Three of the Best 2nd July 2025

Today with two colleagues I went to see three species of helleborines conveniently growing within walking distance of each other. Helleborines are orchids and to quote the nature writer Richard Mabey 'orchids make up the most glamorous and mysterious of our wild plant families'. He goes on to say 'there is surprisingly little mythology or cultural association attached to them beyond the rather negative belief that they are all rare and endangered and highly sensitive.Although this is true of some species others are proving themselves highly adaptable and capable of moving into the most improbable habitats' - as evidenced below with the Broad leaved Helleborine in Glasgow.

Of the three helleborines we visited the Broad leaved is relatively commonplace and not too difficult to find but the other two are much scarcer and require careful seeking out. I had made a previous visit to this location in the past but then the weather was very different being dull. damp and drizzly whereas today it was sunny and pleasantly but not oppressively warm.

Our first stop was at an unremarkable bank below a hedge that lay beside a road, this being a not untypical habitat of Broad leaved Helleborines, and here a number of them grew, those in the sunniest spots, which this helleborine prefers, being in full flower  but most others were in shadier areas, remaining green and would not achieve the deep purplish red coloured flowers of those in the sunshine.

They are robust plants and can grow up to a metre in height, certainly taller than the ones we viewed today which themselves were impressive, well as far as helleborines are concerned. They are uncommon but not rare and are widely distributed throughout England, Wales and central Scotland and are found thoughout Europe right across to China and even in North Africa

Although primarily an orchid of ancient woods, in the city of Glasgow they have showed a preference for and successfully colonised suburban areas. seventy five percent of colonies there are in parks cemeteries, golf courses, gardens, railway embankments and roadsides. There is no rational explanation as to why this has uniquely occurred in Glasgow and no other city in Britain These plants tend to be the largest and possess the greatest capacity to produce flowers which can number anywhere from 15-50 on one plant.

The flowers are visited by a number of insects but chiefly Hymenoptera of which  the Common Wasp is a member and one of the most frequent pollinators, becoming intoxicated on the potent nectar and not unreasonably, like any drunk keeps coming back to the flowers for more which guarantees the flowers have the greatest chance of being pollinated. 

It has also been suggested that its presence in woodland is an indicator of the presence of truffles but apparently this is not totally infallible and could even be an urban myth

Having paid our respects we moved on by taking a track uphill away from the road and that ran alongside and through beech woodland, where we found more emergent Broad leaved Helleborines and a White Helleborine, now done with flowering and setting seed.

Our next helleborine target was the nationally scarce Narrow lipped Helleborine which prefers to grow in the deep shade of mature woodland.The ones we viewed today were in typical habitat on a steep chalk  bank shaded by mature  beech trees. Last time we visited, there,were only two plants and another one that had been nibbled by deer but this year there were at least seven growing, one of which was  an impressive 40cm tall and in flower. 

This helleborine is not a showy brightly coloured orchid but more one for the connoisseur, the flowers, of which there can be up to twenty five but in this case nineteen, are individually held by a thin stalk from the main stem, the flowers hanging down like  miniature bells and appearing hardly open but if regarded from below are revealed to be violaceous pink with a maroon centre enclosed within a hood of green sepals

It was hard to drag myself away from these helleborines that for me possessed a charm all of their own, their scarcity, subtle beauty and  tenuous existence on this  precipitous bank, prone to the whims of weather and deer combining to create an overall allure and concern about their vulnerability.Everywhere these days more and more of our flora and fauna seem to be just hanging on in increasingly small pockets of natural habitat that have either escaped notice or have to be protected in one way or another. It is not a happy situation but all one can do is make the best of it and enjoy and appreciate such as the helleborines while they remain. 

Carrying on upwards on the track we left the wood behind and found ourselves out in the open on the sun warmed slopes of calcareous downland. Here in a small depression lurked our final helleborine and like the Green flowered Helleborine it is classed as nationally scarce and on the decline in the southern part of its distribution in England. It has a restricted distribution outside of Britain being found in Andorra, France, Belgium, Germany, Ireland, Spain, Portugal, Denmark and Sweden.

