Tag Archives: Lizard

Thursley Common: Dragonfly Access with Restored Boardwalk

Common Lizard on new boardwalk

A few years ago, BC (Before Covid), a major fire burnt many of the Pines and Birches that had invaded the heathland of Thursley Common; and unfortunately, the fire took hold on the wooden boardwalk that crosses the national nature reserve’s marshy area, and destroyed nearly all of it. This mattered, as everybody enjoyed the open airy walk, summer or winter, across the flat expanse with its rare habitats for Southern England — acid bog, bog pools, heath — and its rather special inhabitants, including lizards (and snakes), many species of dragonfly, marsh orchids, bog asphodel, skylarks, curlews, and more. Suddenly, visitors were confined to the edges of the reserve.

Well, people agreed the boardwalk must be rebuilt, and finally, here it is.

The smart new boardwalk with edge rails

The wooden substructure has been replaced with posts and joists of recycled plastic. This artificial wood costs more than real wood, but will with luck last for many years: it’s invulnerable to rot, at least. Whether it’s actually friendlier to the environment is an interesting question: at least it doesn’t constitute new use of fossil fuels, or at least, not terribly much; wood is of course a fully renewable resource, as long as it comes from properly managed forests like those in Northern Europe. It could mean less maintenance and disturbance to the reserve, as it should need to be dug out and replaced far less often.

New Boardwalk Substructure in Artificial Wood (recycled plastic); the decking planks and rails are wood

Fire is clearly now a sensitive matter on hot sunny days, with the unfamiliar sight of a Surrey Fire and Rescue Service truck patrolling the reserve, presumably to forestall any barbecue or picnic stove fires. There has recently been a serious fire across the road on Frensham Common, so the danger is close and real. We received a professional drive-by glance as we ate our definitely-cold sandwiches beside one of the bridleways. It’s interesting to see fire-watching in action here in Britain; in America, it has been going on for a century, and its effect there has been to allow the build-up of an enormous reserve of dry timber and brushwood across the national forests. That has been followed, one might think inevitably, by major fires that have burnt far hotter, for longer, and over much larger areas than previously.

Fire Truck

When I lived in Suffolk, it was a common practice among the older local people to go for a picnic on the heaths on a nice sunny day; and when the thermos of tea had been finished, to set fire to a little bit of the heath, which then smouldered and burnt quietly in an unobtrusive sort of way, removing the taller bushes of heather and gorse, and probably some small saplings into the bargain. This does little damage to the wildlife, and in fact favours (rare) heath over (common) trees, effectively managing the habitat by interrupting the ecological succession to forest. As such old-fashioned, seemingly casual management has fallen out of fashion, fire has become more and more of a problem. Of course, with global warming, hotter summers and lightning strikes become more and more likely, so large and destructive forest fires are becoming more frequent.

So, I’m not averse to seeing the fire truck: nobody wants to have another disastrously hot fire on this common or any other. But fires will happen, and better many and small than few and hot. So perhaps the fire-watching needs to be supplemented by a little carefully-managed fire-setting. Let’s hope that’s in the reserve management plan. Without it, woody plants can be controlled by cutting — for instance, a tractor can mow heather to remove excess wood and cut small tree seedlings — and by grazing, and indeed there are some grazing areas at Thursley. But anyone who looks at the common will see a mass of invading Birch and Pine saplings, and they may well wonder whether the current management regime is sufficient.

Water Lilies in Moat Pond

The pools were alive with sparkling dragonflies, really difficult to get binoculars on to, as they flashed, dashed, darted, chased, and flickered to and fro, defending territories over the best bog pools and floating vegetation. I was delighted to find a group of Downy Emerald Dragonflies strutting their stuff over the glorious water lilies in Moat Pond. The bog pools also harboured Black Darters (more often seen in Scotland than the south of England), Broad-Bodied Chaser, Four-Spotted Chaser, Common Blue Damselfly, and a Banded Demoiselle. More than likely there were several other species present but as they hardly ever settled, and as the brisk breeze gave them afterburner-speed, it was not easy to tell.

Downy Emerald Dragonfly
Marsh Orchid

Book Review: Cold Blood: Adventures with Reptiles and Amphibians, by Richard Kerridge

Cold Blood, by Richard Kerridge
Cold Blood, by Richard Kerridge

Richard Kerridge’s personal story of life with cold-blooded animals (he wisely doesn’t say ‘poikilothermic’ anywhere) tells how he makes contact with nature for comfort at times of crisis – the first snog with a girlfriend after spotting a Grass Snake, delicately and wittily narrated; or the escapes from his troubled father, who has recurring nightmares of being again in a tank battle in Normandy.

