Tag Archives: solitary bees

Cuckoo Pint and Spring’s Bridal Veil along a Devon Lane in early April

April 26, 2024 philipstrange 6 Comments

The continual wet weather combined with the dismal world and national news were getting me down. Then Sunday dawned with unexpected sunshine. I had to get outside and decided to walk up the lane near our house. This was four weeks to the day since a previous visit which formed the subject of my last post and I was interested to see how much had changed since then.

The lane was a mosaic of light and shadow that morning, windy in places with the arrival of Storm Kathleen, muddy underfoot but easy walking. Flowers in different shades of yellow including primroses, dandelions and celandine had been, since my last visit, joined by buttercups to decorate the edges of the lane and there was a general sense of lush growth expressing the life force of spring. Trees were greening, ferns unfurled new fronds and the number and range of flowers had increased with stitchwort and bluebells now enhancing the new season’s celebration. The banks of wild garlic (ramsons) that line much of the lane had filled out. The leaves were now mature and covered the ground although there were still very few of the starry white flowers as if the plants were waiting for a signal to start their show.

banks of wild garlic (ramson) leaves iining the lane

All this was both interesting and therapeutic and I much enjoyed the walk but there were two events that morning that I want to describe in more detail.

The first was an odd but beautiful sight I encountered nestling on the bank at the side of the path. Pushing upwards through the vegetation was a reddish poker-shaped spear about 5 cm long partly surrounded by a thin, protective green cowl. This is the most obvious part of a very unusual flower and perhaps the most perfect example I have seen. The scientific name of the plant is Arum maculatum and most flower books refer to it as Lords and Ladies. For many years, though, I have known it as cuckoo pint. I have a flower book dating from the late 1960s which calls it cuckoo pint so perhaps that is where I learnt it but how did this unusual name arise?

A little research revealed that the distinctive shape of the flower has generated much ribald humour, often gender related, with the plant attracting a host of local names reflecting this. Some examples are: “Adam and Eve”, “cows and bulls”, “naked boys”, “willy lily”, “Kitty come down the lane, jump up and kiss me”. Apparently, cuckoo pint is another of these. “Cuckoo” has long had amorous connotations and “pint” is a shortening of the old English name pintle meaning a penis. There seems to have been a shift away from this name over the past half century, but I shall continue to call it cuckoo pint, now with an added smile on my face.

Putting the naming aside, the plant is also unusual for its pollination strategy. Hidden at the bottom of the cowl, surrounding the poker-shaped spear are a ring of female flowers, above that a ring of male flowers and then a ring of bristly hairs. When the female flowers are ready, they emit a fetid odour that attracts small flies which enter the flower and get trapped by the bristles. If the flies are carrying pollen, they will pollinate the female flowers and pick up more pollen from the male flowers when they are ready. Eventually, the bristles wither and the flies are released to pollinate another plant. All of this results in clusters of bright orange-red berries along the lane in the autumn.

Further up the lane, a break in the sycamore and hazel scrub on the right-hand side was filled by a small tree covered in white blossom. It caught the sun that morning, looking as though a sudden sharp snowfall had decorated the boughs (see picture at the head of this post). I stood there for a while, enjoying the warmth of the sun, examining the small white flowers, trying to get a good photo. For a short time, I was lost in a dreamy world of flowers and photos!

Suddenly, I felt something nudge the back of my right knee, jolting me out of my reverie. This was a shock and I had no idea what had happened until, when I turned round, there was a small dog looking up at me as if to say hello. Judging from the state of my trousers the dog must have nudged me with a muddy paw.

The dog’s owner soon appeared and was very apologetic. Seeing the white blossom tree that had held my attention, she asked what it was. I explained that this was blackthorn. She replied, saying that it looked so beautiful at this time of year and for her it was “Spring’s bridal veil”.

ashy mining bee (Andrena cineraria) on dandelion

After the dog had nudged me, I had stepped back quickly not noticing some bright yellow dandelions nearby and nearly treading on them. When I looked down there was a honey bee-sized insect on one flower, wallowing in the petals, probably drinking nectar. A closer look revealed that the insect was a furry bee, very fresh with well-defined white stripes on a black background. This was an ashy mining bee (Andrena cineraria) named for the black and white colouration which some see as ashes.

………………………

The lane was a glorious patchwork of light, form and colour that morning and the warmth of the spring sunshine and the sense that nature was moving ahead mostly normally did wonders for my mood. I was very glad to have come out and the poetic conversation with the dog owner was an unexpected bonus.

I walked the lane on April 7^th 2024

For more information on this lane click here

bees, nature writing

Ivy bees and a dipper by the river Ashburn

October 16, 2023 philipstrange 10 Comments

The river Ashburn in its stone-lined channel near the centre of Ashburton showing the large bank of ivy and to the right, North Road

As the river Ashburn approaches the centre of the south Devon town of Ashburton on its descent from Dartmoor, it runs along a stone-lined channel close to North Road giving the area a distinctly watery feel. The rapidly running water attracts wildlife so I always stop to look.

Today, a long section of the wall on the road side of the stream is covered in ivy which at this time of year (late September) is in full flower. Each flower head contains many small pale green hemispheres each topped with five yellow pollen-laden stamens. The overall effect is to give the normally dark green bush a temporary pale green coat with a glistening yellow sheen. The flowers are a rich late season source of pollen and nectar and give off a sickly-sweet odour perfuming the surrounding air, providing an irresistible lure for insects.

There is a cool blustery wind but there have been hints of sunshine and I notice some wasps and honeybees feeding from the ivy along with one or two distinctively marked bees with bright yellow hoops around their abdomen (see picture above and below). With their pale chestnut-haired thorax, these are ivy bees (Colletes hederae) our last solitary bee to emerge each year with a strong preference for feeding from ivy. These are males as their back legs lack pollen collecting hairs. They move about quickly from flower to flower and are very jumpy. They are waiting for females to emerge and their enthusiasm sometimes bubbles over into misguided mating attempts between males.

I can’t help glancing at the running water and suddenly I notice a flash of white. It’s rather far away so I use my camera zoom and find that this is a bird standing on a branch in the water. Photos show its chocolate brown plumage and a prominent white bib, unmistakeably a dipper (Cinclus cinclus). Dippers are elusive birds, at home by fast running water but always on the move and they get their name from the frequent bobbing movements they usually perform. This one seems more interested in preening and stretching its wings but it does a little dip for good measure (see video below).

I look back to check on the bees for a few moments but when I return to the dipper, it has already moved on.

Two male ivy bees on a head of ivy flowers

I visited Ashburton on September 27th 2023 and all the photos and the video were taken on that day,

bees, conservation, nature writing

Wildlife in a Devon Churchyard and a Green Man in the Church

June 14, 2023 philipstrange 4 Comments

St Andrew’s Church, Ashburton, from the churchyard (from Wikipedia)

A sunny day after so much mixed weather was too good an opportunity to miss. My wife, Hazel, had an appointment in Ashburton that morning and although I still felt fatigued, I decided to go with her. Ashburton is a pleasant town on the southern edge of Dartmoor, with green hills rising around the town’s northern side. It’s about a half hour drive for us along the valley of the river Dart and in the last week of April the countryside looked very fresh with spring flowers lending the roadside verges a veneer of colour.

