Castle's aged inhabitants

One of our favourite walks follows the nearby secluded Gatcombe valley with its wooded hillsides and bubbling brook. Last week we took a winter walk past the hedgerows laced with wispy Traveller’s Joy (Clematis vitalba) and a muddy woodland track that finally opens out onto large fish ponds. Rising up from here and perched seemingly precariously on a wooded slope are skeletal ruins of Berry Pomeroy Castle, once the largest property in Devon and family home of the Pomeroy family until 1547. From then it was owned by the Seymours, who came to fame when Jane married Henry VIII providing the future heir, Edward VI. The castle was eventually abandoned in the late 17^th century and “was left to fall into decay, and quickly became overgrown and steeped in mystery, folklore and legends” (Brown, 2009). Such mystery has been augmented by its reputation as being one of the most haunted castles in Britain, with frequent ghostly sightings, including the ‘White Lady’, Blue Lady’, and a floating cavalier (Brown, 2009).

We took our friends up to the castle for a closer look. English Heritage have done much to restore its appearance and make it safe for the many visitors to enjoy a brush with the past. Being with a botanically minded friend we became drawn to the plant life on the walls and in particular with the abundant and appropriate named, Pellitory–of-the-wall (Parietaria judaica). This is a stingless member of the nettle family (Urticaceae), characterised by reddish stems and untoothed leaves that is commonly associated with old walls. At the same time as the Seymours were extending their residence at Berry Pomeroy castle, Gerard (1597) described in his ‘Herball,’ Parietaria judaica growing on walls in London - “groweth neere to old walls in the moist corners of churches and stone buildings” (Sukopp, 2002), just as we noted on Sunday. Like the castle that this plant is so fond of inhabiting, it is equally associated with folklore and mystery. Pericles himself is said to have used this plant to heal the injuries of a workman who fell from the Parthenon during its construction (Brickell & Akeroyd, 2006). More traditionally Pellitory–of-the-wall was used for a wide range of medical uses, including urinary complaints, diuretic and laxative (Grieve, 2012). Grieve (2012) goes on to quote: Gerard (is this our man from 1597?) - “helpeth such as are troubled with an old cough,' and “the distilled water of the herb drank with sugar worketh the same effect and cleanseth the skin from spots, freckles, pimples, wheals, sunburn, etc”; Ben Jonson - “A good old woman . . . did cure me, with sodden ale and pellitorie o' the wall.”

As these castellar rocks and plants intermingle over the centuries, their history and mysteries ebb and flow in their relevance to mankind. Both seem now to have fallen out of human use, relegated to quaint curiosity, but who’s to say that this will be forever.

Brickell, C. and Akeroyd, J. (2006) Contributiones ad historiam naturalem graeciae et regionis mediterraneae a Museo Goulandris historiae naturalis editae. Annales Musei Goulandris 11.

Brown, S. (2009) Berry Pomeroy Castle. London: English Heritage.

Grieve, M (2012) A Modern Herbal. http://botanical.com/botanical/mgmh/p/pelwal22.html [Accessed 13/1/12]

Sukopp, H (2002) On the early history of urban ecology in Europe 1. Počátky výzkumu ekologie evropských měst Preslia, Praha, 74: 373–393.

Well fishy

After the recent cold snap, the weather returned this week to a mild theme and encouraged me out into the garden. As I climbed the steps to the upper garden, my ‘peripherals’ caught a movement in our well. The well sits in a cobbled courtyard and appears to be fed by local groundwater,  and with over a foot of rain in recent weeks has got very full. Since we moved into our new home this summer I have frequently peered into the dark depths of the well, never expecting and never seeing any obvious life in the crystal clear water. I was therefore curious about the water movement – had an animal fallen in and was struggling to get free? At first glance I could not see anything, but as my eyes grew accustomed to the grey gloom I noticed a fishy tail poking out from the side wall. After a few minutes the tail moved gently and a head appeared, followed by the long slender body of an unmistakeable Eel (Anguilla anguilla), at least one and a half feet long (see images – not an easy photograph to take). Gracefully it swam around the well, appearing to search for an escape from its surprise prison until it disappeared through a fissure, not to be seen again and to where underground I can only puzzle.

