The Sciencebase science category, updates on scientific happenings from around the world. Check out the Sciencebase Twitter and Facebook pages for even more.
I’ve mentioned Seedball a few times previously. The team has very generously sent me samples of their product, which offers a novel way to rewild your garden, or indeed, any outdoor space, without the need to handle thousands of tiny seeds. The balls themselves act as a growth medium within which the seeds for any of dozens wildflowers can be held. You simply scatter the seed balls on your patch and water in.
Hummingbird Hawk-moth nectaring on Red Valerian
In time, the seeds germinate and your patch is converted into a wonderland of wildflowers and almost immediately starts benefiting the local invertebrate community and thence the birds, and the whole garden ecosystem.
Seedball have now teamed up with the British Entomological Society to offer specific packs of Seedballs with wildflower species aimed at attracting particular species of invertebrates. Namely, Hummingbird Hawk-moth, Meadow Grasshopper, and Blue-tailed Damselfly. They’re running a nice competition on their Insta to win some!
We didn’t make it to the north Norfolk coast for our usual new year yomp through the area, but we did make it to Titchwell for a couple of nights a month later. We had packed and departed for the coast by mid-afternoon. As we approached our lodgings, it was almost dark, a shadowy Tawny Owl flew across our path. By the time we arrived, it was fully dark and the last of the day’s Brent and Pink-footed Geese were noisily heading to roost.
Shore Lark, one of 14 in a flock at Holkham Gap
We ate well that evening at Briarfields and the next day we were up reasonably early to see Marsh Harriers quartering the eastern end of RSPB Titchwell, we could easily see them from our breakfast table. There were at least four showing and one flew almost directly over to the hotel’s outdoor area.
Curlew after dawn, Titchwell
The next breakfast there were no Marsh Harriers, but there were plenty of Curlew flying across the fields neighbouring the hotel’s grounds.
Mute Swan coming into land, Titchwell
Anyway, back to Thursday, we kitted up and took the 20-minute walk to the nature reserve entrance. Turns out the connecting footpath from the hotel is only open four weeks of the year, in the autumn, when there is no bird breeding activity. Also turns out that if you try to head for the beach and walk back along to RSPB Titchwell, you are stymied in your quest by an impassible running channel. So, the road it was.
Snipe and prey, Titchwell. One of several visible on the edge of Patsy’s Reedbed
A solitary Reeves’s Muntjac deer was picking up scraps beneath the bird feeders when we arrived, there were also Brambling around, although we didn’t see one until we were leaving.
Reeves’s muntjac – not a bird
We got wind that there was a Tawny Owl roosting in an ivy-covered tree, so we followed the boardwalk to see if we could spot it. Mrs Sciencebase, as ever, was first to catch a tiny glimpse of feathers through the ivy. The bird was very well hidden, you wouldn’t have known it was there without someone having heard it calling or seeing it come to roost to point out the precise tree.
Oystercatcher on Titchwell beach
We then trekked down to the beach. It was chilly, but the wind was not strong. Usual suspects on the water’s edge: Oystercatcher, gulls, Sanderlings skittering back and forth at the periphery of the tide, Dunlin, A couple of Bar-tailed Godwit.
Another winter visitor – Brambling (M) sometimes known as the Mountain Finch or the Cock o’ the North, a cousin of the Chaffinch
Out to sea, we missed the Long-tailed Duck and the Red-breasted Merganser, but could see hundreds of Common Scoter. These are pretty much indistinguishable from the Black and Velvet species, unless they’re in flight, when you might, with a decent eye, and a decent scope, have something of a chance of distinguishing one from the others.
Flock of Golden Plover at TitchwellGolden Plover coming into land
Back on the reserve, a couple of Curlew were displaying some intriguing behaviour. It was impossible to know what they were doing. One seemed to be slightly more aggressive than the other and would approach and the other would back away. Then the pair would hop onto a muddy overhang with stems of some kind of plant in their bills and peck about as if they were musing on the possibility of making a nest. Although I don’t think this would have been a good site for them.
