Many of you probably know that while photographing birds and mammals is part of my work, butterflies are something I photograph simply for myself. If I have time during summer, I like to spend some of it with them.
I don’t actively share many of these photographs. Mostly, I just enjoy photographing butterflies.
There is something quite incredible about them. It is difficult to imagine that something so small and fragile can migrate thousands of kilometres, or survive a Finnish winter and appear again when the weather finally warms.
These days, I have my own butterfly garden.
It was not always like this.
From a perfect lawn to something much wilder
When I bought my house, the entire garden was lawn. And not just any lawn. It was maintained almost like a golf course.
There was probably a reason for this. The previous owner had worked as a restaurant entrepreneur at a golf course, and apparently brought some of that thinking home with him. There was certainly not an unnecessary weed anywhere.
At first, I tried to create a butterfly garden in the way I thought it should be done.
I read gardening magazines and recommendations. I bought plants that were supposed to attract butterflies. I made flower beds and then cursed the fact that I never had enough time to look after them.
And despite all that work, there were not many butterflies.
Then, long before “rewild your garden” became a popular idea, I noticed something during one of my walks.
A nearby meadow was full of butterflies.
My garden was not.
I realised that my whole approach was wrong.
I did not need more garden plants. I needed the wildflowers that naturally grow in our area.
That was when the real project started.
Letting the garden become less tidy
I allowed part of the lawn to grow freely and only cut it in autumn. I also stopped managing the vegetation on top of our old root cellar. In spring, while there was still snow elsewhere in the garden, I burned the dry vegetation there.
Little by little, ordinary local plants began to appear.
Some people would probably call them weeds.
Nettles started growing strongly on the cellar together with fireweed, tufted vetch and other wild plants. Elsewhere, creeping thistle and valerian spread.
At the same time, I started thinking about more than flowers.
Butterflies need places to reproduce and overwinter too. So I left dead wood, loose bark, piles of branches and other small untidy places around the garden.
These are exactly the things that tend to disappear when gardens and urban areas become too clean.
The nettles have been especially useful. During summer it is quite easy to find caterpillars of small tortoiseshells and peacock butterflies feeding on them.
Over the years, the whole garden has slowly changed.
Every now and then somebody comments that my garden looks a little neglected.
They are right. It is neglected on purpose.
August is butterfly season
Here in the north, we cannot compete with southern areas when it comes to the number of butterfly species. But the species that manage to live here are beautiful enough for me.
There are butterflies throughout the summer, of course, but August is usually the highlight in my garden. By then, the new generation of many species is on the wing.
First come the silver-washed fritillaries.
Then the red admirals and peacock butterflies become more numerous.
Finally, mourning cloaks join them.
All are wonderful butterflies to watch and photograph.
When I am at home, I also keep a butterfly bar in the garden. It gives the butterflies another source of food, but I have to admit that my reasons are not entirely selfless.
It brings them close.
On my best day I have counted 13 silver-washed fritillaries, around ten peacock butterflies and red admirals, and more than 20 mourning cloaks in the garden at the same time. And those are only the larger species.
Many of them particularly love creeping thistle, which is generally considered a proper weed here.
For butterflies, apparently, nobody told them that.
Last summer, WWF even had a pollinator camera in our garden. It was there to show what can happen when a garden is allowed to become a little wilder.
Quite a few people watched it. What surprised me most was the reaction from people living in southern Finland. They commented on how many butterflies we had.
I already knew the garden was good, but that feedback surprised me. Southern Finland has considerably more butterfly species than we do this far north.
Apparently my untidy garden was doing something right.
It is not only about butterflies
And it is not only about flowers and butterflies.
One thing that is mentioned less often is how much a wild garden can also change the birdlife. Wild plants bring many other insects besides butterflies, and that means more food for small insect-eating birds. They have become a natural part of life in our garden too.
Later in the summer, the same plants start producing seeds. Then the garden changes again. Bullfinches, blue tits and siskins balance on the dry stems, picking seeds from plants that many people would have removed weeks earlier as untidy weeds.
I find this whole cycle quite fascinating. Adding wildflowers does not only mean having more flowers. The plants support insects, and the insects support birds. Later the seeds provide another source of food. One small change in a garden can affect much more than I first thought when I simply stopped cutting part of my lawn.
I have selfish reasons too
Do I do all this purely for the butterflies?
Maybe not.
In reality, my reasons are quite selfish.
I want to be close to butterflies and I want to attract birds. I want to watch them, and I want to photograph them.
A good meadow gives me completely different possibilities for photography. Instead of searching for butterflies and birds somewhere else, I can sit in my own garden and observe what is happening. I can wait for the right individual, background or light.
The butterfly bar gives me even more opportunities.
And because people often ask how I make it, I might as well share my version.
My butterfly bar recipe
There are many ways to make a butterfly bar.
Some people use only fruit. Others use fermented juice, beer or brewer’s yeast. Some hang a bottle and use a sponge or kitchen cloth to hold the liquid. Others simply put fruit on a plate.
It is worth experimenting. Butterflies are quite capable of telling you whether your recipe works.
I have found a deep plate to be the simplest solution.
I put some overripe or slightly fermented fruit on it. I use whatever happens to be available in the kitchen. Banana and watermelon work well, and apple is easy to add too.
Then I make a liquid mixture using red wine, sugar and vinegar.
The vinegar is there mainly to discourage wasps. If wasps still start taking over the bar, I reduce the amount of sugar.
I pour the liquid over the fruit, but I do not cover it completely. The pieces of fruit need to remain above the surface so that butterflies have somewhere safe to stand.
I definitely don’t want to create a butterfly swimming pool.
Depending on the weather, the fruit usually lasts around a week before it needs replacing. When there are many butterflies visiting, I may add more liquid every day.
I place the butterfly bar somewhere sunny and sheltered from the wind. If I am travelling and cannot keep an eye on it, I move it closer to the base of a tree where the branches give it some protection from rain.
Then I watch what arrives.
A butterfly bar at school
For a few years, I also took a butterfly bar to a nearby school.
It became something for the children to follow during the autumn season. We learned to identify the different butterflies together and talked about why wildflowers are important.
For me, the nicest moment came the following year.
The children still remembered the names of the butterfly species.
And they were already asking when the butterfly bar would open again.
Sometimes wildlife does not need to be somewhere far away or difficult to reach. A small patch of untidy garden can be enough.
My garden certainly does not look like a golf course anymore.
I prefer it this way.
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