Living dangerously

At the point when the Wool Carder spotted the red spider mite and turned to look at it, he lifted the spikes at the end of his abdomen in a way I'd have interpreted as threatening if I'd been the mite. In fact, I thought, it's probably as well for the arachnid that these bees are nectar feeders, because they have ferocious mandibles at the front end, as well as killing spikes at the rear, with which they can crush an enemy to death by bending their abdomen down and forwards to meet the underside of their thorax. 

The mite, however, wasn't impressed. Having wandered casually away, it turned a few seconds later and came back, marched up to the Wool Carder, and waved its forelegs at him. At which point... the bee retreated. I can't honestly say that I didn't feel just a tiny bet let down to discover that the Ross Poldark of the bee world is actually a big cowardy custard. Still, it must be a bit itchy if a mite infests your coiffure, so perhaps he was just taking care of his luxurious locks. 

I must remember to show this photo to the Boy Wonder, who I think will appreciate it. The other day he came to find me in the kitchen and said, "Grandma, you have red spider mites in your garden." "Have we?" I said. "Let's go and see." So out we went, and he pointed triumphantly at the patio steps and said, "There!" "I don't expect you have," said his mother. "I doubt if he knows what they look like." But after bending double and peering at the stone, I said, "Oh yes he does, and he's quite right - we have." I don't know who's taught him about spider mites, but he's a bright little chap, with sharp eyes and an excellent memory - I can't wait for him to be old enough for me to employ as an invertebrate spotter on nature walks.

My second photo today shows two firsts for the season - well, three if you count the common thistle, but I wasn't. On the left is a Six-spot Burnet moth, which at first sight looked pristine and briefly made the shortlist to be my main subject, until I got really close with the macro and discovered that its right antenna is absolutely shredded, and hanging on by a thread. This was clearly bothering the poor creature, and I can't help wondering if it would be better off losing it altogether. On the right is a fresh male Small Skipper, easily identifiable by the orange tips to his clubbed antennae.