JC's Traveblog

For me, the summer school holidays are something to be endured. We endure it by being at home leaving the rest of the normally civilized world to be invaded by ear-shattering screamers. However, last summer I added dragonfly and damselfly (collectively, Odonata) spotting to my long-standing love of butterfly spotting and had a great time pursuing my new-found hobby at local nature reserves. Last year was a terrific year for butterflies with a diverse population being boosted by a quite well publicized “invasion” from the continent of Painted Ladies. Being a complete novice, I had no previous experience of Odonata levels but I did find a lot of activity.

This year, I was looking forward to some repeat nature spotting rather than thinking that half my summer had been hijacked. It seems to have been a tough year for our poor ol’ butterfly population. I’ve lost count of the number of sizeable Buddleia bushes I’ve seen without a single butterfly feeding on them. In fact, I’m hard pressed to recall any Buddleia with a butterfly on it. I suspect that our last, particularly harsh winter was at least partly responsible. On top of a bad winter, late July and August have been pants too, weather-wise.

Having said that, I did get out to our local Sandhouse Lane Nature reserve once or twice on days that were half-way reasonable. The level of Odonata activity definitely seemed lower than last year but a few of the more usual suspects were busily trying to make up for the apparent shortfall in population. The way most dragonflies go about adding to the population is that the male of the species spots a willing female of the species and grabs her by the neck using his appendages – projections from his abdomen designed for grabbing ladies around the neck. They are now in the so-called tandem formation. Eventually, still held firmly by the neck, the female curves her abdomen around and under the male to marry her vulvar scale to his secondary sex organ. The resulting circular formation is often called the copulation wheel or, perhaps more romantically, the copulation heart. Damselflies, in particular, form a very definite heart shape.

The most populous dragonfly species at Sandhouse Lane seems to be the Ruddy Darter. On my earlier (and sunnier) trip I had snapped a pair of Ruddy Darters “in tandem” preparing to mate. As usual in the animal world, it is the male dragonfly that is the more colourful and, as a result, often more readily identified. The female tends to be somewhat more drab, often brown/beige/dull yellow, and rather more similar looking. I have, in the past, frequently relied upon the fact that a female is firmly attached to a male to confirm an identification. Here, also confirmed by good old iSpot, is my sunlit tandem pair of Ruddy Darters.

As well as Ruddy Darters, Sandhouse Lane plays home to a population of Common Darters. On a subsequent and less sunny visit, once again I spotted a Ruddy Darter male firmly grasping a female by the neck. I again snapped the tandem pair, just because I could. Upon later study, I thought the female exhibited a different colouration from that in my first pair. In fact, this female looked more the colour of a male Common Darter. “Arghh! Wait – don’t panic!” I spotted that, colour aside, this specimen’s abdomen shape confirmed it to be female. All was well. I added it to iSpot to see if this apparent colour variation of the female might be age-related; they do, sometimes, darken and change with age.

Good decision! it transpires that this poor old male Ruddy Darter had, in fact, grabbed a female Common Darter by the neck. Well, at least he’d got the sex right, if not the species. What a turn up for the books. One of the resident specialists on iSpot had observed this sort of mismatch before but hadn’t got a decent photograph of such a pairing. Having put me straight, he requested a copy of the picture which I was happy to provide.

So, no more identifying females just because they are attached to a male.

Since the sun had decided to grace us with its presence for just about the first time in a few weeks, yesterday I took a break from trying to organize French wildlife in favour of trying to catch, photographically of course, some English wildlife. I took myself off to my favourite local location, Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve. It’s so great because, more often than not, I’m the only one there. That is, I’m the only mammalian biped there. Such was the case yesterday, although I think my six-legged friends were equally pleased to see the sun because there was some pretty frenetic insect activity.

Over the pond, Brown Hawkers (Aeshna grandis) were the first positive sign I saw as two or three tirelessly patrolled above the water. They didn’t seem too fussy about what they’d chase in the hope of a meal, even drifting seeds which, of course, they rejected. Quite frequently times they seemed to chase each other, much of which I’m sure is territorial aggression, but I did begin to wonder if they would actually be cannibalistic. I tried fruitlessly to catch one in flight but, alas, they didn’t seem to go into a hover. So intent was I on watching them hunt, that I almost missed one ovipositing in the pond almost at my feet. Hmm, maybe they weren’t chasing each other to be cannibalistic after all?

