More of the Purple Persuasion - 27th June 2026

Today I made a third visit to Bernwood hoping for yet more encounters with HIM (His Imperial Majesty) and to assuage my obsessive tendencies. This year looks to be a good one and I encountered no less than five males during a pleasant morning in the forest. Rather than write yet more about this beautiful insect I will spare you and let some images taken on the day to do the talking.

Now you see it

Now you don't - the purple that is!

An image to show how effective a camouflage is the Emperor's underwing patterning.
Can you see HIM?

Not so obvious with wings closed

A Red Admiral photobombing my image of HIM

Only at certain angles is the purple iridescence revealed

Returning to the car park I found HIM on my car's
rear tyre. A not uncommon occurrence at Bernwood 

The Emperor in the car park was determined
to settle on anyone in the car park to imbibe
salt from the sweat on our arms and legs and 
would not take no for an answer

I decided to try my hand at an atmospheric shot for a change! This was taken in the car park at the end of a long, hot but exhilerating morning. 

A Shady Experience - 25th June 2026

I returned to Bernwood Forest today in search of another encounter with the majestic Purple Emperors that are now on the wing and will remain so for another six short weeks in the forest. 

As is my custom I parked in the discrete little car park that grants access to Bernwood Meadows well away from the main car park that is forever busy with arriving and departing cars bringing dog walkers and families to walk the main track. Purple Emperors do come down in both the car park and on the main track but it is rare that they remain for long due to the constant human traffic passing back and fore. An extended audience with His Excellency is one that demands due reverence and respect and that is impossible under such circumstances

As usual the postage stamp sized parking space by the meadows, its unsuspected  entrance  concealed by overhanging blackthorn, was deserted and I took to the meadows through a metal gate, entering a world that must have been commonplace to my ancestors but now has retreated to reserves such as this. A living reminder of what we have lost. I stood as I always do to assimilate this blissful panorama of wild flowers for as far as my eyes could see, the whole area bordered by the dark green of blackthorn and beyond the oaks of the forest

And not just flowers but butterflies too were here in their hundreds, Marbled Whites mainly, in endless motion, their chequered black and white wings flickering through the flowers and grass.At one point I was enveloped by a cloud of butterflies rising from the grass as I passed by, an almost unique experience these days as our butterflies become ever more scarce, declining for reasons both natural and un natural.

A gentle breeze blew from the east, already  warm but for now making the morning bearable but it was going to be very hot later, uncomfortably so. My plan was to walk round the meadow and via another gate that gives access to my favourite ride at.the edge of the forest, stand there in the shade of the oaks and out of the worst of the sun. 

I stood and waited but there was no sign of an Emperor. Hardly surprising as it is never that easy with his capricious personality. No matter, it was hardly unpleasant standing in the cool shade of the oaks as Silver washed Fritillarys came bustling, one by one, along the ride, occasionally stopping to refuel on  bramble flowers.Tiny ginger skippers zipped around almost at ground level and countless Meadow Browns and Ringlets dithered in the grass.

A morning so alive with abundant life it was sheer bliss to be amongst it.

But the star turn was now required to make the morning complete. Where was he? Would he turn up?You never know but here on this ride in this forest provided as good a chance as any of encountering him.

Matthew Oates who probably knows more about Purple Emperors than anyone is of the opinion that it is only fresh males, one to four-4 days old, that come down to feed and after the coming weekend they will retreat to feed on sap runs in the trees.I remained optimistic as today was only Thursday.

Ten minutes later at 11am I found an Emperor on the ground feeding. Most royalty in our human existence, if you look underneath the curtain of pomp and circumstance seem to have dark unsavoury secrets and butterfly royalty is no exception. The Emperor was astride that which issues from the wrong end of a dog, tucking in with gusto to the minerals contained in the excresence. Such a paradox

No photo then and he remained in wrapt concentration sucking up minerals through his lemon yellow proboscis.

I waited, admiring his underwing patterning and trying to blot out that on which he was firmly ensconced. Eventually, disturbed by a bothersome fly, in irritation he flew but no more than inches from the ground, circling the sun baked bare earth before rising and settling, less than four feet above the ground on a shaded blackthorn leaf by the ride.

He appeared to shut down, sliding his upperwings under his lower wings, partially concealing the conspicuous eye on the upperwing.I looked at my phone, it was 1120 and the temperature was 29c. I withstood the heat for only a few more minutes and then had to seek the sanctuary of the shade as had  the Emperor. I stood on one side of the ride and he dozed on the other. Both of us sharing very different worlds

I resolved to wait and fifteen minutes later he stirred and began to wander on his leaf, extending his yellow proboscis and showing renewed interest in his surroundings. 

Then as he became more active, slowly opened his wings to reveal that celebrated purplish blue iridescence  and then just as abruptly closed them as if  bringing a shutter down. It is so hard to describe the iridescence that transforms their wings. Matthew Oates states .... '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'.....

