💾 Archived View for magda.cities.yesterweb.org › oblog › 2023-summary.gmi captured on 2024-05-26 at 14:52:38. Gemini links have been rewritten to link to archived content
⬅️ Previous capture (2023-12-28)
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2022 was defined by a drought across Western and parts of Central Europe, with its summer being recorded as the hottest since 1881. Even the thermometer outside of my office window briefly went beyond 40°C for three days and some butterflies, most notably the large cabbage white (Pieris brassicae) and the map (Araschnia levana), took refugee between the white clower in my yard. On one of the rare rainy days, the effects of the drought became apparent when a single azure bluet (Coenagrion puella) was seeking food around my home.
But the extreme weather didn't end with this summer, in fact the following winter brought us an unusually warm New Year's Eve and New Years Day, with nightly temperatures at around 16°C. Roughly two weeks later we'd finally see freezing temperatures that still largely were too mild for my region. In contrast to early 2021, where we got surprised by relatively huge masses of snow cutting off several villages nearby, the winter season of 2021/2022 and 2022/2023 brought us significantly less snow but far more sleet and rain.
As I was planning on searching for eggs of the brown hairstreak (Thecla betulae), this year's observation season kicked off in late March. Not only did I manage to find two eggs on a single plum tree in Zone II, I also discovered two older sallows that grew naturally (i.e. never cut by humans) less than 50 meters further to the northeast. Upon closer inspection, its crown already was occupied by a wide variety of bees, including wild honeybees and bumblebees.
Five days after I made those discoveries, I first spotted a blister beetle during my regular walk just a few meters away from my home. At this time, local newspapers published a considerable amount of warnings, as it tends to consider sandy playgrounds its preferred habitat. Only two articles out of dozens pointed out that even accidentally eating one of those toxin-producting bugs will not be lethal, unlike local politicians implied by barring anyone from entering playgrounds altogether until this beetle's season ended. (Wouldn't it generally be more advised to tell parents not to let kids eat or suck on whatever they can find on grounds?)
I got over this annoyance with this hysteria the moment I saw a hummingbird hawk moth in the window right next to my computer. Due to the cooler temperatures it was brumating inside my home for a while but I decided to bring it outside and expose it to the sun to prevent it from starving by accident. While it greatly appreciated my act, I still don't know which one of the flowers in my yard managed to attract it, as the only flower blooming at this time was a single cowslip.
A spontaneous trip to a meadow orchard in a different village was undertaken on 9 April. Unfortunately, the vegetation (still) was sparse and partially prepared for the then-upcoming Easter bonfire, which actually is illegal across my state, yet still being practiced with permission in some villages and my nearest town. Shortly before I got back into my car, I was lucky to spot three butterflies: one common brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni) and two peacocks (Aglais io). All of them quickly disappeared, so capturing them with my camera was an impossible task.
At some point I did consider to include this new spot in this year's location list, however I eventually decided against it due to the lack of visits I made during the rest of this year – a single day in April simply isn't sufficient enough and with the orchard's state at this time taken into account, I'm not all too optimistic about its species abundance because its mostly-dying fruit trees are right next to a dying pine forest.
Three days later, on 9 April, my main route began to offer its first signs of spring, with my first observation being a small tortoiseshell (Aglais urticae) right between the mixed field and Zone I. A bunch of orange tips (Anthocharis cardamines) also already were flying around. The next day introducted Aglais io to my regular route.
Meanwhile my stinging nettle began to attract its first visitors, mainly the caterpillars of three moth species. The large yellow underwing (Noctua pronuba) even occupied the area underneath one of my two bleeding hearts and an old hand broom. Rather unusual but not entirely untypical were several caterpillars of the silver Y moth (Autographa gamma), though much less of a surprise were the caperpillars of the angle shades (Phlogophora meticulosa), which have been considering my yard their home for at least five years now.
A remarkable sighting was made on the 21st and personally surprised me the most, as I already assumed that its mating season already ended: A single large tortoiseshell (Nymphalis Polychloros) was sitting on the edge of the crown of a pear tree in Zone I and flew to a recently-cut bush, sitting right next to me and so allowing me to take a proper shot.
The end of this month introduced me to the first new sighting since I began to observe butterflies in particular: the dingy skipper (Erynnis tages). Anthocharis cardamines started to dominate every location I would visit, including the playground in my village, and Gonepteryx rhamni finally started to show itself right in front of my home due to the huge amount of dandelions.
