Watershed Ridge Park: Aflutter with Small Wings

July 22, 2022 / Cam Mannino / 2 Comments

*The large sloping meadow near the big marsh at Watershed Ridge Park with native plants, grasses and butterflies of all sizes*

This summer, like the last, the western section of Watershed Ridge Park hums to the vibration of small winged creatures. So just as I did last summer, I headed first for the small restored wetland at the foot of a sloping field on the park’s western edge, because I knew it would be alive with fierce and fabulous dragonflies and their diminutive relations, the damselflies. As you’ll see, I was not disappointed!

But this summer, our Natural Areas Stewardship Manager, Dr. Ben VanderWeide, has cut some temporary trails into the dense greenery north of the fields in order to allow his crew to take on the task of taming a major invasion of non-native pest plants like Oriental Bittersweet vine, Autumn Olive, Privet and more. For now, these rough, bush-hogged trails allow me much easier access to the woods and the prairie at the heart of this part of the park. So I invite you to join me as I wade through moist meadows, pick my way carefully between wooded wetlands and stumble along the trail’s stubble to explore what warm summer mornings offer in the west of Watershed Ridge.

A Wetland Habitat Always Means Life!

*The restored wetland in west of Watershed Ridge Park has changed dramatically in the last year. It’s now lined with Cattails and Pickerel Weed as well as Blue Vervain and Bulrushes.*

I love how the trail that leads west from the parking lot passes high above the wetlands below, then curves gracefully through the hedgerow separating two fields – the one on the right still agricultural, the one on the left planted with native seed this spring.

At the foot of the green field, lies the newly restored wetland picture above. It’s just a humble, muddy little pool surrounded by native and non-native plants. The community includes non-native Cattails and Eurasian Great Hairy Willow-herb (Epilobium hirsutum , but also clusters of native plants like glorious Blue Vervain (Verbena hastata), tough little Bulrush (Scirpus atrovirens), and the wonderful spiky blooms of Hop Sedge (Carex lupulina), member of an ancient genus. Sprigs of native pink Creeping Smartweed (Persicaria longiseta) poke out of the former farm field surrounding the wetland. According to Dr. Gary Parsons at Michigan State University’s Bug House, that suits the tiny Lucerne Moth (Nomophila nearctica) since its caterpillars feed avidly on it – as well as on non-native alfalfa and clover.

Blue Vervain blooms first at the bottom of its flowering spike.

I waded into a small meadow behind the wetland to the west, filled with native Daisy Fleabane (Erigeron annuus) and a variety of soft grasses. Its proximity to the water and its gently swaying stems make it a good place to look for the “dragons and damsels.”

*A field near a wetland is an ideal spot for discovering dragonflies and damselflies.*

When I first arrived in late June, dragonflies were racing around the pond and the surrounding meadow, either in pairs, or singly, in a mad dash to mate and feed. These colorful, fierce predators with their spiked legs and powerful jaws spend their extended youth underwater. They live below the water surface, first as eggs and then as gilled nymphs, crawling or swimming around to feed on everything around them. They grow by molting into larger nymphs. The process can repeat for as little as four months to an average of one to three years! Finally they attach with their claws to an upright surface – stem, rock, bridge – and a full-fledged dragonfly extracts itself from the skin of the last nymph. The thorax emerges first, then the head and legs. Once the legs harden, the new dragonfly arches backward, thrusting the entire abdomen out of its casing. The wings fill with fluid and this creature with gills transforms into an air breather. Imagine, what it must be like to emerge from a dark pond into the bright sunlight and suddenly be able to breathe air – and fly! No wonder they frequently look so frantically excited!

But emergence is a dangerous time. According to Dragonflies of the Northern Woods by Kurt Mead, while they are emerging and before they can fly, up to 90% of these “teneral” or newly-hatched dragonflies are consumed by birds and sometimes by ants or spiders. In our northern climate, adult dragonflies may live from just a week to at most a couple of months. During their brief life in the air, they must latch onto a mate and produce eggs for the following year. So the priority is to mate quickly. Local naturalist Allen Chartier and the Facebook group, “Odonata of the Eastern United States,” both identified the dragonfly below with its shiny wings as the teneral male of some species of Meadowhawk dragonfly (genus Sympetrum.) His species won’t be clear until he fully matures. Isn’t he handsome? I watched him flutter a short distance to this grass stem, so he’s already on his way to maturity. I wish him well.

*A teneral male Meadowhawk dragonfly who may have recently emerged from the casing of its nymph. The shiny wings can be an indicator of a teneral dragonfly.*

Early Arrivals: Dragonflies that Appear in late May

Some dragonflies appear during the last week of May and so have an early jump on pairing up. When I arrived at the park in late June, some of these early males either stuck close to a nearby female, or rushed around, perhaps demonstrating their finer qualities to eligible females. And of course they were busy foraging for other insects.

Common Whitetails (Plathemis lydia) call our parks home every summer. The two below were definitely visiting the wetland with serious intentions. Whitetail males will patrol a pond trying to chase off competitors and if the female on the right has chosen our small pond, the guy on the left is likely to mate with her. He was busy discouraging another male when I saw him. The female can lay up to 1,000 eggs per day and may mate every day or two according to my dragonfly guide book. No wonder the Common Whitetail is so common!

The adult Common Whitetail male develops a bluish-white covering (pruinenscence) on his abdomen.

The other common early dragonfly is the Widow Skimmer (Libellula luctuosa.) The male’s distinguishing feature are the dark wing patches next to his thorax and abdomen and white patches farther out on his wings. The female only has the dark patches near the body, plus yellow stripes down the sides of the abdomen. They lay eggs singly when alone, but the male “hover-guards” her in crowded ponds to, as the guidebook so circumspectly phrases it, “protect his ‘genetic investment.'” Had to smile when I read that….

The male Widow Skimmer develops that white covering (pruinescence) on his abdomen like the Whitetail, but its wing pattern is very different.

I also saw three early dragonflies that were either “wallflowers” thus far – or I just missed seeing their mates in all the activity! They’re a colorful bunch.

The Calico Pennant (Celithemis elisa) sports heart-shaped abdominal spots and that jazzy dark patch with red veins on the hind wing.
The female Eastern Pondhawk(Erythemis simplicicollis) is bright green with a striped abdomen but her mate is blue with just a green face.
The male Twelve-Spotted Skimmer (Libellula pulchella) periodically patrols his territory trying to drive off other dragonflies in his airspace.

Later Arrivals: Dragonflies that Show Up the Second Week in June

When I arrived on June 28, I only saw singletons among these later dragonflies that had probably appeared at the wetland a couple of weeks earlier. Perhaps they needed a bit more time to find a mate? Who knows? But I was glad to see them in any case.

The small female Halloween Pennant (Celithemis eponina) has golden-orange wings with the brown stripes of the male, but her abdomen is marked with yellow.

The “Damsels” of Watershed Ridge, 2022

Damselflies share the order Odonata with dragonflies, but look and behave a bit differently. Unlike dragonflies, damselflies are generally smaller, less muscular and appear more delicate – hence their name which means “young mistress” in French. But they too are effective predators. They have large compound eyes like their relatives, but have “only” five to ten thousand individual lenses in them versus the maximum of 30,000 for a dragonfly. While the dragonfly’s eyes take up most of their head, damselflies’ eyes are placed at either side of the head, often giving them a hammerhead shark appearance. Dragonflies spend time high in the air and settle with their wings open. Damselflies spend more time at knee height among grasses and often fold their wings when they’ve landed.

Like dragonflies, damselflies spend a long youth underwater. In a vernal pool monitoring event in 2016, we happened to temporarily scoop one up with a couple of fingernail clams and a water beetle. They’re not quite as glamorous as they look when their adults, eh?

*While monitoring a vernal pool in 2016, we happened upon a damselfly nymph in company with three Fingernail Clams and a Water Beetle*

So here’s the selection of damselflies I encountered at the newly restored wetland on a summer morning. Many thanks again to Allen Chartier for help with the identifications.

Look at those eyes! This male Eastern Forktail (Ischnura verticalis) may mate repeatedly from May, through the summer and occasionally into October! Whew!
The female Variable Dancer (Argia fumipennis violacea) is pinkish brown, but her mate is a more glamorous purple.
This fairly common Blue-tipped Dancer (Argia tibialis) – a female here – probably emerged in June and will fly through August.
This is a Bluet (g. Enallagma) but no one could tell me which species. Evidently you need to net them and see their genitalia up close, which I don’t see happening in my future…

And Now, a Quick Trip Down a Woodland Path

*A singing Indigo Bunting that greeted me every time I went to Watershed Ridge Park this summer*

On every one of my five trips to Watershed Ridge Park in late June and July, I was welcomed to the temporary woodland trail by the bright, paired phrases of the Indigo Bunting’s song. His favored perch was high in a tree or snag near the trail’s eastern entrance. What a gift! Have a listen at this link. (Though their songs vary by location, the second song listed at the link is very similar to the male’s song at Watershed Ridge.) I never got an ideal shot of him, so here’s another one I took in 2019 that shows you the male’s dark wing and his two-tone beak!

*A closer look at an Indigo Bunting, taken in 2019*

The fluttering of two butterflies on both sides of the trail caught my eye. Woodland butterflies don’t sip nectar from flowers, since most woodland flowers finish once the canopy leafs out – and forest edges are the niche these butterflies fill. Instead, they seek out a generally unappealing diet (for humans) of tree sap, fermenting or rotten fruit and dung which supplies sodium, nitrogen and other nutrients. They lay their eggs on woodland grasses that their caterpillars can digest. The larger one (1.75-2.5″) with more spots, the Northern Pearly-eye (Enodia anthedon) moves about erratically even on overcast days and can fly late into the evening, according to Jaret C. Daniels’ guide, Butterflies of Michigan. The smaller one on the right below with about a one inch wingspan is the Little Wood Satyr (Megisto cymela) which often bobs at my feet at the edge of wooded trails.

The Northern Pearly-eye loves shaded areas and frequently accompanied me on the newly mown trail.

Because of the dense foliage, I heard birds more than saw them. My handy Merlin app from Cornell University’s Ornithology Lab identified a sharp two-note song from deep in the woods as that of the Yellow-throated Vireo (Vireo flavirons). At Cornell’s allaboutbirds.org site, I discovered that these vireos like to stay in the interior of the canopy in deciduous woodlands, picking insects off branches. I waited several minutes but the vireo seemed content to stay right where it was. Here’s a shot of one by a generous iNaturalist photographer, Ken Butler.

