Photo Blog

I love observing nature through the changing seasons both in my Norfolk wildlife garden and the surrounding countryside. I blog about wildlife gardening as well as about Norfolk butterflies, wildflowers and other flora and fauna that I come across. Bookmark my Norfolk nature photo blog to keep up to date with my photographic adventures.

The Fifth And Most Beautiful Season

The sight of a Common Darter dragonfly perching on Purple Loosestrife is a sure sign that autumn is just around the corner …

Its funny how you intuitively sense the turning of the seasons even before anything obvious has actually changed. Its like a little pause as nature takes its breath before things transition.

The days are calm, its still hot and sunny, storms have yet to arrive; yet things are somehow imperceptibly different. Maybe the light is softer and more golden, maybe a dew appears, maybe you notice a spiders web, or dusk arriving that little bit earlier.

German writer Kurt Tucholsky called this magical, all-too-brief hiatus between summer and autumn the “Fifth season”. Ironically, Tucholsky lived during a period of transition himself -becoming a major literary figure during the turbulent Weimar period in Germany and being one of the first writers to have books burned when Hitler came to power. I couldn’t find an English translation so I’ve attempted a rough side-by-side translation of his poem below (my German translation scores at uni were always lousy, so please forgive any linguistic clumsiness).

For me nothing evokes this “fifth season” like the sight of Small Copper butterflies dancing amongst the beautiful magenta Purple Loosestrife flowerspikes that encircle my wildlife pond, and crimson Common Darters waging their ariel battles and hovering in tandem above the water. Such a beautiful, yet ephemeral sights …

“One morning you smell autumn. It is not yet cold; it is not yet windy;
nothing actually has changed at all - and yet everything has.”
— Kurt Tucholsky, 1890-1935

Die Fünfte Jahreszeit - Kurt Tucholsky

Wenn der Sommer vorbei ist und die Ernte in die Scheuern gebracht ist, wenn
sich die Natur niederlegt, wie ein ganz altes Pferd, das sich im Stall hinlegt,
so müde ist es - wenn der späte Nachsommer im Verklingen ist und der frühe
Herbst noch nicht angefangen hat - dann ist die fünfte Jahreszeit.

Nun ruht es. Die Natur hält den Atem an;
an andern Tagen atmet sie unmerklich
aus leise wogender Brust. Nun ist alles vorüber: geboren ist, gereift ist, gewachsen ist, gelaicht ist, geerntet ist - nun ist es vorüber.

Nun sind da noch die Blätter und die Sträucher,
aber im Augenblick dient das zugar nichts; wenn überhaupt in der Natur ein Zweck verborgen ist: im Augenblicksteht das Räderwerk still. Es ruht.

Mücken spielen im schwarzgoldenen Licht, im Licht sind wirklich schwarze Töne,
tiefes Altgold liegt unter den Buchen, Pflaumenblau auf den Höhen ... kein Blatt
bewegt sich, es ist ganz still. Blank sind die Farben, der See liegt wie gemalt,
es ist ganz still. Ein Boot, das flußab gleitet, Aufgespartes wird dahingegeben - es ruht.

So vier, so acht Tage - Und dann geht etwas vor. Eines Morgens riechst du den Herbst. Es ist noch nicht kalt; es ist nicht windig; es hat sich eigentlich gar nichts geändert - und doch alles.

Noch ist alles wie gestern: Die Blätter, die Bäume, die Sträucher ... aber nun ist alles anders....Das Wunder hat vielleicht vier Tage gedauert oder fünf, und du hast gewünscht,
es solle nie, nie aufhören... Spätsommer, Frühherbst und das, was zwischen ihnen
beiden liegt. Eine ganz kurze Spanne Zeit im Jahre.

Es ist die fünfte und schönste Jahreszeit.

The Fifth Season - Kurt Tucholsky

When summer is over and the harvest brought into the barns, when nature lies down like an old horse that lies down in the stall,
it is so tired - when the late
days of summer are waning and early autumn has not yet arrived - that is
the fifth season.

Now it rests. Nature holds its breath;
on other days it breathes imperceptibly
from a gently heaving chest. Now everything is over: born, ripened, grown, spawned, harvested - now it is over.

