Week 43: Dapper Caps including Fly Agaric

More fruiting fungi for you this week although lack of brain power means that I shall have to leave the detailed reading up to you, if you fancy it. As a complete fungi foraging novice, it will come as no surprise that at the top of my list of hoped for species around Box Moor was the Fly Agaric. It is the archetypal mushroom with that beautiful white-spotted red cap, and….I had never seen it.

Last Sunday, enticed out by a little sunshine, I drove up to The Old Barn at Westbrook Hay. I hadn’t even reached the car park when I spotted what could only be Fly Agaric, growing by the side of the entrance track. To say I was quite chuffed is to put it mildly and I can understand Pat O'Reilly’s response whenever he finds a specimen, “my heart leaps and I experience yet again the intense feeling of amazement that came over me so many years ago when for the first time I saw this fabulous fungus in a forest.” I guess the sight of it is a bit like walking into a fairy tale. As children, we had perhaps assumed that along with the fairies, Smurfs and frog-princes this mushroom was part of the unseen world of imagination. To be faced with its very real existence, in perfect fairy tale form, is rather wonderful. 

In terms of its place within the wider ecosystem, Fly Agaric forms mycorrhizal associations with many different plant and tree species i.e. it enhances the availability of beneficial nutrients to its host. It isn’t one of the saprobic, nutrient recyclers, from last week. If you’re interested in finding out more, Pat’s article is excellent and well worth dipping into. 

Unfortunately, by Wednesday this week, someone/something had destroyed all of the specimens by The Old Barn. I did find another in Ramacre Wood but that too had been kicked/destroyed.

Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria)
Cap diameter approx 130mm

King Alfred's Cakes (Daldinia concentric) Width approx 60mm

Clouded Agaric (Clitocybe nebularis) Cap diameter approx 160mm

Rosy Bonnet (Mycena rosea) Cap diameter approx 30mm

Monday morning, full of enthusiasm after my fairy tale find, I returned to Westbrook Hay for more foraging. This time I focused on Ramacre Wood. I won’t go into detail about each fungus but will put links in to further reading at the end if you’re interested. The majority of species were recyclers i.e. saprobic (scavengers feeding off and recycling the nutrients of dead wood and leaf matter). A few were mychorrhizal or more specifically ectomychorrhizal. All 3 photographed above are saprobic.

After hours spent in the field, it’s always nice to come across something a little different, such was my luck on Monday. It turns out that there’s a white variant of the otherwise brown Jelly Ear (Auricularia auricula-judae) and it is fruiting well in Ramacre Wood (if “fruiting well” is the appropriate fungi lingo for “there’s a whole lot of it”?!). It isn’t scientifically significant and doesn’t seem to be anything to get particularly excited about (according to this thread) but it was interesting nonetheless.

Jelly Ear (Auricularia auricula-judae)

Width approx 50mm

Jelly Ear & what was previously known as Albino Jelly Ear (Auricularia auricula-judae var. lactea)

Width of largest brown growth approx 60mm

Later in the week, I called in at Roughdown Common and found a few more fungi, a couple of which are included in the photographs below. Walking out onto Further Roughdown, I was greeted by a swirl of Magpies making for the trees, at least 14, a couple of Green Woodpeckers, a Mistle Thrush, Blackbird, a single Redwing and a mixed Tit flock including 7+ lovely little Long-tailed Tits. Over on Bulbourne Meadow, 4 Red Kites came through, circling high overhead, a Kingfisher called and a couple of Nuthatches probed for food in the Reflecting Willow, which, incidentally, has had a hair cut...

