Thursley Common is special, from the moment of arriving at Moat Pond with its sparkling white Water-lilies.
The flat boggy area is full of rare and exotic-seeming plants, like the beautiful Bog Asphodel that demands a wet acidic soil, growing lotus-like from the black mud.
The common is a wide area of forest, bog, and little hills covered in heathland with boardwalks across the bog and dry sandy paths across the heath.
Among the delights of Thursley is the glorious Marsh Orchid.
Molinia, the bog cotton, is a plant totally characteristic of wild (Northern) moorland. It’s marvellous to see it down here in the South of England.
The bog pools are the home of dragonflies like the Black Darter, which can be seen only in this sort of habitat.
Other species like this Keeled Skimmer can be found in lowland streams as well as around bog pools.
In the forested areas, handsome lichens like these long branching strands of Ramalina indicate the purity of the air. Leafy Parmelia-type lichens are growing in the background.
A large and handsome parasitic wasp takes nectar from a bramble flower.
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.
Family Outing … Mute Swans with Six Cygnets … Line Ahead!Moorhen and ChickMarsh OrchidsIn fact, a wet meadow’s worth of Marsh Orchids, amazing.Red-Breasted Goose, tame enough to touch (if you wanted to)Eat your heart out, Monet: White Water-Lilies, all over. Quite beautiful. Mmm.
We walked up the hill through the birch woods, and across the heathery moor. On the drier, lower slopes, the heather was dotted with Eyebright, purple orchids and wild Thyme. Up above, on the flatter, wetter parts, bright yellow Bog Asphodel and the fluffy white tufts of Bog Cotton enlivened the landscape. We made not for the tops but for an ancient wood of thick pines, now widely spaced with thick soft moss and heather below them. The old Eagle’s nest is no more, the tip of the trunk that had supported it now snapped off in a storm, but Roy had seen an Eagle once or twice this year, still frequenting the area. We looked up at the trunks, two or three of them now forked at the top where side branches had taken over from a lost main shoot. At our feet was an Eagle’s quill, a flight primary feather, as long as my arm from elbow to knuckles, dark-tipped, mottled brown and white. I held it up for a photograph, put the camera away and shouldered my bag. Roy cried out and pointed: a Golden Eagle was lumbering into the air from a rock not 20 yards from us. It flapped away, turned and disappeared around the hill. Elated, I carried the feather home, not caring if I skidded on a wet slope. Down near the monument, the Bell Heather glowed in varied tones of purple: it gave off a delicate honey scent despite the lack of sunshine, and the bumble bees made the most of the bounty.
It was a cloudless morning, perfect for a walk around Thursley Common to look for dragonflies, other insects, birds, and bog flowers too.
The bog pools were surrounded by Marsh Orchids in lovely purple bloom.
A few lizards, one with a regrowing tail, sunned themselves on the boardwalks.
Masses of Black-Tailed Skimmers chased aggressively about the pools, along with a few blue damselflies and some Black Darters. Some Large Red Damselflies warmed up on the heather, well away from the pools.
Lizard regrowing tail
A Curlew called (or is it sang?) its beautiful, melancholic mating cry, flying high, slowly, and holding out its wings in a distinctive curve: something like a small heron, but with its incredible long downcurved bill, and tail feathers spread showily. It’s a rare delight, not least because Thursley is the only place Curlews breed for many miles around.
Stonechats on dead tree
Stonechats sang their brief grating song from conspicuous viewpoints all over the common, sometimes in little family groups.
A Tree Pipit gave a fine display of its song flight from a tall tree.
On a lake filled with Yellow Water-Lilies at the edge of the common, gigantic Carp lurked and splashed at the surface, and Downy Emeralds chased, seeming club-tailed.
Downy Emerald (I only got this distant reflection)
A Green Tiger Beetle whirred on to the path – a very strange flight jizz, but easily recognized once close enough.
Green Tiger Beetle
Scorpion Fly
Perhaps the most tantalizingly lovely insect of the day, however, was this Beautiful Demoiselle, shining iridescent Lapis Lazuli blue against the delicate pale green of a birch sprig.
After a morning sheltering inside from the pouring rain, it cleared and I drove down to Creag Meagaidh, the enormous national nature reserve that fills a watershed from Loch Laggan up to the named mountain. The sun shone nearly all the time despite billows of cloud to the south. The hills were blue, setting off the shining grey-green of the birches, the russet of the heather – the Ling just coming into bloom now – and the bright yellow-green of the mossy grass.
