Walking along the track towards the moor I follow a succession of anthills, teeming with life, emerging between the grasses and clumps of heather and blaeberry bushes. The moor, even from a distance, is especially bright today, tinged with pinks and purples that will only get brighter as I approach. Late summer here is a riot of changing colours: the heather feels particularly vibrant this year, and it’s joined by the pale blue violets of harebells and the purples of devil’s-bit scabious, the latter a beautiful, pin-head cushion of a flower, and named for its root, said to have been bitten by the devil who was jealous of its flowers.
As I continue I find birches turning, broom pods black and popping, and the berries on the junipers are a mix of green and ripened black. The bracken is on its way from green to yellow to rust-red. Speckled wood butterflies flit in and out of the sunshine and shade cast by the birch trees and pines. But it’s another kind of butterfly I’m in search of at this time of year, and sure enough, one appears, and I follow it out into the more open moorland, where it is joined by another, and more.
The Scotch Argus is a beautiful mid-sized butterfly, its wings a dark chocolate, velvety brown with an orange band that holds a line of black and white eyespots. In the sunshine they flit restlessly over the grasses, pairs occasionally tussle higher, then fall into the vast heather fields that seem to stretch to the distant hills, which are themselves heathery-heidit. They’re fairly widespread on many grasslands across Scotland at this time of year, though their population is declining and they’re listed as vulnerable. I’m delighted to see so many of them.
On my return I almost dismiss another more-moth-than-butterfly-sized lepidoptera for a falling birch leaf – it’s a small heath, then two more. One alights on the top of a stem of ling heather. Its wings are closed, the hindwing is an understated beige/grey, though looking closely, it’s also beautifully, subtly patterned, and the underside of its forewing is orange with a black eyespot. It’s a lovely addition to a year where I’ve seen more butterflies than I have in a while.
• Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 is published by Guardian Faber; order at guardianbookshop.com and get a 15% discount
