2022 has been a turbulent year for many reasons. From political shake-ups to the incredible heatwaves throughout July and August and the continuous presence of Covid-19, it is perhaps little wonder that one of the things that many people have found brings them peace and happiness during such times has been wildlife. It is more important than ever that these observations are shared; to be aware of, and to love and appreciate what we have around us is the beginning of implementing and reinforcing strategies to protect it.
In my opinion the year was kickstarted, while visiting a nature reserve in early March, by finding a brown shield bug. Although it was only a common Green Shieldbug, I was sparked out of the impatience of waiting for spring by curiosity, as I had forgotten that they change colour from green to brown and back again. I decided to make it a mission to see as many shieldbugs as I could during the year, and hopefully learn a bit more about them in the process.
Not too long after, the second species we encountered was the Hairy Shieldbug (Dolycoris baccarum), basking among brambles. Sometimes called the 'Sloe bug', it is often found in hedgerows and margins, perhaps earning the alternative common name through confusion, as they don't feed on sloes or indeed any other part of the shrub.
On the same day, Birch Shieldbug (Elasmostethus interstinctus) and Bishop's Mitre Shieldbug (Aelia acuminata) were also seen, the latter of which escaped before I saw it - but a very successful start by all accounts.
A well-known local site provided an easy sighting of another species during May: the beautiful, metallic Blue Shieldbug (Zicrona caerulea). Unlike the previous shieldbugs, this species is a carnivore, feeding on flea beetles (Altica sp.) common in the wetland habitats it favours. Given the right circumstances, they can readily be spotted spiking an unfortunate beetle on the end of their proboscis, or feeding on larvae.
However, probably my favourite bugs of the year were the Tortoise Shieldbugs (Eurygaster testudinaria).
Not only do they absolutely live up to their name (I really do think they look like tortoises) but as if the normal brown forms in the pictures above weren't cute enough, they also come in pink. I was lucky enough to see both forms not even a mile from my house, and it was a real treat spotting their shiny round shapes halfway up grass stems from several metres away.
On the same day as I found the first lot of pink Tortoise Shieldbugs, I also happened across a beautiful Gorse Shieldbug (Piezodorus lituratus) sat on a bramble leaf underneath some broom.
In addition to the bugs, around May we found a number of very pleasingly colourful beetles, including some new-for-me species. In my local woods, a strange rolled leaf caught my eye which, upon further inspection, was furnished with three of the most astoundingly-coloured weevils I have ever seen. Tropical forests could barely hope to produce something as dazzlingly contrasting as the blue of these ultramarine weevils against the pale green underside of the leaves.
They were Hazel Leaf Rollers, Byctiscus betulae, which are normally green, but do come in blue and purple as well. The males can be distinguished from the females by the spike on either side of the pronotum, while they can be separated from the similar B. populi by the shallowness of the depression between the eyes (source), somewhat of a subjective characteristic if there isn't a view from the appropriate angle.
On various knapweeds in local meadows I discovered that I'd been overlooking Tortoise Beetles (Cassida sp.) too. Tiny and shiny, they stood out like jewels on the leaves, and we found their spiky pupae as well. I think that these ones may be C. vibex.
By this time it was early June, and the south-east was beginning to feel the heat, although still nothing compared to what was to come in July. It took on a rather Mediterranean feel with a sudden emergence of Rose Chafers (Cetonia aurata), and I found more than four of them on a tiny patch of Oxeye Daisy on a particularly warm morning - a rather incredible sight, despite being a relatively common beetle in the south of England.
A short spring beetling foray in south Cornwall provided a great opportunity to find some of our most engaging beetles. Oil beetles are large beetles of the genus Meloe, in the family Meloidae.
In the UK, we have five species:
The Black Oil Beetle (Meloe proscarabaeus)
The Violet Oil Beetle (Meloe violaceus)
The Rugged Oil Beetle (Meloe rugosus)
The Short-Necked Oil Beetle (Meloe brevicollis)
The Mediterranean Oil Beetle (Meloe mediterraneus)
There is really no better way to lay out the finding and recording of oil beetles than Buglife’s wonderful resource, which concisely covers almost everything I was planning to talk about here! There is also a new Oil Beetle Recording Scheme, as of 2021. The oil beetles we saw this year were Black Oil Beetles (Meloe proscarabaeus) and Violet Oil Beetles (Meloe violaceus), the differences between which can be seen in the photos below. You can also see other (much better) comparative photosets here.
