Lovely Lepidopterans

erhaps only the first of many butterfly encounters this summer, a perfectly glorious day was spent Swallowtail hunting by a trio of intrepid ecologists in the notorious wilds, or well kept paths if you will, of Strumpshaw Fen in early May. A visit to reacquaint myself with the joys of East Anglia coincided with the early emergence of these languidly flapping giants of the broads. We watched one particularly vigorous specimen patrol a territory that included a Blackthorn (I think) dripping with blossom, chasing off any butterfly that dared to linger near its flower laden branches. There may even have been an attempt to lure said butterfly closer to us by a camouflage worthy of an undercover birder. Strangely enough the strategy of holding out a branch and 'thinking like a tree' did not seem to convince the remarkably perceptive individuals we encountered. We must have seen over ten Swallowtails in our wanderings that afternoon, and perseverance paid off as we watched and stalked those that obligingly settled on perches.

Swallowtail - Papilo machaon

Favourite perch!

Gazing up at the tails.

Other pleasures of that day included booming bitterns, a distant cuckoo, a terribly noisy wasp and a 2D chick, confidently proclaimed to be a robin by DN the dead bird detective.

My last couple of weeks in Yorkshire brought few moths to the trap, with the occasional bright spot, the quiffed Spectacle (Abrostola tripartita) and lurid but handsome Elephant Hawkmoth (Deilephila elpenor) greeting me on separate occasions. The robust acorn like body of the Cockchafer beetle (Melolontha melolontha) also proved a lethargic visitor, but eventually fanned out its antenna beautifully before being deposited back into the rockery to go about its business.

Ooh, gaudy green and pink hawk.

Beady eye.

Furry back.

Seven leaf antenna mean its a boy.

The summer of butterflies continues, as tomorrow I start as Volunteer Ranger for the Large Blue butterfly at Collard Hill in Somerset. Part of my duties includes writing a daily update on the Large Blue Blog, where details of the first 'big blue' sighting and all the excitement of the flight season will be posted. If it whets your appetite for the delights of Maculinea arion come and visit the hill please! My goodbye to 'Needles and Pin ups', the pub knitting group I wander along to of a Wednesday evening, combined a vaguely accurate depiction of my future weeks with cookie cutters. And lo, the eco-geekiest biscuits I've made thus far were created...

Large and common blues, and grubs!

Dark Nights and Dock Pudding

ate nights in the dark woods were how I spent many an April evening this year. Punctuated by rustlings and startled Roe deer, Tawny hooting and sudden screeches. I took on the co-ordination of a local 'Toad Patrol', a group of volunteers that monitor a road with a 'toad crossing', where migrating toads on the way to their breeding pond are at risk from traffic. My site was unusually lovely for such an endeavour, a single track road through woodland on the way to a Scout hut. The road was quiet, and primarily used at weekends while the huts were booked up. Traffic use was light, but often has a high impact on the toads due to the narrow, twisty nature of the road.

Lovely lady toad (Bufo bufo) from the breeding pond.

I often walked the couple of miles to my site before dusk, arriving with my bucket and hi-vis vest, ready to transport the horny wee toads across the ocean of invitingly warm yet hazardous tarmac. Over the remarkably dry days and cool evenings of the season an assortment of enthusiastic volunteers and I helped nearly 200 toads. A rather wonderful bonus of my site was the presence of Palmate newts (Lissotriton helveticus), which delighted the children of my volunteers and the hoards of Scouts we occasionally encountered of an evening. Over our nights there we helped over 90 newts off the road, one of the largest single records for the area, which seems to be singularly lacking in newt surveys.

A wee newty cutie

A couple of weekends ago I was inspired by the event of the year, that's right - The World Dock Pudding Championships, that happen to be held in Mytholmroyd, about a mile down the valley from me. Dock Pudding is a Northern speciality, especially associated with the Calder Valley, that I have never eaten or made, a sad state of affairs I set out to rectify with my first spot of real foraging of the year. It is traditionally eaten with bacon, often with breakfast and is made in spring to see people through the period when not much else green is available. The 'dock' of the pudding is in fact bistort (Polygonum bistorta), which apparently has the most wonderful collection of local names, some of the best being; adderwort, dragonwort, Easter man-giant, passion dock, pudding grass and snakeweed. So off I gaily skipped one Sunday afternoon to a spot where I knew the bistort grew. A wee stream lined with fresh shoots, sorrel and nettles, another ingredient required for the pudding.

