Butterflies of Var, Southern France

[Sylvie_h]

Very sad to hear the news indeed. Listening to RTL this morning, these bad storms happen every 15-20 years in the region. I also know the area for having lived there, and when it rains, rains can be very heavy, floods happen very quickly especially when the ground is dry from the lack of rain during the summer...

[Andy02]

The awful impact to the local population aside , how do you think this will affect next season’s butterfly numbers. Are they resilient to these natural disasters or will it take some time to recover.

[David M]

The awful impact to the local population aside , how do you think this will affect next season’s butterfly numbers. Are they resilient to these natural disasters or will it take some time to recover.

This is a human disaster rather than a butterfly one, Andy. The damage caused by floods tends to be felt in the valleys, where the pressure from higher up translates into devastating landslides and infrastructure collapse.

I daresay the butterfly populations are far more vulnerable to overgrazing, drought and unseasonable cold weather, amongst other factors.

[Roger Gibbons]

This is a trip report to southern France. Normally, we would be in Var, on the south coast of France at the end of June, but this year it had not been possible to get to Var, so we (my wife and I) started the four-week trip from Calais on 1 July.

I will only briefly mention the Covid rules. Only briefly, because there is a lot that could be said. Clearly, we need some mechanism for people entering the country (whether it be France or the UK) to ensure that they are Covid-free. However, the muddled, convoluted and extortionately expensive protocols applied, the more so, it appears, to France leave one with the conclusion that it is not Covid-safety driving the rules, but politics and a strong desire to prevent money leaving the UK. For the two of us, we have managed to keep the testing cost below £500. The Antigen testing kits needed prior to UK departure and return cost £29 each (and these were the cheapest we could find); they were identical to the test kits you can pick up for free at Tesco (or wherever). The Passenger Locator checking on return home has entailed a phone call daily for each of us, a five-minute script read at 100 mph, mostly by people whose English was barely comprehensible.

That was briefly. You would have to seriously want to go to France if you knew what it entailed. I feel sorry for Eurotunnel as the number of cars crossing was in single figures.

Anyway, we crossed at 06.30 on 1 July and headed for a spot in central France where I had been told Large Chequered Skipper (Heteropterus morpheus) flew, a species I had not managed to see since 2006. The main location was on one side of the road, but park on the other, a small pull-in. The small pull-in was just behind some bushes, hidden from the road and in France that usually means it has been used for purposes other than hunting morpheus, such purposes being not unattractive to morpheus. And so it proved. There were two males, both looking perfectly fresh, indicating perhaps a late season. I had posted this before on the July 2021 thread, but I’ll repeat it here for completeness.

On day 2 we headed for St Gaudens, the gateway to the Pyrenees maybe with a stop at the end for a mooch. However, it was 37C and the appeal of an air-conditioned room was irresistible.

Day 3 we headed for the Néouvielle region where False Dewy Ringlet (Erebia sthennyo), one of the most localised Erebia species in France, flew. It was apparently an early season for this species, as most sthennyo were showing definite signs of wear on 3 July. They are also frustratingly difficult to photograph as they flutter slowly and when they do eventually stop, it is usually deep in the grass. Here is one that settled in overcast weather, a male (I think), and maybe not very exciting to look at, but its rarity makes it special.

And at the same location, a mating pair of Mazarine Blues (Cyaniris semiargus) – female looking pristine on the left – with another male trying to batter its way in.

Day 4 we tried a Col at 1500m to the east of the region which we hadn’t visited before. There was a heavy mist hugging the higher peaks and it looked like it might get “burnt off” by the sun’s rays that were just starting to peep through, so we went up to the Col and found that the mist was coming down, not going up. These mountain roads with sheer drops are hairy at the best of times, but with mist bringing visibility down to 20m, the fun really starts. We dropped down to below the mist and explored a narrow road at around 1100m altitude. We found a rich spot adjacent to a river and with rather cloudy weather, butterflies were much less active, and we were treated to, among many others, a settled Large Blue (Phengaris arion) and Pearly Heath (Coenonympha arcania).

