Butterfly Conversation

Looking at enlarged images of moth genitalia might not strike you as a recipe for a great weekend. As a hobby, peering at moths’ bottoms enjoys limited appeal. Activities such as knitting are generally considered more popular and/or socially acceptable.

However. Faced with a room of thirty delegates – some from as far away as Serbia and Japan, I was forced to admit that there must be something in it.

The International Burnet Moth Symposium brings together scientists and keen naturalists from all over the world, united by their passion for just one family of moth: the Zygaenidae.

This year, the symposium came to Mull; home to one of the most localised burnet moths of all – the Slender scotch.

Delegates arrive at the Glengorm Coffee Shop

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Glengorm hosted two days of lectures for the event, which gave me the opportunity to sit in on the presentations before showing the delegates around our own burnet moth habitat.

I admit, for a newcomer such as myself, the prospect of moth-based conversation was daunting.

Grabbing a glass of wine and thrusting myself into the An Tobar meet and greet session, I scanned for a friendly face.

Me: [trying to be cool] So, what aspect of the Zygaenidae family interests you?

Delegate: [enthusiastically] I am interested in looking at the sexual organs of the moths!

Me: <long pause as gulps wine>

Not the most promising start.

But, I later learned that studying moth-bottoms is a great way to identify new species. Let’s face it, who doesn’t want to do that?

So far, over 1,000 members have been named in this family and many remain undescribed.

The following morning, perched at the back of the Glengorm lecture area and worrying about earthly matters – such as how many clean table cloths we had spare, would there be enough scones, did anyone have special dietary requirements… I didn’t know that I was about to see the light.

I think it bears testament to the skill and infectious enthusiasm of the speakers that within five minutes, my scone was languishing, forgotten on its serviette.

Burnet moths are really very interesting.

Throw down your knitting needles. Chop up your tennis rackets. Learning about burnets is not just a hobby, but an opportunity to discover. And what remarkable discoveries there are to be made.

I learned, for example, that burnet moths thrive on cyanide. Their bold colouration [generally black with bright splodges] warns that they are distasteful and toxic. In fact, sprinkling just twenty of them on your cornflakes would kill you. So resist that temptation.

Being toxic  – and, crucially, being known to be toxic (!) reduces the chances of you being eaten.

In burnets, hydrogen cyanide is made safe by adding a sugar group to create a cyanogenic glucoside. This changes the properties of the compound and makes it safe for the animal to store within its tissue.

If the tissue of the moth is damaged by an attacker, a special enzyme is summoned to snip away the sugar group – releasing hydrogen cyanide like an angry Jack Russel.

Burnets absorb the components of this toxic substance from their food plants. Nothing new here. But, sneakily, they are also able to synthesise cyanogenic glucosides within their own bodies; independent of any potential plant source.

If – during the throes of passion – my partner presented me with a love token of hydrogen cyanide, I’d probably call the police. But female six-spot burnet moths welcome this nuptial gift with open… er, legs… [they don’t have arms!]

Females will actively assess a male’s fitness based on his ability to provide cyanogenic glucosides; even creating a cloud of mixed cyanide and pheromone “perfume” to let passing males know when they’re in the mood. Perhaps this is the equivalent of giving diamond cufflinks, with the aim of receiving a proportionately more expensive necklace in return?

Clearly, these compounds are important to the moths for defence, communication and also as a store of sugar and nitrogen. Thanks to Mika Zagrobelny for a fascinating presentation about her research in this area, which I was thoroughly intrigued by.

Another thing that impressed me about the zygaenidae is their extraordinary beauty. I know I will be unpopular for saying this, but us Brits have been short changed. Our zygaenidae – lovely as they are – represent variations on a theme of dusty black, red and metallic green in Foresters [but we don’t have those on Mull].

Venture out of the UK and things get pretty wild. We’re talking mimicry complexes, brightly coloured abdomens and anal plumes. Even a dash of yellow and orange – heaven forbid. Gerhard Tarmann and Axel Hofmann [presenting work on American and African groups respectively] have done much to broaden my lepidopteran horizons.

Axel’s outstanding macro photographs revealed an abundance of colour and texture that I had hitherto been ignorant of. I also enjoyed his lively account of conducting field work: split between ferreting about in bushes looking for moth larvae, and smuggling a burgeoning collection of flora and fauna into nice South African hotels. Not to mention the urgency of identifying rare moths in the presence of Giraffes, which were probably eating them as fast as he was finding them. 

