www.Rangerstuff.co.uk

For technical reasons, for a long time, I was unable to upload any new images to either my  www.wildliferanger.co.uk website or my www.wildliferanger.com site and, as a result, eventually decided to open this third site.

For Tess, Water is Life

Vein Texture

Dawn

One of Our Garden Tulips
Unfortunately, the unprecedented warm and very sunny spring weather encouraged many such flowers to bloom far too early and then the subsequent hard frosts caused almost all of them to become strangely deformed.

Frittilary Fertility

More Crazy Weather!
Early April 2012....and as the unusually early-flowering Oilseed Rape soaked up the bright, late afternoon spring sunshine, Tess and I were becoming increasingly mindful of the massive electrical storm creeping up on us out of the north.

In fact, when the storm did finally hit us (no more than ten minutes after I took the above shot), we were soaked to the bone almost instantly by a veritable tidal wave of rain reinforced by what I can only describe as some kind of quasi-intelligent, heat-seeking sleet! Finally, we were pelted by an avalanche of marble-sized hailstones posing quite convincingly (I remember thinking at the time) as extremely accurate armour-piecing ball-bearings!

At first, the storm appeared to be doing little more than 'lurking' far off in the distance just above the horizon. I even thought it would probably miss us altogether because the wind up to that point had been south-westerly. However, all that changed in the blink of an eye when it became obvious that the Mother of all Storms was not only growing rapidly in both size and strength, but heading our way at a fair rate of knots!

The wind had suddenly swung completely around and the pressure began to drop so abruptly that I swear I could feel the capillaries beneath the skin of my face and fingers expanding ever so slightly. Then, as the blackest clouds I've seen in many a year finally caught up with us and passed menacingly overhead, the unmistakeable smell of ozone permeated the air as it became super-charged with electricity and the hairs on my head, neck and arms and the fur on Tess's back literally began to stand on end.

Moments later, the first vertical bolts of psycho-lightening ripped into the earth in arrow-straight shafts of incandescent fury no more than a hundred metres from where Tess and I lay cowering in the only place available to us that offered even a semblance of protection....ie, in a foot of stinking, slime-green ooze at the bottom of an old irrigation ditch at the edge of the field. The lightning, of course, was accompanied almost instantaneously by some of the loudest, bone-jarringest thunderclaps I've ever experienced and each teeth-rattling concussion seemed to 'explode' (and go on 'exploding') right above us!

...."Elemental my dear Watson!"

Waiting Patiently
....for me to stop making notes and taking pictures and finally get a move on.

Rannunculus

Working Late in the Forest

Woodland on the Cusp of Spring

 
A Waxing Gibbous Moon
....When the illuminated bit is larger than the shaded portion and is
continuing to grow until it becomes a Full Moon.

What Say We Stop for Lunch?

Close to the Source of the River Thames


The Original Barbed Wire
Bramble Facts....Also known as Caneberry, Bumble-Kite, Bramble-Kite, Bly, Brummel, Brameberry, Scaldhead, and Brambleberry, Bramble derived its name from brambel or brymbyl, meaning 'prickly'. Meanwhile, Batology is the taxonomic term for the study of brambles of which there are well over a thousand known species, not to mention countless hybrids.

Damn Weird
Ok, so I've observed and recorded some pretty weird stuff this winter from a natural history and meteorological point of view, but I stumbled upon a sizeable reconnaissance troop of Wood Ants doing their thing down in the forest....smack bang in the middle of January!

I observed a number of similarly occupied Wood Ant patrols out and about towards the end of February last year (2011), despite the bitterly cold snap that preceded their appearance and that was the earliest I could remember ever seeing them at the time, but this is just plain odd!

Anyway, I managed to guess correctly which nest mound they'd appeared from and stayed with the majority of them while they worked their patterns in pretty much the same way that a human military recce patrol works (only slightly more efficiently). No other activity was apparent at that particular nest site however, though similar patrols were evident at two out of the other four nest sites situated within a half mile radius.

Of course, I'm not qualified enough to offer any meaningful answers (although I can't help but notice what I believe to be a number of linked patterns that have begun to emerge over the past few years), so I just record what I observe and pass my findings on to our boffins.

Voyeur

Above and Below....Dawn in the Wild Woods

Bands
Shot taken across a recently flooded archaeological dig in the Cotswolds.

Scramble

Above and Below....Bibury Trout Farm

Winter Gold

Silhouette Overload!
....Yes, you're right, but I just can't stop taking the blinkin' things!

The House on the Hill

Above and Below....Two Sunsets
Taken at the same location just a few days apart.

Tess Searching for Otter Sign in the New Year (2012)
Our joint efforts this particular day resulted in just a handful of typically Otterfied freshwater mollusc shell remains complete with a scattering of incriminating dog Otter paw and rudder tracks almost certainly laid down sometime during the previous night. It did however, contribute towards completing yet another small piece of a persistently baffling jig-saw puzzle regarding the broader activities and night-time perambulations of what I believe to be the same animal.

Why So Many Silhouette Shots in December All of a Sudden?
....Well, it's simply because we're finally getting all the nice dawns, sunsets and clear moonlit nights we should have got back in September and October!

Good Moon Rising....Rooftop Silhouette

The Manor Estate
....and yet another of my futile attempts to make a photo look more like an old painting.

The Launch
Well, that;s what it reminded me of....a bit.

Failings?
Yet another stranger (a man this time) has recently taken the time to inform me that, in his exulted opinion, Tess isn't a particularly good example of a Labrador....going on to ask if I'd been duped into buying her! That's three different people, all of them total strangers, in the last couple of months who have ever so kindly made the effort to enlightenment me as to my dog's many and apparently varied failings.

Black Cloud Passing 'cross the Moon

Lunar Silhouette
I seem to be doing almost as many night shifts as day shifts just lately, either tracking bow-shot Deer with Tess or carrying out night-time Otter vigils mostly by myself, but occasionally with Tess.

Caught in the Storm

Post-Storm Sunset Silhouette

Sunset Silhouette up in the Hills

Sunset Silhouette in the Forest

Cricket Net Sunset Silhouette

A3b9....The Best Otter Hotspot in the County
....but despite being well off the beaten track, Tess found yet another bar-trap here today, rigged almost certainly by the same moron who set two whip-snares in virtually the same place during the summer. I destroyed both snares back then of course as well as the bar-trap today, but, in so doing, I've unavoidably alerted the idiot to the fact that someone knows what he's up to and he's since become infinitely more careful and sly in his methods.

Nevertheless, I've managed to increase my intel on the man the Boss calls 'Target C' and have managed to put together an almost complete track profile on him, including his approximate age, height, weight, shoe-size, make of boot, the most probable make and model of the vehicle he drives and the breed of the two dogs he owns. I've even managed to get a night-time NV camera motion-sensitive stealth-shot of him apparently taking a pee in the woods (sadly his face was turned away rather than his d**k)!

