Articles in ‘butterflies’
The wind cuts like a knife and few brave the park. Benches stand empty and no one picnics on the grass. And strangely, there’s no sound coming out of the pine and cypress trees. It turns out that the Monk parakeets (Myiopsitta monachus) have come to ground en masse and are foraging on the deserted lawns.
Sometimes you can glimpse a Black rat (Rattus rattus) deep in an ornamental hedge, nibbling on berries. But when the coast was clear, one cautiously ventured into the open, carefully reading the air for information.
Without the lunch time regulars the litter bins offer lean pickings, but this triumphant Red squirrel had managed to procure a large wedge of bread. It zipped up the tree before the magpies noticed.
Even in winter, life flickers in an old stone wall, as lizards (Podarcis hispanica) in a variety of sizes and shades come out to catch the noon rays.
When a frayed Speckled Wood butterfly (Pararge aegeria) settled on one of the last leaves, it seemed to be surfing a wave.
Barcelona, Mammals, Palau de Pedralbes park, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona in the winter, Black rat living in the park, large flock of monk parakeets, Pararge aegeria, red squirrel in Barcelona park, Speckled wood butterfly in December, Wall lizards in the winter|
Two kilometres into the walk, we stop in La Majua where there’s a bar by the bridge. Hens strut, builders fix pipes, villagers gossip, house martins feed their young, and a man goes back and forth in his madreños, wheeling rocks over the bridge in a barrow.
Not only the old folk wear these practical wooden clogs. In El Puertu after the rain a strapping youth in track-suit bottoms pounded across the road in his. They keep your feet warm and dry and raise them out of the dung and mud.
We head north to the Asturian border. If the walk had a soundtrack, there’d be a crescendo when the track suddenly curves and you’re confronted with the river tumbling down in a series of falls. The top of the valley is almost sealed off by rocks forming a narrow ravine - La Foz.
There’s an icy spring by the river where people converge for feasts. A can of beer left in the water for 15 minutes tastes fresh out of the fridge. I found an Apollo butterfly on a thistle, the first I’d ever seen. It was so translucent you could see the purple flower through its wings. It seemed fragile, as if you could blow the pigmentation away like dust.
Though worn around the edges, it was stunningly beautiful.
At the top of the ravine, the way is barred by a stone wall and wooden sticks. You climb up and around, and you’re in a different world.
You’re cupped inside a circle of mountains. It’s often cold and inhospitable in here, with an uneasy threat of descending mist that billows out of nowhere and fills up the cirque in an instance. But today was calm and hot. A short-toed eagle was soaring, white against the blue sky. The herd of chamois retreated to a slightly higher spot. We lay on the grass observed by wheatears. Later, we climbed to the rim of the cup and looked at the lunar landscape beyond.
Birds, Cordillera Cantabrica, Trip reports, butterflies | Tags: Apollo parnassius, Apollo parnassius in Cordillera cantabrica, holiday in northern Spain, La Majua, madreños, Northern wheatear, walking in the Cordillera Cantabrica, walking in the mountains of Leon and Asturias, walking in the north of Spain|
The plan was to walk along the small river that comes down from Montseny to Aiguafreda, marked on the map as the Riera de Pujol. It was a bit disconcerting to find a bone-dry river bed, but a few shallow puddles on the outskirts of Aiguafreda encouraged me to keep walking. A kingfisher hunting by a small dam was an even more hopeful sign.
The sporadic pools were linking up. A waterfall crashed down, where a man stood immersed up to his chin, eyes closed, exulting in the cold water. Up on the dusty track, the sun was scorching hot. Two women from the fire-prevention squad had parked their jeep and were refilling water bottles at the spring. I followed a path that dipped steeply under the trees.
It was like stepping into a church. At the end of the vault of trees there was a flat gravelly bank. Beyond that point the river deepened and levelled off, and the water grew still. On one side were smooth grey rocks, where a dipper had been perching, and the other bank was a tangle of vegetation in full blast of the sun. Boots flung off, I cooled down in the shade, and observed the scene.
There was a general commotion: iridescent damselflies flashed turquoise, clusters of butterflies fed, mated and basked, quantities of spindly water striders littered the water and light dappled on every surface. As usual when you sit in one spot for long, dimensions began shifting. Soon I was looking at a vast wilderness river, flowing by sheer grey cliffs and impenetrable jungle. Then I’d wade out into the canyon and, with water just above my knees, the world would shrink again.
