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.

An Aberration!

A Small Tortoiseshell aberration semiichnusoides butterfly showing merged costal black spots and white marginal streaks instead of blue studs on the forewing and missing the orange band on the hindwings

Our hot late June summer weather didnt last too long, and perhaps could be deemed an aberration in its own right, but it also seems to have had a major impact on our caterpillars while they metamorphosed into butterflies.

I got curious when I spotted this unusually marked Small Tortoiseshell butterfly and discovered a strange world of genetics and temperature driven body chemistry!

It takes about 4 weeks for a caterpillar to metamorphose into an adult butterfly in a fascinating “black box” process that science still knows surprisingly little about.

The term for a butterfly with these atypical variations in markings is “an aberration”, which stems from the latin aberrationem, literally meaning “a wandering”. First used in the 1590s, the modern meaning of “a deviation from the normal type” is attested by 1735.

It turns out that both genetics and abnormal weather (and perhaps even the two in combination) can play a role in triggering these deviations. Aberrations are caused when something interrupts the usual pattern of markings during their development inside the butterfly’s chrysalis. One hypothesis is that sudden temperature “shocks” (in either direction) may trigger melanin release (a dark pigment) to increase or decrease.

Another possibility is the activation of rare inherited “recessive” DNA genes (a gene that requires both parents to have it to be activated) that are atypical because they hinder the chances of an individual finding a mate, or even surviving under normal conditions. They continue however to be carried in the population because they may perhaps aid survival in abnormal conditions.

One example of this is the better known aberration - the dark brown“Valezina” form of the Silver-washed fritillary quite often seen now at Holt at Foxley Woods. Valezina, due to its dark colouration is more able to fly and find nectar in unusually cool temperatures than its typical bright orange counterpart, but which may then be at a disadvantage when it comes to finding a mate and reproducing due to being less readily recognised.

Whether the sudden temperature change we saw at the end of June activated a dormant gene relating to surviving with abnormal weather or coincidentally acted directly on melanin production remains one of the fascinating mysteries of nature.

Small Tortoiseshell Aglais urticae (normal type) vs Small Tortoiseshell (aberration semiichnusoides). Both butterflies are likely to be siblings as they were hosted as caterpillars on my nettle bed and appeared fresh on the same day together.

Poppies, Poppies, Poppies

At last! Some beautiful, warm, sunny summery days.

Lately I've become totally obsessed by the fleeting, ephemeral nature of some beautiful red Common Poppies, Papaver rhoeas, that have sprung up by the new patio due to earth disturbance.

The Poppy’s flower buds burst open first thing but are so fleeting they only last a single morning. Their nectar banquet must be intense as pollinators such as bumblebees and hoverflies go wild over them.

Through the course of the morning the delicate Common Poppy petals steadily fold further and further back until they fall to the ground, or are knocked off by the weight of frantic bees trying to land. This all happens in the space of a few hours and by early afternoon the blooms are already gone, petals lying crumpled and shriveled up on the ground.

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.

A Killer Digger

One interesting spot I made this summer on my Sea holly was this Ornate Tailed Digger Wasp, Cerceris rybyensis. A first for me and I'd initially thought it a Sawfly or Ichneumon wasp. This tiny wasp hunts small to medium sized bees which are (unfortunately for the poor bees) paralysed by their sting.

That may explain the goodly number of dead bees I noticed and wondered about in late spring and early summer. The females nest in compacted bare ground, sometimes in desnse groups, which also makes sense as there is an area with bare earth from my building work that I deliberately left this season after seeing all the bee (and presumably wasp) burrows.

Ornate Tailed Digger Wasp, Cerceris rybyensis, on Sea Holly, Eryngium planum.

Cerceris rybyensis, Ornate tailed Digger Wasp in profile.

Ornate Tailed Digger Wasp, Cerceris rybyensis top view showing the distinctive, notched yellow band.

Butterflies and Blackthorn Blossom

Peacock butterfly, Aglais io, nectaring on early Blackthorn, Prunus spinosa, blossom

Every year I wonder when and which butterfly species will be my first sighting of the year. Often its a “classic” springtime butterfly like a Brimstone or an Orange tip butterfly, but this year it was actually a Nymph family butterfly instead.

Out of nowhere on the 17th March, a Small Tortoiseshell appeared, it landed, pausing briefly to bask on some bare earth, only just long enough for an ID then darted off in the stiff breeze.

The sighting was so fleeting, however, that it was only really when I caught sight of this Peacock butterfly, Aglais io, a week later, with is vivid diversionary eyespots, frantically nectaring on newly opened blossom on the still leafless Blackthorn branches several days in a row in my native hedgerow that I really felt that spring was finally on its way and warmer days were not too far off.

It was also a timely reminder of just how vital a habitat a mixed native hedgerow is for our early pollinators. Blackthorn, Prunus spinosa, and other early flowering Prunus species for example are particularly important both for newly emerging butterflies, bees and hoverflies as well as acting as caterpillar hosts once their leaves burst and eggs hatch.

Its often overlooked in favour of exotic non native evergreens or plain old fencing, but by the time its warm enough to spend any time in the garden my native hedge is so thick my garden’s totally private. Hopefully as wildlife gardening becomes more popular and awareness of just how bad things are for insects and the remaining wildlife that depends on them, the popularity of mixed native hedging will start to increase.

At last, it is spring!

Blackthorn,Prunus spinosa, flowers even before its leaf buds have opened

A Kestrel Comes to Stay

Falco tinnunculus, juvenile

Our next autumnal excitement arose from a series of long sightings of a young Kestrel, Falco tinnunculus, at the end of October. Whats the big deal? You might ask. After all, we see kestrels hovering in the paddocks and fields surrounding our home all the time. And have even enjoyed the odd fly by or spotted one perched up on our boundary telegraph pole looking out for prey.

But in eight years I’d never actually seen a Kestrel actually land on our property and I’d never ever observed one so close up before, especially not for so long at a time, and repeatedly over a period of several days.

We suspect he or she might be a juvenile ousted from the family home as they disperse widely in Autumn. Or else they could have been a young immigrant, newly arrived from Europe, as Kestrels living further north migrate southwards to overwinter where there is more food available.

We know its a young bird as juveniles have much more diffuse pale buff streaks on their undersides rather than the clear, dark distinctive spots on the plumage of adult birds. Young birds of prey are generally paler and and darken as they mature. The paler head could possibly mean its a male according to our detailed Collins “Birds of Prey” ID book by Benny Gensbol.

There are around 31 thousand summer pairs in Britain in the UK and sadly the species is listed as Amber nationally due to recent breeding and winter population and range declines according to BTO BirdFacts, but populations appear to be stable locally in Norfolk and are of least concern in Europe. One study found that populations improved with the addition of dedicated Kestrel breeding boxes so perhaps lack of suitable breeding sites is part of the problem.

We continued to enjoy prolonged, close sightings on the lawn, the pergola and, unfortunately for our small garden birds, the peanut feeder pole at the bottom of our garden for several days in a row, one time mantling on the ground and one time carrying prey to the pergola then feeding.

Perhaps the Kestrel lingered awhile because our wildlife friendly garden offers plenty of small rodents and birds, the Kestrel’s main diet source in Northern Europe, before he moved onwards on his journey.

 

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