So, it's really just a matter of time until I get what I need and then I'll make him world-famous on the interweb by revealing everything I've learned about him, including a photograph, his name, address and the size of his tiny, tiny little thingy....even though I'd probably be infringing his human rights, his legal rights and goodness only knows what other rights such a nasty, socially deviant little turd is doubtless entitled to these days and, as a result, land myself in a whole lot more serious troubles than him (as well as the sack probably) for doing it, but then I'm convinced it would be a much greater deterrent to his kind  (given the level of public anger it would doubtless invoke) than the fifty pound fine and police caution he'd otherwise receive (always assuming that the police would care enough to take him to court in the first place)!

Of course, I've been ordered to stay calm, collected and, above all, robustly professional, but the scum-bag's trying to kill my Otters and it makes my blood boil!

Decay I
Helped along by the Badgers from a nearby Badger Sett (less than fifty metres away) no doubt as they scritch and scratch away at either the old root system or whatever's left of the bark during their nightly quests for tasty invertebrate morsels.

Decay II....but It's As Though It's Still Very Much Alive Somehow
....and just lying there on the forest floor....Waiting!

Dark Waters

Local Shot
About a mile from home.

A Mid-November Stroll Across the Hills
....and only now do we finally get the September/October sunsets!

 
Eleven Eleven on Eleven Eleven Eleven
Tess and I found a place to do our two minute silence on our own this year.

Down Ampney Airfield Memorial Site

Penelope (Penny) Partridge
I found Penny on the side of a country lane in the Cotswolds during early summer. She had apparently been the victim of a collision with a vehicle of some sort. She was only semi-conscious when I found her and had suffered damage to her right eye, but a quick examination seemed to suggest that at least she had not broken any bones. I decided therefore to take her home and treat her injuries as best I could.

During that night she drifted in and out of consciousness in my lap in the shed (my home-made animal surgery) and I didn't really hold out too much hope for her. However, it was while she was unconscious that I was at least able to repair her badly lacerated and partially detached eyelid with two or three tiny drops of superglue giving it chance to begin its own healing process (see bottom picture).

Amazingly, she seemed like an altogether different bird in the morning, much more 'with it' so to speak. However, the side of her face was still swollen quite badly and she had a tendency to fall over a lot when she tried to walk.

I kept her secure in one of my hospital cages for the rest of the week, paying particular attention to her eye and for any signs of infection or possible internal injuries. She did well however and was even prepared to eat for herself the vitamin and grain concoction  that I prepared especially for her.

Anyway, I could write a book about this one bird, but let's just say that Penny's physical recovery was excellent and she was soon able to open and close her eyelid almost as normal. Unfortunately though, she must have sustained a small degree of brain damage, leaving her feeling more dependent on me than she ought to be.

Nevertheless, she's free to come and go as she pleases, but is usually to be seen hanging around the garden waiting to be fed and has even managed to endear herself to a few of our neighbours.

Penny is a Red-Legged Partridge by the way, a common enough species on the arable farmland of the high Cotswolds. However, I wonder if there's been more than a sprinkling of Chukar genes introduced to Penny's ancestry somewhere along the line judging by the exact nature of  her plumage markings.

Finally, Autumn Takes a Hold

 
Above and Below...Not Quite Right Somehow
Many Dragonflies, including Darters and Chasers, have persisted this year (2011) well into November and, although we may not have had the warmest summer and autumn on record (at least not according to the daily checks I make on my own little weather station), it's been the driest for almost twenty years. Mind you, several farmers local to me, claim that we've had the lowest summer rainfall and the mildest autumn for more than forty!

Apparently meanwhile, a number of allotment owners I've talked to this autumn say that they're now desperate for a few 'proper' hard frosts to kill off the remainder of last season's growth, but I'm guessing that a few hard frosts wont do the larger proportion of the 200 grams of meadowland wildflower seed that my wife and I sowed in the back garden in October a great deal of good because it's already germinated....and then there's the mystery of the apparently confused Cowslips that suddenly decided to flower amongst our conifers during one brief, but particularly sunny spell of autumnal weather....not to mention at least a couple of hundred other seemingly insignificant anomalies (until viewed as a whole that is) which are continuing to emerge out there in the British countryside.

If there's one thing I've learnt  in this job, it's that the natural World is all about balance and connections. Everything, absolutely everything, happens for a reason and whatever it is that happens, it's always linked to something (or more likely a multitude of somethings) happening somewhere else. Sorting it all out however, is the unenviable task afforded to our very clever team of boffins across the Channel over there in Boffinsville....Thankfully.

Bring on the Clouds
There are many times each day when I pause for a minute or two just to stare up at the sky. It's something I've done since I was a boy and it's always been a mystery to me that so few other people seem to share my fascination for the endless drama of the clouds....but then, I guess it must be that most 'normal' folk tend to lead such incredibly busy lives that taking time out to stand about doing nothing except gazing slack-jawed up at the heavens ain't going to win them any Brownie points in the all-consuming, soul-destroying Great Race of the Rat.

I also think it's fair to say that simply because even half-decent opportunities for seeing the clouds during the day are so few and far between and because it's always much too bright to see the stars at night, I would never again choose to live in a town or a city.

Sunflower Heart

Dusk in the Woods

Waiting for the 'Old Man' to Catch Up

A New Crop Emerges

After the Harvest

Above and the Two Below....Mid-August Photographs, But is it Autumn Already?

 

Pattern and Shape

A Quite Place
....and somewhere that Tess and I like to sit very quietly and still (well, at least I do) for half an hour or so every now and again as we listen carefully and watch very patiently for all those ultra-subtle and usually unnoticeable little things taking place around us.

Plantation

Above and Below....Peacock Pair
There's something about the overall colouration and patternation of Peacock butterflies that often results in an almost 3D effect when viewed through a camera lens and which perhaps may even give them a very slight survival advantage if certain predators also see them that way.

Flowering Sowthistle

Cornflower

Above and the Three Below....
A slight drop in temperature and occasional heavy showers gave Tess and me the chance to complete a twenty-seven miler in one big circle across the higher hills today.

Sainfoin

Above and Below....Tree Silhouettes

Eye of Frog
The same Frog in fact, as the one shown in the photograph below the one below the one below the one below....(I think).

Chicory Macro

Wild Duck-Herding
Well, not really....It's just that these guys nearly always head across the lake towards Tess and me when they spot us from afar. They are the same family as shown in the picture below the one below and seem to have no fear whatsoever of Tess who remains quite happy to tolerate them provided they don't stray too close to me. If they do, she immediately gets all protective and moves to gently steer them away in order to separate us, just as she did straight after I took this picture (see below).

Survivors
Ten out of the original fourteen ducklings from this single brood have made it into semi adulthood....an unusually high survival rate for Mallards.

Common Frog
Quite a large one in fact, sunbathing on a rock beside our garden pond which is also home to no less than twelve tadpoles. Mind you, it was a fair few more than that originally, but someone or something (not mentioning any names) has probably been eating them!

Along the Course of the Old Canal
....and the occasional favoured haunt of the odd Otter or two.

Cornwall's Lizard Point
....As far south as you can get on mainland Britain. Note the rich carpet of Black Mustard in the foreground.

A Warm, Sunny Day High Above Kynance Cove
....Rugged, raw and utterly elemental with the Lizard village perched precariously on the cliff tops three miles distant.


