Polly Pullar takes a lighthearted look at rural life
Renowned nature writer Polly Pullar takes a lighthearted look at rural life.
BUTTERFLY numbers in the UK have crashed massively. There is a severe decline in most species, but one has surprised us, and in recent years has been colonising many parts of Scotland.
It seems that due to climate change it is gradually moving north.
I have been getting myself acquainted with this magnificent creature and last year became somewhat obsessed. It is unusual in many ways.
Firstly, its vibrant orange and deep umber brown colours are dramatic, but what is also of note is that when it lands on dried leaves or leaf litter, despite its bright colour, it blends in so perfectly that you often hardly see it.
Most surprising, though, is the fact that, unlike other butterflies, its wings have distinct scalloped edges.
Though it is sometimes referred to as an anglewing butterfly, this butterfly is the comma.
Previously thought to have largely died out in the UK, and seldom found in Scotland until recently, its resurgence has been a boost to otherwise bleak news regarding our lovely butterflies and moths.
Commas have flexible life cycles, and take advantage of various food plants, including the all-important plants that we constantly wage war against – nettles, brambles and thistles – as well as willows and elm.
It’s why it’s so vital to leave areas of your garden wild. Doing this will benefit many other butterflies, birds, mammals and insects, too.
The comma was once nicknamed “hop cat”. It was associated with commercial hop farms in southern England, as hops were one of its favoured food plants.
We use hops for making beer, but with the demise of many of these large farms, the comma began to disappear, too.
It is excellent news that the comma appears to have adapted to other food plants and is now on the increase, particularly in the north of the country.
One balmy spring evening, Iomhair and I were sitting on the edge of the little wood that borders the burn running through the middle of the property.
We were listening to the birdsong while relishing the delicious scent of blossom and bluebells. Then I noticed a movement in one of my tree tubes.
Due to the local deer population, any trees that I plant have to be safely protected in tubes, or else they are quickly devoured.
Then we watched as not one but three gorgeous commas emerged. They had chosen the tube as a warm, safe place in which to hibernate.
We watched in awe as they flitted across the emerging vegetation and disappeared into the trees.
I have since seen commas coming out of other tree tubes on the farm.
The other wonderful thing about commas, compared to other butterflies, is that not only may they appear early in spring, but you are just as likely to see them right through summer, too.
August and September is an excellent time to see them, and they are attracted to fermenting fruits rich in sugars – in particular, brambles – and will land to feast greedily.
So why are they called commas? For a long time, I did not know the answer.
Then, one day, there was an unusually sleepy comma feeding on buddleia in the garden. It was oblivious to my presence. It gave me a perfect chance to study its beautiful underwings.
As the sunlight illuminated the delicate wing structure, I saw that rather than being dull brown underneath, there is also a stunning pattern of greens and that each shade of brown is dappled and stippled, resembling the pattern on a tree trunk.
Then I saw a small white mark – just like a comma. Was it merely a flaw in this perfect wing structure?
Often as they reach the end of their all-too-short lives, butterflies look very shabby and jaded.
Then, most obligingly, a second comma appeared. There, beneath its lovely wing, was the very same mark.
It is this tiny hidden marking that has given the glorious comma its name.
So this year, leave some of the nettles and brambles in your garden – and later in summer you could leave a few rotting apples or bananas in a quiet corner.
If you are lucky you may attract the comma, and probably lots of other lovely butterflies, too. ■