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Ohio Sustainable Landscapes Symposium - September 12

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If you're reading this blog, you probably like plants, and enjoy learning more about how plants spawn animal life. The Ohio Sustainable Landscapes Symposium is for you. Mark your calendars for Saturday, September 12th, and prepare for a pleasant trip to one of the Midwest's premier plant collections, the beautiful Dawes Arboretum near Newark, Ohio. They've lined up an excellent slate of speakers, lecturing on a useful array of topics. You can see all of the details in the flyer below.

I recently wrote about the installation of an urban prairie and the resultant massive spike in biodiversity, RIGHT HERE. That article, first published in the Columbus Dispatch and reprinted on this blog, generated a ton of interest. I was fairly inundated with emails asking "how-to", and sorry if I've not yet responded. If you are interested in diversifying your landscape with native plants, this is the conference for you. If one of the speakers isn't talking about the particular subject that interests you, someone in the collective brain trust in the room will have your answers.

The Ohio Sustainable Landscapes Symposium is an outstanding opportunity to learn more about creating more environmentally-friendly patches of turf, on any scale. Hope you can make it. CLICK HERE to register.

Click picture to enlarge

Click picture to enlarge

Some shorebirds, at Funk

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Mudflats and shallow pools blanket the landscape just south of Funk Bottoms Wildlife Area in Wayne County, along the north side of Wilderness Road. An active peat mining operation has temporarily created good shorebird habitat, and reports of shorebirds have been coming in from this area for a few weeks. Last Sunday, I was finally able to get to this spot and observe some waders, and make a few images.

Great views of the birds can be had from the dike running along the east side of the wetlands, but a spotting scope is highly useful. The photography conditions are OK, but not great. For the most part, unless you are armed with Canon's 800mm lens, most birds are a bit distant for really excellent images. That, compounded by a less than desirable angle of view stemming from standing atop the dike, means that only the closest birds can really be nailed well. I was shooting with my 500mm with the 1.4 teleconverter on a Canon 7D Mark II 1.6 crop sensor camera, and still didn't like most of my results of the often too distant birds. Another issue with shooting distant shorebirds on broiling mudflats on baking mid-summer days is the heat waves between you and your subjects. The closer one can be, and the less cropping that needs to be done to the photos, the better.

But shoot the birds on their terms, and that means not impinging too closely and causing them to flush. Most of these animals have come a LONG way, and don't need the unnecessary hassle of some photographer spooking them. Many shorebirds can be quite tame and confiding, and with a bit of patience one can let them approach on their own terms. That's how I got these shots - by waiting quietly in good locations, and letting birds eventually settle into my side of the wetland.

A Lesser Yellowlegs, Tringa flavipes, appears to engage in interpretive dance in the backdrop. The pair of Wilson's Snipe, Gallinago delicata, seem unimpressed. By mid-August, southbound shorebird migration is picking up steam. Many of the sandpipers and plovers that we see this time of year nested FAR to our north, even in the high reaches of the Arctic. They get but one crack at pulling off a nest. If something causes their nesting attempt to fail, the adults often just head back south. Some southbound adult shorebirds can appear here by early to mid July.

Mid to late August migration sees the overlap of adult and juvenile birds, too, which makes for great study. The snipe on the left is a brightly colored juvenile resplendent in a fresh coat of feathers. The other snipe is an adult. Its feathers are duller and more worn. In general, especially as concerns the shorebirds that breed in the far north, the adults return in advance of the juveniles.

A Least Sandpiper, Calidris minutilla, flutters to balance in deep muck. These tiny sandpipers are one of the so-called "peeps", which can be frustrating to identify as the various species look similar. The Least Sandpiper is one of our most common peeps, along with the Semipalmated Sandpiper. Don't let their diminutive appearance fool you. These are tough birds, breeding where the Polar Bears roam. Ohio is but a temporary way station on their very long migrations.

While I was standing in an especially nice spot, this graceful Lesser Yellowlegs was kind enough to fly in to the closest shore and set about preening itself. That behavior allowed me to capture some interesting poses.

A highlight was several Baird's Sandpipers, Calidris bairdii. This is another of the aforementioned "peeps". Baird's Sandpipers are never particularly common in Ohio, and the chance to study one at close range is always gratifying. This individual is a juvenile, as evidenced by its prominently fringed feathers and neat adobe earth coloration. At least two others were present during my visit.

This animal weighs little more than an ounce, but it is one of the world's champion migrants. Baird's Sandpiper nests in the highest reaches of the Arctic, and winter in southern South America. Some of them travel over 9,000 miles between summer and winter habitats. Conservation and appropriate management of wetland stopover sites is of vital importance to successfully protecting populations of birds such as this species. CLICK HERE for a brief essay that I wrote about the value of mud, and the possible roles that long-haul migrant shorebirds such as Baird's Sandpiper may play in the distribution of certain plant species.

Those wings are made for flying! Of the five regularly occurring "peep" sandpipers in Ohio (Baird's, Least, Semipalmated, Western, White-rumped), two have exceptionally long primary flight feathers. This juvenile Baird's Sandpiper was good enough to stretch for my lens, revealing its super long wings that extend well beyond the tail. It and the White-rumped Sandpiper literally travel from one end of the earth to the other each year, and both species have evolved the long wings with greater surface area to help them achieve these incredible journeys.

In a few short weeks, this sandpiper is likely to be foraging in a wetland near Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. The annual movements of shorebirds around the globe is truly one of the marvels of avian migration.

A morning spent slaying dragons

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Jim Lemon scans for dragonflies along an old quarry in Champaign County, Ohio. Lemon, a former IT guru returned to his entomological roots, made an outstanding discovery here last year. He found the state's first record of an exquisite dragonfly known as the Swift Setwing, Dythemis velox.

This is a southern species that has been actively expanding its range northward. Nonetheless, prior to Jim's find, the nearest populations to Ohio were about 200 miles south and west, in southern Indiana and adjacent Illinois.

As soon as I heard about these setwings, I wanted to see them (of course!). It never worked out last year, but finally, yesterday was the day. I met Jim at 9 am, and we spent a few hours chasing setwings and finding many other dragonfly species in the process.

These forays often become natural history free-for-alls, and we pointed our cameras in the direction of non-dragonfly points of interest. This stunning critter is the caterpillar of the Brown-hooded Owlet Moth, Cucullia convexipennis. Trust me, the adult moth is completely outshined by its larva. BHOM's eat asters and goldenrods, primarily. This one is snacking on Tall Goldenrod, Solidago altissima.

A Long-jawed Orbweaver, Tetragnathus sp., lies in wait along the petal of a Wing-stem flower, Verbesina alternifolia. These slender spiders have impossibly long legs, and when in hiding they stretch them fore and aft, and blend remarkably well with their surroundings.

It was dragons we had come to hunt, though, and mostly that's what we shot. Almost immediately upon exiting the vehicles, we noticed virtual swarms of Autumn Meadowhawks, Sympetrum vicinum, in the grasses. This species is sometimes known as the Yellow-legged Meadowhawk, a name which requires no explanation.

All but three of the images in this post was shot with Canon's fabulous 180mm f/3.5 macro lens. This is basically a telephoto macro, and it allows the shooter to stay back far enough that spooky subjects often are not flushed. It was connected to the Canon 5D Mark III, and rigged with Canon's Twin-Lite setup. Settings for this shot were f/11, ISO 200, and 1/200 shutter speed. I frequently tweak flash intensity on the commander module mounted to the camera's hot shoe, but usually have it turned down one or even two stops, so that it is basically providing fill flash.

Blue-ringed Dancers, Argia sedula, abounded. These little damselflies forage amongst grasses and other low vegetation, plucking tiny insect victims from the foliage. On hot days, such as this one, they can be a challenge to stalk as they're prone to flushing easily - always, it seems, just as one as ready to trip the shutter. This image is a classic "mug shot", showing the animal from a nearly perpendicular perspective, so that everything from eyes to abdomen tip is in focus. Dragonflies and damselflies are also fun to shoot head-on, to emphasize the huge eyes. This image was made with the exact same settings as the previous one.

