Ohio Birds and Biodiversity

The view from the observation tower at Glacier Ridge Metropark, just west of Columbus. This, for me, is a local hotspot, being only 10-15 minutes from home, depending on traffic. But as is so often the case, I all too often shun local patches for places further afield and seemingly more exotic. Well, the deluges finally blew out last Saturday night and Sunday dawned with the promise of a dry day. I only had the morning to shoot, so what the heck thought I, I'll see what Glacier Ridge has to offer.

A lot, as it turned out. I scarcely left the meadow I started in, and within two hours tallied about 55 species, including some goodies. Nearly the first bird out of the chute was a Blue Grosbeak, singing away. That's a rarity in my neck of the woods. A platoon of Bobolinks gurgled their R2-D2-like melodies, and the dry trill of a Grasshopper Sparrow added ambience. Competing Willow Flycatchers loudly upchucked their sneezy FITZ-BEWS! Row houses of bluebird condos sported lots of Tree Swallows, which constantly issued pleasing liquid gurgles, and of course the Eastern Bluebirds provided pleasant husky warbles.

I threw the camera rig together, and stalked the perimeter of the meadow to see what I could photograph.

Before I even got out of the parking lot, my attention was drawn to the loud cheery whistles of an Eastern Meadowlark, teed up on an oak sapling. I greatly enjoy these quailish blackbirds, and began to move in his direction in the hope of obtaining some shots. Shortly after locking him in the Canon's sights, to my surprise a Red-winged Blackbird flew in and nearly landed on the lark. The shot above was taken right after the red-wing alit, and the meadowlark seems to be looking askance at the interloper.

Best as I could tell, the red-wing was only a foot or so away from the meadowlark, and just behind it from my perspective. That's why I could only get decently sharp images of the lark, as that's where I wanted my focus to be.

The meadowlark wasted no time in showing the red-wing who the king of the flutelike whistle is. While the lark had been singing before the blackbird arrived, its appearance seemed to prod him to greater musical heights. Senor red-wing listens, but does not seem impressed.

Once the lark clammed up, the red-wing puffed out his scarlet epaulets and let loose with a throaty CONK-AH-REE-ONK! It was as if he was telling lemon-boy who's the boss in this meadow.

Well! That last red-wing aria seemed to ruffle the meadowlark's feathers a bit, and moments after I took this shot he fluttered from the tree. While the dueling blackbirds' performance didn't last long, I was glad to be there to enjoy the interaction.

Were you seeking caterpillars, this wooded riparian corridor would be a great place to do so. Those of us that hunt caterpillars would likely follow in the footsteps of the birds, and search the foliage of streamside shrubs, trees, and various herbaceous growth.

Who would think to wade on in, and check submerged rocks for caterpillars?!

Here is the protagonist of this bizarre story, the showy little Two-banded Petrophila, Petrophila bifascialis. I first got turned onto these cool moths by David Wagner. He then astounded me by claiming that the moth is a jumping spider mimic! Yes, you read it right - a jumping spider mimic!

The moth is not even the size of your thumbnail, so we're talking pretty dinky here. Note the summit of the hindwings. They glisten with small colorful dots. Seen from the right angle, especially from the rear, those can look remarkably similar to colorful spider eyes.

But the real proof lies on the moth's mode of locomotion. CLICK HERE for an amazing video of this species, taken in Ohio by David and Laura Hughes.

Anyone familiar with the jerky rapid hopping gait of a jumping spider will quickly see the astonishing similarity in how the moth moves. Other species of moths do the same, and the aforementioned David Wagner and colleagues proved that they actually are mimicking jumping spiders. In the following video, they've put a metalmark moth (one of the other spider mimic moths) in a box with a real jumping spider. The moth's movements and bold displays of its eyespots spook the spider into submission. CLICK HERE to see for yourself.

Why would a moth evolve such a fabulous mimicry? No doubt because jumping spiders are voracious and abundant predators of small insects, including moths. If you rest on the upper surface of a leaf during the day, chances are good that sooner or later a patrolling jumper will come along and try to make a meal of you. But it's a lot less likely it actually will if you look like a bigger, badder jumper.

Well, this tale gets even weirder. At the recent Mothapalooza, Laura Hughes was kind enough to bring along some of the caterpillars of the Two-banded Petrophila moth. Laura is an aquatic ecologist with the Ohio EPA, and spends much time in streams. She also knows more about aquatic entomology than anyone I have ever met. Anyway, I had asked her if she'd capture a few Petrophila larvae the next time she encountered some, and let me make photos.

Voila! That's the beast above. While it may look large in the photo, it's really just a quarter-inch or so in length. The Petrophila caterpillar spins a tubular silken case on the rock, which is submerged in the shallows, and rasps algae from the rock's surface. The threadlike hairs are not hairs at all - they are filamentous gills that allow the caterpillar to harvest oxygen from the water.

Apparently the adult female moths will even dive into the water to deposit eggs on submerged rocks. While I'm sure there are underwater predators that occasionally take these caterpillars, they are certainly much safer from the legion of terrestrial predators such as birds, parasitoid wasps and flies, and other predatory insects.

You just can't hardly make this stuff up.

A lush prairie, teeming with colorful native wildflowers, stands in stark contrast to a lawn of empty emerald turf grass.

In 2012, I had had quite enough of looking out my office window and gazing onto a field of turf grass. For those of us into biodiversity, few substrates short of cement or tarmac could be more boring. So, I acted. I caught the ear of the people who manage our complex and its grounds, and in relatively short order a meeting was convened. Aided and abetted by some like-minded friends who also work at our Ohio Department of Natural Resources central office complex, we laid out our case for botanical diversification.

The powers-that-be were quite receptive, and now, at least on a third-acre or so, we have a vastly richer environment. I wrote a bit about this prairie's beginnings RIGHT HERE. I cannot thank the building and grounds managers enough for letting us act on this idea. Bob Kehres at Ohio Prairie Nursery was integral to the project, both in providing expertise and seed sources.

So, back in 2012 the entire area in the photo above was nothing but close-cropped turf grass. We planted in the spring of 2013, and saw results that very first year. The fledgling prairie was sparser in its inaugural year, but lots of colorful annuals sprang forth, beautifying our creation. Last year was better. More plants of more species emerged, and the overall vegetation grew thicker. Things were looking good.

I took the three photos in this post today, in between showers. I've been trying to thoroughly photo-document the prairie's progress, both in overall scope and in regards to the legions of insects and other animals that now use the site. The explosion of biodiversity has been fairly stupefying.

To me eye, that colorful patchwork of prairie is far showier than the lawn that preceded it. And it's a lot less maintenance. No mowing required. The first two years, some weeding was necessary to control some weedy species that in many cases were probably in the seedbank. This year, the prairie's third growing season, the amount of undesirable nonnative plants was probably two-thirds reduced from last year. The tough prairie plants are taking hold and outcompeting them. Before long, maintenance will mostly consist of just mowing the site once in early spring, prior to the growing season, and not much more.

Even though I've been there to watch our prairie mature, it still blows my mind that it could look like this in such short order. And it'll only get better. Both this year, and in the years to come. In general, prairies are at their showy best in July, so in the next few weeks it'll color up even more as more species come into bloom. As you might imagine, the flowering plant diversity attracts scores of pollinators and other interesting and valuable insects. An Indigo Bunting has even staked his claim on this prairie the past two years. We never had one stick around before. I should note that our office complex is in as urban an area of Columbus as one can find.

