And so we reached Haverfordwest, enticingly situated at the tidal limit of the Western Cleddau river, a point marked by a weir with associated fish-pass.

Bridges are naturally a feature of a town on the river, ranging from old stone ones (the historic lowest bridging points of the river) to more recent railway and pedestrian crossings.

Tidal waters mean both trade and power: trade in the form of former warehousing and wharfage, power in mills, or at least the mill races and leats that extend upstream. And it seems that the County Hall may have been built on or close to a former mill, to judge from various road names and the watercourse issuing from beneath the building.

Although completed  as recently as 1999, County Hall is really quite spectacular in its clean design of interconnected bastions.  What’s more, it is covered in Swift-boxes (with associated screamers). All credit to Pembrokeshire County Council, even though we didn’t actually see any Swifts in the airspace; however the meadow lawns around the building did have Southern Marsh Orchids!

Well provided with riverine walkways, we headed upstream where the still waters were producing squillions of mayflies, some of which were being snapped up by swooping Swallows and House Martins, or by fishes from below with an audible plop.

The dense vegetation harboured all sorts of interest, from beetles (Green Dock Beetles, both adults and larvae, were very numerous), to moths both large and small (Flame Shoulder and Woodland Sedge-moth, the latter according to the NBN found nowhere nearer than Llanelli) and galls (Dasineura ulmaria on Meadowsweet):

And then downstream, again very green, but interesting also where the river walls have ferns like Maidenhair Spleenwort, and an abundance of tenacious Alder and Buddleia saplings sprouting from the cracks. Even this far on the fringes of the nation, the leaves of the latter show signs of infection by the newly arrived Melon-Cotton Aphid, and they were also being eaten by Mullein Moth caterpillars. While this a known food plant for this moth, we have never seen it using it before. There were also lots of Two-spot Ladybirds and an Oncopsis planthopper, as well as an array of caddisflies, reflecting the high water quality: here are the Welshman’s Button and Black Silverhorn.

At the edge of town, we had a look round the tumbledown Haverfordwest Priory, dating back to around the start of the 13th Century, and featuring what is claimed to be the only surviving ecclesiastical medieval garden in Britain, replanted to resemble its look and fragrance in those times. Nearby wall-tops were covered in blankets of Mouse-eared Hawkweed, showing well the shagginess and stoloniferous habit.

Thence to the Priory Saltings nature reserve, the lower sections of which are tidal reedbeds. Along with masses of Hemlock Water-dropwort: we saw this plant everywhere we went during the holiday. But only here was it being demolished by the larvae of the micromoth Depressaria daucella (Water-dropwort Brown), and as-yet-unidentified spindle-shaped galls in the primary umbel spokes.

Other wetland plants in flower included Ragged Robin, Brooklime and Celery-leaved Buttercup.

The higher, drier areas had a mixture of scrub and species-rich grassland…

… which of course provided good insect habitat, including the micromoth Pammene aurana, not recorded on the NBN any nearer than Carmarthen.

The higher parts of the town have some lovely narrow, historic streets…

… along with several churches on some of the highest points. Best of all, now a private residence, was St Thomas A Becket, immersed in a churchyard of managed wilderness.

One final high point is the site of the ruined castle, with no public access apart from the southern slopes that bring wild flowers and insects into the heart of the town.

Haverfordwest was a great base for a couple of nights, in the comfortable, friendly County Hotel, very convenient for the station. And plenty of places to eat, best of which was the extremely welcoming Bristol Trader pub.

It is also, without any hint of a slight, a great place to get out of: the gateway to even more far-flung lands using the remarkably efficient bus service, as we will see in the next blog….

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Other blogs of this holiday:

Way out West 1/4: Gloucester… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

Way out West 3/4: St Davids & Solva… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

Way out West 4/4: Newport (Gwent)… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

For our June short break, it was off to South Wales by train. As we headed out we travelled through an intense band of rain, fortunately not a portent of the days to come, and we kept completely dry – the benefits of train travel!

On the way there, Gloucester proved an ideal stopping-off point. We visited Gloucester as recently as last April, but felt there was unfinished business for us, especially missing out on the chance to stay in the New Inn, a remarkably historic, galleried pilgrims inn, all timber and wonky floors. History permeates the building: it was here in 1553 that Lady Jane Grey received the news that she had been made Queen, and so was sealed her untimely fate. But we did wonder for how much longer it will be possible to feel that history. Under new management, it feels down at heel and in need of substantial investment, but it was worth spending a night there for the aura, even if Lady Jane failed to appear for us…!

