Foraging

 

Foraging

                Grey spotted Amanita (Amanita excelsa) September 2025

Many people enjoy foraging, and this time of year is full of delight for them. Blackberries, sloes, elderberries, hazel nuts, and sweet chestnuts are just some of the bounty that can be collected.

Wild mushrooms are a different proposition. We have seen many people poking around at ground level for delicious treats. One French man we met showed us the basket of chanterelles he had gathered and was going to freeze. Chanterelles are often associated with beech and birch trees, and can be found between May and November.

Unless a person has been brought up to identify fungi, it is wiser to avoid gathering and cooking them. It is far too easy to make a mistake which may turn out to be deadly.

Left to right: Panthercap (Amanita pantherina) Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria) and False deathcap (Amanita citrina) from 'Mushrooms' by Roger Phillips

The Amanita genus includes some of the world’s most toxic species, which can damage kidneys and liver irretrievably and result in death.

The grey spotted Amanita (Amanita excelsa) grows in mixed woodland and can be seen from July to October. It is edible and very common but must be thoroughly cooked before consumption. It has a strong mushroom smell when cooked.

It is not safe for amateur foragers to attempt gathering is because it is difficult to distinguish from the poisonous Panthercap (Amanita pantherina) Panthercap is not abundant and grows in most types of woodland, particularly beech, from July to November.

Confusingly, the edible Blusher (Amanita rubescens) looks similar to the Panthercap. It is common and widespread, and grows in mixed woodland from May to November. Although it is reputed to be very tasty, it must be thoroughly cooked to the destroy the poison (!) it contains, which is only destroyed by heat.

Fly agaric (Amanita muscaria) is the striking red ‘toadstool’ with white spots, often seen in fairy tale illustrations and paintings of the autumn countryside. It is both toxic and hallucinogenic, but not usually deadly, unless a great quantity is eaten (more than ten) It can be found from August to December in mixed woodlands, particularly favouring birch woods.

The common name of Fly agaric comes from the mediaeval practice of breaking off pieces and putting them in milk to kill flies. Reindeer and red squirrels eat them and suffer no ill effects, though maybe that’s why reindeer fly.

Fungi seem to be a recurring theme on my blog. I have written about them here and here and here and here. 

 

Delivery

 

Delivery

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons 

We had a parcel delivery today. On the Reolink camera I saw the delivery man approach with the parcel and expected he would leave it at the door, so didn’t rush to answer when he rang the bell. He lingered, then tapped, then left, with the package under his arm. I decided I’d better go to the door.

By that time, he was back in his vehicle, but saw me and climbed out again. He told me he needed my date of birth. ‘You’re joking,’ I said, since, although everyone tells me I don’t look my age (thank goodness!) no-one could mistake me for an adolescent. He was serious, so I gave him the information, and he smiled and handed me the parcel.

It was light and addressed to Barry. When he arrived home with the dogs, he took one look and said, ‘Oh, that’ll be my axe.’

I had forgotten he was researching axes the day before. It’s a sign of extreme trust that this did not worry me. He needed to add a small hatchet to his array of sharp tools for chopping kindling.It’s a good thing I answered the door, or we would have been waiting for a redelivery.

‘Answering the door’ is a funny expression. It’s not as though the door poses questions or asks for explanations. It’s just there, providing a barrier between outside and inside, as well as a measure of insulation, and a means of easily identifying one house from another, so long as it bears a number or a name.

The screaming haka

 

The screaming haka

                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

As the Women’s Rugby World Cup approaches its climax, the men in my family settled to watch the semi-final between New Zealand and France at Twickenham. They are agreed that women’s rugby is faster-moving and played more as it used to be in the men’s game. It was a good match and the final, later on this Saturday afternoon, between the champions, England, and Canada, promises to be entertaining, too.

The major attraction for me was seeing and hearing the haka. Haka are ceremonial Māori dances performed in a variety of situations, from welcoming honoured visitors, to funerals, to a pre-match challenge or symbolic throwing down of the gauntlet. When men perform the haka before a rugby match, their voices resonate around the stadium, a powerful chant reverberating in the chests of the crowd. It is thrilling.

Women’s voices are shriller, more piercing, so that the overall effect is of shrieking rather than chanting. However, the Kiwis gave it their all.

Packs of people shouting and yelling occur in less friendly circumstances, demonstrating in the streets against perceived injustices. I have it on good authority that a mob of women screaming obscenities feels far more threatening than a crowd of men doing the same. The fairer sex is less than attractive when protecting their homes or communities. Men are intimidated by screeching harridans.