Day 5 and a return to Néouvielle. Nothing particularly new, but I did spot a rarity for me, a mating pair of Pearl-bordered Fritillaries (Boloria euphrosyne), rare because I hardly ever see the underside, plus a Baton Blue (Pseudophilotes baton) at 1640m altitude, very high for this usually-lowland species, but not unknown according to the local expert.

Day 6 was heavy mist all day. Travelling to Gavarnie.

Day 7 to a well-known dam not far from Gavarnie in search of the elusive Gavarnie Blue (Plebejus pyrenaicus). I made trips to this spot in 2015, 2017 and 2019 without joy – too early, too late – so I rather felt that 2021 would be a last try. This entails a track about 1km around the reservoir to get to the spot where the males are known to puddle, of which about 400m is a rocky track which allows little margin for error as there is a very steep slope down to the reservoir, so any wrongfooting would probably be my last.

I got to within 200m of the hoped-for puddling spot as the cloud cover, grey cloud, was becoming complete. Half an hour later it was still there and not moving, so I made the return to the car park and awaited developments. After about an hour, the sky cleared and I clambered back around the reservoir, and there were – glory be! – two males puddling at the river edge. I focussed (literally) on one and got photos of both the upperside and underside, where the only comparable underside is Glandon Blue (P. glandon).

It was starting to cloud over again and as I made my way back, I stopped off to ask (in my not-great French) someone who was photographing something on the ground what the subject was. This is normal in France, as I get asked all the time by randonneurs (not serious ones – they never stop for anything) what I am photographing. He said (in French) he thought it was a Lefebvre’s Ringlet (Erebia lefebvrei). It became clear he was English but would he recognise lefebvrei – there are many similar Erebia – and lefebvrei had not been recorded from that location for over twenty years.

Until now! A second life tick within half an hour. Can life get any better? Thank you, YK, you have hero status in my eyes. The lefebvrei was a female, and was stationary, flat out on a rock, as some Erebia are prone to do in such weather conditions. And then as the rain started, it got up and walked to a sheltered spot under a rock.

To be continued…

[Charles Nicol]

thanks for the first instalment Roger... i am looking forward to more !

[petesmith]

Congratulations Roger! I know how much those two must have meant to you - the stuff of dreams.

And that female lefebvrei...WOW!

I am missing France quite badly this summer. Let's hope the crazy politics get resolved ASAP.

[Padfield]

Brilliant Roger.

My experience of lefebvrei is that males at least stray very little from their shale slopes. I used to visit a site in the Val d'Aran where they were relatively easy to spot on a narrow, steep - and frankly dangerous - shale embankment but completely absent in all the surrounding area. They never wandered even a metre off the shale. In those days (I haven't been back to the Val since 2010), I didn't have superzoom and really struggled to get pictures as I crept carefully over the rocks. It's very interesting, therefore, to see your female. Perhaps they wander more widely to lay eggs.

Re travel rules: I couldn't get home to Switzerland at all this year because until recently they imposed a quarantine on all visitors from the UK, regardless of nationality. It's not just Bojo and pals who are making travel difficult! The rules have changed now and I do hope to get back some time in the autumn.

Guy

[Medard]

Yes I echo Pete's congratulations, you certainly deserved your lucky break Roger, the track that you describe is very dangerous, not for the faint hearted, making the return trip along the track we passed fresh blood splattered on the rocky path, someone must have received a bad fall.
I took my photos of the Gavarnie Blue 04-07-2015 most likely at the same spot as you, my added bonus was Marbled Skippers (Carcharodus lavatherae)
Mrs Medard and I celebrated at Les Gloriettes.with delicious crepes and Myrtle Berries jam.
https://jamesgibbs6929.zenfolio.com/

[Maximus]

It's great that you finally found your Gavarnie Blue, Roger, having missed it on your previous visits. We took our photos of this butterfly on 14-07-18, probably at the same spot as you and Medard did. I remember that path around the lake with it's big drops to one side, not good for anyone suffering from vertigo.
Les Gloriettes can be seen in the distance in this shot, and I concur that the crepes were delicious at this establishment.

