Pan-species listing- what's the point?

Marchandiomyces aurantiacus, parasitizing an unknown Physcia lichen.

Xanthoriicola physciae (the black stuff) on it's host, Xanthoria parietina. 

When was the last time you actually took a close look at some lichen? It's something I hadn't done for a long time until Seth Gibson pointed out these two parasitic species at Bookham Common the other week, associating with their host lichens on a couple of tree branches.

Why bother even look at, never mind identify, something so obscure I hear you ask? Fair point- there are plenty of ways to enjoy natural history without necessarily putting a name to everything you see. However, why not take that extra step? One of the great benefits of pan-species 'observation' is that it opens one's eyes to the more under-recorded, un-loved taxon that would otherwise be completely ignored by the average enthusiast. Why limit yourself to birds or moths when there is so much more out there? Contrary to what others might say, you won't find yourself blinded by a selfish need to competitively list everything you see, but rather you'll find yourself appreciating things that others will simply walk past- you might just impress your mates in the process.

Yellow-browed Warbler, Uffmoor Wood

In an attempt to quite literally take my head out of the clouds after yesterday's post, I found myself at Uffmoor Wood this afternoon, on the outskirts of Worcestershire where a Yellow-browed Warbler has been spending the winter. Considering my luck (or rather lack of luck) with Siberian Chiffchaff recently I wasn't holding out much hope, but in the end the twitch turned out to be as straightforward and pretenseless as the title of this blog post.

I strolled up to the bird's 'favourite' spot at the far eastern edge of the Wood, and almost immediately the Yellow-browed gem of a Warbler started belting out its wagtail-like call from a nearby bush. It appeared soon after, spending much of its time foraging deep within holly bushes, but gave some jammin' views as it flitted between feeding spots in the fading light...

As if the twitch for my first Worcestershire Yellow-browed Warbler could be made anymore straightforward, the bird also took it upon itself to call throughout the afternoon, giving me the chance to make a really, really bad sound recording...

Did I mention there was mud? Lots of mud. 

Just to bring myself back to reality, I've bought back some moss to key out. It's going to get messy. 

Cloud Spotting

This weird disc-shaped cloud (one of only a few in the sky at the time) caught my eye as it slowly floated over the Malvern Hills during yesterday's bryophyte survey. It looked like it had come from Teletubbie land, which would be quite unusual, so I posted the photo on Twitter and had soon received a consensus from cloud enthusiasts that it was in fact Altocumulus lenticularis (a.k.a Lenticular Cloud). This is quite a rare type of cloud in Britain that is usually only seen over mountain ranges- clearly the Malvern Hills are at a high enough altitude to provide the right conditions for its formation. Quite an interesting looking thing, you've got to admit...

First mosses, now cloud spotting. Please let me know if this is going too far... 

Bryophyte surveying

I found myself spending what was another ridiculously summer-like day surveying bryophytes at Hollybed Common, in the shadow of Worcestershire's Malvern Hills. I say 'surveying', when actually I was pretty much just looking on in awe as a group of experts from around the county (and beyond) effortlessly identified every moss and lichen put before them. In the past couple of months, my interest in bryophytes (mosses and liverworts) has reached the worrying stage where I can no longer suppress it, and so it was rather humbling to be able to key out mosses with help from the likes of Mark Lawley (author of the BBS field guide).

We ended the day having noted around 50 species, most of which were completely new records for this small under-recorded woodland site. One of the highlights from the session was the tiny rare liverwort Cololejeunea minutissima (Minute Pouncewort)- you can't help but give a respectful nod to the person who pointed out a species that is no more than a few millimetres in size...

Cololejeunea minutissima (Minute Pouncewort)- doing its best not to look like a bryophyte

Whilst I eagerly await a full species list from the day, here are a few more that I managed to remember the names of, although I can't take much credit for identifying them...