A Wet, Windblown Day and a Much Less Amenable Kynance Cove
In fact, low cloud came in very suddenly just minutes after I took this picture reducing visibility to less than thirty metres.

Little Missy
....and Charlie. This is usually where Little Missy sits and waits (often impatiently) for me to bring her a treat or two first thing in the morning.

Giant Poppy I
Growing completely wild about three miles from Stow-on-the-Wold.

Giant Poppy II
A version that grows in my garden, but much paler than the wild one shown above it.

Above and Below....Woodlouse Macros
As a kid, I'd spend hours observing and sketching fascinating creatures like this via the microscope given to me by my Uncle Chris, the gamekeeper.

Above and Below....The Exquisite Cotswolds
We have more than forty National Parks in the UK, but we also have in excess of two hundred specially Designated Areas of Natural Beauty right across Britain, of which the Cotswolds is by far the largest. Roughly ninety miles long by forty wide, it covers an area of....er, a lot of square wotsits and Tess and I cover every inch of it. In fact we spend at least 50% of our working days yomping the length and breadth of it in all weathers and conditions right through the year. The rest of our time is divided between areas beyond the Cotswolds in all directions, including large parts of Herefordshire, Warwickshire, Worcestershire, Oxfordshire, Wiltshire, Somerset, Devon and Cornwall.

 
Devonshire Wall Brown

Black Thistle

 
Caterpillar Macro
Having recently lost my little Ricoh point-and-shoot camera somewhere in deepest Herefordshire, I finally decided to replace it with a much cheaper and even smaller Canon Powershot A800. It cost just £60 and this picture, together with the White Ermine and Small Copper shots opposite are amongst the first macros I've taken with it. As you can plainly see, it's taking me a while to get used to some of its funny little ways.

I suspect this might well be the larval form of the High Brown Fritillary, but with Nobby currently away working on the west coast of Canada, I have no way of confirming it. I do know however, that the High Brown is becoming increasingly scarce these days, occurring in just a handful of fairly isolated locations in the southern extremes of the Lake District, South Wales and the south-west of England, Meanwhile, note the unusual eye arrangement on the side of the caterpillar's head.

Devonshire Green-Veined White

Bluebottles Drawn to the Exposed Flesh of a Fatally Injured Blackbird
The bird in this case had been the victim of a window strike. In fact, it had collided with the window with so much speed and force that its head was pushed right back between its shoulder blades, breaking the neck and a couple of ribs (right foreground of picture) and opening a gaping chest wound in the process.

Incidentally, although I wouldn't normally consider adding a photograph like this to any of my websites. At the same time, I can't help feeling that there's something strangely compelling about it.

Black Medick
I'm fairly certain I've gone on about Black Medick on one of my other websites, but I noticed (once again) how certain Gypsy-type individuals visiting some of the larger Cotswold towns during Cheltenham's Gold Cup week this year (2011) were selling small sprays of what they claimed was Shamrock for as much as £5.00 per spray. However, what they were actually selling was either the similar-looking, trifoliate-leaved sprays of Black Medick or, in some cases, those of the scarcer Hop Trefoil gathered from Goodness only knows where because neither species flowers until early May!

Crosswort

Toxic Avenger
Interesting fact about Ladybirds....Adults are capable of something called 'reflex bleeding' when attacked by predators (or small, snot-covered children with sticks). The so-called 'blood', which oozes from the leg joints, is surprisingly toxic (and smelly) and is a very effective deterrent.

Return of the Blues....Above (Male) and Below (Female)
Although I've been spotting the odd Blue here and there since the end of April, today (14th May) is the first time I've noticed them in significant numbers.

Chive Talking
Truly wild Chives grow in just a very few isolated locations in the UK. I found this one growing in, of all places, the limestone soil of the upper Cotswolds.

Struggling Fledgling
This newly fledged young Blackbird is one of four hatched from five eggs laid in a nest at the top of my garden, but all three of her siblings have since fallen prey to various predators, including a Raven that I actually saw swoop down on one of them as it was waiting to be fed in the garden a couple of days ago and carry it off screaming and shrieking. However, both parents have now also disappeared (probably victims of local cats), leaving this last fledgling to fend for herself as best she can. Unfortunately though, she's still in need of at least a few more days parental-style help when it comes to acquiring complete independence.

It soon became obvious however, following the demise of her parents, that she identifies me as the person who puts out food for the birds and now, every time I go outdoors, she appears, as if from nowhere, presumably expecting me to provide her with her next meal. This I do, but I don't make it easy for her. Instead, I hide little bits and pieces of this and that under small rocks and stones, in flower pots, under leaves, in the shrubbery or in the longer grass and then stand back while she searches for them. It works, but then I expected it to because it's something I've done countless times over the decades with lots of young fledgling birds who simply need a brief helping hand to fully orientate themselves in the wild. Hopefully, this little madam will somehow manage to steer clear of predators during the next few days while she remains particularly vulnerable. There are two more photographs of her by the way, on the "All Creatures Great and Small" page.

Who's a Pretty Boy Then?

Elderflower Buds and a Couple of Tiger Bugs

Male Beautiful Demoiselle
Above and below....Yes, I know they're rather shaky examples when compared to professional efforts, but then all of my macro shots are taken completely freehand. On this occasion for example, I had to lean out precariously across an open stretch of fast flowing water (with my camera in one hand while holding on to a gradually yielding tree branch with the other) just so that I could get within a couple of centimetres of my subjects who, I strongly suspect, only decided to stay where they were for as long as they did in the hopes that I would, at some point, fall head-first into the river below.

More interesting to me however, was the fact that I took these photographs during the first week of May, whereas, normally, I wouldn't expect to see either the Beautiful Demoiselle or its close relative the Banded Demoiselle (which was also airborne on the same day along the same stretch of river) emerge much before the end of May at the very earliest.


Female Beautiful Demoiselle
Irridescent green, but easily as striking as the blue male, especially when seen away from background vegetation where it is usually quite difficult to spot.

Red Car

Carpet of Crowtoes

Copper Beech Avenue
No, not an autumn shot, but a double row of beautiful springtime Copper Beeches standing like a guard of honour along the driveway of a Cotswold estate. There's another shot of the same trees, but from a slightly different angle on the "Year's Worth of Trees" page.

Laburnum
Another of my absolute favouritist species of trees, this gorgeous pair of arching spring-flowering Laburnum mark the entrance to a driveway leading to a property in Chedworth.

Interesting fact I've noticed about Laburnum trees....A fair number are beginning to show signs of naturalisation right across the Cotswolds and I often encounter them these days growing in secluded corners of woodlands, copses and thickets. They usually appear much healthier than their more domesticated counterparts as well, rarely showing signs of diseases such as powdery mildew or silver leaf, while I've never seen a semi-wild one yet suffering from Black Fly.