Rooting Shank (Xerula radicata)
Cap diameter approx 45mm, height approx 120mm

[Roughdown] Inkcap sp Cap diameter approx 30mm

Deceiver sp (Laccaria genus) Cap diameter range 30-80mm

Russula genus Cap diameter approx 50mm

Lepista genus, likely nuda or possibly sordida [Roughdown] Cap diameter approx 50mm

Armillaria genus Cap diameters approx 20mm, 40mm

Conical Brittlestem (Psathyrella conopilus) Cap only, diameter approx 12mm

The more I learn about fungi, the more I appreciate that getting to a definitive species identification is frequently impossible without microscopic examination or advanced ecological knowledge. I don’t have either of those tools so some IDs are left at the level of genus.

This week’s fungi list with links to further reading

Fly Agaric (Amanita muscaria) [Entrance track to Old Barn car park & Ramacre Wood]
Clouded Agaric or Funnel (Clitocybe nebularis) [Ramacre Wood & Lower Roughdown Wood]
King Alfred’s Cakes (Daldinia concentrica) [Hay & Ramacre Woods]
Rosy Bonnet (Mycena rosea) [Ramacre Wood]
Jelly Ear (Auricularia auricula-judae) [Ramacre Wood]
Rooting Shank (Xerula radicata) [Ramacre Wood]
Inkcap species [top of dell of Lower Roughdown]
Deceiver species (Laccaria genus) [tree covered path NW edge of Bovingdon Reach meadow & Ramacre Wood]
Russula genus [Ramacre Wood]
Lepista genus, likely nuda or possibly sordida [under Oaks, Lower Roughdown] 
Armillaria genus [path south side of Overbourne meadow, Westbrook Hay]
Pholiota genus [Hay Wood]
Conical Brittlestem (Parasola (Psathyrella) conopilus) [Ramacre Wood & path south side of Overbourne meadow, Westbrook Hay]
Hygrophorus genus possibly lindtneri [under Oaks, Lower Roughdown]
Tubaria genus possibly conspersa (Felted Twiglet) [Ramacre Wood]

And, to round things off, it's this week's Oak photograph. Its leaves are well and truly turning now.

Week 23: Damsels on the Moor

Thankfully all these damsels (bar one, I think) were male and they weren’t in the least bit distressed, as far as I could tell. Me, a camera and a pair of binoculars wouldn’t have been much use as a means to securing a rescue, I can assure you. This week, I decided to walk the moors (that sounds like something out of Great Expectations but you know what I mean). I ended up spending most of my time opposite the reflecting willow (photographed below), although, out on Harding’s Moor, it was great to see a family party of 4-5 Jays and a male Kestrel drift through. Down at Two Water’s Moor (east), an adult Song Thrush was stuffing its bill with juicy worms to feed to its youngsters.

Back at Bulbourne Moor, I arrived at the willow at the same time as a Kingfisher zoomed up to perch in a branch. From there, it plunged into the water, emerged with a fish and darted off, back down river, to feed its growing family or, perhaps, to sustain the nesting process all over again. Also downriver, I could hear the Grey Wagtail pair calling to one another. I wonder if they’ve bred nearby this year?

Much of my attention was directed towards the small clumps of vegetation, in the river, by the north bank, almost opposite the willow. In one small 1-metre-square area, I spotted 5 different species of damselfly! There were Red-eyed, Large Red (2), Common Blue (2), Blue-tailed (2) (all males), and a single female Banded Demoiselle. In total, along the stretch of river between the willow and where I stood to take the photograph, there were 2 Red-eyed, 1 Banded Demoiselle, 4 Large Red, 10+ Common Blue and 3 Blue-tailed damselflies. A little further down river (just behind me in relation to the photograph above), were 3+ exquisite male Banded Demoiselles. They really are breathtakingly beautiful.

Banded Demoiselle (male)

Banded Demoiselle (female)

Large Red (male)

Common Blue (male)

Blue-tailed (male)

Red-eyed (male)

Photographing all of them without a pair of waders, a swimming costume(!) or a boat was a precarious business. Countless times I nearly ended up as Kingfisher food. The Red-eyed and Blue-tailed damselflies were particularly tricky and simply would not perch within optimum photographic range (anyone would think they were wild and free!). Regardless, they were peaceful and mesmerising to watch, fluttering over the water; taking their time to decide which perch was best; settling and then unsettling; “bumping into” one another and finally settling for longer, before starting the whole “which perch is best” deliberation all over again.

