Hanuman Langur in Ranthambore, India

Dear Readers, when I was in India nearly twenty years ago, one of my favourite animals was the Hanuman langur. They were so elegant, with their long tails and black heart-shaped faces, and they were always curious and ready for every opportunity.

So it came as little surprise when I read that at the Dakshineswar temple complex near Kolkata, where the langurs are regarded as holy, they’ve come up with a whole range of tactics to persuade visitors to give them food. There’s no snatching or biting or misbehaviour. Instead, the monkeys either sit in front of someone and gaze up at them beseechingly, or cuddle their leg, or stand up, often in front of food stalls. The most effective mechanism was leg cuddling or clothes tugging, maybe because this method of gentle persuasion means that it’s more difficult for the humans to get away from the monkeys.Who could resist? Plus, 81% of the monkeys who ask for food in this way are fed – devout Hindus believe that feeding the animals will bring good karma.

One interesting observation from the study is that the monkeys show the same behaviours as the human beggars in the area, which makes me wonder – are the monkeys mimicking the humans, or have they simply learned what works by trial and error? Or is it a bit of both?

You can watch a film of the monkeys persuading people to feed them here.

Typically, the monkeys doing the begging are adult females, and they are not satisfied with cauliflower or carrots, but will hang on until they get some sweet buns. Not very good for them, sadly. Maybe sugar is addictive for monkeys as well as humans.

Interestingly , the monkeys never steal from the vendors (unlike the much cheekier macaques). Maybe their dignified demeanour is another reason that their tactic works so well!

You can read the original article here.

Dear Readers, it has been a woodland-y kind of week, and so today I thought I’d share this poem by Pam Ayres. She’s much better known for her whimsical, comic poetry, but I found this unexpectedly touching. Plus, when it comes to burial, this would work for me too (though hopefully not for a while). See what you think…

Woodland Burial by Pam Ayres

Don’t lay me in some gloomy churchyard shaded by a wall
Where the dust of ancient bones has spread a dryness over all,
Lay me in some leafy loam where, sheltered from the cold
Little seeds investigate and tender leaves unfold.
There kindly and affectionately, plant a native tree
To grow resplendent before God and hold some part of me.
The roots will not disturb me as they wend their peaceful way
To build the fine and bountiful, from closure and decay.
To seek their small requirements so that when their work is done
I’ll be tall and standing strongly in the beauty of the sun.

Norway Maple flowers

Dear Readers, on Sunday Friends of Coldfall Wood organised a photography walk, led by local photographer Mike Segal. This isn’t a tech-y kind of walk – it’s more an opportunity to walk slowly and pay attention to what’s going on. It being spring, everything is bursting out in a most hopeful way. This is a Norway Maple – not a native tree, but it’s been here since the late 17th Century. Note the yellow flowers and the shiny pointy leaves.

And judging by the catkins, the hornbeams might be about to have a good year too….

The horse chestnut candles are just starting to erupt…

and I rather like the way that the leaves are attached to the stems…

It’s easy to forget that oak trees have flowers, but they do…

There are lots of bluebells in the woods, mostly hybrids but pretty nonetheless.

This hollow tree was being used by a pair of stock doves a few weeks ago. I’m not sure who’s in there now, but there are some leaves and some debris, so fingers crossed…

This fallen tree reminds me of a dragon.

Spring is such a lovely time in the wood, with the young leaves like green smoke.

But this is definitely the most heart-warming thing I’ve seen in the wood in quite a while.

At the base of this young tree is a pool of wood anemones. I used to see them in tiny groups in the wood when I first came to East Finchley fifteen years ago, but they were trampled out of existence during Covid. Or so it seemed. With just a dead-hedge to protect them, they’ve resurrected themselves. What a wonderful sight.

The wood used to be regularly coppiced, and some of the hornbeams have grown rather erratically as a result.

And I love the view from the bridge into the wet woodland.

Alongside the boardwalk there are willows in flower – these can be very difficult to identify to species level, but the bees won’t mind, they’ll collect the pollen anyway,

And then it started to drizzle, and so we headed home. It’s easy to forget how lucky I am to live so close to such a wonderful place as Coldfall Wood, but taking the time to walk slowly and to pay attention has reminded me of what a precious place this is.

