Week 35: Gentle Giant, Furry Cats & Edible Dormice

With a title like that, I feel as though I should open with “Once upon a time...”. I started this week feeling somewhat bereft now that the butterfly season is coming to an end. Their presence makes life that little bit more exciting - you never quite know what is going to flutter past you and whether or not it’ll settle or just give a fleeting view and leave you with an unsolved mystery and a reason to scratch your head.

On Monday, I had a good walk around Roughdown Common. The Juniper bushes are looking beautiful and gothic, adorned with berries which glisten in the sunlight. A Chiffchaff was still singing, the Harebells are flowering but what stopped me in my tracks was a group of 18 hungry, hairy caterpillars munching their way through the leaves of an Oak tree. You could actually hear them chewing! These were the larvae of the Buff-tip moth (Phalera bucephala), feeding up before they drop to the ground, burrow down and overwinter in the soil as pupae (chrysalides). In the spring, they will emerge as fantastic little Buff-tip moths. If you’ve never seen one of these, it is worth taking a look at a photograph. They are the master of disguise, hiding in plain sight, looking to all the world like a broken Silver Birch twig. Amazing little creatures.

Buff-tip Larvae (Phalera bucephala) [approx 5-6cm long]

The sunny, clear skies of Tuesday evening saw me standing in the parched, golden meadow at Dellfield. I wanted to catch the Oak in the last light of the day. Needless to say, every footstep was accompanied by a flurry of Crane flies. But, a short while later, just as I was about to leave, things got a little more exciting, with the arrival of the giant of the eusocial wasp world, a European Hornet (Vespa crabro). I first spotted one of these at the Brickworks back in August. The overriding impression was of a whopping, great big flying insect with a massive yellow butt! It was a good 2.5cm (1 inch) long but never settled and quickly went out of sight. The second encounter was also at the Brickworks and was just as tantalisingly brief. Finally, on Tuesday evening, one of these super wasps flew past me and within a matter of seconds had caught and devoured a defenceless Daddy Longlegs! I heard the clatter of the wings as the Hornet snatched its prey. The sequence of shots below cover a period of less than 60 seconds. They aren’t perfect but hopefully give a flavour of the action.

European Hornet (Vespa crabro) snacking on a Crane fly (Tipula paludosa)

This was a male Hornet (if I’ve counted the abdominal segments correctly: 7 on males, 6 on females), approx 1 inch long, with limited life expectancy(!). In late summer, the queen Hornet (who does all the egg-laying), stops producing worker Hornets (who build the nest, pick up food supplies and take care of the brood), and produces a new generation of males and females. At this time of year, the males leave the nest and perform “nuptial flights” (i.e. mate with unfertilised queens). Unfortunately, the males die soon after mating; the workers and unfertilised queens not long after that, with only the fertilised queens surviving into next Spring. Although they look intimidating, they are less aggressive than your common wasp and will only sting as a last resort or to defend their hive. Ultimately, as the largest european social wasp they are impressive insects and this male certainly made light work of the unsuspecting Crane fly.

Now, I don’t go out much at night...It takes something special to tear me away from my comfy sofa and mindless telly. Wednesday evening, instead of drooling over Mary’s mouthwatering pastries I was wandering the woods of Westbrook Hay. I enlisted the help of a friend with ninja nature skills and we went in search of Edible Dormice. It was this friend who had first shown me this curious, nocturnal mammal back in 2011, near Tring, the site of its original, accidental introduction by Walter Rothschild in 1902. The species is common throughout western Europe but not native to England and can be something of a pest. Its diet is primarily plant-based (nuts, seeds, berries, apples etc). During the day it will sleep in unused bird’s nests, holes in trees or a safe nook or cranny. Over the coming weeks, as winter approaches, they will go into deep hibernation, emerging again in the spring.