Young leaves of 'Red legs', sexy vernacular for bistort.

Ruby Cream-spot ladybirds (Calvia quattuordecimguttata) by my bistort.

There are many variations in recipe, most seem to make pans full of the stuff, which seemed a bit much. For a more modest portion here is what you need for my cobbled-together vegetarian version:
200g fresh young bistort leaves
40g fresh nettle tops
1 medium onion
2 cloves garlic
2 spring onions
2tbsp oatmeal
salt and pepper
olive oil

Freshly picked and ready for washing.

 - Place the nettles in a bowl of cold salted water and leave to one side while you prepare the bistort. Wash bistort leaves thoroughly in a colander and then remove the larger stalks before roughly slicing them. Drain and rinse the nettles then chop roughly (I used rubber gloves!).
- Chop the onion, garlic and spring onion (you can use whatever alliums are available, wild garlic and leek would be nice) and fry gently in some olive oil. Add the sliced bistort and nettles and continue to fry. You'll need to add a couple of ladlefuls of water or stock to the mixture and cover to cook gently for 15-20 minutes.
- Add the oatmeal and stir to ensure the mixture doesn't stick. It will need another 20 minutes or so, with occasional stirring and adding a little more water if it gets too dry. The mixture should apparently be 'moist not wet'. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Pudding at the moist stage.

- It's now nearly ready, and the final stage, once the pan is removed from the heat and allowed to cool a little is to make up small patties of dock pudding (like potato cakes). These should be fried in a little more olive oil or butter, the crispy outer is said to make the pudding more palatable!
- I substituted the traditional bacon for haloumi cheese and ate my dock pudding for supper. It worked really well with the saltiness and texture of the haloumi.

Pudding patties.

Delicious dinner of dock and haloumi.

Dock pudding has that iron-rich tang of spinach based dishes. I even convinced a slightly skeptical family to eat and enjoy it and the amount this recipe made contributed to about three meals. Younger bistort is supposed to make for a better pudding, but leaves can be foraged throughout May, here is a nice guide to doing so.

Here's to more foraging!

Merry March Madnesses

very day now brings growth and colour and change to the valleys and hills that surround me. In the weeks that have passed since Lesser Celandine brightened a February morning, a few jaunts have been undertaken and much food has been consumed. So here are a few of each...

Mist and snow descended upon a gathering of knitwear swaddled eco-geeks on a February foray to the frozen North. Amongst wintery walks, snowballs and snow angels, aggressive birds tamed by DN the goose-whisperer, kitchen lounging and tea, duck lessons, board games and jigsaws, endless euphemisms involving back passages; there was time for some high quality badger impressions. Perched at the top of steep beech woodland behind my house we investigated the impressive ramparts, fresh spoil and snuffle holes of my local badger sett. It would seem however that some of these chaps are more like miners...

Did they have pickaxes?!

We couldn't find the doorbell.

Lucky badger-hair for Isla.

Peering through the semi-opaque atmosphere we just about managed to spy Great-spotted Woodpecker, Goldcrest and Fieldfare. Low cloud became a theme of the weekend, and the obligatory pudding course was duly christened 'Yorkshire Fog Crumble', concocted of apple, home-grown blackcurrants and redcurrants, with an oat and walnut topping. The Wilmots provided some of their fungi harvest and Kirst stirred up the biggest pot of mushroom and parsnip risotto this side of Italy. Experiments with leftovers resulted in melty risotto cakes. We shaped them into patties, with a centre of strong cheddar, dipped them in eggs and breadcrumbs and fried lightly. They are definitely a good way of consuming your carbohydrate!

Mmm, oozy.

A fleeting Yorkshire jaunt by Ms Tinker gave us the chance to bid a tearful farewell to Pete, on his way to start his Indian adventure and Kenyan life. It also provided the opportunity for baking. I made pide, a Turkish pizza-like bread that evokes my very early years there and subsequent visits. There are many possible toppings including a kind of spicy diced lamb, melting cheese or white cheese (the only two kinds of cheese you really find in Turkey), egg, or just olive oil and seeds. My favourite is peynirli (cheese) pide, made with white cheese.