*The Yellow-throated Vireo offers his mate a few nest sites and once she chooses one, the nest is built 20-50 feet up in the canopy. Photo by Ken Butler (CC BY-NC) at iNaturalist.org*

A Northern Flicker (Colaptes auratus) kept its back to me amid the branches of a tree off the trail. I think it was female because I got a quick flash of its head when it landed and noticed that it had no black “mustache” mark near its bill. But it could have been either a female or the gray head of a juvenile. Once more I waited, hoping it would move so I could get a better look. But the best I got was a glance over its shoulder as if to inquire why I was still there. That look prompted me to give up and move on.

*A Northern Flicker seemed to be saying, “You’ve had a look, so could you just move on?” So I did.*

Monet in the Meadow: A Colorful Field a-Flutter with Wings

*Like a Monet painting, the large meadow near the big marsh was dotted with splashes of orange, yellow and white from Butterfly Milkweed, Black-Eyed Susans and Daisy Fleabane.*

The temporary trail made it infinitely easier for me to get to one of my favorite spots at Watershed Ridge Park. This meadow slopes down to a large marsh that currently can be glimpsed between the trees from the trail at the bottom of the meadow.

*The big marsh, formerly invisible behind a wall of shrubs can currently be seen through a break in the trees on the temporary trail.*

At each visit, my camera and I were teased by a fast-moving Great Spangled Fritillary butterfly (Speyeria cybele) that never landed along the trail without suddenly disappearing down into tall grass. On my fourth visit, I donned my anti-tick outfit – socks over shoes, long sleeves, white clothing, a dose of Deet, etc. – and set off determined to see it land. I suspected that my quarry would eventually settle on one of the most nectar-rich flowers currently blooming, Butterfly Milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa.) But the largest patches were far away from the trail.

I waded into the waist-high grass. And there it was, its proboscis sunk in one of the bright orange blossoms on its composite flowerhead. Milkweed is one of its favorites, along with Bergamot/Bee Balm and thistles. This one may be the female since the base of her wings seemed dark on the upper (dorsal) side, but I can’t tell for sure. If it is a female, she may not lay her eggs until August and may still be whisking around the meadow in September.

*The Great Spangled Fritillary scoped me out while sipping nectar from a Butterly Milkweed.*

Another reward for being lured into the deep grass was a selection of almost inconspicuous butterflies. I’m learning to watch for these tiny wings in the meadows. They’re so wonderfully varied and have unusual colors and patterns when I can get close. But they can be a bit skittish in front of the camera!

The Chickweed Geometer (Haematopis grataria) has a wingspan of only 3/4 of inch or so and flies during the day, unlike most moths. Its caterpillar is the famous inchworm. I didn’t realize it was yellow with pink stripes and dots until my long lens caught it in the meadow! Dr. Parsons told me that its wonderful feathery antennae indicate that it’s a male; the females’, he said, were “thread-like.”

*The Chickweed Geometer’s caterpillar is one of the inchworms of song fame*. *In fact, all Geometer moths are inchworms in their creepy, crawly youth!*

I hope you can see the delicate black pattern at the edge of this very tiny creature which is another member of the Geometridae family. Dr. Parsons at Michigan State University identified it as the Large Lace Border Moth (Scopula limboundata). Large, I thought? Its wingspan is only an inch wide, but evidently there is a Smaller Lace Border moth in Eurasia, that is even a little bit smaller! The black design along the creamy edge of its wings does create the illusion of lace, doesn’t it? Such an elegant, delicate little moth!

*The Large Lace Border Moth is also a Geometer Moth. So aptly named! I’m getting quite fond of the variety and beauty in the family Geometridae!*

The Eastern Tailed-blue butterfly (Cupido comyntas) looks like a blue or brown blur when its flying and I often initially think it’s a Summer Azure (Celastrina neglecta). But once it settles, the tiny little “tails” at the bottom of its wing remind of its name. Its size varies from just under an inch to just over. The male’s upper wings are generally blue, but the female’s can vary from light blue to brown or dark gray. I’m quite sure this was a brown female, but she refused to open her wings far enough for a shot. So I’ve added photos of a brown female and a blue male from previous years so perhaps you can enjoy naming this lovely little butterfly if you come across it in your garden or field. (Click on photos to see the detail.)

The Eastern Tailed-Blue kept her wings closed, perhaps to be cooler on a hot day. Note the tiny “tails” at the bottom edge of the wings.

The Northern Broken-Dash Skipper butterfly (Wallengrenia egeremet) looked large at 1-1.5 inches after all the tiny butterflies and moths and it’s certainly less glamorous. But I’m glad to know its name and maybe we can love it because its caterpillar eats a species of crabgrass? This female may be about to lay eggs!

This Northern Broken-dash Skipper looks like she might be about to deposit some eggs from her lowered ovipositor. Grass is the host plant for her caterpillars, particularly Hairy Crabgrass, a common non-native in southern Michigan.

My walk into the deep grass also afforded me a little insect drama taking place on two pink blossoms of native Pasture/Carolina Rose (Rosa carolina). A group of Longhorn Flower Beetles (family Cerambycidae, subfamily Lepturinae) were competing in a frenzy of activity – some were feeding, others appeared to be trying to mate. Most of my photos were blurry because of their frantic jostling which was continuous and involved 5 or 6 individuals. But Dr. Parsons could identify two species in the photo below. The ones on the left and in the middle are generally known as Banded Longhorn Beetles (Typocrus velutinus). The skinny one on the right evidently has no common name, but its scientific name is Strangalia acuminata, which ominously translates from Latin as “pointed stranglers” if the Latin Google translation is correct! I, however, didn’t witness any such nefarious behavior.

*These Flower Longhorn Beetles were feeding on the nectar and pollen of Pasture Roses. Note*
*the long antennae that gave them their name. Some beetles in this family have antennae as long as their bodies!*

I could hear a Common Yellowthroat (Geothlypis trichas) singing his “Witchedy witchedy” melody near the big marsh but as usual, he never came into the open. But I did see a young Song Sparrow (Melospiza melodia) exploring a branch with great curiosity.

A fledgling Song Sparrow explores a twig.

Into the Pathless Woods on My Way Home

At the top of the meadow, one of the mowed trails dead-ends at the north edge of a moist woodland. The undergrowth is sparse here. My eyes take a minute to adjust to the dim light. I unfailingly find this woods delightfully spooky, full of greenish light, moss, and unidentified scurryings. Two sizable wetlands anchor the area, one covered in glowing green aquatic plants and the other full of fallen trees, both alive with frogs and turtles now.

*A bright green forested wetland covered with a layer of watermeal and duckweed.*

The “green pond” above is always home to frogs and turtles. What I love is how the sunlight above the water is washed green, as if I’d put a green filter on my camera. It always feel mysterious and quiet, hidden away in the trees. Other years I’ve spotted Leopard frogs here, but on this visit, I only saw small Green Frogs (Lithobates clamitans). They’re often mistaken for Bullfrogs, but they’re smaller and have two ridges that run down either side of their back from behind their eyes. The “guh-loop,” plucked- banjo-string sound of its calls during the mating season is absent now. A young male posed on a moss covered log sinking slowly into the water. The circle behind his eye vibrates, functioning like an ear drum. If it’s smaller or the same size as her eye (as in the photo below), she’s a female; if it’s larger, he’s a male.

*A young female Green Frog pauses on a mossy log. Note the ridge along her back, an important field mark for this frog.*

Farther away in the green pond, a Midland Painted Turtle (Chrysemys picta marginata) had emerged from the pond onto a fallen log, its shell decorated with bits of duckweed – a common fashion statement for turtles.

*A Midland Painted Turtle basks in the dim light over the green, wooded wetland*

Nearby, a pure white Shelf Mushroom (genus Polyporus) glowed in the dim light. It’s the reproductive part of a fungus living within the decaying log, doing its work of slowly recycling the carbon within the rotting wood.

*A shelf mushroom glowed white in the half-light over the forest wetland.*

As I moved toward the second wetland, a movement caught the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t quite see what it was. I approached a tree nearby and finally spotted a Northern Pearly-Eye butterfly camouflaged against the bark. I don’t often see them this far into the woods.

*A Northern Pearly-eye camouflaged on tree bark*

The water in the second wetland is more open and fallen logs surround the edges. I find Wood Frogs (Lithobates sylvaticus) in large numbers here in the spring, but on a July day, the amphibious inhabitants were a bit different.

*The second wetland has more open water and many fallen trees. One willow lying prostrate in the water keeps putting up fresh greenery each year so it must still be firmly rooted.*

As I approached the wetland, something jumped beside my shoe – which made me jump! I thought I might have stepped on a creature. Luckily, I hadn’t. It was a small American Toad (Anaxyrus americanus) which froze in place. It may have hatched in this forest pond and is now moving upland to feed. If it survives being bite-size, it’ll be able to breed in a couple of years. I wish I’d been there earlier in the year to hear the fast, vibrating call of a mating toad. Have a listen at this link provided by the Macauley Library which has a fine collection of animal sounds. (Be patient; it takes a few moments of listening to hear the toad!)

*This small American Toad may need a couple years of maturation before he can sing and breed.*

As I stepped between the muddy logs to reach the pond, a loud spattering of splashes told me I’d scared off a whole passel of small frogs. I waited in the shadows, seeing only concentric circles where they’d hit the water. At last, I spotted one on a log and was pleased to see it was a juvenile American Bullfrog (Lithobates catesbeianus), a species I don’t see as often as others, for some reason. It takes about two or three years for a bullfrog to mature enough to breed and I’m guessing this one has at least another year, maybe two, before she’ll arrive at a mating site to choose from a group of chorusing males. Notice that she has just a short ridge near her eye that encompasses her tympanum, not the long ridges that extend down the body of the Green Frog. Her typanum is about the size of her eye; the male’s would be larger than his eye.

*A fairly young female Bullfrog who continued staring into the distance as others leapt into the water at my approach. She looks thin and young to me, but I’m no expert on bullfrog appearance.*

As I left the forest and emerged into the sunny farm field beyond, I heard the cry of a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) and watched as a male Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) took on the job of keeping it far from his nest and young. He repeatedly dropped over the hawk’s back and gave it a quick peck before wheeling away. The hawk stayed in the area and the blackbird kept up his attack as I headed for the parking lot.

