From Scout Scar escarpment looking down to the Lyth Valley and out to Morecambe Bay

Coming down off Scout Scar, there are several butterfly hotspots and I linger over scabious and hawkweed where common blue butterflies flit over drifts of flowers. A dark green fritillary is so sun-bleached it's lost its rich orange colours.   A small skipper and a meadow brown show close in the scabious favoured of pollinators. Bramble flowers are fading fast- in this prolonged heat-wave flowers bloom and set seed rapidly. Long grass stems woven together with strong silk tell that spiders have been busy.  
There used to be swallows at Bradleyfield Farm and they're much missed.   When insects are flying low the swifts are scooping them up.   Soon they'll be gone.  
How would you describe an English summer? With sunshine and refreshing rain, green fields. England is blessed, was blessed, with an equable  climate- no extremes.  In the hot summer of 1976 I must have been abroad and flown home over drought-parched brown fields.  That summer stands out as an exception. We are neither prepared nor adapted for the change that is upon us, neither us, nor our homes, nor our infrastructure.  Nor is our flora and fauna, our wildlife and our farms.

Looking south west toward Whitbarrow and Morecambe Bay from Scout Scar escarpment

Low cloud and mist flowed off the Irish Sea into the Lyth Valley, once an inlet of the sea. The heights of Whitbarrow peeped above defined cloud.  The faintest hint of a breeze was refreshing.  I had set out at 7.00am, to escape the high temperatures of the afternoon.  Gradually, one or two runners appeared and there was a sense of camaraderie, we had come upon something wonderful.

Yesterday and today indicated temperatures would reach 25 centigrade but they were very different days.  Yesterday the flora of the limestone grassland looked glorious and a gentle breeze made the morning pleasant.
This morning, overnight dew lingered.  Micro-moths were on the wing and meadow brown and ringlet flying low through seeding grasses and flowers.  Crossing Kendal Race Course and heading toward Scout Scar was a trial.  Swifts flew low and I hoped they'd seize the biting horse-flies.  It was not yet 8.00am and the air was hot and humid.
From Scout Scar escarpment, the wonderful vista of summer clouds off the Irish Sea
I saw Common blue butterflies and glimpsed Dark Green Fritillaries but the surprising quality of the day was created by morning dew and mist from the sea. By drifts of deep purple betony, yellow ladies bedstraw and blue scabious. And by seas of seeding grasses woven by arachnids into structures that I puzzled to see how they'd been constructed.
Spiders can somehow draw long grass stems together and bind them.  And there were spiders' nests in the grass, made visible by an atmosphere laden with moisture. 

This summer I've been on Butterfly Conservation field-trips to venues around Morecambe Bay including Latterbarrow, Witherslack, White Scar, and Whitbarrow.  With the Lyth Valley drenched in low cloud I pondered upon the Fritillaries that are a highlight of these locations.

High summer with Common Blue on seeding grasses

Witherslack Estate came into the possession of the Stanley family circa 1485, soon after the battle of Bosworth. Possibly Thomas Stanley swayed the outcome of the battle with a switch of allegiance to his stepson Henry Tudor.  Stanley was created Earl of Derby and rewarded with Witherslack.  His wife, Margaret Beaufort, was the mother of the new king Henry VII, having negotiated his marriage to Elizabeth of York to unite the houses of York and Lancaster.  The focus is power and dynasty- not sure that Margaret Beaufort and Thomas Stanley revelled in Fritillaries in their newly acquired wooded estates. But imagine the biodiversity, and abundance in the late 15th century.  Summer is not what it was, not as I remember childhood summers, not in welcome ways. The heat-wave summer of 1976 is memorable for being an aberration, a one-off. July 2026 sees the third heat-wave of the year, triggering a wave of wild-fires, of unprecedented global range. 98% caused by mankind, either accidentally or deliberately, with devastating destruction to wildlife and the environment.  Kids with fireworks causing serious moorland fires!!! Portable barbecues red hot and abandoned. 
On 7th July 2026 I'm here on a Butterfly Conservation field-trip. We see several Silver Washed Fritillary. We saw High Brown Fritillary  here two years ago, but our experts  do not find them this time. Although the search is on across favoured sites. Howe Ridding Wood and the nearby Latterbarrow are important  for flora and butterflies and we learn of Natural England's work in Howe Ridding Wood to create appropriate habitat. 

