the toadlet that time forgot

awwww, isn't he a cutie?

Toadlets are pretty standard fare in our garden. They start out as spawn about March-time, then they become tadpoles in  April, and in May/June they start to grow legs and eventually become toadlets, eventually becoming adult Toads. So in May and June, these toadlets are pretty standard fare. However, when you see one in MARCH, you know something weird is going on!...

These photos were taken on March 28th. I was checking under the tiles in our back garden, feeling pretty smug about having Slow Worms under them and getting some pretty awesome photos of them. Under one I also found an adult Toad. Fairly normal, they like to heat up under the tiles too. But then, checking the next one, I was rather surprised to find this very small toad!...

I can only assume it was a late-developer, and that it hadn't yet developed fully when the time came to hibernate. This idea would be supported by the fact that last year, for whatever reason, a lot of the tadpoles didn't develop at all, and stayed in the pond. They didn't last very long once winter arrived though. So this Toadlet was a lucky survivor, just developed enough that it wasn't forced to stay in the water with it's siblings when the inevitable cold arrived...

But what will happen to it now? I'm assuming it will still be able to cary on it's metamorphosis and become an adult Toad. Assuming it survives. Slow Worms and Grass Snakes are a lot more active at this time of year than in June as they are breeding themselves. And I'm sure they would find a Toadlet most scrumptious...

I suppose the one good thing is that, unlike Frogs, Toads don't mature until they are three or four years old. So if this little guy does survive, he'll at least have time to catch up with his buddies.

I'm an idiot, please don't laugh...

...You learn something new every day apparently. Well yesterday I learnt a bigun. I have been living a lie. I have been seeing something that doesn't even exist, through my own ingorance. I have spent the last few days looking at Cabbage Whites, not even realising a Cabbage White isn't even a Butterfly!

It all started yesterday, sunbathing in the garden. My dad was hanging up some clothes to dry at the same time, and I spotted an Orange-Tip. Only the second I had seen this year, and my dad's first. We then had a conversation about Butterflies, and he mentioned having seen his first Large White of the year...

being the inquisitive type, and thinking it'd be good to tell them apart so I could mention it on this blog, I asked my dad 'how do you tell the difference between a Large White and a Cabbage White?'. And that, dear readers, is when I discovered the shocking truth. THERE IS NO CABBAGE WHITE!

As my Dad explained, 'Cabbage White' is the generic name for the two white species of Butterfly, the Large White and the Small White. To tell them apart, size is the easiest method, but Large White also has considerably more extensive black on the wingtips. It is fine to label them both as Cabbage Whites, but not technically correct.

Armed with this knowledge, and having to walk a dog, I spent the time wandering Seaford, trying to find white Butterflies. and I did. I saw two, one of which i got a good enough view of to clearly establish it was a Small White. The other one I saw I suspect may have been a Large White but I didn't get a good enough view to confirm it, so that one still goes down as a Cabbage.

I also learnt, yesterday, that sometimes the calls of phylloscopus warblers can be very unreliable. Walking along the estate above Cradle Hill, Seaford, I heard a phyllosc in one of the gardens.

Normally, it would be most likely to be a Chiffchaff. So when i heard it making a Willow Warbler's characteristic two-tone call I was quite excited. A Willow Warbler is a fairly good bird for an urban area. I was sure it was one, based on it's call.

I didn't have binoculars, so the best I could do was to peer up into the canopy and hope to get a glimpse of it. I caught sight of it flying from one tree to another. Then when it landed it started doing the characteristic 'tail-dipping' of a Chiffchaff. CRAP!

OK, it wasn't that big a deal, but it did at least teach me you can't always trust this tricky pair when confronted with only their call. The song it very distinctive, and after that behaviour is the next-best clue I find (Chiffchaff, as already mentioned, tail-pumps a lot, but Willow Warbler flicks its wings). In a 'classic' individual, plumage also helps (Willow Warbler being generally brighter than Chiffchaff), but there are a lot of intermediates that can't be indentified on plumage alone.

and just to make it that little bit harder, sometimes a bird will sing a bit of both songs, see http://gwentbirding.blogspot.com/2011/04/theyre-everywhere.html for an example. Whether these are hybrids or confused individuals is often anybody's guess, but it seems that Willow Warbler may sing a 'mixed' song more often than Chiffchaff. I myself have a first-hand as a bird singing a hybrid song (it was a Willow Warbler on plumage/behaviour though) was seen at Pulborough Brooks RSPB for two springs running, and Dad and I managed to bump into it both years. It was a bit of a mind-fuck at first!

and if you want to check their calls and songs, there are links here (WilWa), and here (Chiffy).

But other than that, not a lot to report of late. However, Honey-bees appear to be out in force, and I have also seen a lot of Red-rumped Bumble-Bees in the last few days. Our pond is now crawling with little Toad Tadpoles, and there are up to four Slow Worms at any one time in the garden. We also have a few pairs of House Sparrow that regularly come into the garden getting food for their young, but asides from then and a few Blue Tits and Blackbirds, the garden has seemed very birdless recently. However, several Chiffchaffs have taken up residence around Seaford, and a migrant Buzzard, with the inevitable accompanying gulls (click here for my heartfelt tribute to the bastards), flew strongly north yesterday morning.

two of the Slow Worms in the garden

female House Sparrow, coming in to collect food for her brood

an 'arty' portrait of a Tulip. note I said 'arty', not arty.