The quality of the background of an image is known as the "bokeh", which is a Japanese word which basically means "blur". Note how the out of focus area of this image - the backdrop - is a rich blurred green color. It is mostly uniform, and does not distract from the targeted subject. That's what a quality lens can do - create pleasing bokehs. The photographer (should) soon learn to assess backdrops, though. If there is some whitish branch or other dissonant distraction that conflicts with the overall color of the backdrop, it will somewhat mar the photo's overall quality. You can see that in the images that bookend this one. With a keen eye for backdrop, the photographer can sometimes adjust his/her angle to eliminate distractions, or physically move them from the field of view. However, when working with living creatures on their terms, this is not always possible and one must make the most of the situation that is presented.

We saw a couple of Ruby Meadowhawks, Sympetrum rubicundulum. Males are stunning with their brilliant cherry-red abdomens. This dragon was actually quite far off when I made the image - probably 20 feet or so distant. For a while, I had clipped on a Canon 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 II lens, which can be quite effective for shooting larger insects at much greater ranges than any macro lens would allow. This meadowhawk was shot with the lens fully extended to 400mm, and the camera set to f/5.6, ISO 100, and 1/640 shutter speed. Exposure compensation was dialed down 2/3rd's of a stop.

I've said it before, and will again: If I could have only one lens, it'd likely be this one. The 100-400mm zoom is sharp as a tack, incredibly versatile, and easily handheld.

This Halloween Pennant, Celithemis eponina, was even more distant than the meadowhawk in the previous shot. Nonetheless, the 100-400 pulled it in fairly well. This photo, like nearly all images posted on this blog, is a quick down and dirty minimally edited version of the jpeg file. I preserve all images as RAW files, too, and with some more considered post-processing work, even a distant dragonfly shot such as this one could be shaped into a very nice image. I don't think it's that bad even in this minimally edited form. The settings were the same as the previous image, except the shutter speed was bumped to 1/800 of a second.

Spreadwing damselflies are always worthy of inspection. This Swamp Spreadwing, Lestes vigilax, perches in classic spreadwing posture with the wings flared out at 45 degree angles from the body. We saw a fair number of spreadwings, but couldn't pin names to all of them.

It was back to the 180mm macro for this one - settings at f/11, ISO 200, shutter speed 1/200. In general, when shooting macro (which is almost always with flash), I keep the camera on full manual at f/11 and 1/200 shutter speed, with ISO somewhere between 100-400. At those settings it is usually ready to go, and quick and usually minor tweaks can be made as need be.

While Jim probably ID'ed this spreadwing when we were afield, it's stumping me now. Perhaps Slender Spreadwing, Lestes rectangularis, but I'm not sure of that. Doesn't seem quite right. Whatever it is, it's a beautiful bug. Note how widely spaced its eyes are - another feature of spreadwings. Camera settings were the same as for the previous image.

Black Saddlebags, Tramea lacerata, are often very tough to image. These big skimmers are extraordinary flyers and spend much time aloft. And that's how one typically sees them - zooming back on forth on the wing, never seeming to alight. This animal was very young, just passing out of the teneral stage, and thus was less prone to flying. Some slow, careful stalking allowed for close approach. The photo was made with usual settings: f/11, ISO 200, 1/200, muted flash.

The saddlebags was so tame that it allowed for various approaches and different angles, and only once did it flutter a short distance to a new perch - the old head of this Spotted Knapweed plant. This shot better shows the business end. Its legs are heavily armed with stiff raptorial spines, the better with which to seize prey. Enormous eyes don't miss a trick. Powerful mandibles will make mincemeat out of whatever it can catch and hold.

Most of the settings were the same is the previous shot, but I stopped the lens down to f/18 to get more depth of field, as I was shooting this image from very close quarters - as close as the lens's minimal focusing distance, which is a bit under two feet. I also had to bump up the flash intensity.

 Finally, to the guest of honor, the Swift Setwing! They certainly merit the "swift" moniker. When one of them took wing, it was often gone like a shot. To compound the difficulty of tracking one, the largely black coloration dappled with some whitish flecks is very effective disruptive camouflage. When the setwing shot through a shady patch, it entirely disappeared and often we could not pick it up again when it emerged from the shadows.

This shot was made from a fair distance with the 100-400mm lens, at a focal length of 263mm. Settings were f/5, ISO 100, 1/640, and exposure compensation dialed down 1/3rd of a stop.

When we encountered our first setwing, and I saw what seemingly wary bullets they were, I wondered if I'd get a killer closeup. Not to worry, one of them obligingly hung itself from a branch, and we were able to stalk in as close as we wanted and make a series of detailed images. In this shot, the ornate patterning and coloration come out - this is truly a handsome dragonfly. Same old, same old for this one - 180mm macro, f/11, ISO 200, 1/200, subdued flash.

It will be interesting to see if Swift Setwings turn up in other places around Ohio in the near future. Highly mobile strong flyers such as dragonflies seem to be hyper-responders to warming mean temperatures.

Congratulations to Jim Lemon for this excellent find, and I appreciate his guiding services for the day!

Rough Greensnake

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I visited Chillicothe, Ohio, last Monday evening, to deliver a presentation to the Scioto Valley Bird & Nature Club. It's always a treat to visit this city, which is steeped in Ohio history. Chillicothe was our first capital, and then after a brief peregrination to Zanesville for two years, it again served as capital for about five more years. In 1816 the legislature voted to shift the capital north to Columbus, my hometown, and for better or worse it's been the same ever since.

Chillicothe's home county of Ross is incredibly biodiverse. The Appalachian foothills taper out into the glaciated plains to the west here, meaning that there is lots of topographic variation. Interesting habitats abound, and after the talk to the club, several us went out for a nocturnal prowl at Buzzard's Roost Preserve. This sprawling 1,200 acre woodland lies along Paint Creek just west of Chillicothe, and I've never failed to find interesting subjects there.

As always, it was a treat to visit the club, and catch up with people I've known a long time but don't often get to see. After all was said and done, Kelly Williams, Joe Letsche, Michelle Ward, Debbie and Gary McFadden, Tiffany Pritchard, Lisa Ratcliff, Brandan Gray and yours truly made the short trip over to the "Roost" (apologies if I'm forgetting anyone!). It was the best nocturnal foray I've had in a while; we found piles of interesting animals. The caterpillars were over the top, and perhaps I'll get around to sharing some of them. For now, though, I will confine my bloviations to one of our coolest serpents.

As 11 pm clicked by and we grew weary, the group started stumbling back to the vehicles. Intrepid Joe Letsche, the preserve manager and Ross County Park District employee, kept poking through the woody shrubs buffering the forested area, looking for snakes. And Voila! Not far from the parking lot, he located this sleeping beauty - a Rough Greensnake, Opheodrys aestivus. I made this image immediately after Joe found the animal.

I become acquainted with these gentle snakes long ago, and after first finding them, always assumed they were nocturnal. To me, the eyes look disproportionality large, a feature one might expect of a creature that plies its trade after nightfall, as most snakes do. But they're don't - Rough Greensnakes hunt during the day, and sleep it off at night.

RGS's are highly arboreal, and spend much if not nearly all of their time aloft in trees and shrubs. Joe has become expert at finding them, and to date has located and marked 45 individuals at Buzzard's Roost Preserve. He is trying to ferret out the mysteries of their comings and goings.

This animal was found in just about exactly the same type of situation that the rest of the ones that I've seen have been in - head-high tangles of dense growth, in this case scrubby black locust and grapevines.

We have two species of greensnake in Ohio, and a good way to separate them is by the scales. In the case of the RGS, they are keeled, as seen here. The keel is that slitlike flange running down the middle of each scale. Our other species is the much rarer Smooth Greensnake, Opheodrys vernalis, and its scales are without keels. I saw my first specimen of the latter last year, and wrote about it RIGHT HERE.

Rough Greensnakes are at the northern limits of their range in southern Ohio, and have been documented in about 14 counties. Obviously, as Joe Letsche has shown, they can be locally common. But due to their shy mannerisms, arboreal habits, and coloration that allows them to blend with the foliage, they're easy to overlook. When seen well, a RGS is a hit with nearly everyone. The gorgeous lime-green dorsal coloring fades to a stunning lemony hue below, and the big black eyes punctuate a gentle face. And gentle they are - greensnakes almost never attempt to bite (none of the ones that I've handled have). Even people afflicted with mild ophidiophobia sometimes will hold them.

