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After a hard day's teaching I took an evening wander in the woods. Little was flying but it was interesting to see plenty of commas still on the wing. These hibernators seem to be enjoying a long life this spring!



There is surprisingly little wear and tear, considering he or she (this one looks most like a female, but was behaving like a male) might have been flying since early March (my first comma at that site this year was 11th March):



Guy

Having quite a long gap between lessons this morning I decided to see what was happening at 2000m.

I am very privileged to be able to leave class and be up here within the hour:


(That's a little blue)

Probably the commonest butterfly at altitude today was marsh fritillary:



But as well as these now familiar creatures the alpine specialists had begun to emerge, at a time when there is often still snow at this height.

This is an alpine heath (Coenonympha gardetta) - one of many of this species drifting around today:



To my surprise, dewy ringlets (Erebia pandrose) were already flying, weaving over the hillside with their peculiar, sideways motion and then suddenly diving down into the grass. This is a very typical view of this unapproachable species, which is extremely hard to get good pictures of:



Other alpine specialists already flying were alpine argus (Albulina orbitula), clouded Apollo (Parnassius mnemosyne) and mountain green-veined white (Artogeia bryoniae). Northern wall (Lasiommata petropolitana) was also on the wing. I was very pushed for time, having to get back down for my next lesson, and so couldn't get more than record shots of some of these.

Here is a swallowtail hilltopping on a ridge at 2100m:



After afternoon lessons I decided to take full advantage of the glorious weather and head down to the valley for yet another attempt at Iolas blue. This time I was luckier, seeing several males and a female (received wisdom is that to see more than one of these butterflies in a day-trip is good going, but I have come to expect better than this!!).

Here is a male, nectaring on the larval foodplant, bladder senna. There was no hope of getting an upperside shot given the heat - to get those I visit the site first thing in the morning. But it was good to get my first proper encounter with this species this year:



This is Europe's largest Lycaenid, so I posted that picture a little bigger than my normal size of 600 pixels across! For a blue, it really is a huge creature.

Finally, here is an Adonis blue at the same site:



A good day's butterflying, considering I had to do some teaching too!!

Guy

Guy....that Little Blue photo -

Cheers

Lee

An energetic day! In the morning I visited a valley site, then caught a bus (with my bike) up to about 1650m, cycled up to 2200m and finally walked up to 2500m. The buses are not on full summer schedule yet, but I was keen to see what the butterflies were doing up there in this exceptionally early year.

This was the scene in the valley...



... and this is what it was like at 2500m:



There was still plenty of snow at altitude, often stained with red algae - quite common in summer snow:



You might imagine nothing would be flying up there, but a few brave butterflies were on the wing. This little blue currently holds my altitude record for 2011 (it will be beaten later in the summer), flying around nonchalently at 2462m:



Also up there was a single male peak white, that didn't stop for a photo, lots of small tortoiseshells, a single Pyrgus skipper that also didn't stop, and, a little lower (2200m), one of my target species for the trip, sooty ringlet, Erebia pluto:



I found him just as I was about to come down, when a cold wind was blowing and shadows were crossing our path. He was too cold and couldn't fly properly, but wasn't suitably placed for roosting. So I picked him up (with my hands - I had already put my net away) and popped him in a viewing box. He opened his wings, revealing the lovely upperside of form oreas, and warmed up in the box. Then, when I released him, he flew off strongly, ready to find a proper roost.



Other creatures enjoying the lack of humans at altitude were ibex...


(what a gentle soul)

... and alpine marmot:



Here are a few other photos from the mountain and the valley:


(Mountain green-veined white, Artogeia bryoniae, a close cousin of the green-veined white)


(Marbled fritillary)


(Purple-shot copper, Heodes alciphron gordius)


(Ilex hairstreak, Satyrium ilicis)


(Provençal fritillary, Mellicta deione berisalii)


(Southern white admiral, Limenitis reducta, looking as if a bird might have had a go at him)


(A spanking fresh Swiss Zephyr blue, Plebejus (pylaon) trappi)


(Large skipper)


(Small skipper)

As always, I could go on and on, as I photographed most things I saw. I clocked up 11 year ticks - Erebia pluto brought my total to 107 species of butterfly this year. Species 100 was purple-shot copper:



There were lots of early surprises for me, including a lovely, fresh dark green fritillary, but probably the most interesting sightings were at least two fresh large tortoiseshells (sadly, all were flight sightings, so no photos). I wonder if this species is able to stick in a summer brood in exceptional years like this...

Guy

Your photos are always so crystal clear, Guy. Is it the mountain air or just the strong sunlight?

