coming across the atalanta

08-04-26 Not the most auspicious of days to start with. I was a bit tired from yesterday's travels along the coast. Mary was crippled from her leg woes and only just capable of walking 2 miles. She suggested a drive in the car to the Botanics and a wander. Sounded about right for a medium weather day, (warm but cloudy).

not Mary pissing through the railings
(but it might as well have been)

Now I put this photo of Mary getting the parking pass for a reason. Last time we parked at the Botanics I paid for the parking with a bank card and it cost me £13.80 when I bought a ticket, printed out one of these kerb-side machines. I think I bought maybe 3+ hrs.

A bit expensive you're thinking? Yeah I had to sit down for a moment but tried not to let it spoil the day! On this occasion Mary didn't see the bit to accept a card (on the above machine) so signed up as instructed for the app on her phone which took her through some rigmarole (to join RingGo) but then made a payment for a couple of hours stay. £2.50-ish; certainly under three quid. I felt slightly chagrinned to have been stiffed for over £13 but was happy there was a slightly more sober version of parking charges. Or so we thought. 

On this occasion it did not print out a ticket because all the stuff is on the RingGo app and allows parking attendants to scan your reg and then see you've paid. Only we came out a couple of hours later to a parking ticket under the wiper. We felt it wasn't the best way to impress your newest clients. As soon as she got home Mary was straight on the internet to the council sending them all the relevant information. I'm not sure what was worse, paying £13.80 or paying £2.50 and then getting a ticket for £100 which incurs quite a bit of online admin. We have yet to hear whether the council are going to argue the toss or accept they are arseholes some of their equipment is faulty. It could be some time before we park there again.

While Mary was doing the parking ticket thing
I photo-ed and video-ed this greenfinch high in a tree, opposite

We had a wander round some of the premiere spots for insects (birds) and butterflies but they had all done a bunk for the day. Nothing in the rock garden, even less in the rhododendron copse. No handfeeding great tits, and we were beginning to think nothing worth getting a parking ticket for. (Though clearly we were unaware of the total cost of parking there at this point.) It seemed like a wasted journey but since it was quite a pleasant day out (and also Mary's leg was complaining) we sat on a bench a little off the main path and fed the squirrels, robin and pigeons who were happy to see us. It sort of put things in perspective and was nice to be appreciated by the small creatures who gingerly approached in larger numbers, squirrels coming out the woodwork from all directions. 

male bee-fly at the pulmonaria

at the rhodie copse

raggedy comma near the West gate

some odd coloured daffs reminiscent of ice-cream
though not sure why

a second slightly better comma towards the wild orchard

one or 2 peacocks about

be careful you don't... whoops

Mittens at the willow pond

we put birdfood out on this urn but only the magpies were interested

Oh I nearly forgot a rather lovely moment. We went round the back of Inverleith House in the centre of the gardens. There was a less busy area near the Goldsworthy scupture and a couple of great tits flew and perched near us. It was close to where the other couple of great tits had sat on our hands and I thought it was the same couple. However they had no interest in us despite staying really close to where we were standing, so it was likely not the previous ones. They were both hopping and flying to where the other had been seconds ago. Like a game of chase or tag.

It seemed to be an elaborate courtship ritual (with high hopping and behaving differently to normal) and was totally charming and impossible to film or photo as they were continually moving in and round the plants and trees. Matching each others moves and dancing flirtily through the undergrowth. Eventually they were joined by a third, then all three flew off between Mary and I, nearly parting our hair as they went. We felt we had witnessed something intimate and joyous although it was hard to say exactly what.

a few random clips
soundtrack: Sea, Interior by Jackson Mico Milas

this was as close as I got to a photo
of the courting great tits

We returned to the area near the centre pond (with the Reg Butler sculpture) and sat on the bench. A robin and some squirrels and pigeons came over to check the quality of peanuts on offer. It was nice to let them do the work and just sit in peace in the broken sunshine. It was after 4pm and we had long given up seeing any decent butterflies. Of course that is exactly when the butterfly portal opened and two red admirals flashed across the gardens.

Had they been out earlier or was it just because we finally relaxed and stopped wishing for something other than that which we had in front of us; that they relented and swooped through the portal? I don't know but I immediately gave chase. It all happened so fast I wasn't sure if I saw one or two large back butterflies out the corner of my eye. I said to Mary, Admiral! and stood up. The pigeons, robin and squirrels all dashed and flew away in all directions but I wasn't chasing them.