The rugby final was won by England, with a score of 33 to 13. It was a good match, played with concentration and intent until the very last minute. There was no aggression, and none of the fisticuffs sometimes seen in the men’s matches. It was the second largest crowd attendance of all time.

It was good to see the Canadian Prime Minister there, but where was the UK Prime Minister?

Keeping watch

 

Keeping watch

                                            Jellicoe and Gilbert

Gilbert often sits at the open patio door, gazing into the garden, sniffing the air, watching the birds. Note how his ears are pinned back, listening for any sounds of food preparation.

Jellicoe loves Gilbert and joins him at every opportunity. Together they are guarding the house and the humans against all comers.

Earlier, they were watching the big television screen, our window on the world, which acts like a moving panorama. It may show a canal journey, a drone view of Switzerland, Japanese rail travel, a myriad other things, or, as at present, nothing at all.

Onto the screen, courtesy of Steve Reed, came a jaunty young fox, to which Gilbert took great and noisy exception. He is not prone to barking, but something about a fox where it should not be really set his hackles up and raised his voice to full volume.

As he yelled at the television, so Roxy leapt from her bed and joined her voice to his. She had no idea why she was barking and was looking into the garden, hoping for a glimpse of whatever had upset her big friend. Herschel and Jellicoe ignored the hullabaloo, as cats are wont to do.

Eventually, with a mixture of admonishments and praise – ‘Stop it, that’s enough,’ and ‘Well done, good dogs,’ – peace was restored, and all the four legged animals resumed their slumbers.

In other news, we have succumbed to the chill and lit our first fire of the autumn. Herschel assumed his customary position, with his back to the warmth. The seasonal task of checking levels in the coal bunker will  recommence soon.

I half expect to see the silhouettes of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego (Daniel, chapter 3) walking across the burning coals. 

Breakfast

 

Breakfast

                                        

I usually have breakfast sometime after noon. Today, I had an apple at one o’clock, which is quite early for me. The dessert apple harvest has been wonderful this year, but there are fewer to pick now. There are still bushels of crab apples on the trees, but I shan’t be making jelly this year. They will provide food for the birds, unless my granddaughters come to pick them.

The apple, though small, was crisp and sharp and very juicy. Delicious!

Air fryer blueberry muffins

I followed it with some blueberry muffins, freshly baked, though not by me. 

It is my daughter-in-law’s birthday today, and tomorrow it will be my elder great-grandson’s birthday. Both of them are spending their days at school, but the weekend approaches and I’m sure Fergus, at least, will be celebrating with some friends.

Slug

 

Slug

                                    Dusky slug (Arion subfuscus)
                                        Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Slug is an unappealing word, whether as a noun or a verb. It has associations of heaviness and slowness.

Garden slugs are not very attractive. As much as I tell myself they’re just snails without external shells, I cannot persuade myself of their intrinsic value. They must have some worth, surely, and yes! they are detritivores. Who wouldn’t want to claim that name for themselves? They are the refuse collectors of the natural world, as well as tasty morsels for some animals.

They generally come in quite muted shades, though yellow and bright orange are not uncommon. However, compared to sea slugs, they are very modestly dressed. They are not closely related to sea slugs, though both are molluscs.

There are more than three thousand known species of sea slugs or nudibranchs, many of them brightly coloured. Some of them take the stinging cells from prey such as jellyfish, reusing them for their own protection. Others take in the poisons from sea anemones and sponges, which are then exuded as defensive slime. They are not a threat to humans but could cause skin irritation if handled.

Some are so small as to be almost unnoticeable, only able to be studied under magnification, while the largest can measure about fifty centimetres. They can be found in all the oceans of the world, in shallow waters and the deeps.

Nudibranchs are common in UK rockpools, easily noticeable at low tide. They range in size from less than one or two centimetres (Diaphorodoris alba, which can be found in poor light) to twelve centimetres, (Doris pseudoargus, Sea lemon)

                                Rainbow sea slug (Babakina anadoni)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

A rainbow sea slug (Babakina anadoni) was discovered recently in a rockpool in Devon. They are usually found in the warm Mediterranean waters around Portugal, Spain, and France. At less than two centimetres, this tiny animal was a happy find for a volunteer with the Rock Pool Project. 

Aspidistra

 

Aspidistra (Aspidistra eliator)

                                            Aspidistra eliator

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

It wasn’t the biggest aspidistra in the world, but it had been growing well in the dining room for several years. Aspidistra has the reputation of being impossible to kill. This summer, that reputation was wrecked, as the hot weather killed it off, assisted by my lack of attention. It had almost reached the point of no return several times in recent years, but this time, it was curtains. Nothing I could do would revive it. I have left the sad remains in the pot. It may surprise me yet, but I’m not overly optimistic.

