Posted in nature

Silver Beauties

The Silver birch (Betula pendula) is from the Betulaceae family, just like Hazel (Corylus) and Alder (Alnus), which also have flowers in the form of catkins (see my previous two posts A Snowy Adventure and The Birds and the Trees).

At the moment only the immature male catkins are visible (as they have been since autumn) dangling at the end of tree shoots.

Silhouette of male catkins on the ends of high branches.

Female Catkins develop after the leaves unfurl in spring. They face upwards, are bright green and smaller than the male ones; flowering between April and May. Unlike the fertilized Alder catkins these do not become woody and remain on the tree for seeds to disperse from there. Instead seed dispersal occurs as the female catkins disintegrate and are carried away by the wind as they fall from the tree.

The paper like white bark of the Birch sheds to uncover newer, cleaner bark underneath; plus dark diamond shaped fissures develop as the tree ages.

Fissures developing on the trunk of a Silver birch from my local woodland park.

Two birch trees are native to the UK, the other is the Downy birch (Betula pubescens). It is possible for these to hybridize with one another however individually they can be differentiated. The Downy birch has hairy, single-toothed leaves and hairy shoots (which is how it gets its name); plus the leaf base is rounder. The leaves of the Silver birch are more angular, double toothed around the edges and hairless (the shoots are also hairless). The Downy birch also prefers damper soil than the Silver birch but both are naturally found in woodlands.

The Silver and Downy Birches have open canopies allowing flowers such as violets (Viola), Primrose (Primula vulgaris), Bluebells (Hyacinthoides non-scripta) and Wood anemone (Anemone nemorosa) to florish beneath them. Several fungi are linked with Birch trees too, such as Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria), Woolly milk cap (Lactarius torminosus), Birch milk cap (Lactarius tabidus), Birch brittlegill (Russula betularum), Birch knight (Tricholoma fulvum) and the Birch polypore (Fomitopsis betulina).

These trees can support over 300 insect species. They are a good food source for the caterpillars of Angle-shades (Phlogophora meticulosa), Buff tip (Phalera bucephala), Pebble hook-tip (Drepana falcataria), and Kentish glory (Endromis versicolora) moths. Several Bird species make use of these trees including woodpeckers (Picidae), which nest in the trunks, along with Siskins (Spinus spinus), Greenfinch (Chloris chloris) and Redpolls (Acanthis) that feed on the seeds.

Uses for Birch trees include the manufacture of furniture, handles and toys as well as the process of tanning leather.

In times gone by it was used to make bobbins, spools and reels for the Lancashire cotton industry as well. To the Celts Birches symbolised purity, renewal and love. Later on brooms were made using birch twigs in order to clean rooms. In Finland they are the national tree.

There are several threats to Birch trees, two fungal pathogens (Marssonina betulae and Anisogramma virgultorum) which can cause Birch dieback and eventual death. Bronze birch borer (Agrilus anxius) can also attack native trees.
More information on both can be found on the Forest research website, see the links Birch dieback and Bronze birch borer.

Posted in nature

More Wonderful Singing

Last Monday lunchtime I got to hear a wonderful song. A Song thrush (Turdus philomelos) was singing loudly from an Oak (Quercus) tree. It’s repeated phrases made it easy to identify even though I couldn’t locate it visually. Their conservation status in the UK is red (see RSPB) so was nice to hear it. I have also seen one in the past but observations of Song thrushes are rare for me.

I haven’t noticed the young Bluetits (Cyanistes caeruleus) in the Rowan (Sorbus) tree for several days now. However while I ate my breakfast on Wednesday I
briefly saw a young Jay (Garrulus glandarius) instead. It didn’t remain for long, perhaps realising that it hadn’t landed on an Oak tree (a favourite of Jays as they love acorns). It was a great sighting; unfortunately in my sleepy state I wasn’t quick enough to get a photo.

The observations for the rest of the week were of insects. On my way to work I saw a Riband Wave moth (Idaea aversata).

Plants which their caterpillars feed on are Wood Aven (Geum urbanum), Primrose (Primula vulgaris), dandelions (Taraxacum) and dock (Rumex). I also saw another Cinnabar moth (Tyria jacobaeae) on my travels. Common Ragwort (Jacobaea vulgaris) is the main food source for their caterpillars. I often see these wildflowers around this area. I love to learn about plants that are beneficial for wildlife so I can undertake wildlife-friendly weeding. I allow ‘weeds’ to flower, remove seed heads before they set seed and control them via digging to prevent them from taking over a patch. With the exception of a few (which could remain in wild uncultivated areas of a garden) I find wildflowers can complement a border. I read an interesting article about this subject yesterday (see The Guardian).

I recently discovered that the collective noun for a group of Ladybirds is a loveliness. I saw loveliness of Seven spot ladybirds (Coccinella septempunctata) on a geranium on Tuesday afternoon.

They were a bit pale so it is possible they had only recently emerged; their wings not hardened properly or developed from pink to bright red. At one point I counted 10 and eventually noticed a Green shield bug (Palomena prasina) nymph too.

This wasn’t the only encounter with ladybirds last week. On Thursday a Harlequin ladybird (Harmonia axyridis) larvae attached itself to my colleague’s t-shirt.

I have started noticing more moths lately, especially different species. I tried to discover the collective noun for moths. I couldn’t find an official word but one suggestion online was a whisper of moths which I like.

Another moth that I saw was a Large Yellow Underwing (Noctua pronuba).

Unfortunately it had a slightly damaged wing. It must have been disturbed because it isn’t a day flying moth. It soon sought shelter under the Hebe I photographed it resting on.