One of several Grey Plover on our recent visit to RSPB Titchwell
We’ve still no idea if this was two males attempting to territorialise or a male and a female attempting to pair bond, or perhaps even two females. Maybe it was mother and daughter, with the former teaching the latter. That said they were pretty much the same size, so that seems a little unlikely.
Titchwell Teal
Later, we saw another Curlew giving short shrift to a Redshank that was attempting to feed on the same patch of scrubby mud poking out of the water of the mere.
Curlew seeing off a Redshank, TitchwellCurlew having seen off the Redshank
The next day was travelling home day but we decided, after a double-back to visit the nature reserve at Holkham Gap. There are usually Shore Lark to be seen here in the winter and Snow Bunting. We trudged about in the wind and saw lots of birders but none of the birds. There were again hundreds of Scoter out to sea.
Ruff at Holkham
We got wind of the Shore Lark, about 14, apparently at the most westerly point of the Holkham Gap and so headed in that direction. There were several birders with scopes heading in that direction. So, we felt like we were on a promise. A couple heading home confirmed that the Shore Lark were about half a mile further along the beach, where we could see two other birders watching them.
A tiny fraction of the flock of Pink-footed Geese at Holkham
We set off towards the birds but could see dogwalkers arrive with a lively pup. The inevitable happened and the dog ran through the distant patch where the Shore Lark were feeding sending them in their little flock back towards us at great speed. They landed not 60 metres from where we stood, which was a spot of luck, you might say, and the closest views we have had of these charming winter visitors from the distant north.
One of three Little Grebe (Dabchicks) on the pond at HolkhamMaintenance at the nature reserve, RSPB Titchwell – not birds
You will know by now just how fascinated I have been these last 5+ years by the the section of the Lepidoptera we know here as moths…and also the moths we call butterflies. One of the most wonderful of creatures in this group is the Hummingbird Hawk-moth (not to be confused with the rather different US species known as hummingbird moths).
This moth, Macroglossum stellatarum, is present across Europe and Asia. It’s a day-flying species that nectars on lots of different types of flower. It does look like a tiny hummingbird, but of course those birds are only found in the Americas so don’t overlap with airspace here.
Anyway, a recent paper in PNAS discusses how the moths coordinate their proboscis, to feed and extract nectar from flowers. The research suggests that contrary to early theories, the moths use vision to coordinate proboscis movement, even though such complex eye–appendage coordination is unexpected in invertebrates.
Visually guided appendage reaching, such as hand to eye coordination in apes is an everyday part of our lives. It involves the perception of the relative positions of the object and the appendage in three-dimensional space as the appendage moves toward the object. That takes a lot of brain power and great eyesight.
Now, Anna Stöckl and colleagues tracked the movement of the proboscis of Hummingbird Hawk-moths as the moths explored artificial flower patterns. They found that the insects probed the visual patterns with their proboscis to a greater extent than a homogeneous flower background, suggesting visual guidance. The authors also compared the probing behaviour of the moths’ proboscis under occluded and free vision conditions. Vision occlusion impaired the moths’ ability to probe in alignment with artificial flower patterns, suggesting that visual feedback of the probing proboscis is required for targeted probing.
Visual guidance fine-tunes probing movements of an insect appendage, Proc Natl Acad Sci (USA), 2024, DOI: 10.1073/pnas.2306937121
Looking forward to seeing this Sundance documentary:
Nocturnes (India, USA) directed and produced by Anirban Dutta and co-directed by Anupama Srinivasan. From the Sundance Festival website:
“In the dense forests of the Eastern Himalayas, moths are whispering something to us. In the dark of night, two curious observers shine a light on this secret universe.”