If you read this blog, you'd probably be interested in doing something like this too. I'm sure some of you already have. Here's a great tip to jumpstart your venture into native flora: Visit the Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton, Ohio on Saturday, July 25th. An impressive array of plant vendors will be present, peddling the coolest native flora imaginable. CLICK HERE to find a list of just some of the species that will be for sale. All are welcome, and pass the word.

If everyone planted a prairie, the world would inarguably be a better place.

North America's most iconic butterfly, a Monarch, refuels on nectar during its long journey south. This shot was taken last fall in a planted prairie that was nothing but turf grass three years ago. It now serves as a valuable way station for migrating Monarchs, and scores of other pollinators. This highly urban prairie patch will figure into the tale I'll tell next Wednesday evening.

The downward spiral of the Monarch has brought milkweed plants into a limelight they've never enjoyed before. That's because milkweeds serve as the host plants for the butterfly above - the only plants that the butterfly's caterpillars can eat. Nurseries can hardly keep the stuff in stock. The people have spoken - they want to protect Monarchs. Milkweeds are their ammo.

But milkweeds do FAR more than just service Monarchs. This Butterfly Milkweed, Asclepias tuberosa, is awash in Spicebush Swallowtails, with a few Great Spangled Fritillaries thrown in for good measure.

Next Wednesday evening, commencing at 7 pm., I am giving a talk entitled Milkweeds, Monarchs, and More at the fabulous Grange Insurance Audubon Center near downtown Columbus. CLICK HERE for details. It's free, and all are welcome.

The "and More" part of my talk title will be lived up to. Milkweeds host many other animals, a number of which only use these plants, such as this amorous pair of Red Milkweed Beetles. I will share many milkweed species, one of which is a stunning, state-endangered moth.

The bizarre spidery maroon flowers of a strange vining milkweed, Angle-pod, Matelea obliqua, a rarity in Ohio. It is the only representative of its genus in Ohio.

A whopping big milkweed is the Poke Milkweed, Asclepias exaltata. In sum, there are thirteen species of Asclepias milkweeds in Ohio, and it is a varied lot. However, to a plant they are all beautiful, and incredibly valuable to wildlife.

While showy butterflies garner the lion's share of attention when it comes to milkweed visitors, the plants probably attract more moths. We just don't notice, since many of their visits take place under cover of darkness. This tiny species is a Buck's Plume Moth, and they love milkweed nectar. They're so tiny as to be dismissed as a gnat or mosquito, if noticed at all.

Successful milkweed pollination is synced to powerful bumblebees; lesser creatures beware. This small wasp learned the hard way the perils of entering the sphere of a milkweed flower. It became entrapped, and perished.

I'm going to range through the interesting links between milkweeds and humans, show the varied species and what makes them tick, and discuss some of the fascinating animals whose fortunes are tied, in some cases inextricably, to milkweeds. And end it all with a cool example of something that anyone with a small plot can do to make the world a better place with milkweeds and prairie plants.

Hope you can make it! Again, CLICK HERE for details.

COLUMBUS DISPATCH

July 5, 2015

NATURE

Jim McCormac

…He was but as the cuckoo is in June, Heard, not regarded…

William Shakespeare (from Henry IV)

On a recent photographic foray to Glacier Ridge Metro Park, I had an amazing experience with one of our most enigmatic birds.

While in a meadow admiring bobolinks, I heard the loud junglelike call of a yellow-billed cuckoo. The bird was secreted within an isolated grove of trees. As I neared my quarry, it dropped from thick cover and headed across the meadow.

I issued my best cuckoo imitation, which caused the bird to pivot and return to the trees, giving me beautiful photo ops. In short order, it snapped off a twig and took it to a nesting site.

Yellow-billed cuckoos (and our other species, black-billed cuckoos) are far easier to hear than see. Although large — the size of a mourning dove — cuckoos typically remain concealed in dense leafy cover.

Cuckoos are late migrants, with many not arriving until early June. They have come a long way: Almost all spend the winter in South America.

One reason for the tardy return is their prey. Caterpillars, especially large ones, form cuckoos’ dietary staple. It’s best for the cuckoos to wait until the caterpillar crop matures before arriving to feast upon them.

To the caterpillar, having a cuckoo in the tree is akin to Freddy Krueger entering the house. Cuckoos are adept at locating caterpillars and making mincemeat of them. This is one of few birds that eat the hairy Eastern tent caterpillars that form silken nests in cherry trees. A ravenous cuckoo was documented downing 47 of these larvae in six minutes.

Cicadas are also a favored food. The emergence of periodical cicadas can stimulate localized booms in cuckoo populations. Much of eastern Ohio will experience a 17-year cicada emergence next year. There should be lots of cuckoos to exploit the bounty.

Cuckoos can become nest parasites. In addition to raising its own young, a female cuckoo might drop eggs in other birds’ nests. The unwitting surrogates then raise the cuckoos. Common hosts include catbirds, robins and wood thrushes.

It takes only 17 days for a cuckoo to go from egg to fledgling.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com

Yesterday, I engaged in a biodiversity-filled field trip to Adams County with three of my favorite people: Dave and Laura Hughes, and John Howard. Our main mission was to find unusual beetles, and that we did. More, perhaps, on that in a future posting (Don't hold your breath and turn red, though - I'm sitting on so much material I'll never get to it all). With this crew, I knew surprises would turn up, and they did.

We started the mission at Sandy Spring Cemetery and vicinity. This spot sits on a massive sand terrace of the Ohio River, and is fabled for rare flora and fauna. Those hills in the backdrop of the foggy photo (taken some time back) are in Kentucky; the mighty river lies between my camera's lens and those hills.

The elevated areas of the sand terrace are high, dry, and well-drained. The sands support an interesting community of xeric (dry-loving) plants, such as our only native cactus, prickly-pear, Opuntia humifusa. Far less conspicuous is rough buttonweed, Diodia teres. The plants stand but a few inches tall, and the tiny bluish-rose flowers hide in the leaf axils. Small as this plant may be, it grows in profusion and forms carpets over the sand in places. It may be a central figure in this story, too.

As we traipsed through sandy cactus-laden soils looking for velvet ants and whatever else, I was pleased to glance ahead and spot this magnificent caterpillar laying on the ground. We moved in, and quickly became baffled. None of us northerners could recall seeing anything like it, although we knew it was some sort of sphinx moth caterpillar.

This was no wee cat - the tubular beast was a few inches long, although it blended well with the sandy substrate. It, like most caterpillars, was also an eating machine. Note the fresh piles of frass - caterpillar scat - near its rear (left). I wonder if that frass might be the chewed remnants of the rough buttonweed depicted earlier. The buttonweed, or at least similar species in the same family, are known host plants for this species.

As caterpillars go, this was an intimidating one. Very much the snake mimic, apparently. When disturbed it would shake violently, furthering the intimidation factor. Such a ruse probably often works with would-be predators such as songbirds, and might even serve to shake away lethal parasitoid wasps and/or flies.

Anyway, it took little time to determine its identification once books were accessed: Tersa Sphinx, Xylophanes tersa. Small wonder none of us had seen one. This is a largely tropical moth, typically occurring from the southern U.S. south as far as Argentina.

This is what the adult Tersa Sphinx looks like, and the animal in this photo is the only one that I've seen. It appeared a few years ago at John Howard's night lights at his Adams County house, and he was kind enough to bring it along on a field trip so that we could see it.