Ashburton is one of four Dartmoor ”stannary” towns, mentioned in records as early as the 12^th century. Stannary towns were centres for collection and assessment of purified tin, a product of mining on the moor. More recently, peaking in the early 19^th century, there were several mills in the town making cloth from the wool of sheep farmed on Dartmoor. This industrial activity brought prosperity to the town and there are some fine old buildings in Ashburton giving it a solid established feel. Nowadays, Ashburton has many antique shops, a developing foodie culture and a flourishing Arts Centre based in the former Methodist Church. And, last but by no means least there is a lovely, funky café serving excellent coffee. Traffic, though, is a problem. The town’s roads are littered with cars and the nearby Devon Expressway creates a continuous, intrusive background roar.

Although the sun was shining, it wasn’t especially warm so I sat on one of the sheltered benches on the broad grassy area at the front of St Andrew’s Church. Around me on the grass were many bright yellow dandelions and the sunshine had coaxed out honeybees that moved systematically from flower to flower collecting forage. It was pleasant sitting in the sun, but I soon had enough of watching honeybees and curiosity drove me to explore. A path took me to the back of the church where I was surprised to discover an extensive churchyard with many graves but also many flowers. Mostly these were dandelions growing in the grass between the graves but other flowers had been planted around some headstones. A large group of bluebells in full flower stood out around one grave lending the air a haze of blue light and attracting insects in the sun. A few people were about in the churchyard, quietly visiting or tending graves and now and then the church clock rang.

Further on, though, as the graveyard widened even more, I spotted a large bank of a plant with tall stems almost reaching up to my waist, and topped by clumps of small green and white flowers. I recognised this as garlic mustard a common wildflower that grows widely in the local countryside along hedgerows as its common name, Jack by the hedge, encapsulates. Here in the churchyard, it was growing prolifically by a perimeter hedge where it gave the area a distinctly wild feel. Its stems were covered in pale green heart-shaped leaves and I crushed one to remind myself of its mild garlicky smell.

The churchyard with the patch of garlic mustard

I get very excited when I find this wildflower in the spring as it is one of the larval food plants of the orange tip butterfly, a very beautiful insect and one of my favourites. I hadn’t expected to find it in this semi-urban space and hoped that the butterflies might be there too. There was certainly no shortage of the flowers but despite this, no butterflies deigned to appear. In part compensation, the flowers were proving very attractive to several of our spring mining bees, insects that nest in holes in the ground. I saw three species, each carrying pollen so female, each looking very fresh, with bright markings allowing me to identify them as the Yellow-legged mining bee, the Ashy mining bee and the Grey-patched mining bee (Andrena flavipes, Andrena cineraria, Andrena nitida, respectively). I also had a quick glimpse of a bee fly nearby, an insect that parasitises the nests of mining bees so most likely there were nests about.

Yellow-legged mining bee (Andrena flavipes)

Grey-patched mining bee (Andrena nitida)

It was good to see the flowers and the bees although the lack of butterflies was frustrating but I decided it would be worth another visit. Three weeks later, Hazel had another appointment in the town, so I tagged along, having by then a bit more energy. In those three weeks spring had arrived in Devon. The weather was much warmer, hawthorn blossom lined the road through the Dart valley and we spotted one or two pink orchids growing defiantly by the road as we approached Ashburton. After our obligatory visit to the funky cafe, Hazel went for her appointment and I went straight to the churchyard. Here there was change as well. The area behind the church was less colourful, the dandelions had gone to seed and the bluebells were now a faded grey-blue. The garlic mustard was even taller and the stems moved together in waves as that morning’s light wind played across the area. There were still plenty of flowers on the garlic mustard but they had been joined by a large patch of another wildflower, greater celandine with its many yellow flowers and their tissue-paper petals. Hawthorn in the perimeter hedge was now covered in creamy white flowers perfuming the air with its odd smell that some say reeks of sex and death. With the warm sunshine, the mild weather and all the flowers, I had great expectations for orange tip butterflies but these were once more unfulfilled. Indeed, there were few insects about, a few honeybees moving around the garlic mustard and two or three rather jumpy bumblebees. The general lack of insects that warm day was very surprising and quite worrying.

Then as I stood by the flowers, I became aware of something in the air moving backwards and forwards across the patches of celandine and garlic mustard. I couldn’t see exactly what it was, but I began to think it might be a dragon fly as it seemed to swoop rapidly above the flowers before rising again, turning quickly to repeat the passage, occasionally hovering. I watched it for a while and saw it land on a dry woody stem. It was indeed a dragon fly, a fine insect about 5cm long with thorax and head a shiny mid brown, a chunky, yellowish-striped abdomen and its wings held horizontally showing their pattern of many tiny panes. It stayed still for long enough for me to take some photos and these identified it as a broad-bodied chaser (Libellula depressa), a female or an immature male with this colouration. After more flying about, it moved to the hawthorn hedge where it basked in the sun, its wings catching the light and glinting like stained glass, creating tiny flashes of red and green.

That was very exciting but I still hoped for butterflies and then, just as I was about to give up and leave, one appeared on the garlic mustard, a white butterfly but not an orange tip. It flitted among the flowers pausing briefly before resting in the sun, its wings open. Glimpses of the underwings (see picture at the head of this post) showed clear pale green striations and the pattern of spots on the upper wings indicated that this was a green-veined white butterfly (Pieris napi). These unexpected arrivals in the churchyard were very welcome but one dragonfly and one butterfly don’t change the fact that there were very few insects overall.

Broad-bodied chaser (Libellula depressa)

Green-veined white butterfly (Pieris napi)

By now Hazel had reappeared and we decided to have a look at the inside of the church. The building dates from the 15^th century and has a fine spacious interior, steeply curved wooden wagon roofs and much Victorian stained glass. We looked about and high on the roof above the Lady Chapel we found several colourful medieval roof bosses, carved wooden plates covering the join between two roof joists. One of these bosses depicted a human head with foliage protruding from its mouth, painted in bright colours, a rather surprising image. These unusual figures are, in fact, quite common, and are found very widely in varying forms in churches in Devon, the rest of the UK and elsewhere in Europe. They are popularly called “Green Men” although a more correct term is “foliate head” (a male head with leafy sprays growing from the mouth or eyes). There are said to be four Green Men in the Ashburton church. We found two more on the fine Victorian carved oak screen by the choir stalls.