Out of all the months I dedicated to my observations, this one wasn't simply disappointing but frustrating. Due to my nearest town taking care of mowing matters within and outside of my village, mowing season always kicks off in early May, usually when spring-typical flowers slowly start to wilt. This year they came around when every flower was in the midst of blooming and within one particular area – right between the mixed field and Zone I – I spotted them not only mowing grasses down improperly (either too much that nothing but soil was left or too little) but specifically mowing down blooming flowers to leave grasses largely irrelevant to insects standing. It isn't the first time they demonstrated a complete apathy to their jobs and they went on to get rid of the flowers some of my neighbours planted near our playground and our church (the latter will be mentioned again later, as this was turned into a semi-wild meadow by some inhabitants just a year ago).
What made this overzealous mowing even worse was an unexpected drought that lasted until mid-June. Many insects suddenly were out of food and retreated to territories that saw little to no mowing. Despite this, the overall amount of butteflies decreased significantly, so it's fair to assume that most of those I saw in April either got killed directly or starved to death.
Those that survived and still occupied their main zones tended to demonstrate some odd behaviours. Aglais io, Aglais urticae and Gonepteryx rhamni disappeared entirely, wheras Polyommatus icarus, which just began to show up, avoided most of its preferred nectar plants and two individuals tried their luck in village gardens near the main street and in my yard. The green-veined white (Pieris napi) only produced a very tiny and isolated population on the village's graveyard due to its host plant, garlic mustard, having been outnumbered by a sudden surge in ground elder. All stinging nettles and deadnettles in my area began to show signs of nitrogen deprivation and their spaces were taken over by black horehound. Erynnis tages disappeared as fast as it began to show itself, appearing merely between 30 April and 3 May; its first generation is supposed to appear until the end of June.
A routine walk on 3 May revealed that grounwater levels increased so drastically that a long puddle with clear water formed at the visible end of an ancient drainage pipe east to Zone III that once was used to drain and keep Zone II dry. The increase in groundwater also caused the street to the village north of mine to sink a little further at the same spot where two bumps began to grow in recent years and a nearby motorway, which was completed only a few years ago, to undergo underground maintainance next year; holes underneath the motorway encompassing approximately two kilometers, quickly grew to a size that the legal max speed has been reduced to 80 km/h upon inspection. While only allowing speculations, it is not unlikely that the groundwater carried little nutrients at that time, causing a variety of plants to not produce enough glucose and thus nectar unsuitable for some butterflies in particular.
Still, I cannot explain why bees and other bugs remained completely unaffected by this and even saw a notable increase. Ladybugs, native and Asian, dominated the areas that nearly lacked butterflies but also didn't mind sharing spots with the remaining insects. Even the regions south of my village, which generally lack bugs due to intensive agriculture, discovered new spots close to a stream. Both natives and its Asian cousins were represented in nearly-equal numbers, with me counting slightly more native ladybugs than the latter throughout the year.
While this month sounds particularly grim, getting closer to the end of it introcuded me to three new species and a tiny explosion of insects. 21 May became the starting point of the seasons of the Adonis blue (Polyommatus bellargus), the small blue (Cupido minimus) and the large red damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). On the same day I recorded my very first observation of the grizzled skipper – due to its very shy nature, I saw it mutiple times after the 21st, yet failed to capture them with my camera. Zone III was the main spot for all kinds of mating insects and spiders.
A week later, on 28 May, the common blue (Polyommatus icarus) kicked off its seasonand was joined by two newcomers: brown argus (Aricia agestis) and the small heath (Coenonympha pamphilus). Not entirely new to the species list but a new discovery nevertheless was the spring form of the map (Araschnia levana f. levana), complimenting last year's observation of its darker summer form (Araschnia levana f. prorsa) and caterpillars.
During the recording of new bird species south of my village, my assistant walked straight past a resting red admiral (Vanessa atalanta) while I stood completely still as soon as I noticed it right in front of my rose. Upon taking a step back and turning my camera on, a passing quad bike scared it away. My assistant still was clueless about them having walked past a huge butterfly and later confirmed that they genuinely didn't see it at all.
The 28th, for the most part, was an average day until I came across a hidden lady orchid at the western side of Zone I. There were several more individual orchids of the same species further into the overgrown parts of the cherry hill – all of which never appeared in close proximity of this part of the hill.
