Common Blue [L’icaro o argo azzurro] (Polyommatus icarus) on Lavender beside the swimming pool of the lovely agriturismo farm, Rocca di Cispiano, where we stayed in Chianti. Species names are shown in English [Italian] and (Latin). Pool area: not an obvious place for butterflies, but the clever planting of a Lavender border made all the difference
Scarce Swallowtail [Il podalirio] (Iphiclides podalirius), a large butterfly with a distinctive sailing flight, taking nectar beside the poolSilver-Washed Fritillary [La pafia o Tabacco di Spagna o Fritillaria] (Argynnis paphia), a handsome and distinctive species
Tuscan landscape (Chianti): hilltop farms, Vines (bright green rows), Olive trees (blue-gray trees in rows), low mixed maquis (macchia mediterranea) forest, Cypress trees on left skyline
Nine-Spotted Moth [La fegea] (Amata phegea) frequently visited the lavender border and other flowers. It was once also found in England; Chris Manley suggests that global warming might allow it to return (a possible silver lining to that cloud).Brimstone [La cedronella] (Gonepteryx rhamni)Hummingbird Hawkmoth [La sfinge del galio o sfinge colibrì] (Macroglossum stellatarum), darting from flower to flower each time just before I managed to focus the little camera …
Bee-fly (neither a bee nor a butterfly) half-hovering to take nectar, making a particularly loud buzz
Meadow Brown [La Giurtina o Maniola comune] (Maniola jurtina)Red Admiral [L’atalanta] (Vanessa atalanta). It has a chunk out of its right hindwing, showing it survived an attack.The enormous, fearsome, but non-aggressive Mammoth Wasp, [La vespa mammuth] (Megascolia maculata), on Wild Artichoke. Presumably its sting would be serious but I can’t find any record of people being stung by this peaceful insect.
A Mammoth Wasp visiting a potted Hottentot Fig, with a wide view of the Tuscan landscapeOak Yellow Underwing Moth (Catocala nymphagoga) on shower beside pool
The bushes by the pool attracted this Southern White Admiral [Il Silvano azzurro o Piccolo silvano] (Limenitis reducta)Swallows [La rondine] (Hirundo rustica) swooping over the pool at sunset. Many pairs nest in the farm buildings; there were two active nests inside our porch.
Perfect butterfly habitat a short walk from the agriturismo: meadow grass by Olive groves with Scabious (blue) and St John’s Wort (yellow). There’s a tiny Queen of Spain Fritillary in the picture!
Sloe Hairstreak [Satiro dell’acacia] (Satyrium acaciae)Swallowtail [Il macaone] (Papilio machaon); this one at Brolio castle, but there were many near the agriturismo tooQueen of Spain Fritillary [La latonia] (Issoria lathonia) on ScabiousClouded Yellow [La crocea, La limoncella, Il postiglione] (Colias croceus) pair in nuptial flightMarbled White [La galatea] (Melanargia galathea)Probably Eastern Burnet Moth [La carniolica] (Zygaena cf carniolica) on Scabious.
Zygaena cf carniolica taking flight. The brilliant red underwings give a strong and honest warning signal of the insect’s inedibility.Eastern Dappled White [L’ausonia] (Euchloe ausonia)Olive Grove and Spanish Broom. Butterflies skittered about the flowery meadow below the trees.
Wall Brown [La megera] (Lasiommata megera)A lizard, probably the Common Wall Lizard [Lucertola muraiola] (Podarcis muralis) given its dark chin, scurried along the wooden rail at the edge of the pool area.
A very battered Oak Yellow Underwing that has survived an attack by a bird
Great Banded Grayling [Circe, Satiro circe, Sileno] (Brintesia circe)Dingy Skipper [Tagete] (Erynnis tages). There were Large Skippers about too, but their habit of perching on slender waving grasses made photography hopeless.Painted Lady [La vanessa del cardo] (Vanessa cardui)Spotted Fritillary [La didima] (Melitaea didyma)
Some rather fine wasps apparently attempting to mate
Although it was a bit late in the season for them, we saw half-a-dozen fireflies in the woods by the strada bianca (unmetalled road) and among the olive trees, half an hour or so after sunset.
I made no attempt to photograph birds, but a Hoopoe flew over the pool, and Turtle Doves cooed nearby. A Cuckoo called from far across the valley; a Song Thrush sang; a Green Woodpecker gave its laughing cry. White Wagtails flew up to the roof, and Italian Sparrows hopped about. Goldfinches twittered in the trees. A Sardinian Warbler raced for the cover of the trees, its black crown conspicuous; a Melodious Warbler sang from the woods. In the night, an owl called, it could have been a Scops Owl. And of course, Cicadas buzzed and Bush Crickets chirped all day long.
One of the real difficulties in nature conservation is the basic fact that humans have short lives and shorter memories.
