Challenge of Nature Photography - Part 1

This week I’ve been nominated by Sean Foote for the ‘Challenge on Nature Photography’ (basically posting a nature photo a day and explaining the story behind it) – Sean’s a brilliant naturalist from Portland, in Dorset (check out his blog here: http://theportlandnaturalist.blogspot.co.uk/ ) who I was lucky enough to spend some time with this summer. I’d like to say that we exchanged a great deal of knowledge on all matters natural history, but in reality, it was mostly my jaw growing slack in amazement as he identified Micro moth after micro moth with an ease that I didn’t imagine it was possible for mortal man to possess – I learnt a lot!

Anyway, my first photo is of a butterfly called the Apollo (Parnassius apollo), and the story behind the photo, is, for me, a long and painful one. I first caught up with this enigmatic and beautiful creature during a holiday in the south of France in 2012, and despite several hours of frantic pursuit in thirty degree heat, never got close enough for a photo.

Haunted by my failure, and frustrated by how close I came to an audience with this magnificent beast (one actually flew past my face, so close that I could hear the rustling of those enormous papery wings), I was desperate for a second chance. It was, therefore, with great delight, that I embarked on a holiday to the Alps in 2014, deep into the heart of Apollo country.

They often say that those who do not remember History are doomed to repeat it, and so it was for me, when I decided to take my only butterflying opportunity of the trip to seek my quarry once more with temperatures in the high twenties, and once again, the Apollos, emboldened by the heat, refused to land.  

Having to admit defeat once more galled me, but like a lepidopterist Captain Ahab with a white and red –winged Moby Dick, I refused to give up, and so it was that 2015 saw me returning to that same woodland glade in the Alps. Having learnt from my mistakes, I set aside a cloudy afternoon to finally put the Apollo obsession to bed, and, third time lucky, the Apollos, like good little ecotherms, were forced by the cloud to bask on warm rocks to stay active, presenting me with excellent photo opportunities, and a job well done.

When you’ve seen an Apollo in the wild, it’s easy to understand why they’re so gripping, like an alpine Purple Emperor, they seem perfectly suited to their domain, skimming, almost effortlessly on gossamer wings over verdant meadows. With a grace unmatched by any other butterfly that I’ve seen (even, dare I say it, the Scarce Swallowtail), and huge, snowy wings, they are the quintessential Alpine butterfly, and certainly deserving of their name, with all its divine connotations.

Sadly, they’re now endangered across much of their European range (spanning most of the continent’s higher areas), thanks to the habitat change that human encroachment is causing in Alpine areas. To compound this beautiful creature’s misery, like many mountain species preferring cooler climes, it’s likely to be adversely affected by climate change.

Fortunately though, the obvious charisma of the Apollo is beginning to attract efforts to conserve it, and the future, for now, seems secure – long may it remain so, so that others can be frustrated, amazed and delighted by it too!

Apollo in Apollo heartland