Illinois Natural History Survey

2012-02-01T21:59:00.013-06:00

The Illinois-Indiana Sea Grant aquatic invasive species outreach team has updated and redesigned the bighead and silver carp WATCH card. In addition to the fresh design, we've changed the card to highlight the term "Asian carp" to match what people are hearing in the media, added pictures of the juvenile fish in comparison with a shad, and included the national STOP Aquatic Nuisance Species (ANS) phone number.

If you’re interested in ordering these pocket-sized cards, please visit the Illinois-Indiana Sea Grant webpage:
http://www.iiseagrant.org/catalog/ais/bigwach.htm

The Illinois-Indiana Sea Grant AIS outreach team is part of the Illinois Natural History Survey's Lake Michigan Biological Station in Zion.

For more information, please contact:
Danielle Hilbrich, Aquatic Invasive Species Assistant
Illinois-Indiana Sea Grant College Program &
Illinois Natural History Survey
Prairie Research Institute
University of Illinois-Urbana Champaign
c/o Chicago Botanic Garden
1000 Lake Cook Road
Glencoe, IL 60022
(847)242-6442
hilbrich@illinois.edu

"A Trill of a Lifetime"

2011-05-23T13:47:00.030-05:00

We immersed ourselves in the emergence, hiking toward the calling—louder, louder—I could hear at least two species singing and the air was full of dark bodies flying. Near a cherry tree you could hear the crescendo—loud then soft, loud then soft—better than any orchestra. We had the best seats in the “house”—our legs—as we experienced this 17-year symphony.

Northern Illinois Brood (XIII)

Palos Valley Forest Preserve Cook County June 2, 2007

Journal of Susan Post

by Susan Post

No other insects in North America excite as much curiosity and wonder as do periodical cicadas when they make their sudden appearance every 13 or 17 years. Periodical cicadas are widely distributed in the eastern United States (east of the Rocky Mountains), but occur nowhere else on earth There are seven species of periodical cicadas—four with 13-year life cycles and three with 17-year life cycles. The best way to identify the species is by sound as each species song is species specific.

After years of living in underground tunnels, thousands of periodical cicadas emerge from the earth as if by a predetermined signal, shed their nymphal skins, and spread through the nearby trees and bushes. Up to 40,000 can emerge from a under a single tree!

The cicada's precise but prolonged time schedule revolves around survival for the masses. When a large population of juicy insects appears on the scene, predators make the most of the situation, but simply cannot eat all the insects. Thus, a significant number of cicadas live to reproduce. Long-lived predators may actually remember the feast and return to the scene in subsequent years. Short-lived predators, being well fed, from the cicada banquet, reproduce successfully and leave a large population to await the next year's emergence. However, the “next” emergence doesn't happen for another 13 or 17 years, so the periodical cicada is able to outlast and escape its enemies.

From morning 'til night the males fill the air with their loud, droning song. The song is like the familiar sound of the common, dog-day cicada that fills the summer evenings, only it is louder and heard at the end of spring. (See our article on Summer Cicadas). The males are the only ones singing.

During 2011 The Great Southern Brood (XIX) will emerge. Their deafening drone will perk up woods from Illinois to Louisiana and Virginia to Georgia. There are 15 broods of cicadas in North America—twelve 17-year broods and three 13-year broods.

Periodical cicadas spend 13 or 17 years eighteen to twenty-four inches deep in the soil of wooded and forested areas feeding on sap from tree roots. They dig their way out of the soil during late May and June and climb up tree trunks, posts and poles to molt into adults. The adult insect is about one and a half inches long with a black body, red legs, and red eyes. They have piercing and sucking mouthparts and will feed on a variety of woody vegetation. Each adult may live five or six weeks, they will mate, and the female will pump her egg in slits of small twigs and shrubs using her sickle-like ovipositor. (This will cause some twig dieback but no long-term consequences to the tree.) The eggs will hatch after six to seven weeks and the newly hatched nymphs (about the size of an ant) fall to the ground and burrow until they find a suitable tree root, where they feed and wait. The nymphs will undergo five molts in their 13 or 17 years.

Perhaps Aldo Leopold described them best when he talked about the passenger pigeon—They traveled the countryside this “traveling blast of life;” like Leopold’s pigeons they will also disappear, unlike the passenger pigeon however, the cicadas will return. If you are an eager periodical cicada watcher, you need not despair as you wait for the next emergence in 13 or 17 years. Several broods of both 13 and 17 year cicadas are found in Illinois, so every few years, if you are willing to travel a little, can provide a periodical cicada viewing opportunity and as an entomologist from Iowa states, “a trill of a lifetime!”

Side bar

A cicada emergence is something that must be experienced. Brandi Sangunett, a masters student in Natural Resources and Environmental Sciences at the University of Illinois, had the opportunity to experience just such an emergence during Memorial Day, 1998. " My husband and I went camping at a beautiful place called Pounds Hollow in southern Illinois. The trees around the campground were littered with the shells of cicadas; the ground was covered with tiny holes from which they left their terrestrial homes and began an arboreal existence. At night, as we were sitting around the campfire, they began coming out of the ground in droves. They crawled up any upright object, including our legs, to molt from their last instar into adulthood. They also began falling from the trees as they lost their footing and pummeled us like dive-bombers. As we slept in our tent, we could hear them crawling up the sides. After they reached a suitable place under our rainfly, we could hear them cracking open. They emerged as white, ghostly aliens and slowly unshriveled into eerie black creatures with demon-red eyes. In the morning as I began taking down the tent, I removed the rain fly and a gaggle of them escaped into the trees. The air was filled with an ominous humming which could be heard for miles around. The entire forest sounded like a huge machine or like the hum of buildings in a city.”

Heron Pond

2010-08-23T15:59:00.017-05:00

by Susan Post

Long before human records were kept, the extreme tip of southern Illinois bordered the shoreline of a much larger Gulf of Mexico. Though the seas retreated, plants and animals remain in southern Illinois that are more commonly found surrounding the present day Gulf of Mexico. Heron Pond, located in Johnson County, provides a glimpse into this ancient landscape.

In this strange, silent, primeval world of the southern swamps, the only sounds one hears are created by humans or birds: the groan and creak of the floating boardwalk underfoot, a pileated woodpecker hammering on a long-dead snag, a prothonotary warbler chortling as it feeds its young, or the startled cry of a wood duck fleeing through the trees. Cypress trees, in a seemingly vast stand, support upon their "knees" little colonies of plants —islands in miniature. The surface of the pond is covered with several species of duckweed. This thick green blanket is broken only by a fallen cypress needle, the black ribbon of a swimming cottonmouth, or the delicately embossed outline of a floating frog. In the quiet and stillness, the bayous of Louisiana come to mind.

