The Odes of June

Another trip to Dorset today, for June's odonata survey. Weather warm and sunny, water bodies swarming with dragons and damsels.

The lake that was bereft in May was shimmering with Common Blue Damsels, the ditches were teaming with Four-spotted Chasers and there was a good smattering of Emperors, Black-tailed Skimmers and Downy Emeralds. Though there were still only a few Blue-tailed Damsels, there was loads of Azure, Large Red, Small Red (tick!), Red-eyed and Emerald. Without a reasonable flow of water on site, riverine species aren't to be expected, but that didn't stop Beautiful and Banded Demoiselles from flying through, nor a Scarce Chaser putting in an appearance. Keeled Skimmers were emerging from the boggier areas, too.

Female Emerald Damselfly

The only species I missed was, would you believe it, Broad-bodied Chaser. I am truly destined not to see one in 2009!

Despite that inconvenience, I'm a tired but happy little bunny this evening, after an excellent day's odo-ing. Fifteen species in a day is a pb for me, plus one for the life list. Sweet.

A right royal day out

Ah, the weekend, time to unwind, enjoy the last few days of Spring and... attempt to avoid the rain.


With folk to stay at Tense Towers, it was incumbent upon us to organise a trip to somewhere. This would have to be outdoorsy, as the guests were our younger daughter and her photographer celtic boyfriend, the Prints of Wales. Looking through various weather forecasts on the net, nowhere within easy reach was going to be warm, dry and sunny. O-oh!


The choices boiled down to rain, cloud, wind and a bit of brightness at Wicken Fen or cloud, cloud, wind and cloud at Thursley. MGLW opted for the former, which was an inspired choice as the weather turned out to be warm and sunny, if a bit breezy. Phew.


With the addition of the Admiral, we bundled into the car, trundled across to Cambridgeshire and descended on the National Trust tea room. It's pandering to a stereotype, I know. Following a light lunch, we adjourned to the pond dipping area to search for Variable Damselfly and then set off through the fen, headed for the pub on the Cam at Upware. After a brief view of a male Scarce Chaser, we noticed a huddle of birders and associated optics, which is how we were inadvertently involved in a mini-twitch (may Bill Oddie forgive me). The object of the excitement was a Squacco Heron, out in the open but a long way off. In fact, a long way off from the Mediterranean, which is where it should be, rather than Baker's Fen.


That entertainment over, we continued on, listening to Cuckoos, Snipe and Cetti's Warblers, and watching Marsh Harriers, Hairy Dragons and Red-eyed Damsels (note to self: the comedic potential of that name needs further exploration). Following a sustaining pint of Black Dog, I floated back to Wicken Fen in the company of my fellow travellers, enjoying the last of the late afternoon sunshine. The Admiral found a roosting group of Azure and Variable Damsels, which was useful to compare the slight differences between the species as well as between individual examples of the eponymously-named Variables. Pairs of Muntjac Deer, Hare and Red-legged Partridge appeared in quick succession as we returned to the car and then we decamped to the nearby Red Lion for a feast fit for a king.



However, we couldn't resist returning to the fen for the evening's entertainment. The tower hide provided the perfect grandstand to watch Barn Owls and Marsh Harriers hunting over the reedbeds and scrub. Grasshopper Warblers began a sensory assaults on my ears, their reeling call bouncing to and fro across the lode and around my head. Then as the light began to fade, the much-anticipated finale was introduced with a feeble "tseep", as a male Woodcock patrolled his territory. Even the Prints of Wales was unable to photograph that!


Satisfied with an enjoyable day in good company, we headed back along the boardwalks, only to have one last surprise. MGLW let out a cry and pointed to the ground. We gathered around and peered at a small spot of green light in the grass, a female Glow-worm. She was a first for most of us and I guess Mr Glow-worm must think the sun shines out of her arse.

That Was The Week That Was

My return to work during the last week has meant a very low-key National Dragonfly Week for me personally. Coupled with the fact that I appear to be wandering around in some sort of Anti Broad-bodied Chaser Bubble, it couldn't have become any lower key without having extra notes fitted to the piano.

So imagine my delight when the Admiral phoned this morning to say that he'd found a new species for this bit of North Bucks. A trip to Emberton Country Park had produced a Downy Emerald, probably from across the Northants border in Yardley Hastings. We couldn't get great photos, as it resolutely refused to land anywhere near us, but this was a county tick for me so the BBCs can wait.