12th July Brigsteer Wood 
The wood is sensuous and dream-like, with an aura of mid-summer magic.  Silver Washed Fritillary fly through deep shadows of the woodland-fringe, and out into strong sunlight over banks of bracken with hemp agrimony coming into flower.   A trio of dancing butterflies lives on in my mind's-eye, when photographs fail. They're too distant, too close, too swift in flight.  Circling close about me, tantalising large butterflies with pointed wings in a flash of deep orange. The secret lives of butterflies,  in their domain, in shadow and in bright sunlight, a glimpse of a butterfly alighting on a hazel leaf- gone in a second. They seem to sense my presence, almost brushing against me, never settling.  Wondrous and welcome, unlike the stinging horseflies. 
Each flash of deep orange is a thrill, a possible Silver Washed Fritillary.  Two morph into comma which settle deep in brambles to show their dark  underwing with jagged edge and menacing eye.  But the flight of large Silver Washed Fritillary is distinctive and if sometimes a glance is inconclusive, who cares.  The magic of the wood is everything; the fragrance of water-mint and flora of the herb-layer,  purple loosestrife and yellow-loosestrife,  meadow sweet and greater willow herb.  Resin trickling down tree-bark.  Red admiral alight on the track, meadow brown, ringlet and whites are everywhere. Not only today but now and then,  with memories of summer days here in this wood. 
I’m chased by a black and yellow chaser that circles and circles me.   Look and shoot, that’s all it takes.  But too much technology kills the magic. A ringing phone is intrusive. The latest craze is Meta-glasses but the idea of being photographed unawares and deep-faked is disturbing.
The essence of a mid-summer woodland is not about photographs.  An English woodland, now and then, then and now.  The weather is changing in new and unpredictable ways for which we are unprepared.  If we are heat-stressed, so are butterflies and flowers. So are cattle down in the Lyth Valley. 

High Brown Fritillary

To see a High Brown Fritillary is a rare privilege. To see two, a female followed by a male, is remarkable. The High Brown Fritillary is the UKs most endangered butterfly. It's auto-ecology, its habitat, is precise. The female seeks bracken litter upon which to lay her eggs which will hibernate in the micro-climate it provides. Common dog-violet or hairy violet are the food plants for her caterpillars and must be close by.  Lose the violets, we lose the butterfly so Butterfly Conservation monitors butterflies and ensures violets are present.  
In the last 70 years there's been a dramatic decline in High Brown Fritillary numbers. In flight, it's hard to distinguish Dark Green and High Brown Fritillary. Patterns are intricate. I love the deep rich orange of the upper-wings and the head of the butterfly. Under-wings are paler and more delicate in pattern. 

The first fresh Silver Washed Fritillary are on the wing.  Another stunning Fritillary.  Females lay their eggs under the bark of oak or deciduous trees with common dog violet, the food plant of their caterpillars, close to the base of the trunk.   Butterflies emerge from the shadowy woodland fringe and often the first glimpse is amongst bracken fronds.  A large butterfly with pointed wings. 
Today's Fritillaries are fresh, bright and exquisite. 

Northern Brown Argus can be confused with the Common Blue, Polyommatus Icarus. We saw both today and images of their underwings show the similarity.

Several Tiger moths were on the wing over bracken.  I glimpsed the scarlet under-wing and have a rather blurred image.  The moth settled, wings closed, to show a black and white patterning.
​A Dingy Skipper showed well on self-heal. 
Butterfly Conservation is about creating the precise habitat endangered species need to survive, to thrive.  So ensuring caterpillar food plants, like common dog violet, are present is an important task. And working with farmers to ensure an appropriate cattle-grazing regime. 

​

Six-spot burnet moth, Zygena filipendulae, on scabious

Red and black spells danger, the six-spot burnet moth is aposematic with colours to warn-off a predator. Beware toxins, from caterpillar to moth this species can produce hydrogen cyanide. 
In distinctive buzzing flight the day-flying six spot burnet moth gives glimpses of red and black.  Settled to nectar on scabious,  its fore-wings show  black with red spots.  I've seen moths mating,  together on scabious for well over an hour, so warning colours could help protect them when they're vulnerable to predation.
Wings closed as the moth nectars on a flower, that's the classic field-guide look. Wings open, the hind-wings are bright red with a dark margin.  It's a striking moth.
Six-spot burnet moth, Zygena filipendula. A blog of mid-summer's day 2018 (see link below) shows six-spot burnet, Zygena filipendula, on Dropwort, Filipendula vulgaris which is another flower favoured by the moth when it seeks nectar.  
             Six-spot Burnet Moth 

Out on the limestone grasslands of Scout Scar photographing six-spot burnet I watch a moth seeking nectar on yellow hawkweed, interacting with the flower, changing position.  I'm circling the flower,  watching how sunlight falls upon the moth in fresh angles of incidence, seeing its wings assume sheen and iridescence,  seeing colours modify each moment.  

