The Kentish Orchid season 2020 (part 4)

Today would have been a rest day anyway, but we have killed the cross trainer, so we will have to walk, walk until our legs fall off.

But I hope it won't come to that.

So, with 17 days (count 'em) days to fill, how best to start. I thought about it, though not too long, and Jools was stunned to learn we would be hunting orchids.

It was going to be a perfect summer day for orchiding; sunny and light winds. As it is near the end of the season, choices are limited, so it was going to be Helleborines. Perfect place was The Larches near Maidstone, then nip back along the A2 to hunt for more Helleborines, and maybe Yellow Bird's Nest near Barham.

Sounded perfect.

We left at eight, driving through the town and up the A20 to Folkestone, then up the motorway to Maidstone. Traffic flowed well, and we made good time. I was in high spirits, the radio played cool tunes and I was already anticipating what we might see on our walk.

We pulled off the A249, down the quiet country lane, parking at the entrance to the reserve. There was no other people about.

Perfect.

I have to admit to a little cheating, I had seen members of the group posing shots from the reserve, so I knew some were in flower, so the journey was never going to be wasted, but how many, and would there be any nice rarities? Part of the fun is the anticipation, walking through the woodland, on the track, sloping downhill, and the first glimpse of the meadow beyond.

First up was a diversion to look for the Yellow Bird's Nests, a parasitic plant that had shown here two years in a row, but this year; nothing.

So, back to the meadow.

Jools said to go up the soth side, then in the top gate as last time she found several BLH spikes, so we would see if any were in flower. One was, though in deep shade as it was still morning, and the spike was waiting for the sun to move round to the west. Its colours were muted, but the spike tightly packed with flowers, with the obligatory drunken wasp staggering from one flower to the other.

Further on, in the bright sunshine, just a handful of spikes were partially open, and numbers of total spikes is well don on last year. So I take shots of the few that were out, including one spike that had been damaged twice during emerging so it was in the shape of a letter zed.

We walk back, crowds of butterflies, wasps and crickets flutter and scamper before us, back to the paddock gate and the path back to the car.

The only other call was at Barham on the way back, to check on the woodland BLH and look against for the rare Yellow Bird's Nest. A parasitic plant which is very rare. It showed down a track last year, a friend stumbled across it, and the colony seemed too large to just fade after one season.

We park down a narrow lane, and after putting the ring flash on the camera, we walk down a dark bridleway, into the gloom of a beech wood, searching on both sides for Broad Leaved Helleborines. We find some pikes, most at least two weeks away from flowering, which wasn't that surprising after what we saw at the first site.

I had just about given up on the Yellow Bird's Nest, when poking through some thick leaf litter was the unmistakeable shapes of the "Dutchman's Pipes". There was about a hundred spikes, many still emerging like the periscope of a small yellow submarine.

I lay down to get shots, as I do, a woman walks past asking if I was OK. I explain I was photographing a rare plant. "That's nice". And walked off.

We go back to the car and drive back to the A2 and then to Dover and home, as it was getting near to lunch time, and the snakes were complaining. The snakes in our stomachs (bigger than worms)!

And to ruin my day, Norwich were up to play at half twelve, against West Ham, and needing to win to avoid being relegated that day.

Let me say, it did not go well. With the season resting on the game, Norwich went to pieces, conceded four, and that was that. As I wrote yesterday, we knew it was going to happen, at least the pain will stop now.

I went to see Jools in the garden, and the sun was shining, the birds singing. Football isn't everything.

Which I knew.

We had lunch, calzone pizza, which was something of an experiment, but came out OK, because pizza.

So, at six we went to Jen's to play cards, picking up John on the way.

Life is returning to normal, and yet is a long way from normal. We want to go to Belgium, but should we? Is it allowed for a day trip? We don't know.

We play on, Jools wins everything. I mean scoops the small pots on Queenie, and then takes the massive pot for the four-in-a-row run pot.

We drive home, dropping John off.

We stop off on the down above the house to stare into the northern skies to look for the new comet, Neowise. I look and look, and see a smudge in the sky, so I decide I want to take shots of it. So, Jools takes us back down the hill to the house. I put the big lens on the camera, find the tripod and we drive back up the hill.

So we stand beside the main road as cars motor by at sixty as I take a series of underwheming shots. I know what I did wrong, and will go back tonight.

But the comet hung in the sky like a spectral bride with her train being blown in the solar wind for millions of miles. It hangs there while the sky turns behind it.

July 18th: more BLH:

My inner weatherman deemed it a good day for macro photography.

Yay, I hear you all cry.

