↓
 

Tag Archives: insect

Brood XIII Magicicada

words and images Posted on by
Brood XIII
Brood XIII
32 photos

If you had come to North America from Europe, especially Great Britain, in the 1500 to 1700s, you had to have been overwhelmed by some of the differences between home and here, especially in landscape and species. The British coped by giving some American animals the same or similar names as more familiar ones, even when the animal was clearly different. The European robin lent its name to the American robin. The European hedgehog was transformed into the groundhog (aka woodchuck).

The.2024 emergence of Brood XIII and Brood XIX in Illinois makes me wonder about those who moved here from Europe or even the eastern cities. With only the annual dog day cicada for reference, what would you think when one May day you found numerous holes in the ground, insect-shaped husks clinging to branches everywhere, and red bug eyes staring at you by the thousands, millions, maybe billions? And then you are deafened by their calls until they die off en masse several weeks later? They don’t appear again the next year, or the next, or the year after that — not for another 13 or 17 years. Nothing would have prepared you for them.

I recall the last emergence only vaguely, although I don’t think I saw any cicadas. I may have heard them a couple times, mostly while dining outside. I assumed they occur in western New York, but a U.S. Forest Service map shows they occur in a small area east of my hometown,

This time, however, I was able to see them in a few places — first at Black Partridge Woods, finally at Bremen Grove, with Riverside, Morton Arboretum, and Chicago Botanic Garden in between.

I love them and am going to miss them. If I live that long, I’ll be just shy of 79 when Brood XIII next appears.

When you think about a frail nymph burrowing underground, eating for 17 years, emerging, shedding its exoskeleton, drying out its wings (sometimes imperfectly), finding mates, laying eggs that hatch into nymphs that burrow underground to emerge and repeat the cycle in 17 years — it’s nature at its weirdest. Only through sheer numbers do they survive. As the Field Museum said, “Here for a good time, not for a long time.”

I hope the numbers are on their side in 17 years, with not too many paved over. Broods can go extinct, and I’d hate to see (or not see) that happen in 17 years.

Long live Brood XIII and Brood XIX.

Cicadas, Brood XIII

Brood XIII is on the merge of emerging. Although I don’t expect to see them in my Chicago neighborhood, I’m ready with cicada postcards and a new “Love is in the Air” cicada t-shirt from Christopher Arndt. Then a co-worker alerted me to this video from the Forest Preserve District of DuPage County explaining the life cycle of the 17-year cicada. Enjoy.

Indian Ridge Marsh redux

words and images Posted on by
August 29, 2023

J and I decided to see Save the Tunes at Chellberg Farm, but detoured to Indian Ridge Marsh, or Park 565 in Chicago Park District nomenclature. The last visit to Indian Ridge Marsh was in 2019, when the area by the Norfolk Southern tracks was open water.

Indian Ridge Marsh with neighboring industry
Open water with hydrology meter in 2019 (facing north)
Indian Ridge Marsh
Open water in 2019 (facing south)
Indian Ridge Marsh, no longer open water
Facing north in 2023
Indian Ridge Marsh, no longer open water
Facing south in 2023

First, we had to get there. We passed meadows of native flowers, including compass plants whose disappearance Aldo Leopoldo eloquently lamented. They’re thriving in natural areas in and around Chicago, such as the Calumet Region here and at Morton Arboretum.

We spotted monarchs and other insects, including an army of goldenrod soldier beetles intent on perpetuating the species.

A surprise awaited us at the end of this westbound trail (another trail, too wet and muddy to negotiate in 2019, heads south). The open water had filled in with aquatic plants in on both sides of the trail. which dead ends at the Norfolk Southern line. I hope they’re native. There was a piece of heavy equipment in the area, so I’d guess the Chicago Park District and volunteers are working on it.

I didn’t want to miss Save the Tunes, so  I didn’t dawdle on the way to the lot. J called me back to look at beetles, which I never saw because was distracted by this:

White-banded crab spider
Female white-banded crab spider, an ambush predator — it’s not a sharp photo partly because it was quite breezy

This is a female white-banded crab spider, the same species of spider I witnessed killing a painted lady, an Eastern tiger swallowtail, and a skipper at Perennial Garden. They choose a flower and lie in wait for their unsuspecting pollinator prey. This one may have turned slightly yellowish after a few days on this tall tickseed flower. The ones I’d seen before (when I noticed the dying or dead butterflies) were embedded in the more intricate blooms of a butterfly bush or other flower and were nearly impossible to see. The male, by the way, is smaller and more colorful, and dines on nectar.

