Category Archives: Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

Going Wild on the Beaches

10 Sunday Jun 2018

Posted by in coastal walks in Wales, coastal wildflowers, Nature of Public Places, Nature of Wales, North Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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Rhos-on-Sea

Rhos-on-Sea has a small sandy beach protected from the worst of the elements by the piled stones of the breakwater wall.

Most of the time it’s quiet, with most beach-seekers opting for the bigger expanse of sand further round Colwyn Bay, but it can get busy on warm sunny days as it’s handy for the village cafés, shops and the all-important public loos. It’s popular too with some of the younger local Herring Gulls whilst the grown-ups are otherwise occupied with raising the next generation.

The nearby wooden jetty is a draw for those wanting to try out the gentle sport of ‘crabbing’ too.

But my interest in the beach is with other visitors, the opportunistic wildflowers that grow there, mainly at the back of the sandy beach pressed against the sea wall.

The line of small dinghies lodged haphazardly against the wall don’t get much exercise by the look of things, but they help give the plants a bit more shelter. There’s a nice spread of Wall Barley,

Wall Barley- Hordeum murinum

then more Wall Barley, touches of Dandelion and Groundsel surround a clump of Sweet Alison. This does have origins as a wildflower and it grows wildly around the Mediterranean, but is more familiar to us as a garden edging plant. This one is probably the offspring of such a one that has escaped the formality of a bedding scheme in favour of a wilder life.

There’s more Dandelion, past flowering for now, and a couple of clumps of Curled Dock. This is one of our two most common docks, whose narrower leaves with wavy edges make it distinguishable from the other more familiar Broad-leaved Dock, a much sturdier plant whose leaves we used as kids to alleviate the pain of nettle stings.

Dandelion and Curled Dock-Rumex crispus

Sea Mayweed-Tripleurospermum maritimum

 

There’s some Sea Beet here, but much more further along, so I’ll get back to that. By far the most prolific plant though is Sea Mayweed, which has the odd flower open but although it’s leaves are pretty, it’s not at its best yet.

There’s another Mayweed too, the Pineapple Mayweed, so named because it’s supposed to smell of the fruit when it’s crushed.

Pineapple Mayweed-Matricaria discoidea

More Curled Dock, silvery-grey leaved Fat Hen which is not flowering yet and Shepherd’s Purse with the distinctive heart-shaped seed capsules that give it its common name.

Curled Dock, Fat Hen and Shepherds Purse

And to finish this section a nice group photo featuring most of the aforementioned main characters.

At the far end of the beach, there’s a change in character. The sand thins  gradually petering out, and the now stony ground offers an opportunity for other plant species to stake a claim. I find it amazing that any plant can survive the harsh conditions of any beach, let alone one as exposed and seemingly hostile as this one. Some like the Sea Beet and the Curled Dock are perennials and look tough enough to have staked a permanent claim.  Others appear at first sight to be small and fragile, although looks are often deceptive and some, like this White Clover should surely be somewhere more lush and grassy?

Growing through the clover in my photo above are bits of a plant I like very much, the Buck’s-horn Plantain, named for the shape of its attractive leaves. This one is a toughie, and is found on disturbed ground and on rocky sites mainly near the sea, but it may be pushing its boundaries a bit here.

Bucks-horn Plantain-Plantago coronopus

There’s a sprinkling of Annual Wall Rocket plants

Annual Wall Rocket-

and a straggly looking Cat’s-ear, one of the few hawkbit-hawk’s beard or otherwise dandelion-flowered hawk-something that I think I know.

Cats-ear-Hypochaeris radicata

There’s more ferny-foliaged Sea Mayweed

Sea Mayweed

more Curled Dock

Curled Dock

and another one of my favourite toughies, the pretty Common Mallow.

Common Mallow-Malva

There’s more Wall Barley too.

And some impressive specimens of Sea Beet. I’m surprised this doesn’t get fashionably-foraged for one of our trendier local restaurants – it’s the plant from which our cultivated beets originated, so does have edible roots.

Behind the now empty buildings it grows prolifically.

