Showing posts with label Small White. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Small White. Show all posts

Tuesday, 2 October 2018

The Oldest Saint


As I dropped down onto the Lasithi Plateau a Buzzard launched itself from a telegraph pole, narrowly missed my windshield and crashed into the undergrowth to my left where it had obviously spotted its unwary breakfast. That was a good omen as I was taking my little group of intrepid strollers to the heights above Agios Charalampos to look for Grifon Vultures. The saint, after whom the village is named, was reputedly 114 years old when he was martyred for his Christian preaching in the 3rd century, thus making him the oldest saint and his claim to fame was that, whilst being tortured, one of his torturers arms miraculously fell off and another had his head put on backwards. I think that I am more inclined to believe in Betty's black snake but more of that later.



As our little band negotiated the steep, narrow alleyways through the village and emerged on the hillside above the plateau we did indeed see Grifon Vultures and other high flying birds but it was the smaller passerines that really brought the day alive, particularly the flocks of Goldfinch. These birds are resident here in Crete but in the autumn they gather in flocks, their numbers swollen by birds migrating south from eastern Europe. As we exited the top of the village however, it was domestic fowl that caught the ever observant Betty's eye.


Oh, look,” she said, looking up to where a group of birds were admonishing us from their pen on top of a house “turkeys!”

Actually,' I said, not wishing to dampen her enthusiasm, “I think you'll find that they are guinea fowl.”

They're too tall for guinea fowl,” Betty challenged.

They're standing on the roof,” I pointed out.



Meanwhile, back to the chaffinch. The tall plant upon which she is perched is a Wavyleaf Mullein and the landscape was littered with them in various stages of life. Apart from providing staging posts for the goldfinches, leaf warblers, stonechats and sparrows, all of which were gaily flitting about on this fine autumn morning, I noticed that one had also attracted a tachinid fly. Not the nicest of flies; their maggots chew their way into unsuspecting caterpillars and eat them slowly from the inside, making sure to keep them alive as they do so, until they are almost ready to leave their host. At this point they feed indiscriminately, the caterpillar dies and the maggot wanders off to pupate in the ground without so much as a by-your-leave.



Caterpillars that are not devoured from within eventually become butterflies, of course, and these were dancing around at our feet, enjoying the nectar rich Sweet Scabious that grew by the side of the track. The name of the plant derives from the fact that it was used to treat scabies (an itchy rash caused by a mite infestation under the skin) in the middle ages. The Small White butterfly is a male which has only one spot on each forewing whereas the female has two. The other butterfly is the amazing Painted Lady which, although resident here, occurs in larger numbers in autumn and winter like the Goldfinches and the reason is the same: they migrate. Over six generations they make an incredible 9,000 mile round trip from Africa to the Arctic and back (see Secrets of Painted Lady migration revealed ).




Noticing a sign at the side of the road pointing the way to the Cave of Charalampos, Bert decided to go and investigate. Seeing her loving husband peering into what appeared to be a very large hole in the ground Betty thought that she had better go and join him to 'make sure he doesn't fall in' (at least, I think that she said doesn't). I trailed on behind, pausing to take a photograph of an old friend, Chorthippus bornhalmi. The 'cave' turned out to be a rather unimpressive hole in the ground. Presumably the roof had caved in since the 18th century BC when it was a seven chambered ossuary. Besides the bones, archaeologists also found clay figurines and musical rattles called sistra about which, I expect, they got very excited.


Having quickly exhausted the thrill of the cave I took to my favourite hobby; rock flipping (there used to be an annual rock flipping day but it seems to have died a death in 2009) and discovered a lovely little Green Toad.

Amphibians and reptiles are often put together,” said Bert, getting down to take a closer look, “is that because they are closely related?”

The toad and Bert looked at each other with mutual interest whist I wracked my brains to remember who evolved when.

Yes,” I replied, “Amphibians evolved from the early fish and have both lungs and gills. Reptiles are an offshoot of Amphibians and have only lungs. Mammals, such as ourselves, and later, Birds, are offshoots of reptiles.”

Talking of reptiles,” interjected Betty, “I saw a huge black snake here on Crete once and I was told that it must have escaped from a private collection. What do you think?”

How big is huge?” I asked.

About two inches in diameter,” she indicated, joining thumb and forefinger together, “and it stretched all across the road with its head disappearing into the undergrowth on one side of the road and its tail out of sight on the other side.”

Not one of the four Cretan snakes,” I ventured “but I know what it sounds like.”

What?” asked Bert, carefully replacing the stone over the now disgruntled toad.

A black plastic water pipe.”

It wasn't a water pipe,” said Betty, indignantly, “it moved”.

They can be quite lively,” I explained, “if they get an air lock.”

Betty was not convinced and I had to confess that, not being familiar with all the snakes in the world, an escapee remained a plausible alternative.





The Taverna Bit



Thanks to all at Spani's Taverna in Charalampos who hastily rearranged their restaurant furniture when we descended upon them en masse and they also provided an excellent menu. The barbecued chicken and roast potatoes were beautiful.