This area was originally described by an English journalist in the 1860s as "a forest of dead trees—a cheerless miserable place, sacred to the ague and fever." Other early visitors described it as a place where your first and only thought was "how shall I get away again" or more simply, "the pit of hell." These descriptions of the swamps of southern Illinois, of vegetation more typical of Mississippi, Alabama, or Louisiana, were made by individuals viewing the landscape without the luxury of a boardwalk.

Heron Pond, located 1 mile northwest of Forman, Illinois, is a bald cypress forest named for the great blue herons that nested in the huge cypress trees. It is part of a larger area called the Cache River State Natural Area. The trail at Heron Pond begins west of the parking lot. Crossing the Upper Cache River on a suspension bridge, you enter the bottomland forests, soon leave them behind, and enter the world of the swamp.

In spring, the trail is lined with wildflowers; by August the huge white blossoms of spider lily have opened, creating patches of white in the unrelenting green. By late fall the cypress trees have discarded their needles, littering the duckweed with brown. Fortunately, your adventure into the swamp is greatly aided by a long boardwalk.

Though the southern swamp, with its midsummer heat, humidity and mosquitoes, could still be called "the pit of hell" by the unprepared, the sights and sounds of this unique landscape soften this unfortunate description for most, and a visit to Heron Pond becomes an adventure into the remote past.

Prairie Pages

2010-08-05T15:01:00.004-05:00

Here is an article by Sue Post published in the Illinois Steward, Spring 2009 issue about a few of our favorite Illinois Prairie sites (click download or fullscreen for better readability):
Prairie Pages

“We Sweated and Survived”

2010-08-03T11:53:00.035-05:00

We finished up our Dragonfly Blitz on Thursday, 29 July, visiting parts of Wildcat Hollow. Within 15 minutes of our arrival at the marsh, we spotted the elusive Comet Darner – a red beacon. And just like that, it was off, taunting us, daring us to catch it. Peering through binoculars from shore, ecstatic cries, “it’s coming right at you!” “to your left!” “on your right!” only seemed to confuse those standing with their nets at the ready. Skillfully, the Comet Darner snatched a saddlebag dragonfly and zipped off to the prairie.

Our skipper and moth expert, Jim Wiker, refused to give up, and after stalking it through the tall grass, returned with the Comet Darner in hand for all to admire.

Grand Total: 21 Species of Dragonflies

A few photos from the class:

IWIN Dragonfly Blitz Day 2

2010-07-28T23:55:00.002-05:00

After our second day of the blitz, with heat index of 109, we are up to 29 species of butterfly and 20 species of dragonfly.

Today we visited Fulfer Creek and the Daybreak Sanctuary adding:

Mocha Emerald
Swift River Cruiser
Flag-tailed Spinyleg
Great Blue Skimmer
Blue-faced Meadowhawk

Tomorrow is our last day; fingers crossed for good weather and a few more species to add to our list.

We'll have plenty of pictures to post when we get back to the office!

Illinois Wilds Institute for Nature Dragonfly Blitz

2010-07-27T18:10:00.006-05:00

"They're the greatest mathematicians. They can estimate the length of your net and add 18 inches." Richard Day

Thirty-two participants will spend three days in east-central Illinois trying to see as many species of dragonflies as possible.

Our first day, it was 90F and 75% humidity. At Ballard Nature Center in Altamont IL, we found 15 species of dragonfly:

Green Darner
Eastern Pondhawk
Slaty Skimmer
Twelve-spot Skimmer
Black Saddlebag
Carolina Saddlebag
Red Saddlebag
Halloween Pennant
Calico Pennant
Whitetail
Widow Skimmer
Eastern Amberwing
Spot-wing Glider
Blue Dasher
Spangled Skimmer

Tonight we blacklight for insects!

Summer Cicadas

2010-07-23T14:43:00.026-05:00

by Susan Post

Late evening of the hot days of summer is the perfect time to hear the loud drone of male cicadas. Even during classical times the fact that only male cicadas produced sound was well known, leading to the chauvinistic comment—"Happy are the cicadas for they all have voiceless wives."

After spending anywhere from one to six years underground as a nymph, cicada males loudly announce their arrival upon the scene. The call is produced, not by rubbing wings or legs together, but by muscles vibrating a pair of drum-like membranes in the cicada’s thorax. An air cavity acts as a resonator and connects to the outside through a pair of tiny holes called spiracles.

While many of us may be familiar with the dog day or annual cicadas found in our yards—prairies also support cicadas. People who've seen this insect in high quality prairies say they “fly up like partridges when disturbed.” The adult prairie cicada's body is large, approximately one and half to two inches long and brownish yellow with conspicuous brown and white markings. Prairie cicada nymphs, instead of feeding on the roots of trees like their city and forest cousins, prefer to suck the sap of the long roots of prairie dock and compass plant.

Whether you hear the drone of the cicadas in your backyard or on the prairie, recognize it for what it is and enjoy this brief, poignant, noisy love serenade of summer.

Evergreens That Aren't

2010-07-16T08:53:00.028-05:00

by Susan L Post

All "evergreen" (coniferous) trees in Illinois are not always green. Two unique species, the bald cypress and tamarack, actually lose their leaves each fall and contribute to Illinois' fall color display.

As curious as it may seem, two species of evergreen trees that occur naturally in Illinois actually lose their leaves each fall, much like an oak or maple. Both inhabit unique wetlands. One species, the bald cypress, occurs naturally only in the swampy lowlands of far southern Illinois, while the other, the American larch or tamarack, is a denizen of the bogs of far northern Illinois.

The name Bald Cypress comes from the tree's habit of shedding its needles, giving it a bald appearance. These swamp trees have swollen bases and knees and can reach giant proportions. The cypresses swollen base develops in response to water and helps provide a firm footing in the swamp. Knees are distinguished by their smooth, conical shape, and are produced on land that is subject to alternate flooding and drying. The height of a cypress knee usually corresponds to the high-water mark in the swamp. The largest tree in Illinois is a Bald Cypress along the Cache River; many of the immense trees along this sluggish southern Illinois stream are 800-1500 years old. The original extent of cypress swamps in southern Illinois was about 250,000 acres, but today can be seen in preserves such as Heron Pond-Little Black Slough in Johnson County and Horseshoe Lake in Alexander County.

At the other end of Illinois, a few scattered bogs can be found in northern Lake and McHenry counties, the only remaining examples of a plant community common in most northeastern states. Illinois bogs are acidic wetlands that contain very typical plants such as sphagnum moss, carnivorous plants, wild orchids, and the tamarack. Tamaracks grow on spongy hummocks in the bog and are generally rather short and scrubby. These attractive trees can grow elsewhere, but are commonly found in bogs because they can tolerate the extremely acidic water of the bog, something other trees cannot do. In addition, tamaracks are not very good competitors in a forest habitat, thus they are largely confined to bogs. The best place to see tamaracks in a classic bog in Illinois is Volo Bog State Natural Area in Lake County.