The cast iron or bar room plant originates in southern Japan, growing in dense shade under trees. The leaves emerge from ground level and the flowers, which appear in summer, are found at ground level, too.

By 2008, ninety-three species of aspidistra had been identified. Among them are plants whose leaves emerge chocolate brown in colour and then turn green, and others with speckled markings.

 It was greatly prized by the Victorians as a symbol of middle-class affluence. It was a plant that could withstand limited sunlight and the poor conditions imposed by open coal fires.

The clip of Gracie Fields singing 'The biggest aspidistra in the world' was recorded in 1977 when she was seventy-nine years old. She died two years later.

The ‘ber’ months

 

The ‘ber’ months

I don’t live under a rock, but the expression, ‘the ber months’ is new to me. Until a couple of weeks ago, I had never heard it, but now it’s cropping up everywhere, and today it appeared on the front cover of our community magazine, Crowthorne Eye.

Though the cover adjures readers to ‘Enjoy the ‘Ber’ months, there is nothing inside to encourage that, apart from one sentence that says, ‘. . . it won’t be long before our beautiful County turns golden, the best time of year to enjoy the outdoors with so many woodland walks on our doorstep.’  

It is true that we are blessed with acres of woodland, and surprising that more people don’t take advantage of them. It’s still commonplace to take long walks in this busy county without seeing another soul.

However, I started thinking about other conceivable aggregations of months, but there is only one, the ‘ry’ months of January and February. If the ‘ber’ months conjure up images of golden leaves and fiery sunsets, the ‘ry’ season, at least in the northern hemisphere, promises, or threatens, biting winds, driving rain, ice, frost, snow, and fog. There can be bright days, with thin sunshine in an arctic blue sky, but they are overwhelmed by the dark hours and the gloom, and the very real desire to reach home, close the curtains and soak up comforting warmth.

We try to cheer each other up by saying, ‘February is a short month,’ but really we’re fooling ourselves. It would be more accurate to define it as ‘shorter.’ For three out of every four years, February has twenty-eight days, but in a leap year, it has twenty-nine. So, it’s two or three days shorter, depending on which month it’s being compared to. That’s the equivalent of a weekend, even a long weekend, or possibly half a working week, so not to be sneezed at. It does not, however, compensate for the sheer bone-chilling, soul-sapping misery of February.

January enjoys the afterglow of the ‘festive season,’ even when the bills come in, and there may be momentary regrets about the overindulgence that was enjoyed. February has nothing to recommend it. The children contract every indisposition known to mankind and generously pass them on to their nearest and dearest. More than one child in the family means there will be a recurring circus of infection.

If a doctor’s appointment is required, and you are actually able to meet a medical professional face to face, you will discover that they fall victim to even more germs than the average family. You leave the surgery feeling very sorry that you’ve troubled such an obviously unwell adult with your problems.

All bad things come to an end. The ‘ry’ months are soon forgotten in the bold and blustery month of March, when signs of spring are all around . . . and so the year progresses.                  

Sea otter awareness week

 

Sea otter awareness week

                                       Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

September 21^st- 27^th  2025

This week is organised annually by Defenders of Wildlife, Sea Otter Savvy, California Department of Parks and Recreation, the Elakha Alliance and the Monterey Bay Aquarium.

Places to see sea otters

                                            Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Otters (Enhydra lutris) are the largest members of the weasel family. They are intelligent, resourceful animals. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, they were hunted almost to extinction for their dense pelts, which were used to make exceptionally warm, luxurious clothes. There were once three hundred thousand otters in the Pacific Northwest. That number has dropped to around one hundred and fifty thousand.

 In 1911, the International Fur Seal Treaty was enacted, marking the beginning of a slow population recovery. Sixty-one years later, the Marine Mammal Protection Act of 1972 was passed, which made it  ‘illegal to hunt, harass, or kill marine mammals in U.S. waters.’

The sea otter is a keystone species, eating and controlling the population of sea urchins which might otherwise decimate the coastal kelp forests. Kelp is essential for carbon sequestration and so the otters play a significant role in balancing the delicate ecosystem.

                                    Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Sea otters have probably used tools for millions of years, this proven by the rearing of orphaned otters, who have shown an innate ability to break open shells. Frequently, otters show that they favour one rock over another, carrying it with them in a fold of skin under their arms. Sometimes, if the rock is not sufficient for the job, or has been lost, they will smash a shell against the side of a boat or other hard surface, or use a crab claw to prise it open.

