Most native wildflowers rely on insects to pollinate them – former president of DWT Tony Bates explains how the flowers are designed to attract them

nectar and, in many cases, to eat the pollen – an important source of protein. Flowers produce lots of pollen, so that there is a surplus available to attach to an insect’s body and legs, facilitating the transfer of pollen to the next flowers they visit. It’s a happy relationship – the insects get fed and the flowers get to reproduce.
Wildflowers come in an amazing range of shapes and sizes, and insects favour different flowers depending on their colour, scent, design and ease of landing. For example, beetles prefer buttercups and daisies which are easy for them to land on, while smaller flowers such as speedwells are particularly attractive to small flies.
Flowers such as flax have a long spur containing nectar, which makes them particularly suited to butterflies and moths – those with a long proboscis, enabling them to reach the nectar source.

Most flowers produce a scent – and no two scents are the same. Insects will often travel a long distance to find their favourite flower because of its individual scent.
Another family of plants, the umbellifers, have a wide head with multiple small flowers, each with only a small amount of nectar. Visiting insects enjoy a ‘feast in small bites’, taking small quantities of nectar from each individual flower.

Insects’ eyes enable them to see a much greater range of colours than we do. They can see ultraviolet light, which makes the flower stand out clearly from the surrounding plant structure. This ability helps them to aim more accurately at their food source. Smaller flowers also often have markings or guidelines to entice the insect into the nectar source. These include speedwell, tiny blue flowers with a bright centre, and late summer’s eyebright, with its yellow landing zone (see image, right).
Insects may use pollen, nectar or both as food, either as adults or to feed their young. Hoverflies, for instance, enjoy a good meal of pollen.
On a sunny day in springtime, emerging insects will make a buzz of activity around bluebells, primroses and celandines.

Wild arum, with the wonderful common nickname of Lords and Ladies, which you may have seen featured in the BBC Wild Isles series, has a bizarre way of attracting small flies for pollination. It has a distinctive purple or pale green sheath surrounding a central ‘spadix’ with a spike of tiny flowers on a fleshy stem. Unlike the fragrant scent of most flowers, it produces the smell of rotten meat late in the day. Tempted by this, small flies become trapped in the bottom of the sheath by a shield of stiff downward-pointing hairs. The next day, the hairs wither, which allows the flies to scramble out over the pollen stamens to visit another arum.
Recent research suggests that in the UK, flying insects have declined by 60 per cent in the past 20 years. The serious decline in insect numbers is one of the greatest challenges we face – it is causing a loss of wildlife right at the bottom of the food chain. It is crucial that habitats are provided to allow the plants upon which insects depend to thrive. As well as planting and encouraging wildflowers, it is important that we provide more undisturbed ground, dead wood piles and decomposing vegetation – key places for the life cycles of insects.
Learn more at wildlife.trusts.org

says wildlife writer Jane Adams

They are part of our natural heritage. We hear recordings of their melodic songs on the radio and social media. Their name appears in literature, poems and WW2 love songs. They feel familiar, as if we should somehow know them. Yet how many of us have ever heard, much less seen, a living, breathing nightingale?
I found an old handwritten notebook in a local library recently. Dating back to the early 19th century, it documented the wildlife that once thrived in our village. The dormice crawled through the hedgerows. There were red squirrels in the woods and thousands of butterflies flitted over the flower-rich meadows. Yet, it was the mention of nightingales singing at night in the nearby fields that made me realise how much we have lost. Back then, I would have heard nightingales from my garden – all I hear now is the traffic.

Where did they all go?
Along with other summer migratory birds, such as cuckoos, nightingales are now frighteningly rare. The British Trust for Ornithology estimates their numbers have probably reduced by more than 90 per cent since the 1960s – there are likely to be fewer than 10,000 nightingales visiting our shores this spring.
Due to their small size (about the size of a robin) and rather drab brown colouring, spotting them is a challenge in their preferred coppiced woodland or scrub.
Sadly, suitable habitat is also hard for them to find.
Modern landowners don’t have much tolerance for scrub, and our woodlands don’t have the dense understory of foliage nightingales need.
A few years ago, I was told about a spot where nightingales had previously nested. In a clearing, next to blackthorns iced with blossom, and long after the sun had disappeared, I waited.
The song started softly.
Gradually it grew, becoming more confident, much louder and more urgent. There was a brief silence. Then more lingering tones, and short, sharp notes. On and on it went, holding me captive, unable to move. Perhaps I perceived a desperation in this bird’s song? Or was I acutely aware of its rarity? Or maybe it was my menopausal hormones.
Whatever the reason, I cried.

• Ten years ago, on a warm April night, we were on our way home around midnight and surprised to hear loud birdsong through the car window. Pulling into a layby on the usually-busy A-road, we simply sat – silent and still – listening to my first nightingale. You can hear a minute of that utterly magical moment in the video below – Ed

Could rewilding initiatives in Dorset be the lifeline nightingales need?

Rewilding initiatives like Wild Woodbury, Mapperton Wildlands, and West Dorset Wilding, with their hands-off approach to land management, may be just what nightingales need to survive in Dorset, and hopefully to thrive in the future. After conservationists spotted a nightingale at Wild Woodbury last year, hopes are high that nightingales will return to breed in 2024. At other established rewilding sites, such as Knepp in East Sussex, nightingales have made a welcome comeback.