Threatened and Endangered Species

2010-07-15T13:22:00.029-05:00

by Susan L. Post

Illinois hasn't always been corn, soybeans, and canal-like waterways. Historical accounts speak of huge trees, vast grasslands, and extensive wetlands. These impressive landscapes, however, rapidly became timber leases, farmsteads, and urban sprawl. Illinois citizen interest in the protection of natural communities and their species grew with time and resulted in the passage of the Nature Preserves Act and the creation of the Nature Preserves Commission in 1963. In addition, the Illinois Legislature, recognizing species as important entities, enacted the Endangered Species Protection Act in 1972. This act gave the Endangered Species Protection Board the responsibility of identifying species as endangered or threatened and the Department of Conservation [now Illinois Department of Natural Resources—IDNR] the authority to develop a permit system for endangered animals and their products. Plants were added in 1977. The Illinois Endangered Species Protection Act "prohibits the possession, taking, transportation, sale, offer for sale, or disposal of any listed animal or products of listed animals without a permit issued by the Department of Conservation [IDNR]. Also prohibited are the taking of listed plants without the expressed written permission of the landowner and the sale or offer to sell plants or plant products of endangered species."

An endangered species in Illinois is defined as breeding or naturally reproducing native species likely to be extirpated from the state in the near future; threatened species are those likely to become endangered in the near future. The Illinois Endangered Species Protection Board regularly updates the Checklist of Endangered and Threatened Animals and Plants of Illinois. Listed are 19 endangered and 12 threatened fishes, 3 endangered and 6 threatened amphibians, 10 endangered and 8 threatened reptiles, 25 endangered and 5 threatened birds, 5 endangered and 4 threatened mammals, 42 endangered and 12 threatened invertebrates, and 251 endangered and 81 threatened plants.

Endangered or threatened species aren't always the most impressive or the showiest organisms. Yet these rare individuals have become the standard bearers of the conservation movement and are signals of our deteriorating environment. These species are the messengers of change, a message we must heed if we are to keep them as part of the natural world.

Insect Appreciation

2010-06-23T11:33:00.017-05:00

by Susan Post

A walk on any trail this time of year may offer the expected deer, numerous bird calls, and blooming summer flowers, but it is the insects, common or rare, that are a delight. It is these unexpected encounters that will hold your interest and pique your curiosity during any forays outdoors.

Look in shady areas of dense vegetation for scorpionflies. While they resemble flies, these insects have two pairs of wings instead of one, like flies, and belong to the insect order Mecoptera. Their head is elongated and if you happen to encounter a male, its genitalia are large and conspicuous and carried curved upward over the back like the sting of a scorpion. Crane flies also may be found in this habitat. These large, mosquito-like insects will hang motionless on stinging nettle, but don't be afraid; while rather large, these insects don't bite, in fact, most don't feed at all as adults.

Wet areas offer a plethora of observations from the whimsical gyrations of whirligig beetles to the defense of territories by damselflies and dragonflies. Summer is the time for many of the large dragonflies to gather in groups. Watch for them as they swoop and dive, catching the abundant insect prey. Along the edges of moist areas look for large gatherings of butterflies and skippers. These gatherings are called puddle clubs and are the purview of newly emerged bachelor males. It is thought that these males, by being together, are creating a "super male" to attract the fancy of passing females.

While clouds of butterflies disturbed from a puddle club are fun to walk through, the single butterfly sitings are no less exciting. From buckeyes to painted ladies to swallowtails, their effortless flitting is a signal of the coming days of summer fun. But what about the moths? A chance encounter of a luna, cecropia, or polyphemus is quite remote during the day.

To increase your moth sighting chances, perhaps a light trap is in order. By using a white sheet and a bright white light source, you have created a beacon in the dark which moths and other night flying insects are attracted to. The insects fly toward the light and hit the sheet, climbing around on the sheet so you are able to get close to study them. During the night, check the trap often as different insects fly at different times. If you don't have access to a light, walk around your hometown checking the bright white lights—an entomological friend spent his youth checking the lights at the local laundromat and gas station.

Take time during these warm days of summer to view some of the many and unusual insects that grace the Illinois landscape.

The Western Forest-Prairie Division

2010-06-18T10:00:00.007-05:00

Located to the West of the Grand Prairie Division in Illinois, along the Illinois River valley, our 5th division, the Western Forest-Prairie Division, encompasses much of Mercer, Warren, Knox, Fulton, Peoria, McDonough, Schuyler, Brown, Adams, Morgan, Scott, Macoupin, Greene, Jersey, and Hancock Counties as well as parts of Henderson, Rock Island, Pike, Cass Counties (map).

Here the landscape consists of level to rolling uplands interspersed with deeply cut rivers and ravines with well-developed floodplains. It is a land of deep, forested ravines with intervening flat prairie openings. The area was covered by Illinoian age glaciers. Bedrock outcroppings are common in some locations. This division has two sections—Galesburg and Carlinville—separated by the Illinois River valley.

The Galesburg Section is north of the Illinois River valley; both the Spoon and La Moine rivers drain this area. The amount of prairie here once almost equaled the amount of forest. One interesting habitat type is the dry-mesic barren, also known as an oak opening. In the spring at Argyle Hollow Barrens Nature Preserve look for the very unusual bi-colored bird’s foot violets growing among the mounds of lichens and mosses.

The Carlinville Section is southeast of the Illinois River valley. Macoupin Creek and the Illinois River are the major streams that drain this section. The original vegetation of this section was forest, with only 12% of the area in prairie. Very little prairie or forest remains today in this section.

To experience this area, visit Siloam Springs and Arglye Lake State Parks.

The Grand Prairie

2010-06-08T10:23:00.006-05:00

This week we look at the fourth natural division, the Grand Prairie Division. This area encompasses much of Illinois, from as far north as Ogle County, south to Shelby County, west to Henry County and east to the Indiana border (map).

This area, the largest natural division of the state, is a vast plain formerly occupied by tall-grass prairie. The grassland landscape was so unusual that early travelers had to turn to the sea for analogies, evoking “a sea of grass” or “a vast ocean of meadow-land.” In time this landscape came to be known as “prairie.” The fertile soils are young and high in organic content. They were developed from deposited loess, lakebed sediments, and glacial drift. Natural drainage was poor resulting in many marshes and prairie potholes. The prairies were a veritable wildflower garden containing several hundred species of grasses and forbs.

Forests interrupted the landscape on floodplains, on slopes bordering streams, along river bends, and in isolated prairie groves. Like their prairie counterparts, prairie groves have a remarkable number of plant species, especially spring-blooming herbs.In addition to the more common moist forest and prairie communities, dolomite, loess hill, and shrub prairies are found here, as well as barrens, sandstone cliffs, eroding bluffs, sand savannas, and sand ponds. This division has five sections— Grand Prairie, Springfield, Western, Green River Lowland and Kankakee Sand Area.

