Shrinking Violets

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Yet another pair of Homo sapiens subspecies brittanicus arrived this afternoon but this pair was attempting to disguise itself as subspecies gallicus by travelling in a French registered car pulling a French registered trailer tent.

It’ll soon be time for us to move on so, once again, Francine and I were out armed with pixels searching out Odonata. On this trip, I have been religiously checking all apparent Black-tailed Skimmers (Orthetrum cancellatum) to make sure that they weren’t White-tailed Skimmers (Orthetrum albistylum) which, somewhat unexpectedly, look very similar to each other. Thus far, I had not noticed any White-tailed Skimmers chez nous at farmer Luc’s lake.

Hawk-eyed Francine was in the lead and disturbed a perched Skimmer. “That looks like a White-tail”, she said.

IMG_0743_White-tailed_Skimmer “B****r me, it is!”, I exclaimed, as it returned to its favoured perch and allowed me a decent look. Inwardly grumbling slightly at Francine’s fortune, I did a little rare gardening to rearrange the obscuring vegetation for a clear shot and began snapping away, reusing pixel after pixel, until I had a considerable collection of images from various angles to maximize my chances of a successful capture. Francine continued on her way to stake out Farmer Luc’s digue [dyke].

Satisfied that I had done the best I could with Luc’s sixteenth Odonata species, I slung camera and monopod over my right shoulder and set off to join Francine at the digue. I was distracted by our new arrivals struggling to connect to the electricity supply. From the male new arrival, in a rather plumy-sounding accent, “these sockets are upside down” drifted across the campsite on the breeze, and then continued, aimed at his female, “I need help”. His mate dropped what she was doing and attempted to go to his aid. [Ed: this is not the normal pecking order in matters technical for any subspecies of Homo sapiens.]

Mr. Plumy (lt. col., retd.) glanced up and spotted me with my monopod slung across my shoulder. “Do you work here?”, he enquired.

Now, here we are on a dairy sheep farm in rural southern France. Admittedly I do not look French but, were I to have been a local farm worker which, given his question, he suspected (my monopod across my shoulder probably resembled a yokel’s pitchfork), what is the chance that I would have understood his English with no attempt whatever to communicate in the local language? Remember, this pair was driving an entirely French-registered outfit so may well live in France.

I bit back my incredulity and replied, “no but I camp here”. He first went on to explain that there was “no electricity” in the “upside down sockets”. He’d tried three appliances, all to no avail, and produced an electric massager as an example ❗ which, he said, was alright this morning in the hotel. Fascinating. I checked the setting of the contact breakers and tried it at our pitch and eventually it whirred into life. I resisted the opportunity of a quick power massage and returned to Mr Plumy whereupon he produced an extension lead with an indicator lamp glowing orange, forcing him to change his claim to, “there isn’t much electricity because it won’t drive the massager”.

Mrs Plumy drove back up to the farm to assert the lamentable lack of electricity. I plugged the massager into all four “upside down” [not!] sockets and fired it up, still manfully resisting the opportunity of a power massage. “It’s all fine now”, I said and added that there was ample electricity to run the entire contents of our caravan simultaneously. With some relief, I left him with power as far as his first extension lead (with the pretty orange light) and trying to run it the remaining distance to his trailer tent as I continued on my way to join Francine.

Mrs Plumy returned across la digue and paused to ask if we were photographing frogs, adding that the entire site was apparently now without electricity. “We’ve had an entire week like this,” she added as my suspicions grew. Sure enough, Guillaume was now running on his leisure battery.

Famer Luc arrived, reset the main contact breaker which Mr. Plumy had undoubtedly caused to trip then, bless him, working entirely in English, went and debugged Mr. Plumy’s (lt. col., retd.) electrical efforts which appeared to centre around a portable refrigerator. This was probably more an act of self-preservation than generosity on Luc’s part, whose regular farming activity had been interrupted, but Luc and Nadine are very generous people. Luc gave me the key to the electricity control room in case of an encore. “Thank you”, said Mr. Plumy unabashed and in English. Clearly the Plumies were very far from being shrinking violets.

