Richard Bell's nature sketchbook since 1998
A warbler signs its scratchy song from the branches of a willow at the balancing ponds at Alverthorpe Meadows. I record it to check out the song later but on my recording its drowned out by a louder, more melodious blackbird.
The warbler is very plain, so we’re torn between garden warbler and whitethroat. We need to get a closer look . . . and a clearer recording
Of course I’ll draw them when they’re in flower, but I like foxgloves at this stage, with the cluster of flower buds beginning to unfurl.
My company as I draw this on my wild flower patch at the end of the garden includes a female sparrow picking over the wood chip path, a blackbird singing behind me over the hedge, a dunnock giving its hurried trill and a jumping spider checking out my legs. I’m wearing shorts so I can track its progress over my hairy legs without looking up from my drawing, so I miss its daring leap from knee to knee.
The rosette of leaves at the foot of the plant also makes an interesting subject. But I will draw those flowers as they appear over the next few weeks.
The first day of meteorological summer seems as good a time as any to try and get back to writing a regular nature diary and the day got off to a good start because we had a pair of bullfinches on the sunflower heart feeders. No sign of young yet, or of the female disappearing as she sits on the eggs.
It’s a different story for the blue tits in nestbox on our patio, they’re at the busiest phase of rearing chicks, the male has a routine of bringing in a small green caterpillar, feeding the young, then taking a break to nibble a sunflower heart from the bird feeder before flying off towards the wood again. During the whole process he and his mate are in a state of wing-quivering excitement, blue crests rising as they look around for any potential danger.
With ‘No Mow May’ drawing to a close, it’s time to count the flowers that have sprung up on our front lawn. I throw a small chunk of wood over my shoulder to randomly select my square metre sample.
Results: 8 daisies, 2 common mouse-ear and 75 germander speedwell flowers.
Plantlife calculate that, taking this as an average for my 14.4 square metre lawn, the flowers are producing 1.7 milligrams of nectar per square metre, enough to support 2 bees across the entire lawn.
Let’s hope that I can improve on that with next year’s ‘Every Flower Counts’ survey.
In Old English, ‘tōta’ was a look-out post, which is appropriate for the hamlet of Totties, perched on the hill overlooking New Mill.
Christ Church, New Mill, built in 1830 was designed in gothic revival style by Peter Atkinson.
Drawn, during our latte and scone break, from Totties Garden Centre, one of two garden centres in the village.
Note: Slimer & Shelley have now been relocated to the other side of the hedge, following their night raid on the climbing French beans.
I’m saying with flowers for Sofia, who becomes a teenager today.
Flower number three is a bit of a tribute to Burt Lahr, the Cowardly Lion in The Wizard of Oz:
I’m afraid there’s no denying
I’m just a dandy lion,
A fate I don’t deserveBut I could show my prowess
Yip Harburg (lyrics), ‘If I only had the Nerve’, ‘The Wizard of Oz’
Be a lion, not a mouse
If I only had the nerve.
My peppers are more than ready for potting on but I wanted to draw this Sun Spurge, Euphorbia helioscopia, now going to seed, before I do that. I took the soil for the peppers from the greenhouse, so it’s not surprising that this sprouted. Spurge ‘bribes’ ants to disperse its seed by tempting them with oil-rich attachments – elaiosomes – which the ants or their larvae eat before discarding the seed.
Like all euphorbias, as a deterrent to herbivores, the Sun Spurge has milky, latex sap that can cause irritation.
Newmillerdam Lake, War Memorial, Monday, 24 May, 2021, 10.50 a.m., 63℉, 7℃, 80% cloud: A coot swims to the shore and immediately sees off two snoozing mallard drakes. It preens and pods about a bit then goes back to the lake.
Two pairs of pink-footed goose come ashore, each with a single gosling.
Two weeks ago I drew the coot on the nest by the outlet sitting on eggs, last week there were about eight chicks and this week the nest is empty, with no sign of any addled eggs left behind. Nearer the war memorial there’s a coot still sitting on its nest, no sign of chicks peeping out as we passed.
I’d forgotten that in my last year at Junior School, I’d produced this Cecil B. de Mille inspired version of The Book of Exodus.
Growing up in a then rather grimy pre-smokeless zone little town, with our regular entertainment provided by a 12 inch Bush black and white 405 line television, it’s hard to exaggerate the impact that seeing Biblical epics like The Ten Commandments had on me.
