and has been introduced throughout North America too.

Current currant

Now that we're well into autumn, some of our leaves have finally started to turn. Though many of the trees are just dropping leaves without doing anything fancy first (it's been just a little too dry this year), our Buffalo Currant (Ribes odoratum), which Mike planted in the first flower bed we established, has provided a nice pop of colour. Unlike many of the other flowering currants, which have brightly coloured flowers in the spring, this one's are a pale yellow-green with a "rich, spicy fragrance", according to the BBC's gardening website. Mike says they smell of cloves, as the alternate common name "Clove Currant" would certainly suggest. Though native to North America (the US and Canada), this species is naturalised in parts of Europe, having escaped from gardens. We're hoping that the flowers (and the resulting black berries) will be of use to the some of our garden's wildlife — and are enjoying the bush's beautiful foliage in the meantime.

Redbreast

When it comes to the endearing birds of Britain, there are few that can beat the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula). These are delicate little creatures, only about half the size of the American brutes given the "robin" moniker by homesick colonials. Our garden robins have been busy this summer. Their first nest failed for reasons unknown (though we suspect the neighbour's free-ranging cats may be to blame), but they successfully fledged at least a few youngsters on their second try. And now they're busy kicking those youngsters out of the area, which has led to lots of conflict and lots of singing over the past week or so.

One of the things that makes this species so well-loved is their absolute fearlessness. When we're working in the garden, they're often hovering just around our feet (or spade), waiting to see what tasty morsel we might dig up. They're widespread in Britain, with a population estimated at 6 million (!!) breeding pairs. Their somewhat melancholy songs are a regular part of our garden soundtrack, even now, when most other species have stopped singing — a welcome reminder of summer as the relative silence of winter approaches.

Punctuation

We've seen relatively few Comma (Polygonia c-album) butterflies in the garden this year, which is surprising, considering that adults feed on a huge variety of flowering plants and larvae feed on Common Nettle, which is growing (almost bush-like) in all corners of the garden. This one fluttered its way around the patch recently, spending much of its time visiting Buddleia flowers or resting, spread-winged, on nearby vegetation. The jagged edges to the wings, and the bold orange and black pattern on their upperside make this an easy species to identify. The underside is far more cryptic; when its wings are closed, the butterfly strongly resembles a dead leaf — with a little "comma" mark (hence its common name) on the hindwing. This one has clearly had a close encounter with a bird; that nip at the back of the right hindwing is just about the perfect beak shape!

According to Butterfly Conservation, Commas underwent a huge decline in the British Isles in the last century, before their populations rebounded again. Now they're common and widespread across much of England and Wales, though still rare in Scotland and Northern Ireland. They're recorded in virtually every month of the year, though they're not typically seen flying between November and late February. They overwinter as adults, hibernating in sheltered places, and are among the first butterflies to be seen in early spring.

Damsel, No Distress

We've seen surprisingly few odonates in the garden thus far, so I was really chuffed to find this Common Bluet (Enallagma cyathigerum) resting on our fence a few weeks ago. It made a series of sorties from its perch, returning again and again to the same spot. I found another (or the same one) a few days later, carefully examining the leaves of one of our shrubs, checking for potential prey. There are seven species of small blue damselflies in the UK. Males of this species are identified by the black "button mushroom" shaped mark on their second abdominal segment (just behind where the wings attach) and the thick blue stripes on their thorax. According to the British Dragonfly Society, this is one of the UK's most common damselflies, found throughout the British Isles. It flies from April through October, and is regularly found around water; it's often the most abundant species on large lakes, and is found around open water more regularly than other blue damselflies are. It's also a regular visitor to gardens — and another reason we'd love to put in a proper pond.