Now the leaves and bushes are still there,
but in an instant that turns to nothing;
if there is a purpose hidden in nature at all: for a second the gears stand still. It rests.

Midges play in black-golden light, in the light are really black tones,
deep antique gold lies under the beeches, plum-blue in the canopy … no leaf
stirs, it is completely still. The colours are bold, the lake is as if painted,
it is completely still. A boat that glides downstream,
What is stored up is released - it rests.

So four, so eight days - and then something happens. One morning you smell autumn. It is not yet cold; it is not yet windy; nothing actually has changed at all - and yet everything has.

Everything is still like yesterday: the leaves, the trees, the bushes … but now everything is different …. The wonder has lasted maybe four days or five, and you have wished
it would never ever end…late summer, early autumn and that which lies between them both. A whole short span of time in the year.

It is the fith and most beautiful season.

Seeing Small Copper butterflies in my wildlife garden is another hint that autumn is on its way.

An Early Autumn

After a lacklustre summer, it seemed Autumn was all too eager to get started and arrived right on cue. Even as the calendar clocked over into September, the temperatures fell and clouds and stormy rain appeared. But as always September also brought some bright mild sunny days later on in the month to enjoy.

One of my favourite things about this time of year is watching late Common and Ruddy darter dragonflies doing aerial battle and, once paired up, ovipositing over the pond backlit by that soft, hazy golden autumnal sunshine filled with gossamer spider parachutes. This year was no exception and it seems too that the early spring pond work finally bore fruit as at long last I spotted a Southern Hawker female ovipositing amongst the bulrush roots.

Dragonflies are supremely resilielnt and one of nature’s evolutionary survivors. However uncertain and chaotic things may seem, I find it somehow reassuring to observe dragonflies knowing that they have been on this planet for over 300 million years, predating both dinosaurs and birds, and have survived millenia of change.

Common Darter dragonfly stretching out in the autumn sunshine perched on flowering Purple loosestrife

A female Southern Hawker dragonfly ovipositing amongst Bulrush roots, hopefully a seal of approval for the spring declutter work

Ruddy Darter dragonfly basking on a reed

The Dragonflies Return

One of my biggest concerns last summer was the reduced diversity in the dragonflies visiting our pond, due I suspected to “ecological succession”. Over time ponds naturally fill in and the water becomes more acidic from leaves and organic material. This changes the nature of the habitat and correspondingly, of its inhabitants.

After eight years of benign neglect, our pond plants and marginals had established and flourished so well that there wasn’t a drop of open water left on the surface of our pond. I’d read that certain dragonfly species, particularly larger species like Hawkers require this in order to breed.

True enough, last year we didnt see a single Hawker dragonfly, nor did we see Ruddy Darters and even our usually reliable Broad-bodied Chasers and Four-spotted Chasers didn’t linger. So over winter we prioritised a big clear out in order to create an area of clear water again, although we couldn’t quite bring ourselves to remove our Water-lily root Island.

The long cold spring seemed to delay dragonfly emergences so I was on tenterhooks and initially very uncertain whether our intervention was having a positive or negative effect in drawing in dragonflies. Thankfully the pond seemed to burst into life in our sunny mid June spell. Both Broad-bodied Chasers and numerous Four-spotted Chasers arrived in style, displaying their usual spectacular aeriel battle for territorial hegemony.

To top it off, just a few days ago I was delighted when I saw both Large-Red damselflies mating again and then this Emperor dragonfly ovipositing. This latter species in particular, not seen since our very first season and known for its preference for young very open ponds, seemed a promising sign. Sadly there are still no Hawkers about, but overall, it seems our local Odonata have given our major spring clean a seal of approval, which will hopefully bear more fruit in two year’s time with further new emergences.

You can read a short history of the dragonfly and damselfly colonisation of our new wildlife pond in this blog post . My last new species, a damselfly, arrived the following summer (July 2019) to make ten Odonata species in total. Not bad going for a garden pond!

An Emperor dragonfly (blue form) ovipositing next to the recreated open water in our rejuvenated pond.

The Large Red damselfly, an early species, paired wtih an ovipositing female in our mature wildlife pond.

Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly perched on an old Reedmace stem, they seem to have colonised well.

