Hairstreaking 12th August 2024

The noun zephyr means a soft gentle breeze, the word originating from Zephyrus the Greek goddess of the west wind and this early morning the presence of a zephyr was very welcome to alleviate what was presaging to be the hottest day of the year.

I had but one thing on my mind and that was to visit the RSPB's Otmoor reserve, a cross county drive of forty five minutes through rural back roads. My objective was to try and find a Brown Hairstreak, a tiny butterfly possessed, as all our five native hairstreak species are, of infinite charm and beauty and when found, which is no easy task,  brings a very personal sense of elation and achievement. Today would be ideal as this butterfly worships both sun and heat.

At the end of a long narrow lane leading to the reserve entrance there continues a narrow bridleway known as The Roman Road, which whether in fact the Romans were involved, is indisputably straight and very ancient.

It may have been a highway in Roman times and possibly much wider then but now is almost subsumed by the unruly rampaging of high summer vegetation that surges upwards on either side of its indeterminate course Head high white umbels of wild angelica and the pink flowers of giant willowherb grow in random outbreaks of profusion  backed by larger hawthorns, blackthorn bushes and sallows, up which scramble giant bindweed and bramble, clawing their way skywards, forming an impenetrable natural wall of flower and thorn. Drifts of thistledown take an erratic course down the bridleway, blown at the will of the warm breeze.

At just after nine in the morning it is shaded here until the sun rises further overhead, almost claustrophobic as the burgeoning vegetation leans inwards, brushing me as  I pass along the narrower stretches. About a third of the way along there is a particular area, slightly more open, a recess of grass where I usually stand, the sun reaching here before anywhere else.

Now it is a waiting game.Patience the watchword but really no hardship.There is plenty to see if, as is usual, the elusive hairstreaks are not in evidence, for they are late risers and rarely appear before ten of a morning. 

Gatekeeper  butterflies tumble down from the top of the hedge to flirt their bright eyed wings as they reconnoitre the brambles at my feet.  Ruddy and Common Darters, small abundant dragonflies, are still in thrall to the lethargy that will only leave them as they absorb the warmth of the sun. Hoverflies hold position before me as if curious about my presence before darting away to busy themselves in the white  flower froths of angelica or wild carrot. Outbreaks of fleabane, bright yellow of flower and green of leaf form a counterpoint to the spent greens and fading whites that now herald summer's slow decline.

I am early for the hairstreaks.I always am, a legacy of a former sales career when it would be a minor disaster to be late for an appointment. There is however now time to stand and piece together my thoughts.

The rising sun is becoming noticeably hot upon the back of my neck which is not unpleasant but to remain as such for longer would not be wise.I move a few feet to my right to a rapidly diminishing patch of shade. I stand still and contemplative, unwilling to move in the soporific heat.So still am I a Willow Warbler loses any discretion and clings to the stalks of a close by angelica, dabbing off mites from the ribbed stems. Eventually it discerns my human form and with a wistful note of mild alarm disappears into the mystery of the surrounding foliage.

A Raven unseen but betrayed by its harsh calls passes by, absent from the sliver of sky that is all that is visible to me from my cloistered path. I can follow its unseen progress by the calls moving ever further away.

An hour has passed with not a sign of a hairstreak. It is ten thirty.Maybe this is not to be the day.The heat is considerable, almost unbearable for no breeze now penetrates the narrow confines of the bridleway where I stand.

Doubts begin to erode my confidence or whatever confidence I commenced with.There is always an optimism on first arriving that slowly dissolves in correlation with the increasing amount of time I spend contemplating the possibility of failure. It is of no great portent as I re-assure myself that there is always another day but the challenge is here and now and it would be nice to see this lovely little insect.

I have encountered no one.Nobody has ventured into my secret place although it is well known to fellow butterfly enthusiasts and a public bridleway.Maybe because it is a Monday many have work to go to. I am grateful whatever the cause.

I feel my years, tiring and perspiring, standing in the oppressive heat and set a time to depart. I will give it another fifteen minutes and then walk to the end of the bridleway and explore the reserve. I am reluctant to leave, my personality fits this closeted environment rather than the open expanses of the larger parts of the reserve.It will also be even hotter away from the shelter of the trees and bushes that currently surround me.

The self imposed deadline arrives and I  commence walking down the bridleway. Thirty metres or so on my left is a tall stand of angelica and wild carrot and below a supporting profusion  of lower growing fleabane. I have already looked at the angelica and wild carrot many times this morning and found nothing.

One last passing glance does not appear to be any different but then on a flower head I discern the smallest brown triangle of folded wings.

If at the moment of my passing the butterfly had faced me, so minute and narrow are its wings it would have been nigh on invisible but seen side on it was revealed, the closed wings replicating a small yacht  sailing a tumultuous sea of white that is the flower's  head.

There comes no whoop of joy from me but an indefinable sense of satisfaction and fulfilment, tempered by the fact that it required such a long wait and let's face it sheer chance. But how the result is achieved is a matter of semantics and I feel no less satisfied.

I focused the camera on the butterfly and it promptly flew, irritated by a clumsy bee bumbling over its floral domain. A moment of intense anxiety came as the butterfly jinked heart stoppingly around in the warm air.This might bring disaster, for the hairstreak could well ascend to the higher trees, out of view and camera range. .

To my immense relief it instead dropped lower onto a fleabane leaf and wandered around, its proboscis sampling the  leaf's surface for aphid shit, gentrified into a more acceptable description as honeydew. In the process of its wandering it partially opened its wings to reveal a splash of orange on the corner of each upperwing.This identified it as a female. It was pristine, sheer perfection and possibly had hatched this very morning, so was unmarked by tears to the wings which are often the consequence of egg laying visits to the blackthorn which is the larvae's foodplant.

Dis-satisfied with the leaf it transferred to a flower. A gold centred  disc of yellow on which it minutely and thoroughly examined every miniscule floret. The magnification of my lens revealed the two thread thin antennae as they moved independently, rising and lowering to the butterfly's whim, guiding the insect across the flower. Each antenna was tipped with a tiny touch pad of sensory cells that would tell the butterfly all it needed to know,  Used to eyes that are round, the equivalent that I saw on the hairstreak were unfamiliar and unsettling, black and compound, each a thin oval pointed at each extremity. I  pondered whether this could be the origin of my childhood's comic space fiction illustrations of supposed alien forms. 

When nectaring like this hairstreaks are virtually immovable, stubborn in silent concentration and single mindedness of purpose and any insect with the temerity to come too close and attempting to encroach on the feast, is summarily dismissed with an irritable flick of wings. Bees, flies even other butterflies are given short shrift. A study in concentration the hairstreak covered the whole flower head, leaving no part untouched or unexamined as it extracted the energising nectar. Each drop of nectar must be infinitesimally small as it takes a good fifteen to twenty minutes for the hairstreak to satisfy itself on just one flower head.

I left it still feeding and went on my way.

The last hairstreak of the year and to my mnd the best of them.