Minty

Mint Moth (Pyrausta aurata)

Everybody knows the rules: butterflies fly during the day and moths at night. Except sometimes they don't! This is a Mint Moth (Pyrausta aurata), and it's a species that flies by day as well as by night. It's also known as "Small Purple and Gold", which is a good description of both its size and its principal colours. The trio of small, rather indistinct spots at the dorsal edge of the forewing (the side closest to the moth's body) help to distinguish this species from the similar, closely related Common Purple and Gold (Pyrausta purpuralis). When it's not flying (or feeding), the Mint Moth often perches on the scented leaves of mint plants or related species. Its caterpillars feed on various members of the mint family, and the species is common in meadows and gardens where those host plants are found. It's also found in marshland, woodland and quarries. Though regular across England, Wales and southern Scotland, the Mint Moth has a fairly patchy distribution. Elsewhere, it's widespread across much of Europe, North Africa and northern Asia. It's a double-brooded species, with one generation emerging from mid-April to June with a second generation from mid-July to September, so we should be seeing increasing numbers over the next few weeks. And there's plenty of mint plants scattered around to feed the youngsters!

Rusty thistles

Thistle Rust (Puccinia punctiformis)

When it comes to our ongoing battle with thistles — and our attempts to control them — we may have a new ally. While wandering around the garden recently, I noticed a Creeping Thistle plant that was looking a bit peaked — pale compared to its neighbours, but showing some dark rusty-red patches as well. A closer look showed it to be heavily infected with Thistle Rust (Puccinia punctiformis), a fungus that is specific to Creeping Thistle. So far, it's only the single plant that has been impacted; the nearby thistle plants all appear to be healthy. However, that may not remain the case. Thistle Rust is now found around the world and is widely used in some places as a biological control agent. Its spores spread on the wind, and either infect new shoots or enter a plant through its roots. Some species of weevil may also spread the spores while feeding. The rust affects the plant's ability to both photosynthise and reproduce, and can eventually kill it. Our bare toes aren't sorry to hear that!

This whole plant is affected

Green veins

Green-veined White (Pieris napi)

Over the past few weeks, we've begun to see increasing numbers of Green-veined Whites (Pieris napi) in the garden. Some, like this pair, have even been stuck together, busily making more Green-veined Whites. It's not hard to see how they got their common name. From the top, they can look bewilderingly similar to Small Whites (which are known as "Cabbage Whites" in the US), but the green lines on their undersides are gratifyingly distinctive. Unlike the other butterflies I've profiled so far, this one is double-brooded. The offspring of one brood overwinters as pupae (no longer caterpillars, but not yet butterflies), emerging as adults from early April through June. These mate and lay eggs, and a second brood emerges as adults from mid-July into September. This second brood lays the eggs that hatch and develop as far as pupae, which then overwinter. Green-veined Whites are common and widespread across the British Isles, found everywhere except the highest peaks. They're drawn to damp areas with lush vegetation, where the larval food plants — a variety of wild crucifers — can be found. In our garden, the patches of Garlic Mustard likely fit the bill, at least for the first brood. These butterflies are most common in wetlands and damp meadows, along water courses, and in damper hedgerows and wood edges, but they clearly venture beyond those areas. Maybe, once we've put our pond in, they'll even stick around!

Heal Thyself

Common Selfheal (Prunella vulgaris)

Right now, our back lawn is dotted with the small purple flowerheads of Common Selfheal (Prunella vulgaris), a bee-friendly perennial that loves the full sun of that part of the garden. Common and widespread in grassland, farmland and gardens across the British Isles, it's also found throughout the temperate zone in much of the Northern Hemisphere. In fact, it's a plant I remember from my childhood, when my wildflower-loving mother identified it in growing on the stony soil of the Canadian island where we spent our summer vacations. Thanks to accidental introduction, it's now also found elsewhere in the world, including Australia, New Zealand and several Pacific islands; unfortunately, it's considered invasive in all of those areas. In our garden, it's a relatively tiny plant, kept small by the regular mowing that Mike does on that part of the property. Unmowed, it can grow to about 30 cm (a foot or so), with its purple flowers growing in a dense cluster at the top of the stem. Its square stems are quite hairy, as are its lance-shaped leaves. It blooms from June to October. As its name suggests, this plant has long been important in herbal medicine, used to treat everything from wounds and bleeding to heart disease, irritable bowel syndrome and sore throats. Here, we'll keep it for its splash of colour — and for the fact that the pollinators love it.

