Articles in ‘Collserola’
A Praying Mantis was ensconced in the Sticky Fleabane with a bee in its claws. It was delicately eating a leg, still sprinkled with fresh pollen, before neatly detaching a wing. Instead of bright green, like all the mantises I’ve ever seen, this one was a dull khaki colour. As it chewed, its plump, segmented abdomen pulsed in a rippling movement. The whole of the body seemed to be concentrated on digesting the bee.
While watching the Mantis, I could hear the liquid notes of robin song. The woods and parks fill up with migrating robins in the autumn. As the season moves on, they seem to disperse, but for a while the whole of Collserola vibrates with robins tic-ticking from every bush.
Bee eaten, the Mantis fastidiously cleaned its weapons. Suspended between the Sticky Fleabane on one side and gorse on the other, it faced the sky as if lying in a hammock. When I left, it was still absorbed in polishing its spiky forelegs.
Inside the woods, it was warm and humid. After weeks of drought, a typically intense two-day downpour had washed away the summer dust. Seizing the moment, plants were regenerating their leaves. Boar mud-baths were restored. Bark had turned velvety with moss. Stones at the side of the path were covered in lichen: a mass of goblets if you looked close.
A fresh crop of puffballs had sprouted in the middle of the path, tender, fragrant and good to eat. Soon they will age, turn brown and let out a puff of spores. They’ve been given some great names: the Devil’s Snuffbox and Wolf’s Fart.
Coming down the hill at dusk, the Praying Mantis was still in the same spot, eating the last bee of the day.
Collserola, Insects, fungi | Tags: autumn in Spain, autumn walk near Barcelona, Collserola praying mantis, colour of praying mantis, insects in spain, lichen in Mediterranean wood, Mediterranean fungi, Mediterranean insects, praying mantis eats bee, praying mantis grooming, praying mantis in Barcelona, robin migration in Mediterranean|
Something scurried across the ground in fits and starts: a spider with a bristling brown back. I approached and found the bristles were a cargo of spiderlings. Their mother, a Wolf Spider, was moving her brood in broad daylight along a track in Collserola.
At first I thought it was a Mediterranean Tarantula (Lycosa tarantula), but the radial pattern on the thorax should have led me to Hogna radiata. Another difference between the two species is that H. radiata doesn’t build a burrow, instead roaming to hunt its prey and using stones for shelter.
Looking at the tightly-packed brood, it was possible to make out rounded bodies and a tangle of spiky legs.
Wolf spiders are dutiful mothers who carry the egg sac attached to their spinnerets, quite a burden for an active hunter. The abdomen has to be kept raised so the egg sac doesn’t drag on the ground. The mother spider will sit in the sun to warm the eggs, and when the time is right, chew open the silk case to free her brood. She’ll wait until all the spiderlings have climbed on board and are clinging to her bristles.
Maternal care doesn’t go as far as feeding the young (as in other species, like the Mothercare spider). Wolf spiderlings survive on nutrients stored in their abdomens and usually after a week they moult and scatter.
Wolf spiders are among the largest spiders in Europe. H. radiata is only slightly smaller than the Mediterranean Tarantula, the female measuring up to 2.5 cm long. Out in the open, the spider struck me as vulnerable and defenceless. But the view from the front was quite different.
The prominent dark eyes - which gleam in the dark if you go searching for it by torch-light - and strong hairy legs - the sprinting spider pounces on its prey like a wolf - warned me I was facing a formidable hunter.
Wolf spiders have far better eyesight than other spiders, and the eyes are arranged in a distinct pattern: a row of four at the bottom, two on top, and two enormous ones in the middle, all visible from the front. Look at this fantastic close-up.
Collserola, Spiders | Tags: biggest spiders in europe, Hogna radiata, largest spiders in europe, largest spiders in Spain, spider identification, spiders in Barcelona, Wolf spider and spiderlings, wolf spider eyes, wolf spider mother|
The beginning of September is dry and dusty in Collserola, after weeks of cloudless skies and hardly a drop of water since early July. Only the Umbrella Pines look fresh and green. One of the few flowers to be seen is the Sacred Herb (Verbena officinalis), tiny specks of blue on the tip of long stems. Thistles are brown and petrified. A few Corymbose carline thistles still show yellow flower-heads among the blonde grass, where flocks of young dragonflies cling. They’re this year’s second generation of Red-veined Darters (Sympetrum fonscolombii), out to graze on flies and build up their strength.
They have plasticine-bright colours - yellow abdomens, pale green segments in the thorax and sky-blue eyes. This young male has just a touch of the deep red of his adult colouring.
