Padfield

[Padfield]

Guy,
I read your recent Swiss adventures with interest,as I was not too far away at Kandersteg in the Bernese Oberland.I came across this fritillary without any effort,I believe it is a Thor.I would be grateful for your view.
P.J.U.

It most certainly is! And it's sitting on Geranium sylvaticum, their favoured plant!

I have a suspicion you will have found the same colony as me! I don't normally say where I see things but a glance at the map for this species shows the only recent observations anywhere near me are in three 5 km squares near Kandersteg. However, because of the rarity of the butterfly, it would be better not to publish any more precise details than that. I did notice you'd just returned from there but decided not to mention it!

The Swiss fauna mapping scheme is excellent. If you don't know it already, go to http://lepus.unine.ch/carto/ and just start typing the name of any species (of any group except birds, which have their own scheme) in Latin. If in doubt, use the specific name, as generic names vary so much from author to author. You will see that thore is mostly in the east of the country, with a small population near Kandersteg and some ancient records for another region closer to me.

Guy

[P.J.Underwood]

Thanks Guy for the info.I will send you details of the location,in case we nearly bumped into each other.There were many swallowtails,both high up and in the village.Here is a photo of one just landing.
P.J.U.

[Padfield]

I had a tip-off from Yannick, the Swiss butterfly recorder, that despite the lateness of the year Erebia christi was already on the wing. He was even kind enough to tell me where he had seen some on Saturday. And so, despite a rather iffy weather foreast I set off today to see if I could repeat the observation.

It is no secret that the only colonies of christi in the world are south of the Simplon Pass, in Italy and Switzerland - the secret is exactly where! So I can reveal I caught the bus over the Pass from Brig, after noting to my delight that success was already forecast in the luggage hold:



Now I'm not superstitious or anything but ...

A long cycle ride and a long climb later I was in christi land - basically, extreme slopes with inaccessible, rocky cliffs and masses of tufting sheep's fescue.



Yannick had said the christi he saw never came down into the grass but remained in the cliffs and rocks. I did try to climb up into these - up and over the right-hand corner of the above picture - but frankly it was too dangerous to do this alone, especially as heavy rain was forecast (meaning I could get stranded on very slippery slopes with nasty drops beneath them!). So I spent some time wandering and recceing, then positioned myself at what I thought was a good place and waited.

After some while, a very fresh male christi appeared.There were plenty of other Erebia around - mostly alberganus, with some euryale, medusa and montana, and a single melampus - but with the exception of the melampus all these were bigger and it was easy to discount them. I leapt up the cliff and netted the christi for confirmation. Unfortunately, my observation box is plastic and very scratched, so these pictures, taken in what shade I could generate, are utterly atrocious - but they confirm the species:







My bag was 100m lower down the hill and I had no way of cooling him where I found him so I released him almost immediately, to ensure he didn't damage himself in the box. He flew away and I have no natural pictures. I will return very soon!



I photographed very little else, as I had my eyes peeled for christi. Very dark large blues were flying, with sooty coppers, purple-edged coppers, heath fritillaries, pearl-bordered fritillaries, my first Niobe fritillary of the year, Apollos, black-veined whites and Darwin's heaths, also my first of the year.

As I reached my bike for the return journey the heavens opened. I was very, very lucky that hadn't happened while I was on the slopes!

Guy

[Padfield]

I got back late last night from a meeting and blundered around in the dark at home, so no artificial light would confuse Plotina, who I imagined to be gently dreaming herself into a butterfly. In the morning (06h00), there were evident structural changes within but nothing resembling wing markings so I thought it OK to go off butterflying. The forecast was good and I decided to have another go at christi, in the same place. I thought that if I found and photographed it early I would cycle on, down the hill into Italy and look for Hungarian gliders and large chequered skippers, but in the end there was no time for that.

The journey was long, the bus was late and the sun was already hot when I cycled up the hill to the site (double figures for the km and many hundreds of metres for the altitude - I don't want to give anything away!!). Oh - and then the long climb on foot - so I arrived just before midday, pretty sweaty. Then I stood, armed with net, guzzling a 2l bottle of coke (I don't dare drink beer on these vertiginous slopes), exactly where I had seen christi on Wednesday, and after a little over an hour spotted a female christi on the edge of a cliff. She was in the grass and the camera steadfastly refused to understand what I wanted it to focus on, but eventually, at some risk to life and limb, I was able to get close enough to net her. This time, I was armed with dark and cool, so she calmed down very quickly and I got reasonable photos in the open plastic box.





