Butterflies

Welcome. You have alighted upon my butterflies blog. Meet my little friend, the heath fritillary. More about him/her in a while. 

the heath fritillary i

I have been re-reading Gerald Durrell's entertaining Corfu Trilogy recently and thought I'd share with you this beautifully evocative passage of butterfly prose from 'Birds, Beasts and Relatives':

"Summer gaped upon the island like the mouth of a great oven. Now was the time for butterflies and moths. In the day, on the hillsides, which seemed sucked free of every drop of moisture by the beating sun, you would get the great languid swallow-tails, flapping elegantly and erratically from bush to bush; fritillaries, glowing almost as hot and angry an orange as a live coal, skittered quickly and efficiently from flower to flower; cabbage whites, clouded yellows; and the lemon-yellow-and-orange brimstones bumbled to and fro on untidy wings. Among the grasses the skippers, like little brown furry aeroplanes, would skim and purr; and on glittering slabs of gypsum the red admirals, as flamboyant as a cluster of Woolworth jewellery, would sit opening and closing their wings as though expiring from the heat."

That was an observation from some ninety years ago, pre WWII and before the advent of intensive farming and the introduction of pesticides, changes which have done much to reduce butterfly species and populations quite drastically on a worldwide level, particularly in the more industrialised parts of the planet.

In the UK, where butterflies are one of the most comprehensively monitored insect taxa in the world, thanks to the UK Butterfly Monitoring Scheme, there are extensive data on species distribution and population abundance dating back to the 1970s. Of the 63 species of butterflies recognised as common to this country, four have become extinct in the last fifty years, and populations of many of the remaining 59 are in steady or steep decline. In fact 30 species are now on the Red (endangered) List.

However, there is some good news. Nearly a quarter of the species monitored have made something of a comeback in recent years, since farmers started leaving wild margins around fields and thanks to various targeted conservation projects around the British Isles.

That brings me back to my little friend, the heath fritillary. One of the rarest of British butterflies, the heath fritillary (also known as “the woodman’s follower” because it was commonly found in woods that were traditionally coppiced), was on the verge of extinction in the early 1980s. Its last stronghold, on Exmoor, had declined due to a lack of woodland management over decades. Surviving in a few pockets of the south-west, annual counts once detected as few as four surviving heath fritillaries. However, timely intervention by the National Trust and Butterfly Conservation have brought it back from the brink through targeted conservation work on Exmoor. Dedicated habitat management of woodlands and heath has restored the conditions that allow this particular butterfly to rebuild its population. 

Numbers are still not huge, but they are steadily increasing, up 14% last year and double what they were a decade ago. Heath fritillaries have also been re-introduced into other areas of the south of England (in Devon's Tamar Valley and near Whitstable in Kent) where conditions are deemed to be favourable. The total UK population is now into the low thousands.

the heath fritillary ii

What these butterflies require in terms of habitat is quite niche: wooded margins on the edge of heathland, where coppicing has created glades that allow a particular plant, common cow-wheat to grow. It is on this plant that the adults lay their eggs and on which their caterpillars feed exclusively. It has also been found that introducing red Devon cattle to graze these areas helps to keep bracken down, fertilises the ground and helps common cow-wheat to thrive. Now more of the woods in the south-west are being coppiced, in an attempt to allow heath fritillary populations to expand out of their few strongholds.

A National Trust area ranger on Exmoor explained: “The benefit of working across such a big landscape – rather than just on our own land – means we can create more habitats, and crucially, connect them up so the butterflies can move between suitable areas. This 'network effect' will make the population more resilient in the long-term, and help the species to recolonise local sites where it had once become extinct.”

common cow-wheat

However, good land management is not the only factor involved. This country's unpredictable weather can also play a significant role. An exceptionally warm and sunny spring this year prompted the heath fritillary to emerge two to three weeks earlier than usual. The National Trust Area Ranger added: “We’re really pleased to be seeing such healthy numbers of heath fritillaries at Holnicote this year – it’s a real testament to the dedication of our teams, volunteers and partners who have spent a huge amount of time since the 1980s understanding and caring for the needs of this vulnerable species. But the early emergence is a mixed blessing. If unsettled weather follows, it could cut short the butterfly’s flight season and disrupt its life cycle. It’s a reminder of how delicately balanced nature is and how climate extremes can threaten even our most carefully managed landscapes.”

Good luck, my little friend. May you continue to thrive. 

coppiced Exmoor woodland

The first ever public Big Butterfly Count took place in 2010. Launched and run by the afore-mentioned wildlife charity Butterfly Conservation, it has become an annual UK-wide survey of butterflies, and by extension it serves as a health check on our wider environment. Everyone can take part and it’s completely free. All you need to do is spend 15 minutes in a sunny spot outdoors and record the number and type of butterflies you see.

I realise the timing of this blog is not great, as this year's big butterfly count has been running since 18th July and ends tomorrow, 10th August. If you've missed it this time around, watch out for it in 2026. And in the meantime everyone can do their bit by introducing butterfly-friendly plants into their gardens, and maybe leaving parts to grow a little bit wild, for the winged things. Thank you.

This latest poem has its genesis in a recollection from the long, hot summer of 1976 when I was living in Exeter. I didn't make the journey down today for Blackpool's embarrassing 4-1 defeat. The less said about that, the better. The butterflies have it.

Like Tiffany Lamps

Field glasses, flasks of coffee, folding chairs,

my best girl  by my side, out early in still air

shortly after sunrise on Exmoor woodland to

spot a butterfly so rare, it might be a rumour.

We creep in the cool of what will prove a very

hot day, set up silent station in a clearing with

common cow-wheat, favoured by caterpillars, 

showing yellow in pale slanting light. We wait,

whisper about that petrified forest we failed to

find, about prospective teaching jobs, whether

fate might be kind enough to let us be together

and suddenly there they are, a subtle fluttering

in shafting sun, rising in kaleidoscopic clouds,

heath fritillaries, two dozen, maybe more, with

mottled dots on mosaic wings, a drifting dance

above the woodland floor. We watch entranced.  

"They're just like Tiffany lamps", you say, and 

I take your word for it, never having seen one, 

though I store the phrase away in memory for

a poem I might write later, after the extinction. 

Thanks for reading, S ;-)