Tersa Sphinx moths are well known for their migrations, which can bring small numbers far north of the usual range. Very small numbers appear in Ohio most years, but I did not think they were known to reproduce here. Obviously, based on our caterpillar find, they at least attempt to. I posted a photo of the caterpillar on Facebook, which prompted a few interesting responses. Bob Placier reported seeing a caterpillar in Hocking County a few years ago. And Sherri Werdebaugh encountered a few caterpillars in NW Ohio several years ago, but had reason to believe that they might have been imported on nursery stock.

In the case of our find, I wouldn't think there'd be any question that a free-flying moth deposited the eggs that led to this caterpillar.

Winged insects are proving to be hyper-responders to warming mean annual temperatures, with an ever-increasing cast of southern butterflies and dragonflies leading the charge. Southern and even tropical species are appearing far to the north of their "normal" ranges with increased frequency, or so it would seem. One might predict that this beautiful sphinx moth will become a regular part of Ohio's Lepidoptera before long.

A Blue Dasher, Pachydiplax longipennis, poses for the camera. While casing out sites for Mothapalooza field trips a few weeks back, I came across a beautiful pond in the depths of Shawnee State Forest. Its marshy verges were filled with dragonflies, and my attention was diverted to shooting images of the spectacular beasts. Blue Dashers are often about the most common dragonfly in such habitats, but I never tire of shooting them. The animal in the photo is "obelisking" - pointing the tip of its abdomen towards the sun to minimize heat absorption. Sometimes, on very hot days with the sun overhead, they'll stick their abdomen up until nearly vertical.

SNAKE ALERT: If you don't like serpents, AND somehow missed the title of this post, be aware. Snake photos to follow.

While shooting the dragons, I noticed that several interesting birds were close at hand, including a singing Yellow-throated Warbler. Wanting photos, I switched camera gear over to the 500mm lens, and put the whole affair on the tripod. As I stalked the warbler, I began to hear a strange call from the small creek that fed the pond. Certain it was an amphibian, but unsure as to what species, I wandered over to find the singer.

Well! Small wonder I didn't recognize the sound! A large Bullfrog had been seized by this Northern Watersnake, and was issuing soft plaintive bleats quite unlike its typical calls. I pivoted the big lens to this drama, and began snapping away.

The snake seemed to have a firm grip on its prey, but the frog was large and powerful enough to occasionally drag the snake about as it tried to escape. After about ten minutes of this (I'm not one to interfere in such affairs), the frog appeared to be tiring. Birds forgotten, I was determined to photo-document this tale to its end, whatever that might be. Although some snakes, apparently including this species, can dislocate their jaw and thus open the mouth to incredible proportions, I didn't see how the snake would ever manage to swallow such a large prey.

I never got the chance to find out. Finally, the frog lunged forward in a mighty burst, and shook free of its tormentor. It was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving behind a presumably hungry and frustrated snake. NOTE: When we came back to this spot the next day on the formal field trip, this snake (I would suppose) was in the same spot, hiding under streamside vegetation. It occasionally thrust out into the clear waters and grabbed minnows, so fear not, it wasn't going hungry.

Here's a short video of the frog-snake encounter. Turn up your audio and you'll hear the curious bleating sound given by the seemingly doomed frog.

Everyone likes to make nice photos, and nearly everyone has a camera these days. Even the simplest point & shoots are complex enough that many owners don't take advantage of nearly all of the tools embedded in the camera. Learning what makes the camera tick, and how to best exploit its assets, will allow the user to create much better images.

I'm pleased to be joining two truly outstanding photographers, David FitzSimmons and Art Weber, in conducting a photography workshop this fall: September 23-25 at Lakeside Chautauqua on Ohio's Marblehead Peninsula. Lakeside is well-named - it sits on the picturesque shoreline of Lake Erie. Those of you who attended one of the last four Midwest Birding Symposiums will no doubt have fond memories of Lakeside.

We'll cover lots of different subject material: landscapes, all manner of wildlife photography, macro work, flash photography, composition and more. Part of the time will be spent indoors going over techniques, equipment, composition, etc. via liberally illustrated lectures, and a good chunk of our time will be spent out-of-doors practicing. Subject matter abounds in that part of the world, and the field excursions will be a blast.

Photographers of all levels and camera types are welcome! Registration Information is RIGHT HERE. Read on for more information, and a few photos:

As always, click on the image to enlarge

Chestnut-sided Warbler

Birds always represent a photographic challenge, and we'll learn techniques for freezing the action. Of course, becoming a better nature photographer means learning more about natural history, and we'll do our best to find and learn about lots of flora and fauna. Plenty of migrant birds will be around during the workshop.

White-blotched Heterocampa caterpillar, Heterocampa umbrata

I take scads of shots under cover of darkness, as that's when an entirely different assemblage of animals emerges. Nocturnal work obviously requires expertise with flash, and we'll work with those techniques.

Rosy Maple Moth, Dryocampa rubicunda

Looking at subjects in alternative ways can yield some positively startling photos. Getting past "mug shot" basic documentary shots will really ramp up the quality of one's photos.

Spicebush Swallowtails, Papilio troilus

Composition is always important, whether it be a stunning landscape, a bird, a caterpillar, or butterflies sparring over favored nectar sources.

Again, for workshop details, GO HERE.

Precious little time to post, so here's some varied eye candy from two recent trips, with little commentary.

Juvenile Grasshopper Sparrow, Ammodramus savannarum. Tri-Valley Wildlife Area, Muskingum County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 500mm f/4 II + 1.4 teleconverter (700 mm focal length); f/7.1; 1/800 sec; ISO 250; no flash.

White form of Common Milkweed, Asclepias syriaca forma leucantha, Tri-Valley Wildlife Area, Muskingum County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 100 mm macro; f/4.5; 1/640 sec.; ISO 50; no flash.

Henslow's Sparrow, Ammodramus henslowii, Tri-Valley Wildlife Area, Muskingum County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 500mm f/4 II + 1.4 teleconverter (700 mm focal length); f/8; 1/1000 sec; ISO 200; no flash.

Halloween Pennant, Celithemis eponina, Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, Wyandot County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 180mm macro f/3.5 lens; f/11; 1/200 sec.; ISO 100; flash.

Bronze Copper, Lycaena hyllus, Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, Wyandot County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 180mm macro f/3.5 lens; f/11; 1/200 sec.; ISO 100; flash.

Sullivant's Milkweed, Asclepias sullivantii, Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, Wyandot County, Ohio. Canon 5D Mark III with 180mm macro f/3.5 lens; f/11; 1/200 sec.; ISO 100; flash.

Winged Loosestrife, Lythrum alatum, Killdeer Plains Wildlife Area, Wyandot County, Ohio. Canon 7D Mark II with 180mm macro f/3.5 lens; f/11; 1/200 sec.; ISO 100; flash.

Ominous skies boil over the prairies of western Indiana. It didn't take a meteorologist to predict an imminent monsoon, and sure enough, the skies soon let loose.

I finally made a long overdue trip to Kankakee Sands in Newton County, Indiana, to see one of the Midwest's most notable prairie restoration projects. This site is only about an hour south of Chicago, and my friend and Chicagoan Joyce Pontius bopped down to join me, and we were to meet up with Mike Homoya and Roger Hedge of the Indiana Department of Natural Resources. Mike and Roger wisely decided to cancel, as they had a long drive and the day looked like a complete washout.

