Category Archives: Wildlife

We landed back in the UK from Spain on Saturday to our traditional welcome of varying forces of rain and wind with temperatures staggering up to the dizzying heights of 12C. Yuk!Bloody marvelous! Mind you, our trip down to Alicante airport to leave Spain was mostly covered by threatening clouds, though it was considerably warmer. First, we visited Singapore and Cambodia in late February and hoped to return to the beginnings of spring. Failed! Now we’ve been to Spain in late April hoping to return the beginnings of spring and apparently failed again.

Anyway, before Sunday’s rain began, I went to check my favourite local patch, Sandhouse Lane NR, and, after a worryingly quiet start, we spotted about 6 Large Red Damselflies (Pyrrhosoma nymphula), lurking about the main Odo pond. In these temperatures, they were trying not to be very active but they were also tricky little devils to pin down with pixels. We’re back to my favourite “one pair of eyes is not enough” syndrome. Keeping your eyes on your quarry whilst moving ones feet and monopod-mounted camera on a bramble-covered 45 grassy slope is decidedly tricky. Nonetheless, I managed it on a couple of occasions, at least well enough to capture a sample shot of both male and female.

Incidentally, whereas in early spring last year the main pond at Sandhouse Lane was as low as I’ve ever seen it, i.e. completely empty, this year is quite the opposite situation; it is now as full as I’ve ever seen it, a noticeably wider body of water. If the weather will perk up, it should be a nice little habitat again.

We continued into the industrial wasteland of the adjoining old tarmac plant (this was in use while the original section of the M1 motorway was being constructed) where there are several depressions that tend to fill with rain and provide more habitat. Though I was surprised at how little water there was here, we did find some with water and spotted another few Large Reds.

Whilst in Spain, I had received email notification that Bedfordshire’s first Large Red Damselflies this year had been spotted on 1st May. The individuals that we found, 18 in all including a few around neighbouring Jones Pit on a permissive path [clever of them to stick to the permissive path ], displayed mixed colour maturity, some looking pale and fresh whilst others, like those above, were fully coloured.

Our Spanish hosts, who had returned to England visiting family, told us that England should be in for a good summer “because the crows were nesting high in the trees”. I do hope they are right but, with the current situation, I must confess to misgivings.

As every Odonata watcher knows, the first to emerge at the start of a new season is most often the Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). One was sighted almost two weeks ago in Norfolk – an individual that I can only describe as aberrant. However, a reliable Hampshire-based contact submitted the first report of newly emerged Large Reds down on the south coast last weekend.

Given today’s very good, not to say better than advertised weather, and because it’s my last chance for a while, I went looking in one of our nearby nature reserves – one with a reputation for producing early Large Reds in Bedfordshire. Nada, nichts, nothing – save for one briefly glimpsed Comma butterfly (Polygonia c-album) and an even more briefly glimpsed Peacock butterfly (Inachis io) flying through without stopping to bask in the very welcome sun.

I left and, since I was more than half way there anyway, continued to Marston Moretaine Forest Centre. I walked all the way around the wetland reserve and saw … yes, you guessed it, pretty much nothing but a brief glimpse of a constantly flying Brimstone butterfly (Gonepteryx rhamni). I did, however, jump out of my comfort zone and pause to snag what I regard as classic sign of spring, a Pussy Willow (or so my botanist informs me).

A third stop on the way home to my local patch, Sandhouse Lane NR, produced nothing more than a couple of Bee-flies (Bombylius major) who weren’t hanging around for pictures to be taken.

So, all in all something of an expected blank. It was desperation on my part, after all.

After a late lunch at home and with the sun still shining unexpectedly, I looked more closely at our own back garden. Given the date and the temperature today, there was much less activity than I would have expected but there were a couple of those Bee-flies zooming about and occasionally pausing long enough for a macro lens to be directed their way. Here’s a reasonable shot showing the entirely harmless, rapier like snout. Delightful, aren’t they?

The Large Reds cannot be far away now, surely. On a positive note, today I did see an increased amount of smaller flying critters than a few days ago so, if they do emerge now, there will at least be something for them to eat. Go guys!

One of my favourite on-line Odonata communities is UK Dragonflies. They seem a particularly friendly bunch of enthusiasts, so much so that I made a trip to meet some of them by the river Thames in search of the Common Clubtail/Club-tailed Dragonfly (Gomphus vulgatissimus) last year. [Yes, we did find one.] Naturally, the UK Dragonflies website goes a little quiet in the off-season but it doesn’t die completely, so I keep the occasional eye on it over winter.

