Surrey Round Up

Oh man, when will I ever get around to finishing this England write-up, I ask myself. Well folks, tonight may very well be that night. Or maybe tomorrow night. Possibly the one after that...

The date was 8th February and I was staying with friends in Epsom for a few days, nipping out plant-bothering during the day and chillaxing of an evening with ghost stories, tales of sasquatch encounters and, somewhat surprisingly, finally watching The Shining all the way through (I've never caught the beginning before). I hadn't realised it was a Stanley Kubrick film. My mate's oldest daughter, the one I used to let ride on my shoulders as a tiny tot, is celebrating her 21st this week. His youngest daughter, a mischeivious imp that I used to swing around the garden by her hands until we were both dizzy, has just come back from Paris with her fella and is now studying at uni. Crazy times, sometimes it really does catch me by surprise just how old I am nowadays! 

Anyhoo.... seeing as I used to live in this neck of the woods, I already knew a few sites that would allow me to add a handful of decent plants to the ol' yearlist. First up was the River Hogsmill in Ewell Village. I had three target plants that I know used to occur there, whether or not they'd still be there now I had no idea. Only one way to find out.

Parrot's-feather Myriophyllum aquaticum - yep, that's definitely still here!

Abraham-Isaac-Jacob Trachystemon orientailis - hardly at its best, but still present here

Of the overgown area where the Creeping Comfrey used to occur, the whole plot has been scraped, cleared and turned into an amenity lawn. Meh. Creeping Comfrey does occur (rather sparingly) in Scotland, so I'll maybe have a second bite of the apple in April.

Next on the agenda was Howell Hill, a Surrey Wildlife Trust reserve that I first visited way back in May 1997 (I managed eleven new plants that day!) It's a small reserve but botanically very rich, with many chalk specialists and a wide array of birdsown alien shrubs. Eileen Taylor was the warden here for many years, I was saddened to learn that she died a couple of years back. The open scrub/orchid meadow habitat I expected to find was in a disgustingly overgrown state, I was shocked (and just a little pissed off!) I dearly hoped the new warden would bumble into view so I could tear a strip off them. No such luck, probably just as well. On a happier note, I did manage to find a few nice plants amongst the hawthorn thickets and knee-high rank grasses. On a not so happy note, whilst sitting down keying through a shrub, I put my hand deep into a huge dog crap. I believe I may have muttered a swear word or two under my breath (in actual fact, I fully expect everybody within a half mile radius would have heard me screaming at the sky in righteous rage, lol). Feckin' dog owners, they should be banned, ha!

A rare small blue butterfly, or the rare Small Blue butterfly? 

Juniper Juniperus communis with berries

The cunningly-named Franchet's Cotoneaster Cotoneaster franchetii - fully keyed through

This is the only truly naturalised Firethorn Pyracantha coccinea I've ever seen. I'm glad it's still here!

The plant which caused me to put my hand into dogshit was this mystery shrub. It looked a bit like a Cotoneaster, and Howell Hill is famed for its naturalised Cotoneaster diversity, but the sharp thorns quickly told me this was something else. I just didn't know what.

Lots of it, whatever it is!

This is Japanese Quince Chaenomeles japonica, doubtless birdsown from a nearby garden. I'd never even heard of it before, but the Veg Key quickly led me to the Japanese Quince/Chinese Quince couplet. It does say that their hybrid (Chaenomeles x superba) is perhaps the most common taxon, but "it is vegetatively ± inseperable from C.japonica due to numerous cultivars". According to the BSBI database, Chaenomeles speciosa is widespread throughout Surrey (325 records) though very few of these are mapped, which suggests to me that most are garden plants. However, my plant had hairy twigs, hence it couldn't be C.speciosa which has hairless twigs. Again, according to the BSBI database, the hybrid is ridiculously scarce in Surrey (1 record) whilst Japanese Quince has a whopping 21 records. On balance, I feel happiest to record it as Japanese Quince. I guess at least some of the 325 records for Chinese Quince will be misidentifications for Japanese Quince or Hybrid Quince. 

I quit Howell Hill in a hurry (I had a packet of Wet Wipes in the car and was keen to use them) and, once clean again, headed off to pastures new. My next site was Headley Lane at Mickleham. I clambered the 75,000 steps to the top of the ridge (there's definitely over 200 steps anyway) pausing only to take pics of this lovely Spurge-laurel (and definitely not to catch my breath...) 

