The Weekly Dormouse. (aka Bike, est. 2007) Part 3398 by Angharad Copyright© 2023 Angharad

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This is a work of fiction any mention of real people, places or institutions is purely coincidental and does not imply that they are as suggested in the story.
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I was in the library at home when Trish came to see what I was doing. "What ya doin'?" she asked.

"It's an old textbook on Caddis larvae from 1967, by an expert in them from that time." I told my daughter.

"Bit old innit, to be a textbook like? That's what they tell us at uni, don't use anything older than ten years unless it's regarded as a classic."

"If you're doing assignments for your course, that's probably right, at least the referenced stuff. But it doesn't matter if you use older research for background stuff. I'm comparing this old book with a book published in 2006 and reprinted after revision in 2019. Much of the stuff they use is very similar, some of the classification is different and of course there are extra species now they didn't know about sixty year ago and also, some species have only recently been discovered in this country, so may be new arrivals.

"British Wildlife, a magazine I receive monthly is full of new insects that are either recent colonists or newly discovered, some have been known here before but it was thought they had declined, possibly extinct."

"So why you looking at pond life?"

"Much of these occur in lotic waters." I informed her.

"Wassat?" she asked, I wondered how she still talked Pompey after god knows how much we spent per term at that school.

"Running water, like streams or rivers."

"What about lakes and ponds, they don't run anywhere, not even at a snail's pace."

"That's classified as lentic, but even lakes often have drainage streams or rivers flowing out of them, but there are some still waters without a seeming drain, which probably are either at ground water level or clay or other impermeable substrates, otherwise you get seepage, probably do anyway plus of course, evaporation by wind and sun."

"Do you have to lecture me every time I ask a simple question?"

"No, but as a budding scientist, I feel it's in your interest to give you as full an answer as I can. Besides simple questions sometimes have complicated answers, the geometry of a straight line is one."

"You're not gonna lecture me about that as well, are you? So why are you looking up pond life?"

"I'm teaching it next year and I am planning to do some practice sessions in the summer break."

"Yeah, that sounds like holiday fun."

"It is for me, wading in rivers is fun and identifying invertebrates is part of the same fun. I used to do this when I was a girl about twelve."

"I thought you were a boy then?"

"You'd have thought wrong; plenty of people could see it but not my father."

"Oh, okay, I think I understand," she said but I don't think she was convinced.

"Look, I was ostensibly a boy, or so my parents thought, but I'd seen myself as a girl since I knew there was a difference between the sexes. My dad had got me a pair of dungarees to wear at weekend and things, but never realised they were girls' ones and I didn't enlighten him. My mother noticed but she said nothing about it. My wellies had a leak, so I cadged an old pair from Siân, which had butterflies on them and that with my long hair tended to suggest to people who didn't know me, that they were looking at a girl. I mean the Young Ornithologists used to call me Charlotte and the guy from the National Trust, used to think I was called Carly not Charlie."

She laughed at my story, "How did they get Carly out of Charlie?"

"Misheard me I think, it was quite noisy the first time I went there, but I distinctly said Charlie when he asked my name yet he thought I said Carly, so Carly it was for about three years. I even gave them a talk every year on my surveys, with a list of species. That was lentic stuff."

"Now, did you say that was running or still water?" she asked trying to remember.

"It was an artificial lake built by the Victorians," I offered.

"So lentils mean still water," she replied deliberately mispronouncing the word to get a rise out of me but I wasn't playing.

We chatted a little and I showed her the two books and she could see the differences for herself. "Hey, this looks like fun, can I come with you when you do it?"

"If you like, we'll have to get you some waders. What size shoe do you take?"

"Six," she said and I suggested we buy a size larger because then she could wear thick socks or even two pairs to keep her feet warm in the colder water."

"Kinky eh? Above knee rubber boots."

"I don't think so, they are cumbersome to wear but they do keep you dry, I think that thigh waders will be enough."

"What options are there?"

"Chest high ones but they are even more cumbersome and if you fall in the water, they can fill up with water and drown you as your head can go down and you feet come up because they are full of air."

"Can't you wear a life jacket?"

"That's even more cumbersome and we won't be working in places that deep, but I can get one if you want."

"Nah, like you said, long tall wellies will be bad enough." We agreed on one thing anyway.

Minutes later Sarah arrived, "What you doing, Mum?" she asked.

I explained myself as I had for Trish who was watching what went on with interest, "Sounds like fun can I help?" We went through very similar conversations and I had to check for another set of waders so I got her size written down and would order some from eBay that evening. How is it families or children always seem to make things complicated, but as they left Sarah borrowed my modern books on caddis and Trish ran off with the old one by Noman E Hickin, an entomologist of some repute fifty years ago.