While in Gloucester of course we didn’t neglect the rest of the city, and an afternoon potter around saw us lifting our eyes above the modern shopfronts, to see the remnant history that has survived the bombs and planners of the 20th century:

Pre-eminent amongst this is of course the Cathedral. No time in our schedule to go inside (we explored it fully last time), but the surrounding cathedral quarter was really doing its bit for wildlife, the plantings (including globe-thistles and scabious) attracting all manner of bumblebees, Honeybees and other pollinators, even in overcast conditions.

Last time we loved the docks, and this year was no exception. Redevelopment from their original use has retained many of the attractive dockside buildings, all with a liberal sprinkling of Herring and Lesser Back-backed Gulls. Indeed the entire city has become a very significant year-round breeding and feeding location for these birds which in the ‘wider countryside’ are rather struggling from habitat loss, disturbance and climate change affecting natural food supplies.

And around the docksides, a plant that was to become very familiar as our holiday continued, Hemlock Water-dropwort, seemingly to be found in every damp area of the region, especially in proximity to the coast.

Next morning though it was time to move on, into south Wales. What a lovely rail journey, first along the western shores of the Severn Estuary…

… thence through Newport, seeing the sights that would become very familiar to us in a few days’ time…

… and to the coastal landscapes of Carmarthenshire and Pembrokeshire, to Haverfordwest, almost as far as the train tracks run.

But this was merely a prelude to the main part of the trip, to be covered in three subsequent blogs…

Way out West 2/4: Haverfordwest… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

Way out West 3/4: St Davids & Solva… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

Way out West 4/4: Newport (Gwent)… | Chris Gibson Wildlife

A day visit to south London was in order this week to catch up with the Tirzah Garwood exhibition in its last month at Dulwich Picture Gallery, somewhere we had never before been to. Upon arrival at West Dulwich station, it was straight across the road into Stephanie’s café for coffee and a cake in charming, quirky surroundings.

The exhibition was the centrepiece of our afternoon, and what an excellent one it was! Tirzah Garwood was the (shamefully) lesser-known spouse to Eric Ravilious, and had the knack of capturing dream-like tableaux in a naïve style in a range of media, including remarkably detailed wood engravings, as well as simply beautiful marbled papers (my favourites!).

But either side of this of course we were out and about, in the Picture Gallery garden, and in the parks either side. In fact, although Dulwich Park is the famous one, it was Belair Park that interested us most, a little less manicured and formulaic. Nevertheless, Dulwich Park had some impressive ornamental plantings, with Kolkwitzia especially beautiful and scenting the air.

Wildlife-wise though, there was only the Box Moth caterpillars demolishing the Box bushes, and of course the ever-present Rose-ringed Parakeets and Grey Squirrels, testament to the multicultural diversity of the city! The same theme was apparent throughout our day…

Belair Park had lots more to offer: views to central London; dead wood, harbouring all sorts of boring beetles no doubt; and a pond with basking Pond Slider terrapins, kindly pointed out by a friendly dog walker. These seem to be the Yellow-bellied Slider, a less frequent introduction from the USA it seems than the Red-eared subspecies.

In the lovely warm sunshine, welcome after days of cool northerlies, insects were out a-basking, especially hoverflies and Dock Bugs, but also our first Dryophilocoris flavoquadrimaculatus (bug) and Nematopogon swammerdamella (micromoth) of the summer.

And spiders too: a Xysticus crabbie just waiting, and Cucumber Spiders hanging around, in one case with some success…

Many of the Oak trees were bedecked with huge Oak Apple galls, larger and more numerous wherever we have been than ever this year it feels; Elm leaves had mite galls; and Horse-chestnuts in both flamboyant fresh flower and producing hordes of minimorsels for the birds – Horse-chestnut Leaf-miner moths.

And a surprising plant in one of the damp sedgy low ways, was Buttonweed, a native of South Africa that is sometimes naturalized in such areas, although especially in coastal spots. In parts of southern Europe it now dominates whole swathes of coastlands, the only place I have seen it previously.

In the Gallery garden, there were some lovely trees, including a remarkably sculptural Tulip-tree, perhaps the inspiration for one of the actual sculptures?

Basking insects were also of a feature of this garden, especially lots of ladybirds, including the declining Two-spotted alongside its potential nemesis, the Harlequin (although the numbers of Rose Aphids would seem to be a much more viable food resource).

Viburnum beetle larvae munched away on the Viburnum leaves, creating a latticework that speaks volumes about the positive ecological management of the garden…no pesticides and poisons here!

There was Closterotomus trivialis, a plant bug new to Britain (from the Mediterranean) since 2009, a nymph Toad Bug with its distinctive rear-end brush of bristles, and a gall on the leaves of North American Red Oak. This is a sign of infection by the fungus Taphrina caerulescens, a gall that is shown in only thirty or so places on the National Biodiversity Network map (and not at Dulwich), although as so often this probably reflects under-recording rather than rarity.

