What I Do Instead Of Pokemon Go (Short)

The other night, my friends took me along to Washington Park, where they played Pokemon Go in the twilight.  I, however, heard the calls of the local treefrog population, and began hunting them instead.  Washington Park at night is a great spot to look for treefrogs, as well as a few other animals:

This toad (Bufo spp.) hopped about in the outdoor section of the botanical gardens, hard to see because of the foliage.  I put it back after catching and photographing it.

I saw at least three Gray Treefrogs (Hyla versicolor), which I could locate  by their calls.  Nearly unafraid of people, Gray Treefrogs simply sat in the darkness as I took their pictures.  In my area, Gray Treefrogs seem to be increasing, as I hear their calls more and more frequently at night.  At the moment of this writing, a few are calling from the trees across the road.  These little frogs are chameleons, able to rapidly change the colors on their skin to blend in and hide.   During the winter, Gray Treefrogs hide under tree bark and crevicies.  They have a natural antifreeze that keeps their veins from freezing to death when they hibernate. However, the rest of the treefrog freezes for the winter, including its heartbeat and breathing.  This frog literally can stop breathing for months at a time!  In other words, the Gray Treefrog is one of the most incredible creatures around here.

I found this fellow perched on a tree branch, belting out his calls, while on the path six feet away, Pokemon Go players were walking past him, hunting for Snorlaxes or some such thing.  I'm glad Pokemon Go got people outside, but now we have to get some of them off their phones. I hope at least a few people are actually looking at the outdoors when this happens, but from my personal experience, I doubt it.  Ladies. gentlemen, and everyone else, please put the phones down and look around!  I don't meant this just for Pokemon Go players, who are generally fine people.  I mean this for all of you.  We all need to get out of our little virtual worlds and take in the outdoors sometimes.

But seriously, this little frog was making noises about as loud as a car horn, and people were just walking right by it.  It astounds me.

A (Caspian) Tern For The Better - Lake Springfield Birding (Part 2 of 2)

(Continued from this post here)  I visited further north, along the middle section of Lake Springfield. At this time. the heat was terrible.  Marine Point, my destination, was barren of birds, but full of fishermen and traffic.  As a result, I went to an alternate spot.   At the last intersection before reaching Marine Point itself, turn west and go down Maple Grove Lane.

 At the back of a long, narrow, shallow bay alongside the road, a creek flows under the road and into the lake.  Various plants, like the Water Willow (Justicia americana) above, grow alongside the bay.

Behind the road, a swampy second-growth forest has formed.

Winged Monkey Flowers (Mimulus alatus) grow along the banks of the creek, with hundreds of flowers in bloom.  This location has the largest population I've seen.  Monkey Flowers get their name because someone once thought they looked like a monkey's face.  Frankly, they don't.

An Eastern Pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) posed for me on the rocks nearby.  These dragonflies are among the most common in the US, found around ponds as the name suggests.

Up in a tree, a Green Heron (Butorides virescens) watched over the bay.  I'm not sure what it was doing up in the tree, but Green Herons have a habit of being exactly where you don't expect them.

Evidently, everyone was gathering by the water, including these Northern Flickers (Colaptes auratus), a bird I haven't seen in two months.

For the first time in forever, I got pictures of a resting Belted Kingfisher (Megaceryle alcyon) pausing between searches for fish, across the bay.  The lighting was not the greatest.

On an adjacent log, I spotted this female Wood Duck (Aix sponsa) and somebody else...

This little, blurry fellow is a Spotted Sandpiper (Actitis macularius), so called because I spotted it.  Well, that, and it's also covered in spots which are more visible in better lighting.

This is one of the few sandpipers you can find in Central Illinois away from the large reservoirs, as it can be found nearly anywhere with water.  After finding this fellow, the birding took a tern...

Ok, bad pun aside, I went to the abandoned Lake Springfield Beach.  Ever since a terrible incident when someone drowned here in 2007, it's been closed.  The birds have taken it over in the meantime.  Completely fenced off and inaccessible to the public, the birds have a safe habitat, which has resulted in a plethora of sand-loving birds.  This beach is located in Center Park, easily one of the best waterbird  and shorebird sites in Sangamon County.

Of course, there's also a few land birds, too, like this young Eastern Bluebird (Sialia sialis).

A large flock of Ring-billed Gulls (Larus delawarensis), like the one above, resides on the beach.  Ring-billed Gulls, aka Parking Lot Gulls, are easily the most common gulls in Central Illinois.