Batman

Myathropa florea

Another day, another hoverfly! This one is Myathropa florea, and though the books say it flies from May through November, we just spotted the first one for the garden on a water butt near the kitchen. It was quite an eye-catching insect, waggling its yellow-furred backside up and down as it sat near the rain-soaked cover of the container. Like many hoverflies, it's a wasp mimic; the yellow and black marks on its body presumably deter potential predators afraid of being stung, though the fly doesn't look very wasp-like to us humans. Like the other hoverflies we've managed to identify so far, this one is common and widespread across most of the British Isles. It's also one of the easier to identify. It shows the same strongly-looped vein as Helophilus pendulus (R4+5, particularly visible in the right wing above), and the black patch towards the back of its thorax (the part of the fly that the wings attach to) rather resembles the "Batman" symbol. Given the width of its rounded backside, it's probably a female; males are pointier at the end of their abdomen. Though typically a woodland species, it is opportunistic, and will breed anywhere it can find a suitably wet habitat for its "rat-tailed" aquatic larvae — including, apparently, the occasional water butt. Adults feed at a variety of flowering plants, but are particularly fond of umbellifers, like the towering 8-foot high fennel plants that currently loom over our herb garden. Hopefully, that means will be seeing this handsome wee beastie again!

Waspish

We found a second nest of Common Wasps (Vespula vulgaris) in the garden yesterday. They were inconveniently busy, right at the foot of the big compost heap behind the summer house. Fortunately, they seem to be occupied with other things at the moment (like scraping the top layer off our wooden fence) and weren't too concerned that we were adding barrows-full of grass clippings on top of their home. Above and below are pictures of one of the females I found gathering additional material for the nest. There are at least five species of very similar wasp possible here in East Anglia, so a good look at face and abdomen is important. The pointed markings down the middle of her abdomen (above) and the black mark which extends down into the yellow on her face (below) help to clinch the ID.

Common Wasps are social insects that live in large paper nests, typically underground though they'll occasionally take over a hollow tree or attic (!!) instead. Only the queens survive the winter. They then build a small nest and lay a few eggs, which develop into non-reproductive female workers. These enlarge the nest and care for further offspring, and the queen retires to a life of egg-laying and being "waited on" by her workers. In late autumn, some of the eggs develop into males and new queens, which leave the nest and reproduce. Only these new queens will survive the winter; the old queen, the males and all the workers will die.

Common Wasps have a well-deserved reputation for being aggressively merciless in defense of their nest, so we always treat their homes with caution in the garden — so far without injury on either side.

Oh Deer

Wild mammals are pretty thin on the ground here in Britain, so it's a red-letter day any time we spot one. We've caught this little Reeve's Muntjac (Muntiacus reevesi ) in the garden a few times now, typically either investigating the paths through the pocket meadow or haring away down the driveway if one of us opens the door without noticing the deer's presence first. I sneaked this shot through the kitchen window; it's not a great capture, but it's one of the very few I've managed to snap — and believe it or not, it's better than the others. Muntjacs aren't native here; according to the Norfolk Wildlife Trust, they were first introduced to Woburn Park in Bedfordshire back in 1838 and have spread fairly rapidly across much of southern England (through escapes and deliberate introductions) ever since. They're pretty cute, but are also causing some fairly serious conservation issues. They are particularly fond of forest understory plants, and are munching their way through woodlands with abandon. They haven't done much damage in our garden (yet, anyway), but our neighbours aren't quite as excited to see them as we are!

Striped Pajamas

Helophilus pendulus

We've had an extraordinary number of hoverflies in the garden this year: what seems like hundreds and hundreds of many dozens of species. They're proving quite challenging to actually identify, principally because when I look them up, it turns out I've taken the picture from the wrong angle, or there's some bit of vegetation covering an important ID feature, or the fly is just a little too far away, or some other equally frustrating development. This time, though, I have enough of the "right bits" to identify this particular hoverfly. It's Helophilus pendulus, a common and widespread species found right across Britain and Ireland. It flies from April to November, with numbers peaking in July. I found a couple of them today — one feeding on a Common Cat's-Ear flower, the other sitting quietly on a bit of log in our tiny pond (in reality an upside-down garbage pail lid buried in the grass).  The photo above is from earlier in the summer, when I found another individual resting near the same pond. This species is often found near shallow water, where its larvae, widely known as "rat-tailed maggots", live among decaying vegetation.

The striped thorax of this species is pretty unusual; only a handful of British hoverflies share that feature. The noticeable bend in one of the veins in its wings, visible near the tip of the fly's left wing in the photo above, is also distinctive. The combination of those features, plus the thin black stripe on the fly's face, its dark antennae, the dark lines between the blocks of yellow on its abdomen, and the dark band on its back tibia (the middle section of its leg) covering less than half of the tibia's length help to clinch the ID. This is a male, as determined by broadness of the yellow markings on its abdomen, and the less-pointy shape of the abdomen's tip. One species down, dozens and dozens to go!