A *Red-winged Blackbird harassing a Red-tailed Hawk, probably to drive it away from its nest and young.*

This July, It Was the Little Things…

*The darkest blackberry mysteriously disappeared shortly after this photo was taken…*

Usually on a July walk, I’m looking for birds or their rambunctious fledglings. And I do delight in them during the weekly Oakland Township bird walks. But this month, I felt the need to look for even smaller winged beings, curious to see old acquaintances and eager to meet new ones. And luckily, Watershed Ridge Park shared lots of them once I started looking. Oh, a few birds flew or sang in the depths of the hedgerows and beyond the forested trails. But the moist meadows with their wetlands drew me and I waded in to explore the smallest of fluttering wings.

And I’m so glad I did. Getting close to a pastel Geometer moth to discover its feathery antennae, admiring a freshly hatched dragonfly settling after testing out his shiny new wings or grinning at the frantic scrambling of beetles on a pair of pale pink roses – those were the joys of July for me. I hope a taste of that joy reached you, too. Look for the little ones. You won’t be sorry.

Stony Creek Ravine: Insects! The Good, the Not-all-Bad, and the Really Ugly

July 23, 2021 / Cam Mannino / 2 Comments

*Stony Creek running fast and furious through the ravine after the many rain storms.*

I’m sure you must have noticed. Insects are having a fabulous summer. Ticks are poised at the edge of tall grass, their back feet planted, their front ones waving about, trying to hitch a ride on anything that passes. Mosquitoes are reproducing like mad in any of the available standing water left by the repeated deluges that we’re experiencing. It’s not a pretty picture for us humans! But it can be, if I look more closely.

This last few weeks I’ve explored the small, older section of Stony Creek Raving Nature Park, the western trail from Knob Creek Drive on West Gunn that leads to the Ravine itself. Armed with Deet, I wanted to see if I could find some beautiful, or at least interesting insects that would give me a break from the not-so-lovable ones! So here’s what I found, for better and for worse…

The Trail Begins in Sunny Meadows Filled with Wildflowers

*The Meadow is lavender with Bee Balm blossoms and complemented by dashes of orange from Butterfly Milkweed.*

Mottled sunlight slips over your shoulders when you first enter this area of the park. On one of my many visits between the downpours, I saw a flash of orange among the shadows which turned out to be the Gray Comma (Polygonia progne). It looks very much like the autumn coloring of the Eastern Comma (Polygonia comma); since it’s summer, it had to be the Gray Comma. These butterflies emerge from within logs or from under tree bark in April and mate. This Gray Comma would be the offspring of those that overwinter. It will produce a generation which will fly in August or September and hibernate to start the cycle again.

The dappled light beneath a tree provides nice camouflage for the Gray Comma butterfly

The Meadow Trail: Butterflies, Dragonflies and Rolling Meadows of Wildflowers

Foraging Butterflies

Once out in the open meadows, I paused to appreciate the frenetic flight of the Great Spangled Fritillary (Speyeria cybele). It dashed across the field, landing for a few seconds, then fluttering off again just above the flowers. Their caterpillars have a fondness for Common Blue Violets (Viola sororia), so they will occasionally appear on lawns. In our parks, they prefer native Wild Bergamot/Bee Balm (Monarda fistulosa), thistles and milkweed, according to the Butterflies of Michigan Field Guide by Jaret C. Daniels.

*The Great Spangled Fritillary gets its name from the shine of the large silver spots on its hind wings.* *Here it’s sipping from Butterfly Milkweed.*

Aren’t you always happy to see Monarch butterflies (Danaus plexippus)? The one my photographer friend Paul and I saw in the meadow arrived from somewhere between Mexico and Michigan, wherever its forebears stopped to lay eggs. With luck, this one will help set in motion the “super generation” of Monarchs; they make the whole 3,000 mile journey to Mexico where they overwinter. For lots more details on Monarchs, check out the blog that features them.

*Paul and I hoped this Monarch would lay eggs for us on this Butterfly Milkweed. No luck that day. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle.*

Territorial Dragonflies

Dragonflies patrol over the meadows as well, zinging here and there in an effort to establish territory and find a mate. The striking male Blue Dasher (Pachydiplax longipennis) with a green face zipped by me, but it was the juvenile Dasher who settled on a stick. It has the coloring of a female, but a much slimmer body than an adult. The female Dasher lays her eggs by flying over still water and repeatedly dipping her ovipositor into the surface to release her eggs.

A mature Blue Dasher dragonfly I saw in 2017. His blue thorax turns lighter over the summer.

Another denizen of the fields, the Halloween Pennant dragonfly (Celithemis eponina) foraged with a bouncy flight. These small dragonflies stay aloft more easily on windy days than other dragonflies and can even fly in light rain, shaking the water off their wings in flight. This one insisted on looking straight at me until it zoomed away. Luckily you can still see its vivid coloring and the huge compound eyes on either side of its head (with nearly 30,000 lenses). Two of its three simple eyes shine above; they’re believed to improve its navigation in changing light and also may help stabilize them as they speedily change course above the greenery.

*The brown wing patches on the Halloween Pennant’s wings are thought by some to shade its body on hot days.*

Two other dragonflies kept me company on the meadow. A juvenile male Common Whitetail (Plathemis lydia) followed me along the path, evidently hoping I’d stir up some insects that it could snatch from the air. And several Widow Skimmers (Libellula luctuosa) bobbed among the grasses on every trip to the park. The clear tips of their seem to disappear at a distance, but the dark patches near the abdomen are visible, so I sometimes mistake them for a large black fly until I get closer.

A Juvenile Whitetail dragonfly pauses on a thorny stick.

Pollinating and Nectaring Bees

Of course, bees forage busily along the path as well. Dr. Gary Parsons, from the Entomology Department at Michigan State University, identified this little native bee nuzzling a Rough-Fruited Cinquefoil blossom (Potentilla recta) as a female Leafcutter Bee (genus Megachile.) The clue he gave me is that a leafcutter has stiff hairs (scopa) covering the underside of its abdomen and that’s where it carries its pollen. In the photo on the right, the one flying away with its bright yellow underside was evidently a dead giveaway.

A female Leafcutter Bee gathering pollen from Rough-Fruited Cinquefoil.

Paul snapped a fine shot of one of our native Bumblebees (genus Bombus), oblivious of a Bull Thistle’s (Cirsium vulgare) thorns below as it gathers nectar from the blossom.

*A native bumblebee feeding on nectar from a Bull Thistle blossom. Photo by Paul Birtwhistle*

Colorful Long-legged Flies

Along with the butterflies, dragonflies and an occasional damselfly (more about them later), an assortment of metallic flies dotted the leaves along the trail, but not your plain old black house flies! Dr. Gary Parsons tells me that they are from the family Dolichopodidae, also known as Long-legged flies. These common tiny insects perch in bright sunlight waiting for smaller, unsuspecting insects to cruise by. I like their diminutive size, the way they stand so elegantly on those long legs – and they come in an assortment of colors as you’ll see below!

This metallic green long-legged fly belongs to the genus Condostylus

The Plants that Feed and Shelter Them All

Now of course, what sustains all these creatures are the native plants that serve as host plants for their offspring, i.e., larvae/caterpillars. Here a Common Pug caterpillar (Eupithecia miserulata) is foraging on the petals of a Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta). Dr. Parsons reminded me that petals are actually just modified leaves so caterpillars can feed on them, but since they disappear quickly, leaves are the staple of a caterpillar’s diet.

*A Common Pug caterpillar foraging on a Black-eyed Susan blossom*

The beauty of native plants is that they can be both decorative and productive, providing lots of sustenance for the insects that are an essential ingredient of the entire food web. So here’s is just a sampling of the myriad of native wildflowers and grasses along the meadow trail.

Pokeweed (Phytolacca americana)
Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca)
Lopseed (Phyrma leptostachya)
Daisy Fleabane (Erigeron annuus)
Enchanter’s Nightshade (Circaea canadensis)
Butterfly Milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa)
Bottlebrush Grass (Elymus hystrix)
Bee Balm (Monarda fistulosa)
White Avens (Geum canadense)

The Forest Trail Above the Ravine: Damselflies, Abundant Moths and One Useful but Really Ugly Fly

*The dappled forest above Stony Creek Ravine*

Under the Forest Canopy, Beauties and the Beast

The forest at Stony Creek Ravine Park is a different world when it comes to insects. At the edge, where the forest meets the sunshine, butterflies seem to dominate. Both of the ones I saw imitate the dappled light of the forest with brown wings marked with white spots in lovely patterns. The Little Wood Satyr (Megisto cymela) is the smaller of the two. Notice how the design on the underside of the wings is a bit more complex. Some sources suggest that the eyespots distract predators from attacking vital body parts. Butterflies can survive with ragged wing edges but an attack on the head is instantly fatal. I thought perhaps the larger spots on these forest edge species also provide more camouflage when the butterfly lands in dappled light. No one seems to be sure exactly how their patterns function.

The upper/dorsal side of the Little Wood Satyr

The larger Northern Pearly-eye (Enodia anthedon) spends more time in the woods itself, especially near moist areas. It feeds on tree sap, rotting fruit, fungi and even dung – not a picky eater, evidently, eh? You’ll often see its head slanted downward on a tree trunk. Quite the set of spectacles on those buggy eyes and the orange and black antennae are very fancy!

*The Northern Pearly-eye in its characteristic upside down position*

Deeper in the shade of the forest, though, tiny moths flourish. The oaks in our forests and lawns act as host plants for the largest variety of insect caterpillars of any tree in North America, according to Dr. Doug Tallamy, a professor of entomology and author of The Nature of Oaks. Some moth larvae pupate on the tree, some burrow into the soil below but many just pupate within the leaf litter and then emerge in warm weather. So as I walked down through the woods at Stony Creek Ravine, huge clouds of tiny, triangular, leaf litter moths floated up at my feet. Almost every one immediately scuttled back under the leaves. But a gray one, that I believe is a Speckled Renia moth (Renia adspergillus), paused on a patch of bright green moss. So exciting for me see one as more than a flutter at my feet!

*This Speckled Renia moth landed briefly on the edge of bright green moss before scooting back under the leaf litter!*

Actually that short pause may not have been a good move for the Speckled Renia. Nearby, I saw the “not-so-bad” but “very ugly” insect of the blog title. Robber Flies (family Asilidae) are aggressive predators, and like the “bad guys” for whom they are named, they generally ambush other insects, including their own kind, from a hiding place. I saw two different insects meet their demise in the grip of a Robber Fly.

On the left, a Robber Fly attacking one of its own. Dr. Parson suggests the victim may have been trying to mate with it, rather unsuccessfully, it seems! On the right, a species of Renia moth met its doom near the edge of a leaf.