While much of the prairie has been lost, there are remnants and restorations including Goose Lake Prairie State Park, Midewin National Tallgrass Prairie, Allerton Park, and Kennekuk Cove County Park. Spitler Woods State Natural Area shows a prairie grove habitat and is one of the largest stands of old growth woods in Central Illinois.

Dragonflies

2010-06-07T16:59:00.008-05:00

By Susan Post

Illinois has 98 species of dragonflies, all of which are descendants of a prehistoric group at least 250 million years old that included some of the largest insects that ever lived. If any of your summer’s wanderings take you near water, take a few minutes to enjoy the iridescent dragonflies.

Dragonflies begin their life in the water as a dull colored, predatory larvae, called a naiad. They are equipped with large, chewing mouthparts with a lower lip that rapidly extends to capture and hold their prey. A meal is made of any unfortunate small crustacean, minnow, tadpole, or other insect larvae that gets in its path. They are able to search the water for prey by expelling water through gills at the end of their abdomen, somewhat like a hydraulic cannon or a jet engine.

After one or more years of aquatic life, if the larvae have been able to avoid the attention of fish, their chief predators, they will climb out of the water and metamorphose into an adult. Supporting two pair of rigid, transparent wings, which are held outstretched even at rest, and a thick body, dragonflies do not give any outward appearance of grace on the wing. But can they fly! Some species have been clocked at 60 miles per hour as they fly forward, backward, or sideways.

Their eyes are the largest in the insect world, providing the dragonflies excellent eyesight. They can observe insect prey up to forty yards away. Their forward thrust legs are located in a cluster near the front of the thorax and are arranged in a basketlike way to catch prey and quickly transfer it to the mouth. Dragonflies are so well-adapted as airborne predators that their legs are nearly useless for walking.

Their fierce appearance has granted them all sorts of nasty abilities and names. The unenlightened once thought dragonflies were capable of sewing shut the mouths of men who cursed and women who scolded, or they sewed up the ears of people who enjoyed gossip. From these myths a variety of names sprung up such as—snake doctors, horse stingers, sewing needles, and the Devil's darning needle. The myths and names are in reference to the distinctive shape of their abdomen and the mistaken belief that dragonflies are capable of inflicting stings and were harmful to humans. The only harm these insects do is to mosquitoes, gnats and flies, some of their favorite food items, thus earning them the well-deserved name of mosquito hawk.

Green Tiger Beetle

2010-05-28T14:59:00.012-05:00

by Susan Post

Walks along sunny paths in late spring woodlands are likely to yield a harvest of jewels. No, these cannot be collected and mounted in a ring; rather, they are emerald green tiger beetles, small but fierce denizens of the forest.

With the sun shining off its irisdescent blue-green elytra, the green tiger beetle resembles an emerald lost on a sandy path. A closer inspection usually reveals nothing—the "emerald" has flown several feet down the path.

Green tiger beetle adults are slender predatory beetles with long legs, large eyes, and thread-like antennae. Like all chewing insects they have a pair of mandibles. The tiger beetle's mandibles are sickle-shaped and very sharp pointed, with several teeth on the inner face. The name tiger beetle refers to its predaceous habits (both adults and larvae eat all kinds of insects) and to the ability of the adults to suddenly pounce on their prey.

During the summer months females will deposit their eggs in sandy soil. The eggs are deposited singly, each in a separate burrow. The larvae are whitish, S-shaped and grub-like with long curving jaws and a large hard head. The larvae prop themselves up in vertical burrows with their oddly shaped heads often plugging the entrance. They wait with open mandibles for a hapless victim, which they seize and take to the bottom of the burrow (sometimes a foot below the surface) to devour at their leisure. On the larva's 5th abdominal segment is a spine that anchors it to the side of the burrow. Thus, if a larva grabs an insect that is too large to overcome, it is anchored to the burrow and will not be pulled out.

The tiger beetle has 3 larval instars, that is, it sheds its exoskeleton three times in order to grow larger. Unlike most insects that just molt and go about their business, prior to each molt the tiger beetle larva must undertake an extra step and enlarge its burrow to accommodate its soon-to-be bulkier self. Pupation takes place in a chamber dug off the main tunnel and the entire life cycle will take up to 3 years.

For those lucky enough to catch one of these iridescent emeralds of the woods, be careful with this jewel of the beetle world for it is not merely ornamental. Tiger beetle mandibles, lethal to most small creatures, can inflict a very effective bite on unsuspecting fingers!

Why Natural Areas? Why Take Pictures? Why do we Care?

2010-05-25T13:19:00.014-05:00

by Michael Jeffords
As I drive south for more than 3 hours to give a talk at Southern Illinois University for an unknown audience, assuming one shows up, I think of my spouse’s comment as I left the house. “Why are you doing this?” she said. “I thought you were going to learn to say no!” This leads to a little soul-searching (very little actually) as to what propels me to give the seemingly endless array of presentations that I do, some 1200 over the last 25 years.

The answer is quite simple really. I like it! Also, it is my way of trying to change the world, at least a little corner of it. Whatever skill I may have acquired as a photographer over the years, as well as the thousands of images I have accumulated, mostly of wild places in Illinois, must be put to some use. Now I could attempt to make a living selling images for the marketplace, but I would likely starve pursuing that avenue. I choose to use photography as a tool for education. Fortunately, I have a “day job” that allows me to do this on a regular basis—thus, my jaunt to southern Illinois.

Most of the presentations I make revolve around the central theme of “biodiversity,” the great array of life that covers our planet, and the focus is, inevitably, Illinois. People seem to want to know about 'natural Illinois.' I have found that my niche in all of this may be to recreate that intimate contact with nature that is missing from most individuals’ lives in today’s world. There is, there must be, more to life than malls, minivans, and movie theaters if we are to preserve a significant portion of the life that exists around us.

It is thought that humans have an innate urge to affiliate with other forms of life; this theory, termed “biophilia,” is eloquently described by prominent Harvard biologist E. O. Wilson. The hypothesis also states that biophilia is only partly genetic and must be nurtured from a relatively early age if it is to manifest itself in an individual. I view my role as a “biophilia facilitator” via the medium of photography. I have long since given up on the concept that humans will preserve the earth’s biodiversity based solely on its potential economic value to us. Exploitation wins out over conservation in virtually every instance. If we preserve biodiversity, we are not likely to do it for any direct benefit it may provide to us, but because we choose to, and because we like being surrounded by an endless multitude of fascinating places and organisms.