The striking colouration and tendency to walk about in the open make oil beetles one of the more noticeable large beetles of the UK. They are found countrywide, but I have always seen them as the hallmark insect of Cornwall; in the south of the county at the right time of year, they are everywhere. The habitat we found the majority of them in was open coastal meadows with scrubby gorse and occasional grazing by sheep, but they are also found in woodland and other habitats.
The female M. violaceus below was found in a damp woodland verge, eating a dock leaf.
The most fascinating thing about these beetles is undoubtedly their lifestyles. In spring, adult oil beetles emerge, mate, and find somewhere to lay their eggs. This wandering about in the open seems a little counterintuitive for a large juicy beetle with a very soft body, but there is a reason they’re left well alone. Only two families of beetles (the Meloidae and the Oedemeridae) are capable of producing the substance cantharidin, a toxic compound (source). The English name of “oil beetle” comes from the description of the secretion as being oily – elsewhere, they are known as “blister beetles” because in some members of the family, the cantharidin they exude can cause blistering of the skin.
The benefits of being toxic are widely alluring. Not only does it provide direct protection from predation, but the males can transfer their toxins to females via their sperm (as a nuptial gift), which is then absorbed into her eggs and protects them as well. This process is also utilised by the Cardinal Beetles, which appear to do the same nuptial gifting by the same mechanism for the same reason, but some of the males will enhance the potency of their cantharidin secretion by stealing it from oil beetles (source). I would love to photograph this someday, and a fantastic, detailed and engaging overview of this behaviour can be found here.
I found several female oil beetles digging nesting holes, in which they will lay a large number of their toxic eggs. The females were completely unbothered by me lying next to them, and seemed completely absorbed in what they were doing. They were using their mandibles to break away dry chunks of dirt, then scooping with their legs and depositing it behind them.
Once these eggs hatch, they will turn into a mobile initial larval stage called a Triungulin. Triungulins look a bit like large thrips; they clamber up the stalks of flowers and lie in wait for solitary bees. When a bee visits the flower, they climb on and are taken back to the bee’s hole, where they eat the egg and develop in safety. The Triungulin in this picture was waiting at the very top of the stamen of the dandelion flower, but I also found them on Lesser Celandine (Ficaria verna). Any flower where bees are likely to visit will be fair game to them. These triungulins are likely of M. violaceus, according to this resource.
Above: M. violaceus triungulins
The following spring, the oil beetle adults emerge from their safe houses, find mates, and breed - the cycle starts all over again.
Above: M. proscarabaeus
Oil beetles are not the only conspicuous beetles found in open areas. Occupying almost the exact same habitats are Bloody-nosed Beetles (Timarcha tenebricosa), large chrysomelids with rounded bodies and a characteristic ‘stompy’ walk. They are so named for the blood-red haemolymph they secrete from their mouths when disturbed (looking very much like the beetle equivalent of a nosebleed), which tastes unpleasant to potential predators. Beetles can exhibit this trait in response to behaviour or conditions which make them vulnerable. In the case of chrysomelids, which are often specialised consumers of particular plants, evidence such as nibbled leaves and faeces can easily betray their whereabouts, so they need additional lines of defence to ensure that they don’t become easy pickings for opportunistic predators (source).
Pictures 1 & 2: female
Picture 3: male
The males have adhesive pads on their feet which enable them to grip the female's smooth carapace when mating – I didn’t see any pairs this year, but you can see the male in my hand has large, wide feet compared to the female in the other pictures.
A smaller chrysomelid which is often locally common in coastal areas in Cornwall is Chrysolina bankii (sometimes labelled C. banksii, although this seems to be erroneous). Smaller than Bloody-nosed Beetles by about half, and a metallic green colour with tiny pits and reddish legs, they can be seen on plant stems, usually low down to the ground, and sometimes wandering around on paths. They are great at dropping off plant stems when you want to photograph them.