Posting action on UK Dragonflies starts picking up in late March/early April as all us Odo-nutters eagerly await the first appearance of the new season’s specimens, normally the Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). The actual start of the season is weather-dependent, late March being reserved for good years. Last year, after a promising early start descended into the abyss weather-wise, Bedfordshire recorded its first Large Red on 21st April. Since this spring has thus far been in the abyss all along, everyone was expecting this to be a late start season. Given this context, I was stunned when one of the UK Dragonflies members relayed that a Large Red Damselfly had been reported (on a birding site, no less) as having emerged in Norfolk, three days ago on 14th April. Norfolk is further north and further east, from which our prevailing cold winds have been blowing. Normally the season would start first in the extreme south and work its way up the country.

Nonetheless, despite ones feelings of hopelessness, if there’s a Large Red somewhere in the country, one feels obliged to get out there and check. I went to my local Sandhouse Lane NR where I found almost nothing more than a lonely Pond Skater – not butterflies, not flies and certainly not dragonflies. With hardly any vegetation even, the place still felt more like winter than spring. Undeterred, I also tried Duck End NR which produced my first LRDs locally last year. Again nothing, more like winter than spring though the frogs were eagerly jumping on anything including what appeared to be a dead frog.

Today I stuck my nose in to King’s Wood, Heath and Reach, where I have seen LRDs in previous years. This was born more out of a desire for some fresh air than of hope. Sure enough, not an Odo in sight. I did, however, spot a Peacock (Inachis io) butterfly basking in the sporadic sunshine. I’m used to seeing these guys in spring after hibernating as adults. This one even appeared to be in good, clean condition after over-wintering.

I don’t know where my butterfly brain has been all these years but I was much more surprised to see a Comma (Polygonia c-album) also sunning itself. Clearly these characters over-winter as adults, too, which is not something I realized. Having submitted my Comma to iSpot, I now know that we have five hibernating butterfly species:

• Brimstone (Gonepteryx rhamni)
• Peacock (Inachis io)
• Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta).
• Comma (Polygonia c-album)
• Small Tortoiseshell (Aglais urtcae)

I knew about three of them hibernated but the last two were news. Live and learn.

Still no Large Red Damselflies, though. Mind you, given the weather and lack of very much in the way of dragonfly food around, I’d say that emerging now might not be a good idea. I fear for the longevity of that apparently single Norfolk individual.

Following our autumn colours trip to meet a friend at Westonbirt Arboretum recently, Carol had arranged a follow-up trip to meet the same friend at Burnham Beeches intent on yet more autumnal colour. It was fortunate that, having a pre-arranged rendez-vous, the weather was more or less as forecast, dry with occasional glimpses of sunshine. Being in the second week of November and on the wrong side of a slight frost or two, I was not really expecting to see any dragonfly friends at the ponds but I nonetheless packed my 100-400 lens just in case.

We arrived at 10:00 AM, met our pal and began making our way into the woodland via Upper and Middle Pond. As expected, I drew a complete blank at the first but the day was still young and cool. The two landscapers paused to study a small woodland stream and I continued on to Middle Pond. As I approached, I almost immediately disturbed a mosaic hawker which immediately scarpered leaving me excited but a little frustrated wondering what it might have been. A few more steps had me disturbing a male Common Darter (Sympetrum striolatum) that had been warming itself perched on some sunlit fallen autumn leaves. Carol and friend joined me having rejected the woodland stream and I left my Odo friends to warm up a little as we continued to try our luck with the fall foliage.

We are novices at Burnham Beeches, not knowing the lie of the land at all well. We had, however, found an interesting and rather dramatic bowl on our one previous trip and we made this our first landscape target. The three of us set our tripods up at varying strategic places – or, at least, places that we hoped would prove strategic – around the rim of the bowl. There was very little light at first and no sun; to be honest the colours just didn’t seem to be singing and I almost didn’t bother. As time wore on, though, some clear sky allowed a little light to fall and Carol snagged a much more interesting shot than any of my rather dull efforts. She calls it Sleepy Hollow.