Green Man (foliate head) roof boss in St Andrew’s Church, dating from medieval era

Green Men have been in the news recently following the inclusion of a prominent Green Man in the official invitation for the Coronation of King Charles III. The rationalisation given by the Royal Family for the use of the figure was as follows: “Central to the design is the motif of the Green Man, an ancient figure from British folklore, symbolic of spring and rebirth, to celebrate the new reign..”

The Coronation Invitation with the Green Man

Although Charles has long been an advocate of nature and has criticised the way we treat the natural world, I was surprised at the use of the Green Man image in this context. The explanation given by the Royal Family seems like a comforting oversimplification as we don’t actually know what the Green Man/foliate head means. We don’t know why so many appeared in churches and we can never know what they symbolised in the Medieval era when they first appeared. Many theories have been proposed about what these images might mean, including that they have no symbolic meaning.

My principal concern about using the Green Man in the invitation, surrounded by flowers, and specifically linking it to rebirth and spring is that it could give the impression that there are no problems with the natural world and spring is returning as always along with the rebirth of nature.

The reality is rather different. We are firmly in the grip of a biodiversity crisis and recent statistics highlighting the decline in birds and insects are alarming: between 2015 and 2020, 48% of all UK bird species declined and in the last 20 years, UK flying insect numbers fell by 60%. Anecdotal observations this spring, including my observations in Ashburton, suggest a sudden additional decline in insect numbers in some parts of the UK.

Outside of the naturalist community there is no discussion of these losses or what might be causing them. There is also no strategy, government or otherwise, for halting this downward spiral. Without this context, use of the Green Man as a symbol of spring and rebirth risks accusations of greenwash.

bees, nature writing

Long-horned bees along the south Devon coast

June 4, 2022 philipstrange 20 Comments

A week ago, I went down to the south Devon coast below the village of East Prawle to find the rare long-horned bees that live there. Their main nest site is located in the low cliffs near Horseley Cove and I scrambled down the steep path to the foot of the cliffs to have a look. It was a beautiful sunny day and the area was bathed in sunshine while the sea, a deep blue in that day’s light, fussed on the jumble of large boulders that lie just off shore. The sea was calm when I visited but in the winter these boulders will defend the cliffs from the worst of the storms creating a protected microenvironment.

Tracts of reddish soft rock peppered with pencil-sized holes were evident across the cliffs and several bees, roughly honeybee-sized, were patrolling the area showing a particular interest in these cavities. They swung in and moved quickly just above the surface sashaying back and forth and from side to side like hyped-up ballroom dancers. They looked very fresh and were rather lively and It was difficult to discern details but when I focussed my attention on a single insect I could see a pale yellow face, a bright russet thorax and two extra-long antennae, for these were the male long-horned bees (Eucera longicornis) I had come to see. One landed briefly and I marvelled at his magnificent antennae, each as long as the rest of his body.

Numbers varied but there were always a few about and sometimes up to six at one time, weaving around one another, creating a loud buzz. My presence didn’t seem to bother them, some flew around me and another collided with me but they carried on regardless. They are driven by procreative urges and having emerged from their nest holes in the soft rock within the last week or so, they were now waiting to catch a virgin female as she appeared. Mating had, though, already begun. On two or three occasions, a bee flew directly into a hole and didn’t reappear. Photos confirmed that these slightly chunkier bees with golden pollen brushes on their back legs were female Eucera longicornis, already mated and preparing their nests.

Eucera longicornis is rare and much declined and one of many special insect species found along this stretch of coast, designated a Site of Special Scientific Interest. The cliff top meadow above the nests was a mosaic of wildflowers and earlier I had found a few male Eucera feeding on bird’s foot trefoil. The coast path either side of the meadow had, however, been treated with herbicide and strimmed, virtually eliminating wildflowers, seriously degrading this important site.

Male long-horned bee (*Eucera longicornis)* flying about the nest area

Female *Eucera longicornis* enetering nest hole

Male long-horned bee (*Eucera longicornis*) pausing briefly by the nest site on the soft rock cliffs

Male long-horned bee and bird’s foot trefoil

Male long-horned bee on bird’s foot trefoil showing his yellow face

Evidence of herbicide use along coast path (photo taken May 21st)

bees, nature writing

Lurking by lungwort and the spring’s first bee.

March 14, 2022 philipstrange 6 Comments

Here is a short piece I wrote after a visit to the Lamb Garden in Totnes on March 9^th together with a poem by Thomas Hardy.

It’s that time of year when I spend more time than I should peering at patches of lungwort. The wild variety (Pulmonaria officinalis) has been flowering for several weeks here in Devon and now has a mixture of pinkish-red and purplish-blue trumpet-shaped flowers above fleshy, white-spotted green leaves. The weather has kept most insects away but this morning, there is a hint of warmth in the air and finally, I see what I have been anticipating.

It’s one of the first bees to emerge each year, and I get that first time thrill again. I don’t see it arrive but suddenly it’s there hovering by the lungwort, hanging in the air as if working out which flower to sample. As it hovers, I notice the mostly buff-haired abdomen and thorax, also the pale yellow mask-like face and is that the tongue hanging in readiness? This chunky insect might be mistaken for a bumblebee but is a very fresh male hairy-footed flower bee (Anthophora plumipes), usually the first solitary bee species to appear in Totnes each spring.

Having chosen a flower, he settles down to feed, pushing his head in deeply to access nectar. His legs are splayed out gripping either side of the corolla, displaying the silky hairs that decorate them, celebrated in his common name. He doesn’t stay long, darting to another flower with a brief hover in between, buzzing loudly.

Lungwort flowers start out red and acquire the blue colour as they age. Red flowers contain more nectar than blue and the Anthophora feed preferentially from these red, higher forage flowers. This colour code means they don’t waste time visiting low-nectar blooms and may visit several plants looking for high nectar flowers, increasing the chance of cross pollination.

The male then notices me and hovers, buzzing loudly and aggressively in my direction before departing in a huff. Other males appear and occasionally two find themselves together on the flowers. This also doesn’t go down well and they depart, carving circles in the air around one another.

………………………………………………………….

I wanted to include a poem to go with these spring observations so here is Thomas Hardy meditating on the topic in “The Year’s Awakening” .

How do you know that the pilgrim track

Along the belting zodiac

Swept by the sun in his seeming rounds

Is traced by now to the Fishes’ bounds

And into the Ram, when weeks of cloud

Have wrapt the sky in a clammy shroud,

And never as yet a tinct of spring

Has shown in the Earth’s apparelling;

O vespering bird, how do you know,

How do you know?

