Goat Willow and Bee

Today is Super Saturday - a day of rugby which should determine just who wins the Six Nations - but only if Wales beat France. If you’re Welsh, your nerves are shredded. Many of us are still can’t believe our team are still unbeaten. We’re intensely patriotic - but last year our team was still very much in the infancy of a new regime, and here in Wales we’re patient. But here we are, unbeaten, nervous of the power of the French.


And so, to calm our nerves, we set off on our morning walk. We’re back along the estuary, but today it’s damp and misty, the castle shrouded. The tide is out, the mud flats carved by channels, and far out at the water’s edge, curlews and oyster catchers feed, their plaintive cries just heard over the inescapable sound of the A55 - this is not a quiet walk. 


My eye is drawn towards some catkins, and I notice the furry grey of ‘pussy willow’ transformed to sprays of tiny pollen-loaded stamens - an ideal focus for today’s blip. And then - I can’t believe my luck - I see my first bee of the year, which  obligingly lands and feasts. Blip done. 


I’m so impressed at fellow blippers’ knowledge of flora and fauna, so back home I try to identify my catch. I think the plant is the dioecious goat willow - meaning male and female flowers grow on separate trees. In early spring, the catkins develop – the male catkins grey, stout and oval, becoming yellow when ripe with pollen; the female catkins longer and green. Once more, I’ve learnt something - I’d always thought them different species. As for my bee - my best guess is  bombus pratotum but I’m sure fellow blippers will correct me if I’m wrong! 

And so it’s back to rugby. It’s going to be a long, tense evening!