Biology – Page 42 – David Bradley

Shallow questions and deep answers

@EstOdek on Twitter asked her followers a simple-seeming question

What did you want to be when you were a kid? And what are you now?

Her answer to kickstart the thread:

I wanted to be a professional rugby player or boxer. I'm now an antibody selections scientist

Well, I was born just before the Moon landings era and grew up reading every single science book I could find in the library from the space books to the dinosaurs and the sharks and whales. There was a series of novels about a team or marine biologists following the submarine passion for sharks, whales, and all the creatures of the sea. And, inspired as an 8-year old I thought I’d probably forsake being an astronaut and be a marine biologist. There was even a Marine Laboratory in the bay of my hometown of Cullercoats on the edge of Northumberland.

I don’t think I’ve ever stopped reading, always have 2-3 books on the go at once, usually a novel, and a couple of non-fiction (these days, they might be about songs, snaps, or science). By the time I got to that career-choosing age where they seem to push you along based on simply how well you pass or how badly you fail trivial memory-recall tests they call examinations, I was doing all the schools sciences – biology, chemistry, physics – and maths and the obligatory humanities ones but not music, despite getting 98% in the exam and being second in the year (I learned saxophone for a couple of terms but it used to give me headaches so I gave up. Nobody nudged me towards piano or guitar lessons, I ended up teaching myself the latter and taking a few lessons on the former when I was about 17).

Anyway, by the time O-levels came around, my biology teacher was advising me to not take that subject at A-level. So, I ended up doing maths, physics, and chemistry. The unholy trinity for boys at the time, only girls got nudged towards biology in my school for some reason. Anyway, at A-level mock exams my physics tutor was advising me to not do physics but to take chemistry at university. It feels like a shame so many years later, although I did eventually fall in love with chemistry, but it just wasn’t sharks and dinosaurs! That said, I did like all the bio and med stuff in the degree more than the inorganic content. The chemistry and all those books became the passion and as I’ve discussed several times on this blog I (obviously) became a science writer.

So, today, a close friend said they hadn’t realised that about my “career path”. I wasn’t shocked that they didn’t know, childhood passions kind of fade from memory, and although we’ve had a lot of late-night conversations where such discussion might arise, that particular one has not surfaced over a single malt.

But! Look!!!

Birds, moths, butterflies, sharks, dolphins, seals, stoats, burying beetles, bees, flowers!!!

Of course, none of this post is about regrets, you take the path you take.

All-black Sexton, or Burying, Beetle

UPDATE: 30 July 2019 – Another Sexton Beetle turned up this one doesn’t seem to have a vernacular name, it’s simply known as Necrophorus investigator.

ETYMOLOGY: A sexton was once a member of staff with responsibility for a church’s sacred objects and burying the dead. The word comes from the Old FrenchÂ segrestien, ultimately from Latin sacrista, fromÂ sacer, meaning sacred.

UPDATE: Sexton beetles often have mite passengers that eat fly eggs and maggots that are on the carrion the beetle buries. I asked about these and whether or not there is a parasitic mite too on the Moth Trap Intruders UK Facebook group, Malcolm Storey had this to say:

“The usual name given for the mite is Parasitus coleoptratorum which misleads people into thinking they’re parasitic (which people presumably thought when the name was proposed). This stage of the mite is the deutonymph. Apparently they’re “paraphages”. It’s the same small number of mite species on various dung and ground beetles. P. coleoptratorum is probably the commonest of the group. More info: Hyatt, K.H. 1980 Mites of the subfamily Parasitinae (Mesostigmata: Parasitidae) in the British Isles. Bull. Br. Mus. nat. Hist. (Zool.) 38(5): 237-378.”

I’ve mentioned burying beetles before. They’re a type of beetle it’s not a morbid hobby, by the way! These insects drag dead rodents and other animals underground, lay their eggs in them and the larvae as they hatch have a ready-meal to die for! The beetle also produces horrendously smelly sulfur compounds to mask the smell of death, you can think of it as a kind of flatulent Neutradol…

Anyway, in my moth trap morning of 20th March 2019, a specimen of the UK’s only all-black burying beetle, Nicrophorus humator, all-black carapace, that is, ignore the orange clubs on its death-seeking antennae. First Sexton Beetle of the year. This one had several pale-orange arachnid passengers, mites, I believe. Not sure whether they’re parasitic or synergistic.