Robber flies don’t bother humans unless you’re handling one; I’d avoid that unless you’re doing research. And they are simply providing the service predators provide: keeping the numbers of their prey at a balanced level within their habitat. If you see one in your garden, ignore it; it will probably eliminate many pests for you. At a wetland, I met one up close and personal and really, that is one ugly bug!

*The bristles on the head of the Robber Fly protect its face when its wrestling with its larger, struggling prey* *like bees, grasshoppers or dragonflies!*

Deeper in the forest, I watched a black and white blur move toward a log. As I stepped forward, it suddenly transformed into just a fleck of something lying on a log. I thought perhaps my eyes had deceived me and it was just a bit of falling detritus. But I decided to ask Dr. Parsons if I’d really seen a living, moving creature. On the left below is the pointy fleck I saw, on the right the closeup I sent to Dr. Parsons.

The black and white fleck on this wood is actually a Tortricid moth!

Dr. Parsons let me know I wasn’t crazy. The tiny moth’s larvae is part of a large insect family, the Tortricidae, commonly known as Leaf Rollers. The caterpillars in this family eat and pupate in a carefully rolled leaf, hence the name. Dr. Parsons surmises that the adult moth above is most likely a Banded Olethreutes (Olethreutes fasciatana). Many members of this family specialize in fruit trees and their caterpillars are considered pests. This one’s offspring feeds on Wild Black Cherry (Prunus serotina), but they’re not considered particularly harmful. Some experts think this camouflage is an attempt to simulate an unpalatable bird dropping. If I hadn’t seen this tiny moth moving, I’d never have noticed it, so I guess the trick works!

Dancing Damselflies Seek the Spotlight in the Creek

But enough of Robber flies and bird droppings! Let’s move on down to the West Branch of Stony Creek itself to enjoy instead the mating ceremonies of elegant Damselflies!

Stony Creek in late June flowing slowly around rocks and under sticks in late June.

I paused near a wooded wetland to witness what appeared to be a pair of damselflies courting. The male Ebony Jewelwing (Calopteryx maculata) landed first and fluttered about from twig to twig, keeping his iridescent colors flashing in the sun. The elegant brown female appeared and began what looked very much like flirting, flying close to him, then landing farther away with her abdomen cocked at an angle. Perhaps she was ready to mate, but the male hesitated. According to Robert DuBois, author of Damselflies of Minnesota, Wisconsin & Michigan, he may have had good reason; females can mate 4 or 5 times each day, rarely with the same male! Anyway, I gave them some privacy and headed toward the creek to see how other males were faring.

A female Ebony Jewelwing. Note the rich, brown wings with a white spot at the tip.

In late June, Stony Creek meandered its way around the rocks and sticks protruding from the slowly moving water. A group of Ebony Jewelwing males held a competition there for the sunniest spot on a prominent stick in the creek while waiting for females to show up. One male posed on the stick and began to display. Displays of his impressive wings can be intended to ward off competitors and may also interest females in the surrounding greenery. Periodically, he launched gracefully off his stick and zipped off to confront other males trying to oust him from the spotlight. A series of a scrambles with a group of competitors ensued for about 10 minutes. The University of Wisconsin Field Station’s “Bug Lady,” says that male Jewelwings compete by bumping into each other until one flies off. That’s certainly what occurred at Stony Creek Ravine as the originally male settled back on his stick after each skirmish.

A male Ebony Jewelwing on a prominent perch in the stream.
He starts his display – a threat to rivals and/or attracting a mate.
He takes off to challenge a rival.
Two males dueling for courting space. What looks like a shadow is the second male!

If the male is successful, he’ll grab onto the female’s abdomen with his pincers and the two of them, locked together, will fly to a nearby perch. If she is ready to participate, she bends her abdomen upward and the partners form a heart-shaped “mating wheel.” Benoit Renaud, a generous photographer at iNaturalist.org got a wonderful photo of two doing just that! Thank you, Benoit!

*Ebony Jewelwing damselflies in a heart-shaped mating wheel. Photo by Benoit Renaud (CC BY*)

After mating, the male releases her and together they fly off to find rushes, sedges, moss or floating plant material. The female then bends her abdomen downward, slits a hole in the plant with her sharp ovipositor and lays her eggs. The male stands guard to protect her from males who might try to abscond with her and remove his sperm before she lays the eggs. Evidently, despite that heart-shaped wheel, damselfly mating is not a particularly romantic process. But it’s kept these graceful insects on the wing for thousands of years, so we won’t argue with it, right?

A week or so after I took my damselfly photos, the July deluge poured down on us. The once placid creek rushed through the ravine, flowing over the rocks and sticks in the damselflies’ courting arena. According to the “Bug Lady,” the Ebony Jewelwings like plants in a “moderate current” in which to lay their eggs. So I’m assuming there was a bit of a hiatus in their mating ceremonies this year!

After a series of heavy rains, Stony Creek rushed over rocks and sticks in a sparkling flood.

And Then The Fireflies Arrived…

*A firefly beetle in India. Photo by Ashwin Viswanathan (CC BY) at inaturalist.org*

I learned this week that fireflies sparkle at twilight in moderate or tropical zones all over the world. I love knowing that. Imagine! As the earth spins away from the sun each day, these tiny Firefly beetles (family Lampyridae) dance across landscapes, delighting humans around the globe!

The males of our local beetle, the Common Eastern Firefly (Photinus pyralis) dance in a “J” formation, flashing their signal as they swing upward. A chemical reaction in the cells at the tips of their abdomens creates the bioluminescence that delights us. And with luck, a female in the area sends a coded signal back in just 1-2 seconds and they find each other.

The incredible variety of insects around (and often in) our home serves many purposes. The possum near our shed eats all the ticks it can find each summer. Bats, birds, and even the ugly Robber Flies, gobble up mosquitos by the millions. Bees pollinate our garden, wildflowers and nearby farmers’ crops. The beating wings of thousands of flying insects lure migrators back to our yard each spring. Here are a few of the most interesting ones we saw just this week.

A Giant Swallowtail (Papilio cresphontes) in our lawn.
A Red-spotted Purple (Limenitis arthemis) near our shed
A Clemene Tiger Moth (Haploa clemene) on our house
A tiny moth (3/8″) on our house. Four-dotted Agonopterix (Agonopterix robiniella)
A cranefly on our back door ( Tipula submaculata)

Recognizing all the services that insects provide, I avoid wide-spectrum “bug killers” and instead try to utilize long sleeves, high socks and strategically applied Deet or Permethrin to repel them when outside. Despite all of that, like you, I swat flies and mosquitoes, flick insects off exposed skin and get snarky when insects slips inside the house.

But then at our darkened windows on these steamy, rain-soaked evenings, I pause to enjoy the tiny fireworks of a glowing beetle dancing in the tall grass at the edge of the field. And I’m lifted out of my grousing about bugs and rainy weather. Night after sticky night, the flash of the firefly reminds me that some insects are magical and that all of them play a crucial role in keeping life humming on this gorgeous little planet.

Watershed Ridge Park: A July Morning of Shady Woods and Sunlit Meadows

August 13, 2019 / Cam Mannino / Leave a comment

Tick Trefoil (Hylodesmum glutinosum) in profusion in the woods at Watershed Ridge Park

Watershed Ridge Park is still more of a glorious natural area than a park, because as yet, it has no parking lots or trails. But first steps to make it one will begin before long. So on a Saturday morning in mid-July, Stewardship Manager Dr. Ben VanderWeide and I armed ourselves with bug repellent and headed out into the thick of it to see it in all its wild glory.

Text and photos
by Cam Mannino

Regular readers of the Notebook will know that I like to make two or three trips to a park before posting a blog. But due to a currently tricky knee and very tall grass, I decided discretion was called for this time. So I’ll simply share the beauty we came across on one humid summer morning.

The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep…

It seems that nearly every time I’ve entered the woods at Watershed, I’ve heard the plaintive call of the Eastern Wood-Peewee (Contopus virens). It’s the perfect soundtrack for this rather mysterious woods full of old trees and patches of moist wetlands. Though I often hear this little bird in our parks, I couldn’t see one that morning, but here’s a shot from a couple years ago.

The Eastern Wood Pee-wee is often heard and not seen.

Deer are too plentiful at Watershed Ridge Park; few woodland wildflowers survive the deer’s constant foraging. But sedges, the ancient grass-like plants that have survived for millennia, do thrive. Ben showed me a large patch of a graceful one called Carex tuckermanii, with little barrel-shaped flowers. Sedges are one of the most diverse plant groups in Michigan, but few have common names.

A graceful Carex sedge (Carex tuckermanii) in the woods at Watershed Ridge

A small butterfly, probably a Tawny-edged Skipper (Polites themistocles), paused in a spot of sunlight. Skippers always seem a bit stockier than other butterflies and the clubs on their antennae hook backwards at the tip, like a crochet hook. This species closely resembles the Crossline Skipper (Polites origenes), but since the Crossline prefers drier habitats, I think the one we saw was a Tawny-edged. The males can perch all day waiting for a female, so maybe this is a male who wanted to be in the spotlight.

I think this is a Tawny-edged Skipper waiting in a patch of sunlight, perhaps for a mate to spot it.

Dr. Parsons from MSU helped me identify two different “color-forms” of the aptly-named Large Lace Border Moths (Scopula limboundata). I assume that both were spending the day dozing, since moths are nocturnal. (Click to enlarge; hover cursor for captions.)

A Large Lace Border Moth resting on a leaf.

Evidently Lace Border Moths come in more than one color-form since this one has the dark border on its wings.

The Little Wood Satyr butterfly (Megisto cymela) rested along the tree-line, just out of the bright sunlight in the meadow beyond. These little creatures bob jerkily in flight, but that flight pattern can take them high into the treetops as well as skipping from plant to plant in the meadow.

The Little Wood Satyr seems happiest between the woods and the fields.

Nearby in the dappled light a Grass Veneer moth (Crambus girardellus) made a stark white contrast on a leaf. Their caterpillars feed on grass roots so you don’t want them on your lawn, but out here they’re just kind of interesting. I think the head of this one looks a bit like a tiny dragon. You can see why these veneers are often called “snout moths.”

A Grass Veneer moth with a snout reminiscent of a tiny dragon

Each year at this park, we see one of the strangest plants I’ve met since I started doing the blog, a parasitic plant called Indian Pipe (Monotropa uniflora). It’s a completely white plant without chlorophyll so it can’t photosynthesize. Instead it taps into the tiny mycorrhizal fungi that connect the trees underground and draws off sugars made by the photosynthesis of the tree’s leaves. Ben introduced me to this interesting plant a couple of years ago and he’s the one who spotted it along the tree line again. In the left photo below, it was just emerging from the soil when we visited this year. The right photo is a more mature version from Watershed Ridge in 2017.