[Roger Gibbons]

Blood on the track, Medard. Glad you told me that after my visit and not before! I can very easily see how an injury could happen as the rocks in the track had become very smooth. The local expert (JL) told me that there had been rockfalls over the winter and work was needed to clear the track.

I suspect Gavarnie Blue is present throughout the region, as you found Maximus, it’s just that the spot where Medard and I found it is the best known and possibly the most reliable.

It is a particularly French thing, the creperie. We find them hard to resist and when we spent three nights in St-Lary-Soulan (a very nice, buzzy, Pyrenees town), on two of those nights our evening meal was a galette followed by crepe myrtille at Le Bilitis – a very nice little creperie even it sounds like a gastronomic disorder.

[Roger Gibbons]

Day 8 was a trip along the very rich Ossoue valley to about 1600m altitude. No particularly rare species among the 32 species flying here but a very pleasant day in an area where few people visit.

Day 9 we tried the Col de Tentes (French side) on the border with Spain. I only went up the track to about 2230m altitude but could scan with binoculars and only saw a couple of Erebia which we couldn’t identify. We stopped off at various points going back down, finishing back in the Ossoue valley. The highlight there was this mating pair of Turquoise Blues (Polyommatus dorylas).

Day 10 we travelled east from Gavarnie to St Gaudens. There are no roads across the Pyrenees at altitude so it is necessary, as it were, to go north and then across and drop down further east to visit the eastern Pyrenees. It maybe doesn’t look far on the map, but the journey times are substantial.

We planned to stop off at the Col du Tourmalet but one look at the vast number of humans (mostly on bikes) already at this iconic Col (it features heavily in the Tour de France) and we decided to give it a miss. Soon after is the huge and soulless ski town of La Mongie, as unappealing as it sounds. Just to the east of La Mongie, we stopped off at a riverside spot I had researched on Google Earth. It was overcast with brief sunny spells, enough to tempt the butterflies out.

I have had problems with Melitaea species of Fritillary (Heath and relatives) this year, especially in the Pyrenees. Heath Fritillary (M. athalia) is hugely variable in terms of the markings, their shape and “heaviness”. The main problem is that the form vernetensis of False Heath Fritillary (M. diamina) flies there and is similar to athalia. For instance, the upperside and underside (same butterfly) below. The last time I got any sort of photo of vernetensis was in 2003 when, to get the photo with my old camera, I was laying flat out just off the road on a hairpin bend. Several people stopped to ask my wife if medical help was needed. This one didn’t look right for vernetensis but it didn’t look right for athalia either. I haven’t studied these photos in any detail, as I save the study for the autumn, but if anyone knows the defining features of vernetensis, please feel invited to comment.

By contrast, here is athalia (I think) which was right alongside. It does look right for athalia except that it doesn’t have the heavier upf shading around marginal lunule in s2. Can they both be the same species?

Day 11 we travelled south to Ariège in the eastern part of the Pyrenees. We travelled around the region north of Ax-les-Thermes but there was relatively little flying there. It seems that each year the number of butterflies drops a little in this region. However, there was the little matter of a football match that evening. Being an hour behind the UK, the match ended at midnight, no doubt with the same cloud of despair as enveloped blighty.

Day 12 we planned to explore the region around the Col de Puymorens on our way east. Heavy mist was again the problem, which is often only an early morning problem at altitude, clearing late morning. This time the mist did lift and, although one of the key roads was barred-off (not infrequent on French roads), the mist did lift on the lower reaches of the Col and we were able to explore a flowery track that has proved interesting in the past. The two principal targets were the subspecies of Yellow-spotted Ringlet (E. manto) – constans, very different from the nominate form and being devoid of any markings, and Chestnut Heath (C. glycerion) – the heavy-ocellus form which is, it appears to me, to be transitional to Spanish Heath (C. iphioides).

We continued eastwards and pulled off the road for lunch and my wife spotted a Hairstreak nectaring and it was immediately obvious we had wandered into Spanish Purple Hairstreak (Laeosopis roboris) territory. It is always a delight to see this unique species and at the same spot we saw the first of what was to be many Iberian Marbled Whites (Melanargia lachesis) – as David M had reported on his Spanish trip. What surprises me is that, whereas the “normal” Marbled White (M. galathea) is phenomenally common throughout France, it does not seem to occur where lachesis flies. It seems that lachesis “replaces” galathea in its strongholds.

