Little and Large

Another long hop (for us heading south) of 300 miles-ish from La Brenne to Millau, home of the magnificent Norman Foster designed viaduct. Apparently, Norman Foster also designed that so-called Gherkin building in London but everyone has their off days. The elegant Millau viaduct, on the other hand, is worth a trip all by itself. This time, however, we just wanted an interesting intermediate stop on our way to Les Alpilles at the western end of Provence.

P1010465_Guillaume_Riverside_900Millau is surrounded by gorges and cliffs. The main river flowing through it is the Tarn which has cut it’s impressive Gorges du Tarn to the north-east. We headed for our favoured Millau campsite, which stands on the lesser river Dourbie with its smaller but nonetheless picturesque Canyon de la Dourbie to the east. We checked in and found a very pleasant river-side pitch away from the press of Dutch crowded around the only open sanitaire block.

The rivers and gorges around Millau attract wildlife. Not long after we had pitched up, one of the more endearing smaller winged residents captured our attention. Once you’ve heard the “peep” call, you know a Kingfisher (Alcedo atthis) isn’t far away and, sure enough, we saw the tell-tale blue iridescent flash as the little darling shot up the river to one of its favoured perches. [And before anyone asks, no I didn’t get a picture of it, malheureusement. What do you think I am, a professional?] Sadly, our Collins Guide doesn’t actually mention the wingspan of a Kingfisher, only its length (17cms/7ins of which 4cms/2ins are the beak). So, I’ll estimate its wingspan at 20cms/8ins.

Later in the afternoon, almost as large and impressive as Millau’s viaduct, what must be the area’s largest winged inhabitant put in an appearance. Judging by the reaction of the other bird life where it flew, I suspect it wished it had appeared somewhere else. This apparition was an awe-inspiring Griffon Vulture (Gyps fulvus). If you look at the distribution map in Collins, it doesn’t occur here but I can assure it does, and in quite large numbers. It was re-introduced together with some legal changes allowing carcasses to be left on which it could feed. This bird is massive, the 380 airbus of the European avian world, dwarfing even the larger eagles. Collins does quote the Griffon Vulture’s wingspan (WS) – nothing like a bit of consistency, is there? – at 2.6m/9ft. This bird doesn’t actually have wings so much as two bionic barn doors grafted to it’s fuselage. Thus, Collins really should quote its Barn Door Span (BDS). It’s still a huge 2.6m however you look at it which makes it about 130 times as large as the diminutive but utterly endearing Kingfisher.

This particular vulture was a little unhappy because it was being harried by two Carrion Crows. The crows, not particularly small birds themselves, were flying side by side and together did not quite match the span of just one of the Griffon Vulture’s barn doors. As the vulture tried to manoeuvre to elude its attackers, the resultant aerial display reminded me of the Battle of Britain Flight, the Lancaster bomber lumbering around accompanied by its attendant lithe and agile Hurricane and Spitfire fighter duo. [And before anyone asks, no I didn’t get a picture of it, malheureusement. What do you think I am, a professional?]

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Surprising Afternoon

As it turned out, the weather wasn’t anything like as bad as we were led to believe. In fact, the afternoon was quite pleasant. So pleasant that, once again, we returned to our local, small (no) fishing lakes. Once again hawk-eyes Francine spotted a damselfly that we didn’t immediately recognize. Probably because it looked a little drab, in a brown sort of way, Francine suspected it was a female something. When I snapped it, however, I saw what looked like male appendages. Once again, wait ‘til later to scour the book for likely suspects.

IMG_1559_Winter_Damselfly When we returned there really was no doubt, Francine had spotted our first example of the so-called Winter Damselfly (Sympecma fusca). Stunning, again, in a brown sort of way.

I could go home now and I’d be very happy – 3½ new species in 3½ days. Quite incredible!

1st September may not have been happy for ducks but it was good for odo-nutters.

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Morning Barrage

Jeudi noir [black Thursday].

Meteorologically, the newspaper we purchased a couple of days ago had tagged today as Jeudi noir because of the clouds and storms expected to afflict much of La Belle France. Yesterday evening the sky was full of dark clouds illuminated by the occasional lightening flash, perhaps a prelude of things to come. Since we are somewhere relatively comfortable and increasingly quiet as people leave, rather than hitch up and travel in foul weather, only to have to set up in foul weather when we got somewhere else, we elected to batten down the hatches and sit out jeudi noir in relative comfort here in La Brenne. A few spots of rain fell half-heartedly during the night but nothing much. Rain did seem to start in more earnest at 6:30 AM, though.