I’m pleased to say that my first impression of what moth enthusiasts are “like” has proved to be accurate. My type specimen was, of course, Alan Skeates.

Dr Tom Prescott talks to the group about Glengorm’s grazing regime 

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Alan is area recorder for Argyll & Bute; along with Anne Thompson and Dr Tom Prescott, Alan has been a guiding light as I navigate the unfamiliar waters of moth identification and conservation. His enthusiasm and willingness to share knowledge seem to be characteristic of his species – as is a tendency to wander off in search of moths at the very slightest opportunity [getting the group to and from the shore was a little bit like herding cats]. 

Both myself and the Nelson family were delighted to receive such positive feedback from the delegates about our burnet habitat. Though we’re new to the game and don’t always get it right, it’s good to know that we’re moving in the right direction.

I was really proud to host part of the symposium on our site.

Moth on, everyone.

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Delegates enjoy some unexpected sunshine as they examine our species-rich grassland!

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Chasing Dragons

I have a confession to make: I’ve gone off birds a bit.

As a result, I risk being cast out from certain factions of our island community. I’ve fallen for a new order. How does it feel? Superb.

Mull has around 10 species of resident Odonata, give or take. These include both the mighty Dragonflies, and their smaller [tastier] relatives the Damselflies.

On Glengorm, they have helicoptered their way deep into my affections. Nothing else gets me splattering about in a bog [and enjoying it] for an entire day. The most wonderful thing is their disregard for human observers. Once they have labelled you as a slow and hopeless terrestrial being, it’s business as usual for the Odonata.

This is not an excuse for inconsiderate behaviour. Rather, it is licence to observe some remarkably intimate and alien deeds at close range. The vibrancy, ferocity and diversity of Dragonflies are just three of their most charming attributes. In some cases, their scarcity is also exciting: a female Northern emerald at the start of June looks set to be a highlight of my Glengorm year.

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Gold Standard: the ovipositor of the female Golden-Ringed Dragonfly makes  this species the joint largest dragonfly in Britain! 

Golden Ringed Dragonfly

The Immigration Game

For the last couple of weeks, the sun has been shining on Glengorm.

Now in my second year on the estate, I watch for our returning migrants with anticipation born from familiarity.

For me, there is something reassuring about the seasonal rhythms of our natural world. Watching the same sequence of events unfold each year feels like dropping an anchor in time. It reminds us that we belong. That we too are a part of this annual cycle, in an age where it’s easy to feel detached from nature.

When I stop to look at a dormant bramble patch in the cold months, then visit again in April to find a Whitethroat singing from the greening stems – it shores up the cracks that creep into our busy urban lives.

In that moment, the bird and I become links in a chain that stretches back for numberless generations. The bird is singing to compete for a mate and a place to breed, as millions of others have done before it. I am watching the bird, and hearing in its song the first bells of spring – as millions have also done before me.

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You can almost see spring advancing over Baliacrach – note how green the vegetation is in the glen, but has yet to turn on our higher slopes. The Larch trees are also leafing up; they are the bright green trees in the darker patch of Spruce. I was pleased to find new buds on this beautiful Ash too. 

The Whitethroats are not alone. With the warm weather came Wheaters, Chiffchaffs, Willow warblers, Blackcaps, Cuckoos, Spotted flycatchers, Whinchats, Swallows and Common sandpipers. All within a week or two of one another.

In the morning, the lilting voices of migrants mingle with those of our resident birds [- and the earsplitting screeches of my parrot; who thinks he needs to “sing along” at 5:30am…]

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This is a male Northern wheatear – photographed close to Baliacrach. Wheatears actually raise their young in crevasses and small burrows, not in “nests” as you might expect.  

Among the vegetation Adders, Slow worms and Common lizards are stirring. I’ve had several Adder sightings so far this year – perhaps because I’ve taken to exploring some more inaccessible areas of Glengorm. They are extremely well camouflaged when basking amongst dead Bracken and Heather.

Males are usually smaller; tending to have ash grey and black colouration. Females often look more bronzed [nothing new there] and sometimes even have a reddish hue […make your own joke].