The males turn scarlet as they grow, while the females stay yellow. Females are distinguished by their double black lines, like this one who munches on a fly while clinging to a broom seed pod.
The darters anchor themselves to twigs and stalks, immobile except when the breeze ruffles their wings. Sometimes they turn their heads in quick, deft movements. This male’s golden wing veins will soon turn red.
For all things dragon and damsel, it’s well worth visiting Steve Jones’ Cornish Nature web site, where you’ll find a wealth of information and superb photos of species found in Cornwall and Iberia. Steve loves dragonflies and they’re quite partial to him too.
Collserola, Insects | Tags: dragonflies in Spain, late summer in Barcelona, libelulas en Collserola, Mediterranean dragonflies, nature in Barcelona, odonata in Spain, Red veined darters, Sympetrum fonscolombii|
Swatting off scarlet and black mylabris beetles, I walked down to the horse paddocks. Summer’s hit us like a sledgehammer, and mornings have been too hot to go out and look for butterflies (or anything). In the mellow evening sun, among olive and carob trees, I looked around to see what was about. Behind me, horses snorted and a Golden Oriole was calling.
Most of the scabious has gone to seed already, and the only flowers were thistles and stonecrop. A Common Blue perched on a dried flower head, slowly turning in a semi-circle, as if to make sure all sections of the audience got a full view of its violet shimmer.
No sooner had the Common Blue flown, its place was immediately taken by a Long-tailed Blue. It shifted its wings, but kept them closed, a beige slip of a butterfly. In no hurry to move, it let me get close and see the “face” in the corner – the imitation antenna and eye spots.
When I got too close for comfort and the Long-tailed Blue moved on, I noticed something magnificent further up the slope, motionless on a wild carrot flower. I approached carefully, commando-style. After staring so long at the diminutive Longtailed Blue, the sheer size of the Swallowtail, boldly outlined in black, was impressive. Its abdomen hung down like a paper lantern.
One of the benefits of hunkering down quietly in the grass for ages is that you pass unnoticed. Over in the horse paddock, I watched a rabbit stop to scratch its back. It lost patience and rolled over to rub the elusive spot, legs in the air. All around sparrows were taking dust baths. The rabbit suddenly detected my presence and froze, white tum stretched out, before bounding off into the trees.
Collserola, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona in July, common blue, common swallowtail, lampides boeticus, longtailed blue, Mediterranean butterflies, papilio machaon, photographing butterflies, Polyommatus icarus, walking in collserola, walks around Barcelona, watching butterflies|
Sometimes on a June evening Barcelona skies fall strangely silent because of an absence of swifts. They go elsewhere for richer pickings, returning to the concrete sprawl at night. Standing on the Collserola ridge at dusk, I watched hundreds pour down into the city.
I’d started walking late in the afternoon, skirting the small Vallvidrera reservoir, where families picnicked in the shade and dogs nosed among the algae, silencing the legions of frogs. Climbing a steep path, where a meagre stream trickles down, I found Rampion Bellflowers and tiny tangy wild strawberries, which no one else had thought to pick. Iberian Water Frogs (Pelophylax perezi) crouched invisibly in the grass around a small pool. Every time I moved, more would leap into the water and vanish, till it must’ve got quite crowded down there in the mud.
Vallvidrera is posh, but some of the houses near the path were built when this was no man’s land, and the crowing of cockerels mingles with Golden oriole song. A beautiful Comma butterfly (Polygonia c-album) was perched on a leaf, jagged as a jigsaw piece. Perhaps it was the same one I’d seen a few days before, puddling on the wet stones, and giving me a glimpse of the neat white mark on its underwing to which it owes its name.
As grass goes to seed, the slopes behind Sant Pere Martir are turning pale gold, the colour of summer. The bright yellow flowers of broom have nearly gone, and now it’s time for Scabious (Scabiosa atropurpurea). Its frothy purple-pink blooms are everywhere, on waist-high stems, leaves hardly to be seen, and usually with a butterfly attached.
Down in the valley bottom, rabbits rustled among the new crop of fennel that’s already taller than me. An insistent screeching made me think a new exotic bird had arrived in Collserola. Something large and yellow moved in a pine tree - a Golden oriole. Until then I’d only known their catchy whistles, which starlings love to mimic.
Nearly at the top of the ridge, as the sun dropped lower, I stopped to admire the spectacular Illyrian thistles (Onopordum illyricum) that have shot up like spiny candelabra. Hummingbird Hawk moths were zipping among the electric purple flower heads. I’d seen a man come armed with gloves, cut some selected stems and strip them of thorns with a knife. If the Devil grows them in his garden - in Spanish they’re called Cardo del Demonio - it’s because both stems and flower heads are edible.
