Dear Readers, I accidentally managed to publish this post early yesterday (thank you WordPress for making it so easy to do that!) This is the completed piece. I hope you enjoy it. 

Dear Readers, nothing quickens my heart more than that glimpse of russet and frost fur that is usually all I see of the foxes in St Pancras and Islington Cemetery. On Saturday we got lucky, though, because this beautiful boy got to the edge of the woods and then paused for a moment to look back and see what we were up to. I have rarely seen a fox in such beautiful condition, from the tip of his bushy tail to his alert, curious expression. I had time to take just a couple of shots before he melted away. What a privilege it is to spend a few seconds with a wild animal.

It’s the turning point of the year in the cemetery: the summer visitors have left, but I saw my first flock of redwings flying overhead. There was a right old commotion in one of the trees, where the robins were chinking with alarm and the blackbird was having its usual conniptions. I imagine that the influx of large numbers of Scandinavian thrushes must be quite a shock every year for our native birds, especially the blackbirds who also depend largely on berries at this time of year. I wonder if they are displaced into our gardens by the redwings and fieldfares, who are much more wary of humans normally?

The one time that I have encountered redwings and fieldfares at close quarters has been when we’ve had heavy snow. One year, when I was still living in Islington, I took a walk to Culpeper Community garden, and every tree was heavy with grounded redwings. There must have been several hundred shifting uneasily in the street trees.

On my first year in our current house in East Finchley, a fieldfare lost his flock, again during heavy snow, and set up home for a few days in the crab apple at the bottom of the garden. What a feisty character he was! I took to putting a dish of grated apple out for the thrushes, and he would take on all comers. I think the blackbirds (and at this point there were easily half a dozen using the garden) were delighted to see the back of him, and I was there when he left. Another flock of redwings and fieldfares were calling overhead, and ‘my’ bird uttered a single call and then leapt into the air in a flurry of wings to join his fellows. What a relief it must have been for him to see his conspecifics – I imagine there is nothing more terrifying for a social bird than to suddenly find themselves alone.

I hope to get some photos of the redwings at some point (though they are very nervous and difficult to photograph). For now, though, you’ll have to make do with this crow, who was very pleased with whatever this white object was that s/he’d found. I do hope that it’s edible, and not one of those cotton-wool pads that you use for taking off eye makeup.

The colour changes in the cemetery are lovely to see. The Raywood ashes continue to impress…

The tulip tree continues to turn to gold.

And this is a very fine leaf. It looks like a sessile oak, but I didn’t know that they turned so red? Opinions, please!

And here’s a welcome sight – this is an earthstar fungus, and could indeed be the fruiting body of the same one that I saw in this spot in December last year. As I noted then, the spores are emitted in puffs when raindrops hit the centre of the fungus. What an unearthly-looking fungus it is.

And finally, I was pleased to see that someone has given the Scotsman a sunflower to go with the mimosa he was holding last week. I’m clearly not the only person to be very fond of him.

Capercaillie (Tetrao urugallus) – 174 lekking males in 2019, 49% decrease over 22 years (Title Photo)

Hi everyone, some of my eagle-eyed 🙂 readers have spotted that there are two number ‘5’ photos in the quiz, so I will be marking you out of 16 – you can call them 5(a) and 5(b) if you prefer, but if you’ve already answered I will understand what’s going on. 

Dear Readers, this month saw the publication of British Birds magazine’s annual list of rare breeding birds in the UK (2019). How many can you identify? I am going to be mean and not make this multiple choice this week as you are getting far too good :-). I’ve included the number of breeding pairs and the 25 year trend, because not all of this is bad news – some species are actually increasing, and a few are edging back from the brink.

Answers in the comments by 5 p.m. UK time  on Friday 12th November please, and the answers will be published on Saturday 13th November. As usual I will disappear the answers when I see them, but write them down first if you are easily influenced!

Here we go. Have fun!

