For our April 2018 count, that is.

On a pleasant Saturday with a little cloud cover that appeared to be clearing, we headed back to my favourite close spot for dragonflies, the Marjal de Pego-Oliva.Francine had seen a new spot with a bird hide that could be worth investigating. “Why not?”, we thought.

We parked at a gravel lane and set off on foot down the 800m track to towards the bird hide. First species encountered was the ubiquitous Common Bluetail (Ischnura elegans). Shortly afterwards, though, we saw our first couple of “crocs”, Broad Scarlet (Crocothemis erythraea). I took some time snagging a fluttery immature male, not yet red. The poor thing had one malformed wing, its right fore-wing, which probably explained its apparent reluctance to fly far.

Further on I spotted what I assumed to be another but, once seen through my lens, this was obviously another immature male, this time a magnificently perfect Violet Dropwing (Trithemis annulata). I just love these characters and the dramatic colour change that the males go through to get to their mature gaudy pink is quite startling. [The mature pink male is from last year.]

Once we got to the boardwalk leading to the bird hide, things quietened down a little; there were certainly no birds from which to hide. Most of our interest had been along the track leading to it. The boardwalk was very well done, though. We were particularly taken with his sign encouraging observation without interference.

We returned to the car to transfer to the parking spot for our favourite river on the northern boundary of the reserve. Actually, this proved strangely quiet. There was no sign of either of those two new species that we’d seen on the way to the bird hide, oddly. Conditions were quite windy, though. What we did see was a Blue Emperor (Anax imperator) which occasionally took a dive at a patrolling Green-eyed Hawker, a.k.a. Norfolk Hawker (Aeshna isoceles). Neither this one, nor any of the other 10 or so that we saw, were intent on settling so it was in-flight or not at all.

I had been wondering if we’d see Green-eyed Hawkers before we returned home and so we did. Always a delight.

This is just a brief note to log the appearance of another species.

We were bound for a long lunch with friends starting at 13:00, so there was little to be done beforehand. We did, however, pop down into Jalon for some supplies and, because the sun was shining, I checked out the ford pool at the local river. We soon spotted something bright red disappearing downstream away from us. I stood watch while Francine went to retrieve my camera from the car. [Anyone would think I’d planned to see something.]

Francine returned and so did the dragonfly. I had expected to be staring at a Broad Scarlet (Crocothems erythraea) but was a little surprised to find myself confronted by a beautiful Orange-winged Dropwing (Trithemis kirbyi). Both species are bright red with yellow wing patches but the Dropwing has much larger wing patches. This was the only picture I managed; my subject seemed particularly nervous.

This was the first I’d seen of it but being fully coloured – the males start out yellow and turn red – it must have been around for a few days, lurking somewhere.

Lunch was fabulous, a real tour de force, something of a sampler menu, all courses having a Moorish/middle eastern slant. Very moreish. 😀

Francine and I popped in to Calpe to see how the Las Salinas lagoon might be doing. There’s been quite a bit of development going on around it and the ground seems to be suffering, partly from being churned up and partly from discarded rubble. Things appeared a little worse when we arrived.

There was also a old palm tree that, standing taller than other vegetation, served as a useful landmark when searching for the start of the one modest boardwalk. It seemed to be dying on our last visit, presumably from being attacked by the accursed imported red weevil. It was now completely dead; a sad loss.

Maybe because there were few flowers, given the churned up ground, there was a distinct lack of butterflies, though one or two flitted by. Things were quiet until Francine spotted a female Red-veined Darter feeding beside the track near the lagoon side. She looked very fresh, unsurprisingly at the beginning of the season.

We were really here looking for signs of Bee Orchids at a spot we knew there to be a small colony. What Francine found sent her over the moon. There were no signs of her Bee Orchids, though it is very early for them, but there were a couple of stems of an orchid completely new for us, what we believe is a Small-flowered Serapia or Small-flowered Tongue-orchid (Serapias parviflora). Certainly, the flowers were diminutive, being less than a centimetre each. The stems stood about 12cms high, I’d say. You can’t beat something completely new. 🙂

Near the dead palm tree site, Francine did find some signs of orchids past on ground that we had not previously searched so this was noted for earlier in another year.

On our way back out of the walk, we spotted a maturing male Red-veined Darter – maturing because it is not yet quite fully red. It wasn’t far from the female, who was still on station, so let’s hope that they manage to get together. 😉

With a new orchid for the collection, we left very happy campers despite the worrying problems that Las Salinas might be experiencing. We’ve since seen some mention of plans for better footpaths so maybe things will improve.

El Cau is one of the mountains siding our Spanish valley. I don’t really know the pronunciation but given the way this walk began, El Cow would be appropriate; it started heading upwards immediately and that’s the way it continued.

We were out once again with our Monday walking group and El Cau was our target. The initial section on an inclined stony track was not the most pleasant but once we hit the mountain path proper, consisting of classic Spanish rocks, the climbing was at least more enjoyable. I’d have been better without quite so much wine on Sunday evening but social occasions do tend to involve that. Eventually my lungs settled down but not before requesting a transplant into another more sedentary body.

