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 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...