They are very difficult to spot unless they give themselves away by moving – though occasionally, you might be lucky enough to see them coiled on a warm rock out in the open:

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A fabulous Adder [quite a big male] photographed by Jen English on one of our guided walks! Thanks again for sharing this, Jen. 

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A Common lizard basking under a Bell heather plant

The Lapwings and Curlews have moved from their neutral feeding grounds up onto the breeding terraces, where they are displaying to one another with vigour. One male Lapwing managed to bring down an adult Grey heron last Wednesday – much to my surprise.

The unfortunate heron was flying low over an area of wet ground, and was so astonished by the vicious advances of the Lapwing that it fell completely out of the air and ploughed keel-first into a bog.  It’s worth mentioning that herons – though unassuming at most times of year – are more than capable of predating a Lapwing chick. In light of this, the attack was not entirely unjustified… but still spectacular to witness.

Our herons are actually looking rather flash just now. The drab yellowish-green legs and beak have turned to a splendidly sexy orange; in honour of their breeding season. Loch Mingary is usually lined with their melancholy grey forms – but now, they have disappeared to perform covert nesting operations in the forest.

Two weeks ago I was lucky enough to see a White-tailed eagle hunting in Mingary Burn. This adult made two unsuccessful passes at Greylag geese and a gull roost on Laorin Point, before retiring to a convenient perch over the burn mouth. From the hide, I could see it tilting its head to eyeball fish below the surface.

Every so often, it jumped down into the shallow water. Its wings were extended for balance, and it was splooshing about trying grab a fish with its talons. This made for an amusing spectacle – and was clearly frustrating for the bird. After a third attempt, it positioned itself on a rock and yelped forlornly at the surface of the water. When no fish were forthcoming [can’t imagine why] it finally gave it up and left the area.

For me, this is the beauty of wildlife watching: I see White-tailed eagles on a pretty regular basis, but no matter how well you think you know an animal, they can still offer up intriguing and surprising behaviour.

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 Loch Mingary in the afternoon sunshine

As far as our smaller residents are concerned, on Sunday March 10th there were absolutely no invertebrates. By the Monday [first sunny day of the year] Glengorm felt like they’d never been away.

I found myself edging round spiralling swarms of small midge-like flies. Solitary bees buzzed industriously over rotten wood and stone dykes. My first Peacock butterfly of the year settled on a rock, the better to enjoy some afternoon sun.

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The first “official” butterfly of 2014. It’s only official because I saw it 🙂

Reactions to most invertebrates swing from indifference to terror. Conquer your aversion: a fascinating and complex world waits. Take an interest in butterflies and you will soon discover the unadvertised benefits. Being creatures of warmth and sunshine, you need not trouble yourself with early mornings or poor weather [spare a thought for “birders” here].

Trundling through a pleasant meadow or attractive woodland ride will be time well spent in pursuit of enlightenment. I found my first Green-veined white and Speckled wood on April 15th this year – so fairly early. All it takes is a little warmth and sunshine to bring them out of the woodwork. I’m already excited about seeing my first Dragonfly of the year…

Mull is blessed with some truly rare and wonderful invertebrates, so why not get out and introduce yourself this summer? Better still – note down what you see and pass the information on to your local recorder. Trust me, it’ll make their day!

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Trefoiled Again

Many of us visit Mull to enjoy its magnificent wildlife. When we’re frantically scanning the horizon with binoculars, or peering owlishly at the kelp from our car window, it’s easy to overlook the quiet beauty of plants.

Plants play it cool. They wouldn’t be seen dead talon-locking and tumbling out of the sky to win your admiration; as for bow riding and turning somersaults – well, that’s just not cricket.

To really get to know plants, you’ve got to make the first move. It’s a bit like going on a date: express an interest in what they are and how they live, and you stand to gain much more from the encounter.

The first step is learning their name (!) After this, you’ll start to “see them around” and notice where they hang out. Once you can pick a plant out from the crowd, you’ll find out who its friends are – so, which invertebrates pollinate it for example.

Mull’s most lovely plants are not necessarily the biggest; Common century, Germander speedwell and Eyebright are some of my own favourites.

If you can scrape your eyes off the sky, have a look for these jewels in our species-rich grasslands!

Stephanie Cope

Glengorm Wildlife Steward

Species Rich: Thrift [pink] and Birds-Foot Trefoil [yellow] blooming on Laorin Point, Glengorm.

Thrift & Trefoil