Week 51: Mistletoe & Lime

Hay Wood

My head this week has been full of Mabel the Goshawk and the last of lingering flu bugs. However, I have crawled out from under the duvet and I did manage to put down “H is for Hawk” by Helen Macdonald long enough to explore a little of Box Moor. I made it to Lower and Further Roughdown, walked the Brickworks circuit and, of course, visited Dellfield and Hay Wood. Treecreepers seemed to pop up at various points on dull, dark days and transformed hapless wandering into joyful discovery. In the woods at Lower Roughdown, I was following a scurrying little mouse-bird up at nearby tree trunk when I heard the whistling of Redwing. Through the trees, flinging fallen oak leaves this way and that, was a flock of c35 thrushes searching for food on the woodland floor. Amongst them were c12 Chaffinches. Unfortunately, they did a stirling job of disappearing into thin air the moment I moved and I didn’t really get a chance to check for Brambling or other winter finches amongst them.

Over on Dellfield, there were another 67 Redwing and a few Mistle Thrushes probing the sodden earth for worms. Into Hay Wood, I came across another couple of singing Treecreepers along with Goldcrests, Nuthatch and a mixed Tit flock. Already, the shoots of Bluebells have broken through and I can’t help feeling like Spring is just around the corner! This sense of new beginnings was reinforced at the Brickworks, where a number of male Great Tits were in full song, chiming loudly to assert territory and lure a lady. I had hoped that the abundance of Teasels on site there might be too much for any self-respecting finch to resist, particularly Lesser Redpolls. Sadly, no luck. Bullfinches and Goldfinches, along with another small flock of Chaffinches had to suffice.

So, what of the title “Mistletoe & Lime”? Well, hopefully, with more inane rambling, all will become clear. There’s no point to be made, just observations to share. Back at Westbrook Hay, I wandered over to admire the handiwork of the Conservation Volunteers in laying the hedge along the south-west boundary of Barnfield meadow. In doing so, I stumbled upon a rotting tree trunk, complete with its own miniature terrain and curious trumpet-like formations. In fact, they are the podetia (stalk-like growths) of the thallus (the body) of the lichen Cladonia fimbriata, commonly known as Trumpet Lichen. This got me thinking about the relationship between organisms. In the case of lichen, this is a mutualistic symbiotic partnership of a fungus with an algae and/or cyanobacteria. The mycrobiont (the fungus) provides a robust structure and an anchor to a surface, whilst the photobiont (the algea or cyanobacteria) supplies energy (glucose) via photosynthesis. The combination of the two creates a unique form and structure, a composite organism, which is totally unlike either of its constituent parts. Ultimately, both benefit from the marriage, combined they take on a new form and they thrive. This is, of course, a powerful contrast to a parasitic relationship and the one which I had been meaning to briefly include in a blog post all year!

Trumpet Lichen (Cladonia fimbriata): approx height 15-20mm; approx diameter of cup 3-7mm

Trumpet Lichen (Cladonia fimbriata)

During the last 12 months, it has been impossible not to notice the numerous infestations of Mistletoe (Viscum album) on the Lime trees in Ryders meadow. I couldn’t leave this project without mentioning them and, as it happens, Lichen symbiosis seemed a fitting context. From what I understand, Mistletoe is predominantly a parasitic plant, although there is some argument that it does make a photosynthetic contribution, albeit minimal.

According to the RHS, Mistletoe is “a parasitic plant that lives off the nutrients and water from a host tree. Although it is parasitic, it will not kill the host tree but can weaken it. The berries are often spread by birds from one tree to another, and this is how the large rounded clumps of mistletoe form in tree branches. The most common host tree in the UK is apple, but poplar and lime are also frequent hosts.”

It is no coincidence that the Limes on Ryders are frequently rattling with the alarm calls of Mistle Thrushes (Turdus viscivorus). The bird’s scientific name means “Mistletoe eating thrush” [Turdus is the Latin for "thrush", and viscivorus, "mistletoe eater", comes from viscum "mistletoe" and vorare, "to devour"]. The bird loves Mistletoe berries, it’s just a shame the Lime trees have to suffer.