Creeping

Creeping Thistle (Cirsium arvense)

As I mentioned a few weeks ago, we've been doing battle with thistles in the garden since moving in two and a half years ago. So far, it's a battle we're losing! While some of our foes are the big (and prickly) Spear Thistles, by far the larger number are the tenacious, perennial Creeping Thistles (Cirsium arvense). These plants are somewhat smaller and less robust than their Spear Thistle cousins, with smaller, paler pink flowerheads. The capitula (the wine glass shaped purple bit under the flowers) isn't as viciously spiked as is the capitula on the Spear Thistle, though the rest of the plant is certainly well protected with sharp spines. Unlike the Spear Thistle, which spreads only by seed, this one spreads by underground runners as well — and that makes it very hard to eliminate. The roots break easily into sections when we try to pull them up, and sections as small as 1/4-inch (3mm) can grow into a new plant. I expect we'll still be grubbing bits up in 20 years. Its propensity to regenerate from root fragments, and its ability to produce upwards of 5300 seeds per plant (and for those seeds to remain viable for as long as 20 years) makes Creeping Thistle a real problem for farmers. And since it has been accidentally introduced from its native Europe across much of the globe, it's impact is being felt worldwide. In many places, including its native range, it's considered to be invasive. However, from a wildlife point of view, it's not all bad news. Its seeds are an important food source for farmland birds, which are rapidly declining across Europe. European Goldfinches and Linnets are said particularly fond of them, and the two pairs of goldfinches we've had nesting in the garden this summer may have been at least partly attracted by them. The flowers are visited by a host of pollinators, and the foliage is the larval food for at least 20 species of butterflies and moths, including the Painted Lady. We will need to be vigilant though, if we don't want it to take over the rest of the garden.

Herbie

22-spot Ladybird (Psyllobora 22-punctata)

While out exploring the garden during my lunch break the other day, I came across a few of these little beetles scurrying up and down grass stems near our raptor viewpoint. It's a 22-spot Ladybird (Psyllobora 22-punctata), one of Britain's more common ladybird species. The bright yellow colour is a warning to potential predators that this ladybird tastes nastily bitter, so had best be avoided. Its discrete spots, which never merge into each other, help to distinguish it from the larger 14-spot Ladybird (Propylea 14-punctata). Widespread across much of the British Isles (though scarce in the north), it's common in grassy places, including hedgerows, wood edges and roadsides — and pocket meadows. Like other ladybirds, it overwinters as a dormant adult, with eggs laid in early spring and new adults appearing in early summer. However, unlike most of its cousins, this one feeds on mildews rather than aphids, and is particularly fond of mildew on umbellifers. Given the amount of mildew growing on Common Hogweed plants scattered around the property, our little visitors should have plenty to nibble on for the remainder of the season.

Conehead

Long-winged Conehead (Conocephalus fuscus)

That's quite the racing stripe!

While we were out enjoying the sunshine this past weekend, Mike found a nymph of a grasshopper species new to the garden. This little lady, with her dark "racing stripe", is a Long-winged Conehead. The triangular shape of her head, her ridiculously long antennae, and her long, straight ovipositor (the brownish appendage sticking out her back end; she'll use it to lay her eggs) help to clinch her ID. When we looked her up in our copy of "Grasshoppers and Allied Insects of Norfolk" — yes, we're nerds — we discovered a single dot on the map for the entire county, located well along the coast from where we are. Understandably, that led to considerable excitement on our part. However, a bit of nosing around on the internet revealed that things have changed since 2000, when the book was published. There are now records for virtually all corners of the county, and the species is widespread across much of southern England and Wales. Given that it was first reported in Great Britain in 1931, that's quite a range expansion.

Some conehead species are tied to wetlands, but the Long-winged Conehead isn't one of them. Though it's certainly found in reed beds, bogs, and marshes, it also occurs in dry heaths and rough grassland, so it's apparently right at home in our pocket meadow. Nymphs emerge in late May and June, and reach adulthood by August. If she reaches maturity and mates, our little nymph will deposit her eggs in grass stems (after first chewing a hole to make it easier to stick her ovipositor into position). Adults will be around until early winter. These coneheads are primarily herbivores, but will also munch on aphids and small caterpillars. As with other grasshoppers, males "sing" by rubbing their legs together. The song is similar to that of the Common Green Grasshopper, but somewhat higher pitched and more "metallic"; I'll have to work on getting a recording.

