Oh, soffit!

It was inevitable, I guess...

Following the success of the 'mystery' brassica in our garden and the abundance of Large White butterflies visiting the plant, there was always going to be a long game playing out through the remainder of the Summer and into next year.

A while back, as Our Lass and I sat outside enjoying an afternoon's sunshine, we noticed caterpillars heading for the hills, or at least across the path and up the wall of the house.

Over the course of several days, chrysalides appeared on the soffit boards all around the property, as this year's larvae pupated to prepare for next year's population of adult butterflies.

A few days after that, I noticed that a few of the chrysalides were missing, and I presumed that they'd been discovered by a predator and eaten. To be honest, I couldn't think which of the birds visiting our garden would have the ability to do this, but I let that pass. Possibly wagtails?

Later still, I saw that many of the chrysalides had what appeared to be tiny balls of fluff alongside them. This did puzzle me, as I couldn't figure out what was going on.

Then, yesterday, whilst idling looking through the excellent 'Bugs Britannica', by Peter Marren and Richard Mabey, to find some information on bristletails, I spotted a photograph that nailed the reason once and for all.

A species of parasitic wasp had laid their eggs in the growing caterpillars and whose own larvae has consumed the caterpillars from within and then finally emerged from the chrysalides to pupate themselves. Gruesome, but that's how evolution works in the insect world.

So, yes, in a way the pupae were the victim of a predator, but not at all in the way I'd imagined. The unfortunate caterpillars had carried their assassins with them during their epic journey up the wall of the house.

Oh, soffit!

Wordless Wednesday (of 2 hours on Monday)

16.30

17.30

18.00

18.30

Graeme Green-er

Our Lass and I do try to be as environmentally and ecologically aware as possible. At least for a given value of 'possible'. We have moved into a well-insulated home which, although heated by oil, has an efficient condensing boiler. The house isn't too big for our needs, so we are using and heating as little room as necessary. The garden is large by the standards of what we had become used to when living in a city and, whilst we no longer put food out for birds (there's loads of natural and farmed habitat where they can find sustenance), we do try to leave a bit of the garden as a wild area. Actually, that's a big fib... most of the garden is wild!

Yours Truly caught on camera by a visiting Second Born

We are able to recycle the majority of our household waste: glass, paper, cardboard, tin and some plastic through a fortnightly collection; and garden waste, clothing and beverage cartons by taking them to the local recycling centre.

When it comes to what we eat, our rules are as local as possible, as sustainable as possible and then as organic as possible.

Food waste is kept to a minimum by planning meals, freezing bulk purchases and creative use of leftovers (I'm quite proud of my 'sad salad drawer' stir fry!).

But I have to admit that I have an Achilles' heel that drives roughshod through all our good environmental works. 'Drives' and 'roughshod' being rather apt. For about fifteen years, my transport of choice has been a succession of 4x4 vehicles, all rather useful for transporting all manner of what have you and excellent for wildlife watching. However, they're a bit heavy on the juice and, consequently, on the pocket. What to do, eh?

Sometimes, you just have to stand back and look at the numbers. Lives change, time moves on, the shifting sands of technological advances smother the unwary and one day you wake up and realise that there is a different way.

So, those numbers...

Old 4x4

With some careful driving, I manage about 34mpg from the truck (which equates to about £2500/year in fuel), but those carbon dioxide emissions contaminate both the atmosphere and my bank account (£285/year). And it's not the cheapest thing to insure, even in Orkney.

The gas guzzler just has to go, to be replaced with a smaller, more fuel-efficient car. Perhaps all the re-appraising that has occurred during the past year has made this decision a little easier.
  

Newer replacement

Hmmm, this looks a bit healthier all round. Reducing fuel costs by more than fifty per cent at a stroke. With emissions below 100g/km, there's no road tax to pay, and I also make a saving of £100 a year on insurance premiums. Winner!

But I may have to invest in a trailer, for those occasional trips to the recycling centre with fourteen large bags of dock leaves and assorted other garden detritus. All of which should provide plenty of comedic potential when my reversing skills come into play.

Yes

This is not a political blogpost, I promise. There'll not be any post-referendum angst or a raft of carelessly-flung and unfounded accusations here. Nope, this is about the progressive rock band Yes.

You're probably thinking "Progressive rock? Isn't that history?"

Well, yes, and then again, no.

