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Nettie Lake's loons

May 20, 2013, 2:22 pm
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This is part of the viewscape from the cabin where I'm staying, at NettieBay Lodge. That tiny island in Lake Nettie - the house hasn't been used for some time - is smack in the midst of a large, beautiful glacial kettle lake. Most of our forays take us much further afield, but when in residence at the lodge there is plenty to see. Wilson's Snipe nest along the north end, and can be heard delivering their aerial coutship winnowing. Kingfishers, Spotted Sandpipers, Osprey, Bald Eagle and plenty of others are regular fixtures.

The undisputed avian rulers of Lake Nettie are the Common Loons. Look closely under the conifer on the left side of the island, and you'll see a loon on its nest. A pair has nested in that spot for decades, probably - as long as anyone can remember. It must be a great location, as each year's offspring (loons normally have two) make it to the flighted stage, and eventually migrate from the lake.

The Schulers, masters of NettieBay Lodge, take good care of their loons. If only every lake up here had such admirers. These loons know them by sight, and often approach their boat and swim alongside, fishing in the clear water below. Once the young fledge, the downy chicks will occasionally ride on the back of one of the parents, and it'd be hard to find a safer place to be. No pike or giant Snapping Turtle will get at them then. Sometimes, in a remarkable bird-human example of trust, the adult loons will leave the loonlets alongside the boat and head off to fish, returning to pick up the chicks when dome foraging. The longevity and success rate of this nesting site speaks volumes for the ideal situation that the loons find on Lake Nettie.

This loon followed our boat around like a puppy dog, as we birded the farflung regions of the lake. Once, when the loon pair that lives at the other end of Lake Nettie flew by, the trio got into a yodeling war. If you've not heard loons war-whooping it up, you've been missing out on one of the great sounds of Nature.

Our loon "snorkels". Oftentimes, when actively fishing, a loon will stick its face under the surface to check on the piscine prey below. When a tasty fish is spotted, down goes the loon, and you wouldn't want to be that fish.

Thanks to the Schulers for providing safe haven for these loons. Although when they wake me at 3 am with their raucous yodeling, I might temporarily feel a bit differently :-)
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Snowshoe Hare!

May 20, 2013, 6:43 pm
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A Snowshoe Hare, Lepus americanus, regards your narrator, possibly with a mix of curiosity and distrust. I encountered this bunny yesterday while exploring a remote area of the Lake Huron shoreline, in Michigan's Presque Isle County. I was by myself, and my primary goal was to photograph various boreal plants, and elfin butterflies. Thus, and perhaps foolishly, I had only the 100 mm macro lens bolted to the Canon - traveling light. So, when I rounded a corner and saw the hare far ahead, I thought my chances of photographing the animal were slim to none. One has to be within 20 feet or so to manage a workable image with that lens.

So, I did my best to commune with the rabbit. Telegraphing pleasant thoughts in its direction, I began indian-stepping his way: back corner of the heel down, then slowly lower the rest of the foot. Little to no footfall noise. I had about 100 feet to get within range. Remarkably, the bunny sat tight and allowed me to get within 20 feet.

Note its large ears, a trademark of the hares. He has molted from a winter coat of white into the brown summer pelage, although the animal retains white feet and flanks. Because of the seasonal change of color, some people call Snowshoe Hares the "Varying Hare".

Finally, the hare had enough of me, and in the blink of an eye bolted for the cover of dense White Cedar. Fortunately, I had my camera at the ready and set to burst mode, and held down the trigger as the animal hotfooted it for cover. When a hare takes off, it's as if it has been shot from a cannon. Within a second or two he had made it to cover and vanished. Such speed and agility serves them well when trying to avoid Coyotes, which are a common predator.

Check the size of those feet! Snowshoe Hares are named for their enormous hoppers, which allow them to move about easily on the surface of snow.

Hares have an amazing, thoroughly impressive bounding gait, and when at full tilt can reach nearly 30 mph. It was a treat to have such an encounter, and that the animal would be so cooperative with me.

Snowshoes have a huge distribution, ranging across northern North America from Newfoundland to Alaska. They are shrinking back from the southern edges of their range, and the northern lower peninsula of Michigan - where I made these images - is about at their southern limits these days. The locals report that they were once more common and widespread in this part of Michigan, but are becoming harder to find.
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Photographing loons

May 21, 2013, 1:54 pm
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A post or so back, I shared some photos of Common Loons nesting in a beautiful lake in northern Michigan. That prompted some notes from persons interested in loons and their conservation, wondering about how the photos were obtained.

I don't blame them. One of the threats that loons face is encroachment by photographers trying to get as close as possible to frame-fill their point & shoot cameras, or whatever it is they're using. Here's how mine were obtained. The above photo was made with my 17 x 40 wide angle lens, mounted to my Canon 5D Mark III full frame SLR. In the photo the loon and her nest are visible as a white speck on the front of the island. We're using a silent electric trolling motor on the pontoon boat so as not to create disruptive noise.

Time for the Sigma 150 x 500 telephoto lens. Zoomed fully, the lens transforms that speck into an obvious loon. The late day sun, from behind, creates excellent light on the subject and nice crisp images. Later, upon processing in Photoshop, Voila! The photos can be cropped to frame-filling size and the loon remains undisturbed and blissfully ignorant of its distant admirers.

Loons in the water are apt to approach you. On this nautical excursion, we weren't after the loons specifically, but were birding by boat as the marshy margins often have Sedge Wrens, Swamp Sparrows, American Bitterns, Common Yellowthroats, Alder Flycatchers, Belted Kingfisher etc, As we cruised slowly along, one of the loons approached and fished the nearby waters, snorkeling for fish and diving for meals. Easy photography on their terms.

The Michigan Loon Preservation Association has some neat photos that are better than mine, showing tight shots of adult loons with chicks at close range. You can see those HERE.

As these lakes become increasingly developed, more people mean more boats. Powerboats and jet skis, especially, are really tough on the loons. Some jerks chase them around, and heavy wave action from speeding boats swamps the shoreline nests and can destroy eggs. And the loons eventually abandon the lakes and their cool quavering wails are no more. Such has been the fate on many a lake in Michigan's lower peninsula.

Probably the best conservation to protect a lake's loons is to buy and protect the lands that buffer the water. And thus keep out development. A major reason that the Lake Nettie loons have flourished for decades is due to all of the protected house and cabin free land along much of its shoreline.
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Warbler mania along Lake Huron

May 22, 2013, 6:00 pm
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A beautiful male Blackburnian Warbler works its way through a white cedar on the shore of Lake Huron in Presque Isle County, Michigan. Our group headed afield bright and early this morning to explore the shores of this beautiful Great Lake. In spite of fog and drizzle, coupled with temps in the low 50's, we found scores of birds. Things got hot and heavy at Thompson Harbor State Park, with two major movements of warblers. Lots of diversity and numbers, and after the second encounter with a large mixed flock, we didn't think things could get any better. They did.

Our group shelters under the eaves of a building at 40 Mile Point, north of Rogers City. We stopped here to eat lunch. Soon after spreading the food out on a picnic table and digging into the goodies, Deb Marsh exclaimed "Canada Warbler!". Glancing over at a lakeside shrub revealed the bird, and we abandoned our lunches to wander over for a better view. Upon rounding the corner of a building, we quickly saw that there were a lot more birds present than that Canada Warbler. A huge mixed feeding flock was working its way up the lakeshore to our location, and soon the trees were alive with flitting warblers and other songbirds.