 With wings closed the moth's black fore-wings may suddenly assume a soft, silvery sheen.  Its clubbed antennae may show blue, as on mid-summer's day 2018. The incidence of light is transient,  as the moth moves, as sunlight strikes it and structural iridescence comes into play, so  colours are constantly modified. Moths and butterflies can confuse predators in this way. On the yellow hawkweed, one red hind-wing appears momentarily orange,  the wing is translucent and yellow petals show through.   Sunlight and shadow also affect how we see moths and butterflies.  I find it fascinating, and beautiful to see the effects of structural iridescence.
For structural iridescence and  Britain's cyanide moths - see link to The Natural HIstory Museum

Toxic talents of Britain's cyanide moths
Natural History Museum
https://www.nhm.ac.uk › discover › toxic-talents-cya
Natual History Museum
Natural Hisory Museu

Raindrops on strands of spide silk over a flush

Yellow flowers of spearwort overhang water. Blades of grass stippled with raindrops reach out around water mint.  Raindrops highlight long silken strands that somehow the spider has cast over dark water.   The image catches the essence of a rainy day.
Vegetation is saturated and cuckoo spit is abundant.  Our feet raise moths like this silver-ground carpet and the micro-moth Aethes cnicana.   There are large, leafy plants of Devlil's-bit scabious and Chris tells us that Marsh Fritillary will be close to their larval foodplant, deep down through a cool and rainy morning.  If this weather lasts they'll be unable to feed so will grow weak. When they do fly their flight will be slower so they'll be vulnerable to predation.
To estimate  Marsh fritillary success we'd need to return in early August to count webs. Last year, there were some 70 webs each with up to 100 caterpillars.  Only 10% will reach adulthood.  Adults will now be close, right down in foliage and very hard to see. The egg stage is quite brief,  the caterpillar stage is long and goes right though winter.   Freshly hatched caterpillars feed and feed. By September they're a centimetre long .  With autumn weather all the caterpillars go right down to ground level and enter hibernation, staying together as a mass almost at the surface level  of the soil. Their communal webs shrink right down into a mass, a black ball. They live together at ground level, so low down that even the long tongues of grazing cattle will not rip up too many, most will survive. Cattle grazing (the right number) opens up vegetation and allows Devil's-bit scabious to thrive the following year.  On a warm and sunny day in January and February  caterpillars would rise above their silken thread and little black masses can be seen in mid-winter if it's warm and sunny.  If it grows cold they'll retreat down to soil level and will repeat this pattern depending on the weather until the end of March beginning of April when it's warm enough for them to come up and have a really good feed to complete instars.   If they get to the third instar they'll go right through 4,5, 6 then pupate mid to late April. Pupil and egg stage are quite short. The caterpillar stage is long and extends right through winter. 
I've seen the butterfly and hope to return in August to see webs and caterpillars.  I saw Marsh fritillary for the first time in late May last year and began to learn about their secret lives.  The butterfly has a single brood and this is peak-flight time.  The thistles they feed on are only just coming into flower, synchronicity is key.

Mining bee

Mining bees responded to bursts of sunlight on a day of louring cloud, flying over entrance holes the colony had burrowed in soft soil mid-track, quickly disappearing below ground.  On my second day of bee-watch I felt the rhythm of their behaviour and was poised to photograph the moment a bee approached its entrance. If I listened intently I could just catch the vocalisation of hovering bees.
Some years at this season, in warm dry weather,  neat holes appear at intervals on the track where there's a south-facing slope.  1st June saw rain much of the day, sometimes heavy showers, so what happens to the colony then? Holes appear, then they're gone. Soil all around their entrances has been finely worked, with little mounds made during excavation.  What we see and what we do not see. The bees are colonial, communicating with each other, somehow working together- so do those entrances link up and is there an underground chamber- what's the structure? And if they store pollen, have eggs and larvae, will other insects predate them-  one or two ants show in my images.

