Showing posts with label Woodlouse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Woodlouse. Show all posts

Wednesday, 1 June 2022

Beautiful Barrow-in-Furness


Okay, so beautiful is not the first adjective that springs to mind when you conjure up an image of Barrow-in-Furness, but like most industrial northern towns, it is not without its charms. There is some stunning architecture to be seen, tranquil waterways, and the wildlife has, um shall we say, character. In truth, apart from the occasional “are-you-lookin'-at-me?!” stare, the seagulls gave us no problems at all. I say 'seagull' but scientifically, there is no such bird. This one, for instance, is one of the Large White-headed Gulls of the genus Larus. Probably a Herring Gull, but possibly a Lesser, or Greater, Black-backed Gull. We can't see quite enough detail to be sure and it's difficult to determine the size of a single gull.






When it comes to heavy industry, it doesn't come much heavier than building nuclear submarines and the massive BAE Systems building dominates the town. Barrow has been building and launching submarines since 1886 and a wander around The Dock Museum (the triangular building, centre) gives a fascinating insight into this little known industry. But back to those gulls. They are carnivores and scavengers, and one of the reasons they appear to be aggressive is that we delight in feeding them. Consequently, they associate humans with food, and don't really care whether you agree with them or not. However, when they're not pinching your chips, they're quite happy to find their own food such as this whelk which I picked up just round the corner from here. There's a lovely promenade walk just behind us, so let's see what else we can find.



That's a nice stand of Rosemary just there, being pollinated by a carder bee. Rosemary is the herb of remembrance and, for us British at least, forever associated with roast lamb. Personally, my favourite way of using it is in Goat Chops & Rosemary Casserole, the recipe for which you can find in Steve's Wild Kitchen. Carder Bees, (who's name derives from the trade of carding, or combing, wool), comb material into their nests to protect their developing larvae. These days, a carder is someone who steals information from your credit cards. A carder bee has never been known to do this. They are quite easy to recognise from their bright orange thorax. The only other British Bumblebee to share this feature is the Tree Bumblebee which has a white bottom.



Looking out across the water, we have a good view of Walney Island, a small sliver of land that boasts two nature reserves, which we must definitely visit at some point in the future. Meanwhile, back on this side of the water we have a Pill Woodlouse. Not an insect (far too many legs and no wings), but an Isopod. Isopods have 7 pairs of legs and 11 body segments and most of them live in the water, but woodlice are one of the few that are terrestrial. In America, children keep them as pets. They are covered on pages 66 and 67 of The Quick Guide to Creepy-Crawlies. And talking of books, here are a couple more suggestions for your nature library. 


Paperback £15.38 Kindle £13.00


Hardback £7.99 Paperback £4.50

Paperback £14.99

Build Your Own Nature Library


Next week, we're off to the Isle of Arran for a few days, so I'll tell you all about it when we get back. (I see that Mattie has got in before me with this announcement – see Mattie's Page).


All the best,


Steve





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Wednesday, 25 January 2017

The Milonas Gorge




I think that I may have lulled you into a false sense of security last week with all that beauty in Where Three Valleys Meet. Not that this week’s stage of the journey is any less beautiful but it will require a head for heights and nerves of steel in places. You have been warned! Those three mountain streams that were gently carving out valleys have now got together and their combined force has carved through the limestone like a knife through butter and we’re going to try and get through there. If you’re up for it, follow me.








Not surprisingly, as we enter this damp, almost subterranean gloom, we have fungi. The creamy brown jobs running up the length of this fallen tree are of the Crepidotus genus which is based upon the Greek for cracked ear. Many different species have been described in the past but modern phylogenetic analysis has shown that the same species can show different growth forms depending upon where they are growing. Essentially, like us humans, they can look very different but underneath they’re all the same. The gorgeous little yellow fellow is a wax cap of the Hygrocybe genus and these are rather unusual in that recent research has shown that they seem to have a symbiotic relationship with mosses and other bryophytes. As usual we are constantly discovering new ways in which elements of nature are working together.



I think we need to do a bit of climbing here. If you’d like to flip a few rocks I’m just going to shin up this overhanging pine and spy out our route. What have you got there? One grey and one orange woodlouse. Why? I believe that it is down to a genetic variation. The orange one, being more conspicuous, is more likely to be predated and so the grey form predominates. Did you know that the woodlouse is one of the true blue bloods of the animal world? Instead of having rich, red haemoglobin in their blood (see How To Get Blood Out Of A Stone) they have haemocycanin  that  uses copper to bind with oxygen instead of iron and their oxygenated blood is blue... um, you could have just taken my word for it.

We seem to have reached a little shelf where we can sit and catch our breath for a minute. Which is just as well as the next part looks a bit strenuous. The sea squills are just beginning to push their dark green leaves up from their bulbs and we have quite a swathe of little buttercups. We have over twenty species of buttercup on Crete and the distinctive leaves of these tell us that these particular ones are Ranunculus bullatus (subspecies cytheraeus if you want to be really precise). And where we have flowers we now have a beetle. These delightfully furry Tropinota flower chafers will be all over the place in a month or two’s time but this one seems to be taking advantage of an early harvest.