Harpy Eagle in Flight (Photo By Mdf – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1552061)

Dear Readers, sadly i have missed National Harpy Eagle Day, which was celebrated in Panama on 10th April, but here I am, playing catch up as usual. What an extraordinary bird this is! It lives in the neotropical forests of Central and South America – we’re used to thinking of eagles as mountain birds, but this one is a creature of the canopy. As is usual with birds of prey, the females are larger than the males – a female harpy eagle can weigh up to 20ibs (9 kgs), with a wingspan of up to 88 inches (224 cm). That’s a wingspan of over 7 feet, people! The harpies of the Classical tradition used to fly the dead to Hades, and in Aztec mythology they were sacred to Quetzalcoatl. You might recognise the bird if you’re familiar with the Harry Potter movies, as it was a Harpy Eagle that inspired Fawkes the Phoenix.

Photo by By Jonathan Wilkins – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=40312024

Harpy eagles eat a variety of prey species (116 different kinds of mammal have been recorded) but they seem to have a special fondness for sloths and monkeys. They will also munch upon macaws and other parrots, and aren’t adverse to picking up lizards and snakes if they spot them. These eagles have the longest talons of any eagle, and generally sit in the canopy, scanning for prey (again different from European eagles, who will soar for miles, looking out for prey on open ground).

Harpy eagle with capuchin monkey (Photo by By Jiang Chunsheng – Miranda, E.B.P., Peres, C.A., Carvalho-Rocha, V. et al. Tropical deforestation induces thresholds of reproductive viability and habitat suitability in Earth’s largest eagles. Sci Rep 11, 13048 (2021). https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-021-92372-z, CC BY 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107138840)

Harpy Eagles are believed to mate for life, and raise one chick every two to three years. They typically lay two eggs, but after the first egg hatches successfully, the second one is ignored, its only role being as an insurance policy. The successful hatchling will be fed for six months, and will stay with its parents for between six months and a year. With this slow rate of breeding, you can imagine the impact of deforestation and in some cases direct persecution, where the eagle is thought to prey on stock animals. Although there are no recorded cases of Harpy Eagles hunting humans, their large size makes them formidable opponents if their nests are disturbed.

Harpy Eagle Nest (Photo by Marcos Felix fromhttps://www.naturetrek.co.uk/news/harpy-eagle-updates-2022)

There are a number of captive breeding programme, and one in Panama has succeeded in breeding 49 Harpy Eagles and releasing them into the wild so far, and various other conservation breed-and-release projects are happening throughout the eagle’s range, including Belize, Brazil and Colombia. Because the bird lays two eggs but only hatches one, it’s an opportunity to captive breed the egg that would otherwise simply go to waste. As usual, the researchers breeding the birds make sure that the eaglets don’t imprint on humans, by using gloves that imitate the head of the eagle, or by making sure that the carers don’t look like humans. I remember that in the Californian Condor breeding project, carers had to wear cow costumes, which must have made for some interesting anecdotes.

If you’d like to see some film of these magnificent birds (and hear what they sound like), have a look at the video below. Robert E.Fuller is a wildlife photographer, conservationist and all round good egg, with none of the ego of some other cameramen. Well worth a look!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkBCaC0be_M

Dear Readers, as I might have mentioned we are having some painting and decorating done in the house. Attention has now moved to the bedroom, where an unfortunate link from the bathroom above caused the wallpaper to peel off annoyingly. Of course, I’ve been laying in bed looking at it for about five years, but finally I have discovered the energy to ask someone to do something about it.

Yesterday, the painters did some ‘making good’ to get rid of the old paper, smooth things down etc etc, so instead of looking at peeling wallpaper I could look at the image above. I hope you’re impressed.

I think that it looks rather like a faceless hooded monk waving his arms around, but someone else said that it looked like a tree. So I’m wondering what you lovely people can come up with! What do you think it looks like? Nothing too rude, please, though I’ll tolerate rude-ish.

In other news, the paint colour that the room was originally painted in (Fired Earth’s Palm Honey since you ask) is now discontinued, so most of today has been spent trying to track down an alternative. In the end, we found it at Sally Bourne Interiors In Muswell Hill, and they’ll make the colour up for you on the spot, so highly recommended if you’re a North Londoner. They also have a lovely selection of what my Mum would have called ‘Bits and Bobs’ – I had a spell when I was collecting coloured glass vases, and I found some lovely pieces there. I am trying very hard to buy local, and to use local companies if I need anything done, so expect a few more recommendations over the coming months!