The last day of the month did not offer anything new in terms of fauna but rather surprised with a significant part of Zone I suddenly being covered in masses of tufted vetches. Unfortunately, I repeatedly got attacked by ants having build their homes around the vetches and thus was unable to check whether or not this "carpet" attracted other bugs. As far as I was able to tell, it was moderately popular among bees, though almost entirely irrelevant to butterflies and moths.
Much to the (playful) jealousy of my friend, I discovered an individual of the black hairstreak (Satyrium pruni) a few days before he did. Additionally, 2 June was the same day I made my first observation of a female Azure damselfly (Coenagrion puella). The wall brown (Lasiommata megera), a species new to me, briefly appeared in combination with a speckled yellow (Pseudopanthera macularia) two days later.
Towards the mid of the month, common (Polyommatus icarus), silver-studded blue (Plebejus argus) and pearly heath (Coenonympha arcania) instantly became the dominating butterflies and make up nearly all of my observations for this month. Initially suspecting an individual of Erynnis tages, the following review proved me wrong, as the observed butterfly was, in fact, a Mother Shipton moth (Callistege mi).
Four days later, I spotted the second and last Erynnis tages, before making an unusual observation: A single Polyommatus icarus followed me back home and stayed in my yard for several minutes, resting on the wall behind the bleeding hearts. This was unusual insofar, as most blues tend to avoid human settlements, rather preferring fields and meadows. During the course of this summer, several Polyommatus icarus were searching for nectar in gardens, more often than not avoiding their usual nectar plants outside the village.
The following days kicked off the seasons of both the small skipper (Thymelicus sylvestris) and the Essex skipper (Thymelicus lineola), the pearly heath (Coenonympha arcania), the large skipper (Ochlodes sylvanus), the comma (Polygonia c-album) and the Queen of Spain fritillary (Issoria lathonia). All common whites also already were active at this time, yet were restricted to a single grave on the cemetery in my village. It's rather fitting that this particular grave, covered in a large lavender bush, belongs to the previous owner of the pond encompassing large parts of Zone III. This also was the only spot the green-veined white (Pieris napi) occupied for approximately two months.
A new area attracting butterflies was established by a family close to the main street, having turned the grassy front area of their into a semi-wild meadow. THroughout the entirity of summer, it was among the most popular spots for Thymelicus sylvestris and Thymelicus lineola. A summer lilac nearby provided the only spot to attract the few remaining individuals of Aglais urticae.
The end of the month introduced the marbled white (Melanargia galathea), marking the approaching peak of the summer season. At this time, I finally managed to capture a banded demoiselle (Calopteryx splendens) that have begun to occupy the part of a stream crossing the main street where a willow was uprooted during a storm a few weeks prior. As the tree still was (and still is) alive, despite only having 1/4 of its root intact and still in the ground, only the branches blocking the path next to the main street were cut and the remaining tree thus allowed to stay, now providing another home to a protected damselfly.
I've made my second new damselfly discovery on 29 June and it became the rarest observation of this year. The northern damselfly (Coenagrion hastulatum) occupied a very tiny area in Zone III, right on the path between the western side of the pond and the stream following said path. It kind of is a certain irony that the northernmost parts of my research area are claimed by the southern damselfly, whereas the northern damselfly has only been observed within the south-western part of the main zone. Still, it was the hardest to observe and capture on camera due to them being incredibly shy.
I also witnessed one local farmer illegally pumping water out of the same stream, further draining it of water, but let's not turn this into a debate about egotistical farmers; it certainly deserves its own series of entries and it naturally wasn't the only kind of beheaviour I noticed.
The first half of July was marked by windier weather, which forced me to seek out spots with less stronger winds. Some species, on the other hand, remained largely unimpressed and instead used the winds to occupy new territories en masse, such as two burnet (Zygaenidae) moths, of which I only discovered one last year at the south-eastern area of the bog hill. Upon closer inspection of the masses of the crespucular burnet (Zygaena carniolica) now dominitaing the southern hillside of Zone I, potographic evidence revealed a second Zygaenidae living among the former, namely the New Forest burnet (Zygaena viciae). To top the list of novel discoveries off, I witnessed a dragonfly suspected to be a common darter (Sympentrum striolatum) catching a burnet. "Suspected", as the the photos I managed to shot only prominently show its head from a considerable distance and its caught prey. The southern damselfly also began to show up at the southern side of the cherry hill, alongside Thymelicus lineola, which greatly appreciated the sudden abundance of oregano.
