The Place for Wheatears,Pipits & Chough

08 Tuesday May 2018

Posted by theresagreen in Birds, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Great Orme, Nature of Wales, The Wales Coast Path, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

birds on migration, chough, Greenland race of wheatear, meadow pipit, Northern Wheatear, Oryctolagus cuniculus, Pyrrhocorax, rabbit, Red-billed chough

April 25th – Great Orme

A bright sunny morning prompted me to leave early for the Great Orme today, giving myself time to walk at least part of the way up to the summit and arrive on time to do my shift in the Wildlife Trust shop. Bearing in mind that wherever I walked up from I would have to walk back down to later on, regardless of what the weather may be doing by then, I decided to park in the layby just beyond St. Tudno’s Church. It was much fresher up here, still sunny and clear but a strong breeze made it feel cool.

view from half-way up looking down onto St Tudno’s church

13:05 From here at the bottom of the steep slope, there are obvious short-cropped grass trails that lead off in various directions including up to the cable car station and the Summit Complex, where I was heading. Walking at a good speed it may take 10 minutes to get up to the top if you’re reasonably fit, or a bit longer if you stop to admire the views behind you or need to stop for breath on the steepest part nearer the top. Of course you all expect by now that I would take longer, as I would inevitably find things of interest that I would need to stop and photograph.

Either side of the tracks the hillside is lumpy and bumpy, with hillocks and hollows clothed with long tussocky grass and bushes of dwarf gorse; perfect terrain for the Meadow pipit that I was hoping to see. Birds foraging here are often well concealed, suddenly appearing and disappearing like this Magpie, one of a pair out hunting.

Sometimes they leave flying off until you’re almost on top of them, as this Jackdaw did.

Fond as I am of the Corvids, the unexpected sight of this elegant male Northern Wheatear was a lot more exciting.

Northern Wheatear-Oenanthe oenanthe- Welsh: Tinwen y Garn

and the excitement was doubled when a more softly plumaged female popped up onto the top of a hillock.

Absorbed with the female wheatear a distance away, a Meadow pipit popping up onto a hummock close by me took me by surprise, but a sighting at last and some photographs! It was hunting and I was pleased to get a pic of it with an insect in its beak.

Meadow pipits, in common with the majority of basically brown birds don’t get much of a write-up in the bird books. They’re mostly described as something like ” a small, brown, streaky bird, the most common songbird in upland areas, where it’s high piping call is a familiar sound’. Perhaps because of their lack of glamour we take them too much for granted, as according to the RSPB, ‘Meadow pipit numbers in the UK have been declining since the mid-1970s, resulting in this species being included on the amber list of conservation concern.’

Meadow Pipit- Anthus pratensis- Welsh-Corhedydd y Waun

Meadow pipit with insect

It’s strange that we give such high praise to the similar-looking Skylark and the not-dissimilar Song Thrush and are so dismissive of the pipits. Is the bias based on the fact that the latter sing delightfully and pipits not so much? For sure our hills and uplands would be lonely without them, so perhaps we could appreciate them more and enjoy them at every opportunity.

There are little wildflower treats hidden down in the grass like this pretty violet.

13:25 As usual I’d been led astray by the birds and had to put a spurt on and get to the top in time to start my ‘shift’. As I said earlier it was breezy on this side of the Orme, but crossing the top and starting down the other side I was suddenly fighting to make progress against a continuous very strong head wind! Checking the wind gauge inside the visitor centre it indicated it was blowing in from a North-north westerly direction, so it felt cold too despite the sunshine. I anticipated selling more hats and gloves!

4:50 Finished for the day I retraced my steps along the trail back down towards where I left my car. On my own time now I was free to take my time and paused to admire the view over towards the Little Orme and beyond. The post tells you that this is the way to The Town (Llandudno).

A closer view of the Little Orme shows its intact, non-quarried side which was deliberately preserved to present a much prettier view to visitors and residents of Llandudno.

A little further on there is an interpretation panel that reminds you that this is the ‘Historic Trail’ and informs that 800 years ago you would have been looking down onto one of perhaps three villages established on the Orme, whose inhabitants would have grown crops and raised animals to eat or trade. I was hoping the wheatears may still be around and I was in luck – I soon spotted a female.

The sun was lower now, creating shadows and highlights and the wind, stronger now, rippled across the long silvered grass, creating a magical almost alien landscape. In amongst it I realised there were more Wheatears, another three birds.

All Wheatears spend winter in tropical Africa, heading northwards via Spain in the spring. Those that breed in the British Isles sometimes arrive on our coast as early as late February, but mainly during March, with males arriving ahead of females. They move inland to breed.

GREENLAND WHEATEAR

It is possible that the birds I saw here today belong to another race, known as the Greenland wheatear, which arrives a little later in April. Many wheatears make a refuelling stopover in North Africa, but as the Greenland wheatears fly furthest, they need to put on more fat before leaving and spend longer at stopovers. They have a long journey ahead to their breeding sites on the other side of the Atlantic. From Britain they fly northwest across the sea, via Iceland, until they reach the Arctic tundra of Greenland and northern Canada. By June they will have started to breed there.

Wheatear & Meadow pipit

Whichever they were I was appreciating some lovely views of the two males and two females foraging together in the long grass, using the little hillocks as look-out platforms to survey the ground around them for likely prey.

Female wheatear

Then a distraction; a black bird flew in that I may have dismissed as a Jackdaw had it not called out. This was a Chough. It had landed somewhere behind a particularly hillocky part of the hillside, which is also pitted with well-disguised sunken craters. You have to watch your footing if you risk going off the proper trails.

Landscape pitted with sunken craters

I walked carefully until I spotted the bird, almost up to its beak in the long grass.

It had its back to me, eventually turning enough to show its diagnostic curved bill and legs, these are bright red in an adult bird, but this was a juvenile so it hasn’t quite got that far yet and its are more of a dull orange colour.

Chough, Red-billed chough – Pyrrhocorax

It didn’t stay for long before taking off, but it’s always a treat to see them at all, especially this closely.

Making my way back to the main track I noticed this rock, a little island rising out of a sea of grass and heather, it was almost totally encrusted with white lichen and embellished with mosses.

There was a lovely patch of violets growing in a grass-lined crater too.

I spotted two Wheatears perched on the top of a gorse bush; a male and a female. The birds spend most of their time on the ground, travelling in hops or runs on the ground, so it’s quite unusual to see them perched up higher.

I couldn’t have asked for a prettier picture than a handsome male Wheatear perched amongst golden-flowered gorse.

I liked the two images below too; perfect records of the birds’ exact location!

180425-GO-1709-Male wheatear next to post

Two males together on the short turf of the trail

And one last image of a nicely posed one on his own.