Finally I’ve also included a photograph of some Ivy (Hedera helix) growing up the trunk of a tree in Lower Roughdown. Ivy isn’t parasitic and doesn’t penetrate the tree’s bark or roots. I just liked the way it looked and the sense that the tree leant form and strength to an otherwise flimsy organism. The RHS discuss its relative merits and pitfalls here if you’re interested.

Mistletoe (Viscum album) in Lime tree

Ivy (Hedera helix)

This week’s Oak photograph was taken on Monday, in the misty gloom.

Week 50: Bugs & Frogs of a Different Kind

Last Sunday morning, the forecast for the week ahead suggested Monday through to Wednesday morning were going to be glorious. Hard frosts with bright clear skies. Perfect, I thought: Trust land, rendered in dramatic winter light, covered in shimmering shards of frost. I was looking forward to getting back out there.

Sunday evening, as I drove back from Warwick, I suddenly had the most annoying frog in my throat, which all the fishing in the world would not retrieve. Back home, I picked up the exciting news that a Penduline Tit (Remiz pendulinus) had been found at Meadow Lane gravel pit in Bedfordshire. This is a little bird I have wanted to see for a fair old while. In 2013, I was sorely tempted to bribe friend, family or stranger to somehow get down to Stodmarsh in Kent to see one which was wintering in a reed bed there. It was a relief when that bird finally stopped “showing well” and I could stop pining for it.

Anyway, Monday morning, still harbouring my rasping frog and having had only 1 hour’s sleep (for no obvious reason whatsoever), I joined a couple of birding friends for a Trip to the Tit. I figured I could hit Box Moor the following day. The forecast was spot on. Freezing cold, a hard frost but wall-to-wall sunshine. The Penduline Tit rarely settled, moving from one stem of Reedmace to the next, searching for grubs and feeding on the seeds. Views through the telescope were amazing. The sun was behind us and the Tit perfectly lit, its bandit-like markings and colouring irresistibly beautiful. It eventually disappeared into some vegetation and we called it a day, back home in time for lunch.

By this point, I was beginning to wonder if the 1 hour’s sleep, my thumping headache and the frog in my throat were perhaps going to develop into something more sinister. Just in case, I thought I’d better get to the Oak that afternoon and, whilst I was out, I decided I may as well check the small reed bed by Old Fishery Lane for Reedmace. I was fairly sure there wasn’t any but I wanted to be certain.

At Dellfield, the ground was still hard under foot and, even at 2 o’clock in the afternoon, anything that hadn’t been exposed to the sun was still covered in hoar frost. I photographed the Oak and some ice crystals on a fallen stick and hoped that I’d be able to return the following day to make the most of the frozen landscape. Off Old Fishery Lane, on the east side, a Little Egret and the young female Kingfisher were fishing in the narrow channel of the Bulbourne. As I suspected, the pocket-sized reed bed doesn’t contain any Reedmace - it would take a small flock of winged pigs and a minor miracle for a Penduline Tit to tarry here. It’s not beyond the realms of possibility that a Water Rail is lurking in there somewhere though...

By now, you’re probably wondering why I’ve mostly been prattling on about a bird in Bedfordshire instead of the wildlife in Box Moor. The thing is, I woke up on Tuesday morning with a temperature of 102 deg F and, the rest of the week, as they say, has been a write off. I've barely left the sofa and the comfort of a duvet, let alone the house! The fever broke yesterday but my head and chest are still full of bugs. Anyway, since you’ve come this far in the tale of an out-of-town Penduline Tit, I should probably include a photograph or two, even if the bird was a little distant.

Penduline Tit (Remiz pendulinus)

Ordinarily, you’d expect this species to be wintering down in Spain or Portugal or over in Greece. Maybe this was a Danish bird that got blown west and didn’t fancy going any further, who knows. Either way, it was a splendid late Christmas present.

In the sequence of heavily cropped photographs below, the bird had found a grub in the seed head and proceeded to pick it up with its claw foot and place it in its beak.

Penduline Tit (Remiz pendulinus)

I’m crossing my fingers that I’ll manage more than just an Oak photograph next week.

All that remains for me to do is to wish any readers a very happy new year and to hope that it includes good health and a fair dose of nature’s wonders.