Ideally, we could take all skeptical individuals into the world’s great natural habitats—the Amazonian rainforest, the African veldt, the Great Barrier Reef— and let them experience their biodiversity firsthand. While this is sometimes possible, it is far more feasible to present images of the natural world to them in a context that says, “These organisms, these places are wonderful and are worth preserving for their own sake.” If these sites happen to be in their own region, their own state, even their own backyard, then the message becomes powerful and provides a first line for nurturing biophilia. It is my experience that the visual elegance of the natural world, no matter where it may be found, is its own best friend and can sell itself if it is given the chance.

As I look back over the last 30 years, I know why I seldom say no to groups who want talks on biodiversity. If they seek knowledge and awareness of the natural world, the least I can do is attempt to provide it. I also believe that the natural areas of the earth, of the U.S., of Illinois, and their organisms deserve to be portrayed in as favorable a light as possible. It ultimately falls on the presenter—in this case, me—to be (sorry, U.S. Army) “all that I can be” with regard to photography. It also falls on us, the citizens of Illinois, when given the opportunity for preservation over exploitation, to choose the former, each and every time.

Every program, each visit to a natural area, the individual "grains of biodiversity" encountered, might add that pivotal sand grain to a person’s psyche that tips the balance in favor of preservation, and that can only be good. Person by person, sand grain by sand grain, we just might make a difference.

Spring Ephemerals

2010-04-27T10:37:00.003-05:00

Spring Ephemerals

Puddle Clubs

2010-04-23T08:13:00.015-05:00

by Susan Post

Now that spring has arrived, butterflies are starting to appear in numbers, newly-emerged from hidden chrysalids where most spent the winter. A walk along a sunny path or deserted road through the woods, or along the margin of a lake, pond or stream, may yield a unique opportunity for viewing butterfly puddle-clubbing behavior, the proverbial "boys day out at the old watering hole." Puddle-clubbing is a gathering of bachelor male butterflies, usually of the same species, at a moist spot on the ground. Their bachelor status is confirmed by the absence of tell-tail flight marks on their wings such as scratches or faded color.

For most of us, an encounter with a puddle club occurs only when we are suddenly in the center of a cloud of butterflies, having clumsily walked through the gathering. At times though, usually when the gathering consists of a large showy species, such as the tiger swallowtail, we see the club in time and can observe from a distance. In Illinois, a puddle club may consist of only a few males, or as many as a few dozen. Tropical puddle clubs, however, often consist of several hundred males. A patient watcher often sees the reason for puddle-clubbing.

When an appropriate butterfly, usually of the right size and shape, flies near the gathering, males will swarm to meet the newcomer, hoping it to be a female of the same species. If such is the case, several males may initiate courtship behavior; it is then up to the female to choose her favorite. The other suitors may continue to pursue for a time, but most will soon return to await another opportunity. If it should be only another male or another species, the group will quickly settle down again.

Why do butterflies, from the largest swallowtails to the smallest blues or coppers behave this way? No one knows for sure, but entomologists believe that by gathering together, the club creates "a super male", one that is much more likely to attract the fancy of a passing female.

Photos by Michael Jeffords

Northeastern Morainal Division

2010-04-15T14:28:00.011-05:00

This week, we look at the third natural division, the Northeastern Morainal Division. This area was the last area of Illinois covered by glaciers during the ice ages and encompasses Cook, Lake, McHenry, DuPage, and Boone Counties as well as parts of Kane, Winnebago and Will Counties (map).

Only 10,000 years ago, this division was covered by glaciers. Glacial landforms such as kames (conical mounds of glacial debris), moraines (long ridges of glacial debris), and eskers (a ridge of sand and gravel from an ancient embedded glacial stream) are common. The old bottom of Lake Chicago (the ancestor of Lake Michigan) is now occupied by the city of Chicago. Sand dunes of varying sizes occur along Lake Michigan. The soils are derived from lakebed sediments, peat, beach deposits, and glacial drift, and range in texture from sand and gravel to silty clay loams. In addition to a variety of prairie and forest communities, this division also has fens (wet prairies with an alkaline water source associated with calcareous springs and seeps), marshes (common because of the poorly drained soils), sedge meadows, and bogs. The only true bogs in the state and all of the state’s glacial lakes are found here, as is a natural beach-and-dunes association. The area is divided into four subsections—the Morainal Section, Lake Michigan Dunes, Chicago Lake Plain, and Winnebago Drift. To experience this division, visit Illinois Beach or Moraine Hills State Parks or Volo Bog State Natural Area.

The Perception of Plants

2010-04-14T12:30:00.009-05:00

by Michael R. Jeffords

I really shouldn’t admit it, entomologist that I am, but I have a soft spot for plants. Actually, the soft spot is for plants growing in a natural setting. Many of my zoological colleagues do not share this view. A rather famous Illinois scientist, who shall remain nameless, has written: “Plants can be attractive when flowering and might cause me to pause for reflection, but they are not compelling enough to cause me much excitement . . . Plants hold diminished interest for me and become a backdrop for more active wildlife.” In perceiving nature, many are similarly constrained or biased. I call this the “charismatic megafauna syndrome.” For example, millions of people travel to Yellowstone each year, and few, if any, traffic pileups are caused by a lone glacier lily or a clump of Indian paintbrush on a mountain slope. Let one bison, elk, bighorn sheep, or even a lowly coyote walk within viewing range, though, and all traffic laws are suspended. The park roads soon resemble the Dan Ryan at 5 o’clock on a Friday when the Cubs, White Sox, and Bulls are playing and Soldier Field is hosting a Grateful Dead concert. Perhaps we in Illinois are similarly biased as we zoom by that tiny prairie remnant, laced with compass plants and coneflowers.

At perhaps the opposite pole, from Charles Darwin, a person we instinctively associate with animal evolution, comes this perception: “A traveler should be a botanist, for in all views plants form the chief embellishment. Group masses of naked rock, even in the wildest forms, may for a while afford a sublime spectacle, but they will soon grow monotonous. Paint them with bright and varied colors and they become fantastic, clothe them with vegetation and they must form a decent, if not beautiful, picture.”

During the past million years or so, we humans have spent most of our existence struggling for survival against an often harsh, chaotic environment. In today’s world, we have diminished the wildness and achieved dominion over the landscape. Humans have changed the wilderness into a tamed, dressed-up, formal arrangement. Flowers are grown with mathematical precision, and trees and shrubs are manicured to stylistic simplicity. Even our animals sometimes reflect this tendency (the poodle comes to mind). As a photographer, I find myself craving wildness—looking for what James Gleick called “the essence of the earth’s beauty . . . the tangled filigrees of unbridled vegetation.”

A photographic vision of wild plants in a landscape may allow a person to develop a rapport with and empathy for that landscape. These feelings can be established natural area by natural area, plant by plant, stamen by stamen, until an otherwise extremely intimidating, complex expanse of wild landscape (should we be able to find one) can be grasped and appreciated. I find that photography is an extremely powerful instructional and motivational tool, and the way we use it to introduce individuals to the wildness of nature can have a lasting effect.