For the next two hours, in spite of misty fog and light rain, we stood and watched scads of warblers move through the trees and shrubs. It was probably the biggest congregation of warblers that I've seen in the last twenty years. It was hard to focus on single birds, as others would flit through in the backdrop and it was tempting to follow each new bird. Multiple species were often in close proximity in the same tree. As one big wave would dissipate, another group would come along after a brief lull. At peak times, dozens of birds would be in view, flitting maniacally through all levels of the forest picking off midges and other insects. It was impressive, to say the least.

In all, we saw 21 species, and many of them in large numbers. Getting exact estimates was tough, because it was impossible to glass all of the birds as they moved through in the misty dim conditions. For many species, probably dozens of birds passed by. For those interested, here's what we saw:

Tennessee Warbler
Nashville Warbler
Northern Parula
Yellow Warbler
Chestnut-sided Warbler
Magnolia Warbler
Cape May Warbler
Black-throated Blue Warbler
Yellow-rumped Warbler
Black-throated Green Warbler
Blackburnian Warbler
Pine Warbler
Palm Warbler
Bay-breasted Warbler
Blackpoll Warbler
Black-and-white Warbler
American Redstart
Ovenbird
Common Yellowthroat
Wilson's Warbler
Canada Warbler

Such occurrences are probably not that uncommon along this part of the Lake Huron shoreline. You've just got to be in the right place at the right time.
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Bearberry, Iris, and Sedge

May 23, 2013, 9:58 am
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Presque Isle County, Michigan, where I've been for the past eight days, is full of botanical eye candy. It is a botanist's Eden. I've got a lot of photos of interesting plants, and will try to put a few of them on here in the coming days. Below is a trio of my favorites, for starters.
 
Gorgeously blue and impossibly tiny, a pair of Dwarf Lake Iris, Iris lacustris, nestles in a bed of Bearberry, Arctostaphylos uva-ursi, foliage. The iris is locally abundant along the Lake Huron shoreline, and the Bearberry is nearly everywhere up here. A few clusters of the urnlike Bearberry flowers lurk in the backdrop.

Possibly a plant that only a botanist would love, or at least admire, is this Chestnut Sedge, Carex castanea. Seen well, it is a handsome little plant, and is surrounded by eye-catching flora in the rocky ground in which it grows. The male, or staminate, flowers are at the plant's summit; the female flowers dangle on threadlike pedicels below. The entire affair is only six inches or so in height.
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Canada Fly Honeysuckle

May 25, 2013, 5:21 pm
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I'm back from ten days in northern Michigan's Presque Isle County, and wading through scores of photos. I was up there for the fourth year in a row, leading excursions in partnership with the NettieBay Lodge. Between the two groups (I get a day of rest between), a total of 17 people were along and we saw lots of stuff. Birds are a priority, and we did well, mustering a total of 160 species. Notably, one-quarter of that total was sparrows (13 species) and warblers (27 species).
 
But there is plenty of nonbird stuff to see: Porcupine, Eastern Hognosed Snake, Blanding's Turtle, Snowshoe Hare, and more. And I would not want to forget the plants. Presque Isle County is insanely diverse in habitats, and a botanical wonderland. Following is a cool plant of the North Woods, and a species that an Ohio botanist would be quite pleased to see in the Buckeye State.
 
The low shrubs in the foreground are Canada Fly Honeysuckle, Lonicera canadensis, a plant of cool northern woods. It barely extends south into Ohio, and can be found in only a handful of counties in the northeastern corner of the state. In northern Michigan it is common, and easy to find in suitable habitat.

Canada Fly Honeysuckle is rather nondescript when out of flower, but when in bloom it is quite showy. The dangling bell-shaped flowers turn pinkish with age. Later, bright red berries will adorn its peduncles.

Note the cilia fringing the base of the leaf, a character that helps to separate this species from another somewhat similar species of native bush honeysuckle.

Where I live, in Columbus, the nonnative bush honeysuckles has proliferated to the point of noxiousness. Up in Presque Isle County, the invasive honeysuckles are not nearly as problematic and do not overtake the woodlands, at least in the places that I have been. Here's hoping it stays that way, and the native honeysuckles continue to flourish.
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Cool encounter with an Eastern Hognosed Snake

May 27, 2013, 7:14 am
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Yes, this post is about a snake. Time to click on through if you are an ophidiophobe. But remember, the following is just pictures and words. And the protagonist of this tale is utterly harmless, and one of our most interesting reptiles. But if even photos of snakes are too much, exit stage right.
 
A short while ago, I posted about a young Eastern Hognosed Snake, Heterodon platirhinos, from Adams County, Ohio, RIGHT HERE. While that animal was beautifully colored and a handsome beast indeed, it had already been handled and had settled down nicely. The snake that follows was much larger, and put on a heckuva act.
 
Believe it or not, this sandy lane serves as a "major" east-west artery in western Presque Isle County, Michigan. I was traversing it on my first day up in Michigan en route to my birds (and nearly everything else) workshop at NettieBay Lodge. I've had many interesting birds along this route before, such as the hybrid Brewster's Warbler, Mourning Warbler, Golden-winged Warbler and many others. Thus, I was slowly cruising along, listening as I went, when a three foot long ribbon in the road caught my eye.

An Eastern Hognosed Snake! Luck was with me - and the snake! While traffic on this road is light, vehicles come by with enough frequency that, were the snake to linger, chances are good it'd have been pancaked by an F-150. So of course, goal #1 was to ensure the animal's safety by speeding his passage, but as my reward for the good deed, some photos were in order.

As soon as I jumped out of the car and made my approach, the hognose went into its ferocious bluff. This was a good-sized snake insofar as hognoses go - about three feet in length. As I neared, the snake held its ground, began to hiss, curled its tail tip into a faux rattle, and flattened its neck to cobraesque dimensions. If one was not hip to the charade, this behavior would probably be rather intimidating and likely result in one of two outcomes: the person would quickly leave, or kill the snake.

With a bit of goading, the hognose really put on a show. Mouth agape, it made fake lunges in the direction of your narrator. As always, however, these strikes fell short. I've never heard of an Eastern Hognosed Snake attempting to bite a person, and given their lack of teeth, they couldn't inflict harm even if the snake wanted to.

That's an impressive mouth, and it's easy to see how a hognose can swallow a toad. The warty amphibians are favored prey. Had I pushed the snake a bit more, it undoubtedly would have entered Act II, which is to roll over and play dead.

After a brief bit of play with the snake, I moved him into the vegetation off the side of the road to which he was headed. Just in time, too - not far after commencing travel, I passed a couple of speeding pickup trucks headed the snake's way.
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Chickadees nest in drinking fountain

May 28, 2013, 7:31 pm
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Ah! Here we have the perfect antidote to the creature in the previous post, at least for some of you. While the aforementioned hognosed snake is utterly (and inexplicably) terrifying for some, the following animals strike fear into the hearts of exactly NO ONE.
 
While making a brief stop at a state park on one of my recent NettieBay Lodge trips in northern Michigan, we noticed a pair of Black-capped Chickadees making a nest in an odd place. The wooden post that supports this drinking fountain had a nice round hole just opposite the spigot, and the chickadees were industriously laboring to perfect the hole.

Tame and confiding, as chickadees usually are, I warranted only a brief over-the-shoulder glance. The birds paid our group no mind, and many a photo was taken.

The architectural dimensions of the drinking fountain hole were not acceptable to the birds, and they busily chipped away at the wood to bring the potential home up to spec.

