Bivouac

At the height of the day the goldenrods in the meadow are abuzz with bees, wasps, flies and beetles and I hardly dare to brush against them. But in early morning I notice that the golden blossoms are dotted with dozing bumblebees. They are found clinging to stems and hanging onto the underside of inflorescences – whole motionless camps of them. These are the males that have emerged from the queen’s nest and whose sole purpose in life is to mate before dying off in the approaching cold season. They have nowhere better to go for the night than a plant bearing sweet nectar.

The tall plants in the meadow do indeed provide a good vantage point for viewing all kinds of fascinating visitors. A few weeks ago I noticed several yellow bear caterpillars attached to New York ironweed, munching away on the undersides of the leaves and unseen by birds from above. This is the larval stage of the Virginian tiger moth (Spilosoma virginica), a handsome white moth with black stripes and a touch of orange on its abdomen.

Spicing up the Garden

Spicebush Swallowtail (Papilio troilus) on Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis)

Much to my joy I have seen many large black butterflies fluttering around the garden. I assumed they were black swallowtails as their gloriously striped caterpillars have consumed much of my potted parsley. But today I caught an image of a spicebush swallowtail sipping nectar from a hot red cardinal flower by the pond. The subtle difference between the spicebush and the black is easy to discern once the butterflies have come to rest. The tails on the spicebush are spoon-shaped and the upper side wings lack a post median row of yellow spots. The larvae feed on spicebush and sassafras, plenty of which grow on my property. I am also pleased to report that Monarch butterflies have been more numerous this year than in the past few summers.

Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus)

Say No to Winter Blues

The ground has been covered in layers of snow and ice for several weeks now. There have been warnings of blizzard and wind chill and we’ve been grumbling. Longing for winter to ease off. But the true survivors turn up at the bird feeder every day and by observing them and other wildlife visitors, I feel better able to think ahead to spring. Here is my census: red-bellied woodpecker, downy woodpecker, white-breasted nuthatch, Carolina wren, black-capped chickadee, tufted titmouse, blue jays, northern cardinals, American goldfinch, song sparrow, white-throated sparrow, dark-eyed junco, grey squirrel and white-tailed deer. Fortunately, the deer stay beyond the fence!

Trees and shrubs aid my mood as well. The ailing dogwood tree provides a strategic perch. Its hollows provide shelter and a pounding board for birds to crack open sunflower husks. Bare branches show off the true architecture of a tree and they are also places to monitor the swelling buds of spring. Tree trunks reflect the glow of the setting sun, which I notice goes down later every evening. 

Winter Garden Secrets

Fine Hair Moss (Dicranella heteromalla)

The winter garden reveals many secrets. The absence of green leafiness uncovers nests made in warmer times. From my kitchen window I view winter denizens, bird and squirrel, as they come out of shelter to visit the birdfeeder. Mosses stand out along the woodland path. I took a few strands inside and placed them in a saucer of water as an attempt to identify their species. Fine hair moss (Dicranella heteromalla) resembles a tiny tree with needle-like leaves. A bright pink spore capsule is held high above as a beacon. The ovate leaves of another moss (I could not positively identify) form dense whorls for a thick emerald carpet. Mosses hold many more secrets for which I will need a stronger lens.

On raking fallen leaves off the gravel driveway I uncovered some star earthball fungi (Scleroderma polyrhizum). Another common name for this basidiomycete is Dead Man’s Hand. The fruiting body forms underground before being thrust up through the soil to expose a star of five leathery, yellow lobes surrounding a spore mass. It is sinister-looking plant with an otherwordly look about it. 

On New Years Eve I looked upward towards heavenly stars. We were out trying to view a glowing green comet, named Lovejoy, which is reported to be visible near the Orion constellation in this first week of January. As we stood, our necks craned in the frosty air, we heard the haunting sound of great horned owls making themselves known to all. Perhaps it was their nuptial calls that echoed back and forth loudly across the neighborhood. Finding no comet, I scanned bare branches in the hope of locating the owls at least. But their exact whereabouts remains a secret. 

