If you are planning to see wildlife, please follow the latest government advice regarding coronavirus, and bear in mind that there are different restrictions in place between England, Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland, and in more localised areas as well.
Barred grass snake(Natrix helvetica)
Barred grass snake in Nottinghamshire, UK. © Jack Perks
An idyllic pond, strewn with enough water lilies to keep Monet busy for hours, might seem an unlikely place to meet our largest, most abundant snake. Rather chilly for a sun-worshipping serpent, you might think. But the barred grass snake (usually just referred to as grass snake in the UK) is a strong swimmer, and, by mid-morning on a summer’s day, having warmed up nicely by basking in a sheltered spot, it sets off to hunt.
Top of the menu are amphibians and fish, which it stalks above and below the surface – sliding among floating lilies and weeds and through lush bankside vegetation to hide its approach. A decent meal will last the reptile two or even three weeks.
Sharing this particular Nottinghamshire garden pond was photographer Jack Perks, an underwater specialist who, in June 2019, completed an epic seven-year quest to photograph and film all 54 species of freshwater fish in Britain. He’d been tipped off that snakes frequent the pool, which the owner uses for wild swimming.
Its filtered water is gin-clear – perfect for photography – while the lack of chemicals means it teems with frogs, smooth newts, water beetles and dragonfly larvae. Keep a beady eye on the surface of tranquil ponds, canals and backwaters this summer in case, like Perks, you’re treated to a wildlife encounter to remember.
Learn more about snakes in the UK:
Common house Martin (Delichon urbicum)
House martin collecting mud. © David Chapman
Their nests do make a mess, but we should all just learn to live with it. House martins are in rapid decline in the UK, especially in English suburbia, and they’ve flown all the way from West Africa to share summer with us. As with swallows, but unlike swifts, they raise two families in a season.
So the reporting rate to the BTO’s Gardenwatch project invariably peaks in August, as colonies have two broods’ worth of twittering young on the wing. Some pairs risk squeezing in a third brood.
Learn more about house martins:
European spider crab (Maja squinado)
Spider crab. © Alex Mustard
People on a beach seldom realise there’s a carnival of life within a stone skim of the shore. What biologists refer to as the lower intertidal zone is only exposed at the very lowest tides, perhaps once or twice a year, and attracts creatures you’d think stay in much deeper water.
At various times, this bustling world is visited by mackerel, catsharks, rays, flatfish, octopuses, lobsters, sea squirts and much else besides. Some are here to feed, others to mate or lay eggs, but spider crabs come to moult. Common spider crabs dwarf the greenish-brown shore crabs familiar from rock pools, with a red body just about big enough to cover a dinner plate, and spindly legs that span up to half a metre.
Their shell, or carapace, is protected with a fringe of sharp spines, and often hosts green algae, which provide useful camouflage. As in all crabs, the shell can’t expand, so must be shed as its owner grows. But since the replacement is soft and vulnerable at first, spider crabs migrate en masse to favoured moulting grounds, where they can enjoy safety in numbers. Several such sites are known in south-west England. Mounds of discarded shells litter the seabed, like the aftermath of a raucous party.
Learn more about coastal wildlife:
Common darter dragonfly (Sympetrum striolatum)
Female common darter dragonfly settled on garden Hydrangea, in Hampshire, UK. © Bob Gibbons
“Have you ever had a dragonfly eyeball you?” asks Jini Reddy in her book Wanderland. “It is a funny sensation, like being anointed by a tiny astronaut in a helmet.” If any species will give you this experience, it’s the common darter. Abundant and widespread, it visits gardens and parks until autumn, sometimes far from water, and happily rests on top of any stick, bamboo cane or garden fork. Try positioning a convenient perch to tempt one closer. Males are red, females (below) golden-brown.
Learn more about dragonflies:
Pedunculate oak (Quercus robur)
Oak tree at sunrise, Ashdown Forest, Sussex, England. © James Warwick
English oak is a misleading name for the commonest broadleaf tree in the British Isles. So, it’s a shame that ‘pedunculate oak’ is such a mouthful!
Many of our ancient specimens are not in forests in the modern sense, but stand proud in wood pasture, a traditional landscape where livestock grazed freely among pollarded trees. In this parkland-style setting, they serve as valuable stepping stones for wildlife. The largest may produce over 100,000 acorns. If you find an ‘Ent’, be sure to log it (sorry) on the Ancient Tree Inventory.
