Blood-vein

This is a common moth and easy to recognise. It has a red/pink 'vein' running across all four wings, with a red/pink fringe around the edges. Hence Blood-vein moth, Timandra griseata. 
The moth trap for this one was the house: just switch some lights on and open the windows! The place is full of moths.
Moths have great names. It seems that butterflies once had equally ornate Victorian appellations but somehow popularity has lead to a sort of dumbing down of the more outlandish ones. Take the Streaked Golden Hog, for example (30th June). 

Lunar Yellow Underwing

This turned up in the studio (a giant moth-trap!) It's a Lunar Yellow Underwing, Noctua orbona, as evidenced by its size and the black distal wing markings reaching the margins of the forewing.
It is reasonably uncommon, occuring on heathland and rough grassland.
I plan to set the proper trap again on Thursday night when the weather looks good and I'll be around to check it in the morning. I'm also hoping my new moth book will have arrived by then!

Hedge Bindweed

Another bindweed today. I have a moth but haven't i.d.'d it yet.
This is the other, perhaps more familiar, bindweed: Hedge bindweed. Unlike Field bindweed this is not Convolvulus, it is Calystegia sepium. 
It's seeds can remain viable for up to thirty years, so enjoy the flowers but rip it out before the seed sets if you don't want to be overrun.

Small Emerald

This is post number 200! And this is a moth caught in the previously mentioned (19th June) trap belonging to our recently wedded friends, David and Helen. They visited this weekend and David has very kindly lent it to me for a month or so. I have leapt into action and ordered the book below (which I anticipate will be excellent).
After a certain amount of deliberation and further cross-referencing on the interweb, this is identified as Small Emerald, Hemistola chrysoprasaria. It occurs in the south of England & Wales around chalk woodlands and hedgerows where its foodplant, Clematis vitalba, grows.
Hold onto your pants and prepare for a flurry of moths! 

	Field Guide to the Moths of Great Britain and Ireland - Paperback (2nd edition)
	Paul Waring & Martin Townsend, illustrated by Richard Lewington

Wild Carrot

Very late again tonight so quick post. This is wild carrot on which I caught the red soldier beetles cavorting: Daucus carota ssp carota. 
The most striking feature is the central red floret. What is that all about.
The agricultural carrot is D. carota ssp sativus. 

Bracken

Another late post after a very busy day and yesterday!
This is Bracken! Pteridium aquilinum. It is a fern but unusual in that the sori (spore containing bodies) lie around the periphery of the leaflets and centrally as with other ferns.
The spores are considered carcinogenic and some water is filtered to remove them.
In the past it was a useful plant, providing bedding, being used for tanning and as a fertiliser. Now it is mostly considered an invasive weed with control programmes in many environmentally sensitive sites.

Field Bindweed

It's a shame bindweeds are such a nuisance in the garden because they're actually rather pretty. This is the baby one which actually carries the name Convolvulus by which the family is known. The rest are in the genus Calystegia. 
Convolvulus arvensis, Field bindweed, is the often found crawling around on the ground rather than desperately scrambling up the nearest vertical surface like the others. The flowers close at the end of the day, revealing their candy-like insides only to the sun itself on the morrow.

Southern Hawker

A very enjoyable 24 hours with my friend Ian who now lives in France who also has an interest in #lifewildaroundus. Coupled with a recently acquired snazzy new Sony alpha6000 mirrorless digital camera and an array of lenses (including a proper macro) it has been something of a bioblitz!
Down in the 'orchard' looking for butterflies we couldn't help noticing this prehistoric monster whizzing around trying to choose as suitable perch. 
Although Ian has some cracking close-ups I must just mention that the full-length portrait is all my own (and my Nexus 5's) work!
This is one of the minority of species which is actually doing well in this country. It is expanding its range slowly northwards.
This Southern Hawker, Aeshna cyanea, is a chap who in all likelihood emerged in the last week or so. Our little pond might be enough for him to consider a kingdom for the next few weeks.