Star Earthball (Scleroderma polyrhizum) 

Fall Fluff

Butterfly Weed (Asclepias tuberosa) seed pods

High Bush Blueberry (Vaccinium corymbosum)

Leaves turning color on sassafras, blueberry, red maple, fothergilla, and oak-leaf hydrangea have made brilliant fall colors this season.  The meadow looks wonderfully disheveled and fertile with seed.

The moleskin pods of butterfly weed have wrinkled, dried and split to release their contents.  Dark brown seeds attached to a fluffy parachute spill out and accumulate around the pods, until a breeze teases them away for their journey to another fertile place. As I collect a few seeds for propagation, the fluff feels incredibly soft and I can imagine making a down pillow out of it. But I leave most of them hoping to perpetuate this plant, which is a larval host for Monarch butterflies. 

Little Bluestem (Schizachryium scoparium)

Multicolored stems of little bluestem catch the sunlight in their fluffy seeds. This native grass turns all gold and provides winter interest and habitat in my garden. The larvae of several species of skipper butterflies use this plant as a food source. 

Maryland Goldenaster (Chrysopsis mariana)

Hyssop-leaved boneset (Eupatorium hyssopifolium)

Maryland Golden Aster makes decorative golden pompoms of seeds. Another good reason to let them be in winter is the birds like to peck at them for food. A red maple leaf rests on the fluffy seed heads of hyssop-leaved boneset. Birds in the winter garden will eat these seeds. In summer the white blooms of this plant attract native pollinators and predators of the marmorated stink bug, which is becoming a major pest in agriculture.

            

Meadow Fritillary

Meadow Fritillary on New York Ironweed

The pink petals and golden pincushions of Echinacea are now faded, but American goldfinch in breeding plumage delight in pecking at the thistle. Still, the late blooming native flowers create a wonderful opportunity to get up close and personal with all kinds of pollinators. New York ironweed is towering above the strip of meadow, Maryland golden asters are just beginning to open to a deep yellow and the Joe Pye weed blossoms are covered with bees. And, I have been observing all kinds of visitors to the mountain mints, thoroughwort, rudbeckia and butterfly weed. This summer has been a bit lean for the sighting of butterflies in the garden. I have seen only one Monarch butterfly and the number of swallowtails is way down; branded skippers and spring azures being the most frequent visitors.  So I was delighted and surprised to catch a glimpse of a beautiful meadow fritillary feeding on New York ironweed. Photographing butterflies is a challenge for me as their visits to flowers are short and sweet. But I get a second chance because, after being disturbed, they always flutter around the area for a short while before returning to the same flower for a second sip.

Buds and Bees - Signs of Spring

Mining Bee (Andrena sp.)

It has been too long since my last blog entry. But spring has been slow in coming and I have been searching the tangled wood and garden for all signs vernal. How had nature diarist Edwin Way Teale experienced early April in his patch of the woods almost 40 years ago? He walked a mossy woodland trail and found what he was hoping to see, a spring azure butterfly. Last year in March I had recorded the sighting of a mourning cloak butterfly warming itself on a rock in the sun. That was a joyful sign that spring had arrived. Now I trip along an ivy-covered path to an overgrown corner of the wood where some spicebush has survived a fallen tree. There are tiny yellow buds swelling against slender stems, but they are tightly closed against the cold spring air. The maples are beginning to blush high up against the clear blue sky. Perhaps I can get a closer look at the flowers of the young red maple on the slope. These buds are about to burst, but no blossom yet. As I walk the garden path I hear the unmistakable buzz of a bee visiting a flower. Honeybees are already out and about, brushing against the deep orange pollen of crocuses, which are blooming a good month later than last year. At another patch of crocus I spot small dark, gray bees quietly gathering pollen. These bees seem calmer than their European cousins and I realize that they are mining bees (Andrena sp.) once I see one swiftly disappear into a mounded hole in sandy soil nearby. I have seen buds of promise and soon enough there will be more flowers for this solitary bee to visit and provision her underground nest. I have yet to catch a glimpse of the spring azure butterfly, but for me spring is here!

Entrance to a Mining Bee Nest