Conocephalum conicum (Great Scented Liverwort)

Ulota phyllantha (Frizzled Pincushion)- distinguished by the clusters of tiny brown gammae

Orthotrichum pulchellum (Elegant Bristle-moss)

Hygroamblystegium tenax (Fountain Feather-moss)

Cryphaea heteromalla (Lateral Cryphaea)

Mnium hornum (Swan's-neck Thyme-moss)

Plagiomnium undulatum (Hart's-tongue Thyme-moss) 

Plenty of Wood Anemone and Sweet Violet are now beginning to flower...

Nice clear views were had towards the Malvern Hills in yet another day of glorious sunshine. I bet there are some interesting bryophytes up there...

Chiffchaff conundrum

Despite multiple birds being present on the patch in recent months, I have embarrassingly failed to catch up with Siberian Chiffchaff in Worcester this winter. Believe me I've tried hard, and this failure was something I was willing to put behind me until a singing bird turned up at a local sewage works last week, a few miles down the road from Uni. This eastern ('tristis') subspecies isn't the easiest of birds to identify in the field (especially when silent) but a singing individual would surely be a piece of cake to pin-down right? ... Right?

I arrived at the sewage works in Powick late this morning with a renewed sense of optimism after an update on the Worcester Birding site confirmed that the bird was still singing in the NW corner of the works this morning. There were easily up to 20 Chiffchaff singing and roaming through the hedgerows that border the site when I arrived, but none stood out as anything different and there were certainly no singing Siberians to fill my ears with joy. A further six hours went by and still nothing. I checked the directions, but this was most definitely in the same place that it had been reported singing earlier in the morning. This bird (which has presumably been singing since it was first found last week) must have somehow known about my previous bad luck with the subspecies, and clearly just wanted to rub it in my face. That's my theory anyway.

Most of the Chiffchaffs in the immediate area were fairly obvious nominates, and the bird pictured below was the only one that caught my eye as looking particularly paler. Unfortunately it neither called nor sang, and plumage colour would vary ridiculously as the bird moved between sunlight and shade. I'm not going to lie, don't have much of a clue where to start when it comes to the plumage characteristics of a spring tristis, and lets be honest, if it wasn't for the fact that the bird was originally reported to be singing I would still have been in bed.

It's a Chiffchaff. End of.

Sauteed Shrooms (and a random Ruddy Shelduck)

It was another beautiful day, and once I'd finished sorting out a load of house-related paperwork at the local letting agency with some future housemates, I just couldn't resist an evening visit to the local patch in some warm evening sun.

As hoped for, the exposed mud at the northern end of Grimley Camp Lane Pits had finally attracted some waders, with 10 Lapwing, 3 Oystercatcher and a pair of Redshank all feeding together. A further scan of the north-eastern edge of the main Pit revealed an unusual surprise in the form of an apparent adult Ruddy Shelduck- nervous as anything and fully winged, I took a few distant record shots and carried on. Unfortunately, when I looked again a few minutes later it had done a runner, presumably spooked by a nearby dog walker. The species has a dodgy history in the UK, with the occurrence of genuine vagrants thoroughly clouded over by the presence of captive 'plastic' escapees. Whatever the origin of this smart bird, it was a pleasure to watch on the patch for all of two minutes... 

Before calling it a day, I headed over to a nearby area of woodland where a large patch of Scarlet Elf-cups have been growing. I've been appreciating these delicate little fungi for the past few weeks, but after reading up about their apparent edibility, my stomach told me to bite the bullet and pick a small handful for cooking. The problem is I can't cook, so instead gave them a good sautéing with some butter and chucked them over a slice of bread. The result was a genuine taste sensation; made even better with a sprinkle of pepper. 

Scarlet Elf-cup on bread- absolutely delicious. 

I love mushrooms and indeed all wild foods in general, but I'd never dream of over picking them. Take only as many as you realistically need (i.e a handful or so for something as simple as shrooms on toast), and make sure you know what you're eating... otherwise you could die... very painfully. 