Learn more about oak trees in the UK:
Grey seal (Halichoerus grypus)
Grey seal in Aberdeenshire, UK. © Genevieve Leaper
The drama of the breeding season may be a couple of months away, but you can still watch grey seals around our coasts. While some swim a few hundred kilometres out to sea on trips lasting several days, most seem to prefer fishing within sight of shore.
Their dives are usually quick and shallow – about one to four minutes – so you have a decent chance of seeing their horse-like heads bobbing in the waves. Grey seals can be curious by nature, approaching boats, scuba divers and snorkellers.
Learn more about seals in the UK:
Green tiger beetle (Cicidela campestris)
Green tiger beetle. © Colin Varndell
Many British ground beetles – and there are a lot of them, about 350 species – are essentially black or brown, sometimes with a metallic sheen. But here’s a stunning exception.
In Diary of a Young Naturalist, Dara McAnulty describes how this jewel-like, massive-jawed, goggle-eyed predator “javelins forwards”. Sunny patches of bare, dusty earth are all the beetle needs for hunting, so it thrives on ex-industrial sites and in other abandoned, scruffy corners of cities. Further afield, check sandy paths and heaths. The larvae lurk in killing pits, like ant-lions.
Learn more about beetles in the UK:
Greater horntail (Urocera gigas)
Giant horntail ovipositing. © John Bebbington
August can be a great month to see the female of this spectacular 4cm-long insect. Also called the giant wood wasp, it’s an excellent mimic – in fact, it is a very large, harmless sawfly.
The long ‘stinger’ is the female’s ovipositor, which she uses to insert eggs in pine trees. Her grubs will spend the next few years wood-munching. Good places to find the species are conifer plantations and stacks of felled timber, and for this reason foresters consider it a pest.
European robin (Erithacus rubecula)
After the “bird-stifled uncanny emptiness of June and July”, as HE Bates put it in his 1936 classic Through the Woods, robins start singing again this month. That’s not the only change. Earlier in the summer, robins busy feeding young keep a low profile.
They also look pretty tatty, with faded orange breasts as if they’ve been left out in the sun (which, of course, they have). By August, their breast feathers are red once more following a moult.
Learn more about European robins:
Roesel’s bush-cricket (Metrioptera roeselii)
A Roesel’s bush-cricket on a bramble leaf. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
August is a great month for getting to grips with our bush-crickets and grasshoppers, many of which are singing away now. Whereas grasshoppers ‘stridulate’ by stroking pegs on their back legs against their front wings, bush-crickets rub their front wings together instead.
Roesel’s bush-cricket produces a high-pitched buzz like crackling static – learn it by listening to recordings online. Once a south-eastern speciality, this insect (which is usually flightless) is rapidly marching north into the Midlands, Yorkshire and north-west, helped by climate change. Listen for it in field edges, verges, rough ground and other overgrown grassy places.
Learn more about crickets:
Devils’-bit scabious (Succisa pratensis)
Devil’s-bit scabious in Hampshire, UK. © Bob Gibbons/FLPA/Getty
Old names for wildflowers often seem romantic or even comical to modern ears, and devil’s-bit scabious is a prime example. Richard Mabey’s ‘wildflower bible’ Flora Britannica lists “bobby bright buttons” as one of its traditional vernacular names, presumably a reference to how its ruffled flowerheads bob about on the breeze.
Its equally curious common name arose from a tale that the devil bit its roots off, leaving them short. Now worryingly in decline, the pretty plant flowers in damp grasslands from July until early autumn.
Adonis blue butterfly (Polyommatus bellargus)
Male adonis blue butterfly on a rock. © Ian West/Getty
Rivalled by the kingfisher and spring gentian (a great rarity restricted in Britain to Teesdale), the male Adonis blue is a leading contender for our most brilliantly blue species. By contrast, the female’s upper wings are sooty-brown, sometimes with a bluish wash.
The second brood of these butterflies is on the wing now, flitting over warm chalk downs in southern England. They are phenomenally sedentary. Dave Goulson writes in A Buzz in the Meadow that they “happily live out their entire life in a few square metres of downland, and will rarely (if ever) choose to head off into the unknown.” Hunt for them on sunny days.