Spurge-laurel Daphne laureola - there's just one known site for this on Skye, naturalised in a cemetery

I reached the top of the ridge and went to the Wild Candytuft spot. As suspected, no sign of any Wild Candytuft plants, but I was here to grab the grid reference for Ghostie, who claims that my directions to the precise spot don't make any sense. Bloomin' cheek. I hope he appreciates the fact that my lungs almost burst from my chest clambering up all those steps just to get him a griddie! Apparently these steps have a bit of a reputation amongst those attempting the Box Hill Hike, there's a guide around the hike on this walking blogpost, but if you don't have the inclination to read it (see what I did there?), here's an image of the steps taken from that blog

Of course, I was right on the doorstep of Box Hill, so called because of the forests of Box that cover various slopes. Box isn't native to Scotland, though it's quite widespread as a garden plant and doubtless escapes from time to time. So where better to see it for the first time this year than the eponymous site itself?

Healthy (top pic) and chomped Box Buxus sempervirens leaves

Box Moth Cydalima perspectalis, first recorded in Britain in 2007, is now very firmy established throughout much of the south-east of England and is rapidly spreading outwards, there was even a Scottish record in 2018. As the name suggests, it has a fondness for Box, this being the larval foodplant. It grazes the underside of a leaf before moving onwards to the next leaf, and so on. Heavy infestations can defoliate entire Box bushes. In the early days of its arrival in Britain, it was hoped that it would remain an urban moth, feeding purely on garden varieties of Box. Sadly it has now spread into the range of native Box, I was sad to see many skeletonized leaves high up on the Box Hill ridge. After much searching, I found a single dead larva amongst webbed leaves. Quite a pretty thing really, pity it's here though. Anyway, Box was a yeartick. Satisfied, I moved on towards Guildford. 

In years gone by, I've driven into a private estate, parked up and wandered on foot through the extensive Hornbeam plantations in search of Hawfinches. I needed Hornbeam for the year so headed to the estate. Some while later I quit in exasperation without even leaving the car. It seems that the residents have beefed up the security, I could see cameras in the turning spot where I used to ditch my car. Numerous signs warned me that I was on private property and that parking on the road was strictly prohibited. Worse, a woman jogged by and took a photo of me!!! Blatant or what? Jeezo, next time I'll be sure to bring the Aston Martin... I decided to quit the estate, surely I'd bump into a Hornbeam elsewhere soon enough anyway. A patch of flowering Feverfew in a verge was the only saving grace, being my first sighting of it this year.

Stoke Lake near Burpham is a site I know well. It used to be birded by Jeremy Gates, a top birder (over 500 visits in a year was his personal best for the site!) who I used to bump into from time to time about 20 odd years back before he defected to Wrecclesham Floods. It's a site that has Lesser Bulrush, I was keen to check it in case there were signs of greenery around the base. Sadly not, just last year's dead spike and leaf blades. I could see seeds bursting from the head, technically perfectly countable, but for my own stupid rules (no dead heads/flower spikes allowed). 

Bulrush Typha latifolia

Lesser Bulrush Typha angustifolia

Neither species of Typha showed signs of this year's growth, so both stay off of my yearlist for now. Bulrush grows on Skye (just three sites though) and Lesser Bulrush occurs in southern Scotland, so fingers crossed I'll be able to add both to the tally later this summer. Those twigs and branches you can see in the images are Osier Salix viminalis and Hybrid Crack-willow Salix x fragilis, both of which were yearticks. There are about forty or so ancient willow pollards along the nearby river and every single one of them now has a support beneath it, like this

Planted 110 years ago and now in need of a prop!

I ought to have taken a pic of a really gnarly, twisted tree rather than this relatively lithe-looking individual. Three years ago the younger overhanging trees were cleared and young willows nearby have been pollarded, the idea being they will replace the existing pollards once they finally collapse in a heap. The whole operation, and the trees themselves, are managed by the National Trust. 