I don't know why the hole was there in the first place - it appears manmade - but the cavity-nesting chickadees don't miss a trick and of course viewed the crevice as a potential nest site, even though it is only a few feet off the ground. Not only that, but the fountain is sure to be a popular spot for humanoids come warmer weather and busy days for the park. Whether this nest site works out for the birds remains to be seen, but I hope that it does. If the chickadees ended up using it, they'd probably have eggs in there by now, and would likely have their brood out of the nest before people traffic picks up too much.

One of the sexes - they're virtually identical - fidgets as it waits its turn to assist in the construction project. Shortly after I made this photo, the birds switched places. Chickadees are anything but lazy, and work hard at everything that they do.

Their tameness is endearing. With a little effort, chickadees can be trained to land on one's hand if a bit of seed is offered as an enticement. One time, I was walking along a brushy shoreline of Lake Erie during a flight of Black-capped Chickadees, which had probably just crossed the lake from Canada the prior night. Toting my scope along, I glanced back to see that one of the chickadees had boldly hopped aboard one of the tripod legs and was hitching a ride!

If all goes well with the drinking fountain nest, this is what the innards will look like once the chickadees have packed it with nesting material. An emerald-green bed of moss will welcome the fledglings into the world, and for a brief time their abode will be one of the plushest of any of our songbirds.
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Depth of field

May 30, 2013, 7:32 pm
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I don't claim to be a professional photographer, but the photo bug has hit me pretty hard over the past half-dozen years. I've pulled the trigger enough times, with enough cameras, on enough different subjects, and in enough conditions, to learn a few things. One of which is you'll almost always shortchange yourself and under-utilize your camera if you just leave it on full auto mode.
 
At the upcoming Mothapalooza event, John Howard - an absolutely topflight photographer - and I are going to teach a photography seminar. That one will focus on moths, especially, and the use of flash, obviously. Much to the incredulity of all involved in the planning, Mothapalooza is SOLD OUT! 120 people coming to Ohio's Shawnee State Forest for a weekend of learning about and finding moths! Who'd a thunk it?
 
I'll also be conducting another photo seminar, this one more focused on plants, at this July's Midwest Native Plant Conference in Dayton. That event, too, is rapidly filling but space is available. There's all manner of cool stuff happening over the course of that weekend - details are RIGHT HERE.
 
One of the important variables that can be controlled by the photographer is depth of field. This relates to your camera's F-stop, which determines how wide the lens' aperture is. The smaller the F-stop number, the wider open the lens is, and the less depth of field. Ironically, the higher the F-stop number the smaller the lens aperture, but the greater the depth of field. Examples follow. Both photos were taken in full manual with a Canon 5D Mark III outfitted with Canon's excellent 100 mm macro lens. No tripod was used (I know, I really should), nor was any sort of artificial flash or light employed (I am increasingly becoming anti-flash when possible).
 
The beautiful Bird's-eye Primrose, Primula mistassinica, shot along the shores of Lake Huron on my recent NettieBay Lodge excursions. This image was made at the following settings:

f/7.1
1/100 exposure
ISO 200

Note how the flowers look nice and relatively crisp - especially the center blossom, which is what I was focused on. But the basal rosette of leaves, some six inches below and on the ground, are quite blurred and out of focus.

This shot was taken from the identical position as the former, but note how the leaves are much sharper, as are the peripheral flowers. We can even see the leaves' midveins, and denticulate serrations along the margins. Those details were certainly not detectable in the previous image.

So, what changed? A radical reconfiguring of the camera's settings, as follows:

f/32
1/100 exposure
ISO 4000

Note the shutter speed remains the same as the first photo, but shutting the aperture down to a tiny f/32 (as small as it will go) requires much more light. And therein lies the rub. You must slow the shutter speed WAY down to compensate, which will make holding the camera (sans tripod) steady enough for a clear image very difficult. Or, you can use flash, but that (in my opinion) seldom gives as pure and natural-looking a shot, OR you can bump the ISO up. And it's the latter that I did, all the way up to 4000 to achieve a decent image but one that allows the depth of field to be vastly improved. ISO is the digital equivalent of film speed (remember the olden days of Kodak in 100, 400, 800 etc. film speeds?).

Tiny F-stops and low light situations are where the Canon 5D really shines, as it'll go up to massive ISO numbers with little loss of quality. It's necessary to experiment with each camera to see how far you can push the ISO before loss of quality/graininess/digital noise become too problematic.
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Pogacnik discovers long lost orchid!

May 31, 2013, 6:54 pm
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The beautiful image above, made by Gary Meszaros, is of a place known as Morgan Swamp and was featured in the book that Gary and I collaborated on: Wild Ohio: The Best of Our Natural Heritage. That photo-filled volume covers 40 of Ohio's wildest areas, and Morgan Swamp was a no-brainer for inclusion. Located in the wildlands of Ashtabula County in northeastern Ohio, Morgan Swamp is large and difficult to access potpourri of beaver swamps, alder thickets, and various types of woodland.

Here's a quote from my text: "Morgan Swamp is for the intrepid. The vast, flat terrain pocked with soupy wetlands and tangled vegetation doesn't lend itself to easy navigation, and a compass is required. The effort pays off, though - rare plants hard to find elsewhere in Ohio grow on elevated hummocks and in boggy quagmires. At least 15 state-listed plants have so far been found, and other discoveries await".

Indeed.

Photo: John Pogacnik

The spindly stalks of an orchid not seen in Ohio since 1933 jut from the leaf litter of a hummock in Morgan Swamp. It is Heart-leaved Twayblade, Listera cordata, and it must have been a thrill to stumble into this plant - sort of like seeing a botanical ghost. Until John Pogacnik's rediscovery of last Sunday, May 26, this species had a big fat X as its status: Extirpated, or locally extinct. John is an extraordinary field biologist, and has a long string of noteworthy discoveries - plants and animals - to his credit. But he'll have a hard topping this orchid find anytime soon.

Photo: John Pogacnik 

Heart-leaved Twayblade is not our showiest orchid - that honor might fall to the Showy Lady's-slipper, Cypripedium reginae. In fact, one author described its flowers as looking "mosquito-like". Nonetheless, it has a certain charm and charisma that only orchids can muster.

Without a splitting of hairs, we'll say that 46 species of native orchids have been found in Ohio (there is one established nonnative, believe it or not). Of that number, fully 26 species (including one variety) are listed at some level of imperilment (57% of our orchid flora), as follows: Endangered = 7; Threatened = 6; Potentially Threatened = 8; and Extirpated = 5. Of course, we can scrub one from the X list; presumably the Heart-leaved Twayblade will later be redesignated as Endangered.


This map shows most of the big picture of the Heart-leaved Twayblade's range. It occurs commonly far north into Canada, too; this map only shows U.S. records. As we can see, the Ashtabula County, Ohio record - based on the previously mentioned 1933 collection - is somewhat far afield and definitely at the periphery of this orchid's range.

Congratulations to John Pogacnik for a fabulous discovery, and putting a plant thought to be long lost from Ohio back on the map. Major thanks are also very much in order for the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy, which began acquiring land in Morgan Swamp long ago and now protects about 1,400 acres in the area.


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Sea Lamprey

June 2, 2013, 5:37 pm
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The bright red roofs of the Hammond Bay Biological Station glow against a blue northern Michigan sky. Set on the shores of Lake Huron, this site is biologically interesting in more ways than one. We stopped by on one of my recent NettieBay Lodge excursions looking for interesting birds and plants. A ribbon fen runs along the entrance drive, which is full of Pitcher-plants and Bogbean, among other interesting plants. The shoreline of the lake sports yet other noteworthy plants, and the birds are always diverse. Both Common and Red-breasted Mergansers can be found on the lake, there is a thriving Cliff Swallow colony under the eaves of one of the buildings, and Merlins nest nearby.