And an evening walk to our local patch put the icing on the cake, when the eagle-eyed Admiral spotted this cheeky chap roosting in the late sun. A cracking male Emperor.

On the way back through the wood, some blackbirds and jays were making a heck of a din, which warranted further investigation. So we managed to round the weekend off with a Tawny Owl.

Neat.

Abundance in Scarcity

Someone pinch me! It's a Bank Holiday weekend and the sun is shining, the Doc has said I can resume normal life (not sure what this actually means?) and we've been to a National Nature Reserve for the day.

After several years of cajoling by the Admiral, we finally went to Woodwalton Fen, a NNR between Peterborough and Huntingdon. It's only about an hour from home, so no excuses really. Height above sea level is zero, as the OS map handily pointed out. This made me realise that, despite being inland, Woodwalton Fen is in the front line of the battle against rising sea levels. We're all moving nearer the coast, folks. A fragile and ephemeral environment indeed, though with its oaks and poplars it looks so permanent and solid. On the warmest day for weeks, it turned into a bit of an Odofest, lots of damsels and dragons. The pick of the abundant Scarce Chasers being this almost-mature male.

We also clocked up a dozen or more Hairy Dragonflies and Four-spotted Chasers, two Black-tailed Skimmers, a Banded Demoiselle and a whole host of damselflies, Azure, Large Red, Blue-tailed and Red-eyed. For good measure, in the early evening sunshine, we spotted a male Marsh Harrier quartering the fields and heard the full-bodied and clear song of a Nightingale. In a gentle breeze, the Admiral navigated us to a pub at Holme, the aptly-named Admiral Wells, to replenish our tired but happy selves.

Echo-logical

There are certain quips and proverbs that we all use, that were never meant in a Save the Planet way.

"Don't run with scissors!" for instance, would be pretty difficult to see in an environmental light, unless you add "... in case you trip and accidentally snip off the last flower head from an endangered plant which could have been pollinated by the sole remaining bee on Earth." Let's face it, by the time you've got all that out, several species of amphibian would be extinct, too.

But recently, I have realised that there is a Green message behind some of our trite sayings.

Sure, you've heard them all before. But this time, just let the words echo inside your head until you wise up to the fact that we live way too unsustainably.

"Which planet are you on?" This ought to be a no-brainer. Currently, to my knowledge, there's only one planet that has been proved to be sustainable to human life. Perhaps we oughtn't f**k it up.

"It means the world to me!" So bloody well act like it then, stop buying flat screen TVs the size of Lichtenstein and using up precious and finite resources. Reduce, Reuse, Recycle should be your mantra, people.

"Don't shit on your own doorstep!" This shouldn't be too tricky really, but with the advent of the Global Village and a rapidly-rising human population, it's going to be all doorsteps soon. So perhaps we ought to reduce the amount of rubbish we produce (and anyone who says "Starting with this blog", is on doorstep-cleaning duty indefinitely).

"How much?! It shouldn't cost the earth?" Ah, but little by little, bit by bit, IT DOES! We mightn't shop at Tesco, but unfortunately, we're all signed up to the unsustainable Western materialistic economy. To maintain our lifestyles, we have to make more money, reach new markets, produce more goods, use more of the Earth. "Sustainable", think about the word.

"Do unto otters as you would have otters do unto you." Oh how I wish I'd thought of this one. Leave them alone to piss about in rivers or chase seaweed for a laugh and they won't break into your fridge, steal the taramosalata and poo on your pizza. Incidentally, otter poo has a sweet, musky odour and has been described as smelling like jasmine tea or Bombay Duck. Ask your local pizza parlour for details of this topping.

For a few damsels more...

This convalescence malarkey is getting beyond a joke. After more than six weeks of prescribed inactivity, the only injury I need to worry about is getting blisters on my bum. I have maintained a state of gentle busyness, doing loads of little paperwork tasks that I've been putting off for ages. Whilst they kept me occupied, they were rather dull, which is probably why they'd been put off for ages in the first place.

But enough's enough. Saturday was Jailbreak Day. Without bending the rules laid down by the hospital, I was on the run and out of the house for over twelve hours. Woo hoo, go me.

Up at 6am (that WAS hard), by 7am I was waiting to be collected by my partner in crime, the Admiral, and two and a half hours later we were in leafy Dorset. Unrolling the treasure map, we looked at the legend beside the big X, "Here be dragons, probably." Yep, forget road movie, this was a dragonfly survey mission.