1) 31 breeding pairs in the UK, but a strong increase of nearly 500% over the past 25 years

2) 52 breeding pairs in the UK, 25 year trend -stable

3) 29 – 652 pairs breeding in the Uk, a decrease of 95% over the past 23 years.

4) 992 breeding pairs in the UK. Increase of 108% over the past 25 years.

5) a) 40 breeding pairs in the UK – strong increase of 1446% over the past 25 years

5) b) 29 breeding pairs in the UK, strong decrease of -61% over the past 25 years

6) 78 breeding pairs in the UK, an increase of 267% over the past 25 years

7) 1,560 breeding pairs, up nearly 6,000% in the past 25 years.

8) 242 breeding pairs, up 207% over the past 25 years

9) 575 breeding pairs, a decrease of 29% over the past 12 years. Likely to disappear over managed grouse moors.

10) 1000 breeding pairs, no trend data available. Certainly our rarest member of this family.

11). 4 breeding pairs, a decrease of 44% over the past 25 years

12) 2750 breeding pairs, but down by 82% over the past 25 years

13) 673 breeding pairs, an increase of 82% over the past 25 years

14) 65 breeding pairs, numbers stable.

15) 500+ breeding pairs in the UK, no trend available.

Dear Readers, I am in tearing haste today as I have my first assignment for the Open University due, but I did have a quick visit to Walthamstow today to see my friend S’s new house. On the way, I was very struck by these municipal beds, which instead of being full of the usual all-purpose shrubs, were instead full of fruit and vegetables! My friend tells me that local people volunteer to look after the produce, but that anyone can take some if they need some fresh food. How lovely to be able to grab a handful  of rosemary or a couple of tomatoes on your way home from work or school! Apparently people are generally very respectful, and don’t take more than they need, which is most encouraging. It’s fair to say that November is not the best time to peruse a bed full of vegetables, but even so I was impressed. As I don’t have an allotment you’ll have to help me out with what they actually are though 🙂

Now this looks a bit artichoke-ish to me, but I guess it could also be some kind of kale? Enlighten me, people!

Now this could be brussels sprouts, or some sort of winter greens. And do I spy an etiolated beetroot in the background?

Even I recognise sweetcorn when I see it.

And this is obviously something in the potato/tomato/aubergine/pepper family, but it had most unusual yellow and purple flowers, and strange lantern-like dangly things. My powers of description are clearly at a pinnacle of inspiration this afternoon.

And here, unless I’m mistaken, is some chard of some kind, and some herbs.

I just think this is a wonderful idea. All those boring bedding plants, no good for people or pollinators, could go, and humans and insects could feast on runner beans and broad beans interplanted with marigolds and goodness only knows what else. I know that schemes like this have worked in other places (Totnes, I think, and also Incredible Edibles in Todmorden). What’s going on where you live, I wonder? I have to say that I’m inspired.

Dear Readers, I was last at Camley Street Natural Park several years ago, so when I heard that it had re-opened I had to hot-foot it down to Kings Cross to see what was going on. This is a tiny piece of land that punches well above its weight in terms of biodiversity, as we shall see. At the moment it’s only open from Wednesday to Saturday, but I would draw your attention to this rather fine café, which specialises in bagels of all varieties and makes a very fine coffee. Lots of people seemed to be just stopping by to admire the gas-holder flats and the canal over a flat white.

The view from the cafe.

There is some very new planting, which I suspect will be gorgeous come the summer.

And they have a rain/bog garden, kept moist by the rainwater collected from the café roof.

Ragged robin (Silene flos-cuculi)

However, the real water-features are around the corner. There are two largish ponds and boggy areas, one of which is used for pond-dipping and other natural history-related pursuits by local schools, while the other is left unmolested by little ‘uns with nets.