: Parasitic Indian-pipe emerges, a plant without chlorophyll that taps into the fungi that connect the trees.

: Indian Pipe (a wildflower not a mushroom) does look like its name.

Ben also spotted a solitary bee’s nest in the ground. I’d never seen one that was this obvious before – the circle of sand and the bee-sized hole. Ground-nesting solitary bees feel no need to protect their nests, so they aren’t aggressive the way, for example, colony-nesting Yellow Jacket wasps (genus Vespula) and some social bees are. According to the MSU Extension website , this might be the nest of ” mining bees, cellophane bees, digger bees, plasterer bees, sweat bees, leafcutter bees and mason bees,” all docile, essentially harmless bees who do a lot of pollinating in the spring.

The nest of a harmless, solitary, ground-nesting bee. Eastern American Toad nearby.

You might have noticed there’s a tiny Eastern American Toad (Anaxyrus americanus) sitting calmly at the edge of the bee’s nest. I moved closer once he settled beneath an oak leaf. He’s brown like most toads, but it turns out that their skin color can change in relationship to stress or a habitat’s color, humidity, or temperature, making them vary from yellow to black and from solid-colors to speckled.

An Eastern American Toad, warts and all, paused beneath a sheltering oak leaf at the edge of the woods.

Out Into Tall Grass and Sunshine

A female Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) in the moist meadow at Watershed Ridge Park

Emerging from the woods, Ben and I waded into shoulder or waist-high grass and flowers. What abundance! And everywhere we saw butterflies rising and settling among the stems. We were lucky to see a Painted Lady (Vanessa cardui) which is somewhat different than the American Painted Lady (Vanessa virginiensis) that I see more often. They look very much alike from the dorsal (upper) side. The distinguishing difference on the upper side is mainly one tiny spot on an orange section of the forewing on an American Painted Lady (left) which is missing on the Painted Lady. (Enlarge the photos by clicking on them to see the somewhat faint arrows pointing to the areas on the wings.)

: The Painted Lady is missing the white dot on the edge of the upper wing.

The differences in the ventral (lower) sides of the wings are easier to see. The American Painted Lady has two large spots at the edge of the hindwing. The Painted Lady has a row of four spots, and I love the delicacy of the webbing in the design!

: The American Painted Lady has 2 large dots on the underside of the hindwings.

: The Painted Lady has a row of smaller dots and elegant webbing on the underside of the hindwings.

Finally, we are beginning to see Fritillaries, a group of orange butterflies that grace the fields in mid-to-late summer. The one at Watershed Ridge Park was, I think, a Great Spangled Fritillary (Speyeria cybele). It’s also very similar to another butterfly, the slightly smaller Aphrodite Frittilary (Speyeria aphrodite), but Jared C. Daniels’ Butterflies of Michigan Field Guide points out that the former has a wider yellow band near the bottom of the hindwing, so I’m sticking with that. I’m glad I have photographs to use for identification. The differences in some butterflies are very subtle!

A Great Spangled Fritillary sipping on Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa)

I was excited to see a Baltimore Checkerspot butterfly (Euphydryas phaeton); I hadn’t seen one in years. I understand from Butterflies of Michigan that their numbers are declining. Daniels attributes their disappearance to fragmented habitat and the disappearance of their favored host plant, Turtlehead (Chelone glabra), which unfortunately is also a favorite of deer and sawflies. The Baltimore Checkerspot prefers to lays its eggs on Turtlehead and when the caterpillars hatch, the group makes a communal web where they spend the winter. They then finish their development in the spring. Below is a photo of a Turtlehead blossom from Gallagher Creek Park. Turtlehead grows at Watershed Ridge Park, but it doesn’t flower until later in the summer so we didn’t see it that morning.

Baltimore Checkerspots are declining in number due to habitat loss and loss of its favorite native plant for egg-laying, Turtlehead, seen below.

Turtlehead, a favorite host plant for the caterpillars of the Baltimore Checkerspot

In mid-July, this native Joe Pye (Eutrochium maculatum) was barely beginning to show its dusty lavender flower head in the meadow next to the huge marsh. It has a matching purple stem, a useful field mark.

The first buds of Joe Pye appeared above its purple stem in mid-July.

Another interesting sedge spiraled up out of the greenery, Fox Sedge (Carex vulpinoidea) with its bushy, twisting clusters of fruits. It also found its perfect habitat in the wet soil near the bushes that wall off the meadow from the large, nearly impenetrable marsh.

Ben shows me the spiraling flowers of Fox Sedge, a plant that loves moist soil.

Ben and I also found some insect eggs on the underside of a grass stem. We had no way of knowing which little caterpillar will emerge from these tiny, pearl-white balls.

Tiny insect eggs on the underside side of a grass leaf will hatch out into some sort of larva/caterpillar but we don’t know which species laid these tiny pearls.

Dragonflies were foraging and seeking mates in the moist meadow. It’s an ideal place for them since the females generally lay eggs on aquatic plants very quickly after mating. I’m fairly confident that this is an adult White-faced Dragonfly (Sympetrum obtrusum), as they are common in our area. They look very similar to several other species when they’re immature, but I’ve read in Wikipedia that the white front of the face is pretty definitive in the adults of this species.

A Meadowhawk dragonfly, probably a female White-faced Meadowhawk, pauses on bulrush (Scirpus pendulus).

A Twelve-spotted Skimmer (Libellula pulchella) paused on a stem for a moment. I think this is an immature male because the male’s white spots between the brown on the wings are just beginning to form. Also the abdomen looks like a female’s, but has begun to develop the dusty white prunescence of the adult male at the tip of its abdomen which will eventually turn a bluish white.

A Twelve-spotted Skimmer (Libellula pulchella), an immature male, I believe.

A Black-eyed Susan (Rudbeckia hirta) played host to a Hoverfly (family Syrphidae) who will do a fine job of pollinating, second only to the bees. Though dressed in bee or wasp colors, hoverflies are readily identifiable by the two tiny antennae sticking out of the front of their heads, as opposed to a bee or wasp’s longer antennae on the sides of their heads.

A hoverfly sipping nectar from a Black-eyed Susan and pollinating in the process

Crossing Back through the Woods: A Popular Native Rose and Glimpses of Birds in the Treetops

A seasonal creek exits the marsh and runs at the edge of the woods

Back in the shady coolness of the woods, we came across a native Pasture Rose (Rosa carolina) that was a popular hangout for the local inhabitants! When we first spotted it, two Long-horned Flower Beetles (Strangalia luteicornis) had chosen it as an ideal spot for a very quick mating. According to Beetles of Eastern North America, a huge compendium by Arthur V. Evans, male beetles have lots of scent receptors in those lo-o-ong antennae. They fly in a zigzag pattern until they come across the female’s scent and can use the sensors to home in on the exact location of the female. So this female was sending out mating signals even though she kept eating during the event itself! (Thanks again this week to Dr. Gary L. Parsons at MSU’s Entomology Department for providing the correct identification. What a resource he is!)

Two Long-horned Beetles found a native rose a fine place to mate – and forage!

Once mated, they flew off, but one of them returned on its own for another probe of the blossom. I wonder if it’s the female enjoying an uninterrupted feed?

One of the Long-horned Beetles returns to sip at the rose’s nectar after mating.

But alas, whoever it was ended up competing for the goodies with the larger Bumblebee (genus Bombus). It made several attempts to edge back on, but the bumblebee, its leg sacks packed with pollen, was not to be denied. Eventually they seemed to make a truce in which the bumblebee took center stage and the beetle perched at the periphery, probing a blossom with its antennae. Perhaps it was enjoying the scent since a beetle’s antennae are its main organs for both feeling and smell – and it couldn’t get quite close enough to eat!

A bumblebee takes center stage on the Pasture Rose with a Long-horned Beetle at the periphery probing, perhaps smelling, a stamen with its antenna.

I’ve always had trouble identifying native from non-native roses. While in the woods, Ben found both types quite close to each other. The leaf of the Pasture Rose (Rosa carolina) on the left has a tiny, straight prickles along the stem and smooth edges to the “stipule,” the out-growth wings at the bottom of a leaf stalk. The stipule of the leaf on the right from the non-native Multiflora Rose (Rosa multiflora) has a hairy fringe along the edge its stipule, and the stems have sharp thorns that curve back instead of little prickles. Another reason to choose a native plant, eh? – at least in this case. Multiflora roses can get very large and are seriously invasive, crowding or shading out other plants. So this year for our yard, I chose to plant the native Pasture Rose which also spreads – but is welcome to do so at the edge of our woods since it contributes to recreating a native habitat .

The native Pasture Rose (left) has a smooth edge to the stipule at the base of the leaf stalk. The non-native Multiflora Rose has a stipule with a hairy fringe.

Ben knows many more birdsongs than I do and he heard the paired notes of the male Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) high above us in the treetops. We tracked this way and that until we finally spotted him on a bare branch straight above us. According to Cornell Ornithology Lab of Ornithology, “Young Indigo Buntings learn their songs from males near where they settle to breed, and this leads to “song neighborhoods” in which all nearby males sing songs that are similar to each other and that are different from those sung more than a few hundred yards away.” Don’t you love the idea of “song neighborhoods?”

A male Indigo Bunting singing directly above us on a bare branch at Watershed Ridge

Ben also identified the song of a Scarlet Tanager (Piranga olivacea) and eventually we saw the male high up in the leafy branches. I never got a good photo that morning, but here’s one I took earlier this year at Magee Marsh in Ohio, plus a recording I made of the one we saw briefly singing in the treetops at Watershed Ridge Park. The loudest song in the recording is the Tanager’s with a fainter whistling reply from a nearby Northern Cardinal. Two red birds singing in tandem! (You may need to turn up your volume to hear the songs more clearly.)

A Scarlet Tanager at Magee Marsh earlier this year. I missed the one at Watershed Ridge.

Exiting the woods,we found the signs of a Wild Turkey (Meleagris gallopavo) dust bath in the dry ground at the edge of the farmer’s soybean field. Turkeys make a dust wallow and then crouch into it, actively ruffling their feathers to shake dust through them. Birds do this, according to a Stanford University birds website, in order to maintain their feathers by getting rid of excess oil, dead skin or other debris. Dusting may also get rid of itchy lice or mites but as yet, there isn’t evidence to prove that.

A dust wallow where wild turkeys took a dust bath to improve the condition of their feathers.