It was a fine, clear and still morning. Perfect.

We have coffee and are out of the house by quarter past seven, driving up the motorway to Ashford then across the Marsh to Warehorne, as I wasn't going to give up on seeing my 40th UK butterfly species, the White Letter Hairstreak.

We cross over the level crossing and park near the canal, grab my camera and was all excited, we were here at eight, should be the ideal time to spot butterflies.

Under the railway bridge, and on the left, the first of several bramble patches, and the Hairsteaks should be there.

I look.

I look.

I walk down to the next two or three patches.

Walk back.

Most of the expected species are there, except one. Can you guess which one?

Yes. Bloody Hairstreak.

And to make matters worse, the breeze was building, though in the lea of the brambles it was calm, no self respecting Hairstreak would leave their honeydew at the top of their elm tree to come down to the brambles in this wind!

I call Jools to walk back to the car, defeated again.

We drive back to Ashford, where the traffic is building, and there are lane closures past the new lorry park for Brexit.

Sigh.

It was good to get through that and onto the motorway, drive up the twenty or so miles to Maidstone, then up Detling Hill to Pilgrims Way, just off the main road, but in a sleepy corner of Kent.

You can always reply on orchids, they don't fly away or hide in tree tops.

Yes. back at The Larches, because Helleborines. And all Broad Leaved. Even if every spike looks different.

As we walked through the wood, the bright sunshine looked as though it was going to fail me, and the half hour trip from Warehorne was going to be a waste, but soon the breeze cleared the clouds, and I was left with almost perfect macro snapping conditions.

We walked up the path beside the meadow, and on both sides we saw new spikes unfurling all the way up.

Into the meadow, and straight away there are more and more spikes, being later than last time we were here, so many more in sunshine, and what a selection to choose from! I quickly spot something unusual, and very pale spike and being so pale it was a good var. viridiflora.

Further along the path we come to more and more spikes, until under the middle tree, there were spikes everywhere. Yes, the site is more overgrown than last year, but the orchids are loving it, even if they are hard to snap. BUt whatever, there is always another tempt me to get the camera out.

I see something odd on a spike of Viper's Bugloss, and what I thought was a bit of bird poo turned out to be a pair of Burnet Moths mating. I snap them. Several times.

We walk back down the other path beside the meadow, and even there we find dozens more spikes, and even more disappearing into the gloom of the wood. Some are real monsters, three feet tall or more.

And that is that. Back to the car, back down Detling Hill to the motorway and home, going via Stop 24 to refuel and get some snacks, a couple of chicken wraps to munch on the way home, to tide us over until we got home.

There is football on the radio, half a Championship round of matches, felt almost like a "normal" Saturday, other than it is in July, and there were no Prem, League 1 or 2 games. There is even the familiar sounds of Sports Report at five,. By then we had eaten lunch, burgers. And a beer. Which explained my struggles with staying awake.

At half five, Norwich were playing, live on TV of course, as all torture should be. But we were off to play cards, picking John up on the way. When we got to his house, he was chatting to a lady in a bikini, the old fox!

And to Jen's, where her Mum has an infection, and is having visions. Mainly of people in the living room and her teeth on the ceiling. Jen has got her some antibiotics, and so we hope some kind or normality will return. But for the night, Bet slept off the drugs, sound asleep and made no noise for over four hours, and the TV went unwatched.

And finally into August, with the Fat Lady clearing her throat:

Sunday.

A day of rest.

Not when there's orchids and butterflies to chase.

Oh no.

I am Admin for a Kentish Orchid group on Faceache, and from time to time, when there isn't a global pandemic on, I arrange meet ups to see orchids. And afterwards we talk about orchids some more.

And more.

And, as hard it is to believe, Jools decided not to come on the trip on Sunday. A walk in te woods, along sun-dappled paths was less tempting than working in the garden.

We get up, and already outside it is a fine morning, sun shining and all that.

We have a coffee, breakfast of fruit and another coffee.

I make a list of people who said they would be attending, it has two names. Plus me.

Three.

So at eight fifteen, I leave the house to drive up the A2 to Barham, then down Black Robin Lane, past the Black Robin and turn right to the railway bridge. I am half an hour early, which means there is time to hunt along the bridleway to see how the Yellow Birds Nest are doing, as hunt for the mythical Ghost Orchid, though there is little to no chance of finding it, but looking doesn't hurt.

There is deep leaf little everywhere, and all along the waxy white stalk of a ghost might be poking through. Only it isn't. There is no sign of a Ghost, not surprising as it has never been found in Kent, but it is possible they could be, by a keen-eyed international man of mystery and quality expert. If you know such a person, let me know.

