Monday, June 15, 2020
Mid-afternoon I set off on a daft quest - to relocate the bee hawk-moth I'd seen yesterday. Greger gave me a lift up to the walkers' car park which cut out the street walk and the initial steepish climb of the quarry road.
It was a still, sultry sort of day, and I walked quite fast as time was limited. What with the steady ascent and several hot flushes (20 years and still counting) I was soon wringing wet; still, I thought, at least with social distancing no-one will be getting close if I start to pong!
Arriving at the spot where I saw it, I started to look around for the insect and for the plants it nectars on. There was plenty of lousewort hidden in the heather but I searched for some time with no luck. However, I did see a couple of butterfly orchids just emerging - on ground that is grazed and trampled by both sheep and deer, and sometimes, cattle. This is probably a lesser butterfly orchid.
Setting off back down the road, I encountered a large black insect crawling on the tarmac which I thought at first must be one of the many beetles you see here. It was a birch sawfly (I think, anyway - but why doesn't it have those really long legs?). I chivvied it onto a leaf and put it on the verge. It didn't appear to be injured, but I don't think they live long after breeding so this one was probably simply on its way out.
Chris Packham and others might wax lyrical about the wonders of nature and so forth, but I find it as terrible as it is wonderful. I mean, I know the mechanics are amazing, but when you think of these creatures hatching from eggs, then spending every minute as larvae merely stuffing their faces, pupating, then triumphantly breaking out into airborne and often striking adults, only to spend a few days ensuring the species continues before dying - then the driven, frantic pointlessness of it all becomes apparent.
// posted by Christine @ 2:36 PM 