Scarlet Tiger Moth (Callimorpha dominula) caterpillars were quite common. The one in the top two images was feeding on Sea Thrift (Armeria maritima). I haven’t seen Sea Thrift listed as one of the foodplants of this species, but they are known to feed on a wide variety of plants and evidently take advantage of any opportunities they are presented with. The Six-spot Burnet (Zygaena filipendulae) caterpillar was feeding on some kind of yellow vetch.
Rockpooling turned up a beautiful pair of marine isopods (Idotea emarginata), with a huge male guarding a tiny female.
The scoop-shaped tail in the first image above is an important identifying feature.
One thing which surprised me was the huge density of snails which could be found on the shore and cliffs around the bays, which I'd seemingly never paid much attention to beforehand. I'd have imagined that the salt would pose somewhat of a threat to them, but they didn't seem bothered, coming right down onto the sand.
I believe all of these snails are Brown-lipped Snails (Cepaea nemoralis), as the small white strip partially covering the brown shell lip is part of the mantle as opposed to the shell. Brown-lipped and White-lipped snails (C. hortensis) look very similar, so it can be difficult to distinguish between them. I was extremely taken by the variation in colour of their shells, as well as the fact that they all seemed to be down on the beach, sometimes even amongst the salty seaweed washed up on the upper shore. They were interspersed with lots of Garden Snails (Cornu aspersum), pictured below.
I also found a well-camouflaged and rather pretty species of snail called Cochlicella acuta. An expert helped confirm the identification of this species, but it seems fairly distinctive on its own and I'm sure I'd recognise it again. Despite being small and unassuming, a native species confined to coastal areas of the south-west in England, it is considered invasive in Australia and the Mediterranean.
Above: Cochlicella acuta
Above: One of our native cockroach species (Ectobius sp.), a non-pest, outdoor living species.
Above: A mating pair of Woodlouse Spiders (Dysdera crocata) encountered under a rock on the upper strandline of the beach. The male is underneath, while the much larger female is the one in focus. I’d never seen them mating before, and the woodlouse to the right seemed to be really pushing its luck sitting there!
Ashy mining bee (Andrena cineraria) feeding on Alexanders (Smyrnium olusatrum), which is very fragrant and musky in spring.
Above, Picture 1: Dock Bugs (Coreus marginatus)
Pictures 2 & 3: Green Shield Bugs (Palomena prasina)
Picture 4: Rhopalus subrufus
Wall Brown (Lasiommata megera)
Common Lizards (Zootoca vivipara) and Slow Worms (Anguis fragilis) – the male on the bottom left was huge and chunky, and I could almost imagine a couple of blue spots developing on his back. Slow-worms are reputedly one of the longest-lived lizards, based on an often-quoted report (which seems to be from a section of The British Amphibians and Reptiles (2009) by Malcolm Smith) of a male slow worm which was kept for 54 years at Copenhagen Zoo. I am sure that other anguids can probably attain similar ages if given optimal conditions to do so, but it doesn't detract from the fact that some of larger slow worms may easily be several decades old. I wonder how old the big chap in the picture above could be.
Another common but well-camouflaged critter well worth looking out for in Cornwall is the fascinating Celtic Sea Slug (Onchidella celtica). Despite being called “sea slugs”, these slugs are not true nudibranchs, which have exposed gills and can breathe underwater. Instead, they have a pneumostome – a breathing hole – similar to that of terrestrial snails and slugs. The presence of the pneumostome in place of gills means that they can't breathe underwater, so tend to hide away when the tide comes in, resting in crevices and other small spaces (further reading!). We found two or three small ones, foraging among the barnacles for microscopic algae.
One of the most interesting marine molluscs which can be found around the south coast are the Necklace Shells (Euspira catena – although there are several Euspira species found around the UK). They once made it into the news! We found several shells of these amazing snails, as well as some of their old egg masses, semi-circular shapes made of sand, washed up on the strandline. The Necklace Shell egg masses are made of a sort of jelly, which incorporates sand grains and hardens into a pliable, leathery texture which almost feels like plastic. I pulled apart one of the egg masses and found that there were little egg cavities in the structure – now empty.