Learn more about butterflies:
Round-leaved sundew (Drosera rotundifolia)
A round-leaved sundew plant in Scotland. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
Peat bogs seem bleak at the best of times, but in summer these valuable soggy wildernesses – which store more carbon than all our woods and forests combined – come alive with fluffy, white cotton grass and specialist wildflowers.
A few, such as sundews, supplement the bogs’ meagre nutrients with flesh. Their gloop-tipped hairs taste sweet, luring flies, midges and even the odd damselfly, which are soon stuck fast. Each leaf tendril rolls up its meaty morsel like a fajita. Common in Scotland, Wales and northern England, these little plants might each digest hundreds of insects over the summer.
European beewolf (Philanthus triangulum)
A beewolf with its worker honeybee prey. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
Most of Britain’s wasps – several thousand species – are solitary killers that track down other invertebrates and paralyse them for their grubs to devour live. Many target the nests of bees.
Perhaps our most spectacular example is the beewolf – females look like giant common wasps and ruthlessly hunt worker honeybees, hauling them away to provision their larval burrows. Look for beewolves in heaths and bare, sandy places, often by the coast or at brownfield sites; RSPB Minsmere in Suffolk is a known hotspot.
Little stint (Calidris minuta)
Juvenile little stint in North Norfolk, UK. © David Tipling/Education Images/Universal Images Group/Getty
Smaller than sparrows, stints are the tiniest of the various wading birds now pouring south from their tundra breeding grounds in northern Europe and the Arctic. Fewer than a thousand little stints pass through Britain in late summer and autumn, mostly juveniles hatched just a couple of months earlier.
They feed frenetically along muddy pools and tidal creeks, refuelling on insects and crustaceans for their onward flight to the Mediterranean and Africa. Apart from size, little stints can be identified by a pair of cream stripes down their back, which birders liken to ‘braces’.
Purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria)
A brimstone butterfly nectaring on purple loosestrife. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
Growing in lush profusion beside rivers, this gorgeous plant has brilliant magenta flowers. Even its stems, which may reach 1.5m tall, are reddish-purple. Invariably, clumps of purple loosestrife will be buzzing with insect life, but the nectar is well- hidden, so visitors are long-tongued species – mainly bumblebees, butterflies and moths. Another bankside bloom at its best this month is hemp agrimony, whose flowerheads resemble shaggy, pink pompoms.
Sycamore moth caterpillar (Acronicta aceris)
Sycamore moth caterpillar in Germany. © Uwe Schwenk/McPhoto/ullstein bild/Getty
Moth caterpillars are often much showier than the adult insects they become, and August and September are great months for spotting them. Many very hungry caterpillars will be on their foodplants (helping clinch the ID), while others trundle over flowerbeds and paths, looking for somewhere safe to pupate.
You can hardly miss the neon fuzz of the sycamore moth caterpillar. It munches foliage of horse chestnuts, maples and sycamores, and is mostly found in southern England.
Learn more about caterpillars and moths:
Green woodpecker (Picus viridis)
A green woodpecker searching for insects to eat in the grass in a field. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
In summer our largest woodpecker escorts its fledged young to park and garden lawns to forage for ants together, especially where the soil is light and sandy. Juveniles can easily be told by their thickly spotted head and underparts, though come September they will be moulting into their first set of smart adult feathers.
Hunt for the ant- eaters’ cylindrical droppings left on rockery stones or garden furniture – they twinkle with shiny inedible wing- cases and crumble like cigarette ash in your fingers.
Learn more about woodpeckers:
Clouded yellow butterfly (Colias croceus)
A clouded yellow butterfly resting on a leaf. © Sandra Standbridge/Getty
Are we overdue a mass invasion of this golden- winged beauty from southern Europe? Apart from the brimstone, it is the only mainly yellow butterfly seen in Britain.
Since 1970 there has been a trend towards more “clouded yellow summers,” says Richard Fox of Butterfly Conservation, though the migrant remains much rarer and less predictable here than fellow long-distance travellers such as the red admiral, painted lady and hummingbird hawkmoth. The last really big influxes were in 2013, 2006, 2000, 1996 and 1983.
Main image: Male adonis blue butterfly on a rock. © Ian West/Getty