As I have decided to visit the bog hill only once this year due to the windy conditions, I focused on its grassier western side, instead of the steppe-like south-eastern hillside. The condition of the western side was still as poor as last year, the tourist sign still being entirely unreachable and grasses such as bulbous oat grass further decimating the amount of flowers to the point I failed to re-find the common sainfoin, of which I found a single individual in 2022. An undentified damselfly took cover in the grasses for a short amount of time, yet disappeared the moment I attempted to get a closer look at it.
Whilst walking through a less grassy area, an individual of a butterfly species I've seen before came into my vision after taking a quick look to my right. Not knowing how shy it is, I managed to get a blurry shot of its upper side; one step closer to the yet-to-identify butterfly resulted in said individual to flee to the last remeaining bushes closeby, disappearing behind them. I showed the (terrible) shot to my friend and he was only able to provide two possibilities due to the lack of observations regarding the undersides of its wings, which I was unable to see. Both of us did not struggle to determine that it was an individual of the Melitaeini group; as it appeared to be an older individual with slightly fading colors, I checked several public databases of butterflies that include historic data and recent observations made in areas several kilometers away from the hill. Nothing provided us any help, so we settled the dispute by just sticking with its genus and merely agreeing on it being a fritillary. We hope that I get to see it again next year, as no further observations of this genus were made this year.
The next observations later proved to be just as hard to accurately determine than the fritillary, as a yellow began to approach me, only to fly to the center of a nearby potato field. Already making my way back home and taking a short rest on the path, another yellow began to rest on a thistle, so I quickly grabbed a camera and managed to capture one of my best shots this year. Keeping the historical data of this place in mind, I assumed to have seen at least two pale clouded yellow (Colias hyale), as this was the only yellow ever observed within this protected zone. While I checked the public databases, however, I noticed that both Colias hyale and its identical cousin, the Berger's clouded yellow (Colias alfacariensis), were having a strong season each, with both appearing in equal numbers and together in areas that haven't seen any yellows in years. The only way to tell the two apart is by searching for caterpillars, which I decided to postpone until I figured out a way to not get extremely exhausted in the heat due to a lack of trees providing some shade. In retrospect, even with some shade, I likely would have discovered no caterpillars, as the fields were cleared shortly after.
Towards mid-July, butterfly observations outside of my yard became sparse and only the common evening-primrose managed to attract a variety of insects at this point. Among those wasn't just the hummingbird hawk-moth but also the African death's-head hawkmoth (Acherontia atropos). The latter species eventually began to show itself in masses after dawn and I managed to count more than 20 individuals within a single evening.
On the day of my birthday, I initially planned to visit a hillsite in a neighbouring district due to it being the last remaining habitat of two butterfly species close to extinction in my state and most of my country: the hermit (Chazara briseis) and the dryad (Minois dryas). This plan got cancelled on the very last minute due to stormy winds and so I only took a short trip to the Meisel forest, which left me just as disappointed. The only observation I made was a sympentium striolatum fighting against the winds and the trees in the forest making cracking sounds, which forced me to return home quickly. As my birthday correlated with my 10,000th shot with my Canon camera, the entire day became twice as disappointing than planned.
My 10,000th photo was shot on 20 July and depicts a well-fed Vanessa atalanta with damaged wings. It was followed by an apple armine (Yponomeuta malinellus), two Roesel's bush crickets and one particular cricket both my friend and I were unable to identify and resembled more the skeleton of a cricket at first glance, though it was very alive.
No further observations were made until 28 July due to the start of a sudden rainy season a few days prior. The brown hairstreak (Thecla betulae), which occupied Zone II last year, migrated to the bushy path in Zone I. Just like last year, however, I only managed to spot a single individual. Also in Zone I, Polyommatus bellargus and Polyommatus icarus returned, bringing another new sighting within this area with them, namely the chalkhill blue (Polyommatus coridon), which was an exclusive observation on the path between Zone II and the village separating said zone and the Meisel forest. Polyommatus coridon also began to claim Zone III. Polyommatus agestis re-appeared, as well, yet now began to prefer the southeastern area of Zone III and the quiet areas of the local car repair. The silver-washed fritillary (Argynnis paphia), which I only observed at the outskirts of the Meisel forest last year, used the path connecting the two villages to reach Zone II, similar to Polyommatus coridon, whereas the ringlet, a very common observation within the same territory, was seen only once throughout the entirity of summer, indicating that species preferring dry, forest-like climates struggled the most this season.
