Golden Yellows at Great Traston Meadows

Clouded Yellow

This weekend I took a wander with my good friend Paul Joy to Great Traston Meadows – a gem of a reserve hidden away in the Gwent Levels. Paul had been out earlier in the week and returned buzzing with the news that he had spotted Clouded Yellow butterflies. That was more than enough to tempt me down for a look.

We weren’t disappointed. Within minutes of strolling the meadow paths, we found them – flashes of deep golden yellow darting low over the grass, wings catching the sunlight like tiny shards of lemon glass. They finally settled long enough for us to admire them, feeding greedily on the bright daisy-like blooms of Fleabane. Watching them land, feed, and lift again in that constant restless dance was a thrill – Clouded Yellows always feel like summer distilled into a butterfly.

Small Copper

And they weren’t alone. The meadows were busy with butterflies, each adding their own splash of colour. Small Coppers, tiny but fiery, gleamed like sparks against the green backdrop. Common Blues flickered across the grass, powdery wings flashing in the sunshine. Large Whites drifted through on their more stately flight paths, while Meadow Browns bobbed and weaved among the flowers. Together, they created a kaleidoscope of movement that made the reserve feel alive and humming.

Common Blue Butterfly

Clouded Yellow Butterflies

The Clouded Yellow (Colias croceus) is a somewhat special visitor to Britain. They’re strong migrants, flying across the Channel from continental Europe, often in waves that appear after warm southerly winds. Some years they’re scarce; in others, they seem to explode across fields and meadows in their dozens. Unlike some migrants that arrive tired and tattered, Clouded Yellows are fresh and vivid, their wings a rich butter-yellow bordered with black, often with a small orange “eye” on the hindwing.

They’re lovers of open, flower-rich habitats and can be seen feeding on plants like thistles, knapweed, clovers – and, as we saw today, Fleabane. Their caterpillars feed on leguminous plants, especially clovers and trefoils. Sadly, because they can’t survive our British winters, each year’s visitors vanish with the cold. The sense of impermanence makes every encounter feel like a fleeting gift.

Clouded Yellow feeding on Fleabane

This was the first time I had ever seen Clouded Yellow Butterflies. A Butterfly species lifer ticked.

The Reserve – Great Traston Meadows

Great Traston Meadows is one of those reserves that quietly hums with life. It lies on the Gwent Levels near Nash, forming part of the patchwork of wetlands, reens, and pastures that are such a distinctive feature of this part of South Wales. Managed by the Gwent Wildlife Trust, the reserve covers around 80 hectares and is a rare surviving example of semi-natural floodplain grazing marsh.

Great Traston Meadows aerial view.

The meadows have a long history – they were once part of the great medieval drainage systems that transformed the wetlands into farmland. The network of ditches and reens still crisscrosses the land today, acting as watery highways for dragonflies, amphibians, and waders. The reserve is now managed with careful grazing and hay-cutting to maintain its remarkable mix of grasses and wildflowers. In summer, it’s alive with orchids, butterflies, and birdsong, while winter brings flocks of wildfowl and waders sheltering in the wet grasslands.

Common Blue feeding on Fleabane

A Shared Find

Paul and I lingered far longer than we meant to, camera shutters clicking and lenses raised as the Clouded Yellows drifted past. At one point, two danced together in spirals above the Fleabane, a moment that felt like sunshine taking wing. With the other butterflies joining in the spectacle, it became one of those days where every step along the meadow path revealed something new and beautiful.

Large White feeding on Fleabane

The Gwent Levels often surprise me with their hidden richness, but today’s discovery was one of those wildlife encounters that will stay with me – proof that even on our doorstep, the wild can deliver something rare, fleeting, and utterly magical