My butterfly count has jumped up to seven with a visit to West Wycombe and the gloriously dotty Hell Fire Caves made famous by Sir Francis Dashwood, the only Chancellor of the Exchequer to admit presenting the Budget to the House of Commons while drunk.
The butterflies were appropriately drunk themselves in the warmth and sunshine of the current almost high-summery weather. Here they are: a Brimstone imitating a leaf very skilfully, a male Orange-tip (the female has to make do with white and black speckles on her top forewings, though elegntly patterned with grey-green below), a Comma, a Peacock, a male Holly Blue (without the female's smudgy black wing tips) and another Brimstone, sulphurous rather than buttery and therefore a male. My other two species so far in 2026 are Small Tortoisehell and Green-veined White. Oh and I was led a dance by the Speckled Wood below in the bluebell woods of Appleton and Besselsleigh today.
Back at home, my greedy companion at moth-inspecting time, this robin, has twigged much earlier than in previous years that unless defended very vigilantly, the trap may provide him with nibbles.
On the happier side, the garden is wonderfully full of nectar-rich treats which attracted my latest moth species for the year, the March Moth in the centre of the composite picture and on my delicate fingers below.
Other arrivals in the last week include this trio: a Red Chestnut, a Pale Pinion and an Early Grey.
Back at West Wycombe the ugly but remarkable flint walls of the Dashwood mausoleum currently house many thousands of ladybirds in their quoins. Here's a small sample. Earlier in the week on an Easter Treasure Hunt, our youngest grandson found about ten eggs and ten times that number of ladybirds. The sun has ended their winter sleep. Aphids beware!
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