On this foray, a gentleman who works at the station stopped by to see what we were ogling (the fen and its plants). I struck up a conversation, and that led to an informal tour of the biological station. That proved so interesting that we scheduled a formal tour for our second group, and I'm glad that we did. I think tours of the Hammond Bay Biological Station will become a standard feature of our NettieBay trips.

The Hammond Bay Biological Station is all about Sea Lamprey, Petromyzon marinus. These large eel-like fish are native to the Atlantic Ocean, but invaded the Great Lakes in the early 1900's after the Welland Canal - which bypasses Niagara Falls - was enlarged. Their numbers quickly exploded, and by 1940 had occupied all five of the Great Lakes.

There are several ways to control lampreys, and this small dam, with an attendant electrical barrier, is one of them. Sea Lamprey run up streams and rivers to spawn, and disrupting this part of their life cycle is one way to attempt to reduce their numbers. This barrier is along the Ocqueoc (Ok-quee-ok) River, not far from the biological station. A few years ago, researchers trapped about 26,000 lampreys below this dam, which gives an idea of the severity of the invasion. Sea Lamprey breed in scores of other Great Lakes tributaries.

Other lamprey control techniques that are in place, and which the biological station is constantly striving to improve, include: lampricides, which are chemicals that kill the larval stage of the lamprey; trapping; the aforementioned barriers; and pheromones which repel the lamprey.

Here's a Sea Lamprey in the flesh, one of many live specimens that the Hammond Bay Biological Station has on hand. It's a decent sized animal, and nearing the upper limits of what lampreys in the Great Lakes can grow to. In their native marine habitat, Sea Lamprey can grow considerably larger. In the ocean, however, where all of the prey have co-evolved with lamprey, the parasitic fish don't wreak the havoc that they do in the Great Lakes.

Your narrator acts the part of a fish, and allows a lamprey to clamp on. Adult Sea Lamprey feed by attaching to a host fish with specialized mouth parts (as we shall soon see). Once the lamprey has firmly bonded with its victim, it begins extracting nutrients.

A closeup of the lamprey connected to my hand. Fortunately, they are programmed to feed only on cold-blooded organisms - fish, in this case - and warm-blooded animals such as myself do not trigger the rather brutal process of nutrient extraction. Even though we humans may not be part of the lamprey's menu, they certainly will clamp on with vigor!

Looking like something straight out of a sci-fi horror film, this is the "mouth" of the Sea Lamprey. The fleshy ring surrounding the mouth grips like a suction cup, albeit a VERY strong suction cup. They claim that a lamprey can generate roughly four times the force of a vacuum cleaner, and after allowing one to attach to me, I'd buy that. All of those teeth apparently help hold it in place, and once the connection is solid, the fun begins. A raspy-roughened tongue emerges from the center pit, and files away until a hole is sawed through the fish's skin. Anticoagulants are released, the better to keep the juices flowing, and the lamprey begins sucking its sustenance from the victim.

Lampreys basically lurk discreetly in the water column, and when a suitable prey item is located, the lamprey sidles near and in a quick burst of speed, lunges and instantly locks onto its host. In the sea, many of the lamprey's prey species are large enough that they can deal with these parasites, and the lampreys do not necessarily kill the host. The Great Lakes fish are not as large or as resilient, and Sea Lamprey have caused enormous declines in fisheries, especially of the native Lake Trout, Salvelinus namaycush. One adult lamprey can kill up to 40 lbs. of fish over the course of its life. Other host include large fishes such as Walleye, Northern Pike, Lake Sturgeon, among others.

Seldom able to resist an interesting photo op, your blogger has attached a lamprey to his forehead. Now that I know firsthand what this feels like, I cannot imagine the adverse impact that having such a beast attached to a 30 or 40 pound Lake Trout must cause. Even though the lamprey was only bonded to my head for less than a minute, it left a slight purplish bruise for the better part of a day.

The efforts of the Hammond Bay Biological Station's lamprey research has reaped a lot of success. Lamprey numbers have been greatly reduced in all of the Great Lakes, and especially in Lake Superior. In many regions, lamprey numbers have been reduced by about 90% of their historic, pre-control highs. Great Lakes fisheries are incredibly important and well worth protecting. About five million anglers troll the waters of the Great Lakes, and fishery-based work creates about 75,000 jobs. The total fishery produces about $7 billion annually, so the funds spent to manage the invasive lampreys is well worth it.

We'll soon have the dates set for next year's NettieBay Lodge trips, and if you go, we can probably arrange for you to have a Sea Lamprey stuck to your flesh, if that's really what you want.
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Ohio's most stunning orchid has arisen!

June 3, 2013, 8:01 pm
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Last Saturday was a whirlwind of travel. I left that morning, and drove to Hastings, Michigan and Michigan Audubon's Otis Farm Bird Sanctuary. I was there to give that evening's program, which was, fittingly enough, on warblers as the event was the Cerulean Warbler Weekend. That was a lot of fun, and we found some interesting birds on the farm.
 
I really needed to be back in Ohio the following day, so about 9 pm that evening I hopped in the Jetta and jetted back south towards the Buckeye State. Finding myself near U.S. 68 and Rte. 33 at around 1 am Sunday morning, visions of Cedar Bog flashed through my mind. The Bog was not too far from this juncture, and its most spectacular botanical denizen should be starting to bloom. So I shot off down 68, and arrived at a very dark and deserted Cedar Bog parking lot around 1:30ish in the morning. With only the ghost of Terry Jaworski for company, I shut the car down and dozed off for a few hours. The dawn chorus of birds, including a loudly crowing Ring-necked Pheasant right behind the car, awoke me at dawn's first light and I packed up the camera gear and headed into the bog.
 
Bingo! The detour and crashing in the car paid big orchid dividends. A massive Showy Lady's-slipper, Cypripedium reginae, bursts from the cold wet mire of a small rill. If you've not seen these plants, do yourself a favor and visit Cedar Bog soon.

The slippers were just coming on, and probably won't reach their peak until next weekend. This big clump will resemble an orchid bush when all of those buds burst open.

PHOTOGRAPHY NOTE: I made this image, and the others, with my Tamron 70-200 mm lens (bolted to the Canon 5D Mark III). It's a fabulous lens, with a lightning quick 2.8 aperture. More importantly, this lens allows me to shoot the orchids without leaving the boardwalk, which is strictly taboo. Every year,  photographers, enchanted by the photogenic orchids, trample paths to the plants. Bad form. Just use a bigger lens, or zoom, or both. Sure, I would have loved to push that intruding willow branch on the right out of the shot, but I still think the image looks pretty good.

No matter what your camera rig, you'll be able to find some lady's-slippers near enough to the trail to capture some excellent images. This coming weekend will be excellent for the orchids, and I hope you can make a foray over to Cedar Bog to drink them in.

Showy Lady's-slipper is listed as a threatened species in Ohio, and is known from only a handful of locales. It isn't the only rarity at Cedar Bog, not by a longshot. This fen (it isn't really a bog) harbors what may be the richest botanical diversity per square foot of any habitat in Ohio. Over two dozen species of state-listed rare plants have been found, and once in the fen meadows, nearly every plant you clap eyes on is uncommon at best in Ohio.