Charlie the Duckling and the Drama in the Skies!
While pottering about in the garden the other day (27th April), I suddenly heard a tremendous din coming from the sky above me. Glancing up, I saw five of our local Jackdaws mobbing a passing solitary Herring Gull. Now, Corvids don't like Gulls at the best of times and rarely miss an opportunity to make their feelings known. This time however, it was very clear the five 'daws were equally as keen to relieve poor old Argen of something it was carrying in its beak and it wasn't long before the multi-pronged and vociferous attack had the desired effect. In fact, hopelessly outnumbered, the Gull was forced to drop its payload almost immediately and then beat a hasty retreat back from whence it came.

In the meantime, the 'payload' began its rapid descent to earth or, more specifically, into my garden and it was only after it landed with a plonk smack-bang in the middle of my newly emerging nettle patch that I was eventually able to identify exactly what it was....A Duck! Or rather. a baby duck....In fact, a tiny Mallard duckling probably no more than a couple of days old.

Amazingly, the little ball of utterly bewildered beak and feathers seemed completely unharmed by its experience and was soon up and running around the garden piping for its mother and siblings who, of course, could have been almost anywhere within a mile (or more) radius from, for want of a better expression, 'ground zero'!

Anyhoo, with Tess's help, I soon corralled the tiny mite in a corner of the back patio where I was able to gather him up and give him a closer examination. Luckily, he really did appear to be none the worse for his ordeal and, with my daughter's help, soon had him installed in a make-shift cage complete with 'pond' and a dish of suitable food which he wasted no time tucking into.

I then spent the next hour or so with Tess checking out the local neighbourhood in the hopes that I might find Charlie's family (my daughter, of course, had wasted no time in naming him, though actually, I'd have preferred something along the lines of 'Lucky Ducky' or maybe 'Dick the Duck'), but annoyingly, all three of the breeding Mallard pairs I know of within a mile of home were missing ducklings and so it was impossible to tell which family group Charlie might possibly have come from (if any). Nevertheless, I was tempted to simply release him anyway in the hope that, even if it was the wrong family, he would be accepted, something that Mallards are known to do from time to time. However, I thought the risk was far too great and finally decided against it.

So, now we have a duck to look after, but one who, if he survives, will be able to come and go as he pleases for as long as he likes.

Charlie....the Duck who fell to earth. Left....In the garden, shortly after he emerged, shaken, but not stirred, from the nettle patch and just prior to being rounded-up and caught. Right....Snug as a bug in his shoebox situated in the airing cupboard for the night to keep him warm.

Lamb
This inquisitive little rascal was fascinated by Tess and couldn't resist coming over to check her out practically nose to nose. I gave them a moment then clapped my hands loudly several times which startled the lamb, causing him to run back to his mother. Why did I do do that? Simply because not every dog the lamb might be brave enough to walk up to will be as well-trained and amenable with livestock as Tess!

Where's Wally?

Bee Magnet

Cause for Concern
The glorious hot, sunny weather we've been experiencing right across the UK leading up to and into the Easter break has been warmly welcomed by just about everyone....except, perhaps, for the farmers who, alarmed by the unseasonal on-going drought conditions are becoming increasingly concerned for the welfare of their crops.

Pink

Hidden Gems I (Early Spring)
As long as I have my secret places to go to, I can just about remain sane.

Hidden Gems II (Late Summer)
The same place as in the shot above this one, but taken in late August

Hidden Gems III (Late Winter)
Same again as above, but this time taken in early February.

Speedwell
I shall soon be dedicating a small section exclusively to macro shots of flowers
on the "Year's Worth of Trees" page, above the "Wot Are Like Patterns" photographs.

Possibly In Need of a New Coat of Paint

Hornet I....aka the European Hornet....aka the Brown Hornet
Europe's largest wasp....and this one was bigger than most (about 1.5 inches long and as round as my little finger) because it's a queen freshly emerged from its winter hibernation in a hollow tree (probably) at the end of my garden. My wife spotted it on the ground in the garden and manoeuvred it into a plastic flower pot to bring indoors to show me. Hornet stings are very painful of course, but note the enormous jaws which can give a painful nip to the unwary.

Hornet II
Despite their reputation, Hornets are by no means as aggressive as either their Common or German Wasp relatives. In fact, they 'nearly' always prefer to back away from any perceived threat (as in the above picture) and escape if at all possible. They will defend their nest however (to the death if necessary), when either angered or injured individuals are known to give off a distress pheromone that sticks to human hair and clothes, enabling other Hornets to home in on what they in turn perceive to be the cause of the problem. Interestingly, many types of perfume, after-shave and even deodorants are believed to initiate similarly aggressive responses in otherwise passive Hornets, though it's not known exactly why.

It's important to bear in mind however, that if you are even mildly allergic to wasp stings, a Hornet can inject you with up to five times the amount of venom as an ordinary wasp and, because its stinger is not barbed like a bee's stinger is, it will continue to sting you relentlessly if it can't get away....so try not to get one down the back of your neck.

Many scarifying myths surrounding Hornets have evolved over the centuries, but poor old Vespa crabo is nowhere near as dangerous (at least to the non-allergic) as their fearsome reputation insists. Even today, there are those who believe absolutely that three Hornet stings in quick succession are enough to kill a fully grown man and that seven stings will kill a horse! This is sheer nonsense of course, but a high degree of common sense is recommended if you suddenly find yourself in close proximity to a Hornet or especially a Hornets nest. Don't run around screaming or flapping your arms about like some kind of demented idiot. You're just asking for trouble. I just usually stop and have a quiet chat or maybe offer to take them for a coffee (extra sugar obligatory of course).

Hornet III
Held aloft for comparison on the end of telegraph pole by two fully grown men, it soon became clear that the European Hornet is about one and a half times the size of a typical Labrador.

On a more serious note, Hornets, like Bees, are in serious decline right across Europe, though they have always been more prolific some years than others. There's really no need to kill one if you see it as they much prefer to avoid you if they can. I released this one unharmed at the top of my garden by the way, after its photo-shoot (for which it was very co-operative) and I'm hoping that it will eventually establish its nest somewhere in the small woodland just beyond my back fence.

Water Margin
Even the margins of my little garden pond are bursting into colour.

Spring Hopes Eternal
A most beautiful warm, sunny day....and not a soul about.

An April Mayfly
I took this in the first week of April, 2011. It was almost certainly newly emerged and a sublimago (dun) rather than the later imago (spinner) it would soon become. Note the claspers too, situated just beneath the three tails, indicating that it's a male. I'm not sure of the exact species (possibly a Purple) as there are scores of them with many only being identifiable from the species-specific patterns of the veins in their wings. This particular specimen incidentally, was one of dozens, all of the same species, that I observed in Wiltshire on the sunniest, warmest day of the year so far, along a fairly short section of a lakeside trail.

Interesting fact about Mayflies....They are unique in the world of insects because they have two distinct moulting stages....from water nymph to sublimago and, not long afterwards, from sublimago to imago.

Tess....The Director's Cut
I'm sure you wont be very surprised to learn how on most days that Tess and I go out, I frequently use my camera to make little 'movies'. Usually, such videos amount to hardly more than a minute's worth of footage, mostly of Tess doing ranger-related work.

Now, as a result of this, I've managed to build up quite a formidable collection of such mini-movies over the last couple of years (most of which are accompanied by my inane, ad-hoc commentaries) and I thought it might be an idea to upload at least a few of the better ones onto the interweb for my much put-upon reader to 'enjoy'.

