The onset of winter.

[Mark Walker]

Todd Stout once wrote that, because of burnout from the long collecting
season out west, he tends to give up on local lepping sometime in August.  I
know exactly what he's talking about, and have relatively few specimens from
places I've lived with dates after late July.  That was even true during my
years in Vermont, where the collecting season didn't even get started until
mid-May.  I did very little collecting in August or September, and I missed
a few great bugs on account of it.

Of course, things totally change when you get to go someplace other than
where you live during the Autumn months.  I've been blessed to visit
Arizona, New Mexico, Nevada, Washington, Oregon, Texas, Florida, Mexico,
Jamaica, Puerto Rico, and even Malaysia during the Autumn months - and I've
never had any trouble swinging my net as a visitor.

Back home in San Diego, I've really been dragging my feet the past few
months = and our season is not yet over there.  I often snoose as the fall
broods begin flying in California.  But now I find myself on the eastern
coast of the United States, where the fall has already set in, and I've
found the urge to look for butterflies simply irresistable.  I wonder what
that is all about?

So on Saturday under cloudy skies I explored some wild areas in southern
Rhode Island, and today, with a cooling trend setting in, I hiked some
trails in New Jersey's Pinelands under mostly sunny skies.  While the
specimens encountered are all considered "junk" bugs, I still found it
fulfilling to be out swinging a net and examining what might be
participating in the last flight here.

Next weekend I'm looking forward to visiting Ron in South Carolina.  Ron
admitted that he didn't do much local collecting this late in the season,
but since I'm a visitor and am therefore not bored by the _local_
collecting, I'll do my best to drag his butt out into the bushes - well, you
know what I mean.  I'll also have to show him the Phyciodes that I took from
New Jersey, since I now have no idea how to id them };>)

Kingston, R.I. - 10/2

Colias philodice
Colias eurytheme
Pieris rapae
Lycaena phlaeas
Everes comyntas
Nymphalis antiopa
Polygonia comma

New Lisbon, N.J. - 10/3

Colias eurytheme
Phyciodes tharos?
Pieris rapae
Everes comyntas
Junonia coenia
Pyrgus communis

Mark Walker
visiting Edison, N.J.

-----Original Message-----
From: owner-leps-l at lists.yale.edu [mailto:owner-leps-l at lists.yale.edu]On
Behalf Of Neil Jones
Sent: Sunday, October 03, 2004 7:31 AM
To: tils-leps-talk at yahoogroups.com; leps-l at lists.yale.edu
Subject: The onset of winter.


"Season of mists and mellow fruitfullness" that is how one poet described a
British autumn. Well he didn't live where I do. Here in South Wales we say
that if we can see the English coast across the sea it is going to rain. If
we cannot it is because it is raining. It rains a lot here, in Welsh we have
to use the word for "to strike" to say it is raining. Today I cannot even
see
the nearby mountains. Winter is fast approaching.  I rather suspect he poet
had consumed the brewed products of the mellow fruit before writing the
poem.

Last week however was a different story. A trip down to Dorset in the sunny
south of England was a little better. At Butterfly Conservation's HQ in
Lulworth,  haunt of the rare Lulworth Skipper, the small butterfly garden
was
full of fluttering life. Painted Ladies and Red Admirals abounded and we
were
able to watch a Hornet eating a hoverfly. One of my colleagues had the
foresight to bring his digital SLR camera and was able to take some
pictures.

The highlight for me was the Hummingbird Hawkmoth (Macroglossum
stellatarum).
on the Buddleia. This is a migrant from Europe and although it isn't that
rare I had never seen one in the UK until 2003. Just bad luck I suppose.

This was my second specimen seen  of the year. The earlier one being at the
National Botanic Garden of Wales

There are some lovely poetic names for butterflies in Welsh.  The
Comma( Polygonia c-album) is "Adain Garpiog"  (Ragged Wings) and the Ringlet
( Aphantopus hyperanthus) is "Iar fach y glaw" (The little hen of the rain
or
rain butterfly) It will fly in the rain which is rather a necessity living
here, or at least it feels that way today.

Perhaps our friends from warmer climes can entertain us with sightings from
places where the cold wet of winter does not dampen the enthusiasm.

--
Neil Jones- Neil at nwjones.demon.co.uk http://www.butterflyguy.com/
"At some point I had to stand up and be counted. Who speaks for the
butterflies?" Andrew Lees - The quotation on his memorial at Crymlyn Bog
National Nature Reserve.



 ------------------------------------------------------------

   For subscription and related information about LEPS-L visit:

   http://www.peabody.yale.edu/other/lepsl




 
 ------------------------------------------------------------ 

   For subscription and related information about LEPS-L visit:

   http://www.peabody.yale.edu/other/lepsl