But as fate would have it, the weather soon cleared and conditions became fine for exploration. Warm weather and mostly clear skies were essential ingredients for finding my primary target. More on that in a minute.

This region once was covered by a marsh so vast it was known as the "Everglades of the North". Tens of thousands of acres of wetlands interspersed with prairie and oak savanna that attracted clouds of migratory birds and hosted scores of breeding animal species among a dizzying array of plant species. It didn't take long for people to begin plundering the bounty of Beaver Pond, as the area was also known. Eventually the agriculturists set about attempting to drain the vast wetland, and by 1930 they had largely succeeded.

In the late 1990's, The Nature Conservancy got a rare opportunity to purchase a big chunk of this area, and dubbed it Kankakee Sands. They and many partners now own and manage nearly 8,000 acres, with the long-term goal of interconnecting and restoring 20,000 acres of former prairie.

Massive prairie meadows await the visitor, and they are rich in biodiversity. Birders go crazy here. Henslow's Sparrows are everywhere, as are Dickcissels. Blue Grosbeaks are easily found, as are several dozen other breeding birds. Plant diversity is huge, and includes several prairie species that don't quite make it as far east as Ohio. Many are rare in Indiana; all told, about 130 state-listed plant and animal species occur at the Kankakee Sands. We were fortunate indeed to stumble into one of the harder to find rarities: the Western Slender Glass Lizard, Ophisaurus attenuatus. This bizarre reptile lacks legs and is incredibly snakelike. I got some nice photos, and if time permits I'll write about the glass lizard later.

The primary objective was a gorgeous butterfly; everything else was gravy. As befits a huge prairie with lots of flowering plant diversity, there were butterflies everywhere. This is a Red Admiral, Vanessa atalanta, nectaring at the flowers of Buttonbush, Cephalanthus occidentalis. As you may have noticed, it's a boom year for them.

Summer Azures, Celastrina neglecta, were also everywhere. This one is also sipping from Buttonbush. This plant is a great native for the yardscape, especially if you like to draw in butterflies.

I don't recall ever seeing such a high density of Viceroys, Limenitis archippus. Wetlands and roadside ditches were full of various willows, which are primary host plants for this species.

A bit scarcer and much harder to find than the aforementioned buttonbush-loving butterflies is this, the Bronzed Copper, Lycaena hyllus. While large for a copper, it is still a tiny butterfly and they tend to stay low in the vegetation of wet meadows. Finding a few was nice, but out target butterfly is far rarer than this.

Yes! It didn't take long to find Kankakee Sands' most celebrated lepidopteran resident, the Regal Fritillary, Speyeria idalia. This is a big butterfly, near the size of the more familiar Great Spangled Fritillary, Speyeria cybele. Like the latter frit, Regals are extroverts and easily spotted.

We didn't see many Regal Fritillaries, perhaps 4-5, but I'm sure a higher tally could have been achieved by ignoring all of the other cool fauna and flora, and focusing on butterflies. This one is tapping nectar from Wild Bergamot, Monarda fistulosa, a favored food plant.

The Regal Fritillary has become a poster child for butterfly conservation, due to the species' alarming collapse. They used to occur in Ohio - many counties - but it has not seen for at least two decades, and is now considered extirpated. It's disappeared from perhaps 14 other states in its range, too. The Kankakee Sands population is the only one left in Indiana, I believe.

While no one knows exactly why the fritillary is disappearing, it's - like so many other declining rarities - probably a combination of factors. Death by a thousand cuts, sort of. Their host plants are various species of violets in the genus Viola, and those of course must be present. Viral infections have been implicated in diminishing isolated populations. In some areas, excessive use of pesticides may cause collateral damage to the fritillaries. Increased fragmentation of suitable prairie and meadow habitats has undoubtedly taken a toll - this is a species that seems to need large tracts of appropriate habitat. But the undeniable HUGE factor is outright loss of habitat. Over 99% of original Midwestern prairie has been lost, mainly to agriculture, but other types of development have also eliminated prairie.

Hopefully, restoration of prairies such as at Kankakee Sands can stave off the demise of iconic species such as the Regal Fritillary, and many other prairie-dependent animals and plants.

A palette of color, courtesy of some Grade A prairie plants, stretches as far as the eye can see at Prairie Oaks Metro Park in Madison County, Ohio. Franklin County Metro Parks has long been on a mission to restore big chunks of the former Darby Plains prairie, and their successes are there for all to see. We're fortunate indeed to have such a fine parks system in Central Ohio; a park system that thinks as much of native flora and fauna and natural ecosystems as it does ball fields, playgrounds, etc.

I was on a photographic mission in the prairies and fens west of Columbus today, and managed many keeper images of a wide-ranging cast of subjects. The scene above was a no-brainer; anyone armed with a camera would have stopped for photos. However, as I took the image above, to my back was a great prairie thunderstorm rolling in from the west. Shortly after making the image, I was forced into the car and beat a retreat to the building that's visible in the backdrop of this photo.

As always, click the pic to expand

Always one to make lemonade from lemons (or sometimes, at least), I saw the roofed, east-facing porch of my sheltering building as an excellent spot to try for some lightning images. Thor only knows enough of it was zapping down from the turbulent rain-filled skies, each strike followed by the loud booms of thunder.

So I grabbed my tripod, Canon 5D Mark III, the Canon 16-35 f/4 lens, and a remote shutter release and beat feet to the shelter of the porch. I had never tried shooting lightning, but sort of knew the principles behind it. I took a lot of images, but managed only this one keeper. Part of the problem was there was still too much light, despite the blackish skies. That meant it was hard to get a decently underexposed image with a super-slow shutter speed. After realizing this I rushed to the car to grab a polarizing filter, as that would kill a few stops of light. But by then, it was such a monsoon my filter got wet and I forgot to grab a soft cloth to dry it with.

Ah well - live and learn. Anyway, for those of you into photography, here's the parameters for this shot: Canon 5D Mark III with 16-35 f/4 lens set to 35mm, tripod-mounted and shutter tripped with remote release. F/22; ISO 50; shutter speed 1.3 seconds. The crazy settings were an effort to slow down the shutter speed as much as possible, with some intentional underexposure. I think lightning shooting would be much easier at night, and I look forward to trying.

Before I was forced to the building, I had a remarkably fortuitous experience with a female Ruby-throated Hummingbird. I was shooting this Royal Catchfly, Silene regia, with a 180mm macro, and experimenting with various exposures and angles. Shooting bright red flowers, and not blowing out the color, is harder than one might think. Anyway, as I was shooting I noticed this hummingbird rocket into the image just as I pulled the trigger. Voila! Not bad for some dumb luck. The bird took a quick pull of nectar and shot off, probably seeking shelter from the storm, too.

Royal Catchfly is one of the coolest native plants that can grace a garden. I will GUARANTEE that if ANY hummingbirds are in the neighborhood, they WILL be frequent visitors to your catchfly. This weekend's Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton will be awash in a diversity of excellent natives courtesy of our various vendors, and I'm sure someone(s) will be selling Royal Catchfly. If you can swing it next Saturday, stop by the conference and pick up some catchfly and other highly valuable native plants. Your yard, and the world, will be better for it. Conference details are RIGHT HERE. While the conference itself is long sold out, all are welcome on Saturday for the plant sale.

I interrupt the irregularly unscheduled programming of this blog to offer up a Public Service Announcement about a caterpillar that has been generating lots of questions and comments of late.