If I thought the previous helleborine was unremarkable then the half dozen Green flowered Helleborines that grew here in their little concave suntrap took it to another level of unassuming inconspicuity.

Initially I found it hard to discern their overall yellowish green appearance against a background of chalk rubble and thin grass.The tallest was no more than 14cm in height although they can grow up to 40cm in more agreeable habitat. 

The disproportionately small flowers which seldom open wide look similarly green and unremarkable to the rest of the plant.The plants we saw today had maybe a little way to go yet before the flower opened, the buds appearing still firmly closed. The flowers do not require insects to pollinate them as they self pollinate before the buds open which may explain why they are so insignificant.

And so ended another pleasant morning communing with three orchid species, none of which are glamorous in the way of their more colourful relatives but have an understated beauty nonetheless which such as I and my two colleagues certainly recognised and rejoiced in.

Spotting Flycatchers 27th June 2025

On an early afternoon of sultry heat, ameliorated by a warm west wind on the kind of day you do not want to end, I took myself through hedgerow cloistered, sunlit country lanes to a tiny village I have known of for some years and where without fail a pair of Spotted Flycatchers terminate their annual long and hazardous migration from tropical Africa to build a nest in the idyllic pastoral surroundings of the village.

Spotted Flycatchers are one of the latest arriving migrants to reach Britain as their diet consists entirely of insects, so it is late April or early May by the time they arrive. They have a robin like personality, perky, hyperactive and unafraid of close human company, regarding you with what can almost feel to be a knowing look. Unassuming, dull of plumage and with no song to speak of their presence is underwhelming to say the least and can go un-noticed. Grey brown above and whitish below with prominent streaking on forehead snd breast it takes close inspection to appreciate their subtle charms. Incidentally 'spotted' derives not from the adult's appearance but from the juveniles, that before their first moult appear spotted due to the buff edges to their upperpart  feathers.

The village I visited today, no more than a hamlet really, dates back to 1086 and yes I suppose you could call it quaint in that very English way, a place of a few scattered, very large, very old houses, one of the oldest being the former Manor House and dating back to 1653. There is also the almost obligatory 12th Century St James' church which formerly went by the charming description of a Chapel of Ease.The village has, from its humble beginnings, become the kind of place desired by people with huge wealth and they are now the only people who can afford to live there.The former Manor House was sold for £6.5 million in 2022. 

It is here though the flycatchers continue to come to nest, as probably they have done for years, untroubled by the social changes wrought around them.

I parked my car on a spur of road  that leads past the Manor House to the church. Beyond the church the road is gated but although the gate remains closed it is not locked as the road is a public thoroughfare  for both pedestrians and vehicles and winds onwards into the Oxfordshire countryside. .However, this afternoon there were no vehicles and no people to be seen and it was as if the place was forever deserted although I am sure there was human life behind the ancient high walls protecting the expensive properties.

It was a matter of some ease to find the flycatchers. Parking the car on a wide verge opposite the gates of the former Manor House, the grass already scorched brown by sun and lack of rain, I walked up the road leading to the church, coming to a paddock overhung by mature beech trees with a wooden railing fence enclosing it.

I heard the flycatchers before I saw them, the tzikkk tzikkk alarm calls of the pair coming from the trees and it was not long before one settled on the wooden railing and commenced flycatching, flying out in a fast, swooping and accomplished flight, low over the grass to seize an insect before returning to the fence.

Constantly active, they hunted insects non stop and I surmised they must have young somewhere nearby either in a nest or newly fledged, as one bird caught what looked like a large hoverfly and rather than consuming the unfortunate insect flew with it up into the trees where I thought I could hear a juvenile calling.

I leant my elbows on a five barred gate to steady the camera and photographed these now scarce birds as they sallied forth from the fence, alternately dappled with sunlight or shaded beneath a dense green overhang of full leafed beech trees.

The fence was obviously the perch of choice for the flycatchers and the faint calls from the trees above confirmed they were indeed feeding recently fledged young high in the leafy branches above.