Otters eat, feed their young, and sleep on their backs. They form rafts with other otters, holding paws to maintain contact and avoid drifting away. Otter cubs are unable to dive underwater until they have grown their adult coat.

Sea otters are still an endangered species. While they are no longer hunted, they require clean water. They constantly clean their coats, the millions of hairs of which trap air to keep them warm, so are susceptible to contaminants.

 
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Booking an appointment

 

Booking an appointment

Small rant!

The optician advised me to book a blood cholesterol test, so on Wednesday I submitted an online request and was informed that I would be contacted within twenty-four hours.

On Friday, not having heard anything, I ‘phoned the medical practice. I was number nineteen on the list, but was offered the option of pressing 1 and told I would not lose my place in the queue and would receive a call back. I waited patiently, making sure my ‘phone was in easy reach at all times. After an hour, I lost all concentration and moved onto other things. There was no call back.

I decided I would start again on Monday and sit on the ‘phone until I achieved my objective. This morning, in my email, the following message appeared:

Please DO NOT reply to this email address as it will NOT be delivered to your healthcare provider.

Dear Mrs Cooke,
All our clinicians will be operating an Urgent only service on 22 & 23 Sept for issues that cannot wait.
You’ll be able to submit requests directly through our website using Rapid Health from Wed 24 Sept. Please see attached for further information.

Thank you,

To view your attachment, please follow this link: https://accurx.nhs.uk/c/p-s7hf8qr6vw

Ringmead Medical Group

However, I will not be attempting to use the new ‘Rapid Health’ system on Wednesday that is replacing the ‘Klinik’ system, as the link tells me it is not for routine appointments. I haven’t got anything else to do on Wednesday, so will sit on the ‘phone and wait, listening to the awful, mind-numbing musak and the oft-repeated messages about emergencies. Thank goodness I don’t go out to work any longer.

Heaven help those who have urgent requirements!

Ask for Janice

Ask for Janice

‘Ask for Janice’ is a cocktail bar and event venue that used to be located near the Barbican. It relocated to Tileyard Road near King’s Cross station in June of this year. My middle daughter was amused by the name.

There is another place in Brooklyn that goes by the same name, but there is no other connection. ‘Ask for Janice’ comes from the Beastie Boys’ album, Paul’s Boutique.

Are you ticklish?

 

Are you ticklish?

Some people are extraordinarily, almost painfully, ticklish. Others do not respond at all to being tickled. Both reactions are entirely normal, so anybody who tells someone who is not ticklish, ‘No sense, no feeling’ is ill-advised.

Everyone in my family is extremely ticklish – everyone, that is, apart from me. I have never been rendered helpless with laughter at being tickled, though I love to hear young children giggling when they’re being tickled, and that makes me laugh.

I may have slightly ticklish feet, but I can control the reaction to tickling. I always have the sense that I’m disappointing everyone by not being ticklish, but I can’t pretend.

Even my dogs are ticklish, particularly their feet, but not my cats.

Is there any advantage to being ticklish? Is it better not to be ticklish? Does it matter? (No, not at all!)

It’s just not cricket!

 

It’s just not cricket!

Herschel snoozes

Last night, through the heavy blanket of slumber, loud voices encroached. I struggled to understand. Were they outside? Children’s voices in the middle of the night?

But, no! They were downstairs, in my house, uninvited. As my ears adjusted, I recognised they were not children’s voices at all. With slowly dawning realisation, I understood that the voices were emanating from the television in the sitting room.

Periodically, I recognised an advertisement – something to do with insurance, I think. Advertisements are always louder than the programmes they interrupt, or so it seems to me, and so many of them are about insurance.

The voices were just loud enough to impinge, but not clear enough to be understood, a hindrance to all eavesdroppers, not that I was in the mood to snoop. My dilemma was whether or not I should go down and turn off the television. Had I opted to trudge downstairs, I would have been followed by all the animals, who would then be expecting some sort of attention – a trip into the garden, maybe, or a tasty treat. On balance, it was simpler to remain upstairs and that is what I did. I tried to block out the sound and resume my sleep. I dozed.

Sweet dreams. Jellicoe

I don’t know which cat it was, but one of them had turned on the video recorder, in order to watch a cricket match between England and South Africa. Unfortunately, for England, South Africa won.

To cap it all, Jellicoe has just hooked a buttered scone from my plate, which he then dropped, to Gilbert’s delight and satisfaction.

That’s not playing fair! It’s just not cricket!               

Cedar

 

Cedar

Returning from the optician on Saturday morning, I stopped by the church and took a photograph of the venerable Cedar sheltering the gravestones beneath its spreading branches.

