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As I got home from school today a large tortoiseshell cruised past, my first of the year at this altitude. So it seemed worth jumping back on the bike and checking the woods for peacocks, brimstones and commas. It was late, and only one of these species was to be found - a solitary comma that had a thing about a discarded paper tissue:



In the shade there is still residual snow in the woods, though this is fast melting.



There is usually more heavy snow at the end of March or in April.

Guy

padfield wrote:a solitary comma that had a thing about a discarded paper tissue

Commas DO seem to have a thing about man-made objects. Of the 5 I encountered last weekend, one was located on a discarded wooden door, another was on a metal manhole cover and a third was on a crumbling wall.

The Glanville fritillary caterpillars are fattening themselves up.





Those bright red faces are, I think, a defensive mechanism. I began filming a cinxia cat eating and when I moved to get a different angle he became aware of me and froze, so he was less visible. But when I then moved the camera away he suddenly turned on me, like a monster in a cheap horror movie. I think that would have given a lizard quite a fright.

Here is the unedited video of this scary behaviour.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WJxaNuk23ww[/video]

Whites were out in good numbers today, with all three 'small' whites putting in an appearance (small white, green-veined white and southern small white).

This was the first southern small white (Pieris mannii) I came across:



This is essentially a neater, better marked version of small white, with a characteristically densely scaled underside hindwing and an apical mark reaching down the outer margin at least as far as the discal spot. Here are some more shots, of a different individual:





Here is a small white (also today) for comparison:



You can see the apical spot reaches much less far down the outer margin.

And why not - here is my first green-veined white of the year:



Also on the wing were Queens of Spain in huge numbers - if I had counted them I would certainly have reached treble figures. Now they can enjoy the copious nectar sources that the winter Queens missed out on:



Small tortoiseshells and large tortoiseshells completed the day's offerings, the latter now feeding on newly opened cherry blossom.

The blackthorn is in bud, ready to sprout flowers:



Guy

The weather turned this morning:



It should bring some much needed precipitation over the next few days.

Aurelian, now over 7 months old, is looking vibrant. It is difficult to photograph him as he is above my head. I have to pull his branch down (by pulling a different branch, so I don't risk damaging his), focus the camera on my watchstrap, then try to hold it the same distance above Aurelian and take the picture:



The fact he's in the shade doesn't help.

Guy

Woke up to a familiar scene this morning:



It's still snowing but temperatures are above zero and it will all disappear as swiftly as it came.

Guy

Still looks good though-what a scene to wake up too! Rain expected on the lower ground. Enjoy!

In the local woods at lunchtime today the sallow was in blossom, with small tortoiseshells feeding avidly on it:



A single male brimstone flew across my path and a single large tortoiseshell flew along it. But best of all was a single peacock, my first of this species for the year. It touched down very briefly beside the track and then flew on.



That brings me up to 11 species for the year, with all the hibernators out except Camberwell beauty.

Guy

It was the school ski and snowboard competition today (our winter equivalent of sports' day) so I spent most of the day up at Bretaye, at 1800m.







You wouldn't really expect any butterflies up there but in the course of the day I saw about half a dozen small tortoiseshells cruising over the pistes. Whether they had hibernated up there or were hilltopping I don't know.

When I'm on the pistes I like to remember I'm surrounded by dormant butterfly stages, some of them under the very snow we ski on...

Guy

The red on that Glanville fritillary larva is vaguely reminiscent of the red of an adder's eye.

Matsukaze wrote:The red on that Glanville fritillary larva is vaguely reminiscent of the red of an adder's eye.

I hadn't thought of that, but you're right - the dark middle patch with red either side might be an adder's eye!

Guy

Today's mission was to see if I could find a nettle tree butterfly freshly out of hibernation in North Italy. Nettle tree butterfly has always been a bit of a jinx for me and on the rare occasions I've seen one I've had no real chance to observe or photograph it. The forecast was good, so I left home at 6.50am on the bike, caught the train along the valley, a second train straight through the mountain below the Simplon Pass, and stepped out into watery Italian sunlight at Domodossola at 9.15am. Next, an hour or so of uphill grind to my chosen starting point (start at the top of the hill and work down - makes for a much more enjoyable day than doing it the other way round).

Cycling up the hill I crossed the path of several large tortoiseshells and a single Camberwell beauty. Both these species were prominent during the rest of the day. All were very active. The Camberwell beauties were cruising back and forth along the shrubby edge of a river and for the most part not stopping. The only ones that did stop were a couple - or rather, an amorous male and an apparently unwilling female. In the hope I might witness a mating I stood well back and videoed them from a distance, but she wanted none of it. Here is a clip of what I got. Apologies for the awful quality - I didn't want to risk moving any closer for fear of putting them up, so this is hand-held and maximum zoom:

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

At the same site were small whites and green-veined whites:



A few male brimstones were roding along the same old tracks and one or two large tortoiseshells visited the sallow. But no nettle tree butterflies. I took a walk just a little higher, into some meadows, where small tortoiseshells and Queen of Spain fritillaries were common:



I also found a swallowtail and my first violet fritillary of the year up there:



But I hadn't come all the way into Italy for these, nice though they were!

Back at the river a holly blue looked to be the last new species I would get for the site so I set off down the hill again, looking for new places to explore.

Promisingly, a single nettle tree butterfly flew across the road as I zoomed down a steep part and although I screeched to a halt it was gone before I could catch my breath. I knew it was celtis but decided not to count it anyway, as it had been such a poor, flight view and I wasn't 100% sure. A little further down I noticed some dense scrub that looked promising and stopped for a reccie. Two large tortoiseshells were competing very amusingly for the best place on a shiny, metal telegraph pole. The problem was, it was so shiny they couldn't grip on it and continually made abortive landings until, by accident (they never learned) they landed on one of the metal bands around the pole.