More action soon followed as a tandem pair of Ruddy Darters (Sympetrum sanguineum) positioned themselves perfectly on a leaf quite close to me. How generous of them. Sometimes standing still and waiting for the dragonflies to come to me seems to be more productive than going to them. In practice, of course, both techniques are required. Clearly the sun really was working magic as the tandem pair adopted the copulation wheel formation.

In good conditions, it is usual to see dragonflies and damselflies mating. I suspect that this is a feature of their precarious life as an adult; as soon as conditions turn favourable, there is a general rush to reproduce.

Right, where’s that sun?

In a very unusual spell of fine weather lasting precisely one day and in between a few chores like buying expensive Euros and fetching our caravan to make ready for our coming trip to France, I enjoyed a couple of hours back at good ol’ Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve. I wanted to try a slightly larger close focus ring, 31mm, to get a tad closer if possible. I’m clearly making the most of this while the wildlife season lasts. I enjoy this site so much not only because of the wildlife there but because I’m often the only visitor. This time, though, I actually did see another person walking three dogs.

Most of our invasion of Painted Lady butterflies seemed largely to have disappeared. I did see two hangers on but most of the now reduced Lepidoptera activity was down to Gatekeepers and very skittish Common Blues that just didn’t want to cooperate with the camera. I soon got frustrated by their lack of cooperation and went off to investigate the dragonfly and damselfly pools. They, too, seemed a little quieter at first but then I spotted a mating pair of Common [Ed: correction, 2010-02-08] Ruddy Darters in their Copulation Wheel formation.  They wouldn’t let me approach too close, perhaps not unnaturally, but I did manage to grab a worthwhile shot which I’ve cropped just a little (right).

I moved on to where I’d previously seen a male Common [Ed: correction, 2010-02-08] Ruddy Darter hunting. Darters are so called because they tend to sit motionless on a perch watching for flies, then dart out to catch them, subsequently returning to their perch. Spotted Flycatchers (the birds) exhibit very similar behaviour which is called sallying. Knowing the perch gives you a fighting chance of snapping them ‘cos you can line up on the perch and wait for your subject. Sure enough, my cooperative little subject was, indeed, hunting on his usual patch. This time I did get close enough to benefit from my larger close focus ring. This shot (left) is full frame, not cropped.

I moved on to the main pool and spent quite a time just watching but seeing little that was new or appealing photographically. I did waste a lot of time trying without success to track a Hawker of some kind in flight but that really was wishful thinking and was never likely to happen. I was about to move on when a mating pair of damselflies landed on a branch right beside me and formed their Copulation Wheel. Yikes! The position and light were great, the background was great, I just had to bang off about 60 frames trying repeatedly to get my focus accurate. Even an aperture of f16 with the close focus ring gives a depth of field that’s very thin and swaying slightly loses focus, hence my multiple attempts. I’d taken a monopod but left it in the car boot thinking I’d never be able to use it swiftly enough. Wrong, you foolish person! In this situation it would have been perfect. Anyway, I’ve discarded the fuzzy shots (about 50 of them) and here, again uncropped, is a good one (right). I’m not completely certain about this species but I suspect that it is Nehalennia speciosa, the Pygmy or Dwarf Damselfly [Ed: correction, 2010-02-08] a pair of Emerald Damselflies.

I’ve only very recently begun to try to identify dragonflies and damselflies. This new found interest was entirely due to the relative plethora of the things at our local Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve. On the left is one of the first I spotted. I had no idea what it was but I snapped it and hurried home, metaphorically speaking, to identify it. In my book, Insects of Britain and Western Europe by Michael Chinery, I spotted a diagram that looked similar. It was a diagram of a female Keeled Skimmer. Excellent! In my mind, my new found friend became a female Keeled Skimmer.

On a subsequent visit I was excited to discover further different species such as those on the right. Although there are several superficially similar red-bodied species, I was pretty sure that this was a male Common Darter. When in doubt, settle on the common. On that visit I was also fortunate enough to witness a pair of Common Darters mating, joined in what is apparently termed the Copulation Wheel, I was happy with my new found interest.

