10%

Butterflying

High summer gems in the Dordogne

By Nick Gates

August 20^th, 2019

BUTTERFLYING

verb. The act of searching for butterflies. A bit like bird-watching. But better.

If you find yourself with a long weekend spare in the summer, you can't go wrong with a trip to the Dordogne. Hosting 120 butterfly species - a half of France's total - this region boasts extraordinary butterfly numbers that are near impossible to find in the UK. Early British lepidopterists wrote about seeing 'clouds' of butterflies in our fields, something few keen naturalists would believe today. Yet there are still places where you can wander in Europe and find these fabled clouds. The Dordogne is one.

A mixture of low intensity agriculture interspersed between native forestry and healthy numbers of wild herbivores has created this jewel in the French butterfly crown. Small herds of near-organic cattle roaming on mixed wildflower pasture, dozens of low intensity arable farms and a superb local market culture has helped keep this region far wilder than most. The results are butterfly-rich wildflower pastures, wonderful flooded meadows and small local villages alive with squadrons of reeling swifts and hirundines. The wood pastures and sweet chestnut coppices are interspersed with rides and fire-breaks, regularly uprooted by sounders of boar and delicately nibbled by nervous roe deer - ever aware of the Sunday chasse which seasonally harvests this wild meat from the land. The whole system sings and brims with rare orchids, butterflies and birds; a real-life demonstration of the power of a mixed mosaic habitat.

Where to start?

The first thing to know about butterflies is that they are quite particular about when they fly. Not just the weather - you'll rarely find any on a rainy day - but more specifically the time of year. Certain species have evolved to hatch early in the season, timed to locate the peak growing periods for their caterpillar host plants. Others have multiple generations across a single season. Whilst researching what I might come across on my June visit I came across a brilliant website by a superb naturalist called David Simpson. "Dordogne Butterfly Watching" is a one-stop-shop for any naturalist visiting the region, and David also provides guided tours for most species found in the Dordogne. He's put together a valuable resource for anyone going butterflying in the Dordogne - a full species list and flight chart which he has kindly made available via his website. If you're visiting the Dordogne, I highly recommend getting in touch with David for a guided tour.

Wildflower heaven

Once you've decided on your locations - and to be honest, you'll be hard pushed not to see interesting butterflies across the whole Dordogne - it's worth swatting up on your wildflowers. In June, the orchids are in full flower. It was exciting walking through pasture meadows and along roadside rides knowing that at any point I might come across a bee orchid, a clump of ragged robin or even a salsify clock. For the dedicated botanist, far rarer gems can be found. Just around the small farmhouse we were staying in I managed to track down at least four different orchid species. though by June they were well one their way to setting seed and nearing their last heads of flowers. If you're really into your orchids, be sure to check out one of the more bespoke Dordogne tours, such as that offered by Honeyguide around Castang.

A bee orchid - found across the region in low intensity meadows, cattle pasture, along open woodland rides and even on roadside verges

Ragged robin - a specialist of damp meadows

Fabled Clouds

It's hard to explain what a cloud of butterflies looks like without actually seeing it for yourself. But I'll try. On our first morning in the Dordogne - as excited as a young child heading to the sweet shop with a whole 50 pence - I opened the curtains to a blisteringly sunny day, the early morning light piercing through the shutters; having already burnt off any morning fog that had settled in the valley. As my eyes adjusted to a stunning view over the small hay meadow behind the house, I blinked a few times to try and refocus the shimmering haze bouncing off the grasses. I've been fortunate never to have needed glasses, but this morning my eyes couldn't seem to focus. The meadow was moving, but there was no wind. I closed one shutter, went to find my binoculars, and re-calibrated. Through the binoculars, the scene unfolded into a clearer picture. Everywhere I looked there were dozens of marbled whites, all slowly warming up their wings and taking short hopping flights onto a new stalk as their bodies absorbed the infra red, kick-starting their metabolisms. Dropping the binoculars revealed hundreds of monochrome wings everywhere I looked, all gently swaying under their own energy. Across this small meadow there was at least a butterfly every square metre; I was probably looking at nearly a thousand marbled whites.