And yet another strange Melitaea.

Day 13 and on to a sort-of-secret spot in the eastern Pyrenees for Spanish Argus (Aricia morronensis), which apparently only flies in two places on the French side of the Pyrenees. It entailed a steep climb up a rocky track (don’t they all?) but, even though it was incredibly rich in terms of diversity and density, I think I was there just too early for morronensis which allegedly flies from mid-July onward. This Niobe Fritillary (Argynnis – actually now Fabriciana - niobe) was flat out in an overcast spell and this slightly aberrant lachesis had shut up shop completely.

More to follow…

[Padfield]

Hi Roger. I can't answer your question about vernetensis definitively, but I wonder if I have been misled in the past by the picture in Tolman, which suggests the underside is very similar to athalia (or what I now call nevadensis in that region). In particular, it suggests the row of hindwing spots inside the submarginal band is yellow with orange centres, without the characteristic dark spot of diamina. My other books, with photos of set specimens, don't corroborate this. That row looks rather different, with or without the dark centres of normal diamina. For what it's worth (which in this instance is not much), all your individuals look to me within the range of variation of nevadensis, though I agree the one with the rather regular, dark ups and even submarginal spotting that you draw attention to is notable. I did consider female parthenoides for your two-tone female but the uneven submarginal spotting of the forewing upperside puts me off that.

Would that I had such problems now! It's a long time since I went to the Pyrenees and your piccies are bringing it all back.

Guy

[Roger Gibbons]

Hi Guy,

Many thanks for your thoughts. I have found it difficult to find any definitive information on separating "athalia" from vernetensis. I'll have a detailed search in the Autumn. I also had some other "athalia" photos from the eastern Pyrenees and southern Alps which are puzzling me.

I agree with your take, that they are all "athalia" (so far, at least). It is such a common (sorry, UKBers) and hugely variable species that they all fit within the range of variation for the species.

Roger

[Roger Gibbons]

Day 14 we continued east into the Pyrenees-Orientales to a spot where Mountain Small White (Pieris ergane) flies, the number of sites for this species in France are diminishing rapidly toward zero. It is an incredibly rich site which featured something I’ve never seen before – all three Gatekeeper species in one place – the British species (Pyronia tithonus), Southern (P. cecilia) and Spanish (P. bathseba). We did get to see ergane but it was highly active and flying almost continuously up and down the steep sides of the ravine. Iberian Marbled Whites (M. Lachesis) were very common, much as David M had found in Spain. We counted a total of 44 species, including one that was one of my main targets here – the Iberian Scarce Swallowtail (Iphiclides feisthamelii), very similar to the more familiar Scarce Swallowtail (I. podalirius) but slightly paler, and now classified as a separate species. The location was a long-abandoned quarry (aren’t they good!) and the steep slopes meant that the butterflies mainly flew up and down the slopes, so this was the best shot of feisthamelii I could get.

Day 15 was a trek north to the region around Mont Lozère for Ottoman Brassy Ringlet (E. ottomana) another highly localised (in France) Erebia species – I realised in retrospect that the trip was focussed on rare Erebia, with mixed success. It is a region that seems to get very little sunshine and 15 July was no exception. In several hours, all we got was a brief 20 minute spell of weak sun, but it did bring the butterflies to life, albeit briefly. I did manage to get a shot of a female ottomana, clearly past its best, but chances to see a female of this species aren’t frequent, so here it is.

Also at this location, the sun persuaded this fresh male Titania’s Fritillary (B. titania) to sit open-winged to warm up and then close up when it became overcast to show the beautiful purple marbling of the underside, showing that it was the subspecies cypris.

Also making an appearance was a fresh False Heath Fritillary (M. diamina) – why were these so fresh and the ottomana so worn? – which closed up to show the subtle intricacy of its underside.