Meanwhile, my mother and I tried our luck with cauliflowers. All seeds made it, yet the plants never produced heads. What became a disappointed to us, was actually a blessing in disguise for both Pieris rapae and its larger sibling, the large white (Pieris brassicae). Whine the former only produced three caterpillars that used the walls of the soil-filled tub to keep their pupae above ground, the latter produced dozens of caterpillars within this safe environment. Due to the worryingly low amount of whites from spring until the first full month of summer, it genuinely was a wonderful sight to have provided an ideal breeding ground for those two species in particular.
The frustrations of May, yet only the ridiculous mowing practices, returned once more, this time extending to a small area close to my village's church. Due to a weakened lime tree that needed to be removed in December, 2018. It was quickly replaced with a new lime tree. To mitigate the risk of it not surving a drought, someone decided to plant a small variety of plants around the young lime tree to protect the ground from evaporation. I scanned all plants on the 4th of August with Flora Incognia, with all results immediately transmitted to the Technical University of Ilmenau to assist the monitoring of previously-poorly-studied areas. Not even a week after submitting my discoveries, the entire place was mowed down and the young common thorn-apples vandalized. Of the latter some were merely cut down to the ground, others got their roots partially pulled out. After seeing the damaged thorn-apples, I began to doubt it was sheer malpractice and began to speculate on some villager having taken this particular area personally. This hypothesis was strengthened just shortly after this, as I caught a villager with his mowing tractor driving several rounds around a pavilion on the playground, not simply just mowing the grass encompassing it to keep it short but ridding the area off the grass entirely to leave a naked ground behind and creating a huge dust cloud covering the entire street in the process. Considering that this villager lives on the other side of the village and thus seldom ever gets to see any of those areas, it still is making me scratch my head in utter confusion and frustration (but less so after learning that many villagers have low opinions on wild plants in particular and other villagers attempting to combat the ridiculous popularity of English lawns and unsustainable ornamental plants).
Frustrations aside, an unplanned observation was made during a walk on the path leading to a spring feeding both a public pool and a larger pond approximately two kilometers west from my village. The path ends abruptly after less than a kilometer and only one side is covered by fruit trees and bushes up until the spring. The area is dominated by agricultural monocultures, providing little to no insects and a rather dangerous route of the common toad during mating season. Despite the hostile environment, a rather rare Lythria cruentaria, a moth classified as being close to extinction in my state and critically endangered in other parts of my country, was seen resting between a plum and an apple tree I was checking out. This discovery was even more surprising after learning that the largest field on the other side of the path was quite genereously treated with pesticides spreading across the path on some spots. Considering this, I doubt that this area was its main habitat and it merely decided to take a rest for a day over there, especially as this remained an one-time observation.
Polyommatus agestis and Cupido minimus made a return in Zone I, making blues the dominant genus of butterflies on the southern side of the cherry hill. An unusually dark individual of the meadow brown (Maniola jurtina), which my friend and I nearly confused for the extinct dusky meadow brown (Hyponephele lycaon), in Zone II finally marked the unusually late start of its season. Coenonympha pamphilus, also starting its next generation, began to occupy the northernmost area of Zone III, alongside Polyommatus icarus, Polyommatus bellargus and Polyommatus coridon. The local car repair to the west to southwest almost instantly became a popular spot for those species, as well, although Polyommatus agestis was in place of Polyommatus coridon, which did not use the opoortunity. Nearly all common butterflies that were off to a rough start in spring and early summer also finally appeared in abundant numbers, with all whites (Pieris rapae, Pieris brassicae and, most notably, Pieris napi) and Aglais io returing.
Argynnis paphia, which has already fully claimed Zone II by the time, began to spread into Zone I due to parts of the path being surronded by snowberries and many trees suitable trees for females to lay their eggs on. Indeed, the only female I managed to spot was seen within this tiny area, meaning this species will be observale at this very spot again next year.
Right around the time Polygona c-album re-appeared, the box tree moth (Cydalima perspectalis) began to become a rather common observation in Zone I and III, despite no box trees being present in both areas. The car repair became an attractive territory for a variety of grasshoppers, though the most "odd" one may have been Sphingonotus caerulans with unussual intense red markings. My friend joked that it could be a mutation exclusive to my area or my state. An entirely new type of hoverfly previously not recorded at all became observable within all main zones and beyond, namely the hornet mimic hoverfly. Dragonfly-wise, the blue hawker (Aeshna cyanae) began to claim Zone II as their new habitat at the same time Pieris napi started to re-appear. The violet carpenter bee meanwhile finally settled in my village in stable numbers.