OK, so we started our search along the tree-lined path which runs the north-west side of Bovingdon Reach, taking us down into Ramacre Wood. The first creature we actually heard was a Little Owl (Athene noctua) calling from somewhere in Hay Wood. Tawny Owls soon piped up too. But, initially, no sight nor sound of arboreal dormice. Finally, in Ramacre wood, success. My friend homed in on to the subtle sound of an Edible Dormouse feeding (ninja nature skills, I tell you). Unfortunately, we could only hear it (not see it) and eventually had to admit defeat and move on. Walking back the way we came, we had two close encounters with fast moving dormice about 4 feet up in bushes. No chance of photographs though. On our third attempt along this path, it wasn’t a dormouse we saw in the trees but a beautiful Tawny Owl (Strix aluco), looking straight at us (see above photograph)! It can’t have been more than 10-15 metres away, perched on a low branch right above the centre of the path. For a good 25-35 seconds each of us stood staring back at the other. The owl barely moving, us not wanting to break the spell. Of course, the owl eventually decided enough was enough and flew off into the night.

Back to our dormouse hunt. In fact, after 1.5 hours searching, it was all suddenly very easy. Walking from the Dellfield car park, a few metres up the road towards the Old Barn, we found a very obliging fella. He (or she) sat fairly still on a branch for 2-3 minutes whilst I faffed about with camera equipment, flashes that didn’t work and angles that weren’t quite right. Thankfully, I did come away with a few photographs.

Edible Dormouse (Glis glis)

Special thanks to my friend for helping to locate the dinky dormice, identifying the Little Owl call and, most crucially, for holding the torch steady!

If you’re wondering why the night time photographs have a red glow to them, it’s because we used red light for observation. Nocturnal creatures are essentially blind to red light so are not disturbed by it or aware that they are illuminated. You don’t need special equipment, just a standard torch and some red transparent film to put over the front lens. Job done and away you go.

The Little Owl (Athene noctua) in Hay Wood was producing a call similar to this one from xeno-canto (just press play)

The week may have started with missing Summer’s butterflies. But, standing, gazing into the wide eyes of a wild Tawny Owl, hearing a Little Owl chirping away in the darkness and photographing a nocturnal mammal is a stringent tonic. Perhaps I should close with “...and they all lived happily ever after”....although not the Crane fly or the soon-to-be-dead Hornet of course...

Week 26: Purple & Gold Celebration

I am slightly distracted this week by the prospect of being one of a handful of “unofficial photographers” at my friend’s wedding this weekend. I did tell her that I hadn’t done any indoor photography (unless you count Swallows in a barn?!) and that if you haven’t got feathers or antennae, I’ve little idea as to how to go about capturing your best side. Bizarrely this didn’t put her off!

With a busy week ahead, Monday was the only day I was going to be able to get out around Box Moor. At Dellfield, I could hear the family of Kestrels were still around and, up at the Old Barn, the young Swallows were still squirming in their nest*. Making my way into Hay Wood, I could hear a Green Woodpecker, likely a fledgling, constantly calling to a parent. The highlights at the revitalised bird feeders were a Great Spotted Woodpecker, Jay and plenty of Coal Tits, with Nuthatches calling close by.  Emerging from the cool, shady woods I caught sight of a Buzzard circling overhead and then walked back down towards the Oak. I guess this week’s photograph is all about the rare expanse of blue sky.

Late afternoon, on the back of a warm, sunny day, I thought the Brickworks might be a good place to explore. I was hoping for a new moth or butterfly to mark the six month point of this project. In fact, the first “new find” was a Cinnabar moth caterpillar, followed closely by what I later learned was the remains of a Burnet moth chrysalis. There were a couple of fresh-looking 6-spot Burnets in the area so it had perhaps been home to one of those. The scrub really was alive with butterflies but two finds in particular made my heart skip a beat.