It is probably Cedrus libani, usually known as the Cedar of Lebanon, a tree often planted in Victorian and Edwardian times in churchyards. It symbolises strength and spirituality.

The foundation stone for the Crowthorne church of St John the Baptist was laid in 1872, and the church was consecrated in 1873.

The churchyard houses Commonwealth War Graves from both World Wars. Three brothers from the Boyde family are commemorated there, although all were buried abroad. Private Arthur Boyde, Royal Sussex Regiment, was twenty when he died in 1916 at the Somme. His brother, Corporal George Boyde, of the Oxfordshire and Buckinghamshire Light Infantry, died in 1917. Private Walter Boyde, from the same regiment, died in 1919, after the cessation of war, possibly from war injuries. One can only imagine what grief must have been visited upon the Boyde family.

In addition, a cross in the churchyard honours those who died and were buried without memorials.

The churchyard is a peaceful, well-kept ground, with headstones for tiny children, and others for those who lived a long and fruitful life. Fresh posies appear on graves from time to time, and not always for the most recently deceased.

 Rainbows

We don't often see rainbows, but we have seen a couple recently.

One afternoon, rain lashed while the sun attempted to counteract the dark clouds. Together, sun and rain conspired to bring forth a dramatic rainbow. The photographs were taken from the patio door into the garden and have not been edited.

A few days later, more rain fell in a dispirited, half-hearted manner. The result was a wishy-washy sky with an uninspiring bow. The clouds promised more precipitation, but did not deliver.

Note the anemometer on the pole to the left of the tree. There's also a rain gauge there, which gets blocked occasionally!

The netting on the right-hand side of the photograph is a Heath Robinson affair, designed to allow air to enter and prevent small humans from escaping.

Dogs and puppies

 

Dogs and puppies

Roxy with her ball, Gilbert waiting.

Roxy and Gilbert met a puppy the other day, a yellow Labrador called Max, thirteen weeks old, and very new to the experience of walking in the Great Outdoors. Well brought-up puppies know that they should be submissive to their elders and so they roll onto their backs, exposing the most vulnerable part of their anatomies to the seniors. Frequently, an inadvertent release of a small amount of puppy pee will occur, to further placate the adults.

When the older dogs sniff the puppy, it will squirm with delight, sometimes squeaking. Some dogs remain submissive all their lives. Our senior Jack Russell, Biddy, had an endearing habit of submitting to people in her ‘pack’ all her life.

Roxy is never happier than when she is carrying a ball, and if she can manage to fit two in her mouth, she is even more delighted. She will not relinquish her prize to another dog, only to a human. While Gilbert may sometimes be distracted from the task of retrieval, Roxy is fully engaged and always knows where a flung ball has landed, often pointing it out to Gilbert.

However, when she met Max, she dropped her ball and allowed him to play with it. Well-bred, properly-socialised adult dogs recognise and understand the needs of puppies. We have been fortunate to have had a number of puppies, and it is heart-warming to see an adult dog gently playing with a young puppy.

Gus playing with puppy Bertie.

To the inexperienced it may look and sound dangerous. There is a lot of play growling and mouthing, huge adult jaws enveloping tiny snouts, the puppy being allowed liberties no adult dog could enjoy.

Frodo playing with puppy Jenna.

Should the puppy become too boisterous, the adult will discipline it, firmly and so quickly that a human may miss the reprimand. Nonetheless, just as humans need a break and a rest from the insistent demands of toddlers, so should dogs be respected and the puppy removed to a safe place for a nap after a period of play.

Bertie sleeping with his big friend, Gus.

Young puppies miss the warmth and security of their litter-mates. Adult dogs don’t often sleep together, but will tolerate a puppy snuggling up to them.

Puppy Gilbert with Roxy and Herschel on his first night in his new home.

Tinea

 

Tinea

Tinea, perhaps more commonly known as Athlete’s foot, is an intensely itchy condition which is hard to eradicate. It is frequently acquired in communal changing rooms.

Barry suffered with tinea during his running years. He travelled the world on business, and went running in every country he was sent to. It was a wonderful way to explore different landscapes.

He tried many remedies for Athlete’s foot, and consulted doctors who recommended different treatments, but nothing seemed to work.

One day, our Dalmatian, Cariadd, began to lick his feet. Once he had overcome the ticklishness of her attention, he relaxed and enjoyed it. To his surprise, within a few days, the tinea had cleared completely. It may have been coincidental, and maybe it would have disappeared on its own eventually, but Cariadd was credited with almost magical properties. She only ever licked his feet when tinea recurred and passed on her ‘knowledge’ to the younger dogs.

People sometimes shudder when they think about a dog licking their feet, but it’s actually incredibly soothing.