I stop dead, performing a manoeuvre practised over a lifetime. It’s a specific heel swivel that averts the life-ending squish of a worm, slug or snail. This time, the creature is a caterpillar, its pale green body blending with the grass – and it is setting one hell of a pace as it traverses the bare earth.
Now, its colouring and extravagant white fluff stands out. Four buff tufts sprout from its back, and a pinky red tail of hairs reaching up from its rear like a flag. As it flexes, it flashes black. As it flexes, it flashes black. I resist the urge to put out my hand and invite this pale tussock moth larva to crawl over my skin. They can cause severe allergic reactions.
Pickers of hops – one of the caterpillars’ food plants – used to call them “hop dogs”, and there is something curiously dog-like in the way they move, as if following a scent. And this one is on a mission. With autumn sinking softly around us, it needs a safe place to overwinter as a cocoon. In spring, it will emerge as a furry-legged, pale tussock moth.
A nearby hum reminds me that I’m approaching the hornets’ nest in a hollow tree, cordoned off to save walkers from a fright. A constant stream of chestnut-coloured European hornets (Vespa crabro) whiz in and out of the hole – I’m surprised the nest is still so active.
At this time of year it is dying, with the males, old queen and workers reaching the end of their lives. Females that will become new queens are filling up on nectar, ready to hibernate. Despite their large size, hornets are not as aggressive as wasps, but they would defend their nest site. Seeing one hornet is often a shock, and seeing several together really should instil respect.
But I’m a fool. I’d like a photo for this article. I climb under the rope fence for a better view. Almost instantly, a hornet buzzes close to my ear. It’s loud. I take a hasty photo but it’s rubbish. Maybe if I go forward a bit? Maybe if I go forward a bit? I take one more step and a hornet bumps my shoulder, then flies back to the nest. It probably didn’t see me. But I am soon nudged again, this time on my cheek, and I can be in no doubt that I’m being politely but firmly warned. I take the hint and leave, with as much urgency as the caterpillar.