Small Copper

Does the blog seem butterfly-centric lately? That's because they're fluttering around in rather impressive numbers these days, visiting the many flowers we've planted specifically to draw pollinators into the garden. This one is a Small Copper (Lycaena phlaeas), a fast-flyer found throughout much of the British Isles (though missing from north-western Scotland, some of the northern Scottish islands, and mountainous areas). It prefers open areas, and lays its eggs on Common Sorrel, Sheep's Sorrel or Broad-leafed Dock — none of which we have in any significant amount in the garden at the moment. We'll have to add some to the bank we're planning to develop and plant in the coming year, because it's definitely a treat to see these handsome insects up close. They typically have 2 - 3 broods per year (4 in exceptionally good years), so we'd have multiple chances to make a difference for this declining species. And that's certainly something to aim for!

Cave Dweller

They're fledged! One of our local wren pairs has clearly been successful with at least one brood this summer, as a frazzled adult and five youngsters spent a fair bit of time in our garden this past Sunday. The fledglings, already quite good fliers, were bouncing through the brush pile stacked in the fire pit, rummaging among the thistles which are starting to die back in the wilder part of the garden, and flitting through the lower branches of some of the bigger shrubs. And the fledglings' high-pitched begging calls were both piercing and continual! Wrens (known formally as Eurasian Wrens or Troglodytes troglodytes) are common and widespread in the British Isles, found in virtually every habitat. That said, the Old World is surprisingly depauperate in the wren department. For comparison, there have been 32 species of wren recorded in Mexico, including 11 endemics found only in that country; there is one species of wren in all of Europe and Asia!

Tortoiseshell

They finally showed up this past weekend, the Small Tortoiseshells (Aglais urticae) that have been mysteriously and distressingly absent so far this summer. We didn't get many; it was only a trio buzzing around the Buddleia bush in one corner of the garden. But that was three more than we'd seen so far this summer — which is concerning. Insect watchers everywhere in the British Isles are reporting the same thing: the nearly complete collapse of this formerly common and widespread species. Unfortunately, no one is quite sure what's happening, particularly as some other species appear to be having a banner year. It can't be a lack of available food plants for either the adults or the larvae. Adults feed on a variety of plants, and the larvae feed on Stinging Nettle (Urtica dioica) which is ubiquitous throughout most of the islands. Hopefully, our many nettles will prove irresistible to any egg-laying female in the area!

Imposter

Merodon equestris

So, it's a bumblebee, right? You'd be forgiven for thinking so, since this imposter looks rather like the bumblebee it's mimicking. But you'd be wrong, because this is actually a fly — the hoverfly species Merodon equestris, to be precise — and looking like a bumblebee is its way of potentially avoiding predation. Known colloquially as the Greater Bulb-Fly, this is probably an introduced species, since it wasn't reported in Britain until the 1800s. Its larvae develop in and feed on daffodil bulbs (as well as the bulbs of a host of other species), so it may have originally stowed away in daffodil bulbs imported from Europe, where it's common and widespread. Greater Bulb-Flies can be quite variable in colouration, with somewhere between 4 and 7 different named varieties (experts disagree on the exact number) mimicking the patterns of several types of bumblebees. This one appears to be the form bulborum, which mimics the Red-tailed Bumblebee. They're most common in late May and early June, but are found from mid-March right through until the middle of October, so we're likely to see a few more before the year is out. Maybe we'll spot one or two of the other varieties as well!

Here Be Dragons

I finally got my first picture of a dragonfly in the garden on Tuesday; it's a Migrant Hawker (Aeshna mixta). She was hunting along the edge of the hedges near our herb bed, probably in pursuit of one of the zillion hoverflies or bees currently visiting the fennel and thyme flowers. Periodically, though, she'd hang up on a bit of vegetation (or, once, on one of our patio chairs) for a bit of a rest. I know it's a "she" because she only has two, rather than three, appendages at the end of her abdomen; a male would have a third, shorter appendage between the two longer ones. She's probably newly emerged, as older females have yellow rather than white markings on their brown bodies. The combination of the pale "flat-headed nail" shape at the top of the abdomen and the dark band above it is a useful ID feature.