Speaking of the buildings, I stop and wonder what will happen to them. They are very much a local landmark with an interesting history. An impressive pier once stretched out into the sea from this point and the buildings, including the iconic octagonal one, originally served as a toll both and entrance building for passengers embarking on steamers that docked here. There have been a few subsequent changes of use since the council finally bought the pier and demolished it in 1954. Many people seem to particularly remember the café once located here.The  walls on this beach side also form part of the sea wall, so perhaps partly for that reason their continuing presence was secured last May when it was added to the Grade II list of buildings.

Looking towards the old pier buildings

Leaving the beach there were more little plants to see on the paved areas at the side of the buildings and on the steps leading up to the front of it, so maybe this area is not included on the council’s weed hit list.

Against the pink-painted wall

Sow Thistle, Rocket & Chickweed

and from a crack in the paving

Pineapple Mayweed & Wall Barley

and growing across a drain grille was this White Stonecrop

White Stonecrop

THE PROMENADE

From here I walked back along the Prom; this view is taken looking back  along a section I’d already walked along   

Promenade Rhos on Sea

and this is going forward showing the embankment. Quite unusually I thought, it had been allowed to grow long, so was sprinkled with patches of buttercups, red clover and flowering grasses. It’s uncut state is probably more to do with council budget cuts than as an aid to wildlife. I’m sure it’ll be neatened up before the start of the official High Season.

Buttercups and Plantain

Red Clover

Sweet Vernal Grass
False Oat Grass
Yorkshire Fog
Cock’s-foot Grass

Several plants have colonised the huge piled up rocks that provide extra sea defence, including a Sycamore tree which is currently flowering and  visited by Bumblebees. Despite the sunshine and the flowers on offer, admittedly not a great selection, there were very few insects about. I saw perhaps half a dozen bees and one White sp. butterfly.

Sycamore flowers with Bumblebee

The daisies have been spectacular here this year.

Daisies by the sea

To finish, almost home I spotted another couple of little gems tucked in against walls on the street

Wall Speedwell

and two tiny pink-flowered Cranesbills

Dove’s-foot Cranesbill
Shining Cranesbill

 

 

The Place for Wheatears,Pipits & Chough

08 Tuesday May 2018

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

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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!

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.

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.

 

 

The Windhover

09 Monday Oct 2017

Posted by in bird behaviour, birds of Wales, birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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September 15th – Little Orme – Angel Bay

15:00 – Walking towards Angel Bay, it was sunny and eye-squintingly bright but as always of late it felt cool as there was a strong wind blowing in off the sea. Heading for the cliff edge to see if there were any seals about, I was distracted by the sight of a Kestrel hovering almost motionlessly at the edge of the cliff peering intently down. I have had some of my best views of these charismatic little falcons here on the Little Orme, but it’s not every day that you’re graced with such a close presence of one that was clearly totally absorbed in hunting mode and seemingly oblivious to the small audience gathered beneath it. 

As I got closer the bird swooped away to land on the rocky cliff to the right of the bay.  I tried to get some shots of the landed Kestrel, failing to get the images I’d have liked as I was distracted by a lady asking if I would use my zoom lens to check out the details of a far distant ship! If only I was better at saying no! I did see that the bird had a chestnut head though, which is the colouration of females of the species; males have a blueish-grey head.

Fortunately it didn’t fly far away, just headed for the other side of the bay, now mostly in shade. It suddenly looked small and fragile against the bulk of the cliff, but despite being buffeted by the strong wind it held its position, hardly moving.

Another brief landing then it rose again into the air, hovering in front of us at not much more than eye-level. Perfectly beautiful and an amazing opportunity to see the bird from all angles.

The bird dropped down slightly, showing off the lovely rich chestnut-brown plumage of its back. A similar shade beginning to colour its tail feathers further confirmed this was a female, a young one I think. Young males also have a chestnut head but grey tails and adult males then have both a grey head and tail. Females are slightly larger than males.

Common English name: Kestrel, Common kestrel Scientific name: Falco tinnunculus Welsh: Cudyll coch Local and other names: Windhover, Hoverhawk, Standgale, Creshawk.

The scientific name is taken from the Latin falco = falcom, which translates as sickle, referring to the birds’ hooked talons and the Latin tinnulus, which translates as shrill-sounding. The old country names Windhover, Hoverhawk & Standgale all acknowledge the birds’ unsurpassed mastery of the hovering technique.

The next image is not sharply focussed but I love the way the bird is looking back over her shoulder as if to check if we were all still watching.