Teasel

Stinking iris seeds

Alder seeds, much loved by finches and tits

Although they didn’t cooperate with my photographic efforts, the trees are absolutely full of mixed flocks of tits – I saw one with about twenty long-tailed tits plus some blue and coal tits. The air is full of the sound of their soft contact calls, and there’s plenty here for them to eat, and plenty of shelter. The paths are fenced with woven willow fencing, which means there’s much less danger of the relentless trampling that destroys so much of the underbrush in many of the local woods.

Not all the birds are little, though.

This very fine heron  spent a good ten minutes stalking a small fish through the weeds at the edge of the water. They are so focussed, so single-minded, that I found I was holding my breath in sympathy.

Eventually the heron was satisfied, and found a patch of reeds to rest in. S/he seemed completely unfazed by all the attention. I suspect that this will be a very productive patch come spring, when the frogs put in an appearance.

Elsewhere, a squirrel was breaking off twigs and weaving them into a drey. I suspect that they sense the shorter days, and want to sort themselves out somewhere warm and cosy before winter really gets going.

I look at the squirrel. The squirrel looks at me. Impasse.

Everyone that I spoke to as I wandered around the paths was extremely friendly – people are delighted to have this new favourite spot to explore. One family had spotted this rather unusual bird, and were very disappointed (and ever so slightly disbelieving) when I said it was an unusually-coloured blackbird. It is very unusual, even so. 

Blackbird with a touch of albinism

And finally, just as I was leaving, I noticed that on the board one of the interesting things was a plant called ivy broomrape, so I had to find out where it was. The person who worked for the London Wildlife Trust on site was incredibly helpful, and once I’d seen it I wondered how on earth I’d missed it, it was everywhere!

Ivy broomrape (Orobanche hederae)

I won’t say much about this plant here, as I can feel a Wednesday Weed coming on. Suffice to say that this is a plant which is extremely unusual as it is a parasite without any chlorophyll of its own: it lives entirely by attaching itself to the roots of its host plant and stealing nutrients and water. Fascinating (to me at least), so I shall expound at more length next week. Stay tuned!

And finally, here’s some traveller’s joy (wild clematis) with its hairy seeds, growing close to the footbridge that takes you back to Coal Drops Yard. Do drop in to Camley Street Natural Park if you’re passing – I suspect there will always be something to see.

Peacock butterfly on Rudbeckia ‘Prairie Sun’

Dear Readers, you might remember how excited I was to see these flowers in East Finchley Cemetery back in July. They were still pretty much flowering at the beginning of October, and therein lies one of the reasons that they’re so popular. These are real prairie plants, with all Rudbeckias coming from North America, and they are often seen combined in garden schemes that incorporate grasses, such as in the photo below,  from the US Embassy in London.

As you can see, they are members of the daisy family (Asteraceae), and are commonly known as coneflowers or black-eyed-susans. However confusion abounds: coneflowers can also mean plants from the Echinacea family, and black-eyed-susan in the UK tends to be an annual climbing vine (Thunbergia alata). Thank goodness for binomial scientific names, I hear you cry. Thank heavens for Carl Linnaeus, the father of modern taxonomy! Well, Rudbeckia has a surprising link with Linnaeus, as you’ll see below.

The Rudbeckia genus as a whole contains about 25 species, with most of the cultivated plants deriving from Rudbeckia hirta. 

 Rudbeckia was named after Carl Linnaeus’s patron and fellow botanist, Olof Rudbeck the Younger (1660–1740) and to honour Rudbeck’s late father Olof Rudbeck the Elder (1630–1702), who was also a distinguished naturalist. The younger Rudbeck had invited Linnaeus to be a tutor to his children, and had recommended Linnaeus to replace him as lecturer of botany when he retired. Linnaeus wrote the following dedication to his patron:

“So long as the earth shall survive and as each spring shall see it covered with flowers, the Rudbeckia will preserve your glorious name. I have chosen a noble plant in order to recall your merits and the services you have rendered, a tall one to give an idea of your stature, and I wanted it to be one which branched and which flowered and fruited freely, to show that you cultivated not only the sciences but also the humanities. Its rayed flowers will bear witness that you shone among savants like the sun among the stars; its perennial roots will remind us that each year sees you live again through new works. Pride of our gardens, the Rudbeckia will be cultivated throughout Europe and in distant lands where your revered name must long have been known. Accept this plant, not for what it is but for what it will become when it bears your name.”(Quoted from Wilfred Blunt’s ‘The Compleat Naturalist : A Life of Linnaeus’. 