The main point of the trip, however, was to see the out-of-place Caspian Terns (Hydroprogne caspia) which have arrived in the middle of July during the summer's hottest weather when they should be up on Lake Michigan or further north.  Well, it's a tern for the better... or should I say birder?

(Look, if this is your first time reading my blog, I should let you know that I have used worse puns, and will continue to use bad puns in all communication, spoken or written.  You have been warned.)

 Caspian Terns are the worlds largest species of tern.  They can be found worldwide, although usually near the coast of large lakes and seas.  In the spring and fall, they migrate through here.  However, finding them in Central Illinois in July is unusual, outside of Emiquon and a few other spots along the Illinois River.  (As of this writing, the Caspian Terns have left Lake Springfield for parts unknown.)

Outside the beach, especially near the fence, there was considerable activity. This unknown sparrow species appears to be carrying nesting material.

This Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias) appears to be hiding.  Great Blue Herons are one of the most common birds on the lake, but their pale colors tend not to photograph well.  As a result, I rarely upload pictures of most of the herons I see.  I'm not entirely sure why the stump on the left is charred.

This Eastern Kingbird (Tyrannus tyrannus) perched on a nearby post.  Eastern Kingbirds, despite their small size, are incredibly brave and have been known to chase away birds as large as eagles.  They are less aggressive towards people, thankfully.

The Fifth Orchid of the day was this plant.  (Fifth Orchid, by the way, is an unexpected last discovery, made while preparing to leave.  For the origin of the name, see here.)  This is a rare plant in Illinois, the Safflower (Carthamus tinctorius).  For those of you who buy birdseed, that name should be familiar, as it's one of the seeds included in most seed mixes.  Safflowers dislike Illinois, as it is too humid and rainy for this dryland plant.  Thus, I found it growing in the rocks along the beach house, which help to drain water away from the plant's easily rotted roots.  Safflowers, by the way, are not native to Illinois, nor are there bird feeders located nearby.  My guess is a birder, sometime this spring, walked by the beach-house with a few safflower seeds stuck in his shoe, and one happened to land perfectly on one of the few spots in town suitable for it.

After this, I went home.  Birding is fun and all, but the heat was getting unbearable.  Thankfully, it's cooling off a bit (down to the mid-80s).  Fall Migration is almost about to begin.  July, it seems, is the axis point of the year, when everything spring-like ends and everything fall-like begins.  With one last fall up here, I plan to try and make it count.

Russians, Royalty, and Really Hot Weather- Lake Springfield Birding (Part 1 of 2)

Look, I'm just going to say off the bat that this post is in a series.  I like to put things in a series when they get long, and this will be long-ish.

In the last few days, I've had 280 and up Russian pageviews.  As these happen in groups of 20-odd pageviews every so often, I suspect some sort of automated program is in use.  I suspect this may be due to my esoteric musical choices, including but not limited to: Russian traditional folk music, anything by Shostakovitch, Tchaikovsky, and Mussorgsky, certain Russian and German operas, and the occasional Coldplay.  If you notice, my musical choices tend towards Russian, and I can't help feeling that this is something of a coincidence. Either way, it's something of note.  On to nature.

Despite feeling like it's 110 degrees Fahrenheit outside, I still go birding.  Of course, I did a lot of this before the heat really kicked in.  In the woods at Lincoln Memorial Gardens, I found this American Bellflower (Campanulastrum americanum), a common summer wildflower with sky-blue flowers.

Speaking of blue, this Indigo Bunting (Passerina cyanea) watched me the whole time I photographed the American Bellflower, so I turned and took a few pictures of it as well.

Continuing further along,  I found this Mullein Foxglove (Dasistoma macrophylla), a fairly common plant only found in the Midwest. Often overlooked, the strange, fuzzy flowers remind me of a cleaning brush. Below, in the foreground center, you can see the plants growing in front of a prairie.

Lincoln Memorial Gardens has patches of prairie between forest alongside the lake.  None of these landforms are entirely natural, as both forest and prairie were replanted, and the lake is an artificial reservoir.  Still, it makes for an excellent view, as the trail emerges from the woods:

Another part of Lincoln Memorial Garden's artificiality is the plants that grow there.  Plants more common in Indiana and Kentucky, as well as just plain rare in all three, are grown here alongside more typical woodland wildflowers.   This includes a bit of royalty:

This is the Royal Catchfly (Silene regia) one of Illinois' rarest plants, and easily one of my favorites.  Growing up to five feet tall, with its bright red flowers an inch wide, the plant deserves its title as Royal Catchfly.  It is primarily found in the central Ozarks, with scattered populations all over the Midwest.  Lincoln Memorial Gardens' plantings are the only one within a short drive for me.