Unfortunately, she showed no desire to leave the box, despite encouragement to move onto some flowers, and then when it was ready to fly she flew! Since I have got home I have been trying to cut her out and paste her onto pictures of flowers or grass (that I took for the purpose) - with very limited success!! I used Microsoft Paint as I have nothing more sophisticated for doing this...







On these slopes, every step seems to uproot grass, so I didn't wander around damaging the habitat and photographing other species. I did occasionally leap after butterflies that conned me into thinking they might be christi - particularly small almond-eyed ringlets, but on one occasion a female purple-edged copper and on another a virtually black large blue! So the only other photos I took were of this knapweed fritillary, another fan of my sweat (I wonder if christi likes my sweat - I didn't try) ...



.. and this almond-eyed ringlet, a species I am only capable of taking rubbish pictures of for some reason!



Heath fritillaries were common, a single large fritillary flew by, which I presume to be Niobe, and I'm pretty sure I saw a marbled ringlet again. Darwin's heath was very common - and some of the darker individuals were also eye-pullers while I was scanning for christi. As I cycled back down afterwards I found this dead Darwin's heath on the ground, offering a sad opportunity to record the upperside of the species.



Here is the underside:



In total I think I saw three christi. I left the site reasonably early as I needed to be home - but I'll be out again next week looking for the same species in different sites, now I feel I have its number.

Guy

[Nick Broomer]

I know i rarely post on your diary Guy, but i always find it an interesting read, with great photos. Look forward to your next instalment. I hope that Plotina emerges safely, and has a long and fruitful life.

All the best, Nick.

[Cotswold Cockney]

Erebia christi ! An obsession with the late Peter Cribb.

Back in the 70-80s, had a few 'butterfly trips with Cribb and a few other butterfly enthusiasts. In 1981, we spent some time looking at various Erbia and that craggy scree pictured earlier is vaguely familiar. I was less interested in these Erebia and concentrated on the more showy species. I was in my late thirties at the time and remember seeing Peter climb fully twenty feet up into a massive sallow where he had seen a female iris ovipositing. He found the single ovum too. Cribb then in his sixties, I remember thinking I hope I am as keen, active and fit when I reach his age. I am now considerably older than he was then and I am very fit. I guess my various interests play a part in that. Peter was not the oldest member of our party up on those steep mountain slopes. Russell Bretherton was far older than all of us but, he kept going and covered much ground in that rough terrain. Remarkable how an interest in Natural History keeps old timers going so well and so long ... good eh.

Those trips remind me also that when I bred Neptis rivularis ( Hungarian Glider ) back then, I bought some plants for the early stages to hibernate and feed up on. Both Spirea and Astilbe are still growing strong in my garden and serve as a constant reminder of my finding the ova and larvae of rivularis on them up on those wooded slopes. I took a couple of pictures of these plants. They look exactly as I remember them in the wild. Here they are. Spirea bumalda Anthony Waterer just about to start flowering and Astilbe species in full flower respectively.

[Padfield]

Thanks for your post, Nick. There are so many excellent personal diaries I, too, mostly read without commenting.

It's easy to become obsessed with christi, CC! I must admit, though, I tend to get obsessed for a day or two as I devote all my energies to trying to find some particular species, and then, fickle lepidopterist that I am, get obsessed with something else a few days later. If Peter Cribb found his target (in Switzerland, rather than in Italy) and if you have the details, it's never too late to submit the records (maybe he did). Some suitable parts of that region are quite hard to reach and I suspect there are more colonies than are known about.

As I mentioned before, the rivularis in northern Italy, where I see them, feed on goatsbeard, which superficially resembles your Astilbe.



I'm not aware that Astilbe flowers in the region - it's not in the comprehensive Flora Helvetica, so it doesn't flower in Switzerland, at least. I will be visiting my site soon, so will observe carefully, though it has suffered such upheaval recently I'm not even sure I'll still be able to find the butterflies. We will see.

Today, more evidence of what a strange year this is. I worked in the morning and stayed local in the afternoon, climbing my nearest mountain to see what was happening at the top. Answer: very little. I saw a single alpine argus and a handful of dewy ringlets (Erebia pandrose), as well as a single bright-eyed ringlet (oeme). The only common butterflies were small tortoiseshell and little blue, and where normally I would see shepherd's fritillaries cruising around by the end of June, there were just a few (very few) pearl-bordered frits. No cranberry blues (and I know exactly where they breed), no clouded Apollos, no mountain clouded yellows (!!!).