HUNTING AND HOVERING TECHNIQUE

A hunting Kestrel typically flies along until it either spots prey or a spot where it is likely to find something. It pauses, then hovers with deeper wing-beats and tail fanned out and pointing downwards for stability; they always keep their head into the wind when hovering. For a few moments the bird remains perfectly motionless in mid-air except for the rapid vibration of its wings. It may then shift its position by a few metres and hovers again, intently scanning every centimetre of the ground below for the slightest movement that may give away the presence of a small rodent; little escapes its telescopic vision. Once prey is detected the bird drops down in stages before making a final pounce and grasping its target with its talons.

During the course of my watching the Kestrel was harassed several times by Jackdaws attempting to drive it away and even by a pair of larger Crows, but she was undeterred and held her position, barely flinching.

CONSERVATION STATUS

Apart from the Game Laws, no measure for the protection of wild birds in Britain existed before the year 1880. Prior to this date, gamekeepers and farmers were responsible for destroying all kinds of birds they suspected as being injurious in any way. Kestrels, along with Barn Owls and Tawny Owls, all of which would have been doing far more good than harm in their controlling of rodents, were accused of taking young Pheasants and therefore on the ‘hit list’ in areas where game birds were reared.

Even twenty years ago the sight of a Kestrel hovering over a motorway verge used to be a fairly common sight, but sadly not so much these days. Drops in Kestrel population figures caused concern in the late 1950s and 1960s when they were reduced to low numbers: changes in farming practices are believed to have been the primary cause. Their numbers have subsequently recovered somewhat and according to the British Trust for Ornithology(BTO), the Conservation Status of the Kestrel in Britain is now Amber and their breeding population is currently estimated at 45,000 breeding pairs. Across the rest of Europe numbers are greater and generally the Kestrel population is currently of ‘Least Concern’.

Kestrels are to some extent migratory. Other than during the breeding season they  move from one part of the country to another, and large numbers cross from our southern coasts to Europe and beyond during the winter to be replaced by others that come here from farther north. Despite being a protected species, Kestrels are as vulnerable as any other species of bird on migration that passes over countries still permitted to shoot certain wild birds. As recently as 2015, the hunting season in Malta was brought to an end three days early when a man shot dead a Kestrel.

Maybe the one I watched was here feeding up to make such a journey herself, in which case I wish her safe passage and a safe return next Spring.

 

 

The life of a Yellow Dung-fly

05 Tuesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Insects, Nature, Nature of Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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This post is possibly not one for the squeamish, but lately I’ve become more aware of these bright little flies and given thought to the vital role they and their kind play in maintaining balance in our environment, so decided it was time to learn more about them. Yellow dung-flies are one of the most familiar and abundant flies here in the United Kingdom and indeed throughout much of the Northern Hemisphere. They are out and about from March to November and at their peak in the summer. Anyone that walks in the countryside, particularly in areas where there are large mammals will undoubtedly have seen them. They may look a little fearsome close up, but are harmless to us, they do not sting or bite people or other animals!

Common Yellow dung-fly or Golden dung-fly – Scathophaga stercoraria

Yellow -dung-fly male

As its common name suggests, the life of a Yellow dung-fly, particularly that of the males is centred on, yes you’ve guessed it … dung! They spend most of their lives either upon it, or looking for it. They favour cow pats, but are adaptable and will settle for the dung of other large mammals such as horses, deer or wild boar if that’s what’s available. Unsurprisingly here in Wales they mostly have to settle for that of sheep.

 

Male and female yellow dung-flies

Dung-flies belong to the Scathophagidae family of flies which are integral within the animal kingdom in the role of  assisting in the process of the natural decomposition of dung in fields and grasslands. 

Description: 5-11mm long. Average lifespan is 1-2 months. Sexually dimorphic, males are golden-yellow with orange-yellow fur on their front legs and are larger than the females. Females are generally duller in appearance, more of a green-brown colour and have no brightly coloured fur on their front legs.

Behaviour 

Males and females are attracted to fresh dung by its scent and actually approach deposits flying into the wind. Males spend most of their time on the dung waiting for females to mate with and being predatory insects, sometimes feeding on other insects that visit the dung, such as blow flies. Females on the other hand spend most of their time foraging in vegetation and only visit dung to mate and subsequently deposit her eggs.

