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.

Rainbows and Barn Owls

It's been a long hard slog through to spring, but this weekend I was gifted with a beautiful Barn owl sighting right from my garden gate.

I'd popped out to try to see a rainbow that my husband mentioned spotting, when from the corner of my eye glimpsed two lazy wings as he finished quartering the field opposite my house and perched up for a breather.

When I turned around the rainbow was fading rapidly with the sun and each of the colours was imbued with a soft peach hue. A beautiful moment of tranquility.

A Marauding Devil's Coach-horse

It seems Halloween came early to Nar Cottage this year, with the arrival of a maurading Devil's Coach-horse, and a poisonous Brown Roll-rim toadstool!

Devil's Coach-horse beetle, Ocypens olens

The Devil's Coach-horse, Ocypus olens or Staphylinus olens, is the largest of the Staphylinidae or Rove family of beetles, unsurprisingly so-called because they are always on the move. This is the largest beetle family with around 63,000 species worldwide and 1000 in the UK, making up roughly 25% of British species.

Devil’s Coach-horses are common and widespread in the UK. They are native to the UK and Europe, but introduced to parts of Australasia and America. I remember them being called a Devil’s footman in my childhood, one of many alternative names for them, but the main English name of Devil’s Coach-horse name has been firmly in use since 1840.

Although generally nocturnal, they can sometimes be seen during the day hunting for food and, due to their large size (they can grow up to almost 3cm) and striking appearance are very hard to miss! They reproduce in autumn, so it's very possible this individual was busy seeking a mate.

Their appearance is undeniably eerie, they have disproportionately large powerful mandibles for their size, an elongated jet black body and a shortened wing-case. Although they can actually still fly they rarely do so, preferring to hunt on foot. You could certainly imagine them in a fairy tale playing the role of sinister Coach-horses pulling along a fantastical evil overlord in a dark alternative to Cinderella's pumpkin-chariot.

They are indeed ferocious predators, hunting slugs, caterpillars, worms, spiders, woodlice, other invertebrates and carrion. They prefer damp places and will shelter under rocks, logs or leaf litter during the day. The female lays eggs singly in Autumn under damp moss or leaves. The resulting larvae are as carnivorous as their parents and grow through 3 instar (larval stages) over 150 days before pupating and emerging just over a month later in adults form. Devil’s Coach-horses are largely active April through to October. Adults overwinter either by staying active or by hibernating and can live up to two years.

Aggressive “Scorpion-like” Defensive Posture

They have a deservedly pugnacious reputation, mine was right out in the open in broad daylight marching around fearlessly. They are notorious for curling up their abdomen and opening their mandibles in an agressive, scorpion-like defense pose when threatened, presumably to appear large and threatening, as they aren't actually venomous and don't have a sting.

When threatened, the Devil's Coach-horse beetle, Ocypens olens, arches its abdomen in a "Scorpion" style defensive posture, opens its jaws and secretes a foul liquid from its glands

Another defense mechanism is the ability to emit a noxious substance from white glands on their abdomen, which the second half of their binomial name, olens, meaning "smelling", alludes to. If further threatened, their strong jaws can also give a nasty nip.

Devil’s Coach-horse in Folklore

They've been associated with magic, evil forces and the Devil in British superstition and folklore since mediaeval times. One theory is that the name developed in parallel with Ladybird (derived from Our Lady, referring to the biblical Mary) and was established by 1840. Other English names include Devil's coachman or footman and Devil's steed. In Irish they are called "Darbh-daol" devil's beetle and "Coffin cutter". There are a host of dark folklore superstitions surrounding Devil’s Coach-horses, which hasn't exactly helped their reputation.

In some superstitions, as well as being directly associated with the devil himself, they are purported to have eaten the core of Eve's apple and to even have acted as a kind of beetle form of Judas Iscariot and have arched its abdomen to point the way Jesus went during his betrayal. They were also believed to be endowed with magical powers and that when they arched their tail towards someone they were cursing them.

In Ireland it was even believed the beetle could strike a person dead on sight and would eat any sinners they came across. Sadly as a consequence some superstitions rewarded killing them. Although some scythers would put one in their scythe handles to improve their skill (or perhaps speed given their nasty bite!).

