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I returned a few days ago from a trip to the French Alps. I had a trip planned in February but of course the travel restrictions (and common sense) put that on hold until they were eased as of 4 July. This meant that my original plans to be in the right places in the flight periods of the target species had to be changed, in one or two cases quite fortuitously.

In normal years, I would usually be on the south coast of France and leave there around 26 June, travelling north. This year, Calais was the starting point.

I will say at the outset that the regions I was travelling to (mostly Alpes-de-Haute-Provence and Hautes-Alpes) had very low incidence of Covid 19. The places I stayed were exceptionally thorough in their avoidance of the virus, in every respect. Contrasted with the rather blasé attitudes I left in the UK (and still found when I returned).

I had thought that the reports of an early season in the UK might be mirrored across the channel but this did not appear to be the case, at least not consistently.

My first serious stop was at a site for Asian Fritillary (Euphydryas intermedia), one that I had been to a few times before and found them slightly past their best. So this year, an earlier visit on 9 July. When they were also slightly past their best. But they were out in decent numbers, perhaps ten or more, and they are very amenable posers as they warm up in the morning. Here is a male, a rather red female (snapped in flight) and the underside of the female, also rather red. In much the same region, also in Savoie, there is a location largely untouched by human activity save for randonneurs, where I have seen 50+ species in a small area. There weren’t as many species there this time, but I did get to see a Grizzled Skipper (Pyrgus malvae/malvoides) ab taras, which I have only seen on three occasions. This one isn’t quite as extreme as some of the excellent examples posted on UKB recently, but it did have the courtesy to pose next the normal form, just to illustrate the difference. It was clearly a slightly late season at this spot, as most were fresh. Here is a Small Blue (Cupido minumus) – one of hundreds there, and a Knapweed Fritillary (Melitaea phoebe). More to follow.

Also from the same site in Savoie, a Northern Wall Brown (Lasiommata petropolitana). It is rather similar to its close cousin Large Wall (L. maera) but can easily be distinguished by the clear discal line on the hindwing. It is not a common species but tends to pop up in unexpected places, usually in small numbers, although Pete S found them in good numbers last year in a site I suggested. From the same site, an Olive Skipper (P. serratulae). In my experience, this is an enormously variable species, very widespread and often rather common. The books show it as being lightly marked, especially on the hindwing, but this is not always the case. I have Pyrgus upperside group photos where they look very different, but from studying the undersides, they are all clearly serratulae. This one is fairly typical in terms of markings, but has a rather unusual dark colouration. I moved on to another site at 2000m in the same region which had become the victim of over-grazing (French: surpaturage – a word I am seeing increasingly frequently) by sheep and with the commensurate loss of flowers and butterflies. But I did notice one blue, one of the few, that looked a little larger – a male Mountain Alcon Blue (Phengaris alcon rebeli) - unusually, in my experience, with open wings. One of my key targets was Larche Ringlet (Erebia scipio), a very elusive and highly localised species. I had been told about a site by a French colleague and sworn to secrecy. Clue: it wasn’t at the Col de Larche, which I find to be an over-grazed butterfly desert, although said to be much better on the Italian side. The site was at 2200m, not especially high by the standards of French Cols, but my reckoning is based on the width of the road (can two cars pass?) and the presence or absence of a verge, even a little one, on the drop side. I am not a fan of the Col du Galibier as this falls into the verge-less category albeit sufficiently wide, plus there isn’t much butterfly-reason to go there, but this Col was not only verge-less but also was quite narrow to the point of having to retract wing mirrors in an effort for two cars to pass. And on reaching the parking area, it was another 30min walk up a fairly steep rather rocky track. I had planned to be there later in July as scipio has a later flight season, but it was 12 July or not at all this year. Not much was flying at the designated spot, a few False Mnestra Ringlets (E. aethiopella) and two other Erebia. I studied one using my Papilio binoculars that had its wings closed and was plain black with no discernible markings – a good sign for scipio – and only just remembered to get the camera out as it opened its wings to depart, never to be seen again. I am fairly sure this is scipio. The other was a Piedmont Ringlet (E. meolans), but was very different. I was slightly sceptical about the hindwing ocelli, albeit rather small, but Lafranchis says “usually without ocelli”. There are actually remarkably few images of male scipio anywhere. Pete S is currently in scipio territory; my money is on him finding them there.
On to everybody’s favourite region – the Queyras. However, it was clearly a late season here as, on 14 July, albeit with poor weather, very little was flying at 2500m. There were enough brief sunny spells in the morning to tempt them out, but it is a spot that can be scrutinised from the roadside with the Papilios, and very little was moving. There were a few Shepherd’s Fritillaries (Boloria pales) although they were showing signs of wear, as this one. I am assuming it is pales (this one is not clear-cut) as there were clearly female pales here, but no sign of female Mountain Fritillary (B. napaea). So was it an early season or a late season here? At the lower reaches of the Queyras at 2000m there was more activity, albeit much less than usual. One indication that it was a late season here was the number of fresh individuals, most of which looked freshly emerged. Spotted Fritillary (M. didyma) doesn’t get much coverage as it is so common, but a fresh male with white margins fully intact shows it in its best light. More to follow.

