Local news has been dominated in recent days by the extraordinary sighting of Freya the Walrus at Seahouses in Northumberland. It is not often that you hear the tale of an arctic walrus rocking up on the Northumberland coast after relaxing for a few days on a Dutch submarine.
Much to my grave disappointment I have had no time to venture up the coast this week as life is a little on the frantic side right now with our new home currently resembling a building site. I have on the other hand, still been able to squeeze in some autumn exploration these last few weeks and have come across some noteworthy encounters with birds, fungi and invertebrates alongside some iconic autumnal harbingers.
Autumn foliage spectacle.
The symbiotic relationship of decaying leaf litter and fungi.
Horse Chestnut kaleidoscope.
In actual fact, it all started from the garden. At this time of year you are fully expecting to see a multitude of golden browns, marmalades and sage greens in the leaves, fallen conkers and fungi exploiting the damp conditions in which they can produce mushrooms. But it doesn’t take too much searching to uncover a few hidden gems.
Resting on the south side of the building in the mild noon day sun, was a stunning auburn-brown Feathered Thorn Moth, very much mirroring the Beech opposite. Unlike many moths, they have a very late flying season and I assumed this was a male as the females are generally lighter in colour, and it looked as though the broadly feathered antennae feature of the males, in this case were tucked away. They are a well-distributed species in the UK, but I was not expecting to discover one residing above the front door. Nearby, possibly an even more peculiar find was lingering. A very inconspicuous, impeccably camouflaged little moth was perfectly still on the stone wall. There is no doubt that on a normal day without my camera lens fixed on unearthing these creatures, I would have missed it. A type of Carpet Moth, I suspect that it was a Juniper Carpet, although I am still awaiting confirmation from an expert as not only has this never been recorded within 10km of this location previously, there is also no juniper present in the local area. It is thought though, that this moth has now adapted to living on garden conifers, so it is certainly plausible. Once the image has a positive ID, I will certainly provide an update through social media on the matter.
Feathered Thorn (Colotois pennaria).
Sticking with the theme of invertebrates, a ramble around my workplace with a brilliant local naturalist Ian Beddison provided some really nice glimpses of those who may often be overlooked. Nestled amongst tree bark, flowering ivy and mere brick and mortar, we discovered six species of harvestman, the Invisible Spider and a various array of molluscs and ladybirds. I’ll admit, I haven’t paid nearly enough attention as is deserved to harvestmen, but I certainly will now. A relative of spiders, the harvestman does not possess fangs, venom or silk glands. They are fascinating arachnids, sporting 'turreted’ eyes upon their ocularium and usually very long legs. Unlike spiders who have several, harvestmen only possess two eyes. Mental note - must invest in a macro lens!
Harvestman Opilio canestrinii.
Everytime that I wander past ivy at the moment, it is alive with wasps, bees and hoverflies. Due to the late flowering season of Hedera helix, a vital larder of pollen and nectar is made available for a whole host of pollinators throughout the autumn season. While it may be tempting to cut it back earlier in the year, prolonging this can have a hugely positive effect on garden wildlife, especially as there may be little else in terms of a food source on offer about now for many species.
Which brings me back to the garden.
I have been delighted to find White-legged Snake Millipedes lurking amongst dead wood along with numerous Yellow Stainer, Brown Roll Rim, Stump Puffball and Purple Jellydisc fungi springing up just outside the door. Even Parrot Waxcaps have emerged in the grass this last week, which have become encircled by three ‘fairy rings’ of Earthy Powdercaps. You have to love autumn. As much of life begins to slow down or halts entirely, in come the decomposers. Never a dull moment.
There is inevitably a lot of great folklore surrounding the fairy ring (also known as elf or witches ring), but essentially they are formed by the underground mycelium of the fungi naturally growing in a circular formation. This is followed the next year by the fruiting bodies and will expand further with age.
The classic autumn colour palette.
Textures of the poisonous Yellow Stainer (Agaricus xanthodermus).
The equally as poisonous, super-camouflaged Brown Roll Rim or Poison Pax (Paxillus involutus).
Parrot Waxcap from the garden (Hygrocybe psittacina).
Perfect territory for Goldcrests, Fieldfares and more.
But perhaps the most enchanting encounters of the season were still in wait, just around the corner. Slaley forest in Northumberland, is at present bustling with fungi as far as the eye can see - taking advantage of the dark conditions underneath the dense conifers on the woodland edge. All kinds of russulas, amanitas, Slippery Jacks and Tawny Grisettes are dotted around the needle carpet of the forest.
As I approached a woodland ride, drawn in by the cacophony of Coal Tits and Goldcrests, I noticed an impressive sight embellishing the crown of a spruce tree.
A small flock of chattering Fieldfares.
If ever there was a true depiction of autumn, this was it. All facing in the same direction when still, they were then in constant song as they flew from tree to tree in search of seeds and berries to gorge on. From a distance, you could easily be mistaken for supposing that they were a Mistle Thrush, as they are almost identical in size, shape and are a part of the family Turdus. On closer inspection the slate-grey heads and chestnut-brown backs are the real give away. A subtle reminder to always have a pair of binoculars handy!
To be fair, this is what a significant proportion of my photography ends up looking like. A fleeting Goldcrest wing. Must be quicker next time…
An evocative Fieldfare scene (Turdus pilaris).
Autumn’s epilogue was to be a special one. As I ventured deeper into the woodland ride, as the small passerines darted to and from either side of the tree lines, I honed in on a sound that I most certainly had not heard before. A widespread avian maybe, but there is nothing better than ticking a new species off the list, not to mention when it is unexpected.
Above the canopy, flushes of brick-red and speckles of yellow fluttered between the abundance of Sitka Spruce. Feasting on the cones with their incredibly unusual and specialised bills for extracting conifer seeds, perched a group of Crossbills. (Or a ‘crookedness’ as the collective noun goes, referring to their beaks.)
With many birds, the males tend to gain a significantly larger share of the attention, thanks to in most cases their more elaborate colouration. In this instance, it was the beauty of the females that struck me. Understated in comparison perhaps, but as striking and compelling a bird as I had seen in some time.
One which I was super lucky to have found.
Female Crossbill (Loxia curvirostra).
A male Crossbill.
The overlapping beak of the Crossbill is a wonderful adaptation that allows them to probe conifer cones to feed on the nutrient rich seeds.