Here is a black-veined white that was enjoying the Alpenrose all on his (or her) own:



And here's a dewy ringlet:



I saw almost no skippers up there - just a few grizzlies and dingies and, amazingly, no marsh fritillaries. Basically, at the top of my local mountain, it is early June.

I decided to come down via my violet coppers, to see what condition they were in - normally, they are on their absolute last legs by the beginning of July. Here's the answer:





They weren't all in such good nick:



But they were numerous - it looked like peak season at the males' display sites. I moved on to the female laying sites but by then significant cloud had come over and it was getting rather cold. I saw none and quickly left the site, not wishing to wander over it, trampling torpid or inactive females.

Nearby, I found this larva:





It very closely resembles the small pearl-bordered fritillary larva figured in Lafranchis, but this species doesn't (officially) fly in the region. It might be a pre-pupation tit frit cat - that's the only other possibility, really, with those long 'feelers' at the head end. Either way, it's another sign of the lateness of the year.

Finally, at the violet copper site(s) marsh fritillaries were flying - my first of the year.



Guy

[Cotswold Cockney]

Guy, I found more earlier stages of rivularis on Spirea rather than the "Goatsbeard" plants which look like my Astilbe. If you see any Spirea in the area where rivularis is found, worth checking those plants.

It's over thirty years since I bred any Fritillaries but that larva you picture, subject to my aligning my two remaining grey memory cells correctly and without knowing the size, reminds me of High Brown ... maybe the similar niobe if that occurs in the area.

[Padfield]

Though the colour scheme is similar (in high brown, at least), those fritillaries lack the twin projections at the anterior end. They are present in silver-washed, but that is a much poorer match. I think Titania's fritillary, which flies at that site, is the most likely. Although most pictures of the larva look quite different, my Swiss book includes a picture of what it calls a 'pre-pupation' caterpillar whose colour scheme is just like that of the caterpillar above.

I'll keep an eye out for Spiraea when I visit the rivularis site. It might not be next week now, as the weather for North Italy is set to deteriorate from about Tuesday and I think Plotina will emerge tomorrow. That could scupper my next Simplon trip for christi too.

Guy

[Cotswold Cockney]

My old Spirea/Spiraea is in full flower now. The distinctive blossoms are easy to spot when out and about where rivularis flies. For anyone who is not familiar with this attractive little shrub which can reach a couple of metres in height, the flowers are a useful identifier and easy to spot in a mix of wayside herbs and shrubs. See attached.

I threw out some old compost in a corner of my own little Nature Reserve a few years ago. There must have been some Spiraea material in that compost. There's now a fine two metre tall shrub there.. Yet again, old Mother Nature has the final say ..

[Padfield]

Trajan's emergence and release yesterday left me free to go where I wanted today - I had expected to be filming him this morning. So I set off early for Italy, to look for Hungarian gliders and large chequered skippers in particular. My first stop was a cruel disappointment - the place I found large chequered skippers last year had been completely dug up and all the bushes removed. The second stop was even worse. That was my nettle-tree butterfly site - and is now just dirt and rubble. In fact, the nettle tree butterflies will probably survive, as their trees grow mostly in the steep slopes of the ravine, but the progeny of all the green hairstreaks I photographed this spring will have been destroyed. Every bush and shrub was cut down or uprooted:



So it was with slightly heavier heart that I continued up the hill to my glider site. There, apart from the fact I didn't get even a sniff of large chequered skipper, things looked much rosier. The part of this site where I used to see gliders was largely trashed a couple of years ago but I searched for the foodplant along the river (assuming it to be goatsbeard - though I did also look for Spiraea, which CC had said he knew them to use in Italy) and had seen at least 10 different individuals by the time I left the site. Most of these appeared to be males, wafting around, looking for females. They would check out every goatsbeard plant, but not clinically, like an egg-bound female - rather, cursorily, just to flush out any potential mates. I didn't see a single glider land on any goatsbeard. In fact, I only saw one glider land at all, and that was deep in the shade, where he had a delicious piece of unpleasantness to guzzle.





Here is the foodplant, growing in the shade:



And here is the river, the habitat of this species:



I nicknamed one little tributary Glider Creek. I sat there with a beer, watching gliders continuously attending the goatsbeard (I don't know how many - so counted them as three, though there might have been a dozen in succession). They are a truly exotic butterfly - quite unlike admirals in flight. I have seen Neptis sp. in India and in the extreme heat today it felt like being back in the tropics.