House sparrow and fledgling

Dear Readers, the report on this year’s Big Garden Birdwatch has just been published, and very interesting (and sobering) reading it makes too. The top ten birds for the year are:

1. House Sparrw
2. Blue Tit
3. Woodpigeon
4. Starling
5. Blackbird
6. Robin
7. Great Tit
8. Goldfinch
9. Magpie
10. Long-tailed tit

The only change in position for this year is that starling and woodpigeon have switched places, with starling now at number four and woodpigeon at number three, but there are some other changes. Although house sparrows are at number one, there’s been an 11% fall in the numbers recorded. Starlings are down by 4%, blue tits by 5%, but woodpigeons are up by 2 %.

Of course, some of this might be down the vagaries of weather, and we’ll need a longer term study to see what’s happening in future. Nonetheless, numbers of birds have been declining for decades, as my Red List posts have reported, and our gardens are becoming more and more important. Interestingly, a number of birds are being seen in gardens that previously preferred other environments – I just accidentally scared off a jackdaw on the bird feeder, and overall garden sightings of the species are up by nearly 8%.

Jackdaw at Kenwood House in Hampstead

There has also been a 15% increase in song thrush sightings, which is surely a good thing.

Song thrush singing in East Finchley

Towards the bottom of the list (so small numbers but still increasing), there’s been a 37% increase in bullfinch sightings, and a 27% increase in blackcaps. I have still never seen a bullfinch in the garden, but blackcaps have become much commoner during my fifteen years in this house – blackcaps are increasingly spending the winter in the UK, in part because of all that handy food we put out for them.

Blackcap in Cherry Tree Wood

So it’s a bit of a mixed bag. Some of the more unusual garden species are being seen more often, the common ones are still being seen but it looks as if numbers, particularly of house sparrow and starling, are dropping. What to do to turn the tide? One clear message is that birds are relying on our gardens more and more, so let’s make them safe spaces – no pesticides, clean feeders, as few places for cats to hide as possible. Nearly 600,000 people took part in the Garden Bird Watch this year. With all that interest, surely we can make a difference.

Blackbird. Rather like the penguin from Wallace and Gromit if you ask me.

The Sweetmans – A Country Cottage Year (1974) by Ken Griffiths

Dear Readers, there is probably something for everyone at the ‘Soil’ exhibition at Somerset House, but you’ll have to be quick if you want to see it as it finishes this weekend (13th April). There are huge video installations of myceliae moving through the soil, plants growing etc etc but as usual it’s the small things that I love. Like the photo series above, which shows Mr and Mrs Sweetman standing in their garden as the plants grow and fade, with one photo taken each month in 1974. . When I looked at the last photo, only Mr Sweetman was standing there.

“Oh no,” I thought, “Poor Mrs Sweetman has died!”

Well fortunately not, because actually it was too cold for Mrs Sweetman to come outside, so she can just about be seen waving from inside the cottage (if you squint).

And what are these blobby things, I asked myself? They look very much like lichens to me. However, they are actually the inside of abandoned Namibian termite mounds, which have been filled with zinc in an artwork by Agnieszka Kurant called ‘A.A.I System’s Negative’. They are extraordinary structures, so detailed, and they echo so many other natural forms – the lungs, for example, or the roots of a tree.

Now, this was interesting. In 1983 David nash swapped a circle of lawn from the Serpentine Gallery for a circle of rough turf from North Wales. The London turf had only three species of plant, the Welsh turf had twenty seven. So far, so expected, but in 2024 Mike Perry swapped a piece of wilded turf from Springfield Park in Hackney for a piece of sheep mown turf from farmland in West Wales (photo above). This time the Welsh turf had four species, the London turf thirty-nine species. As I keep banging on about, there is currently more biodiversity in towns and suburban areas than there is in our farmland.

The picture above was created by Daisy Ginsberg, and it gives a view of what a garden might look like to a pollinator who can see UV light, polarised light and possibly infrared. What really excited me here was that Ginsberg has a website called ”Pollinator Pathmaker‘, which enables you to design a pollinator garden. Great fun, though it doesn’t have that many ways of tweaking it just yet. Still, anything that helps people to think about what they could plant to maximise value for pollinators has got to be a good thing. Have a play, and see what you think!