Migrant Hawkers are common and widespread on the continent, ranging over most of Europe all the way east to Japan. In Britain, they're common in southern and central England and Wales, flying from late July well into the autumn. They quite the aerialists — among the fastest-flying of Britain's dragonflies, and capable of hovering and flying backwards. In general, they hunt above 2 meters (6-7 feet) off the ground, often along the edges of trees, catching their insect prey in flight. They breed in still or slow-moving water but range far from their breeding areas while hunting, as this one clearly did. Hopefully, she found the buffet to her liking and will be back!

Twig mimic

This marvelous creature is a Buff-tip — a moth that mimics the end of a broken birch twig. It's an amazingly effective camouflage, even if we humans do happen to notice the furry little feet. We've pulled a few from our moth trap this summer, and it's a treat every time. (We've run our lighted trap overnight several times this summer; the light sits over a box with a clear top that traps the moths inside until we have the chance to examine them. We release what we've caught without harming them.) The Buff-tip is a common and widespread species here in Britain, found in hedgerows, parks, gardens and woods. The caterpillars feed on the leaves of lime, birch, hazel and willow; we only have one willow in the garden, and thus probably won't be finding too many caterpillars. Adults fly from late May through July, so we may not be seeing too many more adults this year either!

Gatekeeper

The last few weeks have seen the emergence of a host of Gatekeepers (Pyronia tithonus), small brown and orange butterflies that seem particularly drawn to the grassy part of our garden. They flit along the paths and over the ripening grass flowers in their dozens, always close to the ground and often chasing each other. The one in the picture above is a male, identified by that curving brown "hook" in the forewing, which the female lacks. She's less orange, and has an identifiably different pattern underneath her wings. Gatekeepers were named centuries ago for their habit of visiting the flowers that grew around the gates tucked into hedgerows around agricultural fields. They're still found in such areas, as well as scrubby grasslands (like our pocket meadow), country lanes and woodland rides. They're often found in the same areas as Meadow Browns (Maniola jurtina) and Ringlets (Aphantopus hyperantus), two other butterfly species which we've seen in our pocket meadow as well. In the UK, they're found primarily in the southern and central counties of England and Wales, but they're slowly expanding their range northwards. On cloudy days like today, they tend to spend most of their time spread-eagled on a leaf, a flowerhead or the ground; they're a lot more active on sunny days. Adults feed on nectar from many flowers, but the caterpillars feed on grasses — so Gatekeepers of all ages should be happy at our place!

Herb Robert

The lovely Herb-Robert (Geranium robertianum) has planted itself all around our garden, from flower beds and plant pots to cracks in the pavement and gaps near the door sills. It's a typical wild geranium — an annual (occasionally biennial) with delicate pink flowers, and pungeant foliage. The deeply cut leaves, which go red in the sun or on older plants, are distinctive. The Royal Horticultural Society rates it as a bit of a weed, due to its habit of explosively flinging its abundant, small seeds in all directions; it has certainly spread itself around the property since we moved in! It is found in a variety of habitats, but prefers shady areas and typically doesn't occur on acid soils. It flowers from May to September.

Herb-Robert is native to most of Europe (though missing from the extreme north), and has been introduced to eastern North America and western Washington state. It is reputedly named for a French abbot and herbalist, Robert of Molesme, who lived around the turn of the first millenium. He undoubtedly used the plant medicinally; it was prescribed to treat diarrhea and to control bleeding, and may also repel insects. Perhaps it's working — we have little problem with mosquitoes and fleas here!

Slimed

Any time we get a bit of rain, we get a sudden irruption of Garden Snails (Cornu aspersum) on the walls of the house. They slither their way around, looking for plant material to nibble — and for other snails to mate with, presumably! They can be a problem in a garden (or agricultural field) if their numbers grow high enough, but that hasn't been an issue here yet. That might be because we have a number of Song Thrushes in the neighborhood, and they're well-known gourmands of snails. We do find slime trails regularly across the paving stones near the driveway, but whether the snails or their cousins the slugs have made them, we're not sure.

