The 58 - Episode XII - Grand Finale

Sunday, 21st June 2020

The first day of Summer!

And, as I have been reminded, the start of daylight getting shorter.

Breaking news - a Happy Event ...

If you have been following this series of tales, you will recall that during the lockdown David dug a pool in his garden. The pool attracted dragonflies and they laid eggs in the pool. The news is that some larvae have hatched.

Photograph: David Williams

Photograph: David Williams

To give you an idea of their size at this stage David photographed one next to his finger.

Photograph: David Williams

Back to the Quest.

It is now mid August in 2019 and our hero's tally stands at 57. 

Just one to go. Clouded yellow. Plenty of time to find one as their flight season persists until quite late in the year.

So far the policy for finding one, "it will just turn up at a site whilst we are out and about", had not worked. It was time for more targeted searching.

But where?

Clouded yellow is migratory, which means that it could turn up anywhere in the south of England or even, nearer home, in the Midlands.

An eye was kept on the internet for any reports of sightings but nothing much appeared.

Our hero is, by his own admission, a creature of habit. 

Where had he seen it before?

Martin Down, in Hampshire. So, on a warm sunny day our hero, accompanied by three "support staff" journeyed to this site.

In case this site is unknown to you, here is a bit of  the description on the Hampshire County Council website:

"Martin Down is 350 hectares of unspoiled chalk downland where flowers and insects flourish and rare birds sing.

"The insects are attracted to the ancient sweeping grasslands that have dozens of different species of wildflower. Birdsong comes from cuckoos, yellowhammers, skylarks and even turtle doves.

"Although the landscape is not dramatic – a gentle rising vista of open meadows, scrub and ancient hedges - it feels ancient. The great Bokerly Ditch runs along one side while mysterious mounds and dells hint that this was once a populated area in forgotten ages. Now sheep have the run of it."

Although it is not obvious from the above photograph areas of the site were awash with flowers. We spotted a Frog orchid:

The morning passed. What we did not find was a Clouded yellow. In fact I do not recall seeing many butterflies, which was a surprise given the habitat and conditions. Time for lunch, which we took in the lee of the large mound where the photograph of the view above was taken.

Our hero wandered off and was soon out of sight.

As the support staff scoffed their lunches what should fly in and land close by ...

Yes ... a Clouded yellow.

Bob managed to get a photograph.

Photograph: Bob Kemp

Bob freely admits that it is not one of his best!

Where was Jim?

We shouted and shouted ... no response.

We then telephoned him. He did respond to this saying he was quite a way away but would come back as quickly as possible.

In the meantime we kept an eye on the very lively butterfly. 

Fortunately, although flighty, it did not stray far ... for a while ... but after that while, it flew further afield and out of sight.

Jim had not yet returned. We hunted high ...

And low. But there was no sign of it. 

When our hero returned we gave him the bad news. He took it philosophically.

No other Clouded yellows crossed our path that day but we did witness some curious cloud formations.

Photograph: Bob Kemp

It was now the last week of August and the prospect of failure was growing. Another possible site was plucked out of the air - Spurn.

On yet another very fine day towards the end of August our hero with two of his supporters set off for Humberside to that curious spit of land that projects into the entrance of the mouth of the Humber. We used the car park opposite the Spurn Visitor Centre and took the coastal path back towards Kilnsea, as that was where Clouded yellow had been seen in the past, affording us a view of the the tip of the spit, Spurn Head.

Enjoyable as the walk was, we did not find our target species. We continued our walk past Kilnsea and to the birding pools, where we enjoyed our lunch, doing a bit of bird spotting whilst waiting for a Clouded yellow to flutter past.

Our wait was in vain. Undeterred we made our way back along the eastern shore past the visitor centre and down the spit.

We found plenty of butterflies especially Painted ladies, which were feasting on Sea aster, but not the one we wanted to see.

Correction: the one our hero wanted to see as Bob and I had added the species to our lists at Martin Down. We did remind Jim of this periodically!

Our hero turned to the sea for inspiration.

I think he was hoping to see a cloud of Clouded yellows come into view, skimming the surface of the water and overwhelm him by landing at his feet.

Alas, it was not to be.

The walk continued down the spit. 

In the huge storms a few years ago the sea almost broke through the spit. A good deal of the land was washed away over a half mile or so stretch, leaving a shallow sand bank in its wake. It will not take much more erosion to turn Spurn Point into an island.

We resisted the temptation to walk all the way to the end and returned to the visitor centre for refreshments before journeying home.

August turned into September. Another site was plucked from the air, I cannot recall why, but we went, to the curiously named Barnack Hills and Holes in Cambridgeshire.

For those of you, like me, who have not heard of this site, here is a brief description from the Langdyke Countryside Trust's website:

"Arising from the rubble of a mediaeval quarry, Barnack Hills and Holes is one of Britain’s most important wildlife sites.

"Covering an area of just 50 acres, its grassy slopes are home to a profusion of wild flowers and butterflies.

"This type of meadowland covered in wild flowers is now all too rare; half the surviving limestone grassland in Cambridgeshire is found at the site."

Here is a view of part of the site:

The name of the site describes the landscape precisely. Although the hills are not particularly high, the sides are steep and it would have been very hard work walking up and down from valley to summit and vice-versa. Fortunately the paths tended to keep to the tops.

One plant that we found in good numbers was Clustered bell flower:

Time marched on. I think our hero was resigned to falling at the last hurdle. Lunch was taken. 

We moved to a flatter area of the site. Flatter in that the holes were less deep and the sides less steep.

I paused by a hole wondering why birch brash had been left in the hollow when there was a flash of yellow. I shouted for our hero who, as at Martin Down, had wandered off. The butterfly had settled, and, although, it was a few yards away, it was very yellow - and not a Brimstone. 

David heard me shout and also shouted for Jim, then he came over and confirmed that it was a Clouded yellow.

Would the butterfly stay or be gone by the time Jim got back?

David and I held our positions not wanting to disturb it.

Our hero had, thankfully, heard us and returned, trained his binoculars on the butterfly and sighed a huge sigh of relief.

Number 58: Clouded yellow

Photograph: David Williams

Unfortunately this photograph is not of the one we saw. As David moved in to take a photograph, it took umbrage and flew off. Despite half an hour or so of frantic searching nearby, it was not seen again. This is one that David photographed some time ago. 

This butterfly brought so much stress to Jim that it is worth another photograph (of one taken earlier, in France I think).

Photograph: Bob Kemp

Quest achieved!

Handshakes were exchanged - no hugs or kisses!

Our hero was ecstatic.

Having accepted that the Clouded yellow was not going to reappear, we wandered back to the car park. But we did not just walk off into the sunset, no, we continued to look for things of interest, including the following:

An oak acorn gall which I think is Callirhytis glandium:

A Tortoise shieldbug:

And finally, a butterfly, a Red admiral.

Home. And start planning for the next quest - the Damsel and Dragonflies of Britain.

That is the end of my tale. I hope you have enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed taking part in and now writing about it as a distraction form the circumstances in which we find ourselves.

My thanks to all the photographers who have provided me with their excellent photographs to supplement my own efforts.

I would particularly like to thank our hero - Jim Cresswell - whose diligence, persistence, cajoling and unbounded enthusiasm made the whole thing possible. Unlike him I did not see all 58 but I saw the vast majority including many species I had not knowingly seen before and would not have seen without his efforts.

Thanks Jim.