Noticias en ‘Insects’

November 30th, 2008

Early birds on Montjuic

Remains of last night’s storm were still strewn across the eastern sky this morning. But the sun struggled free just as I reached the castle and it turned into a cold but clear day.

Too early for tourists, the castle was alive with birds, who find unexpected sources of water to drink and bathe in. A leaking waterpipe has created a long damp streak on the wall, like a banner of blue silk unfurled from the ramparts, capturing the vividness of the sky. There was a constant movement of visitors clinging to the wet stones. Black redstarts, which congregate in Barcelona for the winter, flurried to and fro, chasing each other in between sips. A handsome Great tit stopped by for a while, waistcoat matching the yellow poplar leaves. A lilting flock of goldfinches arrived, sweetly calling. The House sparrows, residents of the castle walls, had their turn, as did serins, a couple of Coal tits and a Tree creeper.

Round the corner, water has collected in an old stone gutter, to which someone once hastily attached a plastic pipe. A Blue rock thrush (Monticola solitarius) disappeared inside, emerging ruffled and damp. It dried off on the end of a canon.

This port-facing side of the castle is a haven in winter, secure from the north and westerly winds. The walls act like a storage heater, absorbing the sun all day. Sweet alyssum (Lobularia maritima) has spread unchecked on the grassy slopes, its fragrance living up to its name. A faded, threadbare Red admiral sunbathed on the wall. High up near the battlements, a Painted lady (Vanessa cardui) spread its wings on a plant rooted between two stones. Crag martins turned circles over the dazzling sea, over the castle and the half-bare fig tree. They only come in winter, but their leisurely swoops remind you of summer.

Autumn Bugs: hide and seek

At the road side near Vallvidrera, a cellulose gymnast was swinging through the stems. If you’ve grown up thinking of Stick insects as exotic pets kept in glass containers, it’s a thrill to find them ranging free. They look fragile, but can re-grow a damaged limb after a moult.

Another plant imitator, the Praying mantis (Mantis religiosa), is quite visible in Collserola in October. Like Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard, this elegant specimen couldn’t take its eyes away from the camera.

The black spots, which look eerily like pupils, are an effect of light reflecting from the compound eyes. The mantis also has three “simple” eyes between the antennae that act as an auxilliary light metre. With its swivelling neck and stereoscopic vision, there’s not much that goes on unnoticed around a Praying mantis.

From camouflage to aposematism - currently every Wild carrot nest has a Striped shieldbug (Graphosoma lineatum) inside. Experiments have confirmed that the colouring of these bugs helps predators remember their bad taste. As if testing out the theory themselves, they are often in prominent positions on the top of plants.

Its vivid red and black colouring probably saved this Firebug (Pyrrhocoris apterus) in Palau de Pedralbes park. Climbing up the rocks, it stumbled onto a sunbathing Wall lizard. After assessing the situation, it hurriedly changed direction. The lizard watched, but made no move.

In search of Two-tailed Pashas and the Autumn Narcissus

On a trip to the Mediterranean, far from their Cantabrian mountain homes, Lisa and Teresa ventured into the big city to meet up with the Iberianature Barcelona contingent. Nick and I then accompanied them for a tour of some of the natural spaces that sustain the metropolitan populace.

The Garraf is an antidote to claustrophobic canyons, which is how Barcelona’s streets sometimes feel. It’s an airy expanse of garrigue-covered hills, open to the shining sea. We didn’t have to go far to find the Two-tailed Pasha (Charaxes jasius), top on Lisa and Teresa’s list along with the Autumn narcissus (Narcissus serotinus). While the Pashas chased each other around the fig trees near the visitors’ centre, Lisa and Teresa stalked them with their cameras.

Meanwhile, Nick and I followed a signposted botanical route, an excellent way to learn some of the plant species typical of the area: Kermes oak, Prickly juniper, and cistus. Nick spotted a solitary white flower, fragile among all the tough leathery leaves and spines. It was photographed and duly forgotten. We also discovered that the Garraf strawberry trees (Arbutus unedo) produce some of the best arbutus cherries anywhere: sweet and acidic, unlike the bland fruit I’d tasted before. They clearly thrive on this sun-soaked limestone terrain.

The lonely white flower did turn out to be an Autumn narcissus, as was discovered much later in the car. It was too late to turn back, but Teresa forgave us and continued to share her extensive knowledge. So we were able to learn that the Tree heath (Erica arborea) familiar to everyone who walks in Collserola only grows in acidic soil, and here is replaced by the purple-flowering Mediterranean heath (Erica multiflora). An insect slipping its black segments across the fallen pine needles turned out to be a Glow worm larva (Lampyris noctiluca), with a voracious appetite for snails. A dirty clump of debris hanging on a guardrail was identified as the case of a Bagworm.

After some debate, we decided there was time for the Llobregat Delta. Back down at sea level and just after the turn-off for the reserve, something white caught our eye: an extensive patch of Autumn Narcissi.

After liberal applications of mosquito repellent and an osprey-sighting, we crossed the bridge into the reserve. Outside the hides, translucent herons fished in sparkling water, sandpipers bathed in the shallows, cattle egrets groomed the horses, kingfishers streaked here and there, and spoonbills tried to keep up with their restless spatula-shaped bills.

There was little time left, but Collserola could not be missed. Up by the Forat del Vent, suitably windy, a flock of Pekin robins (Leiothrix lutea) held our attention with their melodious Blackcap-like song. Unlike other exotic escapees that settle in more urban environments, these South Asian cage birds are breeding in woodlands. They’re being monitored but studies suggest their presence has so far had no harmful effect on the authoctonous species.

We’d run out of daylight. After dropping Nick and I off at the metro, Lisa and Teresa drove away for the next stage of their adventure.

Close encounters in Collserola

While out walking on a warm evening at the beginning of September, it was Nick who first spotted this tiny snake on the track, rippling as fast as it could, anxious to reach cover on the other side. Once caught, it remained still, except for the flickering of its tongue. We weren’t sure of its identity, so it paid to have the camera at hand. The photograph clearly shows a black coronet and an elusive blue shimmer: the marks of the non-venomous Southern smooth snake (Coronella girondica).

We were lucky to stumble on it, as they’re not common in Collserola. Shy and secretive night hunters, they search out geckos, skinks and grasshoppers and kill by constriction. A passing resemblance to the viper is thought to work as a defence. We found the snake in the more open southern part of Collserola, an area of grass, shrubs and scattered trees, a summer hunting ground for Short toed eagles.

At the opposite end of the park, not far from a spring, this dragonfly was captured clinging to a bush. I’d have described it as red, till I got home and saw its range of fairground colours: a horse from a devil’s carousel. The rows of spikes on the legs are impressive, ensuring a firm grip on prey. The dimensions of its eyes immediately suggest extraordinary powers of vision.

When identifying the dragonfly, the yellow stripe along the length of the legs pointed me to the Common darter (Sympetrum striolatum), which was confirmed when Sue put her shots up on the forum.

Finally, in the centre of Collserola, the most disturbed and built-up part, this creature was rescued from a busy track. A convoy of cars was driving away from a restaurant, coating us and everything around in dust. The Eyed hawk moth caterpillar (Smerinthus ocellata) was carried to a safer place on a notebook, hence the garish studio background for its portrait.

The caterpillar has a distinguishing blue horn, slanting white stripes (7 in all) and red spiracles (breathing holes).