A (rubbish) Beginner's Guide to Spring Moths

Early spring is one of my favourite parts of the mothing year. Butterflies and moths are beginning to pop up all over the place; as can be said for a whole range of invertebrates that hibernate as adults, and providing a decent period of mild weather, a good range of species can be clocked up in March.

Even in the first few 'dark' months of 2014, I've been pleasantly surprised at the number of people actively searching for moths in their local area. The likes of Twitter and Facebook pages have been overflowing with enthusiasts reporting back on their early trapping sessions (no matter whether you catch twenty moths or absolute zilch, it's all data that recorders will cherish), which clearly reflects a wider expanding interest in this fascinating group of invertebrates that has taken place in the past couple of years. It really is great to see more people getting interested in the hobby, especially after the sad demise of the fantastic Back Garden Moths forum, which initially linked me up with knowledgeable enthusiasts throughout the country, and fuelled my interest in moths to a whole new level.

I don't have a permanent garden to run the moth trap in this spring what with Uni and such, but instead of sitting at a computer screen drooling at other people's catches, I thought I'd draw up a 'target list' of early season moths that one can expect to encounter in a typical garden in the coming weeks. Many of these moths might seem bleedingly obvious to a competent trapper, but everyone starts out somewhere, and I certainly found (and still find!) some of these species a struggle when I began trapping.

 The 'Micros'

(Left to right) Diurnea fagella, Emmelina monodactyla, Amblyptilia acanthadactyla, Tortricodes alternella

In terms of early season micros, I'd class these as the 'big four' (based on personal experience in the garden). Both Diurnea fagella and Tortricodes alternella are exclusively spring species, with nothing else on the wing at this time to mistake them for. The two 'Plume' moths fly throughout the year, and identification may become slightly trickier during the summer months when similarly obscure species appear. For now though, trap freely in the knowledge that a Plume moth caught in March/April is most likely to be either one of these species.

The Hiberators

(Left to right) Angle Shades, The Herald, Oak Nycteoline, Buttoned Snout

Rather than spend the winter in pupal form, these barmy moths overwinter as adults, emerging in March and April as the weather improves. Angle Shades and Heralds can often be found at rest in dark corners of your house, and are certainly up there in terms of distinctiveness. Oak Nycteoline is another species that can be found throughout the year, but could easily be overlooked as a large micro, particularly one of the Tortrix species. No two individuals are ever the same (in my experience anyway!) and it's best to look out for the relatively long 'snout' and furry legs that give this moth away as a 'macro'. Most specimens I've caught show- to some extent- a small (discal) spot half way down either wing. Talking about snouts, Buttoned Snout is classed as nationally scarce but is no doubt increasing its range throughout gardens in southern England. I find that the best method for finding these hibernators is to sweep through dense vegetation in the more sheltered areas of a garden. It could take a while to find, but is well worth the wait when you find one- stunning moths. Unless you're lucky enough to live along the coastal south-west where overwintering Bloxworth Snout come into the picture, identification of Buttoned Snout at this time of year isn't a problem.

The Pugs

(Left to right) Brindled Pug, Oak-tree Pug, Twenty-plume Moth (not a pug!)

The dreaded Pugs; a family full of species famous for looking exactly like the next species. March, April and to some extent May are the best times to get to grips with these, with only a small handful of species on the wing. Double-striped Pug is easy enough to identify, and can appear from January onwards. Fast forward a few months though, and your trap will soon be visited by the above two nondescript species. Telling them apart isn't easy, but as a general rule the discal spots (those two dark spots towards the top of each wing) are more prominent (wider, larger) in Oak-tree Pug, and usually only appear as slits on Brindled Pug. Brindled Pug is usually also larger, with less rounded wings than Oak-tree. Bear in mind that the two depicted in my photos above are prime examples of both species; be prepared to find intermediate and worn specimens which are best given a wave goodbye and sent on their way without being assigned to species. Typically in my garden, Brindled Pugs start to appear from late-March onwards, dominating trapping sessions until mid-April, when Oak-tree Pugs emerge in force and outnumber the former 3:1 generally until mid/late-May, when both species are on their last legs.