....and so I did....A few days ago....Twelve of them....Nearly fifteen minute's worth of Tess's antics and my dribblingly idiotic efforts at descriptive commentary. However, in doing so, I almost immediately managed to attract some incredibly negative and profoundly asinine comments from a certain group of....er, 'individuals'. In fact, some of the things they said were so abusive and, at times, disturbing that I felt obliged to withdraw my plucky little videoettes after less than a day and long before I'd managed to add all the ones I'd originally intended.

Still, as my wife is still keen to point out, I was probably just unlucky that this particular group of persons happened to stumble across my meritorious 'masterpieces' right at the outset, so perhaps I'll try again at some future date.

More Spring Blossom

There'll Be One Greenbottle Standing on a....Log

Reedmace Place

The Diamonte Feather

Ladybird, Ladybird

 
The Increasingly Rare Wild Grape Hyacinth

Ubiquitous, Steadfast and Strong, the Happy-Go-Lucky Daisy

There is a flower, a little flower
With silver crest and golden eye
That welcomes every changing hour
And weathers every sky

On waste and woodland, rock and plain
Its humble buds unheeded rise
The Rose has but a summer reign
The Daisy never dies

(First and last verses from "The Daisy" by James Montgomery)

Heeby-Jeeby

Pussy Willow
I remember spending hours completing a painting of a Pussy Willow as part of my nature table display way back in primary school circa 1957. Sadly however, Mrs Green, the class teacher, took it down from the wall one day as part of my punishment for putting a small worm in Derek Saunders's morning bottle of free milk. I did it because he'd put one of my PE plimsolls down the toilet a couple of weeks previously and then peed on it! Of course, being the remorselessly bullied, but profoundly disturbed little sh*t that I was back then (these days I'm an even more profoundly disturbed and much bigger sh*t), I took time plotting my revenge and eventually siezed the opportunity to plop the worm into his milk when it was finally my turn to be milk monitor.

Unfortunately, child harpy and professional tell-tale tit, Marjorie Bolton (see relevant chapter in "Slices" at www.wildliferanger.co.uk ) saw me do it and almost immediately reported me to Mrs Green...."Almost", that is, if only because she was keen to see if Derek would actually be so stupid as to actually drink the milk with the actual worm in it....which, as I fully expected at the time, he actually was and actually did....actually!

Anyhoo, apart from having my painting taken down and binned, I was sent post-haste to see Mr Bright, the headmaster to receive three buttock-smarting whacks on the backside with his extra-large, lead-lined carpet slipper as well as a hundred lines to write out at lunchtime. In addition, after school had ended, my nose was blooded by a punch in the face from Derek who had waited very patiently for me outside the school gates together with a couple of his equally moronic friends.

Basically, Derek was one of a number of (mostly) boys who delighted in their long-term attempts to make my life as miserable as they possibly could at primary school. Interestingly however (and the main reason I happen to mention this now of all times), I saw Derek Saunders for the first time in nearly fifty years just the other day. He was lumbering down Tewkesbury High Street with a bag of shopping. I'm sure I detected a flicker of recognition in his eyes as I passed him by and I sensed him stop to stare after me, but now, at sixty-two, he looks considerably older than his years. This is not surprising however, as I've since been told that an excessive alcohol intake and lavishly indulged daily portions of processed foodstuffs are primarily responsible for his general physical decline. Yet, I strongly suspect that, while his belly and backside have attained gargantuan proportions practically unheard of amongst the general population of five decades ago, his intellect will almost certainly have remained positively anorexic.

Sorry Derek....It's that 'profoundly disturbed' nature of mine working overtime again and my long-term memory of just how miserable you and your dim-witted little gaggle of throw-back friends made me feel all those years ago. Hang on a minute though. I know there's a good chance you'll get to see this, so I hope you wont be planning to wait for me along with your cowardly mates outside the school gates again....On the other hand, it's funny how things and people tend to change....so maybe this time I wont be quite so desperate to sneak over the back fence and take the long way home!

Woodmouse in the Woodpile
While sitting in the garden soaking up a few early springtime rays barely an hour after returning home on the 19th March, 2011, I suddenly became aware of a pair of very beady eyes staring at me from the woodpile. Now, having learned the hard way a very long time ago never to be in the garden at any time of the day (or night) without some kind of a camera close to hand, I was able to reach down for my Nikon lying on the bench beside me and eventually managed to squeeze off three quick shots, of which this was one.

The River Avon
....Somewhere along our quarterly walk between Evesham and Stratford-upon-Avon.

Underview
Possibly a less familiar angle from which to view a Snowdrop.

Fungi
I'm not entirely sure how many species of fungi I've photographed in total over the years, but it must run into several hundreds.

 
Catkin Close-Up

"My Roots Are in the Depths of the Woods"....(Galle)

"All the wildlife of the woods, the insects, birds, and animals, are well aware of your presence no matter how softly you may tread and they follow your every move although you cannot see them"

(Thalassa Cruso)

Lichen Encrusted Pine Needles

After the Downpour

Telephoto picture sequence that shows Tess at the moment she finds a 'casualty' in a clearing in a local forest. Having found him, she then has to remain with him, but bark in order to alert me as to their whereabouts.

The 'Casualty'
Finding someone who's happy (or daft) enough to lie around for ages on the cold wet ground pretending to be a casualty while Tess searches for them and the rain pours down and the wind howls through the forest is not an easy thing at the best of times, but I can usually find some poor unfortunate s*d to do the honours.

 
The Elf King
Unlike many of the elderly country folk of my boyhood,  I personally never sensed anything even remotely evil or malign about this riverside dweller.

"Listen to Those Tiny Bells...."

 "Snowdrops ringing their tiny white bells
Softer than the singing of the woodland Elves
Far and near
High and low
Listen to those tiny bells go....go....GO!"

(A playground skipping rhyme I remember being sung to the turn of the rope by country girls in spring during the early 1950s. Two girls would swing the rope while a third skipped. All three chanted the verse. Number three would then jump clear  on the final word, "GO!" just as a fourth girl leapt in to take her place. There were other verses for different spring flowers, including Crowtoes (Bluebells), Celandine, Daffodil and Primrose, though, sadly, I don;t remember how they went).

I guess, as far as most modern primary school age girls would be concerned, the best you could hope for would be a "skipping" App on their i-phone or perhaps a simulated skipping game on a wii, which I think is rather sad somehow.

Mill Avon, Tewkesbury

A Quite Extraordinary Winter Sunset on the 1st February, 2011

Conifer Silhouette

Mudpack


Spotted Otter at Otter Hotspot
It was here that Tess and I spotted an old dog Otter mooching along the left bank about thirty metres from us. It was barely dawn on the 17th January and because the slight breeze was in our favour and we both remained perfectly still, we managed to get quite a good sighting of it before it must have sensed we were there and suddenly slipped into the water without so much as a splash.

The following day was very sunny and remarkably mild for the time of year, we were again in the area and I saw my first Brimstone Butterfly of 2011, beating my previous earliest sighting by five days.