17:16 Walking on down I spotted three bunnies on high alert, in poses that could have come straight out of Watership Down.

Rabbit-Oryctolagus cuniculus

But then I saw the new Peter Rabbit film during the Easter holiday too and thought this one, which I think may be the ‘big bunny’ of a previous post, may have seen it too – he’s got Peter’s pose to a ‘T’.

And wouldn’t you know? After all my efforts to find a Meadow pipit, there was one posing on a rock almost in front of my parked car!

It flew down to the ground and looked back over its shoulder at me as if to say

“what kept you? I’ve been here for hours waiting for you!”

It allowed me a couple of photographs, then took off, leaving a lone Jackdaw to patrol the layby edge for his supper.

On the way down I had to stop just past the church as these little Goldfinches fluttered down onto the bare ground of a bank where they must have spotted food potential.

180425-GO-1730-Goldfinches on bank past church 1

180425-GO-1730-Goldfinches on bank past church

The views were stunning as always; good today as the mountains were more clearly visible than usual and the clouds above added to their drama.

17:45 The view of the Conwy Estuary was stunning too, the sun was hitting the castle perfectly so it stood out from the trees, you can clearly see the road bridge that takes you across the river to the town and there were boats on the water….. the perfect scene for a painting.

The view of the sea meeting West Shore wasn’t bad either.

Sights & Sounds of the Little Orme (2)

08 Wednesday Feb 2017

Posted by theresagreen in birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Llandudno, Nature, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

common buzzard, disease in wild rabbits, hawthorn, jackdaws on cliff, kestrel, mobbing of buzzards, Myxomatosis, rabbit, raven

January 20th – Little Orme – Upper reaches

I‘d spent longer watching the seals than I had intended, so almost talked myself out of doing some proper walking and heading up to the summit. It was cold, the sun was already sinking lower in the sky and I knew the upward tracks were going to be muddy. But one of my aims for this outing had been to check to see whether or not the cormorants had begun nesting yet, so onwards and upwards it was.

At the bottom of the steep upward slope, Rabbit Hill to locals, a bird sat perfectly still at the top of a smallish ash tree. The sun in my eyes was so bright I could only see it as a black shape, so made another assumption that as this is about the highest point on this windswept clifftop and a favoured perch for crows, magpies and jackdaws, that it was a corvid. Only when I lightened up the photograph I took did I realise it had been a Kestrel.

The bracken and brambles that covered the slope to the landward side of the track have been cut back hard; this vegetation provides cover for a variety of small birds, including resident Stonechats and Whitethroats that come here for the breeding season. I’m sure it will have grown up again by the time they arrive.

I was right about the mud! It was almost take one step forward and slide back two. I pictured my walking pole lying uselessly in the boot of my car. I should use it more often, but it gets in the way when I want to stop and take a photograph. I took a breather to turn and photograph the view; no matter the number of times I have done it, it’s just so amazing I can’t resist. The spit of land projecting finger-like into the sea is Rhos Point and despite the hefty sea defences I know it has in place, it looks so vulnerable from here, perhaps more so to me because it’s where my daughter and her family lives and I can pick their house out from here!

At the top of the slippery slope is a levelled area where much of the stone was quarried out. The cliff wall at the back of this now grassy area is Jackdaw city, with many pairs of birds nesting in its nooks and crannies. You realise how many of them there are when the Buzzards glide into the airspace above and numbers of them suddenly zoom up and surround them, determinedly driving it away while making a heck of a racket.

(click on image to enlarge)

Herring gulls often join in the mobbing party too; it may seem that they prefer roofs and chimneys to nest on, but some do prefer the more traditional option of a bit of cliff. It’s interesting that although they may rob other birds of their eggs and chicks, they’ll join forces to drive off any potential predators of theirs. It’s not too clear from my photograph who’s who, but one Buzzard is very slightly left of centre and the other approaching the far left, with defending birds approaching mainly from the right. Poor old Buzzards, every other bird picks on them, even much smaller Starlings!

The edge of the cliff is crumbly and eroding but is a favourite spot for Jackdaws to sit and look down on the lower levels of the headland. There were several pairs sitting doing just that this afternoon, probably ones with nest sites nearby on the cliffs of the lower level.

I took a photograph looking down into Angel Bay from up here; it looked as though quite a number had moved off.

One of my favourite sights is golden gorse flowering against the background of a blue sea.

It’s always sad when a tree dies, but the skeleton of this Elder is now beautifully adorned with lichens and a fungus, which I’m sure is now past its peak. I’m not great on fungi, but I do know the one most closely associated with the Elder is Jew’s ear or jelly ear Auricularia auricular-judae; is it that Annie? I wish I’d seen it earlier.

The grass up here is grazed by sheep and further nibbled by rabbits, so is always neat and well-groomed. The path curves into this small clearing that looks almost like a cleverly landscaped wild garden designed to lead you to the stunning vista.

click on image to enlarge

The nearest rounded hill is Bryn Euryn which I’ve walked you around many times and shown views from there to here, but you can see they would be a fairly short flight away from one another for Buzzards, which nest on Bryn Euryn, and Ravens which regularly overfly both.

Some of the hawthorns here still have good crops of berries.

And there is lots of glorious golden fragrant gorse.

Another wider view from higher up over Colwyn Bay and towards the Clwydian Range of mountains where Offa’s Dyke begins.

170120-lo-95-view-from-little-orme-over-rhos-and-surrounding-area-1a

click to enlarge

The low sun gives a wonderful texture to the rough grass and rocks. I always wonder how rocks such as this one arrived where they are, but this one I use this one to recognise the point where I leave the path and approach the cliff edge, extremely cautiously, to get a better view of the site of the cormorants’ colonial nesting site.

They don’t appear to be doing much yet, in fact there were just two there when I first looked, although a few more did fly in to join them as I watched.

The Great Orme – click to enlarge

I climbed up a bit higher to admire the view across Llandudno Bay to the Great Orme. The pier looks toy-like against its great bulk.

The sun had dropped further and was almost hidden by the highest part of this headland to my left. The view from here is across Llandudno town to Anglesey and the bulky headland of Penmaenmawr. If you were looking at this as a walker of the Wales Coast Path travelling in this westerly direction, you could roughly trace your onward path and see where you would be in a day or so’s time.

Llandudno Bay, town and beyond – click to enlarge

Low light lends a different atmosphere to this place, especially when you’re alone and have an imagination such as mine. Rocks cast shadows and a solidity not as apparent in bright sunlight. I wonder how it looked before its bulk was reduced by quarrying? Are these squared off rocks remnants from that time or were they deliberately placed before then for some other purpose.