The questions this observation poses are as deep and dark as the well. This mysterious fish will have started its incredible life far away in the Sargasso Sea (van Ginneken & Maes, 2006). This is “the earth's only sea without a land boundary”, defined instead by biological characteristics and oceanic conditions to determine its location and extent within the North Atlantic sub-tropical “gyre”, and so named after the abundant presence of Sargassum, a “brown drift algae” (Sargasso Sea Alliance, 2011). It is within this unique ecosystem that the young eel larvae feed, develop and drift using the inherent currents, such as the Gulf Stream to migrate the huge distances to freshwater European and North African rivers. Unusually for fish they can travel over land if necessary, and perhaps it is this ability to move out of the confines of purely aquatic environments enabled it to find its way via groundwater channels into our well. Living for up to 30 years, you can only wonder at the adventures such a creature can have, but I am glad that one of them resulted in it appearing in our garden well - I can only hope that it is able to fulfil its destiny and return eventually to breed in the Sargasso Sea and bring its life full circle.

Sargasso Sea Alliance (2011) [online] About the Sargasso Sea. http://www.sargassoalliance.org/about-the-sargasso-sea   [Accessed 21/12/11]

van Ginneken, V.J.T, and Maes, G.E (2006). The European eel (Anguilla anguilla, Linnaeus), its Lifecycle, Evolution and Reproduction: A Literature Review. Reviews in Fish Biology and Fisheries, 15 (4): 367-398

The commonly anonymous Euonymus

When I lived in Nottinghamshire and botanised with my friend Mary, one of the plants that gave her a lot of pleasure was the Spindle (Euonymus europaeus). She proudly showed me the last remnant specimens along a stretch of a local hedge. It is an easy to miss shrub amongst Hawthorn, Blackthorn and other hedgerow plants. Its innocuous greenish-white flowers do little to make it stand out in the spring. It does however have an interesting and chequered history – Due to it being the winter host for two important crop pests, particularly the black bean aphid (Aphis fabae) which feeds on field beans and sugar beet, it led in the past to widespread removal from hedgerows and woodlands (Thomas. et al., 2011). I guess this explains some of its fragmented occurrence in Britain depending on how zealous and relevant this pest hosting was to local farmers. It did have some historic economic importance due to the wood being very hard, enabling it to be cut to a very sharp point and used in the making of spindles for spinning wool - Any guesses as to how it got its name!

Roll forward to Devon, our new home, and lazy summer strolling along local lanes. There in the hedge appeared many four lobed coral-pink fruits, sculptured almost unnaturally like trendy buttons or sweets (see image above). These are the charmingly characteristic products of the Spindle, no longer blending into the background but colourfully and querkily brought forward. As summer has merged into autumn, and flowers and leaves have eventually withdrawn from hedgerows, these spectacular fruits have come further into prominence, advertising a more abundant presence than I had realised. They are now fading as we approach winter, but not without a final flourish of secondary colour and confectionary mimicry, as they expose bright orange sheathed seeds (see image below). In the next week or so the Spindles will have retreated back to being that highly anonymous shrub.

Thomas, P.A., El-Barghathi, M. and Polwart, A. (2011) Biological Flora of the British Isles: Euonymus europaeus L. Journal of Ecology, 99 (1): 345-365

The photophobic spider



Cave Spider

When the sun emerges after days of damp autumn greyness, as it did this morning, it seems that much more precious and to be treasured. I therefore abandoned the laptop screen, Google and business planning in favour of the outdoors, and emerged this morning to that special bright blue of the coast. The warm updrafts from the Berry Head cliffs propelled gulls effortlessly overhead, whilst occasional out-of-season Red Admirals sailed with the breeze. I was hoping for a close up view of dolphins or porpoises and so made my way out to a rock promontory near where we had seen one feeding over a month ago. Although this proved fruitless I was drawn to some nearby caves. I had no torch but used my camera focusing red light beam to do a bit of searching. And that was when I discovered a rather large spider (see picture above), and quickly discovered that this one was by no means alone. In almost every crevice were other specimens and several large white cocoon sacs hung like silk globes from the ceiling.



Cocoon sacs holding spiderlings

Back home and reacquainted with Google, I searched on “Cave Spiders”, to discover that is indeed what had observed. Most likely the species is Meta menardi, one of Britain’s largest spiders, a type of orb weaving spider. Their distribution is wide and patchy across Europe (British Arachnological Society, 2011), perhaps due to their particular preference for permanently dark damp sites, such as caves, which may also mean that they are often overlooked. They are termed as troglophiles (literally “liking caves”) with photophobic tendencies, avoiding light and feeding off other invertebrates sharing their darkness. Interestingly the young spiders are, in contrast, strongly attracted to light (Smithers, 2005), possibly an evolutionary adaptation to ensure the species disperses more widely.