Here’s a short video that I found on YouTube of a family of wild turkeys using a dust wallow by a soybean field in Ontario. My thanks to the videographer, Justin Hoffman, for allowing it to be shared.

For now, a Walk on the Wild Side

The woods beyond the soybean fields at Watershed Ridge Park

Watershed Ridge Park is close to where I grew up on Lake George Road. In fact, I rode my bike right past this spot many times as a child. At that time though, over 60 years ago, two families had homes within what is now the perimeter of the park, so I never got out beyond the tilled fields or lawns to explore these nearby woods and meadows. So it always feels like a forbidden treat when I get to wander among this park’s shady woodlands with its multiple wetlands and seasonal stream. Wading through meadows lush with towering grasses and wildflowers, I feel like a child again. And it was a special treat to explore this as yet undeveloped park with Dr. Ben who brings along his eagle eyes, a good auditory memory for birdsong and lots of expert knowledge.

You too can experience a nature walk with Ben, of course. Each Wednesday morning, year ’round, our birding group heads out with him on our bird walks. He and the other knowledgeable birders in the group are always willing to share what they know with newcomers and Ben will happily loan you binoculars. The bird walk schedule is available above under “Stewardship Events” at this link.

We’ll let you know on the blog when the parking lot and first trails are finally ready at Watershed Ridge. I guarantee, it will be worth the wait!

Bear Creek Nature Park: Nervous Fledglings Venture Forth and Missing Native Wildflowers Reappear!

July 13, 2019July 14, 2019 / Cam Mannino / 1 Comment

Monarch heaven! Common Milkweed flourishes in the eastern meadow at Bear Creek Nature Park, providing lots of leaves on which Monarch caterpillars can thrive.

Summer is finally taking hold. Many of the flowers, butterflies and other insects are late this year, but they’re slowly appearing. Warm days allowed fledglings to emerge from their nests and use their tiny wings to pursue their parents into the fields and marshes, begging to be fed. Many of the young birds look a bit shaky out on their own. Parent birds whisk back and forth, beaks lined with seed or bearing a drooping caterpillar. Wildflowers, long buried under invasive shrubs that were removed last fall, are emerging from the seed bank in all their glory. A time of renewal for sure!

Text and photos
by Cam Mannino

So join me on a virtual circuit of Bear Creek Nature Park – from the meadows, to the pond, through the woods to the marsh and back to monitor the bird boxes. I’m happy to have you along!

Fledglings Venture Forth into Sunny Meadows

As I began my walk, rambling along the path through the eastern meadow, I was suddenly aware of lots of movement and noisy chattering in the bushes and small trees. Little fledglings were perching there, occasionally fluttering and calling, reminding their busy parents to bring them a meal. A little Red-winged Blackbird (Agelaius phoeniceus) struggled up onto a branch near an adult who took off immediately to look for food, leaving the youngster looking just a bit insecure!

A fledgling Red-winged Blackbird seems not quite ready to be alone in the world!

Another youngster perched on a branch seemed on high alert as it looked out on the meadow. The striped feathers and the fact that adult Song Sparrows (Melospiza melodia) were nearby makes me think that it’s their fledgling.

A young Song Sparrow looks anxiously off into the distance, waiting to be fed.

On a birding walk a week earlier, Dr. Ben VanderWeide, our township Stewardship Manager, heard the high, wheezy call of the small Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher (Polioptila caerulea). Looking up we spotted a tiny nest near the top of a walnut tree. Two adult gnatcatchers were industriously taking turns bringing food to their young. The left photo shows what we could see of the nest and the parent bird from below, though the group did catch a glimpse at one point of a fluttering wing as a nestling leaned out to get the goodies. I’ve included an earlier photo of an adult Gnatcatcher as it forages. (Click to enlarge; hover cursor for captions.)

: Blue-gray gnatcher at its tiny lump of a nest high up in a walnut tree.

: Blue-gray Gnatcathcer foraging for insects on tree bark

Dragonflies and Damselflies Hover and Dart in the Meadows

Dragonflies maneuver across the meadows, moving up, down and forward, in their search for unwary insects or possible mates. The broken wood of the mowed invasive shrubs makes a handy resting place for them. A juvenile male Common Whitetail dragonfly (Libellula lydia) rested quite near a more adult one, perhaps learning the ropes? The white patches at the bottom of the hind wings are field marks for the juvenile. When mature, the whole abdomen is covered in a dusty white, referred to as “prunescence.”

A juvenile Common Whitetail perches, hoping to catch a passing insect.

An adult male Common Whitetail uses his white tail to establish his territory.

The male Eastern Pondhawk dragonfly (Erythemis simplicicollis) also found the woody shards a great place to lie in wait. Though the female is bright green all over, the male’s colors transition from a green face, to a blue-green thorax and a slaty blue abdomen. Quite a handsome fellow!

The Eastern Pondhawk male has a green face and blue-green thorax with a lovely blue abdomen.

Lots of orange dragonflies cling to stalks in the meadow grass. They belong to the genus Sumpetrum, but knowledgeable folk in the Facebook group “Odonata of the Eastern United States” inform me that you can only determine the species of orange dragonflies if you have one in hand with a magnifying glass! And of course, I’m never in a summer meadow, it seems, without seeing the striking Widow Skimmer (Libellula luctuosa).

: A dragonfly from the genus Sumpetrum – but I can’t tell you which species!

: A juvenile Widow Skimmer, probably a female since she has no white bands next to her black patches.

Damselflies seem more likely to prefer shady areas. But I do occasionally see them in tall meadow grass. Here’s a male Emerald Spreadwing Damselfly (Lestes dryas) I saw when wading through deep grass one warm afternoon. Like dragonflies, they consume a lot of mosquitoes, which pleases me and you too, I bet.

The Seed Bank Awakens as Restoration Begins

Perhaps the biggest thrill for me in the meadows this week, though, was the reappearance of long lost wildflowers. Evidently, beneath those invasive shrubs in the meadows near the pond, seeds and small plants of native wildflowers had been waiting for maybe decades while the fields were covered either with grazing fodder for cattle or abandoned to non-native plants. Now the sun and rain have reached the earth over them again and they are making a comeback!

Out in the meadow west of the pond, large patches of Butterfly Milkweed (Asclepias tuberosa) have emerged where previously we only saw a single plant here or there. And as you’ll see further down in the blog, the Monarch butterflies are already finding them.

Butterfly Milkweed spreads its brilliant orange in two big patches west of the Center Pond.

A spectacular wildflower blooming this year is one neither Ben nor I have ever seen before in Bear Creek Nature Park – the Michigan Lily (Lilium michiganense) – not to be confused with the non-native tiger lilies or the much less glamorous Orange Daylily (Hemerocallis fulva) which originated in Asia. I’d only seen this striking native with its cup of curved petals, arching stem and showy stigma near the Wet Prairie on the Paint Creek Trail. But this beauty at Bear Creek waited patiently. Once warmth and moisture reached it, up it came just west of the Center Pond. Michigan lilies can be tempting to hummingbirds and many butterflies. I saw one other bud, so I’m hoping for more!

The dramatic Michigan Lily reappeared in Bear Creek once invasive shrubs were removed.

Tall Meadow Rue (Thalictrum dasycarpum) and Fringed Loosestrife (Lysimachia ciliata) have staged a comeback, too. A Jack-in-the-Pulpit (Arisaema triphyllum) at the edge of the path had produced its bright green berries on a wide spadix. The berries will turn a brilliant red in the fall. Who knows what else will emerge over the summer and fall?

: Native Fringed Loosestrife bends its pretty face toward the earth.

: Native Tall Meadow Rue, a native wildflower, reappeared where invasive shrubs were mowed last year.

: A native Jack-in-the-Pulpit showed up at the edge of the forest next to the mowed field.

Butterflies Arrive – but Not Enough for Me, Yet!

As the mid-summer wildflowers finally begin to bloom, the butterflies are begging to appear. Sun-loving Butterfly Milkweed hosted a Monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus) last week. Since this is a female Monarch, we can hope that it will lays its eggs either on the leaves of this milkweed or on one of the many Common Milkweeds in the eastern meadow.

With its long proboscis stuck in a blossom, it appears that this Monarch found the nectar to be just what it needed after its journey to Michigan,

A Silver-spotted Skipper (Epargyreus clarus) took a while to show me the bright white spot on the lower (ventral) side of its hind wing. It looks quite different when the “silver spot” is out of sight!

: The Silver-spotted Skipper looks quite plain when it first lands on a leaft.

: But when it raises its wing, you can see where it got its name.

A very tired, worn, Black Swallowtail sat quietly on the path one afternoon. According to Wikipedia, Black Swallowtails are generally longer-lived than other butterflies, unless subjected to bad weather or deprived of food. We’ve had pretty wild weather and the flowers are behind schedule, so perhaps that took its toll on this unfortunate female.

This Black Swallowtail with worn wings and a ragged swallowtail may have been ready to succumb from bad weather and an insufficient supply of nectar.

The Little Wood Satyr (Papilio polyxenes), though, seemed be just fine as it danced along in its bouncing flight from shade into the sun and back again.

Little Wood Satyrs venture into grassy areas that are near the shade of trees.

On to the Pond and Its Frog Song

White Water Crowfoot , an early summer native, is winding down at the Center Pond as the weather warms.

A few blossoms of White Water Crowfoot (Ranunculus longirostris) still peek from the background of abundant Duckweed (Lemna minor) at the Center Pond. The Northern Green Frogs (Rana clamitans) sprawl comfortably among it, floating at the surface and croaking in their banjo voices to attract mates. Since males have a tympanum (circular hearing device near the eye) bigger than their eyes and a yellow throat, this one staring at me intently was definitely a male.

A male Green Frog among the duckweed at the Center Pond

Frog “talk” this July:

I smiled at this small Midland Painted Turtle (Chrysemys picta marginata) who seemed to be listening to the frogs right along with me. But more likely, it was just basking in the warm sunlight after a cold spring, and trying to ignore the frog voices. It’s decorated nicely with bits of Duckweed.

A small Midland Painted Turtle basked in the Duckweed while the frogs croaked around it.

Into the Woods

The woods just west of Bear Creek Marsh, now more open since cleared of invasive shrubs

The woods on the east side of the park let in so much more light now that the invasive shrubs have been removed! I keep hoping I’ll see more woodland wildflowers because of it. But deer are plentiful at Bear Creek so that’s a slim hope; they love to eat native plants and young saplings. But a couple of woodland flowers escaped their notice, probably because both of them are a bit fuzzy, which puts deer off: Enchanter’s Nightshade (Circaea canadensis) and Panicled Tick Trefoil (Desmodium paniculatum). Both thrive in the dappled sunlight of the woods so perhaps I will see them spread as sunlight reaches more of the forest floor.