Dragonflies and damselflies belong to a group (or “order”) of insects known as Odonata. Within this order, there are two main types (or “sub-orders”): damselflies (Zygoptera, meaning "paired-wings") and the true dragonflies (Anisoptera, meaning "unequal-winged"). According to the British Dragonfly Society, in damselflies, "[a]ll four wings are near enough equal in size and shape. They are usually small, weakly flying insects that stay close to the water margins or water surface. When at rest, most species hold their wings along the length of their abdomen. The Emerald Damselflies are an exception and usually hold their wings partly open when at rest. They are therefore known as Spreadwings in North America. The eyes are always separated, never touching. The larvae have external plates (lamellae) at the end of the abdomen, which act as accessory gills.” So, there we go. If you'd like to read more about their life cycle and breeding process, there's a lovely article written by Scottish Natural Heritage here.

Eventually, it was nearly time for lunch but, just as I was about to leave, a female Mallard swam up with her 5 ducklings (one was hiding behind the vegetation in the photograph below). Always irresistible!

This week's Oak photograph is a little different. No reason, I just fancied a change.

Finally, as I was crouching by the river this week, it was nice to be greeted with a friendly hello by a local dog owner. A timely reminder that in a couple of weeks, 12th July, there is the fun Box Moor Trust event, Paws on the Moors, aimed at the canine carers who enjoy the land, come rain or shine.

Week 17: Knowledge & Affection

“A little knowledge is a dangerous thing”. I don’t mean that in the “I’ve read ‘Neuroscience for Dummies’ and can therefore perform life-saving brain surgery” scenario! I mean that once you ignite the spark of curiosity, you could well be hard-pressed to extinguish it. Since spending just 3 hours in the company of lovely mothing enthusiasts, I now find myself scouring the scrub for day flying moths, developing larvae or pupating chrysalides. (I positively glowed at the discovery of Drinker moth caterpillars yesterday at Dellfield. And, I even contemplate leaving the outside light on at night to see what might turn up. What have you done to me Ben/Roger/David?!). Since finding, identifying and researching my first batch of Box Moor Bugs, I am now on the look out for more weird and wonderful creatures. Whatever you do, don’t give me any interesting facts on spiders, otherwise this blog will become disastrously inaccessible to the countless arachnophobes out there. So, beware the peculiar perils of knowledge.

As I write, it is another gloriously sunny day and Box Moor is blooming. It’s a shame I can only capture a tiny snippet of it each week. I took a walk through the Boxmoor moors yesterday morning, finishing up at Dellfield. On the banks of the river Bulbourne, I yielded to my obsession with the reflecting willow. Bulbourne Moor and Meadow are now lush and covered in buttercups, and the willow is a vibrant, celadon green.

Left, 5th March 2014; Right, 14th May 2014

I made my way through Harding’s Moor, where the cattle were taking their role as conservation grazers very seriously; the Green Woodpeckers were yaffling and 2 Grey Herons were perched on the river. Over Station Road and through the handsome herd of horses (more conservation grazers) on Station Moor. The Grey Wagtail pair and a couple of Canada Geese were by the bridge and 3 Swifts circled overhead. Later, on my way back, a family of Starlings were lined up on the bridge railings, with the fledglings begging parents for food.

I amassed innumerable photographs of bugs and beetles (I repeat, beware the perils of knowledge! Don't say I didn't warn you). Below are 3 of the prettier ones. The Green Nettle Weevil on my finger, provides a sense of scale. All of the creatures were between 6 and 9mm long. The first and third were on Harding’s Moor, the second on Station Moor. For more information (if you dare), just click on their names.