It's also nice to have seen a few clumps of Snowdrops here and there already plus a sprinkling or two of pioneering Aconites. Meanwhile, the first new leaves of spring are beginning to emerge all over the place (below) and at least two pairs of Blue Tits have begun inspecting various nest-boxes in my garden.

Emergence
Two Days of Mid-January Sunshine and It's Practically Spring Already!

Teazle Tangle

January Sunset

Window Strike
It was Tess who first noticed this tiny scrap of a Long-Tailed Tit sitting on the back patio. It must have collided with the glass door and knocked itself completely senseless. As with all such cases, I gathered it up, brought it indoors and placed it in a lidded box, potentially for a couple of hours. Usually, if such birds are going to show signs of recovery after a window strike, then it will be within that time, but if they remain unconscious or are still showing signs of severe disorientation, then the prognosis is unlikely to be good, though I do often extend the recovery time if I think there's any chance at all of the bird making a full recovery.

The good news is, that on this occasion, it soon became very apparent that "Little Titty" as I called her, was wide awake, fully compost mentis and desperate to be released. A few minutes later and after a final examination, she was winging her way to the top of the garden where she soon disappeared into the trees.

My only worry now is that she may not be able to find her winter flock and not survive as a result, though I think it's quite likely that she will. There are two such flocks in the immediate vicinity (probably family-orientated), one of eight birds and the other of seven. At night, they come together to roost as one large ball of beaks, tails and feathers in one of the Sparrow Terrace nesting compartments above my living-room window. They do this for both warmth and security, but then separate  into their two groups once again at dawn in order to spend the daylight hours travelling from village garden to village garden right through the harsh winter months in search of any suitable scraps of food put out for them by kindly humans like wot I are.

"Little Titty" shown here exactly as Tess found her on the patio. Although she looks ok in the picture, she was very dazed and completely unresponsive to me as I gathered her up to examine her more closely. Not even as big as a ping-pong ball and as fragile as something that's very fragile indeed, she needed to be handled properly and with considerable care lest my big fat, hairy hands with fingers like horribly mutated pinky-brown carrots should accidentally crush her. Fortunately, I've had a great deal of experience over the years when it comes to handling all sorts of tiny animals and so she was fine.

One of Several Redwings in My Garden
Not even a half decent picture, but took this by holding my pocket Ricoh to the eyepiece on my field telescope.

Let It Snow, Let It Snow, Let It Snow
It took just eight hours for 18cm of snow to fall in our neck of the woods today (18th December, 2010) and while virtually the whole of the UK ground to a halt, at least Tess had a thorughly enjoyable time romping about in it when my wife and daughter took her for a long walk across the fields.

In fact, we were due to take a delivery of on-line shopping this afternoon, but within two hours of the snow beginning to fall, all the roads surrounding the village were closed to traffic. As a result, I rang my isolated elderly folk to make sure that they were all ok and they were....apart from Mrs G who failed to pick up the phone.

Worried, I decided to ring a family who live only a quarter of a mile away from her and who once promised to check up on her whenever the weather turned nasty. The mum answered and, when I asked if anyone had looked in on Mrs G to see if she was ok, I was treated to a very terse reply, something to the effect that they'd all been very busy and, because they were unable to use their own vehicle due to the snow, no-one had been able to get up there.

Mmm....At this point, I suggested (rather foolishly as it turned out) that perhaps someone might possibly walk the 400 yards or so up the hill to Mrs G's house, but was told in no uncertain terms that, since it was snowing so heavily, it was hardly a good idea for anyone to go traipsing willy-nilly about the countryside! Oh....and besides, hadn't I heard the news on TV today telling people not to go out unless it was absolutely necessary! Then, when I just happened to mention that my wife and daughter had been out across our local fields for more than an hour with the dog without mishap, the woman simply put the phone down.

Oh well, I called Macca and he managed to drive from the outskirts of Swindon to within four miles of Mrs G's and then walked the rest. Mrs G was fine and dandy as it turned out, but hadn't heard my repeated efforts to ring her because the battery in her hearing aid had died. Without it, apparently, she's as deaf as something that's very, very deaf indeed!

Panic over then....Thanks to Macca, who says he'll get Mrs G a new battery (plus a spare) on Monday. As for the family that lives at the foot of Mrs G's hill, I just don't understand how people like them can be so uncaring and inconsiderate when it matters the most....and why did they bother to offer to do something in the first place if they weren't prepered to see it through ? Sign of the times I guess.

Mirror Mirror

November Gold

Strong Autumnal Colours
This has been one of the most spectacular Autumns in terms of colour in living memory.

 
Sunset Reflections

Michael....A Soldier’s Story
on Remembrance Sunday 2010

Michael lives in rural Gloucestershire. He is twenty-eight and was a soldier for five years. He enlisted in the Army on the very day he left school at eighteen and loved almost every minute of his time in the Forces....Until that is, an explosion deprived him of three fingers on his left hand, the sight in his left eye and the ability to stand perfectly upright any more. He was also left with certain psychological issues, the most debilitating of which (in a day to day sense) being a desperate fear of the out of doors, particularly of wide open spaces.

I’ve known Michael’s family since I was a boy. The father left home when Michael was too young to later remember him, while older brother, Paul, was killed in a motor-cycle accident in 1999. I personally believe that Michael’s decision to enlist shortly after Paul’s death was closely linked to the tragedy.

I also think it’s possible that my subsequent involvement with Michael and his mother (now in her seventies) has been due in part, to the possible empathy I continue to feel for the situation that Michael now finds himself in and its uncanny similarity to my own following the death of Ellie more than thirty-four years ago.

Well, be that as it may, I’ve done my best to keep watch over the two of them in recent years by dropping in to see them once in a while and particularly since Michael was admitted to hospital earlier this year suffering with chronic liver failure. They have no other family in the area worth a spit and very few friends and, as Mum can’t get around too easily any more either, I was just about the only person available to drive her to and from the hospital at visiting times after Michael had been admitted.

You’d be right to assume that Michael’s liver problems are due to excessive drinking and perhaps it’s not surprising that he turned to drink so readily after so much had gone wrong in his life. I guess the multiple injuries caused by the explosion pretty much sealed his fate. Explosives don’t just shatter bodies, they destroy minds as well. Hopes, aspirations, ambitions....gone in a single instant. The sheer joy born of a vibrant young life....just vaporised!

Yet, for Michael, his spell in hospital may well have been his saviour. You see, before the operation to remove more than a third of his liver, the surgeon quietly informed him that, even if such drastic surgery was a success, it was highly unlikely that he would survive until the end of the year. Basically, if he continued knocking back the booze, he'd be dead in months for certain!

Now, there's no doubt that fear can be a great motivator at times and, to his credit, it’s been more than three months since Michael has even smelled alcohol let alone tasted it. I know he finds it very tough going, but for the first time since returning to civi-street, Michael is trying very hard to get his life back on track. I even managed to persuade the Boss to get him a few sessions with my shrink and, as a result of that, Michael’s managing to get out and about on his own for short periods.