How do you know, deep underground,

Hid in your bed from sight and sound,

Without a turn in temperature,

With weather life can scarce endure,

That light has won a fraction’s strength,

And day put on some moments’ length,

Whereof in merest rote will come,

Weeks hence, mild airs that do not numb;

O crocus root, how do you know,

How do you know?

bees, conservation, nature writing

Long-horned bees on the south Devon coast

October 13, 2021 philipstrange 9 Comments

One of my favourite parts of the coast path in south Devon is the section between Prawle Point and Start Point. Between these two imposing coastal landmarks the path follows the meandering line of the low cliffs and, unusually for this part of Devon, there are few hills and walking is easy. The area inland of the coast path is notable for the line of steep rocky cliffs that, many years ago, formed the coastline when sea levels were higher. Between these inland cliffs and the present coastline is a flattish area, about a field’s width across, mostly used for pasture and arable farming. One section, a long curving coastal meadow (above Horseley Cove), is left uncultivated and many wild flowers grow here and, to a lesser extent, along the edges of other parts of the coast path. With the rocky coastline and rugged inland cliffs, the area retains a wildness and I come here to be close to the sea and to immerse myself in nature in all its fullness.

View of part of the site looking towards Peartree Point and the east, showing the rugged inland cliffs, the flattish arable fields and the present coastline with low cliffs. The flowery coastal meadow is to the right, just out of the picture.

View of part of the site looking west to Prawle Point showing the inland cliffs and the present coastline.

The stretch of coastline between Start Point and Prawle Point is a nationally important site for rare invertebrates and was designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) in 1986. For some years now, I have been coming here in early summer to watch the rare long-horned bees (Eucera longicornis) (see here as well) that use the soft rock cliffs for nest sites and forage from the wild peas and vetches that flourish in this environment. The area is also a stronghold for the cirl bunting and I often see and hear these rare birds when I visit. If I am lucky, I may also see seals swimming nearby or basking on the rocks at Peartree Point .

Earlier this year, in April, I walked along this section of the coast path and was alarmed at what I found. The long curving coastal meadow, filled with wildflowers later in the year, was intact but outside of this area there was considerable evidence of herbicide use. Some fields to the east of the meadow and the paths around them had been drenched with herbicide prior to planting new crops. The chemicals had reached the hedges that line the sides of the coast path and the area looked barren and dried out (picture below). To the west, where the coast path runs between the cliff edge and arable fields, there had been spot spraying of “weeds”. It looked as though attempts were being made to eliminate wildflowers alongside areas where crops are grown.

Wildflowers are very important for supporting the insects and, indirectly, the birds that flourish here and I was concerned by this apparent degradation of the site. I decided to make several visits across the summer to see how the site recovered and how the insects fared.

My first visit was in late May and I found good numbers of male long-horned bees in the coastal meadow, foraging mainly on bush vetch. This flower scrambles through the bracken that lines the cliff edge of the meadow. With its slightly untidy looking flowers that start a deep purple but open to pale lilac petals, bush vetch provides excellent early forage (picture below). The long-horned males looked very fresh with their yellow face, bright russet thorax, shiny black abdomen, legs coated with fine hairs and their trademark very long, shiny, black antennae. They are such iconic, beautiful creatures and it was a pleasure to see them moving swiftly about the site between flowers. I also went to look at the nest area in the soft rock cliffs below the meadow where the vertical, reddish surface is peppered with pencil-sized holes. Males appeared here regularly looking about the site for females. They arrived and performed a meandering flight across the nest area, sometimes repeating this before flying off. There was some play-fighting and a few overexcited males got tired of waiting and tried to mate with their male cousins.

The coastal meadow on a dull day showing the edge of the inland cliffs and the cliff top bracken

The coastal meadow on a sunny day showing the mass of wildflowers and grasses

The coastal meadow looked glorious. A dense coating of knee-high grasses grew across the site lending it a sheen of pale browns, greens and muted reds. Many flowers grew among the grasses in addition to the bush vetch, including buttercup, catsear, common vetch, speedwell, hop trefoil, wild carrot and along the cliff edge to the western end, bird’s foot trefoil, thrift and bloody cranesbill, a rich kaleidoscope of colours . For the most part, herbicide-treated areas outside the meadow had grown back although some flowers had been eliminated.

Female Eucera longicornis appeared in June and by the third week of the month they outnumbered males. One hot spot for females was a hedge along the sea side of the coast path where it skirted a field just to the east of the flowery meadow. Narrow-leaved everlasting pea grew here in moderate amounts, its bright pink flowers proving very attractive to the females. I watched them feeding from the flowers; they looked rather different from the males, their antennae were a more conventional length and they appeared chunkier with striking golden plumes of pollen-collecting hair on their back legs. When they arrived, they landed on the lip of the flower pushing the large sail-like upper petal backwards to access nectar. Narrow-leaved everlasting pea also grew through the cliff edge bracken in the coastal meadow and female long-horned bees were foraging there too. Although many other flowers were growing here including several large patches of the yellow scrambling meadow vetchling, the females showed an absolute preference for the wild pea. I also spent some time by the nest area watching a regular stream of females returning to their nest, some carrying large lumps of sticky pollen on their back legs. A few males hung about the nest site and others foraged from bush vetch in the meadow but they paid little attention to the females, all mated by now.

The rocky coastline just above the nest site showing bird’s foot trefoil and thrift

Although the coastal meadow was still looking outstanding with its rich fabric of grasses embroidered by so many wildflowers, the situation elsewhere on the site was not as encouraging. Wilting plants in several locations indicated more herbicide usage and the path along the coastal hedge mentioned earlier had been strimmed on the sea side and treated with herbicide again on the field side (more wilting plants, pictures below). To cap all of this, when I visited in the second week of July, cattle had been allowed into this area trashing the hedge and eating all the narrow leaved everlasting pea growing there. In previous years, this hedge and the wild pea that grows here have been critical for the survival of the female long-horned bees so this could have been catastrophic. Fortunately, this year large amounts of the wild pea with its bright pink flowers had grown up in the coastal meadow and many females were foraging there instead.

So, based simply on this year’s observations and the numbers I saw, the long-horned bees seem to be doing well at this south Devon site. The colony is moderate in size and numbers seem to be holding compared with observations made in previous years.

There has, though, been significant degradation of the local environment this year with loss of wildflowers following herbicide use and cattle damage to an extent I had not seen before. In order to support these rare bees and perhaps to increase the size and extent of the colony of long-horned bees, the numbers of wild flowers should be increasing along the length of the coast path rather than being restricted to the coastal meadow as currently seems to be happening. This degradation of the site surely runs counter to the legal protections associated with an SSSI?

Another concern at this site is the fate of the six banded nomad bee (Nomada sexfasciata), the UK’s rarest bee. This bee is a parasite of Eucera longicornis and in the UK is only known at this south Devon site. I last saw it in 2017 when I made several sightings. Since then, it has been seen by others on only one occasion each subsequent year so it is very rare. This year, I saw several Nomada species by the nest area in late June. One stayed for a short time but was definitely not Nomada sexfasciata and the others disappeared too quickly for verification. I believe there have been no other sightings this year.

The south Devon site needs support to protect the unique flora and fauna present there, especially the rare bees and other insects that live in this special habitat. Buglife and the South Devon Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty are developing a project termed Life on the Edge which aims to protect the site and increase the number of wildflowers. It is currently seeking funding so we have to hope it gets that support.

