Marc Hudson, of Manchester Climate Monthly, has just sent me the following link to a sad and terrifying piece by the Canadian biologist, Neil Dawe:
Please read it!
It may seem overly dramatic to compare the Mersey Valley to the wilds of Canada - but my experience of our local green haven, over the last 40 years or so, is eerily similar. We have lost so many species over that time and all we've got now is a species-poor tangle of nettles and brambles.
I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as 'progress' any more - just accelerating environmental destruction.
Dave Bishop, August 2013
Friday, 30 August 2013
Sunday, 18 August 2013
When I emailed Dave Bishop to enthuse about the Bat and Moth Walk last Saturday evening he asked me if I would write a short account for the FOCM blog.
My first thought - read Dave's account of last year's Bat & Moth night and smile smugly (no that's not the word I was looking for) I mean contentedly that we had much better fortune this year.
The humour of Dave's description of last year's event did make me smile "Everyone seemed perfectly happy to stand around in the dark and the pouring rain, in a flooded car park, chatting about bats and moths - while the subjects of these conversations were sensibly tucked up in their little bat and moth beds. Eventually sense prevailed and we all went to the pub"
On the night of 10th August 2013 we were blessed with fine weather and an amazing turn out of people to look at and learn about bats and moths AND we did not see the inside of a pub at all.
Our evening started with an introduction to moths lead by Ben Smart. Ben had kindly brought some moths which he had caught locally in his own garden the previous night. It was wonderful to see some of the more colourful and unusual moths which can be found in our local area. The moths included the stunning Red Underwing which has upperwings which are perfectly camouflaged against tree bark in order that the moth can rest unnoticed on a tree and vibrant red underwings which it can flash to startle any predator which disturbs it. Other lovely colourful moths which Ben had brought along for us to see were a Bloodvein, an Orange swift and a Canary-shouldered Thorn. Moths such as the Pale Prominent were really interesting shapes and others like the little Antler moth had very distinctive markings (well, like antlers really) which give them their names. Some were so well camouflaged and "twig like" that we all had to look and then look again to even see them whilst they were resting on their twigs.
I have to confess to rather liking the Dingy Footman which does seem like a rather disrespectful name to give to a lovely silky moth with pale edges to its wing which make it look like it has a halo. As someone who is very keen on moths, I was in my element and it was lovely to see how enthusiastic and pleasantly surprised many people seemed when they saw just how varied and colourful many of our British moth can be.
A moth trap (light trap) was set up on one edge of Ivy Green car park and Ben ran this trap for us whilst the bat walk took place.
The Bat walk was lead by Richard Gardner. Richard gave us some background information about our UK bats and the types of bats which we may expect to encounter on our walk with him. The group had some bat detectors to share out and Richard explained to us all how these worked by converting bats ultrasonic echolocation calls into sound at a frequency which we could hear. He explained how echolocation worked for bats and what their calls would sound like when we listened to them using bat detectors. I was really keen to practise using my own bat detector which I had recently purchased and it was so useful to have an expert on hand to confirm the identification of the bats.
I think that we all liked hearing the "feeding buzzes" which can be heard through the detectors as the bats close in on their insect prey.
Richard also gave us some really interesting "Bat Facts"
A tiny Pipistrelle bat can eat 2000 - 3000 midges per night (we were both amazed and very grateful for this!)
Bats fly with their hands. Their wings are made of a thin membrane which stretches across the bones which in our bodies would form our hands.
Bats mate before they hibernate in the winter but the female bats delay the subsequent fertilisation and do not "become pregnant" until the following spring.
We saw and heard both Common and Soprano Pipistrelle bats flying over Chorlton Brook. Common Pipistrelle's peak echolocating frequency is around 45KHz and Soprano Pipistrelle's peak echolocating frequency is around 55KHz. We tuned the bat detectors when were heard the echolocation calls in order to tell which one of the two types of Pipistrelle we were listening to. We could also see the bats when they flew into a clear area where they were silhouetted against the sky. We marvelled at how tiny and agile they were.After leaving the Brook and heading across the meadow, we arrived on the banks of the Mersey where we heard more Pipistrelles and in addition we saw and heard Daubenton's bats. The sound heard through at bat detector for these bats differ. Pipistrells produce a sound which is often described as a "wet slap". Daubenton's bats sound is a faster "dry click" (a bit like a fast two stroke engine!).