The sunny bank was bustling with butterflies. Dusty pink Hemp-agrimony and a large dome of Wild Angelica were the most popular attractions, attended by a constant crowd of Silver-washed Fritillaries (Argynnis paphia). Any butterfly that fell into the water soon disappeared under wiry clumps of striders.
Most beguiling of all were the Beautiful Demoiselles (Calopteryx virgo), whose name goes straight to the point. The males would display their wings in a flash of dark blue silk, like peacocks.
The females are very metallic, a white spot on each of their four bronze wings, their abdomens a coppery green.
An impish damselfly perched on a twig, as if flown straight out of Dr. Caligari’s cabinet. Though in silhouette, the dark band of its narrow wings revealed it to be a female Copper Demoiselle (Calopteryx haemorrhoidalis).
Engrossed in damselflies, legs pleasantly chilled, a sharp pain made me look down. The mob of water striders were honing in for a nibble.
I retreated to the cool gravelly bank and lay listening to the water tumbling over rocks to fill the canyon. A waspish Large Pincertail (Onychogomphus uncatus - see Forum) settled on a stone. The dipper returned, flying low up-river. From this angle its white breast looked enormous. A Silver-washed Fritillary floated down like an autumn leaf. Occasionally a gust of wind would come up the valley, roaring in the tree tops, making the branches creak. It was a reminder of the hot world out there. It felt good down in the cool green vault.
I began to hear the sound of car doors slamming - post-siesta people coming to stock up with spring water. I walked up-river for a while, rock-hopping, and surprised a sparrowhawk who’d also been quiet down under the trees.
Insects, Montseny, butterflies | Tags: Argynnis paphia, Calopteryx haemorrhoidalis, Calopteryx virgo, day trip from Barcelona, escaping Barcelona heat, Mediterranean butterflies, Mediterranean damselfies, montseny in august, river walk in Montseny, Silver-washed fritillaries, walks in Montseny|
The road up to Santa Fe is one of countless twists. You climb, swinging to the right and the left, until finally you take another turn and find you’ve left the Mediterranean behind. It was intoxicating to be out of the coastal heat and in an under-canopy world of streams, fungus, and beetles that glow like sapphires.
We’d planned a short walk to a rocky outcrop known as the “Empedrat de Morou”, a good place for lunch. But an hour later, we were still within a stone’s throw of the visitors’ centre. It’s what happens when coastal urbanites are let lose in a completely diferent habitat.
Chafer beetles (Hoplia caerulea) were scattered in profusion near the stream, shining in the deep deciduous shade. We watched them stretch their limbs and use their hooked extremities to negotiate the leaves. Then there was the enticing pool by the tree roots, where tadpoles lurked, legs sticking out at right angles (identification pending). But by the time the Camberwell Beauty flew past, pursuit would’ve been stretching patience. On we went, towards lunch on the Empedrat de Morou.
The route took us through coppiced chestnuts and into the solemn beech wood, among large granite boulders. But clearings were frequent and all had butterfly activity, to the consternation of those with growing hunger pangs. A Comma (Polygonia c-album) was chased away to thwart more photography sessions. Then a stunning Queen of Spain Fritillary (Issoria lathonia) settled on the track, marked like a cheetah above, and with large silvery spots below.
Despite gnawing hunger, it was worth holding out to the Empedrat de Morou. The rocks are smooth, the view inspiring, and there were even chives growing in the cracks, for forager Nick to spice up his sandwiches. Other fissures were filled with white flowering stonecrop, possibly Sedum hirsutum. While eating you could look over the Santa Fe valley at the Turo del’Home, partially hidden in the clouds.
The mist suddenly went roaming and came swirling around us, so we ducked down into the woods again. Although the trail was simple, we managed to lose it, and for a while were plunging ankle-deep in beech leaves and marshy soil. All kinds of fungus had emerged after last week’s rain, with thick white stems and caps like freshly baked bread.
We hit solid ground again near the small reservoir, which used to provide electricity for the Santa Fe hotel. There were Heath spotted orchids (Dactylorhiza maculata) and wild strawberries by the path. We went past a stream where water slid over the rocks in a succession of pools and waterfalls - an otter’s playgound. Monica did some sliding too, but luckily had dry clothes to get changed into.
On the way down, back to the coast, we pulled over for a while and walked about in the warm light mist. Vapours were pouring up the slope, like smoke out of a chimney. The roadsides were filled with colour: Nettle-leaved bellflowers (Campanula trachelium), Yarrow (Achillea millefoium), and vivid Pinks (Dianthus seguieri) and Violets (Viola bubanii). The last moments of calm were savoured before going home.