The fuzzy bag of goo in question is, as shown above, the caterpillar of the Hickory Tussock Moth (HTM), Lophocampa caryae. I've received more than a few queries about these hirsute white cats, and so have many others. Perhaps you've seen one or many yourself this summer.

While the HTM caterpillars are often seen alone and on the march, they are sometimes found twisting in the breeze, suspended by a silken belay line suspended from the overarching foliage. This probably happens when some leaf-going threat startles the cat and it drops from the leaves, catching itself in midair with its strand of silk. Or perhaps it is just (literally) hanging out. Some caterpillars avoid potential predators amongst the leaves by whiling away the time dangling aloft.

When seen marching across the ground, seemingly with a purpose, the caterpillar is probably near ready to enter the pupa stage and is looking for a good spot to build and secrete its cocoon. HTMC's overwinter in their cocoon phase, hidden in leaf litter.

In their early instars (growth stages), HTM cats are conspicuously gregarious. As they mature, because they're feeding in close-knit quarters, the caterpillars can cause noticeable leaf damage. Even so, the defoliation is usually limited to a small section of whatever plant it is that they're feeding upon. I found the animals above last Sunday snacking on an oak, and even though the cats were plentiful, their damage was quite localized.

HTM cats are highly polyphagous - they can and will eat nearly any type of woody plant. Oaks and hickories seem to be preferred, though. It's common to find a resting group tightly packed together and nearly covering the entire lower surface of a leaf. The cats above, which I also found last Sunday, were on Flowering Dogwood, Cornus florida.

This species has distinct boom and bust years, and at least in central Ohio this is decidedly a boom year. Rare would be the trip afield, right about now, where a sharp-eyed observer would not see some HTM caterpillars. Nothing to be alarmed at, though, as they'll not do any lasting damage to the trees, at least insofar as I'm aware. But do be aware, sensitive people can receive a rather nettlelike rash from handling the caterpillars. The effects are normally mild and fade fairly quickly. A good rule of thumb with caterpillars is to NOT HANDLE them, especially hairy or spiny species. Many species, such as this one, are armed with stinging hairs as a predator deterrent.

The mortality rate of HTM caterpillars is extreme, and only a tiny percentage of the crop will make it all the way through to the adult stage. Those that don't become food for legions of predators, thus playing a pivotal role in the vast and complex food web. The ones that do make it through the entire life cycle will become the beautiful animal above: a Hickory Tussock Moth.

The crowd at last weekend's Midwest Native Plant Conference gathers for Friday night's keynote, Don Leopold. This was the 7th year for the conference; the 6th at Bergamo Center on the grounds of Mount St. John in Dayton, Ohio. It sells out every year, and this year it took only about 30 days after registration opened to fill all 175 slots.

The conference is a boatload of work, and the planning committee deserves kudos. They are: Karen Arnett, Yvonne Cecil, Yvonne Dunphe, Judy Ganance, Ann Geise, Teri Gilligan, Scott Hogsten, Ned Keller, Randy Lakes, Diana Malas, Jim McCormac, Kathy McDonald, Cathy Plum and Debi Wolterman. A special thanks to our partners, Marianist Environmental Education Center (MEEC) for assisting us in hosting this event: Don Geiger, Leanne Jablonski, Michele Banker and Tara Poling.

We try to bring in the best speakers possible, and this year the cast was exceptional. They were: Kenn Kaufman, Don Leopold, John Magee, Michele Banker, Cheryl Harner, Erika Galentin, Jason Larson, Bethany Majeski, Hal Mann, Carol Mundy, Judith Nastally, Lisa Rainsong, Elisabeth Rothschild, and yours truly. A big thanks to all of the field trip leaders, and everyone else who had a role in the conference.

Huge thanks to all our sponsors as well. CLICK HERE for a listing.

A big part of the conference are the vendors. We want everyone to go away with armfuls of native botanical magic to stick in the ground. This is vendor's alley, in front of the Bergamo Center. Between everyone that's there to sell, an enormous diversity of plant species can be had. I'm sure it is the greatest selection of native plant species assembled anywhere in the state, and you'd probably have to go for a fair bit beyond the state's borders to find anything comparable.

CLICK HERE for a list of this year's vendors, and get some good plants from one of 'em.

Strange and interesting things always seem to occur around the vendor's wares. Last year, a pair of mating Honey Locust Moths turned up on someone's potted Helianthus decapetalus sunflower that was for sale. This year, Jan Hunter of Naturally Native Nursery approached me with a small Cylindric Blazing-star, Liatris cylindracea, that was for sale. That was cool in its own right, as this little blazing-star is rare in the trade, and also rare in the wild on Ohio. But what was even cooler was the little strings hanging from a leaf, with tiny sacs hanging from each thread. They are the eggs of a Green Lacewing, an interesting predatory insect that likes to attack and eat aphids.

This little beauty stole the show, although she chose this moment to yawn at the photographer. Yvonne Cecil found a Ruby-throated Hummingbird's nest in a Honey Locust tree practically over the sidewalk in front of Bergamo Center. It was only about ten feet high, and easily seen. She was incubating eggs - an apparent second nesting - and as word spread, more people came to see her. The hummer cared not a whit, and despite all of the activity below, she diligently cared for her clutch. I bet well over a hundred people got to see their first hummingbird nest thanks to Yvonne's discovery.

We always have hikes on Mount St. John's 160 acres of grounds, which sports a great array of native plants thanks to almost three decades of effort by Don Geiger. It is the season for second broods, and we found a nest of Mourning Doves on one of the walks. She was tending to two squabs, one of which is practically underneath the adult and not visible in this photo. Of course, I don't know what brood this might be for the dove this year - they are prolific nesters and have been documented breeding in every month of the year in Ohio.

Scott Hogsten brought his mothing gear, as in year's past, and set up near the building. He lured in lots of cool stuff on both Friday and Saturday nights, including this Orange Wing, Mellilla xanthometata.

The night hikes are always popular. All we have to do is walk out the front doors of the Bergamo Center and we're soon finding lots of interesting things. Dozens of people scouring the landscape with flashlights usually turns up some noteworthy animals, such as this showy Feather-legged Fly, Trichopoda pennipes.

Lisa Rainsong and Wendy Partridge help with the night hikes, which is fantastic as they are experts on the Orthoptera, or singing insects. Perennial crowd-pleasers are the coneheads, and they didn't disappoint this year. Above is a Sword-bearing Conehead, Neoconocephala ensiger. I think some people think we're pulling their leg when we tell them about these big bullet-shaped katydids with the funny names. But they're quite real, and after one of these nocturnal forays everyone has a much greater appreciation for coneheads.

Sunday concludes with field trips to one of the nearby prairies, wetlands, or woodlands. Experts who know the sites well lead these, and it's a great immersion in natural history. I lead the trip to Cedar Bog, and we always find lots to look at, which is not hard at this place. Cedar Bog has perhaps the richest botanical diversity of any similar-sized site in Ohio, and that spawns lots of animal diversity, such as this Gray Treefrog, Hyla versicolor.

To date, the Midwest Native Plant Conference has raised over $50,000, which has been awarded to worthy conservation organizations in Ohio. This year's recipients were Cedar Bog, the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy (for their Sunshine Ridge Corridor project), Beaver Creek Wetlands Association, and the Marianist Environmental Education Center.

