Saturday, 19 May 2018

June 2018


May so far has been an unpredictable month weather-wise. Weeks of unseasonal hot weather, interspersed with normal temperatures and chilly winds.  But nature is still getting on with things – we have blue tits nesting in their usual nest box (they don’t seem to like the shiny new one), ‘our’ swallows have returned to nest in the carport, and the house martins have been surveying a property in our eaves (only surveying so far, no sign of nesting or laying).  There have been a couple of other welcome events in the bird world – a cuckoo has been calling from the trees behind us for a week or so but he seems a bit hoarse as though he’s been over-cucking.  Hopefully a mate will have survived the trip back from Africa so that he can give his syrinx (voice box) a rest.  While we were sat in the garden watching the sun go down one evening, we saw a barn owl carrying some prey across the field at the back from the Pannel valley direction into the trees behind the field. 
Barn Owl (Norfolk)
We’ve seen barn owls in Pannel valley before, but never this far over.  The direction it was flying suggested that it has a nest in the trees behind the houses on Pett Road.  I’d be interested to know if anybody else has seen it.
We have also been fascinated by the activities of some other nesters – solitary bees.   These have been making use of our solitary bee hotels and have been working hard for a couple of weeks.  The first thing to attract our attention was a small swarm of male bees gathered round one of the hotels.  It was a very small swarm – never more than half a dozen individuals, and they were waiting for the females to enter or leave the bamboo tubes.  They may well have been out of luck though because any female nesting will already have been mated and from what we could see, none of the females were interested – entering and leaving the nests as quickly as possible.
Red Mason Bee Male. Note pale hairs on face and his passengers (mites)

Red Mason Bee Female, and you can just see her horns
The species of bee was the red mason bee (Osmia bicornis).  It is called the red mason bee because of the gingery hairs on their abdomen and because, if no bamboo tubes are available, they will dig themselves a tube by excavating holes in soft mortar.  In common with other solitary bees that nest in this sort of hole, the female will go to the far end and build a pile of pollen mixed with nectar.  She will then lay an egg on the sticky lump of pollen and seal up the hole, creating a cell in which the egg can hatch safely.  She will then build another pile of pollen and nectar in front of the cell, lay an egg, and so on, creating a series of cells along the tube until she runs out of room.  She may then go on to find another tube or she may run out of eggs or energy and die.  This means that there is no maternal contact between the adult bee and her offspring that won’t emerge until next spring, and everything that the offspring need to know about being a bee (including how and when to emerge) has to be coded in their DNA.
When the eggs hatch into larvae, they will eat the pile of pollen provided, spin a cocoon around themselves and go about the metamorphosis business, going from larva to pupa, and finally emerging from their cocoon as an adult bee.  The adult bee then stays in its cosy cell over winter, emerging when the weather warms up and there is nectar and pollen available so that they can feed themselves up ready to found the next generation.
You may have noticed the word bicornis in the scientific name, which is latin for two-horned.  This refers not to their antenna but to a couple of prongs on the female’s face which are used to tamp down the mud that they use to seal the holes.  The female doesn’t carry the pollen on her legs like other bees, but in the pale hairs underneath her abdomen. 
Ruby-tailed Wasp
Ruby-tailed wasps may also be seen near the nests which, though beautiful with their red and green metallic colours, prey on mason bees.  It was fascinating to watch the female bee carrying mud in her mandibles into the tubes and then, when the cell was sealed to come out, turn round, and back into the tube to lay her egg – several minutes, or hours well spent.


Monday, 23 April 2018

May 2018


I hesitate to say it, but I think spring is finally here.  There are cowslips in flower at the end of Pett Road where it joins Rye Road; there are wood anemones and lesser celandine all along Rosemary Lane, and there are bees feeding and nest searching in our garden.


Buff-tailed Bumblebee - Bombus terrestris
Two species of bee have particularly caught my attention – the buff-tailed bumblebee, and the hairy-footed flower bee.  The buff-tailed bumblebee can hardly fail to grab some attention.  For a start, it is Britain’s largest bumblebee so the queens are really easy to spot.  If that doesn’t get your attention then the deep throaty buzz of its wing muscles certainly will.  There seem to be a lot more queens about this year.  Maybe that is because the difficult spring has delayed their emergence from hibernation, or perhaps they had a successful year last year meaning that more queens went into hibernation and, being well fed, more survived hibernation.  Hopefully that’s a good sign for the coming season.
Hairy-footed Flower Bee, female in unusual pose, tongue out and
grasping the leaf with her mandibles


The hairy-footed flower bee could easily be mistaken for a small bumblebee, particularly the females.  It is a solitary bee (which means it doesn’t form colonies) and the male and female are very different.  The female is completely black except for some orange hairs on her hind leg, whereas the male is smaller and mostly ginger.  One thing that sets them apart from bumblebees is their habit of hovering and darting around flowers, so if you see what looks like a small black bumblebee hovering by your flowers, it has probably got hairy feet.  (That’s not actually true because it is the male that has the noticeably hairy feet that gives the species its name.)  Just like bumblebees they love the flowering currant and dwarf comfrey that are in flower in our garden at the moment.

But to go back to the cowslips at the end of Pett Road – I’ve never seen them there before, or at least never noticed them there.  This may be because of seed quiescence or seed dormancy.  Seed quiescence means that the seed is too cold, too warm, or too dry to germinate so it will wait until conditions are right.  Also, it may not be in the plant species best interest for all seeds to germinate at the same time – some flowering earlier or later may make a better use of available resources, or maybe flowering next year would be better.  But seed dormancy is slightly different.  Some species coat their seeds with a tough waterproof coating which seems an odd strategy at first when seeds need water to germinate.  One reason this happens is to stop the seeds germinating in late summer or autumn which would mean that the plant wouldn’t survive to set seed.  The frost will shift the soil around the seed and grate away or soften the seed coating so that water can penetrate, at which point the seed is ready to burst forth when spring finally arrives. (The technical name for this process is stratification.)  If there is no frost or the seed is too deep, then seeds may stay dormant for many years until conditions are better for them.  Gardeners wanting to short cut the process have been known to resort to the freezer and sandpaper to get their seeds to germinate.  It makes me wonder how coconuts manage!