Insects, Montseny, Plants, butterflies | Tags: beech wood of Santa Fe, Dianthus seguieri, Empedrat de Morou, Hoplia caerulea, Mediterranean butterflies, Mediterranean wildflowers, Queen of Spain fritillary, Santa Fe, trips near barcelona, Viola bubanii, walking in Montseny, wild flowers of Montseny|
Swatting off scarlet and black mylabris beetles, I walked down to the horse paddocks. Summer’s hit us like a sledgehammer, and mornings have been too hot to go out and look for butterflies (or anything). In the mellow evening sun, among olive and carob trees, I looked around to see what was about. Behind me, horses snorted and a Golden Oriole was calling.
Most of the scabious has gone to seed already, and the only flowers were thistles and stonecrop. A Common Blue perched on a dried flower head, slowly turning in a semi-circle, as if to make sure all sections of the audience got a full view of its violet shimmer.
No sooner had the Common Blue flown, its place was immediately taken by a Long-tailed Blue. It shifted its wings, but kept them closed, a beige slip of a butterfly. In no hurry to move, it let me get close and see the “face” in the corner – the imitation antenna and eye spots.
When I got too close for comfort and the Long-tailed Blue moved on, I noticed something magnificent further up the slope, motionless on a wild carrot flower. I approached carefully, commando-style. After staring so long at the diminutive Longtailed Blue, the sheer size of the Swallowtail, boldly outlined in black, was impressive. Its abdomen hung down like a paper lantern.
One of the benefits of hunkering down quietly in the grass for ages is that you pass unnoticed. Over in the horse paddock, I watched a rabbit stop to scratch its back. It lost patience and rolled over to rub the elusive spot, legs in the air. All around sparrows were taking dust baths. The rabbit suddenly detected my presence and froze, white tum stretched out, before bounding off into the trees.
Collserola, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona in July, common blue, common swallowtail, lampides boeticus, longtailed blue, Mediterranean butterflies, papilio machaon, photographing butterflies, Polyommatus icarus, walking in collserola, walks around Barcelona, watching butterflies|
Sometimes on a June evening Barcelona skies fall strangely silent because of an absence of swifts. They go elsewhere for richer pickings, returning to the concrete sprawl at night. Standing on the Collserola ridge at dusk, I watched hundreds pour down into the city.
I’d started walking late in the afternoon, skirting the small Vallvidrera reservoir, where families picnicked in the shade and dogs nosed among the algae, silencing the legions of frogs. Climbing a steep path, where a meagre stream trickles down, I found Rampion Bellflowers and tiny tangy wild strawberries, which no one else had thought to pick. Iberian Water Frogs (Pelophylax perezi) crouched invisibly in the grass around a small pool. Every time I moved, more would leap into the water and vanish, till it must’ve got quite crowded down there in the mud.
Vallvidrera is posh, but some of the houses near the path were built when this was no man’s land, and the crowing of cockerels mingles with Golden oriole song. A beautiful Comma butterfly (Polygonia c-album) was perched on a leaf, jagged as a jigsaw piece. Perhaps it was the same one I’d seen a few days before, puddling on the wet stones, and giving me a glimpse of the neat white mark on its underwing to which it owes its name.
As grass goes to seed, the slopes behind Sant Pere Martir are turning pale gold, the colour of summer. The bright yellow flowers of broom have nearly gone, and now it’s time for Scabious (Scabiosa atropurpurea). Its frothy purple-pink blooms are everywhere, on waist-high stems, leaves hardly to be seen, and usually with a butterfly attached.
Down in the valley bottom, rabbits rustled among the new crop of fennel that’s already taller than me. An insistent screeching made me think a new exotic bird had arrived in Collserola. Something large and yellow moved in a pine tree - a Golden oriole. Until then I’d only known their catchy whistles, which starlings love to mimic.
Nearly at the top of the ridge, as the sun dropped lower, I stopped to admire the spectacular Illyrian thistles (Onopordum illyricum) that have shot up like spiny candelabra. Hummingbird Hawk moths were zipping among the electric purple flower heads. I’d seen a man come armed with gloves, cut some selected stems and strip them of thorns with a knife. If the Devil grows them in his garden - in Spanish they’re called Cardo del Demonio - it’s because both stems and flower heads are edible.
Beyond the thistles a flock of bee eaters were on a late foraging swoop. The swifts were beginning to return. I noticed a Woodchat shrike (Lanius senator) on a dried up branch of old broom, its chestnut crown lowered as it dealt with its prey. It flew off with something pale in its bill, having left an egg shell spiked on a twig.