Gardening Value of the Devil’s Coach-horse Beetle

Despite their fearsome appearance and agressive defensive mechansims, they do get an unfairly bad rap. Devil's Coach-horses are in fact highly valuable insects to have in the garden and act as a “Gardener’s friend” by hunting garden pests like slugs and caterpillars. In fact one of the Devil’s Coach-horse’s smaller cousins in the Rove beetle family, Atheta coriaria, is even used commercially as a form of biological pest control against certain greenhouse insect pests, including fungus gnats, shore flies and thrips.

Wildlife Value of the Devil’s Coach-horse Beetle

Through their role as a dominant predator species in their niche, they provide eco-system benefits by keeping populations of potential pest species in check naturally, in addition they consume carrion and ensure that nutrients are recycled and returned to the soil.

Brown Roll-rim Mushroom

Gills of a mature Brown roll-rim mushroom, Paxillus involutus

As if that wasnt spooky enough, a large area of my garden surrounding my Birch trees has been beset by the fruiting bodies of what turned out to be a poisonous toadstool called the Brown Roll-rim.

Apparently it is notorious for being particularly treacherous. Originally boiling them was thought to remove all toxins and make them safe to eat, but it was later discovered that the mushroom held a second toxin that build up over a long time and then suddenly kill you by triggering an auto-immune reaction that causes the body to attack its own blood cells. Definitely not one for the pot!

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.

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

Long-winged Cone-head

Long-winged Cone-heads use a liquid bubble to regulate their body temperature on hot days

Thanks to Pinocchio I’m embarrassed to admit I had always naively assumed there were as a rule green grasshoppers and beige crickets. Of course in the insect world its never that simple as this striking creature that took up residence on one of my bulrushes reminded me.

The first day I spotted her I assumed she had had a lucky escape from the pond and wound up on the Bullrush accidentally after leaping away from a predator. But I became curious when I saw her the second day running so started rummaging around in field guids to find out what she was and what she was carrying.

It transpired that she was a female Long-winged Cone-head, or Conocephalus discolor ( also Conocephalus fuscus). Cone-head sounds a bit like an insult but it refers to the angled shape of the species’ head. There are several species of Cone-heads in the Bush-cricket family, all of which are omnivorous, have long antennae and the females carry long blade-like ovipositors. Long-winged Cone-heads are distributed in Southern England and East Anglia living in dry and damp grasslands.

I wondered at first whether the droplet was perhaps an egg bubble but apparently Cone-heads blow out globules of liquid which is used as a means to keep cool and control body temperature on hot days. The females only have one brood a year and chew a hole in hollow stems of reeds or rush, then insert their eggs using their long ovipositor.

According to Wikipedia, high population densities can also encourage the development of an extra-long winged morph which has aided the species’ ability to expand into new favourable habitat as the climate has warmed.


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…

Red, White and err, Pink!

As world cup fever gripped the Nation and England reached the football semi-finals for the first time in decades, and Brexit negotiations seemingly reached an even more parlous state of play, I was instead becoming fascinated by my new moth trap, and the amazing moths being attracted to the lights... 

A White Satin moth, Leucoma salicis, perched on the reflective moth trap lid

Pink: One of a dozen Elephant Hawkmoths, Deilephila elpenor, attracted to my twin actinic skinner moth trap

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...

Rhapsody in Blue

Buff-tailed bumble bee foraging among Viper's-bugloss flowers

One of the deep joys of wildlife gardening is when an idea comes together and a wildflower you've planted really takes off... and brings even more nature into your garden. That is exactly what happened this year with an experimental planting of a local native wildflower, Viper's-bugloss or Echium vulgare. 

Viper's-bugloss growing wild on Kelling Heath in Norfolk

A member of the Borage plant family Boraginaceae, Viper's-bugloss is renowned for having a high wildlife value due to its flower's rapid nectar refill rate. This makes it a magnet for numerous species of bees, hoverflies, butterflies and other insects, which will revisit it at regular intervals throughout the day. It is also a caterpillar host plant for the glamorous Painted Lady butterfly and Golden Twin-spot moth. 

A tough, bristly and flamboyant biennial, Viper's-bugloss is commonly found in dry chalky grassland and heaths and along coastal cliffs and sand dunes. I first saw this striking plant growing in the wild locally in 2015. It was at Kelling Heath, a lowland heath reserve not far from the North Norfolk coast, and I'd been on a foray to see the diminutive Silver-studded blue butterflies resident on the nature reserve.