Like most land snails, the Garden Snail is a hermaphrodite, producing both male and female gametes. They fire love darts at each other during the mating process, though we haven't seen any evidence of those. These "darts" are covered with mucus that appears to help prime the recipient's female sex organs to receive the donor's sperm. They mate for hours (!!) then produce up to 80 tiny, pearly-white eggs, which they lay into sheltered areas such as cracks in the soil.

The Garden Snail (dubbed the "Brown Snail" in parts of the New World) is native to Europe, from the British Isles south to the Mediterranean, as well as northern Africa and east to Asia Minor; it has been widely introduced (intentionally and otherwise) to much of the rest of the world. While sometimes considered a pest, as it is primarily a herbivore, it is also consumed by a variety of birds, mammals (including humans), reptiles, amphibians and insects. In other words, it definitely has a place in our wildlife garden.

Yes, grasshopper

We're developing a "pocket meadow" in our garden — an area of about an eighth of an acre that we mow only once a year. We have trails running around the edges of it and a few running through it so that we can easily access various bits of it, but most of it is untrammeled. Why? To aid and abet those species losing their habitats elsewhere. Last year, we heard four grasshoppers (four individuals, not four species) in our garden for the whole of the summer. This year, the second of our "no mow" regime, we've already had dozens and dozens. Scores of instar grasshoppers (nymphs not yet fully grown, so nearly impossible for us mere mortals to identify) leap out of the way every time we walk the paths, and (best of all) we're hearing several species trilling from the grasses.

Most common so far has been the appropriately-named Common Green Grasshopper (Omocestus viridulus), which has a long stridulation that sounds like a free-wheeling bicycle or someone quickly rubbing their hands together. They're heard from late May (in balmy springs) or early June. Below, I've linked to a recording I made late last month; click the red arrow to hear it. (Be sure to have your sound turned up, or all you'll hear is the Eurasian Blackbird!) According to our copy of Grasshoppers and allied insects of Norfolk, by David Richmond (yes, we're nerds), this species is previously unrecorded in our 2km square, though that may have changed since 2001, when the book was published. Common Green Grasshoppers occur in a variety of habitats, including unimproved grasslands like ours, roadside verges, woodland rides (a British term for a horse riding path through the forest) and old commons (public lands formerly used for grazing). They're less common along the North Norfolk coast than in the rest of the county, so we're pleased to have them here.

Adult male Common Green Grasshopper (Omocestus viridulus)

Migration wave

Several days ago, we had a mini-invasion of white butterflies. Most were the resident Small Whites (whose picture I haven't yet managed to snap), but a few were immigrant Large Whites (Pieris brassicae) like this one, driven north by the gentle southerly winds that had been blowing for days. The broad black tip to the upperwing, particularly how far it extends down the back edge of the wing, helps to distinguish this species from its smaller cousin, while the dusting of dark scales on the underside of the hind wing and the bold black spots on the upperside of the forewing mark it as a "first brood" female. Unlike some British butterflies, Large Whites have multiple broods per year. They fly from March to late October, and occur throughout the British Isles; elsewhere, they're common and widespread across northern Africa and all of Europe, the Middle East and in Asia as far as the Himalayas. Their diverse habitats include virtually anywhere their larval host plants occur, and adults are particularly fond of thistles and knapweeds.

As larvae, Large Whites can become serious pests of Brassicaceae species, including cultivated crops such as broccoli, cauliflower, kale, mustards, horseradish, etc. While their damage tends to be fairly limited in Britain, they are capable of causing the near-complete loss of crops in localised areas elsewhere in the world. Fortunately, none of our neighbouring farmers have planted such crops this year, and we don't much care what they nibble here in the garden — within reason of course!

Peacocks

Mention to someone that you've just seen a Peacock in the garden, and their mind is probably filled with visions of a sizable blue-green bird with a spectacularly impressive tail and a penchant for shaking its booty. But there's another creature with the same common name — the handsome red butterfly Inachis io. It's a common and widespread species across much of Europe, including nearly all of the British Isles. (They appear to reach northern Scotland only as migrants.) Since they hibernate overwinter as adults, Peacocks start showing up as early as March on balmy spring days, but their main flight season is between June and August. This adult was feeding on Lemon Thyme (Thymus x citriodorus) in our herb patch; they're also very fond of Buddleia. The larvae feed on nettles, of which we have plenty growing in some of the rougher corners of the garden. Hopefully, we're helping to boost the local population!