Spotted Fritillaries are great butterflies - so orange, and so variable! The underside has to be my favourite amongst the fritillaries as well.

Nice selection, Roger. Looking forward to seeing more.

I agree the season has been inconsistent in the French Alps this year. Some altitudes were productive and others weren't. There must have been some extreme, localised variations in temperature/weather conditions in the first 6 months of 2020. It's hard to know unless you are living there permanently.

16 July, next stop, the Col de la Bonnette. Aberrations don’t only happen in Lincolnshire – here is one from Bonnette and the only clue I will give is that it was seen at 2300m. I’ll come back to it at the end. At the same spot, one of my favourite Erebia is Mountain Ringlet (E. epiphron). It is small compared to most other Erebia and is usually encountered in small numbers unlike the ubiquitous Large (E. Euryale) or Almond-eyed (E. alberganus). Still at this location, a spot I had always considered to be butterfly-poor until this year, a Niobe Fritillary (Argynnis niobe) on a huge mushroom. Quite why it landed there or what it thought it was, is beyond me. At the higher reaches of Bonnette there is a rocky scree that is below the road. There is a roadside pull-off and it is possible to peer over the edge (not too close – it is a sheer drop of several hundred metres) to see Sooty Ringlets (E. pluto) and, I am reasonably sure, Silky Ringlets (E. gorge) meandering up and down the scree. Patience is required as they do very occasionally come over the top and briefly land roadside. After 90 minutes, this couple came over and landed by the roadside, in some sort of courtship behaviour, the male completely black and the female underside rather pale, perhaps because of wear although this seems unlikely as the male looks fresh. I managed to get this one shot before the inevitable group of bikers came past and that was that. OK, it is just a black smudge, but it is a better black smudge than my other black smudges. The weather became cloudy and overcast at lunchtime, which seemed to happen every day, so I dropped down from Bonnette to around 1500m to a track leading off from a small village. I meandered along this track and about 1km along I noticed – could hardly fail to notice – this roosting Southern Swallowtail (Papilio alexanor). It is probably unique in that it roosts with open wings. It was just about within camera range and I wasn’t prepared to risk getting any closer as the drop to the river Tinée was around 50m. It is said that the Tinée valley was a former stronghold of alexanor, but I think it has largely disappeared and I am not sure there have been any recent records, so this was doubly surprising. On to the Mercantour, to the Vésubie valley. My usual trip to the Madone de Fenestre produced a sighting of Balkan Fritillary (B. graeca) but no photo opportunity as has been the case for the past few years. On to the famed track: I was very surprised to find almost nothing on the Lavender bushes, given its track (pun intended) record. I had a sighting of a very fresh male Foulquier’s Grizzled Skipper (P. foulquieri) which looked like it had just emerged, suggesting that the season was late here, too. However, I also saw a fresh-looking male Provençal Fritillary (M. deione) which is much later than I would have expected. One of the delights of this track is that in mid-July it usually produces a Meleager’s Blue (Polyommatus daphnis) or two, and this was no exception, with two males, one here: One thing about this track is that you can walk it a second time and almost certainly see species you didn’t see the first time. Especially a visit to the Lavender bushes, and so it was – greeted by a Southern Comma (Polygonia egea). This one seemed to be very lightly marked and with an underside more diffuse than usual, and a less distinct white tick mark. There never seems to be more than one but it is always a pleasure. This is both the upperside (waving around in the wind in the end of a stalk of Lavender) and the underside. OK so what is the aberration? At first I thought it might be graeca, but I have another shot that just shows the hindwing angle and it’s not really sharp enough for graeca. My guess is Mountain Fritillary (B. napaea). Anyone have other thoughts?

