best part of the day: pushing the river

13-06-25 I had known that Banded Demoiselles had been out for some while. Although they have been making appearances across the Lothians they haven't established the sort of numbers here, as further down South and I was preparing to catch a train to Berwick then cycle for an hour to Bluestone Ford where I have spent a very enjoyable few hours with swarms of them in beautiful rural bliss on previous occasions.

love these ceramics in a window in E Linton

Then Richard posted lots of photos of them on the Tyne near East Linton. He suggested there was plenty of them at Preston Mill. This seemed a much more convenient option than getting a bike on a train to Berwick; the line runs several railway companies and tickets can be specific to certain firms, times and hoops to jump through. And bikes-on-trains is never relaxing. Preston Mill it is - just a mile or 2 along pretty paths from East Linton Station, the newest (and bleakest) railway experience which is on the same line as Berwick-upon-Tweed. Let's do it!

I have many fond memories of East Linton. Journey runs starting or ending here or just passing through. The Traprain Law hill race starts and finishes in East Linton and features a splash across the river which is always a dynamic experience. The river Tyne often supplies the first butterflies of the season and the riverside path to Haddington is superbly scenic. However the new station is entirely bereft of charm and is just an huge metal platform bolted to the line next to the sports ground. However it is considerably better than an hour-plus on the bus, so I overlook the basic surroundings as we pull into Linton an Ear, the absurd gaelic translation on the platform signage. Can you imagine the palaver if you asked for a return ticket to Linton an Ear in Waverley? You'd be there half an hour fighting and apologising.

a twofer - two RAs in the same photo

The forecast was a bit crappy for the morning but getting much better in the afternoon. I hung back and only got off the train around midday. It worked well as the clouds were breaking up, showing more and more blue skies and sunshine, the preferred conditions for butterflies and damselflies.

I was in no hurry to get to Preston Mill. I took a diversion. Instead of following the main road along parallel to the river, I turned left up through the small orchard, where I have found butterflies in the past. Normally I'd run ahead of Mary and quickly check round the low apple trees, buddliea and ivy, and be done by the time she catches up. However I was on my own today and went right up to the back, feeling there were no butterflies but that there should be. At the top right there was a very tempting grassy lane about the width of a car but with floral bushes overhanging from the back gardens of houses either side. I'd never seen this lane before and I think I likely had my camera raised before I even saw the first admiral on a very fragrant bush. It was not alone and about 4 or 5 materialised from among the flowers.

I had heard rumours online of a mass immigration of red admirals. How do we know it is a migration rather than just an emergance? Good question. I suppose because they all arrive overnight and all-at-once, something less likely than if they were to emerge from pupae. And all along the coastline from Berwick to Fife. Boom. Suddenly we are admiral rich and they are everywhere having been quite scarce in the early part of the season when you felt honoured to come across one. All of a sudden they are appearing in plague numbers! Well not quite: nothing as dramatic as the Painted Lady invasion of 2019, but a modest version of that very thing. Usually you'd expect a wind from the South to sweep them up the country or from the East bringing them over from Scandinavia. I'm not sure where they came from on this occasion but they brought some Painted Ladies with them, although they haven't arrived in quite the same spectacular condition the RAs have. Again, who organises such things or what the motivations of the individuals are, it is impossible to tell. (Maybe they just get swept along in a holiday fever?) But very welcome.

unsure of ID? Take a photo!

If I see a shrub attracting a lot of insect love, or an insect I don't recognise, I'll take a photo of it and google lens it. Judging from the number of people still asking on forums "what is this", it seems not everyone realises there is a totally free service where you click the camera icon in the google search box and it prompts you to upload a photo. It then tries to ID the photo. It is not as infallabile as the pope but is a lot more factbased. And you can use that as a starting point to search through a prompted list of similar photos/insects/plants. Also, if you come across a bird, beetle or butterfly online and it is not captioned, you can right click the image and choose search with google lens to get the ID process going. It is really helpful. Also there are wildlfower ID apps, birdsong apps, tree apps, apps to identify app apps, the whole business.

So I took a photo of the shrub in question, which the admirals were finding irresistible. I was told it was a Mock Orange, Philadelphus coronarius. Worth putting in your garden for the fragrance alone which is a very sweet orange/jasmine/honysuckle, and extremely pleasant.

the lane at the top of the orchard - a great find!

At the end of the lane was a garden with white and red valerian which was also attracting a couple of red admirals. However it is not good practise to stand outside someone's front garden pointing a long lens towards their house, so I limited it to a couple of shots and moved on. There was, after all, the matter of the bandies.

Preston Mill, iphone photo

Just opposite the Prestonkirk Church you leave the road and join the riverside ramble which takes you along to Preston Mill. I saw a couple of bandies before I got to the mill, at the old broken down weir where you cross a bridge and there is the remains of concrete piers. They quickly flew off into nettled and waterlogged areas so I let them go without chase. After all, there'd be loads at the Mill. Wouldn't there?

