Corona Wildlife Diary: Day Twenty-one

As the world shuts down around us the uplifting role that wildlife plays in our lives becomes more vital than ever. So, for my own sanity as much as anything, I’m going to keep a daily diary of what I find around my garden. Photograph the wildlife you can see from your window or in your garden and post your pictures on the ‘Sussex Wildlife Trust Nature Table’ page.

Day Twenty-one

Three weeks! Three weeks I’ve been stuck in here now. It seems like a lifetime ago I grabbed my stapler and laptop from my office at our Woods Mill headquarters and set up my ‘working from home’ area in the spare room. The furthest I’ve moved since then is down to the end of the road (where I heard the Redwing migrating north on Day Six).  

I’m aware I’m allowed to go for a daily walk but I haven’t bothered. From the start I figured that if the brave folks in the NHS are going to be out there fighting this virus on the front line the very least I can do to support them is absolutely nothing at all. I’m fortunate enough to have a small garden or by now the cabin fever could have got to me. But, on lovely warm days like today, I have my suspicions that maybe I’m getting just a little bit, well, cranky.

I was working at my desk this morning when I heard a buzzing. The whirring wings of a small insect passed by close to my ear and a little creature landed on the window. I leaned in closer and could see it was a small orange ladybird with 14 white spots, a Cream-spot Ladybird.

There are 46 species of ladybird in the UK although just over half of those conform to the classic colourful, spotty ladybird template that we all recognise (the others are small, rather drab looking beetles). British ladybirds pass the winter as adults, emerging in the spring to mate and lay eggs. Some ladybirds will hibernate in houses (the invasive Harlequin Ladybird does this famously in large clusters) but my book says that Cream-spot Ladybirds prefer to hibernate under bark and in crevices.

(Cream-spot Ladybird being escorted to the door)

But right now this little ladybird just looking to fly away (out of my) home. I watch it for a little bit longer as it restlessly paces in circles on the pane desperate to get out. I know just how it feels. I put the little insect on my finger and walk it out into the garden where, after a few laps of my finger, it extends its wings and, with a quick buzz which I interpret as a ‘thank you’, lifts off and flies away.

Upon returning to the kitchen I hear a noise I haven’t heard for a while. A Common Wasp, my first wasp of the year, is buzzing and battering itself against the kitchen window, in an attempt to escape

(I tried to get a photo of the wasp but it didn't stay still. I did get this snap, although it makes the wasp look like it's half the size of the greenhouse)

I have a butterfly net in the hallway, so I grab that and start swinging it around the kitchen like some clumsy Jedi, almost taking out a bottle of tequila and some pickled onions. I eventually catch the wasp and walk it out into the garden and watch it fly off. It’s then I notice…

The female Blackbird has got herself trapped in the greenhouse and, despite flying through the open door can’t seem to figure out an exit strategy. She’s really panicking so I wait inside the house to give her space but she doesn’t seem to be the smartest bird in the garden and I’m worried she may hurt herself. Employing the butterfly net again, I catch her quickly and release her, watching her vanish into the hedge where her partner welcomes her with his clucking alarm call. I close the greenhouse door and I start to wonder if this is my new role in life; Michael Blencowe: Animal Rescue.

 

I take the butterfly net and put it back where it belongs in the garage. On entering the garage I’m not even surprised when I see them. Four trapped Peacock butterflies trying to escape. These Peacocks would have entered the garage in September 2019 and hibernated in some cool crevice, the dark undersides of their wings rendering them invisible.

The Peacocks probably found their way in through the half open window (where the corrugated pipe from the tumble-drier pokes out) but now they’re escorted out in style, one by one, on my finger.

I sit with each of them as they warm up, sometimes flashing their wings at me – a defence strategy to scare off predators. Imagine if you were a mouse and saw this - those big eyes would convince you that you were dealing something bigger and infinitely scarier than a butterfly - an owl or a pussycat perhaps.

Each one launches itself from my finger and spirals out of the garden high into the blue sky and within 15 seconds is probably further away from this house than I have been in the past 21 days. I can’t help but feel a bit jealous as I enjoy some freedom vicariously. I walk four laps of the garden to stretch my legs, hoping that maybe someday soon a giant hand will reach down from the sky and carry me away. There's a lot of people out there facing a tougher time than me today, so I head indoors, stick on a bit of Nina Simone (here) and get back to work.   

Hey folks, if you have a garage or a shed, do me a favour, and check if there are any Peacocks trapped inside. If you find some...set them free.