Thanks to Joe for guiding us into Buzzard's Roost after dark, and to everyone else who came along and helped spot many interesting creatures.

A strange gall, and an unexpected occupant

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A lush snarl of Green-headed Coneflower, Rudbeckia laciniata, colors the Junglebrook Marsh at Malabar Farm in Richland County, Ohio. I was up this way last Friday and Saturday to help with the 7th annual Flora-Quest, which was based out of Mohican State Park. We had a great time, and the event was superbly organized courtesy of Cheryl Harner, Paula Harper, and everyone else who was involved.

Saturday's main activity was field trips at legendary Malabar Farm. I was stationed at a small wetland known as Junglebrook, along with some expert naturalists such as Lisa Rainsong, Judy Semroc, Mark Dilley, and Larry Rosche. Various F-Q groups were shunted our way all day long, and we'd lead them about looking for interesting things.

Junglebrook Marsh may be small, but it is exceptionally diverse. Seeps keep the place wet and boggy, and spawn a rich array of plant life. The wetland may be best known for its population of Turtlehead, Chelone glabra, which host a population of Baltimore Checkerspot butterflies.

We focused heavily on the flora, as after all this was a botanical event. The bright flowers of the aforementioned Green-headed Coneflower always drew comment. The plants' robust stature and colorful blossoms could not be missed.

We quickly noticed that an especially conspicuous gall was infesting many of the coneflowers. It formed large, softish lumps near the terminal parts of the plants, usually where the flowers occurred. Oftentimes, as in the above photo, flowers attempted to emerge from the tumorous masses, but were stunted and aberrant.

It was an easy guess that some sort of insect was causing these galls, as various flies, wasps, moths and other bugs routinely cause large galls in plant tissues. But none of us had a clue as to exactly who the culprit was. I recall seeing such galls before on Green-headed Coneflower, but not often enough to recall specifics of where and when.

Enter The Google. Judy Semroc had her iPhone along, and had a connection. A few smartly chosen keywords in Google, and we had an answer. The galls were caused by a midge known as Asphondylia rudbeckiaeconspicua, a name much longer than the little fly that it denotes. I'm not sure what the genus name means, but the specific epithet is clear: rudbeckia = genus of the midge's host plant; conspicua = conspicuous.

Now that we knew the name of the gall-making critter, the next step was obvious. Cut one open. Judy whipped out a pocket knife and deftly carved apart one of the galls. And, unsurprisingly, there was a midge grub ensconced in a chamber deep within the gall. Judy's knifework work was superb, I'll say. She managed to expose the grub and its chamber without making mash of it.

What was not expected (although perhaps it shouldn't be surprising) was another occupant of the gall. As I attempted to make images of the grub above with my macro lens, I was startled to see a tiny insect clamber out of one of the inner chambers of the gall. While I got one or two OK images of this other bug in the field, it was really too small for my 100mm macro. So, I pocketed five galls, and took them home for more detailed autopsy, and images with Canon's incredible mega-macro lens, the strange MP-E 65mm. The photos that follow were taken with that lens, coupled to the Canon 5D Mark III with illumination via Canon's MT-24 Twin-Lite flash system.

And here's the other gall inhabitant - some sort of truly elfin parasitoid wasp. This thing is only about one to two (1-2) millimeters in length, and would scarcely be noticed with the unaided eye. It presumably is preying on the rightful gall inhabitant - the midge grub. If things work as they usually do in the parasitoid world, the wasp somehow lays its eggs on or near the midge eggs or grubs, presumably when the gall is in its infancy. When the wasp grubs hatch, they commence feeding on the midge grub. The midge grub, presumably, feeds on its host plant's tissues.

I think we only dissected one gall in the field, and it held at least one wasp. Of the five that I brought home, wasps were in four galls. It would appear that the incidence of parasitism, at least in this midge gall colony, is high.

One of the tiny wasps (Superfamily Chalcidoidea, I suspect), stands by what might be one of the wasps's cocoons. It was nestled in one of the passages that I presume was made by a midge grub as it tunneled through the gall. The apparent cocoon seemed to be cottony, as have been other parasitoid wasp cocoons that I've seen.

A closer look at the cocoon, if that's what it is.

I also found a few pupal wasps. They were dislodged during my excavation efforts, and I'm not exactly sure of their locations within the gall, but they had to have been somewhere within the midge feeding tunnels. It would appear that this pupa is not long from transformation to adult, and I found another that looked similar but was actually starting to flex and move.

Another look at the mystery wasp. I would be most appreciative if someone out there could cast a more informed light on this situation. It was tough enough finding any substantive information on the gall midge, and nothing that I've come across mentions anything about parasitoids, wasps or otherwise. It would be interesting to know the wasp's name (if it has one), and more about the life cycle. Such as how it invades the host midge gall, and how the adults exit. If mature wasps are in the gall at this time of year, how do they overwinter? Questions, questions.

If one is willing to look at Nature with a broadly sweeping eye, the little mysteries just keep on coming.

Mystery wasp update

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In my last post, RIGHT HERE, I wrote about a curious parasitoid wasp that was attacking the grubs of an equally curious gall-forming midge. I am a large fan of the small and obscure, and set about trying to learn of the mystery wasp's (photo above) identity.

Enter BugGuide.net.

I posted a few of my photos there, along with a detailed description of where and how we found the wasps. I didn't have to wait long. About 1/2 hour later, Ross Hill responded with some insightful comments, and he emailed the photos to wasp expert Dr. Eric Grissell.

Grissell's comments were soon in hand, and can be taken as the final answer - or at least as final an answer as we can get with the evidence currently available:

"Although it is a Rileya, I couldn't put a species name on it. Rileya americana was synonymized under Rileya insularis by Michael Gates in 2008. So americana would be wrong under any circumstances. Wish I could help you out better, but these wasps are difficult enough to identify when you can see them physically! Images are a bit more difficult".

So to attempt an absolute species-specific identification, I'd probably have to further impose on the good doctor, and send him some actual specimens. Well, at least we know the wasps belong to the genus Rileya. And that's not saying a lot, at least for us laypeople. Readily accessible literature on the group is sparse indeed.

Dragonfly swarms

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I’ve heard reports of massive dragonfly swarms from around Ohio over the past few days. Most of these insects are probably Common Green Darners (the species in the accompanying photo) and Wandering Gliders. These species are highly migratory, and migrant swarms become conspicuous when they descend to feed near the ground. The dragonflies are mostly capturing gnats, winged ants, mosquitos and other small flying bugs. Please comment if you’ve seen such a swarm, along with the general location and date/time, and an estimate of the number of dragonflies. The following link goes to a more detailed article about this phenomenon: https://ohiohistory.wordpress.com/2010/08/25/hundred-of-huge-dragonflies/

Thanks!

Baird's sandpiper logs a lot of miles

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A big stretch from a small Baird's sandpiper

Baird's sandpiper logs a lot of miles

Columbus Dispatch
NATURE

Jim McCormac
September 6, 2015

One of the most brutish flights an Ohioan can make is to Sydney, Australia. From Port Columbus, it’s well over 9,000 miles. Round trip: 18,000-plus miles and 46 hours flight time.

I have done it and wouldn’t want to make a habit of such a journey.

At least we have in-flight movies, snacks and comfortable seats.

Not so the Baird’s sandpiper, which flies just as far. I recently visited a wetland near Wooster and saw several of these feathered globe-trotters. The sleek little shorebirds scurried about the mud flats, gulping down small invertebrate animal life plucked from the mire.

This wetland serves as a refueling station for the Baird’s sandpiper and many other shorebirds. The other sandpipers and plovers include killdeer, semipalmated plover, greater and lesser yellowlegs, least sandpiper and Wilson’s snipe.

Few of the Baird’s sandpipers’ companions will match their journey, though.