It’s a skilfully told story, with interesting facts about Britain’s native newts, frogs, lizards and snakes, interspersed with personal encounters, mainly from Kerridge’s boyhood, when it was still possible for boys to find, catch and keep these now heavily-protected animals in and around London. It is a shock to realize that Natterjack Toads, now confined to a few wardened sites in the whole of Britain, were a century ago common even in the capital, and everybody knew and seemingly liked their call. Thursley Thrushes, was one of their names: Thursley remaining a fine place for lizards, but sadly too acid for the little toads – did acid rain combine with the natural acidity of the bogs there? All these events are complex and too little known.

I really enjoyed the boyhood adventures, and the boy’s mixed feelings on jumping on a pregnant lizard, only for her to shed her tail, leaving an unhappily bloody stump, a wriggling tail, and disappointment. Kerridge is very good on such moments. I’m less sure I really needed his agonies with his father: not quite convinced there was any organic connection with whatever the wildlife did. Perhaps he was trying a little too hard to make it all into a single story: life can just be untidy. But the fifty-year sweep from the sixties to now, from confused but reptile-rich childhood to mature enjoyment of nature and sober reflection on how much has been lost, is well done. ‘Field herping’ (herpetologising, i.e. finding and photographing reptiles by disturbing them, flipping up stones and the like) is a new term to me: and the fact that it’s illegal in Britain, and pretty much futile given how few species we have, and how rare they have become, triggers another melancholy moment. It’s a matter of everyone’s experience that there is more to see on the continent: that nature in our country is seriously damaged, despite our extraordinary concentration of nature-lovers.

For all that, and the ‘cold blood’ in the title – not exactly a passion-stirring phrase, perhaps – this is a book with plenty of joyful moments, one that gives something of the flavour of what it means to be English and obsessed by nature. As such, it is a book that people who do love nature can read for self-discovery; and people married to nature-lovers can read for explanation.

Buy it from Amazon.com (commission paid)
Buy it from Amazon.co.uk (commission paid)

A Cloud of Keeled Skimmers at Thursley Common

Male Keeled Skimmer on the Lookout
Male Keeled Skimmer on the Lookout

Thursley Common on a sunny July day can shimmer with the wings of dragonflies. Today, hundreds of Keeled Skimmers, joined by plenty of other species large and small – from the mighty Emperor to the dainty Small Red Damsel, made the air seem to sparkle as brightly as the water beside the boardwalk. There were Keeled Skimmers perched alertly on stalks, ready to spring into the air at an instant’s notice; Keeled Skimmers in tussling pairs, their wings rustling and scuffling as they clashed in brief, brutal territorial disputes; Keeled Skimmers in groups of four or five, dashing and swerving over the water; Keeled Skimmers over every pond, bog pool, and lakeside.

Emperor Dragonfly patrolling its pond at waist height
Emperor Dragonfly patrolling its pond at waist height

Over one quieter pool, an Emperor Dragonfly patrolled in more stately fashion, almost hovering, drifting forward slowly as if a helicopter pilot was holding the machine’s collective drive stick just a little forward of the hover position, its striped blue tail gleaming in the sun.

Small Red Damselflies in cop over a bog pool at Thursley
Small Red Damselflies in cop over a bog pool at Thursley

A Four-Spotted Chaser, pausing momentarily over a sparkling pool
A Four-Spotted Chaser, pausing momentarily over a sparkling pool

Many of the Odonata were busy laying eggs, from the Skimmers to the damselflies. One or two Black Darters were about: they can be here in large numbers later in the season.

Azure Damselfly pair egg-laying
Azure Damselfly pair egg-laying

On the sandy heath, the Sand-Wasp Ammophila sought her insect prey, her distinctive shape almost dragonfly-like with an extremely elongated red waist leading to a plump ‘tail’ to her abdomen.

Sand-Wasp Ammophila
Sand-Wasp Ammophila

Lizard on the boardwalk
Lizard on the boardwalk

Overhead, a Hobby dashed and stooped, handsome through binoculars, moustachioed, spotted below, its long scything wings like a giant Swift easily outpacing the fastest dragonfly. Below, a lizard rested unobtrusively at the edge of the boardwalk, ready to scuttle into the heather at any threat; another a yard further on. A Reed Bunting rasped out its short scratchy song, skreek, skreek, skrizzick.  A Curlew called once; a Skylark soared invisibly high into the blue, singing as if John Keats were at hand to report on the beauty of its song.