I was returning to the car park after a successful mission when I spotted it and recognised the tall flower spike heavy with lilac blue flowers at first glance, even though I'd never seen one before. The bell-shaped open-rimmed flowers had vivid pink trailing stamens, and was besieged by a host of argumentative bees, butterflies and other insects all competing for the rich nectar source.

Like most native wildflowers, Viper's-bugloss is embedded in traditional herblore, with around a dozen common names in existence, many of which, like Adderwort, Snake flower or Viper's herb, contain serpentine references.

The precise origins of its common name are unclear, possibly relating to the snake's-head form of the seed pods mentioned by 17th Century herbalist Nicholas Culpeper, “After the flowers are fallen, the seeds growing to be ripe, are blackish, cornered and pointed somewhat like the head of a viper.” Other theories include a comparison of the mottled leaves to snakeskin, or perhaps an allusion to the bite-like irritation caused by contact with the plants sharp bristles or its poisonous characteristics when ingested. 

Bumble bee nectaring on Viper's-bugloss flowers

Perhaps because of these serpentine associations,  Viper's-bugloss was traditionally used in herblore as an anti-venom for snake bites.The first documented herballist recommendation dates as far back as the first century AD and was made by a Greek Physician called Pedanius Dioscorides in a work called De Materia Medica.  Even the species name Echium is derived from "Echis", the Greek for "Viper".

However the term "Bugloss" used in many of our English common names is actually a reference to the ox-tongue shape and texture of its leaves and originates from the Greek word "bou" (a cow or ox) and the Latin "glosso" (tongue).

Meanwhile I had long been pondering a horticultural problem in my wildlife garden at home. I was keen to add more wildlife friendly flowers closer to the house and enrich diversity as the garden was starting to mature, but was stumped with a problem area where next to nothing would grow.

Bee flying towards Viper's-bugloss flower spikes

Despite our landscaper's best endeavours, not all of the poorest soil had ended up in the right place, our designated wildlfower meadow area. Some of it had ended up adjoining the bungalow and patio edge right at the top of the rear garden. Here the south facing slope was arid , in full sun all day long and only the relentless couch grass was flourishing.

So I turned to natives I'd seen locally thriving in sandy arid conditions for a solution and bought a small Echium Vulgare plug from Glandford Wildflower Centre just outside Holt. I planted it alongside Common Century, Teasel, Red Valerian and Common Rock Rose, next to a humongous self-sown Common Mallow, which had given me the inspiration, in order to create a bee-friendly wildflower border of sorts. 

Very little happened last year and my husband was sceptical. But Viper's-bugloss is known for growing deep roots and this year - success! The Echium developed numerous flower spikes and is even out competing both the Common century and Red valerian.

This weekend the month has earned its title of "Flaming June". In the sweltering 33 degree heat,  I couldn't face venturing outside my garden gates. Towards the end of a long, sweltering afternoon, as the worst of the heat started to cool, I stood on our patio and enjoyed the constant humming of dozens of bumble bees as they methodically worked their way up each spike in turn, checking which flowers had refilled with nectar.

 

"With the buzzing of the bee,
And the glowing of the bugloss,
High Summer is here"
 
 
Bumble bee landing on vipers bugloss flower to nectar-2.jpg

Names for Echium Vulgare  

Bluebottle
Blue devil
Blue thistle
Blueweed
Bugloss
Cat's tail
Ironweed
Patterson's curse (Australian)
Our Saviour's Flannel
Snake flower
Viper's-bugloss
Viper's grass
Viper's herb

The Snowdrop And The Honeybee

An early worker honeybee gathers nectar from a Common Snowdrop, Galanthus nivalis

The sight of this little Honeybee gratefully nectaring among the first of our Snowdrops in a local reserve made me curious about this humble little late winter flower and I discovered it had a surprising and fascinating history.

Gardening Value of Snowdrops

By February we are all utterly weary of winter's leaden skies and lashing storms and desperately seeking those first subtle signs of spring, so it comes as no surprise that Common Snowdrops, or February's Fairmaid as they are sometimes called, are such popular flowers and a staple in British gardens. It is a heavy heart indeed that could not be lifted by the sight of a milky white snowdrop flower head as it nods cheerily in the soft sunlight of a mild winter's day, or bravely peering through a late winter snowfall to earn their French name of "Pierce-neige" or Snow Piercer.  