Panicled Tick Trefoil has tiny hairs on the stem

In the fall, Enchanter’s Nightshade will make prickly seed pods that can be carried by passing humans or animals.

Unfortunately for humans, native Poison Ivy (Toxicodendron radicans) is more abundant in the woods and everywhere else this year. But if you stay on the paths, you’ll be just fine. Look for a three leaved plant on which the center leaf has two “thumbs” but the right and left leaves have only one “thumb” – or look for a vine with that leaf arrangement and reddish “feet” clinging to the bark. Poison ivy isn’t poisonous for animals, though. It produces green berries that turn white in the fall just at the time when other berries are disappearing. So migrating birds gobble them up, enjoying a boost of energy and protein before heading south. Northern Flickers, Bobwhite Quail, Eastern Phoebes, Cedar Waxwings, Woodpeckers, Tufted Titmice, and American Robins all readily eat Poison Ivy berries. Raccoons and deer can eat the whole plant – and they’re welcome to them, as far as I’m concerned.

Poison Ivy berries feed migrating birds in the fall and the whole plant is browsed by deer and eaten by raccoons!

I followed the song of an Eastern Towhee (Pipilo erythrophthalmus) high in the treetops as I entered the woods. I paused, listened, moved a little – no luck at seeing him in the high treetops. After about 10 minutes of following him from one tree to the next, I gave up and moved on. Luckily, the following week ,the birding group spotted one in the open at Cranberry Lake Park, so at least I can show you a somewhat fuzzy photo of “the one who got away.”

An Eastern Towhee singing his “Drink your Teeeeeea” song at Cranberry Lake Park after one eluded me at Bear Creek

A Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) sang one of its summer songs repeatedly, but it was also hidden in the leafy branches. It’s a classic, summer moment when this unmistakable, ebullient call reverberates from the treetops!

Damselflies love the “spotlight effect” they get from the filtered light in the forest. I came upon a female Ebony Jewelwing (Calopteryx maculata) who seemed to be trying to seduce an oddly unmotivated male. Each posed on a sunlight leaf, but she would periodically fly briefly onto his leaf, making him jump off for a few moments. Perhaps she hoped to be pursued, but it was not happening while I was there. I’m afraid I caught her at an indiscreet moment when she paused to poop a few moments later….

: The male Ebony Jewelwing sat placidly in the sunlight on a leaf.

: The female failed to get him interested and went off for, shall we say, a potty break?

A woodland moth slept soundly on a leaf at the edge of the woods one afternoon. The caterpillar of the White Slant-line Moth (Tetracis cachexiata) feeds on all kinds of native trees, so it’s a common moth in woods and forests all over Canada and the US. I love the simple design of its bright white wings and subtle yellow stripe.

The White Slant-line Moth’s caterpillar can feed on lots of North American trees so it’s a common sight in forests.

As I walked off the path in the woods to follow the Towhee, clouds of what I think were Hangingflies (genus Bittacidae) rose from the greenery under my feet. These harmless creatures are a relative of the also harmless Scorpion Fly (family Panorpidae) I saw last year at Bear Creek, named for the upward curve of the male’s abdomen. Both belong to the order Mecoptera. But the delicate legs of Hangingflies cannot support their body weight! So instead they hang by their front legs beneath leaves and capture aphids, moths and other passing insects with their long back legs! Nature always finds a solution. I felt lucky to find one suspended in a spot of sunlight beneath a grass stem.

A Hangingfly can’t stand on its legs. It hunts by hanging from its front legs and catching other insects with the back ones.

Bear Creek Marsh – Wet, Green and Full of Life

A view of Marsh at Bear Creek looking incredibly lush in mid-summer.

The native Buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) has round, green buds just waiting to burst into balls of white blossoms in the summer heat. It lines one half of the southern platform overlooking the Bear Creek Marsh.

Buttonbush is about to bloom around the southern platform at Bear Creek Marsh.

Here’s what each of those buds will look like shortly!

Buttonbush Blossom in bloom!

At the northern platform, my husband spotted an adult Green Heron (Butorides virescens) standing among the cat-tails and rushes across from the deck. It probably had been probing the mud for food. According to the Cornell Ornithology Lab, it has a wide ranging diet – from frogs to fish, snails, insects – even rodents! This one took off and landed high in a tree overlooking the marsh. I just learned from Cornell that Green Herons actually nest in a large fork in a shrub or tree with overhanging limbs to hide the nest from predators like snakes, crows or grackles. I’d love to see the nest or young of this handsome bird!

A Green Heron among the cattails at Bear Creek Marsh

As usual in the summer, we looked for slow-moving mounds of mud or moss in the water, a sure sign of Common Snapping Turtles (Chelydra serpentina). We eventually saw four, a large one and 3 smaller ones. It helped when the big one raised its head on that long neck. The snappers weren’t much interested in each other at the moment and spent a lot of time munching on fresh underwater plants.

A Snapping Turtle cruising along in the marsh.

Of course, Red-winged Blackbirds dotted the marsh as well, clinging onto cat-tail stems and trilling. On my first visit, a female scolded me continually while I sat on the bench. Eventually, I realized that her nest was nearby when a male appeared with a worm or caterpillar in his beak. He quickly dropped into the grasses near the water to feed his young.

A male Red-winged Blackbird with a worm or caterpillar for his nestlings and some pollen on his head!

A week later, I saw a Red-winged fledgling watching a male pick apart a cat-tail for seeds. The little one tried to do the same but with little success since its cat-tail head had already been mostly eaten. Later the small bird landed on a cat-tail in the distance where the male obligingly stuffed some seeds into its beak, thank goodness!

A fledgling Red-winged Blackbird tries to pick apart a cat-tail like the adults do – but not as successfully.

Down below the platform, the American Bur-reed was in all stages of blooming – from buds to blossoms to fruits. Marsh plants clean our waterways by storing nitrogen and phosphorus that would otherwise starve the water of oxygen. And Bur-reed is one of the most effective marsh plants, storing four times more than some other aquatic plants. Plants like Bur-reed are one of the reasons conservationists value wetlands so highly!

American Bur-reed cleans our waterways by storing the nitrogen and phosphorus in run-off.

As I headed back to the parking lot, I walked back along the boardwalk by the playground pond and noticed a sleepy, nocturnal Gray Tree Frog ( Hyla versicolor) resting peacefully on a lower railing.

The nocturnal Gray Tree Frog curled up on a railing at the playground pond.

Stewardship Fosters Nature Here – and Far Beyond the Township

Thanks for taking a virtual hike through Bear Creek with me. I find it heartening that the stewardship crew and Dr. Ben are restoring habitat and fostering the wildlife in this park with all of its natural variety. The invasive shrubs are removed and the seed bank brings back native flowers. The native flowers bloom and butterflies and other insects thrive by feeding at them. The nestlings are fed with the insects’ caterpillars and venture out of their nests and nest boxes to soar over the meadows. In the fall, some of them will travel great distances, bringing their beauty and their role in maintaining healthy habitats to places as far away as South America.

The humble bur-reed is allowed to flourish in the marsh. Because it cleans the water as it stores nutrients in its stems and leaves, Bear Creek’s water is healthier as it flows out of the marsh, eventually reaching Paint Creek. And the fish and other aquatic creatures and plants there benefit from cleaner water – and on it flows into the intricate, inter-locking systems of the natural world.

Stewardship is a lot of hard work but the reward is that it makes a difference not just in our township, but far beyond. Wherever the creek’s water flows, wherever native seeds are carried by creatures, wind or water, wherever migrating birds and butterflies travel, a little bit of our township’s stewardship work has played its part in preserving our natural heritage.

Bees and “Wannabees”: Native Pollinators Tend Early Summer Blooms

June 18, 2019March 10, 2020 / Cam Mannino / 6 Comments

European Honey Bee on Goldenrod, summer of 2015

When most of us think of pollinators, the European Honey Bee (Apis mellifera) comes to mind first – and with good reason. These hive bees work industriously in agricultural fields and orchards. And we benefit from the fruits, vegetables and of course flowers they visit. According to MSU Extension, though, they are active in temperatures above 60 °F and prefer clear, sunny, placid weather. In case you haven’t noticed (or don’t live in Michigan), that’s not yet our weather here this year.

Luckily, native bees and hoverflies come to our rescue, and the rescue of countless wildflowers. Bumblebees (genus Bombus), our chunky native bees, only require temperatures above 50° and will fly in wet, dark and windy weather – the kind we’re living with this year! And along side them are other native bees and the ever-present hoverflies who look like bees but aren’t. So let’s see who’s out and about in our parks pollinating plants on these cool, damp days of early summer.

[A Disclaimer: I’m a learner when it comes to insect identification, but I’ve done my best to figure out what I’m seeing. Let me know in comments if you think I’ve erred. And if you’d like more detailed info, check out my two main sources: a fine book by Heather Holm entitled Pollinators of Native Plants and this excellent web article by Jason Gibbs from MSU Dept. of Etymology.]

[Warning! Corrections below! A kind and knowledgeable reader helped me out by commenting on 3 bee species that he believed were misidentified in this blog. I checked them with Dr. Gary Parsons from at Michigan State University and a fellow there who is a bee curator and they determined that the reader is correct. Thanks to the reader and to Dr. Parsons! You’ll see the corrections below and links to more information on the correct bees! My apologies. I will be much more careful in the future when trying to ID native bees, which it turns out can only to be positively identified as to species with a microscope and using identification keys – and not through photos!]

Native Bees Happily Take on the Job of Spring Pollination

Female bees of all species carry most of the load when it comes to pollination, because they feed pollen to themselves and their young. Some species stash it on hairs or in pollen baskets on their hind legs. Others let it spread thickly across the stiff hairs of their abdomen. Wasps, like Yellow Jackets or Hornets, can look like bees but they don’t collect or eat pollen. (They are predators who keep insect numbers in check, including some garden pests.) So if you see lots of yellow or orange pollen on the leg or abdomen of an insect, it’s a bee! Where are these bees finding pollen now?

Native Wild Lupine (Lupine perennis) rises elegantly within the restored prairie at Charles Ilsley Park in early June. Look for them near the observation deck at Gallagher Creek Park as well. They are a popular stop on the pollen route for our native bees right now.