First (migrant) Chiffchaff of 2019

We heard an over-wintering Chiffchaff (at RSPB Titchwell on New Year’s Day this year, but today (18th March) I’ve just heard and seen the first one that has presumably migrated from Africa for the summer. It was calling with its plaintive, sound-of-the summer, onomatopoeic, metronomic and instantly recognisable ttt-tss-ttt-tss-ttt-tss-tss-tss call.

Snapped it quickly in Rampton Spinney as it was darting from tree to tree and calling in between. The Common Chiffchaff (Phylloscopus collybita) is a warbler and almost identical to the Willow Warbler (Phylloscopus trochilus), which I think I may have heard briefly on the opposite of this woodland at the beginning of my walk today. Very another sound-of-the-summer.

This is the call of the Chiffchaff. The first sound is the actual recording I made and it’s as you’d hear the bird in woodland or elsewhere. The bird usually repeats its chiff-chaff 11 to 14 times (in my original records, I’ve got 11 on one and 13 on a second sequence).

The second sound you hear in the video is that of the same bird’s call time stretched (slowed down) by about four times and then the frequency halved to take it down an octave in pitch. It reveals otherwise hidden detail in the bird’s call as well as allowing you to hear the echoing of the song from the trees of the woodland. The normal recording sounds cheery and chipper, the slowed down version rather more plaintive and melancholic, perhaps even eerie.

The fading scent of violets

TL:DR – The chemical ionone gives violets their scent, but the scent temporarily fades if you keep sniffing the flowers.

Savour the scent of violets for too long and the smell will eventually fade. In fact, you won’t be able to smell anything for a while after until the chemical, ionone, that give violets their scent has dissipated from within your olfactory cavities.

Close up of Violet flowers

The combination of ionones gives violets their sweet but dry and powdery smell. These chemicals (also known as rose ketones) have an interesting effect on your olfactory receptors, inhibiting them after initially stimulating them and this steals away your sense of smell. This was an effect that was once considered magical and immortalised in folklore for generations. But, it’s much more magical than anything supernatural, it’s chemistry!

Later early moths

Update: Adding at least one new-for-me species every couple of days now to my mothematics gallery.Â Most interesting and fascinating were the March Moth, the Twenty-plume, and the Nut-tree Tussock (which laid 47 eggs and I am going to attempt to get them to hatch).

Female Nut-tree Tussock (*Colocasia coryli*)

Previously, I posted about some of the early moths (early in the year, that is, as opposed to Early Moths, a species of that name) that have been attracted to the actinic light of the trap.

On the evening of the 14th March 2019, it was relatively uncold, cloudy and pretty much windless.

There was a definite upturn in numbers and diversity to the trap: 4x Small Quaker, 10x Common Quaker, 3x Clouded Drab, 1xEarly Grey, and Double-striped Pug. That was the first Pug of the year, saw lots of that species and its relatives during the summer of 2018. Diurnea fagella was hanging on the LED fairylights on a cultivated honeysuckle in our garden).

By morning, the Pug had gone but a Hebrew Character and a Twin-spotted Quaker were in residence in the trap (all ethically released after logging and photographing, of course.

Early moths

I started “lighting up” again for the 2019 season a couple of weeks ago. I don’t mean I’ve taken to smoking, I’m referring to moth-ing. I’m still using the borrowed and now bought homemade scientific moth trap. It is a 40-Watt actinic light Robinson style trap and was built by my cabinetmaker and amateur luthier friend Rob, whom I’ve mentioned previously (see Mothley Crew).

Anyway, despite frosts, wind, and rain there have been a few early moths turning up in the trap over the last fortnight or so. I should note the 12-year old UV-A bulb was looking worn when illuminated so I have replaced it and am hoping for great things over the coming weeks and months.

