Gardens: Expect the unexpected

Sometimes I think I must have used up all my good luck in the garden for seeing amazing things. Over the last seven years my garden has hosted several Kingfishers, a Nightjar, a Wryneck, a Woodcock, a Blue-eyed Hawker dragonfly, and egg-laying Small Blue butterflies - all of them scarce creatures outside of gardens let alone in.

I list them not as a boast but as an indication that gardens can attract some very surprising visitors, especially if you put in that effort to make your garden habitat as rich and welcoming as possible.

And so it happened again this week when I looked out of the lounge window while eating my lunch and saw a butterly ambling about in the grass outside, a butterfly that was just too rusty in colour to be a late Gatekeeper.

I dashed out and found this:

Although it was half hidden, there is no other British butterfly that has two fine white lines delicately tracing across an orange base colour to its hindwings.

It wasa Brown Hairstreak, and it duly emerged from the grass blades into full view.

This is a rare butterfly of southern England, and the last species to emerge as an adult in late summer. In fact, it tends to be so elusive that butterfly experts often search for its eggs in winter to determine whether it is present in an area.

Its elusiveness is in part because the males spend their time supping honeydew - the sugary secretions of aphids - high up in what are called Master Trees, where they congregate to wait for the females.

And the females are elusive because they tend to only be active between about 11am and 2pm, when they follow their instincts to find the Master Trees and a mate, and then go and find young Blackthorn bushes to lay their eggs on.

My Brown Hairstreak decided to honour me even further by opening its wings:

Only the female has a dollop of bright orange on her upper forewing. See her little golden tails, too. What a stunner. Who knew browns and oranges could be so alluring?

Some Brown Hairstreaks are know to breed on the South Downs a few miles inland of me, but for this female to have found my garden was such a surprise. They are also thought to sometimes lay their eggs on Damson trees and maybe even cultivated plums, so maybe, just maybe, she originated in a garden, and perhaps even my garden.

But you know what I was saying about expecting the unexpected? As I was photographing her, this happened:

A second Brown Hairstreak - a male with his duller underparts - walked up to her. He should be up in a Master Tree somewhere, so quite how he came to be in my garden at the same time as the female, and the fact that he found her, too, just beggars belief.

I don't expect that your garden will turn up a Brown Hairstreak or two, but the story is a powerful reminded of how gardens are an underrated and rich habitat where almost anything is possible. So keep your eyes peeled, and happy watching.