Reproduction 

Rival male dive-bombing a mating pair

The male-female ratio of flies on a dung pat is typically heavily biased towards males. Often several males can be seen waiting for a female to arrive, so if and when one does, competition to mate is high: the smaller, outnumbered females don’t have much say in choosing their mate.

The act of copulation lasts 20 to 50 minutes during which the couple may be subject to aerial attacks from rival males attempting to dislodge the male. When the act is completed, the male attempts to guard the female from the attentions of other males, although both males and females often mate with several individuals.

Life-cycle

The adult dung-fly is mainly carnivorous, catching and eating smaller insects, but they also eat nectar. After mating females lay their eggs on the dung, where she selects small ‘hills’ on its surface, deliberately avoiding depressions and sharper pointed areas. This strategy is aimed at preventing desiccation and drowning thus giving eggs and offspring the greatest chance of survival. Depending on ambient temperature eggs hatch into larvae after 1-2 days. Larvae burrow quickly into the dung for their protection and proceed to feed on it; they also predate on other insect larvae also living in the dung. They grow rapidly and after 10-20 days the larvae burrow into the soil around and beneath the dung where they pupate.

Environmental influences 

The Yellow dung-fly has a short life cycle, a factors that has made them of interest to scientists, who have been able to study not only the insects themselves but also the effects various environmental factors has on them. For example:

The viability of a clutch of eggs depends strongly on the environment. In warmer climates a sharp drop in population occurs during the summer when temperatures increase to 28° or above. This does not happen in places with a colder climate such as Iceland, Finland and the north of Britain, nor at higher elevations.

The health of juvenile dung flies is in turn affected by the quality of the dung they inhabit, factors such as water content, nutritional quality, the presence of parasites & drugs and chemicals given to the animal that excreted it may all contribute.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Windy Wildflower Walk II

27 Sunday Aug 2017

Posted by in Butterflies of Wales, calcareous grassland, coastal walks in Wales, Nature of Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wales Coast Path, Wildflowers of Wales, wildflowers on limestone, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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August 3rd

Part 2 – Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve -The main track

Onwards and upwards; a flight of shallow stone steps make a steep rocky section of the path a little easier to climb (except when it’s wet & they get a bit slippery).

Pause here to admire the views back down onto the road and the many shades of green of the fields and woodland on its opposite side.

Looking down onto the road into Llandudno

Facing around to the way I’m going, the views to the right of me, seen over a rampant tangle of brambles and wild clematis on the reserve boundary, are extensive and stunning. At once pastoral and contained and wild and open to the elements.

On the other side of the track is the biggest and best patch of harebells that I have seen for years, a truly beautiful sight.

Harebell- Campanula rotundifolia

I can’t resist sitting to watch them being blown and rippled by the wind and am captivated by their charm. For me this little flower has it all. Beautiful in colour and form, they have delicacy and fragility but also great adaptability and resilience to an often hostile environment. Each flower had turned its bell back to the wind to reduce its impact; their slender but tough and wiry stems having the flexibility to bend to the wind, not break. A life lesson in a wildflower!

There were yet more of the little beauties a little higher up on the slope contrasting delightfully in colour and form with frothy lemon-yellow Lady’s bedstraw. I clambered up rather inelegantly to take a closer look. Amongst other plants, these had grown taller and in a more sheltered spot, their bells were turned to the light rather than away from the wind.

Before going back down to the track, I take another look at the glorious view across the bays to the Clwydian Hills and with sheep where they are supposed be.

click to enlarge

Back on track there is a change in ambience and habitat. There are small trees and shrubs on the boundary with the farmland sufficient to cast shade, and the sloping ground on the other side provides a windbreak. The trees are mostly hawthorn, prevalent throughout the headland as its one of the few plants not grazed by sheep or rabbits and again, tough enough to withstand exposure to fierce salty winds.

I spot a movement and see a small Grasshopper jump onto a lichen speckled rock catching dappled sunlight; the perfect place to soak up a little warmth whilst staying camouflaged.