Phew! Landed!



Another successful touchdown.

Nearby were a green hairstreak ...



... and this chequered blue:



This species is typically single-brooded in my part of Switzerland, emerging in mid-April, but in Italy it is normally double-brooded.

It posed for a long time:



Other species seen here were orange tip, comma and wood white. Then, finally, right next to the large tortoiseshells' telegraph pole, a nettle tree butterfly zoomed in and settled. I took a single, long-distance shot, just by pointing the camera in the right direction and clicking, without even knowing where the butterfly was, and then one of the large tortoiseshells took it out and that was that. Here is the proof, cropped hugely!



I did see it briefly show an interest in some cherry blossom as it flew off, but it didn't stop.

By now it was cooling and I needed to get back to Domodossola. On the way down the hill a second chequered blue caught my attention and was my last butterfly of the day.



14 species counts as a good March day but that single, awful snap of the nettle tree butterfly was what made it worthwhile trekking out to Italy. I'll probably do it again next weekend if the weather's good...

Guy

I was pretty chuffed to see my first Bee Fly of the year today and also to get my second "proper" shots of a butterfly, and then I read your post and look at some of the stunning images and I'm almost bilious with envy Are there any jobs going at your school for a Biology/Science teacher?

Have a goodun

Wurzel

Wurzel wrote:I was pretty chuffed to see my first Bee Fly of the year today and also to get my second "proper" shots of a butterfly, and then I read your post and look at some of the stunning images and I'm almost bilious with envy Are there any jobs going at your school for a Biology/Science teacher?

Have a goodun

Wurzel

... or any jobs for a Rights of Way Officer? I'm quite good at fixing up old cars, too!

Or an Apprenticeship Officer?

The Chequered Blue is stunning, Guy. Glad you got your Nettle Tree Butterfly.

Best wishes,

Lee

I'll tell the boss there's a queue of cheap labour...

Back in Switzerland, the grizzled skippers have woken up, over three weeks later than my previous earliest sightings of this species but about right for a normal year.



This one had obviously had an early encounter with a bird or lizard:



This chequered blue, however, was almost three weeks earlier than my previous earliest Swiss sighting:



You could almost hear the pupae cracking open today. Butterflies were abundant. Bath whites were motoring around often in threes and fours, male orange tips, green-veined whites and small whites were all very common, Queens of Spain were flying in near plague numbers, brimstones were almost always in view ... It was like a day in late April.






(the first Queens were on the wing in February - this looks as if it might have been one of them...)

High in the sallow blossom this scarce swallowtail was indulging himself - and I saw another later:



A March green hairstreak is a rare thing in Switzerland:



It, too, had suffered some damage already, with a bite taken out of its right forewing:



Here is a holly blue taking minerals from dead grasses and reeds in a boggy patch:



And a speckled wood against a more autumnal backdrop:



With large and small tortoiseshells, peacocks, wood whites and commas too, not to mention a wall brown, today did not feel at all like March. The mini-heatwave is due to last all of next week.



Guy

Aurelian has moved!

When I popped down to the woods after school today I was at first a little alarmed to see his usual spot empty. But I soon noticed he had simply crawled along to the last bud before the tip of the branch:



I have a suspicion he might have dined out on that bud as his first post-hibernation meal, as it looks a bit nibbled:



Since November 4th he has been sitting not on a bud but on a joint, much closer to the tree itself:



I checked on him most recently on Wednesday last week, when he was in exactly the same position, so he has made his move in the last five days.

So, what's going on? Has he nibbled on a bud to test the state of advancement of the tree? I've often wondered how they know exactly when to start moving - perhaps this is a way of synchronising himself with the tree's spring timetable. Or has he simply woken up too early, wandered along the branch and discovered it is still winter in his shady hollow?

Guy

March is as extraordinary here this year as it is in the UK. Between lessons today I found my 25th and 26th species for the year - mallow skipper and common blue:





In a normal March I would expect to have seen 6-10 species by the end of the month.

I needed to be back at school for the afternoon but when I left the site at 12h45 (which is 11h15, solar time, as we are currently GMT+2 but only half an hour east of Greenwhich) it was already hot enough for butterflies to have begun coming to mud:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6RcqsfGGb4[/video]

Those are small whites and southern small whites - see if you can tell which are which...

Clouded yellows (which rarely survive the winter) were up and about, as well as literally hundreds of Queens and all the other usual suspects.

Here is a red kite in mid-moult:



The hot weather is now forecast to continue into the weekend.

Guy

Now a Red Kite is something that is common here in Oxfordshire, since their re-introduction into the Chilterns in 1989.

I can look out of the window above my computer at almost any time and see one or two gliding over the house-tops or soaring in a thermal - unthinkable a few years ago. in fact, many of the larger birds of prey seem to be doing well, with Buzzards, Peregrines, Hen and Marsh Harriers, Ravens, and even Goshawks all to be found in my local area. I hope that this success at the top of a food chain is an indicator that the whole chain is in good shape.

Despite the warmth, butterflies are still not plentiful in my garden, though.
Mike

That's a great shot of red kite, Mike. Here, this species is a widespread but rather thinly spread resident, which I don't see that often. Black kite, in contrast, is a very common summer migrant. It should be here by now but it usually takes a little time to reach up into the mountains and I haven't seen one yet. It is most abundant on the lake (Lac Léman), where its whinnying at breeding sites can fill the air.

Guy

This post is just a filler, so my nettle tree butterfly shots can have a little time in the limelight!

Guy