Something stunning happened last week, which has never before occurred in Britain in November: a subtropical butterfly, the long-tailed blue, was seen flying on the south coast of England. Another unprecedented event took place one August evening: a volunteer at the Dungeness bird observatory was strolling home from the pub when he was transported to summer holidays on Mediterranean verandas – he heard the nocturnal whirring of tree crickets. Hundreds of these warmth-loving insects have now been found breeding in Britain for the first time.

Exceptional insects are the new normal. The long-tailed blue is a common sight across Africa, south Asia and Australia. Very occasionally – in 1945 and again in 1990 – warm winds push a couple of dozen to Britain. In 2013, however, more than 100 individuals were spotted between Bognor and Dover. This year has seen another 60 mostly British-born specimens emerging spectacularly late in the year for any butterfly, let alone a subtropical creature.

We struggle to act on climate change because it involves restraining consumption – of fossil fuel – and we as a species find it hard to practise restraint. We are also struggling because arguments focused on parts per million of CO 2 are abstract and remote from real experience.

Insects could help us realise just how radically our climate is changing. Forgive an obvious animal cliche, but they are the canary in the coal mine. Along with tree bumblebees, another very visible newcomer in Britain, we might describe them as the first climate refugees to reach our shores.

They demonstrate how successful species take quick, flexible and radical action to survive – and the lesson is timely, for we too will have to adapt much more quickly than we have so far. Will next month’s Paris summit, where leaders will seek a global agreement to cut emissions, herald such a moment? It should do. A wise species would take its lead from the insects.

A rail line in a pear tree

A popular vote has crowned the Cubbington pear as England’s tree of the year. Ancient trees are a kind of celebrity or community elder. They tell us a lot about our time. The pear stands by an ancient woodland in Warwickshire; it, and much of the wood, will be bulldozed in around 2018 to make way for the high-speed rail line between London and Birmingham. Nearby, HS2’s route has been tweaked to avoid destroying a golf course at Kenilworth, but so far the railway has refused pleas to tunnel under Cubbington to save this bluebell-filled paradise. How will a people who valued golf above ancient trees be viewed in the future?

The end of blinds?

With the onset of winter, my local paper carries ads for “warm roofs”. These involve a remarkable technology called tiles, which are fitted over glass-topped conservatories to make them slightly less unwelcoming in winter. Conservatories were so hot in the 1980s; these days they’re cold-shouldered in favour of folding doors. Swirly Artex ceilings may be long gone in London, but in my part of the world plasterers still make a good living removing them. And despite my fondness for Pulp’s Disco 2000, in my house we’re slowly exterminating the “woodchip on the wall”, another relic from ye olde DIY days of yore. It’s tempting to see today’s trends as better, but many are just different. What will our children rip out in 2035? My money is on blinds, kitchen islands, square sinks and “engineered” wood flooring. Future generations may rediscover the joys of curtains and bowl-shaped sinks; hopefully, though, shagpile carpet will remain uncool.