With wings closed, they're a lot less eye-catching!

Waxed paper

It's been quite a while since we've featured a lichen on the blog. This one is Parmelia sulcata, sometimes known as "Hammered Shield Lichen" or "Waxpaper Lichen" because of its appearance. Dobson's Lichens field guide says that it's "grey to glaucous white" in colour, but it always looks distinctly bluish-green to me. The brownish tips to the lobes, which are ridged and overlapping, and the network of faint, white lines along which the soralia develop are distinctive. (Soralia are the structures that hold the soredia: bundles of fungal and algal cells which break off to form new lichen colonies.) And it really does look like a bit of hammered metal. The underside is dark-brown to black and covered with a mat of rhizines, which are the fungal filaments that help to attach the lichen to its substrate.

There are quite a few colonies sprinkled around the garden, mostly on the Japanese Cherry tree and on the slowly-rotting wooden garden bench. This lichen, which is a great example of a foliose species (the name given to lichens that are flattened and leaf-like), is common species throughout much of the world. It grows abundantly on trees and rocks across most of Britain and Ireland, particularly in the lowlands. People in various parts of the world have used it to make dyes (it produces a reddish-brown colour) and medicines.

Tiny lives

While checking things out at the back end of the garden a few weeks ago, I spotted a number of these little moths — one of the so-called "micro moth" species — hanging out on some of the flowers. They're Cocksfoot Moths, Glyphipterix simpliciella, so named because the tiny caterpillars spend most of their time feeding on the seeds of Cock's-foot (a rank grass) and later pupate in its stem. Given that we have a few scattered clumps of that grass in our pocket meadow, that may be where the moths have come from. These are very small moths, measuring only 3-4 mm in length (about 1/10th of an inch) with a wingspan of maybe double that. Though they're often found in large groups on flowers (up to 20 at a time, according to several references I've read), they're so minute that they're easy to overlook. They're common over much of Britain and Ireland (and the western Palearctic), and are especially fond of buttercups. Fortunately, we have lots of those growing among our meadow grasses, so the moths, which fly from May to July, should find plenty to keep them happy here.

Thunder thighs

Male

Here's another insect that has been everywhere so far this summer, though somehow, I'd never seen one before this year. It's a Swollen-thighed Beetle (Oedemera nobilis) — identified as a male by those distinctively swollen back legs. The female is thinner and lacks those big "thighs" (known as "femora" in insects), though she shares the pointed elytra (a fancy word for the hard coverings that protect the wings) with the noticable gap in the middle. They're found in a variety of open habitats and feed on pollen, so we're seeing plenty in the flower borders at the moment, crawling over anything that's blooming. The larvae live in herb stems. Widespread in southern and western Europe, this species has been rapidly expanding its range in England since 1995. It flies from April through August, so we'll be seeing a lot of them for a while, I think.

Female

Red Admiral

One of our most common butterflies so far this year has been the handsome Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta). Though they overwinter as adults further south in Europe, they don't do so successfully very often in Britain, so most (or all) of the ones we see here are migrants from the mainland. According to Collins Field Guide to the Butterflies of Britain and Europe, these butterflies spend a lot of time basking on walls (like the one I photographed was doing) and rock faces. They lay their eggs on the tip of a leaf (preferably one in a sunny spot), and once the larva hatches, it rolls the leaf up and feeds from within the rolled-up tube. They're one of the reasons we leave a bit of Common Nettle standing in a corner or two of the garden; that and various pellitory species are among the host plants for the larvae, while the adults love any nectar-rich flower. We'll be seeing them right through October — or even later, if it stays warm enough!