Snowdrops favour damp woodland and stream side habitats

There are about 20 species of Galanthus in all, with the name Galanthus nivalis stemming from the Greek gala and anthus "Milky flower" and the Latin nivalis meaning "Snow".

It spreads primarily by bulb division into a dense white carpet which can form uplifting winter displays and many parks and gardens where it is long established, such as West Lexham Estate and Walsingham Abbey in Norfolk, open annually to allow visitors to enjoy their beautiful displays.

Wildlife Value of Snowdrops

For our over-wintering wildlife, the sight of a Common Snowdrop is undoubtedly very lucky indeed and a massive boon at a time of great hardship and need. Their flowers provide a desperately needed source of nectar and pollen for early insects such as queen and solitary bees emerging from hibernation, as well as beetles and flies.

In addition, their seedpods, which contain protein-rich elaiosomes, are taken by ants and fed to their larvae in undergrouund tunnels. By so doing, the ants complete the circle of life by helping the Snowdrop plant’s seeds disperse and start new colonies nearby.

Is the Snowdrop a Native Flower?

Fond of damp woodland and watercourses, many people mistakenly believe that the Common Snowdrop is truly native to Britain or introduced in Roman times, as did I until I researched this article. In fact, Snowdrops were first recorded in John Gerard's 1597 edition of "Great Herball" and they were documented in the wild only in the late 1770's. It is now believed Galanthus nivalis were first introduced into gardens in the late 1500's from Europe, where their range spreads from the Pyrennees in the West to the Ukraine in the East.

The "Flower of Hope" grew in popularity around the time of the Crimean War (1853-1856) when many soldiers returned bringing with them a new larger variety of the spring bulb, Galanthus plicatus, the Crimean Snowdrop, which they had seen bravely covering the battlefields through the harsh Crimean winters to inspire hope and augur spring.

Our love affair with these delicate yet incredibly tough spring flowers continued to grow over the years and today Snowdrops are one of the most widely traded bulbs in the world.

Snowdrops' many folklore names symbolise hope, renewal and death

Plant Folklore of Snowdrops

Its long, rich history in Europe and the UK means the humble Snowdrop is well established in folklore, literature and religion. The Snowdrop has strong Ecclesiastical associations which is indicated in some of its alternative names such as Candlemas Bells, Mary's Taper and Eve's Tears.  

The snowdrop is a flower of contradictions. On the one hand, for Catholics Snowdrops symbolise hope and purity. Snowdrop garlands were traditionally used in the Candlemas procession on 2nd February celebrating the Purification of the Virgin Mary, which is one reason why they are so widespread along traditional routes to village churches.

Yet at the same time snowdrops have a darker side to their folklore history. Perhaps owing to the flower's white shroud-like petals, Snowdrops have long been associated with death and bad luck. In ancient Greek mythology Persephone or Kore, Queen of the Underworld and the goddess of vegetation, is said to have carried Snowdrops on her return from Hades in Spring. The snowdrops she carried brought back life to a barren, wintery landscape, but also carried strong negative connotations of the Underworld they came from. 

Snowdrops spread by bulb division but ants assist seed dispersal

Also called Death's Flower, the Snowdrop became associated with death for many Victorians. According to superstition, seeing a lone Snowdrop was perceived as a portent of death and it was also meant to be unlucky to bring the first Snowdrop flower of the season inside a house.

Whatever their origins and mythology, Snowdrops hold a deep and enduring place in our psyche, inspiring hope and signalling that Spring is, at last, not far off. In Tennyson’s words “Many, many welcomes, February’s fair-maid”.

“The Snowdrop

Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid,
Ever as of old time,
Solitary firstling,
Coming in the cold time,
Prophet of the gay time,
Prophet of the May time,
Prophet of the roses,
Many, many welcomes,
February fair-maid!”
— Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)

Of Red Admirals and Queen Anne's Lace

A slightly bizarre blog post title, I know. The connection is that these were the first two subjects that I photographed with the newly launched Olympus 300mm f4.0 pro lens. In old money that gives an effective reach equivalent to some 600mm, a wildlife photographers dream lens. But I wondered if a bokeh was possible, whether the images would really be as sharp as Olympus claimed, and whether the lens might be suitable for long lens macro photography.

