Tag Archives: eastern tiger swallowtail

August on the Prairie

“Perhaps by learning more about the native plants that surround us and about their use and history, we can begin to develop our own conservation ethic, which will bring us into harmony with our environment.” — Dr. Kelly Kindscher

******

August exhales. Hot. Steamy. The prairie crackles.

All day Sunday, we waited for rain. As I worked in my backyard prairie patch that evening, dark clouds rumbled to the north and the east. Occasionally, thunder growled.

On the radar, you could see the clouds kiss the edges of my suburban town. Not a drop of rain fell.

My head tells me that prairies are built for this. The long roots of some prairie plants reach down to 15 feet or more into the recesses of the soil. It’s an insurance policy they pay into, year after year, that keeps them alive through severe shifts of weather. Yet, as I watch my queen of the prairie plants crisp and fade away…

…and the obedient plant flowers wilt and fade to the color of pale burnt sienna.

…I can’t resist turning the sprinkler on and watering the prairie for a good hour. We put a lot of money and love into those prairie plants, and it breaks my heart to see them crumple like brown paper bags.

I console myself with these words from Minnesota author Paul Gruchow about the deep prairie roots: “The work that matters doesn’t always show.” Next year, I’ll know if the plants’ hard work tunneling roots into the soil was enough to keep them alive. I’ll be watching. And waiting.

*****

At Nachusa Grasslands this week, dust billowed around our Subaru as we bounced along an overgrown two-track road to my dragonfly routes. On the prairie, the small pools had long vanished. Cavernous fissures gaped in bare areas. Because of the lack of spring fire, combined with the need for rain, perhaps, some waterways were down to a trickle, choked with growth.

A few dragonflies went about their business; 12-spotted skimmers, blue dashers, common whitetails. Green darners patrolled the ponds.

In Chicago region this week, common green darners gather, preparing for migration. Friends text me with news of their backyard darner swarms. Social media boards light up with numbers. I get texts from my friends who love and observe dragonflies. Thirty in the backyard. Fifty this evening, a few miles east. Soon, the green darners and other migrating species in Illinois—black saddlebags, variegated meadowhawks, wandering gliders—will mass in the hundreds and begin the long journey south.

It’s a poignant time of year, especially, perhaps, this particular year. The dragonflies have been a passionate distraction from so much that is distressing in the world. Don’t go! Stay longer. Please. Of course, they will go… drawn by an evolutionary survival mechanism that tells them to ensure their progeny continue on. The prairie will seem empty without them.

Thinking of this, I look around the prairie. It’s quiet. The bison at Nachusa Grasslands, so rambunctious only a week ago, are hiding, likely somewhere shady and cool. I miss their snorts and sparring today.

And yet, there are signs of life everywhere. The common eastern-tailed blue butterfly teases me, fanning its wings open for few seconds—oh wow, that blue!—then snapping them shut.

Nearby, a chickweed geometer moth shows off his colors. I learn later that the antennae are “bipectinate” —feathery, or “toothed like a comb.” These bipectinate antennae are a male feature that has to do with detecting pheremones; the female’s antennae are more “threadlike.”

A common moth—with such a complex design. Truly we are surrounded by wonders.

I watch the eastern tiger swallowtails nectar on thistle for a while. They’ve been all over my backyard and the prairies I frequent this week, but they never fail to give me pause. And delight. About the time I take them for granted, they’ll be gone for the year.

Even the ubiquitous pearl crescent butterfly stops me for a second look.

In contrast, ghostly cabbage butterflies puddle in the salts and minerals along the stream. In the afternoon sun, they look almost pale green.

All around me—despite the need for rain—the prairie pushes out color. Black-eyed susans.

Great blue lobelia.

As I hike toward the car, I pinch off a leaf of mountain mint; hot and cool and refreshing—all at the same time. I chew it for a bit, then spit it out. My mouth tingles.

August is drawing to a close.

Why wait? Now is the time to go and see.

The prairie is waiting.

*******

Dr. Kelly Kindscher, whose quote opens this post, is a senior scientist with the Kansas biological survey and a professor of environmental studies at the University of Kansas. Kindscher authored two of my favorite books on prairie ethnobotany: Edible Wild Plants of the Prairie and Medicinal Wild Plants of the Prairie (both from University Press of Kansas). In 1984, Kindscher supplemented his diet with prairie plants as he walked almost 700 miles from Kansas City to Denver.