Diary Dates


Stroll #3
Sunday 7th October
11 am
Kroustas Forest








A mushrooming we will go (and hopefully find many more interesting things besides). Here and above are the maps. Take the Kroustas - Prina road and look for the only yellow litter bin on that road. See you on Sunday










Stroll #4
Sunday 14th October
11 am
Almyros Wetlands
(Details next week)

Not Just For Twisted Women by Steve Daniels 

A light-hearted look at life through the eyes of the fairer sex. 

Kindle Edition 1.99 pounds sterling (or equivalent).


Paperback edition will be available in time for Christmas.

Read snippets, samples and stuff at Steve's Books





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Explore the region with the #CreteNature interactive Hiking and Nature Map



Wednesday, 25 November 2015

The End of Civilisation


Blue-winged Grasshopper, Oedipoda caerulescens

Here we are, back at the point where we regained the trail last week, and it looks as though we have a fairly easy stroll ahead of us today. I see that we have some grasshoppers for company. These are blue winged grasshoppers as you can see by the flash of their hind wings as they fly but watch as they land. Notice the way that they immediately turn to face the way they came? Both the red and blue winged grasshoppers do this and I think that the reason may be a classic case of misdirection as used by stage magicians throughout the centuries. The magician stands before you with an object in hand, closes and opens his fist and Hey Presto! The object has disappeared. He has, of course, thrown it over your head but as your attention is drawn towards him by his patter you fail to notice. Now the bright flash of the grasshopper wing is very followable with the eye and even though the camouflage of the grasshopper at rest makes it difficult to spot when it lands, a succession of jumps in roughly the same direction would make it easy for a predator to follow, predict and finally capture the insect. If, on the other hand, the grasshopper turns on landing and then jumps back over the predators head then there would be a flash of wing and Hey presto! No grasshopper. I’ve always thought they were rather magical creatures.
Sticky Fleabane, Dittrichia



Those of you with keen nostrils may have noticed a somewhat unpleasant smell pervading the locality. The culprit is this yellow flowered plant here called Sticky Fleabane amongst other names. The smell is due to a volatile oil that it produces and in North Africa they boil the branches in cooking oil and use it to treat sun stroke. Elsewhere various concoctions have been produced to counter everything from hangovers to malaria. 

Despite the smell, or possibly because of it, the Small White and Painted Lady butterflies seem to love it as do the Honey Bees and Hover Flies. The Hornets and the Blue Butterflies seem to prefer the Ivy just coming into flower over there.





Pomegranate with Orange, Tangerine and Lemon inset
Choices, choices. It seems that the main track crosses the stream bed at this point and leads up out of the valley but there appears to be an alternative path through this citrus grove. The reason we’ve been confined to either the track or the stream bed thus far on our travels is that this lower part of the valley is quite intensively farmed and most of the small plots have been fenced off which is unusual in these parts. This one however seems to allow us access (keep your paws off the fruit – I saw you) and what a beautiful display of oranges, tangerines, lemons and a magnificent pomegranate (not a citrus fruit incidentally but more closely related to the Myrtle which we were looking at last week). Even to my nose it smells a lot pleasanter here than by that sticky fleabane and those ripening citrus fruits means that marmalade making time is nearly upon us once again. I preserve mine with Metaxa brandy – delicious on crisply buttered toast with a cup of Lapsang Souchong on a cold winter’s day.



Darkling Beetle, Tenebrionidae
Interesting though orchards are I feel sure that more excitement awaits us further up the valley and it would appear that we have now reached the end of civilisation. The valley is narrowing into a ravine and the pomegranate was the last of the fruit trees. There is a face in the rocks up there that doesn’t look at all welcoming and the rocks are guarded by sinister Darkling Beetles. I think that we’re about to enter Indiana Jones territory – keep your bullwhip handy. Darkling Beetles, by the way, are one of the largest of the beetle families with an estimated twenty thousand species. They don’t look very friendly but they’re perfectly harmless and won’t nip you if you handle them gently.

Cup Fungi, Resupinatus
I’ve found a little stone aqueduct that will serve as a crossing to the other bank where I believe we’ll make more progress. Watch your step as there’s a cunningly placed rock in the centre ready to hurtle you to your doom below. Safely over? Good. Give me a hand with this rotting log and let’s see what we can find underneath. What  a beautiful expanse of cup fungi. These are saprotrophic (meaning that they feed upon dead matter) and they secrete digestive enzymes directly into the wood in order to do so. Their spores are formed on the surface of the cups so they feed from the bottom and reproduce from the top as it were. I think that they’re rather attractive although other members of the family are more colourful. We’ll cover them up again as I daresay that they’re somebody’s larder.

There isn’t an obvious path from here on in so we’ll leave it for this week and come back with stout walking gear next week. Until then – happy hunting.

See all the pictures including insets in detail on Flickr



 

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