1518 species. Biologist Luc Hoogenstein (1970) himself had not expected that much when he decided to count all wild animal and plant species in and around his garden for one calendar year in 2021. “I had given it the working title ‘My 1000-species garden’, but I actually didn’t see it as optimistic at all,” he says at the dining table of his terraced house in the Utrecht district of Lunetten.
“I had listed all species groups in Excel – for example moths, wasps, aphids – and estimated per group what I might encounter. That’s how I came up with a maximum of 940 species. In retrospect, those estimates turned out to be far too low… 150 moth species seemed like a lot to me. That ended up being 402!”
We are on the first floor, overlooking the garden where it started on January 1, 2021. Ivy, a plum tree, a chicken coop with a few wyandotte bantams. Green and diverse, but not exceptionally large – not even including the balcony and the municipal lawn in front of his house, which Hoogenstein also included in his research. “A total of about two hundred square meters of greenery, in a new residential area.”
What he is saying: anyone can go on a successful safari in their own garden, as long as you know where and how to look. He also wrote with that in mind My 1000 species garden. In it he not only reports on his own quest, but also gives tips. “Certainly with some extra tools, such as a white sheet and a bright lamp to lure moths, or a dug-in pot for benthic animals, you can go a long way.”
Hoogenstein does not have one favorite variety of the 1,518. But during our conversation, various animals and plants pass by that made a deep impression on him.
Another wasp I found may even be an entirely new species to science
1 Gray Goose
“That was the first species I saw: on January 1, shortly after midnight, a group flew over. In principle I also counted passing animals that I could see from the garden, I counted about fifty species of birds flying over. It had to be wild animals, not dogs or cats. In the garden I have also limited myself to animals and plants that have ended up there on their own accord, so not the sown cornflower or the bantam chickens. Yet those chickens helped to make the garden more diverse, because because they were there other birds thought: ha, it’s safe there! And their feed may have attracted species as well.”
2 parasitic wasp
“One evening in April I was about to throw away a pizza box when I once stuck it in the ivy hedge to see if critters would fall in. Lice, dwarf cicadas and something that looked like a colorful fruit fly. I took a picture and when I zoomed in I saw that the antennae were very long: more like a parasitic wasp than a fruit fly. Via Facebook I came into contact with wasp experts, and they told me that it was a parasitic wasp species that had not been observed in the Netherlands before: Microterys seyon. That gave a kick. Another wasp I found may even be a completely new species to science, but it is still waiting for a DNA test in Finland. That’s one of the few critters I’ve killed, by the way. I caught it in a test tube to photograph it. When it turned out that it was an unknown species, I was asked to preserve it in alcohol.”
3 Dark green lime stipple crust
“I posted every photographed species on observation.nl. I tried to name everything with field guides, but the handy thing about that website is that it has an algorithm that recognizes species. That didn’t always work, so I sometimes consulted experts. For example, a flower pot had a rare lichen that I could only identify with their help: the dark green limestone lichen. Then all kinds of lichen lovers came to my garden, very nice.”
For example, I probably once brought seeds of the little rattle under my shoe soles
4 Pine marten
“In May there was suddenly a pine marten on our balcony. Such a special species in your backyard, it feels like a gift. Although it was less fun for the birds: he pulled two great tits out of the nest box, leaving their six tiny chicks lifeless.”
5 Fly zombie fungus
“On the window sat a fly with white rings on its abdomen. She didn’t fly away when I tried to photograph her, which was strange. It later turned out that she had fallen prey to a fly-killing fungus, Entomophthora muscae – those white rings were the spore bodies. The fungus takes over the fly’s brain and basically controls it. That flight is wooden, she bumps into everything, but eventually she lands on a high spot, spreads her wings and erects her rear end to lure a male who is then also infected. A flying STD, in fact.”
6 Little rattle
“When I wrote the book, I was still working as a forester for Natuurmonumenten near the Naardermeer. For example, I probably once brought seeds of the little rattle under my shoe soles, because you really don’t normally find that plant species in the city. And now it suddenly grew on the lawn in front of our house, which the municipality had given me to manage. What was also nice about this project is that the neighbors became more and more enthusiastic, and also started working in their own garden.”
7 Potato stem borer
“This was the thousandth species I saw, in August already. A moth whose caterpillars live in stems and roots of potatoes, among other things.”
Before I started this project I knew almost nothing about aphids, but they are so beautiful
8 Crossband cockroach
“When my daughter saw this species in her room, she immediately cleaned everything out thoroughly. Crossband cockroaches are garden dwellers and this one probably flew in through the open window, but I strategically didn’t tell her that right away.”
9 Crooked Flower White
“This South European butterfly species had been on my wish list for years, and in August it suddenly landed on a mint plant on our balcony. For three weeks in a row he came around around noon, and I was already waiting at the window – it really felt like a loyal friend.”
10 Aphids
“Before I started this project I knew almost nothing about aphids, but they are so beautiful if you take the time to look at them. Beautiful burgundy specimens are hidden on dandelions. When I saw it, I felt the same wonder as when I was eleven, when I identified a bird on my own for the first time with the help of a library book: a male siskin, in my parents’ garden. That curious little boy is still inside me.”