For forty or so minutes I indulged myself in watching the two adult birds coming and going and taking numerous photographs, all too aware that this formerly common summer visitor is now an increasingly rare migrant to our shores and to see this pair so close and intimately was a privilege, albeit a poignant one due to their perilous situation in Britain.

I can recall in the 1970's and 1980's, finding pairs breeding in good numbers in my local parkland in Surrey and it could be said it was a commonplace bird barely worth mentioning..Even at my last home in Kingham, Oxfordshire there were four pairs in the village when we moved there in 1995 but slowly they declined to just one pair by 2015 and then the next year they came no more.

The Spotted Flycatcher population in Britain has declined by 93% between 1970-2022 and they are on the BTO's (British Trust for Ornithology) UK Red List of Birds of Conservation Concern. The reasons for this drastic decline remain uncertain despite several studies having been undertaken. There is a suggestion that a drop in the survival of first year birds is a major contributory factor but it is unknown if this is due to factors here in Britain, on the migration route to and from Africa or in its winter quarters in the humid forests of West Africa. Maybe it is a combination of all three. Another untested hypothesis is the catastrophic decline in large insects in Britain which certainly seems viable to me. 

Whatever the reason or reasons it is an immensely depressing situation, especially as there is no clear answer yet, so any plan to implement measures to help reverse the decline remain in abeyance. A decline in the Spotted Flycatcher; population has also been noted across Europe since 1980.

Putting the camera over my shoulder I lent on the wooden railing, the warm wind a balm as sunlight flickered through the restless leaves.and a contemplative mood came over me. A man leaning, relaxed  on a fence on a soporific afternoon seemed entirely appropriate for the time and place. The church clock struck once, twice, thrice and then fell silent. Mid afternoon. Pleasant times such as this are to be treasured. A memory and experience to be banked deep within along with a multitude of other natural delights my world has brought me.

It is part of the human condition to possess the physical and mental capacity to enjoy such precious moments but that same condition also engenders reflection and regret as I watch these two birds going about their lives, innocent of their perilous status

I hope it will not be for the last time they come to frequent this quintessential rural village deep in the Oxfordshire countryside, with its landscaped gardens, large trees, open paddocks and ancient churchyard - all ideal flycatcher habitat, and I could, despite everything still feel a sense of optimism, although I cannot say why, that there will  be a Spotted Flycatcher presence here for years to come.

Hope springs eternal does it not?

Trials and Tribulations with His Excellency 20th June 2025

The Purple Emperor flight season commenced in Bernwood Forest at the beginning of this week, will last but six weeks and be all over by the end of July. Consequently for acolytes such as myself the next few weeks will be dominated by excitement and anticipation as I go seeking as many opportunities as possible to make contact with His Excellency.

Why does this butterfly engender such fascination, interest, and yes I admit, desire within me? I can do no better than answer by quoting Matthew Oates who probably knows more about this majestic butterfly than anyone currently alive today. He writes as follows:

The male Purple Emperor does beauty big time,and he knows it.He does not only use it to seduce, to win over coy females,but also to vanquish rival males.His shimmering iridescent hues render the Purple Emeperor Britain's lone tropical-looking butterfly.Depending on the angle of view and the angle of the light, a single flick of his wings can take the observer through a spectrum from dense black through Tyrian purple, royal blue and several hues of turquoise and back ................. But we only see the Emperor's colours on the rare and brief  occcasions when he descends to the woodland floor, usually to feed on something foul, and perchance to bask briefly nearby.That juxtaposition, of exquisite butterfly on a canine deposit (or worse) is a mighty metaphor for our relationship with beauty and with nature.                         