Disappointed with my amateur efforts at trees, I returned to Middle Pond at midday while Carol and friend went to look for other landscape opportunities. At Middle pond, activity still looked subdued – until, that is, the sun emerged. Suddenly I was seeing not only single male Common Darters but also tandem pairs. One pair alighted and posed on some golden brown leaves close by. This shot seemed to be my best attempt at autumn leaves of the day, too. Soon, I had counted at least 10 Common Darters including three tandem pairs ovipositing. With such late season activity, my spirits were now lifted, though I still wondered about the hawker. I was about to call it a day and retire for a sausage sandwich when a mosaic hawker flew by me. I prayed, in an unreligious, Darwinian kind of way, and she soon alighted on a fallen tree trunk in the pond and began ovipositing right before my eyes. The behaviour was enough to suggest that she was a Southern Hawker (Aeshna cyanea) and indeed, that’s what she was.

Well pleased, I sat at the cafe to wait for my companions to turn up with some money to buy me my sausage sandwich. I really must remember to take my wallet with me on days like this. Eventually the landscapers arrived and sated my hunger. Several handfuls of canine irritations seemed intent on wrecking the tranquillity of an otherwise peaceful English woodland environment – no change there, then. I have a feeling that Burnham Beeches may be used by “professional” dog-walkers. Growl! Here’s another one of Carol’s more peaceful scenes to make amends.

Since I had my tripod for landscapes rather than my monopod for wildlife, I had to resort to supporting my rather hefty 100-400mm lens entirely manually. I am now suffering from a case of ROPI wrist – Repetetive Odonata Photography Injury.

Despite the injury, a good day and we managed to get back before getting snarled up in rush hour.

What’s been going on this week – yet more sun?

Having rejected Wicken Fen on Tuesday for fear of being surrounded by rugrats pond-dipping, Wednesday looked perfect to give it a try – sunny, hot and no organized events. I’d have to cough up the £6.30 to get in, not being a National Trust member (I don’t “do” old houses of the rich and/or famous), but it’s a nice place to walk and my main draw was their Variable Damselsflies (Coenagrion pulchellum). At least the car has an NT sticker (Carol does do impressive piles of the rich and/or famous) so at least I could avoid the £2 car park fee. I’d visited last year – must have been around the same time after returning from our French spring trip – and struck lucky finding one Variable that cooperated reasonably but I wanted a chance of some better shots. Besides, it’s a pleasant enough place for a walk.

So, with my Navigation Officer doing good works for the Greensand Trust, Sally Satnav took me to Bedford, Cambridge, left up the A10 and right at Stretham to arrive at 11:00 AM. I parked, paid my £6.30 entrance fee whilst declining the staff’s encouragement to join the NT (see above) and also declining the option to shell out an additional £1.50 for a map (no wonder the NT is rich, cheeky devils), opting simply to follow the Nature Trail signs around the long route.

Turning right up the boardwalk, I headed for a series of access points cut into the reeds along a small stream just beyond the historic, drainage wind pump; this is where I’d found last year’s Variable. There are four (I think) small open sections which were teaming with “bluets” (I dislike that term but …). I starting focussing to use my camera as a telescope, examining them more closely. Everything I focussed on seemed to be an Azure Damselfly – very nice but not the reason I’d driven for 90 minutes.

It’s hard work looking for something a bit different with dozens of blue-abdomened damsels flitting about, all attempting to mate in this year’s week of sunshine. Finally, having crossed to the opposite side of the stream to get on the right side of the sun, I spotted a tandem pair that looked just slightly different. If only I knew why they looked different. They settled on a lily pad and – bingo, tandem Variables! (The female looks v. difficult to distinguish without a male attached.) To illustrate the difficulty, here’s shots of both Azures (left) and Variables (right) in tandem on lily pads.

After more patient focussing on yet more Azures, I eventually found this solo male posed reasonably on a stem.

The NT had clearly had a lot of problems at Wicken Fen with rain and flooding; once off the boardwalk the circuit sported many sections of duck board to make the trail more readily passable and one section had to be closed with a by-pass cut through an adjacent field. Apparently, just a week ago, only the boardwalk was usable. Much of the waterside was inaccessible, being pretty overgrown by reeds. Large Red-eyes were out but the light on them was pants. My only other notable photo opportunity was this handsome Four-spotted Chaser who sat for me, vertically, thus fitting in to a narrow depth of field.

Given the appalling spring and early summer, this week’s rare spell of wall to wall sunshine couldn’t be wasted so I was anxious to go somewhere on a nature hunt. Cornmill Meadows near Waltham Abbey sprang to mind but, given the dire warnings of Olympic traffic on that side of the jaM25, I swiftly rejected it – I think there are boating events over that way so not a great idea.