Labyrinth

While working in the garden yesterday, I found this rather fearsome beastie chopping up a caterpillar that had strayed onto its web. It's a Labyrinth Spider (Agelena labyrinthica), which builds a big sheet web with a large funnel low in the vegetation. According to Britain's Spiders, they often build their webs in gorse, heather or brambles, but this one had chosen an as-yet-unidentified plant along the edge of the flower border. (It's only in leaf at the moment, and we can't remember what we planted there!) The Labyrinth Spider is a widespread species in southern England and Wales, but only rarely found north and west, and missing completely from Scotland and Ireland. It's not QUITE as big as it looks here; its body was probably only about 1/2 an inch (8-9 mm)  long, though its long legs made it seem much bigger. Its dark abdomen with the pale medial stripe and pale chevrons is distinctive, as is its carapace (the front end) with the alternating bands of light and dark (light on the lateral edges and the center, with darker stripes between). The large pedipalps (those "boxing gloves" extending from the front of its body) suggest that it's a male. These appendages, which are used in sperm transfer, are considerably larger and more swollen in shape in males than in females.

Shepherd's Purse

Most of our Shepherd's Purse (Capsella bursa-pastoris) is going to seed now, the tiny, rather insignificant white flowers replaced by eye-catching heart-shaped seed pods. Supposedly, those seed pods look a bit like the tiny purses people used to hang from their belts, which is how the flower got its common name. This weedy wildflower is an archeophyte — that is, it was introduced to the British Isles before 1500. It may not have been a deliberate introduction; instead the seeds may have been carried in on clothing or livestock fur or wagon wheels from mainland Europe, where it is widespread. However, it has been widely known as a medicinal plant since the time of the Romans, so it may have been transported for that reason. (Pliny the Elder, for example, called the seeds an important laxative and aphrodisiac.) The plant is still used in herbal medicines in parts of Europe and Asia, its leaves are added to salads or cooked as vegetables, and its peppery seed pods are sometimes used as a replacement for mustard seeds.

Yorkshire Fog

Now that summer is here, our "meadow" is really coming into its own. Calling our relatively tiny patch of tall grass a meadow is a bit of a stretch, but the mix of gracefully swaying grasses with wildflowers nestled among their stems is delightful to look at — and we're finding lots of small invertebrates thriving there, including some that are in serious decline across most of Britain. The lovely pink grass flowers pictured here are Yorkshire Fog (Holcus lanatus), which flowers from June to September in Britain. It's widespread across the country as it can tolerate a wide range of soil types; it can become a problem in cereal crop fields and drier pastures, where its resulting hairiness makes it less palatable to livestock. This perennial forms tufts and can crowd out other species, reducing species diversity, so we'll have to keep an eye on it to make sure that doesn't happen in our garden. Right now though, we're enjoying the "fog"!

Longhorn

Say "longhorn" to a Texan, and they're likely to picture a cow with some really long, pointy horns — the kind that could do some serious damage if they decided to stick you with one. Say "longhorn" to a naturalist, however, and they're liable to picture something else entirely — namely a group of insects with very long antennae. We had our first longhorn show up in the garden earlier this week. Agapanthia villosoviridescens, also known as the Golden-bloomed Grey Longhorn Beetle, is a bit of an eyeful, with a bright yellow thoracic stripe and short yellow hairs all over its wing coverings. And how about those stripey antennae?! The whole insect measures 10-25 mm (i.e. the biggest is just under an inch long), not counting those extraordinary antennae. This species is pretty restricted in Britain, occuring regularly only in East Anglia and a few adjacent counties. Its larvae develop in the stems of various herbaceous plants (particularly thistles, and we have a boatload of those at the far end of the garden) and the adults feed on flowers, generally in damp places. According to Collins Complete British Insects, we can expect to see them from May through July.

Smooth

While clearing some taller grasses from along a planter near the house last evening, Mike discovered this little Smooth Newt huddled under some piled flagstones. It didn't move — never even blinked — during the minutes that we watched and photographed it. This is probably a female; during the breeding season, which runs from February to June, males develop a wavy crest along their backs, and this one showed no sign of that. Though I always think of newts as water creatures, they're often found on land outside of the breeding season, though typically they still haunt damp places (under piles of stones and leaves, for example). They hunt invertebrates, both in the water and on land. This is Britain's most widespread newt, found throughout most of the islands. It's declining in the north and west, however. We've been talking about putting a small pond in, somewhere in the garden. I guess we'd better hurry up with that!

