Last year, while we were sat in the garden one of these wood wasps appeared and slowly flew along the trellis, examining it for potential egg-laying opportunities.

Although we tried, there just wasn't enough light to get a viable macro photograph, so we just sat and watched in absolute fascination while she methodically examined the surface of the trellis, gently patting the wood with her antennae as she flew, until she found a suitable place --- what appeared to us to be a plugged hole a couple of mm in diameter.

Although you'd hardly credit it, the ovipositor split lengthways, one half curled round and was used to penetrate the plug, the other half (with the white band) was moved vigorously around to both steer the ovipositor and drive it into the plug.

We knew it to be one of the 1200-odd species of ichneumon wasp and we were gratified to be able to identify it later as a Gasteruption Jaculator, one of the Gasteruptiidae - but we shall probably continue to call it the Bobby-sox fly because those white patches on the legs and ovipositor were extremely noticeable in the low light.

The old broad gauge Strawberry Line opened in 1869 which makes the Shute Shelve tunnel around 140 years old. The southern half of the tunnel has been driven through solid limestone, the northern half required a brick liner (memo to self, next time avoid using auto-focus in the dark).

The Cheddar Valley Railway Walk Society recently fitted some very discreet automatically-triggered, solar-powered lighting which we think is very cool.

Just a dozen paces in from the south entrance is the "fly-currant wall". Despite the tunnel being a mere 140 years old or so, the calcium-rich water dripping down the tunnel walls has already formed a stalagmite drapery. This one curiously seems to hold a fatal attraction for flies.

Sladers Leigh borders the old railway and is one of the increasingly rare areas of species-rich unimproved neutral/acid grassland. Over 130 different plant species have been recorded in this relatively small area. We're not too hot on identifying our grasses yet but we thought we'd better make a start with some of the more familiar ones. Ngaio managed to track down Common Bent (Agrostis capillaris) and Common Foxtail (Alopecurus pratensis)

Once we spotted the distinctive single red flower in the middle of this white umbellifer, we started to see more and more of them. A family friend, Angela, informed us that it is wild carrot (Daucus carota). Apparently, the function of the single red flower is to attract insects. After flowering, the umbel shrinks into a concave cup, giving the plant its common name of Bird's nest.

A classic example of our inability to get any sort of clear photograph of the BF rabbits. Aside from their propensity to be the first to run, they seem even more inclined to do so when we point a camera in their general direction. This is so much the case that we're coming to believe that a camera makes an excellent rabbit ward :)

Here, my little white-faced friend hopped forwards just as I pressed the shutter, so that its most distinguishing feature was hidden behind a nettle leaf. It then vanished in the the undergrowth, so no chance of a second go ... not that it would have mattered as the camera wasn't quite focused where I wanted it :)

On the way over to Charterhouse we spotted this small deer, stopped the car and leaned out to take a photo. Unusually, the deer stood still long enough to be photographed. Unfortunately the autofocus was faked out by the intervening grass stalks, sigh.

On the short calcareous grassland near the car park at Charterhouse we found a patch of what we think is Field Gentian (Gentianella campestris). It's described as "locally common in N England and Scotland but scarce or absent elsewhere" so we need to be a bit cautious with that identification.

The heather is in flower at Charterhouse, patches of it stand out amongst the long grasses and are busy with insects. An idea spot for adders it would seem, as we found a shed snake skin here.

At the top of the hill we almost always take a bit of time out to sit by one of the many overgrown excavations; steep-sided, long narrow trenches cut into the limestone, which distinguish the landscape here. It's an nice opportunity to be still and watch as the wildlife resumes its usual behaviour.

We had been sitting for a while when our attention became increasing drawn to a dunnock, who was making persistent and what seemed to us to be agitated calls, all the while flying from spot to spot and then returning to a particular place in the large bramble patch in front of us.

It became apparent that the purpose of this activity was to coax a very recently fledged chick, sitting by some rocks in the bottom of the trench, back to the safety of the bramble patch. Despite the parent's best efforts, which even included bribery with food, the chick, which was quite unsteady and was struggling to negotiate the terrain, kept moving further away from safety, eventually it did manage to hop up on to some rocks, but then lost its balance and tumbled down by the harts-tongue fern.

This went on for quite some time, before, after much agonising over whether we'd be doing more harm than good, we decided to break with our non-intervention policy and lend a hand.

As Graham made a very cautious approach to the chick, the mother flew to a small ash above the brambles. The chick made no attempt to escape and showing no fear at all, simply hopped into Graham's proffered hand. Graham placed the chick in the brambles as close as possible to its parent, who remained in her sentinel position in the ash whilst the chick was being moved.

As soon as Graham moved away, the parent bird flew into the brambles for a moment and then to our surprise returned to her hopping and calling behaviour, this time a few feet further away. Following her, we found another chick, which we also placed back in the brambles with the other. After we withdrew, the mother also returned to the brambles to what we hope was a happy reunion.

We took advantage of a fine day with good clouds to amble up to the Pinnacles, the area at the top of the highest of the Cheddar Gorge cliffs to enjoy the views of the gorge and out to the coast.

Slightly behind the Pinnacles is Clifftop plantation which has a "singing gate" - the fairly constant steady breeze blowing through some empty mounting holes in the steel gateposts produces a gently fluting whistle.

We approach Pinnacles from the east, following the contours rather than crossing them and were fascinated to discover a small ecosystem existing rather precariously in some fast-shrinking puddles in the deep ruts left by a tractor.

On the way back, we paused by King Down farm to get another shot of the sky above this open field with the clouds stretching away to the horizon giving a wonderful sense of space.

Kings Wood has a number of splendid lime groves. This small group marks the junction of two paths running through the wood. At this time of day the sun has moved round to the west and the sunlight comes slanting down through the canopy, backlighting the trees and creating this wonderful mix of light foliage, dark trunks and dappled shade.

This is an unfortunate Privet Hawk Moth caterpillar, clearly a casualty of the cycle traffic on the railway walk. It hasn't been trodden on because the caterpillar is nearly big enough to trip up a small child and is extremely noticeable to walkers.

Unfortunately, some of the cyclists using the railway walk (residents of the area as well as visitors) seem to think that the railway walk is actually a cycle path and can often be found hurtling along a path that in places is only 18in wide.

Sustrans have recently declared this stretch of nature reserve to be part of one of the nation's cycleways, despite the fact that the narrowness of the path fails their own width standards for dual use routes. We can understand their enthusiasm for promoting cycling but feel that they're somewhat out of touch with reality and they should spend more time properly assessing the ground conditions before publishing their maps.

Despite the awful start to summer, the later part has given us some warm, sunny days and this is one of them, so we take a late afternoon walk. Locally the hay has been made and a few bales remain in the field, ready to be transported to the farm.

It's a clear and still evening. In the dusk, the light over the Isle of Frogs and the distant Quantocks is sublime. We extend our walk along the shoulder of Shute Shelve Hill to return home via the allotments that overlook the town and the reservoir with the vale beyond, on the way we are treated to this excellent moonrise over Axbridge and the res.

Peering out of the window at the back of the house, I notice that the extensive yet thin cloud layer is being illuminated from above by the moon. These images don't really do justice to the sweep of the layer, it extended from western to eastern horizon, forming a complete canopy.

On the other hand, the first image does a good job of showing just how insensitive the district council has been in replacing the original soft white street lamps with ones that emit a hideous 360-degree sodium-orange glare --- that's not photographic flash that is illuminating the foliage and the cable, it's the streetlight just beyond the end of the garden. It's almost as though Sedgemoor DC has yet to comprehend what the concept of light pollution actually means.