No Filter Caterpillar

This week's post is going to be a simple, straight-down-the-barrel, amateur naturalist one. There will be no underlying themes, or thoughtful conclusions. Just a quick glance at a bit of seasonal nature, then that's 2015's blog done and dusted, and we can relax back to watching Christmas TV and eating mince pies.

This is a caterpillar. A very luminous caterpillar. No filters were applied.

Halloween Butterflies

Untidy Spider Web

It being Halloween I was going to write a post about the veil slipping between the two worlds, why our ancestors felt the dead came back to haunt us in Autumn, and make other profound observations on the meaning of life.

Instead I'm going to talk about a more cheery topic: butterflies.

As I sat in the garden this morning composing sentences around the funerary rights of Neolithic ancestors (a fascinating topic perhaps left for another post) three large butterflies swooped around the last remaining buddleia flowers.

Were they the spirits of the dead?

Probably not.

These large hairy butterflies are Red Admirals, which are one of the few species still flying in October.

Did you know they aren't native butterflies? Gasp! Don't tell UKIP.

They come over from Europe in spring, lay their eggs, hang around for a bit, then start flying back in late summer. Which means there are increased numbers of them down south this time of year.

Unfortunately, some try to hibernate here, but it is too cold and they invariably perish.

These three better get a shift on then. France is a long way down.

Ahead Of The Game

Goodness I’m good at this nature blogging lark. Two articles in today’s newspapers touch on topics I’ve already written about. They have, however, expressed them far more eloquently than I, but still, it’s nice to be part of the zeitgeist.

Today in The Independent Michael McCartney reveals his passion for butterflies but worries these days this may be seen as a little ‘soft’.

“For a start, professing such an enthusiasm runs counter to the prevailing tone of our age, which is subversive. We like statements to be wry, knowing or ironic, we like them to be cool, so something as pathetically simplistic as an open admiration of natural beauty is just asking to be shot down”

Yesterday I said,

“I wonder if it is because their [ie. butterflies] beauty lends them an aura of femininity, which encourages uneasiness in reporters and campaigners.”

It is certainly interesting that a high profile reporter of the natural world is feeling the same thing. He goes on,

“Further, I think that admiring beauty has become itself suspect. Beauty is regarded as elitist: why bear it such tribute when so much more of the world demands our attention?”

Again I agree. For some time I have been wondering why the public are being urged to grow vegetables in their gardens. Yes, it’s a fun thing to do, and veg. grown in your own garden tastes far superior to that bought from a supermarket, but what is wrong with spending your efforts on creating beauty and peace in your own garden? It is as if we must atone for having the good fortune in having a garden by making it useful; making it pay its way. Valuing normal suburban gardens in terms of functionality alone is a dangerous path to travel.


My other insight involves teabags. We may not be able to save the world by growing vegetables but we can by putting our teabags in the green bin.

The Guardian reports that Unilever, who make PG Tips, have teamed up with the recycling organisation Wrap to promote a campaign in Chelmsford and Brentwood Councils to encourage people to compost their teabags or put them in the recycling bin instead of chucking them in the general bin which goes to landfill.

If you recall from my post on food waste (I know you pay close attention to every missive) I did find teabags were the major occupier of my little kitchen top box. They take up the greatest volume and weight of any other food item thrown away.

Of course I’m now feeling smug because I do the ‘right’ thing with my teabags, but let’s face it, redirecting teabags is a much easier than growing veg.

A Pokemon in the Garden

My son would have loved a Pokémon like this.

This week is Save Our Butterflies week as championed by Butterfly Conservation.

This magical creature visited Garden 65 on the 3rd of May. Everything about him is so beautiful he could have been designed: the amazing blue of his wings, the white furry body, striped antennae, and those big eyes. He is like a little gift from The Great Clockmaker.

Butterflies tend to be visible in this garden later in the year when they are attracted to the Buddleia, so this butterfly was a surprise, but that is only because I don’t know anything about butterflies ... he turns out to be a Holly Blue who emerges in early spring before many other butterflies. It is gratifying in terms of nature working like clockwork that there is indeed a huge holly tree in my next door neighbour’s garden. On the other hand he is the only one I have seen so far.

Currently bee conservation is drawing a lot of media attention, and hysteria from the eco-people. My Twitter timeline is full of people warning of the apocalyptic consequences of bee population collapse, and urging me to sign petitions. The advantage bees have is that, apart from looking like flying teddy bears, they are vitally important to our own survival in that we need pollinated plants to eat. Consequently the scientific and political realms are spending money and effort in exploring the issue of bees both wild and domestic.

Butterflies, however, seem to receive less attention, comparatively speaking at least. Their presence in the landscape is an important indicator of the health of the environment. They are like the canaries in the mine. We may not directly be reliant on them, but if they cannot flourish around us then our world must be in decline in some way. But, although I see people growing butterfly friendly plants, butterflies appear less in the national media. I wonder if it is because their beauty lends them an aura of femininity, which encourages uneasiness in reporters and campaigners. Of course much vital work is being done by Butterfly Conservation, UK Butterflies, and the like. I am not criticising these groups. The point I am trying to make is does an animal or even a whole landscape need to have a masculine character to receive attention and funding? For example, compare the visibility of The Woodland Trust to that of The Grassland Trust who champions more fragile environments. Are people more likely to worry about a grass or an oak?

Thinking of Future Visitors

I do like doing a good bit of research; cross-referencing is a kind of heaven for me. I've been thinking lately about how I would like the garden to develop. Japanese style order does hold a lot of appeal. I love the severely rectangular pond with its backing of airy bamboo that my mum and dad helped me make for my 40th birthday (what? you thought this blog was written by a young'un? No, middle-age and gardening are inseparable. But it may be time to accept I'm situated in dull and wet Manchester, 'The Sponge of Mordor', as I like to mumble under my breath. Hence, the logic goes, wouldn't it be easier and more naturalistic to plant plants that are native to this area, and therefore encourage vigorous growth and attract the local bees and butterflies that are apparently so in need of food?


The Natural History Museum holds a fantastic database of the plants local to your area: 'The Postcode Plants Database. Cross-referencing this list with one of the 100 best butterfly nectar plants from Butterfly Conservation, together with a report of butterfly sightings by the Cheshire and Peak District branch of Butterfly Conservation provided hours of endless fun. My desk is covered with spreadsheets and tables and scribbled notes.


You don't have to be in the garden to derive pleasure from it. But if I do work in it and plant the right plants perhaps The Gatekeeper would honour me with a visit.

Image from Butterfly Conservation