*****

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby and taken at Nachusa Grasslands, unless otherwise noted (top to bottom): August at Nachusa Grasslands; cumulonimbus cloud over author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; queen of the prairie (Filipendula rubra) and ironweed (Vernonia fasciculata), author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana), author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis), author’s backyard prairie patch, Glen Ellyn, IL; overgrowth in the sand boil stream, sedge meadow fen; common green darner dragonfly male (Ajax junius); black saddlebags dragonfly (Tramea lacerata) (2018); Nachusa Grasslands in August; wildflowers and sky at Nachusa Grasslands; eastern-tailed blue butterfly (Cupido comyntas); chickweed geometer moth (Haematopis grataria); eastern tiger swallowtail (Papilio glaucus) with unknown thistles (possibly Cirsium discolor); pearl crescent butterfly (Phyciodes tharos); cabbage white butterflies (Pieris rapae) puddling; black-eyed susans (probably Rudbeckia subomentosa); great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica); common mountain mint (Pycnanthemum virginianum); sedge meadow fen; Franklin Creek Prairie, Franklin Grove, IL.

*****

Join Cindy for an Online Class this Autumn! See http://www.cindycrosby.com for details.
“Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online”
Begin a new session September 2 through The Morton Arboretum! Work from home at your own pace (with suggested assignment deadlines) for 60 days to complete the material, and meet other prairie volunteers and stewards on the discussion boards and in the optional Zoom session. Classes are limited to 50. Register here.

“Nature Writing Online” Begins Monday, October 5, through The Morton Arboretum. Want to commit to improving and fine-tuning your writing for six weeks? This is a great opportunity to jump start your blog, your book, or your journal writing while working online from home, supplemented with three evenings of live evening Zoom classes on alternate weeks. Watch for registration information coming soon.

Just released! Chasing Dragonflies: A Natural, Cultural, and Personal History.

Chasing Dragonflies Final Cover 620.jpg

Order now from your favorite indie bookstore such as the Morton Arboretum Store and The Bookstore of Glen Ellyn, or online at bookshop.org, direct from Northwestern University Press (use coupon code NUP2020 for 25% off), or other book venues. Thank you for supporting small presses, bookstores, and writers during this chaotic time.

Want more prairie? Follow Cindy on Facebook, Twitter (@phrelanzer) and Instagram (@phrelanzer). Or enjoy some virtual trips to the prairie through reading Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spirit and The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction. 

Tallgrass Prairie Tranquility

“Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset.” — Francis de Sales

*****

It’s mid-August on the prairie. Grasses push skyward, dominating the wildflowers that were so eye-catching in July.  Switchgrass. Indian grass. Big bluestem.

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Prairie dropseed has sent up its popcorn-scented grass sprays. When I smell its fragrance on the prairie, I feel nostalgic for movie theaters and baseball games. Some people think it smells like licorice, grapes, or cilantro.Prairie Dropseed SPMA 816WM.jpg

So begins the inexorable slide toward autumn. Amid the greens of the bright prairie plants and late summer blooms…ObedientPlantSPMA81220WM

…a few yellows and rusts stealthily mix in.

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The grasses take on a chartreuse hue in certain lights. Against this backdrop, stark silhouettes of summer seedheads stand.

Prairieclovergrasses81220SPMAWM.jpgGalls appear, and other oddly-shaped growths on plants difficult to put a name to. This season, I’ve gotten more emails from my prairie students than ever before about prairie plants and their strange diseases, leaf malformations, and unusual wilting or die-offs. I keep The Morton Arboretum’s free Plant Clinic busy with my queries, and discover these issues are likely born out of insect damage, spring’s soaking rains, and summer’s dry spells of heat.

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Other plants, like this great angelica, cast off their blooms. Only structure is left behind.

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As I walk on the prairie, or work in my garden and backyard prairie patch, I find myself doing some mental doomscrolling. Each morning, I read the newspaper. The pandemic drags on. Bitter battles over school openings. Hand sanitizer recalls. Protests. Politics. Even the post office seems to be in turbulence—and isn’t it supposed to be the most reliable institution of all? Who would have thought, back in March, that the world would still be so full of turmoil?

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If I dwell on these things for too long, it tilts me toward despair. It’s then that the natural world brings me back to center. I remind myself to focus on what’s in front of me.

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Breathe in. Least skipper butterflies flutter through the tallgrass, the color of autumn leaves.

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Over there: a Peck’s skipper nectaring on red clover.

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Breathe out. Mellow eastern tiger swallowtails nectar at the zinnias in my backyard…

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…jostling for position with the eastern black swallowtails nearby.