David M wrote:Your photos are always so crystal clear, Guy. Is it the mountain air or just the strong sunlight?

It's the beer.

Guy

OK - the bright sunlight helps. That ibex was in the shade and most pictures of him came out rather soft.

Hi Guy,

Once again, some stunning alpine shots. The Apollo in particular, what a lovely image. Is that another butterfly behind it - a hairstreak maybe?

Your Large Tortoisehell sightings are exciting - a species I am longing to see but I am normally overseas at the wrong time. However, as things are so early this year.....

Cheers

Lee

It's very kind of you to comment so often on my pictures, Lee. I'm glad you like the contextual shots - they're not to everyone's taste but they do play to the strengths of my camera. And what's the point of living in the Alps if you always point the lens at the ground!

Yes, that's an ilex hairstreak behind the Apollo. They were suddenly everywhere yesterday.

And yes, the large tortoiseshells were a surprise. They had no need to hurry their emergence. Some species perhaps do well to get out early, in anticipation of the foodplant desiccating in a heatwave, but large tortoiseshell larvae won't be feeding up until next spring (unless they do put in a summer brood). I hope you see large tortoiseshell this year. I do remember commenting on a thread earlier this year that June was the single worst time to see them, as the hibernators are dead and the new brood is not out. But things might be different this year.

I'm off to the woods!

Guy

padfield wrote:And what's the point of living in the Alps if you always point the lens at the ground!

Completely!

padfield wrote: I hope you see large tortoiseshell this year. I do remember commenting on a thread earlier this year that June was the single worst time to see them, as the hibernators are dead and the new brood is not out. Guy

Thanks Guy, fingers crossed. Yes, I think your comment was for my French holiday last year!

Cheers

Lee

I think this is a first instar comma larva, dwarfed by the huge wych elm leaf he has emerged onto:





Today saw the first ringlets and marbled whites up here in Huémoz. High brown fritillaries were flying in the woods and over the flower-filled meadows where grizzled skippers buzzed about over short turf so recently.

Red and white helleborines put on a show:





A few more butterfly shots from this afternoon, probably to close the book on May 2011 as tomorrow is a long working day and Tuesday brings more rain.


Chequered skipper


Painted lady - I haven't seen very many of these this year


Small tortoiseshell, against the Dents du Midi


Body language - if a female black-veined white makes this sign at you, she means NO.

Guy

Wonderful shots Guy
I can't wait for the next 4 weeks to hurry up and be over so I can get over there and see some of these beauties myself.

Love your photos Guy, nice and clear. The red algae is quite something, as if the landscape is bleeding. BTW the one below "... and this is what it was like at 2500m:" do you know what the blue flowers are?

Hi Dave. I just had a look on the web to see if there was any information about red snow. It seems to be the phenomenon known as 'watermelon snow', described in websites like this one:

http://waynesword.palomar.edu/plaug98.htm

So if that's the same thing then technically they're green algae, but coloured red! Here's another picture I took yesterday:



As for the flowers, they're definitely gentians, and I take them to be Gentiana verna, though I didn't formally identify them while I was up there. Gentians are classic alpine plants and various species flower throughout the summer, though the best ones are the spring ones in my opinion. Most gentians are blue, purple or violet but the great yellow gentian, Gentiana lutea, is ... well, ... big and yellow, as its name suggests! It is probably the single most striking feature of alpine meadows in June and July.

Guy

One of my mini-missions for this year was to get a really good photograph of a glow-worm, using a tripod, a moon-lit night and a long exposure. Tonight was not the night for it, being just about new moon and very cold with it, after two days of heavy rain. But I had a quick wander and found two glow-worms near my house, lurking at the edge of a newly cut meadow.

In two weeks' time the grass there will be longer and the moon will be full, so it might be possible to get some scenic night-time shots with glow-worms. But for the moment, here are two views of one of these little points of living brilliance, deep down in the grass. The first is taken with a tripod, using a 15 sec. exposure, and the second from close-up, hand-held, using 1/80 sec exposure.





It is only the female who glows. She is much bigger than the male and lures him in with her delicate light. In the past I've used flash very occasionally to reveal their true form - but it takes all the magic away and seems horribly intrusive.

Here's a flash photo from 2006, in central Oxford, of a male clinging to the abdomen of his enormous beloved:



Guy


Guy

Today's mission was to find Satyrium hairstreaks in Valais - specifically pruni and acaceae. Despite just acceptable weather - hot, often overcast, sometimes raining but sometimes sunny - I didn't see any. Nevertheless it was a fascinating day, full of surprises!