To cap it all, while I had been distracted trying to help the Plumies, hawk-eyed Francine had spotted an Odo she didn’t recognize but which she described as being, “like a Scarlet Darter but pink-coloured”. She grabbed a single, quite distant shot before it vacated its perch which was eventually reoccupied by a normally red-looking Scarlet Darter. Dubiously, we wondered if the apparent pink colouration had been a trick of the light.

IMG_1452_Violet-marked_Darter Strewth, no! When we loaded the shot and I saw it, this was very clearly an utterly stunning, never before seen by us and on the northern limits of its range, Violet-marked Darter (Trithemis annulata). Magnificent! I was glad we had a shot but was decidedly green at the gills for having missed it in the flesh.

I may be camping at la digue for the remainder of our stay. I may even change the end of our stay.

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The Garden Effect

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IMG_0595_Lakeside_pitch We are staying in pitch 20 of a sheep farm site at Fanjeaux. It is one of the four main, sought after lakeside pitches. To our right (as we look at the lake) is pitch 19. Pitch 19, being a hedged, well shaded but curiously triangular pitch, is most suited to tents. Pitch 19 is affectionately known as le jardin [the garden].

Up until yesterday evening we had seen two sets of campers arrive, choose to camp in the garden for several days, then depart for pastures new. On both occasions that new campers had pitched up in the garden, the weather collapsed and it rained. Superstitious suspicions grew.

Yesterday evening Nadine accompanied a lone young walker, his backpack almost as large as himself, down to the camp site to show him around. He is probably walking along the GR (Grande Randonnée) long-distance footpath which passes along the edge of the farm. After a tour of inspection, they went back to the farm to check him in. Shortly he returned and made straight for the garden where he erected a very neat, small, one-man tent before settling in for the evening. The wind increased and rain began lashing Guillaume’s roof.

Three out of three – the garden maintained it’s 100% record. 😉

IMG_1373_Combine_Harvester As well as his shared moissonneuse [combine harvester] giving him problems, farmer Luc is suffering a bit of a weather-disrupted harvest with the ups and downs of this June’s climate. I think we’ll suggest that he stops Nadine letting any further campers select the garden pitch.

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Four for Four

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A wandering pair of Homo sapiens subspecies brittanica turned up this afternoon armed with their caravan and, as we were beginning another Odonata spotting sortie with cameras slung about various parts of our bodies, they began eyeing up the garden pitch – the pitch next to us with the rain curse.

“Oh, don’t go in there”, we began, jovially, “every time somebody arrives and pitches in there, it pisses with rain.”

“Really, how many times has it happened?” they asked, incredulously.

“Three, so far”, we said.

“Crumbs! How long have you been here?” they inquired.

“Two and a half weeks”, we clarified.

“Oh, well, we’ll break the pattern”, responded the lady of the couple, confidently, as she directed operations as to precisely where to pitch in the garden and in which direction to orient the caravan. [Ed: note that this is the normal pecking order amongst Homo sapiens individuals of all subspecies.]

We continued on our expedition as the new arrivals got themselves installed and settled.

An hour or so later, the skies towards the Pyrenees darkened noticeably. Shortly, we heard a distant rumble of thunder. Just occasionally the dark skies lightened but only briefly due to the illuminating effect of a flash of lightening. Rain began falling, gently at first but then more insistently. Francine and I jumped physically, startled by an almost simultaneous brilliant flash and loud, cracking report thunder in the valley below our campsite.

We laughed with thoughts of “told you so” running through our heads.