With harvest season reaching its peak, the first days of September first were spent on harvesting potatoes. Once we cleared my grandparents' field, we were greeted by few butterflies, mot of which were whites. Much to my own surprise, a single tiny fritillary began to dance above the ground and flew to the other end of the end. Upon closer inspection, it was a Issoria lathonia at its smallet possible size, making it hard to distinguish from other smaller fritillaries. Just a day later, back in my main study zone, I encountered an individual of the same species at its largest possible size. Those two observations highlighted the stark difference between my grandparents' village, which borders various plantages (a large hop plantage and many smaller apple plantages right between large agricultural fields), and my village, which if also mostly shaped by agriculture, yet still offers some buffer zones of different characteristics and few fields still managed traditionally.
On 6 September, I didn't even have to leave my home to make a new discovery, as a female great green bush cricket was resting in my computer room. After carefully taking her outside, she ate some of our white clower and safely left our yard withour our cats even noticing her.
Mid-September marked the beginning of a particular strong period of the mixed field south of Zone I due to the bloomg potato plants and the late blooming of the alfalfa. It suddenly beame the preferred spot of Pieris rapae, Pieris brassicae and Polyommatus icarus. Zone II, meanwhile, offered Issoria lathonia, Polygona c-album, Vanessa atalanta and Pieris napi.
Despite the rainy conditions on the 18th, once again I didn't have to leave my property to make a curious observation, which might also explain why we didn't receive free local newspapers for a while. A female wasp spider built her net right on our mailbox. Sadly, she decided to migrate to a different spot on the net day.
Starting on the 21st, there was a final surge in insects, as the last mating period began. The ruddy darter (Sympetrum sanguineum), previously not observed, decided to move their mating spot to the south-eastern region of Zone III. The mixed field south of Zone I started to attract the very same yellow I discovered at the bog hill in July. Out of the two individuals I managed to capture with my camera, the second one flew deep into the abandoned field in Zone I, possibly having found a suitable plant for its eggs. As much as I tried to find a path to the other end of said field, I wasn't able to make my way through it to test my hypothesis.
For the rest of the month, I mainly observed what I was able to and also took a closer look at the various mushrooms growing out of several different trees.
Th fox moth (Macrothylacia rubi) marked the beginning of autumn, both adults and caterpillars appearing from Zone II down to the mixed field south of Zone I. October was interesting insofar, as Polyommatus bellargus made a surprise return in Zone II. Recounting the generations I observed prior multiple times, it indeed was an individual from the previously-missing third generation, which merely ended up as a partial third generation. Polyommatus bellargus (Zone II) and Polyommatus icarus (mixed field) ended their seasons on the 4th, while Aglais io, Vanessa atalanta and Pieirs rapae took the opportunity to exploit the sudden regrowth of typical spring and early-summer flowers, most notably the viper's bugloss, the greater knapweed, red clower (which did not bloom at all until October), the hybrid deadnettle and lacy phacelia.
Early November was the last period of Vanessa atalanta and Pieris rapae of this year. Oddly enough, the flora and various mushrooms such as the shaggy ink cap were still active up until the beginning of a short snow period lasting for two weeks from the end of the month to the first weeks of December.
The weather and an infection only granted me a single day to kick off the "egg-hunting season", which, so far, has proven fruitless. No eggs of the two hairstreaks claiming the main zone has their habitat were found.
At the time of writing this (mid-December), daily temperatures mostly are above freezing point, only few nights see temperatures below 0°C due to the region, kind of resembling a valley, oftentimes being a "hole" sucking cold air in. Most days are cloudy and wet, with rivers further away carrying more water as a result of snow melt in the mountains located several kilometers north from my place. Weather forecast predict stormy weather prior and during the upcoming holidays, thus putting an end to the observation season of 2023.
In contrast to 2022 and despite the short dry period, 2023 was an overall improvement to my local study area and offered many new discoveries helping me better understand my local ecology. First constants already can be determined, yet first conclusions regarding trends still require a few more years of observation and additional research from nearby areas, alongside a closer look at my region's soil qualities and flora compositions.
Right now it appears that the wet season is set to continue and several districts nearby are expected to be hit by local floods in the coming days. How the current weather will affect the season of 2024 is something that has yet to be observed.