There were none at the mill. I had a quick look around but couldn't see any. I'd done this exact trip last year and it was similar: not very many around the mill but more at the ford downstream. Nevertheless I was kinda kicking myself for not paying more attention to exactly what Richard had reported and double checking that on iRecord which (if you can get it to work) pinpoints exactly where things were sighted. However, given the sun was mostly out and I'd just had a feast of admirals, I was still in good spirits.

lots of shoals of tiddlers in the river

It is another mile plus to the ford. Richard had flagged this up last year as a spot for bandies and I had gone along. Conditions weren't ideal and it was a grim scramble along the steep, overgrown bank, stepping cautiously through waist-deep grass, nettles and stabbing canes, risking slip-and-splosh for a few less-than-brilliant photos. I was beginning to regret not taking the train another stop to Berwick. I have visited Bluestone Ford near Chirnside on 3 occasions and each was just idyllic, the best being when I took sandals and waded into the warm water of the Whiteadder Water to photograph the demoiselles from the river.

every few seconds the flicker interrupts the flow

The river also provides irrigation for the farmer's fields. I was interested in this water canon (connected to a generator which drew water from the river) as it rotated to wet the perimeter of the field I had to get past. I didn't want water on my camera (although it is showerproof) so had to time my scamper past the rotation. I also wondered about the amount of water falling and did it fall evenly? And was that the optimum angle to project it evenly over the field. Since the farmer and the canon manufacturer must have also contemplated this issue, I reckoned it was. And to accommodate the idea that if the water is fired at such speed it will fail to adequately drench the immediate area nearest the centre of the circle, there is a flicker that interrupts the flow at regular intervals, soaking the ground immediately beside the mechanism. It was quite a simple yet mesmerising thing to watch.

Just before I got to the ford there was a field of thistles and grass. My butterfly radar was in the red and sure enough within a minute I had found a fresh small tortoiseshell. It was dozing on top of a flowering thistle but woke up when it heard me approach for a photo shoot. It was really obliging although I had to employ quite a bit of ninja skills to get close. Since it began going from thistle to thistle and not lingering long at any, I switched to pre-burst mode and zoomed out slightly to get pictures of it taking off. This accounted for the day's total image count exceeding 1300. Might have been half that otherwise.

take-off!

we have lift off

telling it as it is - common sense in sign format

Historic Environment Scotland could learn so much from this sign. Instead of renting or buying loads of barriers and putting them round potentially dangerous sites, what we have here is a big red sign that states the obvious potential for getting into shit. Don't drive your vehicle across this river unless you take full resposibility for your own actions. We are not taking the blame for your stupidity or misfortune. Refreshingly to the point.

quite low water when I was there
maybe 6~10" max at the ford

So the good news was that on arrival, when the sun was out, there was quite a bit of banded demoiselle activity. They were flying about the riverside and landing on the vegetation next to the river. The less good news was the access to the riverside was as bad as I remembered. I hadn't forgotten the uneven turfy ground disguised by long grass and undergrowth and how it threatened to unbalance you and tip you into the water. It felt suboptimal and I considered the options.

At that point I was watching a female. The females are green, the males blue. Both have a fantastic metallic sheen that sparkles in the sun, making them so much more spectacular than almost all our other odonata. They are our largest damselflies (along with Beautiful demoiselles) They sit at rest with wings folded along their bodies rather than held perpendicularly like the dragonflies. They fly with the sort of longer, slower wingbeats and gliding of a larger butterfly rather than the buzzing wingbeats of a smaller damselfly, like a bee. They are a delight to watch as they interact over the water.

Anyway this female was advertising for business as it landed on a leaf and accepted the attentions of the first male who came along. I hadn't been there long and was not quite set up properly to record the event that was rapidly unfolding, and me wobbling about on an unsteady perch trying to move closer but not scare off the involved couple. I blame my footing on the overexposed first couple of shots and not a reflection of my photographic inabilities! Did I say there was a stiff breeze as well? It was shoogling the leaves (and myself) so much the loving couple had to move to another site to continue mating as they got blown off the first leaf. I suspect that was why the male had his wings out - trying to support himself or counter the breeze.

So although I had got a couple of decent shots I still felt I wasn't able to get close enough to these excellent creatures. I felt there was only one remedy: to get in the water. I had considered bringing my swimming shoes to let me wade into the river, but given the weed covered rocks I was glad I didn't give myself the option of cheap slippy swim shoes. I bit the bullet and just waded in, in the shoes I was wearing - fairly grippy (Hoka) trail shoes. It was not cold, in fact it was really quite refreshing, especially on the nettle stings I had recently picked up. Almost instantly I knew this was a good choice. I could now go up and downstream, either side (I crossed the ford at my own risk and it was absolutely fine!), with what felt like less risk of a tumble than on the steep bank. It gave me great proximity to the bandies although they weren't too keen on me getting really close - I never felt the need to swap lenses to the macro.

get in there!
risky business on Friday the Thirteenth!

quite a number were perched at the riverside facing the river

great close-up!