And finally it was just up the road to round off the day with a good meal at the Crown & Greyhound, a historic 18th century hostelry that apparently once was the was the beating heart of the Dulwich literary and poetic world: drinking in the footsteps of Charles Dickens, Laurie Lee and Ivor Cutler, under the magnificently ornate ceiling!

Our March short break began before it had even really started – as we went to the station to catch the train to Cromer, piles of last year’s dead Hollyhocks were spawning a big emergence of overwintered Firebugs – proof if any was needed that garden clippings are best kept in the garden whenever possible…

And so it was up to Cromer, across the flatscapes of East Anglia. We have a fondness for out-of-season seaside resorts (see Blackpool, this time last year), especially just before the season starts, when they are a hive of activity, the smell of paint and slosh of whitewash, the clank of scaffolding, but without the crowds.

Putting on the make-up is of course so much more than cosmetic: the unforgiving wind and salty air corrodes the very fabric of the town, threatening livelihoods but producing ample subjects for the camera:

Think Cromer, think crabs – and yes of course I had plenty, including a sumptuous sandwich from the Crab Pot Café. And then think Pier, dominating the view from any stretch of the shoreline:

The beach provides the sounds of nature, gulls calling, waves swishing up the sand and rattling the flints, which in turn become the building blocks of the town.

The church, as much a seamark as a place of worship, was worth a visit for its stained glass which suffused the columns with pastel shades as the sun streamed through:

And so to our hotel, the Cliftonville, a place we had decided to stay in after a drink there last summer amid the Art Nouveau styling. And we were not at all disappointed – our top-floor room with an uninterrupted sea view was simply outstanding, and one we would like to return to as a base for exploring the Norfolk coast by train and bus.

Breakfast and lunch, too, made the stay memorable, but prize of place food-wise must go to the Red Lion Hotel where we ate one evening, a memorable meal of fine dining but substantial portions – for me, crab risotto and cod; for Jude, rigatoni with goat’s cheese and butternut squash. A little more expensive than we normally pay, but really worth it for one of the very best meals we have had in our years of monthly short breaks.

From our room, and indeed all along the seafront, the view of the North Sea and its offshore wind farms was both ever-changing but reassuringly constant. And the gardens along the front, at least in sunshine, buzzed with bees, including  Hairy-footed Flower-bees visiting Rosemary. The other insects along the front, including on the hotel windows, were numerous Birch Catkin Bugs, presumably a spring emergence, but from where? Not a birch tree in sight!

The first day was grey and cold, the second promised to be much sunnier and warmer. So it was out on the train to Sheringham, breakfast as we passed through the flinty town, and down to the beach. Turnstones flocked on the rocks, a Greater Black-backed Gull defended its fish carcase against the diminutive Herrings, the sun was shining and it was already very warm, but offshore to the west hung a sea fret…

So we headed east along the beach, taking in the glacial geology on the way, boulder clay, sands and chalk rafts, the mobility colonised by Colt’s-foot, the flowers opening to welcome Spring.

As we continued towards West Runton the beach started to steam, tendrils of fog rising up from the sand. And looking behind, the wall of fret was upon us. Colour was sucked out of the world, and our destination disappeared, leaving the revetments as stark sculptures worthy of Easter Island or Antony Gormley. Totally ethereal, and although the blue dot on the phone offered some reassurance, it felt not without a frisson of some primordial danger as the fret moved around, shapeshifting on a whim.

But still the beach announced its geological provenance, with platforms of chalk emerging from the sand, and many huge beach flints, including some in the mysterious bowl-shaped form of a paramoudra.

Once at West Runton though, it was back onto dry ground, albeit with fog swirling, building and fading at every turn. We had seen from the map the intriguing prospect of Beeston Regis Church, marooned among the caravan sites, though finding it in the fog was more by luck than anything….

The church was simple and pleasant, with some ornate wooden mouldings as a counterpoint to the calm interior.

And on the churchyard wall, there was Henbit Dead-nettle alongside its more common relative and Hairy Bittercress …

… while along the lanes as we dropped down to West Runton, there were flowering willows, both male and female catkins providing sustenance to bumblebees and hoverflies; White Comfrey; Tree Lupins complete with big, fat aphids and their camp followers; and everywhere Alexanders…

And so into the Village Inn for a welcome pitstop!

From there it was back along the cliff top, at least in those places where the Norfolk Coast Path hasn’t fallen into the sea and isn’t blocked by unfriendly fences. The fog still rolled in, creating frost-bows from certain vantage points, while sandy soils up high gave the feel of perched sand dunes, the turf stained red with Mossy Stonecrop and acid-green by Early Meadow-grass.

After an ice-cream stop in East Runton, it was then back onto the beach for the final stretch back to Cromer. In the by now hot sunshine, waves rolled and lapped gently to shore and several pairs of Fulmars canoodled in their cliffed retreats.