What names we give the flora and fauna. Names are critical for scientific discourse and general conversation alike. They can be weird and wonderful, informative, confusing, hilarious even, and sometimes baffling. While common, or vernacular, names vary wildly, science, of course, has a relatively standardised method of naming living things. The common format, which is often colloquially known as the Latin name, is to have the species in a genus, a family group, and then to follow that genus name with the species name.
For example, in the UK, we might talk of the Snowdrop, or the Common Snowdrop. This delicate plant with white flowers that emerge in the spring is known to scientists as Galanthus nivalis. The genus is Galanthus and includes all the different species of snowdrops. The species name nivalis pins us to the Common Snowdrop. The scientific name, or binomial, tells scientists and others the exact species regardless of their native tongue.
While the Common Snowdrop is not a particularly confusing example, in the birding world we might discuss Lapwing in the vernacular. It’s more formally known as the Northern Lapwing to distinguish it from other lapwing species. However, in English, this species has many other names, such as Peewit, Green Plover, Pyewipe, and Tuit; there will be dozens and dozens of names elsewhere, of course. The Lapwing’s scientific name is Vanellus vanellus. There should be no confusion when given the scientific name.
It is worth noting that in taxonomy, the naming and classification of living things, there is always change as we learn more about known species and discover new ones. Often the original scientific names created in the 1700s or the 1800s need to be updated as new knowledge, such as genetic information becomes available. The Lapwing was originally in the wader (shorebird) genus Stringa, which includes the shanks and tattlers, but is more correctly given its place among the other lapwings in Vanellus.
You may have noticed that Vanellus vanellus seems to have a double name. The genus and species name being the same. This is known as a tautonym, as if there were some tautology in its name. Usually, this tautonymic naming nomenclature refers to the fact that the species is the type of the genus. So, the Northern Lapwing is considered the archetypal species in its genus.
There are lots of examples of such tautonyms discussed previously on Sciencebase. I’ve also mentioned how scientific names are not always binomial, they can have three parts so that sub-species can be named formally. For example, the full scientific name for the Lowland Mountain Gorilla is an interesting tautonymic trinomial: Gorilla gorilla gorilla.
Scientific names are usually printed in italics, and the genus name takes a capital letter but the species and sub-species are all lower case. As in, the scientific name of the Green Sandpiper, Tringa ochropus. You will also note that there is a good reason for capitalising vernacular names so that when one reads the phrase Green Sandpiper one knows that it is the specific bird that is being discussed rather than a sandpiper that happens to be green. This is more obviously useful when discussing various other species with even more potentially ambiguous names, such as the Little Owl. If it were not capitalised, then are we talking about the specific Little Owl or a generic owl that happens to be small?
So far, so good.
The world of genetic updates, recording corrections, and other modifications aside, there is a growing problem in the taxonomic world. Unfortunately, there are numerous names, vernacular and scientific, that do not sit well with modern values. The first example of this that came on to the Sciencebase radar was the moth species Lymantria dispar. This beautiful moth can be something of a pest. But its English vernacular name is to some ears more problematic than the eating habits of its larvae because for most of the time we have recorded this species it has been known as the Gypsy Moth.
Like I said, in some situations a rather unfortunate name that has been removed in the USA where L. dispar is now known as the Spongy Moth. This new vernacular name alludes to the mass of eggs laid by the female of the species. The change presumably avoids the issue of a racially sensitive vernacular name. Whether or not we are to rename the eponymous and vintage de Havilland aircraft similarly remains to be seen. Company founder Geoffrey de Havilland was a keen amateur lepidopterist and gave several of his aircraft moth names.
Now, the obvious problem is that any name change means that all of the printed works that mention that name are instantaneously out of date and as the old name fades into history, there will come a point where younger readers will not know it at all, not know to search those ancient tomes for the Gypsy Moth, for example, and will fruitlessly search for the Spongy Moth. Of course, with the digitised knowledge, there is the potential to do a global search and replace on the term Gypsy Moth and to swap it for the name Spongy Moth. But, that too brings with it a problem, perhaps for the older readers who have not yet heard the new term who then search in vain for Gypsy Moth missing all those fascinating references to the Spongy.