Every man and his dog who walked this way at the end of May must have walked through these colonies of mining bees. I wonder how many noticed them.  Often, walkers detoured to avoid us, mid-track and intent on studying bee behaviour.  Being mid-thoroughfare does not seem to trouble the bees and they went about their business seemingly undisturbed by our presence.  Tiny bees, hovering low over their holes,  the buzzing sound so faint you'd  only hear it if you stopped to study them.

The mining bees have black wings and antennae, a bright yellow abdomen and yellow legs.  Their bodies seem dusted with pollen. It's suggested they're hawthorn bees and the shrub is common beside the track, flowers now somewhat fading.  I have not seen them foraging and they're so tiny they'd be hard to spot. 
On Saturday I photographed tiny, slender bees, perhaps males.  Next day, Sunday, I think I have the females- larger and with a larger, yellow abdomen. 
Are they mining bees, or leaf-cutters?  ID is challenging.
I wonder if they attract predation. I notice a few ants close by.
​Up on Scout Scar escarpment the sky grew dark, with louring clouds.  Hoary rock rose is heliotropic, its flowers closing until the sun shines.  Common rock rose is at its most abundant and lavish, flowers fully open. So the two species are easy to distinguish on such a day.
Close by the track were about four fly orchid. And a few mountain everlasting fully open, some budding and to come.  

Painted lady on the way to Scout Scar

Go back a decade at this season and my archive shows a wealth of butterflies on Scout Scar, both greater abundance and diversity. Today is remarkable, but different.  Painted lady and small heath are the only species I'm certain of, probably dingy skipper. I saw some forty or more painted ladies during the hours I was on the Scar.
As soon as I was on the footpath crossing Kendal Race Course a painted lady fluttered about me and settled on dried mud on the track.  And I had a painted lady escort of fresh buttterflies all the way to the escarpment. Not fresh, different.  Last week's heat-wave, the hottest May on record, had taken its toll. Wings were faded, worn and ragged.  They were dispersed across Scout Scar and Helsington Barrows, most were single butterflies. I returned across the Race Course via the footpath to the milestone. The sheep disappeared before lambing time and there are drifts of butterflies and pignut.  Accompanied by painted ladies,  confidence in identifying them at a glance in flight grows quickly. I'd had hours of being surrounded, knew them to be often faded, under-wings pale.  
In a place one knows and loves there are seasonal rhythms, patterns one looks for.  When yellow hawkbit, hawkweed and hawksbeard come into flower I've often found glossy green beetles.  Last year, I searched and searched and could not find one. Today, I saw several. They're Cryptocephalus Hypochaeridis Last Sunday on Latterbarrow we were all seeking to understand why there were few butterflies. Today, I'm puzzling over what I'm finding. 

The flora of the escarpment edge is lavish.  Hoary rock rose is overtaken by common rock rose which is now profuse, and last longer.  Often, flowers on the rocky edge become sun-burnt and fade fast, like the rue-leaved saxifrage, now a hint of withered red below a mass of lovely common rock rose.  The first dropwort appear, always their loveliest when the plant has pink buds and fresh white flowers. 
The stony track is dry so solar-powered painted ladies take the sun on hot rock.  Where the track is uneven, a mix of small rocks and earth, there are clusters of neat holes made by mining bees.  I stop to watch tiny black and yellow bees hovering, then touching down and swiftly vanishing into a hole, a yellow bee-bum the last you see of them.  Looking closely, I see the soil all around their series of holes has been finely worked.  A  man with two dogs approaches and I tell him of the bees, to protect both. He hadn't noticed although he must have walked through earlier colonies.  
What we see and what we do not see.  I watch bees disappearing below ground but do not see them emerging. They're tiny, as my smudgy images suggest. I look them up but I'm still not sure which species they are.  Perhaps they're working the fine soil as I watch but they're so tiny I doubt I'd see that.   
All this, right before us.  There is so much to discover and to delight in.  After a May Bank Holiday with Radio 4 sharing a slew of tales of woe with airport delays with long queues for biometric data-gathering, diversions caused by passengers endangering flights,  well - Flying is a questionable good for us, and certainly does no good to the planet