So no surprises that I returned to Bernwood today looking for further encounters with his Purple Majesty. Incidentally it is only the males who show the purple iridescence on their upper wings, the females are dark brown but do have similar white markings on their wings

I returned to the same ride where I had success two days ago full of optimism but I should have known better. It is rarely that easy. Never the same from one day to the next. This time the weather, although warm and humid was for the first part of the morning lacking in sun. Whether this contributed to the distinct absence of an Emperor I could not say although probably it did but then they are so capricious and cantankerous it could be for a host of other reasons. Such are the trials and tribulations of finding an Emperor but that is also the lure, the challenge of seeking him out, for when success finally comes your way (and it often does not) it is all the sweeter.

I lingered along the ride for two hours but there was  not even an intimation of His Majesty.I regularly scanned the tops of the oaks where Emperors spend most of their life but there was no sign of one flying up there either. Other enthusiasts came and went and we exchanged commiserations and general chat. I learned that an Emperor had been seen in the forest's main car park earlier.There is always the temptation to abandon one's current spot and hurry to where one has been reported but it's  pointless as the butterfly will usually be long gone and anyway I was rather partial to this ride and its quiet, rural ambience, so different to the constant coming and going of cars, people and dogs in the main car park and the well used track leading from it.

By mid morning the sun had begun to assert itself through the thin veil of cloud and my hopes rose.Would the Purple Enigma put in an appearance now?.The answer was no, however a male Silver washed Fritillary deigned to cease its customary madcap charging through the trees and settled to nectar on a bramble. Obviously fresh he flexed his orange wings as he fed but then was off again on his ceaseless mission to find a mate

Silver washed Fritillary

Two and half hours passed with nothing to show for my vigil. A fellow enthusiast came up the ride heading back to the car park and enquired if I had seen a White Admiral. I told him no and suggested he try the cross roads at the main track.He went on his way and a minute later a White Admiral glided through the trees but did not stop. That's butterflying for you.

I too decided to make a move and opted to follow the same route and walk to the main car park and then return to the ride to make my way back to my car, parked at the far end of the meadows.

Any thoughts of seeing and photographing an Emperor on the ground were long since abandoned. Just to see one, if only in passing was now what I was reduced to. Anything!

Walking along the narrow track which runs between my favoured ride and the main track I saw the person who had passed me earlier pointing a camera at the ground. I was not particularly concerned, for as far as I knew Emperors have never been seen here as the surrounding trees are mainly birch with perhaps the occasional oak. I was wrong of course. As I approached closer he turned towards me and pointed as the unmistakeable profile of an Emperor flew down the track towards me at speed. There was just time for my brain to catch up with reality and my eyes to register a flash of purple and white before he powered past and flew further down the track beyond, where I lost sight of him.

Well my wish had been granted.I had seen an Emperor, if only in a brief flight view and that after almost three hours. I retraced my steps along the  track in the hope it may have landed further on but predictably there was to be no happy ending.So close. So very frustrating.

I returned to the end of the track where it joined the main track and encountered my friend again.Standing by some trees and bushes and again pointing his camera at something.

Is this another Emperor? he enquired 

He pointed to a leaf on a low branch on which sat a large brown butterly with two prominent white bands across its open wings.

For a moment but only a moment my heart gave a leap before it became obvious it was a White Admiral, newly emerged and in absolutely pristine condition. Under normal circumstances I would be really pleased with such an encounter but it was nullified by my overwhelming desire to see an Emperor,. especially having come so close just minutes ago. Second best simply would not do!

Nonetheless we took the opportunity to take some photos of the butterfly and very nice it was too, posing perfectly before glding away in its inimitable, buoyant and graceful manner through the trees.

Chatting to my erstwhile friend he told me he was from Manchester and had come down specially for the day, was new to butterflying and his desire was to see a Purple Emperor and a White Admiral, both of which would be new for him and in the space of a few minutes he had achieved his ambition! I smiled graciously and congratulated him whilst inwardly wanting to scream in frustration.

He told me the Emperor had been feeding on the path and he showed me his photos.It was sheer luck but that is often the way. You have to be in the right place at the right time and there is no way to legislate for such things and Bernwood Forest is a big place.

White Admiral

We parted at the cross roads and I made my way back to my favourite ride planning to carry on across the meadows back to my car .It was now very hot and humid, the sun was beating down and my legs and feet ached from constant standing, the camera and lens feeling like a ton weight around my shoulder.