Thankfully, we still have Lymantria dispar so there is no problem for the world of science in terms of the vernacular names. But, there is an emerging problem. My attention was drawn to a recent article entitled “Protecting stable biological nomenclatural systems enables universal communication“, which discusses the issues that science might face in terms of changes in taxonomic names.
The article suggests that a stable system of naming biological systems has facilitated unambiguous scientific communication internationally. It then adds that there have been calls for a reboot of the naming systems that asks for fairer, more inclusive and socially just scientific nomenclature. The article suggests that the urge to remove or revise names associated with controversial individuals or offensive words comes from a genuine and deep-felt place. However, there is the likelihood, the article suggests, that the damage would far outweigh the healing that might come from such revisions.
The main problems that could arise might be summarised as follows:
Historical accuracy and continuity: One of the primary problems with the notion of cancel culture in biological taxonomy is the potential erasure of historical names. Renaming species to align with modern values may result in the loss of valuable information, hindering the continuity of scientific knowledge.
Impact on the scientific literature: Changing vernacular and scientific names can create confusion and disrupt the integrity of scientific literature, as discussed above. It requires extensive efforts to update databases, publications, and educational materials, impacting the accessibility of information for researchers and students and indeed for the public at a time when the perception of science needs bolstering.
Unintended consequences: The attempt to eliminate potentially offensive names may lead to unintended consequences, such as the loss of cultural and historical context associated with the original names. Additionally, renaming species may not necessarily address the root issues related to inclusivity and justice.
Subjectivity in name assessment: Determining which names are deemed offensive or inappropriate is subjective and may vary among individuals and cultures. This subjectivity introduces challenges in developing a universally accepted standard for renaming biological entities. Many of the worrying terms may well have been misconstrued as having inappropriate meaning or associations that do not exist.
Of course, social sensitivity is important and removing or renaming offensive terms reflects a desire to avoid perpetuating harmful stereotypes or biases to improve inclusion and diversity within the scientific community.
Indeed, many of the terms that have been in place for at least a century or two are often misconceived as offensive simply because they emerged from similar etymological roots as words we now consider offensive in social contexts. Some of these terms are not inherently offensive and are often neutral Latin or Greek terms or are coincidentally the same when translated into another language as a word considered offensive locally. Some are thought to be referencing individuals that they are not. It can be confusing and would be even more so if terms were redacted that needn’t be.
What we need to avoid is the disruption of scientific communication and the erasure of historical continuity. It is worth noting that the current system has at its core transcultural communication and operational neutrality.
In our pursuit of nature’s wonders, we do sometimes leave the county of Cambridgeshire and head into Norfolk, that’s our usual modus operandi. Occasionally though we head east into Suffolk instead. One of the closest nature destinations in that county is the SWT site of Lackford Lakes not far from Bury St Edmunds.
Male Siskin feeding in an alder tree
I should point out that we’re quite lucky living near Cambridge. We have some decent wildlife spots close by, we’re centrally placed almost with various reserves within a 20-minute drive. We’re quite central to many others that are no more than 40-50 minutes drive away. We can even get to the Norfolk or Suffolk coast in not much more than an hour if the traffic’s not too heavy.
Nuthatch
Anyway, we don’t get to Lackford Lakes as often as we should, but that said it then means that any trip is quite special when we do. And, while I don’t think we’ve seen any bird or insect species there that we haven’t seen in other places over the years, it’s always fun to visit just for those species that we don’t see commonly on our local patch, such as Siskin.