Close-up of Southern Hawker - Ian Lloyd (2015)

 

Mare's Fart

I probably should have done this after the Cinnabar Moth post or after the Marsh Ragwort post: what was I thinking? I just don't know what got into me!
So, somewhat later than perhaps expected, here is Common Ragwort, Senecio jacobaea. 
Besides being the food plant of the Cinnabar moth it is used by over seventy invertebrates, with thirty being exclusively dependent on it. Of the thirty, ten are rare or threatened. 
Unfortunately the plant contains nasty alkaloids which cause liver cirrhosis in livestock. Although the living plant is bitter and rarely browsed, when dried it becomes palatable. This makes hay a particular hazard should it contain any. It is listed as an 'injurious weed' under the 1959 Weeds Act and some by-laws make it illegal to allow it to grow on your land.
This reputation as meant a variety of common names reflecting its negative attributes: Mare's Fart is a particular favourite. Others include Stinking Willie and Staggerwort.
Perhaps surprisingly, given the lack of practical uses, it is the national plant of the Isle of Man where it is known as Cushag.

Common Mallow

Common Mallow is out all over the place at the moment. Malva sylvestris  has a pretty flower but somehow its growth habit detracts from the overall aesthetic effect. It's untidy and straggling, with a tendency to grow in insalubrious spots where it thrusts itself out at you like a cheap tart. 
A bit harsh perhaps, given that it does brighten up the waysides, but one mustn't fawn over every flower with a bit of colour: one must have standards!

Red Soldier (Bloodsucker) beetle

There is a definite sense of Life at full throttle out there. July is the month with the most species of plants in flower. I'm not sure if it's the month with the most insects engaging in sexual activity, but if the Red Soldier beetle were the benchmark it would certainly be the case. Also misnamed the Bloodsucker beetle, Rhagonycha fulva is widespread and easy to find on open-flowered species such as common hogweed and wild carrot, where not infrequently they will be having sex.

Cinnabar moth (caterpillar)

I was hoping to find a Mullein moth caterpillar, which I'd seen a week or so ago on the Great Mullein, but it seems to have disappeared. 
Next to the Great Mullein by the pond is some ragwort and on it was this caterpillar, probably the only caterpillar I remember from my youth: that of the Cinnabar moth, Tyria jacobaeae. Possibly the organism with the most vowels in its specific title?

Great Mullein

This seemed an obvious sequel to Thursday's plant, only I should have done it yesterday. Unfortunately with one thing and another, in particularly the Sahara Bridge Club reunion finishing after midnight, meant I missed the boat. 
Great mullein, Verbascum thapsus, is a towering pillar of a plant, developing a spike of flowers which explode individually starting at the bottom. It has large oval-elliptical leaves which feel woolly. 
It is a biennual so you know when they're coming when you see their rosettes forming, usually in disturbed areas or cracks in paving. 
The name thapsus derives from the Ancient Greek writer Theophrastus's reference to a herb from the town of Thapsus, identified now as Thapsos on Sicily. 

Moth Mullein

This beauty has appeared at the same spot for the last few years. Have close zoom in on the flower photo to see the sticky glandular hairs, the decurrent fixed lower anthers and filaments coated with fine purple hairs. Moth Mullein, Verbascum blattaria is introduced from Europe and occasionally naturalised. V. virgatum is very similar, but usually has more than one flower per axil, has shorter flower stalks (petioles) and is more stickily hairy. 

Marsh Woundwort

Just a quickie tonight as it's Wednesday and busy work day plus on-call. 
This was one of the many new (to me) plants on my Saturday sojourn with the SBRS: Marsh Woundwort or Stachys palustris. It was growing in the ditches draining the marshes, strikingly tall compared to the more reticent and common Hedge Woundwort. 

Musk Thistle

A thistle is not always just a thistle; it might be a musk thistle! Carduus nutans is a real stonker. There's something extravagantly thistley about it. When you peer closely you can see it's covered in candy-floss. When you peer even more closely you'll see it's drawn its own entomological crowd. In this case a pretty picture-wing fly. Rather sadly this cannot be identified to species level without collection and dismemberment, and I only took photos. However it's either the common Urophilus jaceana or the unusual and rather special U. solstitialis. We shall never know!

Sea Couch

Another new plant for me from the weekend's SBRS jaunt around Landport and Offham marshes. This striking tall blue-green grass is Sea Couch or Elytrigia atherica. It was growing along the bank of the Ouse, striking sculptural poses in small tufts, towering above the other grasses. Hard to ignore.
Looking at the top right photo you might be thinking "Lolium" or "rye grass" (according to your level of botanical initiation), but a glance at the top left photo reveals that the spikelets are arranged parallel to the inflorescence and not at right angles as is the case with rye grasses. (I see now that I'll have to find a rye grass to blog tomorrow!)