Beyond the thistles a flock of bee eaters were on a late foraging swoop. The swifts were beginning to return. I noticed a Woodchat shrike (Lanius senator) on a dried up branch of old broom, its chestnut crown lowered as it dealt with its prey. It flew off with something pale in its bill, having left an egg shell spiked on a twig.
It was delicious to lie down on the track and feel the day’s heat stored there, in contrast with the cool evening air, and listen to the sound of swifts searing past. A rabbit popped out of the grass, and promptly jumped back again. A boar emerged, huffed indignantly and kicked up the dust.
Darkness was falling and the swifts were still swarming along the length of the ridge.
Collserola: Guided Walks
Barcelona, Birds, Collserola, amphibians, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona in June, Barcelona walks, Cardo del Demonio, Comma butterfly, Golden oriol, Iberian Water Frog, Illyrian thistle, Marbled white, Mediterranean flora, Polygonia c-album, Scabiosa atropurpurea, Scabious, thistles, vallvidrera, woodchat shrike|
There’s a moment in every good firework display when, after a steady build-up, all the remaining ammunition gets simultaneously used up in a single relentless climax, leaving spectators gaping in awe. That’s what’s happening on Collserola’s hill-sides at the moment.
From a distance you can already see the golden broom lighting up the slopes – Thorny (Calicotome spinosa) and Spanish (Spartium junceum). Honeysuckle (Lonicera implexa) weaves into the sky, inflated pink tentacles turning into white flowers. Lavender petals crinkle like crepe paper flames. Rock roses fire off flowers faster than the fragile petals are shed.
All this exuberance has shrunk the paths and you brush your way through, smothered in fragrance and pollen. A Southern white admiral (Limenitis reducta) was resting in the shade. Like a magpie, it looks black and white in flight, but, depending on the light, can suddenly turn deep blue.
Painted Ladies streamed up the hill, as well as Marsh Fritillaries (Euphydryas aurinia), whose markings seem drawn by hand.
All this splendour has a soundtrack of nightingales, singing their extensive repertoire. They stay undercover but don’t object if you stand near by and listen.
Collserola: guided walks
Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona walks, broom, Euphydryas aurinia, honeysuckle, lavender, Limenitis reducta, Lonicera implexa, maquia, meadow fritillary, Mediterranean butterflies, Mediterranean flora, southern white admiral, Spartium junceum|
In summer this small stony field overlooking the valley of Sant Just turns into a fennel jungle. In spring it’s a magic carpet of Sweet alyssum and Field marigolds, with scarlet poppies woven in. There’s a zest of fresh fennel as new sprigs sprout among the brittle sticks of last year’s crop. Painted Ladies (Vanessa cardui) spread their wings on the flowers, as flat as mortarboards.
On the grassy slopes nearby, light is glancing off the Cleopatra butterflies (Gonepteryx cleopatra) that float among the Crimson peas. I always hope that one will open up while feeding. They never do, of course, but on this sunny April day the male’s orange blush is visible through translucent wings.
Grey-leaved cistus is in flower everywhere, liberally scattering pink petals. Lavender is blooming alongside the thyme. Appropriately for Easter Monday, I find a Tassle Hyacinth (Muscari comosum). They’re known as Nazarenos in Spanish, named after the cone-headed penitents that march in Easter processions, often in sombre purple gowns.
Down a narrow shady path, periwinkles star the ground, filling every available space. Common Smilax has shiny new leaves and fresh tentacles, itching to cling. Glossy pale green leaves of Black spleenwort (Asplenium adiantum-nigram) loom out of the shadows. A wren scolds loudly, despite a beakful of nesting material.
Collserola: guided walks
Barcelona, Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Black spleenwort, Cleopatra butterfy, Fennel, Gonepteryx cleopatra, Mediterranean butterflies, Muscari comosum, Pained lady, spring Mediterranean flowers, Tassle hyacinth, Vanessa cardui, walking in Barcelona|
On a path in Collserola I came across a whir of wings near a Wood Spurge (Euphorbia amygdaloides). My camera caught the Hummingbird Hawkmoth (Macroglossum stellatarum) uncoiling its lengthy proboscis to dip into the glistening nectar.
At rest, the moth is a non-descript brown, but in flight you can see its orange hindwings, albeit in a blur. So much movement requires copious quantities of nectar, so they are restless foragers. They are also strong migrators, crossing the Alps to reach central and northern Europe.
