Natural highs and lows

It's still Summer in Orkney! I know this because it is raining. Vertically. So what better time to have a brief catch-up on wildlifey happenings in this neck of the woods since the last post nine days ago (and definitely not just because I was called out for not having blogged for over a week. Honest). Amongst all the hoverflies, bumblebees, social wasps, butterflies and moths nectaring in the garden, we have been keeping an eye out for the occasional potter wasp. This isn't just because they're wonderful little solitary wasps, but also because they're stalked by the rarely seen (let alone photographed) Ruby-tailed wasp, a parasitoid of the potters, who lays her egg alongside the potter's egg, and her larva consumes the host egg or larva and all its stored food resources. We haven't spotted a Ruby-tail so far. On the subject of social wasps,  oddly, they're the ones that folk think of as antisocial come late Summer. Stocky Mason Wasp, Ancistrocerus oviventri

Whilst it has not seen such high temperatures as places further south, the recent warm spell in Orkney has been plenty hot enough for me. Outside work was carried out prudently with only short stints of exposure to the sun, although sitting out in the garden for every meal of the day was pretty special. Lack of rainfall is now the main concern, and from a personal perspective it is worrying how many dragonfly pools are very low or have already disappeared.  But let's appreciate a week's lovely weather before we become too gloomy at the prospect of climate change. A relaxing day spent in and around the garden was notable for the number of insects gathering on a Cotoneaster bush: honey bees; bumblebees (White-tailed, Common Carder, Gypsy Cuckoo); hoverflies ( Rhingia campestris, Leucozona lucorum, Helophilus pendulus, Sericomyia silentis , several Eristalis spp); at least one species of social wasp (Red wasp); and a couple of mason wasps ( Ancistrocerus oviventris and A. scotic

During the course of the past few years, my morning routine has changed in several ways. One of these changes involves a small daily ritual whereby Megan and I try to solve several word and music puzzles before launching into the rest of our day. This is sometimes hindered by me being on a ferry or in the 'wrong' archipelago, but mainly we are able to attempt the Daily Wordle, a generic Quordle, Heardle Decades 1970s (my era), Heardle Decades 1980s (a bit of common musical ground), Heardle Decades 1990s (Megan's era), the Daily Quordle, and finally, the Daily Quordle Sequence. And usually in that order, for some reason. The Wordle puzzles are as described above. Quordle is four 5-letter words in 9 chances. Quordle Sequence has 10 chances, as each word has to be completed before you see the letters for the next word. Heardle is a song intros game, with 6 chances to guess the artist and song with the snippets increasing from 2 seconds up to 17 seconds. We usually solve the wo

One of the bloggers I follow is B of Coastal Ripples from Jersey, the largest of the Channels Islands. At a rough guestimate, that's about 675 miles (over 1000km) south of Orkney, so from a seasonal perspective it is always interesting to see what's happening nearer the Equator. B's photos of the landscapes, architecture and wildlife around her are wonderful, not least when she and her husband go on holiday to other scenic places. I don't know where B finds the time, but she partakes in several blog series each year, a skill requiring a great deal of dedication and stamina, especially where there's one post a day for a whole month. I could not possibly hope to emulate this, but am very much in awe of her perseverance and inventiveness. B is also part of the monthly "Through The Garden Gate" series begun by S of Down By The Sea. Once a month, we are treated to what's happening in the garden, what's blooming and how vistas are changing. Now, I'm

On a recent trip to Birsay to visit Megan's parents, we had a short clifftop walk from Skipi Geo to Whitaloo Point, frequently casting our gaze out to sea in case of fins. Whilst the calm conditions (yes, really!) were perfect for glimpsing any passing cetaceans, sadly our walk was woefully whale-free. However, there was plenty of other nature to capture our interest. In the below image, can you spot the Oystercatcher chick? In the distance, the Brough of Birsay was sporting a wonderfully blue hue, thanks to a squillion wildflowers, in this instance Spring Squills. Back on the clifftop path, we noticed another Oystercatcher slink away over the cliff edge, and through binoculars and zoom lenses, we discovered why. Can you spot (a) the adult Oystercatcher, and (b) its nest? Bird's-foot Trefoil is always particularly zingy at this time of year, and as one of its colloquial names is Eggs and Bacon, I inevitably feel peckish when swooning over the deep reds and chromium yellows. Ret