I retired to my office and ordered some pairs of waders. I hope the rest don't get jealous, plus I hadn't found any supporting evidence for something mentioned in Wikipedia, that caddis larvae, of the cased variety undulated their bodies to improve the oxygen throughput of their cases. That was fact alright and verified, they knew about that 60 years ago, what I could prove and which seemed counterintuitive was that the water ran through the cases from posterior to anterior. Now the anterior end where the caddis' head sits, is bigger than the posterior end, which has a smaller vent. Most caddis, because they are largely soft-bodied, can turn around within their cases to make repairs etc., the case being usually a silk membrane to which they attack various things from sand grains to small stones, the long bits of stick or plant remains, bits of leaves and so on depending on species or family. One or two build their cases on larger stones, like the Molannidae, or tether them to plants, rocks or even fallen trees. Then some of the net builders, make nets to catch particles and small invertebrates which they wait for like spiders in a silken tube, then rush out and eat it. Some are free living and are predators but all are trying to avoid being eaten by fish. Hence the long sticks or relatively large stones to discourage predation by fish as they are known, the fish that is, to eat the case as well.

Anyway, I found out that the undulation occurs in low oxygen, which mayflies also do, but I couldn't find anything about the way the water flows through the cases, arse-backwards or otherwise. I ordered two pairs of waders and went to recover my books from the older girls. Danni had rung briefly to say she had arrived but was going to bed as she was exhausted, not the usual word she uses for being so.

I saw David in the kitchen and my stomach realised it was nearly dinner time, where had the day gone? It had been a miserable one, "What we having for dinner?" I asked David.

"I'm doing a roast chicken; Simon rang to say he'd be home for seven."

"Huh, he could have rung me," I grumbled.

"Apparently, he tried without success."

"Oh, I was in the library, I left my phone in my study." I felt guilty and looked at my watch, it was only six pm and the wall clock confirmed that, so I boiled the kettle and had a digestive biscuit to mollify the rumbles that were coming from my stomach. I offered a cup to David but he already had one on the go. His roast dinners were delicious like everything he cooks, and having imbibed my cuppa and finished my biccy, I went to see where the little ones were.

It seemed Hannah was supervising them and they were winding some skeins of wool into balls for her to do some knitting, not a skill I had much of. I could cast on or cast off, I could sew bits of knitting together and to some extent sort out mistakes liked dropped stitches but it didn't grow fast enough for me, whereas sewing did.

Hannah showed me the pattern she was going to do, something in four-ply, that will take her forever, I preferred double knit that you could make on telegraph poles because you could knit a sleeve in an evening; the stuff she was proposing would grow very slowly and although it was very pretty, it was too slow for me.

She had only been interested in knitting for about two years but I was glad to see her interested in doing something creative, so I mumbled my approval. She was teaching Cate and Lizzie, how to do the basics of knitting as well as her own, so was giving the older girls and me, a respite from being on nursery watch although the girls were older than that and going to school, except they were on holidays.

"Danni phoned earlier," I said.

"Oh, she arrived then?"

"Yeah, she was jet lagged and said she was going to bed."

"Wonder when they'll play her," she said while she concentrated on her knitting.

"I suppose when she's woken up and got her bearings."

"When we having dinner, Mum?"

"Daddy's going to be home for seven."

She looked up at the antique clock on the mantle, "Half an hour, god, I'm starving." Just then my tummy rumbled and we all sniggered.

"Where are Trish and Sarah?" I enquired.

"Up in their rooms I think, they had books in their hands," she told me.

"Yes, my books, oh well, I should be glad to see them reading instead of being on tablets or computers all day long." Most of the older kids seemed to use social media for long periods of time and I made them look at established news sites like the BBC or the Guardian, to make sure they were getting a balanced opinion. But like the old adage of leading a horse to water, I could only hope they were forming a real picture of the world and what was happening there.

"Ugh," Hannah said to herself as she rushed off to the loo, "Mrs Moon - bloody nuisance." I waited while she went off to change her pad or tampon and interacted with the two youngsters.

"Who's Mrs Moon?" asked Cate, "I didn't hear the doorbell go."

I felt myself blush, "Uh, Hannah's on her period," I said quietly.

"Why didn't she just say so," said my younger daughter in a very matter-of-fact way before returning to her knitting,

I didn't answer the question instead trying to distract her, "What are you knitting, Cate?"

"A cardi for my dolly, Hannah showed me a pattern."

"I'm knitting one too," offered Lizzie, though it looked like one for a Quasimodo doll who swung about gibbon-like through the trees.

I offered to make some corrections as Hannah came back and Lizzie showed her knitting. "I think I've gone wrong," she said and I left Hannah to it, escaping to my study to look for my phone, sure enough, there were two missed calls from my lord and master. Oh bugger, I know what he'll want after dinner, better check I have some lubricant in the bedside cabinet.