There were three summits on what was apparently our 600m ascent, though estimates vary. My lungs say they are in the 600m camp. The weather was sunny but hazy so distance shots were not greatly successful. The weather was very windy, too, and I had to abandon my trusty Tilley hat in favour of a more secure Buff. Just for the record, given the conditions, here’s what we ended up looking at from the final summit of El Cau: the ridge in the distance is the Bernia.

For something a little different, I tried snagging a plant looking precariously positioned and dwarfed by the landscape beyond. Precarious it may have been but it seemed to be surviving the gusty winds up top.

Our descent was a bit a of a scratchy slog along a narrow track lined with what we suspect is Kermes Oak (Quercus coccifera), A decidedly prickly oak which seems often to be quite low-level. It was made worse by one patch of ground depositing a few of those infernal tick creatures on a couple of our number. Underhand little blighters but having spotted them everyone was vigilant. They didn’t lighten the mood on the way down, though.

We made it and seem to be tick free. Our lungs may have recovered but beer was definitely needed to help the throats recover.

We had a quick excursion up to the Bernia basecamp which is another one of Francine’s orchid hunting grounds. Cutting a longer story short, our visit was also relatively curtailed because there really wasn’t as much as we had come to expect at this time of year. Just one of those seasons, maybe.

At a few of our usual spots we drew a blank. One side track, however, did produce results. Standing proud and apparently alone was a very neat example of of A Woodcock Orchid (Ophrys scolopax).

Before finding the Woodcock, we had seen a few Dull or Sombre Ophrys (Ophrys fusca), perhaps not in their peak condition, but we finally ran into quite a colony of them further along the track.

So, not the most successful of visits but interesting in that some of our previously more reliable spots had produced a blank.

Variable stuff, nature.

During our winter trip to Spain, my right leg suffered from what I believe was an attack of housemaid’s knee. Being an overuse injury, this was likely caused by an over-zealous return to walking in the mountains. A calmer approach to walking during the remainder of that trip to Spain did seem to begin easing it. I am happy to say that the relative inactivity imposed by a so-called English spring appears to have completed the repair and my knee no felt able to return to some enjoyable Spanish walks. I’ll try and take it more gently for this reprise.

One of our favoured more gentle walks is a circuit between Castell de Castells and Tarbena. We are in to orchid season and, this walk usually producing some subjects, Francine was keen to check it out. I took my camera along, too, just in case any butterflies posed favourably in the mountain meadows or trackside scrub. This may give a sense of why we like being there.

Upon our arrival, it looked as though a walking group might have beaten us to it; there were five or so cars already there. Happily we found room for our rental and set about searching, starting with a few spots that were known to us. There are orchids on the rocky ground right beside the parking area at the beginning of the route, like this Woodcock Orchid (Ophrys scolopax).

A couple of hundred metres further along the track Francine was a little surprised to find a remaining Giant Orchid (Barlia robertiana), surprised because she thought they were all finished. This one was going over but still worth recording. Standing close by was what looks like a very fresh example of a Man Orchid (Orchis anthropophora), with only the lower blooms out.

Leaving Francine snapping the Giant and Man Orchids, I wandered off up a woodland track. A sunny glade looked interesting and, sure enough, there I found a small colony of Orchis olbiensis, something new to me and an orchid for which we haven’t yet found a common name, though it used to be lumped in as a subspecies of Early Purple Orchid (Orchis mascula). It now enjoys existence in its own right. Bloody taxonomists.

Part way around our loop we took a side track down towards a font and here we ran into a plentiful collection of Yellow Ophrys (Ophrys lutea). With their sunny disposition, these really are delightful little plants.

Here was a classic example of why a camera in rucksack is bugger all good when ones favoured subject is not a plant rooted to the spot. A Southern Scarce Swallowtail (Iphiclides feisthamelii) posed perfectly but quite unexpectedly on a bramble stem. Naturally, it scarpered as I was opening my rucksack. Lesson learned, the camera now assumed its usual position on my monopod over my shoulder – just in case.

Good decision, Franco. Although it would have been nice to snag my Southern Scarce Swallowtail, I could regard that as a nice to have, since I already have them in my collection. I would have been pig sick if I had missed what fluttered into view next. I swear my heart missed a beat. I chased the first one for some time, never really getting a clear shot. I wasn’t really satisfied. Mercifully, a little further on a second example posed more favourably. This is something I’ve always wanted, a Spanish Festoon. I did actually get one in Andalucia two years ago but that fleeting specimen had its wings closed. Now they were open.

Once the Spanish Festoon disappeared we were free to continue. Or final patch was the mother lode of more Yellow Ophrys but with a handful of Dull Ophrys (Ophrys fusca) plants scattered about for good measure.