More to follow.

Hi Roger. Can you share the shot that just shows the hindwing angle? My first thought was also graeca and I'd like to see what you rule that out from (though I trust you completely, of course!). I imagine it's not an underside shot, or the game would be simpler!

Guy

Hi Guy,

Here is the image that just shows the hindwing angle. Much as I would like it to be graeca and I would grateful to anyone who says yes, that's graeca because... Roger

Ah yes - I agree - it doesn't look like graeca now.

The markings are highly anomalous, but on the grounds of wing shape and the hindwing dessins I go for napaea. I don't think I'd stake much more than a half of bitter on it, but it feels much more like that than pales and I can't see aquilonaris in it. Those are obviously the only options.

Oh - and I love your black smudge (with the bit of grey attached)! Our pluto in Switzerland are form oreas, with great orange patches on the forewings, and it's quite hard to get such a good view as that anyway.

Guy

Roger Gibbons wrote: ↑Sat Aug 08, 2020 8:57 am Pete S is currently in scipio territory; my money is on him finding them there.

Roger, I am flattered by your confidence in me! Sadly, on this occasion I am afraid you would have lost your money...
Despite many hours of searching at several apparently suitable sites, including "known locations", and considerable cardio-vascular exertion to boot, I failed to locate scipio (yet again).

I shall email you with full details of my efforts, and also post something shortly once I have gone through my photo's, records, and recovered from a long journey home today, after a fabulously enjoyable trip.

Hi Pete,

Despite many hours of searching at several apparently suitable sites, including "known locations", and considerable cardio-vascular exertion to boot, I failed to locate scipio (yet again).

I think scipio is becoming increasingly difficult to find. I recall (I think, maybe be mistaken) that you had seen it some years back near the Col des Champs, though.

I, along with many others on this site, look forward to seeing your trip reports.

Roger

Roger Gibbons wrote: ↑Tue Aug 11, 2020 9:00 am Hi Pete,

Despite many hours of searching at several apparently suitable sites, including "known locations", and considerable cardio-vascular exertion to boot, I failed to locate scipio (yet again).

I recall (I think, maybe be mistaken) that you had seen it some years back near the Col des Champs, though.

Roger

Hi Roger,
Yes, your memory serves you well - I did have the pleasure of seeing a single male scipio not that far from the said Col, back in 2011. I was travelling with a fellow enthusiast who netted and boxed the individual, so we had excellent views of uppersides and undersides and there was no doubt as to its ID. Personally I haven't used a net/pot for many years, but on this occasion it wouldn't have been possible to ID it without capture, as it was not settling. My biggest mistake was not taking a photograph of it in the box, as when it was released, it immediately took off straight over the top of a nearby conifer, never to be seen again - and thus I lost my only opportunity so far to photograph this species! I have visited the site several times since, and nearby suitable habitat, including last week, and never found it there again...

