On one of the longest days of the year, a walk through the Warwickshire countryside near Barston, West Midlands, beneath the flight path of Birmingham airport reveals a jarring contrast between ancient landscape and modern aviation. The planes are loud enough that conversation must pause as they thunder overhead. For the author, this is disorienting, especially as the landscape appears unchanged for centuries. The paths are worn by time, people, and wildlife, shaded by gnarled oaks and flanked by un-flailed hedges bursting with life. It feels peaceful, bucolic, and ancient—until a jumbo jet fills the sky and brings the present crashing down.
Amid the din, wildlife persists
Despite the noise, birds such as chiffchaffs, great tits, robins, and yellowhammers can be heard. Grasses reach shoulder height for the author, but are as tall as the author's much shorter mother, who occasionally disappears among them. The author also becomes lost in the grass as meadow brown butterflies dance for a mate, stopping to greet each one.
A strange year for butterflies
It has been an odd year for butterflies, according to the author. The weather has alternated between too hot and too wet or windy for them to fly well. The May heatwave raised hopes that some butterflies might emerge from hibernation, but when the wind returned, those hopes were dashed. On the allotment, where long grass abounds, only a smattering has been seen. However, during this walk through past and present on an early summer day, the author finally experiences the meadow brown moment. A smattering is not enough: this is a species to be seen and enjoyed by the hundred. A meadow is not a meadow without a party of brown butterflies bouncing around the fescues, bents, and meadow grasses where females lay their eggs.
A perfect moment captured
As the mother walks ahead, the author loses her again in the haze. Following a meadow brown in its never-ending dance, the author rejoices when it finally stops to sip bramble nectar. Creeping slowly, taking photos with each movement, the author achieves a closer shot. Later, at the mother's home, the photo is checked: it is perfect. Worth being lost in the grass.