He flexed his wings again and this time spread them further, spanning them flat across the leaf in its dappled shade and there, revealed  was the coveted double purple iridescence on both wings. The ultimate gift to all Emperor afficionados

His yellow proboscis continued its exploration of the leaf, then with a flick of wings he descended to the ground, describing a brief circle before settling and striding across the hard earth for more of his unsavoury food source.

Another feeding session commenced but not so long as the first, before he flew up to perch on another blackthorn leaf, this time on the opposite side of the ride and again deep in shade.

And here he remained for quite some time before flying down towards the ground but although showing interest in his previous food source, only circled it low over the ground and then ascended into a nearby oak and that was the audience done and dusted..

It was five minutes past noon and the sun's heat now in the mid thirties was ferocious.I retreated to the interior of the forest where the shade and a relative coolness brought some relief. 

And So It Begins for Another Year - 22nd June 2026

Today, predicted to be the hottest of the year so far, found me mid morning in Bernwood Forest, walking in the dappled green shade of the oaks and sallows that proliferate here. The burning sun's worst on my fair skin would be ameliorated by the  shade from the forest trees and a liberal annointing of sun block.

I sought a track, long familiar to me from previous visits that I knew to be relatively undisturbed in a forest that can be very popular at this time of year with dog walkers and fellow butterfly enthusiasts. .

The track, in wetter times churned into a rutted uneveness by many a boot clad foot is now, having been baked by the sun into an unforgiving hardness, something akin to corrugated concrete and uncomfortable to walk on. 

A day past the solstice and the summer vegetation is rampant and at its peak, its time has come as butterflies and insects come and go, sampling the nectar on offer from an abundance of wild flowers and briar roses.

Silver washed Fritillarys, the colour of burnt orange, bold and bright, dash through the forest edge and over the brambles and long grasses.They are predominantly males, forever on a quest to find a female. Looking up into the oak tops, tiny, pale grey Purple Hairstreaks, like stray petals, flicker briefly in the sun as they move to settle on the highest of the oak leaves. A White Admiral, that most ethereal and graceful of our native butterflies, glides on flat wings through a mesh of twigs and branches in which it delights. 

Then, startlingly, suddenly, thrillingly without any preamble or warning there he was, flying at waist  height towards me, unmistakeable, making an entrance from the sunnier part of the ride and into the dappled shade I currently coveted. 

It is always thus with this first encounter of the year, the same excitement, the familiar pulse of adrenalin at encountering this most sought after of our native butterflies. The second largest butterfly in Britain, bold and full of character, possessor of qualities that we humans feel necessary to eulogise. 

Yes it was a Purple Emperor. 

A male as they mainly are, the females, more coy, remain in cover and are more prominent if ever, in the afternoon.

It is part of our human condition that such an imperious insect must have one or more suitably  appropriate soubriquets  so over the years we have invested it with alternatives such as His Excellency, His Imperial Majesty, even Sultan of Morocco (where did that come from?) all bestowing a sense of reverence, admiration, respect and desire to elevate it onto a higher plain. 

He settled on the track, pristine in this, possibly the first day of the short final chapter of his life, and marched about searching for minerals to imbibe but the ground was bone dry. I admired the attractive, intricate patterning of his underwings ,a dead leaf mimickery that rendered him unremarkable and un noticed on the earthen track.

He flew once more and circled me, curious, showing a tantalising flash of regal purple/blue as he passed around me.

And so, with his appearance it has begun and for the next six weeks I will be in thrall to this our most majestic and enigmatic native butterfly

He flew low, only inches from the ground, back and fore, searching, dark and hard to follow against the paler brown of the hard clay. He turned once more and came towards me and settled where I stood in the shade and where  the ground was softer, still retaining vestiges of moisture from a stream that has almost dried to nothing due to the ongoing lack of rain.

The damp earth appeared to have what he desired and he settled and strode commandingly, well alright  let's go for it, imperiously, across the mud, his yellow probocsis probing and antennae feeling the ground in front of him.

A briefest hint of purple shone out when he spread his wings for a brief second, enough to whet the appetite for more

He fed for a minute but then felt cheated and flew briefly to another damp spot to seek more sustenance and so it continued for the next forty minutes.

Still however,  there came no full reveal of that wondrous purplish blue that will transform him from a large brown and white butterfly, albeit impressive  into something much more spectacular.

I found myself muttering words to the effect 

Come on you beauty, lets see the purple before you fly off.

I followed in his wake, a willing acolyte  of his restless progress. So close at times I was standing over him hoping to get a glimpse of that glory of purple/blue that flashes intermittently as the sun catches his wings at the requisite angle to reveal his secret. For too long a time he was for the most part no more than a large brown and white butterfly contriving to hide his true colours.