The remnants of a dry stone wall lead the eye to the wonderful view.

170120-lo-113-stone-wall-view-from-top-of-orme-1

click to enlarge

Then there are Hawthorn trees, contorted into wonderful shapes by the strong prevailing winds and features long associated with tales of witches and magic……

Even in broad daylight I wonder about the spot in the image below. I can easily imagine as some kind of mystical meeting place guarded by the trees and I know that as a child I’d have found a way around the fencing and sat on the top of that little hummock letting my imagination run riot, most probably giving myself nightmares.

I fancy other mystical markers – a hawthorn branch heavily covered with lichen that reaches out over the track and frames the view.

and a little tree well covered with lichens and further embellished with sheep’s wool.

The atmosphere is further enhanced by a pair of Ravens, companions of witches and wizards, ‘gronking’ as they passed overhead.

And a rabbit, moving strangely slowly around behind the wire fence. It didn’t bounce away from me like rabbits usually do and I wasn’t sure if it was just old or not well; its eyes looked strange and it may not have been seeing properly, if at all. It put me in mind of rabbits we used to see years ago with Mixomatosis, but is that still around? (see footnote)

A chaffinch foraging around in the gorse and blackthorn scrub led my eye to this sunlit spider’s web and distracted me from further over-imaginative thoughts!

Had a bit of a slithery walk down Rabbit Hill then headed back to leave the site. I took the path closest to the cliff edge to avoid oncoming late afternoon dog-walkers and spotted this bird sitting on the top of a gorse bush seemingly looking out to sea. Once again the sun was obscuring it from proper view but there was no mistaking this was a Kestrel, a young one I think. It was very cold now but the bird was sitting perfectly still with its feathers fluffed out.

I risked walking back around to get some better lighting, expecting it to fly off, but although I think it was aware of me it stayed put. I did get to a point with a better view – and the camera battery died! Time to go.

More about Myxomatosis

When I wrote this post and mentioned the ‘poorly’ rabbit I had seen, I hadn’t realised that the horrible disease, Myxomatosis, was still present and affecting rabbit populations in the UK. As a country-bred child back in the ’60s, I remember seeing many affected rabbits which I found distressing, and as the poor rabbits were sick they were easily caught by our cats, who didn’t kill them, but did bring them home. I also didn’t know then that it could be passed on to pet rabbits; now they must be vaccinated against the disease.

The disease called Myxomatosis reached the UK in 1953, where the first outbreak to be officially confirmed was in Bough Beech, Kent in September 1953. It was encouraged in the UK as an effective rabbit bio-control measure; this was done by placing sick rabbits in burrows, though this is now illegal. As a result, it is understood that more than 99% of rabbits in the UK were killed by the outbreak. However, by 2005 – fifty years later – a survey of 16,000 ha (40,000 acres) reported that the rabbit populations had increased three-fold every two years, likely as a result of increasing genetic resistance, or acquired immunity to the Myxomatosis virus. Despite this, it still appears regularly at rabbit warrens.

If you’ve never seen an affected rabbit, I can’t stress how awful it is. Initially the disease may be is visible as lumps (myxomata) and puffiness around the head and genitals, which progresses to acute conjunctivitis and possibly blindness; this also may be the first visible symptom of the disease. The rabbits become listless, lose appetite, and develop a fever. Secondary bacterial infections occur in most cases, which cause pneumonia and purulent inflammation of the lungs. In cases where the rabbit has little or no resistance, death may take place rapidly, often in as little as 48 hours; most cases result in death within 14 days. Not a good way to die.

Wild rabbits tend to recover quickly once the disease has passed; a certain density of rabbits is needed to keep the disease going and once the number of rabbits drops below that level the disease will disappear until the rabbit numbers increase again.

Sights and Sounds from the Little Orme 1

03 Friday Feb 2017

Posted by theresagreen in Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

≈ 26 Comments

Tags

blackbird, chough, Great tit singing, grey seals, grey seals from the Little Orme, grey seals in Angel Bay, grey seals mating behaviour, phalocrocorax aristotelis, raven, Robin, shag

January 20th – Little Orme, lower level

When the first sound I hear on my approach to the Little Orme is that of a Raven gronking, I take it as an omen that this is going to be a good walk! And so it was today – the old Raven perched high on the edge of the cliff, proclaiming his territorial rights, his distinctive call echoing off the surrounding rock. As yet there were no signs of Fulmars having returned to begin claiming nesting spots on the cliff below him. Notoriously noisy, they too would have been heard before being seen for sure.

Ears being more effective than eyes on this bright winter afternoon, I heard birdsong emanating from a small nearby tree. I didn’t recognise the song at first and with sun shining directly into my eyes, it took a couple of minutes for me to recognise that the singer was a Great tit. I edged slowly towards him, circling to try to reach a point where the sun was less blinding, expecting him to spot me and take off any second, but he was confident and intent on his purpose and chose to ignore me. I was delighted, I don’t recall ever being this close to a singing Great tit before and was impressed by his tuneful renderings.

He was indeed handsome and as the test of a male Great tit’s virility is displayed in the strength of the black markings that run from his throat to his nether regions, this one looks like he’d be quite a catch.

The ground here was frosted and in shaded places the grass was crunchy underfoot, but a pair of blackbirds, feathers fluffed out against the cold had found a more insulated mossy spot and were out hunting worms. I wasn’t sure if the female was deliberately collecting nesting material or if I’d disturbed her whilst probing and the grass had stuck to her bill.

Close by a Robin was singing quietly, almost to itself as it perched low and spied, head cocked, for insect movements on the ground below.

Reaching the cliff edge which overlooks Penrhyn Bay, all I spied was a distant single cormorant. (Well, I assumed it was a cormorant, but a sharp-eyed friend pointed out it was actually a Shag – so really happy about that as I see far fewer of them.)

A closer look shows the Shag has a narrow bill and a steeper forehead than a Cormorant and also lacks the white cheeks patches of the latter. A lesson learned, I will look closer in the future and not make assumptions!

Sitting atop the rocky mound that forms one edge of Angel Bay were a pair of large black birds. One had his back to me, looking out to sea – Ravens, surely? As I approached they flew down almost to the base of the rock.

Feathers gleaming with shades of purple and green they are magnificent birds, but you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of that enormous dagger-like bill.

As well as local folk, people come here from miles around in the hope of a sighting of the Grey Seals that have claimed Angel Bay as their own. Today I was one of a small crowd of spectators that were given a real treat; there must have been at least 40 of them ranged along the tide-line the whole length of the little cove.

Perfectly camouflaged to blend with the rocks and pebbles here, it takes a few minutes to get your eye in and work out which shapes are animal and which mineral. I make a total of 20 in the image below.