I round a bend in the track and see – sheep! Five naughty trespassing sheep! They are strictly banned from the reserve unless invited in as their indiscriminate grazing may damage or even destroy the rarer wildflowers that grow here. Fencing prevents them wandering into the higher part of the reserve from the rest of the Little Orme where they are not restricted, so I think they got in at this field level, no doubt irresistibly tempted by the sight of the lush long grass over here. I tell them they should return to their field, but can’t see where they may have got through and they pay me no heed anyway, just amble away showing me their bottoms.

I let them get ahead, the last thing I want to do is frighten them and send them scattering and concentrate on the patch of golden flowers I see amongst the long grass on the slope. I thought at first it may be Goldenrod as I’d seen some on the roadside earlier, but soon realised it was a Hypericum – St.John’s Wort.

Another plant with several species that share the same common name, but this is the one I am most familiar with and has all the right features to be Perforate St John’s Wort – Hypericum perforatum.

St John’s Wort-Hypericum perforatum

click to enlarge

Black horehound – Ballota nigra

I apologise, but need to digress a little here to explain the significance of my next plant. Earlier on in the summer a group of NWWT members were treated to a walk around this reserve guided by its manager, Rob and a guest expert botanist, Nigel. It was a brilliant walk on many levels and we learnt a lot about our special flora and its history, about its fauna and the trials and tribulations of modern Reserve management. Typically as on any walk, even guided group ones, I lagged behind snapping interesting stuff and in a rough bramble-and- nettle patch (in the pic above), spotted the plant to the right, which is still going strong. Yet another minty-looking one I didn’t recognise. I took hasty photographs and hurried after the rest of the group. No-one else immediately recognised it either, so Nigel suggested I email the pics to him later on so he could have a better look. From them his best guess was that it was Black Horehound, reservations having been that this was a vigorous, tall specimen of a plant that usually is, in his words, ‘much scruffier-looking’ He also mentioned it smells unpleasant, so this time I had a closer look and bruised and smelt a leaf. It definitely did not smell pleasant and as all its other important bits match the botanical specs, I’m taking that as another one to add to my list of wildflowers-I-will-know-how-to-identify in the future. (Unless anyone has a different idea……?)

It’s amazing what you can see in five minutes along a short shady stretch of track. I watched a dragonfly patrol up and down at speed, pausing only in his labour several times to ‘buzz’ me and let me know I was in his space. I was hoping he’d stop so I could at least see what he was, but no, much too busy. There was yet more mint here, and one I recognised from the distinctive scent of a crushed leaf – this is Water Mint-Mentha aquatic. A similar-looking plant is Corn Mint, but it grows shorter than this and doesn’t have a ‘terminal’ flowerhead (one that crowns the top of the stalk).

Water mint-Mentha aquatica

A fresh-looking Speckled Wood rested on a sun-warmed stone on the path

Speckled Wood

and a Red Admiral flew across to seek out the nectar of bramble flowers

Red Admiral – Vanessa atalanta

There is a farm gate here which I checked for security, but tightly closed there would have been no exit for sheep. Another great Clematis-framed view from here, considerably enhanced by the clouds I think, although they were blocking out the sun at this point.

click to enlarge

At the side of the gate another member of the Lamiceae (mints & dead-nettles) family, this one I know well, the Hedge Woundwort Stachys arvensis.

Yellow Dung Fly – Scathophaga stercoraria

I moved on and round the next bend found evidence I was still on the trail of the errant sheep; a smallish neat and fairly recent deposit of fresh dung. And where there is dung there may be Dung-flies, one of my favourite insects, although I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps because I’m keen on recycling? As I hoped, a single male Yellow Dung Fly had laid claim to the heap of treasure and was intent on guarding it. A bit of a drama then ensued, but I’m saving that for later.

To the top

I had reached the Reserve boundary, marked by a gate through which the two marked ‘Trails’ continue on to cross the rest of the Little Orme headland. There is no marked official track up to the top reaches of the reserve from here though, so getting up there is a matter of a)wanting to; b) paying attention to where you are putting your feet; c)taking care not to slip on damp grass and d) watching out for rabbit holes.

Rock-roses are still fresh and lovely up here, as is the fragrant Lady’s Bedstraw.

I followed the path chosen by the sheep; they almost always know how to find the best way upwards. They were up there now, all standing facing the view. I may have thought they were admiring it, but one of them who seemed to be in charge, maybe the mother of some of them, was bleating loudly, eliciting a response from the field below. Was she calling to her friends telling them about the feast to be had on this side and inviting them over?