There was one last faint hope  of  an Emperor being along the ride on my return but of course it wasn't.I got to the gate that led into the meadow which would take me to my car and then maybe a stop at a country pub for a long cold glass of shandy.Wouldn't that be nice.

For some reason I dithered at the gate and decided to carry straight on where the ride broadened out and passed between huge oaks and tall conifers.It was uphill and I was soon questioning the wisdom of my  decision. What kept me going was the slim hope of seeing an Emperor flying around the tops of the oaks. I was not about to give up yet although blind optimism and sheer doggedness were all I clung to.

Of course I saw nothing and getting to another crossing of tracks I turned left which would take me back to the main track..Again I saw nothing but it was far from unpleasant walking along a broad grassy ride bordered by huge trees, standing silent and majestic in the oppressive heat of approaching noon.At the end of the track I knew there was a bench where I could rest.

I sat gratefully on the rudimentary wooden bench as another butterfly enthusiast passed by on the main track and headed downhill to a culvert where the track rose up once more, leading eventually to the main car park.

After ten minutes I felt sufficiently revived and set off down the track.At the bottom by the culvert where a currently dried up stream formerly ran under the track I could see the person who had recently passed me by looking down at a small pool of water and some dried mud,.the remnants of the stream.

On getting to him he pointed downwards at the mud and there, perched on a stone in the drier part was a Purple Emperor!

Four almost fruitless hours and at the last possible moment, here was by sheer chance, success and confirmation, if it was ever needed, of His Majesty's enigmatic and contrary reputation, as he basked, with one purple wing and one brown wing spread out, looking resplendent in the sunlight.

He was feeding on heaven knows what in the mud, his pale yellow proboscis avidly sucking up whatever he was finding that was so very obviously much to his taste

Once ensconced like this Emperors are almost immovable.My colleague told me that just before I arrived,  a dog had come and jumped down into the pool of water and mud but failed to deter him.He just flew around while the owner called his dog away and then returned to resume his feeding.We alerted a passing lady enthusiast who joined us and the three of us stood and paid our respects to the Emperor.

I do not know what it is about this small and unremarkable culvert of mud and filthy water, no more than a large ditch really but it has proved irrisistible to butterflies over the years, often including Emperors and Fritillarys

The Emperor, currently perched firmly on a small rock, unsportingly closed his wings as the sun went in and became nigh on invisible, so perfectly camouflaging was the brown, grey and black markings of its underwings against the grey mud, scattered rocks, stones and twigs.

We waited for what seemed forever, willing it to open its wings and reveal the hidden glory of colour they possessed but they remained resolutely closed.

A Red Admiral flew in to also feed on the mud and settled with wings spread, a shock of bold colour, black, red and white. Why couldn't the Emperor play ball in similar fashion but no, perverse to the last he was having none of it. 

Both butterflies were immaculate, so presumably were freshly emerged.

After some twenty minutes, finally, the Emperor slowly opened his wings and there was the regal purple iridescence glowing against the dull grey and muddy background with the Red Admiral getting in on the act, photobombing my images with its bright colours.

I moved position to try and create a better angle to record the purple but moving to my right only transformed the Emperor into an all brown butterfly.. I moved to my left and at first one wing shone purple and the other brown. Moving further left still and there at last was the vision I craved, the ultimate, where both wings glowed purple. It does not happen often believe me but when it does - wow!

What a sight to behold and what relief! Tired, hot and bothered, weary in body and spirit, all was forgotten now, as with my two companions I stood looking down into the culvert and its unsalubrious puddle of water and grey mud but with a jewel of an insect transforming its mundane surroundings from the ordinary to the extraordinary..

For forty five minutes His Excellency fed contentedly and then taking a few delicate steps off his rock, took to the air, circled the mud in a low flight and then rose to speed away into the surrounding oaks, his true home, his kingdom.

A classic Purple Emperor encounter.

I would have it no other way.

More please!