The couple of miles back to the station ensured I wasn't getting on the train with squelching pumps. The uppers are a mesh that let water out nearly as quickly as letting it in so my feet felt a bit damp till I got home, but never embarrassingly soaking. I had zero regrets about the immersion in fact it was a delight. I felt like a child again enjoying the forbidden pleasure of going into a river with your shoes on! I had exited the water after about 20~25minutes. I was really enjoying the experience then realised I was only going to get out when I eventually messed up and either sat in the water or had a close call with the camera. It is showerproof but not immersion proof. I had got enough photos and realised I shouldn't push my luck with such an expensive camera. I had taken the precaution of finding a long stout stick which I carried into the water to give me a third point-of-contact while moving about the murky and rocky river. The ford was a riverbed of smooth concrete, the rest was not and I moved with great caution when in the water. In fact when a couple of vehicles crossed the ford I did not risk turning to get a photo of them, as it was exactly the sort of thing that might cause a loss of balance and accident.

Also, before I got in, the last thing I did was fish out a zip-lock poly bag I (I carry for birdfood) and used it to store my MP3 player. If I stumbled and fell in the water I didn't want to fritz my audio-book and music player which I listen to on the train. It also occurred to me that the iPhone in my back pack wouldn't enjoy a dooking. However, that I didn't protect. Maybe because I love my MP3 player more. The water was never over my knees but the fast-ish current and rocky uneven riverbed, all uniformly covered in flowing weeds, took a steady nerve and constant attention.

The feeling I had pushed my luck and got away with it, while enjoying a child-like adventure (and some decent photos of today's prime suspect) was a real buzz. There was a spring in my step as I walked back towards Preston Mill. I gave it a second look just because Richard had mentioned it in relation to his photos. There was a group of tourists being given a chat by someone working there but I dodged by them to scrutinise the riverside vegetation. I saw one female BD on a leaf near the little slipway above the mill. Since I already had wet feet I had no problem walking down the gentle slope into the waters edge. I got a photo or 2 but my feet were disappearing into the deep silty mud. I went deeper thinking it would firm up once into the current but it got immediately more muddy and I quickly retreated before I was kneedeep in sucking sandy mud. My shoes were a bit gloopy but I'd wash them off at the weir along by the road.

BTW I messaged Richard a while later, to swap notes about numbers seen and where, and his description 'Preston Mill' was a general term tied to the nearest landmark, meaning a half mile downstream and on the far bank once you go over the second bridge! Of course I could've and maybe should've checked iRecord! And in honour of that I put my sightings of them on iRecord subsequently.

got these close-ups and retreated
before the mud sucked the shoes off my feet

I had seen a few demoiselles at the broken weir so went back for a second look and to wash my shoes. Getting in and out the water is always the tricky bit but once in, there was a quiet pool with no strong current where I could photo a couple of males who were posing nicely and would return to favourite spots after chasing each other up and down the riverside. I spent another 17minutes (from my gps output) taking photos and wading back and forth in the sunlight. It felt like proper Summer fun.

This one was posing very nicely on this reed. A few seconds after landing they tend to flash their wings. Open and snap close; I think maybe to ensure all 4 are smoothed out and in the right order for take off. I knew this and would try to anticipate the move as they look great with their wings open. I waved my arm and it took off but then landed again, same place. Another flash, another few photos on burst mode. Standing knee deep in water. Rinse and repeat. Did I say that I took more than 1300 pics today? Well worth it though. Sometimes the head was in focus sometimes the wings. The animal detection is great for at least focussing on the non-plants, although sometimes at this distance in dappled light, it doesn't manage to discern the eyes.

Okay it's not going to get better than that. Even though it's tempting to stay until there's only a sprint to the train left. I decided instead, again, to quit while ahead (and still dry!) and leave enough time for the diversion via the new lane I'd discovered - see if the admirals were still there.

they were!

in flight shot

I was so busy with the butterflies I didn't notice this dogwalker coming down the same lane. We almost had to breath in for him to squeeze past. I hadn't seen his approach and he had to say excuse me or something. Caught slightly wrong-footed (lurking at the bottom of peoples' gardens with a long lens camera) I blurted out that there were lots of good butterflies about. He said "uhuh" in such a way as to convey he didn't think I was a weirdo before, but was now definitely considering it. Damn you dogwalker! 😆

behind the coop

I kept an eye on my time as I was keen on getting the 15.09 back to Edinburgh. I even found 2 minutes to call into the Coop and get a BLT sandwich on brown bread. Given I'd not covered double figures in mileage I didn't even check if they had Portuguese Custard Tarts. Let's at least try to keep this responsible. I had 9mins to wait at the platform, which I felt I should have honed down to around 4 max. There is a spot round the back of the Coop on the way to the station where there's some valerian (and buddleia later in the season) where butterflies like to hang.