It is hard to escape the noise of the TT festival. On a small, quiet island the sudden arrival of tens of thousands of visitors on their motorbikes is a shock to the system. Many residents look forward to June when the island bursts into life. The pubs probably make more in a fortnight than the rest of the year. But many islanders loathe the chaos and inconvenience. This is the only time you’ll find yourself in a Manx traffic jam. Having no interest in the bikes myself, the TT means something altogether different, for it coincides with one of the greatest wildlife phenomena to be found in the British Isles: the flowering of our traditional hay meadows. Haymaking is among the most ancient forms of agriculture. Dry grass cut in late summer will preserve itself and get a flock or herd through the winter. Crucially, this late cut, compared with spring-cut silage, which is preserved in plastic wrap, also allows birds to raise their chicks and plants to flower and set seed – resulting in wildlife bliss. Undertaking some TT escapism, my refuge is a most wondrous meadow. Among a sea of thousands of flowers are five species of orchid, including the rare greater butterfly orchid, which can only truly be appreciated by lying down on your belly. It is among the most striking of all the 500 or so plant species that call our island home. Any meadow hosting them should be worshipped. Upliftingly, I’m not on a nature reserve. This is an ordinary farm with an extraordinary farmer. Long ago, we didn’t need nature reserves when so much farmland looked like this. My refuge is interrupted by the monotonous throb of a helicopter, signifying that the race leader is approaching. The course is a mile away, yet the clamour of roaring bikes is undiminished. Peace does not return until they have beasted their way up over the mountain. The din subsides, yet the meadow is still alive with a frenzy of butterflies, hoverflies, bees. A hay meadow in June is a microcosm of the island during TT; beautiful yet chaotic.