If you would like to learn more about the rare plants of Cedar Bog, feel free to attend a program that I'm giving at Cedar Bog's fabulous new interpretive center on July 13 at 10 am. It's all about the rare flora of Cedar Bog, and I'll go into a bit of geological and botanical history in a PowerPoint program punctuated with lots of imagery of the "bog" and its rare inhabitants. Best of all, following that we'll head down the boardwalk and into Cedar Bog to experience its rarities firsthand, and learn a bit about botany. As a bonus, cool birds and bugs abound at that time of year, and we'll surely see threatened animals such as the Elfin Skimmer dragonfly and Seepage Dancer damselfly.
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Mothapalooza Openings!!!

June 5, 2013, 4:20 am
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 Luna, Actias luna

Mothapalooza is a guaranteed to be a surefire cool event the likes of which has never taken place before, at least in these parts. It takes place at Shawnee State Park, June 14-16. See all of the details RIGHT HERE. You haven't heard me talk about Mothapalooza much on this blog. That's because, to our utter astonishment, we quickly and completely filled the 120 or so available slots nearly by word of mouth. Small wonder, I suppose: moths are ultra-cool, the event takes place in the midst of the richest treasure trove of biodiversity north of the Ohio River, and we've got the best of the best in the expert leader department. In addition to tons of amazing moths, you'll see scores of birds, lots and lots of plants including a number of rarities, and scads of nonmoth insects.

As sometimes (often) happens with these events, there have  been a few last hour cancellations, which opens up a few slots. Visit the Mothapalooza website to register. Also, if you live anywhere near Cleveland, the Cleveland Museum of Natural History has organized one of their famous van trips down to Mothapalooza and has a few seats open. For details on that opportunity, contact Renee Boronka at: rboronka@cmnh,org

Virgin Tiger Moth, Grammia virgo

I am looking forward to Mothapalooza in a major way. The nocturnal field trips are going to be a blast, and I know from personal experience that our light traps will attract blizzards of moths the likes of which you just won't find elsewhere in this area. The day trips will be awesome too, with unrivaled (in Ohio) butterfly diversity, as well as all of the other stuff.

Hope to see you at Mothapalooza, and if you can swing it, jump on one of those open spots!
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From rock, to plant

June 6, 2013, 9:05 pm
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Beautiful and wild, the cold rocky shoreline of Lake Huron in Michigan's Presque Isle County offers a glimpse of utterly untrammeled wilderness. Of all of the diverse habitats in this region, this spot, at Thompson Harbor State Park, is my favorite. The botanical diversity is stunning, the ecology fascinating, and the birds can be beyond belief. It was not far from this spot where I photographed the Snowshoe Hare which was the subject of THIS POST.

The rock-studded gravelly shoreline spread out before us is not a hospitable environment for most plants. If chlorophyll coursed through your veins, and you were thinking of plunking down roots in this place, you'd be wise to pick a new spot. Take note of the White Cedars and other conifers in the backdrop. They display the Krummholz effect - a stunted twisting of conifers that are subjected to regular strong icy winds. Lake Huron, off to the right, regularly offers up gales and attendant brutal winds that smash and distort the lakeside trees. Not only that, but the rocky plain in the foreground is often pounded by punishing walls of water during storms. Come winter, comes ice. The lake drives piles of it ashore, and the ice scours the shoreline with the force of a fleet of caterpillar bulldozers.

As I said, this is no place to be if you are a refined plant, used to tender soils and balmy climes.

This is the number one botanical tough guy; the grassy-looking plant that dominates the previous photo. It is Baltic Rush, Juncus balticus, and it's the main pioneering plant of No Man's Land: the wave-washed, ice-scoured leading edge of the Huron shoreline. Note how its stems form a perfect line. This is a wonderful example of a rhizomatous plant.

I've unearthed a Baltic Rush so that we might better examine its anchoring system. That thick cordlike root is the rhizome, and the stems arise at regular intervals. This growth habit forms the neat row of stems that we saw in the former photograph. Such a system works well for holding a plant in place when it is subject to extreme forces of disturbance. Plants that are successful at colonization by rhizome often produce relatively few fertile seed, instead putting much of their energy into expansion of the root network.

After a while, islands of comparative tranquility are created by the buffering effect of pockets of Baltic Rush. Other, somewhat lesser plants then gain a tenuous foothold on the beachhead by growing in spots protected by the rush. The purple jots in the foreground are Northern Bog Violet, Viola nephrophylla.
 
Do not be fooled by the violet's elfin, delicate appearance. The plant, at least when inhabiting rocky Huron shorelines, grows in an environment that would quickly kill most plants. It is able to eke out an existence sandwiched in the interstices of rocks, where it is occasionally drenched by raging waves.

As we move back the beach a bit, to slightly more settled lee zones, the plant life diversifies somewhat. This is Indian Paintbrush, Castilleja coccinea, which often grows in association with Bird's-eye Primrose, Primula mistassinica, in these areas.

Eventually, woody shrublets, perhaps most notably Bearberry, Arctostaphylos uva-ursi, gain a foothold. The process of stabilization and transformation from rock to plant is well underway.

Other plants begin creeping in, including what may be the world's most beautiful member of the Iridaceae, the Dwarf Lake Iris, Iris lacustris. This is Michigan's official state wildflower, and its range is limited to shorelines of the upper Great Lakes. The plant is well named on all fronts: it is truly dwarf; those blooms rise only a few inches above the gravel. The specific epithet of the scientific name, lacustris, means "of lakes".

The occasional Pitcher Plant, Sarracenia purpurea, infiltrates damp pockets of the back parts of the gravelly beach. Ohioans and others from points south are invariably delighted to see this botanical carnivore, which is quite rare down our way and persists only in the odd glacial relict bog or fen. Note the other carnivorous plant in the backdrop, righthand corner. It is the so-called English Sundew, Drosera anglica.

The leaves were obvious on my recent visit, but one would have to return to these shores in July to catch the spectacular flowers of Grass-of-Parnassus, Parnassia glauca. In Ohio, we think of this plant as a strict fen specialist. The cold wet calcareous shorelines of Lake Huron have all of the ingredients of a fen, and sport many of the same plant species.

Finally, given enough time - hundreds? thousands? of years? - full blown woody plants will begin colonization of the shoreline, following in the rootsteps of all of the pioneering plants that came before. This is a White Cedar, Thuja occidentalis, and it is among the first trees to step foot onto the shoreline. The conditions are still rugged, even for a tough cedar, and this tree shows the wear and tear that comes with life on the Lake Huron shoreline. This specimen is not particularly robust, but I suspect we might be surprised to learn its true age.

Once the cedars take hold, the process of forestation will increase dramatically. This is an old beach ridge only a quarter-mile aft of the open rocky shoreline featured in the previous photos. Ground Juniper, Juniperus communis, and Creeping Juniper, J. horizontalis, line the path. Other conifers dominate, such as Red Pine, Pinus resinosa, Balsam Fir, Abies balsamea, White Spruce, Picea glauca, and in wetter areas, Tamarack, Larix laricina, and Black Spruce, Picea mariana.

Life is easier, and more diverse, in these nearshore forests than on the open lakeshore. Breeding birds abound, and plant diversity spikes appreciably. Walking through the transition between these places is always fascinating, and our mile round-trip from parking lot to lakeshore and back can easily take several hours. We typically return with an enormous list of flora and fauna, and a better appreciation of Great Lakes ecology.

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Least Tern!

