On a gorgeous day recently I was waiting for a client who was running late. I sat down and observed the beautiful North York Moors landscape before me, pondering what an awful job I had sitting in a lovely garden, admiring the lovely view and basking in the lovely sun. It was a terrible burden.

My eye was caught by something down to my right, and I noticed an insect hovering before a large planter. Suddenly, it darted forward and disappeared. I continued to watch and realised that there was a pea-sized hole near the base, and beneath the hole was a little pyramid of fine dirt. Clearly, whatever it was had found this hole and had been burrowing inside. I waited a while, and sure enough, a couple of minutes later it popped its head out again, had a furtive look around, then flew off. A few minutes later it was joined by a friend, and suddenly two insects were queuing up to enter what must have been a nest within the belly of the planter.

To be certain of their identity, I tried to grab a few photos with my phone, most of which were rubbish (you try photographing tiny flying insects with a phone), but a few were just about publishable, and you can judge my abilities for yourself by those with this article.

They seemed like a busy bunch, coming and going every few minutes, and it was fun trying to spot when they were about to leave the nest. You’d just see the tip of their shiny little head pop out for a second, retreat, pop out again, scan the surroundings and either retreat again or fly off, presumably on high alert for predators, me being a rather large one hovering over them with a phone camera. They seemed to get used to me though, and after a while, accepted my presence so that I managed to grab a few shots.

Once I returned home, my trusty wildlife book confirmed they were flying ants, and I started to wonder why some ants had wings and others didn’t. I’m sure I’m not alone in remembering days when they seemed to be swarming everywhere, getting in your hair, on your clothes, coming in through open windows, usually on a humid and thundery summer’s day. I used to be terrified of them.

I now know this is ‘Flying Ant Day’, when hundreds of thousands of them swarm. It actually isn’t a single day but can be on any day between June and September, but the conditions have to be right – warm, humid, and most importantly, windless. This year Flying Ant Day was officially 17th July, but of course our weather is highly variable and unpredictable and so different parts of the country will experience it on different days, but it is more than likely to occur sometime in July or August.

The flying ants you are most likely to see are the harmless common black ant, and the queens and smaller male drones take to the air to mate when the weather conditions are just right, which causes the swarming behaviour. After this ‘nuptial’ flight, the queen will find somewhere to start her colony, while the male quickly dies, having fulfilled the only task he was born to do. The queen chews off her wings as she no longer has a use for them and then sets about laying eggs which hatch into wingless worker females (those we see around our footpaths and gardens) who maintain the nest and hunt for food for their boss. The queen's fertilisation lasts a lifetime, and she can live up to 15 years in the same nest, laying eggs and never venturing out again. When the colony is well established, she gives birth to a new batch of virgin winged queens (princesses) and winged male drones (alates) who, when the conditions are once again right, will leave to find mates from other nests to start up their own colonies, and hence the Flying Ant Day cycle starts all over again.

Although they can be a nuisance, they play a vital role in our ecology, their tunnelling behaviours improving our soil quality, their relationships with certain caterpillars helping improve butterfly numbers, and their swarms providing essential food for birds and other wildlife.

Do you have opinions, memories or ideas to share with me? Contact me via my webpage at countrymansdaughter.com, or email gazette@gazetteherald.co.uk.