Also enjoying the refreshment of the river was a lesser purple emperor, form clytie. He was most annoying. He obviously liked me and would invariably come to rest about 1m-3m from me. But when I tried to get much closer than this he took to the air again, circled me a few times, and settled a metre or more away. When I accepted that he had won, and moved on down the river, he followed me!



His larger cousin, a purple emperor, was near the water's edge too:



Other surprises for the day were a large tortoiseshell (looking very worn - so maybe even last winter's ...) and a Camberwell beauty, which I only saw in flight so can't say anything about its condition.

Here are a few piccies of other species seen today:


(purple-shot copper)


(spotted fritillary)


(knapweed fritillary)


(small skipper)


(common blue female)

Guy

[Padfield]

In 2010 I found a colony of Warren's skipper, but all I had to show for it were a couple of individuals photographed in the plastic observation box (and released immediately, of course). Last year I went back, rather late in the season, and had just one confirmed sighting - a rather tatty individual that was miraculously dropped, torpid, at my feet by a gust of wind after the sun had gone in! I warmed him up and got some semi-natural photos in a sheltered spot. Today, finally, I found the heart of the colony and saw at least half a dozen - perhaps more - buzzing up and down a thyme-covered stretch of hillside.

I didn't find the spot until about 11h30, by which time they were already quite warm and active, but what made it particularly difficult (again!) was the absurd slope.


(It's the same for several hundred metres up and down)

When I found the first warrenensis, I took off my backpack in preparation for a photo ... and then couldn't put it down. Wherever I put it, in whatever position, it just set off down the slope. So I missed that one. Then another came by and I caught a simple proof shot with my backpack on, almost falling down the slope myself. Finally, I found a place the backpack would stay and waited for the next to come. Over the course of an hour there was a constant stream of warrenensis, though many were obviously the same ones going up and down the slope. In general it was almost impossible to position myself for a good photo without falling down the slope (actually, very annoying!) but I did get a few record shots - better, at least, than those of previous years because they are completely natural. This is probably the best of them:



Here is another:



Next year I'll go straight to this spot while the day is cooler and with a little luck finally get decent pictures!

There were also carline skippers on the slopes and a few alpine grizzled skippers, looking rather worn.


(carline)


(alpine grizzled)

I lef the site at 12h45 because the skippers were all far too active by then, rain was forecast (and I had a 25 km cycle ride ahead of me) and I wanted to call in on the way home for southern white admirals, which I hadn't seen yet this year.

Two southern white admirals were in mortal combat at this second site. Here is one ...


(that's my bike by the tree)

... and here is the other, photographed by holding the camera over him and clicking the shutter, without being able to see what I was photographing!



Distressingly, at three places along the river where the admirals were flying, something very toxic had been dumped, killing all trees and vegetation on its way down to the river.



I wasn't especially trying for a high count, but when I totted up on the train I reckoned I had seen 58 species today. These are the ones I confirmed and formally identified:

Large skipper, small skipper, Lulworth skipper, silver-spotted skipper, carline skipper, alpine grizzled skipper, Warren's skipper, red-underwing skipper, dingy skipper, marbled skipper, scarce swallowtail, Apollo, small white, southern small white, mountain green-veined white, green-veined white, wood white, Bath white, black-veined white, mountain clouded yellow, purple-edged copper, purple-shot copper, large blue, little blue, holly blue, common blue, Eros blue, Chapman's blue, Escher's blue, silver-studded blue, idas blue, mazarine blue, Provençal short-tailed blue, turquoise blue, Adonis blue, chalkhill blue, alpine argus, northern brown argus, shepherd's fritillary, heath fritillary, Grisons' fritillary, Queen of Spain fritillary, dark green fritillary, knapweed fritillary, marbled fritillary, small tortoiseshell, comma, southern white admiral, large wall, marbled white, grayling, great sooty satyr, alpine heath, almond-eyed ringlet, lesser mountain ringlet, small mountain ringlet, Swiss brassy ringlet, dusky meadow brown.

So a few more piccies from the day:


(a road-stunned stag beetle)


(higher slopes - where I didn't find warrenensis)


(the Matterhorn)


(a pair of friendly silver-studded blues)


(a pair of very friendly silver-studded blues)


(a very fresh Escher's blue)


(green-veined whites)


(female Grisons' fritillary)


(marbled fritillary)


(grayling)


(marbled skipper)

Guy

[essexbuzzard]

Not much there then,Guy

There are several species on that list that i've never seen,and i'm sure i'm not alone!:mrgreen:

Another very enjoyable read and great pictures again,thanks for sharing.