You've probably noticed that the final image isn't a pug, but a Twenty-plume Moth (Alucita hexadactyla). It looks distinctive enough when each of the 'plumes' are spread out, but in certain positions it could be mistaken for small pug- I've fallen into this trap a few times myself (literally, never check your moth trap when drunk, you might fall in).

The Beauties

(Left to right) Small Brindled Beauty, Brindled Beauty, Oak Beauty

As their name suggests, these early-season species really are beauties. The epitome of a 'fluffy moth', you'll know (and probably be able to hear) if you have an Oak Beauty in your moth trap. It's one of the most stunning species in the country at any time of year (fact), and a nice common one at that- all but the most ecologically dead gardens will have a good chance of accommodating this moth. Small Brindled Beauty is slightly less widely distributed, and has a surprisingly short flight period; emerging in late February, the species will reach a peak in early/mid-March before falling sharply in numbers to the end of the month, with very few individuals ever recorded in April. Brindled Beauty (the SBB's steriod-taking cousin) then picks up the baton and has a flight period throughout April until early May. As well as being twice the size of the former, Brindled Beauty has three distinct black cross-lines, and a less angled termen (the side of the wing furthest from the head).

The Chestnuts

(Left to right) The Chestnut, Dark Chestnut, Dotted Chestnut

Emerging as adults in autumn, Chestnuts (Conistra) are one of the few genera to actively fly during the coldest winter months, and as a result will often be the only moth to appear in my trap during December. The Chestnut is usually first to turn up in January, joined in February and March by the extremely similar Dark Chestnut. Indeed, both are so ridiculously similar that I only ever dare use external characteristics to identify well formed, fresh specimens. It is true that Dark Chestnuts (C. ligula) are generally dark, but variable examples of The Chestnut (C. vaccinii) can also be dark. The distinguishing features are all in the wing shape, with ligula showing a sharper apex (the lower edge of the forewing) than vaccinii's, which is blunt in comparison. This article by Steve Whitehouse summarises the differences well:

http://www.birdguides.com/webzine/article.asp?a=3135

Despite being fairly scarce and restricted in it's national distribution, the absolute gem of a moth that is the Dotted Chestnut is a very possible treat for garden in southern England with a good bit of deciduous woodland nearby. They hibernate in late autumn, reappearing in early spring according to the literature. I was lucky enough to catch the depicted individual in the garden on 5th May, so it's well worth keeping an eye out for this one all through the spring.

The Quakers

(Left to right) Common Quaker, Small Quaker, Twin-spotted Quaker

No matter where you are in the world, you can expect to catch a lot (and I mean a lot) of these throughout the spring. The genus Orthosia contains nine early-season species, including the very common Hebrew Character and Clouded Drab; for the purpose of this post though I'll stick with the three common species of Quaker. Common Quaker is typically one of the first to emerge in late February, with its warm brown colouration, and large distinct oval (top 'circle' on the wing) and kidney (bottom 'circle') markings. Small Quaker is just over half the size of the former, with a tiny oval mark in comparison to its kidney mark, and typically emerges in the first few weeks of March. The two species might seem a bit confusing at first- especially when caught separately- but are easy enough to get the hang of after a while, and look nothing like each other when side-by-side! Twin-spotted Quaker is another common garden species, easily identified by two (or more) sets of dark spots along the subterminal line.

Of course, the above is merely a smidgen of the total number of species flying at the moment. It seems evident that the relatively mild winter has already sped up emergence of many, so expect the unexpected. Whatever level of expertise you happen to be at, get out and enjoy the season ahead! I've set myself a few spring target species up here in Worcestershire (Blossom Underwing, Northern Drab and the Severn Valley specialist Silver Cloud to name but a few) so be sure to watch this space...