If anyone wants to name a plant after me I’d appreciate something just as fulsome, please.

Rudbeckias are great for pollinators, and are said to be rabbit and deer resistant – not a problem in my East Finchley garden, but maybe a plus point for anyone with a rural garden or with a country estate. It’s also said that the seedheads are popular with goldfinches – do let me know if you’ve spotted any munching on your plants. I have left my single teasel plant standing in the garden in the hope of attracting finches, but so far not a sausage. In North America, Rudbeckia is a foodplant for the caterpillars of the Sunflower Patch butterfly (Chlosyne lacinia), the Gorgone Checkerspot (Chlosyne gorgone) and the Silvery Checkerspot (Chlosyne nycteis)

Silvery Checkerspot (Photo One)

Gorgone checkerspot (Photo Two)

Bordered Patch (Photo Three)

In their book ‘Alien Plants’, Clive Stace and Michael Crawley mention that Rudbeckia is one of the North American plants that can often ‘jump over the wall’ and colonise areas of wasteland. Who knows, maybe soon we’ll seen ‘prairies’ appearing over our disused car parks and pieces of wasteland (at least until some developer builds some ‘affordable’ flats on them).

Medicinally, the petals of Rudbeckia have been used by Native Americans to make a tea to treat ‘dropsy, flux, and some private diseases’. I shall leave you to consider which of the many options a ‘private disease’ might be. The leaves were also used as a diuretic, and as a poultice for snake bite.

In other news, apparently the young stems of Rudbeckia can be eaten like celery (though as celery is one of my least-liked vegetables I am struggling to see the attraction). It is also the State Flower of Maryland. and I can’t help wondering if the black and yellow sections of the rather medieval-looking flag refers to the colours of the plant.

Flag of the State of Maryland

And now, for a piece of poetry and folklore combined! I came across a poem, by the English poet John Gay (1685-1732), who is best known for composing The Beggar’s Opera. This poem, which tells the tale of beautiful Black-eyed Susan and her mariner beloved, Sweet William, is supposed to explain the way that Rudbeckia and Sweet William always bloom at the same time. “What Tosh” thinks I, scurrying off to see when Rudbeckia was first cultivated in the UK. Well, the answer is 1640 so it’s quite possible that Gay had noticed the time that the plant flowered, and it inspired him to this boisterous work of love across the waters. See what you think.

Sweet William’s Farewell to Black-eyed Susan
By John Gay (1685–1732)

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor’d,
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-eyed Susan came aboard,
‘Oh! where shall I my true love find!
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true, 5
If my sweet William sails among the crew.’

William, who high upon the yard
Rock’d with the billow to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh’d and cast his eyes below: 10
The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands,
And (quick as lightning) on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark, high-poised in air,
Shuts close his pinions to his breast
(If, chance, his mate’s shrill call he hear) 15
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet,
Might envy William’s lip those kisses sweet.

‘O Susan, Susan, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain; 20
Let me kiss off that falling tear,
We only part to meet again.
Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

‘Believe not what the landsmen say, 25
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind:
They’ll tell thee, sailors, when away,
In every port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present wheresoe’er I go. 30

‘If to far India’s coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric’s spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory, so white.
Thus every beauteous object that I view, 35
Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue.

‘Though battle call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Susan mourn;
Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms,
William shall to his dear return. 40
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from Susan’s eye.’