The Daubenton's bats could just be seen skimming the surface of the Mersey, "gaffing" insects from the river. Gaffing is a term which means that the bat is using its feet to grab insects as it is flying along very close to the water.
After some excellent "batting" we returned to the Ivy Green car park to investigate the moths which were being attracted to the light trap. Large Yellow Underwings were flying around the light and the dark yellow colour of their underwings could be clearly seen. Amongst the other moths there were more Dingy Footman, Pale Prominent an attractive "micro-moth" called a Mother of Pearl moth which had pale iridescent wings. My absolute favourite was a Sallow Kitten moth. I saw this species of moth later in the week and thanks to Ben's excellent moth identification and explanations, I was very pleased to be able to recognise the moth again when I saw it.
My thanks go to both Richard and Ben for this very enjoyable event. I would love to learn more about moth identification and if you are likeminded and would like to take up moth identification (and very importantly) submitting records for the moths which you see in the Manchester area, then perhaps you could let me or Dave Bishop know. If there is enough interest it would be wonderful to draw upon Ben's experience and expertise to learn more about identifying these wonderful insects.
Thanks to Ian Brusby for the wonderfully atmospheric photographs that he took, on the night, in the car park - Ed.
Thursday, 15 August 2013
There's a Manchester Festival of Nature being held at Heaton Park on Saturday 7th September. All are welcome and it's FREE!
As well as the wildlife focussed family activities the Greater Manchester Local Record Centre will be running a series of 'bioblitzes' in the park as part of their 'Grey to Green' project. For those people who may not know what I'm talking about, a bioblitz is an event at which the participants attempt to identify as much wildlife as possible, on a particular site, over a limited period of time. If you're interested in finding out more, have look at the following page:
Bioblitzes are great fun and to join in, participants do not need any experience. For more details contact either me (email@example.com) or Matt Holker (firstname.lastname@example.org) of the 'Grey to Green' team.
Dave Bishop, August 2013
Tuesday, 6 August 2013
When Transport for Greater Manchester destroyed the wonderful plants and habitats of the Lower Hardy Farm SBI, with their hideous Metrolink-to-the-Airport bridge, they also closed off the path, on the south side of the river, which leads eastward towards Didsbury and Stockport. Recently, though, they have re-opened this path and on Tuesday 9th July 2013 I seized the opportunity to walk it again and re-visit those of my favourite spots which haven’t been destroyed by ‘progress’ ... yet.
The weather was gorgeous and the day felt to me to have a particularly pleasing, summery ‘savour and flavour’ to it.
The first part of the walk took me past Sale Golf Course. Now here’s a thought - have you ever noticed how much green space in Greater Manchester is devoted to golf courses? If it has never occurred to you, just try flicking through the ‘Manchester A to Z’; there appears to be a golf course on nearly every page (apart from the City Centre of course!); some pages show two – or even three. I just thought I’d point this out – particularly as golf courses are not particularly biodiverse. If we had as many biodiverse spaces as golf courses then, perhaps, we wouldn’t be in the midst of a biodiversity crisis (?)
Beyond the golf course there’s a large electricity sub-station with extensive open space around it. I’ve known this area for at least 30 years and it’s always had an interesting flora. I think this is mainly due to the fact that, sometime in the past, a load of limestone chippings were spread over it. Part of this space is open and the other part now has a rather sparse birch wood growing on it. On the open part is a sign saying ‘Private Land’. Although I’ve never been stopped from entering site, I always experience a slight ‘frisson’ when stepping over the rusty barbed wire perimeter. I calm myself by pretending that I’m the great early 19th century Manchester botanist, James Crowther. James, a warehouse porter from Hulme, would range miles on his botanical expeditions and was often chased by gamekeepers - who tended to mistake him for a poacher. James usually managed to out-run the gamekeepers but there’s no doubt that, these days, they’d catch me easily! I also suppose that if, on that Tuesday in July, anyone had intercepted me I would merely have been ordered off the site. James, on the other hand, probably risked being transported to Botany Bay (how horribly ironic that particular fate would have been for him!).
There were numerous Common Spotted Orchids (Dactylorhiza fuchsii) on the site. In spite of the name, these are not as common around here as the members of the Marsh Orchid group (also in the genus Dactylorhiza). They are slim and delicate and often have dark spots on the leaves – which are probably the origin of the common name.