Now for the hairy bit. I did warn you but before we risk life and limb have you noticed the crag martins dancing through the gorge? You normally find them at this altitude and above but this winter I’ve seen them down by the beach. We always think of bird migration as a long distance affair but some birds are mini migrators – just a few kilometres north to south or from higher to lower altitudes.  Rock thrushes and even ravens tend to move down from the mountains in cold weather round here whereas white wagtails move up from the beaches where they bum around in the summer and head for the shelter of the olive groves. If you’re ready we’ll crawl along this little ledge and then scramble our way to the top. My, but it’s a long way down. I’m not sure that your humming the theme from Indiana Jones in my ear is helping.

The Extra Bit

You have to admit that the view from the top was worth the knee-trembling climb. The whole of the lower valley stretched out before us. All we have to do now is find a way to get down there.

I'll be popping back and forth between Crete and Athens over the next few weeks so please bear with me if I'm a bit slow in answering your correspondence. SD



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LINKS:
Naturalists (the facebook page that accompanies this blog)
See detailed pictures at http://www.inaturalist.org/login  (search - people-stevedaniels-observations)
The Nature of Crete  (Flipboard Magazine)



Wednesday, 23 December 2015

East of Eden


Crown Daisies, Mustard and Bumble Bee

The solstice has passed, the festive season is upon us and so I thought that as we
couldn’t get down into the valley from the west side last week we’d have a short, exploratory walk today and see if we can get  in from the east. The sun is shining and the crown daisies, corn marigolds and mustards are blooming.  After our unexpected encounter with a highly venomous scorpion last time I fancy something a little more peaceful this week. And almost immediately we have a lovely lady on hand in the shape of a humble bumblebee. We know them as bumblebees now and have done since the sixteenth century but before that they were humblebees and before that dumbledor(e)s although that tended to be used for any large, slow, buzzing insect. The buzzing has a practical purpose other than letting you know that they are there; it shakes the pollen from the flowers, a technique called sonication. The frequency has to be just right which means that the large bumblebees can sonicate but the smaller honey bees cannot.

Apothecia
Now this is interesting, what’s going on here? This patch of lichen on the rocks appears to have tiny cup mushrooms growing out of it. I do believe that we are privileged voyeurs on the sex life of a lichen. As you know lichens are algae or cyanobacteria and fungi which live together (see A Kingdom in the Pine Woods). Many lichens reproduce simply by bits breaking off and starting a new patch where they land but some, like this one, reproduce sexually. What we’re looking at here are the reproductive parts of the fungal bit of the lichen (called apothecia). These will produce spores and these spores have a bit of a quest on their hands. They have to float about in the wind until they chance upon a compatible partner before they can form new lichen. Although we know that plants have their own Internet (see The Misty Thripti Mountains), as far as I know lichens have yet to develop an Internet dating app -  although most things that we humans think that we have invented generally tend to have been in use by other organisms for millions of years so I wouldn’t be surprised if some equivalent exists.




Ribwort Plantain, Plantago
Has anybody got a bit of a cough at the moment? Well get your size nines off that plant you’re treading on and we’ll grab some leaves if you haven’t trampled on them too much. Although it’s not in flower at the moment it’s easily recognisable by its ribbed leaves. It’s called Ribwort Plantain and occurs pretty much worldwide on tracks and roadsides, hence its old Anglo-Saxon name of Weybroed, one of the nine sacred herbs of mediaeval times. I’ll collect a small bag of leaves whilst you nip up the hill and get an equal amount of thyme. Later we’ll dry and chop them, mix them together and make a pot of tea with them. The thyme is a well known cough relief medicine and the ribwort plantain contains acteoside which is effective against Staphylococcus aureus, a common cause of respiratory infections. Together they are highly effective and part of nature’s pharmacy.

Woodlouse, Porcellio
The track seems to be progressing in a satisfactory downward direction but I think we’re about to reach the end. It will be cross-country from here on down but the gradient looks fairly friendly. A fair few rocks for flipping so let’s take a break here and spend fifteen minutes or so investigating the creatures beneath. Always turn the rocks from the side and never put your fingers where you can’t see them – remember last week’s scorpion. The usual assortment of snails, centipedes and millipedes but a rather finely marked woodlouse. Does he roll into a ball when disturbed? No? That narrows identification down a bit. One of the Porcellio species I think, quite common, but a lovely specimen.



 

Longhorn Beetle, Arhopalus
Well, there’s our valley ahead but once again the gradient has steepened to a dangerous degree. But have no fear; I will find a way down into the central section (but not if it kills me). Meanwhile who have we here in the right place at the wrong time? It’s one of our Longhorn Beetle friends, Arhopalus. The reason I say right place is that the female lays her eggs under pine bark and there are plenty of pines around. Wrong time because it’s late morning and Arhopalus is nocturnal. They have a life span of two to three years and I get the feeling that this one is coming to the end of that period which may account for why it’s laying out in the sun. But that’s nature: a continuous cycle of life, death and regeneration which is what makes this planet such a wonderful place to live.

Now, as the festive season is upon us, I think we’ll give ourselves a week off as running up and down hills when full of festive fodder is a sure fire way of inducing a coronary. We’ll meet up again on Wednesday week when a brand new year will be waiting for us to explore. Until then I wish you all a Merry Christmas (or whatever else you may be celebrating at this time of year) and a Happy New Year.



See all the pictures including insets in detail on Flickr


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LINKS:
Naturalists (the facebook page that accompanies this blog)




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