The Baird’s sandpiper breeds in the highest reaches of the Arctic, where polar bears roam. The birds I observed were spawned about 2,500 miles to the north, and they have a long aerial trek ahead of them.

Some Baird’s sandpipers spend winter in Tierra del Fuego, at the southern tip of South America. Their yearly journey between summer and winter haunts is about the same distance as the Columbus-to-Sydney flight.

Only a small group of the 36 species of shorebirds that visit Ohio annually make such lengthy journeys. Evolution has endowed these long-haul fliers with traits that allow them to cover serious distances. Extra-long wings produce efficient, sustained flight. Powerful pectoral muscles provide plenty of punch to flap those wings. And a built-in GPS system allows unerring navigation over great distances.

The Baird’s sandpiper in the accompanying photo is a juvenile, as were the others I saw. The adults precede the juveniles by a few weeks on the southbound migration.

Almost all Baird’s sandpipers in Ohio are seen in late summer and fall. Their northward migration takes them well to the west, through the Great Plains states. The fall routes occur over a much broader front and well to the east of the narrow spring corridor. An elliptical pattern such as this probably evolved to take advantage of the best stopover habitats during each season.

Little data exists regarding the longevity of a Baird’s sandpiper, but it’s not unreasonable to speculate that some live for at least a decade. By the time such an elder would make its final flight to the great mud flat in the sky, it would have flown at least 180,000 miles. All this from a 38-gram dynamo with a wingspan of less than a foot and a half.

The sandpiper was named in honor of Spencer Fullerton Baird, an accomplished naturalist who served as the first curator of the Smithsonian Institution.

Baird was an inveterate field man and quite the traveler. During the calendar year of 1842, he hiked more than 2,100 miles in the course of his explorations.

Even that pales in comparison with the wanderings of his namesake sandpiper.

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

A bevy of Buff-breasted Sandpipers

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Looking a bit like a clay figurine, a Buff-breasted Sandpiper, Calidris subruficollis, poses on a sparsely vegetated mudflat at first light.

A week ago, September 1st, I did what (believe it or not) is a fairly rare thing for me - I spontaneously took a day off work. For several days, there had been reports of a cooperative and ever-growing herd of Buff-breasted Sandpipers at a wetland near Funk Bottoms Wildlife Area in Wayne County. Toward day's end on August 31st, a report emerged that the flock had swollen to 19 birds! That was enough. I made arrangements to take a vacation day the next day, and headed north at O-dark: thirty. Arriving on the scene shortly after daybreak, I was instantly rewarded by a flock of buffs dropping in. Thirteen birds in all. For almost two hours, I had the place to myself and in all probably spent at least four hours studying and photographing these charismatic sandpipers.

Legendary Cleveland birder Jerry Talkington snaps images of the Buff-breasted Sandpipers. This iPhone shot offers a good look at the lay of the land, and mudflat zonation. The buffs favor the low grassy lawn-looking parts of the flats, and generally eschew the bare mud and open water. As we sat in the dense stand of cockleburs lining the dike (where Jerry is sitting), the tame, confiding buffs would amble by within 15-20 feet at times. I started with a 1.4x extender clipped to my 500mm, but that much magnification was often overkill, so I eventually took it off.

A Greater Yellowlegs, Tringa melanoleuca, hustles up small invertebrates in the wettest part of the mudflat. These big sandpipers typically wade in deeper water than does most of their brethren. The yellowlegs can also be a bit annoying to observers and photographers. They are vigilant to potential threats, and quick to voice displeasure with loud piercing calls. Their alarms alert all of the other shorebirds, and sometimes put them to flight. The "telltales" don't bother me a whit - they're beautiful and interesting, and it's their job to act as the mudflat community's alarm system.

A pair of Short-billed Dowitchers, Limnodromus griseus, dropped in early, and stayed the entire time that I was there. I suppose a dowitcher might strike some as comical, what with its crazily elongate Pinocchio bill. They use that beak to great effect, jabbing it deep into watery mud and extracting tiny critters from the mire. Tactile nerves at the bill's tip allow the bird to feel prey sight unseen. Flexible mandible tips allow the tip of the bill to spread and snap shut on the victim.

A personal favorite is the little Semipalmated Plover, Charadrius semipalmatus. They resemble half-pint Killdeer with but one band around the breast.

A couple of Pectoral Sandpipers, Calidris melanotos, made an appearance. While all of the birds that I've shown so far bred far to our north, and will eventually end up far to our south, this is the only species I saw there that rivals the Buff-breasted Sandpiper for long-haul migrations. This bird briefly fraternized with the buffs, then paused to preen, allowing me to capture some interesting postures. While Pectorals will often forage on mudflats, they also frequent vegetated parts of the mudflats.

But to the subject at hand - the gorgeous Buff-breasted Sandpiper! The most that I saw at once was 13 birds and that's a hefty flock for Ohio. This is not a common bird here, and normally one only sees singles or perhaps aggregations of a few. Flocks into the double digits are scarce sights indeed. The record flock was 78 on September 12, 1985, in Ottawa County.

Buff-breasted Sandpipers follow an elliptical migration route, and their northbound spring corridor lies well to our west. There are, I believe, only two acceptable (?) spring records in Ohio. The species is a very rare vagrant anywhere east of the Mississippi River in spring. The southbound fall flight is much more diffuse, and extends much further east. This is when we see all of our buffs. Most are juveniles like the birds in these photos, with their bright clay-adobe plumage and whitened feather edgings that give them a scaly appearance.

To me, and I'm not the first to comment on this, the buffs look quite ploverlike. When foraging, they scuttle about rather rapidly turning and twisting to grab prey from the plants and ground. Shooting crisp images is harder than you might think. But when one stops and adopts an alert posture, as this one is doing, the ploverish apects emerge.

The flock contained an apparent Alpha, and he made a habit of attacking his mates. He's the animal on the right, having just sent another bird fluttering up and away.

A bit of a feather fluff makes this bird look like a model. I'd be mildly embarrassed to report how many photos I made of these birds. But I couldn't stop clicking away, hoping to capture interesting nuances of posture or behavior.

As with the aforementioned Pectoral Sandpiper, the Buff-breasted Sandpiper is a world champion long distance migrant. They nest in the highest reaches of the Arctic, where Polar Bears roam. The bird in this photo, which was born this summer, has already traveled 2,000 or more miles south. That's just the first leg of an amazing journey. And a leg that it may have made in one hop. After Buff-breasted Sandpipers depart the Arctic, some or most probably don't stop until they hit favorable refueling stations in southern Canada and the northern U.S.

Once adequately fattened, these birds will take wing again, and might not land again until reaching South America. Ultimately at least some may work theirs way to the southern tip of South America, or close to it. Some buffs winter in Tierra del Fuego. What is even more incredulous is that this bird and its companions are juveniles. This is their first time at this long-distance dance, and they do it without parental guidance. A built-in GPS and an innate knowledge of how to seek appropriate habitat, forage, and avoid sometimes formidable predators such as Peregrine Falcons is hardwired.

Back in the lawless days of unregulated market hunting, Buff-breasted Sandpipers were nearly shot out of existence. It is thought that their ranks once numbered into the millions. After the cessation of gluttonous market hunting practices, a rebound took place but the buffs have never attained anything approaching their former glory. A maximum of 84,000 birds are estimated to exist, but the actual number may be far lower. The lowball population estimate is only 16,000 birds.

Feathered globetrotters such as the Buff-breasted Sandpiper may play an important role in the dispersal of plants. For a brief essay on this subject, CLICK HERE.

Caterpillar mania!

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Last weekend, the organizers of the now famous Mothapalooza conference hosted an offshoot caterpillar workshop. We didn't really name it. "Caterpillaralooza" doesn't exactly trip off the tongue, and "Larvae-fest" sounds a bit gruesome. Makes no matter what the nomenclature is, this caterpillar workshop was a blast, and led to many extraordinary finds.