Shifting baselines

Therein lies the sad thing about butterflying in Britain. This is such a rare sight, that so few people have seen, that we have entirely forgotten that it ever existed in our own grasslands. Our grandparents and great grandparents were the last generation in Britain to see this. Now, shifting baselines mean we get excited if we see more than five marbled whites on a butterfly walk. That would be considered a conservation success. When one lone individual turned up in my own small wildlife garden last year I was ecstatic.

The good news is that this decline is entirely reversible, but it requires landscape-level conservation change and a mindshift in how we - and particularly grassland managers - approach mowing. For many years the idea of nutrient stripping has been used to justify June and July mowing, in the process destroying vast swathes of nectar and flattening recently laid eggs and tiny caterpillars of so many of our butterfly species. Yet the same old mantra is preached, with those behind it adamant that next year it will be better. Early-flowering species do return the next year - but it's no wonder that the butterflies and other grassland pollinators simply go locally extinct. Both Plantlife and Butterfly Conservation now advise against blanket mowing to nutrient strip - yet it is strange how much it persists in well-meaning conservation circles. Re-seeding yellow rattle - a hemiparasite of grasses - is a far better solution to suppress strong grass growth and allow a diverse mix of flora to flourish. This is the solution nature came up with, and as might be expected from the fine-tuning that evolution generates, it is one that actually works.

wood whites

Another species fast disappearing in Britain is the wood white. This delicate species, with its dainty, fluting flight has the air of a day-dreaming wanderer, the Luna Lovegood of the butterfly world. Amongst the meadows of the Dordogne in June, this is the most common species of white - far more frequently encountered than even large or small whites. Yet between 1976 and 2014 this species declined by a staggering 89% (The State of the UK's Butterflies 2015) in Britain.

We're told that this is a woodland ride specialist, and most of the conservation efforts here in the UK have gone into widening rides in which these butterflies can fly. But this, in my opinion, is missing the point. What did this species do before woodland rides were even a thing? Why is it thriving in the deciduous woodland pastures of the Dordogne yet rapidly disappearing from apparently comparable habitat here in Britain? My own theory is that the answer is provided by another group of species long gone from our own woodlands, but that thrive in the low intensity landscape of the Dordogne. Big herbivores; our long extinct megafauna.

grazers, browsers and disruptors

The effects of herbivores on the landscape were often overlooked by the early conservation movement. Fortunately, we are now starting to see a return of this free and arguably infinitely better labour, for free-ranging herbivores smashing and crashing their way through habitat do a far better job of replicating just this than humans with scythes and secateurs.

The holy trilogy of herbivorous engineers are cattle, horses and boar. Combined, their feeding habits create almost every micro-niche available in woodland and grassland. Both Isabella Tree in Wilding and Benedict MacDonald in Rebirding make this case emphatically. When they are allowed to join forces with deer - much maligned in the UK as they are often present in far too high densities - and beavers, the resulting mosaic of grasslands, wood pasture, disrupted ground, fragmented woodland and wet coppice meadows that they create fuels the European biodiversity engine.

On smaller reserves where livestock just aren't possible, I like the idea of teams of volunteers working in small groups, each labelled as a specific disruptor for the day. 'Team Boar' would be armed with small spades and shovels, tasked with stripping back the surface few inches of soil in random marginal patches. 'Team Deer' would seek out young saplings self seeding in meadows, and remove the top two thirds of them. 'Team Aurochs' would have to shuffle around as a Roman-esque testudo, keeping a close formation to create cow-sized breakages through the undergrowth. You get the idea.

Here in the Dordogne, a healthy population of wild boar, alongside a high demand for local beef, well-managed wild deer stocks and the odd farm pony have ensured that most of the vital ecological roles provided by these large herbivores are still present.

Small herds of cattle generate millions of flies. Across its lifetime a cow supports thousands of flies, fuelling rich ecosystems.

Fritillary heaven

If you're into fritillaries, the Dordogne won't disappoint. At least 19 species are found here (in the UK we have just eight) and various species are on the wing from April through to October. In the area around our accommodation I was finding Weaver's, heath, spotted and knapweed frequently.

butterfly heaven

Everywhere you travel in the Dordogne, as long as the sun is shining, you'll find butterflies. Even if you can only make it for a quick weekend trip - it's well worth the effort. From common species through to some of Europe's rarest species, you never know what might turn up on each trip.