JC's Traveblog

I’ve written previously about liking the powerful effect a black background lends to some photographic images. This year, in France, we were in a position to get a few such images again. Once more it was, of course, more by luck than design. In this case, luck came in the form of a shaded woodland walk beside the very first few kilometres of La Rigole, a purpose built small canal feeding water into the Canal du Midi. Bright sunlight filtering through broad-leafed trees is a typically high contrast situation and, hey presto, some very dark backgrounds become possible.

La Rigole gave us our first encounters with Beautiful Demoiselles. That’s a  pretty crappy but nonetheless appropriate English name, in my opinion. Let’s give such a splendid creature its equally splendid Latin name: Calopteryx virgo. They proved to be a little awkward to photograph in some respects, insisting usually on sitting directly facing the sun. Consequently, the magnificent metallic blue of the males’ wings tended to be unlit. Eventually, though, I found one sitting on a pleasantly sunlit leaf  in front of a very shadowy rock beside the water. I confess that I have been a little naughtier than my usual self and cloned out a small but distracting blurred leaf that was inconsiderate enough to intrude into the frame at top left. The black is entirely natural, though.

I didn’t realize I’d be getting a dark background in this second example. The subject was an unknown critter to me and I was simply anxious to photograph it to add to my insect catalogue. The critter in question turned out to be a Hawthorn Shield Bug. It had the good grace and foresight to pose on a particularly artistic fern leaf – I just love that gracious curve up into the corner of the frame – with no surrounding clutter, poised above a wonderfully dark stretch of La Rigole.

If only all insects were as cooperative and photographically inclined.

After the Lord Mayor’s show comes the dustcart. After our blissful, long-awaited day of uninterrupted sun came the grey and rain, again, as advertised. This is so frustrating – we know how delightful Spain can be, even in winter, but our two weeks in February are turning out to be irritatingly atypical. Even the almond trees appear to have put life on hold and stand apparently dormant in various stages of blossoming. Chris told us that there are 15 types of almond tree, each with a different shade of white or pink. We’re ready with our cameras but nature isn’t playing. Still, given the torrential disaster in Madeira, we have little to complain about.

The rain began at about 11:00 AM. Shortly after, we bad fond farewells to Chris, Yvonne and el perrito, Scamp, before driving the measly mile to the other side of the valley via the bodega to get a refilled 5 litre flagon (just over an imperial  gallon) of rosado. I still can’t believe this stuff; at 90¢ a litre, it’s cheaper than bottled water. Brilliant!

We were soon at Geoff and Pam’s renewing acquaintances with the three remaining pets. Sadly, in the year since we were house-and-pet sitting, they have lost one dog and one cat to the ravages of old age. One of our first services was to get Geoff’s new (second-hand) laptop and wireless router talking to each other. I discovered a reset button which made the wireless LAN burst into life and Carol discovered the security key which the laptop needed to be allowed access. What teamwork! Everyone was happy – now we’d have a week of wireless access without resorting to McDonald’s.

Domesticated life and PC support services aside, wildlife once again produced some elevated interest. While we were unpacking and settling in to our new bedroom, Carol returned from the bathroom excitedly announcing that she had something I should see. Well, how could a boy contain himself? The source of the excitement turned out to be an attractively marked creepy-crawly lurking on the tiles in our bathroom. It was about 2.5cms/1in long and completely new to me. With a lot of close-focus rings and a spot of flash, I snapped it. With Geoff’s super newly activated wi-fi, I posted our unknown invertebrate on iSpot.

My leggy creepy-crawly turns out to be a House Centipede (Scutigera coleoptrata). I love iSpot. Given Internet access, it seems to beat any field guide. Articles on the Internet say that House Centipedes are very common round the Mediterranean area. They have 15 pairs of legs, in which case I think House Trentipedes might be a more appropriate name … but whose counting? It’s certainly an interesting critter to add to my insect collection.

Given the weather, we’re finding precious little else to train our cameras on.

Odonata is the order of insects that includes the dragonflies and damselflies. Today, while Carol was off meeting her genealogical pals, I went off to meet some of my insect pals. Another chap wandered in flashing a new Canon EOS 50D equipped with a 500mm Sigma lens and a close focussing ring. Grrr! I carried on regardless with my EOS 40D and 300mm lens. [Note to self: really should replace our old film SLR close focussing rings with some that are compatible with a digital body.]