It's pronounced 'pee-day'. Yes, really.

You will need:
285g strong plain flour
1 heaped tbsp dried instant yeast
1/2 tsp salt
125ml warm water (may require more)
200g feta or other white cheese, crumbled
2 tbsp flat-leaved parsley, chopped
olive oil to drizzle

Preheat the oven as hot as it will go!
- In a food processor or large bowl knead the flour, yeast, salt and water until a soft, smooth dough. Leave in bowl until 10 mins before it is required.
- Divide into four, roll out thinly to a long flat strip, approx 8cm/3" wide.
- Place on baking tray and cover the middle of strip with cheese and sprinkle with parsley. Fold edges up and over to give a 1cm border all around (see picture).
- Bake until puffed and browned, drizzle with oil and serve immediately, whole or cut into diagonal pieces.
- If you fancy making it as a plain bread, brush with olive oil and sprinkle with sesame and cumin or nigella seeds before baking.

March busied itself with shaking off winter, spring budding and bursting out all over, unfurling its foliage on sunny days. My first flying bat wheeled by my window on the 12th March, woodlands echoed with Woodpecker drumming and Hardcastle Crags' millponds quivered with fresh frogspawn by the 19th March. Walking by the river that day I watched two pairs of Dippers display, zipping up and down calling shrilly, before landing, bobbing and flexing their tails for a few seconds before taking off again. All this and the opportunity to make these sweet potato pancakes on a certain Tuesday.

There was so much I couldn't count the clumps.

Eaten with honey and toasted walnuts.

New eco-adventures beckoned when I discovered the hiding place of Calderdale's lepidoptera lovers, which happens to be here. So dusk one evening I hesitantly joined the self declared 'Mad March Moffers' back at Hardcastle Crags. I think they accepted me once I established some reliable species scribing skills while they gleefully leapt and dived with their nets, capturing those moths brave enough to venture into the ring of light. Since then my nights have often included dazzled eyes  following fluttering common quakers, chestnuts, twin-spotted quakers, pine beauties, oak beauties, hebrew characters, water carpets, red sword grasses, march moths, engrailed, pugs and baffling micros.

Amazingly, one of this exemplary bunch has leant me an actinic moth trap, so trapping has now commenced by the rockery in the garden - hooray! Some of the usual suspects have appeared, but I've also had Bombus terrestris and a huge, mite-laden Sexton beetle (Nicrophorus humator) waiting to be released in the morning.

Common Quaker (Orthosia cerasi)

Hebrew Character (Orthosia gothica)

 Flying beasties have been abundant since they awoke, my first Northern butterfly spied at a distance on the 22nd March. The first identifiable winged one was a smallish Comma on the 26th March, on the edge of a shingle beach on a Southern soujourn to Gosport. Ms Tinker and I skipped after it with giddy enthusiasm, startling a nearby dog-walker with our excitable shrieks. The baking days have brought plenty since, Peacocks, Commas, Orange-tips and Speckled Wood being particularly prevalent in my garden. Brushing up on butterflies has become quite important, as for six weeks this June/July I'll be moving to Somerset to be Volunteer Ranger for the Large Blue Butterfly at Collard Hill.

That South Coast Sunday brought another shoreline beauty, the vivid purple leaves of Sea-kale (Crambe maritima) poking through shingle while slightly bleary-eyed geeks oohed and aaahed over its prettiness. Thus March adventures ended, and finally so can this post; with a promise of April amphibians and the first foraging frolics.

Cabbagey

Sprung!

t last! The spring messenger has arrived. On the 14th February I noticed some clumps of Lesser Celandine (Ranunculus ficaria) flowering at the bottom of my driveway, yellow stars embracing the weak winter sunshine. I'd been away for a few days, so they may have braved the Yorkshire elements even earlier. Nevertheless, as the internet has so usefully reported to me, in around 1800 Gilbert White (natural history diarist extraordinaire), recorded the flowers as appearing on February 21st in Selborne, Hampshire. Spring is being sprung rather earlier nowadays.

This year's Valentine, dear Celandine

So, the spring's foraging opportunities are increasing and on the wonderful Eat Weeds I came across this Stroganoff for my Lesser Celandine... I haven't yet tried it, as it feels wrong to deplete these sunny harbingers so soon. Perhaps when I've found a glossy green carpet of them I'll have a go, or maybe someone else would like to try it out?