Lupines at Charles Ilsley Park where prairies are being restored

A Metallic Green Sweat Bee (genus Agapostemon) found the Lupine blossoms irresistible. These very small bees are solitary; they don’t live in hives. Instead, they make tunnels in bare soil and tend their young alone. Sweat bees are occasionally attracted to human sweat on hot, dry days but their sting is not as severe as a bee or wasp. They are normally docile while foraging but can be aggressive if you get near their nests. But please don’t use pesticides on them. These little bees do a lot of pollinating! Creating a spot of bare soil on your property away from your garden and house where they can nest will make both you and them feel safer.

A metalic green sweat bee finds its way into a lupine blossom.

One cool afternoon, I watched a couple of sweat bees [Edit: Correction by a reader! The two small bees below are in the genus Ceratina, family Apidae, a genus according to Wikipedia that is “often mistaken for sweat bees! For information on these small bee, use this link] make the proverbial “beeline” for the native Daisy Fleabane (Erigeron annuus), a close relative of asters and daisies, but a different genus. These tiny, sun-faced flowers are one of the first blooms to emerge in spring and they last all summer. So it seems that the two sweat bees heading in from the right on the photo below know a reliable source of nectar and pollen when they see one!

Two metallic green[bees from the genus Ceratina] heading for a tiny Daisy Fleabane.

A native Bumblebee (genus Bombus) used its long tongue to reach inside the lavender lips of the Lupine blossoms at Gallagher Creek Park and then flew off with its pollen load tucked neatly into the pollen sacks on its legs. According to author Heather Holm, bumblebees sometimes use a technique called “buzz pollination” in which they release pollen from tight places by clinging onto a plant’s anthers (the tip of the male stamen that holds the pollen) and activating their flight muscles, making a buzz. Poof! Out comes the pollen. Neat trick. (Click on photos to enlarge; hover cursor for captions.)

: A native bumblebee uses its long tongue to reach into Lupine blossoms.

: Then it flies off with pollen tucked into the pollen sacks on its legs.

Carpenter Bees (genus Xylocopa) shape their nests by patiently shaving off wood bit by bit to make perfectly round holes, usually on the underside of branches, or at our house, under deck railings! They lay their eggs inside, sealing each egg in separately with neat plugs of pollen to keep the young larvae fed. Later, the young bees will overwinter in these nests to emerge for mating the following spring. Here’s what I’m quite sure is an Eastern Carpenter Bee (Xylocopa virginica) nuzzling a Blackberry blossom (Rubus allegheniensis). It looks a lot like a native Bumblebee, but its abdomen is shiny black instead of fuzzy and it has a dot in the center of its yellow thorax.

A Carpenter Bee collects pollen or nectar from a blackberry blossom.

The blackberry bush also hosted another bee. I believe it’s a Masked/Cellophane Bee (genus Hylaeus). [Edit: Correction! These bees are from the genus Halictidae whereas the Cellophane bee is in the genus Megachilidae. Thanks to an expert reader for the correction! For information on Halictidae use this link]These solitary bees are the only ones that transport pollen in a crop like some birds do with seed. These bees use exisiting cavities in wood for nesting, and wrap their larvae in a thin membrane that evidently gave them the name “cellophane bees” – and they also have white patches on their heads, hence the “masked” name.

A masked/cellophane bee carries pollen in its crop.

Native Golden Alexanders (Zizia aurea), an early summer flower, attracted the attention of another native pollinator, the solitary Leafcutter Bee (genus Megachilidae). [Correction: This is a “mining bee,” species Andrena from the genus Andrenidae. For information on them, see this link. ]They can be very active within blossoms, making what some sources describe as a “swimming motion.” Evidently, that also releases a lot of pollen that they carry on stiff hairs on their abdomen. Their nests are built vertically in hollow plant stems or other natural cavities. They neatly cut and then chew bits of leaves to line each cell. Entomologists suppose that the leaves may preserve the moisture in the pollen plug at the end of each cell, so it will last until the larvae hatches to eat it. The larvae then pupates, emerges for a short life of a few weeks and starts the cycle again.

A Leafcutter Bee searches for both nectar and pollen on a Golden Alexanders blossom

And then there are the “Wannabees”

: A tiny hoverfly lands on a small daisy fleabane blossom.

: A hoverfly on a Marsh Marigold (Caltha palustris) at Gallagher Creek

I love Jason Gibb’s term “wannabees” for the ubiquitous Hoverflies – also called flower flies – members of the genus Taxomerus (family Syrphidae). Hoverflies visit flowers frequently and are commonly mistaken for bees. Many of them mimic bees and wasps, being patterned in white, black and yellow (or orange). But they differ from bees in one important way; hoverflies do not have stingers. They just want their predators to think they do! They feed on both pollen and nectar. Though hoverflies don’t carry as much pollen on their smooth bodies as bees do on their fuzzy ones, they may make up for that by visiting flowers more often. As a result, they are considered the second most effective plant pollinators. Another great benefit of hoverflies is that their larvae eat aphids like crazy, much like ladybugs do. So they can keep plants healthy as well as do some pollinating.

Drama Unfolds on Daisy Fleabanes!

It’s not a surprise that the nodding stalks of Daisy Fleabane (Erigeron annuus) show up in every field in the spring. Hoverflies move constantly from one to the next since not many different wildflowers bloom in this cold spring! As they land, of course, they drop pollen on the waiting stigmas of the flower, just what’s needed to produce more Daisy Fleabane. From my observation, the flowers in bright sunlight get more attention from hoverflies than those in the shade. Perhaps they see in ultraviolet like bees and the flowers look much more inviting in the sunshine?

But more than just pollination is taking place on those sunny little blooms! It turns out that a Daisy Fleabane can be a stage for high drama – birth and death among the petals! One tiny fleabane flower featured the mating of two hoverflies while a third ignored them in its avid search for a good meal. The dispassionate female seems to be casually having a snack as well.

Two hoverflies mated on a Daisy Fleabane while one ignored them in the interest of finding nectar or pollen

And on another Fleabane blossom, an ambush! I’ve just learned about Crab Spiders (genus Thomisidae). These crafty arachnids don’t spin webs. They simply sit on or just under the edges of flowers waiting to grab unwary insects. Those long curved front legs do look a bit crab-like!

A crab spider sitting on a fleabane blossom hoping, no doubt, to snag a careless insect.

The Bluebottle Fly (genus Calliphora) in the photo below seems to have been oblivious to a crab spider until it was grabbed around the middle by one of the long legs of its hidden predator. Those big fly eyes look vaguely shocked, don’t they? The hoverfly on the blossom above seems unconcerned, its head deep in the pollen. And what I think is the green sweatbee flying in may choose to do the same on a different bloom. I doubt they stayed around long enough to be a second and third meal for the spider!

A crab spider under the edge of a fleabane has grabbed a fly for lunch, while an uninterested hoverfly eats nearby. And what I think is another green sweat bee speeds in on the right.

What about the Butterflies?

Well, butterflies are arriving, or hatching or coming out from under bark after overwintering. But not many are present yet. And let’s face it; the flowers available now are not especially tempting when compared to the variety and plentitude of summer. So the butterflies that appear in the parks make do with other food sources – sweet tree sap, rotting fruits from last fall, carrion, even occasionally the nutrition left in animal scat! Here’s a selection of the butterflies I’ve seen so far and not one of them was pollinating a flower! (Click on photos to enlarge; use pause button for captions.)

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I’ve also seen three different Monarchs but they didn’t stop to have photos taken. And the very tiny White-striped Black moth (Trichodezia albovittata) is a first sighting ever for me. Its miniscule black and white wings flutter so fast that when flying, it looks like a blurry signal of dots and dashes! I was so happy when it paused for a few moments!

Native Plants + Native Insects = Caterpillars + More Well-fed Bird Hatchlings

Two-day-old Eastern Bluebird hatchlings (Sialis sialis)

You’ve probably noticed that I’ve used the word “larvae” several times in this piece. The common term for these squiggly young is “caterpillar.” Caterpillars (as I’ve mentioned before) are the preferred food that birds stuff down the tender throats of their hatchlings. They are great baby food for birds, full of protein and fat and easy to swallow.

So let’s be glad that our native insects are out gathering pollen for two reasons. Our bees and wannabees keep the wildflowers (and eventually fruits and vegetables) reproducing year after year. But by also feeding pollen to all those larval bees and flies, they feed the young of clever birds who winkle them out of holes and pluck them off of leaves and limbs. Yes, we may get a few cut, chewed or even defoliated leaves in our garden. But many of those caterpillars will nourish the next generation of glorious birds singing the morning chorus! Now doesn’t that make you appreciate insects just a wee bit more?

Stewardship Manager Dr. Ben VanderWeide and volunteer Stephanie Patil with hundreds of native plants purchased by township residents through the Parks and Recreation Commission.

A Wetland Habitat Always Means Life!

Early Arrivals: Dragonflies that Appear in late May

Later Arrivals: Dragonflies that Show Up the Second Week in June

The “Damsels” of Watershed Ridge, 2022

And Now, a Quick Trip Down a Woodland Path

Monet in the Meadow: A Colorful Field a-Flutter with Wings

Into the Pathless Woods on My Way Home

This July, It Was the Little Things…

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The Trail Begins in Sunny Meadows Filled with Wildflowers

The Meadow Trail: Butterflies, Dragonflies and Rolling Meadows of Wildflowers

Foraging Butterflies

Territorial Dragonflies

Pollinating and Nectaring Bees

Colorful Long-legged Flies

The Plants that Feed and Shelter Them All

The Forest Trail Above the Ravine: Damselflies, Abundant Moths and One Useful but Really Ugly Fly

Under the Forest Canopy, Beauties and the Beast

Dancing Damselflies Seek the Spotlight in the Creek

And Then The Fireflies Arrived…

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The Woods are Lovely, Dark and Deep…

Out Into Tall Grass and Sunshine

Crossing Back through the Woods: A Popular Native Rose and Glimpses of Birds in the Treetops

For now, a Walk on the Wild Side

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Fledglings Venture Forth into Sunny Meadows

Dragonflies and Damselflies Hover and Dart in the Meadows

The Seed Bank Awakens as Restoration Begins

Butterflies Arrive – but Not Enough for Me, Yet!

On to the Pond and Its Frog Song

Into the Woods

Bear Creek Marsh – Wet, Green and Full of Life

Stewardship Fosters Nature Here – and Far Beyond the Township

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Native Bees Happily Take on the Job of Spring Pollination

And then there are the “Wannabees”

Drama Unfolds on Daisy Fleabanes!

What about the Butterflies?

Native Plants + Native Insects = Caterpillars + More Well-fed Bird Hatchlings

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