After my third or fourth visit a concern formed in my mind. The concern turned to serious doubt. A male Keeled Skimmer has a relatively broad light blue abdomen according to my field guide. Whilst I hadn’t seen anything resembling such a thing here, I was happy to believe I had female Keeled Skimmers. Furthermore, though I had witnessed mating pairs of Common Darters, other than those that were inverted in a Copulation Wheel and thus difficult to see, I hadn’t actually identified anything as being a female Common Darter, either. Very suspicious! Not only very suspicious but such a state of affairs would do nothing at all for the great Mr. Darwin’s cause. We can’t go having dragonfly immaculate conception now, can we? No, that would never do.

A swift trawl of the Internet found a few photos of female Common Darters. Ah ha! Just as I had begun to suspect, my female “Keeled Skimmer” was, in fact, most likely to be a female Common Darter. Normality restored, mating may continue and species may go forth and multiply.

The trouble is my field guide is particularly weak on females. It is very happy to show the males in all their normally colourful glory but it tends to steer clear of the females. Only a few females are shown. The females, it appears, can be quite similar to the untrained eye and mine is certainly untrained.

I did snap a couple of dainty damselflies that still completely elude me. I have no idea what these two are, though I have suspicions concerning one. I’ve even emailed them off to the British Dragonfly Society to see if the experts will help me out. I’m wondering if they might be immature specimens with colours not yet fully formed. I’ve heard nothing back yet.

Clearly, I need a better field guide.

Two days ago at Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve I watched a fellow snapper using a close focussing ring on a long telephoto lens (500mm in his case). I had discounted our old close focussing rings ‘cos I had tried them on my 17-85mm digital lens and they had not fitted. Digital lenses foul older non-digital mounts and will not fit. I thought no more of it. However, my brain jumped out of neutral with the sudden realization that my trusty old 75-300mm IS lens is not a digital-specific lens. I could try the same close focussing trick. Yeah! Back to Sandhouse Lane.

For this attempt I decided to try the middle-sized ring of our set of three: 21mm. This seemed to get my focus distance down from the “naked” 1.5m to about 1.2m. With a close focussing ring I can’t focus on infinity but I wouldn’t want to. Just for a little focussing practice, since this is all a manual exercise rather than automatic, I tried zooming in on some blissfully stationary flora, ragwort in this case. Of course, the fly was moving but not much. With a little judicious cropping I found myself rather liking the result (right). Carol thought the picture would be better if the fly were looking into the frame but it’s looking the way it felt like looking. One has to go with what one can.

Enough of practicing on static subjects and on with the main, more mobile subjects. Since it was perching very prettily, I couldn’t resist yet another shot of what I think is a female Common Darter (left). The purpose, after all, was to get more detailed shots using the lens ring rather than to find new subjects. I was using f11 (which gave me 1/500th) but even so, with this set up the depth of field is very narrow and focussing is a bear; sway a little on your feet and you’ve lost it. Eventually I began trying f16 and here’s what the business end of a Common [Ed: correction, 2010-02-08] Ruddy Darter looks like (right) when it stayed still for long enough, which, of course, mostly it didn’t. I may need some more practice before trying a larger focussing ring to get closer still, assuming the subjects would actually let me, that is.

Maybe because the sun was out, there was more courtship and mating activity going on over and around the pool so I removed the close focussing ring – there was no way I could focus on anything fast moving with that – and chanced my arm again. With the naked 300mm lens shots at these distances have to be heavily cropped (this shot is about 25% of the frame) and so get a little more fuzzy but here’s the best of the bunch showing a pair flying in the so-called tandem formation for a spot of ovipositing. Let’s face it, with the speed these pairs fly, my focussing is at best a swift grab, something of a guess. Worth a try, though, when you’re not wasting expensive celluloid. “They’re just reusable pixels, guv’ner.”

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.

Sunday was a day for recovering after the excesses of Saturday night entertaining so we were taking it easy. The sun deigned to put in another appearance (Saturday was good, too) and I thought things were a little too laid back so I finally dragged myself back to our local Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve to see what the locals were up to. Now we’re into August things certainly seemed a little quieter but I did find a few specimens at which to point my camera.