At first glance there didn’t seem to be much activity other than sleeping going on, but sounds arising and a closer look reveals that here and there things were not entirely tranquil.

Some see rocks as a sun-warmed resting place

while to others they are just obstacles to be overcome; going over the top must be easier than getting someone to move.

These two took to the water, they could be a male and a female as one appears smaller than the other.

They started off peacefully enough,

but things soon started to get a bit rough

and developed into what appeared to be a serious display of aggression or power assertion of some kind. ( I wasn’t entirely off-track here, but it has been pointed out that this was quite likely mating behaviour. I thought that mating happened sooner after the birth of the pups.)

Their interaction was quickly dissipated though when several more seals lumbered from the shore, showing a surprising turn of speed, and entered the water with much deliberate splashing.

Then sped off with purpose, keeping their heads above the water

to check out two kayakers that had paddled into the bay. The guys in the boats must have been thrilled to have had a close encounter with at least eight curious seals.

Back on the shore another pair having a bit of argy-bargy

this time more vocal than physical.

And that is where I left them to get on with their day while I got moving to warm up, with one quick last look over the edge of the cliff from the other side of the bay.

On the far side of the bay I scanned the cliff for any signs that the Ravens may be re-using the nest site that has been occupied for years. There was nothing I could see, but there were plenty of pairs of Jackdaws that seem to have already claimed or reclaimed holes and ledges on the cliff wall. Jackdaws are so numerous here that a black bird of a certain size usually registers subconsciously as such, but again it was hearing different sounds called by a small group of four black birds flying up that alerted me to the presence of the far less common Chough.

More wary than the resident Jackdaws, the presence of Chough, probably visiting from the Great Orme that forms the other side of Llandudno Bay, always takes me by surprise and that is my excuse for failing to get a decent photograph! That and the fact they soon spotted me standing out in the open pointing a long lens at them, so they took off and disappeared over the cliff edge. I have seen and photographed the pair below feeding here before, quite distinctive with all their leg bling, but the one above has none yet. Is that because it’s a young one I wonder? Please tell me if you know.

I couldn’t leave this lower level of the reserve without a nod to a Jackdaw, whose home this really is, so snatched this just before a dog followed by its owner sent him off too.

Waders v Weather

23 Wednesday Nov 2016

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhos Point, The Wales Coast Path, wading birds

≈ 17 Comments

Tags

coastal birds, Curlew, great black-backed gull, Oystercatcher, redshank, Rhos Point, Turnstone, turnstone flock

Colwyn Bay, on the Irish Sea, has big tides and at some high tides water levels can rise by 8 metres or more. On windy days big waves are driven in and as the tide reaches its highest point they crash dramatically, in places causing spray to rise and splash over the sea defences. Regardless of the weather, for the gulls and wading birds that feed here it is business as usual. For people, walking along the promenade on such days can be hard work and exhilarating, but for the birds that feed here on Rhos Point it has to be business as usual and whatever the weather or state of the tide the birds know instinctively exactly when to arrive and depart to best take advantage of fresh deliveries or deposits of food.

Interested to see how the birds responded to challenging conditions, I took these photographs on an exceptionally windy day when the incoming tide was set to be particularly high.

12:51 – Curlews begin to leave.

12:52 – Most of the oystercatchers that feed here don’t travel far, passing the time between the tide-turns gathered together on the rocks of the seabreak in Rhos Harbour, a short flight away. Some linger longer than others.

Herring gull, Oystercatchers, Turnstones and Redshanks

12:53 – A group of Turnstones all facing towards the incoming water

12:54- Big and bulky, Greater Black-backed gulls seem impervious to the rough conditions.

12:57 – This photograph of an adult and juvenile Great Black-backed gulls cries out for a caption doesn’t it? I’m leaving it to your own imaginations though.

12:58 – Turnstones on the sea edge, most standing on stones to keep their feet out of the water.

12:59- Another Curlew leaves, calling to announce its departure.

12:59- Turnstones and Oystercatchers. Interesting that they are all facing towards the incoming water but weren’t actively foraging for food. I think they are all facing into the wind, which would make them more aerodynamic and streamlined so they don’t get blown over.

13:00 –

13:03- Smoothing feathers ruffled by the wind back into place.

13:05 – A Turnstone takes a bath, or is that a jacuzzi?

Turnstone rock- hopping to higher ground

13:07- The Turnstones are more-or-less gathered together now. They are difficult to count as they merge so well into the background of small rocks, but I got up to about 56 individuals and I’m sure there were others behind rocks and one another, so the actual number is probably 60 plus.

13:08- Some Oystercatchers are getting restless, preparing to go while others seem in no hurry

13:12

13:18- As the tide encroaches some begin to leave

But the turnstones stay put, despite the rising water

13:21- A Crow arrives and announces his presence loudly

13:23- Another Oystercatcher is ready for the off.

Some stay and scrutinise the water for any last-minute tidbits

13:25: The Turnstones seem unperturbed by the water rising up around their small rock islands

and are the last birds standing.

13:45- The water has covered the Point.

13:46

Black-headed gulls are the only birds still flying. Low to the surface they seem to positively enjoy the rough conditions.

13:50

13:53 – The bigger gulls are unphased by the rush of the incoming tide and rather than fly away simply allowed themselves to be launched onto the water and rode the waves.

13:54- Wind-driven waves smash onto a flight of concrete steps and shows how high the water would reach if the rip-rap defences were not there; those steps below the middle are worn smooth and their edges rounded by the regular scouring of the waves.

Catchers, a Duck and Divers

28 Wednesday Sep 2016

Posted by theresagreen in bird behaviour, birds of the seashore, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhos Point, Rhos-on-Sea, The Wales Coast Path, wading birds

≈ 23 Comments

Tags

Cormorant, Crows on seashore, gavia stellata, mergus serrator, migrant birds, mussel bed, Oystercatcher, phalacrocorax carbo, red-breasted merganser, red-throated diver, redshank, Rhos Point, ringed plover, sandwich tern

September 10th-A brilliant day for birds continued….

As the tide began to return to the shore, every exposed rock in Penrhyn Bay was occupied by beady-eyed Cormorants.

Black-headed gulls also waited.

It seemed Rhos Point was the place to be for seabirds and waders today. In the time I have lived here I have never seen as many here all at once. I got there an hour or so before high tide, which is one of the best times to get close views of the birds waiting for their evening meal to be delivered. But as there were also such a large number of terns and gulls swimming on the sea’s surface and flying low over it, there must have been fish there drawing them in, perhaps a shoal of small fish, sprats or whitebait¹.

