Monthly Archives: March 2013

Now how did that get in there?

This, it appears, will have to count as my first hoverfly of the year. It’s a drone fly, Eristalis tenax, fished out of the salt-filled outer compartment of the built-in water softener attached to washing machine and dishwasher in our holiday house in Yarmouth, on the Isle of Wight. Now how did that get in there?

Despite the fur coat, she was having a hard time

Found this female Anthophora plumipes today, stalled on the pavement as a blistering wind whipped up the dusty remains of the frosty snow which fell on Saturday. Even with her thick hairy coat she was barely moving. Nothing is flying out there so I was a bit surprised to see her, presumably trying to forage. The thermometer has been below zero for several days now, and although the ground is no longer white, there is a pale remnant tucked down in the long grass.

The Verrall Supper 2013

Yesterday was the Verrall Supper. Here it is:

Chicken, veg, and cuboid potatoes.

Chicken, veg, and cuboid potatoes.

And it was followed by the Verrall Pudding:

Very chocolaty indeed.

Very chocolaty indeed.

In a change from previous Verralls (2012 event here), it marked a move from Imperial College to the Rembrandt Hotel opposite the Victoria and Albert Museum.

All seemed well, despite the sinister novelty of round tables rather than long rows.

See you all again next year.

Rat dissection at Ivydale School Natural History Club gets a mixed reception

Well, I thought it was a grand idea. I’d just picked up some frozen fluffs for our rescue snake, and whilst I was in the pet shop I also picked up a large frozen white rat, £3.50 — a snip.

And what better than to snip it open at Ivydale School Natural History Club last week? Last year I rolled up with a beef heart to chop open, and after some initial squeamishness everyone wanted to pull it apart to have a look at the valves and the arterial connections.

Mr rat, though, got a rather different reception. OK, it did smell rather bloody, but even so I was slightly surprised at the seeming revulsion of a couple of the 9-year-olds. They were excused observational duties and skulked in a corner muttering, whilst the rest of us dug in.

It was definitely a Mr rat, by the way. The very large testes were spotted from the start.

At pick-up time the school office was abuzz with some of the kids telling their parents what they had just been up to. I’m still half expecting a complaining letter or two, though.

Just to finish, I love this quote, from eccentric Victorian naturalist Frank Buckland, Notes and jottings from animal life, 1882.

I owe a great deal to rats. When a student at St. George’s Hospital I wrote an article on rats, which I sent to a magazine, and to my great amazement the publishers sent me a cheque for it. From that moment I have taken a great liking to my first patrons in literature, viz. ‘Rats,’ and I always somehow connect them in my memory with publishers.