The bees

Male *Eucera longicornis* on bush vetch (early June)

Male *Eucera longicornis* on narrow-leaved everlasting pea (late June)

Two males by the nest site in early June

Female *Eucera longicornis* on narrow-leaved everlasting pea showing pollen hairs on her back legs (late June)

Female *Eucera longicornis* approaching narrow-leaved everlasting pea flower (late June)

The state of the site across spring and summer

Cattle damage along hedge showing remains of narrow-leaved everlasting pea (July, SX785360))

The featured image at the head of this post shows a male Eucera longicornis on bird’s foot trefoil in late May.

bees, conservation, nature writing, science writing

The week the Swifts departed

August 23, 2021 philipstrange 10 Comments

It’s become something of a ritual. Each year in the first week of August, we scan the sky nervously. We’re looking for birds but anticipating an absence. It’s not that we want the swifts to go but we know they must. The next part of their life is lived in Africa where they spend the months of September to April after their long migration. When they leave us, it’s a sign that the year has moved on and summer is gradually giving way to autumn.

This year the swifts arrived at the beginning of May. We had been watching out for them for several days and then finally we noticed a few birds swooping around in the sky above our house. With that dark crossbow silhouette and those rapid bursts of wing beats interspersed with smooth glides, we were relieved and pleased to see that the swifts had returned. Messages circulated on our local WhatsApp group celebrating their arrival and it was clear that our neighbours were just as interested as us. Gradually their numbers built up as more birds arrived from Africa. Numbers varied and, on some days, we saw none but at their peak this year up to 30 swifts were swooping and screaming across the valley below our house. The valley contains a community garden with flowers and trees and most likely the swifts come to feed on the insects that breed there.

Throughout late spring and summer we watched them flying backwards and forwards at high speed, changing direction as they banked and turned, sometimes going into steep dives pulling out at what seemed like the last minute, screaming as they went. Sometimes a group flew about together, individual birds adjusting their relative positions before splitting into smaller groups like rockets at a firework display. Sometimes the birds flew towards our terrace of houses, turning finally to avoid the brickwork or deftly navigating the gap between this and the next terrace.

The position of our house gave us a very privileged view of the birds. It is one of a terrace of five houses built on a ridge on the southern edge of Totnes overlooking the valley and community garden so that our kitchen window is level with the tops of the trees below. Sometimes, when the birds were flying about near the houses, they passed at speed very close to our kitchen window giving us views worthy of a nature documentary programme. Sometimes, when we sat outside on the patio, the birds passed directly overhead screaming as they went, a joyous and very visceral experience.

Swifts over Totnes seen from our kitchen window in 2020

Sitting outside, we could also see some of the birds swooping up to the eaves of two houses in adjacent terraces where they made nests. They also nested in the roof space of one of the houses in this terrace and, for the first time, they occupied a wooden bird box fixed near the eaves on another house. The box was put up several years ago by a neighbour. It was occupied by sparrows one year and tree bumblebees in another but this year the swifts used it. Swifts tend to return to the same places to nest each year so we have high hopes of seeing them in this box in the future.

The second week of August arrived and the birds were still about. Although we expected them to go any day, they still had the ability to surprise. On the 10^th just before 9 o’clock with the sun setting, I was standing outside looking across the valley, watching the light fade and the colours changing. I hadn’t seen swifts that day and wondered if they had left. The western sky was still bright, a luminous pale blue, and light cloud in the northern sky gathered pinkish-orange tinges from the setting sun. Suddenly, above the general hum of human activity I heard the familiar screaming sound announcing the arrival of a volley of swifts. About ten birds in groups of two or three were heading straight towards me just above head height. At the last minute, though, they changed course to fly through the gap between the terraces.

If all this wasn’t exciting enough, I had a second fascinating close encounter with the non-human world in the same week, this time with a very different species and some distance away from Totnes.

The second story began when, in the first week of August, Tim Worfolk, a local bird illustrator and naturalist, reported on social media that he had seen some rare and unusual bees on a nature reserve south of Exeter. This was the first report of this species in Devon and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to go to have a look. So, on August 9^th I made the 40-minute drive to the Exminster Marshes, part of the river Exe floodplain and a wetland nature reserve managed by the RSPB. I had driven through a shower on my way over and rain threatened later but it was my only free day that week. I parked in the reserve car park and made my way down a lane towards the Exeter Canal and the river Exe. Signs of water were never far away. Although the lane was enclosed by hawthorn bushes and other scrub, reeds grew through the vegetation and a ditch half full of water ran alongside the lane. Late summer flowers grew in the hedges including bright yellow fleabane, the lemon-yellow snap dragon-like flowers of common toadflax and the pink cushions of hemp agrimony.

The Exminster Marshes showing the flat watery landscape

I left the lane to cross open grassland criss-crossed by ditches with rough stony bridges. Clumps of tussocky grass grew across the marshy land along with stands of creeping thistle that attracted small copper and small tortoiseshell butterflies and some chunky hoverflies. Cows grazed nearby and this would have been a peaceful spot had it not been for the M5 motorway bridge crossing the marshes towards the north creating a continuous background hum of traffic noise.

At the end of the field path, I crossed the cycle track and scrambled up to the towpath at the edge of the Exeter Canal. The pleasant town of Topsham with its Dutch-gabled buildings lay across the river Exe on the far side of the canal. The towpath was quiet, most likely because of the weather, but a few walkers passed and two stand-up paddleboarders drifted lazily past on the canal. A little drizzle was now falling and I began to wonder if any bees would be about but I decided to press on. Banks of reeds lined the towpath and flowers grew up through the vegetation. I noticed the pink flowers of marsh woundwort with their intricately decorated lip and a few tall spikes of purple loosestrife. Then, as I walked southward, thick clumps of yellow flowers appeared in the canal-side greenery. This was yellow loosestrife, a plant that grows in wet places and, with its copious sprays of bright yellow cup-shaped flowers produced in late summer, it shone like a beacon of light on this gloomy day. Each flower contained large amounts of grainy yellow pollen and the plant grew in many places along the canal up to the lock where the canal and river merge. (The picture at the top of this post shows some the yellow loosestrife flowers)

Vegetation by the side of the Exeter Canal showing yellow loosestrife and marsh woundwort. Topsham is in the background.

Light drizzle continued to fall and I had almost given up on finding bees when I spotted a medium-sized dark insect in one of the yellow loosestrife flowers. Visually, I couldn’t see much to distinguish this insect except some white hairs on the hind legs. Photographs also showed the prominent white hairs on the back legs along with some black as well. These characteristics together with the association of the insect with the yellow loosestrife flowers showed that this was a female Macropis europaea, the yellow loosestrife bee, one of the bees I had come to find. The photographs also showed a few small drops of rain on the insect which was sheltering on this damp day and essentially immobile, making it easier for me to take pictures. Further along the canal, I came across another dark insect also resting in a yellow flower and in this case, photos revealed its swollen hind legs and its prominent yellow face, characteristic of a male of the same species.