Large Skipper on Cross-Leaved Heath
Large Skipper on the rather special Cross-Leaved Heath

Four Wings Good, Eight Wings Better - Keeled Skimmers in cop
Four Wings Good, Eight Wings Better – Keeled Skimmers in cop

In the Lake District

Lonesome Splendour: looking up Wastwater to Wasdale Head, with Yewbarrow on left, Scafell and the Wasdale Screes on right
Lonesome Splendour: looking up Wastwater to Wasdale Head, with Yewbarrow on left, Scafell and the Wasdale Screes on right

It was a delight to be able to take some time in the almost miraculously preserved Lake District, the landscape seemingly unchanged from a century ago. The real changes are in the main carefully hidden away: cunningly concealed caravan parks, sensitively expanded hotels and guest houses, visitor attractions built of grey slate and tucked behind walls or trees. One change cannot be hidden: the narrow lanes carry twice, no, four times the traffic of thirty years ago, and it travels at murderous speed. Some of the young men in their shiny red cars race along the few straights and around blind bends, trusting and assuming (without thought) that the other driver knows the road as well as them,  has the same speed of reaction, and will have space to pass. Given that the other driver may well be a foreigner in a slow, bulky camper van, or old and frail, or talking on the phone, or tired, drunk or just not quite as perfect as the young bloke in his speed-wagon, this may not be justified. Pedestrians and cyclists, too, take their lives in their hands. The park authority ceaselessly balances the conflicting pressures: facilities for the millions of visitors, landscape, wildlife, jobs, houses, schools and shops for the residents, car parking (as pricey as any city in the most popular spots). They have done an admirable job.

Round-Leaved Sundew, Drosera rotundifolia, and Sphagnum bog moss
Round-Leaved Sundew, Drosera rotundifolia, and Sphagnum bog moss

Glaciated Landscape: Pavey Ark above Stickle Tarn
Glaciated Landscape: Pavey Ark above Stickle Tarn

The marvellously clean landscape of rock, grassland and glacial lakes appears so fresh on a fine day that it hardly seems feasible: it is sharper than a diorama illustrating geomorphology, and much more beautiful.

Foxglove in a Lake District landscape,Tarn Hows
Foxglove in a Lake District landscape, Tarn Hows

Sometimes the common flowers surprise us with their beauty. These foxgloves stood proud and tall in their hummocky landscape.

Map Lichen Rhizocarpon geographicum
Map Lichen, Rhizocarpon geographicum, on slate

The lime-green of the geographic or map lichen forms delightful maps of imaginary continents on the grey slate.

Cladonia floerkana lichen among moss, Tarn Hows
Cladonia floerkana lichen among moss, Tarn Hows

The artist Maurits Escher admired the apparently simple form of mosses and ground-living lichens like the gorgeously coloured Cladonia floerkana: but he quickly realized how complex they were when he started to draw them.

Two Common Sandpipers at Wrynose Pass
Two Common Sandpipers at Wrynose Pass

I was happily surprised to see these Common Sandpipers flying about and calling loudly: I really hadn’t expected to see them away from both forests and sizeable bodies of water: clearly, they don’t need much.

Goosander female with six spotted ducklings, River Rother, Grasmere
Goosander female with six spotted ducklings, River Rother, Grasmere

The Goosander is almost a rarity, breeding in not many thousands in Britain; but it is not shy, as this family seen from the bridge over the Rother in Grasmere demonstrates. The ducklings showed off their striking spotted pattern.

Welsh Poppies in Wasdale
Welsh Poppies in Wasdale

Natural Pattern: a rock with mosses and Map Lichen on Yewbarrow
Natural Pattern: a rock with mosses and Map Lichen on Yewbarrow

On Yewbarrow in Wasdale, we enjoyed the views of lake and mountain, and glimpsed a Golden-Ringed Dragonfly: not really mistakable for anything else, the size of an Emperor Dragonfly and strikingly black-and-yellow with incomplete rings.

Ghostly tree covered in caterpillar tent silk, dotted with telltale frass
Ghostly tree covered in caterpillar tent silk, dotted with telltale frass

Back at our guest house, Marsh Tits visited the bird feeders, almost as relaxed as the resident Blue Tits. On the Cumbrian Way, walking down to the pub at Skelwith Bridge, we saw this extraordinarily ghostly tree, leafless and covered all over with silk, lightly decorated with caterpillar frass. The poor tree had been totally defoliated by the tent caterpillars. Since I doubt the Gypsy moth has reached the Lake District yet, this might be a Processionary moth, perhaps.