Wild West Yorkshire nature diary, Saturday 24th April 1999
A HOLLY BLUE BUTTERFLY flutters high up, close to the garden conifer. When it settles on a privet hedge I watch it shuffle its hing-wings over its fore-wings with an alternate action, resembling someone rubbing their hands together. I guess that it does this to send a scent message to potential mates and rivals.
Bullocks are back in the valley pastures. Two wandering dogs race up the slope towards a herd of twenty. The bullocks look quizzically at them, then stampede downhill, turning the tables on the dogs which escape by dodging under the fence.
White Deadnettle and Cuckoo Flower are in flower on the towpath.
We dine at the Capri restaurant, overlooking the beck, which is swollen by recent rains, where it plunges into an old mill race.
A HOLLY BLUE BUTTERFLY flutters high up, close to the garden conifer. When it settles on a privet hedge I watch it shuffle its hing-wings over its fore-wings with an alternate action, resembling someone rubbing their hands together. I guess that it does this to send a scent message to potential mates and rivals.
Bullocks are back in the valley pastures. Two wandering dogs race up the slope towards a herd of twenty. The bullocks look quizzically at them, then stampede downhill, turning the tables on the dogs which escape by dodging under the fence.
White Deadnettle and Cuckoo Flower are in flower on the towpath.
We dine at the Capri restaurant, overlooking the beck, which is swollen by recent rains, where it plunges into an old mill race.