Next year's Midwest Native Plant Conference will be held, once again, at Bergamo Center and the dates will be July 8, 9, & 10. Hope to see you there.

A Spicebush Swallowtail, Papilio troilus, pulls nectar from the blossom of a Pinxter-flower azalea, Rhododendron periclymenoides. A rival flutters in from the left, and it displaced the other butterfly a second later.

I made this image back on May 15 in Shawnee State Forest, Scioto County, Ohio. The azaleas were in full bloom, and offered irresistible photo subjects. It didn't take long to see that swallowtail butterflies were drawn to the blossoms in large numbers, and soon those became the target of my lens.

Pinxter-flower is a rare plant in Ohio, with an official designation of threatened. Just to roil the botanical waters a bit, there is a very similar species, the so-called Roseshell Azalea, Rhododendron prinophyllum. The latter differs in its shorter stamens and pubescent undersurfaces of the leaves. At one time they were lumped (rightly so?) as varieties under one species, Rhododendron nudiflorum.

The blurry taxonomy of this beautiful azalea is not the point here, anyway. Its pollination is. A few weeks after I shot this photo, and observed numerous swallowtails pillaging the pinxter-flowers, an interesting paper came out from a researcher at North Carolina State University. Biologist Mary Jane Epps, along with colleagues Suzanne Allison and Lorne Wolf, published a study entitled Reproduction in flame azalea (Rhododendron calendulaceum Ericaceae): A rare case of insect wing pollination.

In this paper, Epps et al show how the wings of swallowtail butterflies can span the large gap between the anthers (pollen structures) and stigma (female flower part) of azalea flowers. Close examination of the wings of swallowtails showed that pollen granules did indeed adhere to the butterflies' scaly wings, and if swallowtails were excluded from visiting azalea plants, pollination rates plummeted. Smaller pollinating insects just cannot bridge the distance from anther to stigma, and transfer pollen from anther to stigma. The large fluttering wings of swallowtails are perfect for the job.

While the target of Epps' research was Flame Azalea, it should be noted that that species is very similar structurally to Pinxter-flower and it would seem likely that the same pollinator requirements come into play. As a footnote to plants in the genus Rhododendron, the species with deciduous leaves are the azaleas; those with leathery evergreen leaves are generally called rhododendrons.

For those into photography, I made the image using my bird rig: Canon 7D Mark II mounted to Canon's 500mm f/4 II lens, on a tripod. Shooting the butterflies posed a topographical challenge. The best, most floriferous azaleas were on very steep slopes and it was nearly impossible to ascend to them and balance one's self on the loose soil near the plants. So I discarded the idea of using close-range macro gear and just set up the big rig on a flat stable surface by the road below. Worked like a charm, and I was able to get better images than I would have with the usual macro setup. This would only work well on the largest butterflies such as swallowtails. I'll stick with macro gear for lesser butterflies.

A beautiful Song Sparrow, Melospiza melodia. A very successful songbird, Song Sparrows can be found in all manner of places throughout their expansive range. For many readers, this will be one of the first birds that one hears upon exiting the abode in the morning. Yet they occur in the wildest of places, and every sort of situation in between.

I've got plenty of Song Sparrows around me, and common as they may be, I seldom overlook the shy little songsters. Back on May 15, I only had a few hours to get out and so I went over to a nearby park with plenty of biodiversity. As I stood quietly along the boardwalk, the melodious little animal featured in these photos hopped to a nearby branch, and engaged in a vigorous bout of preening.

Although he was only about 25 feet away, the sparrow ignored me and set about cleaning and straightening his feathers.

Preening in songbirds, as you may have noticed, is often accompanied with ferocious spasms of shaking. The reason for the intensity of the feather ruffling may be due to the little white dashes in the air around the bird. Click the photo to enlarge, and you should be able to see them. I suspect the airborne particles are feather mites, and violent shaking amid the preening may serve to dislodge some of the parasites.

More of the presumed feather mites drift from our bird, as he comes out of the shakes.

Even while busily occupied with grooming, the sparrow cannot help himself and pauses to deliver a beautiful melody.

Careful preening entails all sorts of gymnastics, including rubbing one's head along a rough branch. Judging by the sparrow's slack-jawed gape and lolling tongue, that must feel pretty good.

I won't even attempt an interpretation of this pose. Looks a bit like he's flashing a gang sign, though.

Back to some energetic feather ruffling.

I love to shoot birds as they preen or otherwise fidget and shake. Rather than set my shutter speed to something lightning fast, like 1/4000 which would freeze everything, I sometimes prefer a much slower speed. This image was at 1/1000 - fast, but not nearly enough to completely stop the bird's motion. But we end up with a beautiful swirl of feathers, as if the bird is moving in the photo. Note the eye and head, though - sharp. Always aim for the eye when shooting animals.

The preening session nearly concluded, our sparrow fluffs his feathers to truly rotund dimensions.

And back to singing he goes.

Coneflowers and wild bergamot add color and earth-friendliness to a former lawn.

Patch of prairie outperforms lawn

COLUMBUS DISPATCH

August 2, 2015

NATURE

Jim McCormac

Turf grass blankets 40 million acres in the United States.

That’s an area three times larger than our largest national park, Wrangell-St. Elias in Alaska.

It takes 8 billion gallons of water to irrigate all that grass — daily. That much water would fill more than 12,000 Olympic-sized pools.

More than 30 million tons a year of fertilizer keep the emerald carpets lush. Mountains of pesticides ensure that pesky bugs or unwanted weeds don’t despoil the lawns.

Pampered grass requires lots of cutting, and Americans’ mowers suck up 800 million gallons of gas a year. The fleet contributes almost 10 percent of our air pollution.

Lawns are little better than cement in fostering biodiversity. They are biological dead zones.

All of this is mostly for aesthetics. The manicured lawn is perpetuated by peer pressure and lack of imagination. We can do better.

In spring of 2012, we eradicated one-third acre of turf grass at the Ohio Department of Natural Resources’ headquarters in Columbus (where I work). The site was seeded with a mixture of native prairie plants.

The results, just three years in, are stunning.

This planted prairie is a riot of color. The blossoms of prairie coneflower and oxeye sunflower create a yellow tidal wave. Jots of purple and magenta stipple the prairie, courtesy of purple coneflower and wild bergamot. Prairie grasses add architectural majesty, and there are many other species of plants.

We have spawned a biodiversity factory. The meadow is awash with nature’s ultimate pollinators — bumblebees — and legions of other pollinators: flowerflies, moths, beetles and more. I’ve tallied about 25 species of butterflies thus far.

Monarch butterflies use the prairie as a way station in their long migrations. Some pause to lay eggs on the milkweeds. The fledgling prairie has already contributed monarchs to the world.

Interesting predators lurk among the flowers, capitalizing on the burgeoning populations of lesser insects. Tiny citrine forktail damselflies pluck bugs from the foliage. Massive green darner dragonflies juke about overhead, seizing victims on the wing. Cute jumping spiders pounce on wee prey, and gargoyle-like ambush bugs sit frozen in flowers, awaiting victims.

This food factory hasn’t gone unnoticed by the birds. Song sparrows dart into the prairie to grab caterpillars to feed their nestlings. American goldfinches seemingly burst with elation at the huge seed crop. Their joyful tunes are a constant part of the prairie’s soundscape. An indigo bunting has moved in the past two summers; the electric blue songbird winters in Central America.

The site is a thousand times more interesting than when it was a grass monoculture.

