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The Solstice has passed and spring's door is shut firmly behind us, a barely perceptible lull occurs before waves of returning waders and flocks of moulting duck draw us back to the washes. The moth traps are glowing in the gloaming and binoculars are raised to the treetops and meadow edges searching out glorious butterfly as young Buzzards take to the skies, seemingly over each and every horizon. The White-letter Hairstreaks, that brought me great joy when I discovered them last year, are on the wing again and buzzing around the tops of the Elm and Ash in Stuntney. So far they have only allowed me the odd, just passable, record shot as they've gone about their canopy capers but I'm hoping to find one soon, nectaring on the abundant bramble flowers beneath their chosen trees. Having spent some time with some very showy Black Hairstreaks this weekend I am relishing the child like anticipation as I wait to see if I'm going to get a chance to really photograph these lovely, letter branded, little insects this summer.
