Getting a new lifer is about much more than just ticking a box. This is something more than stamp-collecting or train spotting; it is all about getting to know a new species, its behaviour and flight (“jizz”), its habitat, and if I may anthropomorphise a little, for me it is also about appreciating its personality and lifestyle.
I flew out of Stansted early on Tuesday 6th June, arriving at Bordeaux just before lunchtime. The car pick up was a dream. This is the first time that I have used the “Key&Go” service, the hire car equivalent of click and collect, and it was very rapid compared to the usual drawn-out process. I was on the road in less than 5 minutes and heading west to a site near the coast where I had been informed that oedippus occurred in reasonable numbers. On arrival, the sun was shining, and it was a balmy 28 degrees Celsius. Ideal butterflying weather. An hour and a half later after extensive searching I had seen no sign of my target species. This was a little worrying. Meadow Browns were about in small numbers, Brimstones, Small Coppers and Small Heaths were in great abundance, and there was an occasional Clouded Yellow and Holly Blue, along with Large and Small Skippers. At 2pm my searches were brought to an abrupt halt as the skies darkened rapidly and the mother of all thunderstorms let rip. This storm persisted for over 3 hours and forced me back to my hotel, via several tedious diversions due to road closures and flash flooding. My Sat Nav wasn’t happy. Me and Mrs Nav have a somewhat tetchy relationship at the best of times, but as she kept trying to redirect me back to the same damn road closures time after time, I confess I eventually lost my temper a little and may have shouted a few expletives in her general direction, preceded by yells of “ROUTE BARRÉE!!!”, “ROUTE BARRÉE!!!” you ****** ******** *****!!!! I eventually resorted to using a map. Ahh the nostalgia…
The lack of False Ringlets preoccupied my thoughts that evening as I relaxed after my journey with a bottle of red wine and a chicken salad. Was I too early? After all, the season seemed to be running late elsewhere in Europe, except of course for in SW Spain.
On day two I woke up to glorious sunshine and a very favourable weather forecast. As well as the “known” site near the coast that I had been given, I also had 20 or so other areas to search which I had identified from Google Earth searches as being potentially suitable for my quarry. I visited five sites between 8am and 2pm; all looked very promising for oedippus but again, I could find no sign of the butterfly, just lots more Brimstones, Small Coppers, Small Heaths etc. The only logical conclusion seemed to be that oedippus was not yet on the wing, and I only had two more days to find it. At this point catastrophic thinking was setting in big time, as any Cognitive Behavioural Therapist would have recognised. I became convinced that I had mis-timed my visit, that I was going to dip out, that failure was inevitable. I was in the right place at the wrong time. The mission was half-way through, and the outlook was gloomy! On the drive to the latest of my Google-Earth inspired potential sites I had driven past a wide wayleave that looked particularly good, and it had been tugging at my mind, drawing me back like a magnet. My gut feeling was urging me to visit this place now, so I returned here, parked up alongside the main road and walked for several hundred metres below some power lines. Still the same mix of butterflies.
Then, at exactly 2:30pm my life changed. A butterfly took to the wing to my left, flying up from scrub by the edge of the pine trees. It was too small to be a Meadow Brown, too large to be a Small Heath, and looked nothing like either in flight. My adrenal glands gave a quick squeeze, my heart rate ramped up several notches, and I was after it – I knew immediately that this was a butterfly I had not seen before, and it could only be one thing! It wasn’t hard to follow, and I soon had a photograph of my first ever male False Ringlet! What a magical moment! Over the next two hours I encountered half a dozen more males, all in mint condition. It appears that they were indeed just emerging.
With success in the bag, I then spent the next two days meandering around a number of other sites in this region, dodging the occasional showers and storms, and finding more False Ringlets at several locations. The Parc Naturel Régional des Landes de Gascogne is a vast area of damp Pine forest, not particularly good habitat for butterflies in general, and certainly an area that is much less species-rich than many other parts of France. However, it is the French stronghold for False Ringlet, and also a major stronghold of this species from a wider European perspective. Although the Pine plantations themselves are of limited value to Lepidoptera, an extensive network of wide, linear corridors runs through them, for two reasons. Firstly, there are regular firebreaks to mitigate the effect of seasonal forest fires such as those that caused such devastation out here last summer. And secondly, there are many wayleaves beneath power lines. Both types of corridors are of necessity managed to keep the vegetation down, and many of them are comprised of damp Molinia grassland with scattered scrub, heather and bracken – ideal breeding territory for oedippus. The butterfly no doubt moves about from year to year as certain areas become too overgrown, or are initially unsuitable following recent management, but these corridors provide ample dispersal opportunities, and the management appears to be regular but rotational.
I had the chance over two days to really get to know the males. They are a very calm butterfly, relaxed and easy going. They fly at a gentle pace and are not hard to follow, and although they spend a lot of their time on the wing on patrol they also land regularly, albeit often just for three or four seconds, not long to get into position for a photograph. Sometimes they will land down in amongst the grasses, and it can be hard to get a clear line of sight with the camera, but they also often alight a little higher up on scrub, where they can be photographed more easily. They are even quite respectful when they encounter another male: there is none of the macho aggression and violence that you get with, for example, the Small Coppers, who were scrapping all over the place! When two male oedippus meet they just circle around each other, have a brief word, then move on, no issues. Upperside views of this butterfly seem to be rather infrequent but on three occasions I found different males that were landing and then flicking their wings open briefly two or three times before closing up again.
Looking at pictures of museum specimens in books such as Leraut, you could be forgiven for thinking this to be a rather drab “little brown job” with eye spots. In reality it is anything but dull – the fresh males are gorgeous. They are also quite variable in markings, in terms of whether they show any white lining on the inside of the underside hindwing ocelli, and in how many, if any, ocelli are present on the underside forewing.
The females I cannot speak for in terms of behaviour and variability, as I only saw two during my time here, but I can emphatically say that, based on those two, the females are stunningly gorgeous. By the last of my four-day sojourn here males were emerging in good numbers at my best site, with several dozen on the wing, but females were still elusive, perhaps because the season was indeed running late, or possibly because their behaviour patterns make them less observable.
I made this trip for one reason, to find and photograph one species of butterfly. I am incredibly happy that my trip was a success, despite initial concerns, and I can honestly say that I feel I got to know this creature quite well in a short space of time. It is unlikely that I shall return to this part of France, and these may well be the only photographs that I ever take of False Ringlets. If that is the case, I am happy with what I have seen. This was a very special lifer!
With thanks to David S for help and advice.
Next stop, North Greece!