Last week I went to the Soil Association annual conference, and among the absorbing sessions met some interesting and inspiring people. One of whom, the lovely Holly, is part of a project called Fruitmap. It started in Slovakia, as a way to map forage-able fruit and nut trees in towns and cities. It's spreading, and aims to be a global network of accessible fruit, so if anyone wants to get involved please do! We can add trees wherever we are in the world, ensuring more people have access to beautiful, free, crumble ingredients...

Illustration and other wonders

hoosing the images to beautify the Battenberg was a slightly bamboozling experience that felt like treasure hunting on the internet. I wanted to find some old and evocative natural history illustrations that would convey the variety of ecological wonders that may be encountered on the Battenberg's voyage. I love the ability of illustration to express a quite magical natural world, full of intricacies, and occasional inaccuracies. So sometime this year, a pilgrimage to the new 'Images of Nature' gallery at the Natural History Museum is definitely in order.

In searching for something to go with the venerable picture of Darwin's own Beagle, I came across some wonderful sources of public domain images, and thought I would share some of the loveliest. The first is Vintage Printable, from which these beauties come:

Educational beetles

Magnolia by Mark Catesby

Octopus called Polypus levis Hoyle

Indian Owl by Johann Reinhold Forster - any ideas Radish?

Medieval - that's all I've got on that one!

Another source led me to Mr Edward Lear's work (not just a purveyor of fine nonsense, but also exemplary painting). So here can be found his famous Psittacidae.

Red-capped parakeet - Platycercus pileatus

Salmon-crested cockatoo - Plyctolophus rosaceus

The rather splendid Old Book Art brought that elusive lepidopteran resident of Norfolk and a whole book of mushrooms:

Swallowtail - Papilio machaon

Fly agaric with Linnean name Agaricus muscarius

And so to a delight of a different, and more edible kind. Wonder cake, my most frequently made, flexible and reliable recipe. It is particularly useful, because it happens to be vegan, and can be adapted to use whatever ingredients you have left over from other baking endeavours. It can be chocolately, fruit and nutty, spicy or all of the above. This one for example, is an almondy slice with pieces of crystallised ginger and flaked almonds as a slightly crispy topping:

Marzipan and ginger wonder cake

You will need much of the following:
175g self raising flour
3 heaped tablespoons cocoa or ground almonds (or some of both)
175g golden caster sugar
5tbsp sunflower oil
1tbsp red wine/sherry vinegar
1/2 tbsp vanilla or almond essence (or orange or peppermint if you fancy)
200ml cold water

And a selection of:
Flaked almonds
Pecan or walnut pieces
Chopped cranberries or other dried fruit
Chopped crystallised ginger
A few squares of very dark chocolate
Other goodies

Preheat the oven to 180C/Gas 4 and line or grease a square/oblong cake tin/pyrex dish.
- Sift the flour, cocoa and spices (if using) into the tin. Add the almonds (if using) and sugar and stir to combine.
- Mark out three parallel grooves in the mixture. Add the oil to one, the vinegar to the next and the flavoured essence to the third.
- Pour over the 200ml cold water, then carefully stir everything together until well mixed, ensuring you get into the corners.
- If adding topping, sprinkle over the mixture your combination of nuts/fruit/ginger.
- Bake for about 20-25 minutes and leave in the tin on a wire rack to cool.
- If you are going for chocolate, melt your squares and flick across the cake using a teaspoon to create a Jackson Pollock-alike pud. Leave to set then cut into slices and have with a hot beverage.

You can do anything with this cake. If you use the chocolate version and add just a small amount of ground almonds, it becomes a slightly gooier affair. I've made a couple of nice variations recently, one almond, with flaked almonds, cranberries and chocolate topping. The other, chocolate, with cinnamon and nutmeg added to the flour, and cranberries and pecan topping. And the ginger one above of course, which is about to get munched.

Ooh and lastly, recently my mother made a batch of biscuits which made the biologist in me smile, as they reminded me of either cells with jammy nuclei, or honeycomb with jammy larvae...

Mmm, organelles in my biscuit!

Now light is creeping back into the days, and I've seen some Roe deer brazenly browsing the neighbour's field at two in the afternoon, there might even be a few more ecology related posts in the near future... watching for Spring.

