Dyer's green-weed, Genista tinctoria The floral fragrance of limestone grassland In July is delightful. Lady's bedstraw is abundant, with a honey scent. A sunny morning, with common blue butterflies, fritillaries and a ringlet. Always meadow browns. Once again, I came upon the stonechat family and spent a while watching them in the bonfire bush. Last summer, I found dyer's green-weed for the first time on Scout Scar, in a single location. This morning I rediscovered it and took careful note of the spot. Genista tinctoria, the flower resembles broom to which it is related. Frog orchid are now in full bloom.
So, the story of the bonfire bush.
So, the story of the bonfire bush.
The bonfire bush was a mistake. Scrub clearance was the conservation plan, lightly done. The farmer charged to carry out the work took in a tractor and afterwards there were deep ruts in the limestone grassland and a debris of shrubs. He was told of his error. Should he burn the bonfires? Within a few weeks I'd already seen birds using those piled-high shrubs as perches, safe perches with some height are what birds need in scrub habitat. I talked it over with Natural England and the bonfires stayed. Over time, those ' bonfires' attracted seedlings, giving them protection to take hold. It's the pattern here. The skeleton of hawthorn gives height and in spring the bonfire bush flames with flowers of gorse. And birds use its topmost branches for sanctuary. Some of my best bird photographs are located here on the bonfires. The wheatear on the cover of Cumbrian Contrasts, resplendent in breeding plumage. Newly arrived from Africa, he was confiding and over half an hour he gave every perspective I could possibly have wished for. (you'll find him on the cover and offering a different profile within the book.) I've watched a family linnets perching in its topmost branches, diving for cover into the heart of the fire. To-day, the stonechat family gave alarm calls upon my approach, the male flitting from one wand of hawthorn to another, then gathering some of his brood in the bonfire bush. They are so precious, because for several years stonechat were absent from Scout Scar.
And some twenty yards away, one August, I came upon a juvenile cuckoo being fed by meadow pipit mother. Pictured in Cumbrian Contrasts. Now, in early July, the adult cuckoo has flown back to Africa. And I know there's the possibility that somewhere here he has progeny- juvenile birds being reared by meadow pipits. I can still hear that rasping, begging call of the young cuckoo demanding to be fed.
Also on my wish list: in September, swallows muster. Twice I've seen this on Scout Scar. On neither occasion did I have a camera and I was so cross with myself. Each time I returned next day and of course they'd gone. So, come September I'll be on the look-out for mustering swallows. Last time, I saw several hundred birds in a larch tree on Helsington Barrows. Autumn brings the muster-motif. It's the seasonal pattern but quite when and where is always different. That's the thrill of finding things, or not.
And some twenty yards away, one August, I came upon a juvenile cuckoo being fed by meadow pipit mother. Pictured in Cumbrian Contrasts. Now, in early July, the adult cuckoo has flown back to Africa. And I know there's the possibility that somewhere here he has progeny- juvenile birds being reared by meadow pipits. I can still hear that rasping, begging call of the young cuckoo demanding to be fed.
Also on my wish list: in September, swallows muster. Twice I've seen this on Scout Scar. On neither occasion did I have a camera and I was so cross with myself. Each time I returned next day and of course they'd gone. So, come September I'll be on the look-out for mustering swallows. Last time, I saw several hundred birds in a larch tree on Helsington Barrows. Autumn brings the muster-motif. It's the seasonal pattern but quite when and where is always different. That's the thrill of finding things, or not.
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