The order had obviously gone down the lines to “let ‘em have it at first light”. Dutifully, at 06:45 hrs the artillery barrage began. Right on cue, the massed forces of the French hunting fraternity raised their shotgun stocks to their shoulders and “let zem ‘ave eet”. With the rain falling and the sound of gun fire, it really only needed the sky to be illuminated by lightening to simulate the flashes from the muzzles of field artillery pieces to be a fair re-enactment of a morning on the western front in 1917. Today is September 1st, the start of the French hunting season and I imagine that the “zem” in question were the thousands of ducks sitting in blissful ignorance on the reportedly 2000+ étangs in this area.

You have to remember that this is France and French time is bonkers, being two hours in advance of the sun. (Central European Time in summer is two hours ahead of GMT.) Celestially, therefore, the barrage began at 04:45 hrs. Given the weather conditions of heavy overcast and rain there really was no “first light” and I’m surprised anyone could see anything to shoot at. Nonetheless, being French and prepared to blast away at pretty much anything that shows any sign of movement, shoot they most certainly did.

The population on the lakes may now be reduced to hundreds. Today was certainly Jeudi noir for the ducks.

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Etang de Cistude

P1010459_Cistude_boardwalk Today we thought we’d try and find some wildlife habitats further from home and drove a few kilometres to the Étang de Cistude. (Cistude is, apparently the European Pond Tortoise which, I assume means European Terrapin in proper English.) Here we found a reception shack run by the WWF with a few books that I’d like to have bought but didn’t – very restrained! There was also a boardwalk to an observatory relatively full of ornithological anoraks with spotting scopes. Excellent – more power to them!

We did go into the hide and looked but little grabbed us and we were, of course, were more interested in the small flying critters lurking about in the grass. The weather wasn’t bad but it wasn’t great, either. Francine soon spotted a few damsels hunkering down in the undergrowth, some of which were clearly emeralds, so we snapped away for good measure.

We tried another hide in another reserve on the way back but that was a dead loss, frankly.

In the afternoon we returned to our own small “no-fishing” lake where we found more subjects including some more cooperative emerald damselflies. Again, we snapped away for good measure assuming they were well known suspects.

IMG_1521_Small_Emerald_Damselfly_female We really should have realised that these were smaller than our previously observed emeralds. These were very different and very new – to us, that is. Having eliminated all other emeralds by comparing one feature or another, it is clear to me that the examples from both locations are Small Emerald Damselflies (Lestes virens). I’ll go further, I’m pretty convinced that these are examples of subspecies vestalis. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen a more attractive, delicate creature. Generally emerald damselflies are quite large; how we managed to not notice that these were clearly considerably smaller eludes me. Lets put it down to concentrating on getting the shot.

2½ new species in 2½ days. Astonishing!

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Exploring Bellebouche

P1010464_Odo_lake We are camped beside the étang de Bellebouche, one of the larger lakes in La Brenne, which lies in between Vendœuvres and Mézières-en-Brenne. What I didn’t realize on our first visit here seven years ago was that there are a couple of small lakes beside the main large lake. One of these smaller lakes seems to be for fishing and the other, with fishing prohibited, may be for breeding fish to stock the others. The weather continued to be set fair so we went off to investigate the first small lake.

Things didn’t look very active at first but we soon got our eyes in and began snapping suspects. Having discovered the presence of Southern Darters (Sympetrum meridionale) after arriving yesterday, I wasn’t surprised to see less than familiar looking subjects but, as usual, I concentrated more on capturing images than identifying individuals through the viewfinder. Identification can wait ‘til later.

Later duly arrived after an ill-prepared afternoon walk half-way around the large lake – it would have been all the way around but we hadn’t committed the route to memory and seemed to be drifting too far away from the lake. After returning we began sorting through our snaps. I had been vaguely assuming that all my less-than-familiar red darters were going to be Southern Darters but one in particular didn’t look right. Confirmation will have to wait until I’m back at home and can get in touch with specialists at iSpot but I think what I have here is another new species for our catalogue: a Moustached Darter/Vagrant Darter (Sympetrum vulgatum). The female (right) looks right with lightish legs and the male (left) looks right except for the black legs. Curious. Anyway, for the moment we’ll call it a new spot.

IMG_1441_Moustached_suspect_male IMG_1463_Moustached_suspect_female

If correct, that’s 1½ new species in 1½ days.

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Le Parc Naturel Régional de La Brenne

Rarely do I use such long titles but in this case it’s pretty much enforced since that is the glorious full title of this, our first main stop.

