As I blearily opened my eyes, the early morning sunlight was painting a stripe on the wall above my head like a sundial telling me that it was time to get up and out. I just had a feeling that 17th May was going to be a goodun.
To be fair, I had the odds on my side. In 2015, the Marsh Fritillaries at Volehouse started to emerge on May 15th, and there was nothing last winter to make me think they would delay for long before putting in an appearance this year. However, as the stars of the Volehouse show, they were, of course, entitled to make a late entrance. So nothing was guaranteed.
As I walked down to the bottom right quadrant of the 3rd field, which in my mind will always be known as 'Frit corner', everything looked perfect for them. Full sun, mid-morning and only a light breeze. I've always found from 10.30 to 1pm the peak flying time for Marsh Frits, and they absolutely insist on sunshine. They will fly in wind, but only reluctantly.
So, I stood there, eyes darting left and right, revolving slowly in the way that only madmen and naturalists do.
Nothing.
I moved into the lee of the hedge.
Nothing.
I shifted to the other side of the field.
Nothing.
By this time, it had clouded over and I was prepared to accept that they weren't going to show so I decided to make the best of the day and to go down to the Damselfly patch. I walked over to where I'd left my water bottle and kit, picked it up and as I straightened, the sun emerged briefly and out of the corner of my eye, I saw what I'd been waiting for. A tiny scrap of brown like a piece of dead leaf being blown fast across the tussocks.
This was a Marsh Fritillary (Euphydryas Aurinia). My spirits lifted instantly and a surge of adrenalin kicked in, as it does when you see something really special. And Marsh Frit is really special.
It used to be quite widespread at one time, although always in tight local colonies, but changes in the land and climate have decimated its habitat and numbers so that it is now a threatened species not only in the UK but also in Europe.
Butterfly Conservation say that it is "massively declined and now restricted to the west coast of Scotland, south and west Wales, Northern Ireland and south west and southern central England" That sounds quite a lot, until you see the sightings map, which is pathetically sparse. BC also state that the numbers are down by 46% since the 1970's. That's a staggeringly quick decline, and one that if not halted bodes very badly for this beautiful butterfly.
And it is a beautiful butterfly. By far the most colourful of our fritillaries. A freshly hatched one absolutely glows in the sunlight with its complicated chequered pattern of orange, yellow and brown.
And now the cloudier weather started to work for me, as it touched down nearby on some tussock, and didn't go up again. Eyes locked on to where I'd seen it land, I crept forward.
And there it was. The star of the show.
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| The star of the show: first Euphydryas Aurinia of the year |
The one I was looking at was very freshly hatched, probably only emerged that morning. It was absolutely shiningly perfect and remained perfectly still as I got closer and closer, camera at the ready.
I photographed it at close range and then sat watching for ten minutes or so before leaving it to its own devices. And though I hunted for another hour, that was the first and only one that I found.
But that's fine. The season has started and there will soon be others joining it.
This year, I will be photographing them and making notes throughout the flight season and beyond. I hope you will check back frequently and see how we're all getting on.
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| Posing beautifully for a shot of the underside |
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