Some pretty wild carrot flower seedheads, known as Queen Anne's lace, were my first attempted subject. Immediately I took the lens cap off I had a nasty shock. The lens simply wouldn't focus. The focus point refused to stay still, it bouncedaround lly all over the place. Feeling deflated and not a little seasick from the circular motion  I went to do a little investigation and realised that I needed to upgrade my camera's firmware to support the latest in camera focus stabilisation.

That done. the camera's focus improved dramatically and behaved beautifully again. I finished taking my shot of the wild carrots' dainty seedheads and was pleasantly suprised at the sharpness and bokeh I that was able to achieve.

That still left the question of whether, with the predictably long minimum focus distance of 1.4m, the 300mm lens would be at all suitable for larger less tolerant butterflies and dragonflies, some of my all time favourite macro subjects to photograph.

An obliging red admiral butterfly very much preoccupied with nectaring on my garden privet hedge allowed me to put the lens through its paces. Because of the long reach, it was a little challenging to get the focus spot on and the 1.4m minimum focus distance was, as expected a real constraint, so I am still dreaming of a nice 100mm f4.0 macro with a minimum focal range more like 40cm. Even so I did get some lovely shots rich with detail and could see this lens working nicely with tree top species.

Noble Emerald and Gold

Butterflies are having a bad year so far and are thin on the ground, so I have been entertaining myself with other little beasties.

This beautiful, iridescent emerald-coloured beetle is a member of the flower beetle family with a rather grand, royal sounding latin name Oedemera nobilis. It has several fun but less flattering English names too such as thick-legged flower beetle or swollen-thighed flower beetle, although only the females have the fat thighs.

Despite their imposing looking mandibles, adult emerald flower beetles are herbivorous and feed on flower pollen and nectar. This female thick-legged flower beetle is pictured on a Common Rock Rose (Helianthemum  Nummularian) up at Ringstead Downs in North Norfolk.

Meet the Skippers - A Photographic Identification Guide to Skipper Butterflies

Ssshh…Don't tell the Essex Skippers, we're in Norfolk!

These charming, vivid orange little butterflies have extended their range recently and seem perfectly happy living two counties further North than their namesake county. At this time of year they can readily be seen "skipping" amongst the hedgerow flowers and meadow grasses of East Anglia alongside their similar looking cousins, the Small Skippers and Large Skippers, sometimes in the company of the larger meadow  species such as Meadow Brown, Gatekeeper and Ringlet butterflies.

Skipper butterfly identification is a challenge. All three of our most common Skipper butterflies are small, similarly coloured and rather flighty, in fact the Essex Skipper and Small Skipper look so alike that the Essex Skipper was only recognised as a separate butterfly species in 1889. So just how do you tell these three oft-seen Skipper butterfly species apart?

Get a Mug Shot

The surest way to identify and tell the three most common Skipper butterflies apart is to get a photo or good look of the underside of the tips of the butterfly's antennae. The Essex Skipper has very distinctive, inky black antenna underside tips; whereas the similarly sized Small Skipper has orange-brown coloured antennae underside tips. Although the Large Skipper also generally has black tips, its antennae ends are usually more bulbous than those of the Essex and Small Skipper, these two features can’t always be relied on as definitive as they can sometimes vary. The key diagnostic antennae feature to look out for to identify the Large Skipper is that it always has “hooked” or twirly pointed antennae tips, whereas those of both the Essex and Small Skipper are stubby and rounded.

Essex Skipper has black antennae underside tips

Essex Skipper's black antennae tips are rounded or stubby

Small Skipper has orange-brown antennae underside tips

Large Skipper has pointed, twirly antennae tip ends, usually black

Skippers are territorial, living in colonies and can be quite confiding little butterflies when perching or basking. However, as their name suggests, they do have a frustrating habit of zooming vertically off their perch at the slightest movement and skipping off before we get the viewing angle we want, so here are some other perspectives and identification tips.