Wicken Fen makes a pleasant outing so I checked the National Trust website for directions. Good job I did:

Pond dipping

Tuesdays, 24 July – 28 August

Enjoy 30 minutes pond dipping with our experts on hand to help identify your catch – optional bug hunt too. Timed tickets from 10.30am – £1.75 per child plus 50p for bug hunt. Pre-booking recommended …

Reject!

I’d visited Thursley Common only once before; that was last year and I was too early for anything but teneral Large Red Damselflies (Pyrrhosoma nymphula) so my Thursley species list was a little thin numbering just one. It would mean messing with a different section of the jaM25 but at least the Olympic cyclists wouldn’t be streaming up Box Hill yet. Decision made, we set off and made it past a couple of stretches of congestion but arrived with our sanity mostly intact. Just how do we manage to clog up what is now a four-lane motorway at 10:30 AM on a Friday, a day when most people with a job claim to be “working from home” in my out-dated experience. I can’t help but find sitting stationary beneath a variable speed limit gantry reading 40 mph vaguely amusing, though, as long as I don’t sit too long.

Upon arrival, my heart sank a little as I heard

1. our Mazda MX5 ground on a ridiculously large sill on the entrance to the car park, and
2. the sound of screaming rugrats paddling in the Moat Pond adjacent to the car park.

Mercifully, leaving Moat Pond behind in favour of the boardwalk across the common also left behind said screaming rugrats and found us in the company only of other dragonfly and bird enthusiasts. The boardwalk looked unpromisingly arid at first but we soon got to some water and began scaring up Black Darters (Sympetrum danae). This was an unexpected treat. I love Black Darters, they are so attractive and it’s only the second time I’ve seen them. A couple posed very cooperatively. Judging by appearances, I’d say a larage emergence was in progress ‘cos many with glistening wings flitted away into the heather.

Keeled Skimmers were also present in large numbers, though slightly less cooperative in their choice of perches, but a small Red Damselfly (Ceriagrion tenellum), which I find notoriously difficult to photograph successfully, did pose to good effect.

In between snapping away, we shot the breeze with a few other like-minded folk on the boardwalk before hitting the return section of the circuit. Here we were blessed with another stunner as a male Golden-ringed Dragonfly (Cordulegasta boltonii) “hung up” on a low hanging twig over a small pond and completed a very successful day. These are one of my favourite creatures, too, along with the Black Darters. Must be something about Black is Beautiful, I guess.

Three hours went in the blink of an eye and my Thursley list had grown to 16, though one remains a bit of a mystery – an Emerald was tirelessly investigating the edges of Moat Pond but I wasn’t sure which Emerald (I believe there are both Downy and Brilliant present there). Great day!

Some while ago we spotted a guided butterfly walk around a local reserve, Totternhoe Quarry. The main quarry in the quarry would be the Duke of Burgundy (Hamearis lucina) butterfly. Since neither quarry was familiar to us, we applied to join in. At the very least we’d learn our way around another useful local wildlife habitat. At best, we’d see a relatively scarce species of butterfly – it occurs in just two sites in Bedfordshire, I believe – in the company of a specialist, the Bedfordshire butterfly recorder, so identity would not be in question.

Having applied by email, I heard nothing for what seemed like a couple of weeks and, my memory being what it is, I forgot all about it. Finally, last week, I received a thumbs up email saying we could attend and, during an uncharacteristically cooperative gap in our continuing appalling weather pattern, today we joined 20+ other enthusiasts to swarm around the quarry searching for the Duke. [It used to be referred to as the “Duke of Burgundy Fritillary” but it isn’t, in fact, a true fritillary so that part of the name has been dropped, I believe.]

Our first critter to be spotted was a Dingy Skipper (Erynnis tages). The first did not pose favourably but there were several around and I eventually snagged a reasonable shot of one without its being obscured by blades of grass. At first, It was a little difficult trying to avoid our fellow enthusiasts to get a decent photographic angle with about 25 people all trying to do the same thing. Eventually, though, things settled down and all were able to get something of a turn at the front.

Oddly enough, since I have seen it described as “a restless insect flitting rapidly from plant to plant and rarely settling for long”, the subject that seemed to help the clamour for photos die down into a more orderly affair was our very first Duke of Burgundy, which sat for a long period sunning itself, albeit behind one shadow-casting blade of grass. That’s the one here partially showing the underside. Later, in the depths of the old quarry itself, we came across a couple more Dukes who this time posed very cooperatively in the open. Here’s a link to Butterfly Conservation’s fact sheet on the Duke of Burgundy.