The Royal Catchfly gets its name of catchfly from tiny sticky hairs all over the plant, used to deter pests. Thankfully for these rare plants, it seemed to be working.

The local milkweeds, by contrast, were loaded with pests.  As you can see above, Red Milkweed Beetles (Tetraopes tetrophthalmus)  and Oleander Aphids (Aphis nerii) are feasting on the Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca).  Both these, by the way, are insects you don't want to find on your own patch of milkweed at home.  Red Milkweed Beetle grubs bore through the stems, killing the plant.  Oleander Aphids suck the life out of the plant, slowly weakening it like little vampires.

I don't know what species of beetle these are, but they were coating this plant.

This plant in question is Partridge Pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata), a common and welcome plant.

Also common and welcome is this Monarch Butterfly... except it's not a Monarch at all.  Thanks to a sharp-eyed fellow blogger, I found out that this is actually the Viceroy (Limenitis archippus), a butterfly which intentionally imitates the poisonous Monarch.  However, the Viceroy is also distasteful, so it imitates a Monarch for unclear reasons.  The Viceroy is also the state butterfly of Kentucky, again for unclear reasons.  The resemblance of the Monarch to the Viceroy is one of the most scientifically studied cases of mimicry, and it's still unknown why they imitate each other.

Darting in the trees above my head were a few House Wrens (Troglodytes aedon), the most widely distributied bird in all the Americas, found from Alaska to Argentina.

This young House Wren has only just learned how to fly.  My guess is that it lives in the nest box.

On one of the nearby blades of grass, this Widow Skimmer (Libellula luctuosa) posed for a photo.

Off in the adjacent pond, this Buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) grows.  One of the more peculiar plants in Illinois, this plant has perfectly round flower balls, develops button-like seeds. and grows in standing water.  The rest of the species in its genus grow in the tropics.

Both Painted Turtles (Chrysemys picta) and Red-eared Sliders(Trachemys scripta elegans) floated on the logs, waiting for me to go away and leave them in peace.  I obliged, and went on...

TO BE CONTINUED

The Antics of Cooper's Hawks

My friends who follow me on Facebook have seen a few words from me on this subject  before, but there has never been a full explanation.

In the pine trees behind my house, there lives a family of Cooper's Hawks (Accipiter cooperii), the terrors of the neighborhood. All day long, hawks swoop about the house. Recently, three chicks have fledged (started flying) and their mother's been trying to teach them how to hunt.  The roughly teen-aged Cooper's Hawks are a bit incompetent when it comes to hunting.  One of them, for instance, apparently believes in running on foot after the squirrels is the way to hunt.  Thus, earlier this morning, I watched this particular bird chase a squirrel all the way across my neighbor's front yard... on foot only.  Of course, the squirrel got away.

At the same time, the local Gray Squirrels have also produced a litter of young squirrels, who are just starting to get a little territorial.  As a result, we have the parental hawks chasing the younger hawks chasing some of the male squirrels chasing the other squirrels.    Today, for instance, three of the hawks were lined up on the fence, and two squirrels chased each other across the middle of the yard.  As if on cue, two of the young hawks swooped down after the squirrels.  The squirrels scattered and ran for it, hiding under our deck.  The hawks stood around for awhile on our back deck railing and steps, but eventually flew off.

The weather's been a bit too warm to get outside comfortably, but thanks to the Cooper's Hawks and squirrels, there's been plenty of nature.  For once, it's in my own backyard!

RIP My Camera (German Methodist and Loda Cemetery Prairies)

Does this look like a cemetery to you?  No?  Perhaps I should explain what I mean.  I visited two cemetery prairies recently, both noted for their high biodiversity and for being owned by the Nature Conservancy.  For the unaware, the Nature Conservancy is a nonprofit group that is dedicated to... conserving nature.  Two of their smallest preserves in the Midwest are adjacent to old cemeteries.

But what makes these prairies worth preserving?  Well, take the above prairie, German Methodist Cemetery Prairie in northern Indiana, the one I visited all the way back on July 1.  It has over 200 species of plants... in an area about an acre and a half in size.  That's a very, very high number of plants in a tiny area.   This prairie is an example of a relict prairie; that is, a prairie which has survived since before European settlement.

But why did it survive?  Dead people, basically.