It was delicious to lie down on the track and feel the day’s heat stored there, in contrast with the cool evening air, and listen to the sound of swifts searing past. A rabbit popped out of the grass, and promptly jumped back again. A boar emerged, huffed indignantly and kicked up the dust.
Darkness was falling and the swifts were still swarming along the length of the ridge.
Collserola: Guided Walks
Barcelona, Birds, Collserola, amphibians, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona in June, Barcelona walks, Cardo del Demonio, Comma butterfly, Golden oriol, Iberian Water Frog, Illyrian thistle, Marbled white, Mediterranean flora, Polygonia c-album, Scabiosa atropurpurea, Scabious, thistles, vallvidrera, woodchat shrike|
Butterflies were everywhere – congregating by the river, fluttering over rippling grass, courting by the road side.
In the heat, they were busy “puddling”, looking for supplementary minerals wherever available, whether from sweaty skin, a metal rucksack zip . . .
. . . or from a pile of dung.
At the top of the valley, some of the terraced fields are still used to grow the knobbly and tasty “bufet” potatoes, shunned by restaurants for being too fiddly to peel. But most are now given up to broom and box, and grazing chamois, who run into the pine woods when disturbed. Flowers that thrive in dry stony ground have divided up the land – Junquillo Falso (Aphyllanthes monspeliensis), White Flax (Linum suffruticosum) or Hoary Rock Rose (Helianthemum oelandicum).
Other flowers were found at the sides of paths and roads in stunning isolation - Sword-leaf and Red Helleborines, and Bee and Woodcock orchids.
Walking down from Alzina d’Alinyà one day, the highest village in the valley, a column of Griffon Vultures formed. Those at the top were mere specks, at some unguessable height, while the lowest were clearly visible. One preened a wing while soaring, and white woolly heads turned to scan the terrain. Further back, we’d passed a comedero, where stripped carcasses lay among heaps of feathers: signs of a competitive and tumultous lunch.
During the day, Cuckoos called continuously up and down the valley, while at three in the pitch-black morning there was the surreal sound of Nightingales through the bathroom window. We found a Black Redstart nest inside a small chapel on a window ledge. Four white eggs lay on the soft downy lining.
Submerged in the hot butterfly-filled tranquility of Alinyà, it was easy to forget the world outside. From the valley rim you had views of the Pyrenees, with a few lingering streaks of snow, the Sierras de Cadì and Boumort, or Coll de Nargo, down by the river Segre. The heat was kept in check by storms, which could be seen forming over the Pyrenees before rumbling south. After the rain, mist would rise – small tufts at first, spun gold by the sun, and then in thick white clouds, mushrooming out of the ravine with incredible speed, and making me run for where I’d left my stuff while I could still find it.
More information on Alinyà here.
Note on Butterflies
After expert help from entomologist JM Sesma I can now identify the mating fritillaries as Mellicta deione, the Provençal Fritillary, and the one on the zip as Melitaea cinxia, the Glanville Fritillary. The butterfly on the dung is a Ringlet, possibly Erebia triaria (Prunner’s Ringlet) but impossible to be sure without a view of its upperside.
Birds, Plants, Trip reports, butterflies, pre-Pyrenees, weather | Tags: Alinya, Catalan pre-Pyrenees, Glanville Fritillary, Melitaea cinxia, Melitaea deione, orchids, Provençal Fritillary, puddling butterflies, vultures, Woodcock orchid|
There’s a moment in every good firework display when, after a steady build-up, all the remaining ammunition gets simultaneously used up in a single relentless climax, leaving spectators gaping in awe. That’s what’s happening on Collserola’s hill-sides at the moment.
From a distance you can already see the golden broom lighting up the slopes – Thorny (Calicotome spinosa) and Spanish (Spartium junceum). Honeysuckle (Lonicera implexa) weaves into the sky, inflated pink tentacles turning into white flowers. Lavender petals crinkle like crepe paper flames. Rock roses fire off flowers faster than the fragile petals are shed.
All this exuberance has shrunk the paths and you brush your way through, smothered in fragrance and pollen. A Southern white admiral (Limenitis reducta) was resting in the shade. Like a magpie, it looks black and white in flight, but, depending on the light, can suddenly turn deep blue.
Painted Ladies streamed up the hill, as well as Marsh Fritillaries (Euphydryas aurinia), whose markings seem drawn by hand.