Time was pressing so we had to leave the Dukes eventually. Just as we started walking a section which would be “unlikely to produce anything interesting”, we disturbed three Green Hairstreaks (Callophrys rubi) feeding on a flowering hawthorn bush. These uniquely green butterflies are always a delight with their white eye-liner.

Further on was an extensive broken chalk escarpment which is home to a healthy population of butterflies known variously as Small Blue/Little Blue (Cupido minimus) when in season. (My old Collins guide uses Little Blue but more recent publications seem to use Small Blue.) However, we were a little early and this year the season is decidedly late so  none were found, neither Small nor Little. This is Britain’s smallest/littlest  butterfly so we’ll have to go back for another look in more favourable conditions.

Nature continues to be a little perverse and to confound us.

An unusual day this so-called spring is one in which it doesn’t rain. My 94-year old mother uses a Dial-a-Ride scheme to get into town and the driver on her last trip observed, rather wittily I thought, that this was the wettest drought he’d ever known. A pleasant day is one of the aforementioned unusual days on which the sun deigns to put in a few brief appearances between the continuing rather heavy cloud cover. A good day is one of those rare pleasant days in which the temperature staggers up to something approaching the seasonal norm, say 16°C or so. Today met my good day parameters so we decided to go Odo hunting in the hope that they, too, would think it worth emerging.

About 20kms/13mls away is Marston Vale’s Forest Centre complete with a wetland reserve looking like a decent dragonfly hang out. It’s relatively new and certainly new to us so we went for our first exploration. Happily, on entering the wetland area, we met a fellow nature enthusiast who shepherded us around a few likely spots to get us started. He did, however, preface this by saying that he hadn’t potted any Odos during his visit. After he left us, expecting the worst we nonetheless continued, largely for the exercise and familiarization.

We continued to draw a blank until, in a sheltered spot about half way around the main lake, Carol caused someone to flutter up from the grass. It eventually settled on a hawthorn bush and was undoubtedly a damselfly. Not the most accessible of locations but I managed to get there without shaking its perch too many times. I was expecting to end up focussing on another Large Red (Pyrrhosoma nymphula).

As my camera came into focus this was clearly not a Large Red. The old recognition skills get a bit rusty over winter [Ed: in this bloody weather, everything gets rusty.] so I was initially undecided as to whether this was an Azure or a Common Blue. I was pretty sure it was the latter but I’d heard no reports of any yet this season. A quick look in Dijkstra/Lewington back at home base confirmed my suspicions, it was indeed a female Common Blue Damselfly (Enallagma cyathigerum), newly emerged. I’ve included the second contre-jour shot because you appear to be able to see clear through the backlit abdomen and what appears to be the empty gut inside. Curious picture.

Further along the track we did disturb about five Large Reds but none of them settled appropriately for the camera. More cooperative, particularly with each other, was a pair of 7-spot Ladybirds (Coccinella septempunctata) who seemed to be concentrating on making more ladybirds. Further along but having a little less fun by itself, though sporting the same number of spots as the previous couple, was a 14-spot Ladybird (Propylea quatuordecimpunctata).

One other critter worthy of note was this Nursery Web Spider (Pisaura mirabilis), mainly because it had obviously read its species description in Chinery:

Hunts in nettle beds and other dense vegetation. Sunbathes on leaves with front two legs on each side extending forward and very close together.

We did see another Common Blue female, so I think the weather had brought, or was bringing, them out. They’re going to be in for a bit of a shock before the weekend gets here, though, if the forecast is accurate (and when it’s bad, it usually is accurate).

I’m beginning to despair of the BBC; my guardians of proper English are relaxing their standards. Yesterday I spotted a headline proclaiming, “April [2012] is the wettest month for 100 years”. The very first paragraph began, “It has been the wettest April in the UK for over 100 years”. OK, so which is it, the wettest month or the wettest April? Precision guys, precision!

Be that as it may, whereas last spring was a stonker, this spring thus far has most certainly been absolute rubbish as regards the weather. In 2011 I spotted my first dragonfly of that new season on 19th April at Duck End NR, Malden. Consequently, for the last couple of weeks since returning home from Spain, I’ve been making trips to Duck End in search of this year’s first arrivals. My first two trips produced nothing – well, a couple of Speckled Wood (Pararge aegeria) butterflies flitting about wondering where the sun was.