Tantalisingly an occasional flash of blue lit up one wing but was just as rapidly extinguished as he moved position. If you did not know you would never guess what alchemy lay in those wings

I continued to follow faithfully hoping that eventually he would pose at the correct angle for the sun to highlght his jewel of colour and finally after what was a tense wait, at last came the moment, a blaze of purple/blue on not just one wing, as is most often granted but both wings simultaneously.The ultimate as any emperor enthusiast will tell you.

                                                               Thank you Your Majesty..

 

Puffins on Inner Farne - 17th June 2026

Having paid our respects to the American Black Tern at Long Nanny, a fifteen minute drive further up the coast brought us to the busy seaside town of Seahouses with an hour and a half to spare before we were due to sail to Inner Farne. We went first to check in at Billy Shiels colourful kiosk to collect our pre paid tickets and then, as Inner Farne is owned by the National Trust, parted with an eye watering £17 each for the privilege of being allowed onto the island for an hour. 

The harbour area was busy as people collected in front of the relevant kiosks to await being called for their particular boat trip. Ours was leaving at 3pm on The Glad Tidings and would take us to Inner Farne where we would land and have one hour exactly to wander around on the boardwalks and paths that cross the small island. 

The boat takes twenty minutes to get to Inner Farne and today it was packed with fellow visitors. All of us wearing some form of headgear to provide protection from the unwelcome attentions of the feisty Arctic Terns breeding on the island.

To be honest virtually everyone had only one thing in mind and that was to see and photograph the Puffins that are present on the island in good numbers. Before getting to the main Puffin area you had to run the gauntlet of the nesting Arctic Terns from almost the minute you set foot on the  island, One of each pair would be incubating eggs on a nest often just feet from the boardwalk whilst its mate did its best to drive you off by flying to confront you and viciously stabbing at your head with its appropriately blood red and very sharp bill.

Arctic Terns

The antagonistic birds can even land on your head and attempt to drill into your skull or fly right into your face, emitting harsh calls and a strange clicking sound as they give vent to their outrage at your perceived intrusion on their territory.

Once past the terns I settled to photograph the Puffins, which were either standing around outside their burrows with a quizzical look on their face or flying in from or out to sea. 

Photographing the Puffins in flight was not easy although there was plenty of opportunity as a continual stream of Puffins arrived from the sea, flying high or low, heading for their burrows. Some came so close you felt certain they would collide with you, but they always veered away at the last moment to pass just feet above your head. They move surprisingly fast and are past you before you know it  but by dint of taking thousands of images, some came out reasonably well.

Puffins were arriving constantly from the sea during throughout the hour we were on the island. A non stop flypast, their bulky bodies held in the air by fast whirring wings. At times with a beak full of sand eels they looked none too aerodynamic as their short wings, more suited to acting as paddles to 'row' the bird underwater in pursuit of fish, struggled to hold their heavy bodies aloft.

Again, as with the Gannets at Bempton one has to try and zone out your fellow humans on an island that is constantly busy receiving and despatching boatloads of visitors.If you like a solitary communing with nature then this is most definitely not the place.

I spent most of my time attempting to photograph flying Puffins rather than on the ground and frankly quite enjoyed the challenge and with about fifteen minutes to go felt I had mastered to some extent how to capture them in flight with my camera and lens.The secret was to try and pick one up as it approached, but not too distant or too near, that allowed the camera time to lock onto its subject, although I have to add that with a multitude of Puffins constantly flying towards you it was no easy task to select the right one.

Nevertheless I was reasonably content with my efforts after our hour was up and such was our enthusiasm and commitment to the task, Mark found he had filled his memory card and could take no more images whilst I came perilously close to doing the same. 

Other groups of Puffins stood around on rocks, like portly gentlemen in black and white evening dress waiting for dinner to be called and I assumed these were non breeding birds or off duty birds taking a break until it was their turn to relieve their mate, underground in a short burrow incubating a single egg or guarding a chick. .

The last time I was here, pre covid, incoming Puffins with  beakfulls  of sandeels had to run the gauntlet of gangs of Black headed Gulls hanging around to intercept them as they made for their burrows.The Puffin would fly in at great speed and scuttle underground as fast as its legs would carry it before the gulls had an opportunity to snatch some or all of the hard won sandeels. .This  year there was little sign of any Black headed Gulls only one Lesser Black backed Gull, standing in the area of the burrows pretending to show no interest but forever watchful for a chance to snatch a meal from an unwary Puffin

.

In what seemed no time at all it was our turn to leave the island and we assembled at the stone jetty to board The Glad Tidings which then took us around other islands to view Atlantic Grey Seals and vast numbers of Guillemots and lesser numbers of Razorbills. swimming around the boat or peering at us from their rocky ledges.

With one last look at an inquisitive Puffin bobbing on the sea we headed back to the mainland.