Yellow Horned

After three years of solid moth trapping, new species in the garden are becoming thin on the ground, and this Yellow Horned was a very welcome sight when I checked the moth trap this morning; a first for the garden, and a completely new one for me. I've never actually noticed it before when looking at photos of the species, but they do actually appear to have 'horns', and there is indeed a hint of yellow to them! Who would have guessed...

Peek-a-boo.

Daffodil Fly & the power of 'pan-species' listing

Whilst back 'darn sarf' for a few days, it would seem like madness to miss out on the LNHS monthly survey at Bookham Common during a fantastic spell of good weather.

I joined Seth Gibson outside Leatherhead station, and we carried on to Bookham to meet Stuart Cole and Duncan Sivell (Diptera curator at the Natural History Museum) for the survey. There was plenty of invertebrate activity to keep us busy in the glorious sunshine- early season hoverflies, butterflies and bees were all out in force. I had dozens of new species pointed out to me, from obscure parasitic lichens to a tiny bark beetle that has colonised Britain all the way from Australia. However, the most interesting invertebrate we recorded had to be this small fly, Norellia spinipes, which frequented a small patch of flowering Daffodils by the LNHS hut for much of the day.

Norellia spinipes on its foodplant.

Also known as Daffodil Fly, past records of N. spinipes have been very thin on the ground since the species' initial discovery in Britain around half a century ago. Indeed, Seth (who first spotted the fly) only came to know about its existence a few days ago, after stumbling across an old internet forum post requesting further records of the species. Jumping into action in a way that only a pan-species lister could, he shared the link on the PSL Facebook page, and within hours several members had already found the fly in various locations around the country. By the end of our session at Bookham, we clocked up these 'rare' flies on almost every patch of daffodils searched, and from the number of sightings that have been made in the past couple of days alone, it appears that Daffodil Fly may not be as much of a rarity as first assumed.

If you haven't done so already, get out into the sun and take a closer look at the Daffodils in your gardens- you'll probably find a lonely, neglected fly waiting to be acknowledged.

Mellow Mosses

As opposed to usual, a pretty rubbish session was had at Grimley yesterday morning. There's no point ranting on about it on here, but it basically involved a string of incompetent, tweed hat wearing, UKIP voting aristocratic dog-walkers allowing their little shi... rascals to completely run riot around the shoreline of the Camp Lane Pits, oblivious to the designated footpaths, and the fact that there are wildlife present. I haven't been birding here for very long, but I'm already mystified as to why stricter measures haven't been taken to stop dogs on site. There are endless open fields and footpaths throughout Grimley for them to be exercised- considering that wildfowl around here are blasted out of the sky the minute they take off from the site, why can't the Pits just be set aside as a dedicated reserve free from such scum?

There were 2 Oystercatchers, 35 Coot, 1 Moorhen, 2 Gadwall, 2 Lapwing, 1 Canada Goose and a Little Grebe in this frame a few seconds ago.

I left the Pits having seen just two Oystercatchers and some of the usual suspects before everything was flushed, only to come back to my bike and find that the front tyre had been slashed. In all the years I've spent leaving my bike in the middle of a urban council estate when visiting Stokes Field back at home, this has never happened to me. Since September, I've locked it up the same disused gate just outside Grimley village and never had any trouble. Why someone would slash a bike tyre in rural Worcestershire is beyond reason, but what can you do? The culprit had long buggered off, and clearly didn't want to stay for a chat.

Anyway, the rest of the day was actually pretty satisfying. Walking back through Hallow, I followed an inconspicuous footpath down to an abandoned medieval graveyard, and spent the next few hours staring at mosses in the afternoon sunlight. I can't admit to having any clue of what they are, but the array of different shapes and sizes was mesmerizing, and there's just something so mellow about being in a quiet graveyard smothered in dappled afternoon sunlight.

I've added a dedicated page with many more photos of bryophytes from the session (just below the blog header) if anyone fancies having a go at them. For now though, here's a selection...

This mainly westerly distributed Peltigera lichen was a bonus find amongst a load of feather-moss.