Though innately attracted to blue, Hummingbird Hawkmoths soon discover that flowers of other colours can be profitable too, including the inconspicuous yellow-green Wood Spurge. A long proboscis is not really necessary with this plant, which serves nectar up on a plate.
What the Wood Spurge lacks in colour it compensates with elegance. Each cyathium contains four nectar-secreting glands in the shape of half-moons. They encircle the male and female flowers, although young plants are sometimes male only, like this one. The whole structure is about to be repeated as two pale green cyathia are poised to unfurl.
Collserola, Insects, Plants | Tags: Euphorbia amygdaloides, Hummingbird Hawkmoth, Macroglossum stellatarum, Mediterranean flora, Wood spurge|
This winter Collserola’s open spaces were white with Sweet Alyssum. In February Dog Violets huddled together in the woods. By the beginning of March the horse paddocks were thickly edged with Wild Cary (Salvia verbeneca) and Field Marigolds (Calendula arvensis): a rich brocade of violet and yellow.
It was a focus for insect activity: lively Dappled White butterflies (Euchloe crameri) and large leaf-like Brimstones (Gonepteryx rhamni), Humming Bird Hawkmoths cruising from flower to flower in a haze of orange wings, bumping into the bees.
In the southern part of Collserola, the maquia is in full bloom and buzz: Tree heath, hung with diminutive white bells and Rosemary, whose dense blue flowers are popular with Cleopatra butterflies and fat Carpenter bees. The occasional bush of Mediterranean gorse has waited till the end of winter to explode in scorching yellow.
It’s time for the rock roses to flower, starting with Cistus albidus, whose fragile, fleeting pink petals soon drift to the ground. In the pine woods, Viper’s bugloss (Echium vulgare) grows at the side of the tracks. “Bugloss” is derived from the Greek word for ox tongue, referring to the rough texture of the bristly stem and leaves. The plant used to be recommended as a cure for snake bites, perhaps because its protruding stamen look like snake tongues.
Grass is flecked with Crimson Pea (Lathyrus clymenum), the flowers floating on barely visible stems. Like the other members of the pea family it has five petals: the prominent purple “banner”, two lilac “wings” folded over the two-petalled “keel”, where the stamens and pistil are kept.
While zigzagging up a sunny south-facing slope, following the disused terraces, I noticed a soft furry plant growing in the shade of some broom. It’s a species of Hound’s Tongue (Cynoglossum cheirifolium) with grey leaves and small wine-red flowers,
Exploring new paths one day, I took a wrong turning and found myself scrabbling through steep woods, the way increasingly blocked by fallen trees. Emerging hot and dishevelled, miles from where I wanted to be, I spotted something on the roadside.
The Giant orchid (Barlia robertiana) is quite a common species but a rarity in Collserola, where orchids are becoming extinct.
Collserola: guided walks
Barcelona, Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Barlia robertiana, Brimstone, Calendula arvensis, Cistus albidus, crimson pea, Cynoglossum cheirifolium, field marigold, giant orchid, Gonepteryx rhamni, hound's tongue, Lathyrus clymenum, Mediterranean flora, Mediterranean wildflowers, Salvia verbeneca, viper's bugloss, wild cary|
During the recent years of drought, in parched, dusty Collserola, life was more of a struggle for the boars. Their long muscular snouts found the ground unyielding, and food supplies dwindled. And for an animal that can’t sweat, damp places to cool off were few and far between.
But the continuous rainfall this winter has restored streams that had run dry. The water took a long time to seep through, but finally springs I’ve never seen working have woken up. And for the boars, apart from making their ploughing a lot easier, there are now plenty of muddy puddles to bathe in.
Mud also makes walks in Collserola more interesting. Signs conjure up nocturnal scenes we’re not privy to. We can see where the boars habitually rub their flanks on the rough pine trees after a satisfying wallow.
And two-toed hoof marks proliferate.
In a stream just below a narrow road in Vallvidrera, opposite a row of houses, a boar was satiating its thirst and rooting in the soft mud. Tiny eyes contrasted with large hairy ears and snout – reflecting weak sight but sharp senses of hearing and smell.
It was a typical Collserola periphery boar: used to living alongside people. Hopefully, it wouldn’t venture too far across the boundary. (See previous post for boar problems in Collserola.)
Barcelona, Collserola, Mammals | Tags: boar hoof prints, boar in Vallvidrera, boar mud baths, boars in spain, collserola boars, signs of boars, sus scrofa|