The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosom spread,
No longer must she stay aboard: 45
They kiss’d, she sigh’d, he hung his head;
Her lessening boat unwilling rows to land:
‘Adieu!’ she cries; and waved her lily hand.

Dear Readers, I subscribe to way too many magazines about natural history (well I don’t drink or smoke so a woman has to have some vices). Every so often I think about cutting back, but then I spot something interesting and so on I go. And then I thought, why not share some of the highlights with you all?

So, first up here’s something that I at least found fascinating, from this month’s BSBI news. The Botanical Society of Britain and Ireland is THE magazine to read if you’re serious about botanising. Every so often it has a piece on alien plants that have been found in the UK, and so I naturally turn to the sections that cover London. And here is a new, and rather concerning plant, at least if the name is anything to go by – Panic Veldtgrass (Ehrharta erecta) has appeared in Wimbledon and in Kensal Town in North London. This plant comes originally from South Africa, and is thought to have appeared in this country via imports of wool and possibly also container plants or even bird seed. It is an invasive introduction in North America, Australasia and southern Europe, and the plant in Kensal Town was already in flower in January.

Looking at the plant, I suspect it could already be all over the place in the UK, because who would look at this and think ‘aha, a new grass’ except for a dedicated botanist?

Panic Veldtgrass (Ehrharta erecta), seen here in Australia (Photo One)

Now, let’s turn to British Birds, another favourite magazine. In the October issue there was an account of sex and violence in a trio of dunnocks (Prunella modularis),non-descript little brown birds who have the most hair-raising of sex lives. In the account, by Nick Davies, two male birds and a female had apparently shared the same territory very happily, until one of the male birds was seen on top of the other, pecking it repeatedly on the head, while the female watched. Davies went outside to see what was going on, but the victim was already dead. When Davies went back indoors, the surviving male bird gave the deceased a few more blows on the head, just to make sure.

Davies had previously done a ten-year study on Dunnocks in Cambridge University Botanic Garden, and noted that in mating trios like this, the alpha male may punish the beta male for trying to mate with the female, but normally a couple of pecks to the head suffice. Obviously this male was in a murderous rage. However, in some mating trio setups, the two males will provision the female on the nest if they’ve both mated with her, so I do wonder if this will have an impact on the breeding success of the pair. It always intrigues me that animal relationships can be every bit as complicated and difficult to understand as human ones.

And finally, here is British Wildlife. This is such a cornucopia of good stuff that I’m not sure where to start: this month, for example, there is a stunning article on the insects that use dead wood, which I might use as the basis for a whole post.

But here is a snippet, from the Conservation News section of the magazine. I have long been concerned about the impact of light pollution on night-flying insects, particularly moths. The magazine reports on a joint study from Butterfly Conservation, the UK Centre for Ecology and Hydrology and Newcastle University (you can read the key findings here) which shows that streetlights can reduce the abundance of moth caterpillars in grass verges by almost a third (33%) and in hedgerows by almost half (47%) compared with comparable unlit roadside habitat. Furthermore, and this doesn’t surprise me one bit, the white LED streetlights that are replacing the old sodium lamps reduced caterpillars even further, by 43% on grass verges and 52% in hedgerows. This alone can’t explain the decrease in moth abundance (less than 1% of available habitat overall is lit), but it is yet another factor in the decline of our invertebrates. The authors of the study feel that the general increase in illumination (sky glow) may also have an impact, and have a hypothesis that female moths are reluctant to lay their eggs in illuminated areas, but further study is needed.

LED streetlights in a rural setting (fromhttps://butterfly-conservation.org/news-and-blog/streetlights-reduce-moth-populations, image by Douglas Boyes, article by Richard Fox

And so, what a treasure trove these specialist magazines are! I personally got a bit fed up with the more popular wildlife magazines, such as BBC Wildlife – they were never in enough depth for me, and seemed to throw their nets too wide. The three that I’ve featured here bring out my inner plant/bird/wildlife nerd, and in my opinion that is no bad thing. I love people who are enthusiastic about their subject, and who take pleasure in sharing what they’ve found with others, and there’s a plethora of this kind of material here. It’s been a pleasure to share a few snippets with you all.

