A summertime trip to Cambridge Botanic Garden is always in order: there are the flowers of course, but also insects using the garden’s resources. Well, at least in most years: the poor insect showing of 2024 has been mentioned time again in these blogs, and sadly the story was the same here last week.

Of course there were insects, but fewer in number and range than we hoped for, although bumblebees at least seemed to be thriving, albeit almost all of just one species (Buff-tailed), around the flowers of Eryngium, Scabiosa, Echinops and Lavandula in particular.

Otherwise the following selection shows quite a good range of insects, although remember that all too many of these were just single individuals.

Several things though we did find noteworthy, from the remarkable camouflage of multi-instar aggregations of Dock Bugs on the seeds of Great Water Dock to foraging Bee-wolves, not particularly special nowadays but always a thrill for those of us with memories back to the 20th century, when they were restricted to far southern heathlands…

… and a new carrion beetle to us, Silpha laevigata, a specialist of the Chilterns and North Downs chalk on account of it favoured prey, snails.

Another, perhaps less unexpected, surprise was on the leaves of one of the Mediterranean evergreen oaks, Quercus trojana, which bore leaf-mines identical to those of the micromoth Phyllonorycter messaniella. This is familiar to us now as a miner of Holm Oak, but not according to our researches this new host species. Then again, who is looking?

Apart from that it was left to the plants to entertain, including species (sometimes rather rare) native to our shores …

… to those that have established themselves in the wild from cultivation in the past few centuries …

… and those that, at least for now, are garden novelties only.

Otherwise it was up to certain species, here Cornelian-cherry and Deadly Nightshade, to give us a hint of the impending season.

All that is left to say is a twinge of disappointment that the eco-optimism we felt on previous visits may have been misplaced. Where was the long grass? Maybe (being generous) it had already been harvested as hay, but especially after such a slow start to the summer, an August cut would have decimated insect populations. And on that topic, why celebrate the flowering of Thalia dealbata as a point of garden interest, given its now well documented antisocial behaviour, killing pollinators slowly.

Having said that, it was always a pleasure to be there, and so convenient for our preferred travel by rail!

Our August short break was very special, one on which 6 year-old Eleanor was able to come with us. An easy train journey followed by a bus brought us to the University of East Anglia by lunchtime. In the nearly 40 years since I left after my PhD, I have been back only a mere handful of times.

But it never fails to stir me. Memories of hard work, but lots of fun. And it has left me with an enduring love of Brutalist architecture…

Whilst some public sculpture was always there, there is so much more now:

And the campus, in which I honed so many of my identification skills (and probably spent too much time when I should have been in the lab), is still wonderfully wild, at least in front of the famous ziggurats and the teaching wall (behind the wall, things are very different!).

Woolly Mullein, a Norfolk speciality, is still there, and a short walk brought us tinkling parties of Goldfinches, and a selection of insects including the micromoth Agriphila tristella, a red flea-beetle Sphaeroderma and (new to us) a willow-feeding mirid bug Agnocoris reclairei.

Plenty of the mullein also around the city, including on the old flint city walls …

Almost under the shadow of the hulking Catholic Cathedral, the Plantation Garden (essentially a Victorian Gothic folly within an abandoned chalk pit) was as delightful as ever:

You might have to peer hard to see the Large House Spider in the final picture!

And on the other side of town, the magnificently graceful Anglican cathedral provided shade from the heat along with architectural and artistic drama:

Eleanor, not to be outdone, also seemed inspired by the Anglican Cathedral and the Plantation Garden. Here are some of her photographic efforts, given free rein to see the world as only a 6 year-old can!

Two days topped off with a drink and loaded chips outside the lovely Adam & Eve pub, and not even return rail disruption due to a lineside fire could take away the pleasure!

Our July mini-break of our year (or more!) of mini-breaks took us to Hampshire, specifically Romsey. Where? you may ask! We certainly did when during our February break in Reading, while wandering around the ruined (albeit impressive) abbey, we saw a board showing what it would have looked like: ‘our sister abbey in Romsey’…. Before the day was done we had booked a break in a place that had never entered our consciousness before.

The abbey did not disappoint. While certainly not stately and soaring (actually rather squat), it is beautifully proportioned, and filled with impressive architecture and art from through the ages. Add to that a warm welcome from the attendants who passed on all sorts of useful hints for our days to come (who needs Tourist Information Centres?!), our break got off to a very good start.