June 9, 2013, 12:34 pm
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This is, without doubt, one of the worst photos to appear on this blog. But the bird in the picture is identifiable, and it is a Least Tern! This species is a major rarity in Ohio, with on average perhaps one or two reports annually, although some years there are no records. Rob Thorn found this tern at the upper end of Alum Creek Reservoir last Friday morning, and put the word out. News of his find was somewhat punishing, as I was stuck in my office all day, the tern is one of my major nemesis birds (for Ohio), and Alum Creek and the tern site is only a half-hour away.

I finally made it to the scene not long before dusk, and spotted the tiny tern in no time flat as it hunted minnows just where Thorn had reported it. Great distance and dim lighting conspired to eliminate the possibility of decent photos, but nonetheless you can see the tern's yellow bill and white forehead - good field marks. In life, the Least Tern is truly dinky; far smaller than the Common or Forster's terns, which are regular migrants on our local reservoirs. It is utterly dwarfed by another fairly common migrant, the Caspian Tern, which outweighs the Least Tern by 15 times!

I'm not a big lister, except when it comes to Ohio. Longevity - I began chasing birds in my home state long before I had a driver's license - has allowed me to develop a fairly sizeable state list. Thanks to my supportive parents, and oldest brother, who would take me to see megas when I was just a lad, I have species such as Bachman's Sparrow and Red-cockaded Woodpecker on my Ohio list, and those will be pretty unlikely additions in the future. I've also learned that when possible it is best to proceed apace to the scene of a major rarity, and I'm glad I didn't linger any longer with this tern. It was nowhere to be found the next day, and not surprisingly - Least Terns are typically short-term visitors when they appear here.

Major props to Rob Thorn for making this find. It isn't his first time at the rare birds dance, either - he won much acclaim with his discovery of a Western Tanager in an urban Columbus suburb back in 2006. Unlike the tern, that tanager stayed for some time and was seen by scores of people, and was even featured in a local newspaper. And for the record, this Least Tern was my 370th Ohio species (the total state list is about 425).
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The virtues of native plants

June 11, 2013, 4:05 am
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Up close and personal with the inflorescence of a Downy Wood Mint, Blephilia ciliata. A stunning plant to be sure, and one that should be a welcome addition to any yardscape. Besides minty good looks, the plant has another thing going for it - it's native. As an indigenous North American, the mint plays host to all manner of interesting insect pollinators, and thus gives back to the environment in a way that most nonnative plants cannot.

The dates of July 26-28 will be on us before we know it, and those are important dates to note, as July's last weekend marks the 5th year of the Midwest Native Plant Conference. This event, held at the beautiful Bergamo Center in Dayton, is a great place to learn about our native plants, buy native plants, go on excellent field trips, hear interesting speakers, and generally just have a fabulous time. CLICK HERE for the complete lowdown.

A garden full of mundane Eurasian fare might look OK, but it'll mostly be operating on one dimension - aesthetics. The problem with nonnatives is that none of our insect fauna has co-evolved with foreign plants, so the interesting linkages between animal and plant are largely absent. Hence, there is no development of the food chain when a yardscape is overpopulated with nonnative plants. This stunning insect is a Dogbane Beetle, Chrysochus auratus, and it is totally wedded to dogbanes if the genus Apocynum, especially A. cannabinum. Dogbanes, which are allied to milkweeds, also attract myriad pollinators.

The close presence of your narrator and his clicking camera does not deter this Great Spangled Fritillary from sucking nectar from the T-bone steak of the flower world, Butterfly-weed, Asclepias tuberosa. The brilliant orange flowers of this native milkweed draw butterflies like a beacon, and no garden should be without it.

The treelet known as Redbud, Cercis canadensis, is a beauty year-round. The plants are festooned with drifts of pinkish-purple flowers in spring; later the interesting leaves emerge. Even in winter, the bonsai-like growth habit of the dark trunks creates beauty. But all is not aesthetics with the Redbud - scores of animals are attracted to the plant. This is the Redbud Borer, Ptosima gibbicollis, a native beetle that depends on the plant. As is the case with our native borer beetles, the linkage is harmonious - the woodboring beetles occur at low levels and don't generally harm their host, unlike introduced insects such as the notorious Emerald Ash Borer.

Finally, on to a personal favorite in the world of native shrubbery, the Ninebark, Physocarpus opulifolius. A member of the rose family, Ninebark occurs fairly commonly throughout Ohio, and is incredibly showy at all seasons. It flowers in late spring and early summer, producing plentiful corymbs of white flowers. When in bloom, especially, the plant is a surefire showstopper.

Insects are drawn to Ninebark like moths to flames, including lots of butterflies such as this Silvery Checkerspot. Photographers of insects, if they are paying attention to their surroundings, soon learn to investigate the Ninebarks when questing for interesting subjects.

Even the fruit of Ninebark is visually appealing, and the clusters of drupes hang from the plants for much of the summer. The multi-stemmed shrubs, with their shreddy exfoliating bark, look great in winter, too - sort of like a better Forsythia that actually has some value.

And who wouldn't want a beetle such as this! It is the badly named Spiraea Leaf Beetle, Calligrapha spiraea (Ninebark was once placed in the genus Spiraea), which is one of many insects that specialize on Ninebark. Look closely and you'll notice the intricately marked, colorful beetle has a hitchhiker. That's a parasitic wasp, unfortunately for the beetle, and it is injecting its eggs into the leaf beetle. Grisly as that may seem, it is part of the rich and abundant chain of life that springs up around native plants, cascading up to the level of vireos, orioles, tanagers, warblers, and other animals that we consider higher life forms. Creating valuable and infinitely interesting food webs is impossible with nonnative plants; adding natives to the mix can create diversity galore.

I hope that you can attend this year's Midwest Native Plant Conference, and learn firsthand about the world of native plants. And perhaps leave with a trunkload of valuable plants for your own yard!
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Black Kingsnake!

June 12, 2013, 8:44 pm
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Last Saturday, I put in a marathon day in one of my favorite parts of the world - southern Ohio's diverse Adams County. I got down there at 9 am, and met up with John Howard at his house, which sits in the midst of lots of GOOD STUFF. We explored far and wide that day, in part scouting things for this weekend's Mothapalooza. After dinner, John turned me on to a "life" dragonfly, the Stygian Shadowdragon, Neurocordulia yamaskanensis. These things are cool as can be, coming out to fly for a brief period from dusk until dark. We saw many of them at fingertip range hunting over Ohio Brush Creek, and if all goes well we'll have one in the hand tomorrow night, and I'll make some photos - that's about the only way you'll get a camera on one of these beasts. After the shadowdragons, we worked until nearly midnight at John's moth traps, recording many interesting things. I rolled back into my driveway around 2 am that morning.
 
When John and I get afield, we always find scores of cool stuff, and this trip was no exception. Hopefully, you ophidiophobes have already figured out from this post's title that the feature creature is a SNAKE. If not, I am engaging in an act of courtesy, and warning you now: THIS POST IS ABOUT A SNAKE! Oh no, oh no, a snake, a snake - turn back, turn back!
 
For those of you bold enough to venture ahead, and who may never have had the great fortune to meet a kingsnake, onward ho!
 
I had the distinct pleasure of seeing not one, but two, Black Kingsnakes, Lampropeltis getula, on this day. John had caught one in his garden before I arrived, and I found another under a debris pile later that day.
 
Neither were particularly large, about two feet in length, but a well-developed adult can reach four feet. Kingsnakes are normally fairly passive, and while they might try and take a nip when first captured, neither of these individuals made an attempt to bite and calmed down nicely.
 