Cinnabar moth caterpillar

Marbled White

Burnet moth chrysalis remains

Firstly, this week’s new moth and my “celebration” for reaching the 6 month mark in Project 2014 was a tiny but beautiful Common Purple and Gold moth (Pyrausta purpuralis). It’s not fussy as to when it flies, day or night, and prefers dry grassland and chalky downland habitats. The larval foodplants are corn mint (Mentha arvensis) and thyme (Thymus). Most importantly, it was new to me and a real joy to discover. My photograph doesn't do it justice.

Unfortunately, my new friend was rather flighty and didn’t settle for long before I lost it. However, whilst I was trying to relocate it, I came across my second exciting find of the day. It seemed strangely fitting that after the last 2 weeks of developing affection for the little orange Skipper species, that this week I should run into a mating pair of Small Skippers. Unlike some species, which are easily disturbed, this pair were apparently welded to the flower head! Strong gusts of wind didn’t shift them nor did my carefully and strategically manoeuvring the stem slightly so as to be set against a predominantly dark backdrop. Sitting on the ground, photographing a pair of relaxed, mating butterflies; warmed by the sunshine and, behind me in the bushes, the sighing of Bullfinches. The picture of contentment.

More than satisfied with the day's exploring, I headed home for a cuppa.

Ben and the moth trapping team have continued their nighttime endeavours. Last week's reward at the Brickworks was a superb Scarlet Tiger moth. This is an extremely rare moth in Hertfordshire and therefore a highly significant find for the site. Take a look at Ben’s great blog for a photograph and a more detailed report of the evening.

Finally, I’ve added a new tab at the top entitled “The Oak: Week by Week”. This is the series of 26 photographs charting the Oak over the last 6 months. It’s a visual summary and, if you click on a photograph, it’ll take you to that week’s blog post.

Right, pre-wedding photography angst is kicking back in. I’m not sure who is going to be more nervous on Saturday. The bride or those of us who have the responsibility to record the day for posterity! Wish me luck!

* a quick visit to check on the Swallows this afternoon revealed an empty nest and a quiet barn.

Week 21/A: The Power of a Little Flower

Tuesday morning the sky was blue, the sun was shining and I was feeling absurdly overwhelmed by the possibilities for a walk around Box Moor. Blue skies in particular are so rare that you feel as though you have to ring every last ounce of potential out of days like that. Just the thought of it can be exhausting!

I arrived at Dellfield with only one aim. To photograph the Oak. Good light and blue sky is like being faced with an open goal. Too many options, too rare an opportunity to miss: bound to mess it up. Anyway, having snapped the Oak, I took a wander around the meadow. A Silver Y (Autographa gamma) fluttered up from the grass, numerous Burnet Companions floated by, and there were mating Soldier Beetles (Cantharis rustica) and Scorpion flies (Panorpa communis) galore. I found a single flowering Poppy and a snazzy Five- or Six-Spot Burnet caterpillar (not sure which). Photographing them was like something out of a Laurel and Hardy sketch - every time the breeze died down, I’d just about compose the shot, be ready to fire, and a puff of wind would scupper my efforts (although not entirely, as you can see). Over and over, this happened until I eventually gave up, feeling increasingly paralysed by the potential of the day and my inability to capitalise on it.


I moved on from Dellfield and up to Preston Hill to catch up with the Broad-bodied Chasers. One male was definitely still around. I then carried on through Hay Wood and onto Bovingdon Reach. My idea was to walk to Ramacre Wood and check again for Spotted Flycatchers. Little did I know my morning was about to be transformed by the discovery of a little flower. There I was, somewhat dejected and flummoxed and, down there, just to my right, what did I spy? A Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera)! I couldn’t quite believe my eyes. But, true enough, there it was.....and then, there was another. And another. And another. And this went on and on. In one small area, there must have been around 30 spikes of Bee Orchids*. Dejection was quickly replaced by pure joy! From what I can gather, they have not been reported here before and are considered rare for the area. I suspected they were something special when I found them and I finally knew how I was going to best use this beautiful morning of near perfect light and potential: photographing the Box Moor Bee Orchids. And, they deserve a post of their own...