Most of the group of roughly 25 people poses above, in front of the Eulett Center, smack in the middle of the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy's sprawling Edge of Appalachia Preserve in Adams County (photo by David Hughes). Thanks to Chris Bedel, as always, for allowing us to invade the center! Major props to Mary Ann Barnett and Deb Bradley, who did the lion's share of planning and logistics. Ditto to John Howard, who gave a program, AND led field trips, AND selflessly shared his vast reservoir of knowledge. We also appreciate the hospitality of Randy Lakes, who allowed us to conduct nocturnal forays on his fabulous piece of property. Diane Brooks kindly brought some interesting livestock for the group to see, and helped tremendously with identifications. EVERYONE contributed in some way, especially when it came to finding interesting caterpillars in the gloom of night.

I bet we could have had 80 people attend, but space precluded that, as did a paucity of experienced caterpillar guides. This was also a trial run of sorts; it worked so well that I suspect we will try this again next September.

Photo: Judy Ganance

Both Saturday and Sunday nights, we were out in the field until the wee hours. Most caterpillars are nocturnal, so we had to become night creatures as well. A good chunk of daylight hours was spent identifying and photographing animals that we brought back to the Eulett Center. It served as an outstanding base camp. In all, about 66 species of caterpillars were wrangled and inspected, and we didn't bring back all of the species that we found. Amazingly, and thanks to good care, there was not a single case of mortality while in captivity (that I know of) and all cats were released back to the wild after the workshop.

So, I'd like to share some photos of some of the tubular prizes that we encountered. Text for each depicted species will be brief - this is more of a visual post.

On Saturday, word leaked from the kitchen that the chef preparing dinner had discovered "worms" in the kale. Yes! said I - bring me some! Turned out they were Cross-striped Cabbageworms, Evergestis rimosalis, a beautiful little caterpillar that feeds on mustards. We were quite pleased to see them, and photos were made. This was perhaps the only gathering where such a food infestation would be welcome!

Slightly backlit to showcase its fluffy elegance, this is the penultimate instar of the Black-waved Flannel Moth caterpillar, Lagoa crispata. In its next and final instar (an instar is a growth stage, morphed into by molting the skin), the caterpillar will be brown, not nearly so fluffy, and look like some other species.

A work of art indeed, the Canadian Owlet caterpillar, Calyptra canadensis. They feed on meadow-rue (genus Thalictrum)

Suction-cup feet rimmed with sharp hooks known as crochets are how caterpillars stick to twigs and leaves like glue. This is the underside of a White-marked Tussock Moth caterpillar, Orgyia leucostigma.

 A Checkered-fringe Prominent, Schizura ipomoea, rasps away. This one is a great leaf edge mimic.

Bizarre but stunning, the Crowned Slug, Isa textua, always gets a reaction. This one, unfortunately, is a walking dead caterpillar. That little white ovoid dot is the shell of a tachinid fly egg. The parasitoid's grub is inside the caterpillar, eating away its innards. This is a very common fate for caterpillars.

We're confronted by the strange snakish face of an Eastern Tiger Swallowtail caterpillar, Papilio glaucus. The orange projections are horns known as osmeteria; when exerted they exude a foul odor. When confronted by a songbird or some other threat, the caterpillar flips out these chemical switchblades.

The Fawn Sphinx, Sphinx kalmiae, is possibly the showiest of the sphinx moth caterpillars, and it has a lot of competition. Note its black-speckled blue tail. This one is a specialist on ash.

Many of you have probably seen the beautiful pink and yellow Rosy Maple Moth, Dryocampa rubicunda. This is its caterpillar, which is known as the Green-striped Mapleworm. Thanks to Diane Brooks for bringing them along. To see a photo of the adult moth, CLICK HERE.

Just magnificent, and a photographer's dream. Here we have a Honey Locust Moth caterpillar, Sphingicampa bicolor. I'll leave you to guess what it eats.

There's a lot more images where these came from, and I'll post some more of them soon.

Caterpillar mania! Part II

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In the last post, I briefly described our inaugural trial run caterpillar workshop that was an offshoot of Mothapalooza. More importantly, I shared lots of cool caterpillar photos. I will continue in the latter vein in this post.

This big bruiser is an Imperial Moth caterpillar, Eacles imperialis. As one might expect from such a sizeable cat, the moth that it morphs into is also huge - bat-sized. Most of the last or later instar caterpillars that I've seen have been this showy shade of lime-green. But they certainly can vary in hue. Read on...

This cinnamon-colored beast is also an Imperial cat! Wow! We found this one about two weeks ago at Buzzard's Roost Preserve in Ross County. It was near another that looked identical. First time I'd such a wild color variant, but they are well known for sporting different coats.

Here we have one of Nature's most superb mimics, a Juniper-twig Geometer caterpillar, Patalene olyzonaria. It feeds on Red Cedar, Juniperus virginiana (obviously), and has evolved a look that renders it nearly undetectable. A living needle, if you will. When I found it, it was dangling below a branch on a silken belay line, or I'd never have seen it. I'd bet Prairie Warblers find plenty, though - they are habitual foragers in cedar trees.

There are a number of species that artfully duplicate the look of leaves dappled with necrotic patches of brown tissue. This is one, the Lace-capped Caterpillar, Oligocentria lignicolor. Even though it is a fairly large caterpillar, it's quite easy to pass one by, even at close range.

The weird Monkey Slug, Phobetron pithecium, always a major crowd-pleaser. One theory has it that this caterpillar mimics the appearance of a shed tarantula skin. No, we don't have tarantulas here, but this group of moths is a largely tropical lineage and many of the neotropical migrant birds that might encounter a Monkey Slug winter in tropical regions that harbor tarantulas. Note how the cat picked a brown patch of leaf to secrete itself on, and it blends remarkably well.

A Nason's Slug, Natada nasoni. The little slug moth caterpillars are always pleasing, and people who have never encountered one are usually excited by them. Most slugs are tiny and one must keep a close eye on the leaves - especially the undersurfaces - to spot them. Note the intricate patterning of pale stripes, and the jewel-like fascicles of scarlet setae.

If this looks like an ugly glop of bird excretia, the caterpillar would be happy that it fooled you. Many species of caterpillars (and other animals) are excellent bird dropping mimics. Apparently very little to nothing wants to eat bird poo. When Laura Hughes spotted this one, it temporarily mystified us, then lit the group up with excitement. It's a Paddle Caterpillar, Acronicta funeralis, one of the true Holy Grails of caterpillar hunters. It's only the third one that I've seen. If it makes it, it will morph into a Funerary Dagger Moth.

Amazement never ceases. We had the Paddle Caterpillar in captivity overnight, and by the next morning it had molted into its final instar! Hardly looks like the same animal. The paddles are much more developed, and it looks like little clam shells adorn its back. I suspect it uses those paddle-tipped setae to swat away parasitoid flies and wasps.

Many of the caterpillars that we found were victims of parasitoids, either flies or wasps. Such predation is exceedingly common. Indeed, nearly all of the Skiff Moth slugs that we found had tachinid fly eggs attached. This one is a Yellow-shouldered Slug, Lithacodes fasciola, and it has received a double whammy. Nine or ten braconid wasp grubs have just popped from its skin, and are forming shroudlike silken cocoons around their bodies. There are also at least four tachinid fly egg cases on the caterpillar - the ovoid ivory bumps.

Parasitoids are different than parasites in that they generally kill their host. Shortly after an egg is deposited on the victim, the grub hatches and bores inside the host. It eats the innards until it matures, then does what we see here. In relatively short order, the wasps will pop from the cocoons.

Gruesome as this may seem, such predation is absolutely vital to keep the stocks of other insects in check. The intricacies of the food web at work, just not in a particularly Disneyesque way.

I told you slug caterpillars are beautiful! This one is a Red-crossed Button Slug, Tortricidia pallida.

A personal favorite, the striking Red-humped Caterpillar, Schizura concinna. As is the case with many moths, the caterpillar is far more striking than the moth it will (may) become.

A congregation of Red-humped Oakworms, Symmerista concinna, under an oak leaf. At least in its earlier instars, this species clusters in groups on the underside of a leaf during the day.

For some reason, I really find this caterpillar quite artistic and spent much time making photos of it. Thanks to Diane Brooks, caterpillar rancher extraordinaire, for bringing along some of these Scallop Moth caterpillars, Cepphis armataria. I had never seen this species, and was struck by their style of dangling upside down from a stem in a J-shape with a flourish. From any distance, it would be quite easy to dismiss the cat as a bit of dead plant debris.

