A Butterfly Historian

by Steven Goss

Those of you who know me will be aware that one of my main areas of interest is in the history of British butterflies, of butterfly collecting, butterfly collectors and the development of our knowledge during the past 300 years. I suppose I am a sort of 'butterfly historian'. As part of my research I buy old collections whenever the opportunity arises, mainly at auctions. Each specimen that I choose to keep is transferred into my 'master collection' which is housed in sixty drawers in two large cabinets, where it is given a reference number and its derails recorded on corn purer disc. I have independent records of every locality a specimen was captured (some of which are very obscure and rake a lot of identifying) and also of every collector whose specimens I encounter. We all know that collecting butterflies is completely inappropriate today. In an age of digital colour photography and rapidly declining populations we have thankfully reached a point in history where it is quire unnecessary. However, the millions of specimens collected by our forefathers offer us a wealth of valuable information and an insight into the lives of those who collected them. Take for example a large collection I bought at auction recently. It comprises about 1,400 specimens caught between 1901 and 1912, with a few earlier specimens which the collector had either been given or bought. By analysing it as a whole I can tell that this collector would often have visited a sire specifically for one species himself and then captured as many of them as he could while he had the chance - more than he needed or should have taken. In rhar collection there are no less than 61 Large Heath, yet only 4 Comma, which interestingly reflects the changing fortunes of these two species. Furthermore the Commas were all labelled as caught at Newport in 1894 by someone else, so our collector probably never ever encountered the species himself. A hundred years ago i~ was confined mainly to the Monmouthshire area and was even considered quire a rarity. On the other hand he would have enjoyed the thrill of discovering a colony of Large Tortoiseshells, a pleasure lost to all of us at the present rime. One question I am currently pondering concerns the migratory habits of the Pale Clouded Yellow. Do they migrate here in roughly even numbers of males and females, or is it mainly males that reach us? In days gone by, this species would be eagerly netted by almost any collector it had the misfortune to fly past. Having acquired many collections over the years, it seems reasonable to assume that the specimens I have should be a fair representation of what has migrated here. Yet for every female, I have sixteen males. Incredibly disproportionate. Could it be that it is principally males that make rhe journey? I have certainly never read anything to that effect so the answer is probably 'no'. Anyway, more knowledgeable people than I would surely have noticed if that were the case. I suspect that the reason for such a disproportionate rate of capture is that the females are very light in colour and on a sunny day might easily be mistaken for one of rhe common whites.