The kingsnake is a handsome reptile indeed: rich lustrous black, stippled with fine white lines and a checkerboard belly. Their sleek tubular shape is quite pleasing to the eye.

Overall, this is a rare beast in Ohio. Populations are currently known from only four of our southernmost counties: Adams, Jackson, Lawrence, and Scioto. Kingsnakes can be fairly common in some regions within these counties, though.

The large eye suggests an animal who takes part in the nightlife, and Black Kingsnakes do indeed prowl under cover of darkness. The one that I found this day was sleeping it off under cover, and that's often how one finds them. When they do emerge and go on the hunt, lesser creatures would do well to stay out of the snake's path. Small mammals such as mice and voles are fair game, as are songbirds, fence lizards and skinks, and probably large insects and other invertebrates.

But why the name "Kingsnake"? Because, docile and handsome as this reptile may be, they pursue other snakes with a vengeance, and any other snake small enough to be swallowed is not safe if a kingsnake is afoot. Kingsnakes probably take plenty of other harmless species such as Eastern Garter Snakes, Brown Snakes, Ring-necked Snakes and the like. But even the venomous species are not immune, and in this part of the world that would be the Timber Rattlesnake and Northern Copperhead. While even the biggest kingsnake isn't going to handle a full-grown Timber Rattlesnake, they'll catch and eat the small ones, apparently. Kingsnakes are unaffected by venom, and thus able to handle rattlesnakes and copperheads, both of which most other predators give a wide berth.

Any snake that can catch and eat a Timber Rattlesnake deserves to be dubbed the king.
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Mothapalooza - it worked!

June 16, 2013, 7:17 pm
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A group of moth'ers inspects the bounty at a light sheet deep in Shawnee State Forest, around midnight last night. The sheet was covered with myriad moths of many different species.

The landmark Mothapalooza event took place over the weekend, and what an event it turned out to be! Approximately 150 moth (and nature) enthusiasts converged on Shawnee State Park in southern Ohio for an action-packed and probably unprecedented mothing event, at least in terms of size and scale. People from ten or twelve states - as far as Nebraska, Connecticut, and Florida - and Canada made the scene, and saw lots of cool stuff.

When we hatched this idea last year, we had no idea so many people would be interested. But we're glad that they were, and I think that everyone had a really great time. The hours were certainly odd - the primary field trips were nocturnal, of course, and departed at 9:15 pm. Some groups did not return until 2 am or thereabouts!

The Mothapalooza team deployed mothing stations far and wide, both at Shawnee State Park and forest, and at the Edge of Appalachia Preserve in neighboring Adams County. We knew the moths wouldn't let us down, and they didn't. The various light trap stations attracted blizzards of moths of scores of species, including jaw-droppers such as this Giant Leopard Moth, Hypercompe scribonia.

The attendees were divvied up into groups, and shuttled to the various stations. For many, it was their first up and close encounter with bizarre, cool, and interesting species, including this Black-waved Flannel Moth, Lagoa crispata.

Eight-year-old Isabella was enchanted with moths, and we had to drag her away from the sheets as midnight ticked past, and the adults grew weary. Here, she models three gorgeous species (L to R): Anna Tiger Moth, Grammia anna, the aforementioned Giant Leopard Moth, and an Io Moth, Automeris io.

There were diurnal field trips too, and here Dr. David Wagner kneels to show this group some sort of interesting butterfly. This group tallied 39 species of butterflies on our four hour foray, and a lot of other biota such as rare plants, birds, and non-Lepidopteran insects.

Dave Wagner was a pivotal force in the spawning of Mothapalooza. He, John Howard (second from left, in green shirt), and your narrator essentially hatched the idea while doing field work in southern Ohio last year. We needed someone smart, capable, good with people, and incredibly organized to oversee the show, and found such a person in Mary Ann Barnett, who is at the far left in the photo. She did an awesome job with scads of details and the weirdness that comes with organizing a giant moth conference. It wouldn't have happened without her!

This photo says it all. One of our participants, Melissa, had never seen a real live Luna Moth, Actias luna, and it was Numero Uno on her wish list. Well, not only did she see a Luna, she got to hold one! Only minutes after this experience, we found yet another, and those two were only a small chunk of the total Luna tally.

There are lots of people who deserve great thanks for helping to make Mothapalooza possible, and for contributing to its success. I want to share some more about this event and the folks who were there, but with only about eight hours of sleep over the past three days, additional Mothapalooza posts will have to wait.

Thanks to everyone who came out, and we have already discussed the possibility of Mothapalooza II!

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Caterpillars and moths

June 18, 2013, 8:07 pm
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I've got moths on my mind, and probably will for some time. The giant lepidopteran fest known as Mothapalooza will do that. We saw so many species in so many different groups of organisms at Mothapalooza that I could write about it and share photos for weeks, probably.
 
But I'll not do that. Life goes on, and I'll soon be immersed in new adventures, and seeing new things. I do want to make two more posts about the Mothapaloozian weekend, though.
 
This little charmer was a crowd pleaser, and we were lucky in that several of these outrageously fuzzy beasts appeared at the mothing sheets. It is the Black-waved Flannel Moth, Lagoa crispata, a well-named animal. The moth appears to be covered in flannel of the softest sort, and its sides are adorned with wavy black stripes. It reminds me of a tiny winged sheep. And check the antennae on this moth! It is a male, and I can only imagine its ability to sniff out female pheromones is magnificent.

We also had some luck finding caterpillars at Mothapalooza, although I had to dip into my archives for this shot. It's the caterpillar of the Black-waved Flannel Moth, and although we didn't find one during the event, I made this shot two years ago very near one of our mothing stations.

The caterpillar also has a certain charm to it, looking somewhat like a turtle covered in shag carpet. They aren't rare, and when afield during flannel moth caterpillar season, you'll want to take care as to where you put your hands. These caterpillars pack a brutal punch, being adorned with powerful stinging hairs. Touch one wrong, and you'll probably learn a painful lesson that won't soon be forgotten.

Scroll between the caterpillar and the adult flannel moth, and there is some resemblance.

We felt fortunate indeed to be able to find and show many of the Mothapaloozians this wonderful larva. It is the state endangered Unexpected Cycnia moth, Cycnia inopinata, and its caterpillars are highly cool. Not just cool - highly cool. For one, they're orange. Two, the cats are adorned with miniature forests of pencil eraser-like hair tufts. The forwardmost tufts are elongated into spectacular plumes. The animal suggests a larval Liberace, all feathered and boa'd up for a show.

Conspicuous as these two caterpillars may be in this shot, when on their (seemingly) preferred host plant's flowers, they are not nearly so obvious. That's because Unexpected Cycnia caterpillars often nosh on the orange flowers of Butterfly-weed, Asclepias tuberosa, and then the cat's coloration causes them to blend well with the surroundings.

Unlike the preceding Black-waved Flannel Moth, the adult Unexpected Cycnia little resembles its caterpillar. It, too, is quite beautiful, but in a completely different way than is the caterpillar. Scroll between the two, and it doesn't even seem as if they would be related.

This disparity between caterpillar and moth is one of the great pleasures of studying these organisms. It's almost as if every species is made up of two species: caterpillar and moth.
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Mothapalooza: a recap

June 20, 2013, 8:41 pm
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A group works a mothing sheet late at night, deep in the woods at Shawnee State Forest. Our recent Mothapalooza event saw about 150 attendees visit the lodge at Shawnee State Park, right in the thick of the aforementioned 65,000 acre forest. In my estimation, and that of nearly all of the people who have attended from what I have heard, the event was a success. We are currently mulling over the possibility of holding Mothapalooza II next June. All of us involved in Mothapalooza I would love to pull the trigger now and commit to next year, but conducting events like this is an enormous amount of work. So, we'll see...

