Martin Down 05-05-2019
We all headed out for a lunchtime picnic originally intending to bathe in the beautiful blue glow of a sea of Bluebells at Garston Wood. However before I realised it we were actually bombing along the Cranborne Road which would eventually lead to Garston Wood but meant that Martin Down was nearer. So we pulled in there instead and set off for the sheltered sun trap beyond the Butts. The intermittent sun made a strong appearance just as I was finishing my final morsel of lunch and an unidentified White added another turn to the visual and sonic spectacle of May blossom, pinpricks of yellow, red and white amongst the green bedspread of turf and the cacophony of Cuckoo, Lesser Whitethroat, Whitethroat, Corn Bunting, Skylarks and Yellowhammers. I took this as my cue to have a bit of a wander round.
Starting in the small field and aiming to work my way along a section of the Dyke the first butterfly was only a few steps away, a familiar orange colour it was my third Small Heath of the year. As I knelt down to get a close shot I noticed that the ‘eye’ was doubled. Almost as soon as I recognised this the butterfly started playing silly buggers with me so getting decent shots proved difficult. Muttering about this obstreperous behaviour I carried on, down into the Dyke and along and consoled myself with a Grizzlie, followed by a Small Copper, then a Brimstone and finally a Dingy Skipper. All were down on the deck, down in the Dyke in a line about 4-5 paces apart from each other.






As I climbed out of the Dyke and crossed the path I followed a Peacock down into one of the small fields and it paused briefly on the slope. It seemed to like basking here but I was distracted by a vivid orange blur which announced a fantastic Small Copper. In the next field over it seemed like the Skippers were the order of the day as there were 3 Dingies and a Grizzlie. A female Holly Blue added a bit of brightness to the textures and tones of the Skippers although I was still enamoured by the lovely level of variation in the markings of the Dingies. One was chocolate brown and peppered grey, another a sandy brown and one a rich, rusty brown.






I was only a couple of footsteps away from the hollow we’d lunched in and were using as ‘basecamp’ when I was stopped in my tracks. There was a lime white butterfly down on the deck ‘basking’ wings open wide. Only it wasn’t a white it was a female Brimstone. As I looked more carefully the male with closed wings moved and so ‘appeared’ in view. Over the next few moments I clicked away as the male pestered and hassled, cajoled and pleaded to no avail. He would walk around her, over her and then take to the air and fly at her before settling down. After a bit of a breather he’d then repeat the whole performance; more walking over her, more dive bombing and what also looked like some plain old plaintive begging. All the while the female lay on the ground, resolute, abdomen arched up. Eventually he finally got it and understood that “No means no” and he quit to try out his lines/moves on another chick. The female remained for 20 more seconds or so, possibly checking that the male was really gone before she too flew off to carry on with her business.






After checking in with everyone I set off along the Dyke to the half way point. The sun was becoming more and more intermittent o my walk would be punctuated with brief flurries of butterfly activity as the sun came out. By the time I’d reached the half way point I’d notched up a Grizzlie, Dingy, Orange-tip and a Peacock and once there I checked to no avail for Small Blues and Greenstreaks. As the sun was finally swallowed by the cloud and so I settled for two Grizzlies, one of which was so small I thought at first it was some sort of mint moth as if flew across from grass head to grass head.
With the sun gone for the foreseeable future I made my way back to the Butts and basecamp, the calls of “Wurzel” carried on the wind hurrying me homewards.
Have a goodun
Wurzel