A final comment about photographing plants: Perceiving a natural landscape, any natural landscape, regardless of size, is equivalent to viewing history. Species indigenous to a given area, or natural habitats that exist in relatively pristine conditions, are windows to the past. Knowing that George Rogers Clark or Père Marquette would probably have gazed upon the same scene I am viewing now is a seminal experience, far better for me than any museum visit. One thing that we, as conservationists, must remember: As wild places diminish, each succeeding generation of children is farther removed from contact with the natural world. In such conditions, plants (and animals) that still exist in wild settings become not only windows to the past, but our keys to the future.

To summarize, there is no right or wrong way to perceive plants (a.k.a. nature). We interpret, select, and filter images through our experience, our emotional responses, and our prejudices and preferences. I sincerely hope that your perception of plants will be both fun and provocative and that you will perceive them not as “a backdrop for more active wildlife” as our earlier friend stated but as entities unto themselves.

Pileated Woodpecker

2010-03-29T16:30:00.000-05:00

by Susan Post

An old adage that a lumberman is known by his chips certainly applies to the pileated woodpecker. When it attacks with powerful staccato blows, a dead tree can be reduced to a uniform blanket of splinters and chips in half an hour or less!

The pileated woodpecker is the largest woodpecker in Illinois. This very active and noisy bird, with its imposing size and striking colors, is conspicuous in its forest environment. About the size of the common crow, this great, black bird has a bright, poppy red crest and white bars that flash on its wings as it flies. The pileated has several calls, but perhaps the most distinctive is the drum. The mellow yet powerful boom of a hollow tree struck by the hammer-like beak resonates throughout the forest—a solemn, ancient sound.

Although the pileated will eat fruit, most of its diet consists of grubs, wood-boring beetles, and ants, all found in decayed wood or stumps. The bird will stay with a tree until all larvae and ants have been consumed. Their elongate, squared off workings in dead and dying trees are distinctive. Pileateds, like all woodpeckers, have several adaptations to aid them in their arboreal lifestyle. Their legs are short and stout and the toes are furnished with strong sharp claws. They have four toes, two of which point forward and two backward. Their tails are composed of stiff feathers terminating in sharp spines that can be pressed against the bark. This serves as a prop to hold the bird in the upright position while it is at work. Their stout beak, with its chisel shaped-point, forms an effective wood-cutting instrument. All these adaptations enable the woodpecker to easily cling to trunks and branches and to strike hard, effective blows with their beaks upon bark or wood.

Arboreal in its habits, the pileated is a permanent resident in the remaining heavily forested areas of the state, preferring bottomland forests over uplands. When the wild expanses of forest dwindled to tame woodlots by the turn of the century the pileated, along with the wild turkey, barred owls, and the raven, began to disappear. By the 1920s, though, pileated populations had begun to rebound as the birds slowly became accustomed to civilization and the second growth timber became large enough to supply food and nesting sites. Today, these woodpeckers can even be found near some Illinois cities, including Champaign-Urbana. Perhaps the best place to hear and glimpse the woodpecker is Beall Woods State Park near Mt Carmel, Illinois, or the Cache River State Natural Area, in far southern Illinois.

These denizens of the deep forests and swampy areas connote wildness. A glimpse of a pileated is a tremendous thrill, whether it be a first sighting or the thousandth and evokes the inevitable cry from the novice birdwatcher, "there goes Woody Woodpecker!"

Rock River Hill Country

2010-03-26T10:31:00.000-05:00

This week's Natural Division is the Rock River Hill Country, just to the East of the Wisconsin Driftless Division encompassing Stephenson County, most of Carroll and Ogle Counties, and parts of Winnebago, Lee, Whiteside and JoDaviess Counties.

This region of rolling, glaciated topography is drained by the Rock River. The soils of this division are thin and are either loess (wind-blown sediment) or glacial till. Two sections make up the division. The Freeport Section is underlain with dolomite and limestone. Outcrops and “dells” occur along streams. The Oregon Section (south central Ogle County) is underlain with sandstone that has formed bluffs, ridges, and ravines.

Prairie once occupied the larger expanses of upland while forests were equally abundant along watercourses. White pine, Canada yew, and yellow birch—northern forest relicts—can still be found in this division. Prairie knobs (islands of prairie that were either too hilly or too troublesome to farm) support downy yellow painted cup and profusions of pale purple coneflower. Castle Rock State Park and Nachusa Grasslands are representative sites of this division.

Right now is a good time to look for pasque flowers as they are one of the early bloomers.

Reptiles Emerging

2010-03-26T08:48:00.000-05:00

By Michael Dreslik

As the winter weather fades away and temperatures begin to rise during spring, reptiles awaken from their winter slumber. For many that spend the cold winter underground, it will take many days of sun to warm their blood. Being cold blooded, a reptile’s physiology depends on heat, the warmer they are the faster they can escape predators, catch a meal, and even digest. The first few days of warm weather, reptiles will be somewhat reluctant to venture from their safe haven and may only peer from the shelter of their winter retreat.

During the cool, early spring weather, reptiles are sluggish and vulnerable to a myriad of predators looking for an easy meal so it is important to have a retreat safely at claw. When they do decide to crawl or slither out, they remain nearby their winter retreat and shuttle above and below ground with the rise and fall of the temperature or dive for their retreat if danger lurks. Some species, such as garter snakes, will emerge quickly and begin mating en masse whereas others such as turtles will take longer awaken. Slowly, they will creep out of their winter torpor and begin to bask in the sun’s warmth. As overnight temperatures eventually warm near the middle to end of spring, reptiles will finally venture away from their winter retreat and begin a sojourn for the necessities of life, foraging, growing, and reproducing, returning to their burrows only with the cool fall weather.

Massasauga hiding in the grass

Frog and Toad Calls

2010-03-25T13:41:00.000-05:00

by Susan Post

The first faint calls of frogs and toads are often heard during warm spells in late February or early March, but for many species, the warming days of spring bring on their true vocal talents. As both the soil and water gradually warm in spring, frogs and toads awaken from hibernation and assemble in or near shallow water where, as amphibians, they must lay their eggs. In most instances, sounds are produced only by the males, and are usually courtship calls to attract females into a breeding area, but can also be territorial calls to warn other males of rights to a particular spot. Each species has its own distinctive call and breeding period.

Wood frogs are likely to be the first call heard as they are known to herald the retreat of winter. They sound like a soft, ducklike cackling in shallow ponds. The bird-like, whistling peep of the aptly-named spring peeper almost magically appears after the first warm rains of spring. Next to join in the music is the chorus frog, sounding much like a finger drawn across the teeth of a comb. Then come the omnipresent trills of the toads, and somewhat later, the cricket frog will add to the chorus, with mechanical clicks reminiscent of two pebbles striking together. The impressive, double, deep bass notes sung by extremely territorial bullfrogs from May to July have been likened to dueling tubas!

