Thursley Common (originally published 11/06/15 in wordpress blog of same name)

Just come back from a fantastic couple of hours at Thursley Common, at first there wasn’t much to see but as I walked along I found myself listening alert to eh sounds of the common, the birds, bees and insects, the breeze brusquely swooshing through the trees and grasses, from a distance a curlew called first its  coor -wee call  then its bubbling trill- a sound evoking an eerie, lonely, timeless feel that fitted with feeling of the open skied heathland space. As I listened it brought me to thinking about one of the recent episodes of Springwatch unsprung episodes where they interviewed Simon Scott who composes music using and integrating the sounds of the landscape.  Now I thought about the sounds around me and began to appreciate just how much that these sounds contribute to the essence of the place and how on a personal scale they make me feel and relate to the landscape.

There were a number of people out with cameras mainly photographing birds and in this instance I am guessing that many were taken of the Hobby. At first it perched for some time on an old dead tree in the open mire, then it began to  hunt, swooping up in the air heading for a couple of dragonflies its talons reaching out as it plucked one of the  dragonflies decisively out of the air. This I watched  for around an hour, it was amazing to see its aerial agility, it almost skimming the open water then swiftly turning back up on itself, shooting up in the air, gliding a little then rapidly dashing back across the common. Today was quite breezy and it appeared that when the wind was at its strongest the Hobby found a suitable perch, waited for it to die down then took flight again.

I also saw a Curlew, Tufted ducks, Stonechat and thanks to another photographer a little further round the common a raft spider consuming its prey of damselfly. If I had been a couple of minute’s earlier I may have seen it hunting, capturing and killing its prey.  I saw a couple of common lizards too but not as many as I had done in the past and no sand lizards which again are normally present however I did go in the middle of a hot sunny day and maybe if I had been there early morning I may have been more successful.

A May Bank Holiday Walk along the River Wey (originally published 09/06/15 in wordpress blog of same name)

It was a warm, cloudy with a hint of sun late May bank holiday, walking the three and a bit miles along the banks of the River Wey form Guildford to Godalming- people sauntered and cyclist trundled past on the uneven tow path, A duck and it ducklings floated by whilst a shire horse plodded past pulling behind him a colourful narrow boat full of sightseers up the river.   Pond skaters and water boatman skedaddled, skated and slid across the water whilst above the water small flies, their long thin two pronged tails trailing behind, flitted up in the sky, dropping intermittently only to flit back up again. These flies were abundant above the river but more so above the hedgerows and the trees that bordered the river. These flies, as you may have already guessed, were mayflies (Ephemeroptera).

Previously called dayflies due to their ephemeral lifespan length of a day, the Mayfly species, of which there are approximately 50 in Britain, and contrary to its name, can actually be seen across most months from spring through to autumn.

They start their life as Mayfly nymphs, living and feeding off detritus, algae and   in the river for up to 2 years, within this time shedding their exoskeletons up to as many as 40 times, before they emerge       from the water to shelter under leaves along the river bank. This is where they shed their last exoskeleton before they then return en-masse to flitter above the water to mate. Once mated the females then returned to the water where they lay their eggs, die and give themselves up to the water- feeding fish and birds alike. The males retire to the leaves to die.

Which is where on the walk we saw a Great Tit perching in the bushes and branches on the edge of the river focused on pecking off the expired Mayflies, then  flying off to the safety of  a nearby tree at the last minute as us walkers trod by, returning quickly and confidently to its original spot- apparent danger passed.

It was this mass emergence and mating swarm, this madly flapping swirling air, which we happened upon on this cloudy May Bank holiday.  I have seen this event many times before but for some reason today was the day for me to really see them, to see the delicate transparent wings, their 2 long thin tails twice as long as their body streaming out behind their short comma shaped bodies    and marvel at the spectacle of their dance of flight in their last remaining hours of life.

A spectacle, an emergence that has occurred in abundance over and over again for over 300 million years, but, as is the way  of so many of our insects nowadays, the  days of abundance, of Mayfly mist above the water has passed, their numbers  declining.