Day 16 and on to a location near a large lake in the departement of Lozère, a very natural and sparsely populated region of France. I have been there twice before, once in overcast weather but when the sun came out it exploded into life, and the second time in full sun when the butterfly density was just as good. Well, today was overcast until well into the afternoon and when there was weak sun, it was clear that most of the butterflies had given up for the day. If you travel around the mountainous areas you just have to accept that the weather will be against you some of the time, even three days in a row, as here, and keep your eyes peeled for roosters – this Spotted Fritillary (M. didyma) was particularly appealing.

Day 17 and into the volcanic region of central France in the hope of seeing and getting photos of Sudeten Ringlet (E. sudetica) subspecies lioranus, which only flies in this very small region. I had been there some years before and found them at a peak which entails a telecabine ride to a peak, but on that occasion it was a windy day and they just settled low in the grass. Would today be any better? My wife was less than keen (quite a lot less than keen) on the telecabine, given the recent Italian disaster, but the weather was at least sunny. However… as we approached the location, it seemed to be rather busy with large numbers of Harley Davidsons holding a jamboree there, topped off by a triathlon event. So not the peaceful location we had hoped for. What was peaceful was the booking desk for the telecabine – cancelled because of wind. One of us was happy.

We went on to a local Col where I had seen sudetica (and other Erebia) before, but the sky was seriously overcast and the wind was gale force. Maybe the telecabine being cancelled was a good idea, I grudgingly have to admit.

Day 18 and we headed east into a damp and sparsely populated region of central France, to join the local experts to see Cranberry Fritillary (B. aquilonaris) at a boggy site where they had been seen on the same date last year. No aquilonaris yet – another piece of evidence suggesting that 2021 was a late year for most species, only a few Bright-eyed Ringlets (E. oeme) and strange Alpine Heaths (C. gardetta) with very enlarged ocelli – at an altitude of below 1400m, within range but way below its usual altitude range.

We had mentioned Large Chequered Skipper (H. morpheus) to the local experts, who said that it flew not far from where we were, and would we like to go there. I think “no-brainer” is the phrase I’m looking for. Not only did we see 10+ morpheus, but also 29 other species within 500m. The distribution map for morpheus is very strange – it is (unusually for France) a species of the west of the country, with stronghold areas and lots of isolated colonies. Where we were was the most easterly point of its distribution.

Day 19 and still going east, to a favourite spot east of Lyon where Dryad (Minois dryas) and Lesser Purple Emperors (Apatura ilia) fly. We did see one very fresh dryas (another indicator of a late season) but the ilia site had become a victim of the recent floods and was under 20cm of water. It’s going well.

However, there were a few butterflies nectaring nearby, including this Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui), snapped as it rotated nectaring. Seeing fresh cardui is slightly unusual as most that I see are showing signs of wear from migration. They may be common, but I was pleased to get these images, especially of the underside which is beautifully marked. It’s nice to see the rare species, but I hope I never lose sight of the intrinsic beauty of the more familiar species.

Day 20 and heading east into the serious Alps, near Briançon at a top secret site for Larche Ringlet (E. scipio) which I visited last year and got one shot of a male which I believe was scipio. I had doubts afterwards, but on further study, I think the main alternative can be ruled out, so scipio it probably was. For detailed study in the Autumn.

On pulling the car off the road, there were large numbers puddling right there, including Erebia ringlets, one of which looked suspiciously like scipio. Not much doubt this time, with a view of the plain black underside to be sure.

The main location for scipio was about 1km away up a rocky track with a steep rise of 140m in altitude. There were myriad just-defined rocky tracks leading up from this point and, as I had found the spot first time last year, I didn’t bother to consult the maps this year. Big mistake. I reached a point where I concluded this can’t be the right track and turned back and tried another track which soon became clear wasn’t right either. When I checked the maps later, I found I was only some 200m from the spot, on the first track. Lesson learnt, but at least I did get to see the target species.

8 days to go.

[Padfield]

Another fantastic selection of species, Roger - especially the scipio.

