Sunday 3rd July 2022

It is the pause in the orchid season. The main season is ending, and the helleborine season and the grand finale is around the corner.

In the meantime there is butterflies.

Saturday I ticket the box with the White Letter Hairstreak, and on Sunday it was a return to see the Heath Fritillaries. Because the butterflies thrives in recently coppiced woodland, it is called the Woodsman's Friend, but for conservation it means mimicking the management of woodland to ensure the species survives, because at one point it seemed Heaths migh die out, but KWT have managed Blean Woods very well, and is the best site for them in the country.

And because of the coppicing, it means the best sites for them is different every year.

This year, I asked a friend and was told a clearing was best so far, so I found it on Google and planned to park nearby and walk down a track.

Jools said she was going to do some gardening, so I would go off on my own. The quickest way was round Canterbury, but early on Sunday morning, I should be OK.

We had coffee and a crossant, I grabbed my camera and was off.

Indeed Canterbury was deserted, pretty much. I drove round the inner ring road, past the Castle and St Mildreds, then turning off and over the railway at Canterbury West then up the hill past the University.

I found the parking space, and after deciding the car should be safe, I set off down the track opposite, not knowing really where after this point I should go.

The track turned sharp right, through a small gate and on the left was a large information board with a huge picture of a Heath Fritillary. I was in the right spot.

The meadow/clearing was in front, roped off to protect the caterpillars of the butterfly, but the sign assured all photographers we would have great views. I have seen them before, so knew they liked to bask, so it should have been like shooting fish in a barrel.

What I did see was hundreds, well dozens, of Ringlets, all flying around, getting frisky. Wonderful to see, but not a Heath.

A flash of orange as a butterfly glided overhead. Stand easy! that was a Silver Washed. Close, but no Heath.

I saw two distant Heaths in the sunlight, but too far away to get shots, anyway it was into the light. Not good.

And then a flutter of orange, and I followed a single Heath round and round until it settled beside the path. I got a fine set of shots of the underwing, which is almost as glorious as the upperwings.

A few minutes later another was basking, slightly too far away, but showing its upper wings perfectly. I wouldn't get any better than that. I got my shots and turned for the car.

On the way back I decided to go to Braham to check on the Yellow Birds Nest that have shown well the last three years.

After parking under the old railway bridge, I walked down the track, hoping to see a good show of BLH, but only found three spikes, and one of those had no buds so would not flower this year.

At the end of the track I turned off, and where I expected there to be a host of YBN, there was just leaf litter. Nothing emerging. Nowt.

I walked back to the car, then drove home, s it was now nearly lunch time.

I my drunken state the night before, I had failed to get dinner out of the freezer, so we would have that in the evening.

We finished off the stinky cheese and for me, the half bottle of tripel left in the fridge, giving me the almost impossible task of staying awake through the afternoon.

Dinner was to be Côte de boeuf, cooked at a very low heat and would take three hours to cook, but worth it. I set the oven to gas mark one quarter and popped it in the oven, and soon a fine smell could be detected.

I made a batch of brandy butter, half of which I put on the meat as it was brown after cooking, the rest went into the stir fry.

I also made fried potatoes and garlic mushrooms. There was also fizz.

It was magnificent, the butter sauce making a flavour theme across the meal.

Only problem in cooking at home is the clearing up afterwards. But we got it done, by which time it was eight, and the weekend had nearly slipped by once again.