"Check" out their Wing Markings

The Large Skipper is most readily identifiable from its chequered pattern wing markings. As well as being larger, Large Skipper butterflies appear brighter and more robust than then smaller Essex and Small Skipper butterflies. In contrast both the Small Skipper and Essex Skipper have relatively plain orange wings. Male Small and Essex skippers can be distinguished from each other by their sex bands (see more below). Females are trickier but one other clue to aid separation, though not always a reliable indicator, is that in Essex Skippers sometimes the dark wing edging bleeds up more heavily into the wing veins. Below are two Essex Skipper photos, one with the dark banding radiating into the veins, one without.

Large Skipper's large size and contrasting chequered marking makes it the easiest of the three most common skipper butterflies to identify

Small Skipper basking with wings open

Essex skipper female, sometimes the dark borders radiate along the veins

Large Skipper's chequered wing markings displayed from side on as it drinks nectar with its proboscis

Small Skipper has plain wings when viewed side on

Essex Skipper female basking in evening light

Identifying Skipper Butterflies In Profile

The Large Skipper's chequered pattern is even visible with its wings closed so it should still be readily distinguishable when perching or roosting. Essex and Small Skippers are harder to identify in profile as neither have clear distinguishing marks on their underwings and they are of a very similar size. However, according to Lewington and other field guides, the Essex Skipper's undersides are more straw-coloured than those of the Small Skipper, which may appear more beige or buff. Be especially cautious if using this to distinguish the Essex and Small Skipper, as the look of the underwing can be affected by light conditions and indvidual variations

Essex Skipper has a more straw-coloured underwing than the Small Skipper

Small Skipper has a more buff-coloured underwing (image taken in flat light)

Large Skipper has a checkered pattern visible on its underwings

Use Wing Bands to Identify Male Essex Skippers and Small Skippers

All three male Skipper butterflies have a black gender or scent band line marking on their front wings. This can be particularly helpful in distinguishing an Essex Skipper from a Small Skipper butterfly if you're unable to view them head on. The male Small Skipper has a prominent black gender band that is long and cureved whereas the Essex Skipper's gender band is much less conspicuous, short, straigt and runs parallel to the edge of its forewing.  The male Large Skippers also have very prominant gender bands and at a distance, when fresh from emergence, might even potentially be confused with Gatekeepers due to their vivid orange colour.

Male Small Skipper has a longer, curved, more prominent gender band

Male Essex Skipper has a shorter, straight, inconspicuous sex band that runs parallel to the edge of the wing

A Word of Caution

There is always a degree of individual and regional variation in the markings and colouration on butterflies’ wings and you can find gradual blends between regional variations too. Butterfly markings can also be impacted by the weather while pupating (e.g. extremely hot weather) and fade with age, so sometimes it identification can be a careful process of elimination.

A further peril is only getting a single shot. The camera most definitely can lie, or at least mislead. Sometimes the camera angle or perspective can be deceptive and conceal a sex band or narrow antennae tips. So a diagnostic feature could be present but not necessarily visible. A lack of evidence isnt always evidence of lack, as the saying goes.

This Large Skipper has faint wing markings and its antennae end tips aren’t visible from this camera angle

By way of example, this Skipper was initially mis-identified as a Small Skipper due to a russet brown marking on the end of its antenna and a seeming absence of the twirly hooked end tips.

However a closer inspection after boosting contrast and saturation in the image revealed the very faint presence of the arc of pale checks characteristic of a Large Skipper and a darkened forewing-tip.

It appears that the hooked antennae tips were curling outwards and backwards so from this perspective both were concealed from the camera.

The moral of the story being of course that its always worth getting as many images as you can from as many angles as you can, starting far back at a distance that you know will not disturb the butterfly and moving slowly avoiding sudden jerky movements that will cause the butterfly to skip away. Even if its small in the frame you can always zoom in for ID purposes and discard the image once an ID has been made.

Non Visual Characteristics Can also Eliminate a Suspect

Distribution

Both the Small Skipper and Essex Skipper have expanded their ranges northwards. However, the Essex Skipper is still the more south-easterly of the two species, being seen as far north as the Humber and west to the Severn Estuary. The Small Skipper, like the Large Skipper can be seen even in Wales and Cornwall and as far north as Northumberland recently.

Flight Times

The Large Skipper is the early bird of the three, flying from late May, peaking in mid July and ending in late August. The Small appears next, flying from early June until early September. The Essex Skipper has the narrowest flight period, being seen on the wing from the end of June until the end of August. Bear in mind that flight times can vary significantly by region typically being later further north and also seasonally as butterflies may sometimes take advantage of favourable spring and early summer conditions or respond to adverse conditionas by emerging earlier or later.