Out of interest, I presume you saw the upperside of that diamina for confirmation (and that it wasn't vernetensis, which had been giving you problems from the upperside). I'm interested because the underside looks so wrong, partly because of the orange/yellow spots but also because of the marginal line, which is supposed to be yellow in diamina and in my experience always is yellow in fresh individuals. Or have you found another criterion which always works?

Guy

[David M]

I'm so pleased you managed to finally track down pyrenaicus, Roger, and the bonus lefebvrei must have made your heart palpitate! After watching them constantly zooming around dangerous scree slopes in Picos, I can well understand your delight at finding one posing so beautifully.

Reading your commentary, it appears that it is another very strange season in France, with some species in advance of their normal emergence, and others behind. The weather has been crazy this year, with late frosts destroying vines in many regions and then a heatwave like we had in the UK (only even hotter!!!)

I'm well aware of the obstacles to travel right now, and turned my back on France in favour of Spain due to the incomprehensible decision to create a new 'amber plus' category for the former even though Beta-variant rates were much higher in the latter.

The situation remains frustratingly difficult to understand and deal with; our only hope is that by 2022, in Europe at least, we will see infection rates drop to such a level that these restrictions/measures will be removed.

Well done for braving it and it's good to see you notch up some of the species you'd been pursuing for such a long time. I guess you only have 3 or 4 to find now?

[Roger Gibbons]

Out of interest, I presume you saw the upperside of that diamina for confirmation (and that it wasn't vernetensis, which had been giving you problems from the upperside). I'm interested because the underside looks so wrong, partly because of the orange/yellow spots but also because of the marginal line, which is supposed to be yellow in diamina and in my experience always is yellow in fresh individuals. Or have you found another criterion which always works?

I only saw it briefly in flight and noted at the time that looked like diamina, and didn't give it much thought. But I think you are right, Guy, in that it looks more like athalia (I was in Lozère, out of vernetensis territory). I find, as all of us that are familiar with diamina, that it is hugely variable on both the upperside and underside, but I think this is out of range for diamina. I will mark this down for a detailed look in the Autumn.

I'm so pleased you managed to finally track down pyrenaicus, Roger, and the bonus lefebvrei must have made your heart palpitate! After watching them constantly zooming around dangerous scree slopes in Picos, I can well understand your delight at finding one posing so beautifully.
...
Well done for braving it and it's good to see you notch up some of the species you'd been pursuing for such a long time. I guess you only have 3 or 4 to find now?

Thanks David - I only saw one pyrenaicus compared to your 40 or so, but it's a Gavarnie Blue, so seeing it in Gavarnie seems somehow right.

Regarding my remaining life ticks, they are Spanish Fritillary (E. desfontainii) and Water Ringlet (E. pronoe). Not that I'm in any way obsessive about the missing two...

[David M]

..Regarding my remaining life ticks, they are Spanish Fritillary (E. desfontainii) and Water Ringlet (E. pronoe). Not that I'm in any way obsessive about the missing two...

I've been pretty obsessive about desfontainii myself over the last few years, Roger.

20 hours+ for just two specimens isn't a great return but hopefully you'll find it eventually (probably in those quarries).

[Roger Gibbons]

Day 21 and over the notorious Col du Galibier. Notorious because it is 2640m at the peak, sheer drops if you are on the “drop” side, and many blind hairpin bends with traffic coming from the other direction flying round the bends and occupying 60% of the road width. Plus, the south side of Galibier is very sparse in terms of butterflies, both diversity and density. On the north side, there are several pull-off spots adjacent to the La Valloirette river that are really quite species-rich. But crossing Galibier is the quickest and cheapest route into Savoie.

Day 22 was a trip to one of my favourite spots south of Modane. The last section of the road isn’t great (at least UKBer will know where I mean from this description), just about OK for our car given that we don’t risk car damage on roads that are too rocky or uneven. But the trip is worth it. We counted 48 species and there were doubtless more if we had identified everything we saw. And those 48 species did not include Meadow Brown, Marbled White, or Common Blue, but did include 13 species of Blue and 7 species of Fritillary. Not only the diversity, but also the density everywhere we looked. A very enjoyable day just looking. Maybe the highlight was a single male Alpine Blue (Plebejus – now classified as Agriades - orbitulus) definitely one of the least common high-altitude blues.