I've got one more batch of really cool cat pics to share sometime in the near future.

Caterpillar mania! Part III

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OK, this is the last of the tubular crowd for a while. Check the previous two posts, HERE and HERE, for parts I and II. The first one explains where they all came from, and why and how we obtained the material.

This is certainly a crazy cat. It's a Showy Emerald moth caterpillar, Dichorda iridaria. They feed on various species of sumac (Rhus spp.) and allegedly Poison Ivy, Toxicodendron radicans. Just one of many reasons to appreciate the latter plant, which is a very valuable native species.

Looking like some sort of limbless alien sporting strange orange eyes, a larval Silver-spotted Skipper, Epargyreus clarus, glares at the camera. Well, it isn't really glaring - those are fake eyespots, possibly meant to frighten songbirds that peek into the caterpillars leafy lair. We found many of thse on False Indigo, Amorpha fruticosa. They eat other species in the pea family as well.

Meet the strange tanklike Skiff Moth caterpillar, Prolimacodes badia. From any distance, they look like plant galls and could easily be dismissed by the uninitiated. The disguise doesn't fool parasitoid tachinid flies. That little whitish spot is a fly egg case. The grub is no doubt inside the animal, consuming its tissues. A moth this caterpillar will never be. We found quite a few Skiffs, and nearly all had been parasitized.

An outstanding snake mimic, the over the top caterpillar of the Spicebush Swallowtail, Papilio troilus. During the day, the caterpillar fashions a bivouac by rolling into a leaf of its host plant, which is either Spicebush (duh!), Lindera benzoin, or Sassafras, Sassafra albidum. You can imagine that some small birds might be repelled by such an appearance, and this is a fairly large caterpillar. Not all of them are, though - I just saw a presentation by Doug Tallamy, and he had a great photo of a White-eyed Vireo feeding one of these to its nestlings.

A Spiny Oak Slug moth caterpillar, Euclea delphinii, which looks a fantastical creature from the coral reefs. Common, especially on oaks. This won't make it; notice the several tachinid egg cases stuck to its body.

The Spotted Apatelodes caterpillar, Apatelodes torrefacta, resembles an elongate Pomerian dog. Its feet are bright pink. The moth that it morphs into is a fantastic dead leaf mimic that becomes virtually invisible when it rests on leaf litter.

Oh yeah, one of the Holy Grails for caterpillar hunters, the Spun Glass Slug, Isochaetes beutenmuelleri. It was a great find, but I can't remember who found it. We found so much stuff in a compressed period of time that I've lost track of who found what, or I'd give them credit! Anyway, this caterpillar is nearly translucent, and a sight to see. They aren't particularly rare, just hard to find. Their fringed "arms" are fragile and detach easily. This cat has lost a few, as you can see.

This thing looks a bit like a court jester's hat, but it is a Stinging Rose Moth caterpillar, Parasa indetermina, peeking over the top of a leaf. This photo was taken at night, in the field, and Laura Hughes' bright blue shirt created an interesting albeit unnatural bokeh.

A perennial favorite, and sure to please even the most disinterested of people. An aggregation of Turbulent Phosphila moth caterpillars, Phosphila turbulenta, clusters on the underside of a greenbrier leaf. Probably not many people study catbriers and greenbriers (genus Smilax) very closely. If you do, it shouldn't be too long before you uncover some of these. This one also wins the Best Name Award.

A Walnut Sphinx moth caterpillar, Amorpha juglandis. It is rather elegant in its sleek coat of green outfitted with wine-red buttons. CLICK HERE for a description of its effective and bizarre defense strategy.

Speaking of bizarre defensive ploys, here's a doozy. This is a White-dotted Prominent Moth caterpillar, Nadata gibbosa, and I have threatened the animal by poking at it. That bit of agitation prompted it to coil up like a serpent, stick its head over the top of the coil, and bare its mandibles. The end result is snakelike indeed.

Well, that's enough caterpillars for now. I'll leave you with this, the tail end of the Tuliptree Silkmoth caterpillar, Callosamia angulifera. You can take its message however you see fit.

Gulls in flight

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iPhone 5S photo

Last Wednesday, I and about 27 other birders boarded the Miss Cindy in Vermilion, Ohio, and headed out on Lake Erie. This was one of Jen Brumfield's freshwater "pelagics", and she and crew have drummed up amazing stuff in trip's past. This day, alas, we were treated to weather much too fine for good lake birding: high in the 80's, little wind, and calm conditions for the prior few days. One highs for cool blustery weather, just rough enough that the boat will still go out.

But in spite of that, it was a fantastic trip and I encourage you to try one of these. Jen's pelagics fill fast, and I'm not sure there will be any more opportunities with her this year. However, Black Swamp Bird Observatory has two trips this year; details RIGHT HERE. Sign up for one of them now!

In spite of the calm weather, we saw lots of interesting things. A Red-necked Phalarope, spotted by the inimitable Jerry Talkington, was a great find. So was a first of season Horned Grebe. Good looks at Common and Forster's terns. And lots of Monarchs - yes, Monarch butterflies! It was amazing to see the hardy insects making the open water crossing from Canada. In all, we sailed 67 miles and made it 12-14 miles out from shore. Monarchs, steadfastly winging south, were seen just about everywhere.

Chum-master Ben Warner flings popcorn. He also spewed a lot of oily fish parts overboard. This practice is known as "chumming", and the edible detritus keeps a constant cloud of gulls swirling in the boat's wake. Sometimes rarer gulls come in to investigate, and even birds that shun chum, such as terns, will fly near to see what the hubbub is about. If any jaeger is anywhere near, there's a darn good chance that it will shoot over to add to the ruckus.

While no rare gulls or jaegers materialized this day, the parade of Ring-billed and Herring gulls made for great photo ops. Here, one of each species mixes it up. The former on the left, the latter on the right.

A sleek adult Ring-billed Gulls cruises by. I had a fantastic time shooting images of gulls in flight. Photographing flying birds (well, at least) is not the easiest thing to do. But gulls are relative child's play compared to many species. Nonetheless, good equipment used properly makes a huge difference.

I was shooting my Canon 7D Mark II, coupled to Canon's 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 II lens. This is an awesome setup for bird photography, especially for handheld shots of flying birds from a moving boat.

An adult Herring Gull tumble-dives towards the chum, while letting his comrades know he's coming. For most of these shots, the camera was set to 1/4000 of a second to thoroughly freeze action. I used auto ISO, as it was a bright day and high ISO's (and their attendant graininess) would not be a problem. Most of my images emerged at ISO 200 to 250. F-stops ranged from f/5 to f/6.3. The 100-400 zooms very smoothly, and I shot these photos at anywhere from a 100mm focal length to the lens' maximum of 400mm. The 7D Mark II has 63 focus points, with myriad combinations possible. For larger birds, especially flying ones, I like to use a tight grid of five active focus points.

A big challenge with gulls on a sunny day is overexposure. I almost guarantee that if you leave your camera in full auto, or any other setting with the exposure at neutral, you'll end up with blown-out overexposed images. The gleaming white on the birds really causes significant light blowback. For most of these images, the exposure compensation was dialed down a full stop, sometimes a bit more, sometimes a bit less.

Trying to capture the birds in some sort of action pose is great fun, and rewarding when you strike the target. This Herring Gull is in the midst of a quick midflight contortion as it augers into the feeding flock below. A really fast shutter speed is imperative if one hopes to stop the action. It's also important to always remain cognizant of the sun's position, and keep it behind you.

An adult Herring Gull passes by, showing off its glaring yellow eye and pink legs.

This is a first-cycle Herring Gull - a bird in its first year of life. It looks nothing like the adults, and I suppose many nonbirders see mixed flocks of gulls of various ages, and think that the young birds are different species.

This first-cycle Herring Gull floated by so close to the boat that I didn't even have to zoom the lens - this image was taken at 100mm. As always, click the image to enlarge. The detail in the bird's feathers is ornate indeed.