The tail end of our first week has been advertising bad weather for quite some time. In fact, the whole of this week didn’t look good so we’d been toying with the idea of force-dragging south as swiftly as possible. Consequently, in our search for a suitable stopping point, we embarked on a relatively long first stage from Neufchâtel-en-Bray, almost 300 miles, to near Châteauroux. A mere 20kms west of Châteauroux lies the grandly named parc of the title. It is said to contain over 2000 étangs [lakes] which, presumably, explains the nearby autoroute rest area called “aire des mille étangs”. Go figure! Anyway, we visited this area about seven years ago in the company of a now late, lamented friend. On that occasion we came in July to see the local population of Purple Herons (Ardea purpurea) and, on a wander round one of the étangs I snapped my first and, I have to say, very poor picture of a dragonfly. That dragon turned was just about recognisable as a White-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum albistylum), though I didn’t know it at the time. That earlier trip predated my current fascination with Odonata by several years.

Curiously, this rather grandly named park does not rate a mention in The Rough Guide (poor show!) so, working from memory, I believe the lakes are a result of ancient fish-farming by monks but don’t quote me. Since wildlife holidays come here dragonfly-spotting, it seemed like a useful stopping point for a couple of odo-nutters on their journey south.

We chose to stay at the base de loisir de Bellebouche. Normally, a campsite that is part of a base de loisir [leisure centre] beside a lake with a so-called “beach” would make me run a mile; such places are usually far too frenetic for my tastes. However, we are now entering low season and this area doesn’t seem to attract huge numbers of tourists anyway, maybe because it doesn’t feature in The Rough Guide. Additionally, this particular campsite seems exceptionally enlightened in that it does not allow dogs. Brilliant!

IMG_1388_Southern_Darter_male The weather turned out to be much better than we expected. After we arrived, the sun remained out and we had time for an initial exploration with cameras slung across our shoulders. I was particularly pleased immediately to notch up ½ new species. “What!”, I hear you cry, “half a species?” Yes, though I’d snagged a female Southern Darter (Sympetrum meridionale) two years earlier further south, I’d not wittingly seen a male – until now. Here is the splendid chap perched on some Bell Heather (Erica cinerea), or so Francine tells me.

IMG_1379_Southern_Darter_female One of the more significant features about Southern Darters is that they are particularly susceptible to infestation by mites. Just to complete the picture, though, perhaps, a single mite does not exactly constitute an infestation, here is a female with a mite on her left hind-wing – the mite is that small, spherical red blob towards her wing root. Sometimes they might [Ed: no pun intended] carry a dozen or more mites.

Better weather than expected, no dogs and a new specimen for the collection already – happy camper. Now, if we can just do something about the rugrats … 😀

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What a Difference A Wind Makes

The last serious journey we made towing Guillaume was returning from the New Forest in the middle of August. On that journey we managed a blissful 30 m.p.g. That was about the best we’ve ever done. Today, having crossed the channel and hit La Belle France and the A16 autoroute running from Calais to Neufchatel-en-Bray in Normandy, we notched up a dismal 21 m.p.g. which represents the worst we’ve ever done.

Here’s the thing. Returning from the New Forest we were heading east/ north-east with a decent south-westerly wind. Today, once on teh French side of la Manche [the Channel], we were heading south-east straight into the prevailing wind which, it must be said, was particularly strong. There is another factor which is the3 roller-coaster nature of the A16 with several serious, rather lengthy hills, but the main factor in this staggering difference in fuel consumption is tail wind versus head wind. Still, it’s only money, and we are back in France.

Whereas the wind might not have been favourable, we did have one amazing piece of luck. We pulled into our favourite transitory campsite at 5:30 PM. Immediately, Monsieur grabbed a sign and placed it behind us; the sign read “Full”. “Vous avez de la chance”, he muttered to us as he returned to reception.

We’ve been camping in France for the better part of 30 years, much of it in high season. We’ve hardly ever made reservations. In all that time we have hit a full campsite on only one occasion and that, naturally, was in high season. (They let us stay on the hard-standing outside the campsite gates.) Though this is still technically high season, it really isn’t, most folks have returned in readiness for the new school term about to start. Today was unusual and I really don’t understand it. At least we got in.

Phew!