The butterflies really had quietened down even though it was quite sunny to begin with. I was trying to find a small white to add the collection but they were either too ragged or too uncooperative, sometimes both. I did, however, manage to grab another shot of a Green-veined White (left) which, given its high-contrast background, seems quite artistic to me. I am, however, a self-confessed artistic numbskull and hardly qualified to judge.

The thistles were, as usual, attracting various bees so I snapped a couple of them for good measure and a new subject. I thought the markings and colours might make them relatively easy to identify. Silly me! I remain clueless as to their identity.

The real gems came down by the side of the pond which seemed to be teeming, relatively speaking, with damselflies and dragonflies of various sorts. It was also teeming with silly folks with 300mm lenses slipping on grass and falling on their backsides with a jarring crash. Ouch! However, I recovered and was particularly keen on a new species for me: what I think is a so-called Common Darter (far left). I wish creatures with such wonderful markings and colouration were not called “common” but I get their point. I was also excited by the very delicate White-legged Damselfly (middle left). Of course, I had no idea what I was snapping until I returned home to the books. I think the third suspect (near left) is a repeat of a female Common Darter but don’t quote me.

I was most intrigued by what I correctly guessed was egg-laying activity. I’d seen some pairs both flying and resting coupled together. This formation, I now know, is called the copulation wheel for obvious reasons (left). Following that, however, the pairs of some species fly along joined in what is known as the tandem position for ovipositing whereby they repeatedly dip down to the water to allow the female (rear of the pair) to deposit her eggs. They move very fast and it’s darn difficult to snap them but I tried and got something half-way recognizable (right).

At this rate I’ll be joining the British Dragonfly Society. They have a place at Wicken Fen that must be worth a visit.

Due to popular demand

I received a suggestion that I group together some of our insect photographs, mainly butterflies recently featured in this blog, to form a composite Insects photograph album. Since I was considering doing exactly that, I’ve done it. I was originally thinking “Butterfly Album” but then realized we had, over several years of travelling through France, collected several other insects of interest that might have objected to their omission.

For those sharing my fascination with our six-legged friends (from which category I personally may have to exclude wasps), the resulting album can be found at:

http://www.curdhome.co.uk/photos/Insects/index.htm

This addition has caused a slight reorganizing of our photograph album index page but I think I prefer the change.

On Friday Carol was off playing with her mother and I was left at home to amuse myself. So, after I’d finished my chores, I took myself on another hunting expedition, armed only with a camera, to Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve to see if I could add to my growing collection of insect portraits. The sun was being typically shy when I arrived so the only activity in which the butterflies seemed interested was resting and conserving energy. Inactivity makes them a little difficult to spot so I resorted to the rather unsubtle device of tramping about in the vegetation to scare them up. Close to the trees I managed to disturb and track a Speckled Wood (right) which obligingly settled back down on the ground for me to photograph.

I wasn’t seeing anything else new in butterfly land so I wandered around the rest of the reserve to see what else I could find. What I found was quite a few damselflies and dragonflies, a couple of which cooperated long enough for me to get the camera fixed on them. The damselfly (right) is a so-called Common Blue Damselfly. That seems to be a rather ignoble name to me for such an attractively marked and delicate creature. The dragonfly (left) is the similarly common (what else would I expect) but somewhat oddly named Southern Hawker. I assume it doesn’t keep spitting and the only thing that I can see it selling is death to other flying insects. Imagine being a modestly-sized fly and having that giant screaming at you head-on. This specimen had a wingspan of about 3 inches/75 mm.

The sun did put in a half-hearted appearance for my second hour and managed to liven up the locals a little. On a second visit to butterfly heaven I snagged a better shot of a Gatekeeper (left) courtesy of there being more light making possible a tighter aperture setting. Then, as I was leaving, a couple of whites began feeding perfectly positioned at my eye level. How considerate of them. Whites can seem a little tedious compared to their more colourfully marked cousins. They also tend to keep their topsides hidden since they most often settle with their wings closed. In the case of this Green-veined White (right), though, the situation was perfect as the markings giving rise to its name are on its underside. Just look at the eye, too. It’s speckled – quite staggering.

A very worthwhile trip from an initially unpromising day.