Romsey itself is also delightful, a small market town full of historic buildings …

… including the White Horse Hotel, our excellent base for two nights. We had superb evening meals, both at the White Horse and the Old House at Home, the latter with a side order of a marching band that came from the British Legion next door and marched on through the restaurant, still playing. Almost loud enough to drown out the wonderful large screaming parties of Swifts hurtling down the narrow streets. Us watching them careering around and into nest crevices suggested to one local chap we might be from the ‘Test Valley Swift Group’ and he then launched into a very full description of the Swifts of the town, a source of evident pride!

And then there is the River Test itself, one of the premier chalk-streams in Britain, forming the west flank of the town and sending runnels right through its heart, with clear, fast-flowing water supporting lots of aquatic plant life.

However, in common with so many places this summer, precious little insect life, just one each of caddis-fly and solitary bee along a couple of hundred metres of riverbank. Makes you wonder just what the Swifts are finding to feed upon.

Just north of the town was another reason for our visit, Hiller’s Garden and Arboretum, created by Sir Harold Hillier and left in the care of the local authority.

There are trees and other plants from all over the world, reasonably well labelled, and arranged in variously themed beds:

Of particular interest was the collection of Cotoneaster species, allowing side-by-side comparison of this very large and confusing genus.

And highlights for us were a remarkable (unnamed) curly-wurly form of Miscanthus sinensis and the newly opened, fascinating flower-heads of Dwarf Elder.

Of course, in its 72 hectares there is ample space for nature. Native plants included Common Spotted-orchid, Great Horsetail, Slender St John’s-wort, Self-heal, Enchanter’s-nightshade and Corky-fruited Water-dropwort …

… although once again insects were in short supply. Butterflies were restricted to a few Meadow Browns, a handful of Gatekeepers and Ringlets, and a single Marbled White, hardly the bounty expected of early July.

There were other insects of course, across a range of groups, but the following might give a false impression of abundance: I photographed everything I could and that is all we had to show for our efforts.

Nonetheless, it was a very interesting garden, and one which has given us another short break idea for next year, a visit to Ventnor Botanic Garden on the Isle of Wight, similarly created by Hillier and apparently containing some rooms to let within its grounds. Watch this space!

On our last day, we took the opportunity to visit Southampton for a few hours, a city neither of us knew. Views of the sea are always welcome, albeit not the open sea from the angle we were looking:

And, as always, it had some buildings of interest, from the ultra-modern …

… to the Modernist delights of last century …

… and indeed earlier centuries …

… going right back to the still-impressive city walls.

A more natural flavour came from Herring and Lesser Black-backed Gulls everywhere, Sandwich Terns around the ferry port, street trees including Indian Bean Trees and Common Limes, both in flower and attracting bumblebees (more here than anywhere else in our trip).

And the grassy slopes below the walls had a good population of Hawkweed Ox-tongue (rather uncommon in Essex, so good to see) alongside Ragwort being demolished by Cinnabar caterpillars. In Hillier’s and elsewhere we were remarking how there were none of these munchers: as so often it was up to the often overlooked nature within urban greenspace to fly the flag and provide a glimmer of hope for the future. Quite appropriately too, it was the day of the General Election!

And so to Glasgow, midway in Clyde terms between the turbulent upper reaches at New Lanark and the stately tidal mouth around Dunoon and Gourock. Glasgow is one of our favourite cities, possibly the favourite one of all, the result of wonderful experiences there over the past decade. Some of the best times of course have been based around the pubs, especially the Scotia and the Clutha Bars. Both of which were on our walk from the station to our hotel in the Gorbals, on opposite sides of the street … well, it would have been rude not to have checked them out before checking in! The Clutha Bar was especially inviting, with a pizza and a pint offer to complement earlier gastronomic experiences, and live (loud) music  to fill the sound of silence after living with the rushing Clyde for the last couple of days.

So it was early evening before we unloaded at the hotel, and headed out for a walk through familiar streets, by bridges and along the river. Pity the wind was so strong and out of the north – absolutely not a summertime experience, even for Scotland. But a Goosander on the river, stately stands of Giant Hogweed on the riverbank and singing Willow Warblers from seemingly every patch of railway scrub gave us our daily nature fix.

The Southern Necropolis cemetery has also done this for us in the past, so after breakfast at the wonderful G5 deli (again one of our regulars and favourites, conveniently round the corner from the Premier Inn) we headed there again. Sadly much of the grass had recently been mown, and the air was simply too cold for insect activity, but it remains a tranquil green refuge.