Also present on this site were small patches of Mouse-ear Hawkweed (Pilosella officinarum). These have delicate little, lemon- yellow, dandelion-like flowers. The patches have runners and small leaves with white hairs (I assume that these leaves are supposed to resemble the ears of mice ...).
Is Mouse-ear Hawkweed really a ‘Hawkweed’? That name should possibly only apply to plants in the genus Hieracium. But Pilosella and Hieracium are closely related (Professor Stace informs us that “evidence for [their] distinctness is equivocal”). Nevertheless, there is at least one ‘true’ Hawkweed on the site. At present, I can’t name this plant and would probably have to send off a specimen for full identification. You see, Hawkweeds are one of the most difficult groups in the British Flora. Apparently, all Hieracium flowers are female and the plants reproduce via an asexual process called ‘apomyxis’. One of the consequences of this process is that it gives rise to a multiplicity of similar, but distinct, forms known as ‘apomictic microspecies’ (no, I don’t understand any of this either – I’m just parroting what I’ve read - and I realise that I’m in very deep water here!).
Prof. Stace, in his magisterial ‘New Flora of the British Isles, tells us that, “411 microspp. are currently recognised in the British Isles.” Even he doesn’t give a full account but divides the genus up into 15 sections. A simpler account, in a book called ‘Wild Flowers of Britain & Ireland’ by M. Blamey, R. Fitter and A. Fitter, gives three main types of Hawkweed: Leafy, Few-leaved and Basal Leaved. I think that the plants under discussion are probably of the Few-leaved type. We used to have at least two of the ‘Leafy’ type on Lower Hardy Farm (one of them, I believe, quite rare) but, as noted at the beginning of this piece, that wonderful place has now been destroyed.
The open part of the sub-station site shows every sign of being rabbit nibbled. As I noticed this, as if on cue, a rabbit appeared. It has always puzzled me as to why rabbits occur much more frequently on the south side of the river than on the north side. I’m a little disappointed that, in the middle of the night, the rabbits don’t go ‘hippity-hoppity’ across the footbridges, like characters in a Beatrix Potter story ... but they probably don’t ... oh well ...
A bit further on, a large wild rose bush marked an entrance to the Kenworthy Woods site. I identified the bush as Sweetbriar (Rosa rubiginosa). Our wild roses have such beautiful flowers, but they only last for a few weeks each year. As you can see from the photograph, the hoverflies appreciated the lovely flowers too.
Less than a hundred yards beyond the rose bush, I encountered, on the upper bank, the creamy white flowers of Common Valerian (Valeriana officinalis). I believe that the ‘officinalis’ part of the scientific name translates as “of the shop” – by implication, the apothecary’s shop – for this is a herb with medicinal properties. In her book, ‘A Modern Herbal’ (1931) Mrs M. Grieve tells us that extracts of Valerian can be used to treat disorders of the nervous system. I have a species of Valerian growing in my garden (I’m not sure which species it is because the magpies long ago stole the label). This plant certainly has an effect on the nervous systems of cats. Last winter I noticed that the soil of the site where the Valerian grows was so compressed it was almost shiny. One day I caught a small black cat rolling frenziedly around on this patch of ground. Valerian is a perennial which dies down in the winter and at that time of year nothing is visible. So I must assume that the cat’s nervous system was being stimulated by the scent of the plant’s dormant roots lying just below the surface.
A long stretch of upper bank was dominated by the huge leaves of Butterbur (Petasites hybridus). In my mind this plant is highly characteristic of the Mersey Valley. I believe that generations of local kids have known it as “wild rhubarb” – although the resemblance is superficial. It is, in fact, related to the Hawkweeds I encountered earlier – not rhubarb! Both Hawkweeds and Butterbur are members of the great Dandelion/Daisy family – the Asteraceae. In the case of Butterbur, the flowers appear before the leaves and these leaves don’t appear until the flowers have died away. In many parts of the UK, only the male flowers are present. In these cases they reproduce vegetatively, presumably forming clonal patches and spreading via pieces of root breaking off and forming new patches. In this part of the North West both male and female flowers occur and the females produce seeds (not sure how viable they are though). Both male and female flower heads are odd pinkish, almost ‘fungoid’ looking things. Once the female flower heads are fertilised they elongate into long tassels which are easy to spot in March/April.
I walked further and by this time the sun was getting hotter. On the opposite bank I noted two gentlemen striding along deep in conversation. They were smartly dressed and their only concession to the weather was to have doffed their suit jackets and to have donned Panama hats. There was something rather Edwardian about them. They fitted in well with the fine Edwardian houses of West Didsbury just visible through the trees.