The admiral crossed stage left to stage right and disappeared behind the large rhodie bush. I couldn't see where it had gone but suspected it was heading towards the flowering magnolia tree on which I had photographed one, early last year. It had to fly past the flowering magnolias with the peacock sign in front. Why it didn't choose them? Preferring instead the ones up against the holly trees..? well who knows. But no doubt the same reason the one last year had the same preference. I approached with beating heart (I had for a moment forgotten they are not keen on folk running in the Botanics) and sure enough at around head-height there was a magnificent red admiral in perfect condition atop a white flower. It was FANTASTIC!

could not have wanted a better backdrop!

Vanessa atalanta - the red admiral
one of our strongest and largest fliers

when the sun went behind the clouds it would
close its wings and tremble to keep warm (see video)

I took loads of shots of them spiralling upwards
(and very few came out)

a nearly invisible white spot on orange forewing strip

I watched as another red admiral would swoop by (from where I knew not) and noise up our one on the magnolia. They would joust and spiral up into the sky and then one would return. I kinda assumed it was the same one every time but analysis of wing patterns says it was sometimes the interloper returned to the magnolia (to sit in the same place or very near.) They were both in great condition. A heavily notched or damaged wing would have made it easier to tell one from the other. But if you look closely one (photo above) has nearly invisible white spots on the forewing orange band and the other one (below) has more of an orange number 3 on the right forewing around the same place.

more of an orange number 3 (on lower forewing) and no white spot

soundtrack: Hymn VI by David August

aiming for high art!

I chose this soundtrack deliberately; to lend an atmosphere of introspection and melancholy even though I was very exuberant at the time I was filming and photographing the butterfly. The idea was to lend the experience a bit of gravitas. I felt I had been waiting a long time for the moment when I'd finally see an admiral and that I had been rewarded with something almost magical in perfect surroundings. That the soundtrack should try to convey this rather than portray something jolly or frivolous. 

I also had some insights into the activity of butterfly hunting and you're welcome to disagree but here they are. That we in Scotland live on a Northern boundary and see no butterflies for about a third of the year. That makes their return (and the return of decent weather) really welcome and significant. It mostly happens in a similar way to the preceeding year but not always, as the dates will fluctuate depending on global weather patterns. There are few norms and quite a lot of chance factors making the process far from predictable. It's not as important as the crops failing, a natural disaster or a monsoon, but like a lot of those type of regular-but-random events, humans invariably begin to attach superstitions to them and they can become borderline spiritual experiences.

In 2019 there was a huge influx of Painted Ladies with thousands landing here from Europe. While the abundance was amazing as an event, it devalued the experience of seeing a Painted Lady, as it became considerably more unexceptional and therefore run-of-the-mill. And instead of taking more photos (after an initial splurge) I/we took fewer pics. They became commonplace and undesirable despite being one of the loveliest and most interesting butterflies in the country. 

Similarly the butterfly experiences I/we most desire or cherish are the rarities, the chance encounters, the outliers. Would I travel the length of the country to see something if it was in half the gardens in town? My point is our geographical proximity to places of no butterflies makes our interest in them paramount. That if we lived in the South of France or the South of Greece where there are hundreds of species and you have to beat them off with a stick, compared to the megre few dozen we have here, would there be the same inclination and frenzy to seek them out? I wonder. I suspect some, like myself, would. Just out of curiosity. To see the large varieties of blues or fritillaries.

The value of a Scottish Clouded Yellow is immeasurably higher than a French one or a Tenerife one. Even though they are identical in a photo. Although quite a lot of the time (ALWAYS!) I wished I lived in a warmer climate where the wildlife was abundant.

I found the eventual arrival of these red admirals was such a thrill because I'd almost given up on them putting in any kind of appearance and thought I would have to wait until the other end of the season when they emerge in decent numbers. There have been almost no sightings this year in this part of the world so they became far more precious than the orange tips and speckled woods who are arriving in the usual numbers in the usual places about the usual time. Which is fun and always worth a chase through a field or cemetery. But the lack of admirals until now transformed this display into something nearly spiritual. Okay I'm stopping here, before I dive off the pretentious high-board. 

The Botanics got it right when they put a butterfly sign next to the magnolias. It was part of an educational treasure hunt for kids I think. While I was nearby I could hear parents reading off a written flier relating magnolia facts (they've been around for a long time) to butterflies. The kids would have been more interested if the sign, the flier or the butterflies had been made of chocolate. Anyway the staff had got it nearly spot on, except it was the magnolia behind this sign and over to the right that the admirals were landing on. Looked like the same species of shrub. But next to a holly tree (which also had holly blues last year.) 

Anyway, I floated home on cloud 9. Well as far as the parking ticket under the wiperblade.