Back to the car and the first of the others has arrived. We swap news, and he had been asked by others in the group regarding my Faceache name, Bishop Brian Jones: was I a real Bishop? I was dressed in an Alien t shirt from Last Exit, grubby cargo pants and dirty walking shoes. I had not had a shave for a week.

I am not a Bishop I admit.

And my name is not Brian Jones either.

Alison also turns up, we swap more news and then drive in convoy to the wood. When we arrive there are two motorhomes set up and the people inside are just up making a brew. And we turn up, fill up the rest of the hard standing with our cars, make all sorts of noise getting our gear out, and setting off into the wood.

Good luck one of them calls out.

We need no luck in finding them, just that at least one spike will be open.

Up the narrow path. Narrow now as the undergrowth both sides nearly meets in the middle. Good that they trust me.

Up the slop to the main part of the wood, the huge beech tower above us, and the woodland floor between them have scattered ferns and bracken, and helleborines we hope.

As we round a slight bend, I see the first spike sticking up in the middle of the path. Despite the passing of several motorcycles, judging by the tracks, one of the pikes was undamaged, so far, but not open.

I check the usual suspects, and they are all still closed spikes.

I leave the others and go to hunt down the group beside the meeting of paths, and even they were still closed.

I walk back through the trees, and don't see the other two at first. I do see them standing over something, Richard had found an open spike, and they were getting shots.

Yes!

I set up the tripod, but on the camera, and must have flicked a switch with my finger and turned the camera onto video mode. I struggle with sweat dripping into my eyes, and not having my glasses to find the switch to turn it back.

Minutes pass.

I find the switch, put the camera back on the tripod.

And I snap away, flash firing on every shot.

We search all spikes we could find, and no others were open.

Sigh.

Oh well, we got one.

Back at the car, the campers were cooking bacon. Bastards. Richard and Alison were going to go to Queensdown Warren to hunt butterflies and ALTs. I was going to go back to Temple Ewell to hunt for Silver Spotted Skippers. We say our goodbyes and I drive back to the A2, then back to Lydden and Temple Ewell.

I swing my camera over my shoulder and set off up the path, first looking at the lower meadow for Adonis Blues, but find none, but there were a few other blues about, mostly Chalkhills.

Up the wooded path, and a Holly Blue settled on a leaf beside the path, I could get a shot, so do.

Up and out onto the down, and the search begins.

I meet another snapper who tells me that the meadow the other side of the gate has loads, he had been with a pair for half an hour. I go to investigate.

I meet a couple form north Kent, the guy is called Ewan, he had never seen a Silver Spotted Skipper. He also likes an orchid, had I seen any ALTs here? A week too early I think I say. He says he had seen a spike snapped at Queensdown Warren on the Kent Orchid group on Facebook the previous day.

Oh, I run a Kentish Orchid group on Facebook I say.

There is two.

Oh, what is your name he asks.

Bishop Brian Jones.

Oh, you're him!

He later goes to describe me as orchid royalty. I doubt that very much.

We sit at the top of the meadow looking down, there is a carpet of flowers, with dozens, if not hundreds, of blue butterflies on the wing, looking for food and love. The sun is shining, there is little wind. It is perfect.

But we are here to hunt skippers. And I see none.

I could have talked to them all day, but back home Jools would be thinking of dinner, and I had invited Jen. Apparently.

So, I bid them farewell, walk back up the down, into the lower paddock, but taking my time walking on the slopes above the path.

I see something different; a small brownish butterfly, flapping its wings twich as hard as the blues. So I follow it.

It settled on the edge of a bank, I creep up and take three shots. It was a Silver Spotted. Not a great shot, but I got one.

Back down the hill to the car, then along to Whitfield Hill and to home.

August 8th:

It am the weekend.

And a whole weekend with the kittens. And cats.

The vet says the kittens are between 2 and 3 years, I think they are less than a year. But they are thin. And hungry.

And the bigger problem is that the bathroom is hot during the day. I man like a sauna. So for the day there is an alternative, to have them in Jools' "office, next to the bathroom. It also faces south, but has curtains and blinds, and more stuff to climb over and explore, and Jools and I can take turns in kitty-sitting.

But first, there is orchids. Always orchids.

Last year I found a colony of ALTs up on Temple Ewell Down, and with the season being advanced this year, I could hunt for them and try for more shots of the Silver Spotted Skippers. And Jools decided she wasn't going to come for the walk up.