Our long-awaited first visit to the Burrell Collection, set in the Pollok Country Park played a big part in our decision to return. The park itself contains some lovely grassland and woodland (and provided us with a rather battered Lime Hawk-moth) while the collection is housed in a simply wonderful, recently upgraded, modern architectural marvel.

Light from every angle, shadows as important as the art itself, and the luxury of space make this one of the best museum/galleries we have been to, complemented by interesting exhibits (not always the case, we have found) – and it is free!!

A final flourish for our holiday was a jaunt out to Cumbernauld. We like concrete brutalism, we like planned new towns such as Harlow, so a visit was a must. The train from Queen Street started in an interesting fashion, with hordes of glittering Swifties waiting to head out to Murrayfield, such that the concrete of Cumbernauld represented reassuring familiarity.

Planned and built from the 1950s, like Harlow the town features extensive traffic-free walking routes, some forming impressive green corridors.

From the station to the Centre we had to cross not a single road, until arriving at the heart, now given over firmly to the domain of the car. By now the hottest day of our holiday, after a restorative pint among the public sculpture (reminiscent again of Harlow) we strolled around and through the 1950s dream that hasn’t really been served well by history.

Bits have been knocked down, other bits added piecemeal, but its brutalist heart is just still beating – or is that the sound of raindrops dripping into the shopping mall, a leaking canyon of empty units and charity shops?

The Centre is deemed worthy of listing, but the authorities have decided not to, given that plans for comprehensive redevelopment are apparently well advanced. Necessary perhaps, but replacing utopian individualism with modern retail conformity hardly seems like a great step forward.

All that was left to do was much more uplifting: after a good trek along greenways, again largely traffic free, and over the raging motorway, we found ourselves at the Arria statue, by Andy Scott, he of the Kelpies renown.

Imposing yet invisible until almost upon her, she was remarkable, standing in a lovely meadow with Yellow-rattle, Greater Butterfly- and Northern Marsh-orchids. and with a stillness that seems to subdue even the roar of the motorway, helped by the tinkles of yet more Willow Warblers.

Why here? Well, Cumbernauld stands on the watershed of Scotland (its name may be derived from a translation of ‘meeting of the waters’). So this really complements the rest of our holiday, representing the point at which rainwater drainage runs either east into the Forth or west to the Clyde.

And watershed in a metaphorical context, an east-west political boundary, the furthest reach of the Roman Empire. marked by the nearby Antonine Wall: Arria is named after the mother of  Emperor Antonius. And to draw the watershed imagery together, the statue is inscribed with the words of the poem ‘Watershed’ by Scottish poet Jim Carruth.

It is a pity that time, and the very late sunset, didn’t allow us to see Arria in her internally illuminated glory. But back in Cumbernauld centre, the Beefeater gave us sustenance, and the warmest welcome (which naturally translated into the largest tip) of our entire holiday.

On our final morning I woke to the song of yet another Willow Warbler, this in the hotel car park, a particularly poignant sound for those of us from a part of the country from which they have been stripped as a breeding bird in only the past decade by climate change. A song of our recent past that remains in my brain. Without a memory there can be no mourning, so sing, little bird, of the things we have lost but could be ours again if only we have the will.

For other blogs from this trip, see:

Tales of the Bonny Clyde: 1 – Dunoon & Benmore | Chris Gibson Wildlife

Tales of the Bonny Clyde: 2 – New Lanark | Chris Gibson Wildlife

As we left the station at Lanark, something was clearly afoot. Crowds, flags, bunting, revelry and general merriment, people in various states of undress despite the freezing wind – on a Thursday afternoon! We felt the transition from genteel Dunoon acutely. No hope of getting a drink as the pubs were so crowded, we headed on through towards New Lanark, gradually piecing together the fact that it was Lanimer Day, a very historic annual event (dating back to 1140) linked to beating the bounds of the ancient Royal Burgh (‘Land Marches’) and now serving as a general gala day. Everybody is involved, so as we headed out of town, it all became quiet, then quieter and, as we descended into New Lanark, quietest, apart from the constant reassuring rush of the tumbling Clyde.

First impressions of the World Heritage Site mill town was of amazing architecture, a good number of cars, but no people at all. It all felt vaguely Wicker Man, or like one of those post-apocalyptic movies where you wake up to find you are alone in the world …

The rushing waters give the clue to this place. All that natural hydropower could be put to good use, and was from 1786 to power cotton mills. The settlement includes homes for workers, due to the involvement of utopian philanthropist Robert Owen, one of the originators of the co-operative movement. The hotel is now actually in the main mill building.