A slightly unusual sight was a Tufted Marbled Skipper (Carcharodus flocciferus – now floccifera) nectaring on Rosebay Willowherb, unusual in that I nearly always see this not-uncommon species puddling.

Day 23 and a trip to a spot north of Modane where I had previously seen the highly-localised Asian Fritillary (Euphydryas intermedia). However, it was now 23 July and I was sure I would be too late, given that I had mentioned the site to someone and they had reported seeing them fresh on 1 July, which seems very early for a normal season, and 2021 had shown to be 7-10 days late in every other respect.

Other interesting species fly here, though, one of which was Cranberry Blue (Plebejus optilete), although I might have been late for this, too. I scanned with my trusty Papilio binoculars the area where the Asian Fritillaries fly, but no joy, somewhat as expected. I did encounter a couple of Cranberry Blues and one was quite fresh. They are very boldly marked and are unmistakeable with the red spot, although this one was less strikingly red than most, and having very few silver scales in the adjacent black spot. Still a stunner, though.

Meandering back along the lakeside track, I have learnt through experience to look at the ground ahead of me, because so often interesting species are disturbed and fly off if they see you before you see them. I could see something of medium size on the dusty track ahead and took distance photos and approached very gingerly. You can guess from this build-up that it was something good. Better than good. It was a female Asian Fritillary just sitting wings open on the track. Quite what it was doing there, I have no idea as this was very strange behaviour for a female. It wasn’t damaged, and luckily no-one else was walking along this popular track at the time. It was showing some sign of wear, but still in good condition considering that it was very late into the flight period. It sat with wings open, then closed, revealing the stunning underside which is almost identical to its lowland cousin, the Scarce Fritillary (E. maturna). And then it flew off.

Day 24 and meandering northwards, stopping off near Flaine, a rather large and soulless ski resort, but there are some nice unspoiled spots en route. I had stopped there last year and found quite a good selection of species and reasonable density, but this year there seemed to be much less flying there. The bonus was a female Mountain Dappled White (Euchloe simplonia) which alternated between nectaring and sitting on the ground, in a manner not dissimilar to the Asian Fritillary.

Day 25 with plans to explore the area of Haute-Savoie around Cluses, a region new to us. There was a heavy mist for most of the day, with a spell of weak sun, but surprisingly little was flying there. This type of weather is sometimes good for photography, so here is a Silver-studded Blue (P. argus) warming up. It is one of the commonest species at altitude, sometimes seen in dozens.

Day 26 and now moving westwards en route to Calais, stopping off at the Plateau des Glières, where I had my one and only sighting of Cranberry Fritillary last year. The weather was overcast, as it had been for much of the trip. There was a brief spell of weak sun but only a few Arran Browns (E. ligea) made an appearance.

Day 27 and now well on our way north, a stop in Côte d’Or at a site very good for certain rare species earlier in the year. The weather was 22C and rather overcast and most of the butterflies were strangely lethargic, just sitting. Not bad conditions for photography and I was delighted to get a shot at a fresh Peacock (Aglais io), a rarity as it doesn’t fly in the south-east corner of France. I think it is the prince of species as nothing comes close to its colouring. If it were rare, we would be raving about it.

Also behaving rather strangely was a Great Banded Grayling (Brintesia circe) just sitting on the ground with wings half-open, a very unusual pose given that it always settles with closed wings.

Day 28 and now in northern France where the butterflies are very similar to British species. A stop off in a region of small lakes for lunch, no butterfly plans, but we were visited by three Red Admirals (Vanessa atalanta) whizzing around and settling on the ground in a skittish fashion. I managed to get an underside shot which gets close to capturing the intricacy of the underside marbling. A great way to conclude the trip.

Back in the UK and ten days of obligatory self-isolation, but overall many highlights and nice surprises. I realise I was very lucky to be able to make the trip and hope that 2022 will enable everyone who wishes to have a trip across the channel to do so.

[aeshna5]

Wonderful report & some stunning photos. Glad you had such a productive trip & thanks for sharing.