Bog Myrtle & Peat

Thanks to some fantastic weather recently, the ground has really warmed up and plant growth is heading into overdrive. Many of the more sheltered rowans have cracked their buds, and willows seem to get fluffier by the day. In amongst the undergrowth, some fascinating little beasts are waking up after spending the winter underground, and I managed to catch one for a photograph yesterday afternoon.

I have always been scared of reptiles. Their silent gravity and mechanical movements makes me think that there must be something “wrong” with them, and I only managed to clasp this savage brute (pictured above) after I had made utterly sure that he had no intention of biting me. I sound like a real wimp for being worried about a bite from a four inch long reptile, but small things often have an unexpectedly rich capacity for evil, and I wasn’t sure how violent this expressionless cylinder of scales was going to be.

It turned out that he was extremely benign, and wanted little more than to flicker his tongue. What a bloody shame. Having geared myself up to lance a dragon, I felt rather deflated. I photographed him, then returned him to the grass, revealing as I did so that he had a neon orange undercarriage.

As I afterwards found, this colour indicates that he was a male, and also that he was nothing more than a “common lizard”.  I had been applauding myself for having overpowered a Heather-gator, or a Bog-dragon – something with a name that oozed danger and pain. As it was, I had merely handled one of Britain’s most abundant and widespread reptiles.