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 I'm 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 other's 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 black 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 meagre 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.

flying through East Lothian

 

The forecast for 07-04-26 popped up on the Met Office site looking spectacular for the 7th. The BBC weather refused to fall in line for a couple of days, then agreed it would be sunny all day with unseasonal temps of 17 or 18 degrees. This is not spectacular by European standards, but for a Scottish early April day it was about as good as we could ever hope for. I worried that by fixating on it too much, no reality could fulfil the promise. However it nearly came up to snuff. It certainly started well.

Problem was where to spend it? Initially I thought I'd have another trip to the River Tyne in East Lothian. (Bus to Haddington, jog to East Linton and just beyond. Train or bus home.) I knew there'd be a decent show of butterflies, likely including orange tips and speckled woods but I was swayed by the thought of the first appearance of red admirals and holly blues which are less likely to be seen there. Also the East Linton trains are less regular and reliable than the North Berwick line. Which could drop me at Longniddry and I'd get more miles in going past Aberlady and Luffness butterfly hotspots, with (in my imagination) a potential walk up Gullane hill to see admirals there. Not forgetting holly blues at Postman's Walk. So that slightly trumped even the thought of a far-fetched implausible brimstone, where they were spotted a couple of years back, near Haddington. 

big crane in Leith from along the coast at Longniddry

I managed, not without struggle, to get out of bed nice and early. There hasn't been any real reason to do so for a while, so I haven't. My inclination is to work late (blog, process pics and youTube) into the night and rise mid-morning. It makes an early start less appealing, however I managed out the house and up to Waverley in time to catch a coffee and the 9.39am to NB, getting off at Longniddry for 10am. The sun was shining and I took off my light jacket 3miles later, at Aberlady - going in t-shirt and shorts for the remainder of the day. The only things I forgot were putting sun-screen on my bald spot which wasn't a problem, (there was a comb-across of light haze and wispy cloud reducing the solar strength from about 2.30pm) and tick repellent on my exposed legs. As a result I took 4 ticks home with me. I knew from the last trip to the Tyne on 21-03-26 that there were plenty ticks about and that this year looks like a bad one for them. Well, for their victims.

Initially I was surprised there weren't butterflies by the hundred lining the coastal trail from Longniddry onwards. Clearly not everyone had been watching the forecast as avidly as myself. Or maybe the sleety rain-snow of Easter weekend had put a note of caution into the creatures who must endure all the weather that happens in April. Cue Mary and I at the weekend impersonating the artist formerly known as Prince singing Sometimes it Snows in April. BTW did you know that song was recorded on April 21st, 1985, exactly 31 years before Prince croaked on April 21st, 2016, turning (says the internet) the song into a personal tribute to the artist himself. Yuhuh. True.

Anyway I impressed myself by seeing a bee-fly sunning itself on a bit of sunlit treetrunk. I was cantering by, keen to get to the next hotspot, and stopped because my brain flagged up a darkish isosceles triangle with pointy fornt end that corresponded to Bombylius major. I was delighted as my old-man-eyes often work independently of intelligent thought or focus and bee-flies aren't large or colourful. I took way to many photos because I didn't realise it was to be one-of-many b-f encounters today. 

how many is too many?
I think this woman is looking for the answer on her phone

the haze was lifting (unlike the big crane)

Obsidentify can't do this one so I'm going to guess beach cluster flies
and really I don't care if there's no such thing.
They might be March flies, Bibionidae.

At a point near Gosford House main gate there were loads of flies. At least THEY have been checking the forecast and come out to play in their tens-of-thousands. Very tricky to take a photo that says here's how many flies you can see. At first I thought the ones flying were a heat distortion or those fuzzy black floaters one's eyes use to celebrate old age. But no, they were a swarm of thousands of flies!

busy buzzing!

Germander speedwell

Next stop SOC, Waterston House immediately before Aberlady. I thought it would be closed (Tuesday) but it was open and the front garden was, as ever, spectacular. They plant stuff with pollinators in mind and I was sure I'd get the first butterfly of the day here. First four actually: two each of peacocks and small torts, though they took a while to show themselves. I had to pretend to be absorbed by the flowers while I waited impatiently, due to the station coffee. (Thanks Pret: filter coffee with soy £1.20 I think - and as a confirmation of my current diet trends, just 3 sachets of brown sugar even though 5 is my go-to sweetness. They are tiny sachets, I am not a peasant.)