Episode 4

19 July, still in the Mercantour. I am sure this is a Foulquier’s Grizzled Skipper (P. foulquieri) – what else could it possibly be? But it was in a location which I have visited many times and never seen it there before. At the same location, in my opinion a breathtaking female Scarce Copper (Lycaena virgaureae) which looked freshly hatched to me. The underside is a sublime blend of buff and orange and then it opened up to show the orange ground colour with such bold black markings. The underside shot also shows the pure white of the lower thorax and head, contrasting with the orange above. I am impressed. Could you guess? Not far down the road to a spot that is very species-rich. The weather alternated between sun and cloud, ideal for seeing and photography as they slow down in the cloudy spells. Titania’s Fritillary (B. titania) is probably the most common fritillary above 1500m altitude, sometimes very common, and fairly easy to identify in flight as it is noticeably darker. Here is male, settled in a cloudy spell, albeit with wings curled downwards. Similarly, a female Amanda’s Blue (P. amandus), both underside and upperside in a typical open pose to maximise what warmth was available from the sun. It is a larger blue, but this individual was noticeably smaller. Also, for a species that is relatively widespread, this is the only one I saw on the entire trip, no males at all, which is very unusual. Next, and slightly out of chronological sequence, a trip to a location in Haute-Savoie on 25 July to a site on a high (1400m) plateau to a spot where I had been given a location for what would be another life-tick for me, Cranberry Fritillary (B. aquilonaris). This is a localised species, but not too hard a species to find, being a question of being in the right place at the right time. I was told to get there before 08.00 as, after that, they fly incessantly and rarely land. I was staying about an hour away, so I got up at 06.00, had breakfast, and got there at 07.45. I had no trouble finding the spot, which was actually a boardwalk through a lightly wooded area of conifers with plenty of Cranberry (Vaccinium oxycoccos) – in fact, I think it said that there were four species of Cranberry there. The weather was overcast and stayed that way until around 12.00 while I walked the boardwalk trying to spot anything orange. But nothing flew. Then the weather relented with occasional sunny spells and – lo and behold – orange butterflies did start to appear. Nice to see them but they were Titania’s and Lesser Marbled Fritillaries (Brenthis ino), nectaring in the flowery areas in clearings. I gave it another couple of hours and checked out a grassy area adjacent to the pine trees (the Pumilios are ideal for this) and spotted a fritillary in the grass that wasn’t acting like titania or ino and I managed to get close enough for a photo – yes, aquilonaris at last. Having learnt from many past painful experiences, I got a photo from a distance, else you can finish up doubting if you actually saw what it is you thought you saw. This turned out to be the right thing to do as it then departed never to be seen again. My comment about the delay to the trip came home to roost as I was at this site later than originally planned, but I think I got lucky as I think this was the first emergence of aquilonaris at this site and any earlier and I wouldn’t have seen it. So here it is, grass and all. One final instalment to follow.