Once more I reminded them they were not welcome here, but Mrs Boss Sheep just gave me ‘the look’ that clearly said “mind your own business and what are you doing up here yourself?” Once past them it became more overgrown and not as clear where to head, but I kept going in the general direction of where I wanted to be and hoped for the best. I heard a bird making some squeaky sounds and spotted him as he perched atop a gorse bush, a speckly young Robin beginning to get his adult feathers. I realised this was the first bird I’d seen and heard so far on this walk apart from gulls and the occasional cormorant flying overhead.

I also realised it was lunchtime, so time to find a sheltered spot, take a break and sit and admire the sheep’s-eye view.

 

 

 

A Windy Wildflower Trail

25 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by in Butterflies of Wales, calcareous grassland, Nature of Wales, North Wales, North Wales Wildlife Trust, Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, Wildflowers of Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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August 3rd – Weather – intermittently sunny, warm but with a very strong cooling wind. 

As August began I wanted to get out to see wildflowers. This is one of my favourite times of year for that, when there is every chance that there may be earlier flowering plants still around and the late-summer bloomers should be at or reaching their best. Most of the sites I visit regularly are good for wildflowers, but as they are mostly located on hills or headlands and exposed to the elements, they would not be particularly enjoyable on a strongly windy day like today and taking photographs would be difficult. I decided on Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve, one of my favourites as it covers a range of interesting habitats within its 12 acre site and as it is located on the eastern side of the Little Orme there was a chance that much of it would be sheltered from the worst of the wind.

There are three ways to access the reserve, all of which require a bit of an uphill hike. One route is from Llandudno, another from the other side of the Little Orme, but for me the most interesting route to its main entrance is along the path at the base of a section of the Orme that runs up Penrhyn Hill. Marked as a 10% gradient, this is a steepish stretch to walk, but worth the effort as the rock supports an array of plants, both wildflowers and some garden escapees, and is a nature trail in itself. This provides me with the perfect excuse to amble up the hill and take frequent excusable pauses for breath rather than stride purposefully along.

Looking back along Penrhyn Hill towards Penrhyn Bay. The hill in the centre background is Bryn Euryn

Part 1 – Penrhyn Hill roadside to the reserve

My first sighting was of a male Common blue butterfly taking a break from his battle with the wind on the flower of a hop trefoil, low down in the vegetation. Amongst long grass and ivy, a grey leaved Yellow-wort; this is an annual favouring short calcareous grassland but is found in a variety of spots throughout the headland.

Common blue
Yellow wort-Blackstonia perfoliata

There were several clumps of a plant that was definitely a member of the mint family with strongly aromatic leaves. I don’t know what it is yet.

  • since publishing this Suzanne has kindly suggested in a comment that it is Common calamint Clinopodium ascendens. This is a mint that grows in dry grassland, hedgerows and verges, often on chalk or limestone soils, so habitat fits perfectly.

Common calamint – Clinopodium ascendens

And another aromatic plant – Wild Fennel, growing as tall as me, in front of gorse.

A pretty snail clung to the leaf of a Valerian plant; I lifted it gently to check the colour of its underside lip – brown – then replaced it. A few bees were braving the breeze, mostly Buff-tailed bumblebees. I photographed one on marjoram, which may or may not be a wild plant.

There is Wild Carrot in various stages of flowering from tight buds to maturing seedheads. Most often found in rough grassland, near the sea and again mostly on chalky soil. This is one of the easier of the white umbellifers to identify, with feathery leaves and bracts beneath the flowerheads and always a red flower in its centre.

Windy days are not good for butterflies, but I did see a couple of Gatekeepers. Both sticking close within the vegetation, one found Marjoram to nectar on, the other attempted to bask on a Wild Clematis leaf. Both were faded and looking a little the worse for wear.

Gatekeeper on Marjoram- fruits of Herb Robert behind
Gatekeeper

A flowering Goldenrod plant sprawled out across the edge of the path.

Goldenrod – Solidago virgaurea

So too a sprawling patch of Montbretia

Montbretia

and this one with its flowers like small dandelions, which I think may be one of the Hawkweeds. Another one to work on.

