Websailor's Wacky Wildlife World
Created | Updated May 7, 2008
A quirky look at wildlife. To be taken with a pinch of
salt, but with more than a grain of truth!
'Ne'er Cast a Clout'...
Not a warning about losing your temper, but an age old admonition: 'Ne'er cast a clout till May is out' has been quoted to many a child wanting to shed winter clothes too early. I well remember sweltering in heavy winter school uniform while everyone else had donned their summer dresses because my mother stuck rigidly to this code! Strangely, the 'May' referred to is not the month, but the blossom of the hawthorn — the belief was that summer had not really arrived until the May blossom was in full flower. If we had adhered to that view in some recent years, we might have missed the only 'summer' on offer!
The hawthorn is thought to be the forerunner of the maypole, the centre pole being a tree trunk stripped of branches and leaves. The flowers were used in May Day garlands, but I seem to remember that it was regarded as bad luck to bring the flowers in the house. 1 May, May Day or Lady Day, was originally a pagan festival celebrating fertility, the first spring planting and the bursting out of new life after a long, dark winter. Houses were garlanded with flowers and foliage. The choosing of the May Queen and the dancing round the maypole (originally a pagan fertility symbol) are still part of celebrations in many English villages. Boys and girls each hold a ribbon, dancing round till the ribbons either end up beautifully plaited or in a complete tangle! Morris dancers are also part of the English country scene, being skillful and fascinating to watch provided they don't get their sticks in a twist! In spite of May Day and the maypole being outlawed in the 1600s for religious reasons, these traditions still continue and add a flavour of the past to a celebration of new life in the future.
There is something magical about May. The dark mornings and evenings have gone. Suddenly everywhere is bursting with colour. Almost overnight, skeletal trees are dressed in green finery as hawthorn, silver birch, sycamore and oak show leaves sprouting. Forty shades of green would be an understatement. The bright yellow of dandelions, lesser celandine and white daisies sprinkle the grass verges with sunshine. They have shorter stems in suburban areas, defying the vicious Council mowers, flowering an inch high instead of their natural 3-4 inches. That defiance of human interference is personified by May Day. The sunny faces of the dandelions are a tonic and I still can't bring myself to mow the lawn when the daisies are in full flower!
The snowdrops of winter have gone, the crocuses and daffodils of early spring are fading and the glory of bluebells bring new colour to gardens and woodland. Hedgehogs are out and about in the evenings and you can register sightings and help research into their decline at HogWatch. It is very easy. Badger and fox cubs play, young squirrels screech and chatter and birds begin their choral rehearsals for Dawn Chorus Day, which is on 7 May this year. I am proud that this special day was originated by the Wildlife Trust in Birmingham and the Black Country (my habitat!). It is now an international day celebrated in the UK, France, Italy, South Africa, Pakistan and New Zealand. It draws people of all ages from their beds in the middle of the night, if they have to travel, to watch the dawn breaking and listen to the rising cacophony of sound that is nature's musical gift to us.
Of course, there are those that curse the cacophony for waking them too early, so shut your ears to the language! It is also a time when the dawn chorus can herald the end of a very long vigil if you are looking after someone ill or you are not sleeping well. It is a desperately lonely time when it seems that only you are awake and there is no-one to share your pain. But it also brings hope and the knowledge that life goes on.
The birds are busy collecting moss, twigs, cobwebs, mud, grass and wool if they haven't already built their nests. All around us birds are 'courting', the males feeding females and in my garden both robins and starlings are ferrying mealworms and titbits to their offspring. They are fighting each other and queue jumping, mugging competitors if the opportunity arises! Unfortunately, modern farming methods mean there is less food for birds in the spring than there used to be, so feeding our garden birds at this time can be crucial.
Their colours more vivid. Birds such as the chaffinch become real glamour boys with pinky chests, slate-grey heads and white flashes on their wings. Suddenly it is clear why blue tits are called that. Their caps, often with a tiny crest, simply glow blue. Their caps remind me of those of continental railway porters! The great tits have bright yellow waistcoats with a black stripe down the centre, but with the buttons missing! The dark 'red salmon' breasts of the bullfinches, the glittering red, gold, black and white goldfinches, the orange-red breasts of the robin, the scarlet underside of the great spotted woodpecker, flash in the sunlight. The bright blue parts of the jay show up, as do the indigo wings of the magpie — in truth not just a black and white marauder! Starlings catching the sunlight shine iridescent purple and teal, often with startling white speckles. Should you catch sight of a nuthatch, especially a male, the blue slate head and back and terracotta breast is very elegant.