Female *Macropis europaea* showing the white and black hairs on her hind legs. Look out for the raindrops.

Male Macropis europaea showing his swollen back legs

Male *Macropis europaea* showing his yellow face and swollen back legs

These are the bees reported by Tim Worfolk but why was I so interested in seeing them? They are rare which is of course one reason. They also have some very unusual characteristics being the only UK species of bee that collects floral oils and they find these oils in the flowers of yellow loosestrife.

Within the flowers there are tiny glands that secrete floral oils. The glands, termed trichome elaiosomes, are found towards the lower part of the inside surface of the petals and along the stamen tubes and the oils collect near the glands. The female Macropis bees have specialised brushes of hair on their front and middle legs that they use to collect these oils which are then transferred to the hairs on their back legs, sometimes mixed with pollen also collected from the flowers. The female bees use the oils for two purposes, to waterproof the inside of the nest chambers they construct in wet places and, mixed with pollen, to provide food for their larvae.

When I visited, the damp conditions prevented the females from flying so I was unable to observe them collecting pollen or oils. Local naturalist John Walters has a nice video of the female bees collecting pollen where the bees look like they are wearing bright yellow pollen pantaloons.

I was glad to have made the trip to Exminster Marshes, despite my doubts about the weather. Seeing these oil-collecting bees and understanding the close and reciprocal relationship they have with the yellow loosestrife flowers was an unexpected gift.

But what about the swifts? August 13^th was the last day we saw the birds near our house so we assume they are now on their long migratory journey. Their presence has not only entertained us but has enriched our lives this year, bringing us closer to the non-human world. It has been an excellent year for the birds in terms of numbers and it was good to see them reproducing so well, especially in this time of environmental crisis.

Marsh woundwort with common carder bumblebee (*Bombus pascuorum)*

Small copper butterfly (*Lycaena phlaeas)*

bees, conservation, marshwood vale magazine, nature writing

West Dorset surprises

August 4, 2021 philipstrange 4 Comments

The minor road that climbs past the Spyway Inn near Askerswell was quiet that day, a welcome relief from the seemingly endless traffic clogging the A35. Eventually, though, Eggardon Hill came into view, the road levelled out and our attention was captured by the stunning panorama laid out to the west. Below, the land unfolded in a mosaic of fields, trees and hedges with different colours and textures, backed by the hills of west Dorset rising mysteriously in the slight haze that softened the air. To the south west, the sea and the familiar ups and downs of the Jurassic Coast completed the image. [The picture at the top of this post shows the view in a slightly spread out panoramic form] We drove on and, just before the road dipped under the old railway bridge, turned into the car park at the Powerstock Common Nature Reserve.

Trees surrounded the car park and bright early June sunshine filtered through the leaf cover casting dappled light across the parking area. Birdsong echoed around us and the rippling sound of running water emerged from the nearby woodland. Common vetch scrambled through the fences along the car park edge and its purplish-pink pea-type flowers were proving popular with plump, furry, pale brown bumblebees.

We set out along the woodland path taking a right fork to stay on the northern edge of the reserve. The track felt enclosed but wildflowers grew along the margins including the inconspicuous bright blue speedwell and the purplish-blue spikes of bugle. In time, the woodland melted away leaving the path to run between broad sloping banks topped by trees and scrub. This is the Witherstone cutting, once the path of the Bridport branch railway as it ran between Powerstock and Toller stations.

This branch Line opened in 1857 linking Bridport to Maiden Newton and the main line. The coming of the railway to West Dorset revolutionised social and commercial life in the area which, at the time, was poorly served by roads. People could travel more widely and I tried to imagine trains passing through the cutting, drawn in a haze of smoke and noise by the small steam engines of the Great Western Railway. I pictured people on the trains, travelling for work or for leisure or moving about during the two world wars. The line was also important for the transport of milk, watercress and the net and twine produced in Bridport. As motor transport came to dominate, traffic on the railway declined resulting in its closure in 1975. Although the tracks were lifted, there are still signs of the old railway, notably the rusty fence posts that line the track. The remains of an old brickworks can also be found in the nearby wood. This was set up near the railway to take advantage of the clay that remained when the cutting was excavated.

On the day of our visit, the sloping banks on either side of the path were mostly clad in short rough grass although there were some areas of exposed grey soil, perhaps a result of slippage. The former railway cutting felt very sheltered and the bright yellow flowers of bird’s foot trefoil grew across the grassy areas. We also found many small flowers of milkwort, almost hidden in the grass. Milkwort is a common plant on rough grassland and the flowers exist in several colours. Pink and purplish-blue flowers grew at Powerstock Common but each flower also had one white petal divided into finger-like lobes giving it a passing resemblance to a miniature cow’s udder. This may account for the name of the flower and its use in the past for increasing milk production. We also found one common spotted orchid with beautiful purple markings but more will have appeared, along with many other flowers, as the season advanced.

The abundance of flowers attracted insects and several common blue butterflies flew past or around us displaying their sky-blue upper wings and intricately patterned lower wings. Two yellow butterflies also passed by, dancing around one another in the air. I hoped they would land so that I could identify the species but they did not oblige. Bumblebees moved lazily among the flowers but we made our most exciting observation on a slightly raised area of rough grass with some exposed grey soil not far from the main path.

Here we found bees flying about at high speed, backwards and forwards and from side to side, just above the ground, accompanied by a clearly audible buzz. There were perhaps a hundred or more of the insects, and with their incessant movement this was an impressive sight. It was difficult to identify them at first owing to their frantic activity but they were honeybee-sized and I thought I could see shiny black abdomens. Very occasionally, one would pause to feed from the bird’s foot trefoil revealing a yellow face, a pale brown-haired thorax and two very long antennae, each as long as the rest of their body. Such long antennae, resembling shiny black bootlaces, are seen only on one UK species of bee, the male long-horned bee (Eucera longicornis).

The obvious excitement of these male bees arose because they were anticipating the emergence of females and wanted to try to mate. Indeed, on several occasions some left their frantic flying to coalesce into a small mobile cluster. Others tried to join in, some left the melee. This was a mating cluster and formed when a virgin female emerged from her nest chamber. Many males then pounced upon her hoping to mate but only one was successful. Once mated, females get on with nest building and laying of eggs to secure the population of next year’s long-horned bees.

The long-horned bee was once a common sight in May and June across the southern half of the UK, unmistakeable from the long antennae of the males. Agricultural intensification led to destruction of habitat used by these bees along with a loss of their favoured flowers such as wild vetches and peas. As a result, the species is now quite rare being restricted to twenty or so UK sites many of which are along the southern coast. The Powerstock colony is large and seems to be prospering; it was a treat to see it that day.