Red-tail

Red-tailed Bumblebee (Bombus lapidarius)

Probably the most common bee in the garden at the moment is the Red-tailed Bumblebee (Bombus lapidarius) — and that's been the case for much of the summer. They're easy to identify: a furry all-black body with a distinctively eye-catching red backside. Queens, which we saw early in the season, are quite large, with some measuring more than an inch in length. Workers are considerably smaller. Mated queens emerge from hibernation in April and set about establishing a new colony. They nest underground, typically choosing an abandoned mammal tunnel (voles are a favourite) for their nest site. We've found a few colonies scattered around the garden, some in Short-tailed Vole tunnels and others in holes left by uprooted Alexanders plants. The queen's worker daughters provide food and care for the colony for the summer, and the colony will remain active as late as November. Later in the season, newly emerged queen and drones will emerge for mating flights. Once the frosts come, all but the newly-mated queens will die; the new queens hibernate overwinter. 

This is one of Britain's most widespread and abundant bumblebees, found across much of England and Wales, though less common in Scotland (where it's found only in the lowlands) and Northern Ireland (where it's largely restricted to the east). It's found virtually anywhere there are flowers to feed on, and is very regularly seen in gardens. Elsewhere in the world, it is also widespread across much of Europe. Studies have found it to be more likely to forage in higher temperatures than other species of bumblebee, which makes it important for pollination of some plants. Its long tongue also allows it to pollinate species unavailable to shorter-tongued bees. Workers are known to travel more than a mile from their colony to food sources. Like its Buff-tailed Bumblebee cousin, the Red-tailed Bumblebee is parasitised by a species of cuckoo bee. In this case, it's by the very similar-looking Red-tailed Cuckoo Bumblebee; the cuckoo queens differ only in having black, rather than translucent, wings. So far, we haven't knowingly seen any of those parasites here.

Check out that pollen basket — packed with pollen!

Spears

Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare)

Ever since we moved to this property, we've been wrestling with stubbornly persistent stands of thistles in various corners of the garden. A few thistle plants are lovely. Hundreds, popping up in all the flower beds, and the pocket meadow (particularly the ones that sneak onto the mown paths to spike the unwary bare foot) are rather less appreciated. Most of the culprits are the tenacious, perennial Creeping Thistle (Cirsium arvense). But a few are the larger, considerably spikier, Spear Thistle (Cirsium vulgare). These big, richly coloured flowers sitting atop their spiny balls are probably the origin of the "Scottish thistle", a well-known symbol of our neighbours to the north. They're typically biennial, sending up a rosette of leaves the first year, and adding stems (up to a metre tall) and flowers in the second. They die after setting seed. However, they can set prodigious amounts of seed before they go: as many as 8400 per plant! Fortunately, thistles seeds are among the favourites of European Goldfinches, so we should get some help in thinning them out. We're also lucky in that the seeds are relatively short-lived; if they don't germinate within three years, very few remain viable. The very spiny capitula (the ball-like structure just below the purple petals), long, deeply-lobed leaves covered with plentiful spines, and a spiny stem (almost looking cobweb-covered), plus the rich, deep purple of the flowers, help to distinguish this thistle from the smaller, paler Creeping Thistle. Spear Thistles are widespread across the British Isles, mostly in disturbed habitats like roadsides and waste places. They're regular in agricultural areas too, and can become problematic in crop fields; they're considered invasive in Canada, the US and Australia, for instance. But these "weeds", which flower from July to October, supply nectar to a host of insects, including scores of hoverflies and butterflies. If we can keep them confined more or less to a corner or two of the garden, we'll be happy to tolerate them. But getting that control looks like it's going to take a while!

Al fresco dining

Poppy

Common Poppy (Papaver rhoeas)

The Common Poppy (Papaver rhoeas) must surely be one of Britain's best-known plants. Its brilliant blooms are splashed along roadsides and in recently disturbed field edges and waste places across England and lowland Scotland and Wales from June to August, brightening many a dreary corner. We wear poppy badges for weeks leading up to Remembrance Day (November 11); the red flowers bloomed in abundance in the trenches and bomb-pitted "no man's lands" of the First and Second World Wars, and have come to symbolise the blood sacrifice of soldiers in those and other wars. We've had a few of the scarlet blooms make their way (unassisted) into our newest flower beds this year, presumably blown over the fence from our neighbour's patch next door. We'll have to scarify the ground again this autumn so we can be sure get some more of these widespread annuals next year. The flowers only last a single day, but they certainly make an eye-catching patch of colour against the greenery.

