BUTTERFLIES IN THE VALAIS
[To the Editor of the SPECTATOR.] SIR,—When descending the hill-side of the Bovine our atten- tion was drawn to a group, of beautiful butterflies hovering and clustering. about, the. trunk of. a fallen pine. As we had remarked on the absence of animal and insect life in this part or the Valais, the sight of so many _butterflies congregated together could not but arrest us. .
What attraction drew them here ? The trunk of the old pine appeared in noway to differ from that of hundreds of similar ones along the forest edge. Yet that , some. common design animated the movements of the butterflies was obvious- They were of several kinds, among them three Red Admirals and . at least _ one. Camberwell Beauty —a perfect specimen. This could not be a feeding ground ; there were no flowers near, nor did it. seem that the butterflies sought shelter here from enemy attack, nor were, they assembled merely to sun themselves on the warm patches of bark, for on settling they instantly closed, thus displaying the harmony of the under- part of their wings, with the object on which they, rested.
The effort of them all appeared to be the obtaining of a position as far as possible on the, underside of the tree:trunk, and this the Camberwell Beauty succeeded in doing although the long grass into which the tree had fallen made the manoeuvre difficult and threatened damage to its beautiful wings. Finally we left the spot with the problem still un- solved. Scarcely had we done so than heavy drops of rain began to fall, though the sun still continued to shine. Soon after. .the sky darkened and a heavy thunder-shower broke unexpectedly upon us.
Some over-mastering instinct had apprised the butterflies of the coming deluge and had drawn them to the one spot where the fallen tree projecting over the mountain side offered them shelter. This instinct in the butterflies seemed all the more remarkable in view of the fact that the question put to the guide, a local Valaisan, as to whether rain was likely had .drawn .from him a shrug of the shoulders and a cryptic " Qui sail ? "—I am, Sir, &c.,
HILDA NOTT.
Grand Hotel des Alpes, Champex.
Previous page