Host Plants

All three species are single brooded and feed on various grasses such as Yorkshire-fog (Small Skipper), Creeping Soft-grass (Essex and Small Skippers) and Cock's foot (Large Skipper). Early stage larvae overwinter in the sheaths of long grasses and winter cutting and "tidying" can negatively affect populations. For more information visit www.butterfly-conservation.org

Resources 

My own records and observations in Oxfordshire and Norfolk

Butterfly Conservation Society -  Species Information and Factsheets:

R Lewington - Pocket Guide to the Butterflies of Great Britain and Ireland

All images taken by and © Kiri Stuart-Clarke. All rights reserved

 

Large Skipper nectaring on a creeping thistle

A Silver-Studded Summer

It seems that summer has been slow to start, but nature can't afford to wait and one of Norfolk's rarest butterflies has taken to the wing pretty much on cue. Silver-studded blue butterflies have one of the most amazing symbiotic lifecycles you could Imagine. Frequenting heathland, they plant their eggs on fresh low lying gorse or heather and depend upon two specific species of black ant, Lasius niger and Lasius alienus to complete their lifecycles. 

Silver-studded blue butterflies live in small colonies. They are a sedentary species, tending to stay local and fly low to the ground. Unlike the blue males, female studded-blue butterflies are brown in colour, but both share the same silvery blue scales in the black spots on the underside of their hind wing for which the butterfly gets its name.

Adults survive only a few days each summer, just long enough to mate and lay eggs. The caterpillars hatch in spring and are and nurtured by the black ants in exchange for a sugary secretion produced by a special gland. The caterpillar pupates underground in the ants nest before emerging as an adult. 

On the Trail of the Swallowtail

Sometimes as a naturalist and photographer, certain subjects remain so stubbornly elusive that they become a bit of a nemesis. Britain's largest and most iconic species "papilio machaon britannicus", our very own British swallowtail, was one such unlucky species for me. So much so, that it took me some five years to achieve my first photograph of this amazingly beautiful butterfly.

Our British swallowtail butterfly is actually a subspecies of the European strain that has adapted itself to use the delicate and somewhat sensitive fenland plant milk parsley as its caterpillar host plant. Once comparatively widespread in the south east, its range is now restricted to the Norfolk fens.

Many of you will know that butterflies are one of my favourite wildlife species and I'm a passionate supporter of the Butterfly Conservation Society, which does a great job of raising awareness about the threats to this beautiful animal. Though scarce, I live in Norfolk, the same county that this elusive butterfly calls home. So just how hard can it really be to see one?

Well timing is everything they say. The swallowtail is single brooded and has a relatively short flight period, from around mid May to mid June. If you add to that the need for reasonably clement weather, the window of opportunity is fairly narrow. In my defence, years one and two of my five year wash out were before I had relocated to live in Norfolk.

My natural history and local knowledge was still comparatively limited, and I was restricted solely to weekend trips to Norfolk targeted for the start of its flight period. These were planned using field guides, with the sole aim of seeing this amazing butterfly. Sadly that was just as we entered that phase where our winters were harsh, spring arrived late and the weather utterly uncooperative. Thus for two years in a row, bleak grey skies, cold temperatures and high winds put the kaibosh on my naive optimism and my target remained stubbornly and mysteriously elusive...

Year three and I relocated to Norfolk, surely now I would just stumble across one right? Cue multiple trips to Hickling, How Hill and Strumpshaw, all known Swallowtail hotspots over the course of the next three years. Yet these attempts attempts to witness the beauty of this butterfly were always ill-fated. I forget how many times I met people and heard them say frustratingly, "oh there was one just down that path there " . Of course said Swallowtail invariably had vanished by the time I reached the spot, for all my luck, the Swallowtail might have been a capricious sprite from the cast of Shakespeare's a midsummer's nights dream.

Last year life simply overtook me. My hunt started far too late in the season for success. So this year, I was determined, was to be the year of the Swallowtail. Come what may I was determined, I would find this iconic, awe-inspiring butterfly, no matter what!

Spring this year was again cool and I was nervous, conditions were far from auspicious for a prompt emergence or a bountiful butterfly season in Norfolk.