The next day I headed to the commons around Esher/Cobham area. Limited interest in most areas I checked, but Fairmile Heath exceeded expectations. I've always liked this small site, though I was a little annoyed to find my favourite carpark has been blocked by a high mound of earth, forcing me into the American School in order to turn around. Almost as soon as I was out on the sandy soils I found myself on hands and knees eyeballing some pretty small plants.

Mossy Stonecrop Crassula tillaea with rabbit droppings for scale

These are mostly very small Marsh Cudweed Gnaphalium uliginosum

I think this could be Common Cudweed Filago germanica

It was whilst sitting cross-legged in the sand, holding a sprig of cudweed and handlens to my eye, that I realised the ten or so old folks weaving their way in my general direction were now standing in a semicircle around me. What the...? "Hi, am I in your way?" I merrily asked (I was sitting in the middle of several acres of open ground at the time). "No, no, not at all" replied the leader. "We were just rather curious as to what you're looking at so intently". I quickly sussed that they were ramblers rather than naturalists, explained the difficulties I was having trying to identify tiny non-flowering plants and was asked why I didn't just come back in the summer. Yes, quite. I was wondering much the same thing myself. But needs must, so they left me to my scrutinising 2mm plants in the dirt and weaved their way back off site again. 

I had one particular plant in mind that I really wanted to find, one that I felt should be found in this type of habitat and should also be flowering at this time of year. It would be a lifer for me too. I got up and skirmished my way around the general area, noting a few bits and bobs of interest.

Close-up view of Oregon-grape Mahonia aquifolium

Rose Campion Silene coronaria - I'm finding this all over the place now!

A dense mass of Gorse Spider Mites Tetranychus lintearius

I'd almost given up looking for my target plant and was no more than 200ft from the road when I glanced down and stopped in thrilled disbelief. Had I finally found what I was hoping for? 

YES!!! This is Lesser Chickweed Stellaria pallida - very common and a huge Tart's Tick for me!

I'm fairly certain that I must have seen this plant many times before, it's just not rare in any way. But it's very early flowering and, being honest, chickweeds don't ordinarily grab my attention. Anyway, I'd been looking out for it these past couple of weeks as it's quite localised in Scotland and would probably have gone over by the time I start doing my long-distance overnighters in the summertime. So yeah, I was very happy to find it whilst down south. Even better, with a very close squint (watching out for dogshit, obviously) I managed to locate a few flowerheads, though they were all lacking petals. Taking passable images was beyond the scope of my camera, but I tried my best anyway

There are five dark-tipped sepals but no petals

Giving it a gentle squish to reveal the two purple-grey anthers within

There ought to be three styles, but I can only see two here. I quite probably damaged it

Lesser Chickweed - a thing of beauty! 

I was pretty chuffed to have found Lesser Chickweed at long last, or at least to have recognised it as such at long last! Definitely my highlight of the day. 

The following day, I finally managed to take a stomp around my old patch Epsom Common. It's undergone some significant changes in the decade or so since I stopped visiting. For starters, the areas cleared of trees for conservation grazing have been enlarged, seemingly merging one into another at times. The resultant scrub is alright in some areas, but has formed an artificially dense and uniformly-aged mess in other areas. All in all, it felt very different to the Epsom Common I once knew and loved. 

That's not to say I didn't enjoy myself out there, and I found some nice plants too. Aspen was a yeartick (not sure how, but it was) as were Grey Poplar and Horse Chestnut. Staying with trees a moment longer, I found a sapling in the undergrowth that keyed through to Walnut. I'm not convinced, I think I may have gone wrong somewhere. Unless the young leaves look very different to mature leaves?

Edit: this is fully-grown Nandina domestica, known as Heavenly Bamboo (though not a bamboo at all). Many thanks to the anonymous person who named this for me in a Comment below. Nandina domestica isn't in Stace 4 or Poland's Veg Key, though it is in my copy of The European Garden Flora Vol II and also the RHS Encyclopedia of Garden Plants. It's widely grown in gardens and the BSBI database shows a whole slew of records in the London area, including from several monads around the Epsom area (though not from the monad where I found this specimen). 

Dunno, but I'm pretty sure it's not Walnut

Confounded by the tree, I moved into the 'original' meadow area in search of an umbellifer. Basal leaves only at this time of year, obviously. Happily it's doing very well for itself, presumably being moved about by the cattle. This is Corky-fruited Water-dropwort which, despite the name, occurs here on wet clay a long way from the nearest body of water. 

