Sunday, June 28, 2015
A dry spell three days ago inspired me to walk up the quarry road in a last desperate quest for wood warbler song. Nothing. However, a large sawfly was interesting because the yellow clubs to its antennae point to the ID of birch sawfly (Cimbex femoratus). It also seems to have the enlarged hind legs seen on Cimbicidae.
(The posting on this blog for June 21, 2009, shows a pic of what I initially thought was this species; but the antennae on that insect are all-dark, and it was probably a Trichiosoma sawfly, either triangulum or lucorum.)
All well and good. Except that this sawfly, like the Trichiosoma I spotted on June 4 last year, was on goat willow. And all the information I can find states that the female lays her eggs on birch, as that is what the larva exclusively feeds on. There were two flies present, and now and then they would fly up and mate in the air, both coming down to land in the tree.
At the turning-point of my walk, a loud humming was heard from a shady hollow ringed round with birches. A rather battered bee-hive stands there, which I had assumed was disused - but looking more closely, I now noticed the ropes and gleaming new chain holding it down. There was certainly plenty of activity on the landing board, but it soon became clear that all was not well. The bees were concentrated around a narrow opening, but individuals would break away and fight, usually in twos - rolling over and over until they dropped off the edge of the board. It was one massive battle. When I got home I googled this and read that honey bees will rob other hives; during food shortages, or just because the other hive is weaker. The attacked bees will defend their nest to the death; so what I saw was serious stuff. Something new learnt, anyway.
On the way back down it began to rain. Near the bottom, a slow worm was idling along across the road, stopping every now and then, and I became aware simultaneously of a vehicle coming up the quarry road. So I bent down and tried to encourage it into the safety of the verge. Looking up I realised the car had parked just below the cattle grid, and the driver was walking towards me. It was Greger, who was worried about me in the sudden violent downpour and had come to give me a lift home. I still don't recognise the new car!
He asked what I was doing and I replied "Chivvying a slow worm" which he found hilarious. The sad thing is, as a girl I would simply have picked it up, but I've become a bit more squeamish with age. Another sad thing (about today) is that I didn't see one single butterfly. This summer is a bummer.
// posted by Christine @ 4:33 AM 