On a warm sunny day, big fluffy bundles, suitably called bumblebees in brown, black and yellow, fly lazily from flower to flower and butterflies drift over the hedges. I have found ladybirds on my windowsills recently. No insect-repelling gizmos in my house, I'm afraid. The colours and patterns of both butterflies and ladybirds are infinitely glorious and varied. Every colour of the rainbow and then some. Nature's 'graphic designers' have excelled themselves with these delicate beauties.
Our habit of tidying the garden and cutting the lawn can be hazardous for wildlife at this time of year. Poke around the edges of the lawn and in the undergrowth if you don't want to mutilate frogs, toads or hedgehogs with your strimmer. I have a big pile of pallet timber drying under the barbecue ready to make winter kindling for my fire, but I can promise you if I move it now I will find froglets and the occasional adult — yet we have no pond! I now know that slugs have a taste for bird food and they will climb anywhere to get it, even risking sitting in the badger's dish, which is surely suicidal! Worms seem to have a death wish too, lying on the lawn when the blackbirds are about. Dozens of snails hide in every nook and cranny and can even be found six feet up in the lilac tree! Some of them are so tiny, no bigger than a polystyrene bead, yet look closely, with a magnifying glass if you can, and you will find the patterns on their shells are of stunning perfection and very colourful.
It is sad that, with so many snails around, we have seen no song thrushes for the last year or two. Can someone please tell them there is a feast waiting for them here, with a rock anvil for their use whenever they are ready? It is equally sad that those glorious British bluebells I mentioned earlier seem doomed to extinction in ten years or so, according to a report from the Wildlife Trusts. Our native bluebells are being forced out by the Spanish bluebell, introduced to British gardens 300 years ago. It is now cross-breeding and producing a strong, fast-spreading hybrid which is pushing out our bluebells in favour of the paler, unscented, not-so-dainty Spanish species and its hybrid. I won't mention ruddy ducks!
Once upon a time I, too, would have fallen for the 'designer garden' hype: decking, gravel, paving, exotic maintenance-free plants. When you are working and have a family, well, anything for an easy life. Now retired, I realise what a barren garden that can produce. We need every scrap of natural soil possible to be exposed to support our wildlife and absorb water. Now alongside cultivated plants, I have common sorrel (which tastes of vinegar), wood sorrel and lily of the valley (in my mother's wedding bouquet), dandelions, daisies and herb robert, with red stems and pink flowers. Blue speedwell, violet heartsease and glittering white chickweed. Nettles for the butterflies, thistles for the goldfinch and blackberries, both flowers and berries being a wildlife magnet. Oh, and a lawn of meadow turf.
The latter has never quite come up to the striped bowling-green ambitions of my husband! Now the garden is my responsibility and later on it will have clover (red and white), buttercups, plantain, self-heal and numerous other 'weeds' growing in it. The garden and its wildlife are thriving and I don't think the neighbours have noticed the tasteful arrangement of 'weeds'. In May, the grass grows faster than I can cut it, but the birds appreciate my efforts and are soon down to find worms and insects. The badgers, too, prefer short grass, as finding worms is easier. I turn a blind eye to the holes they leave and stamp them down before the anyone spots them!
We have never used chemicals and peat is strictly forbidden. The plundering of peat bogs, laid down over thousands of years and now piled high in garden centres, has destroyed acres of specialist habitat supporting a wide variety of mammals, birds, insects and invertebrates. Over the last few years, environmentally-friendly alternative composts have improved beyond belief and there is now no need to use peat at all. Bark and other mulches keep flower beds almost weed-free and moist, if that is your preference. One word of warning, though: coco shells (cocoa) sold as mulch can be lethal if you have dogs. They are attracted by the smell, but it will make them ill, as will our favourite chocolates!
In my younger years, weighed down with a mortgage and a full-time job and later coping with home, children, elderly parents and a part-time job, I lost contact with the wonders of the natural world. I am now rediscovering those precious, free joys and May is once again what it should be: a celebration of the rebirth of the wonders of Nature, which seem to survive and flourish against (almost) all the odds. If you are lucky enough to have your own little bit of heaven, however small, take a fresh look at it in this merry month of May. If you don't have your own space or cannot get out to see wildlife, then I hope you have enjoyed a peek through my 'rose-tinted spectacles'.
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