Emergence

I know... I have been terribly remiss this summer at posting.  No excuse other than inertia, or lack thereof.  (And a foot injury limiting my walking, but really?  I don't need to leave my yard to photograph most of this stuff.)  We missed the prairie clover and blazing star, ironweed and a whole host of yellow composites that are coloring the prairie.  We missed the grasses starting to earn their late summer dominance.  We'll get to some of that, I assume... But I noticed this trailside sight last night, and couldn't resist taking a few photos, so I figured I'd share!

It's been about a week -- maybe a few more days than that -- since the loud, insistent hum of cicadas has become the background noise for the late summer afternoons and evenings.  These, I think, are a phenological harbinger to me.  When does summer become late summer?  It's the cicadas that make it feel like summer is waning.  Well, the cicadas and the yellow, I suppose.  The prairie has so much yellow, and the light just gets a yellower quality to it that I can't quite quantify, but I feel it.  It's funny, because technically, astronomically, we're not even half way through the interval between summer solstice and the autumnal equinox.  And yet.  

Despite the heat, despite the fact that school doesn't start for a little while yet, this part of summer has such a different flavor than the earliest and middle parts.  Ah well, enough of that!  Instead, time for some interesting cicada information.  Anyone familiar with cicadas knows that while they're quite large insects, they also seem pretty clumsy and slow.  So how does such a plump tasty treat avoid being bird prey?  It turns out their mating call is also a defense!  Only make cicadas make noise; they do it to attract a mate.  Their instruments are tiny but powerful -- over 120 decibels.  This is loud enough to be painful to humans... and to birds.  The noise of a group of calling cicadas is both unpleasant to birds and also disrupts their own communications.  This makes it hard for them to pick off the delicious (I'm assuming, to a bird) insects!  

Now we've all learned something, we can get on with our day!

Lasts?

I put a sumac leaflet next to this tiny snapping turtle so you could tell how small it was -- body inch and a half, maybe? 

Here is a list of things I saw this weekend that might be "lasts" for 2015:

• a monarch butterfly
• a dragonfly
• a turtle
• a snake
• a cicada (saw it, not heard it.  It looked fine, but technically, I didn't check for signs of life and it might have been dead.)
• a toad and a frog (which I don't think will be the last...)
• weather in the 70's (upper 70's on 10/10/15)

I would also like to say a word about red-wing black birds.  I certainly don't associate them with fall... I think of their distinctive shrill calls piercing the March chill as signs of spring-to-come.  I think of the constant threat of being dive-bombed as mid-summer perils.  But they fade away in the fall.  I noticed a lot of them this weekend, though, in flocks, even.  They were vocalizing but not a lot or loudly/distinctively.  They were near the trail but didn't appear at all interested in harming me (thank goodness!).  I guess they're getting ready for their winter retreat... 

Happy Fall!

The start of autumn officially occurred last week with the equinox, but, as I mentioned at the time, that day doesn't really mean much of anything to most people.  Some people say fall started after labor day, or when school started.  Some may have looked for a phenological event like the first red leaves or the goldenrod taking over the prairies... but if you want to judge the start of fall by the weather, it seems like today might be it.

Last night, I walked around my neighborhood in the early evening, it was in the 70's and the whine of cicadas was loud in the background.  At the time, being a follower of weather forecasts, I found myself wondering... will this be the last time the year that I hear them?  (In phenology, "lasts" are so much harder than "firsts."  The first frost is obvious, but the last one... what if I mark it down and then there's more frost tomorrow or the next day?  You have to keep noting the lasts until it really, truly is the last.  Sometimes it doesn't occur to you that it will be the last monarch or the last earthworm until much later, and you have to try and remember what the date actually was.  So we'll see, I guess...)

At any rate, after yesterday evening's warm, summery-sounding and -feeling walk, this morning dawned... not too bad, when I left for the gym at 4:45 am.  It was 65, and if it's 65 degrees at 4:45 am, it'll probably be in the 70's at mid-day, right?  Were the weather forecasts wrong?  (Wait, the internet can't be wrong!)  Did I choose the entirely wrong clothes?  Leaving the gym 2 hours later, if felt considerably cooler.  And it was still nearly dark with clouds, spitting almost-rain, and windy.  In the time I have been writing this post, the temperature has dropped another 3 degrees.  (It says it's 56 now.) The 10-day has highs in the low 60's or upper 50's for its entire duration...

Now I'm wondering if I dressed warmly enough!
Happy autumn.

Socratic Method

Hemlock berry!

ps -- it warmed up and the cicadas are calling again!

Golden Opportunity

I started sketching this Canada goldenrod, figuring it was by far the most common flower blooming right now and it would be remiss to choose something else.  I almost immediately regretted it.  Seriously? It would take hours, and probably considerably more skill than I possess, to capture all the detail... The stem branches off numerous times in every direction, and each branch contains multitudes of individual flowers.  The top ones are in full bloom, the lower branches contain yellow-green buds.  At any rate, I tried to rescue the experience by drawing one tiny flower as seen through my 10x magnification jewelers' loupe, and I also studied the leaf venation that way... a fascinating net not really discernible without a lens.  

PS -- Today is the coolest day since summer began back in June, with highs in the low 60s.  But fear not, fellow lovers of sun, short sleeves and Indian summers, we are predicted too be back in the 80s next week!  Still, this made for quite a change this afternoon.  There's an eerie silence/stillness... even though there are plenty of noises -- wind and cars, airplanes and goldfinches... but the cicadas are conspicuously quiet.  It actually took me a few minutes to realize what it was, but it's so obviously different without that constant drone in the backgrouns.  Being cold-blooded and all, they like it to be in the 70s or hotter to make noise. I'll expect them back next week!

Seasonal Symphony

I probably should just learn how to record and insert a sound clip... but instead I will try to describe the dog day sounds of the prairie.  It's amazingly noisy out there.  There are constant buzzings and and dronings, chirps and whirrs and chitters and trills.  They come from every direction, and sound like they are both far away and incredible close.  (Though I can NEVER find a cicada or a cricket when one seems to be singing right near me, it's crazy.  The other day, I came across a co-worker who appeared to be staring into the branches of a tree.  Knowing that someone staring at tree branches is most likely looking at something I will find interesting, I asked what he was looking at... the answer?  Nothing -- he wanted to find the cicada that seemed so close but was completely elusive  At any rate...)  Some of the calls seem like a constant backdrop.  Others crescendo and decrescendo.  Still others pulse like waves.  Mwow, mwow, mwow... There's my attempt at an onomatopoetic description.  There's an incredible diversity of voices out there!

Of course, it's not really voices or singing (except for the few birds that do chime in).  The insects that create our late summer prairie symphony -- cicadas, crickets, grasshoppers and katydids, at least -- are in the percussion section.  Their sounds are created by stridulation, or rubbing body parts together.  Many species have ridged or bumpy wings just for that purpose.  The wing membranes also amplify the sounds, and they do a darn good job at it!  Those are loud noises for little critters.

Enjoy the sounds of the season!