Things might be looking up then for Michael, if he can only manage to hold all the broken pieces of his life together long enough for the glue to set. However, I got a panicky phone call from Michael’s mum a couple of weeks ago to say that Michael had decided to go for a longer walk than usual across the hills, but had failed to come home after nearly two hours and, considering he'd only managed half an hour out in the open prior to that, she was naturally very concerned....In fact, she was desperately worried and in tears down the phone.

I told her to wait indoors and not to go looking for him because I’d be there soon and I didn’t want to be searching for the both of them. Anyway, I arrived after about twenty minutes and Tess managed to find Michael in slightly less than that. He’d obviously overdone it a bit though and we found him sitting on a wall about a mile and a half from home. He was holding his side and apparently in a fair amount of pain.

He was also very apologetic and obviously more than a little embarrassed. He was very angry with himself  as well for being such a burden. I quickly pointed out that less than six months ago he couldn’t have even stepped out of the house let alone get far enough across the hills to need rescuing. Equally, it was obvious that he was progressing physically at a pace as well and, at that rate, another six months would see him jogging across the hills, let alone walking.

After that, he seemed to cheer up a bit and even insisted upon walking all the way back....Though it took a while.

The thing is, Michael was always extremely fit and healthy and excelled as a cross-country runner in his younger teenage years. He also excelled as a runner during his time in the Army and represented his regiment in various distance races. His injuries put an end to all that, however, and I should imagine the sudden loss of it as an outlet to life's pressures probably turned out to be more important to him than he realised.

Anyway, he’s planning to come walking with Tess and me as soon as he feels strong enough and confident enough and I’m not about to let him renege on his intention to do so, but my point in writing this piece is more to do with highlighting the fact that Remembrance Sunday is not just about those who have made the ultimate sacrifice, but that it’s equally about the Michaels of this world whose lives have been completely derailed by the horrific things that have happened to them or by things they have seen happen to their friends and colleagues.

A couple of years ago, I wrote about Alan and, before that, about my old oppo, "Doc" and their stories are still to be found on one or other of my websites. Michael is a similar case to them in many respects due to the fact that all three men turned to drink as their salvation simply because they felt utterly alone in the world and completely trapped. Nor was there any significantly specialist help available to them at a time when, perhaps, they needed it the most.

These days however, the problems that face our physically scarred and mentally traumatised young former service men and women when they return to civi-street are more readily recognised for the damage they can continue to inflict for years afterwards and organisations such as the Royal British Legion, St Dunstans, Help for Heroes, Troop Aid and many others are there to help them pick up the pieces and even to provide some of the cement they so desperately need to rebuild their lives.

....and, for me at least, that’s precisely why Remembrance Day continues to be so vitally important....Yes, to remember and pay special tribute to all those who gave their lives in so many conflicts down the years, but also to remember the hundreds of thousands of predominantly young men and women who, despite surviving such conflicts, have nevertheless had their lives comatosed so profoundly by physical and mental catastrophe that many of them need all the help we can give them to completely reinvent themselves before they too, often because of chronic depression, make their own kind of ultimate sacrifice as they drink or drug themselves towards a slower, but equally inevitable a death as their fallen comrades on the battlefield.

Quite simply then, these young men and women need our help now more than ever and we should be there for them in order to provide all the meaningful assistance we can manage in whatever way that's available to us.

Remember most of all however, it's not just about caring on one day of the year, it's about caring every single day of all the years to come.

Four Days (and Nights) in Deepest, Darkest Worcestershire
....and it got pretty windy too up there in them thar hills! Meanwhile, I have hundreds of photos to sort out first, but I shall be uploading a few of them onto the "Working Close to Home" page as soon as possible.

Autumn Bramble....with Post Prominent

Prepared for Sleep....The Peasant's Rede....

That land which smiles in vision fair
As though her heart inspired the whole
Hath yet this council for our care
She must awake to find her soul

Leaf Pattern IV

Philosophy of the Quiet Hour

Late October Sunset

Shake

Leaf Pattern III

Autumn Light

The Old Canal Bridge
For those of you already pining for summer, here's one I took earlier, way back in June in fact, out near Sapperton.

Which Side of the Wall?
One of Tess's favourite "games" involves me hiding a whole bunch of different items for her to sniff out and find along both sides of a quarter mile or so stretch of wall.

Leaf Pattern II


Leaf Pattern I

A Perfect Day in a Perfect River Valley
There are only about five or six of them in any single year....Days when the weather is absolutely perfect....and, while most of them tend to occur in May and/or September (my two favourite months), this one happened on 7th October, 2010.

It was pleasantly warm, yet the air was crisp. A gentle breeze blew out of the south-west, caressing the landscape and swaying the branches of the trees whose leaves were only just beginning to adopt their autumn hues.

Add to that the fact that such a gloriously beautiful day just happened to coincide with Tess and me doing ranger stuff along the length (and back) of one of my absolute top ten favouritist walks in the entire world and you might begin to understand why I decided to take so many photographs, many of which I've now uploaded onto the "Assorted" page of this website.

Wild Rose berries
....Like loada little red balloons.

Through the Elderberry Tree

Autumn Cometh

Ever-Ready
Not for one single moment from dawn to dusk, does she show anything other than total
enthusiasm for what we do.

Two Ewes
This is the first picture I've taken in months that I actually like....and I take a heck of a lot of photos.

Female Dark Bush-Cricket
....Note the impressive ovipositor. DBCs are becoming increasingly scarce in the UK, but can still occasionally be found (or more likely heard) amidst the rough vegetation of such places as woodland clearings. This particular specimen, by the way, appeared to be quite content as she indulged herself in a spot of sun-bathing in a Herefordshire woodland.

The Last Hill Before Home

Common Green Grasshopper
....I think and probably a male because the females are nearly always green on top.

Solar
One of my Daughter's home-grown sunflowers. Although she's eighteen and possibly considered by many to be the "wrong" age, she gets enormous pleasure  from growing her own modest quantities of seed plants, fruit and vegetables, including this year, sunflowers, tomatoes, green peppers, strawberries and a wide variety of herbs. Today, she picked apples from our own tree and added them to blackberries she gathered from hedgerows just across the road and made the most delicious apple and blackberry crumble....The last of which I've just high-jacked from the fridge and will finish off any minute now!

Cotswold View

A place where ancient stones
Organic-like
Snake their way across the land

Common Blue
How do you convince a highly specialist, but frighteningly naive group of comparatively young adults that the countryside or the wilderness and all it contains will be their greatest ally if only they can learn to utilise and not exploit it? How do you show them just a fraction of something that has taken you a lifetime to learn yourself, but still manage to make them believe that what you are getting them to do is of far greater value than months of more conventional training methods? How, for example, do you succeed in convincing the "Must Have it Now Generation" that by moving as slowly, as stealthily and as deliberately as possible through waist-high undergrowth and along hedgerows with camera in hand in order to take macro photographs of ultra-sensitive species of newly emerged Butterfly, they will eventually develop a far greater sense of internal focus and outward awareness. Most importantly, how do you distract from the Zen-ness of "The Way" I and others like me were taught to do things back in the day, yet not lose the full value of the lesson to the immediacy of need?

I gathered them around me....