The first surprise (after the pedal shank coming off my bike on the way down to Aigle) was this grayling, Hipparchia semele:





Not great photos, if they'd been taken in a Suffolk wood in August, but quite special at 1200m in the Alps, on 4th June! My previous earliest date was 27th June (last year), right down in the valley - and I thought that was exceptional. This is an insect of late summer and autumn, which was flying in the valley well into November last year.

That alone would have made the trip worthwhile, but there was more to come. A large, dark blue flew past and I instinctively cried out 'Maculinea' (I haven't got used to 'Phengaris' yet) and followed it. It was a well worn male mountain alcon blue (Phengaris rebeli), who must have been on the wing already in May, judging by his condition:





In the same stretch of meadow I quickly found another, this time in better nick:





I searched in vain for either the foodplant or a female, suggesting that the main site was some way away. My local colony of this species normally emerges at the very end of June or the beginning of July, but that is at 1500m rather than 1200m. There, the foodplant (Gentiana cruciata) is common and easy to find and is usually covered in eggs during the flight season.

This is a lovely site. Amanda's blues were very common, with females now outnumbering the males in the main breeding area:





Many males were worn, having been on the wing two or three weeks now, but fresh ones were still emerging:



Amanda's blue (familiarly known as 'Mandy') is a large insect, almost as big as Iolas blue, and strikingly beautiful.

It really wasn't a day for photography, as it was mostly rather dark, but this scarce copper, my first of the year, was a true jewel in the grass and a delight to see:



Despite the lack of sun, many species were quite active, nectaring and posing. This is a black-veined white:



And here is a small skipper, caught against a grim background - rain was just about to fall.



And here he is in close-up, showing off the lovely red antennal tips that distinguish him (along with his crooked sex brand) from Essex skipper:



There was plenty else flying, but I'll close today's account with the brothers Sisyphus, engaging in what appears to be a rare cooperation against the odds! Normally these beetles fight over their dung balls but these two do seem to be working together. In his essay, The Myth of Sisyphus, Camus saw joy, purpose and a sense of identity in the endless labour, concluding with the words, 'One must imagine Sisyphus happy'. We must imagine this pair happy!!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YSYQ0RMeHNI[/video]

Guy

EDIT - I wonder if the dung beetles are a male and a female. This YouTube clip suggests that pairs of opposite sexes do work together:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1RHmSm36aE

Oh Guy - the memories this brings back.
Rose and I went for a walk in the Tanzanian bush, and encountered one of these fabulous beetles with a dung ball the size of a tennis ball.
I can still picture it rolling the ball around in Rose's hand.
I have a photo somewehere...................

It's been cold and often wet recently, with fresh snow visible on the mountains. This might have put a slight brake on what seems to have been an accelerated rush to get every species out before the solstice.

This afternoon the sun shone intermittently, though it was still cool, and I had a chance to get down to the woods after school. I had expected to see the first white admirals, and perhaps a woodland brown, but both these species were still biding their time. In fact, the woods were very quiet, with mostly satyrids flying, and a few marbled fritillaries. A single great banded grayling flew, but that was the only new thing they produced.

This is one of about half a dozen large walls gracing the woodland ride:



On the way home I checked a meadow where the first lesser marbled fritillaries of the year usually fly. Sure enough, they were there, enjoying the last of the sun:



Those are males. Here is a female - distinctively different in this species:



The forecast is for cool weather to remain for the next week or so, with plenty of rain. So it looks as though the season won't be completely over by the time various UK Butterflies members come out, at the end of June and the beginning of July!

Guy

Hi Guy,
As always, wonderful shots, I'm slightly in awe and very slightly jealous too! So many beautiful species. And consistently amazing photos.
Thanks as always for sharing them with us. I'm thinking it must be a wonderful life out there.
Michael

A spot of rain to keep things fresh, then hopefully plenty of sunshine during the last week of June and the following three weeks.
More great shots Guy.
Do you have any ascalaphids on the wing at present? I saw some in Turkey one year but have never managed to film or photograph these insects. I'd like to find the larvae as well.

I can't remember what seasons they keep but my intuition says they will be there for you, Paul!

Michaeljf wrote:very slightly jealous too! So many beautiful species.

Switzerland in general, and the Rhône Valley in particular, with its range of habitats from Mediterranean to Alpine, is a region of amazingly high biodiversity. Sometimes I wonder if I could ever live in the UK again. Then I read the Kipper's diary, and all the other diaries with such fascinating observations, and I know I could!!

Guy