Help the planet, and pulverize some lawn. Replace it with prairie plants or native shrubs and trees. It’ll make the world a better place.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch the first and third Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jim
mccormac.blogspot.com.

The flower of an Ox-eye Sunflower, Heliopsis helianthoides, is bookended by the old heads of Gray-headed Coneflower, Ratibida pinnata. The shot was taken today, in the planted prairie that I wrote about in my last post, HERE.

While taking a call today, I wandered out of the office and over to the prairie. Multitasking - talking, listening, and looking for cool bugs. I'm seldom disappointed with even the briefest of forays into our new prairie, and today was no exception. While on the call, I spotted an exceptionally nice specimen of one of our coolest caterpillars, and once through with business grabbed some camera gear and snapped some shots.

A robust - last instar, no doubt - Camouflaged Looper, Synchlora aerata, snacks on the anthers of the disk flowers of the aforementioned Oxeye Sunflower. That'd be the cat's head on the left with mouthparts busily intaking nutrients. It goes without saying that its hind end with its two sets of anal prolegs is at the right. This is an inchworm, thus the body loops high in the air.

What is so cool about the cam-loops ( as they will be known in the remainder of this post) is how they adorn their bodies with bits of plant parts scavenged from the plants that they feed upon. Old anthers, petals, phyllaries - somehow the cam-loops lift them into position and affix the debris firmly in position. The end result is a caterpillar ghillie suit, and it serves to hide the animals remarkably well. Indeed, many - or at least some - avid and experienced caterpillar hunters lament their lack of cam-loop sightings. I'd bet they walk by more of them than they realize.

Cam-loops can be surprisingly common. Finding them is just a matter of keying into their peculiar habits, and training one's eye to look for anomalies on flowers. If the anomaly moves, you can be pretty sure you'll have a cam-loop.

While cam-loops may feast on other types of flora, I only know them from members of the sunflower family (Asteraceae). The cam-loop in the photo above is feeding on Gray-headed Coneflower.

This is the first cam-loop I ever found, and it was eating Wing-stem, Verbesina alternifolia. I was actually photographing the Wing-stem flowers, when one of them moved. Voila! My first cam-loop. I learned a profound lesson from this inaugural experience: give more than a passing glance to the disk flowers of members of the Asteraceae. Adhering to that rule has netted me many a cam-loop in the intervening years.

Here we have a cam-loop, largely unadorned. It's in the disk flowers of a Purple Coneflower, Echinacea purpurea, and must just be getting started with the floral makeup job. I'd love to see what it looks like after decorating. And yes, I'd also like to know the identity of that little beast hiding just left of the caterpillar. I didn't notice it until I reviewed the image much later.

This cam-loop is doing well on Tall Goldenrod, Solidago altissima, and has dressed itself to match.

In spite of incredible skills at camouflage, cam-loops have many enemies and some are good at ferreting them out. This is a female wasp in the genus Lytopylus. She is stabbing her ovipositor deep into the disk flowers of an Orange Coneflower, Rudbeckia fulgida, and some poor caterpillar is the recipient of her sting. I didn't tear into the flower to see, but the victim may well have been a cam-loop. The wasp is actually laying eggs on its target, upon which the wasp larvae will feast.

I'm sure plenty of other caterpillar-hunting wasps, spiders, ambush bugs, assassin bugs, songbirds and more make regular meals of cam-loops. But one MUST give the cam-loops credit for trying, and an A for creativity.

Should a cam-loop run the predatorial gauntlet successfully, it will ultimately morph into this little beauty - the Wavy-lined Emerald moth. This little jewel-like wonder should be a welcome addition to any property. But to get them, one must start by planting native members of the sunflower family.

I beached myself in Dayton, Ohio last night, arriving in the hometown of Orville and Wilbur Wright late in the evening following a trip to Indianapolis. Rather than punch through to Columbus, I figured I'd arise early and spend a few hours exploring one of my favorite places the next morning before returning home. Cedar Bog is located at 980 Woodburn Road, a few miles south of Urbana and an easy 45 minute drive from Columbus.

Everyone, and I mean everyone, needs to visit Cedar Bog. It is probably Ohio's most fabled natural area, and as we shall see, interesting life forms abound. It isn't really a bog - it's a fen! - but let's not belabor ourselves with details. I've written about this place numerous times. If you scroll down the alphabetized list of subject matter on the right side of this page, and click on Cedar Bog, you'll see those past posts.

The entire scoop on Cedar Bog can be had RIGHT HERE. If you visit, or have visited, or are thinking about visiting, or like nature, BECOME A MEMBER.

While driving down the entrance drive to Cedar Bog, I heard birds galore, even this late in the season. I noticed a pair of busybody House Wrens had occupied a martin house and were working on cranking out a second brood. Nearby Black Cherry trees dripped with ripe fruit, and Gray Catbirds and Cedar Waxwings were sneaking about plundering the trees' larder. A Yellow-billed Cuckoo yelped mournfully in the distance, Eastern Kingbirds teed up on snags, and further down the boardwalk an Eastern Screech-Owl whistled away, forgetting its nocturnal habits momentarily.

As I worked at photographing the wrens, I noticed this battle-weary Eastern Tiger Swallowtail. Given the frayed and tattered condition of her wings, it's amazing she can still fly. Nonetheless, the butterfly hopped energetically about the flowers of Prairie-dock, Silphium terebinthinaceum, avidly seeking nectar.

Although I don't directly feature any in this post, Cedar Bog is incredibly rich in plant diversity. In fact, one could argue that it hosts the richest plant diversity of any comparably sized site in Ohio. There are scores of rare species, and when one gazes over one of the fen meadows, most of the plants in view are rare in the state.

Butterfly numbers and diversity were exceptional on this rather hot and muggy day. I enjoyed watching this male Zabulon Skipper as it used the flowers of a Spiked Blazing-star, Liatris spicata, as a perch. Any other butterfly that dared fly too close was aggressively chased - the "Zab" was probably hoping one of them would prove to be a female of his kind.

Common Wood-Nymphs, Cercyonis pegala, were everywhere. These largish butterflies often stay low in the grasses and sedges, thus I was pleased when one chose to rest briefly on the colorful flowers of a blazing-star.

The vining Virgin's-bower, Clematis virginiana, was in full bloom and I always give more than passing attention to the flowers. It paid off as I was rewarded with this tiny day-flying moth. It is a Spotted Thyris, Thyris maculata, and in this case the nut does not fall far from the tree. A major - if not THE major - host for this species is plants on the genus Clematis. The moths are easily missed as they bear an astonishing resemblance to bits of dead plant debris.

Never to be ignored are Cedar Bog's two rarest Odonates. This one is a male Seepage Dancer damselfly, Argia bipunctulata, and they are having a great year. I saw scores throughout the open fen meadows. Common as it may be at Cedar Bog, there are few populations in Ohio and Seepage Dancer is listed as endangered.

The other endangered dragonfly is the Elfin Skimmer, Nannothemis bella. I find them much scarcer than the previous species, and generally much harder to find and photograph. This is the male, resplendent in a coat of powder-blue. The female looks entirely different - black and yellowish striped, and quite wasplike in appearance. These truly elfin dragonflies are so small that the uninitiated, if they noticed them at all, would almost certainly not recognize the skimmers as dragonflies.

