‘The quickness of the wing deceives the eye.’ So write Brett Westwood and Stephen Moss in their brilliant book Wonderland: A year of Britain’s wildlife day by day (John Murray, London, 2017). They’re describing those butterflies that ‘fly so haphazardly and so fast that they are little more than hallucinations, a flicker of motion at the edge of our vision, making us question whether we’ve seen one at all.’

The Small copper (Lycaena phlaeas) is one such butterfly but, I find, with a pinch of stealth, a sprinkle of luck and a tablespoonful of patience, it will settle and even pose for photos. And the outcome is no hallucination but rather a delicious creation, even a gourmet would admire.

It’s three weeks since I caught a fleeting glimpse – and shot some very shaky photos – of my first-ever Small copper butterfly (Lycaena phlaeas), and I’ve been keeping an eye out for them wherever I go ever since. Ten days ago, I saw another, briefly, but a man came walking along the path and scared it away just as I was lining up for better images. Then, four days ago, another of these little beauties popped up on a flower right in front of me at Cosmeston and I got some reasonable, though not sharp photos – the wind was howling across the field that day.

And, finally, two days ago, when I was revisiting one of my former haunts, the glorious old meadows near Llanishen Reservoir, I saw first two, then another one Small copper, and these were so busy feasting and ‘interacting’ that I was able to watch them for ages. Butterfly bliss!