The Last Orchid of Summer 29th July 2025

 

On the 7th of August last year I went to see a Violet Helleborine, not the usual kind but the much rarer form Epipactus purpurata Var. rosea.see here where the plant lacks chlorophyll causing the leaves to appear pinkish violet and the flowers almost white.It required a journey to the neighbouring county of Buckinghamshire and a longish walk up into The Chilterns. Directions came courtesy of Duncan who has, through our mutual orchid interest become a good friend of mine.

With this in mind it was a pleasant surprise that Duncan kindly alerted me to another Var.rosea but a lot nearer this time, growing in a wood in his native Gloucestershire and we arranged to rendezvous near the wood in which it was growing along with a few normal Violet Helleborines

The day we set to meet was dull and grey with a hint of rain in the air, remember rain? Growing under the trees the helleborines would be difficult to photograph due to the dullness of the day and the partial shade of the mature trees they grew under

We duly met, along with Duncan's brother in law Ian, a 'proper' botanist as Duncan told me by way of introduction. A short uphill walk brought us to the wood where the helleborines and the Var. rosea in particular grew. 

Climbing a bank we walked though the open wood until Duncan pointed out the Var.rosea, which was far from obvious, in fact remarkably inconspicuous, being almost lost amongst all the other plants growing around it.

Violet Helleborine Var. rosea

Smaller in stature than the example I saw last year, nonetheless it was just as desirable and rewarding to see its pale blushed pink flowers, amassed in a cluster at the top of a thin stalk which unfortunately had become bent in the middle but better this than nothing at all..Orchids get nibbled by deer, eaten by slugs you name it, so we considered we were fortunate to see this one no matter if it was not quite perfect and I think you will agree still retaining much of its beauty and allure

We duly paid homage to this even rarer form of a rare orchid, almost overwhelmed by the ground vegetation it grew amongst.Take your eyes off it and you had to be careful, one false step might cause you to unwittingly tread on it which would be unthinkable

Once we felt we had spent time enough in admiring, photographng  and discussing it we moved along further in the wood to view a couple of 'normal' Violet Helleborines.Again they were less than obvious in the surrounding leaves and clutter of plant growth even though they were in full flower. Standing slightly taller than the Var.rosea we had just viewed, twenty or so tiny flowers grew in a loose spike on one side of a slender stalk.

Violet Helleborine

The delicate, pale  flowers were surrounded by long, spreading green sepals, almost like miniature wings and imparting a leafy appearance, whilst the rest of the flower showed a reddish brown centre surrounded by a lip tinged with the subtlest shade of pink. A true delight.

Once the photos have been taken, in situations such as this I like to stand for a while, quiet and pensive, something I am wont to do with many of the orchid species I travel to see. I try to sense the atmosphere or in more prosaic terms enter the orchid's world, the environment that surrounds in this case an unassuming delicate plant growing in a bed of leaf litter and ivy leaves in a quiet wood. Untouched and unregarded except by us.

It was all over in an hour, apart from making a note of these orchid's precise location for any future visit by using What3Words and we retired for coffee and cake and to do battle with the wasps at a nearby outdoor cafe.

So that is it for this year with regard to orchids although there are still Autumn Ladies Tresses to come. I might go to see them where they grow in profusion on Greenham Common in Berkshire but maybe I will wait until next year and try to see some more of our much rarer native orchids.There are still plenty left to add to my list as my burgeoning interest in orchids continues.

A Saturday at Farmoor Reservoir 27th July 2025

It's that quiet time of the year again, when birds have stopped singing and skulk in hedgerows and leafy cover while they undergo their annual moult prior to winter or feed a hidden brood of recently fledged young. High summer has commenced its annual, slow and inexorable decline into autumn. 

Mind you there are birds to be found or more often heard around the reservoir, young birds such as Reed Warblers just out of the nest, voicing their hidden presence, calling to their parents with  peremptory squawks  and chirps from within the depths of hedges, reed beds and bramble ensnared hawthorns.