Into Africa.....

Hey everyone,

apologies for the non-foodiness of this post but I though I'd give you an update on me boffin training. I'll be heading out to India on the 2nd March to see Radhika for a couple of weeks then it will be onwards to Kenya on the 21st! Radi will be joining me in April :)

First I'll do a taxonomic placement at National Museums Kenya so I can identify Kenya bees and common pest taxa (how many species can there be in an equatorial tropical country?). Then I'll be living and working with an institute called icipe based in Nairobi.

Fieldwork will be the Taita Hills, a biodiversity hotspot part of the Eastern Arc Mountains to the south of Tsavo National Park. We're going to try to piggyback on a big Finnish project that's using altitudinal gradients as a space for time substitution to investigate and model potential impacts of global climate change. I'm hoping to work with pollinators and natural enemies of crop pests in avocado orchards, yum!

I'll try to keep you posted of any opportunities regarding fieldwork in Kenya and if anyone is really desperate to get out of the UK I could help develop some funding applications.

There are plans afoot for a gathering on the penultimate weekend of February ask Muffin McMinihen for the details if you want to come along.

Pedro

here's a recipe I enjoyed over christmas:

Griddled artichoke and red onion paella

A Wilmot Winter

Mr Wilmot and I love a good free-food forage, but what could be better than having a supply of mushrooms in our own home? We mused upon this prospect last spring, after meeting a delightful mushroom farmer in a market in Bath, who almost agreed to take me on as an apprentice. His infectious enthusiasm for the profession (combined with his amazing hat and even more amazing variety of produce) seemed to entice me towards a simple existence cultivating fungi.

This, combined with the risk of fatal poisoning wild foraging presented, made me more determined to try and grown my own. But as a summer of elderflower-related distractions came and went, and autumn brought with it new experiments with rosehip syrup, I’d almost forgotten about the mushroom farming dream come winter. Until, lo and behold, a “mushroom kit” arrived on the doorstep shortly after Christmas; Mr Wilmot was keen to put our vague musings into action.

Chestnut, white button and shiitake varieties were waiting, to be covered with soil before being transferred to a warm, dark boiler cupboard. Attending to moisture levels regularly, we waited for the mycelium to grow through the soil, and for the tiny mushrooms to appear at the tray edges. A watched mushroom tray never sprouts, and after what seemed like weeks of wondering what we’d done wrong, suddenly the silky smooth chestnut caps appeared and ballooned, and the tray on the windowsill started sprouting shiitake practically overnight, which grew larger, it seemed, by the hour.

Our minds soon turned to what to do with these home-grown delicacies. It would have been rude not to attempt my favourite of all creations, the mighty mushroom risotto, but it was the simple stir fry that surprised us most. In absence of white wine for the risotto, a good slug of rich port gave it an almost magical pale purple colour, and the shiitake (added fairly near the end, after ladlefuls of stock) gave it a delicious flavour. To recreate the risotto, you’ll need:

Arborio risotto rice (a large mug’s worth will feed 1 giant or two little ladies)

A few shallots

A small glass of port

A sprinkle of tarragon

A stock of vegan Swiss marigold bouillon, with a big teaspoon of miso brown rice paste mixed in (a good few teacups worth will be needed, depending on the quantity of rice)

A big handful of shiitake mushrooms

Half an aubergine (or whatever else you have to bulk it up a bit)

Chop the shallots finely and sweat in butter for a few minutes, before adding the Arborio until the grains become translucent. Add port and leave to simmer until adsorbed, before turning the heat down and addling ladlefuls of stock one by one, stirring frequently. Continue stirring and ladling for twenty minutes, before adding shiitake, diced aubergine and tarragon for the last ten to fifteen minutes of cooking time. Try to leave the pan to rest a few minutes before serving, but don’t expect hungry boys to wait!

For the simple stir-fry, we combined the chestnut mushrooms with celery, broccoli, lemon juice, creamed coconut, tahini, light soy sauce and miso paste, to create a fragrant yet subtle medley of flavours. Served with light noodles it’s an almost virtuous health-giving feast for winter nights. Mushroom fans take note – cultivating these perfectly formed little beauties was so effortless it made our fairly easy-going vegetable patch seem like hard graft. There’s really nothing quite like eating your own home-grown ‘shrooms.