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Immediately, I feel better. Butterflies are always a sure spirit-lifter.

As are the Odonates. As I wade the prairie creeks and streams in August, I have a ringside seat for dragonflies and damselflies. None I’ve seen this week are rarities. But all of them are wondrous. I love the fragile forktail damselfly’s exclamation marks on his thorax. Can you find them?vSomething to be excited about.

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It’s worth stopping for a moment to watch the female ebony jeweling damselfly’s fluttering movements across the stream. (Look out behind you!)FemaleEbonyJewelwing81520WMWBSPMA.jpg

Her mate is waiting, a little further up the shoreline.

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Stream bluets fly in tandem; the first part of the mating ritual.

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Willoway Brook runs low and clear, limned with damselflies on both sides.

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Powdered dancers.

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Their brighter-hued cousins, the blue-fronted dancers.

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Along this stream, I find the always-spectacular american rubyspot damselfly. He even makes his perch, the invasive reed canary grass, look good.AmericanRubyspot81520SPMAWBWM

As I wade through Willoway Brook one afternoon, distracted by the sight of American Rubyspot tenerals—newly-emerged damselflies—all around, I find myself sticky with spiderwebs. The maker seems invisible. Then, I come face to face with a fishing spider.

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She’s not happy with my mayhem. I apologize, then continue wading up the stream.

Most of the insects I pass stream-side and on the prairie ignore me, as this grasshopper does.

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Unless I trouble them in some way—or get too close–they are busy with their personal lives: eating, mating, eating some more. Politics, personal anxieties, the postal service, protests—the prairie is oblivious to it all.

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Instead, it goes about the business of emergence, growth, and reproduction, continuing a cycle that goes back thousands of years. It’s restful.

Many of these prairie insects I see on my hike are familiar, like this common pondhawk. Nothing too exciting.

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But what extraordinary wonder there is in the ordinary.

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And what comfort there is on the prairie, when it seems chaos is all around!

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It’s a good reminder of what I already know, but sometimes forget. This week, I’ll  spend a little less time with the news. More time on the prairie and in my backyard garden.  Now, more than ever, we need the natural world.

*******

Francis de Sales (1567-1622), whose quote begins this blog post, is the patron saint of the deaf.  He was noted for his patience and gentleness.

*****

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby from the Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL, unless designated otherwise (top to bottom): Big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) (2018); prairie dropseed (Sporobolus heterolepis) (2018); obedient plant (Physostegia virginiana); prairie dock (Silphium lacinatum); the Schulenberg Prairie in mid-August; unknown growth on round-headed bush clover (Lespedeza capitata); great angelica (Angelica atropurpurea); bottlebrush grass (Elymus hystrix);  prairie skyline as viewed from Willoway Brook; Least Skipper butterfly (Ancyloxypha numitor); Peck’s Skipper butterfly (Polites peckius); eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly (Papilio glaucus), author’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL; eastern black swallowtail butterfly (Papilio polyxenes), author’s backyard, Glen Ellyn, IL; fragile forktail damselfly (Ishnura posita), Schulenberg Prairie Savanna; ebony jewelwing damselfly female (Calopteryx maculata); ebony jewelwing damselfly male (Calopteryx maculata); stream bluets (Enallagma exsulans); bridge over Willoway Brook; powdered dancer damselfly male (Argia moesta); Blue-Fronted Dancer damselfly male (Argia apicalis); American Rubyspot Damselfly male (Hetaerina americana); fishing spider (Dolomedes sp.); unknown grasshopper (iNat says it is Heperotettix viridis, the Snakeweed Grasshopper, but I am unsure); common pondhawk dragonfly male (Erythemis simplicicollis); American groundnut (Apios americana); trail on the Schulenberg Prairie.

******

Join Cindy for an Online Class this Autumn! See http://www.cindycrosby.com for all speaking and class announcements and details.

“Tallgrass Prairie Ecology Online” Begin a new session in September through The Morton Arboretum! Work from home at your own pace (with suggested assignment deadlines) for 60 days to complete the material, and meet other prairie volunteers and stewards on the discussion boards and in the optional Zoom session. Classes are limited to 50. Register here.

“Nature Writing Online” Begins Monday, October 5, through The Morton Arboretum. Want to commit to improving and fine-tuning your writing for six weeks? This is a great opportunity to jump start your blog, your book, or your journal writing while working from home, supplemented with three evenings of live evening Zoom classes on alternate weeks. Watch for registration information coming soon.