With little of birding note nationally I took myself as I am prone to do in such situations to Farmoor Reservoir, continuing my ongoing fractious relationship with its familiar prosaic surrounds. There is always a vague optimism that precedes each visit, the forever hope that this will be the day something out of the ordinary may turn up and occasionally it does though usually not.

Now is when returning wader migrants begin to arrive at the water's edge on each side of the central causeway and tarry for a while to refuel, breaking a long flight as they journey south from the Arctic. Dunlin usually are the first to show up and some have already passed through in the last two weeks, these being adults, told by their worn and faded plumage. The first juvenile arrived today, quite early and in contrast to the adults appearing immaculate, dapper even in a first plumage of ginger toned pristine feathers  which it will moult over the next couple of months into a less attractive, subdued winter grey.

This morning whilst walking along the causeway it became all too apparent that the number of Common Terns had increased from the regular half a dozen that have taken up temporary residence on the reservoir before migrating to their winter home. I counted nineteen today, seven of these being juvenile birds.The terns have not bred here but probably on nearby gravel pits and the parents have brought them to the wider expanses of Farmoor's waters where there are plenty of small fish available.

Even before walking up the path to the reservoir's perimeter track from the car park I could hear the terns. The raucous cries of the adults and beseeching calls of the juveniles distinct from those of the Black headed Gulls. They are hyper active birds - incapable of remaining still for long, nervy and constantly restless, adults and young swooping over the water, their harsh calls seemingly a prerequsite to any flight they undertake. The adult terns fly with a buoyant motion, elegance personified and justifying their vernacular name of 'sea swallow' and are pursued by juveniles that are well able to fend for themselves but continue to chance their luck by pestering the parent birds to bring them just one more fishy offering.Another month and they will be gone south to Africa.

Juvenile Common Tern

Adult Common Tern with its full grown offspring

Other juveniles perch on the concrete walls by the water or form a line on the railing to the valve tower on the smaller basin, safe from disturbance and a favoured go to location when the reservoir becomes busy with yachting and windsurfing folk.

A Greater Black backed Gull eyeballed me from the retaining wall of the causeway, reluctant to move away from one of the large dead fish that are regularly washed up at this time of year onto the concrete shelving at the water's edge.They are brutish birds, imposing and merciless killers that are always on the lookout for a victim or signs of weakness in the other waterbirds around them and are rightly given a wide berth by the smaller gulls and terns.

Greater Black backed Gull

Further along an adult Yellow legged Gull also stood on the wall, prospecting yet another expired fish.The Greater Black back is unusually early on the reservoir but the handful of Yellow legged Gulls which cease breeding well before our native Herring Gulls, have been here for over a month now and are always the first large, grey backed gulls to arrive on the reservoir, coming from their southern European breeding areas.to while away the lazy days of late summer and early autumn on the reservoir. 

Yellow legged Gull

Tufted Ducks often produce a brood in late July and today was typical as there was a family of four newly hatched young accompanied rather weirdly by not one but two females. The dusky young are precocious and are accomplished divers from the day they take to the water.They stick close to the adults and are wise to do so as predatory pike that inhabit the reservoir, crows and gulls will all kill and eat them given the chance

I walked from the end of the causeway down a sloping path to the hide at Pinkhill, one of the small reserves created by Thames Water at the western end of the reservoir and adjacent to the river. I opened the door and a couple sat on a bench by an open viewing slat motioned to me frantically to not make any noise.

Kingfisher!!  they whispered urgently and excitedly pointed to an upright  stick in the water, a few metres out from the hide  

Sure enough a Kingfisher was perched there, low to the water and intent on fishing and for once was not spooked by the occupants of the hide, which on previous occasions has frustratingly often proved to be the case.

It was a juvenile so probably less wary than an adult, its dull brown legs and feet, spotted breast and pale tip to its all black bill confirming its age beyond any doubt.