You see, in order to have enough room for future graves, the cemetery planners back in the 1800s set aside tracts of land to be used later.  As these towns were settled in the midst of prairies, often the lands set aside were prairies. These prairies survived into the modern day, and are now typically set aside as nature preserve.  Such is the case with German Cemetery Prairie.

While at German Cemetery Prairie, I witnessed a Common Grackle (Quiscalus quiscula) chase off a Red-tailed Hawk (Buteo jamaicensis) that had flown over the farmfields adjacent to the prairie.  It's always entertaining to watch such a tiny bird fight such a big one, but the fact is that the slow moving Red-tailed Hawk is really no match for the Grackle's speed and agility.

Although both cemetery prairies are fenced off, there was still plenty to see, with Leadplant (Amorpha canescens) in full bloom and Song Sparrows (Melospiza melodia) singing from the stems.

But, I know you are here to learn  how I killed my camera on July 3 in Loda Cemetery Prairie, a half-hour north of Champaign/Urbana, Illinois.  It was a dark and stormy day, quite literally, mixed in with periods of drizzle and gray.  The first obstacle was a fence:

I found this Common Milkweed (Asclepias syriaca) near the fence at Loda, but my real goal was Eastern Prairie White-fringed Orchids (Platanthera leucophaea), found in the relict prairie section of the preserve. (There are two sections, a restored prairie border and an older relict section inside.)  Walking around the fence, I made my way into a sea of Bee Balm (Monarda fistulosa)

There were thousands of plants in bloom at Loda, but as I paced through the soaking wet fields, the orchid remained elusive.  I remembered seeing a picture of it in flower alongside something pink or purple, but with thousands of such flowers, I despaired of ever finding the location.  Still, I knew it would likely be found in some sort of depression in the ground which kept the orchid moist.   Realizing that it would be in the older part of the prairie, I walked back to that section and began to search, as the mists soaked me and my camera to the core.

A major part of the problem was that I was hunting in a field full of Rattlesnake Master (Eryngium yuccifolium), which is a white flower (with very sharp leaves) named for its use as a frontier rattlesnake-bite cure.  The important part of this is that I was looking for a white flower in a sea of different white flowers, like a botanical Where's Waldo.  The second  major problem is that I was wearing shorts, and compounding that problem was that about half of the plants present, particularly Prairie Dock (the big leaves in the photo above),  were the texture of sandpaper, scraping all the skin off my bare legs.  The third major problem was that I couldn't see the orchid anywhere.  The fourth major problem was that it was wet and cold. Any sensible person would have turned back.

Still, orchid madness knows NO boundaries, so I pressed on.  When compared to the seriousness of the hobby that is central Illinois orchid hunting, ordinary botanizing (plant hunting) Pokemon Go and birding are a piece of cake.  Even if you have to hike three miles, race another player to a Mew, and/or be called a stalker, you have it easy compared to trying to find orchids in central Illinois. To this date, I've failed to find any flowering orchids in Illinois, though I did find some just over the border in Indiana, as you can see if you check July 2016.

It's probably just me, but I have TERRIBLE luck in my searches for orchids.  Loda was no exception, and the Eastern Prairie White-fringed Orchid is  my new nemesis plant.  (To recap, a nemesis plant is one that you can't find no matter how hard you try.)  My old nemesis plant. the Rose Poginia (another orchid) had been found the day before, albeit in an inaccessible bog.  (The orchid family in general is a nemesis to me, one I like to confront at any given opportunity.)  Until next year, EPWFO.

Rant concluded, the Mountain Mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum) and Prairie Dock (Silphium terebinthinaceum) floral display shown above is the very last photo from my old camera.  After I found a Prairie Phlox and remembered that the plant I'd seen adjacent to the orchid was the purple-flowered Prairie Phlox, I went to take a picture.  "Lens error," my camera said.  If it had been the orchid I was trying to photograph, there would have been swearing.  No matter how many times afterwards I turned it off and back on again, no matter what internet-researched fixes I tried, the camera was broken.  It's been out in the rain several times before, so I don't know what did finally kill it, but it died.  I sent it back and bought a replacement in the meantime. Thankfully, the camera was under warranty, so now I have two cameras.

As I said, I never found the orchid, but I did find something worthwhile; my second-ever Michigan Lily (Lilium michiganese), photographed with my phone.  Unusually, this specimen had narrow, alternate leaves, while my first, found the day before, had whorls of leaves opposite each other.  I wonder if this makes this a differing species or subspecies, but I don't see anything online about this. Someday, I would love to research why this species had so many differing leaves.

Of course, the real irony of the situation caught up with me later.  My camera died in a cemetery.