June Is Bustin’ Out All over…

… as Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II remarked in Carousel

I LOVE THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER – OR I DID, BUT WHEN YOU SHARE YOUR GARDEN, ESPECIALLY THE FRONT GARDEN, WITH A TRIBE OF FERAL CATS, YOU JUST KNOW THAT IT IS TROUBLE-TIME

They had produced a round dozen before the end of May, and these were skirmishing all over the garden, and learning to climb in my shapely, fragile, silver-leaved olive bush, which wasn’t meant for cats to climb about in – even tiny ones! Anybody fancy the challenge –and it is a challenge – of raising a feral kitten? Free to good homes!

Birds of a feather

The one thing these cats are not doing is solving the bird problem. Now I am passionately opposed to bird-culling by humans, but cats are supposed to operate a natural population control, especially on such things as sparrows. Now as Barbara Windsor reminded us all in 1962, sparrows can’t sing. They can, however, kick up the very Devil of a din by squawking. The front of my stone-built home is a tenement of sparrow’s nests, and they raise their broods there. At first, it’s just the parents discussing things, but then the chicks start to demand food. When the whole tribe starts to talk at once, one cannot hear oneself think, let alone converse. This usually happens when you have just staggered out with a long, refreshing drink to enjoy a warm, sunny evening.

All the summer visitors seem to have arrived. I have heard cuckoos, seen hoopoes, spun round and round watching swallows. All a bit early, but that’s no bad thing.

How doth the little busy bee …

My bees have re-started activity in their makeshift hive. They tried to swarm a week or two ago, but nothing came of it. They just flew about humming busily, then all crawled back into the hive again.

ByMikeGeorge

Mike George is our regular contributor on wildlife and the countryside in France. He is a geologist and naturalist, living in the Jurassic area of the Charente

I have heard cuckoos, seen hoopoes, spun round and round watching swallows

I thought that it couldn’t get any worse, but then a pair of starlings took over an old sparrow-cave right next to my drinks area. Heaven knows what sort of a row they will make! I’ll keep you posted.

I thought back to that old adage, “A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay; a swarm of bees in June is worth a silver spoon; a swarm of bees in July isn’t worth a fly.” It is only now that I have fully understood it. In the days before modern hives were invented, and captive bee colonies were killed off at the end of each season to get their honey, each bee-keeper had to start afresh each year by capturing a wild swarm or two. The time at which you gained your swarm was important. If you got a swarm in late April or May, the bees could work the early summer flowers and collect right through the season. You would get a huge amount of honey, and if you were lucky, that honey would have the savour of the predominant flowers in the area. You would stand to make a good return on a honey-crop like that. If you established the colony in June, half of the pollination season would be over, and the bees, however hard they worked, could not collect so much honey, and by the time the brood had been fed, there wouldn’t be so much left for you to recover. In July, you might as well not bother – the colony might just break even! Of course, my old poem referred to the bad old days of oneseason colonies. These days, when the colonies are kept going, often for several years, one can plan long-term, and the timing is not so critical. Indeed, with the reduction in the numbers of bees, a prudent beekeeper should take advantage of every opportunity to gain a swarm. As we move out into the garden, we will encounter our old friends, the wasps and hornets. Now please remember, they are NOT out to get you. They may have a passing interest in your jam sandwich, or in your drink (in my experience, Asian hornets love lager, and will dive straight in) but they will only attack you if they feel threatened. The best way to make them feel threatened is to jump up and down, flapping your hands like windmill sails and shrieking, “Aarghh, a wasp!!”. That will get you stung faster than anything.

Calmness is the secret with all insects, but especially the dangerous ones.

Don’t forget, either, that a fatally damaged wasp – or bee – will release a warning pheromone (perfume) that will warn its other hive-mates that there is danger about. Their normal response to this is to come out mob-handed to deal with the threat. They will be in a bad mood. That would spell the end of your al fresco activities!

Bugs galore

The rest of the insect life is also getting going. Of course, the Gendarme bugs have been around for some weeks already, mating copiously and luxuriously on every path and pavement, but in mid-May the Minstrel bugs Graphosoma italicum (Fr: Punaise arlequin) appeared on the Queen Anne’s Lace plants, flaunting their maroon-and-black pinstripes to all the world. It does cheer me up to see them, though I imagine the keen gardeners dread their activities. Mating is very much on their minds, too (the bugs, not the keen gardeners). When one sees them, one cannot help wondering whatever happened to camouflage, as they stand out like a sore thumb. The answer is that their colouration is aposematic, that is, it is

Mating is very much on their minds, too (the bugs, not the keen gardeners) readily apparent and warns predators to avoid the creature. It can’t harm an attacker, as a wasp or hornet (which are also aposematically coloured) could, but its flesh is extremely distasteful.

Although not in fact a true bug, the May bug or Cockchafer Melolontha melolontha will be amongst us. It tends to be a May/June visitor in fact - another victim of the shift from the Julian to the Gregorian calendar. Also, the glorious emerald-green Rose Beetle Cetonia aurata will put in an appearance.

Butterflies all flutter up …

All through spring we have been charmed by the discreet butterflies of the season –the Orange Tip, the Brimstone, a few old and tattered hibernators – but now the summer brigade is putting out its banners. The Scarce Swallowtail Iphiclides podilirius (Fr: Flambé) will be seen flying soon, with that lazy, kiting flight that is so distinctive. The tiny Holly Blue is already in evidence, as are some of the other early Lycaenidae. Soon the Marbled Whites and the various brown butterflies will be seen. The Red Admiral, the Peacock, and the Painted Lady should grace our nectar-rich borders in due course. (You do have plenty of nectar-rich flowers, I hope. If not, don’t complain to me if you never see any butterflies!)