Down the years I have seen countless Kingfishers from here and the other hide at Shrike Meadow Reserve, a quarter of a mile upriver but every time the thrill of encounter never palls, engendered by a combination of the bird's unadulterated radiance and the elusiveness of the bird itself which only on rare situations such as this offers the opportunity to view it at rest, so its beauty and persona can be truly appreciated.

The Kingfisher remained perched for a spell, about facing on its branch every so often or cocking its head to catch any movement  in the water below, then eventually dived into the water to bring back a tiny fish, hardly enough to satisfy its appetite although still un necessarily beaten against the branch to subdue it. An action more due to instinct than necessity. 

Two thirds of all young Kingfshers die within two weeks of leaving the nest either from starvation due to their lack of experience in catching fish or they drown. Hopefully this individual will be one of the lucky remaining third but it will need to do much better than the tiny morsel it captured. Still it's a start I guess and practice makes perfect especially when your life depends on it.

It tried its luck again but with the same result, another tiny fish.Better than nothing I suppose  For some minutes it sat and regarded the shallow water below as Black tailed Skimmer dragonflies cruised and fussed across the water, the males powder blue bodies very obvious as they settled on the dried mud to sun themselves.

With a shrill whistle the Kingfisher departed, a streak of disembodied electric blue as it sped up and over the surrounding willow carr towards the river.

Parental Duties of the Grebe Kind 20th July 2025

As is my usual custom I made my way to Farmoor Reservoir early this morning.A night of rain had precipitated my early arrival in anticipation that the adverse weather may have persuaded a wader or two to drop in, perhaps even a tern species other than the regular complement of Common Terns that have arrived on the reservoir over the last two weeks, two of them accompanied by a fully grown juvenile which even now they occasionally feed despite it being fully grown and well able to fend for itself.

Adult and juvenile Common Tern

The tern family have taken up residence at the very end of the landing stage in the yacht marina although sometimes retreating to perch on the various buoys scattered across the reservoir or the railings by the valve tower on the smaller basin.

Juvenile Common Tern

Of course any optimism was soon dispelled with a walk along the reservoir causeway revealing very little apart from a few Sand Martins and Swallows brought down by the lowering rain clouds to hunt insects almost at ground level. The juvenile Red crested Pochard  that has lingered here for a few days now was feeding in the choppy waters and as usual associating with the similar dowdy looking, moulting Mallards. 

Juvenile Red crested Pochard

On gaining the far end of the causeway I joined Dave who had seen pretty much the same as me.We stood and chatted whilst scanning the two reservoir basins..A few more hirundines scudded across the grey waters, rising and falling as they mastered the contrary currents of the strengthening wind and we were joined by Ben. It was Dave who saved the day when, on turning to scan the smaller basin he discovered a Black Tern arriving from the north and which proceeded to steadily beat into a strong southeast headwind, frustratingly always remaining far out in the middle of the basin. It intermittently revealed itself but always at a distance and eventually transferred to the larger basin and with the onset of a mizzle of rain proved an ongoing trial to follow as its grey plumage faithfully matched the similar coloured waters that it flew over. 

Dave departed, then so did Ben. I hung on for a while in case anything else might arrive but it looked unlikely and the reservoir, as it always does these days started to become ever more busy with joggers,walkers yachts and windsurfers.

There was little point in remaining, so in a mood for somewhere quieter and less populated I took myself to Rushy Common, a few miles distant, operating on the maxim that 'a change is as good as a rest'. Also Rushy has a nice hide to sit in which would make a pleasant alternative to the  exposed concrete causeway I currently stood upon and that has become so familiar over the years.

It was proving to be a morning of intermittent light rain, enough to be tiresome and again it would be an unfamiliar pleasure to not be exposed to the capricious elements on the reservoir's causeway but safe in a capacious hide which I would probably, on a day such as this, have entirely to myself.

Rushy Common  is situated in open countryside, distant enough from the nearby town of Witney to require access by car and is a nature reserve created from a former gravel pit with working pits just the other side of the rural single carriageway road that leads to it. Access to the hide is along a tree bowered track to a  gate secured by a formidable padlock which can be opened by a key. Another short walk then brings you to the hide which overlooks a large lake and can be opened by the same key required for the gate.