Francine was happy with her collection of six orchids on the day and I was certainly happy to finally snag a Spanish Festoon with its wings open. No wonder we like this walk.

I’ve been keeping an eye on the weather forecast to try and time a run down to see hw wildlife is doing at the Parque Natural el Hondo, south of Alicante. Today looked good so we left around 09:00, which would put us at Hondo by about 10:30.

Things looked quiet at first with just Common Bluetails (Ischnura elegans); swarms of ‘em but “just” Common Bluetails. Then, from right beside the lake, I scared a darter up into its maiden flight. At this time of year it just had to be a Red-veined Darter (Sympetrum fonscolombii) but I followed it and snagged it just to conform what I already knew.

With Francine rapidly passing through the hot spot for mosquitos, we wandered along the excellent boardwalk with nothing further of interest.. On our return trip Francine did spot a lonely single Lesser Emperor (Anax parthenope) but it disappeared before I could see it.

The mudflats on the other side of the lake produced more immature Red-veined Darters but that was essentially it for our visit. The species were not surprising but I really expected to see more activity, particularly on the Emperor front.

I had been planning to investigate a new location that was apparently home to Winter Damsels (Sympecma fusca), the Lagunas de Rebassa, just inland from Alicante. However, examining the map, Francine found another spot intriguingly named the Clot de Galvany. The size of water looked favourable and it was quite close so we headed for that instead.

Finding the entrance was a challenge. A sign on the perimeter fence proclaimed pedestrian access in 50m. We missed it. After a few hundred metres we backtracked. We’d missed it because it was beside a vehicle access but hidden behind the hedge. Duh!

Once inside, the habitat looked good. Unfortunately for dragonfly hunters, the smaller water bodies are surrounded by dense wattle fences so viewing and access were impossible. This was clearly managed with birdlife and twitchers in mind: a single bird hide built into the otherwise solid fencing enabled viewing at each pond; viewing of birds, that is. The odos are clearly a side issue; only if they fly in front of the bird hide are you able to see them. A mature Red-veined Darter did pose in the right location and a couple of Black-tailed Skimmers landed on the ground outside the water body. Unsurprisingly, the usual Common Bluetails and Lesser Emperors also put in appearances. Nice place but better viewing facilities for odos, please.

On our way back towards Jalón, we did make an exploratory exit of the autovia at Alicante looking for the Lagunas de Rebassa. However, missing the correct traffic light controlled junction, we got tied in a maze of one-way streets and failed to find our way through to the site. At least we know where we went wrong, though.

Next time, perhaps.

The sun was shining in a clear blue sky; my favourite conditions. We thought we could try our usual leg-loosening walk up to the cross above and behind Senija, but we began by calling into a breakfast bar in Jalon for coffee and tostadas con tomate – toasted baguette spread with crushed tomato and drizzled with olive oil and salt. By the time we got there it would do us for brunch.

Before continuing to Senija it would be rude not to check out the local river to see if any odonata might yet have put in an appearance. At first things look quiet but clambering up to an access point to overlook a back pool, I was delighted to see a Blue Emperor (Anax imperator) cruising back and forth. He wasn’t stopping for pictures, though.

We headed off towards Senija which meant driving through Lliber. The road through Lliber was cordoned off, though, with a diversion through its narrow side streets. A run/walk was in progress but after only a short delay we emerged on the far side of the village and continued.

We drove into Senija only to find that the road in which we needed to park was also blocked. Senija was hosting a mountain bike event. I guess it just wasn’t our day.

Following swarms of road cyclists back through Jalon we decided to try retreating to the Marjal de Pego-Oliva in the hope that somewhere more rural might prove quieter. Mercifully it did. It would, after all, have been a shame to waste all our lovely sunshine. There was another car parked but it gave it a wide berth (we have a brand new rental car) and set off on foot.

Francine soon spotted a Common Bluetail (Ischural elegans) flitting about on the far side of one stream. I snagged it as best I could, i.e. not very well.

Continuing along the river we found more Bluetails and a couple of Lesser Emperors (Anax parthenope) who were definitely not pausing to pose for pictures.

We took a different track thinking that we might find the so-called Font Salada, a pool supposedly warm all year round, about which we’d been told. We’d seen a sign pointing to it on a previous visit so this time we followed the sign and walked further. We saw no more odonata on this stretch but we did see an Egyptian Grasshopper ovipositing in the track.

Eventually, we came to a bridge and the dividing of the ways. Was there another sign indicating the direction of the Font Salada? No, of course not. I do hate signing that doesn’t continue to the destination; it’s so frustrating. Uncertain of which of the three directions to take, we began our return wander. We’ll have to resort to Google Earth.

Things remained relatively dull until a freshly emerged dragonfly fluttered across the path and settled in the grass opposite. I managed a single shot, albeit with some grass across one wing, before it took to the air again. I tried to track it but lost it in the vegetation. It was an immature female Western Clubtail (Gomphus pulchellus) which, I am now told, is quite a rare find in the Alicante region.

That made the day.