Powerstock Common is a rich and varied nature reserve and we glimpsed only a small part during our visit. Even so, we enjoyed the peace and the floral beauty of the old railway cutting and discovered a fascinating mixture of natural and industrial history.

At the beginning of July, Natural England announced that the combined land at Powerstock Common and nearby Kingcombe Meadows, both managed by the Dorset Wildlife Trust, would become a National Nature Reserve recognising the unique character of these west Dorset sites and the rare wildlife they contain.

Three short videos of the long-horned bees showing their behaviour that day can be seen on my YouTube channel https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCvXWn_9QYdx0AU6guJ3iYLA

milkwort (pink version) showing white petal

Male long-horned bee (*Eucera longicornis*) in flight showing his long antennae

Female *Eucera longcornis* showing her pollen-collecting hairs on her back legs. The female also has antennae of a more conventional length.

This article appeared in the August 2021 edition of the Marshwood Vale Magazine.

bees, nature writing

A Summer’s Day at Dawlish Warren

July 18, 2021 philipstrange 4 Comments

As the train drew in to Dawlish Warren station, I realised that I hadn’t made this journey by rail for nearly two years because of the pandemic. Seeing the familiar landmarks at the station and, in particular, the river Exe, a pale blue ribbon of water stretching ahead parallel to the railway, was like visiting the house of an old friend. I had decided to travel by train to try to inject some sense of normality into my life. Being “double-jabbed”, I felt the risk was low.

The journey had gone well, the vast majority of passengers wore masks and were being careful and respectful of others. The railway line between Newton Abbot and Exeter runs close to water all the way, providing one of the great railway journeys in the UK and I was enthralled, as always, by the close-up views of the Teign estuary and of the sea between Teignmouth and Dawlish Warren. It was by no means a “normal” experience, though, as everywhere there were signs urging people to take care.

Leaving the station, I walked through the commercial area which had a distinct holiday atmosphere. Racks of colourful plastic buckets and spades vied for attention with row upon row of beach shoes and there were quite a few people about. Some were enjoying the funfair, some the busy cafes and pub while others were simply promenading.

When I reached the seafront, I sat on one of the benches for a short time to take in the view. Thin cloud hung overhead but milky sunshine kept the temperature pleasant. Visibility was good and there were clear views across the water to the red cliffs of East Devon. The tide was low and the sea a silvery-blue mirror tempting children and parents into the water for a swim or splash about.

A fenced boardwalk took me down into the nature reserve passing between sandy areas covered in rough grass where the papery, lemon-yellow flowers of evening primrose showed well. Some small birds were moving about here perching above the scrubby bushes. I was unable to see them clearly enough to identify by eye but their distinctive rattling call told me they were cirl buntings, rare birds that frequent this part of south Devon.

The damp area with yellow bartsia. Meadowsweet can be seen to the rear together with the land rising to the dune ridge

The middle part of the reserve is a large area of damp grassland and ponds surrounded by sand dunes. A dense population of scrambling plants grew across the damp areas with colourful flowers decorating the thick green matrix (see picture at the top of this post). Meadowsweet with its frothy, creamy blooms was perhaps the dominant flower but there were also many spikes of yellow bartsia, a root hemiparasite that takes nutrients from grasses and suppresses their growth. Purple tufted vetch scrambled through the lush canopy and the tall stems of purple loosestrife were just coming into flower. The southern marsh orchids that had illuminated the area a month ago were now mostly over although a few flowers remained.

Marsh helleborine. The upper central flower shows the yellow reproductive apparatus beneath two petals and the lower left hand flower shows the complex lower lip.

Further on I began to see one of Dawlish Warren’s summer specialities, marsh helleborine. Clusters and then large drifts of this beautiful but unusual orchid were coming up through the short, damp grassland lending it a pinkish veneer. I made the error of kneeling down to look more carefully at the flowers only to realise just how damp the area was. The flowers are complex with three pink sepals and two upper petals, white with pink striations, covering the yellow reproductive apparatus. The large lower lip is even more complex with its upper section decorated with pink striations and its lower, mostly white frilly-edged section. This lip also has a strange appendage, rather like a pocket with egg yolk splodges.

The land then rose steadily towards the dune ridge in a network of soft sandy paths separating patches of rough vegetation. The sounds of the sea were always present and as I walked about, it seemed that wherever there was loose sand, a few small stripy bees were resting near the path edge. Photographs showed that these had striking green eyes. Some had yellowish brown hair around the thorax and looked very fresh whereas in others this had turned silvery an indication of their age. The green eyes and the preference for a sandy environment are characteristic of male silvery leafcutter bees (Megachile leachella). This species is found in large numbers at Dawlish Warren.

The pink and white pea-type flowers of restharrow grew alongside one rising sandy path and a stream of black and white stripy bees, (slightly larger and pointier than the male leafcutters) were arriving to forage. They landed on the white lower part of the flower and then rocked backwards and forwards as they accessed the nectar. These are female silvery leafcutter bees collecting nectar for their nests. There were also males about but they showed no interest in the females, mating having, I presume, happened already.

Not far away was a different habitat again where the soft paths ran between small vertical areas of sand held together by rough grass and with poorly defined but visible cavities. Male leafcutters were loitering about here but then I saw a female arrive carrying a segment of green leaf under her abdomen. She landed in front of one of the holes and gradually eased forward eventually disappearing with her leaf segment. The piece of leaf will be used to construct her nest in the cavity in the sand.

But where was she cutting her leaf segments? I wandered about the area near her nest looking at the vegetation and eventually came across a tree where the leaves had many small semi-circular holes. Some of the leaves had been so well cut that there was little leaf left. This may be the source of the leaf segments but without seeing one of the bees cutting I can’t be sure as there is another species of leafcutter resident at Dawlish Warren. No bees turned up to answer my question and by now the weather had changed becoming cooler and windy and it felt as though the bees had decided to take the afternoon off.

Last year, I did find silvery leafcutter bee females cutting leaf segments at Dawlish Warren but from a different tree and here is a short video:

With the change in the weather, I decided to go home and made my way to the railway station. It had been a good visit and I was pleased to have taken my first train journey after such a long time. Ironically, that evening, the Prime Minister announced that from July 19^th all COVID restrictions on behaviour would be abandoned. This has not been met with universal acclaim and I would urge you to read this deeply felt critique. For myself, I am not sure I would feel comfortable to travel by train again unless the railway companies make mask wearing compulsory.

Male Silvery Leafcutter Bee (Megachile leachella), note the green eyes

Male Silvery Leafcutter Bee (Megachile leachella) showing green eyes and yellow face

Female Silvery Leafcutter Bee collecting nectar from restharrow. Note the distinctive pair of white spots on terminal abdominal segment.