I was pleased to see a number of Phantom Craneflies (genus Bittacomorpha) flying about in the shady gloom of the swamp forest areas. Their wafting, buoyant flight is aided by tibial flanges that give them more lift. Seeing one in flight is a mind-bending experience. It resembles a flying kaleidoscope, but its blanco-negro patterning is excellent disruptive coloration and the insect quickly "disappears" when it enters the shadows. I would have liked to work them harder for photos, but the mosquitos drove me out. Take bug spray when exploring Cedar Bog. Although, the open fen meadows were not mosquito-plagued at all - only the shady wet woods.

After my two hours were up and I was packing away gear in the car, I took a glance at a patch of prairie plants near the parking lot. There sat a gorgeous Gray Treefrog, Hyla versicolor. I find these small treefrogs irresistible subjects, so out came the camera again. This has been a boom year for treefrogs, perhaps because of all the rain.

So, all that and much more in a brief few hour ramble down Cedar Bog's boardwalk. The place never fails to provide interesting subjects.

If you've attended any of the past Midwest Birding Symposiums, you'll recall what a blast they were. Ohio played host to the past three MBS's, at picturesque Lakeside on the shores of Lake Erie. It's time for this biennial event to pull up roots and shift to another state, but it's not going far. Bay City, Michigan, has hosting honors this year, and MBS takes place from September 10-13. Come for some, or all. The complete conference scoop is RIGHT HERE.

Your narrator (R) with Doug Tallamy in what is certainly Michigan's most iconic bird habitat, the elfin Jack Pine forests of the northern Lower Peninsula. Doug is the Saturday evening keynote, and I could not think of anyone better for the role. While renowned as an entomologist and leading advocate of using native plants to foster animal biodiversity, Doug is huge into birds. That's why we were in the jacks last May, and why Doug was armed with his massive black Nikon bird rig.

Not long before the previous photo was taken, we had shot images of the "Jack Pine Warbler", more precisely known as the Kirtland's Warbler, Setophaga kirtlandii. In three days of exploration, we saw scads of other bird species that inhabit northern Michigan, and I won't be surprised if Doug works some of them into his talk.

MBS also attracts a who's who of birders from around North America and beyond, and attendees will be hearing from many of them. Get the complete agenda RIGHT HERE. It promises to be a great time, with lots of interesting presentations and field trip opportunities. Hope to see you there, and again, GO HERE for the details.

A fluorescent lichen glows on a tree trunk, late last Thursday night. It is Pyxine subcinerea, which fluoresces quite brightly under a black light, which is exactly what it's doing here. Expert lichenologist Ray Showman was holding the light so that I could make the image. In a fit of good lichen luck, its sister species, Pyxine sorediata, is just to the left (the slightly larger round lichen crust in the upper lefthand corner). It does not fluoresce. Lots of strange and interesting things are visible at night.

I was down in Vinton County, Ohio last Thursday to speak to the Four Seasons Garden Club, which Ray's wife Carol hosted at their lovely home. While that was fun, I saw an added opportunity. Thursday night's skies were to be totally clear, the moon was new, and it was the tail end of the Perseid Meteor Shower. All the conditions were prime for astrophotography. Vinton County is also one of the least populated (the least?) counties in Ohio, so ambient light pollution from towns and cities is much less than in most areas.

As Carl Sagan might have said, billions and billions of stars speckle the sky. After Ray and I spent time exploring, had an excellent dinner courtesy of Carol, then poked around a bit after nightfall, I crashed for a few hours. I was back up at 1:30 am and outside to set up the camera rig and try shooting for the stars.

The night sky at this spot was breathtaking. The Milky Way was clearly visible, its myriad stars forming a hazy smear across the night sky. Various constellations and planets popped in sharp relief, and an occasional satellite would move rapidly across the ether. In all, I was out for about 3.5 hours, watching, and making occasional shifts to the camera gear. A nearby Yellow-billed Cuckoo called often, usually delivering a soft truncated series of junglelike kowlps. I wasn't surprised to hear it - cuckoos routinely call at night. It may be that they're actively hunting, as caterpillars are a major prey source and most caterpillars are far more active at night. At one point, an Eastern Screech-Owl created a series of spooky whistles, and I heard distant Coyotes.

As always, click on the photo to enlarge

Catching meteors flaming out as they streak across the sky is largely a matter of luck. I saw dozens, but most were too far to really show up in my images. A few, however, did. Several fireballs did shoot by and were spectacular, but they weren't in my camera's field of view. I would have had a killer shot, but blew it in a total learn from your mistakes experience. After a few hours, I switched to a very fast 70-200mm f/2.8 lens, set to 70mm focal length. This greatly reduces one's chances of capturing a meteor as the field of view is much smaller than the wide-angles normally used. But if one does streak through the field of view, you'll likely have a really cool shot. And one did, and it WOULD have been an amazing image. Except, I forgot to turn off the lens's auto focus, and image stabilization when I mounted it. Not doing so means the camera hunts and pecks and everything is blurred. Including my meteor image. Duh. Well, I hope I won't be making that error again.

A composite of 152 images stitched together, which encompassed slightly over an hour of night sky, creates a swirling vortex of star trails. Polaris, the North Star, is at the center of the vortex. Because Polaris is at due north, it appears stationary in the sky, while the other stars appear to rotate around it. The dashed line running diagonally across the lower lefthand corner is a jet trail. I thought I was going to get through the entire hour-long shoot without a plane flying across, and I cursed when I saw it coming.

For these shots, I used my Canon 5D Mark III tethered to Canon's excellent 24mm f/1.4 lens. This a major go-to lens for shooting astrophotography, because the aperture opens so wide and allows lots of light to reach the camera's sensor. The 24mm focal length is fairly wide-angle and captures a nice swath of night sky.

A tripod is utterly essentially for these supremely long shoots and long exposures. As is a remote shutter release that locks in place so that the shutter keeps firing continuously until you make it stop, or the battery dies, or the memory card fills. My shutter speed was set to 25 seconds, and the aperture was set to f/1.6. The ISO was at 400. Before locking down the shutter and letting her run for an hour or so, it's essential to take a few trial single exposures and tweak the settings. Also, framing the sky is important and not that easy to do. I use an app on my iPhone that identifies the major stars and constellations. By holding its map of the night sky over my camera barrel like a gun sight, I can be sure of what I'm looking at as I frame the shot. Make sure your lens's auto focus and image stabilization is TURNED OFF. Also, I set my white balance to tungsten, as I like the slightly electric-blue cast that it gives celestial objects.

I made a short video which is a compilation of all 152 images which went to make the previous photo. For some reason, YouTube won't let me embed it right now, but you can see it RIGHT HERE. If you watch the video in full screen mode, you'll see a number of distant meteors shooting by in various directions. A real scorcher shoots right through the screen near the end.

Dueling blackbirds

An underwater caterpillar!

A gorgeous prairie - in no time flat!

Milkweed program - Wednesday, July 8, Grange Insurance Audubon Center, Columbus.

Cuckoos have come back from far southern climates

Tersa Sphinx, reproducing in Ohio

Snake attacks frog!

Photography Workshop: September 23-25

A potpourri of recent observations

A truly Regal Fritillary

Brutal thunderstorm, and hummingbird photobomb

PSA: Hickory Tussock Moth caterpillar

Midwest Native Plant Conference 2015

Swallowtails key to azalea pollination

Song Sparrow, preening

Patch of prairie outperforms lawn

Camouflaged Loopers

A brief ramble through the bog

Midwest Birding Symposium approaches!

Meteors and star trails