A stone wall marking the boundary of the farm’s land breaks the vegetated path edge, but behind it the small field is golden with Ragwort and long seeding grass. There were butterflies in there, mostly Whites, but it’s off-limits so couldn’t get a closer look.

Trees on the edge of the small wood in the background of the photograph now cast shade over the path and its edge and there are less flowering plants. There is plenty of ivy, Wild Clematis a flourishing Wild Cabbage, more of the not yet id’d mint and a clump of the usually sun-seeking Rockrose.

Rhiwledyn Nature Reserve

Half an hour after parking my car I finally reach the entrance to the reserve. The sun is shining and a fly basks in the warmth reflected by the glass of the narrative board.

A pretty clump of Marjoram flowers at its base.

I turned left to first walk the short length of the path at the base of the headland where it meets Llandudno Bay. The strength of the wind here took my breath away and walking into it head on was a challenge, but now I’d got this far I wanted to carry on to the far end of this eastern side of the headland as far as I could. 

Up on the cliff a patch of harebells gave a rare opportunity to get close to these lovely little flowers without having to lie on the ground. They look delicate and their thin stems seem fragile, but they are tougher than they look and were holding their own in today’s wind.

Spiky starry Carline thistles caught my eye. Kneeling to photograph them I see they are growing amongst bird’s-foot trefoil and that there is another little star there too – a tiny white flower of Pearlwort.

There is Yellow-wort flowering next to Wood sage which is setting seed.

Another Carline thistle, this time with Eyebright and an unwelcome invader, cotoneaster, one of the banes of the lives of hard-pressed reserve managers.

Nearby, more Harebells with a little pink Centaury and the grey felty leaves of Mouse-eared Hawkweed.

I was almost relieved to reach the end of the track and be blown back to retrace my steps to the beginning of the upward track.

First I went ‘off piste’ a little to reach a stand of golden yellow Ploughman’s Spikenard.

Ploughman’s Spikenard – Inula conyzae

Then a scramble back down to the start of the track proper. A badged wooden post here reassures you that you are officially following both the Wales Coast Path and the North Wales Path.

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Warbling Whitethroat

23 Friday Jun 2017

Posted by in birds singing, birdwatching on North Wales coast, Little Orme, Nature of Wales, Wildlife of the Wales Coast Path

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I saved this treat from the end of my walk on the Little Orme as I thought it would be better enjoyed on its own.

I heard the Whitethroat singing from somewhere in front of me, obscured from immediate view by gorse bushes and a bend in the track. I walked forward slowly and there he was, at the top of another bare stem, this time of Elder. A perfect, close, unrestricted view of him warbling away, declaring himself king of all he could survey, which is a great deal from where he was perched, to whom-so-ever it may concern.

The Whitethroat is a summer visitor and passage migrant to Britain that may be seen in all parts of the country and most frequently choose arable land, scrub and reedbeds as nesting sites.  They arrive during April-May and leaving in late September-early October to winter in Africa, some heading as far south as South Africa.

Whitethroat- Sylvia communis Welsh: Llwydfron

A medium-sized, long-tailed warbler, the male is grey, dusted with rust brown above, with bright chestnut-brown fringes to the wing feathers, the head is a pale grey, the breast pinkish-buff and the throat a bright white. The bill is greyish-brown and the legs are pale brown. The eye is pale brown with a white eye ring. Females are similar but brown on the head and nape where the male is grey.

Whitethroat singing

Warblers in general are often described as ‘skulking’, but the Whitethroat is not quite as secretive as some; the male will perch in full view to deliver its brief song with gusto.

I could see flies in the air around him, but he made no attempt to catch any of them, he was far more intent on singing although he did take a few short breaks to do a bit of preening. I think he had a bit of an itch.

I watched and listened for some time and took a few photographs before risking taking this short video, which is not the most professional you’ll have ever seen, but it gives more of the bird’s personality than a still. It’s better on full screen too.

The song is variously described as sweet, ‘scratchy’  and having a jolty rhythm. They are also very inquisitive birds and will venture to the top of a bush to investigate any intruders, before scolding them with a rapid churring call.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. You even got to share the atmosphere of the sunny, windy day!

 

 

 

The Foxglove – of Fairytales, Myths & Medicine

20 Wednesday Jun 2012

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

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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.

September – The dried seedhead of a Foxglove still stands-Conwy Mountain