The tideline at Rhos Point was crowded with Herring Gulls, Black-headed gulls and Sandwich Terns. A woman arrived with two dogs and stood and watched as they chased along close to the water’s edge, sending many of the birds skywards. I will resist having a rant about that, but it troubles me that people think it’s OK to allow their dogs to do that.

Whilst waiting to see if the upped birds would return and re-settle I scanned along the sea edge to see what else might be waiting there. There were a whole host of Oystercatchers, trickier to see when their bright orange-red bills are tucked away whilst they rest. A few little Turnstones were dotted amongst them and then a larger bird at the back of this group, fast asleep with its head tucked well down – a duck for sure, maybe a female Red-breasted Merganser? Identifying ducks is not one of my strong points even when I have a good view of them.

Standing in the shallow water were a good number of Redshanks

and more Black-headed gulls.

A few Sandwich Terns were in amongst this group of Redshank, Turnstones & black-headed gulls.

I found only one Ringed Plover, although there could well have been more.

A large number of Sandwich Terns occupied a finger of exposed rocks with a few Oystercatchers and gulls, with many more gulls bobbing around on the surrounding sea.

The Sandwich Terns, here in large number today were noisy and excitable, with groups taking off and settling again in spots a few metres away along the shoreline. Some will remain here for the autumn and winter, but others will move on.

Their association with Black-headed Gulls is one I’ve seen many times.

There’s usually a crow or two waiting for the tide’s incoming feeding opportunities too.

Amongst the multitude of gulls swimming around were several Red-throated Divers – difficult to keep in sight as they dive frequently and disappear just as you think you may have one in focus, but a man close by with a brilliant telescope patiently located them and let me have a close-up look. Still not easy as you can’t predict where they’re going to pop up again, but I managed a couple of spots – what an exciting treat. At one point I thought I may have got lucky with a view of a group of six birds, also swimming and frequently diving and disappearing beneath the surface, but they turned out to be Razorbills, not quite as ‘special’, but still lovely to see.

They separated and mostly stayed too far out to see well without the aid of binoculars or a telescope, but as the tide progressed inwards, so also did one of the birds, allowing me a much better view of it.

As I watched the razorbill, the duck also took to the water.

I’m fairly confident it was a female Red-breasted Merganser. (The female Goosander looks similar but brown colour of head extends around neck leaving just a white chin). On this bird the white of the throat seems to extend down the front of the neck.

¹ Whitebait is a collective term for the immature fry of fish, typically between 25 and 50 millimetres long. Such young fish often travel together in schools along the coast, and move into estuaries and sometimes up rivers.

Sleeping Seals and Stonechats

02 Saturday Apr 2016

Posted by theresagreen in coastal habitat, Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Rhos-on-Sea, Seals, The Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales

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alexanders, dunnock, grey seals, grey seals in Angel Bay, jackdaw, jackdaws on cliff, stonechat

A brightly sunny day, too good to miss, so I headed for the Little Orme which offers reliable sightings of a wide variety of wildlife in a relatively compact area with little effort required. Well-used by local people and visitors to the area and part of the route of both the Wales Coast Path and the North Wales Path, the pathways of the lower part of the reserve particularly are often very busy. Opportunities for uninterrupted attempts to photograph the more wary small woodland birds may be limited, but despite close human proximity the birds carry on regardless and largely unnoticed.

I use the entrance to the reserve sited at the back end of a residential area. Today the lawns of the unfenced front gardens were providing foraging for jackdaws and a few Pied wagtails. Outside the breeding season wagtails gather here in the evenings before setting off to roost comunally for the night. On the roofs were perched gulls, Wood pigeons and Magpies and a singing Greenfinch. There’s a thriving House sparrow population here too and cheerful chirruping greeted me as I climbed the steps up to the reserve, where they frequent the tangle of brambles and shrubs there.

The Fulmars have returned to their nest sites high on the cliffs. Although a small colony of just 10 or so pairs they draw attention to themselves by noisily proclaiming their territories and can be heard as soon as you enter the site. I looked out for Ravens that have used the same nest site up on the cliff for many years, but I didn’t see or hear them today.

I was pleased to see a pair of Stonechat though, one of my favourite little birds. They were in the same area within which a pair successfully raised a family last year, so I like to think this may be the same pair. I couldn’t get close enough to them to get good photographs, but I prefer to use ‘real time’ images whenever possible, so these were today’s best record shots.

Stonechat -Saxicola rubicans -male

Stonechat female

The biggest draw to the reserve are the Grey Seals that at this time of year can be fairly reliably seen, when the tide is out, hauled up on the stony beach of Angel Bay. Today there were about 20 females and their rapidly growing pups, a few in the water, the rest sleeping blending perfectly into the background of stones and rocks.

Grey Seals in Angel Bay, Little Orme

Jackdaws are without doubt the most numerous birds here and a great number gather here to breed, nesting on the rocky cliff faces. They spread throughout the site to feed and also separate into small flocks that venture back and forth to forage in a wide variety of places locally, arriving back noisily to land on the cliffs where they site their nests. It is good to see them foraging and nesting in their natural cliff habitat rather than in villages roosting on roofs and nesting in chimneypots.

Jackdaw

Jackdaws in their natural breeding habitat

Blackbirds are another numerous bird here as are Robins and Dunnocks, with males singing from shrubs throughout the site. Close to the backs of houses trees and shrubs are frequented by good numbers of birds. The House sparrows are nesting close to a busy path here and a chorus of chirrupings emanated loudly from within the shrubs, but despite being audible from some distance away, they stayed well hidden. Also seen and heard singing here were Chaffinch, Greenfinch, Wren, Great Tit and Blue Tit.

Dunnock male singing from a wild rose stem with numerous Robins pincushion galls

Wildflowers appear a little later on this windswept clifftop than in more sheltered areas, but there’s plenty of the early flowering Alexanders on show.

Alexanders

Elder leaves are well grown too.

160310-26a-Little Orme-Magpie in Elder tree

Magpie well concealed in an Elder tree

Wales Coast Path – Little Orme

24 Sunday May 2015

Posted by theresagreen in birds of Wales, Birdwatching on North Wales coast, coastal walks, coastal wildflowers, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales

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Cormorant, cormorants nesting, fulmar, fulmar nesting, ground ivy, jackdaw, sea campion, The Wales Coast Path-Little Orme

The Little Orme is a highlight of both the northern Wales Coast Path and the North Wales Path; it is a Nature Reserve with diverse habitats and wildlife and is popular with visitors and locals. I walk here often throughout the year but thought I would photograph this walk, taken at the end of April, as though I was following the Path, while meandering around as I usually do admiring the views and the special wildlife.