All this splendour has a soundtrack of nightingales, singing their extensive repertoire. They stay undercover but don’t object if you stand near by and listen.
Collserola: guided walks
Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Barcelona walks, broom, Euphydryas aurinia, honeysuckle, lavender, Limenitis reducta, Lonicera implexa, maquia, meadow fritillary, Mediterranean butterflies, Mediterranean flora, southern white admiral, Spartium junceum|
In summer this small stony field overlooking the valley of Sant Just turns into a fennel jungle. In spring it’s a magic carpet of Sweet alyssum and Field marigolds, with scarlet poppies woven in. There’s a zest of fresh fennel as new sprigs sprout among the brittle sticks of last year’s crop. Painted Ladies (Vanessa cardui) spread their wings on the flowers, as flat as mortarboards.
On the grassy slopes nearby, light is glancing off the Cleopatra butterflies (Gonepteryx cleopatra) that float among the Crimson peas. I always hope that one will open up while feeding. They never do, of course, but on this sunny April day the male’s orange blush is visible through translucent wings.
Grey-leaved cistus is in flower everywhere, liberally scattering pink petals. Lavender is blooming alongside the thyme. Appropriately for Easter Monday, I find a Tassle Hyacinth (Muscari comosum). They’re known as Nazarenos in Spanish, named after the cone-headed penitents that march in Easter processions, often in sombre purple gowns.
Down a narrow shady path, periwinkles star the ground, filling every available space. Common Smilax has shiny new leaves and fresh tentacles, itching to cling. Glossy pale green leaves of Black spleenwort (Asplenium adiantum-nigram) loom out of the shadows. A wren scolds loudly, despite a beakful of nesting material.
Collserola: guided walks
Barcelona, Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Black spleenwort, Cleopatra butterfy, Fennel, Gonepteryx cleopatra, Mediterranean butterflies, Muscari comosum, Pained lady, spring Mediterranean flowers, Tassle hyacinth, Vanessa cardui, walking in Barcelona|
This winter Collserola’s open spaces were white with Sweet Alyssum. In February Dog Violets huddled together in the woods. By the beginning of March the horse paddocks were thickly edged with Wild Cary (Salvia verbeneca) and Field Marigolds (Calendula arvensis): a rich brocade of violet and yellow.
It was a focus for insect activity: lively Dappled White butterflies (Euchloe crameri) and large leaf-like Brimstones (Gonepteryx rhamni), Humming Bird Hawkmoths cruising from flower to flower in a haze of orange wings, bumping into the bees.
In the southern part of Collserola, the maquia is in full bloom and buzz: Tree heath, hung with diminutive white bells and Rosemary, whose dense blue flowers are popular with Cleopatra butterflies and fat Carpenter bees. The occasional bush of Mediterranean gorse has waited till the end of winter to explode in scorching yellow.
It’s time for the rock roses to flower, starting with Cistus albidus, whose fragile, fleeting pink petals soon drift to the ground. In the pine woods, Viper’s bugloss (Echium vulgare) grows at the side of the tracks. “Bugloss” is derived from the Greek word for ox tongue, referring to the rough texture of the bristly stem and leaves. The plant used to be recommended as a cure for snake bites, perhaps because its protruding stamen look like snake tongues.
Grass is flecked with Crimson Pea (Lathyrus clymenum), the flowers floating on barely visible stems. Like the other members of the pea family it has five petals: the prominent purple “banner”, two lilac “wings” folded over the two-petalled “keel”, where the stamens and pistil are kept.
While zigzagging up a sunny south-facing slope, following the disused terraces, I noticed a soft furry plant growing in the shade of some broom. It’s a species of Hound’s Tongue (Cynoglossum cheirifolium) with grey leaves and small wine-red flowers,
Exploring new paths one day, I took a wrong turning and found myself scrabbling through steep woods, the way increasingly blocked by fallen trees. Emerging hot and dishevelled, miles from where I wanted to be, I spotted something on the roadside.
The Giant orchid (Barlia robertiana) is quite a common species but a rarity in Collserola, where orchids are becoming extinct.
Collserola: guided walks
Barcelona, Collserola, Plants, butterflies | Tags: Barlia robertiana, Brimstone, Calendula arvensis, Cistus albidus, crimson pea, Cynoglossum cheirifolium, field marigold, giant orchid, Gonepteryx rhamni, hound's tongue, Lathyrus clymenum, Mediterranean flora, Mediterranean wildflowers, Salvia verbeneca, viper's bugloss, wild cary|