First to appear were the Common Quakers (Orthosia cerasi) of which there have been several over the weeks. I should point out that the first moth I saw this year was 15th February in the front garden and was what made me think it might be worth lighting up again, Common Plume (Emmelina monodactyla). After the CQs, there was the relatively rare Acleris cristana on the trap, but not in it, Pale Brindled Beauty (Phigalia pilosaria), again on the trap in the evening and then in it by morning light. Hebrew Character (Orthosia gothica) moths started to show up by 23rd February and I’ve seen several not to be confused with their bristly relatives, which come later, Setaceous Hebrew Character (Xestia c-nigrum).

Then, I had Oak Beauty (Biston strataria), which lives up to its name and gives me some hope that I might get other oak-loving species much later in the year, such as the elusive Mervs and Decembers. Next was Dotted Border (Agriopis marginaria) (also saw several of this species in the gents at NT Dunwich Heath), bizarrely, but perhaps not unsurprisingly.

Then Clouded Drab (Orthosia incerta), Small Quaker (Orthosia cruda), Twin-spotted Quaker (Anorthoa munda), and Early Grey (Xylocampa areola) on 8th March. Meanwhile, there was a Yellow Horned (Achlya flavicornis) at Dunwich, which I mentioned in my Dartford Warbler blog post about the site.

As new moths appear in the trap each evening, I’ll add them to my Mothematics gallery. I usually also post to the Facebook group UK Moths Flying Tonight.

Dartford Warblers at Dunwich Heath

It had been a long time since we visited National Trust Dunwich Heath on the Suffolk coast. It’s a beautiful place and aside from a warden or two in the hut there was barely anyone around, we had the place to ourselves, at least for the first hour and a half of our walk.

Anyway, we parked up, layered up and set off on one of the mapped out circular walks hoping to catch a glimpse of a Dartford Warbler (Sylvia undata). Amazingly, there were a pair flitting about close to the start of the circuit, too quick to photograph, but not 100 metres up the trail, we could see at least three more, and we inched forward, not straying from the footpath, of course, and I got a few snapshots.

You can think of this UK resident species of warbler as really being a North African bird that stretched its range northwards at some time in the past, on to the Iberian Peninsula and up to the British Isles. It can be found in Wales, the South West and in Suffolk (there are thought to be 37 pairs on Dunwich Heath). You occasionally see them on the northern perimeter of neighbouring RSPB Minsmere (seen one once there) and further up the coast on the outskirts of Dunwich Village itself. We didn’t see any more after the initial lucky burst of five or so. But, we did see quite a few Goldcrests and Treecreepers further up the trail and the usual mix of woodland/garden birds, Long-tailed, Great, Blue Tits, Robins, Blackbirds etc.

In the notoriously cold winter of 1962/1963, so I am told, the cold killed off most of the UK’s Dartford Warblers; they are very sensitive to the cold. There were ten left and the current population, which amounts to some 3000 territories is quite an astonishing recovery.

Incidentally, the name of this bird has a rather uncomfortable etymology. Back in less enlightened times ornithologists generally studied new bird species by shooting them and then examining and reporting on them, rather than netting them, ringing them, and setting them free. Two specimens of what eventually became known as Sylvia undata were shot in April 1773 on Bexley Heath near Dartford in Kent. They were examined and described by Welsh naturalist Thomas Pennant.

As a footnote, when we got back to base to use the facilities before heading off to RSPB Minsmere (me in the car, Mrs Sciencebase on foot with the pooch), there were four moths showing well in the gents– three Dotted Border (Agriopis marginaria) and a (new to me) Yellow Horned (Achlya flavicornis), pictured below.

Fenland Cranes

UPDATE: 5th November 2025, as I understand it from RSPB’s Rachel there are 85 Cranes on the Ouse Washes. 7th November, 83 reported on Welney.

UPDATE: 21st October 2023 68 now being reported at RSPB Ouse Washes

UPDATE: Species numbers seem to be on the up in East Anglia, with 60+ now as opposed to the 38 or so I first mentioned in the region. Spotted two at RSPB Ouse Fen (Earith) on the dogwalkers’ trail on 17th March 2022, having had a tipoff from Andy Hoy who had seen them on that patch several times for the preceding week or so.

Given this blog post’s title, if you didn’t know me better you might have thought I was going to discuss the interminable civil engineering and construction work that is going on in our vicinity – the construction of the new town of Northstowe and the widening of the A14 road.

