Today we all put on waders and got into cold muddy water.
I shovelled silt into an ingenious floating bucket system: the bucket had holes in the bottom to let the water out but it seemed to keep most of the mud in. It was possible to scoop to a depth most of the length of the shovel. Then I towed the silt bucket to the shore (much easier than carrying it) to empty it.
Dragging the silt bucket to land
I also completed the coppicing of the Willow in the background of the photo. It was a stout stump, very dry and hard, and it was quite a task with a small Silkie saw, but better than using a blunt bowsaw!
Meanwhile, the others set about cutting the encroaching Reeds and pulling out a fair number of their long white rhizomes that spread out in the mud. We tried to spare the floating pondweeds, starwort and water mint.
Reed-cutting
A group of Great Tits made a din mobbing a Magpie; and a little later, several Jays spent a while screeching while a pair of Magpies chattered back.
There was face-painting, and a beekeeper with a demonstration hive and lots of honey, and a brilliant nature walk guided by John Wells, and pond-dipping with damselflies and newts and water scorpions and ramshorn snails and mayfly nymphs, and butterflies all around.
Natalia painting faces and hands
It was seriously sunny and parents pushed pushchairs.
Excitement at the Raffle with Mike and Marie
It was hot. There were lots of happy people. We sold masses of cakes, quiches, scones and delicious chocolatey things and tea and coffee and orange squash.
Gunnersbury Triangle’s 3rd 30th Birthday Cake, and lots of Cava
I was too dizzy in the heat and busy with the stall, pond-dipping – and pouring birthday Cava – to take more than a few desultory photos. We had a 30th birthday for the saving of the Triangle from development, two years ago; a party for officials and Trust workers back in May for the day the reserve opened; and now this one for the public. Anyone would think we liked parties or something.
Jan presenting Netty with flowers
Netty, our Conservation Officer, is now on maternity leave. On behalf of the committee, Jan gave her a card and a big bouquet of flowers.
Digging a ditch on the reserveNewly dug ditches … turning into a seasonal pond
After just three short sessions of ditch-making, we have a little network of waterways, an island sporting a natural tuft of Pendulous Sedge, some impressively high banks of muddy, gravelly spoil, and a new feature for the reserve. We hope to extend the ditch down the natural line (was it a ditch before?) to the trees at the end. The existing seasonal pond certainly had a ditch-like extension to just across the path (from where the lower photo was taken), and we intend also to clear that out – it shouldn’t be difficult as, unlike the current ditchworks, there are no stones, roots or ivy entanglements to cut through.
Today (7 April) the sun shone in a cloudless spring sky, and we worked to the song of a Chiffchaff. Two Blackcaps were singing elsewhere in the reserve, along with Wrens, Dunnocks, Great Tits, Blue Tits and some non-vocal Magpies, a Jay, Wood Pigeons, a Heron and Mallard. The insects, too, have emerged to exploit the sudden warmth, with plenty of Peacock butterflies, a Brimstone or two, and a Holly Blue; I saw a Small White in my garden. There was a 7-spot and a Harlequin ladybird, and the pond was alive with a new crop of Pond Skaters.
The grass is racing up; Broom is coming into its handsome yellow pea-flowers; several tufts of garden-escape Mahonia and Daffodils are richly yellow; red deadnettles tempt several species of bumblebee including buff/white-tailed and carders, and the honeybees are active.
Quick! Spring is in the air, the Dunnocks are passionately singing their tuneless songs, the Great Tits are yelling Zi-Za-Zi-Za-Zi-Za endlessly, the Greenfinches are wheezing out their odd song (‘Zheee’), it’s time to fix those nestboxes. Most of those in the Gunnersbury Triangle had been “hammered” by Tits or Woodpeckers, or gnawed by squirrels. And a few had been rather roughly drilled by humans. So the warden decided that all of them should be given anti-squirrel plates; all, that is, except the Robin boxes, which have a wide rectangular opening in the front.
Nestbox hole gnawed by squirrel
A few of the boxes seemed to have been attacked by squirrels. This one has what could be toothmarks and signs of extensive tearing of the wood outwards at a shallow angle, which looks like gnawing rather than hammering. It isn’t obvious why the basically herbivorous Grey Squirrel should do this.
Extensively hammered nextbox
This box, on the other hand, seems to have been hammered at a sharp angle to the surface, whether by the Tits themselves (they certainly do this sometimes) or by Greater Spotted Woodpeckers preying on nests – although they mainly eat insects and seeds, they do take eggs and chicks when the opportunity arrives.