And finally, how about this display of how fungi/slime moulds/bacteria and a whole lot of other organisms breakdown organic material? There was fruit going rotten under a glass dome, yeast doing its stuff in a food mixer, a random deer’s leg and all sorts of other good stuff. It reminded me of when I was a kid and had a whole selection of moulds growing under my bed, at least until Mum found it and made me throw it away. Honestly, though, without the agents of decay we’d all be buried under hundreds of metres of rubbish. Let’s hear it for moulds of all kinds!

Today

By Billy Collins

If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze

that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house

and unlatch the door to the canary’s cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,

a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies

seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking

a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,

releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage

so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting

into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.

Pink Purslane (Claytonia sibirica)

Dear Readers, I was very intrigued by this plant when I spotted it alongside the river walk in R.H.S Wisley. It’s a very delicate-looking plant, and it’s a long way from home – it comes originally from the far north-west of North America, including Alaska, the Aleutian Islands and Haida Gwaii. It was introduced to the UK in the 18th century and promptly made itself at home. It’s also known as Spring Beauty, and indeed Siberian Spring Beauty, though as far as I know it’s never been to Siberia. Although the flowers look rather Geranium-ish to me, it’s actually a member of the Montiaceae family, which includes a very raggle-taggle crew, including Lewisia, some succulent-y plants and something called Pussypaws. 

Pussypaws (Cistanthe umbellata) Photo By Walter Siegmund – Own work, CC BY 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2949636

This is a plant of moist woodland, and its very early flowering is thought to be a problem in some areas – it grows, flowers, and collapses on top of other, later woodland plants. However, I suspect that Lesser Celandine would give it a run for its money. In Scotland there’s a population of pure white ‘Pink’ Purslane, known as the Stewarton Plant – the plant can reproduce via bulbils, so the white colour has remained, and might even outcompete any pink flowers. Apparently it was first reported in 1915, with the word being that it had been in Stewarton for at least sixty years before this.

Stewarton Flower (Photo By Rosser1954 at en.wikipedia – Own workTransferred from en.wikipedia, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17719269)

Apparently Pink Purslane is edible, in particular those green leaves in early spring, which do have a rather toothsome look. Apparently the leaves produce a pink liquid when cooked, so presumably you could have some pink pancakes. However, be careful – there are lots of ‘purslanes’ out there, and I suspect that you could get very different results if you picked the wrong one (though as far as I’m aware none are poisonous). In its native range, the plant is one of those honoured with the epithet ‘Miner’s Lettuce’, because it was used to prevent scurvy by miners during the California Gold Rush. Allegedly. Apparently the plant tastes a little like beetroot, which may or may not fill you with enthusiasm.

I went down a rabbit hole trying to find the derivation of the word ‘purslane’, and as far as I can see it was first used after the Norman invasion of England in 1066, when it came from the noun ‘porcelain’. What that had to do with a little green plant I have no idea.

Medicinally, Pink Purslane has been used as a diuretic, an eye wash and a treatment for dandruff, and probably for lots of other unrecorded purposes up there in the Pacific North West, where it grows in bear-trodden woods.

And here’s a poem. I didn’t know poet Ada Limón, but more fool me – she is the first Latina Poet Laureate in the US, and I shall be looking out some more of her work. See what you think.

The Burying Beetle
By Ada Limón
February 19, 2017

I like to imagine even the plants
want attention, so I weed for four
hours straight, assuring the tomatoes
feel July’s hot breath on the neck,
the Japanese maple can stretch,
the sweet potatoes, spider plants,
the Asiatic lilies can flourish in this
place we’ve dared to say we “own.”
Each nicked spindle of morning glory
or kudzu or purslane or yellow rocket
(Barbarea vulgaris, for Christ’s sake),
and I find myself missing everyone I know.
I don’t know why. First come the piles
of nutsedge and creeper and then an
ache that fills the skin like the Cercospora
blight that’s killing the blue skyrocket juniper
slowly from the inside out. Sure, I know
what it is to be lonely, but today’s special
is a physical need to be touched by someone
decent, a pulsing palm to the back. My man
is in South Africa still, and people just keep
dying even when I try to pretend they’re
not. The crown vetch and the curly dock
are almost eliminated as I survey the neatness
of my work. I don’t feel I deserve this time,
or the small plot of earth I get to mold into
someplace livable. I lost God awhile ago.
And I don’t want to pray, but I can picture
the plants deepening right now into the soil,
wanting to live, so I lie down among them,
in my ripped pink tank top, filthy and covered
in sweat, among red burying beetles and dirt
that’s been turned and turned like a problem
in the mind.