For our final day, we headed east from the town, where it feels much more wrapped up in maritime history …

… out and up to Cromer Lighthouse, giving the lie to the assumption that Norfolk is flat! Rolling hills, all part of the moraine from the endpoint of the last ice advance, clad in the richness of flowering gorse and with woods, including lots of Holm Oak over a ground layer of Alexanders. Just a pity the weather had closed in a bit, leaving the views back over the town rather hazy.

All that was left was to find our way down to the beach via the precipitous steps, through the goblin-forest wilderness of twisted Sycamores and again Alexanders, along with Hart’s-tongue Fern, and salt-pruned, skeletal scrub.

Our purpose? To try and locate the Banksy artwork on a concrete groyne. Which we did, just, with the help of a friendly passer-by, although sadly time and tide have taken their toll and the social comment about the prevalence of second homes and overpriced beach huts in a place like this are now lost. I say ‘sadly’, but Banksy probably knew it wouldn’t last, and wanted it that way, their ultimate comment on the impermanence and futility of art?

Which just leaves me with a paean to Alexanders, already mentioned several times, and abundant (to some, overabundant) along this coastal belt.

But to those who decry the ‘aggressive’ spread of this non-native plant, I would say ‘what would early-emerging insects do without it?’ As climate collapse continues apace, insects are now active at times they never were before, active and needing sustenance. Which the ‘native’ British countryside simply cannot do. As a bridge betwen eras (the one to come being especially uncertain), Alexanders helps sustain life.

And so it was for our stay, from fungal rust galls to ants, Honeybees, hoverflies and Gorse Shield-bug…

… right through to the mining bees, iconic insects that nest on the nearby sandy cliff slopes, including the rare (but increasing) Early Colletes (aka Bunny Bee).

For other blogs extolling the virtues of Alexanders, see Lockdown diary: In praise of Alexanders… | Chris Gibson Wildlife and Alexanders: the interloper our countryside needs… | Chris Gibson Wildlife .

That was a surprisingly fun short break, to a place we knew already, but staying there helped us to more than scratch the surface, to find the real Cromer. Roll on the next in our series … only five days to wait!

After a short-notice teaching cancellation and sight of the forecast for glorious sunny weather, we marked the spring equinox with a leisurely train ride to Cambridge, a day in the Botanic Garden, topped off with a lovely meal in the Station Tavern. What a great way to celebrate the season!

As always we were on the look out for wildlife other than the plants, and as the warmest day of spring so far, it was not surprising there were quite a few sparkling Brimstones in action, along with singing Goldcrests in several places. A few things stood still long enough for photos including the planthopper Eupteryx decemnotata, a species first recorded in this country as recently as 2002 and the rarer of two similar bugs found on sages and their relatives, and an early-season, free-range micromoth Diurnea fagella.

Other good finds included a Tree Bumblebee seeking a nest hole; indeed queen bumbles, primarily Buff-tailed, were everywhere, albeit concentrated on certain forage plants, most notably Nonea lutea and the winter-flowering heathers. Honeybees too were widespread and active, on heathers and Scilla especially, and drinking water from the ponds.

Otherwise, there were ladybirds making more ladybirds, Moorhens stalking the reedy patches, and the obvious galls of the fly Taxomyia taxi on Yew.

Being so early in the year, many of the wonderful array of trees in the garden were devoid of leaf, but all the better to show off their often distinctive shapes and bark. This was apparent even at our traditional first stop, outside the tea room, where the sunlit awning projected the tracery of branches, not fully formed leaves.

And then the other natural art in the garden: the lichens on the branches, the sun splashing everything with rich colours. Who needs flowers?

But of course there were signs of many of the trees and shrubs springing into life, producing flowers (some even in fruit), whether wind-pollinated danglers …

… or more showy insect-pollinated blooms.

Mistletoe was also really obvious on the bare trees and shrubs, very golden-green in colour, especially male plants. The two sexes have rather different flowers, the females small with a rounded ovary, males larger with more splayed, fleshy petals on which the pollen is borne directly.

And although many of the beds were still quite bare, having had their spring-clean, there were still plenty of exciting perennials in flower….

… but particularly interesting to me were the flowering Mandrake (an old friend, and a plant rich in folklore that I used to know from my spring trips to parts of the Mediterranean), Yellow Star-of Bethlehem (a scarce native that I have never yet tracked down in the wild) and the beautiful wild form of Wild Daffodil, lemony tepals contrasting with the deeper yellow trumpets.

And all that was left were the glorious glasshouses, where an even more diverse array of flowers, fruits, foliage and forms can be found, where you can visit almost every continent without burning up carbon, and immerse oneself in the fragile beauty of the botanical world around us.