The wind ripples the grass as I stroll along the edge of the chalk ridge. It’s early afternoon on a baking hot day as spring begins to give way to summer in the Yorkshire Wolds. 

My eyes are drawn to a stalk that’s swaying in the breeze, just next to the narrow path. At first, I think it’s a flower. But as I get closer, I realise the shapes at the top are actually two butterflies, side by side. They’re common blues, mating in this quiet spot at Kiplingcotes Chalk Pit Nature Reserve.

I’ve already seen lots of these gorgeous little butterflies fluttering around close to the ground in this former quarry, the males’ dazzling, sapphire-blue upperwings glinting in the sunlight.

Now I get plenty of opportunity to admire their equally beautiful underwings, with their elaborate pattern of orange, black and white dots, finished off with a border of furry hairs and – in the case of the male – a blue tinge.

The amorous couple stay together, joining the tips of their abdomens on the same, wind-blown stalk for a further 25 minutes, before flying off in different directions. 

When the female eventually lays her eggs, the chances are that she’ll do it on the leaves of a bird’s-foot-trefoil to guarantee the caterpillars will have plenty to eat once they emerge.

These tiny plants, with their bright yellow, slipper-shaped flowers, are the favourite food plant of the common blue’s caterpillar. The good news is that, if you look down closely around your feet, you find them scattered all over the grassy ground.

Our ancestors – more in tune with nature than recent generations – came up with some brilliant names for Britain’s wildflowers. This one gets its “bird’s foot” title from its claw-like seed pods; an alternative moniker is “Granny’s toenails.” Other traditional names include “eggs and bacon” and “hen and chickens” – both referring to the egg-yolk yellow flowers and reddish buds.

Kiplingcotes – which closed as a quarry in 1902 – has been transformed into a rare chalk grassland. Its thin and dry nutrient soil means no one species can dominate, providing a fantastic variety of plants to support different insects.

One of the most outrageously attention-grabbing flutters past me as I’m exploring the far end of the quarry floor. Its vivid, pinky-red hindwings seem to glow in the bright sunlight as it weaves among the vegetation.

You’d be forgiven for assuming that anything so gobsmackingly bright must be a butterfly, but this is in fact a cinnabar moth. When it finally comes to rest under a hawthorn branch, it displays its more understated forewings, which are grey with red patches.

The cinnabar’s caterpillars are also eye-catching, but they’re decked out in a radically different colour scheme – yellow and black stripes. I remember watching them crawling over their favourite food plant – ragwort – at North Cave Wetlands a few summers ago.

As the afternoon sun reaches its peak and the temperature climbs higher, more butterflies appear above Kiplingcotes’ grassland. Male orange-tips dance around as shafts of light illuminate their orange wingtips. A showy small tortoiseshell flies purposefully past me on strong wingbeats. More subdued small heaths skulk discreetly close to the ground. A slightly tatty painted lady lands on the footpath.

I head along the chalk ridge – to the accompaniment of male yellowhammers singing “little bit of bread and no cheeeese” – and reach a shadier spot. Here, among the hawthorn and dogwood, I find another blue butterfly.

But this isn’t the same species as the mating couple I encountered earlier. Its wings are paler blue and peppered with tiny black dots. It’s a holly blue – a lover of bushes and trees, rather than the grassland that attracts the common blue.

It’s time to leave this wonderful little wildlife oasis and head back home. I’ve watched some fascinating and beautiful insects, although I’m slightly disappointed not to have seen Kiplingcotes’ poster species – the marbled white butterfly.

But nature has one more surprise in store for me before I make it back to my car. 

I’ve headed onto the Hudson Way – the disused railway line between Beverley and Market Weighton, which is now a trail for walkers, cyclists and horse-riders. My eye catches a movement among the plants growing alongside the track.

What an amazing sight!

It’s a humming-bird hawk-moth, hovering in front of a red campion flower. I’ve never seen one before, and I’m utterly entranced. Its tiny wings are a blur - beating around 80 times every second, suspending it in mid-air as it uses its long proboscis to suck nectar from the flower.

This incredible species is the only thing resembling a hummingbird in Europe…the real things are only found in the Americas.

These beautiful moths migrate here from Southern Europe and North Africa. They can turn up anywhere in the UK, but you’re more likely to see them in the south than here in Yorkshire. 

Strictly speaking, I’m just outside the nature reserve’s boundaries – but how could I pass up the opportunity to share such a magical wildlife encounter? Besides, a favourite food of the humming-bird hawk-moth’s caterpillars is lady’s bedstraw – a flower that’s plentiful at Kiplingcotes – so perhaps its chalk grasslands could help nurture future generations.

The moth grants me three minutes to try to get some photos that aren’t too blurry, as it darts between the flowers. Then it whizzes higher into the air and vanishes.

I just about resist the temptation to punch the air and charge back to my sweltering car like a footballer who’s scored the winning goal in the cup final.