Hunter and hunted

It's a jungle out there. The drama of life and death is happening in our garden every day, with some of its residents hunting down and eating others. This particular drama was taking place on one of the gnarled old branches of an apple tree. The white "fuzzy stuff" is a pile of Wooly Apple Aphids (Eriosoma lanigerum), a bothersome little pest that sucks the juice (and the life) out of apple trees across the world. It's actually native to North America, but was accidentally introduced to Great Britain back in the late 1700s. Equally unfortuitous introductions have been made to virtually every other apple-producing region of the world, and this little insect is proving to be a serious problem for apple growers. Fortunately for us, help is at hand. Ladybirds, including the Pine Ladybird (Exochomus quadripustulatus) lurking in their vicinity in the photo above, are aphid specialists. Many ladybird species eat literally thousands of adult aphids during their relatively short lives — and that's after they've eaten hundreds more as larvae.

Pine Ladybirds are widespread in southern and central England, and more local north and west. We've seen a lot of them around lately, particularly on the apple tree, where they appear to have found the buffet table. Generally, adults overwinter in the foliage of evergreen trees and shrubs (hence their common name), but during the rest of the year, they're found on a variety of trees. Here's hoping they like what's on the menu and stay awhile!

Immigrants

Today, like much of the rest of eastern England, we were inundated with Painted Ladies. They've been coming for days, fluttering north across Europe (where they were reported in their thousands on the eastern Mediterannean islands and in eastern Europe), pushed by southerly winds. This is a migrant species in much of Europe, moving progressively north from Africa as spring advances, eventually reaching as far as the Arctic Circle in some places; some years, they've even made it as far as Iceland! Some of them have clearly had an arduous journey; the photo below shows one that's missing much of both hindwings and a considerable percentage of its scales. It was still flying strongly though. This is an incredibly widespread species, found nearly everywhere in the world, though not in South America. Its larvae use a very wide range of host plants, but thistles are a favorite — and we have a corner of the garden full of them. It's nice to know we're doing our part to help ensure a further generation of these beautiful creatures. From one immigrant to another, I say "Live long and prosper"!

We've got the blues

Right now, much of one of our flower beds is stuffed full of Field Forget-me-not (Myosotis arvensis). It's a wild plant, an annual or (more typically) biennial that thrives in a variety of habitats, including fields, meadows, rocky outcrops, yards and gardens. As you can probably see from the pictures, it's hairy on the leaves, stems and flower buds. The flowers themselves are small, but profuse and the smaller pollinators love them — which is why we've allowed the plants a toehold in the garden, even though they try very hard to take over. Once they've finished flowering, we'll thin them out a bit to allow the next wave of plants to emerge. In the meantime, we'll enjoy the show!

Green

Green Shield Bug (Palomena prasina)

Another day, another shield bug! This one is the Green Shield Bug, so named for rather obvious reasons. When they emerge from hibernation in April and May, adults are this bright green colour. Note that only the last two segments of their antennae and their "tarsi" (i.e. the lowest segment of their legs) are pink. In the superficially similar Gorse Shield Bug, the whole leg and the whole antenna are pink. Green Shield Bugs are mating like crazy at the moment, as they only have a few more weeks to live. The female will lay a bunch of small green eggs on a leaf somewhere (we'll be looking), and the youngsters will go through five different instar stages during the summer before reaching adulthood in the fall. They'll be a deep bronzy colour when they go into hibernation for the winter. Green Shield Bugs live in a wide variety of habitats across much of Britain (though unrecorded in Scotland so far) and feed on a variety of trees and shrubs.

Caterpillar Hunter

Tachina fera

On recent rambles through the garden, we've been struck by the number of these big flies (measuring 12-15 mm, or a bit more than half an inch) we've seen buzzing around the place. They're Tachina fera (no common name that I know of), one of the more than 600 species assigned to the worldwide genus Tachina. The brick-red edges to the abdomen are distinctive, as are the buffy bases to the wings. And the red legs and yellow facial hairs are unusual among Britain's flies. According to Collins Complete British Insects, they fly from April to September. They're said to prefer damp habitats, so I'm not quite sure what they're doing in our distinctly dry garden. Like most Tachina species, this one parasitizes caterpillars — though considering how few butterflies and moths we've seen so far this spring, they must be having a hard time finding any to parasitize at the moment!