Crab-wise, my favourite find of the trip (and certainly one of my favourite marine finds of the year) was my first ever live Spiny Spider Crab (Maja brachydactyla). I had always wanted to see one, but had never been lucky – but the low tide evidently caught this one out. After taking lots of photos, it was released back into a deep rockpool, where it was perfectly camouflaged in the reddish seaweeds. I was absolutely fascinated by the camouflage on its carapace - it looked as though it had attached bits of algae to itself, as related species such as Decorator Crabs do. Despite being clumsy and awkward on land, it was surprisingly fast and nimble on the floor of the rockpool, with a very delicate and weightless appearance. It scuttled under some weeds and seemed to be trying to find the perfect spot to hunker down and wait until the tide came back in. When I tried to film it, it hid from my underwater camera very well and seemed to be feeling too shy to cooperate, so I let it be.
Above and below: Spiny Spider Crab
In terms of crustaceans, aside from the multitude of sandhoppers and related species, the most interesting find by far was from my dad, who found a Corkwing Wrasse (Symphodus melops) with two parasitic isopods (Anilocra sp.) on it. We were delighted by this find, as none of us had ever seen these incredible creatures before. Marine parasitic isopods feed on the blood of fish, and the wrasse seemed to be in some distress - perhaps unsurprisingly, considering how enormous the female isopod was. It was only when we were searching for an appropriate angle to photograph them from that we realised that the huge female seemed to be dead, hanging on with her feeding apparatus alone, with a large chunk bitten out of her back end. She was retained as a specimen to be given to a marine isopod expert. I'm sure the fish was relieved!
Above: Corkwing Wrasse with isopods attached. The larger one is an egg-bearing female, with a much smaller male - the reverse of the (non-parasitic) huge male/tiny female Idotea isopods we found on kelp previously.
In summer, I saw a new species of ladybird: the Cream-streaked Ladybird (Harmonia quadripunctata) in the Brecks of Norfolk. This ladybird is a conifer specialist, also found in sandy areas and heathland, and was first found in the UK in 1937 in East Anglia.
While looking around the area (hoping for Heather Shieldbugs), I also stumbled upon a female Adder (Vipera berus) who was just about to shed her skin, with milky blue eyes. She sat very still, then we quietly parted ways. Adders are not uncommon in the breckland of Norfolk and Suffolk, and it is fantastic that we still have places which can be strongholds for these shy, beautiful little snakes.
I was anxious to make a very specific expedition at the end of June, to a patch of Black Poplars (Populus nigra), home to a special moth I had seen only once previously. The Hornet Clearwing Moth (Sesia apiformis) is a stunning, Nationally Scarce species which really does look absolutely spot-on to the species it is trying to mimic, even copying the flight patterns of the hornet when on the move. The expedition has to be done during the morning, as that is when the moths generally emerge and sit on the trunks of trees (either poplars or trees adjacent to poplars). The females adopt a 'sit and wait' strategy to attract the males, who are more mobile, so mating pairs can also be found at this time too. We thought we were too late on this particular occasion, but the virtue of checking every tree twice (once on the first time round and again on the return journey) paid off with a single individual sat in the perfect position; soft, fluffy, and very probably newly-emerged.
One particular tree was obviously the perfect spot to lay eggs, because the number of holes and piles of frass (indicating recent emergences) were very numerous, and it was here we found our quarry. We even found an empty pupal case sticking out of a hole in the trunk, which could well have belonged to that particular moth.
On the coast, we found the enormous weevil Liparus coronatus. I had never seen a weevil this large before, it was almost possible to mistake it for a Bloody-nosed Beetle at first glance. They eat umbellifers such as Chervil and Wild Carrot.
There are several sites in Suffolk where the larvae of Ant-lions (Euroleon nostras) can be found at the bottom of their pits, although it can take a bit of training to get your eye in for them! We have found larvae of all sizes over the years, and even the fantastic pupal cases, sandy on the outside and smooth silver on the inside, but have never yet seen an adult. Something to look for next year perhaps...