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Black Beauties

My main quarry on this trip was a dragonfly I’ve been wanting to see all year; a Black Darter (Sympetrum danae). They aren’t scarce nor do they have a particularly restricted range, being pretty much all over the northern parts of the UK. However, they do not exist chez moi and moi is not especially good at travelling north. I already live far too far north, thank you very much. I was very excited, therefore, to note that a couple of locations on Doug Overton’s New Forest Dragonflies website claimed to be home to populations of Black Darters. Two such sites were close together: Avon causeway and Ramsdown plantation, both being near Bournemouth airport – excuse me, Bournemouth International airport. We set off in that direction. At least if I got bored, I could watch the aircraft. 🙂

IMG_1070_Black_Darter_male I’d marked the locations of what appeared to be the territorial ponds in good ol’ Garmin. We found somewhere to park near Avon Causeway in a lay by full of recycling skips and set off on foot. After half a mile or so, we crested a hill and descended towards some small ponds in a patch of rough ground called a nature reserve. The first pond had a well-trodden path around it. Straight away, I spotted a couple of Azure Damselflies (Coenagrion puella) and snapped away just to record their presence, though little else was obvious from our first vantage point. We picked our way cautiously around to the other side of the pond. Eventually, there, difficult to spot in its low-visibility clothing and hovering around a bunch of heather growing in the margins of the lake, was what just had to be a Black Darter male. It was a mature specimen, almost entirely black, and couldn’t have been anything else. Shortly it settled. My first sight of this handsome creature, our smallest dragonfly (it says in the Smallshire and Swash book).

IMG_2248_Sundew While I was mesmerized by my first Black Darter maintaining station over his territory, Francine had wandered off and made another intriguing discovery; she’d switched from carnivorous insects to carnivorous plants. This whole area, including the Black Darter’s modestly sized little pond, was home to colonies of Sundew plants (Drosera intermedia – we think). Clearly the life of smaller insects here was somewhat tenuous; not only were the dragonflies trying to make a meal of them but so were the plants, with their glistening, sticky beads of liquid waiting to trap the unwary. Even Franco was fascinated seeing these plants in the wild.

IMG_1104_Black_Darter_casquette Eventually we managed to drag ourselves away and went in search of the second site, a lake in Ramsdown plantation. This lake turned out to be a fabulously rich habitat on the side of a hill – entirely captivating. Sure enough, it was crawling with Black Darters, amongst other more familiar delights. We both spent some time watching a Black Darter male flying sorties from the ground when it suddenly decided to make a perch of Francine’s fancy French pink casquette [cap]. I imagine it thought it was a large heather flower, being similarly coloured. It even remained sitting calmly as I removed the cap so Francine could see her passenger more closely.

IMG_2289_Black_Darter_imm_male Immature male Black Darters are a little more colourful with varying degrees, depending on maturity, of yellowish markings. Francine nabbed an immature at one end of the lake while I was paddling in my wellies after other quarry.

IMG_1137_Black_Darter_female The path around the lake didn’t actually go all the way around the lake, we eventually discovered. On the opposite side we headed up the heather-covered hill in search of a way out without retracing our steps; there was none but it was a fortunate blind alley. Part way up, I scared up what turned out to be an elusive female Black Darter who flew just a short distance before posing for me, and very delightful she was, too.

What an excellent day! Other than a missing in-cop pair, we’d pretty much grabbed a complete collection of representative Black Darter individuals to add to our growing collection.

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Odo-nutter Network

Now, look, I’m no great fan of management B.S. Darwin knows, I have to suffer enough of it in my time. One of the worst aspects was attending professional functions and being asked to “network” with others. That used to be called “building relationships” but no, not now. “Networking” is but one small step away from “running an idea up the flagpole to see who salutes it” or “let’s fly an idea and see if anyone shoots it down”. However, I must say that, when it comes to dragonfly hunting, getting to know like-minded individuals has proved to be most useful.

The Internet is not a bad source of Odonata nutters. One such useful Web contact has been a chap called Doug Overton who has an excellent New Forest Dragonflies website. He has a Google map of locations within the New Forest at which he lists the species he has observed. Doug’s the man who introduced us to Tiptoe and a few other spots on a previous New Forest trip. This time, with a specific goal in mind, I scoured his map of sites for new species in which I had a vested interest and made a note of them in my trusty Garmin eTrex h.

One site, Crockford Stream, apparently sports a population of the relatively rare and endangered (it’s on the Red List) Southern Damselfly (Coenagrion mercuriale). In fact, Crockford Stream is famous for them being specifically mentioned in a reference book on the subject, British Dragonflies by Smallshire and Swash. We had visited Crockford Stream on our previous trip but the Southern Damselfly looks like “just another blue damsel” so, in my earlier ignorance, I was likely to have dismissed or glossed over any that I might have seen. After a morning buying supplies, the afternoon seemed like a grand opportunity to go in search of this deceptively common-looking rarity.

Clouds were scudding past in what we might generously refer to as being “a stiff breeze”. As we were parking and preparing to set out, even a few rain spots fell out of the scudding clouds and scudded into our windscreen themselves. Actually the wind was quite strong: it was not a great day for Odo spotting. The poor little critters were likely to be hunkered down taking shelter.