Azure Blue damselfly, perched on Lesser Bird’s Foot Trefoil. They are our most numerous damselfly.

Sparkling Wings, Spangly Light

The return of fine weather after a week of rain and low temperatures seemed to mark the season’s transition from late Spring into mid Summer. It also brought a flurry of emergences in and arrivals to my wildlife garden.

The Sparrows and Blackbirds have both fledged and are cheeping and chirring charmingly at their parents next to the feeders. As the nectar- and colour-rich magenta Knapweed starts to emerge en masse so do the meadow butterflies. The Meadow Brown and Large Skipper butterflies have emerged, the latter slightly battered so perhaps he had the misfortune to emerge right before the bad weather. In the old Rose garden Goldfinches are frequently landing on the Knapweed buds and a fresh Small Tortoiseshell has been enjoying the Oxeye daisies. A female Common Blue has finally materialised so hopefully my lonesome early male will find his partner.

The other arrival surprised me a little, I’ve been worrying about my pond both for its survival through the drought but also more broadly, due to the process of succession, the gradual growing in causes acidification from leaf matter and less free space. This affects which species can live in a freshwater pond and last year I saw reduced biodiversity the first time.

But my spirits lifted along with the water level thanks to the arrival of a beautiful Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly. He took up the territory for a day or two, on the second I watched as he mated twice with a passing female then hovered over her on protective sentry duty while she oviposited on leaves. Shortly after he moved on to try his luck elsewhere.

Missing Frogs

The warmer sunny weather and the onset of our seasonal wild duck visit prompted me to check our now very overgrown pond for emerging amphibians. Our Common newts, Lissotriton vulgaris, seem to be loving the pondweed full freshwater habitat, which having been left largely unmanaged for 7 year, now has little remaining open water. The Common newts were plentiful, affording me the chance to enjoy observing this male cleverly using an uncurling new Water lily leaf as cover to stealthily creep up on its prey.

Sadly there was no sign of any frogs or frogspawn as yet and its getting late even for Norfolk, in past years we had Tadpoles swimming about by now. It’s looking likely that the local population has been struck by a rampant viral disease called Ranavirus (oh, the irony) perhaps also being adversely affected by habitat loss from local development nearby. If you are inspired to build a wildlife pond of your own and are offered or come across some frogspawn, please dont take it and introduce it to your pond so as to avoid the risk of spreading this ambhibian disease further.

Backlit Bulrush

A bulrush seed spike, or inflorescence, can hold up to 200,000 tiny seeds dispersed by the wind over winter

This winter is proving milder than usual and, so far, snowless but winter can be beautiful in many different ways. Certainly enjoying the beautiful seedheads of various native wildflowers is one such pleasure for me. Typha latifolia or Common Reedmace, known simply as “Bulrush” to most of us, flowers mid to late summer, but the large cigar-like seedheads last right through winter. This Common Reedmace seedhead was gently dispersing its myriad tiny seeds into a light steady breeze on a golden winter’s day.

Wildlife Value of Bulrush / Common Reedmace

Bulrush offers much more wildlife value than first might appear. It is an emergent marginal plant so its protruding leaf and flower spikes offer an emergence route for dragonfly and damselfliy larva and anchor point as they leave their watery life behind to metamorphosis. Meanwhile its bushy base clumps offer dense shelter from predators to all types of creatures visiting the water’s edge including newts, frogs, toads, shrews and, if you’re lucky, water voles.

Common reedmace supports four moth species in all. The three larger or “macro” moths are: the Bulrush Wainscot, Nonagria typhae, Webb's Wainscot, Globia sparganii and the Rush Wainscot, Globia algae, all of which burrow into its thick stems. The aone small -”micro” moth - the Bulrush Cosmet, Limnaecia phragmitella lives in the Bulrush’s seed heads, along with other insects like the Bulrush bug Chilacis typhae. A further insect resident is the Common reed beetle Donacia aquatica, whose larval stage feeds on the Reedmace’s shoots and then pupates in its root system.