So after coffee I load up with camera and macro lens, and drive to the old George and Dragon in Temple Ewell, parking behind, and afterwards, shouldering the camera gear and climbing up the down, dodging the dog shit in bags and smeared on the path. Lovely.

Once I am at the top, in open ground, I begin to look for orchids, as it seemed to early for butterflies. After 5 minutes I find one spike, and a hundred yards further along, a second.

Last week I talked to a guy who said many more skippers could be seen in the next paddock, so I walk over and am confronted with a carpet of wildflowers: scabious, ragwort, wild carrot and others, and all round a blue mist of butterflies. Mostly Chalkhills, but a few Common Blues and a single male Adonis, as well as Meadow Browns, Small Heath, and Gatekeepers.

Above, the sun went behind a cloud, and a few rain drops fell, that wasn't part of the plan.

I walk back over to the fence line, and I see more orchids. Lots of orchids. Singles, doubles, triples, spikes four inches high. I just needed the sun to shine to get shots.

So, I sit and wait Dog walkers pass above me, and I just watch the butterflies around me. I had found a very nice triple spike, set up the shot, just needed that sunshine.

In time it came, and I got shots.

And on the way back up the down I finally see a small Silver Spotted. It settles in the grass, and i creep closer, sure it would fly off. But it doesn't. I get close enough so it is filling the frame. And take a final series before heading back down to the car to home.

And back home the kittens were in their new prison, and finding the book shelves and folded curtain material rich for climbing and making beds. Jools and I took turns to sit with them, but they curled up on the top of the shelves and went to bed. So we left them to it, and tried to find somewhere cool.

And the final orchiding hunt of the year, bringing the curtain down:

We woke up to the sound of several fog horns.

Dover for one.

Not sure if South Foreland still has one still, but two more distant ones could be heard sounding. Maybe Calais and Dunkirk? One thing for sure was that it was a grey and dull start, but that was to change quickly.

Just as well as I had an orchid meet planned for 90:00, and after that, maybe a walk up the downs too.

As long as the weather would play ball. I mean in this summer of endless sunshine, or pretty much like that here in east Kent, typical then for today to be so grim.

We have breakfast, and get ready to be out of the house by twenty past seven.

Weather improving.

We load the car, though I have no plans to take shots at Barham, as there are only so many shots of Violet Helleborines you need, he said in August though would feel different in three months in the middle of November.

Off to the A2 and on to Barham, turning off past the Black Robin and parking under the old railway bridge to wait for the others to arrive.

Although the bridge is a substantial structure, it is hard to think that a few decades ago, trans would be labouring over it, climbing towards Canterbury on the Elham Valley Line. The trackbed is now overgrown and not recognisable as once being a railway. The houses in its shadow are now in an area of peace and calm, except when orchidists come to meet off before driving off.

The group assemble, I take a register of attendees, and all those who said they were coming had arrived, so at five past nine we drove off in a five car convoy to the orchid site. Horses had to get out of the way as we drove at sensible speeds. And once arrived at the hard standing, we find no one was there camping, and so we have it to ourselves. We fill it up with our cars

And up the path into the heart of the woods, overgrown on both sides, due to it being high summer. Up the slope to the beechwood, and after a few minutes, I pointed to four spikes pointing to the canopy at the base of a tree.

The group take turns to snap the group, but there are more, I say.

Most groups are now going to seed, with only the top portion of each spike in any state to snap. But there is the old dependable group, the one which used to be the first to flower, but now seems to be the last. I go to seek it out, and there are three fine spikes, all in their peak to snap.

I call the others over and they are delighted.

It is now the end of the season, and after the VJ there is just the ALTs, and this year they are very early indeed. IN some previous years, I have had to wait for the end of September for spikes to set seed, this year it will be next weekend, at least up on Temple Ewell Down.

Four of the group said they were more than happy to go to Temple Ewell, so we bid farewell to the others, and drive to the A2, then along to Lydden and down to Temple Ewell.

As ever, there is the climb through the wood to the treeless down, and once through the gate, all around were butterflies, including two Silver Spotted Skippers landed on cat's ears in front of me, allowing me to snap them.

All around were Adonis and Common Blues, as well as Chalkhills, Small Heaths, Meadow Browns, but it seems that the Marbled Whites had finally finished.

Up and up we went, through the next gate, then down to where las week I had seen dozens of ALT spikes. But a week later, spikes were few and far between, but we see enough to satisfy the others. And on my way back up to walk back to the car, I see a massive spike, some six or seven inches high, and graced with a fine spiral of flowers.

I call the others to look, then declare the season over.