Dear Readers, it has been an especially wet, blustery weekend, and yet there is something about grey skies that makes the autumn colours look even brighter. There are some stunning and very varied trees in the cemetery, and I was glad to see them on Saturday, before the high winds blew half the leaves off.

Purple crab apple

Ginkgo leaves

Not sure about this one – the leaves look a bit like a tulip tree, which would be fantastic….

I should clearly have taken a leaf close-up of this one too, but I will do next week, unless any of you are super-identifiers. Let me know what you think! I barely know where to start. The colour is Japanese maple-ish but the habit looks wrong. Maybe I should do a guide to ‘trees in the cemetery’.

You might have noticed that after last year’s bounty of acorns, there are very few this year. I hope that the jays can remember where they buried them last year. I suspect they have good memories for important things.

And look! Sun!

The shadows are so long at this time of year….

And how I love this path. The brief sunny interval is warming up the bark on the elderly yews, and encouraging the last bees and hoverflies to feed and bask.

The sun is picking out the spiders’ webs, and if you look closely you can see little bright dots, which are the illuminated hoverflies, dancing for the last time before the cold finishes their brief lives. My thoughts turn increasingly to how ephemeral we all are, humans and yew trees and hoverflies. I hunger for those moments of feeling intensely alive and connected with the people and the world around me. Standing and watching these insects was one of those moments when time stops. I wish for more of them for all of us. I suspect that, at the end, our lives are actually made up of those splinters of time when everything falls away and we are completely present. They aren’t always the happiest of moments, but they are the most precious.

The sun touches everything, and makes it beautiful.

And if there aren’t many acorns, there will be an abundance of holly berries for the redwings and fieldfares. I expect to see the first of them any day now.

And look at this poor fallen angel. I suspect some bird has been sitting in the branch above her, judging by the splatters. If she wasn’t so heavy, and if I didn’t have a dodgy back, I’d be thinking about standing her back up. But then, the moss and the lichen and the ivy will take her back, I think. Everything in nature is ultimately about recycling: I am learning in my OU course how even the rocks have been transformed and recombined from previous rocks.

But I can’t leave without greeting the handsome Scotsman who stands on Kew Road, forever surveying the mid-distance. Someone has put a bunch of artificial mimosa into his right hand. What a handsome man he is, and how well-loved. I find it interesting that, although most of him has attained a green patina of algae over the years, there’s a pure white stripe on his kilt and leg. Did someone try to clean him up, I wonder, or is it something to do with the orientation of the statue? A mystery to ponder as the sky greys, and the raindrops start to fall again. But how wonderful to be back in the cemetery again.

Dabchick or Little Grebe (Title Photo)

Dear Readers, just two takers for this week’s quiz, and both parties did very well. Rosalind got 9/15, but the runaway winners this week are Fran and Bobby Freelove with 15/15, so well done to them, and let’s see how we all get on with tomorrow’s Halloween-themed (ish) quiz…..

Vernacular Names

1. Cushy-doo i) Wood Pigeon
2. Jenny g) Wren
3. Polly Dishwasher a) Pied Wagtail
4. Bonxie k) Great Skua
5. Windhover l) Kestrel
6. Willy Wix  n) Barn Owl
7. Mavis m) Song Thrush
8. Starnel  b) Starling
9. Corbie  h) Raven
10. Seven-Coloured Linnet c) Goldfinch
11. Spug d) House Sparrow
12. Laverock j) Skylark
13. Gowk f) Cuckoo
14. Tom Tit e) Blue Tit
15. Julie-the-bogs o) Grey Heron