Just released! Chasing Dragonflies: A Natural, Cultural, and Personal History. Read a review from Kim Smith here. (And check out her blog, “Nature is My Therapy” — you’ll love it!)

Chasing Dragonflies Final Cover 620.jpg

Order now from your favorite indie bookstore such as the Morton Arboretum Store and The Bookstore of Glen Ellyn, or online at bookshop.org, direct from Northwestern University Press (use coupon code NUP2020 for 25% off), or other book venues. Thank you for supporting small presses, bookstores, and writers during this chaotic time.

Want more prairie? Follow Cindy on Facebook, Twitter (@phrelanzer) and Instagram (@phrelanzer). Or enjoy some virtual trips to the prairie through reading Tallgrass Conversations: In Search of the Prairie Spirit and The Tallgrass Prairie: An Introduction. 

Flight Through the Tallgrass

“For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return.” –Leonardo da Vinci

The summer sky tumbles her clouds. The prairie whispers, “flight.”

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So many ways to reach new heights on the prairie in August. So many ways to take to the skies.

Butterflies drift through the air like colorful leaves. The tiger swallowtails take frequent snack breaks.

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Silver skippers pause, dwarfed by the grasses now shooting skyward, considering their options.

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Some prairie inhabitants fly only as far as a hop and a jump.

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While others will travel distances limited only by the imagination.

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Yet, as satisfying as it is to take to the air, it’s wise to find shade where you can. The blazing prairie sun offers no relief.

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The zips and zags of dragonflies dazzle. When one dragonfly comes to rest on a budded blazing star, you can’t help but admire her intricate wings, those complex eyes.

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So much is unfolding on the prairie in August.

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You sense everything is moving in a new direction.

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Time is flying. Will you be there, in the tallgrass?

 

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You’ll be amazed at what you see…

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…if you make time to look.

 

*****

The opening quote is by Leonardo DaVinci (1452-1519), perhaps the most diversely gifted person in history. Among his many interests was flight; he created plans for flying machines and studied the flight of birds.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby: (top to bottom) big bluestem (Andropogon gerardii) against the August sky, Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL; eastern tiger swallowtail butterfly (Papilio glaucus), St. James Forest Preserve, Warrenville, IL; silver-spotted skipper (Epargyreus clarus), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  green frog  (Lithobates clamitans), St. James Farm prairie area, Warrenville, IL;  American goldfinch(Spinus tristis), St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  great horned owl (Bubo virginianus), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  female blue dasher dragonfly (Pachydiplax longipennis)) on rough blazing star (Liatris aspera)  Belmont Prairie Nature Conserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  Indian grass unfolding, (Sorghastrum nutans), Belmont Prairie Nature Preserve, Downer’s Grove, IL;  old weather vane, St. James Farm, Forest Preserve of DuPage County, Warrenville, IL;  vehicle at Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; female eastern pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis ), Schulenberg Prairie, The Morton Arboretum, Lisle, IL.

Exploring a Prairie Stream

It’s hot. Pull on your hip boots and wade into Clear Creek with me. Let’s see what morning brings to a prairie stream.

It’s 9 a.m., but the dewdrops still spangle the grasses.

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In the shallows, a flower opens, half submerged.

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A spider hangs her web out to dry.

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The dragonflies and damselflies are half hidden along the shoreline,  shivering off the cool of the early hours.

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Springwater dancer damselflies, colored an impossible blue hue, soak up the morning light.

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Nearby, a eastern tiger swallowtail turns to stained glass as she sips nectar in the sunshine.

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In the marshy areas, a blue dasher–slightly befuddled–balances on a twig, trying to wake up. Must not have had his coffee yet.

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An eastern pondhawk camouflages herself in the grasses as she considers her plans for the day.

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A Halloween pennant uses his wings as solar panels, ready to let the light lift him aloft.

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Everywhere you turn, there is something ordinary that seems extraordinary when covered in dew.

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And you realize what you would have missed…

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…had you not gone wading in a prairie stream.

All photos copyright Cindy Crosby (top to bottom): dewdrops on grasses, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; flower opening in the stream, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL;  spider web across Clear Creek, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; ebony jewelwing damselfly (Calopteryx maculata), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; springwater dancer damselfly (Argia plana), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; eastern tiger swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; blue dasher dragonfly (male) (Pachydiplax longipennis), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; eastern pondhawk dragonfly (female) (Erythemis simplicicollis), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Halloween pennant dragonfly (Celithemis eponina), Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; dewdrops on grasses, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL; Clear Creek, Nachusa Grasslands, The Nature Conservancy, Franklin Grove, IL.