[Wurzel]

Absolutely brilliant - and now you're even getting shots without looking

Have a goodun

Wurzel

[Padfield]

Thank you for the comments. I was surprised myself by the number of species (which has actually risen to 59 now, as after seeing Roger's post from Var I remembered I'd seen a beautifully fresh glandon blue yesterday too). July and August in the Alps are unlike anything you can experience in the UK.

... and now you're even getting shots without looking

Here's the technique, Wurzel



If the camera is close enough to the butterfly you can rely on the autofocus - though understandably the iPhone autofocus didn't realise what I wanted it to focus on when I took this accompanying picture!

Southern white admirals love to defend territories from head height or above so most photos of them doing this are from the side or below.

Guy

[Padfield]

Today's target was chestnut heath, a butterfly I had seen in France but not in Switzerland before today. The site in France was shown to me, so it was nice to search for a colony for myself - the thrill of finding what you are looking for is so much greater if you don't know where you are going to find it.

On the way to the site (I had researched and planned where to go, using Google Earth), I found a road-stunned Niobe fritillary with a dislocated wing. The poor thing was walking around in tight circles in the middle of the road and when I picked it up it just continued gyrating in my palm and I couldn't do anything about its wing (the left forewing was completely beneath the left hindwing, from the joint). So I popped it in the observation box and put that in my backpack, in the dark, to calm him down. Five minutes later I stopped in the shade of a tree and took him out. Holding his body gently between thumb and forefinger I used a blade of grass to pull his forewing forward and slip it over the hindwing with a levering movement. As soon as I did that he stopped panicking. I could hold him in my hand without him walking around in circles and left him on a flower.



Now I look at this picture, I see his head is tilted off to the left - perhaps he suffered more damage than just a dislocated wing. But at least I left him more comfortable.

I found my first chestnut heath and then, as so often happens, spent some time securing a first, poor, picture, only to discover the species was abundant just a little further on. Here are a few of the pictures, showing some of the variation in this butterfly:











Meadowsweet was abundant and in Switzerland, that means lesser marbled fritillaries will be abundant too. They were - and I searched in vain among them for a small pearl-bordered fritillary, something I very rarely see. I did get good close-ups of a moorland clouded yellow, though, and this more distant shot with a cheeky hoverfly getting in on the act:



I left the chestnut heath site with clouds gathering and thunder rumbling in the distance. As on every occasion when I have visited the Jura this year, the afternoon was cloudy and my woodland explorations on the way back bore little fruit. I did find what appears to be an aberrant orange tip - without any melanin in the wings. He was roding, though, and only stopped once, when I got this very distant shot:



I don't think the wings are just washed out - it looks more as if the black cartridge of the printer had run out.

A much shorter species list for today:

Small skipper, Essex skipper, large skipper, silver-spotted skipper, small white, green-veined white, black-veined white, orange tip, brimstone, moorland clouded yellow, wood white, purple-edged copper, Common blue, Adonis blue, holly blue, mazarine blue, peacock, small tortoiseshell, painted lady, dark green fritillary, Niobe fritillary, silver-washed fritillary, lesser marbled fritillary, red admiral, marbled white, meadow brown, ringlet, Arran brown, small heath, chestnut heath, large wall.

Guy

EDIT: It was a very funny day weather-wise, with rain sometimes falling out of a clear, blue sky. The thunderstorm broke after I got home, with huge hailstones falling, and now the day is signing off with a late rainbow over the Dent de Morcles range:

[Maximus]

So many lovely photos Guy, it was also nice that you were able to relocate the Niobe Fritillaries dislocated wing.

Regards

Mike

[Padfield]

Thank you, Mike.

The Niobe fritillary seemed really quite 'distressed' until I sorted out its wings. After that it became much more composed and seemed to hold itself with dignity. I was rather worried I would do more damage than good but thin grass stems can make quite fine surgical instruments for butterflies!

Guy

[Pauline]

That photo of the rainbow is truly stunning Guy. You certainly have some amazing views there and it is great that you share them with us. Good work with the little butterfly too.

[Padfield]

Thank you, Pauline. I still find rainbows as magical as I did when I was a child!

I hope you'll like the views in my next post, too ...

Guy