Marsh Ragwort

Just reflecting on yesterday's SBRS (see yesterday's post for link) trip around Landport and Offham marshes. I have only managed to get to a handful of SBRS meetings over the last three years, but each time I am awestruck by the knowledge of those I have the pleasure to tag along with. Of course I am utterly useless on such outings, the purpose of which is botanical recording in the round or sometimes specifically for 'missing' records in the area being covered. These are the people who go out across every square mile of our county recording its plants to accumulate data that allows us to know how the nature around us if fairing. They are rarely, if ever, acknowledged by the 'public', yet without them the countryside that the public so enjoy would be impoverished; without them we wouldn't know the damage that invasive species might be reeking; without them we wouldn't know about the decline in biodiversity resulting from poor land managment; without them we wouldn't know that efforts to rescue vulnerable habitats were working. As you might imagine, they are all lovely lovely people and I find them quite inspiring. 
There were probably thirty or more plants new to me on Saturday, each patiently pointed out and the identification features explained. One of my favourites was this, Marsh Ragwort or Senecio aquaticus. This has larger flowers than Common Ragwort and they are held apart so that none touches another. The leaves differ from the commoner ragwort species we may be familiar with. It grows with its feet in water so you won't find it on the Downs. 
It is declining in the South East so good to know some survives in the ditches around Lewes. 

Speckled Wood

I went on my second SBRS meeting of the year today and had intended to post something from our perambulation across the Landport and Offham meadows. However, the first thing I noticed on my return was this Speckled Wood,  Parage aegeria, fluttering about in the kitchen. So I thought I would offer it as a fourth lepidopteran in the mini-series.
They are lovely butterflies, usually encountered in the dappled shade of woodland rides. We've had them in the garden practically every year since we moved here in 2005. 
Their most notable claim to fame is that they are the only UK butterfly that can over-winter as either a caterpillar or a chrysalis. 
Apologies for the rubbish photos. There are plenty of excellent ones on the interweb. Bob Eade's blog also has loads of spectacular photos.

Wren

Eurasian-Wren by Andreas Trepte - Own work. Licensed under CC BY-SA 2.5 via Wikimedia

I don't know about you, but over the last week or so I've gradually realised that the bird I most often hear singing is the wren, Troglodytes troglodytes. I'm sure I read somewhere that the wren is Britain's commonest bird, which is odd when you consider how infrequently you get a good view of one. 
The male wren builds several nests in a bid to impress potential mates. If a female decides that one is suitable she moves in and finishes off lining it ready for egg laying.
But the most remarkable thing about wrens is the incredible power of their song. The decibel to weight ratio must knock the pants of every other bird; it is just incredibly loud. It is also very distinctive, with its intermittent trills and fluty cadences. 
Britain has four distinct subspecies of wren: the St Kilda wren T. t. hirtensis; the Fair Isle wren T. t. frideriensis; and the Shetland wren T. t. zetlandicus; the common subspecies T. t. indigenus. 

Meadow Brown

Maniola.jurtina. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

Female by Böhringer Friedrich. Licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0 at via Wikimedia Commons

Third in the run of lepidoptera (scale wing) is the Meadow Brown, Maniola jurtina. This was present in abundance on my Breeding Bird Survey final section on Tuesday and was the dominant butterfly on the Downs walk on Wednesday. The males are plainer brown with an almost uniform upper wing with tiny dark eye-spots. 
The species is univoltine (a new word for me) meaning that there is just one brood per year (cf. most blues which are bivoltine in the south). Although it remains the commonest butterfly in the UK, numbers have declined massively over the last century. This, it will come as no surprise, is largely due to changes in agricultural practice. They require mixed species grass meadows which are cut late, ideally with flower-filled hedges nearby.
Courtship is a peculiar affair: after a short dance the males envelop the females with a heavy scent (discernible to some humans as 'old cigar box', 'musty hay', or 'dirty socks'). She then descends to a suitable perch and mating commences. 
Sounds a bit dodgy to me! 

Marbled White

From www.butterfly-conservation.org

The second of the three butterflies was the Marbled White, Melanargia galathea. I saw this again today, this time up on the Downs above Lewes. A few Small Skippers were also about and plenty of tomorrow's butterfly.
This is an eye-catching butterfly that is hard to confuse with the 'whites'. It is in fact a member of the Brown family, Satyridae, which has been subsumed into the family Nymphalidae. All members of the Nymphalidae have two pairs of functional legs, the third pair having become vestigial.