Snipe with ruffled tail feathers
We also saw rabbit and muntjac deer, but here’s a list of the bird species we saw, in a vaguely sorted order. There may have been one or two other gull species:
Goldcrest
Siskin
Goldfinch
Bullfinch
Great Tit
Blue Tit
Long-tailed Tit
Coal Tit
Marsh Tit
Dunnock
Chaffinch
Greenfinch
Robin
Nuthatch
Wren
Blackbird
Starling
Lapwing
Common Buzzard
Snipe
Cormorant
Mallard
Mute Swan
Tufted Duck
Gadwall
Pochard
Teal
Wigeon
Shelduck
Great Crested Grebe
Moorhen
Coot
Greylag Goose
Canada Goose
Black-headed Gull
Carrion Crow
Rook
Jackdaw
Magpie
Wood Pigeon
Collared Dove
Pheasant
Nuthatch with fat pelletFlock of Snipe at Lackford LakesThree wading Snipe
Red Deer, Cervus elaphus – true native species found in Scotland, the Lake District, and on Exmoor, as well as Northern Ireland, much larger than all other deer, and indeed any other British mammal. Distinctive rusty, red-brown colour in summer. Short tail and pale rump patch.
Red Deer, English Lake District, very old, low-light, scanned film photo
Roe Deer, Capreolus capreolus – true native species present across the whole of England, Scotland, and Wales. Rusty red coat in summer, grey-ish in winter. Prominent white rump and no tail. Females have a small tush or tuft of hair on their rump in winter.
Roe Deer
Fallow, Dama dama – native and living freely across England and Wales and into Scotland as well as Northern Ireland, but also. Their coat is quite varied some pale, some less so but with white spots. Usually have a distinctive black inverted horseshoe shape on their rump, and a black stripe on their tail. Only species in the UK where the stags have palmate (hand-shaped) antlers.
Fallow Deer
(Reeves’) Muntjac, Muntiacus reevesi – introduced species, also known as the Barking Deer for its canine-sounding call. Smallest of deer in UK. Russet brown, distinctive shape and hunched posture. Wide, flat tail with an often-displayed white underside. Present across all of southern England.
Reeves’ Muntjac Deer
Chinese Water, Hydropotes inermis – introduced species. 10 percent of world population found in East Anglia and a few other places in England. Usually russet brown coat, which turns grey in winter. Distinctive tusks in males rather than antlers. Often described as having a Teddy bear face with round and protuberant forward-facing ears. Short tail, rump has no distinctive markings, making it distinct.
Chinese Water Deer
Sika, Cervus nippon – introduced species originally on Brownsea Island but present in that region and North West Scotland, also Northern Ireland. Similar coats to Fallow Deer but shorter tail and a less distinct black stripe, distinctive white rump, also noticeable white glands on the hind legs of the deer.
Two of around 11 Waxwings glowering at birders from high perches
There is an ongoing Bohemian Waxwing irruption in the UK with hundreds, if not thousands, of this most northerly species of bird having headed south in search of food over the last couple of months. I heard some flying over our house in November, but finally saw a tiny flock of four feeding on rowan trees outside somebody’s house opposite the primary school in the Cambridgeshire village of Coton. I got some nice photos but it was a dull day, so it was lovely to have a sunny New Year’s Day and to know that some had arrived to feed on rowans next to the railway station in another nearby village, Great Shelford.
Zoomed in and cropped Waxwing headshot
We’d actually tried to see them them week before and noted a flock of about 20 in flight heading away from the station. But, on New Year’s Day, there were 11 glowering from the tall trees next to the railway station. They were plucking ivy berries from the plants growing on those trees but because there were so many birders, twitchers, and toggers near their favoured rowans, the birds had to choose their moments carefully to fly in and snatch a few berries in very brief bursts of feeding activity.