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Cherchez les Femmes

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IMG_1365_Digue The track into our current blissful campsite crosses the top of farmer Luc’s digue [dyke]. The dyke holds back the water  and forms the lake beside which we are camped. I keep expecting the Dutch contingent to rush up to the dyke and habitually stick their fingers in it but, so far, this hasn’t happened. What does happen is that, for the two weeks that we have now been here, whenever we’ve walked on the grass beside the lake and walked or driven across the digue, flashes of bright red shoot up and zoom off.

IMG_0219_Scarlet_Darter IMG_0221_Red_Butler Introducing Red Butler (left) and Scarlet O’Darter (right). “Red” is a male Red-veined Darter (Sympetrum fonscolombii) and “Scarlet” is a male Scarlet Darter (Crocothemis erythraea). Both these guys strut their stuff around the lake, sitting on the ground either on grass stems or on the stony track over the digue, producing flashes of red as they fly away having been disturbed or to give chase to a passing spot of lunch. The intense red of the appropriately named Scarlet Darters, which are particular numerous, produces a very impressive flash. On appropriate days, i.e. those which are warm and sunny, we’ve seen them for the whole of our two weeks. Our curiosity has been, where are their ladies?

IMG_0501_Dam_BustersI’m not an idle dragonfly watcher but, up until very recently, on this trip I had not seen a single female of either Red or Scarlet. Then, just a couple of days ago I spotted my first female Red-veined Darter. Female dragons can be a little confusing to identify but I knew she was a female Red-veined Darter because she was firmly attached to her suitor, a male Red-veined Darter, who was leading her in their Dambuster-like ovipositing flight across farmer Luc’s lake. I can only hope that her bouncing eggs don’t blow a hole in Famer Luc’s dyke. If they do, there are several experienced hole-plugging Dutch on hand to stem the flood.

IMG_1342_Mrs_Scarlet_DarterThe dyke is a very sunny spot and therefore very attractive to our sun-loving friends. Today we were once again filling an idle hour or two checking out the action down at the dyke. As well as sun, there was also a very strong wind blowing down the lake and over the dyke so most of the action turned out to be dragonflies, and particularly the poor little weaker-flying damselflies, hanging on very firmly in the teeth of a gale. When the subjects are more reticent to fly, they can be a little easier to approach, though, and Francine, following my guidelines of “photograph it first and grab me second”, snagged this picture of a dragonfly she didn’t recognize. Joy! Just when we might have expected her to be Gone with the Wind, there she was, the long-sought-after Mrs. Scarlet O’Darter. Hardly the flashy, scarlet woman one might have expected but splendid in her apparent scarcity, nonetheless, and only the second I’ve ever seen. I certainly haven’t witnessed the Scarlets’ mating habits yet.

Given that it’s taken two weeks for us to spot a Scarlet Darter female and almost two weeks for a red-veined Darter female, I’m beginning to wonder if there may be some time delay between the male and female emergence schedules. Alternatively, the females may “hang out” somewhere different, approaching the males’ strutting grounds only when they are ready to mate. A third possibility, of course, is that we are blind and simply missed “the Misses”. Curious!

If any reader happens soon to be going on an Odonata spotting trip in the company of a specialist … 😀

Posted in 2010 Spring

Le Barrage de Soulcem

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Our Saturday newspaper, Aujourd’hui, predicted une canicule [scorching heat] of a weekend. The little weather maps on the back page showed Bordeaux suffering the full ferocity of our nearby celestial nuclear fusion reactor with temperatures peaking at 39°C/102°F – not bad for Europe. When la chaleur grimpe [the heat climbs], so do Franco and Francine, into the Pyrenees, where an increase in altitude produces an accompanying reduction in temperature.

IMG_1281_SoulcemSo far our favourite destination is a high valley containing le barrage de Soulcem, one of almost countless dams in France managing their water supply. Above/behind the dam is a high alpine pasture with a heard of cattle with their bells a-jangling – very atmospheric. For the enthusiastic walker, there are also several challenging walking routes including a GR (Grande Randonnée) route to Andorra. Andorra lies up behind the ridge in this picture. The shot also graphically demonstrates the lack of winter snow that fell in the Pyrenees last winter; the “bowl” in the centre of the shot was full of snow this time last year.

