An Egg Hunt

I am one of a small number of Skye-based naturalists who plan to spend the summer months targeting several invertebrate species. Our Hitlist comprises a handful of butterfly and moth species plus a couple of dragonflies. It doesn't make any odds to me whether or not you believe in climate change (though you're an idiot if you don't. You read it here first), but the insects are responding to it with quite a few of our native British butterflies consolidating and expanding the northern limits of their traditional ranges at a rate of knots. One such species is the Purple Hairstreak, familiar to many butterfly enthusiasts in England and Wales but a scarce find throughout the bulk of Scotland. Until recently that is.

This is the 2019 distribution map on Butterfly Conservation's website

The current state of play from iRecord. The red dot is where I was yesterday

Purple Hairstreak has yet to be recorded from here on Skye, which isn't to say it hasn't already arrived undetected. At this time of year it's all about checking oak twigs for the eggs, not quite as crazy a notion as you might at first think. When I lived in the London/Surrey area, I found many Purple Hairstreak eggs on oak twigs, I even brought one home to rear through after I'd accidentally snapped off the tip of its twig. Purple Ronnie, as we named him #proudparents. A quick WhatsApp poll suggested that I was the only member of our team to have seen a Purple Hairstreak egg, so I sent out a few images and provided a few hints and tips, plus a link to a YouTube video where a guy goes out and finds some himself. 

Yesterday began lovely and sunny. I contemplated the fact that nobody else would be looking for Purple Hairstreak eggs and decided to give it a whirl. It takes me almost 90 minutes to reach the little oak woodland near Point of Aird at the very southernmost tip of Skye, but I made a day of it and arrived a little after 11am. The single-track road from Ardvasar to Aird is decidedly undulating and I did have a couple of wobbly moments gaining traction heading up (and coming down!) some of the hills. Happily, a gritter miraculously appeared and all remnants of snow had disappeared by the time I headed off some three hours later. 

Aird's oak trees facing southwards towards Ardnamurchan

The oak wood waiting to welcome any northbound Purple Hairstreaks

In all honesty, I very much doubt that a Purple Hairstreak would even attempt to cross the open sea between Ardnamurchan and Skye. A migrating moth or bird, yes. But a dayflying resident butterfly expanding its range? I doubt it. I feel the first Skye records will come from the adjacent mainland to the east, not the south. The main issue being, the oaks are in the south not the east. 

Despite this, I had a thoroughly enjoyable two hours checking oak twigs for a finely sculptured white egg, nestled at the base of a cluster of juicy buds on a terminal tip. Not a sniff of an egg, but it was really great just to get stuck in and lose myself in the moment. I actually felt really at peace, for once. Maybe I'll try my hand at a jigsaw next... 

Sadly, despite finding multitudes of eminently suitable buds, no eggs were to be found

The glorious female flowers of Hazel

I vividly recall the very first time I noticed the tiny flowers of Hazel. I was halfway up a steep slope in Uig Wood when something tiny and bright red caught my eye. I turned my head, searching for whatever it was that I'd subliminally seen. It took me a good few seconds to find the culprit, a 2mm wide spray of stigmas slightly above my eye level. Up until that point I had no idea that Hazels had such flowers, now I eagerly await their arrival in the early spring. Twig Anemones, a beautifully vibrant sight during this dullest time of year. 

Polypodium interjectum - note the oblique insertion of the sori

So a day of wasted effort, some may say. Perhaps. But also a day of beauty and small wonders, from the clouds over the sea to the female receptacles of a liverwort that I haven't seen for a number of years. Because let's face it, everything is better when the sun is shining and you're in the absolute middle of nowhere.

Reboulia hemisphaerica with young female receptacles. Note the enlarged air pores