Beyond the UK, the Common Poppy is found across Europe, north Africa, the Middle East and western Asia. It's a well-known arable weed, long associated with crop fields and an age-old symbol of agricultural fertility as a result. Both the Romans and the ancient Egyptians wove garlands of the flowers for their gods in an effort to ensure the fertility of their fields and the bounty of their harvests. The plant's tiny but plentiful seeds are widely used in foods (particularly sprinkled on breads and added to salad dressings), and the making of oil. As might be expected, given its long association with humanity, the Common Poppy played a significant role in traditional medicine, and various parts of the plant were used to treat insomnia, fever, constipation, gout and other aches and pains. However, given its mild toxicity (due to the presence of various alkaloids), the plant was largely replaced by less potentially harmful options over time. Though beautiful, Common Poppy flowers produce little nectar, so aren't particularly attractive to nectar-feeding species. They're rich in pollen though, producing almost three times as much per flower as the top-ranked perennial plant (Common Mallow) in a recent UK study. That makes them a real magnet for bees, pollen beetles, and hoverflies. Reason enough to keep them around!

Brown

Male Meadow Brown (Maniola jurtina)

Just recently, the Meadow Browns have arrived. They've been pretty conspicuous lately because they're one of the few butterfly species that remain active in dull weather — and we've seen plenty of cloud in the past week. We're getting into the peak flight time for this subtly-coloured butterfly; they're most plentiful in July and August, though they start to appear in June and continue through September. Butterfly Conservation (a UK charity dedicated to saving butterflies and moths) says the Meadow Brown is one of Britain's most widespread butterflies, found across the British Isles, though numbers appear to be declining fairly signficantly in much of Scotland. They're found in a wide range of grassland habitats (hay meadows, heathland, coastal dunes, roadside verges, etc.) as well as in cemeteries, gardens and parks. Females lay their eggs on grasses, particularly on fescues, bents and meadow-grasses, all of which we have here. These eggs soon hatch, and the resulting caterpillars munch grass for the rest of the summer before overwintering. 

Meadow Browns look a bit like a couple of other brown butterflies we have in the garden these days: the Gatekeeper and the Ringlet. Meadow Browns are distinguished by their larger size, the restricted orange patches and single "eyespot" on their forewings (with a single white "pupil" within that eyespot), and the lack of spots on their hind wings. Meadow Browns are among the UK's most abundant butterflies, with reports of hundreds accumulating in some spots. We don't see anywhere near that many here, but they are congregating in ever larger numbers in the garden, chasing each other around over the pocket meadow and resting on its mown paths. It's nice to know that we'll be seeing them around for the rest of the summer.

Vestal

Vestal Cuckoo Bee (Bombus vestalis)

Clambering around amongst the many bumblebees currently gorging on pollen and nectar in the garden are a handful of these slightly larger visitors. They're also bumblebees, but they're bumblebees with a difference. This is the Vestal Cuckoo Bee (Bombus vestalis), called "cuckoo" because the queen doesn't start her own colony with her own daughters as workers. Rather, she dethrones the queen of an already-existing Buff-tailed Bumblebee colony (by killing her) and tricks the unsuspecting workers into providing for their now fraudulent queen and her offspring. Sneaky! Cuckoo bees are relatively easy to distinguish from their hosts, because they lack pollen baskets on their back legs. Their wings are often tinted a smoky grey (rather than being clear), though that can be a bit tougher to see. They also have a yellow band anterior to the white bands on their abdomen; true Buff-tailed Bumblebees have no such yellow band. Cuckoo bees have less "fur" on their thorax and abdomen than do other bumblebees, and have a thicker cuticle ("skin"), which helps the queens to resist worker stings when invading a hive. 

Mated queen Vestal Cuckoo Bees emerge from hibernation in late March or so, typically a few weeks later than their Buff-tailed Bumblebee hosts. (They have to give their host queens a chance to get their colonies started before emerging themselves.) They're active until August or so, when newly hatched queens emerge for a few days of mating flights before retreating to safe corners to hibernate for the winter. The males die when winter comes, as do all the workers who've laboured for the old queen for months. The species is common in grassland and gardens across England and Wales, but has only recently reached Scotland. They're also found across southern and central Europe, down into North Africa, and east as far as Iran. The Natural History Museum's website says males are "often abundant" in suburban gardens for much of the summer; they certainly are in ours!