Eventually I received an email from the Bedfordshire dragonfly recorder saying that Bedfordshire’s first 2012 record had been submitted on 21st April somewhere near Biggleswade. Then a follow up noted that three tenerals (recently emerged specimens) had been seen on Tuesday 24th at good ol’ Duck End NR. He also noted that 2012 had been the worst start, in terms of numbers of species spotted, that he had witnessed. I’m not surprised; if I were a dragonfly larva climbing a stem bent on emergence but came up against this April’s weather, I’d clamber straight back down under water again.

However, today being a very rare bright day, I made my third trip to Duck End (having first drawn a complete blank at both King’s Wood and Sandhouse Lane NR). It didn’t look terribly promising at first but eventually, beside one pond (there are four), a glint of wings fluttered up from the grass and settled not too far away. The little beauty, it was a recently emerged female Large Red Damselfly (Pyrrhosoma nymphula). I kept disturbing the grass and a few more fluttered up and off to various safer locations. Eventually a new male settled on a very accessible bramble leaf a short distance from the pond to complete my pair. I saw 10 in all, I had broken my duck.

The Speckled Woods (I spotted five) looked a lot happier in the rare spell of sunshine and a few territorial spats went on. A little more interesting, though, merely because they are generally more difficult to capture, was my first Orange Tip (Anthocaris cardomines) of the season which settled to bask, albeit at some distance beyond assault-proof brambles. I was trying a new tactic of having my long lens mounted on my Canon EOS 7D body and my macro lens on my trusty and recently professionally cleaned 40D. One of them is also on my monopod. This armoury constitutes a bit of an armful but somehow I managed to juggle everything and bring the long lens to bear on said Orange Tip.

Back at home the sun had brought our ivy into life with a domestic collection of basking insects also longing for better weather. Here I manage to snag decent macro shots of the so-called Marmalade Fly (Episyrphus balteatus) and a Green Shield Bug (Palomena prasina). Green Shield Bugs are interesting in that they are brown in winter, turning green for summer. This one looks as though it’s in transition.

Finally, this little fellow (I think it’s a male now, judging by the length of its antennae) turned up. I had no idea even what kind of critter it was at first but it looked cute in a very hairy kind of way. It turns out to be a Solitary Bee of the Osmia genus. As is frequently the case, Chinery says there are many similar species so we have to be satisfied with genus level id. Typical!

I’d say I was a happy camper but regrettably today was a very small island of sunshine in an expansive sea of crap.

In Nouvelle Année, Nouveau Guide des Papillons, I introduced my speculative purchase of a French field guide to butterflies. I had wanted to replace my aging Collins Field Guide to the Butterflies of Britain and Europe for some time and my decision to “go French” was based largely on v. disappointing reports of that publication’s latest incarnation, the Collins Butterfly Guide. Just check out a few of these reviews and you’ll see what I mean. The main problem seems to be errors in some distribution maps. A contact on iSpot spoke well of the French publication so I went French. OK, so, the French can be a bit of a challenge and there are no English common Names for the species, of course. Instead, the French vernacular names are used. Naturally, the scientific/binomial names are included and my basic plan was to resort to these, then cross-check for the English name.

Yesterday, I tried my plan for the first time in vengeance. I have a couple of dubiously identified Fritillaries and wanted to see what I could decide using the wonderful illustrations of Mr Lewington in the French book. I thought I had a photo of a Knapweed Fritillary so I looked up the scientific name in my old English Field Guide: Melitaea phoebe. Off to the new French publication’s index for Melitaea phoebe. It listed three Melitaea species but none of them were phoebe. There were several Mellicta species (also Fritillaries) but none of them were phoebe either. I’d fallen at the first hurdle.

On the good ol’ InterWeb, I eventually found a French butterfly website talking about a Cinclidia phoebe. Arghh! Back to the French index and, sure enough, there was Cinclidia phoebe and it was, indeed, the Knapweed Fritillary, or Mélitée des centaurées, as the French prefer to call it.

I contacted a very helpful man on one of the French butterfly websites (Butterflies of France) about the naming. He had not heard of Cinclidia but found it (on the InterWeb, of course) “in a historic context”. He also went on, very helpfully, to confirm my suspected id.

Scientific names are supposed to help cross language boundaries and ensure that we are all talking about the same thing. That only works if we all use the same name. Variable scientific names get us nowhere, it seems to me. I seem to have a more modern book but not the most recent names. Even the main name in France is Melitaea phoebe.

Oh, and just to add insult to injury, inside the front cover of my new French publication I spotted this:

L’édition originale Anglaise a paru chez HarperCollins Publishers sous le titre: Collins Field Guide of Butterflies of Britain and Europe.

Marvelous!

At least the distribution maps are corrected, though.