they're back!

19/03/20 First butterfly of the year. And a Comma! What a start, what an omen.

I went out to continue the search for butterflies on the 19th March. You do wonder is it them or me? Are there handfuls of butterflies around Edinburgh coming out of cold storage in other places I have not thought to search? Should I have more patience than a child mid-December waiting for Christmas? If I don't hope so much to see them, might they appear sooner? Should I hope more? These are the rambling thoughts of a butterfly junkie as he runs through the sunny places pretending photos of birds and flowers are more than enough to quench the cravings that have been steadily building through the Winter. Now the sun is out, it is almost warm enough to run without gloves and buff. Where are the little bastards?

There is a spot near St Marks Park where the duckies loiter and know passersby throw bread. 5 lady goosanders come over for a chat (about bread) but I am keen to be off upstream looking for the skittish flap of wings smaller than a bird, larger than a bee. I try not to hurry, to ruin my adventure by focussing everything on one insect, the non-appearance of which will colour this glorious day out. Just be grateful for your health, that you're not at work, that you can run 10 miles or twice that easily and arrive home to eat and drink like a king. Life is good and the whole perfect Summer is just ahead of you. Eyes peeled though. Every blooming flower, every blossoming tree.

I quite liked this installation piece by the urban collective Young Leith Team. Called Mini-break and permanently on loan, it explores the sorrows and loss of material redistribution versus an adequate alternative to affluent society going on snowboarding holidays.

I have noticed a city wide project demarking local green spaces with these minimal info posts. They are discreet and quite elegant and each one features the name and outline drawing of a plant or animal found nearby.

All around were blossoming trees and flowers.
My butterfly radar was bleeping off the scale.

This wren was on the other side of the Water of Leith. It would look right at me then give a loud cheepy cheep cheep as if it knew there was no way I'd be getting my feet wet coming over there to get a better photo. I assume it was shouting come on if you think you are hard enough. I wasn't.

Then I came to the bridge upstream of the Dean Village, near to where Mr. Gormley stands in the water contemplating why his god made him stand in the cold water all year round and couldn't be bothered to file down his sprues properly. I saw the sun beating down on the South facing hill up to the Modern Art Gallery. There was a good sprinkling of daffs and primroses and I thought that would be a good spot for butterflies. And yet with little more hope than the last 174 times I had thought that. A blue tit sat in the trees and shouted me over - come have a look at this! I went over and there, in all the green leafage was the tangy orange inkblot of a comma. I tried to keep calm as my heart raced - get a record shot before it Fs off. Zoom in and take 3 more. Since the gate was padlocked and I was quite some distance from the orange splat of joy I hung my camera on a spike, then belying my years, climbed the fence clumsily like a 70 year old. 

Of course the first thing the Comma did when it saw me approach was to humorously wink and fly to the other side of the fence from where I had just come. However it didn't go very far and I kept half an eye on it as I gingerly high-stepped back over. I settled down to an extended photo shoot. The butterfly was slow and a bit sleepy so I had plenty of time to take a number of shots, though I could have done with a slightly better background. 

I was on the point of moving Mr Comma to a new location when the matter was settled by a third party. I was vaguely aware of a distant barking getting closer, then a splashing, then a heavy breathing. Then the dumbest mutt from barky bastard school was all over the place trying to lick my ear while the owner pretended she didn't have a ---- for a dog. The comma was long gone, and I would have normally tried to convey my displeasure to the dog-owner through passive-aggressive interpretive dance - much scowling while saying no problem - but I was so elated to have started the butterfly book 2020 with a magnificent comma that I kinda forgave her and her brainless bozo and went off up the river with a smile. 

The run was filled with many other nice things, 2 grey wagtails, a tree creeper, robins singing, dippers dipping. But the comma was head and shoulders above all of that and I was keen to get home and sort through the photos of it. 

gang of sparrows

This Robin - quite a lot of tweeting then making sure it had got my attention shows me its arse. I think the Spring has made them all quite aggressive and territorial. And not at all well mannered.

peacock butterfly on bench armrest,
Hermitage walled garden

Still no takers on the butterburs at the Hermitage.

apart from the buzzy bumbles

Saw this cracker at Causewayside

Got chatting to the owner of this 1967(?) Ford Anglia. My grandpa had one and somehow we all squeezed into it to go places. They are tiny! Loads of charm though. 

I even took time to run through Holyrood and check out below the crags for butterflies. None there, but I had some practice shooting grass flowers for when there is something worth it sat on top.

watch this space

17 miles