Many British orchids are named for their animal or humanoid appearance. List some and you have all the characters for a nursery-rhyme tale of transformation and trickery: lady, frog, man, fly and spider. Today’s protagonist is the fly orchid (Ophrys insectifera), a subtle conjuror of alternate realities and a plant I’m fortunate to encounter yearly on my local South Downs hill. Favouring the dappled interface of chalk grassland and woods, it flowers here from mid-May. It’s hard to spot amid the bugle, wild marjoram, agrimony and dock, but once I have my eye in, I find upwards of 20 plants.
While they look like no fly I’ve ever seen, the tiny blooms do have an uncannily insectile appearance. This is mostly down to a special petal, the labellum, which is minutely modified for luring in pollinators. Up close, I can see how its edges are curved back just so, a sleight of folding which gives the illusion of volume. An iridescent blue patch at its centre suggests the sheen of folded wings.