Waxwing lunging for one of the last rowan berries on the treeWaxwings posing whimsically as musical notes on a stave, perhapsWaxwing in flight
Waxwings head south from Scandinavia when the food supply falls short, usually in large numbers when they’ve had a good breeding season, and there’s simply not enough berries to go round. Each bird can eat hundreds of berries each day. Hence the irruptions. I check BirdGuides most days and they are still present in our neck of the woods in good-sized flocks that come and go. Next decent sunny day, I will head out to track down the closest flock. It’d be wonderful if they turned up in our village again (there was one at the start of the year).
A few natural highlights from another year of trying to get a perfect wildlife snap! You can find the photos I took of these highlights littered around the Sciencebase website, in my Imaging Storm galleries, on my Instagram and Mastodon.
We started the year on the North Norfolk coast as usual, with Pink-footed Geese etc at Wells, and Shorelarks, Snow Buntings, and a White-tailed Eagle at Holkham, and various other sightings of avian life elsewhere on our walks.
White-tailed Eagle
Soon after we got home there was an alert for a relative rarity and so I saw a couple of Smew at Meadowlane Pits, St Ives. Later that month, Mrs Sciencebase and I went to NT Burwell Fen for the Short-eared Owls. I wrote about processing my SEO photo earlier in the year, you may recall. If I remember rightly there was just one at that time but at least a couple of Barn Owls. There were seven or so when I went back to Burwell Fen in November, also saw one of the pair of Little Owl, and on my way home, a Merlin flew across the footpath in front of me, calling all the while.
Short-eared Owl, NT Burwell Fen
Lots of Red Kites still hanging around the A10 dump viewed from Long Drove, Cottenham. They peaked at between 40 and 50 at the end of 2022, although my record count of them among the Long Drove hedgerows and trees behind the dump was 26, which is still amazing for this part of the world and testament to how well this species, once extinct in the UK, is now doing. Last time I checked there were a dozen or so, early December.
Red Kite perched in a tree
Mrs Sciencebase and I had made another visit to Norfolk in February for an early-morning Wader Spectacular at RSPB Snettisham. It was dark and drizzly when we got up, but worth the effort to see the thousands, if not tens of thousands, of Knot, countless Oystercatcher, lots of Avocet etc doing their thing as the high tide peaked. Spectacular.
Then, in March, I suffered an injury, which precluded any driving, cycling, or walking for several weeks. Moreover, that injury, coupled with bad weather, did nothing much for my getting outdoors and exploring nature. However, closer to home, our son counted 34 frogs in and around our pond one night and we had lots of frogspawn again this year. Plenty of damselflies used the pond over the summer and some dragonflies too. Incredibly, one morning, stuck in the house, I saw a Spoonbill fly up the street, which was quite astonishing. At the time, there had been reports of one south of us that ended up on a reserve north of us.
I got a decent shot of a Green Hairstreak at the local Les King Wood, which later in the year won me an award. We also had some butterfly species in the back garden that I’ve not seen in the garden before, notably Common Blue and Small Copper.
My prize-winning Green Hairstreak butterfly
We saw our first Choughs on a trip to Anglesey in May as well as Guillemots, Fulmars, Kittiwakes, Razorbills, a couple of Puffins and an egg-stealing Raven.
Chough on AngleseyEgg-stealing Raven
The weather wasn’t great during the main butterfly season, but I still managed to catch sight of Black Hairstreak, Purple Hairstreak, and Purple Emperor again. Ticked just one new butterfly species this year, despite efforts to find one or two others off our local patch, that was Dingy Skipper at Devil’s Dyke, Newmarket. In the previous two butterflying seasons, I’d added 5 or 6 each year to my “tick list” and found new colonies, previously unreported, of a couple of hairstreak species. The White-letter and Purple were again present in Rampton Spinney too.
Dingy Skipper butterfly
I headed to Magog Down nature reserve at what I hoped would be the height of the Small Blue butterfly season and saw dozens and dozens of these dainty little creatures. Many of them landed on camera and bag and coat and trousers while I was trying to photograph their activities among the wildflower meadows there! My one or two trips to Trumpington Meadows this year were relatively fruitless. See also the Edwards’ Wood in Dry Drayton, quite a few Marbled White there again this year though.
