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Wurzel wrote:It is indeed a Dipper but what is unusual about it is the markings on the breast. The european race have a more clear cut breast with it going from white to dark brwon/almost black wheras in Britain (and like your shot) it goes white, rufous/chestnut colour fading into the darker brown, must be that it's caught the light to perfection.

Thanks for confirming that, Wurzel. I've seen glimpses of this bird near where I live in Swansea but I was surprised to see one boldly perching on a rock less than 20m from me!

Must say this one seemed appreciably larger than those I've seen in the UK.

Hi David.

For the mazarine, the definitive feature is the angle formed by the three spots closest to the leading edge (i.e., at the top) of the hindwing underside. In mazarine they form a shallowly obtuse angle. In Osiris the angle is often acute but if obtuse it is close to 90 degrees. Here is an Osiris blue I photographed earlier this year:



Other features are the width of the upperside marginal line, the dark lines on the upperside and the colour of the underside, which is bleached blue-white in Osiris but grey in mazarine.

For tufted marbled, note the gossamer veiling of the outer half of the forewing, the thick marks around the end of the cell, the chocolate inner wing, the pale grey colouring near the outer margin in s.5 of the forewing - I could go on! That butterfly can only be tufted marbled.

Guy

Here is an Osiris blue I photographed earlier this year:

So, correct me if I'm mistaken, Guy, what you're saying is that for my butterfly to be Osiris, the lower of the two unh spots I've highlighted would need to be positioned so that it forms an overall obtuse angle with the upper spot and the third spot lower down? (i.e., in this case it would need to be further left, beyond the uppermost spot, whereas in reality it forms an acute angle meaning that it must be Mazarine?)

I'm amazed by the simultaneous complexity/simplicity of identifying certain butterfly species.

I won't comment just yet regarding the Mallow/Tufted Marbled Skipper, as I undoubtedly need to spend equally as much time trying to attune my eyes as I've spent poring over my Mazarine!

Yes - those are the spots. The angle is either acute, right-angled or sharply obtuse in osiris but always shallowly obtuse (or even in a straight line) in semiargus. Your butterfly is about at the limit for semiargus - normally the angle would be bigger than that (i.e., the spots would lie closer to a straight line). This can be very useful for underside views without any glimpse of upperside.

Notice also how the upperside veins are lined black, with a slight black mark at the end of the cell, and the marginal line is rather thick. In osiris the marginal line is narrowly linear and though the veins may stand out in relief they are not black except sometimes near the margin. The upperside is a characteristic and rather dark shade of violet too. This one is also from this year:



And this is a much fresher specimen from 2005:



I think you can see the upperside is quite different from your butterfly's.

The effect of sunlight through the wings of your butterfly makes it look rather atypical for mazarine but I can't see anything else it could be - and I'm pretty confident it's not osiris (subject to all the usual caveats about IDs from photos!).

I'd like to see your other photos of the tufted marbled.

Guy

Thanks for the explanation, Guy. I can see it now. Gee, this is making the Higgs Boson sound simple by comparison

Regarding Mallow Skipper, I just assumed because they're fairly common and that I saw them last year that it was alceae. Upon consulting my guides again I notice that the white cell spot is much larger than that depicted for Mallow Skipper, but in spite of this I still don't see how you can be sure it's flocciferus.

Anyway, here are the three other images I have for the same butterfly:

Lots of features combine to give the characteristic look and feel of flocciferus but obviously to learn that feel you have to begin by identifying the species from a few unambiguous, distinctive marks. Your second picture shows several of these. Most obvious is the conspicuous white streak in s.4 of the hindwing underside, reaching from the central white spot to the margin. Another feature is the shape of the two satellite white marks near the cell-spot on the forewing. These are non-linear - rather thick, with trailing edges pointing outwards. In mallow these are narrowly linear. The greenish ground colour of the underside hindwing is another aspect that picture brings out.

It's a great skipper. The males defend territories from vantage points well off the ground, on flowers or grass heads. When they are fresh, the gossamer veiling is obvious and unmistakeable, though as they get more worn this is less conspicuous.



Guy

These are superb tutorials, Guy. Trust me, they will be invaluable to me in future.

Now that the differences have been explained, I can't understand how I didn't see them in the first place.

