We had planned the trip for weeks: a spring visit to Strumpshaw Fen, timed precisely to coincide with the emergence of the Swallowtail butterfly. Predictably, just as the date arrived, the weather shifted. A previously settled spell gave way to an advancing front, bringing cloud and wind. Still, we decided to take our chances and arrived at the reserve shortly after 1 pm.
Conditions on arrival were far from ideal. The light was flat and the breeze persistent, but almost immediately our resolve was rewarded. From the main hide we enjoyed superb views of aKingfisher, actively feeding and flashing electric blue across the water—an encouraging start.
As we worked our way around the reserve, the invertebrate highlights began to stack up. Norfolk Hawkers patrolled the dykes, while several Scarce Skimmers provided excellent views. One individual even chose to land briefly on Jenna’s hand, a moment of unexpected intimacy that perfectly captured the spirit of the day.
Scarce Skimmer
Back at the reception area, however, there was still no sign of our primary target. We paused for a drink, hoping for a break in the weather. Then came the call that changed everything. One of the wardens beckoned us over, calmly explaining that she’d just seen a Swallowtail flying in front of the hide. We hurried across—and there it was. After a few tantalising circuits, it dropped into the reedbed and settled.
Few British insects can rival the Swallowtail for sheer presence, and seeing one at last felt deeply satisfying. I’ve visited Strumpshaw Fen many times over the years, but never in spring. Repeated attempts to connect with a second brood later in the summer had ended in failure. This time, finally, success.
What a beauty!On the list!
With prolonged views enjoyed and spirits high, we began the long journey home, stopping en route at RSPB Ouse Fen to search for a Great Reed Warbler, a bird that has been holding territory there for the past month.
The walk around the reserve delivered plenty of interest even before we reached the favoured corner. Common Cranes drifted across the landscape, a Hobby scythed through on pointed wings, and numerous Great White Egrets dotted the wetlands.
Common Crane
Great White Egret
At the final stop, patience paid off. The Great Reed Warbler revealed itself, delivering its explosive song from deep cover. I’d visited Ouse Fen last year with my good friend Owen Parsons to see this species, raising the intriguing possibility that this could be a returning individual. Whether or not that’s the case, it remains a thrilling bird to encounter.
We left as the sun dipped toward the horizon and headed home, tired but content. By day’s end, our butterfly list had reached 57 species—a milestone made all the sweeter by perseverance, luck, and a Swallowtail at last.
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