Calm, undisturbed waters with abundant insect life such as swampy, marshy areas, temporary ponds, small lakes, and quiet streams, are all good places to listen to and look for some of these more common toads and frogs. But, toads and frogs are very alert and will often stop calling and leap to the safety of deeper water if disturbed. Also, many species are experts at "throwing" their voices, which makes finding them even more difficult. Simply sitting quietly near one of these likely spots will most often result in actually locating a calling frog or toad. Better yet, for those fortunate enough to live near an active breeding site, the back porch may offer the best seat in the house for these nightly amphibian arias. Although it's unlikely they'll ever threaten the reputation of the Chicago Symphony, the repertoires of toads and frogs create a curious, somewhat captivating, night symphony all their own.

Wood frogs form a frenzied mating ball

Spring peeper

Video 1: Calls of Wood Frogs and Peepers; Video 2: Calls of Illinois Chorus Frogs

Trillium Tapestry

2010-03-23T16:19:00.000-05:00

By Susan Post

It is almost April and finally Spring. Winter's gray-brown, threadbare blanket of leaves on the forest floor is rapidly being replaced by an explosion of color. Each day brings a new flower species—bloodroot, spring beauty, trout lily, and Dutchman's breeches—unfurling their leaves toward the sun in the race for sunlight before the trees leaf out. Perhaps the most elegant bloomers of the Illinois' woods are the trilliums Illinois has 9 species of trilliums which are easily recognized as their flower parts are arranged in groups of threes—3 petals, 3 sepals and 3 leaves. When the trilliums are in full bloom it is an indisputable sign that winter is over and spring has arrived!

The first to bloom is the snow trillium, poking through a protective blanket of leaves in mid-March. Sometimes they must push through a layer of heavy, wet snow to reach the warming rays of sunshine. Only 4 inches high and pure white in color, they grow in isolated communities in hilly woods and along limestone cliffs.

Prairie trillium is the most common woodland trillium, occurring in every county in the state. Its green leaves are strongly mottled with brown; the red flower is sessile. In the late afternoon sun the three blood-red petals resemble a candle, lighting the patches of darkening shadows.

For those lucky enough to find a rich, undisturbed woods, they are rewarded with the gleam of the large white blossoms of the Great White Trillium—the largest of Illinois’ trilliums. The waxy white flowers change color as they grow older, going from snowy white, through pink, to deep purple-pink before the petals wither.

Allerton and Lodge parks in Piatt County, Mississippi Palisades State Park in Carroll County, and Edward L Ryerson Nature Preserve in Lake County are good sites to view the trillium tapestry each spring.

The Wisconsin Driftless

2010-03-16T15:31:00.000-05:00

The first Illinois Natural Division that we will showcase is the Wisconsin Driftless. This area is found in the NW corner of the state, covering most of JoDaviess County and part of Carroll County.

This area of Illinois lacks the granite boulders present in much of the Midwest and has deep ravines and valleys. From this evidence we know it escaped the glaciers of the Pleistocene. The Driftless Division (drift is glacially deposited debris) is characterized by rugged terrain. The area has not only the state’s coldest winters but also its highest point—Charles Mound. The soils are composed of wind-blown loess, disintegrated rock, and flood deposits. At one time most of the landscape was hardwood forest. Although the glaciers missed this area, debris from their melt waters blocked the southeast outlet of the Apple River, causing it to cut a new channel. As the river cut through the masses of limestone, dolomite, and shale to form its new channel, it also formed a rugged and picturesque canyon. This iceless region provided a haven that allowed certain plants and animals to survive the glacial periods. Bird’s-eye primrose is one of these relicts. One hundred years ago bird’s eye primrose tinted the rocks in Apple River Canyon purple with its blooms. Today isolated pockets may still be found.

Interested in exploring this area? Apple River Canyon State Park and Mississippi Palisades State Park are located in this area.

Skunk Cabbage

2010-03-11T09:50:00.000-06:00

by Susan Post

Skunk cabbage, found in the northern 2/3's of the state in open swamps, marshes, and wet woodlands, is Illinois earliest flowering plant. Before the woods awake in spring it begins to bloom in late February or early March. Sheltered and hidden by a few decaying leaves, it bravely pokes through the moist earth to face howling winds, freezing temperatures, and sometimes even snow.

The first part of the plant to appear is not the leaves, but a fleshy protective hood, called a spathe. The hood, emerging dark and ruddy from the mud, is brownish-purple with yellow and green streaks and spots. Although the hood may be 3 to 6 inches tall, its color blends with the surrounding decaying leaves on the forest floor. Using energy stored for months in starchy, tuberous roots, the plant generates enough heat not only to melt through leftover snow, but to maintain summer-like temperatures inside the hood on subfreezing mornings. This is important as each hood incubates a knob-like structure, called a spadix, which is covered with tiny, cold-sensitive blossoms. The insulating walls and curved design of the hood allow eddies of warmed air to circulate around the developing flowers.

All parts of the plant, when bruised or crushed, give off an offensive odor that has been described as a cross between garlic, onions, and decaying flesh. The heat produced by the plant as it grows helps to volatilize the odor, which in turn, attracts carrion flies that are necessary for cross pollination.

A few days after the hood emerges, the leaves pierce the mud. Still unsure of the weather, they remain rolled into compact cones and cower behind the protective hood. As spring advances the odor subsides, the flowers shrivel, and the leaves begin to grow and spread. By summer the skunk cabbage is no longer the ground hugging spathe, but knee-high clumps of caladium-like leaves.

Winter Stoneflies

2010-03-08T11:55:00.000-06:00

By Susan Post

The life of fall and winter stoneflies is an exception to the rule that insect activity ceases with the approach of cold weather. Twenty species of the state's 65 native stoneflies emerge during November through March. With a habit of congregating in places exposed to the warming sun's rays, you can see them crawling about on exposed tree trunks, fence posts, or on rocks located close to a stream. The white concrete bridges characteristic of Illinois' highways are a beacon of warmth to a stonefly.

Stoneflies belong to the insect order Plecoptera. In appearance stoneflies are about a half an inch in size, have two pair of wings, and are rather drab in color. The adults, although terrestrial, are seldom found away from water. They are poor fliers with crawling the preferred mode of transportation. The eggs and nymphs are aquatic. The nymphs are often found under stones in streams, hence the common name —stonefly. The nymphs of the winter stoneflies are chiefly plant feeders. The adults feed on blue-green algae or not at all. The nymphs emerge from the water, find a suitable perch and metamorphose into an adult. The adults mate, lay eggs and die, usually living less than a month. The whole life cycle is complete in a year.