In the meantime my empathy is with the young spiders and was certainly glad to emerge out of the cave back into the sunlight to enjoy the last of the afternoon’s precious rays.

British Arachnological Society (2011) [online] The Checklist of British Spiders. http://srs.britishspiders.org.uk/portal.php/p/Summary/s/Meta+menardi  [Accessed 17/11/11]

Smithers, P. (2005) The early life history and dispersal of the cave spider Meta menardi (Latreille, 1804) (Araneae: Tetragnathidae) Bull. Br. arachnol. Soc. 13 (6): 213-216 [Cited at http://www.enotes.com/topic/Meta_menardi#cite_note-1]

See also this video of Cave Spiders being rescued: http://news.bbc.co.uk/earth/hi/earth_news/newsid_8393000/8393757.stm

Wild Madder goes red

Towards the end of the summer I was out botanising with a friend and we came across a Wild Madder (Rubia peregrina) plant growing on the edge of some woodland. This is a butch, version of the ubiquitous Cleavers (otherwise called Goosegrass or Sticky Willy), being larger, tougher, pricklier, and an evergreen. They are both members of the ‘Bedstraw’ family (Rubiaceae) that are generally sprawling climbers and include the Tropical Coffee plant. In the autumn Wild Madder plants produce characteristic dark black berries, like over-sized elderberries (see image).

I was surprised when Greg said that it was the first time he had seen this plant. Although it was new to me this year I had seen it several times on my walks about Devon this year. However checking the distribution map for this species on the ‘NBN Gateway’ (http://data.nbn.org.uk/) clearly shows a strong south-west preference, with no records from his home county in Essex. I have most commonly seen it recently on coastal walks which also seem to be its preference – perhaps due to its apparent resilience towards sea spray.

The madders were used traditionally for many centuries in the making of various dyes - remains of madder were excavated with Viking material at York (Woodlands.co.uk, 2011). The closely related Common Madder (Rubia tinctorum), was introduced to the UK and formerly grown for its dye (Stace, 2010),  ‘Turkey Red’, a brilliant red permanent dye - this was very well known in 19th century for “maddering” wool and cotton (Koreankye, 2010). Wild Madder provides a subtler, rose-pink dye. The long roots of the madders are particularly rich in these dyes and were used with materials such as leather and wool until towards the end of the Nineteenth century, when they were replaced by the more efficient industrial manufacture of the chemical, Alizarin Red (Woodlands.co.uk, 2011). However some traditionalists are reacquainting themselves with old methods of natural dyeing with plants such as Madder (see http://www.woodlands.co.uk/tv/2010/12/dyeing-with-madder-plant-root-from-woodland/). This seems to be another example of people turning their backs on disconnecting industrialisation and trying to relearn from nature’s amazing secrets.

Korankye, O. (2010) Extraction and application of plant dyes to serve as colourants for food and textiles. [http://dspace.knust.edu.gh:8080/jspui/bitstream/123456789/235/1/Oenewaa%20Korankye.pdf]

Stace, C.A. (2010) New Flora of the British Isles (3^rd edition). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Woodlands.co.uk (2011) [online] Madder - http://www.woodlands.co.uk/blog/flora-and-fauna/wild-madder/ [Accessed 4/11/11]

A bat fan-attic!

One of the early delights of moving to Devon this summer was watching bats flying around our barn and those of our neighbours. I wondered if any roosted in our building and if so, where had they found to reside. As far as I was concerned they were very welcome, having held a lifelong fascination in these curious creatures.

