best part of the day: south side safari

19-03-25 Too long since I'd last been at the Hermitage. I considered cycling but wanted the freedom to carry the camera and wander from there over to Newington Cemetery and padlocking the bike up seemed more hassle than jumping on a free bus at any point. The bike stayed home.

First stop was the walled garden. Not much in flower other than a couple of heathers. One red, one white. They were the prime butterfly magnets and while I wandered about the area my gaze would return to them regularly to see if anything had arrived. Only an occasional hoverfly. It was just after midday and I had given the day a chance to warm up; feeling that if they showed at all, the butterflies would choose between 12 and 2pm.

Like the seemingly perennial butterflies I discussed recently, wrens are an annual feature around the walled garden. I often end up following one through the ivy covered slopes on the right hand (East) side of the garden. On this occasion one came from that direction and sat quite close. It had seen some kind of insect in the undergrowth, hopped forward and ate it then did the lemon eyes thing as if to say yuuuck, that was great!

lemon eyes

At that point, as if on cue, a comma fluttered down and landed on nearby ivy. I raced forward stealthily, trying not to scare it off and took some photos. It flitted about between several perches. As I turned around to follow it to the next I noticed Michael coming in one of the gates. He was very circumspect about not interrupting the business of butterflying but I told him to come over for a chat. Normally he would be on his bike, but a minor cycling injury had meant he was out and about on foot today. He knew exactly what I was up to when he saw me. We chatted for quite a bit during which time the comma did exactly what I predicted and landed on the (lucky) white heather.

Michael's photo of heather and me

not just the comma who was quite long-haired!

It wasn't going to get any better than that so I felt it was time to move downstream to check out the butterbur, which is good for early specimens. However the comma wasn't quite done and flew over to land very close to where we were standing. I took another couple of photos which show its woolly back shining in the sunlight. Michael was going in the opposite direction so we said goodbye and went on our ways.

Zero point three of a mile downstream there is a bridge. I went across the bridge and along the wrong side of the Braid Burn. There is a small single track and it is muddy and dangerously cambered in places threatening to slip-slide you into the water. I was regretting wearing road shoes, not trail shoes and had a couple of worrying moments. My concern is always the camera, not breaking a leg etc.

I was really anticipating seeing the butterbur, hoping it would be a rich meadow of large plants in bloom heaving with pollen-laden butterflies. When I eventually arrived I was greatly disheartened by the insipid small plants which looked a bit shrivelled and well behind schedule. However I quickly stopped cursing as there was a rather lovely comma on one of the nearest plants. I went from downhearted straight into stalker mode and got loads of photos and some video. The comma seemed preoccupied with the flowers and didn't mind me squatting down right beside it for close-ups. Then without a warning disappeared and I didn't even notice in what direction. Since it had been there before I arrived I assumed there would be plenty more. I hadn't really done a general sweep until now.

It seemed there were no others which was more of a surprise. Rather than retrace steps - since the butterbur was not as abundant as I had thought - I instead hoped there might be great things over at Plan B, Newington Cemetery. (I had heard that Mairi had seen a couple of species there already although perhaps on warmer days. Bound to be stuff there though? Bound to be!)

butterbur thin on the ground

handsome and friendly comma

video, click twice

other insects were available

It's a two mile slog from the butterbur to Newington Cemetery and I was wondering if the bike may not have been a better way to cover the ground. I kept an eye on every blossoming bush and bloom along the exit path of Blackford Glen Road although nothing of note appeared. I was pleased there was a gap in the fence at the Southern end of the Cemetery as I was bored with stomping road miles by the time I got there. I would try to do walking as fast as possible during the boring bits. It is only possible to run if I put my camera away in my back pack which defeats the point a bit. I was aware that speed walking probably looks a bit special needs (double busy!) and toggled between not giving a fuck and walking normally.

wren playing at Colditz

I haven't been in Newington in ages and realised although quite similar to Warriston, I was at a loss for local information. I know Warriston so well I had assumed I would be in my comfort zone here, but in fact I was just wandering aimlessly, waiting for birds and butterflies to appear and announce themselves. And initially this did not happen. I remembered where I'd seen butterflies and woodpeckers previously but (no shit sherlock) they weren't in the same places on this occasion! 😦

When I saw this sign I thought oh the Grey Alder has been to a conference and forgotten to remove its laminate afterwards. However after I saw a few more similar signs I realised someone had been going round the trees identifying them. I started taking photos because there was little else to take photos of that I could see.

Prior to seeing these signs I was satisfied to believe I could recognise maybe a dozen trees which is as many as I ever felt the need to recognise. Which seemed until then to be most of the trees I come across. I rarely read the little plaques in the Botanics, mainly because they are in snooty Latin (Disdainious condescendo). You go over to a name-tag hoping to confirm yon tree is a Silver Birch and Betula pendula leaves you none the wiser.

Here the preference was nomenclature in a more local dialect and I warmed to this information more readily. Until I realised my ignorance of trees is almost as comprehensive as my ignorance of Latin. I'd see a sign and guess what it was going to say. That'll be a Silver Birch, I know that one. And it turns out to be a Downy Birch. A what? Never heard of that before! Never mind Monterey Cypress or Portuguese Laurel. Yikes! I am a Tree-tard, (Arborealus ignoramious).

Once I had absorbed that newsflash I actually enjoyed the information input and felt that if all places outdoors had labels naming the trees and shrubs, very soon we'd all know their names. A bit like labelling the furniture and items in your home when learning a foreign language. Tagging the birds and butterflies might be a bit more tricky. There was a sparrowhawk in the cemetery I'm pretty sure would not enjoy wearing a nametag. In fact it seemed pretty angry I was following it from one place to another and would not tolerate any kind of proximity before flying off. A couple of poor photos was the best I could manage before it effortlessly gave me the slip.

a tough nut to crack

through a gap in the trees I could see they were
ruining more paths in Holyrood Park again

I liked to imagine it was the poisonous attributions of Laburnum
that were leaching into the signage

some kind of anemone

chaffinch

It also occured to me that given the simple A4 printer paper laminates with trees names, it wouldn't be hard to add a couple of ringers, pinned to as yet unclaimed trees. I'm thinking Lonesome Pine, Flogging Birch or maybe Joanna Cherry.

wren

I was considering throwing in the towel when I spotted this woodpecker. It was drumming on a dead stump which is what caught my attention. I hurried over and got a couple of photos but it was hopping about and high up among the branches. It flew off about 40 yards to another tree to join a second woodpecker. Could I get a photo of the pair of them? I could not. They both flew in a Southerly direction and I spent 20minutes looking upwards into the crown of every flippin tree down the main aisle of the cemetery not once seeing anything of their black, white and red plumage.

Okay, at least I got a couple of record shots. Time to leave. I had not packed sandwiches relying on a fairly basic shop near the cemetery. However the downside of getting in the bottom entrance was I didn't pass the shop until after I left. I bought a Coronation Chicken sandwich which fulfilled its remit but was on unwholesomely white bread that made me promise myself I'd make my own sandwiches for all future adventures.