Now, to say that the weather was a little bit changeable, is like saying Jeremy Clarkson is un petit Francophobic. On the way there, the sky was gloriously sunny one minute and thunderously black the next. All accompanied by enough wind to make Heinz jealous. Perfect conditions in which to look for flying creatures as light as a feather.

We met up with the rest of the outlaw gang. Keith, who had local knowledge of the site, and Sally, a small bundle of excited natural historian. It didn't exactly conjure up images of Clint Eastwood robbing the bank at El Paso. More like Buffy meets Last of the Summer Wine. (What would Nora Batty have thought of Mr Pointy, I wonder?)

Anyway... the survey. Our first target was devoid of any life whatsoever. It was just a lake with a gale howling across it. Moving to a series of ditches, the Admiral was first to strike gold, with a Four-spotted Chaser which had just emerged (and was probably wondering why, if this is what passes for nice weather). A little further down the path, Sally spotted something whizz passed us, which turned out to be a Downy Emerald. Then Keith found several exuviae (the shed larval skin from which the adult insects emerge) and another Four-spotted Chaser. Not to be outdone, I discovered a huge exuvia from an Emperor Dragonfly, but sadly there was no sign of its owner. By now we had all got our eye in, and were starting to pick up damselflies too. By high noon, we had seen seven species with the addition of Large Red, Common Blue, Azure and Red-eyed Damselflies.

Lunch was a chance to take shelter from the wind, though the Admiral was suffering a bit with an extremely hot onion.

During the afternoon, we saw many more Four spots and hundreds of damsels, mainly Azures, all in pockets of vegetation out of the wind, but in the sun. This took us away from the pond edges, through tussocks of grass and gorse bushes. Here, I stumbled across the first of two snakes we were to encounter. At the time, I thought it was an Adder, but having consulted the books, it was more likely to have been a Smooth Snake. Sally nearly trod on another one but only saw its tail, which prevented her from making a positive ID. Our only further success of the afternoon was a single Blue-tailed Damselfly that was also found by Sally, bringing our tally for the day to eight species.

We retired to a nearby Little Chef for copious cups of tea and carrot cake (surely one of your five a day?), to review our findings. In the spirit of lifelong learning, the Admiral offered to educate me by playing Lady Gaga on the return journey. So between him, her and me, who was the Good, the Bad and the Ugly?

Carpet fitting

There's a new stair carpet going in at Tense Towers today as part of the ongoing restoration programme. I've never heard such a hammering since... er... Middlesbrough's last game. OK, many of Middlesbrough's games this season.

On a similar tack, one of the fitters is off to see MK Dons v Scunthorpe tonight and he asked me if I watched the Leeds v Millwall game last night. I had to explain that I know nothing about football, hence the reason I was drinking cold, unsweetened tea from a Middlesbrough FC mug.

Will the Dons get through to the League One play-off final and stand a chance of meeting the mighty, but fallen, Boro in the Championship next season? Or even wave in passing as they continue their meteoric rise up through the Divisions? The Scunthorpe game will certainly be a gripper.

It's a funny old game, they say. Well, "they" didn't support the Boys from the Smog. It's never really been fun, but I suspect that's not the point. I have to tread carefully here, as my support isn't the traditional "go to every home game and never miss Match of the Day" sort. For instance, I don't even know where that Geordie bloke has gone that used to sit alongside Alan Hansen. The last time I went to see Boro would've been in the 70s, the decade that taste forgot. This might explain my choice of team, when all around were supporting Newcastle, Sunderland and Leeds.

But times move on. Now, it's all about the thickness of your pile. Unless you've got the odd oligarch, with an attention deficit disorder, bankrolling your team, fun or more likely success, is going to be in very short supply. Nope, support is more about loyalty, that roller coaster ride of an unexpected away win against a top club and an abject home defeat in the Cup to some minnow from a lower league. It's about popping in and out of the room whilst listening to a football commentary on Radio 5. And every time you leave the room, your team goes a goal down. It was my fault the Boro were thumped 0-5 by Chelsea. Sorry lads, I was taking up the old stair carpet.

MGLW doesn't see the point of football. In fact, she struggles with the whole concept of sport. Cricket is mildly entertaining to her, at least, that bit between the overs when everyone mills around. Rugby's ok, for some strange reason, as she's been heard to shout "Pick the beggar up!" at critical moments. But football, no. Too many braying fans, too much foul language and not nearly enough entertainment to justify the bother and expense. If asked who she supported, she'd probably say Fat Face. Against that logic, what chance for the third best team in the North East?

Yep, form, like stairs, can go up as well as down. At least I hope so.