Before we moved into our new home our surveyor had provided a very satisfactory report, with only a few minor defects noted. One of these was a seemingly faulty extract fan in the downstairs toilet. This soon became apparent when I tested it after moving in – however I then became distracted with general moving and settling into our new home - anyway the doors were open much of the time and so ventilation not a key issue. However the weather acutely reminded us this week that it is autumn, requiring us to make more use of mechanical ventilation. This then tied in yesterday with an unpleasant surprise in the downstairs toilet! A steady drip seemed to be coming from the dodgy ventilation unit. Initially I wondered if it was excessive condensation in the ventilation system caused by the sudden drop in temperature. Shining a torch up through the plastic protective grill I noticed a furry looking creature and guessed it might be a trapped young bird. However when I removed the grill out fell a desiccated bat (see image). I can only assume that the bat (I’m making a fairly safe guess at the Common Pipistrelle, Pipistrellus pipistrellus ), entered into our roof space/attic and got lost and then stuck down the ventilation ducting.

At least I now know the answer to two outstanding questions:
(1)   Why the extract fan did not work properly?
(2)   Do bats live in my house?

Oh, and in case you were wondering, the drip was nothing to do with the ventilation – a leak from a tap in the upstairs bathroom was tracking down the side of the ventilation tubing. Both domestic problems are now resolved, but unfortunately no happy ending for the bat.

A cricketing summer at last

As a southern suburban boy I remember the lazy sound of late summer with invisible crickets strumming endlessly through the night. I always imagined thousands of individuals from the great impact on my senses. This sound however had all but disappeared for me as an adult living in rural East Midlands. Maybe I have not been near the right habitat for crickets, too far North, or they have simply been decimated by mans ongoing impact on their environment. It was with great pleasure therefore that my move to Devon this summer has reacquainted me with the Crickets’ song.

The 10 species of British ‘bush crickets’ (family Tettigonidae) are mainly restricted to southern England, whilst the 4 species of the distinctively different ‘crickets’ (family Gryllidae) are “increasingly rare and only likely to be found in the extreme South of England” (Tilling, 1987). It is the bush crickets that favour the night for their characteristic ‘songs’ or stridulation, raising their wings and rubbing them together. Last week the late summer burst of warmth seem to invigorate the local crickets and I managed to capture one (see image), a Dark Bush Cricket (Pholidoptera griseoaptera). This is a sturdy looking species, dark brown with a yellow underside and almost wingless, often occurring in bramble thickets and hedges, found close to our new garden. The song is a brief, penetrating chip (see You Tube clip at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D-5c8TUwva0), but a combination of the species occurring in numbers and the sound carrying well can make for an impressive chorus (Haes & Harding, 1997).

Roll on next summer!

Haes, E.C.M & Harding, P.T (1997) Atlas of grasshoppers, crickets and allied insects in Britain and Ireland. London: Centre for Ecology and Hydrology.

Tilling, S.M. (1987) A key to the Major Groups of British Terrestrial Invertebrates. Preston Montford: FSC AIDGAP project.

The last White Rock-rose

With my daughters recently back to school I was keen to get out and do some serious birdwatching and try and spot a few summer migrants on their way back to winter quarters. Berry Head seemed like a good option, a headland jutting out beyond Brixham at the extreme tip of the southern arm of Torbay. I was pleased to see so many resident pebble-chinking stonechats, but not much sign of migrants. A solitary Wheater flitted discretely on the steep slopes.

It did not take long before my eyes were heading downwards rather than to the skies – the abundance of late summer wild flowers caught most of my attention. Berry Head’s thin limestone soils mixed with salty air have created a special botanical habitat. The last blue flowers of Viper’s-bugloss (Echium vulgare) clung to the tips of arching flower branches ending their summer show, whilst the tiny blue lily flowers of Autumn Squill (Scilla autumnalis) were in their prime scattered widely on the cliffs. Sea specialist, Rock Samphire (Crithmum maritimum) was most abundant on less accessible rocky slopes providing late yellow warmth to the cliffs. However it was a nationally rare species that I was eager to find, the White Rock-rose (Helianthemum apenninum), a limestone specialist restricted to a few locations in the South West. It occurs on dry, rocky limestone grassland on south facing slopes (Countryside Trust, 2011), typical of montane Mediterranean habitats where is more commonly found. However the conditions provided by the Devonian limestone sea cliffs of Berry Head provide sufficient conditions for the White Rock-rose to prevail, although threats from scrub invasion, trampling and dog fouling put this at risk (Countryside Trust, 2011). In the UK it is at its northern European limit (Preston, 2007).

The White Rock-rose flowers between April & July (Rose, 2006), and so I was being rather optimistic to see it at its best. Just when I was giving up any hope of finding it, there was one last solitary flower already in decline having shed one of its petals. This contrasts with the small silvery downy leaves, strongly inrolled at their margins. Next year I will be visiting much earlier, perhaps to time in with the return of the summer migrants.