Due to its secure and concealed location the hide can safely keep reference books, noticeboards and other birding paraphernalia within its interior which is rare these days due to the ever present threat of vandalism and it is so far so good with regard to the hide which remains sacrosanct, comfortable and clean.

I opened the hide door, stepped inside and a familiar odour of ageing, damp wood enveloped me. I opened the viewing slats and drawing up a bench looked out across the lake.

Nothing much was apparent at first but a large white bird with a smaller one nearby, stalking along the far bank proved to be a Great White Egret and a Little Egret.The former, once a national rarity but now very much a breeding bird based on the Somerset Levels is regular in Oxfordshire, present virtually year round although as yet there have been no known breeding records but I doubt it will be long before there are.

Great White Egret

After this minor triumph nothing more came to interrupt what became a gentle freewheeling of spirit and body as I contemplated the lake and its rural surrounds, my mind sorting through the ephemera gathered within and that gently comes and goes in quiet moments such as this. It is not unpleasant this rinsing of emotions and experiences, a cleansing if you wish, to prepare for the further stuff of life to come. Mindfulness seems to be the word for it these days although I have practiced it for years.

My reverie was interrupted as another of the lake's residents came into view, a Great crested Grebe, floating in indolent circles on the water, a little way out from me. Idling and quite at ease.

There was however something not quite right about the humped shape of its back and checking through my scope I saw to my surprise and I confess delight, the sight of a young grebe sat snugly amongst the brown feathers on the top of the grebe's back. Its head, akin  in appearance to those delicious humbugs that I used to suck on the way to school, poked out enquiringly, a greyish white head that was decorated by black stripes and a curious inverted triangle of pink skin on its forehead. 

I always hoped to be in a position to photograph this well known aspect of grebe behaviour, swans do it too, and here, by sheer chance that opportunity had presented itself.

I set about taking some images and on reviewing them on the back of my camera found there were actually two young birds on the grebe's back! 

The parent bird continued to cruise about without much purpose and remaining roughly where it had first appeared on the lake and for fifteen minutes parent and offspring idled time away on the water. Their apparent contentment infectious and drawing me, in mind if not in body into their watery world.

Then a harsh, sharp call, almost a dog like bark came from further out on the lake and another Great crested Grebe was swimming purposefully towards the trio. In its bill it carried a fairly large fish, possibly a roach which was held securely by the head, dangling helplessly between pincer like black mandibles. Slowly it approached the other grebe and proffered the fish to one of the young but it proved too big to swallow and was abandoned. Later the same young bird was offered a much smaller and manageable fish.

I assumed the parent transporting the young on its back was the female of the pair but it was impossible to tell for sure. 

The young eventually left the grebe's back and with each juvenile remaining very close to a parent followed in their wake 

Judging by the size of the juveniles it will not be long before they are too big to hitch a lift but for now the parents  seemed content enough to indulge their progeny.

After  half an hour they swam back into the reeds further along the shore and I saw them no more.

Three of the Best 2nd July 2025

Today with two colleagues I went to see three species of helleborines conveniently growing within walking distance of each other. Helleborines are orchids and to quote the nature writer Richard Mabey 'orchids make up the most glamorous and mysterious of our wild plant families'. He goes on to say 'there is surprisingly little mythology or cultural association attached to them beyond the rather negative belief that they are all rare and endangered and highly sensitive.Although this is true of some species others are proving themselves highly adaptable and capable of moving into the most improbable habitats' - as evidenced below with the Broad leaved Helleborine in Glasgow.

Of the three helleborines we visited the Broad leaved is relatively commonplace and not too difficult to find but the other two are much scarcer and require careful seeking out. I had made a previous visit to this location in the past but then the weather was very different, being dull, damp and drizzly whereas today it was sunny and pleasantly but not oppressively warm.