Female Silvery Leafcutter Bee with leaf segment approaching her nest

A tree used by leafcutter bees for cutting leaf segments

bees, Leechwell Garden, lockdown nature walks, nature writing, science writing

Hitch-hiking beetles and dancing bees – Lockdown Nature Walks 15

March 26, 2021 philipstrange 11 Comments

I had intended to go further afield for my next Lockdown Nature Walk but events drew me back once again to the Leechwell Garden, the community garden in the centre of Totnes. I visited several times during the second week of March and discovered a fascinating story of bees, beetles and their mutual interactions.

After my account, I have included part of a poem, “The Spring”, by William Barnes written in the dialect of the west country county of Dorset.

Immature leaves and catkins on weeping willow

A laughing sound, the yaffle of a green woodpecker, reached our house on several days and I thought it might be coming from the Leechwell Garden. I went to look but I didn’t find the bird. It’s no hardship, though, to visit the Garden at this time of year when the non-human world seems to be waking up and changing rapidly. On early spring mornings, it’s a very peaceful spot and the combination of old stone walls and sunshine creates a warm microenvironment. Noise from nearby roads can intrude but birdsong and the rushing of water from the stream overcome this. There are often a few children enjoying the play area, their voices blending with the song of the chaffinches flitting around the Garden.

Most shrubs and trees are in bud now but the weeping willows seem to be in the lead, their gracefully hanging branches grazing the ground in cascades of lime green. Close up, the green haze covering the branches is a mixture of immature spear-shaped leaves and catkins. The catkins are small green cigar shapes at present but will turn yellow as they mature. Towards the back of the Garden, snowy splashes of blackthorn decorate the hedges and fleshy green tongues of ramsons make their way up through the leaf litter.

One of the small bees, a male yellow-legged mining bee (Andrena flavipes)

Below the pergola is a sloping, southeast-facing grassy bank. When I visited, a few dandelions and daisies were pushing through the grass and the underlying soil had been exposed on part of the bank by children’s feet running excitedly towards the play area. It was March 9^th, on a sunny morning, when I first noticed a few small bees flying about above this bare soil. Occasionally one of the insects paused on a leaf or flower to take the sun or to feed on nectar and I could then see their well-marked stripy abdomen. They were quite small, about two thirds the size of a honeybee and over the next few days, especially when the sun shone, the numbers increased. There were also several holes in the bare soil, some surrounded by soil spill and the bees occasionally stopped to investigate, disappearing inside the hole for a short time.

By the middle of March, a mobile cloud of the insects, at least 100 I estimated, would fly just above the soil. They moved back and forth and from side to side, circling, dancing, the urgency of movement increasing when the sun shone, like water simmering, threatening to boil over. My photos of the insects highlighted the prominent creamy hair bands around the abdomen, the pale hairs that decorate the face and sides of the thorax and the haze of pale yellow hairs coating the legs, confirming that they were male Yellow-Legged Mining bees (Andrena flavipes), one of our earliest spring solitary bees.

One day I noticed a slightly larger but otherwise similar bee pausing on a dandelion. The size suggested this might be a female and before I could take a photo my hunch was confirmed as one of the smaller bees hopped on top of the larger bee. They stayed clasped together for about two minutes, his legs twitching before they separated. She stayed on the flower whereas he moved to a nearby blade of grass. If this mating was successful, the female now starts the job of nest building. Within one of the tunnels in the bare soil she will construct a series of cells each equipped with one egg and a mixture of pollen and nectar collected from flowers. The eggs will develop into new bees. Each mated female works alone without cooperation so that these insects are referred to as solitary bees.

One of my visits to the Garden was on a sunny Sunday morning and, after I had looked at the bees, I wandered about glancing at the flowers. My attention was captured, though, by a large black beetle (about 2.5cm long) among a mass of ivy beneath a hawthorn tree. I found a second similar insect close by on a separate leaf. Both were motionless and seemed to be taking the sun. These are unusual creatures with a small head and thorax compared to their much larger abdomen. Wing cases were visible but they were too small to cover the abdomen, rather like a portly Victorian gentleman unable to secure his jacket across his belly. The prominent legs and antennae of the beetles seemed to be comprised of many small segments so that they resembled tightly coiled wire. In the sunshine, their bodies, legs and antennae sparkled a beautiful iridescent dark blue. After a bit of searching and with some kind help from John Walters, I worked out that these were female violet oil beetles (Meloe violaceus). This was a surprise as these rare insects have not been spotted in the Leechwell Garden before.

Oil beetles have one of the most bizarre life cycles of all insects, one that is inextricably intertwined with the lives of solitary bees. Each spring, mated female oil beetles dig shallow burrows in soil where they lay eggs in large numbers. The eggs develop and the louse-like, early-stage larvae, called triungulins, eventually leave the burrow. The tiny triungulins look for flowers, climb up the stems and wait in the flower for a passing solitary bee. When an unsuspecting bee arrives looking for pollen and nectar, the triungulin clambers on board and hitches a ride to the bee’s nest. Once there, it feeds on the pollen and nectar left by the bee for its own offspring and, after passing through several developmental stages, a new oil beetle emerges the following spring.

With such a complex life cycle, it’s surprising that oil beetles manage to survive, but survive they do. They are, though, declining and part of the problem is a reduction in the number of solitary bees. With urbanisation and the intensification of agriculture, wildflowers have disappeared from large parts of the countryside. Solitary bees are unable to survive in such a degraded environment with obvious knock-on effects on oil beetles.

The Leechwell Garden has a good selection of flowers, both wild and cultivated, and there are several colonies of solitary bees including the Yellow-Legged Mining Bees mentioned earlier. I hope these oil beetles will be able to continue their lives here and, as the season progresses, I shall be looking for the triungulins on flowers popular with solitary bees.

As a postscript, last Saturday morning we were walking down our street and were very surprised to find another female oil beetle. This one was crossing the road, moving quickly, antennae flexing and moving all the time as the beetle sampled the air. We stood nearby to prevent it from being squashed by cars or other passers-by. I was able to get a reasonable photo and Andrew Whitehouse kindly confirmed that this was another violet oil beetle, newly emerged.

Perhaps there are more of these insects about than I had realised?

…………………………….

“The spring” by William Barnes

When wintry weather’s all a-done,
An’ brooks do sparkle in the zun,
An’ naïsy-builden rooks do vlee
Wi’ sticks toward their elem tree;
When birds do zing, an’ we can zee
Upon the boughs the buds o’ spring, –
Then I’m as happy as a king,
A-vield wi’ health an’ zunsheen.

Vor then the cowslip’s hangen flow’r
A-wetted in the zunny shower,
Do grow wi’ vi’lets, sweet o’ smell,
Bezide the wood-screened graegle’s bell;
Where drushes’ aggs, wi’ sky-blue shell,
Do lie in mossy nest among
The thorns, while they do zing their zong
At evenen in the zunsheen.

[These are the first two verses of Barnes evocation of a 19^th century Dorset spring. Most of the dialect becomes clear if read aloud but here are three translations: Vield – filled, graegle – bluebell, drush – thrush]