Standing at the Green Beach, I felt positive. A panorama of floral diversity shimmered in front of me, ideal for my mission. The still, sunny, warm conditions were also in my favour, contrasting with the recent unseasonable chilly and damp days. This beach in north Merseyside is a 4km stretch of salt marsh and sand dune habitat and a biodiversity hotspot. Over 60 hectares of new dune, dune slack, fen, wet woodland and salt marsh habitats have formed between Ainsdale and Birkdale since 1986. At home we have endured a lepidopteran famine. Despite our healthy No Mow May front garden, several buddleia shrubs and flowering grasses, I have seen only one brimstone and one orange-tip. Hence my visit here in hope of a butterfly bounty. Pause-wait-watch. My progress was deliberately slow. Skylarks trilled as they soared, wrens sang, and goldfinches cheered among alders. A fluting blackcap and a brief announcement from a garden warbler excited me. Insects flitted, dragonflies dashed, but I began to lament the absence of butterflies. Then, a migraine scintillation in the corner of my eye: a common blue, its worn wings witness to its fragility, but a butterfly at last, skimming among plantain flowers. As I gazed on this beauty, a small white flew past. Gentle salty breaths spoke of the proximity of Liverpool Bay, but a shelterbelt of alders ensured there were calm conditions along the sward. Another stop, and this time the delight of a small heath resting on a grass panicle, followed shortly by a meadow brown and the cardinal red and black of a cinnabar moth. My lunch break was rewarded with a trinity of blueness: three common blue butterflies tussling above the grasses. To complete my total at the end of my walk, a single large white sauntered by. Naturalist Peter Marren writes that butterfly fluttering can “summon up at least a small breeze in the human soul”. My soul was touched. My yearning was partially sated, but a sense of loss persisted. Only six species seen in this biodiversity hotspot. Once home I noted that many on social media were reporting the same: WHERE ARE THE BUTTERFLIES?, one shouted in upper case. The 2024 Big Butterfly Count started recently, and I fear for the results. Country diary is on Twitter at @gdncountrydiary Under the Changing Skies: The Best of the Guardian’s Country Diary, 2018-2024 (Guardian Faber) is published on 26 September; pre-order now at the guardianbookshop.com and get a 20% discount