Small Blue, butterfly
Mrs Sciencebase and I headed back to North Norfolk for a camping trip in Stiffkey where I did a bit of toilet-block mothing and saw my first Beautiful China-mark and Marbled Brown moths. We also camped much more locally near RSPB Ouse Fen this year and had early morning Bittern but little else. Cambridge Folk Festival this year had us camping under a Horse Chestnut tree and seeing dozens of Horse Chestnut Leaf-miner moth, which I’d seen in the garden once or twice this season.
Beautiful China-mark, moth
While we were staying in Stiffkey we headed to Trimingham where Bee-eaters were attempting to nest and breed in a disused quarry. We had good views of them sporadically over the course of an hour or two.
Bee-eater, Trimingham, Norfolk
First sighting of an Orange Conch micro moth at Les King Wood. Also saw Small Eggar larval nest, Brampton Wood. Brassy Longhorns once more on Cottenham Lode. It’s such a shame that even after my eco efforts the Environment Agency still feels the need to hack back the lode banks and destroy the flourishing wildflowers on the upper part of the slope so early in the season.
Another owl sighting was a Tawny Owl that flew out in front of us on the High Street in the village as we cycled home at dusk from choir rehearsal one evening. We heard Tawny Owls on the village green, but also in our neighbours’ gardens on several occasions in the late summer and into the autumn. Little Owl also heard occasionally somewhere on the village green after dark.
I took part in a mothing morning at Coton Orchard in the summer, which was very interesting. That did mean I missed out on a butterflying event at Chippenham Fen. So I headed there the day after and ticked Scarlet Tiger moth and Silver Barred (although I only have photographic evidence of the former).
Scarlet Tiger, moth
2022 was an irruption year for Clouded Yellow but we had to go overseas, Cala’n Porter on Menorca specifically to see them this year. While we were there we also saw Cleopatra, Swallowtail, and possibly Two-tail Pasha, an African species of Blue butterfly in numbers. Also Pine Processionary moth after the rains of our final night in the hotel. A highlight was perhaps Booted Eagle flying low over our hotel, Egyptian Vultures at a beautiful cove we walked miles to and swam at. There were also lots of Pied Flycatcher, Shrike, and Black Redstart on an early morning walk, and numerous Blue Rock Thrush at the aforementioned cove.
Our next trip involved a short stop at rellies, who were not surprisingly incensed by an Indian Meal Moth infestation in their home. That stopover was on the way to Dorset and Corfe Castle. We saw Sika Deer again at RSPB Arne as well as Osprey, but no White-tailed Eagles there this year. We did catch sight of a lot of Red Squirrels and dozens of Spoonbill on Brownsea Island on a Poole Harbour trip. I also did a bit of mothing in the courtyard garden at our Corfe Castle holiday cottage and recorded my first Autumnal Rustic, Feathered Ranunculus, Heath Rustic, and Horse Chestnut moth there.
Red Squirrel, Brownsea Island, Poole Harbor, DorsetConvolvulus Hawk-moth, RSPB ArneOne of 70+ Spoonbill, Brownsea Island lagoonBearded Reedlings (F, left; M, right)
Meanwhile, back at the ranch. I’ve recorded well over 8000 moth specimens in our back garden in 2023 of 324 species. 44 of those were new for the garden this year and included some of the most wonderful vernacular names for micro and macro moths: Acer Sober, Alder Signal, Birch Conch, Blackthorn Slender, Breckland Plume, Brindled Shoot, Bud Moth, Bordered Carl, Common Cosmet, Common Slender, Corn Moth, Cypress Groundling, Dark-barred Twist, Dark Pin Knot-horn, Dusky Groundling, Early Oak-piercer, Ermine Knot-horn, Feathered Bright, Fruitlet Mining Tortrix, Fulvous Clothes Moth, Leopard Moth, Lesser Tawny Tubic, Little Grass-veneer, Horse Chestnut Leaf-miner, Mallow Groundling, Marbled Orchard Tortrix, Netted Argent, Northern Deep-brown Dart, Pale-backed Clothes Moth, Pale-streak Grass-veneer, Pine Leaf-mining Moth, Pine Marble, Pointed Groundling, Poplar Kitten, Red-brindled Dwarf, Red Chestnut, Ruddy Flat-body, Small Wainscot, Smoky-barred Marble, Spruce Knot-horn, Strawberry Tortrix, Thatch Groundling etc.