Gardening Value of Bulrush / Common Reedmace

Common Reedmace flowers, though unassuming, are a surprisingly delicate creamy white but undoubtedly its greatest aesthetic value is in offering year round shape and form to a pond margin thanks to its dense bushy nature and broad tall spikey leaves. Additionally, its tall, cigar-like cylindrical seedheads form in late summer offer striking structural interest right through the winter.

Bulrush has historically been much maligned by traditional gardeners for its vigour and indeed its prolific seedheads, which can contain up to 200,000 seeds each, do mean it can be quick to spread and selfseed. However it is very easily pulled out if it starts expanding too enthusiatically and is a great addition to almost any sized wildlife pond. In smaller ponds it may be a good idea to plant it in containers to help rein in its expansionist tendencies.

Plant Lore of Bulrush / Common Reedmace

Being a longstanding native of our lakes rivers and ponds and widespread right across the British Isles, Common Reedmace has nearly as many descriptive folklore names as its seedhead does seeds! Aruond 40 often colourful folklore names have been documented for it. Many such as Black cap, Blackie toppers, Blackheaded laddies, Black Puddings and Hard-head reference the early dark seed head phase, some like Candlewick, Chimneysweep, Pokers, Flue brushes allude to its tall spikes, yet others still including Cat’s tails, Pussies, Pussy tails, Flax-tail evoke its late winter stage shedding fluffy seeds. There are also the odd biblical, maritime and punitive variants including Devil’s poker, Holy poker and Cat'-o’-nine-tails. A few linguistically more obscure names are there too such as Dod, Gladden, Levvers and Seg (perhaps an earlier form of sedge).

Ironically its most common name, Bulrush, isn’t strictly correct. The true Bulrush is actually Scirpus lacustris (also Schoenoplectus lacustris), also an emergent native but in a different plant family and often also called Common Club-rush to avoid confusion.

Bulrush does carry one longstanding superstition, for some reason the seedhead spikes are traditionally believed to denote bad luck or death if brought into the house.

Culinarily its roots used to be used like potatoes and ground to make a high protein flour, while its new shoots were used as an asparagus substitute. Medicinally it was used as a diuretic and its leaves or roots were used to help sores and other wounds

More on its historical uses can be found at Plants For A Future

Tenth Green Damselfly

Female Banded Demoiselle, Calopteryx splendens, perched on Common Knapweed

How time flies, I had a whole series of late spring early summer blog posts planned to write, got waylaid and now suddenly its midsummer already! Although this image is an imperfect “grab” shot rather than a nature study, I just had to share it because it is exciting news for our wildlife pond..

Last year I blogged about the nine damselfly and dragonfly species my widllife pond had attracted as it evolved over its six years and speculated that might be the maximum a relatively small pond like mine could achieve due to the way pond habitat changes.

Then unexpectedly on 5th July I spotted this iridescent green female Banded Demoiselle damselfly, grandly named Calopteryx splendens, its vivid emerald green contrasting beautifully against the deep purple of the Common Knapweed flowers it was perched amongst.

She represents the tenth species to have visited our Wildlife pond and garden. Not all consecutively of course, and some will never return'; we've learned that ponds evolve over time naturally to gradually fill in, undergoing an inevitable acidification in the process, which some species can’t tolerate.

The male Banded Demoiselles are blue with a clear blue band across the forewings so she definitely is a female. The species is easily confused with the Beautiful Demoiselle, Calopteryx virgo, but that species is a species of fast-flowing rivers and isn’t resident in Norfolk. In contrast Banded Demoiselles prefer slow flowing watercourses with a muddy bottom. There’s plenty of debris in mine with all our surrounding vegetation so I wonder if she was eyeing up our pond for ovipositing. Only time will tell…

And Then There Were Nine...

Watching Nar Cottage's nature pond transform from a muddy hole in our clay earth into a lush, thriving, diverse insectopolis has been one of the most fascinating and rewarding experiences of our five-year wildlife gardening project. Each year we've seen a new species of dragon or damselfly colonise our pond. This year a further arrival brought the grand total to some nine species, five dragonflies and four damselflies. Here they all are, in order of appearance and colonisation. This is the story of a humble pond's evolution into a local wildlife mecca.