The Coast Path follows the promenade from Rhos-on-Sea around the Point and up to Penrhyn Bay. To reach the Little Orme turn off the main road and walk along Beach Road, which ends in a cul-de-sac where there are steps up to the site. Turn right at the top of the path from the steps to continue on the route.

In late winter to early spring Fulmars return to their nest sites here. They are noisy birds and vocalise loudly in the first weeks of their return as they sort out who is nesting where. Now, in late April they have quietened down and are settled into their nest sites on the more sheltered sides of the cliffs. There are currently five pairs on the more inland cliff and three or four more pairs on the lee sides of the cliff faces nearest to the sea. Their numbers are few but seem to be reasonably consistent year on year.

Fulmar nest on cliff nearer the sea

Fulmar pair sitting on cliff edge

At the base of the cliff forming one side of Angel Bay, Sea Campion is flowering.

Sea Campion-Silene maritima

I usually head for the cliff edge overlooking Angel Bay to see if there are any Grey Seals about. Today there were just two young ones swimming close to the rocks. The path to the summit involves an initial steep climb up an incline locally known as ‘Rabbit Hill’. It looks a gentle slope in the photograph, but it really isn’t, especially when you are as unfit as I was after my marathon-long virus! I had to stop twice today, but who cares when there are stunning views to look back at.

The Coast Path continues up steeply sloping ‘Rabbit Hill’

Jackdaws are numerous residents and pairs of the characterful birds are nesting in nooks and crannies all over the cliffs. It’s always good to see them nesting communally in their ‘proper’ habitat rather than in the chimneys of houses in towns and villages. There are a particularly large number of them nesting up on the cliff at the back of the flat quarried-out grassy area at the top of Rabbit Hill and as I reached there I watched them as they used their numbers to chase off two Herring Gulls that were probably speculating for unguarded eggs.

Cliff face of the old quarry that is now inhabitated by Jackdaws

Jackdaw foraging at the base of the cliff

Onwards and upwards from the rock-strewn quarry field the track is bordered by gorse bushes and the air was perfumed with its wonderful coconut scent. Every bush was smothered with thousands of tightly packed golden flowers, a truly glorious treat for both eyes and nose. The grass is kept closely cropped by both rabbits and wandering sheep and a variety of birds including blackbirds, robins, chaffinches, goldfinches and dunnocks all forage here on the ground or amongst the scrubby shrubbery.

A baby bunny dozing in a sunny spot at the side of the track

The track upwards bends to the right now and passes by an enclosed rough pasture grazed by sheep and is frequented by Jackdaws. It’s always worth checking to see if any of the black birds are actually Chough.

A sheep pauses from grazing in the enclosed field to admire the view

At the top of the field the track turns sharply left and continues bordered by more gorse, blackthorn and hawthorn. Today walking through the fragrant gorse and blackthorn blossom was blissful.

The trail winds through a thicket of gorse and blackthorn

Every gorse bush was packed tight with blossoms

Every gorse bush was packed tight with fragrant blossoms

Eristalis Hoverfly nectaring on gorse flower

If you had been walking the Coast Path, there is a perfect view from the top of this section of the track of where you have walked if coming from the direction of Abergele, or of where you will be walking if going the other way.

View from the cliff edge showing the route of the Coast Path from Abergele, past Lladdulas and around Colwyn Bay and Rhos Point

I could hear a Chaffinch singing so diverted from the main track here along one made by sheep to try to find him. It wasn’t long before I spotted him in a hawthorn tree preening himself and intermittently responding to the song of another male somewhere nearby.

Male Chaffinch singing and preening

Ground Ivy

The track continues upwards towards the top waymarked Wales Coast Path and North Wales Path

One of the reasons for taking this walk today was to check up on the Cormorants that nest on the sea cliffs of the headland. I wouldn’t recommend making this diversion to the cliff edge if you have children or a dog not on a lead with you, or if you are of a nervous disposition as to get a good view of the birds you do have to go carefully down a slope which has no barrier between its edge and the drop down. It was windy today too, as you can see by the ruffled sea.

A ewe with her lamb on the slope of the cliff edge

There are large numbers of Cormorants here all year round and in Welsh the bird is known as ‘llanc llandudno’. I’m sure they have nest sites all around the headland, but this is the only one I know of that is reasonably visible from the cliffs. The limestone rock is smooth and sheer so it is amazing that the Cormorants, quite large birds, find safe places to site their nests here.

A view of the nest site on the almost-sheer cliff face

An overview of the nest site on the almost-sheer cliff face

There are three areas the birds are gathered in, an area at the top, a middle section and a few on a shelf quite near the bottom.

A closer view of the area most of the birds were gathered in

A closer view of the top-level area some of the birds were gathered in

A few birds wwere sitting on nests while others, probably males, sat with their backs to the sea

A few birds were sitting on nests while others sat with their backs to the sea

Cormorants sitting against the cliff with backs to the sea

A pair of birds nesting amongst wild cabbage plants

Another pair on a sloping rocky ledge

Cormorant flying past cliff

Fascinating as the Cormorants were, it was chilly here on the windy cliff, so I went back up and along the cliff edge to the part below the summit which was sheltered from the wind and from where there are stunning views across the bay to Llandudno’s Victoria Pier and Little Orme’s big brother, the Great Orme. In the background is the Isle of Anglesey.This view shows the route of the ongoing Coast Path around Llandudno Bay.

Panoramic view of Llandudno, the pier and Great Orme with Anglesey in the background (click to enlarge)

Cormorants race past and Herring Gulls are always to be seen flying or gliding around this part of the cliff, and there is occasionally a Kestrel, but today I was surprised to see two Buzzards flying out over the sea and a Sparrowhawk flying in and heading towards the Great Orme.

The ongoing Coast Path passes around Llandudno and on to Deganwy and Conwy

It is possible to go up a little further to reach the trig point on the summit but the views are no better from there so I don’t often get that far and turn around to go back the way I came. If you were following the Coast Path though you would follow the track that takes you down to rejoin the main road at Craigside and continue towards Llandudno.

Enchanting evening on the Little Orme

03 Sunday Aug 2014

Posted by theresagreen in Butterflies of Wales, Little Orme, moths, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales

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6-spot Burnet Moth, 6-spot Burnet Moth pupa, Antler moth, cinnabar moth larvae, emerging 6-spot Burnet Moths, mating 6-spot Burnet Moths, small skipper, sulphur beetle

Some days the intention of a walk is at the forefront of my mind, then ‘stuff’ crops up and before I know it the day is almost over and the momentum needed to get me out of the door is fading fast. This was almost one of those days, when at six thirty-something I was still preoccupied with getting things done in the house. Luckily I finally acknowledged the little nagging voice in the back of my mind that was insisting I got out for some fresh air. I almost ignored it, then gave in, grabbed my camera, put on walking shoes and headed out with no real idea where I was heading for.