The boat's attendant swarm of gulls offered an outstanding opportunity to not only study the various age classes of Herring Gulls, but also the variation between individuals of the same age. This is a second-cycle bird.

Second cycle, or third?

This, I believe, is the same individual as in the previous photo, but in different light and at a different angle.

And finally, I believe this must be a third cycle Herring Gull that has mostly molted in its gray mantle, but still retains a broad black tail band.

Whatever you call them, gulls are fun to watch, and great practice for in-flight bird photography.

American Birding Expo: October 2-4

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Mark your calendars for the upcoming extravaganza known as the American Birding Expo! It takes place from October 2 thru 4, right here in my hometown of Columbus, Ohio. The venue is the beautiful Grange Insurance Audubon Center, which is sited right along the banks of the mighty Scioto River, just a stone's throw from downtown. All of the expo details are RIGHT HERE.
 
Admission is free. Your free pass grants you access to what certainly must be the most amazing array of birding-related gear, including optics, photography, bird feeding products and other birding and outdoor products ever assembled in the U.S.A. Tour companies will be well represented, too. Information on many of the world's most bird-rich destinations will be available, directly from the people who can take you there. In all, about 80 vendors representing nearly 30 countries will be at the American Birding Expo. 
 

You'll have plenty of opportunity to test out your new optics and gear, too. Fall migration will be in full swing, and the grounds around the Audubon center can offer good birding. Last October, Bill Heck and I spearheaded a Big Sit on October 11 from the rooftop of the building and racked up 62 species in less than 24 hours. There are also birding hotspots nearby, such as Green Lawn Cemetery, Battelle Darby Metropark, Pickerington Ponds Metropark, the beautiful Clear Creek Valley, and more. A visit to the American Birding Expo could easily be combined with some great birding opportunities.
 
Hope you can make it, and CLICK HERE for the complete American Birding Expo scoop.
 


Mantidfly looks as if built out of spare parts

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Mantidfly, Dicromantispa interrupta

COLUMBUS DISPATCH
September 27, 2015

NATURE
Jim McCormac

Scotsman John Hunter was an inveterate explorer and officer in Great Britain’s Royal Navy. A natural scholar, Hunter was sent to then largely unknown Australia in 1788. He spent much of the next 12 years there. In 1798, he was made privy to the discovery of a bizarre Australian mammal and promptly sent a specimen to the British Museum.

Curator George Shaw, upon examining the specimen, felt it might be a hoax, as did several of his contemporaries. Their skepticism was understandable. The duck-billed platypus looks like a hodgepodge of various animals sewn together — a seemingly impossible anomaly.

The mantidfly is an entomological counterpart to the platypus. The bugs look like the work of a mad scientist. It’s as if the wings of a dragonfly were bolted to a wasp’s body, and a long skeletal neck was welded to the front. Capping the latter is a small head dominated by huge jewellike eyes. Powerful forelegs are armed with stiff spines, and the creature is held erect by long spindly legs. The mantidfly shown above is Dicromantispa interrupta, one of five species found in Ohio.

If one didn’t know better, he might think the mantidfly is the product of an ornate prank.

Adult mantidflies are predatory, stalking other insects and seizing them with their praying mantislike forelegs. The larvae also are predatory, with a life cycle almost too freakish to believe.

Female mantidflies lay up to 1,000 tiny eggs on the lower surfaces of leaves. The eggs dangle from threads. She places the egg cluster in an area frequented by spiders.

The tiny, freshly emerged larvae are capable of crawling and leaping. When a spider passes by, they attempt to jump aboard. If successful, the mantidfly larva nestles into a crevice and commences to feed on the spider’s hemolymph for sustenance.

Their primary purpose is to hitch a ride to the spider’s nest. If a male spider is boarded, the mantidfly larva will cross over to the female spider when the spiders come together to mate. When the female spider deposits her eggs, the larva debarks and attaches to an egg. It feeds on the contents of the egg via specialized mandibles.

Once the larva matures, it forms a cocoon and pupates within the husk of the spider egg. Later, it morphs into the strange-looking adult mantidfly.

Mantidflies are rare — and with such a life cycle, it’s easy to see why.
Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com

Showy things from here and there

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I haven't let much grass grow under my feet of late. I took much of last week off work to help conduct a photo workshop with David FitzSimmons, then it was off to Shawnee State Park at the opposite end of the state to meet with the Mothapalooza planning committee. Long days and not much sleep, but a lot of fun. Following is a small selection of photos from these excursions.

Dave FitzSimmons gets into the surf to make interesting wave photos. Note the tripod, and the remote shutter release in his hand. Those tools make it easier to focus on tripping the shutter when the timing is right. We based our photo workshop at beautiful Lakeside, right on the shores of Lake Erie, and visited a variety of spots on and near the lakefront. It was a great time with a great group of people, and we're planning on doing it again in September 2016.

To get the silky quality with the waves, I used a very slow shutter speed, 1/8 of a second. The camera was tripod-mounted of course - hand-holding would not allow for a sharp image at such a sluggish shutter speed.

We were up EARLY both mornings of the workshop, to get in good locales for shooting sunrises, before the sun appeared. This shot shows the sun popping above the horizon over Lake Erie near East Harbor. Timing is everything - you have to be in position and ready to fire away right as the sun appears. Sometimes a wide-angle perspective looks great, but I often prefer a smaller field of view as seen through a larger lens. This one was shot with a Canon 5D Mark III and Canon's superb 100-400mm f/4.5-5.6 lens set to 135mm. Settings were f/8; 1/160; ISO 100.

After shooting sunsets one evening on Lakeside's pier, I turned my lens to the moon, which looked especially striking in this waxing gibbous phase. It was the same camera and body as was used in the previous photo, but this time the lens was extended to 400mm. While overkill is probably possible with the moon, in general the more reach the better for shooting distant celestial objects. For this shot, the camera was set to f/11; 1/40; ISO 100. Overexposing moon images is common, and easy to do. One must remember that it is necessary to underexpose. The previous settings are good starting points; play with speeding up or slowing the shutter speed until the exposure is correct.

A young Herring Gull tugs entrails from a dead fish washed up on a Lake Erie beach. We had a lot of fun with this bird, waiting until just the right moment to trigger our shutters. Everyone wanted the entrails shot. This one was shot with the same rig as the previous images, but at f/5.6; 1/400; ISO 200, at a focal length of 400mm. The sun, unfortunately, was coming in at an acute angle from the right. Not optimal, but not bad. Some post-processing would make it look even better, but I am a post-processing minimalist.

The gorgeous textures and patterns of a land snail make for an irresistible shot. This one was shot with the amazing Canon 7D Mark II, rigged to their equally proficient 100mm L macro lens. This is a crop-frame sensor camera, and one I was using mostly for birds and distant wildlife. I've come to find that it works just great for macro work, too, and have been experimenting with that. This one was taken at f/16; 1/250; ISO 100. In general, an f-stop range between f/11 and f/16 works well for many macro situations.

We spent a fair bit of time looking for interesting art in seemingly mundane things, such as milkweed seeds bursting from a pod. This photo was shot with the same rig as in the previous photo, but at f/6.3 and a much faster shutter speed of 1/500, no flash used. It was breezy, and I wanted to ensure a reasonably sharp image. The plant, by the way, is Green Milkweed, Asclepias viridiflora.

Our group hit the botanical jackpot when we stumbled into a nice stand of Fringed Gentian, Gentianopsis virgata, in the Castalia Prairie. Scores of photos were taken of these stunning flowers. For this one, the fringing of the rear petals of the foremost flower was my focal point. Again, the Canon 7D Mark II with 100mm macro lens was used. I set f/11; 1/200; ISO 100, and fired with Canon's twin-lite flash rig. In hindsight, I should have used f/16 for greater depth of field.

OK, to the opposite end of the state and my beloved Shawnee State Forest. After the Mothapalooza planning committee meeting - yes, this strange but wonderful event will be back at Shawnee in 2016! - we headed afield for a bit. And saw many interesting things, but unfortunately for the others, I found this gem on my way out of the forest, after we all went our separate ways. It is the state-endangered Sampson's Snakeroot, Gentiana villosa. Not quite as flashy as the previous gentian, but it has its charms. More 7D Mark II/100mm macro work here, with settings of f/16; 1/250; ISO 100. A big part of making decent images of stuff like this is getting the flash intensity right, and that's what I tend to play with the most.

