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!