More to come from 2000m up next (including another carcharodus).

Day 5 - Tuesday 26th June - Part 1

With the canicule in full swing, I kind of knew today was going to be a spectacular day.

The télécabines weren't operational, so I took advantage of the offer of a lift from one of the hotel staff to the ski resort of Bonascre, tagging along with three guys from Derbyshire who had paid for a minibus journey to the start point of their 12 mile hike to the haut plateau as they were spending 6 nights in various 'refuges' which are dotted all around the mountainsides in this area.

This saved me a 2 hour slog to the lower ski slopes, meaning that I was relatively fresh when I arrived there at 9.30am.



The highlighted area is the part I wanted to explore, i.e. the winter pistes used by skiing enthusiasts - Ax-les-Thermes is the built up area in the lower valley.

The resort of Bonascre lies at 1400m above sea level, and once I had been dropped off there, I took one look at the area I was set to climb and it was as close to heaven as anyone could imagine:



Clearly, these ski slopes are pummelled during the winter, but it doesn't take long for nature to recover, and the lower slopes were absolutely carpeted with bird's foot trefoil, which was home to many, many dozens of Silver Studded Blues which were just becoming active at this time of day.

I was aware almost straight away of the significant numbers of erebia flying in this area, but it was an altogether quite different species that first made me reach for my camera:

23. Purple Edged Copper

Lovely butterfly, but one which I only saw on this first piste at lower levels. I guess there were about a dozen in total.



Eventually, I managed to 'collar' an erebia that settled for a few brief moments:

24. Bright Eyed Ringlet

Taking a chance here, but I reckon oeme is the species in these next two shots:





Physically, it was a slog getting up those slopes, but to be honest, I was so entranced by the sights, smells and sounds around me I scarcely noticed it. This habitat was simply amazing - closely cropped grassland, light woodland, marshy areas, etc...it really was almost paradise. This is a summer view of what the skiers must see when zooming downhill in February:



I did a figure of eight ascent, trying to avoid the steepest inclines, but by the time I got two thirds of the way up, there was no alternative but to hike directly upwards through marshy ground. I had to stop every 50m or so to catch my breath, but my spirits were raised when I saw a greyish coloured Clouded Yellow type butterfly making its way towards me. Thankfully, it settled soon after passing me:

25. Mountain Clouded Yellow



I was thrilled to see such a montane species as this, and by the time I reached the top of this piste, I realised that a smaller species of erebia seemed to be becoming ever more numerous:

26. Mountain Ringlet

I've seen this butterfly in the UK, and I'm pretty sure that this was the insect flying in numbers at this 1700-1800m juncture. As ever though, they weren't keen to settle, and even when they did, grass stems were a constant obstruction:





Once the marshy slope had been negotiated, I emerged onto the upper plateau, which was largely dry and stony, but was still replete with butterflies of numerous different types. In front of me was one last incline that I decided not to ascend (it would have added about 100m more to the altitude, but the terrain was largely bereft of plant life and by this time all I wanted to do was rest my feet and soak in the views):



There was a group of fir trees which afforded some shade, so I took a quarter of an hour's time out whilst I ate a couple of pains au chocolat and swigged some water. I then stood up to admire the scenery and watch what I think were vultures soaring on the steep slope generated thermals:







Rarely in my life have I experienced such a feeling of peaceful tranquility. The temperature in the lower valley reached 35c today, but at 2000m altitude it was about 22c, with no appreciable wind and virtually no cloud cover. In addition, the fact that the ski lifts were still out of use until the following Saturday meant that there was scarcely another soul around to break the silence. I saw no more than half a dozen other human beings in the 6 hours I was up there.

Reluctantly, I realised I had to move back down, and although I followed the same track to begin with, I peeled off about halfway down to walk through the light woodland. Within a couple of minutes, a butterfly was persistently buzzing above my head. It appeared to be a Speckled Wood, but it stayed far too long in the air, and when it finally came to rest I could see that it was a species I'd hitherto not seen:

27. Map Butterfly (spring brood)

Comma-like in its territorial behaviour, this individual had clearly established a lek in this short stretch of open woodland. It was a little beaten up, but still a delight to someone who had never seen one before.