Anyway, I wanted to share a few more photos from Mothapalooza, and give some richly deserved thanks to people and organizations that made it possible.

Looking a bit like a chunk of stratified bedrock, this Common Lytrosis, Lytrosis unitaria, was a regular visitor to the sheets. By the way, when I say "sheets", I mean specially deployed white sheets or drop cloths hung in strategic areas, and brightly lit with lights. Sheets illuminated in this manner are irresistible for many species of moths, who fly in and land on the sheets, affording us the opportunity to study and photograph them at close range.

Much smaller but far more colorful than the Common Lytrosis was this Painted Lichen Moth, Hypoprepia fucosa. Many moths, including lots of the tiny species, are veritable rainbows with wings - among our most ornately patterned flying animals. Setting out a sheet or sheets is a bit like fishing. You never know what might come in, and the cast of characters is constantly changing.

This was the first time that nearly everyone at Mothapalooza had laid eyes on this beautiful moth, at least as an adult. Some of us had seen the gorgeous caterpillars, though - CLICK HERE for those. David and Laura Hughes had collected some livestock (caterpillars) of this flower moth in the genus Schinia last year, and successfully reared a few of them to maturity. This moth is the result. They were kind enough to bring along the newly emerged animal so that the Mothapalooza crowd could see it, and we could make photos. Insofar as I know, this newly discovered species has not yet been formally described and named, although it soon will be.

Lots of caterpillars were found, and in some respects the larvae of moths and butterflies are more interesting than the adults. If we do put on Mothapalooza II, we'll probably add a talk or two about caterpillars, and perhaps some field trips that emphasize finding them. This is the caterpillar of the White-dotted Prominent moth, Nadata gibbosa. Someone threatened the caterpillar by giving it a gentle tap, which caused it to go into defense mode. When alarmed, this caterpillar instantly twists into a snakelike coil, and bares its mandibles, creating a rather scary face. This act might be adequate to ward off some of the smaller would-be predators.

Mothapalooza was fortunate to have the services of some of the top entomologists in the country, and these guys don't miss anything. Lepidopterists - moth and butterfly specialists - become proficient botanists, too, as knowing the host plants that caterpillars feed upon is a huge asset when seeking out larvae in the field. I was with Jaret Daniels doing some pre-conference scouting when he found this caterpillar, which is snacking on the emerging buds of Black Cohosh, Actaea racemosa. It is the larva of the Appalachian Blue butterfly, and the cat's coloration matches the plant nearly to perfection. If one did not know to check the cohosh, there would be little or no chance of finding this caterpillar.

The ant standing atop the caterpillar is essentially protecting it. Appalachian Blue caterpillars are nearly always tended by ants, who are adept at fending off insect predators such as parasitoid wasps. The ants. in turn, receive nutritious honeydew secretions from the caterpillars.

One of our group afield along a remote forest road, finding and showing people Appalachian Azure caterpillars. Not far from here is an incredible gravelly pullout with damp soil that attracts scores of butterflies. We had over 20 species at once at this place on our days field trips.

Of course, with 150 sets of eyes afield, and many of them highly trained eyes, lots of interesting organisms will come to light. This is an Eyed Click Beetle, Alaus oculatus. It looks fierce, but those giant eyes are a ruse. The fake eyespots create an intimidating look, though, and it might be enough to dissuade predators from messing with the beetle.

I have never seen so many cameras at an event, or at least such a high ratio of cameras to attendees. I think 95% of the people at Mothapalooza had a camera. Indeed, it is in part the revolution of inexpensive high-quality digital cameras that have created the boom in popularity of moths. These insects are highly photogenic, and shooting their images is part of the allure. Here, Derek Hennen photographs a Harvester butterfly, Feniseca tarquinius, which is really little more than a glorified moth (moths and butterflies are essentially the same thing). Derek also demonstrates a critical photo technique when going after bugs - get down on the level of your subject.

An added perk of holding Mothapalooza at Shawnee State Forest and the nearby Edge of Appalachia Preserve is the legion of native plants that are found in these areas. There are over 1,000 species of native plants, which is why the moth and butterfly diversity is so extraordinary. Many rare or uncommon plants occur, and our group was pleased to encounter this interesting lily in full flower, the Devil's-bit, Chamelirium luteum.

At least four species of milkweeds were at peak bloom, and none are more colorful than this Purple Milkweed, Asclepias purpurascens. A close look at the blossoms revealed scores of insects, including these tiny Buck's Plume Moths, Geina bucksi.

A special treat was this Golden-banded Skipper, Autochton cellus, which is never a common find. In total, Mothapaloozians probably encountered about 50 species of butterflies, maybe even more. Moths? I don't know but the species count was way beyond the butterflies. Mary Ann Barnett is rounding up moth data from the experts, and when we get a tally I'll report it.

Finally, huge thanks go to everyone who made Mothapalooza possible. Our primary sponsors were the Ohio Division of Wildlife, which provided critical resources; the Midwest Native Plant Society; the Ohio Chapter of The Nature Conservancy; the Cincinnati Museum; and the Ohio Lepidopterists.

Numerous individuals were vital to the event's success, not the least of which was Mary Ann Barnett, who handled oversight of the entire conference, and was absolutely stellar in this role and handling the myriad details. John Howard, who I have mentioned many times on this blog, was also key to developing and executing Mothapalooza. Others who were invaluable as planners, field trip leaders, speakers, or in some other important way included: Chris Bedel (Cincinnati Museum), Mark Berman (The Bug Guy), Diane Brooks, Jaret Daniels (University of Florida), Jim Davidson, Eric Eaton (principal author of the Kaufman Guide to Insects of North America), Andrew Gibson, Mike Gilligan, Roger Grossenbacher, Cheryl Harner, Dave and DeeAnne Helm, Derek Hennen, Dave Horn (past president of the Ohio Lepidopterists and a keynote speaker), Tina Howard, David and Laura Hughes, Ned Keller, Randy Lakes, Seabrooke Leckie (co-author of the Peterson Field Guide to Moths, the book that sparked an enormous upsurge of interest in moths), Janet Martin, Martin McAllister, Rich McCarty (The Nature Conservancy), Kathy McDonald, Dave McShaffrey, Dennis Profant (co-author of several moth books), Greg Raterman, Larry Rosche, Linda Romine, Judy Semroc, Rachel Shoop, Cindy Steffen, David Wagner (University of Connecticut, extraordinary lepidopterist and a keynote speaker), Pete Whan (The Nature Conservancy), and Mark Zloba (Cincinnati Museum).

It's always risky business trying to acknowledge such a large cast, and I apologize profusely if I've omitted anyone. I also want to extends thanks to the excellent staff of the Shawnee Lodge for catering to us so well, and for their support of strange events such as Mothapalooza. Ditto that for Ohio State Parks.

Lastly, a huge thanks to all of the Mothapalooza attendees. It was among the coolest crowds I've ever seen at a natural history conference, and we had people from at least ten different states and one Canadian province (Ontario). Some of the more distant travelers hailed from Connecticut, Colorado, Missouri, and Nebraska. It was great to see so many people keenly interested in moths, and it was a pleasure to introduce so many new people to the fabulous biodiversity of southern Ohio.
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