Back on the trail I was telling myself to slow down and don't hurry too much, or I'd arrive at Postman's before the holly blues had had time to get out their sleeping bags. 

viburnum

another bee-fly at SOC

bee-fly nectaring on grape hyacinth

Knautia macedonica

a small tort sunbathing at the front door of Waterston House

There were a couple of peacocks going round the flowers. Unfortunately most of the pics were of the more obliging of the 2, which was a bit ragged round the edges. The other specimen was much better condition, but also reluctant to have me approach and would zip off to the opposite side of the garden

very pleased to photograph this hairy shieldbug

Between the SOC place and Aberlady is a few hundred yards of dirt trail through trees and nettles. In this section I saw about 3 speckled woods, the first(s) of the year. They flew off the low nettles and foliage where they had been sunbathing and were not happy to have me approach. It took quite a bit more effort to get photos than I would have liked. They were only sitting with closed wings, not open, except for half a second, when they landed. I got bored chasing them and went to Margiotta's to get some lunch.

speckled wood

The guy in Margiotta's noticed my camera and asked if I had stuff in National Geographic. He was not being sarcastic. I wasn't sure what sandwich I required and eventually bought 2 and a samosa (and bottle of water.) Something to eat and drink while I waited on holly blues at Postman's Walk.

window box, Aberlady

There are often butterflies on the Aubretia on the low wall at the second corner of Postman's. Unfortunately it is the boundary wall of the large white house and taking photos there looks like you are pointing a long lens into their back garden and windows. There was a woman in the back garden but no easy line of sight to wave and say I'm just taking photos of the butterflies. I have in the past pointed and mimed butterflies (hooked thumbs, flapping palms) when I saw her scowling out the top window.

small tort on aubretia

Sure enough I got close enough to see a pair of small torts and a pair of peacocks on the pretty purple-pink wall-flowers. Given the absence of this sort of thing up to this point I slightly overdid the number of pics taken, ignoring the dog, barking in the garden.

peacock

torty two-fer

the large white house at the second corner

I could feel the tension building along the field perimeter towards the far corner where the question might possibly be answered: would the holly blues turn up this year? It was maybe a tad early although the ones in Holyrood Park were already out and about. The weather was perfect. Not much wind and clear blue skies. The sun was belting down and it felt just below 20'. An occasional peacock flew out from the hedge but the lack of flowers along the field edge hadn't attracted much in the way of insects.

probably the finest peacock of the day (hurray!)
but it would only sit on the floor (boooo!)

first orange tip (m) of the year

Before I got to the corner of the field, an orange tip zoomed by. I shot some machine-gun spray-and-pray and got a couple of record shots among the many misses. Also a small white was chasing it - so probably a male. 

now that's a special photo!
first small white of the year

the garlic mustard plants were still a few days from flowering

I walked back and forth over the same ground. The conditions were perfect for holly blues to appear but there was no sign of them. I checked the leaves of the trees where they like to perch and sunbath, and the ivy and the holly trees, and ivy of the dirt trail beside the field edge. Nothing. So maybe it was too early, but also the last few years they have become very much thinner on the ground. In places they have virtually disappeared from established sites (like this one) and the presumption is they are fleeing the parasitic wasps that specifically target holly blues. The theory is that when the wasps catch up to the butterflies, the butterflies move on to another site. In the last couple of years they have travelled further North leaving established sites for new ground. Unfortunately Poastman's Walk seems to have been left behind. A shame as it was always a thrill to see this pretty and rare butterfly here.

buff-tailed bumble on mahonia

I checked the abbey ruins for speckleds (and admirals). I thought there's bound to be some of the former, but alas not one. There were hundreds of small yellow flowers close to the ground here and dappled sunlight. Perfect conditions, where they will dance all summer. I was caught between hanging around hoping the warm weather would encourage some to materialise, and moving on to pastures new. The coffee urged me forwards. I have never been good at waiting around doing nothing, hoping something worthwhile happens. I'd rather move on, cover more miles and hope I come across something along the way.

I also ate some lunch about now: I looked at the samosa. It looked quite greasy (in a good way) and I thought I should maybe have one of the two sandwiches instead and keep from greasing up the camera. I managed to eat a sandwich by sliding it out the cellophane into my mouth without touching the food itself with my fingers. Having established good practice, I reviewed the situation and then ate the samosa touching only the cellophane wrapper and keeping the grease away from both fingers and camera. A great success! 

nice to see a few hovers out

Grey-spotted sedgesitter

The next field was quite productive. I stayed in the field walking the unplanted edge, preferring it to the dirt trail under the trees just to the side of the field perimeter. Sure enough more orange tip activity. Normally it is a couple of days before they settle anywhere for a photo. But one did just that and I was pleased to get some reasonable close-ups. They were not sitting with those iconic wings open though, despite the glorious sunshine.

the farmer had fenced off a section of the crops with these electric fences
I thought perhaps deer protection, although deer could easily jump those, if inclined

another non-stop orange tip which I chased for a while

brief stop, then onwards

world's best OT in-flight photo

OT fluttering caught momentarily with wings open

A very fresh looking comma flew up from the path just in front of me. I ran after it and hunted where I saw it land but no photos were forthcoming. I never saw it again. It was the only comma of the day and I was sorry to miss the photo. It looked like a cracker. Often this stretch can be busy with commas.