Old nest with tit egg inside nestbox
At least 4 of the nestboxes had substantial and reasonably fresh remnants of nests inside; this older one contained two long-addled tit eggs (just one shown here; it was 16 mm long) with a mixture of moss and down as insulation.
Tegenaria, the Giant House Spider, at home in a very messy nestbox
Finally, one very old nestbox, carefully engineered with beading around the hinged lid complete with little brass hooks, contained a Giant House Spider, Tegenaria, a lot of beetle pupae, and what could be Gypsy Moth pupae as well. The box was a messy tangle of thick sticky cobweb, and the spider was distinctly reluctant to leave, seeming to want to stand and fight off any intruder.
All in all, what might have seemed a mundane bit of metalwork turned out to be a day full of interesting natural history. (But the metalwork was fun, too.)
She came along to Gunnersbury Triangle, together with two of her supporters to take some pictures and video clips of the occasion. I did my best to fit what I wanted to say into short bursts – I don’t think I’ve ever been asked to do soundbites before, but perhaps it will come in handy when anyone asks what I think about nature and politics, or for that matter to put into a few words what my book is about. (It’s about how crazy the English are about nature, and why.)
We talked about why nature matters and the benefits it brings (votes, of course; human wellbeing in an age of e-gadgets; education; mental health; knowledge of climate change; the value of the wild gene pool… ), and I suggested some topics that it would be nice to have as party policy.
Tiny Frogs (and a slug) hiding under a mat
We walked around the reserve, saying a little about its history, its current uses (school visits, corporate bonding days, volunteering, talks, picnics, family visits, bug-hunting and pond-dipping, days out for the mentally handicapped). We saw the variety of habitats, enjoyed hearing the Robins singing even on a chilly day in January, and looked under a mat at the tiny frogs sheltering there. Rupa certainly left with a deeper understanding of what nature can do for people and why it matters; and of the possibilities that the Gunnersbury Triangle reserve, at least, has to offer for her constituents.
Well, despite the extraordinary warmth of both September and October – I was still working in a T-shirt down at the Gunnersbury Triangle nature reserve today, anything more being too hot – the fungi have finally come out in earnest. This small speckly Dapperling seems to be Lepiota hystrix, a rare species.
Birch Log fungi
Several fungi were on show on a pile of birch logs, including a large Birch Polypore and some elegant smaller Turkeytail brackets as well as Orange Curtain Crust.
Turkeytail, Trametes (Coriolis) versicolor
These handsome Common Cavaliers were growing beside the path.
Common Cavalier Melanoleuca polioleuca (aka M. melaleuca)
Many damp rotting sticks and stumps had Stagshorn or Candlesnuff fungus growing out of them, Xylaria hypoxylon. These were thin and stick-like early in November, well-developed by 20 November.
Stagshorn Fungus, Xylaria hypoxylon, well developed
In the anthill meadow were plenty of puffballs, Lycoperdon perlatum. They certainly looked pearly, as their specific name suggests.
Good big Common Puffballs, Lycoperdon perlatum
In the picnic meadow was a tall slender yellow Inkcap, Coprinus auricomus.
The delicate, lemon-yellow Coprinus auricomus
A long-bodied wasp, surely a queen, was trapped in the surface film of the pond by the parish boundary stones. We rescued her with a stick to get a closer look.
Queen Wasp
Two days later: the weather has turned more autumnal and showery. More fungi have popped up, including quite a few Clouded Funnels, Clitocybe nebularis, behind the anthill meadow. The display of Puffballs is fine, the large clean specimens having an obviously grainy, almost pearly surface.
Clouded Funnel, Clitocybe nebularis
Some Sulphur Knights, Tricholoma sulphureum, have grown up behind the loggery at the base of the mound by the pond. They are deep orange-yellow, quite thick-stemmed, with an flattened or dished cap and widely-spaced gills that barely touch the stem.
Sulphur Knight, Tricholoma sulphureum
I found a broken Blusher mushroom, Amanita rubescens, in the anthill meadow. In this family of poisonous fungi, some deadly, it is edible when properly cooked, though the water it is cooked in must be thrown away.
The Blusher, Amanita rubescens (broken)
And a single small Slippery Jack, a suitably slimy bolete. It was yellower than the photograph shows, the cap appearing a shining light brown, the pore surface underneath rather yellow.