Daily miscellany

I will deal with the minutae in Part 2 which I will post later. Suffice to say that there were several other butterflies whose identity I need some assistance with. There is also the question of the British species that were flying here, which in some instances is quite eye-opening.

Great stuff, David! I agree with your IDs - you took the right chance on oeme.

I suspect your vultures were griffons, which abound in the Pyrenees. I don't know about the French side but on the Spanish side they suffered a blow when the laws changed and farmers were obliged to clear away the carcasses of dead animals rather than leave them on the hillsides. Nevertheless, they were much in evidence last year when I visited the Val d'Aran.



Guy

EDIT - since I posted that you've posted another piccie of the vulture. Strange position, but I still think they're griffons.

Must admit, I thought of you, Guy, when I was watching those vultures. I remembered your anecdote of how you found them circling above you after you'd taken a brief lie down on one of your recent holidays.

Wasn't quite that close a call for me, but a couple of them really DID get down to within 40m or so of me. It was a fantastic experience. The thing that sticks in my mind is the sheer serenity of silence - there aren't too many chattering-type birds at that altitude, and with the wind being light and no people around, the silence was deafening (if you'll excuse the oxymoron).

I'll post the 'not sures' tomorrow.

Tuesday 26th June - Part 2

Several butterflies that I photographed but remained unsure as to the identity.

First up is another 'Mallow' Skipper:

28. Marbled Skipper*



Erebia were very difficult to photograph, but I did spot this mating pair:









This species has made me scratch my head because I've had to consider the relative merits of both the male AND (particularly) the female. Is it an aberrant Piedmont or is it something else? De Prunner's flies here too according to my guide, but try as I might, I can't settle on a most likely candidate. Help please!!

This pyrgus stood out like the proverbial sore thumb, due in principal to it's virtually characterless uphs. After extensive reading regarding all the potential candidates, I have to say my own personal selection is that this is an Alpine Grizzled Skipper - it was found in relative isolation at about 1800m.



This next pyrgus was seen on the way back down at about 1600-1700m. I risk making a nuisance of myself here as this is not a great image and, sadly, it's the only one I've got.



Now, of all the butterflies I saw whose identity I could not confirm, this was the one that puzzled me the most.

This fritillary was flying at about 1650m. It settled briefly near the tree line, and at first I thought it was a rogue Small Pearl Bordered. Certainly, the uppersides are consistent with SPBF, but the undersides seemed to have far too much in the way of pale red colouring.



The underside has more of a Pearl Bordered look to it, yet the upperside would seemingly preclude this species. I can't reconcile completely any of the other fritillary species shown in my guide as being present in this area, so if anyone can put forth a suggestion, then I would be most grateful:



*Thanks to Guy for the confirmation regarding Marbled Skipper

I think marbled is likely but I'd like to see an uncompressed (or less compressed) image if that is possible.

Guy

padfield wrote:I think marbled is likely but I'd like to see an uncompressed (or less compressed) image if that is possible.

Here is the full-sized image, Guy (save for the slight brightness/contrast adjustments due to the original over-exposure):

Although there are some ambiguities I think that is a marbled skipper, as you suspected. Because of the dark background it has come out overexposed and some points of detail are lost but enough of the general feel remains to say it is a slightly anomalous lavatherae.

The fritillary you have since (I think) posted would seem to be pearl-bordered. I know what you mean about the upperside but remember that these Pyrenean colonies are far removed and genetically isolated from those you are used to. The outer edges of the submarginal triangles are flat, not arched, and it is difficult to see the underside as anything but pearl-bordered. In particular, the lack of dark veining, the lack of dark edging to the submarginal crescents and the overall colour scheme would make for a very strange small pearl-bordered.

Here is a Pyrenean small pearl-bordered fritillary (that just happened to pose next to a false heath fritillary):



And the underside:



The black edging of everything is conspicuous.

To my mind, your butterfly must be pearl-bordered.

Guy

British species

The plateau du saquet wasn't just notable for those species which don't occur in the UK. There were sizeable numbers of species that one finds with regularity in Britain, yet the latitude and the elevation takes many of them out of their normal 'comfort' zone.

First thing to report is the phenomenal numbers of Silver Studded Blues on the lower ski slope near to the resort of Bonascre.

They were around in their multi-dozens, if not hundreds, yet they disappeared abruptly by 1650m.