Episode 5 of 5

23 July in eastern central France, to a spot where we found Alcon Blue (P. alcon alcon) by accident last year, albeit only one female and only male, even though the female was egg-laying assiduously. It was not a disappointment – the egg laying activity being just as fevered as last year, and the Marsh Gentian (Gentiana pneumonanthe) was rather more advanced than last year but not quite yet in flower. Curiously, I never saw more than one female at any given time, but when I studied the photos, the subtle difference in markings (compared on the same side) showed that they were clearly three different individuals. It is a species that usually settles with closed wings so, when one of them opened up briefly, I had the presence of mind (formed out of many past mistakes) to get the camera in place and get the photo below, which proved necessary as it closed up a few seconds later. Also, the one male that was flying there was less active than last year settled from time to time, the third of these photos. Considering how localised this species is, it was special few hours at this site. Still in eastern France, and not too far from the alcon site, there is a site for the other two highly localised French “Maculinea” species, Scarce Large Blue (P. teleius) and Dusky Large Blue (P. nausithous). I have been there several times and the flight periods of these two species, which seem almost synchronised, tend to be later in July than at other locations. And in 2020 it was even later than usual, as I only saw one male of each species, both of which looked very fresh suggesting that they had only just emerged. They were both highly active, but I did just manage to get a shot of nausithous as below. It has quite a dark ground colour, but this photo was taken on the opposite side to the sun, so it looks even darker than in real life. Still, rather fortunate to have seen all five French Maculinea species in one trip. Arran Brown (E. ligea) isn’t what I would describe as common, but it does occur fairly widely in eastern France. It is usually quite recognisable as it is noticeably large, especially the female, and significantly larger than the so-called Large Ringlet (E. Euryale), so both species are probably misnamed. This female was spotted warming in the first rays of the sun which is about the only time it is possible to find such an amenable pose. Northwards and on to Haute-Savoie. I had hoped to see Water Ringlet (E. pronoe) but the site I visited was over-run by humans and almost nothing was flying in this high altitude location. However, away from the centres of human activity, I did find some locations that were quite species-rich. I took this photo of what I thought at the time was a female Purple-edged Copper (L. hippothoe eurydame) – there were males of hippothoe flying nearby - but I am starting to come round to the view that it is a Sooty Copper (L. tityrus subalpinus). The spots don’t look quite right for hippothoe and I realise just how similar these two species can be. My experience of hippothoe is from the southern French Alps, not from Haute-Savoie. Here it is, for the moment. I will study this in detail in the autumn when I go through all of the photos in detail, but comment is invited. Travelling west through Ain, I stopped off at a flowery roadside spot that boasted a surprising number of species. There were several Silver-spotted Skippers (Hesperia comma) but this one caught my eye as the spotting was much reduced and rather creamy. Heading back north toward Calais through Côte d’Or and stopping off at a location that supports a rare fritillary in early June, not to mention a healthy population of ticks. So it is long trousers tucked into socks, a tight shirt buttoned up to the neck. Not ideal for a hot day, but at least the location is not visible from the road and non-one else goes there. In late July it is simply overwhelmed by butterflies, Silver-washed Fritillaries in hundreds (but most showing signs of wear) and Holly Blues, of which I estimated fifty even in 200m of this flowery track. It is also a good site for Scotch Argus (E. aethiops) and they were flying in good numbers, although nearly all females by now. This is a female snapped in motion while nectaring. All in all, a very enjoyable trip with 140 species seen. What was the highlight of the year to date? I reckon it was a tie between alcon and the two life-ticks scipio and aquilonaris, but my casting vote goes to the Black Hairstreak (Satyrium pruni) I saw in Northants in early June. That was a one-off moment to see such a reclusive species in good numbers and have one female pose so obligingly which I am sure will never be repeated.

Hi Roger. I'm quite sure your ambiguous copper is tityrus subalpinus, not hippothoe eurydame. The staggered pd spots are characteristic, in the old money, of Heodes, while Paleochrysophanus has a more or less smooth arc of spots. It's the first place my eye goes with these dark, upland coppers - especially as tityrus can be quite large at altitude.

Guy

Hi Guy,

Thanks for the confirmation, very much the direction I was heading in. I'll amend my records.

Lycaena can't change its spots, as the old saying goes. Something beginning with "L", maybe it wasn't Lycaena, though.

Roger

Good to speak to you earlier, Roger, and yes, that open-winged alcon is to die for!

The ligea is pretty amazing too. On the rare occasions I've seen them a part-open wing is the best I've got.

The devastation of one our favourite parts of the world.

https://news.sky.com/story/storm-alex-v ... e-12088604

Roger

Devastating...quite literally!

Some of the rainfall totals are scarcely believable. I've seen quite a few of the videos and it looks like landslides did much of the damage, including one near Valdeblore which closed the road down to the Tinée, cutting off Rimplas.

People sometimes ask me on the way out of Nice airport why the river bed is so wide when there's just a trickle of water coming through. It ain't no trickle right now; it's a torrent!

Another disaster for Roquebillière.
Watching the aerial video of the flooding at Roquebillière I can see the campsite we stayed at was close to being flooded at the time the video was taken, the old redundant iron bridge has in part been swept away, thankfully the ancient  Templar church of Saint Michel de Gastappears appears to have survived,
The old town was hit by a landslide in (1920-1929) and the new town we see today was built well above the river.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0kySBA8b_ioSo sad,
A lovely old village.I do hope there were no fatalities.

This gives some idea of what it was like.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kv6Fv12BL8s

We were in Var in 2010 when the two rivers, bizarrely named the Artuby and the Nartuby, combined to completely flood the south of Var killing officially 25 people (but probably many more). We were lucky, being on a hillside at 60m alt, but anything at sea level was devastated. It was quite a shock, when we were able to leave our site (all surrounding roads were unpassable) four days later and see caravans floating out to sea.

Roger