I was struck by the pattern and texture of fruiting Hairy Angelica plants, Angelica venenosa, and exerted some effort in making photos of them. The little grooved fruit form clusters in arrangements known as umbels. The aggregate of the umbels forms one big umbel - the inflorescence in its entirety. It wasn't until I reviewed my images that I noticed numerous tiny, unfamiliar insects among the fruit. The dominant one appears to be some sort of true bug (Hemiptera), but I have no idea as to the species. There are oil tubes located in the grooves of the fruits, and I wonder if the insects aren't tapping into those to extract food. Had I noticed this in the field, I would have produced the Canon MP-E 65mm mega-macro lens to try and shed light on this mysterious world dwelling within the umbels. Another time, perhaps.

Finally, I'll end with this beautiful plant, the Downy Lobelia, Lobelia puberula. It reaches its northern limits in Ohio, occurring in only a dozen or so of our southernmost counties. Downy Lobelia is common along Shawnee's forest roads, and I find it an irresistible subject. This specimen was particularly compelling, as it meets the criteria of the pleasing Rule of Thirds. Once again, after reviewing the image on the computer, I noticed a stowaway I missed in the field. Some tiny green insect is hiding under the calyx of the top flower. As with the other Shawnee flower images, this one was taken with the 7D Mark II and 100mm macro lens. Twin-lite flash was used, and the settings for this one were f/16; 1/250; ISO 100.

I'll be back.

New(ish) Museum Blog!

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The Ohio State University Museum of Biological Diversity is a treasure trove of fascinating subjects. It houses one of the world’s premier insect collections, a vast store of plant specimens from around the globe, a world class archive of bird and other nature sound recordings, and much more. Museum curators have started an interesting blog that showcases their research and collections. It is well worth bookmarking, and reading. Here’s the link: https://u.osu.edu/biomuseum/

Hackberry Emperors, quadrupled

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A quartet of Hackberry Emperors, Asterocampa celtis, adorn a tree at Kiwanis Park in Columbus. This little-known park is nestled along one of the wilder sections of the Scioto River in this otherwise urban area, and is one of my honey holes when little time is available.

So it was back on August 2, when only a few hours were available to shoot some images. So off to the nearby Kiwanis Park I went, where something of interest can always be found. I had meant to post these pictures long ago, but they got preempted by this, that, and the other. That happens all of the time. Even one good field trip can produce numerous subjects well worth writing about, and things constantly get sent to the end of the line, often never to see the light of day, at least on this blog.

Anyway, I've long had a soft spot for these beautiful butterflies, and admire their pugnacious mannerisms. Chances are good, if a butterfly boldly lands on you, and stays put, or keeps returning, it is a Hackberry Emperor. I have a number of shots of them perched on people's hats, shoulders, noses, whatever.

It's a well-named butterfly, too. The caterpillars eat hackberry foliage. Hence the scientific epithet of the animal's formal name: Asterocampa celtis. Celtis is the genus of hackberry trees. Kiwanis Park has many such trees, and the namesake butterfly isn't hard to find. The Emperor part of the name comes, I suppose, from their habit of regally using people or other animals as their thrones (but I don't know this for sure and feel too lazy to attempt to find out right now).

There is a sister species that is a near look-alike, the Tawny Emperor, Asterocampa clyton. They're around, but at least from my experience, never as commonly as the subject of this post. In fact, that's what I thought these might be at first, as they seemed so bright and buffy - not the colder gray tones that I associate with the Hackberry Emperor. But color varies, and these are bright individuals. A good mark to differentiate the two involves those dots and the bar along the leading edge of the forewing, closest to the body (the black marks, inboard from the white ones). In the Hackberry, the inner bar is broken into two dots. In the Tawny, they congeal into a continuous bar (Hackberry: bar and two dots; Tawny: two bars).

Hackberry Emperors seem prone to perching head down on trees, just as this one is doing. They are easy photographic subjects, often allowing very close approaches. In fact, too close sometimes, as when they land on your camera lens.

Rare in Ohio, Swainson's Hawk draws a crowd

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The famous Holmes County Swainson's Hawk

COLUMBUS DISPATCH
October 4, 2015

NATURE
Jim McCormac

On a summer day in 1827, naturalists John Richardson and Thomas Drummond were exploring uncharted territory near Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. Spying an unfamiliar raptor, Drummond drew a bead with his shotgun and fired. He had collected the first Swainson’s hawk specimen.

Named in honor of scientist/artist William Swainson, the Swainson’s hawk is an animal of great beauty. It’s about the same dimensions as the familiar red-tailed hawk, but it has a slimmer body and longer wings.

The plumage is variable, ranging from very dark forms to much paler types. Most are classified as “light morphs;” the “dark morphs” are scarcer.

The breeding range of Swainson’s hawk encompasses much of western North America, into the southern Canadian prairie provinces. A tiny population in northern Illinois represents the easternmost breeders.

Swainson’s hawks rarely appear in Ohio, and if one does, it will draw great interest.

Most have been fly-overs that didn’t linger. If you weren’t there when the bird winged by, you missed it. I was lucky indeed to be part of Ohio’s first record, on July 1, 1983. A gorgeous Swainson’s hawk flew low over Bruce Peterjohn, Don Tumblin and me as we stood awestruck on a dike near Lake Erie.

Thus, when a Swainson’s hawk appeared in a Holmes County field on Sept. 17, it was big news. This bird was no fly-by, either. It stuck tight for the next five days, spending much time in its favored 6-acre field.

The bird’s unusual site fidelity and lengthy stay made it easy for legions of birders to see.

Hundreds of binocular-toters from all corners of Ohio made the pilgrimage, as did others from surrounding states.

An unaffected celebrity, the hawk utterly ignored visitors. It was entertaining to watch as it raced about snapping up grasshoppers. Otherwise, it perched on a fence post and scanned for bugs.
Swainson’s hawks are notable for being highly insectivorous, except during breeding season when they seek rodent meat for the nestlings.

Adding to the interest was the hawk’s color. It was a dark form. I believe all six or so previous records have been of the more typical light form birds.

Swainson’s hawks are highly migratory, and virtually the entire population shifts to the Pampas region of Argentina for the winter.

That’s more than 6,000 miles — one way! By the time you read this, Holmes County’s avian star will be well on its way to the southern grasslands.

It will join legions of others on the migratory passage.

One of the great hawk-watching spots is Veracruz, Mexico. Up to 1 million Swainson’s hawks have been tallied there in fall migration. Individual flocks can number 10,000 birds.

Major thanks go to Ed Schlabach, the Amish bird-watcher who first confirmed the hawk’s identity. Ed has found many other rarities, including most of Ohio’s other Swainson’s hawk records.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month.

2015 Wetlands Summit: October 17, Dawes Arboretum

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Cedar Bog, Champaign County. Perhaps the richest biological diversity in Ohio occurs in the fens of Cedar Bog. Wetlands in general fuel major spikes in biodiversity.

Mark your calendar for Saturday, October 17. That's the date of the Ohio Wetlands Association's annual Wetlands Summit. The event takes place at the beautiful Dawes Arboretum, which is a stone's throw from Newark and easy to reach from nearly anywhere. Complete details and registration information can be found RIGHT HERE.

Ohio has lost about 90% of the wetlands that were here when the first European settlers arrived. Prioritizing their protection, strategizing effective ways to save and restore them, and educating people about wetland values should be of paramount importance. The Ohio Wetlands Association excels at this mission.

A star-studded cast of speakers will make for a very informative and entertaining day, and there should be time to visit some of the wetlands that were restored in recent years in Dawes' property. Some of these wetlands host legions of sparrows in migration, and it's prime time for those beautiful but furtive skulkers, the Nelson's Sparrow and the Le Conte's Sparrow. Bring your binoculars. As an added bonus, the foliage should be awesome - it is fall in Ohio! - and Dawes is loaded with trees of all types.

To register, just CLICK HERE.
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