We instinctively assume that the way the countryside “should” look is … how it looked when we were young. Obviously, it had been that way since time immemorial, at least since the year 1 B.M. (where B.M. means “Before Me”). In Feral, George Monbiot calls this “Shifting Baseline Syndrome” – each new generation sets the baseline to the time of its own youth: we imagine our childhood landscape to have been just right, good, and natural.
Only it wasn’t. Our limited time horizon obscures the fact that the countryside has been changing continuously since Roman times, indeed since the Stone Age. Forests have been felled, making way for fields, towns, and roads. Already by 1000 AD, most of Britain’s forests had disappeared, and our larger forest animals like bear, wolf, lynx and wolverine were disappearing with them.
But even in a single lifetime, the loss of once-familiar species is shockingly evident. I had a small reminder when I found one of my birdwatching notebooks from my schooldays. We had been on a Natural History Society trip to Portland Bill, where we stayed in the old lighthouse, a bird observatory in a fine location for counting (and trapping and ringing) arriving and departing migrants. A group of us walked out in the bright sunshine on 1 September 1972, and I listed what we saw.
Portland Bill Bird List 1 Sept 1972
I was pleased to see a Raven, a Garden Warbler, and a Kittiwake, as I would be today, though all these species are doing well. I was reasonably pleased to hear a Little Owl, something that would now be rather special. I was quite unsurprised to see 20 House Sparrows, and I don’t seem to have found the Turtle Dove or the Redstart at all remarkable. Either of those would now be close to the highlight of the year: and the Song Thrush too, once a regular garden bird, has become really rather uncommon. Then there are the Skylark and Whinchat, which I gave no more notice to than the Linnet, Jackdaw and Stonechat; and the Sand Martin too is declining alarmingly. The 39 Goldfinches, on the other hand, were somewhat remarkable to me then, but I see nearly as many in flocks around the quieter streets in town. I didn’t think the presence of 5 warblers worth noting, though at least that isn’t too terribly difficult to achieve today – just a matter of going to a reasonably decent nature reserve, as there won’t be many species on farmland (you’re lucky to get Chiffchaff and Blackcap, really). The mixture of farmland species, birds of open moorland (Meadow Pipit, Wheatear), and coastal species (Shag, Kittiwake, Rock Pipit) is far more remarkable than I realised at the time, and is probably characteristic of those headlands where migrants congregate.
It would be interesting to repeat the walk early in September (or in the spring migration) and see what we’d see. I think there would be fewer species. And a lot fewer sparrows.
There were Dryad butterflies all over beside the paths on the fen peat of the Tourbières, the old peat workings (the French word Tourbe is cognate with our ‘turf’, a block of peat for the fire).
Turtle Doves cooed peacefully as we arrived, and continued the whole time.
Vendoire is one of the best wet meadow areas in all of Aquitaine, with its shallow fen pools and alkaline peat making it a wonderful place for dragonflies. Today, there were Keeled Skimmers all over, making local dashes low over the water; Blacktailed Skimmers here and there, dashing about widely; a pair of Emperors; Scarlet Darters fiercely territorial; White-legged damselflies; Common Bluetail damselflies; Banded Demoiselles; some Small Pincertails on the chalky entrance path.
Marsh Frogs, Rana ridibunda, lived up to their Latin name (‘laughing frog’) with hilarious, loud laughing song (“what’s that bird?”) during our picnic. Around the peat-ponds are woods and Carr of Ash, Alder, Willow, Sallow, Alder Buckthorn, and wet meadow with long grass rich in flowers.
A single Hobby came overhead, its slender Swift-like wings scything, presumably hawking for dragonflies. A Rose Chafer whirred heavily into the air from the scented Meadowsweet and Purple Loosestrife.
Purple Loosestrife at Tourbieres de VendoireAlder Buckthorn
Among the butterflies, Large Skipper, Dryad, Gatekeeper, Mallow Skipper, Meadow Brown, Speckled Wood, Common Blue, Holly Blue. The attractive and common micro-moth Pyrausta purpuralis too.
Pyrausta purpuralis, a handsome micro-moth in the Pyralid familyMallow Skipper, a rewarding insect to find
Plateau d’Argentine
One of the delights of France is that species like Glanville Fritillary, almost gone from Britain, are still fairly common
This wonderful reserve, if such it is – it’s still used to launch aircraft, not military any more but hang-gliders – is a flat bare plateau of hard limestone, topped with dry calcareous grassland and scrubby trees, rich in flowers like Viper’s Bugloss, Horseshoe Vetch, Knapweed, Autumn Squill, Eyebright and Devilsbit Scabious, as well as Orchids in springtime, and alive with butterflies. The temperature reached 33 degrees on this sunny afternoon, the Common Blue and Glanville Fritillary butterflies seemingly unaffected by the heat.
Common Blue on Autumn Squill, a delicate-looking blue flower of calcareous grassland at Plateau d’Argentine
Back at base, a hairy black-and-red striped beetle, Trichodes alvearius visited the Fennel, remaining wary of approach. The very large, black-and-yellow-legged Sand Wasp did the same; it’s tricky to observe as its eyesight is so good.
The English seem unemotional … except for their passion for nature