The Red-breasted Carrion Beetle (Oiceoptoma thoracicum) was a species we saw more of during the first few months of the year, when it was spring and the temperatures were cooler. The one in the photo was investigating a badger latrine outside a sett.
We saw a peculiar phenomenon on the East coast during high summer - on the ground, around short-cropped vegetation, was the mesmerising movement of hundreds, possibly even thousands, of small chrysomelid beetles. After asking around, and looking closely at the pictures I'd taken, I came to the conclusion that they were Celery Leaf Beetles (Phaedon tumidulus), which was almost immediately verified as I had also posted their image on Twitter, asking for help with ID. They have a wide range of foodplants, including many widespread umbellifers such as Cow Parsley and Ground Elder, but seemed to have had some sort of population explosion in 2022. I saw several other people post similar videos of Phaedon aggregations, suggesting the phenomenon was quite widespread.
The small beetle Glischrochilus hortensis made several appearances over the course of 2022 - I always find beetles with orange spots very exciting, as many rare species seem to have those markings, but G. hortensis is a fairly common sap beetle which also seemed to have had a particularly good year in 2022. I saw more individuals of this species during the course of this year than I ever have before.
We also managed to see Purple Emperors (Apatura iris) again, after several years of not being able to. This particular butterfly was hanging around a reliable haunt for this species - a bin in a woodland car park, seeking out delicious sources of minerals. I think in the image below he had found a shrivelled plum to sample, which beats the alternatives by a long shot photography-wise. While this male was the only one which came down close enough to be photographed, there were a number of other individuals hanging around in the canopy above, chasing one another about.
The year wouldn't have been complete without an evening or two full of Stag Beetles (Lucanus cervus) in June. At dusk, just as it was getting dark, we gathered under a field verge of ancient oak trees to watch these massive beetles fly about in their search for a mate. The thing that amused us the most was how varied the males could be - some were huge, with impressive 'antlers', while others were comparatively very small. Sometimes, one of the beetles would land on the ground, which made taking pictures of them much easier.
Towards the end of the year, in October, we went on the usual seasonal fungus forays into local woodland. With the heatwave, we weren't sure how good the season would be, but luckily there seemed to be just as many fungi out as normal. Unassumingly, I picked up a decaying piece of Cauliflower Fungus (Sprassis sp.) to sniff it (it smelled like raw vegetables) only for it to fall apart in my hands and reveal a lovely beetle I had been hoping to see since 2021: Diaperis boleti, a fungus-eating tenebrionid with a lovely pleasing round shape - and orange patches! Scouting around in the rest of the spongy, slightly gooey fungus-y mess produced two others, and I'm sure in the rest of the fruiting body there were more still.
In total, this year has been one of the best seasons for spotting British wildlife I have experienced in recent years, although part of that could be due to taking the time to really slow down and look closely at the species in my surroundings. Few of these species are extremely rare or difficult to find - a lot of it was luck, which was amplified by being out and about as much as I could. I have already started curating a (very ambitious) species wishlist for 2023, based on some things I failed to see this year.
Happy new year, and happy bugging in 2023!
List of British shieldbugs seen this year (some of which did not photograph well enough to to be put on the post!):
• Birch Shieldbug (Elasmostethus intersinctus)
• Blue Shieldbug (Zicrona caerulea)
• Brassica Shieldbug (Eurydema oleracea)
• Forget-me-not Shieldbug (Sehirus luctuosus)
• Gorse Shieldbug (Piezodorus lituratus)
• Green Shieldbug (Palomena prasina)
• Hairy Shieldbug (Dolycoris baccarum)
• Hawthorn Shieldbug (Acanthosoma haemorrhoidale)
• Juniper Shieldbug (Palomena prasina)
• Pied Shieldbug (Tritomegas bicolor)
• Red-legged Shieldbug (Pentatoma rufipes)
• Spiked Shieldbug (Picromerus bidens)
• Tortoise Shieldbug (Eurygaster testudinaria)
• Turtle Shieldbug (Podops inuncta)
• Woundwort Shieldbug (Eysarcoris venustissimus)