*I went back to Bovingdon Reach on Wednesday evening, sure that I must have over-estimated the number of Bee Orchids. I did a fairly thorough count and totalled 92 spikes!

Left, 19 February 2014; Right, 10 June 2014

Week 16: Not so Dandy

As the yoof would say, I proper overdid it last week. Bouncing bunnies, rare butterflies and merry mothing adventures were a Lepidoptera too far. I’ve had to scale back a little this week. Evidently, the curative powers of nature take a while to kick in. So, this post is all about Dellfield, or at least, the bits of it I could identify and photograph yesterday. In fact, in a glass half full kind of a way, scaling back has the advantage of forcing you to look more carefully and patiently at what you can access, and put that which is off limits to one side.

Ever since capturing the Oak, with the mass of yellow dandelions in the foreground, I have been waiting for the right weather and the seed heads to develop, in order to repeat the shot. Unfortunately, Monday night’s heavy rain drenched and destroyed many of the fluffy, white orbs I’d hoped to include. C’est la vie. You can only photograph what’s there. It’ll be orchid season soon anyway… So, we have, the not so dandy Dandelions...

If you’d like to see how a dandelion goes from flower to seed head, take a look at this great, time lapsed video clip.

Pretty pink/purple Bush Vetch (Vicia sepium) is coming into flower now and is dotted all around Dellfield. On the common nettles, Small Tortoiseshell larvae (caterpillars) are emerging from their communal webs, built after hatching (left). They will continue to construct these webs as and when they move on, before, finally, individually finding a suitable site for pupation. By the middle of the summer, metamorphosis complete, the new butterflies will start to free themselves from their chrysalides.


My search for life (of a non-alien form) kept me glued to the stinging nettles (where else?!) (ouch). They are all around the fringes of Dellfield and are, as ever, teeming with invertebrates, including a couple of easily missed, day flying, Small Yellow Underwing moths (Panemeria tenebrata). According to Butterfly Conservation, they fly “actively in sunshine visiting flowers such as dandelion and buttercup.” Neither of the specimens I found had read the literature and were on Cow Parsley (Anthriscus sylvestris) instead (below).

As I walked the west side of Dellfield, a male Blackcap kept me company with his scratchy song which was occasionally overlaid with the fluty melody of a Blackbird. Up in the trees, a pair of Kestrels were busy doing spring time things and overhead the resident pair of Buzzards were calling and soaring. In the midst of this, I came across a 14-spot Ladybird (Propylea 14-punctata). This is a native, british species and is about half the size of the more familiar 7-spot Ladybird (Coccinella 7-punctata). My photograph (right) won’t win any prizes but I was chuffed to capture the opening of the protective wing casings before lift off.

There are at least 2 pairs of Green Woodpeckers around Hay Wood. One pair was up in Barnfield yesterday. The male (nice red “moustache”) was stabbing the moist earth with his tough bill, trying to get at a food source. He will mainly feed on ants but he could have been after other insects. I just managed to photograph him before the pair of them flew to trees in Ryders. That superb yellow-green rump glowed in the brilliant sunshine. I'll keep my eyes peeled for baby 'peckers over the coming weeks.

Finally, a cautionary tale. Should you ever find yourself in a field of Spring flowers, about to crouch down to inspect a bee on a dandelion, make sure you check its wingman hasn’t landed on the back of your leg (almost just behind your knee, say). Wingman bee stung me, even through thick denim jeans, but it served its purpose. At the first “prickle”, I stood up quickly and the bee flew off, apparently not squished by my squatting on it. I was very relieved not to have caused inadvertent death and the bee sting is only mildly itchy now. All’s well that ends well.

Finally, finally, before I forget, Ben is hoping to run the moth traps again this evening at Box Moor. You’ll be able to catch up with the results on his blog, later this week.