My first Autumnal Rustic, recorded in Corfe Castle
Late November, we knew there were a few Short-eared Owls (perhaps) five at NT Burwell Fen. It’s only 20 minutes drive from here, so we headed out on a Monday lumchtime with a picnic. Got there just after 1pm, 5 or 6 Shorties were up and at it by about 2:30pm. The light was pretty much gone by about 3:15pm. My usual feeling is that these birds seem to be most active about an hour before sunset, but it felt like sunset happened an hour early. The various photographers hanging around and complaining that there were too many people there reminded me of a comment someone made about how it’s “all the bloody tourists” that spoil it for them when they go travelling!
Towards the end of November, I was picking up the sound of an occasional Waxwing flying over the house (audio birding with the Merlin app) and at the same time, the birding reports were heralding the arrival of small flocks reaching England. As I update this, 24th December 2023, I can report that I’ve visited three local spots that have had reports of Waxwing and have seen four feeding on rowan trees opposite Coton primary school. Those flocks have moved on, but others seem to be coming in, there’s plenty of time this winter to catch sight of Waxwing again. I’ve written about the interesting places where you might see Waxwing before. In addition, I know there are lots in the North East, a very large flock of 150+ in Jesmond, numerous on the Norfolk coast, and at least one flock of 70+ in Norwich. There were early reports of flocks of 500+ in Scotland.
Anyway, I’m hoping for a better year in terms of improved mobility in 2024 and given better weather and the opportunity to make the most of the butterfly and birding seasons, I will hopefully have some new wildlife to show you this time next year!
My sister sent me some photos she took of pearlescent clouds that appeared at dusk over her house today. I took a look outside myself soon after and could see a couple of small patches of these colourful clouds here too. We live at least a couple of hours drive apart. There have been lots of posts on social media of some beautiful nacreous clouds this week.
Nacreous cloud over Cambridgeshire in December 2023. I turned up the saturation slightly on the photograph so that you could see the phenomenon discussed more clearly in my photo.
The term nacreous refers to the iridescent, smooth internal sheen we see in several mollusc shells, often known as mother-of-pearl when it’s seen in oysters. The word’s etymology presumably lies in the Arabic word naqur “hunting horn”, from nakara meaning to hollow out, in reference to the shape of mollusc shells, but perhaps actual shells used as horns, such as conch shells.
Nacreous clouds are also known as polar stratospheric clouds and form in the winter polar stratosphere at altitudes of 15 to 25 kilometres where it is very cold (down to minus 78 Celsius) and dry. Indeed, clouds rarely form at this altitude because of the lack of water vapour. The clouds themselves are formed from ice crystals rather than liquid or water vapour. Under the right natural conditions, they might be seen further from the poles as has happened in the UK this week. The clouds are characterized by their vibrant and iridescent colours, including shades of pink, purple, and green. The colours show when the sun, as seen from ground level, is actually a few degrees below the horizon.
The shimmering and vibrant colours you might see result from the interference of light waves as they pass through the ice particles from which the cloud is composed. Incidentally, we could’ve been seeing the same patch of cloud given the altitudes we’re talking.
There is a second type of nacreous cloud that forms from supercooled water droplets and atmospheric nitric acid and is associated with ozone depletion.