At around seven I arrived at the Little Orme. I knew before I arrived that by this time in the evening most of the area on this most accessible side of the headland would be in the shadow of its bulk, as the late sun slips down and slides around it to set just about behind its tip. There were quite a few people about too; dog walkers of course, some holidaymakers dressed up for the evening, maybe taking an evening constitutional before dinner & a couple of groups of teenagers, one lot jumping, diving, shouting and laughing from a rocky ledge into the sea. I quickly judged that this was not a scenario I would normally enter into if hoping to spot any wildlife and on that basis decided this outing would be for the purpose of exercise. So a brisk walk to the cliff edge, an about turn and a concerted effort to get to the top of Rabbit Hill with minimum stops to catch breath, back down again and home ought to do it.

A group of people with two dogs was heading toward me, so to avoid them momentarily I stepped off the main path onto a narrow track that leads around the cliff, skirting what is currently a large patch of long grass. It took less than a minute of being there to spot that a good number of Meadow Brown butterflies were flitting about amongst the grass stems and settling there. It took slightly longer to realise they were there to roost for the night.

Long grass on the clifftop of the Little Orme with view to Rhos-on-Sea & Colwyn Bay behind

Long grass on the clifftop of the Little Orme where the butterflies were roosting. Views to Rhos-on-Sea & Colwyn Bay beyond

I tried to approach several butterflies, treading slowly and carefully through the grass, but I couldn’t get close enough to them to photograph and hadn’t picked up my more powerful zoom lens when I left the house as I didn’t expect to need it. I continued to try until following one individual led me to discover a cluster of Six-spot Burnet Moths on a single grass-head.

Cluster of 6-spot Burnet Moths- Zygaena filipendulae

It was clear that the Moths were in differing conditions, with one n particular looking a bit battered and with most of the colour gone from its wings. I assumed that as with the Meadow Browns the Burnets were also seeking to roost for the night and turned my attention to a passing Small Skipper that settled obligingly on another nearby grass-head.

Small Skipper- Thymelicus sylvestris

I was happy now, especially as in the cool of the evening the butterflies and moths were not as mobile as they are during the day and were allowing me to get quite close to them with the camera.

Another Small Skipper

As I moved through the grass and further towards the cliff edge I began seeing more Burnet moths. And more.

6-spot Burnet moths either side of a grasshead

It slowly dawned upon me that although the butterflies were roosting, the moths were not. They were out intent on mating.

6-spot Burnet moths mating

I could hardly believe the numbers of moths that were gathered here in this relatively small area of long grass. I have been to visit this reserve many times and felt lucky to see half a dozen individuals on a sunny afternoon, now I was surrounded by them. They were literally everywhere I looked. It still took a further while though to realise that even more amazingly, I had arrived at exactly the time the new moths were almost simultaneously emerging from their cocoons.

6-spot Burnet Moth emerging from its pupa

I had begun to spot the yellow cocoons with something black and alien-looking emerging from them, but couldn’t quite imagine it ending up as a moth at all, so at first thought they were something else. I don’t what, just something else.

A closer view of an emerging moth still doesn’t look like one

It was only when I spotted other Burnet moths perched on top of cocoons from which another was emerging that I was convinced that somehow these crumpled black forms would indeed eventually look just like them.

A 6-spot Burnet moth on top of an as-yet unbroken pupa

I began to wonder then why the moths were sitting on top of the pupae. I’m afraid the only theory I could come up with was that they were male moths staking a claim on emerging females to mate with them as soon as they became viable. Not pretty, but probably not far off the mark. (more about 6-spot Burnet Moth)

Two Burnet moths on top of a pupa from which another is emerging

I tried watching an emergence for a while, but it seemed like a lengthy process, so still marvelling at my luck in witnessing this epic event, I left the moths to their nuptials and moved on. I would have been happy to have taken my previously outlined walk now and returned home, but it turned out there were still a few things to see in the gathering dusk.

A sleepy bumblebee curled around a blackberry

Ragwort is in full vibrant bloom now and I just had to look for black and yellow striped caterpillars of the Cinnabar moth. I was not disappointed, there were plenty in sizes varying from very tiny to very large.

Small Cinnabar moth caterpillar on ragwort flower buds

A large plump Cinnabar moth caterpillar snaked around a ragwort bud while eating it

I was also fortunate to spot a prettily marked moth : this is an Antler moth, so called because of the distinctive antler-shaped markings on its forewings. One of the species that flies in daylight.

An attractive little Antler moth on ragwort flowers

Antler moth- Cerapteryx graminis

Long grass with cliff wall of the Little Orme behind

On the cliff above Angel Bay is another patch of long grass, but here it is mixed with wildflowers such as hogweed, ragwort and a sprinkling of knapweed, all important nectar plants for insects. This evening there were still a few to be found out dining including bumblebees and one little Sulphur beetle.

Sulphur beetle- Cteniopus sulphureus

I left for home happily and exercised – I made it up to the top of Rabbit Hill, admittedly pausing a couple of times, but why wouldn’t you when the view is so spectacular and the sun is setting so beautifully over the sea?

There’s more to the Orme

15 Saturday Feb 2014

Posted by theresagreen in Little Orme, Nature, Nature of Wales, nature photography, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, The Wales Coast Path

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cliffs of the Little Orme, Great tit singing, Greenfinch, house sparrow, long-tailed tit, red-throated diver, Robin, textures in landscape

When the wind blows and sunlight slides slowly around the bulk of the Little Orme textures and patterns are revealed on surfaces that may go unnoticed in any other season when the sun is higher in the sky.

CLIFFS

GRASS

ROCKS

PRICKLY PLANTS

SEA SWELLS

Red-throated diver

BIRDS AMONGST TANGLES OF TWIGS

Great Tit singing

House sparrow eating

Robin singing

Greenfinch singing

And a glimpse of a Long-tailed Tit

The Foxglove – of Fairytales, Myths & Medicine

20 Wednesday Jun 2012

Posted by theresagreen in coastal walks, flower folklore, flower mythology, Nature, nature photography, The Wales Coast Path, wildflowers, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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digitalis purpurea, foxglove, medicinal plants, Pembrokeshire coastal path, plants associated with fairies, poisonous wildflowers

June is the month when elegant Foxgloves are at their best in many parts of Wales. I took most of the photographs in this post in Pembrokeshire where they adorn woodlands, roadsides and cliffs of the mainland and some of the offshore islands. Beautiful to behold, poisonous in the wrong hands yet life-saving when used for good, they have a long-held and fascinating place in our natural history.