Green Nettle Weevil

Green Dock Beetle (pregnant female)

Rhopalid bug (Corizus hyoscyami)

The Belted Galloways were grazing in the sunshine on Herdsman’s Moor, and a flock of Jackdaws were pulling up worms from the rain-soaked earth.

Finally, I reached Dellfield. I had no idea that watching a tree, every week, for 4 months would lead to me developing such a sense of affection for it. When I first caught sight of the Oak yesterday, I was genuinely thrilled to see how much greener it has become. For weeks, from any and every angle, I have been photographing the stark, leafless branches. I know its shape inside out and back to front. I know its form and place within the landscape. Now, as the leaves develop, it is as though I am watching what was the bare bones of a pencil sketch, finally begin to engender soaring colour, defining detail and palpable life. It is surprisingly wonderful and I can’t wait to see the Oak next week.

Left, 26th February 2014; Right, 14th May 2014

Week 11: Misty Morning & Willow Patterns

Yesterday’s forecast: bright with sunny spells all day. Perfect, I thought. I’ll get out around Boxmoor and visit the Oak. I am still frustratingly below par so venturing out requires a degree of psyching myself up and a little forward planning. Of course, the day dawned, complete with a thick blanket of fog. A more sensible individual would have postponed her jaunt into the gloom until the sun had burned its way through the moisture. Not me. Like an oil tanker, my course was set and there was no turning back. So, off I went into the mist...

The backdrop to the Dellfield oak (below) was the murky trees of Barnfield. The leaf buds are due to open this month so I shall keep a close eye on them.

Walking along Two Waters Road, it’s easy to spot a variety of willows on the adjacent moor, with one particular tree rising up from the river and overhanging the footpath. Its fresh leaves were still carrying the raindrops from the night before.

Through Two Waters Moor (west) and all the daisies were still fast asleep, their heads closed up to the dark, dank morning. I hadn’t realised this, but the name daisy is thought to be derived from a corruption of “Day’s Eye”. The flower retracts all its petals at night and opens them up again in the morning.

 

Over the weekend, I had noticed a rather lovely pattern in the dead stump of one of the willows, growing by the river, on Bulbourne Meadow.  I returned to this spot and, not long into my photo session, the Kingfisher came to join me. He announced his arrival and perched on one of the low hanging willow branches, just centimetres off the ground, right on the river bank. Less than 8 metres from me, at ankle height, he looked around and then flew a short distance up river, where he hovered like a humming bird before diving to catch a fish. The whole encounter was over within a couple of minutes but was utterly delightful. I shall now always associate the willow pattern with the Kingfisher’s company.

In the past few days, the Chiffchaffs have been joined by singing Blackcaps. I heard at least 2 birds on the moor yesterday. The Grey Wagtails were around too, over on Station Moor, and the floods on Snoxall’s Moor don’t look to be subsiding yet. I had hoped to find a migrant wader, waiting for the fog to clear before carrying on its journey, but no luck. There weren't even any gulls to look through!

Finally, as I was walking back through Station Moor, the Little Egret was fishing in the company of 5 rowdy Woodpigeons, all bathing in the shallows. Unfortunately, by this point, I'd run out of steam but decided that if the light improved, and I had the energy, I'd return in the afternoon to get some video footage of the Little Egret. Needless to say, the sun came out and raw enthusiasm fuelled the video below (it’s a shame it couldn’t also provide a steady platform to stand the tripod on. You’ll have to forgive the occasional wobble in the footage - keeping everything level and steady on rough, boggy grass is harder than I thought!). Interestingly, it isn't the same Little Egret that I photographed last month. That bird had two wonderful, long breeding plumes emanating from its nape. Yesterday's bird only possessed a short plume at the back of its head.

It turned out to be the day of the willow. By the afternoon, the Little Egret had moved to Bulbroune Meadow and was below the tree of my reflection obsession. The Kingfisher couldn't help but put in a cameo appearance or two...