Countryside Trust (2011) [online]. www.countryside-trust.org.uk/bap [Accessed September 24th 2011]
Preston, C.D (2007) Which vascular plants are found at the northern or southern edges
of their European range in the British Isles? Watsonia (26): 253–269
Rose,F (2006) The Wild Flower Key – How to identify wild flowers trees and shrubs in Britain and Ireland. London: Penguin Books Ltd.

Migrating south

Two harsh winters in a poorly heated woodland house would be enough to test most people’s resolve. Ice on the inside of the bedroom and puffed up like ‘Michelin’ marshmallows we held on each day for the allocated evening heating. My wife’s semi-Italian blood just found it too extreme, despite last Christmas’s present of an electric blanket. So with some regret about leaving the Pinfold’s peacefulness and woodland wildlife, I moved with my family over the summer from Nottinghamshire to Devon warmth. Of course it was not just the more amiable climate that pulled us South, but my desire to be part of a richer more stimulating landscape with greater biodiversity. Devon had always appealed to me with its mix of extensive coastline, moors and rivers.

We have moved to a cottage on the outskirts of Totnes within the wooded Gatcombe valley, with its rolling hills, high hedgebanks and gentle streams, views to Dartmoor and easy access to South Hams coastline. The wildlife experienced already has certainly not disappointed. An evening woodland walk was rewarded with a badger sighting. From our own home I was surprised by a darting Kingfisher slightly off track from its aquatic path. Three times I have seen a Sparrowhawk swooping through the cluster of cottages trying to take Sparrows by surprise. I even got a glimpse of a Peregrine soaring overhead as I painted a skylight, whilst the ever present buzzards glide by effortlessly, heralded by their mewing cries. Botanically the valley is rich in hedgebank & woodland plants and particularly noted for species of Crane’s-bill (see image of Long-stalked Crane’s-bill). Further afield I have treated myself to Cirl Buntings on the nearby coast and rock pool diving to see Blue-rayed Limpets and star ascidians amongst many marine species.

In recent weeks I have become aware of Nature’s more natural migration with swallows collecting on telegraph wires and family groups of House Martins’ collectively feeding on the roof of Butterwell Cottage. They too have to make decisions about climate and make the difficult journey south, whilst we hopefully will be enjoying our first comparatively warmer winter in our new cosy cottage.

Robin’s pincushion

A tip-off earlier this week had me stumbling around a local meadow hunting for an elusive Bee Orchid (Ophrys apifera). This is a difficult botanical time of the year for hayfever sufferers. A warm June evening with a slight breeze is perfect for wind pollinated grasses to exude their zillions of sneeze-inducing dust granules. So with sandpapered eyes, streaming nose and rapidly numbing brain I wandered through thigh high Cock’s-foot, Sweet Vernal and False Oat grasses. No orchid for my pains, but I was attracted to a red tufty moss-like ball attached to a rose sapling. A dim memory flickered about parasitic growth but no more ID knowledge was forthcoming. Further on I came across many more of these and was struck by their weirdness. A few days later I was back in the meadow with an accomplice on the Bee Orchid trail, Mary, who was very quick to identify the rose associated curiosity as a Robin’s pincushion.

Its other name is Rose Bedeguar gall and the cause of this splendid manifestation, as stunning as any rose flower, is a gall wasp Diplolepsis rosae usually found on wild dog roses like in this case. It is actually fairly common and I have seen it before but without knowing that it was indeed a gall. In addition to the gall wasp there could be up to 14 different insect parasitoid species that live within the gall making up a broader community (Randolph, 2005). The gall has inevitably attracted interest over the ages, such as its use in medieval medicine for restricting blood flow and as a remedy to help sleep if placed under a pillow. Pity it has no use for hayfever sufferers. It is remarkable how nature has evolved to allow an insect to dupe a plant to alter its growth to create such a bizarre home. In contrast the Bee Orchid has turned the tables on the insect world, duping the bee into trying to copulate with its flowers and in doing so aiding the reproduction of the plant.

..and if you’re interested, I did find the Bee Orchid with a little help!

Randolph, S. (2005) The natural history of the Rose Bedeguar gall and its insect community. Sudbury: British Plant Gall Society.