Once indoors, we did find civilization, albeit cocooned from the outside world. A lovely room, directly overlooking the river, with Sand Martins swirling around in by now very pleasant sunshine. And lots of opportunity to explore the exterior of the stone buildings (all except the hotel closed because of Lanimer Day), the remarkable architecture bathed in light, throwing shadows as the sun started to set…

The mill and town are set within a lovely wooded landscape, clothing a really quite impressive rocky gorge. In part conifer plantation, in part old Oak and Beech, some with wonderfully gnarled roots and buttresses.

Mosses and ferns clothed the forest floor, that growth extending upward onto the boughs, in places luxuriantly coated with epiphytes.

There were of course other trees too, including flowering Laburnum (in a habitat resembling its native sites in European mountains), Bird Cherry (clad in the silken webs of Bird Cherry Ermine micromoths) and Guelder-rose nibbled to bits by Viburnum Beetle larvae.

The Falls of Clyde provided a whole series of dramatic glimpses of the fledgling river as we walked upstream from the mill, taking a leisurely approach to a walk that should only take an hour or so as the weather was sunny and warm(ish) for most of the day.

A Grey Heron waded in one section of the river, while a few Dippers and Grey Wagtails were feeding in the rapids. Jackdaws and Ravens made their presence known noisily, with Siskins wheezing and a few Spotted Flycatchers spotted flycatching.

The gorge and woodland had many interesting flowers. Closer to the town, there were lots of garden escapes (many of which are really useful for insects): Rock Crane’s-bill, Fox-and-cubs, Monkeyflower, Dame’s-violet and Masterwort.

Deeper into the nature reserve, native woodland plants predominated, including Foxglove, Water Avens, Welsh Poppy, Common Cow-wheat and Red Campion, the deep red flowers of the latter ‘undiluted’ by the genes of lowland White Campions.

And the best of the plants, ones that we are relatively or wholly unfamiliar with in Essex included Marsh Hawk’s-beard, Tuberous Comfrey and Bitter Vetch.

For the first time this summer we found ourselves in the presence of lots of galls. Most of them – those on Lime, Oak and Wych Elm – were common enough, but two were new to us and seemingly less frequent. On Bilberry the swollen reddened leaves are the result of infection by the fungus Exobasidium myrtilli, forming the blaeberry redleaf gall  while the red pimply paint-patches on Silver Birch were caused by the mite Acalitus longisetosus. According to the National Biodiversity Network atlas, this is not previously recorded from that part of Scotland, being concentrated in the Highlands and also very thinly scattered in England and Wales. It was present on only one tree that we found, but is certainly very distinctive.

And we also found the nature reserve to be a a great place for a selection of insects and other invertebrates.

Among these, there were a few edge-of-range species and and ones not not previously recorded from that part of Scotland, including the lace-bug Tachycixius pilosus and click-beetle Denticollis linearis …

… while a couple of dramatic highlights included a mating pair of Giant Craneflies and a Scorpion-fly Panorpa germanica tucking into a dance-fly.

Given that the hotel is the only feeding spot without a considerable uphill walk, the restaurant provided us with very reasonably priced and excellent sustenance. I especially enjoyed the salmon medley, (the smoked component with such a delicate smoky-sweet cure) and chicken supreme with smoked cheese stuffing, while Jude liked the creamed goats’ cheese and figs and the chickpea curry.

On our second morning after a good breakfast we were taken by electric minibus (as befits a World Heritage Site) through Lanark – now approaching normality! – to the station for the third part of our break, in Glasgow. Having lived with the sound of the tumbling Clyde for two days, its absence was almost deafening….

POSTSCRIPT

Only when we got home and started working through the photos, entering them onto irecord, and checking their known distributions on the NBN Atlas did we come to appreciate how few of the things we found have ever been recorded at this site before, indeed how few of them have any records on the NBN anywhere near to New Lanark. WE have therefore prepared a complete listing for the record (see here Falls of Clyde), which will be sent to the Scottish Wildlife Trust who own the reserve.

Some of these have been pointed out in the main blog (see Exobasidium myrtilli, Acalitus longisetosus, Tachycixius pilosus and Denticollis linearis above). But others were more surprising, not least because they are so obvious and frankly unmistakeable, such as Meadowsweet Rust, the galls on Lime, Elm and Oak, and the larvae and munchings of Viburnum Leaf-beetle.