IMG_1000_Southern_Damselfly Enter: hawk-eyed Francine. Almost the first thing she spotted was “a blue damsel” hunkered down, as expected, and clinging determinedly to a plant stem in the wind. I stared through the viewfinder. Sure enough, this was a Southern Damselfly. I couldn’t believe our luck but there it was and here he is in all his glory; our very first of his kind.

IMG_2188_Southern_Damselfly_female IMG_2211_Southern_Damselfly The scientific name of what we term somewhat curiously the Southern Damselfly, C. mercuriale, stems from the black design on segment 2 (S2) of the thorax which is said to resemble the winged helmet of Mercury, the messenger. This first specimen, however, showed  very distinct markings with the “wings” of Mercury’s helmet seemingly stuck up above the helmet on a stalk. As the sun put in various appearances between rapidly scudding cloud formations, we saw other individuals and the male here (right) shows the more classic shape with the wings sitting atop Mercury’s helmet. Check out the difference of the markings on the two males. For completeness, on the left is the female of the species, only one of which we saw but old hawk-eyes nabbed it.

IMG_2209_Small_Red_Damselfly_femaleIMG_1027_Small_Red_Damselflies_in_copOur book notes that Small Red Damselflies (Ceriagrion tenellum) often coexist with Southern Damselflies and they certainly do at Crockford Stream where we were treated to an in-cop pair (left) and an interesting female (right). If you look at this lady closely, you can see a small cluster of red dots on the side of her thorax. I’ve seen this phenomenon before on a Southern Darter in the south of France but not in the UK. She has a mite infestation, poor thing, and she did seem reticent to move, allowing me to approach close with Francine’s macro lens.

Maybe this networking stuff does work, after all.

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Scary Spiders

Not that Franco and Francine are prone to getting stuck in ruts, but we’ve headed for the New Forest yet again. The scariest aspect of this trip is that Satan’s Little Disciples are on the loose from their sanity-preserving schools and the place is bound to be crawling with them. We are hoping, nay praying, that the fact that we have headed for a woodland campsite with no facilities will help reduce their presence and keep use relatively sane. We’re here for a reason, though. Not only do Satan’s Little Disciples hijack most of the British summer, they hijack a goodly portion of the British dragonfly season, too. To see some species, it is necessary to bite the bullet and put up with the little monsters. The bullet, of course, would be better used in shooting one of the Disciples but, regrettably, such behaviour isn’t allowed. Time to grin and bear it.

Travelling on Sunday, as is our practice, at least gave us an easy journey; there was very little traffic considering we are in the main holiday season. Little traffic, that is, heading south. As we entered the New Forest and drove out of Lyndhurst heading for Brockenhurst, the northbound traffic was nose to tail and stationary. In fact, the queue to get through Lyndhurst, designed to be a admirably effective bottle-neck, stretched almost all the way back to Brockenhurst. We sailed past southbound dreading our return journey in a week’s time.

P1010427_Guillaume_in_the_forest We lucked out. Arriving just after midday, we had about the best choice of pitches that it would be possible to have and, lo and behold, one was free that we had eyed-up on a previous visit. Without hesitation, we swung in and pitched Guillaume in a very pleasant and secluded woodland pitch.

IMG_0972_Southern_Hawker After lunch, for a spot of relaxation we wandered the mile or so down to a woodland glade near to Tiptoe. Here there is a “flush” that drains into a stony woodland stream and the area attracts Odos [Ed: that’s short for Odonata]. Signs were good since, on our route there, we spotted a Golden-ringed Dragonfly (Cordulegaster boltonii) which didn’t cooperate by resting and a Southern Hawker (Aeshna cyanea) which did pause briefly to devour a forest track snack.

IMG_0987_Keeled_Skimmer IMG_0991_Keeled_Skimmer Other than Joe Public on holiday messing about noisily in said stony woodland stream at Tiptoe, the main activity centred around Keeled Skimmers (Orthetrum coerulescens). Their posing wasn’t so hot, though, as they consistently insisted on sitting behind blades of grass. The females, particularly difficult to find as they hid low down in the grass, presented an especially thorny problem. I eventually found one but, once again, she sat behind the obligatory blade of grass. She’s beautiful, nonetheless, and this is the first shot of a female Keeled Skimmer in our catalogue.

There are quite a lot of Satan’s Little Disciples on the campsite and they all seem to be equipped with bicycles: trainee Hell’s Angels, presumably. So far, not too bad, though. Let’s see what our nerves are like after a week of it. 😉

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