My final sighting of the day was a pair of American goldfinches on a pair of compass plants, with the female closer to the trail. At Perennial Garden, I’d noted the goldfinches favored the tiny stand of compass plants there.

Aldo Leopold would be happy.

Indian Ridge Marsh, August 27, 2023
Indian Ridge Marsh, August 27, 2023
17 photos

Pennsylvania: Logan Valley Cemetery, Sinking Valley, Whipple Dam State Park

words and images Posted on by
September 2

We visited my parents’ graves at Logan Valley Cemetery, located across from the high school. A cousin I haven’t seen in decades had left flowers at my dad’s grave. His flag holder for veterans still has a metal medallion. The newer medallions are plastic thanks to theft. Once upon a time I was young enough to find it shocking someone would steal the flag holder from a veteran’s grave.

Dad's marker

In Sinking Valley, this little mare and her young’un attract customers to Hilltop Farm. There’s also a wee donkey.

Wee ponies and donkey

On to Whipple Dam State Park, which was new to me. It’s yet another part of our legacy from the Civilian Conservation Corps. As it was Labor Day and central Pennsylvania isn’t rich with beaches, a college-age crowd had gathered at Whipple Dam’s postage stamp of sand to play volleyball and stand in the relatively shallow water. Despite the crowd, the surrounding woods gave the lake and beach an isolated feeling that reminded me of Pewit’s Nest in Wisconsin.

Whipple Dam State Park
Whipple Dam State Park
Autumn meadowhawk
Whipple Dam State Park

We’d passed the road to Shaver Creek Environmental Center and stopped on the way back. The buildings were closed for the holiday, so we relaxed on the deck’s Adirondack chairs. I kept hoping to hear a creek.

On the way to the park, V. spotted a plant she thought might be teaberry (ICE CREAM!). According to the folks of iNaturalist, it’s partridgeberry. Pretty, but perhaps not as weirdly tasty as teaberry. If you can’t get teaberry ice cream, try Clark’s teaberry gum. You won’t thank me, I think. It’s an acquired taste, associated with childhood 50 years ago.

Partridgeberry

Pennsylvania: Mountain pie cookout and corn boil

words and images Posted on by
August 30–31

My journeys on the Capitol Limited and Pennsylvanian were uneventful. The Capitol Limited arrived in Pittsburgh 40 to 50 minutes before the Pennsylvanian left, so it was a little close — but no Greyhound this time. I got my eastbound trip around Horseshoe Curve, although by looking to the inside I missed the derailed center beams on the outside – on both sides. (There were two derailments at the Curve this summer.)

Eastbound Pennsylvanian (Amtrak #42)

I arrived in plenty of time to go on an outing to load up on spring water at Elk Run near Tyrone. Many, many bald-faced hornets were feasting on the plants by the stream.

Bald-faced hornet at Elk Run near Tyrone

We also stopped at a farm in Sinking Valley to pick up what turned out to be the last corn on the cob of the season and later shuck it for an evening “mountain pie/hotdog cookout and corn boil.” I wish I’d taken a photo of my ham and cheese mountain pie. Delish.

Dragonflies and ice cream

Blue dasher
Blue dasher

I told J this Will County Forest Preserve District program at Monee Reservoir sounded crunchy; I don’t think he quite got it.

I met him at the University Park Metra station, which is not that far north from Monee. For me, it was brutally sunny and hot, but at least I made it through the first part of the program. I had to pass on the second half, a jaunt to another bridge that wasn’t even that far away. At the first, the kids found enough dragonfly and damselfly larvae and other pond critters to keep them engaged for an hour or more, and I wandered off to see what was on the other side (dragonflies, damselflies, butterflies, one elusive Hemaris thysbe moth).

Despite my dropping out partway through, the leader was kind enough to give us ice cream sandwiches. He spent a lot of time answering my questions and showing me illustrative photos. By the time we left the building, where the air conditioning had failed a couple of days earlier, clouds had gathered and the temperature had dropped.

Monee’s not a big town but we found a great cheese and fruit plate, beer, and a light dinner at Labas Latte & Vino. And so back to reality . . . but at least I don’t have to live on 300 mosquitoes an hour.

↑