First, the history. The band were formed in 1968, at a time when a young Tenselet still thought that The Scaffold's 'Lily the Pink' was a nifty tune and the height of sophistication... which, of course, it was :o)

Through the 1970s, Yes released a string of top ten albums in the UK which, strangely, all passed me by. I guess we weren't at home to peer pressure when it came to progressive rock. I ploughed a lonely ELP furrow to the mystification of my school chums, preferring Keith Emerson's keyboards and Greg Lake's lyrics and voice to the more ethereal stuff provided by Yes.

All that changed in the 1980s with '90125' and 'Big Generator', which were more pop rock than progressive but, weirdly, less successful commercially.

The single 'Owner of a Lonely Heart', from '90125', went to Number 1 in the US chart, but only just broke into the Top 30 in the UK. Years later, a work colleague (now sadly not with us) sent me a link to a remix video, which I think contains as much innocent amusement as it is does bikini-clad inappropriateness. But that might just be me... see what you think?

But to bring things more up to date, for me, the stand-out Yes track, the one that always found its way onto Tense Towers compilation CDs and now lives on my phone, is 'Shoot High, Aim Low' from 'Big Generator'.

This track was never released as a single, it's not that kind of song. It has been said that it isn't even that kind of Yes song, but it speaks to me like no other. Sadly, I've not been able to find an original video whilst researching this blogpost, but here are two different takes on the song: the first with stills; the second set to footage from the film 'Avatar'.

But to complete the historical circle, I still think it's at its best as vinyl, when listened to on a record deck with the volume cranked way up.

Please enjoy responsibly.

A touch of the exotic

I spent yesterday sub-contracting for another firm. Well, it gives me a change of scene, is furnished with a range of mildly-abusive, work-related banter and provides travel to exotic locations.

OK, so it was Caithness, but during the second visit of the day, as I was fetching some equipment from the van, a rather exotic-sounding bird call rang out through the surprisingly mild September air.

Do they have Birds of Paradise in the north of Scotland?

Typically (and I really should've known better), it wasn't some gaudily-plumed, jack-in-the-box screecher. Let's face it, Caithness is not known for its dense rainforest habitat. Dense rain, perhaps, but forest? No.

That said, compared to Orkney, it was very verdantly vegetated. And vertically, too, rather than practically horizontal. There was an actual hawthorn hedge by the side of the road, for crying out loud. Can you imagine? Oh yeah, you probably can, my bad. Any road, all of these trees and shrubby stuff may have been enough to knock my ears out of kilter.

What was that call?

Eventually, the bird hopped into view at the top of a conifer.

Great Tit.

Had to be, eh? The old 'if you don't know what it is, it's a Great Tit' mantra.
So, more Paridae than Paradisaeidae.

I was a mere 43km from home, but it could've been a world away. The hour's ferry journey across the Pentland Firth is just not something which Parus major is that bothered about. I blame the pricing policy and the lack of peanuts in the galley.

Referendum reprise

In the aftermath of the referendum on Scottish Independence, 2 million NO voters defeated 1.6 million YES voters (a 55% to 45% split).

However, it would appear that, regardless of the outcome, the British political landscape has changed forever. Things will be different from now on.

On the day following the referendum, Alex Salmond, the First Minister of Scotland and leader of the Scottish National Party, announced his resignation.

I have wanted to write about the emotions I felt during the campaign, the referendum day and the subsequent resignation of Alex Salmond, but to no avail. The words were not there to adequately express my wonder at the significant political engagement by the population, my disappointment at the result of the vote or the sense of loss when a charismatic and earnest politician steps down. If only there were a few more politicians of this ilk.  

However, a blogpost by Jon Snow, the ITN journalist, pretty much summed up what I was thinking. See here.

Comms alert

Hard on the heels of this morning's Referendum blogpost... here's another one.

The circumstances are a bit different.

The phone rings, the caller wants a bit of help with an urgent job...

[Him] Meet at 4pm and we'll be done by 6pm.

[Me] OK.

It turns out that Sky TV needed another broadband feed for the broadcast from Kirkwall Grammar School where the Orkney result will be announced.

Here's BBC Radio Orkney's take on the event preparations.

And here's mine...

Ours is the wee temporary mount just left of centre. A feed from the dish to inside the building, then a couple of ethernet cable runs through the building to the media platform.

It almost felt like being back in the game.

The sound check was brilliant. Some bloke (who I recognised as a fiddle player) let fly with:

"The Referendum results for Orkney are...

Yes... zero.

No... zero.

Spoiled ballot papers... 17,934."

Gotta love Orcadians!