Heath Fritillaries waved the white flag after about 1600m too, though Small Heaths abounded right up to 2000m. I saw my only Painted Lady of the week at about 1800m, along with a couple of Red Admirals. However, I saw two Small Tortoiseshells and three Swallowtails at 2000m, along with a solitary Green Hairstreak, which must have felt at home surrounded by bilberry.

Wall Browns were common above 1800m, and Mountain Ringlets were numerous. A little lower down there were several Small Pearl Bordered Fritillaries along with a solitary Pearl Bordered.

What amazed me most though was seeing Wood Whites at 1800m and above. I actually wondered whether these were Wood Whites at all; perhaps instead they were Real's/Cryptic as they were flying in a grassland/prairie environment rather than a woodland one.

As ever, the occasional Clouded Yellow passed by, whilst what appeared to be a Small White fluttered by near the summit. Sadly it didn't land, as had it done I would have closed in as I suspect this could well have been one of rapae's close relatives - perhaps Mountain or Southern Small White - I'll never know.

I wish I could spend more time in this type of environment. Life is short and leisure pursuits are often confined to a small number of days per year in which to indulge in them.

As I descended from Bonascre to Ax-les-Thermes via, it must be said, a 'footpath' that can only be described as an assault course, I noticed more and more species suddenly becoming prominent - Meadow Browns, Ringlets, Large/Small Skippers, Speckled Woods, Common Blues, et al.

Overall, a wonderful day, made even better by the abnormally hot weather conditions. I was well and truly beat when I arrived back at the hotel, so I duly sank yet another full litre of wine with my evening meal. Even better, tomorrow is set to see temperatures peak, though my feet could not possibly tolerate another battering such as this so I intend to stick to lower levels.

Needless to say, I slept like a hibernating bear tonight*

*By the way, there ARE wild bears in the Pyrenees, but I'm reliably informed that they are found much further to the west; certainly beyond Andorra.

Day 6 - Wednesday 27th June

On the previous Monday, I had noticed a prime butterfly spot adjacent to the Lac de Campauleil, which is owned by the French electricity company EDF, about 2 miles out of town from Ax on the way to Orgeix.

It had been too hot and late in the day then for me to spend any real time there, but given the battering my feet suffered climbing to 2000m yesterday, I thought I'd give it a thorough examination whilst simultaneously staying on the flat.

Butterfly numbers were utterly ridiculous in the morning. Sadly, so were fly numbers. I'm so glad I took my 'Deet' spray (it doesn't stop them buzzing around you but it sure keeps them from landing on your skin for more than a millisecond before they realise the stuff is toxic).

Whilst sheer numbers were amazing, I only actually saw two hitherto unencountered species, though both were butterflies that I've yearned to see for a long time.

This is the spot where I spent 3 glorious hours in sun-kissed nirvana:



Marbled Fritillaries, Dark Green Fritillaries, Meadow Browns, Ringlets, Black Veined Whites, Wood Whites, Small, Large and Essex Skippers, Small Coppers, Red Admirals, Commas, White Admirals, Purple Shot Coppers, Large and Small Whites, Pearly Heaths, Clouded Yellows, Heath and Spotted Fritillaries, Marbled Whites and Common Blues abounded in all directions, but suddenly, there on a large aster flower was an insect that shone like a jewel:

29. Scarce Copper



I only saw two of this species, but it really topped my day off.....that is, until I got my next surprise.

It was just gone midday and I was feeling pretty worn out - it was well into the thirties and I could sense a siesta coming on. I took time out in the shade on the woodland path in an attempt to cool down but almost immediately I saw a large butterfly hovering around the lower reaches of a moss-clad stone wall, as if it were looking for somewhere cool to escape the blazing sun. At first, I assumed it was a Large Wall Brown, but it landed and suddenly opened its wings (whilst simultaneously giving my heart palpitations):

30. Large Tortoiseshell



I didn't dare risk approaching it, as I knew as soon as it took off that would be it forever, so my zoom was employed to its maximum level and thankfully the butterfly hung around for thirty seconds or so.



When I thought about it later, I wondered perhaps whether this butterfly was looking for a likely spot to hibernate. Large Tortoiseshells usually find somewhere to overwinter in the summer rather than flying on till autumn before entering diapause. If it was, then I hope it found somewhere safe and well sheltered, if only for giving me such a wonderful moment of joy.