Our first stop was at an unremarkable bank that lay below a hedge beside a road, this being a not untypical habitat of Broad leaved Helleborines, and here a number of them grew, those in the sunniest spots, which this helleborine prefers, being in full flower  but most others were in shadier areas, remaining green and would not achieve the deep purplish red coloured flowers of those in the sunshine.

They are robust plants and can grow up to a metre in height, certainly taller than the ones we viewed today which themselves were impressive, well as far as helleborines are concerned. They are uncommon but not rare and are widely distributed throughout England, Wales and central Scotland and are found thoughout Europe right across to China and even in North Africa

Although primarily an orchid of ancient woods, in the city of Glasgow they have showed a preference for and successfully colonised suburban areas. Seventy five percent of colonies there are in parks cemeteries, golf courses, gardens, railway embankments and roadsides. There is no rational explanation as to why this has uniquely occurred in Glasgow and no other city in Britain These plants tend to be the largest and possess the greatest capacity to produce flowers which can number anywhere from 15-50 on one plant.

The flowers are visited by a number of insects but chiefly Hymenoptera of which  the Common Wasp is a member and one of the most frequent pollinators, becoming intoxicated on the potent nectar and not unreasonably, like any drunk keeps coming back to the flowers for more which guarantees the flowers have the greatest chance of being pollinated. 

It has also been suggested that its presence in woodland is an indicator of the presence of truffles but apparently this is not infallible and could even be an urban myth.

Having paid our respects we moved on by taking a track uphill away from the road and that ran alongside and through beech woodland, where we found more emergent Broad leaved Helleborines and a White Helleborine, now done with flowering and setting seed.

Our next helleborine target was the nationally scarce Narrow lipped Helleborine which prefers to grow in the deep shade of mature woodland.The ones we viewed today were in typical habitat on a steep chalk  bank shaded by mature  beech trees. Last time we visited, there were only two plants and another one that had been nibbled by deer but this year there were at least seven growing, one of which was  an impressive 40cm tall and in flower. 

This helleborine is not a showy brightly coloured orchid but more one for the connoisseur, the flowers, of which there can be up to twenty five but in this case nineteen, are individually held by a thin stalk from the main stem, the flowers hanging down like  miniature bells and appearing hardly open but if regarded from below are revealed to be violaceous pink with a maroon centre enclosed within a hood of green sepals

It was hard to drag myself away from these helleborines that for me possessed a charm all of their own, their scarcity, subtle beauty and  tenuous existence on this  precipitous bank, prone to the whims of weather and deer combining to create an overall allure and concern about their vulnerability.Everywhere these days more and more of our flora and fauna seem to be just hanging on in increasingly small pockets of natural habitat that have either escaped notice or have to be protected in one way or another. It is not a happy situation but all one can do is make the best of it and enjoy and appreciate such as these helleborines while they remain. 

Carrying on upwards on the track we left the shade of the wood behind and found ourselves out in the open on the sun warmed slopes of calcareous downland. Here in a small depression lurked our final helleborine and like the Green flowered Helleborine it is classed as nationally scarce and is on the decline in the southern part of its distribution in England. It has a restricted distribution outside of Britain being found in Andorra, France, Belgium, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Denmark and Sweden.

If I thought the previous helleborine was unremarkable then the half dozen Green flowered Helleborines that grew here in their little concave suntrap took it to another level of unassuming inconspicuity.

Initially I found it hard to discern their overall yellowish green appearance against a background of chalk rubble and thin grass.The tallest was no more than 14cm in height although they can grow up to 40cm in more agreeable habitat. 

The disproportionately small flowers which seldom open wide look similarly green to the rest of the plant.The half dozen plants we saw today had maybe a little way to go yet before the flowers opened, the buds appearing to be still firmly closed. The flowers do not require insects to pollinate them as they self pollinate before the buds open which may explain why they are so insignificant.

And so ended another pleasant morning communing with three orchid species, none of which are glamorous in the way of their more colourful relatives but possess an understated beauty nonetheless which such as I and my two colleagues certainly recognised and rejoiced in.