For all to Sing, Dance and Clap their Hands

Two weekends on the trot out walking, this was something I was rather enjoying after so much natural sensory deprivation.
It was the time of season where there was so much choice it was difficult to know where to choose. I wished I had a week off in which to see all I wanted to see, but I had to make do with one day only...

I headed to Whiteley Pastures. Normally a summer haunt in search of Butterflies, I decided to start here with the destination of Botley Wood just a little way South of that point. I had something special in mind...

I reached the main path opposite the nearby shopping centre. While the consumers filled their shopping bags and emptied their wallets, I emptied my mind and filled my soul...

I had visited this area many times before but hadn't taken the path into the woods. A whole new world opened up before me...

In the rides between the trees I found lots of Bugle flowers rising from the parched earth. It has been a very dry Spring and not far along the open path amongst the trees I happened upon the beginnings of the Common Spotted Orchid. There were many dotted along the path. Sometimes the light is so restricted they will not continue into flower. I stepped as gingerly as I could so as not to crush any beneath my feet just in case....   

Meadowsweet leaves were numerous here too, ready to flower in a couple of months...

The path I walked was normally damp and muddy. Watermint grew here to give an indication of that fact...

Having left the main woods, here and there Bluebells smattered the path but never in any great numbers.

The woods are bisected by lines of pylons both leading to an electrical substation. As I reached the clearing beneath a line of these, I could hear the classic cronking sound of Ravens. Their vocalisations differed in tone remarkably as the pair communicated with each other. They were clearly bonding and setting up a territory. Ravens have adapted to the point where they nest on the pylons these days. I looked with intent to try and find a nest...

After much searching, I found it !

Satisfied with my find, I was aware below of the song of two different warblers. One was the Garden warbler, the other the Whitethroat. Both gave me the run around when trying to photograph them so I ventured on to try and find the main reason for my walk here. The Nightingale.... As I walked, the early flowering Stitchwort showed well on the sunny side of the pathway.

Time was dragging on and nearly lunchtime. I had decided to go elsewhere for the afternoon and as I retraced my steps I reached a crossroads in the path. For some unknown reason I tried the path I hadn't walked. The Nightingale still alluded me, so I was led by my nose and ears. The Nightingale song is so loud and obvious, once heard you can follow it and usually find it.
I kept going and going and going, the path curved back to almost were I had been. It was then I heard that unmistakable sound, I'd found one.. Yes!!
Finding is one thing, seeing is another story. It was along the other pylon line and out of bounds so the signs told me...'Sod it' I thought and jumped the fence...
I could hear it on the opposite side of the scrub here. To get across  I would need to scramble my way through bushes and bramble. As I did, I could hear it singing continuously and beautifully.. it drove me on until I eventually found it as I emerged the other side of the green jungle.....

A keen eye is needed to home in on it's extraordinarily loud song especially as the leaf cover now makes it so difficult  but find it I did. 

At first it sang relatively out of sight...

 After a few minutes it gave me the views I had paid the price in scratches scrapes and ticks for...

I had reached a small clearing in the scrub just beneath this vocal gymnast and made camp on the ground.
I pulled my flask from my backpack and drank my green tea whilst listening to the exquisite sounds around me. On one side across the trees I could here the thwack of golf balls on the links, just above me was the Nightingale and a Garden Warbler which frustrated in it's shyness to my lens. They are always so difficult to pin down for a picture but their song is always apparent. I managed just a peek through the branches...
I wondered if the golfers marveled so much at the birdsong right next to them? It didn't appear so..

The Nightingale has declined by some sixty percent in the last 30 years but there are glimmers of hope here and there where land management has helped them. I do hope so, to lose their subliminal vocal acrobatics would be a travesty to us all.   

Having satiated my desire I scrambled back through the jungle once more and headed back to the van.
On the path the butterflies where showing better as the temperature rose. A Green Veined White on Cuckoo flower first off then a Speckled Wood in the dappled light.

Scorpion Flies are one of my favourites and  showed well here also... 

I had reached the main path once more and thought of the times I would return here in search of Silver Washed Fritillaries and hopefully Purple Emperor Butterflies in a couple of months time.
This led me perfectly to the thought of my next stop after lunch... Noar Hill deep in the Meon valley..the heart of Hampshire.    

Noar Hill is a myriad of ancient chalk pits, unimproved grassland full of wildflowers, birds and butterflies giving stunning views over the archetypal english countryside.
One of the main attractions here is the Duke of Burgundy Fritillary. Another species declining rapidly, it is now restricted to around only 20 sites nationwide, mainly in the south. A stronghold being here at Noar Hill.
One of it's main food plants is the Cowslip which is abundant here but rabbit intrusion can have a big impact due to overgrazing..   

No sooner as I ascended the Hill and onto the main area than I had found a couple flying low around the flowers. Wingspan is only up to around 32mm or 1inch and a quarter.

The view up the hill has carpets of yellow Cowslips bordered by Juniper Bushes favoured by Green Hairstreak Butterlies but try as I might they would not show for me on this day.

The Cowslips were not going anywhere however and showed very well indeed...

Early Purple Orchid were everywhere too but only very few were into their more mature stage... 

One of the best chalk pits here is the one to the north. It is bordered by tall trees to the banks giving great shelter and a real suntrap that is perfect for butterflies to thrive. You are always guaranteed of a sighting of the Duke here. Although my first encounter was of a Dingy Skipper. A name I think does injustice to this diminutive little insect....

As with many a butterfly, when the sun is behind the clouds they do become rather indolent. A fact I took advantage of when stumbling across this tiny thing. Butterflies like warmth, so as it was cool in the easterly wind especially when the sun was in, I offered the warmth of my finger which it accepted with ease. Trouble was at first I had it on my right hand so to take a picture with my left hand on a right handed camera proved impossible so it switched over with incredible acceptance and pleasingly so.... you can gauge the size of it against my hand... 

Once the sun had emerged it flitted off erratically as only a Dingy Skipper can and a beautiful Duke took it's place....  

Early Purple Orchids grew well here too...

The super Dukes carried on with their display, always close to the ground until one decided to leave and head high into the trees. This was very unusual, I always thought they stayed low and out of sight.

As I looked up, I spied a Holly Blue sitting and flitting in the branches...

My time was nearing the end here so I began my walk downhill past the white dead nettles and then stumbled across a very early butterfly..the Small Heath...

Having checked my book, this was an earlier sighting than last year so I must remember to log it with Butterfly Conservation. It may not survive long unless a mate arrives or the weather warms up in the coming days.

The last views across the chalk downland provided some stunning views along with the last glimpses of some more Cowslips, Dukes and Holly Blues. The Dukes have until the end of June then their season as adults will cease 

The 'mew' of a distant buzzard sent me on my way and I headed home along the Meon Valley enlightened on the crest of a cool spring wave....

The title of this post is taken from a lyric from the song 'Sir Duke' by Stevie Wonder