"Many years ago at the Nippon Coastguard do-jo in Kobe, Sensei Nishiyama (with his usual fondness for telling a story at the end of the toughest of his sessions and when all we wanted to do was simply curl up and die), told us how, once upon a time, the greatest swordsman in all of Japan was challenged to a duel by two strangers. At first he declined, but they persisted for many days, often taunting him by calling him a coward. Finally, the master swordsman accepted the challenge, but insisted that the fight should take place on a small, secluded island situated a mile or so out to sea where they would not be disturbed. The challengers were keen to agree and the three of them rowed to the island at dawn the following day where the Master demanded that the two challengers be the first to get out of the boat. This they did, but then the master quickly pushed the boat back out to sea and returned to the mainland, leaving the two angry challengers completely stranded.

"....and that" explained Sensei Nishiyama, "is why the Master was and probably always will be Japan's greatest ever swordsman!"

They stared at me, uncertain how to react.

"Sometimes, the art of fighting" I continued, "is about not fighting and the art of winning is somehow more about not losing.

I paused momentarily to give my words time to bounce off the inevitable thick hide of  youthful non-comprehension.

"Sadly," I went on, "you all failed to get your cameras within the inch required of any Butterflies whatsoever in order to get the results you were hoping for. However, I'm guessing that you have at least learned that, despite all your technical and physical training, your resolve and your determination, you have been continually outwitted today by nothing more than common Butterflies. The main reason for that being that every one of you approached the exercise far too competitively. You wanted not just to take better photographs than anyone else, but to mentally challenge and defeat each Butterfly you encountered. As a result, you made it easy for the Butterflies to leave you stranded, as it were, on your own island of over-ambition and misplaced self-confidence.  That's all for today ladies and gentlemen. I suggest you think about it"

Most of them simply gawped at me, while a few just shrugged their shoulders or shook their heads. Several of them however, came up to me after the session was over to ask me about my tour in Japan, to thank me for my time and to say that, for the first time in their relentlessly heavy training schedules, they felt that they had been given something to think about beyond that which had been expected of them thus far and that by the time I returned to work with them again, they would have lots of really good Butterfly photographs to show me.

....We'll see.

Common Blue

Bredon Hill in the Far Distance

Common Field Grasshopper
....Except that it was a particularly large example if that's really what it was.

Two Blues
I take my wife every year  to see clusters of the increasingly hard to find Chicory (above) and the now quite scarce Cornflower (below) in bloom in a handful of secluded corners in a few Cotswold fields in out of the way places. They are two of her absolute favourite wild flower species....and mine too.

Blue Adept

Wheat-Field Under Threatening Skies....Without Crows

Above and Below....Brown Argus
What I mistakenly took to be a female Common Blue at first glance, it's always a delight to see these beautiful little Butterflies, though photographing them is usually quite tricky because they tend to be extremely aware of what's going on around and about....plus I have to get within an inch of them with my little pointy-shooty camera set on macro to get shots like these.

"Mmm....Thistle"

Fledgling Swallow
The owners of the small caravan site we stayed at while down on the North Cornish coast in July were lucky enough to have a pair of Swallows nesting in their garage/workshop. I think there may have been five youngsters altogether who all decided to fledge while we were there. Unfortunately, three of the five managed to trap themselves on the sill of the small workshop window where their repeated efforts to escape were being continually frustrated by the glass. Seeing a possible solution to the problem that wouldn't result in any of the birds coming to harm, I asked the owners if I could take a picture or two of the bewildered little birds, guessing that, by approaching the window from the outside, all three would retreat inside and then head outside via the open doors....which is exactly what happened and was much better that trying to coax the birds into the open from within the workshop itself.

    Interestingly, while all this was going on, the adult male Swallow had become very agitated and attempted to dive-bomb me several times. Not only that, but he continued to dive-bomb me the rest of the week or at least every time I walked across the drive from my van to the loo block and back. In fact, he became so good at it that he was able to swoop close enough to brush against my hair on several occasions! It was obvious he saw me as some kind of a villain and decided that I was a plausible threat to his family, despite the fact that I'd actually prevented his youngsters from harming themselves. It was also clear that he was an older than average Swallow and quite a big one as well, probably being one of the leader types who are known to take charge of up to a hundred less capable Swallows during migrations. Nevertheless, I decided to call him "ASBO" for the remainder of the time we were there.

A Fairly Tough All-Day Walk, but The Best One of the Week
....and less than a mile back to the van. There are more pictures of our week in Crackington on the "Working Away from Home" page.

Pit-Stop in Higher Crackington
For a Labrador, Tess was demonstrating enormous self-discipline despite the fact that she'd already scoffed more than half my 99....Probably around 77 of it!

Eggs and Bacon

Peregrine Portrait

....His she night-errant
That acts in air the bloody tyrant
While quick wing, fierce beak and claws
She breaks divine and human laws
Ne'er pleased, but with the hearts and livers
Of patricks. teals, muir-powts and plivers

(Ramsay)

Silver-Washed Fritillary
I spotted three of these extremely scarce Argynnis feeding in the sunshine on their beloved bramble flowers at the edge of a wooded area not far from St Genny's in North Cornwall in mid July 2010. It was very difficult to get even a half decent picture however, as they were deep in the bramble bushes and completely inaccessible.

Creeping Thistle

Shield Bug
Resplendent in its highly fashionable leather-look armour, this is one of the thousands of species of Shield Bugs I'm still not able to identify with any certainty. Most notable feature with this specimen however, appears to be its M-shaped rather than the more common V-shaped scutellum. Oh....and yes, it did emit a bit of a defensive pong when I attempted to touch it....An odour not entirely dissimilar to that given off by my first girlfriend, Belinda Bigginbottom, under similar circumstances.

Nest-Box Wasp's Nest
Try saying that five times quickly! Meanwhile, I've watched this incredible tissue-thin structure slowly balloon beyond the confines of the old Robin's nest-box situated on the fence at the top of the garden and been amazed at the sheer architectural genius of it. I've also allowed it to remain in-situ, fully confident that if I leave the Wasps to get on with their lives then they wont bother me. In fact, the nest itself is situated just a couple of metres from where I like to sit in my deck chair and read my book on sunny evenings and its from there that I've watched with fascination all the comings and goings of the worker and soldier Wasps.

Wasps are renowned for taking up residence in the most unusual of places and bird nest-boxes are always a popular choice. This is the fifth Wasp's nest to be built in nest-boxes in my garden in the last eighteen years and I can honestly say that none of them have ever been any trouble simply because I leave them alone.

Hardheads aka Black Knapweed
Yes, I thought it was Greater Knapweed too at first, but overlapping bracts on the flower heads, the deeply grooved stems and the larger elongated leaves all point to Hardheads.

Above and below....Water-Crowfoot
The "Common" variety I think, though there are nine different types.

Water Baby

Germander Speedwell
Aka "Bird's-Eye Speedwell", "Blue Bird's Eye" and "Break-Your-Mother's-Heart"....The latter name coming about because of the plant's heart-shaped fruits which look much like those of Shepherd's Purse.

Digitalis

"True to the Kindred Points of Heaven and Home"