But, no the topic is the avian Crane – specifically, the Common Crane (Grus grus). The bird whose scientific name simply means Crane crane, coming from the Latin for crane, funnily enough. It’s another tautonym where that means the name is doubled up to represent the archetype of the family.

Anyway, there are several dozen Common Cranes that spend their time flying between various sites and their surroundings around East Anglia – Namely: RSPB Lakenheath, WWT Welney, RSPB Nene Washes and RSPB Ouse Washes, RSPB Ouse Fen, RSPB Fen Drayton Lakes, Kingfisher’s Bridge Nature Reserve and nearby NT Wicken Fen. Presumably, once airborne, these large and graceful birds can survey a large area of the flatlands and head for whichever patch of wetland they fancy for any given period. I’ve seen them and photographed them from a distance at several of the spots mentioned above.

The largest number I’ve seen at one time is 37, I believe, but proper birders tell me that there are some 45 around and that there may well be at least one courting pair, which is good news for a species that was extirpated from the British Isles by the 17th Century. There is also a tiny breeding population in the Norfolk Broads and the bird was reintroduced to the Somerset levels in 2010.

Today, at least two were dithering about which direction to take over RSPB Ouse Fen (which nestles between the South Cambridgeshire villages of Needingworth, Bluntisham, and Over. It’s a converted gravel quarry site split in two by the River Great Ouse (a tautonym itself given that ouse simply means river, as does the word avon). A large part of this patch land is still active quarry, presumably providing gravel and sand for the aforementioned construction work.

I was walking the Reed Bed Trail, which is on the Over side of the river. Having seen 4-5 Marsh Harriers, a Snipe, and a Green Sandpiper, I was heading back to the car when a couple of birds almost as big as swans came into view, veering back and forth until they went out of sight. They were Common Cranes. Anyway, you might spot these large birds flying over any of the countless fens as they hop between feeding grounds and putative nesting sites.

Not to be confused with that far more common fenland icon, the Grey Heron (Ardea cinerea).

Stoats are weaselly distinguished

As regular readers will know, the dog and I are often to be seen tramping the footpaths around farmland, the local spinney, and the drainage ditches known as lodes. A year ago today I videoed said pooch running through the snow as Britain supposedly suffered the onslaught of some cold snowy weather in the form of the so-called Beast from the East (video here). It wasn’t at all beastly, just a bit cold and a bit snowy and it brought the winter thrushes (my video here), the Redwings and the Fieldfares, into our village gardens from the fields.

By contrast, today it’s an incredibly balmy 18.5 Celsius out there. Certainly not too cold to sit down by a style with the dog for a short rest on the off-chance that some interesting birds might come along. Well, there were the usual Dunnocks, Goldfinch, Robins, Long-tailed, Great, and Blue Tits, Blackbird, Rook, and Wood Pigeon.

Then, a very worried sounding Wren darted into the closest hedgerow attempting to evade a predator! It was almost murder, she stoat.

The stoat (Mustela erminea) is sometimes known as the short-tailed weasel (to contrast it with the smaller least weasel). In Ireland, where there are no least weasels, it’s simply called a weasel. But, the same larger species, in its almost completely white winter fur is known as an ermine.

In this heat, it’s Stoatally tropical…almost. Fur fake’s sake…

He’s now in the Vertebrate section of the Imaging Storm Wildlife gallery.

Last of the Short-eared Owls

UPDATE: 22 Apr 2019, I wasn’t there but apparently, still Shorties at Burwell Fen.

Short-eared Owls (Asio flammeus) like to spend their winters where it’s slightly warmer than their native lands of Iceland, Scandinavia, and Russia. I say warmer, they migrate to northern, eastern, and parts of central southern England especially around the coast. But, they also seem to have favoured NT Burwell Fen this winter.

Got quite close to the Owl photographed above without spooking it, but there was a group of people up ahead who had an even better view when it landed right in front of them, but they decided to blunder ahead and get even closer than 20 metres for their photos, scaring the bird and ruining everybody else’s chance for a closeup.

There have been sightings of six or so Short-eared Owls over the last few weeks. I have seen at most two at one time there in the last few days, but possibly a third. Other photographers and birders there suggest only two remain. They will only be here for a few more days, maybe weeks, the weather and food source will perhaps dictate how much longer they will stay.