#365daysofbiking Kinda blue

April 6th – At Chasewater itself, it was also quiet, and no sign of the annual insect cloud I’d heard about during the day – they must have settled for the evening.

I love how every time you go, the light at Chasewater is different. Tonight is was sort of grey and china blue, the peace only disturbed occasionally by the honking of geese and the the odd mallard or grebe scudding along the water.

A beautiful evening, despite the dullness.

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#365daysofbiking Galling:

October 17th – I’ve been casually interested into the decomposition of the robin’s pincushion gall I found in the summer in Darlaston.

This once beautiful red and green hairy, spiny gall – created by a tiny wasp laying it’s DNA corrupting eggs in the rose leaf buds of it’s host – is now decaying fast and I’m interested to see how this ball of plant matter wastes away, and if it shows any evidence of the adult gall wasps escaping to freedom.

I’ll never stop being fascinated by these things.

#365daysofbiking Bugging me:

September 26th – The unexpectedly fine, warm weather has been bringing out some great examples of bugs looking for a last yahoo or somewhere to hibernate until spring. 

On my way to work, this lovely shield bug decided to drop in and say hi.

What a great little creature it is!

#365daysofbiking The rise and gall:

September 12th – I’ve been watching the robin’s pincushion gall I found in Darlaston mature as the weeks pass by. I’m interested to see if it shows any sign of being vacated by the insects who grow inside it, and also observe how it decays, to find out what’s under the ‘fur’.

It’s grown redder, and the fur seems to be dying away, with a cavity open on the upper side. I wonder if the wasps have left?

These creations of parasites – unique to wild and dog roses – are absolutely fascinating and I’ll be keeping an eye on this one as autumn draws on.

July 30th – Nipping out of work in the earl m morning on a cafe run, passing a familiar patch of waste ground, I finally found something I’ve been looking for for a few weeks without luck; a robin’s pincushion gall.

This hairy mass on dog and wild roses is, like the knopper and marble galls on oaks, an insect gall; a tiny wasp lays eggs by injecting them into a leaf-bud surrounded by DNA corrupting chemicals that cause this odd growth to form rather than a leaf.

Beneath the bristles, there’s a solid ball of plant matter with cavities within which the larva grow and develop in safety; when ready, like other galls, they eat their way to freedom and adulthood.

The gall doesn’t harm the plant at all. It’s a remarkable thing.

June 27th – Since we’re in high, hot summer we’re now in a phase of darker flowers – purples, reds, dark blues. And that means the thistles are coming out.

Spotted flowering on industrial wasteland in Pleck, this gorgeous thistle was alive with tiny back bugs.

I immediately felt sorry for the plant. But who knows? They may have been doing it good…

Fascinating, all the same.

September 13th – Also falling from trees now and altogether less of a hazard are the knopper galls, the genetically mutated acorn-cum-insect-cocoons that are bastardised from the normal oak fruit by the knopper wasp.

These seemingly dead, spent galls will most likely have larva inside them and they will overwinter in the fallen galls before boring their way out in spring – although those dropping in vulnerable positions like these on the footpath will be lost under feet, cycle tyres and to the wind and elements.

It’s not until you think about it you realise what a high rate of attrition there is with such things – just how many larva are lost and how this must affect the fecundity of the knopper wasp as a species.

Remarkable how they survive at all. 

September 11th – I had promised no more wasp galls. Sorry, just one more I missed. 

I’ve been looking at this type of gall for ages and not realised what they are – a small, coffee-bean sized growth, caused by genetic mutation provoked by an injected tiny wasp’s egg. These small, rough galls are tiny compared to the more familiar marble oak galls which are smoother  and rounder.

They function in the same way though, as a growth pod and foot source for the wasp larva that hatches within, and when ready, the wasp will eat it’s way out to freedom.

This poor tree at Darlaston had knapper galls, marble galls, common galls and cola nut galls. And plenty of acorns!

August 14th – Sorry, after this I promise no morale oak wasp galls!

This is an artichoke oak wasp gall, created the same way as all the others, this wasp selects acorn buds, which are corrupted into these neat little artichoke shaped growths to house it’s larvae.

These examples spotted on Clayhanger Common.

That’s it now, I think we’ve collected the set…

August 11th – I think this is an interesting submission for seven days of wildlife. The teasel currently sprouting from Catshill junction Bridge in Brownhills is flowering, and clearly attracting the bees. 

Anything that helps the fellows in stripy jumpers is great by me – and I’d never studied before how intricate these almost prehistoric-looking blooms are.

An interesting find on an otherwise dull day.