A visit to RSPB Strumpshaw Fen offered me my first fleeting, tantalising glimpse, but my bad luck struck again! Just as I arrived I glimpsed a large custard yellow butterfly swoop in...and it was, yes! ,,,.a swallowtail swooping in and aiming to land to nectar on white violet flowers at the main entrance. But even as I approached it was immediately spooked by an over-enthusiastic visitor waving his camera at it! This tourist seemed to be the incarnation of my Swallowtail nemesis, the butterfly equivalent of the "Man from Porlock" and opportunity lost. Assured by staff that they often returned, I stood stationary, sentinel-like for over an hour. Eventually a friendly gentlemen suggested another spot where he'd seen them "only a few hours before" - so off I trooped, yet to no avail. Another Swallowtail near miss, thwarted by mischance or fate, who knew and I finally started to see the funny side of it all.

Perhaps my resignation and acceptance swung it and the gods took pity on me. I had only one last day left of even remotely suitable weather between what were quite vicious storm showers and off I went one last time on my Swallowtail mission.

Back at Strumpshaw, now a familiar friend of a reserve, I ambled around the areas I'd been shown over the years, my jacket still done up against a nippy morning chill. Mercifully, the weather stubbornly refused to close in as forecast. I dawdled up and down the footpaths for about an hour, amidst cloudy intervals and cool, breezy conditions. Eventually, quite suddenly the sun won its battle against the grey and the temperature rose sharply.

Swallowtails nectar on many pink and purple flowers including red campion, as well as yellow flag iris

Suddenly, to my immense surprise and joy, an immaculate, freshly emerged swallowtail materialised from the tree canopy above, landing to nectar on some wild red campion blossoms, bouncing from flower to flower. I was taken aback by the  sheer size and presence of this impressive, majestic almost magical, butterfly with its vibrant colours and bird-sized wingspan.

At last, this bird-sized stunningly beautiful butterfly posed for me, even basking, its impressive wingspread outstretched whenever the sun vanished behind the lingering cloud to warm itself up in the spring breeze.

My five year long mission was accomplished.

This freshly emerged swallowtail basked with its wings open during cloudy intervals

Rainbows and Ripples

On a boat trip in Tenerife I was fortunate to have my closest ever short-finned pilot whale (globicephala macrorynchus)  and bottlenose dolphin encounter on a gloriously sunny December's day. They are so giant and yet so graceful in their element that it is always magical experience for me to gain a fleeting glimpse into their mysterious life that is so very very different from our own.

I had taken a trip once many years ago for only a distant fleeting sighting and that was what I was expecting again this time, so I was quick to grab a backlit fairly distant shot at the first sight of a pilot whale dorsal fin. The notches and marks on a cetacean's dorsal fin are unique to every individual and are used as key identifying marks for scientists researching the pilot whale pods in Tenerife

But I was in luck, the pilot whale pod ventured much closer. As I watched them spout water from their blowholes I saw that the droplets were being refracted into a beautiful rainbow through the sunlight.

At one point one mature pilot whale swam right across the bow of the boat enabling a top down shot through dappled water and light into the sea.

After a last look at the pilot whales we moved on in search of the bottlenose dolphins. Once again we were in luck and watched a small family exhibiting fascinating behaviour. It seemed like the pod was working as an organised team in herding a shoal of fish, much in the way a collie might herd a flock of sheep, curving round in arcs and keeping them tightly packed together in a group. Except of course individual dolphins would then occasionally take it in turns to nip in for a quick snack. There were several calves in the group which may perhaps have been observing this complex team hunting and feeding technique in preparation for adulthood.

Bottlenose dolphin herding a shoal of fish accompanied by a juvenile bottlenose dolphin (above) and baby calf (bottom right).

The group worked closely as a co-ordinated team to keep the shoal of fish close together.

Its not all smiles for the fish, this bottlenose dolphin was putting its razor sharp teeth to good use.

October Red Deer Rut

This year's red deer rut photography was limited to a jeep safari at RSPB Minsmere and we kept our distance, but a few contextual black and white shots came out quite nicely. The first two tell the story of the less dominant stags and young bucks, who tend to avoid risking conflict during the rutting season. The third image is of the dominant stag interacting with a romantically minded hind in his harem.

nervous young bucks
Rutting stag seeing off young buck
Romantic stag and his hind
 

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