My first victim was what I now believe to be a female Common Darter (left). Originally I suspected it was a female Keeled Skimmer. Unfortunately my Insects of Britain and Western Europe field guide, purchased by Carol for me last year, is particularly poor on the female of the species, showing only a few, and some confusion arises. Internet photographs to the rescue, thankfully. This specimen’s right hind wing is missing a wing tip, unfortunately, but it was worth capturing. The rest of the inhabitants of my butterfly patch were the more common suspects this year: Painted Ladies and Large Whites. I managed to snag a Large White (right) with partially open wings just to add to my collection but I really need to adopt my Corfiot Cleopatra hunting technique for these, catching them in flight. That technique would be made easier with Corfiot levels of sunshine, though.

A moth with which I was unfamiliar dropped in on the thistles and began feeding, fluttering rapidly all the while and never resting. I banged off a few speculative frames and was delighted to find that I’d lucked out; one fortuitous shot captured the wing patterns pretty well. Back at the ranch, I noticed what I hoped would be a distinctive white mark on both forewings so I began flicking through my trusty insect identification book again. Sure enough, the Y-shaped white mark gives a number of similar moths their names. The constant fluttering whilst feeding makes me think that this one is the so-called Silver-Y moth. (There are also Beautiful Golden-Y and Plain Golden-Y moths.)

Wandering around the reserve I spotted what I thought was a different blue butterfly, one of those with little or no blue colouration. Like the dragonfly, It wasn’t a great specimen but I snapped it for identification. Maybe the damaged specimens are due to the fact that we’re coming towards the end of the season after some frenetic mating and territorial spats. My “new” blue turns out to be the female Common Blue, after all. I’ve repeated my male Common Blue shot for comparison.

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.

On Sunday, Carol introduced me to one of the sites that she and her colleagues at the Greensand Trust look after, the Sandhouse Lane Nature Reserve. The reserve is a relatively small area surrounding a disused sand pit and is sandwiched, some might say hidden, between Heath and Reach and the A5. Much of the trust’s conservation work somewhat perversely seems to involve pulling plants up and/or cutting trees down. However, it also seems to be effective. Almost as soon as we had entered the reserve, we came across an area seething with Lepidoptera. I had to content myself with looking since I was unfortunately without a camera.

Yesterday, having first busied myself with an arduous job replacing one of the towing electrical sockets on our car, I corrected my original oversight and returned to Sandhouse Lane in the late afternoon camera-in-hand. Well, camera-in-rucksack actually but you get my drift. Butterflies like sun as much as I do and, since there was little in evidence, I wasn’t certain that my intended subjects would cooperate but cooperate they did.

Right inside the gate I ended up stalking a Comma butterfly (left), albeit slightly the worse for wear (which I noticed only after returning to process the shots). It didn’t settle for long before it zoomed off to tussle with an intruder, presumably hence its wear. Incidentally, it’s called a Comma because there is a tiny white mark in the shape of a comma – on the underside. Next up was a brown (right); brown butterflies are many and various and can be difficult to identify in the heat of battle, as it were. Photos help greatly; they may not be quite as effective as an ether jar and a magnifying glass but the pants weather damages populations quite enough without over-zealous collectors imposing further reductions. This one is a Gatekeeper, a.k.a. Hedge Brown.

In this summer (I can’t believe I said that – this, a summer?) of Painted Ladies, Sandhouse Lane had what looked like more than its fair share but, having snapped a Painted Lady on our buddleia recently, I was more interested in other quarry. [Aside: good Lord, stalking quarry in a quarry, what a silly language!] On our first excursion I’d seen an unidentified blue and what I suspected was a Small Copper. I was hoping they’d reappear and sure enough they did. Blues are a little perverse, sometimes closing and sometimes opening their wings. Frequently so-called blue butterflies are so perverse that they are brown. This blue (left) was actually blue, however, and turned out to be a Common Blue (well, of course). Considering my amateur’s lens together with their small size and nervous disposition, I was pretty pleased with the result. The Small Copper (right) isn’t quite such a clear shot but it’s worth a look and will do me for now.

The thistles were doing the main work of attracting many of the critters. I managed to grab an even smaller butterfly that I think is a Small Skipper (left) and a striking moth called a Six-spot Burnet (right). The shot where I seem to have gate crashed two Six-spot Burnets having some fun together shows all six spots more clearly. Well, alright, all twelve spots since there are two of them. It looks as though there may soon be a lot more Burnets – far too many spots to count.

I must return if we ever get another dry day.