When I got to the far end of the field, at the road to Luffness Farm, I considered turning around and slowly doing the return journey to Aberlady, hoping to see the butterflies I hadn't seen on the way out. Then catch the bus back from Aberlady or jog back to Longniddry. I decided instead to push on. There is another hotspot on the way to Gullane and then maybe an admiral atop Gullane hill on the West side of the town. On the way up the golf course road a couple of things of interest.

Sadly a dead pheasant (f) at the side of the road, the remarkable plumage lying like trash in the gutter. And 2 or 3 rooks, a corvid I don't regularly see in Edinburgh. They have grey-white bills and odd looking beak-beards that only get stranger the closer you look. They were wandering on one side of the road looking for luckies and road kill, while I walked and jogged the other. They were aware of me but gave no fucks. I tried to get some photos because I don't see them often.

Then a large adult hare 6 yards away from the pavement made a break for it. The golf course was busy with a women's rehearsal for their competition in a couple of day's time and the hare had to chose a line avoiding golfers. I tried to approach where I could see it hiding but it saw me coming and made a second dash across the fairways and well into the distance. All the photos were shinola.

a reed bunting (f)

stonechat (m)

more rook

I had jogged and walked around 7 miles by the time I got to Gullane. I was feeling a bit tired and had to resist the urge to get the bus that was approaching the stop in perfect time for me to catch it home. I felt the day was not yet over and that there might be wondrous things yet to discover. I could hear future me saying yeah but you should have caught that bus as there was feck-all up the hill. And sadly not far from the truth.

Hazel comes out in the sunshine

Also the weather was slowly deteriorating. The wispy clouds were building to a point where the sun was partially blocked and it was a little cooler than the roasting rays of earlier. I had been going to put a buff on to protect my bald head from sunscorch but now there was no need. I was flagging so much I couldn't even find the energy to wander over to Hazel's van and say the first hello of the season as she sold cones. I could see she had her dad in the front seat. It seemed like too much effort to take the 200yard diversion over there and stand in a queue. A sign I was tired and possibly regretting not catching that bus.

contained school kids

dunnocks

chaffinch

lacewing

view East

I climbed the hill with enthusiasm. (Last trial of the day.) I had seen admirals here lots through last year and especially latterly. They are inclined to occupy the small heathery hump above the Millennium Cairn and chase painted ladies back and forth. They sat on my hand and they swooped across the other side perching on the warm stone of the wall at the top of Whim Road. However there were none now.

I did a couple of turns around the rocks near the cairn before checking the warmed wall between the top of Hill Road and Whim Road. Wall browns sunbathe here later in the season and red (Dunbar?) sandstone makes a good sunbed and photo-background. I was fairly sure there'd be nothing as I could feel the doom descending, but there was a small tortoiseshell, possibly the most handsome of the day. I approached with maximum stealth and got some photos. It was aware of my advance and began to rev its engine to warm up: twiching wings like it was shivering in the cold. (Last clip in video below.) And then took off. I didn't see where it flew or landed.

Did it justify missing the bus and the hike up the hill? Hmmm, the jury are still out. But I enjoyed the roll down the green golfy side of the hill to the main road. I had remembered lots of butterflies on the buddlieas and shrubs beside the walls of the huge wealthy houses on the descent, but most of those shrubs flower at the other end of the Summer. A couple more small torts flew off the warmed stone wall but did not hang about for portraits.

turned 90' to fit

the view along the Forth to Edinburgh

East Lothian lovelies
soundtrack: Alone in Berlin by Kev Sheridan

I was tired and not in the mood for a long stand at the bus stop. I read the timetable but took the info with a pinch of salt, which is considerably more seriously than the bus drivers, who vie to see how wide of the mark they can arrive, careful not to be so late they fulfil the next alloted timeslot and look like they are following any kind of schedule. Possibly about ten to fifteen after the due date they both arrived, with the X5 (express service) in front, which was a blessing as I wouldn't want to risk dismissing the 124 hoping the X5 was following it down the road. It got me back to Edinburgh so quickly I didn't have a chance to fall asleep. (The coffee was onboard with this also.)

I only just had time to eat the second sandwich and spool through the 750 photos and videos on my camera; a mixed bunch, but with 3 new-for-the-year butterflies and 9miles hiked and run, I couldn't really complain. Even when Richard later posted holly blues, speckleds and orange tips in Holyrood Park, just a couple of miles from home. (No red admirals though!)
(Game still on!)

9miles in 4.5hrs

a snappy 2.0mph average speed!