Far, far away in the south-east corner of Europe, the Balkan Mountains tower over the landscape. Their valleys were once home to the fearsome Thracian tribes, who made empires tremble when they rode screaming into battle on their wild horses. But even more ancient battles were being fought deep in these majestic mountains.

Here in the Balkans, there grew a strange and mighty tree. Its huge seeds were encased in spiky armour and its leaves were like giant hands which cast shade all around. But this tree had been cursed. Each year a plague of tiny moths would attack the tree, their caterpillars would burrow inside every leaf. Green leaves turned to brown, leaving the tree apparently lifeless and defeated. Yet each year the tree would return with renewed green vigour, and each year the moths would attack with the same resolve. And so, for centuries the tree and the moth remained trapped in the Balkan Mountains, locked in their epic, age-old battle.

Then one day men came from the west, discovered this magnificent tree, gathered its seeds and planted them in their world. And so it was that the branches and the empire of the Horse Chestnut spread across Europe’s parks and gardens. People admired it and reclined in the shade of its broad palmate leaves. Schoolboys used its seeds to fight their own playground battles. The conker tree had conquered the continent. Here in this new world the curse of the moth had been lifted and the Horse Chestnut flourished. Meanwhile, the tree’s nemesis, not a particularly strong flyer, remained imprisoned in the remote valleys of the Balkan Mountains for centuries, more myth than moth. Then, one day, the modern world arrived. Construction workers building roads through the mountains were unwittingly building the perfect means for the moth to escape and spread. Now all it needed was a lift. So, the moth stuck out its six thumbs and hitched a ride.

Incredibly, the moth, just 5mm long, was able to disperse by grabbing on to passing vehicles. And so, like the ferocious Thracian tribes, the moth rode into battle. Screaming along highways, motorways, and autobahns on Volvos, Citroens, Fiats and Fords. The ancient battle spilled out from the Balkans as the moth was chauffeur driven to every Horse Chestnut tree in Europe. The Horse Chestnut Leaf Miner moth was first discovered, identified and named in Greece in 1984. Twenty years later, in 2004, an innocent motorist pulled off the A27 in to the University of Sussex car park, unaware they had brought a sinister stowaway into Sussex. Since then, every Horse Chestnut in Sussex has been moth-eaten. Look to the leaves and you’ll see the great Balkan battle raging right on your doorstep.

Ends

Sussex Wildlife Trust is a conservation charity for everyone who cares about nature in Sussex. Founded in 1961, we have worked with local people for over half a century to make Sussex richer in wildlife.

We rely on the support of our members. Please consider joining us. Your membership will help us challenge decisions that threaten wildlife, care for more than 30 nature reserves, and inspire the next generation about the wonders of the natural world. It’s easy to join online at sussexwildlifetrust.org.uk/join

In any book on British butterflies, you’ll find our 58 species segregated into social ranks: the common browns, the blue-collar blues, the working-class whites. But turn the page, past the lepidopteral lower-classes, and you’ll find a butterfly so unique, so magnificently majestic, so breathtakingly beautiful that for centuries British naturalists have bowed before it. Draped in resplendent robes of iridescent amethyst, obsidian, and ermine the Purple Emperor has to be one of the most impressive animals on our island. In July the purple reign begins.

Aside from an alluring appearance, Emperors also possess that combination of rarity and elusiveness which has elevated them into an almost mythological figure: a butterfly bigfoot. How a large, shiny, purple butterfly manages to exist undetected in our countryside is down to an arboreal existence. Purple Emperors spend almost all their time on lofty thrones high above our woodlands. If we’re lucky we may glimpse the glide of a wide-winged silhouette as we stare sore-necked and squinting at the Sycamore skyline. Up there, in their canopy kingdom, Emperors compete in a power struggle for territory and males gather for summer tree-top tournaments. Their wings flash as they clash in acrobatic aerial jousting, and they spar and spiral high into the Sussex skies. The Emperor’s ferocity and fearlessness in the defence of his realm are famous. Butterflies, bumblebees and other insects get a battering if they trespass and, incredibly, bemused birds (including Sparrowhawks, woodpeckers, gulls and herons) also receive a warning wing-slap.

Emperors don’t lower themselves to feast on flowers like other butterfly riffraff. The Emperor sups sugars by quaffing only the finest honeydew distilled by aphids in the treetops. Yet, in complete contrast to its aristocratic high life, the Emperor has some dirty habits which drag him down to the filthy forest floor. To get his majesty’s mojo working he requires a mid-morning meal of minerals, which he obtains by probing his proboscis into the most disgusting muck he can find. Dog poo, used nappies, dead animals, sweaty feet – nothing is too repugnant. It’s like finding the King rummaging through the bins at the back of Tesco.

The female Empress does not have the shining sheen or horrid habits of the Emperor but she too descends to lower levels searching shady Sallows for a place to lay her eggs. Camouflaged caterpillars munch from August to June before giving rise to another distinguished (but disgusting) dynasty.

Recently, the Emperor has extended his empire eastwards. Once a butterfly of north-west Sussex it can now be found all across the north of the county and has been reported around Uckfield – there have even been rumoured sightings in the very heart of Brighton – so keep your eyes to the skies.

Sussex Wildlife Trust is a conservation charity for everyone who cares about nature in Sussex. Founded in 1961, we have worked with local people for over half a century to make Sussex richer in wildlife. We rely on the support of our members. Please consider joining us. Your membership will help us challenge decisions that threaten wildlife, care for more than 30 nature reserves, and inspire the next generation about the wonders of the natural world. It’s easy to join online at sussexwildlifetrust.org.uk/join

Ferring Conservation Group welcomed the Worthing Society to its November meeting, for a talk given by its Chairman, Sue Belton and Committee member David Clark. The Society much in common with our Conservation Group, is striving to preserve and conserve all that is best in our environment, and is a valuable member of the Protect our Gaps Alliance. It also reflects what we do in our History Group, in researching and presenting the town’s history but its main focus is on Worthing’s buildings – past, present and future – and the talk was entitled ‘Worthing’s Buildings, Lost and Saved.’

Sue said far too many historic buildings were demolished in the1960s and were replaced by extremely unattractive buildings and multi-storey car parks. This trend continued into the 1970s but was challenged by a redoubtable character, Mrs Pat Baring, who campaigned to save what was left, and founded the Worthing Civic Society in 1973. Among the fine buildings that were lost was the old Town Hall (built in 1836), the Theatre Royal in Ann Street (18^th Century), Grafton House, the Esplanade Hotel (where Oscar Wilde wrote ‘The Importance of being Earnest’), and the 17^th Century ‘Selden’s Cottage’ but the biggest planning disaster of all was the demolition of half the High Street leaving only two or three of the old town houses.

But although much had been lost a lot more had been saved.  There were 212 buildings on the Statutory List and another 750 on Worthing Council’s local list. The Worthing Society was involved in saving much of this built heritage, working closely with English Heritage and the Borough Council. Beach House was one of its successes, along with the Dome Cinema and Stanford Cottage (now a Pizza House), where Jane Austen had written the unfinished novel, ‘Sanditon’. Now the Society was much involved with preserving these and other historic buildings but was also regularly consulted by the Council on planning applications and its redevelopment schemes like Teville Gate and Montague Place.

The talk was followed by tea and hot mince pies, and the usual update on local wildlife and planning applications and appeals, including the dismissal of the appeal on Lansdowne Nursery, one of the cases which the Protect our Gaps Alliance had taken up and won.