Tag Archives: Ragwort

Plague of Ragwort in Richmond Park

Ragwort by the thousand … and as yet hardly any Cinnabar Moth caterpillars. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Ragwort is not just a common weed, but a curious one. It used to be a Notifiable Weed to the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries (more Ag. than Fish., probably). This was because it gave livestock that incautiously ate it, fresh or in hay, a violent stomach upset and sometimes caused death. So, farmers were obliged to report it and destroy it.

Why so dangerous? It contains Cardiac Glycosides, yup, chemicals that interfere with heart rhythms. Presumably natural selection has favoured this as animals end up not eating too much of the plant, which favours its survival. That includes cows and most insects.

However, a few beasties can tolerate the poison; and the Cinnabar Moth is one such. Actually, it goes a step further — it benefits from the stuff. Its caterpillars are large, conspicuous, and slow-moving; they’re also striped brilliant orange and black, warning coloration. That says “eat me, you’ll regret it”, and it’s an honest signal; any bird that tries it will indeed be violently sick, at least, and won’t try eating larvae that look like that again. Ever.

However however, one bird can tolerate the poisonous caterpillars: the Cuckoo. It arrives and feasts on the conspicuous and presumably delicious, nutritious larvae which nobody else will touch with a bargepole and rubber gloves.

Even more however, there’s a catch. The caterpillars are Very Hungry (this is a literary reference). They munch through the Ragwort like there’s no tomorrow, until it’s all gone. Then they pupate, turn into beautiful cinnabar-red and grey adults, lay eggs, and die. The Ragwort is already dead, obviously. And Cuckoos and everyone else who comes alone the next year won’t find a Ragwort plant or a Cinnabar moth for love nor money.

Then, gradually, a few surviving seeds grow into Ragwort plants. There are no Cinnabar caterpillars to do the damage on them. They go forth and multiply, as the bible has it. After a year or two there are Ragwort to the Left, Ragwort to the Right, and Ragwort all around. The man at the Min. of Ag. and Fish (or whatever it’s now called) spends all day answering phone calls about Ragwort (only he doesn’t, he’s got fed up of doing it by now). The few Cinnabar caterpillars have food in plenty and they breed like rabbits. Well, like Cinnabar moths. And the cycle goes round again.

So there you have it. Plague of Ragwort? Don’t tell the Ministry, but do wonder at the power of Nature.

Ringlet Butterfly

P.S. It was a lovely day for butterflies, too, with Small Coppers nectaring on Ragwort flowers; Ringlets by the Pen Ponds; Small Heaths knocking seven bells out of each other; and (Cabbage) Whites and Red Admirals about too. Grasshoppers skipped about; a Lizard ran across a path into the grass. A big flock of Canada Geese, with a few Greylags, grazed peacefully. Ants rebuilt their flooded-out nests.

Spanish Summer … in Chiswick

Azure Damselfly Wheel
Azure Damselfly Wheel

The pond is really low in the heat (and the grass is brown and crisp, and Birch trees large and small are dying). There are Large Red, Azure and Bluetail damselflies urgently laying eggs; this pair of Azures was in the incredibly complicated mating posture that we call the Heart or Wheel, with secondary genitalia locked on in preparation for transfer of the spermatophore; then the female does her thing with sperm storage. Bizarre.

Red Admiral - battered but still flying
Red Admiral – battered but still flying

If there’s an insect equivalent of a World War II Hurricane landing safely with most of its tailplane, rudder, and wings shot away, this battered but defiant Red Admiral must be it. I saw the odd outline and thought “Comma?” – then I saw the colours and thought “Hot weather, beaten-up butterfly, Painted Lady”; then it landed and I realized what it was.

Heat. It’s apparently the hottest day in England for nine years: right now it’s 33ÂșC here, and remarkably sticky.

Cinnabar Moth Caterpillars on Ragwort
Cinnabar Moth Caterpillars on Ragwort

Among the dry grass are an increasing number of Ragwort plants; at the moment, having seen just one Cinnabar moth flying briefly, there is also just one plant covered in Cinnabar caterpillars. They are aposematic: brightly coloured black and orange, warning, like wasps and bees, of their poisonous cocktail of chemicals picked up from their food plant. They seem to grow in numbers until they devastate the Ragwort population, which then crashes … which wipes out the Cinnabar moth, until a new outbreak of Ragwort restarts the cycle. It seems to me the nearest thing to the Lotka-Volterra model ever, given that the model basically predicts wild swings in population of “predator” and “prey”. For lynx and snowshoe hares it’s a wildly wrong model; for moths and Ragwort, maybe there’s something in it.

Making croc coffins (plant boxes) for the car park
Making croc coffins (plant boxes) for the car park

We spent some happy hours cutting up a lot of wood to make two large “planters” to disguise the green metal box of a shed in the car park. The plants will need constant watering, which sounds a bit of a problem, but maybe for annuals it’ll do fine. We nicknamed the planters “crocodile coffins” as they are the size of young crocs and perfect for their funerals, if crocs need ceremonies.

Yesterday evening we had a fine view of the conjunction of Venus and Jupiter in the western sky, Venus an elegant bright crescent (evening star) on our side of the sun, Jupiter a smaller and dimmer star, visibly a complete disk, far away from us of course on the other side of the sun. The 80mm birdwatching telescope did a good job; of course it would be lovely to have a big astronomical telescope to get a bigger view.