Nar Cottage Pond and bog garden as it was in May 2014, newly planted with lots of bare earth

Nar Cottage wildlife pond as it is today, rich in aquatic and marginal vegetation and surrounded by a native wildflower meadow (June 2017)

First on the scene was a large male Broad-bodied Chaser dragonfly, Libellula depressa, arriving the very first week of June 2014, our pond's first spring, closely followed by a female.  A beautifully marked dragonfly of early summer with a penchant for shallow sunny ponds, the males are a dusky shade of powder-blue and the females a rich mustard yellow.

My first ever sighting of a Broad-bodied Chaser, Libella depressa, in my very own back garden, thanks to my new wildlife pond in June 2014

A golden yellow female Broad-bodied Chaser dragonly perched on red campion flowers

The dusky blue of the male Broad-bodied Chaser dragonfly, Libellula depressa

Broad-bodied Chasers return in 2018 after missing a year. Highly territorial, this one saw off a passing Southern hawker dragonfly.

Next to move in on the 1st of July was my very first damselfly species, the vivid Azure Damselfly, Coenagrion puella. Blue damselflies can be quite hard to identify but I discovered the Azure's distinguishing feature is that it has two short black stripes on the side of its thorax, whereas the Common Blue Damselfly, Enallagma cyathigerum only has one. They took to our pond enthusiastically and set about ovipositing eggs for future generations!

Azure Damselflies ovipositing in tandem. Adult male Azure Damselflies are vivid turquoise. Most females have wide black bars on their abdomen with a lime green colour, about 10% are blue in colouration.

Immature Azure Damselflies are pale lilac (the females predominantly black as in their adult form) and have brown eyes.

Our third arrival was the dramatic and impressive Emperor Dragonfly, another species I'd never encountered before. Carrying an equally imperial latin name  Anax imperator is one of the UK's biggest dragonflies and undoubtedly the most regal. According to Lewington, the Emperor's "vigour, aggression and agility in flight are unequalled in Britain".

The Emperor has a reputation for being a bit of a pioneer species and is known for colonising younger ponds so it made sense to see it early on in our pond's existence. The larva have a fearsome reputation for their creative hunting methods and can occasionally mature in a single year although they usually take two. The surrounding meadow and in subsequent years also pond foliage rapidly filled in to envelop the pond so I never did see an Emporer again.

A female Emperor dragonfly, Anax imperator, ovipositing on the base of reeds

The vivid green and blue of the Emporer dragonfly

 

August brought another two species, one dragonfly, one damsel and the total to 5 dragonflies in our first season. Next up was the Common Darter, Sympetrum striolatum, first spotted basking on the bare earth next to the pond. A month later I was even more excited to see a mating couple zooming around our pond, hopefully ensuring future generations to come.

My first sighting of a Common Darter, Sympetrum striolatum, August 2014

A pair of mating Common Darter dragonflies mid-flight over my sparsely vegetated new pond, September 2014

A Common Darter dragonfly perched on Knapweed in my wildflower meadow, July 2016

My second August arrival proved to be the Common Blue damselfly, Enallagma cyathigerum, which has a flight period from May through to September. Blue damsels can be tricky to distinguish from each other, but the single short stripe on the thorax and all blue tail segments help to separate the Common Blue from similar species, its also a stronger flier.

Common Blue damselfly perched on Brooklime, August 2014

Common Blue damselfly, drab form, immature, July 2016

My next new species didnt show up until nearly a year later in late July 2015 but, a bit like busses, suddenly two came at once. The Blue-tailed damselfly, Ishnura elegans and another life first for me, the Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly, Libellula quadrimaculata both showed up the same day. Blue-tailed damselflies are variable in colour and also change colour as they mature so can vary a lot in apperance, in particular there are so-called rufescens (pinkish) violacea (violet) and infuscans (green) female forms.

The vivid female violacea form of the Blue-tailed damselfly

Blue-tailed damselfly on Yarrow flowerhead, July 2015

Female Blue-tailed damselfly, form rufescens, July 2016

With its fast, agile flight and distinctive wing markings, the Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly, Libellula quadrimaculata, was a  exciting addition to my wildlife pond's dragonfly tally. Much like the Broad-bodied chaser dragonfly, the males are highly territorial and persistently patrol their patch and return to the same perches to challenge rivals and the two males often held sparring matches over my pond. 

Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly, Libella quadrimaculata, July 2016

Four-spotted Chaser dragonfly showing its distinctive markings, 2018

2017 only saw one new arrival, bringing our total to 8 different species. Our pond was now 4 years old and becoming pretty mature as a micro-habitat. The Ruddy Darter dragonfly, Sympetrum sanguineum, was our new addition. In the past this dragonfly was a major source of identification confusion for me due to its similarities with the Common Darter and it was satisfying to finally get a good view of the jet black legs that distinguish it most readily.

Last but by no means least in my line up is my recent 2018 sighting of the Large Red damselfly, Pyrrhosoma nymphula. It made its debut on the Nar Cottage wildlife pond stage on 28th May. Frequently one of the earliest damselflies to be seen, I'd often spotted it in late May on visits to Stoke Ferry and Hoe Rough . With its distinctive colour it was most definitely a newbie in our garden.

Ruddy Darter, Sympetrum sanguineum, on a pondside perch

My latest damselfly species sighting the Large Red damselfly, Pyrrhosoma nymphula

Its wonderful to still be seing new species colonise this micro-habitat we created even after 5 years and though my pond's evolution is perhaps slowing and stabilising now I continue to hope for more sightings. Who knows, someday this line up may yet turn into a top-ten list!

 

 

Seeing Red

I spent a gorgeous bank holiday weekend pottering around our wildlife pond, watching the Azure damselflies wafting about in pairs and aerial dragonfly wars between the powder blue Broad-bodied Chaser and custard yellow Four-spotted Chaser dragonflies to rival any aeroplane dogfight as each fiercely competed for territory.

Suddenly among all the vivid blue Azures I quite literally saw red, that is, a pair of red mating damselflies! It was another first for Nar Cottage pond as they proved to be Britain's Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). Flying earlier than its cousin the Small Red Damselfly (Ceriagrion tenellum), it can also be distinguished by its black legs and strongly striped antehumeral markings.

This photo marks the ninth species of Odonata (dragonflies and damselfles) recorded in our wildlife pond (more on that here) and not bad for a pond thats only five seasons old...

Two Blues and No Greens

After a second fruitless jaunt hoping to photograph some rather shy Green Hairstreaks, which seem to be having a good season this year, my sunny late May Sunday ended up being an impromptu tale of two Blues in my own back garden instead.

Male Broad-bodied Chaser dragonfly basking

As I was resting on my patio I spotted our first blue Broad-bodied chaser dragonfly posing ostentatiously by the side of our (now very low) wildlife pond, barely a day after our first Four-spotted chaser appeared. Both were trying to hold territory and I was entertained by some impressive aerial battles.

A subsequent gentle lap of our garden yielded a female Holly Blue Butterfly busily ovipositing on the native shrubs in our wildlife hedgerow that borders our garden and now in its 5th year is nice and dense. Our wildlife garden just keeps on giving year after year. 

A female Holly Blue butterfly busily ovipositon amongst native hedging

Smoothly Enters the Newt

A surprising number of tadpoles survived this year's late snow and frosts to hatch out, proving that nature has long coped with such seasonal extremes. Once hatched, a tadpole's lot does not get easier by any means, because along with the warmth, their nemesis the Common newts have returned.

Common newts, also known as Smooth newts, predate heavily on tadpoles and frogspawn in springtime, and male Common newts can be spotted due to their vivid orange and black spotted underbelly which is a temporary colouring worn during the mating season.

Male Common or Smooth newt in orange mating colours

Common newt hunting among newly hatched tadpoles

Smile, Its Spring... For A day!

Hopefully the treacherous weather will not be too damaging to this year's frogspawn. Hard to believe just three days ago my wildlife pond was an amorous hotspot with over half a dozen frogs busy making frogspawn. Today the pond is frozen over again and the ground has at least 2 or 3 inches of snow being swept around by the "mini Beast".

Frog nestled in pondweed in a wildlife pond

Three in a bed.... male frogs swarming aorund a female.

Frog amongst fresh frogspawn

Smile! Its spring

Smile! Its spring

 

© Kiri Stuart-Clarke 2008-2022.
All Rights Reserved.