Foxglove-Digitalis purpuraea

Foxglove–Digitalis purpurea – Welsh – Ffion or Maneg Ellyllyn — The Good People’s Glove

The graceful Foxglove is a downy biennial herb that thrives in acidic soils in a wide range of habitats. In their first year large downy basal leaves are produced, followed in their second year by impressive flower spikes from 3-6 feet (1-2m) tall. The plants die once they have seeded, but if the flowers are picked before they go to seed, the basal leaves will last another year and they will attempt to seed again.

Flowers open first at the base of the stem and graduates upwards

A stand of Foxgloves in a Pembrokeshire woodland

Three basic colours self-seed – pink, purple & white. They can come true to the parent plant where colour forms are isolated, but they cross-pollinate freely & many stands of foxgloves include all three shades.

In a Pembrokeshire woodland

In Wales the Foxglove is a characteristic plant of early summer, thriving on acidic soil in the shady conditions of open woods, woodland clearings and hedge banks. But it also tolerates the open and exposed habitats of moorland and heath margins, sea-cliffs and rocky mountain slopes.

It may also appear where ground has been disturbed, such as in newly cleared woodland, or where the old vegetation has been burnt.

Pembrokeshire Coastal Path

ORIGIN OF THE NAME

There have been many suggestions for the derivation of the name “foxglove”. It is an ancient name and exists in a list of plants as old as the time of Edward III (King of England from 1327-1377). The prefix ‘fox‘ has most likely been commuted over time from “folks”, who to our fourteenth century ancestors were the fairies, but so-called as to speak of them explicitly was believed to get their attention & cause them to do mischief. ‘Glove‘ may have come from the Anglo-Saxon gliew, which was the name for a musical instrument consisting of many small bells. So, put the two together and you could make it ‘Fairy Bells’. However it came about, Foxglove is the English common name we all know and love it by.

There appear to be two Welsh names for the Foxglove, one is Ffion, from which the popular Welsh female name is taken and the other Maneg Ellyllyn which translate as “The Good People’s Glove.” Similar then to Folk’s Glove and its association with fairies.

In Gaelic they were Lus Mor, the Great Herb, for being the most magical of all herbs.

Plants that are widespread & medicinally potent invariably acquire a large number of folk-names, & the foxglove’s many names are a case study in our ancestor’s imaginations.

A whole host of alternative common names reflect the association with fairies Fairy Caps, Fairy Gloves, Fairy Thimbles, Fairy Herb, Fairybells, Fairy-fingers, Goblin Gloves, Fairy Petticoats, Fairyweed.

Another name, Dead Man’s Bells served to warn of the plant’s poisonous disposition.

The names Flopdock, Floppydock, Flop-a-Dock, Flapdock, Popdock, Flop-poppy, Flop-top, Cowflop, Gooseflops, Rabbit’s Flowers or Bunny Rabbits all allude to the foxglove’s large soft downy leaves.

Mythology and legends

One story has it that fairies would hide themselves inside the flowers. Mischievous children, wanting to hear fairy thunder, would hold one of the flower bell then strike the other end on their hand. The poor fairy, rightly upset and probably rather cross, would make a snapping sound, a clap of fairy thunder, while she escaped from her retreat.

Another Welsh legend explains why foxgloves bend and sway so gracefully. It has nothing to do with the wind, but that as the flower is sacred to the fairies, it has the power of recognising them, and indeed all spiritual beings who pass by, and that it bows in deference to them as they waft along.

Foxgloves supposedly bowed to Fairies

IN ENGLISH LITERATURE

At least two great poets, Wordsworth and Tennyson were moved to immortalise the foxglove in words; the former clearly aware of the deadly qualities of the plant. In The Borderers, a tragedy, a woman describes a dream she had:

“My poor Babe
Was crying, as I thought, crying for bread
When I had none to give him; whereupon,
I put a slip of foxglove in his hand,
Which pleased him so, that he was hushed at once:
When, into one of those same spotted bells
A bee came darting, which the Child with joy
Imprisoned there, & held it to his ear,
And suddenly grew black, as he would die.”

Sounds more like a nightmare to me!

Tennyson names the flower in the poem ‘In Memoriam’ –

” …. Bring orchis, bring the foxglove spire…”

and also in ‘The Two Voices’ –

” ….The foxglove cluster dappled bells …”

MODERN MEDICINAL USES

Foxglove-digitalis purpurea. A plant that is beautiful on the outside but toxic at its heart. All parts of the plant are poisonous.

Foxglove is the source of digitalis, derived from several cardiac glycosides produced by the plant, and widely used as a heart medication. It is used to increase cardiac contractility and as an antiarrhythmic agent to control the heart rate, particularly in individuals affected by irregular (and often fast) atrial fibrillation and especially if they have been diagnosed with congestive heart failure. Which basically translates to it regulates the heartbeat.

The use of Digitalis purpurea extract containing cardiac glycosides for the treatment of heart conditions was first described in English language medical literature by William Withering, in 1785, which is considered the beginning of modern therapeutics.

With careful usage and expert pharmaceutical guidance, doctors have subsequently used digitalis and saved thousands of lives, but it is at the same time a dangerously toxic plant. Used wrongly it can cause heart palpitations, delirium, hallucinations, vomiting, & possibly death.

TRADITIONAL, FOLK & HERBAL MEDICINE

Modern-day herbalists have largely abandoned the use of digitalis because of its narrow therapeutic index and the difficulty of determining the amount of active drug in herbal preparations. Once the usefulness of digitalis in regulating the human pulse was understood, it was employed for a variety of purposes, including the treatment of epilepsy and other seizure disorders, which are now considered to be inappropriate treatments.

The Doctrine of Signatures

The openings of the bells were thought to resemble an open animal’s mouth

Foxglove flowers were supposed to look like an animal’s open mouth. Within the doctrine of signatures this meant it must have some medicinal value in treatment of injuries of the mouth & throat. The speckles in the mouth of the flower were, according to the Doctrine symbolic of inflammation of the throat. Another array of folk-names reflect foxglove’s association with the mouth: Throatwort, Rabbit’s Mouth, Bunny Mouths, Tiger’s Mouth, Duck’s Mouth, Gap-Mouth, & Dragon’s Mouth.

Another, less charming name of Scabbit Dock came about as in Culpepper’s day Foxglove was used in an ointment or shampoo for treating impetigo or “scabby head”.

Midwifery

An association with midwifery probably gave rise to the names Granny’s Gloves or Granny’s Bonnets, & Witch’s or Witches’ Gloves. Witches & grannies, or at least midwives & other herbal practitioners, had many uses for this plant. Dr William Withering, the aforementioned man credited with discovering digitalis as a heart remedy circa 1775, apparently learned of its potency from an unnamed midwife.