And how about the Gold-barred Longhorn moth. Very familiar to we southerners, if the NBN is up to date, our record is some 60km further north than it has ever been recorded before. Distributional data and changes in distribution are one of the main sources of information we have to underpin conservation policy and practice, so my plea is for anyone who visits an unfamiliar area, don’t assume that all you see is commonplace or already known. Record it for posterity: every data point is a step towards a better future.

June’s contribution of our ‘year of short breaks by train’ is likely to be the longest one of all, fittingly as it coincided with Jude’s birthday. Late afternoon we were drawing into Gourock in unsettled weather, a mix of sun, showers and cool northerly wind, pretty much par for the whole trip and indeed the whole of this Spring! The half-hour foot-ferry crossing to Dunoon made light of the choppy conditions, as we steamed past Gannets and Arctic Terns.

Quick check-in, and the sun was out, so a leg-stretch along West Bay was very much in order. The tide was out, providing feeding for Oystercatchers and Hooded Crows (really in Scotland now!), together with a few motley Carrion/Hoodie hybrids.

Eiders were swimming and loafing beyond the tideline, while the stony upper beach had flowering Sea Radish and Danish Scurvy-grass.

Around the pier, there were Rock Pipits feeding and singing, and patches of Orange-dot Lichen Protoblastenia rupestris (with its distinctive raised, rounded, orange fruiting bodies) on the pavements and walls.

And the tinkling whisper of ‘Goldcrest song’… but seaward?! It was persistent, but it took some time to realise that it was the courtship song of Black Guillemots, the most un-auk-like sound imaginable. And interestingly, the otherwise wonderful Merlin birdsong app either couldn’t hear it or didn’t recognise it.

In the churchyard, lichens on gravestones are always worth a look, especially in less-polluted westerly areas …

… and indeed older walls throughout the town provided botanical interest from Ivy-leaved Toadflax, to Maidenhair Spleenwort and Wall-rue, to Fairy Foxglove and New Zealand Willowherb.

Most of our one full day in the area was taken up with a visit to the outstanding Benmore Botanic Garden, an outpost of the Royal Botanic Garden Edinburgh. In theory it was easily accessed by bus, although Argyll & Bute Council/West Coast Motors had changed the timetable a couple of days earlier – without changing the timetables at the bus-stops or online. We turned up at the bus-stop ‘ahead of time’ only to see the bus departing  into the distance., with the next one due in two hours. Clyde Taxis to the rescue, but a pretty poor show from the providers of public transport we thought.

Situated in the mountains, and indeed running up some pretty steep slopes, Benmore Garden has lots to interest any gardener or naturalist.

First the birdsong: Chaffinches everywhere and several Willow Warblers, respectively ‘going’ and ‘gone’ from our south-eastern haunts. A female Red Deer watched us watching it, and a fleeting Red Squirrel skittered along a trackside trying to avoid unleashed dogs.

From avenues of Giant Redwoods to mature plantings of numerous Rhododendron species and cultivars, together with numerous Southern Hemisphere shrubs and trees, the garden pays testament to the plant hunters of the past and its relatively mild situation encompassed by the Gulf Stream warmed waters of the Firth of Clyde.

Exotic perennial plantings too, the like of which we can only dream of in the (normally)  arid plains of Essex:

All of the cultivated delights are alongside a wonderful array of native mosses and liverworts, ferns, lichens and flowering plants:

As always we focused upon the tiny creatures, which included nymphal Forest Bugs, a range of planthoppers and mirid bugs, barklice and snipe-flies. And while there were some, fortunately not too many midges for comfort…

Benmore really exceeded our expectations, and throughout the day, we managed to avoid the showers wholly either in the garden café or the pubs back in Dunoon! A final word must go to food (always a focus of our trips). We ate outstanding evening meals at both the Lorne and Tryst, the former having perhaps better atmosphere and service. Cullen Skink at the Lorne was actually bettered by smoked haddock chowder at Tryst, but salmon pate, mushroom and leek gnocchi and black-pudding and haggis bonbons (Lorne) and lamb shoulder and vegetable lasagne (Tryst) also scored highly. And the Lorne’s uplifting pairing of mashed turnip and peppercorn sauce was simply inspired.

It was good to return to Dunoon, despite the cool weather, but after a couple of nights it was away, back across the Firth, to uncharted lands for us around the upper reaches of the Clyde …