Slippery Jack, Suillus luteus
By the 6th of November it was far colder, and there were fewer species on show, with Fly Agaric, Clouded Funnel, quite a few Butter Caps, and this small gelatinous fungus on dead willow, Tremella mesenterica. I also found a small fragment of an brown Amanita with a white stem, probably A. pantherina, the poisonous Panther Cap.
There were several Pale Brittlestem at the edge of the Anthill meadow under Birches, bordering the strip of acid grassland where the railway used to be.
Pale Brittlestem, Psathyrella candolleana
By the 9th of November, things were visibly more autumnal; the Clouded Funnels were still about, now large and more clearly funnel-shaped; a few Butter Caps persisted, along with the Puffballs. The small fungus Phoma hedericola (‘hedera’=Ivy)was by now making large obvious spots on ivy leaves.
The Ivy Spot fungus, Phoma hedericola
These little toadstools with a cream-coloured, slimy cap and whitish fleecy stems were growing out of a loggery, the dead wood half-buried in the soil. They may be the Sticky Scalycap, Pholiota gummosa.
? Sticky Scalycap Pholiota gummosa on 9 November Same group of ? Sticky Scalycap, Pholiota gummosa on 19 November
Finally, no collection of fungi is complete without The Deceiver, Laccaria laccata, which comes in a variety of sizes, shapes and colours. It’s typically rather russet-brownish and the stem is quite thin, often a bit flattened and twisted. The cap can be round or wrinkled; it begins rather globular and flattens out. It’s rather well-named. Mind you there are several similar species: this could easily be L. fraterna, given its smooth brown stalk and rather rufous cap.
The Deceiver Laccaria laccata
Fungi are continuing to appear as late as the 11th of November. The magnificent Collared Earthstar, Geastrum triplex, was growing under birches, willows and oaks behind the anthill meadow.
Collared Earthstar Geastrum triplex
On the 12th of November:
A yellow Russula, perhaps R. claroflava (Yellow Swamp Brittlegill)A Bonnet, Mycena sp.
On 18th November, a troop of smallish, tall, pale Coprinus that don’t really turn to the usual black ink, growing on woodchip beside the path. Seems close to Coprinus impatiens.
Emmylou Harris sang of sunshine in December and roses in the snow. It’s only the 28th of October, so not that late in the year yet, but the mercury climbed to an improbable 18 Celsius – that’s T-shirts and sunhats for work down at the nature reserve – and there were indeed roses blooming in the garden.
For the record, also in flower today were Alpine Pink, Tayberry, Squash, Strawberry, Primula, Nasturtius, Hydrangea, the little New Zealand Sorrel that manages to grow between the paving stones, and Daisy.
Down at the reserve, Beaked Hawksbeard has come back into flower (for the second time this year) on the picnic meadow. It seems that the warm weather has coaxed the plants to try flowering. They’ll get a bit of a shock with the change coming in the weather tomorrow, probably. It certainly feels like an odd bit of Phenology, but of course we won’t know for many years whether this is part of a long-term trend to do with global warming, especially as the global average temperature has been taking a holiday from its inexorable rise for some years now. When the temperature does take off, it will be too late to stop, and very costly to mitigate.
Judging by the feeble global co-operation on the far more obvious and immediate threat of Ebola virus, it’s hard to be optimistic about our ability to collaborate as a species on anything as large as global warming. The Drake equation, the one that predicts the number of intelligent civilisations in our galaxy, has a term for the lifetime of a civilisation, as Prof. Brian Cox recently explained in his TV series Human Universe. If it’s only a few centuries, that would neatly explain why – despite the profusion of suitable-looking planets – we haven’t been contacted by any other civilisation. That would imply that “intelligent” life never lasts very long on any planet. However hard it tries to be sensible, selfishness – which must always be favoured by evolution for short-term gain – always takes over, and people use up the resources of their home planet until – pof! – they wipe themselves out. Just clever enough to be really stupid. What a cheerful thought.
The acid grassland is dotted with large handsome puffballs; under the birches are a lone destroying angel, a small spherically-capped fly agaric, a brown birch bolete, and many smaller fungi including the amethyst deceiver.
The tail end of Hurricane Gonzalo is blowing leaves off the trees; the reserve is quite sheltered, and it is pleasant to work in the passing showers and bursts of sunshine, pulling up ivy and brambles, making space for grassland to regenerate and for new saplings to sprout. But with the mushrooms and the wind, it is at last starting to feel like autumn.
The English seem unemotional … except for their passion for nature