British species

As mentioned above.

Daily miscellany

It was only the following day when I understood why I had been so keen to retire early and take a siesta. The regional paper's headline was 'Heatwave', but this was unlike what passes for a heatwave in the UK, where temperatures rise to a level considered normal in the south of France. No, this was a peak of 36.7c in Tarascon, just up the road from Ax, and by God it can't have been far off beside the lake I spent the morning at.

Much as I enjoy warm weather, once you get to these temperatures it just becomes oppressive. I was back in the hotel by 1pm and asleep by 2. I daresay even the butterflies found it tough!

Very enjoyable read David. I had bad blisters last year but found that strapping them with elastoplast ( the sort you cut off a roll ) enabled me to continue.

Fine reportage David, interesting and comprehensive, a butterflying holiday that will obviously stay in your memory, the scenery is spectacular and your photography has brought it clearly to anyone viewing this report, very well done.

Bill

Thanks for the comments Charles/Bill. Still a bit more to post which I hope to do tomorrow evening.

Day 7 - Thursday 28th June

Another scorcher in store today, so I was up and out by 8.30am to take a walk along the riverside footpath between Ax and Savignac, some 5km further down the road.

This was a beautiful little track, bordered on one side by trees and shrubs growing along the steep slope and on the other by wild flower meadows benefiting from the water table provided by the surprisingly wide river immediately beyond them.

I took a little time out at a picnic bench after 20 minutes of walking, and I was immediately aware of several White Admirals flitting through the canopies. I kept taking photographs of them far away on their high perches, but sadly none of them turned out to be Southern White Admirals.

Suddenly, low down near the path I saw what I first thought was some kind of aberrant White Admiral as it was tiny in comparison. Once settled though, I realised that this was not a White Admiral at all:

Map Butterfly (2nd brood)



This sighting perplexed me greatly given that just 2 days previously I had encountered a SPRING brood Map, albeit 1000m higher.

What would happen if by chance this later brooded individual ascended to the plateau at which I had seen the early brooded individual? After all, it'd only be a 10 minute flight for a butterfly.

Would they recognise each other as being of the same species?

Now, timing is everything, and I was really lucky with the next butterfly. Whilst I had been sat at the picnic table several people had walked past, some of them with dogs. However, my decision to get up and move on was made arbitrarily and just happened to coincide with a period when nobody was using the footpath. This was most fortunate, because as I emerged into a more open stretch of the path, my eye was attracted by something very colourful. Upon closer inspection I saw that this colourful distraction had itself been attracted by something rather unpleasant - a sizeable crotte de chien:

31. Lesser Purple Emperor



Thank God nobody else passed by during the subsequent 5 minutes or so as I scrutinised this butterfly at close quarters (and, by association, the pungent detritus to which it was attached).

Eventually, it flew back up into the trees, but very soon after, having walked on a few hundred metres, I encountered another. This second male seemed irritated by my presence and swooped around me for 20 or so glorious seconds, irridescent purple being reflected in the sunlight all the while.

I carried on all the way to Savignac and the temperature rose seemingly every few minutes. By 11am it was seriously hot, although the shady aspect of this path meant that hundreds of butterflies remained very active.

I returned along the same path, stopping once again at the picnic table and yet again observing White Admirals in amongst the tree branches.

Daily Miscellany

By 12.15pm, I knew the game was up. Once again the temperature had climbed well into the thirties so I headed back into Ax-les-Thermes to the spa. On the way through the town though, a large fritillary settled on the cobbles of one of the narrow streets right beside me. Sadly, a passer by disturbed it and it flew several metres further on. I assumed it was a Dark Green but it suddenly snapped its wings shut before taking off once again and landing on the wooden frame of the door to the hairdresser's. It was a High Brown Fritillary, but sadly it zoomed off just as I was about to switch my camera on. I think that would have made an interesting species-specific shot, an HB Frit on a town centre hairdresser's door frame!!

The outdoor spa pool was deserted as this was now siesta time. The 77c natural thermal spring water has been diverted into this man made pool since 1241 and it was a beautifully therapeutic way to reward my feet for staying so faithful and resolute throughout what has been a wonderful week's hiking/butterflying.