On my side of the river I spotted something ominous on the lower bank – a specimen of the alien Giant Hogweed (Heracleum mantegazzianum). This is a member of the Carrot family – the Apiaceae. It is closely related to our native Hogweed (Heracleum sphondylium). Members of this family tend to have the same general form with white or yellow flowers arranged in a flat head or ‘umbel’. H. mantegazzianum is as monstrous as its sinister, buzzing name. It’s about twice as big as our native species and its great hollow, hairy stems are covered in sickly looking reddish-brown patches. The leaves have a spiky outline and the compound umbels are huge. But even more monstrous is its effects on human skin. By coincidence, I was talking to a Polish lady recently who had encountered this plant on a visit to Russia. Somehow she had brushed against it and it had raised blisters on her arms. Soon these blisters had turned to infected ulcers for which she had required medical treatment.
Giant Hogweed is a native of the Caucasus Mountains. It’s certainly a dramatic plant and that’s probably why Victorian gardeners introduced it into British gardens. What they didn’t realise, until it was too late, is that it’s very invasive (as well as toxic!). Now Greater Manchester river valleys are full of it. It’s certainly common in the Croal-Irwell and the Bollin Valleys but 2013 is the first year that I’ve begun spotting it in the Mersey Valley too.
Eventually I arrived in Northenden for lunch. I like Northenden – it’s a pleasant riverside settlement. Or, rather, it probably was just a few decades ago. Now, like hundreds of other settlements, in Greater Manchester and the rest of the UK, it’s being steadily ‘ruined-by-progress’. Surrendering our landscapes to the motor car and handing property developers so much power over our built environment and green spaces were never good ideas and future generations will curse us for these follies. In a front window I spotted a sign saying: “Save Northenden Library”. The sign prompted the gloomy reflection that perhaps our society is now in the process of abandoning ‘real’ progress. Things like public libraries and universal education and the National Health Service were truly progressive – now our political masters want to either sell them off to the highest bidder or to dump them all together; why are we putting up with this?
After lunch I walked down Ford Lane, past Northenden’s fine old sandstone church, and still muttering darkly to myself about the state of the world. I cheered up a bit when I spotted a Polypody (Polypodium sp.) fern growing on an earthen bank at the base of a hedge. I expect to see these ferns growing on walls or, occasionally, on trees – so this was an unusual sighting. There are three species of Polypody in the British flora: Common, Intermediate and Southern. To cut a very long story short, the species around here usually turns out to be Intermediate Polypody (P. interjectum). The picture below, by the way, is of a specimen that I found on a wall near my house a couple of years ago - it's a better picture than the one that I took on the day of the walk.
I continued on until I reached Simon’s Bridge and crossing this bridge, I arrived at the head of Stenner Lane, Didsbury. In base of the hedge, by the side of this lane, is a patch of a plant called Dog’s Mercury (Mercurialis perennis). I always make obeisance to this plant as I pass it as it’s an indicator of ancient woodland. At one time the floodplain of the Mersey would have been fringed with woodland – and in this district, this plant may be all that is left of those old woods. Recently, a fellow member of the Manchester Field Club told me that the doyenne of local botanists, the late Audrey Franks, discovered this little patch of Dog’s Mercury long before I did.
A few yards further on the leaves of Ramsons (Allium ursinum) appear in the hedge bottom and beyond that Ivy (Hedera helix) appears. I suspect that this mixture of plants implies that this hedge has a complex history and that one end is much older than the other.
A couple of years ago I found a plant called Ivy Broomrape (Orobanche hederae) growing on the Ivy covered bank of a ditch within about 2 miles of this spot. Broomrapes are parasites which have no chlorophyll and derive all of their nutrients from the roots of their hosts. The plant on the bank is the only Broomrape that I have ever found around here and now I scan every patch of Ivy I encounter for more. I had no luck on this particular day but a few days later Mike Pettipher, of the Altrincham Naturalists, sent me an amazing photograph of a huge patch of Broomrape (probably O. hederae) growing on the banks of the Bridgewater Canal somewhere between Stretford and Manchester city centre. I haven’t had a chance to go and see this plant yet and will probably have to wait until next year now.And so to Fletcher Moss and a nice cold drink in the park’s excellent cafe.
And then I caught the number 23 bus back to Chorlton.
Dave Bishop, August 2013