Corky-fruited Water-dropwort Oenanthe pimpinelloides

Corky-fruited Water-dropwort is an uncommon plant in Britain. It's essentially a southern species with very few outposts north of Birmingham and it is unknown from Scotland. Which is why I made sure to visit this huge colony before heading northwards again. The last I heard, which was a few years back now, there were estimated to be several tens of thousands of plants in this colony. From memory, before the cattle were introduced, this section of slope was totally awash with white flowerheads. Pity I won't witness that again anytime soon, the basal leaves will have to do for now. 

Down in the woods I soon found myself checking in on an old favourite of mine, the Lucombe Oak. It's a planted tree, not admissible on any of my lists, but still worth a look as a curiosity. Remember, these images were taken in early February

Epsom Common's semi-evergreen Lucombe Oak

Lucombe Oak is an artificial hybrid between Turkey Oak Quercus cerris and Cork Oak Quercus suber, retaining some of the evergreen character of its Cork Oak parent. I have no idea who planted this tree, but it is believed to be over a hundred years old. It sits roughly at the boundary of Epsom and Ashtead Commons with Rushett Wood, so perhaps it's a marker of sorts? Nice to say hello to it again after all these years anyway.

Continuing on my loop around the common, I called in to check another plant that I first saw many years ago and haven't looked in on for some time. Initially I thought it had been lost beneath Hawthorn and bramble scrub, but I was pleased (and a little surprised, if I'm being honest) to note that the scrub has been cut back all around it. Here it is, looking pretty forlorn and sorry for itself

This is the sole plant of Common Barberry Berberis vulgaris known from Epsom Common

Eileen Taylor first showed me this plant on 7th June 2000, and it was believed to be at least fifty years old back then. Staggeringly, it doesn't appear to have spread whatsoever since I first clapped eyes on it. I think it could do with the canopy cover being thinned out, and a close eye kept on the encroaching brambles, but it was good to see it still survives. I wonder how long it will hold on for. It outlived Eileen, could it outlive me too? 

Further towards the back of the Wells Estate, I found the usual garden throw-out suspects. Lots of Greater Periwinkle, some Japanese Rose, Snowberry and Portugal Laurel. I also spotted a small clump of bamboo. Grabbing my trusty Veg Key, I waded through the brambles until I was stood next to the bamboo and pretty soon had keyed it to Arrow Bamboo. 

Arrow Bamboo Pseudosasa japonica - new to Epsom Common?

I checked the BSBI map for Arrow Bamboo and discovered that it's already known from the tetrad, possibly even referring to this very clump. So, it could be new to Epsom Common, then again maybe not. It's certainly the first time I've ever seen any species of bamboo there.

But Epsom Common had one last surprise to throw me. I wandered right across to Wilmerhatch Lane in order to visit Baron's Pond. It's very overgrown and I struggled to push through the Holly thickets without falling in, but I added Crassula helmsii to the daylist (ouch!) before finding the surprise waiting for me beneath a large tree

This is Spanish Dagger Yucca gloriosa var recurvifolia - again!

Only a couple of days back I found a clump of Yucca growing in a woodland near Ripley, and now I'd found another here on Epsom Common! I could see no sign of this being planted out, the soil around the base looked the same as the soil elsewhere. No plastic tags or labels either (always a good sign). I can only assume it's another survivor of illegal fly-tipping, though it wasn't particularly close to any gardens or a roadside layby. Very weird if you ask me.

That evening was my final evening in Epsom. The following morning I spent a while pupa digging beneath Aspens with my friend J. We were hoping for Poplar Hawk pupae but only found a few beetles and plenty of worms. A quick try beneath some old lime trees failed to produce any Lime Hawk pupae, so in the end we called it a day and I sped off towards Eaton Bray, world famous for being the village where Britain's greatest living coleopterist lives. 

Adios to J and the ladies. I hope to be back again soon, certainly sooner than the three years I'd left it this time.

In one last effort to placate certain folks out there, I have endeavoured to choose a song that everybody will both know and love ( I mean, who couldn't love this?) Hope you enjoy! 

Click it, you know you want to