IMG_1248_SoulcemWhen any snows that do fall melt, this is where the water flows to. Also this time last year, we seem to remember that the barrage was pretty darn full of water. This year there is a significant chunk of the dam wall showing above the water line together with a wide “bath tub ring” around the lake with no vegetation. Clearly the lack of winter snow is not helping the effect of of an unusually dry spring. It’s going to take a while to make up the shortfall, methinks.

IMG_1285_SoulcemThe farmers and water managers may not enjoy the weather but the tourists certainly do. Naturally, being a Sunday, the place was crawling. Here’s a large group of walkers on part of the GR heading towards Andorra. That may not have been their destination, though, since several other routes branch off beyond this point.

IMG_1288_SoulcemThe area is also a good hunting ground for for those interested in plants and critters. On this occasion, however, for some reason the critters were being most uncooperative and either refused to settle or zoomed off as Franco approached. There are times when I’m envious of the flower fans since their quarry tends not to run or fly away. It can flap about irritatingly in the wind, though.

I returned empty-handed (or should that be empty-compact-flash-carded?).

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Agoraphobic Sheep

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Our very amicable hosts, Luc and Nadine, run a dairy sheep farm. They have a troupeau [flock] of about 300 ewes whose milk is used for the production of Roquefort cheese. The farm land is used to grow food, largely Lucerne, and bedding material in the form of straw from Wheat. For much of year the sheep remain inside their bergerie [sheepfold] consuming the Lucerne and using up the straw.

P1010280_Agoraphobic_sheep In the summer months when there are a few fields with fresh grass to be eaten, Luc kicks his troupeau out of the bergerie into the fresh air. I say “kicks” because the sheep don’t seem very keen on the idea. They appear to prefer the apparent comfort and, maybe, the safety of their bergerie. This was ably demonstrated when we paused on our way out of the farm to snap a picture of them on the hillside. As Francine approached with her snappy camera, she stood by the gate into and, more importantly out of, the field. You could almost see the sheep thinking, “hooray, someone’s come to take us back to our bergerie” (in French, of course), as they excitedly began flocking towards the gate and Francine.

They looked quite disappointed when we left them there. Cute, in an agricultural kind of way. 🙂

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La Prise Reprise

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IMG_1027_La_Rigole About 32kms/20mls north of us in the Montagnes Noires is la prise d’eau d’Alzeau, literally the place where water is captured from the river Alzeau. It is the beginning of La Rigole. We’re familiar with the word rigole from the Marais Poitevin; un rigole refers to one of five sizes of waterway in the marsh. I think in the marsh un rigole is one of the larger canals. La Rigole, however, is specifically the small canal, between 2-3m/6-10ft wide, which was built to feed water into that great French engineering project, the canal du Midi. La prise itself is not especially spectacular, being a relatively modest sluice gate controlling the diverting of water from the river Alzeau into La Rigole, but the entire concept is intriguing. Building a canal of about 60kms/40mls through uneven countryside but with an even gradient calculated to deliver water at a gently flowing rate into the high point of the canal du Midi seems pretty clever to me.

We’d visited la prise on a previous trip and, being up in the mountains, found it to be a refreshing place to visit when life in the valley starts getting a little hot and humid. We knew of a shaded picnic spot beside a stone bridge with a handy, wooded, 3km/2ml footpath beside La Rigole up to la prise itself to walk off lunch. With wild flowers, demoiselles flitting in sunny glades, and assorted other dragonflies and butterflies en route, what more could we nature-lovers want? Not a lot so, on one of our not-so-many-so-far hotter days, armed with a baguette and some rilletes d’oie (potted goose), off we set once again to see what we could find.

