Ominous Buzzing
It's a rainy and overcast day in Cairns today. On days like this, butterflies tend to be less active. I will therefore take some time to stay indoors and keep writing about my continuing journey into the world of moths and butterflies.
What do butterflies do when it rains? What secret and intimate moments are we missing of their lives? After all, the amount of time we spend observing a butterfly is but a minute fraction of its entire life cycle, from egg to adult (the same can be said about birds - and, come to think of it, most living things). This is partly what gives me the thrill of observing, photographing and identifying these creatures: it's a special moment in time.
Allow me to bring you back to Woolgoolga, coastal New South Wales, in early 2022. Living in a small town like Woolgoolga offered great benefits to me as a birder and naturalist, mostly due to the proximity and ease of access to pristine natural places. As I discussed in the previous entry, my passion for birds had started to broaden considerably to now include other living things I was encountering on my outings. One site that I frequented regularly during 2022 was a lake on Newman's Road, in the outskirts of town. The birding was excellent here, but it was also a key location that cemented my interest in butterflies, and insects generally. I vividly remember photographing a male Varied Eggfly (Hypolimnas bolina) as well as a Monarch (Danaus plexippus) in the same patch of low-lying vegetation on the other side of the lake. I was subconsciously drawn to their fascinating way of moving and their erratic flight pattern - so unlike that of birds - and I enjoyed how close I could get to them. I was excited to be able to know exactly which species these were thanks to iNaturalist.
Varied Eggfly (male) (Hypolimnas bolina)
At this same site, I had also started paying attention to the dragonflies that zipped past me as I stood on the lake's edge looking for birds. To my great excitement, I discovered that dragonflies too could be identified at the species level - again, thanks to iNaturalist. I managed a very nice photo of what I learned was a Fiery Skimmer (Orthetrum villosovittatum), perching momentarily nearby. I now know this specimen was a male given its vibrant red colour (the females are a dull green-brown). The distinction between the two sexes was obvious when I also obtained a photo of a mating couple.
Fiery Skimmer (male) (Orthetrum villosovittatum)
Fiery Skimmer (male and female mating) (Orthetrum villosovittatum)
Aside from this lake (which was a 3-minute drive from home), my other regular haunt was the woodland of Arthur's Gap, which I referred to in the previous entry. It remains a special place to me, as I never crossed paths with anyone there. I would park the car along the unsealed road that passes over the gap, and then follow a track that branched up to a higher elevation. The track then levelled out, before then descending again across a number of creeks and streams. It was along this track that I made many fascinating observations and experienced high levels of peace, serenity and calmness; there was a rock I used to sit on for lengthy durations, just breathing and listening to the sounds of the wild.
There were some beautiful butterflies along this track, and I spent lots of time trying to capture good photos of them in order to identify them once I got home. I recall being particularly attracted to the Orange Ringlet (Hypocysta adiante), a small species that tended to like staying near the ground on the track. The Varied Dusky-Blue (Erina hyacinthina) was another species that I saw and photographed with much satisfaction.
Orange Ringlet (Hypocysta adiante)
Varied Dusky-Blue (Erina hyacinthina)
However, perhaps my most memorable and significant observation along the Arthur's Gap track was not of a butterfly, but of a species of fly belonging to the Family Asilidae (Robber Flies). I was walking back down the track toward the main road when I heard a deep, somewhat ominous buzzing sound coming from behind me to my right. I turned and immediately located the source of the sound: a huge flying insect that I initially took for some sort of gigantic wasp or hornet. It flew about rather laboriously and in a buoyant, swinging manner; it was not very fast (perhaps due to its size, I suppose). The fly alighted on the trunk of a tree and the buzzing stopped, leaving a sort of subdued silence, as if the other critters in the area knew that they should not make themselves known in the presence of this insect behemoth. I approached slowly and cautiously, and kept my movements smooth so as not to disturb the resting fly. When I was as close as I dared (I am actually rather afraid of big insects like this one; afraid but fascinated), I snapped some photos and admired the form and size of this amazing creature. I then retreated carefully and headed back to the car. I was eager to get home and upload my photos and observation to iNaturalist, so that someone could identify what I had seen and photographed.
I was not disappointed. Sure enough, shortly after I posted my photos online, the fly I had seen was identified as Phellus olgae (as is the case with the vast majority of fly species, it has no common name - but I have seen it referred to online as the Giant Robber Fly). The thrill of this discovery was amplified by the fact that there are only a handful of iNaturalist observations of this species (11 at the time of writing), and that it seems to be quite an uncommon species. I posted the photos on an Entomology Facebook Group, and one of the experts responded to my query about the rarity of this species: "I think it's often difficult to assess the rarity of insects due to undersampling, but this one does seem to be a relatively uncommon species, with not many records online. Probably not as rare as the records reflect though". I have learned that Phellus olgae is one of the largest flies in the world, with a wingspan of up to 75mm. I have also learned that they seem to like being around She-oak tree trunks, which is possibly what my specimen was resting on when comparing the photos to others online.
Phellus olgae
The north-eastern region of New South Wales was a fabulous place for a young naturalist like myself to explore and venture into the world of butterflies (and insects generally), but I wouldn't remain there much longer after the above observations took place. Still, there is some more that I can show you from this part of the world that relates to my passion for butterflies and moths - the amazing Order Lepidoptera. Next time on The Butterfly Waltz, expect moths!
G Thomas Doerig
5 March 2023
Cairns
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