Trailing Beards of Lichen, mostly Usnea with some Ramalina; the flatter leafy lichens are species of Parmelia
The Downy Birch is a stockier tree than the Silver Birch, tough enough to survive mountain winters, and home to a rich variety of lichens including Usnea beard lichens, bristly Ramalina, dark stringy Alectoria jubata (now renamedBryoria fremontii), and various leafy Parmelia species that yield orange dyes used in Harris Tweed.
Caterpillar of Northern Eggar Moth
Large handsome caterpillars of the Northern Eggar Moth, the Scottish form of the Oak Eggar (Lasiocampa quercus), up to 3 inches (75 mm) long and nothing to do with oak trees, wriggled across the path, their rufous hairs warning off predators. They feed on Heather and Bilberry.
Scotch Argus
In every patch of damp grassland, Scotch Argus butterflies skittered, looking very dark in flight. They are hard to approach as they constantly chase each other off from their territories, but eventually I found one that stayed settled long enough to creep up to. Close up, the upper side is a rich brown, with red patches around the wing edges dotted with black circles that have white centres.
Devilsbit Scabious
A few bumblebees, some of unfamiliar species, visited the Devilsbit Scabious (Scabiosa succisa) briefly. Large Syrphid hoverflies basked on the paths.
Glittering Downy Birches
Further up the valley, a fine group of birches actually glittered in the bright sunlight, the water of the stream shining silver behind them.
Birch Bracket Polypore
A dead birch, stark against the sky, supported stout Birch Bracket polypores, handsomely whitish-grey above, yellow ochre below.
Bog Asphodel Bell Heather Marsh Orchid
In the boggier patches, Bog Asphodel and Marsh Orchid flowered among the Bell Heather.
Rock Bog Heather Birch Mountain Tundra
I turned the corner of the valley to see snow still lying in the deep, north-facing gullies on Creag Meagaidh, and the striking notch of the col that gives access to the mountain ridge.
Fragrant Orchid Gymnadenia conopsea among heather on hill, Upper Speyside
I’m used to seeing Marsh Orchids up here in Scotland, but I’d always associated the Fragrant Orchid with chalk and limestone. However, I keyed it out with James Merryweather’s very helpful Key for the Identification of Orchids Common in Western Scotland, and there it was, Gymnadenia conopsea, growing among the heather and bilberries with no chalk in sight. Its jizz is quite unlike the Marsh Orchids, with slim unspotted leaves, pale unstreaked flowers, and an unobtrusive long slim spur behind each flower.
Marsh Orchid
The Marsh Orchid is quite variable, usually boldly marked like this one in purple with stripes and loops, but sometimes almost white all over. It’s mostly rather short. The paired pollinia are visible inside a couple of the flowers.
Birdsfoot Trefoil near Dalwhinnie
Another little plant that I’d not have associated with rainswept moorland is the Birdsfoot Trefoil (or, Bacon and Eggs from its rich red and yellow colours). It is happy in warm dry lawns; but equally at home here on disturbed ground where the competing plant cover is conveniently low.
Lichen-covered rock near Dalwhinnie
More obviously Highland in character are the tough lichens forming orange and black patches actually in the hard weathered rocks on the moor. The black discs are the apothecia of one of the species, containing the spores of the lichen fungus; they have to meet up with the single-celled algae to re-form the lichen partnership or symbiosis.
Like peering into a rock pool: Cup Lichens
The miniature world of lichens is able to surprise even people who know their local environment well. The Cladonia ground-living lichens include shrubby species that make excellent tiny trees for railway modellers and architects. The same genus contains several species of cup lichens, some coarse and scaly like the common cup lichen (C. conoiocraea), some tall and slim like C. fimbriata, some with elegant red apothecia around the edges of their cups. This mixture of lichens, including some leafy grey Parmelia saxatilis, was growing on a rock beneath a light canopy of Downy Birches.
One of the former Shielings on Catlodge
In the old system of transhumance, the women and children took the cattle up to hill pastures and lived in shielings during the Highland summers. These are marked today by small rectangles of grey stones, all that is left of the humble buildings, and bright green grassy areas among the brown of the heather.
Female Antler Moth Cerapteryx graminis
The Antler Moth is sexually dimorphic, the female being larger and with a slightly different wing pattern. Appropriately for a species that shares its moorland habitat with the Red Deer, it has a whitish antler pattern on its wings. The caterpillars eat purple moor-grass, sheep’s fescue and matgrass.
The English seem unemotional … except for their passion for nature