Blissful solitude, we shared the picnic area only with a few Beautiful Demoiselles and the occasional passing butterfly. After a most agreeable lunch, we sauntered up to la prise and back. “Up” takes about 2½ hours with frequent stops to exercise our cameras’ shutters, “back” takes about 30 minutes. Here are some of Francine’s results from exercising her camera’s shutter. 🙂

IMG_1013_Common_Cow-wheat IMG_1014_Large_Self-heal IMG_1031_Unknown_Cranesbill IMG_1040_Bladder_Campion_maybe IMG_1042_Ox-eye_Daisy

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Pêches Plats

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Mirepoix lies 18kms/11mls south of Fanjeaux where we are currently enjoying a very mixed bag of southern French weather. Mercifully, on market day (Monday) the weather was fine and hot. In addition to most French street markets being colourful affairs, Mirepoix is itself very colourful with many timbered 13th century buildings and cloisters. This makes it both a fascinating and, of course, a very popular destination. In early June, before the main tourist season, visiting on market day is quite enjoyable but in July and August we’re told it’s best avoided.

P1010282Mirepoix_market P1010289Mirepoix_market P1010290_Mirepoix_marketIn three different formats for a little variety, here’s a few pictures which will hopefully convey a little of the atmosphere and flavour of Mirepoix and its market. A couple of the pictures show some of the old metal market halle in and around which much of the modern market clusters. The spire of the Cathédrale de St. Maurice towers above the lot.

P1010286_Mirepoix_marketP1010300_Peche_plat We wanted to visit Mirepoix market on this occasion for two specific purchases: a field guide to mountain wild flowers, to help Francine identify vegetation she found in the Pyrenees, and some pêches plats [flat peaches]. Francine had spotted les pêches plats on previous occasions but had avoided them thinking that they might be all stone and little fruit. However, having spotted a local making off with several kilos of the things at Bram market recently, she thought, “they must be fine, we’ll try some”. [Ed: this is actually unsound logic – I’ve tried a pied pané, a breaded pig’s trotter, and all I could find edible were the breadcrumbs.] Not only did the pêches plats have very small stones but their flavour was wonderful, a little more perfumed than regular peaches. The season is short and we wanted some more while they were available. Here’s Francine raiding one of the many fruit stalls, carefully selected as having French rather than Spanish pêches plats.

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Pyrenean Picnic

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Mountains make a useful escape from days which may be getting hot and sticky in the valleys but you have to pick the right day. The valley may be hot and humid but mountains tend to attract weather and if they have their heads in the clouds, stay away. Fortunately, from our hospitable sheep farm, we can see the Pyrenees so we’re able to tell when the time is right. Today looked good.

On our last visit we fell in love with the high mountain scenery of the plateau de Soulcem and its barrage [dam]. Today we thought we’d investigate a different high valley so Francine scanned the map and found a likely suspect. An hour’s drive got us to Tarascon-sur-Ariège and we began the 25-minute climb up towards the barrage de Riete. It wasn’t a long journey up but progress is necessarily low, the mountain valley roads being mostly single track and very sinuous. There are occasional places to pass but they seem few and far between, especially when one is nervous about opposing traffic. I was praying that I didn’t meet another vehicle coming down when we came across a car stopped beside the road (in one of the rare passing places, of course) with a horse box attached. Clearly I was more nervous than the locals.

IMG_0994_PyreneesHaving passed very few folks other than those with the rather unexpected of horse box, we eventually began seeing cars abandoned with flair near people indulging in the classic French pique-nique. Such indications are useful in letting one know when one has arrived somewhere worthwhile. We found a spare grassy plateau beside the tumbling mountain stream that runs down the centre of every such valley, below the ever present French barrage of course, and set about lunch.

