So we beat on...

"So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."

That is the final sentence from F Scott Fitzgerald's book 'The Great Gatsby'. In my humble opinion it is one of the finest 'last lines' in literature - economic in structure and oh so true.

Why do so many of us reminisce and frequently visit the land of nostalgia? This is not something that everybody that I know indulges in. Some people shun it at an act of neediness or a clear sign that the present is not fulfilling enough. I quite enjoy wallowing in the past, and find myself doing so as a celebration of happy times - notice I didn't use the word 'happier'. Today's good moments will, with the passage of time, become tomorrow's nostalgia. When I look back at my own cherished 'natural history' moments, very few are about rarity. They are largely about feeling at peace, at ease or at one with a place, with the plants, birds and/or insects becoming the characters that populate these special moments.All are celebrations of a time that I feel privileged to have experienced. I can look back through my notebooks and conjure up these memories with a joyous ease. A purring Turtle Dove, a winter Red Admiral or an unexpected Fly Orchid can all be stored away for a later date. We all have hundreds, if not thousands of these highlights hidden away, and not to revisit them is, in my mind, a waste.

I will leave the last words to another giant of literature, Spike Milligan, who wrote:

"Is it with the future uncertain and the present so traumatic that we find the past so comforting?"

You couldn't make it up

So, Richard Benyon, the government minister responsible for wildlife protection at Defra (Department Environment, Food and Rural Affairs), puts the welfare of the introduced Pheasant, (and the wishes of the shooting lobby), ahead of the legally protected Common Buzzard.

You can read all about it here.

The article spells it all out - Mr Benyon is a monied landowner with interests in shooting and fishing. What possessed 'the powers that be' to employ this sort of person to look after our wildlife when that very same person has vested interests in suppressing (or controlling) said wildlife for personal gain is beyond me. A bit like asking bankers to police the banking system...

Last night's moths

Least Black Arches - a total of five, this being the strongest marked. This species has taken off locally over the last three years - it used to be quite notable for the garden.

Pale Prominent - just the one

Waved Umber - a single trapped

Closed Door

I was saddened to learn that Ray Manzarek, co-founder and keyboard player of The Doors, had died. The Doors music was very much the soundtrack to my early Dungeness birding days. Many a night was spent in the company of their albums, beer and like-minded friends. His keyboard practically took the place of a lead guitar in the band, and where as Jim Morrison was always my focal point, Manzarek was the stabilising influence that kept them, along with John Densmore and Robbie Kreiger, together as a unit. He also sported a wicked pair of side-burns...

Picture this

Sometimes - and not very often when I'm involved - a picture can capture 'the moment'. This is, in my humble opinion, such an image.

I was walking along a footpath in deep shade along the banks of the River Mole near Mickleham. It was late morning and the sun was still low enough to be illuminating the woodland with an ethereal light. Above, the leaf canopy had unfurled to help diffuse this light further, which in turn lit an enormous patch of newly flowering Ramsons to perfection, capturing the pristine condition of the plants, all fresh greens and brilliant whites. If you take a deep breath you can almost smell the garlic scent from your chair...

Time to take stock

There are plus and minus points about trying to identify everything that you come across. On the plus side is the fact that you end up looking at things that, ordinarily, you would totally ignore. It also makes you appreciate the stunning diversity that exists in even the humblest of habitats. For me, the main negative aspect is that, without years of experience, without access to mountains of literature and without the luxury of copious amounts of spare time, you cannot tame a great majority of what you will see. The correct identification of thousands of species - no, tens of thousands of species - will be beyond me.

Having said that, it doesn't stop me from having a go. Neither does it diminish my amazement at what is out there. The need to be pragmatic is paramount. Take beetles for example. I have a few guides (and good internet resources) that enable me to realistically name a fair number of species. For those groupings or families that need keying out or are beyond the scope of looking at a digital image to get an identification, I have to admit defeat - but having got the beetle down to a family level should be seen as a small victory.

I have come to the conclusion that, with a finite amount of time to spend in the field, I should concentrate on those groups that I am fairly proficient at - birds, lepidoptera and flora - and only spend a fraction of my time looking at other things (when they appear striking enough, under the assumption that they might be identifiable). This can sometimes backfire. I took the image (above, right) two weeks ago of a large, colourful beetle and assumed that it would be easy to identify. Trawling through the literature alerted me to there being two similar species. Fortunately my image showed enough for me to be certain that it was Carabus problematicus, due to the elytra exhibiting parallel raised lines. The confusion species (Carabus violaceus) has an elytra that exhibits a uniform stippling effect that lacks raised lines. So, when I came across another large blue beetle yesterday (pictured left), I was armed with the knowledge that this must be the 'other' species. A nice result from dabbling at the edges of beetledom...

I am the first to admit that this watering down of my birding time has resulted in a loss of proficiency. The same could be said of moths (I've forgotten quite a bit) and plants (still haven't got around to really tackling grasses, sedges and rushes). Being 'pan-species selective' is most probably the right thing to do so that I do not lose any more of my hard won knowledge in my favoured groups.

Clovers and Crowfoots

I started off the morning by visiting Blake's Pond on Epsom Common, a charming small waterbody that looks as if it has a touch of the past about it. I can imagine that geese, horses and Victorian raggamuffins used to poach its edges to enable all sorts of good plants to survive. Most of these agents of disturbance have gone now, replaced by dogs and Elizabethan raggamuffins who deposit empty cider bottles into the water instead. All is not lost however - there is still a fine selection of plants present, hence my visit. First target was Adder's-tongue, which evaded me even though I carefully checked all of the cleared areas around the edge. Next I examined the flowering Water Crowfoot, expecting Common (R. aquatilis) but seemingly finding Pond (R. peltatus). The floating leaves were not deeply lobed (see picture) and the petals on the flower were 11-12 mm long (they should be shorter than 10mm on Common apparently). So, have I got it wrong or are both species present? Any help will be gratefully received.

I then moved onto Reigate Heath. When I visited two weeks ago the cricket pitch was devoid of flower, but today stuff was showing - not much, but enough. Firstly was Upright Chickweed, quickly followed by Bird's-foot Clover, Burrowing (or if you prefer, Subterranean) Clover and, confusingly, Bird's-foot. This area of grass is home to a fine selection of small flowered goodies. Well worth a visit, but you will probably end up prostrate on the ground. Take a hand lens...

Bird's-foot Clover, glabrous with leaves like a palmated birds foot

Burrowing Clover - hairy leaves and quite plentiful

In other news: an aberrant Redwing has been seen in Margate Cemetery