Although sunbathing in Illinois from November through March generally lacks appeal to most humans, the bridges over creeks emptying into the Middle Fork of the Vermillion River, or the clear, rocky streams of Southern Illinois are perfect places to absorb the fleeting sunlight of winter and to see Illinois winter stoneflies.

January 24, 2010

White concrete bridges

Beacons of warmth

Nude sunbathers gather

Looking for love

Absorbing weak sunlight

Coupled in pleasure

Winter stoneflies above Stoney Creek

On 8 March, 2010, winter stoneflies were observed on the bridge over the Middle Fork of the Vermilion River at Kickapoo State Park.

What Are Natural Divisions?

2010-03-08T10:56:00.000-06:00

Scientists have divided the terrestrial part of the earth into large ecological regions called biomes. Examples of worldwide biomes include tropical rainforest, Asian steppe, African savanna, and a host of others. The North American continent also has biomes, such as the Arctic tundra, Sonoran desert, and Appalachian forest.

Illinois, too, has a diversity of landscapes that can be described by differences in topography, glacial history, bedrock, soils, and the distribution of native plants and animals. Using these natural features, Illinois can be divided into 14 natural divisions. The natural divisions of Illinois were defined in 1973 in a technical report authored by then state botanist John Schwegman and colleagues. According to Schwegman, “Natural divisions are geographic regions of a larger entity like a state or a continent. A division contains similar landscapes, climates, and substrate features like bedrock and soils that support similar vegetation and wildlife over the division’s area. Natural divisions help conservationists classify land for purposes like protecting natural diversity.”

These 14 divisions were further partitioned into 33 subdivisions. Over the years, Illinois’ natural divisions have proven very useful to the natural area preservation movement within the state. They have helped biologists categorize and prioritize Illinois’ 90+ natural habitats for preservation efforts. Illinois was one of the first states to have its natural divisions defined and this classification system has guided the development of the state’s nature preserve system, the Illinois Natural Areas Inventory, and the Illinois Natural Areas Plan.

We will showcase each of these 14 Natural Divisions in the coming weeks, as well as the newly determined 15th Natural Division for Illinois.

Photojournaling: Completing the Picture

2010-03-04T12:20:00.001-06:00

By Michael R. Jeffords

Webster defines photojournalism as the “photographic presentation of news stories or stories in which a high proportion of pictorial presentation is used.” I could find no definition for photojournaling as I believe I’ve concocted the word to apply to a new artistic endeavor. We are all familiar with the various ways nature photographers and nature writers present their work.

Great photographers provide great images, mostly with short captions or identifying text and an accompanying essay by a well-known writer. The captions often interpret what is viewed within the image. Upon occasion photographic books have images accompanied by excerpts, quotes, and other text from the historical literature. These are meant to inspire by the use of both types of imagery.

Nature writers who rely on only the written word to describe nature and natural phenomena must enter into great detail, describing colors, shapes, relative positions, and overall landscape elements that would be readily evident in a photograph. In this instance the old adage about a picture being worth a thousand words is likely to be true. It simply takes time and words to “create a picture” in the reader’s mind.

So, what exactly is photojournaling and where does it fit into this overall picture? Photojournaling, if I had to define it, is somewhere between all of the above and involves visual images that enlighten, depict, and portray features and organisms in the natural landscape, but fail to complete the entire “aesthetic picture” the individual seeks to portray. The images should be strong enough to negate the need for much explanatory text, yet benefit from the written observations of the photographer. These images basically originate from a “clear mind,” one free of the need to create lengthy descriptive text on what has already been portrayed in the image. In short, these observations can serve to complete the imagery began in the photograph, can even serve to anthropomorphize the subject matter, or create a complete aesthetic picture of an image or series of images.

As a scientist, I have been taught to steer clear of any kind of anthropomorphizing in my research and written words about science, but I’ve found as a photographer, relating what may be viewed as stark nature to the human condition can instill a sense of wonder and enjoyment in the viewers. We all know this is the first step toward developing an engaged public and is the first and perhaps most important step in developing a conservation ethic.

Numbers...

2010-03-04T10:18:00.000-06:00

By Michael Jeffords and Susan Post

We have not seen the great, massed migration of wildebeests and zebras of the Serengeti, struggling to cross the crocodile-infested Mara River, but we hope to. The legendary march-out of tens of thousands of juvenile flamingos from the famous soda lakes of east Africa has eluded our gaze. We have failed to experience the watery migrations of massive humpback whales along the eastern shores of the Pacific or even the great salmon runs of the Pacific Northwest. The mosquito-ridden northern migration of the seemingly endless caribou through the endangered Arctic National Wildlife Refuge is, sadly, also not on our resume of great animal spectacles. Nor can be boast of having stood among the sights, smells, and black and white grandeur of penguin colonies sprawling across a rugged, gray-white Antarctic summer. The colossal seaside colonies of walruses, seals, and the millions of seabirds that call the rocky coasts and islands of the north and south Atlantic home are just hoped-for visions. We do, truly, plan to see all these great worldwide phenomena, someday. Having failed in all of the above, what then can this essay be about? What can we be attempting to depict in something entitled Numbers . . . without including these most famous manifestations of the earth’s biodiversity? Our answer lies somewhat outside the realm of “the rich and famous,” somewhat, but not exclusively “off the radar” of the seekers of amassed Nature. However, what we have chosen to depict is no less spectacular, no less important, no less beautiful than the massed wildebeests, penguins, and caribou of the world. Some images definitely require a closer look, some a trek to a well-known spot but with a different perspective, some, well, are just pure happenstance.

We have hiked into the heat of a Sonoran desert summer and experienced the linear migration of sphinx moth caterpillars; climbed desert sky islands to find multitudes of lady beetles; seen the fly-outs and fly-ins of sandhill cranes in a cold, darkening Indiana fall; observed legions of yellow trout lilies tumbling down an east Tennessee slope in spring like so much golden lava; marveled at the white-on-green spectacle of great white trilliums clinging to an Appalachian mountainside. These, and a host of other experiences have made up a significant portion of our adult lives together. They have inspired, awed, even cowed us with our own attempts to portray these natural wonders.

While some reoccur on an annual basis and provide multiple opportunities, some occur only sporadically, and others may even be once-in-a lifetime events. When this happens, the pressure is on! If we fail to somehow capture these marvels of nature, they may become part of our rich treasure of personal memories, but pale when they surface among the ‘life stories’ we all tell again and again. Without some sort of physical manifestation of what we have seen and experienced, we ultimately fail to ‘communicate nature.’ And if we fail in this, we run the danger of having few people know about, understand, or care about nature and its conservation. What follows represents examples of a lifetime full of observations, some subtle, some not-so-subtle, some miniscule, but all, important manifestations of nature and the natural world.