This valley was pleasant enough but didn’t seem to us to have the majesty and grandeur of the more popular Soulcem valley. In such weather, though, the Pyrenees are utterly magnificent and it’s easy to become blasé about the scenery. It was really beautiful and provided Francine with some plant photo-opportunities some of which are causing an identification conundrum; she’s keen on a specialist book to help her decipher what she’s seen. Any excuse to spend money and expand the library. 😉

IMG_0975_Pyrenean_plant IMG_0980_Pyrenean_plant IMG_0997_Foxglove IMG_1003_Field_Pansy On the left are a couple of familiar suspects, a Foxglove (Digitalis purpurea) and a Field Pansy (Viola arvensis) looking painfully cute. On the right are a couple of Francine’s more artistic shots (as opposed to identification shots) of suspects that are awaiting her hoped-for specialist field guide.

As we began our return journey back down to the valley floor, I fell in behind another car also heading downwards. I formulated the theory that, if you headed up in the morning, everyone else would also be heading up and you’d be unlikely to meet a vehicle travelling in the opposite direction. Similarly, if you headed down in the afternoon, all the other travellers would also be heading down after their picnic. Just then, a car squeezed past both of us heading up towards the barrage. Bang goes another theory!

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Manual Dexterity

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Many years ago we visited an area of France called La Brenne which is noted for its breeding population of Purple Herons. Still using the excellent but very slow (50 ASA) Fuji Velvia film in those days, and not having enough lens, though we saw Purple Herons I failed to capture a decent picture of one. The trip also preceded my interest in dragonflies though I did get a rather poor picture of a dragonfly which I recently suspected to be a White-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum albistylum). The White-tailed Skimmer doesn’t occur at home and is difficult to distinguish from the Black-tailed Skimmer (Orthetrum cancellatum) so, this trip, I’ve been keeping a close watch on all suspects in the hope of securing a decent photograph to replace my earlier poor effort.

Whilst I quite like my camera, there are situations in which I find it frustratingly annoying. Its most irritating behaviour is when the autofocus logic steadfastly refuses to focus on an admittedly very narrow subject such as a damselfly. Even though the damselfly is closer, it frequently insists on focussing on the background instead. It just doesn’t seem to “see” something as thin as a damselfly. It serves as regular reminder of a comment I once heard made by Andy Rouse, a professional wildlife photographer now using Nikon equipment, that “even a Canon could focus on that”. Interesting!

Its other frustrating feature is the manual exposure exposure setting which, other than for flash shots, I never use. Naturally, any decent camera would include a manual exposure facility but what’s frustrating about it is that I seem to manage inadvertently to set my camera to manual exposure mode on occasion. I can only imagine that it happens when putting the camera away or taking it out of its rucksack. User error!

IMG_0168_Overexposure Whilst at Figeac, I was tracking a suspect which did, indeed, turn out to be a White-tailed Skimmer. After cruising up and down the bank for a while it finally settled on some grass causing Franco to leap hastily into action and fire off two quick shots before it once again took to the wing. I was thrilled – my long-awaited decent shot of a White-tailed Skimmer. My delight was short lived as I noticed the camera had been set on manual exposure and the image was hopelessly overexposed. I’ve got to show you this un-doctored version to give you a laugh. It could be somewhat recovered by post-processing but would never be great with the burned-out areas. I was livid!

IMG_0389_White-tailed_Skimmer Mercifully fortune offered me a second chance recently. We were just about to pack in and go shopping when I spotted another suspect zooming back and forth along a lake shore. I knew what to look for now and was pretty sure it was a White-tailed Skimmer. It settled on a rock. I checked the camera  [Ed: novel idea, Franco!]. It remained settled and I clicked off a few shots. I checked the image and all looked good. Relief!

IMG_0233_Black-tailed_Skimmer_2 For those keen on puzzles and just for a bit of fun, here’s another recent picture of a very similar Black-tailed Skimmer also sitting on a rock, though at a different angle. In an exam, this could form the basis of one of those “compare and contrast” type questions, couldn’t it?

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