The Logan Oak

As always, click the photo to enlarge

This is the "Logan Oak", a spectacular specimen of a white oak, Quercus alba, easily the largest and most ornate such tree I have clapped eyes on. I've known of this woody colossus for a long time, but had not paid personal respects until last Saturday. Why I waited so long is beyond me. The tree is splendid in every way; breathtakingly massive. Huge gnarled limbs radiate from a skyscraper of a trunk, creating a gargantuan bonsai that commands the observer to stand and gawk. I had intended this to be a brief stop en route to somewhere else. Instead, I communed with the oak for over an hour, sizing it up from every angle, and attempting to capture images that might suggest the sheer majesty of the plant.

It's an easy tree to find, and respectful visitors are welcome. The northeast corner of Old Logan Cemetery is where the oak's roots anchor it, just southwest of the junction of Keynes Drive and North Mulberry Street (if any street should be named Oak Street, it's this one). This is on the north side of Logan, in Hocking County, Ohio.

The Logan Oak is said to be about 600 years old. I do not know how that age was determined. White oaks can live that long. One in New Jersey recently petered out, apparently succumbing to the ravages of old age. It was proved to be over a half-millennium old. I've seen photos of this arboreal Methuselah and it was impressive. But it's got nothing on the Logan, Ohio tree and I might argue that ours is even more impressive.

I'd highly recommend visiting the Logan Oak. You won't be sorry you did.

A male common green darner in flight/Jim McCormac

Columbus Dispatch

September 29, 2019

NATURE
Jim McCormac

An incredible spectacle unfolded in early September, when untold numbers of dragonflies descended on Ohio and surrounding states. Feeding swarms, ranging from a few dozen to thousands, were reported over fields and meadows in all corners of the state.

In some places, flying dragonflies were so thick that they were visible on weather radar. Many news outlets breathlessly reported the “invasion” of dragonflies. Some Facebook users marked themselves “safe” from the swarms, as if it were some sort of Hitchcockian entomological counterpart to “The Birds.”

Most folks were enchanted by the sight of dozens of insect aerialists, wings glittering in the sun, zigging and zagging as they tore after midges and other small flying insects.

The overwhelming majority of the dragonflies were common green darners (Anax junius). They are big, reaching 3 inches in length, with a slightly longer wingspan. Males have a turquoise-blue abdomen, while female abdomens are purplish-red. The thorax of both sexes is bright green.

Other species were mixed in with the swarms, but in far smaller numbers. Companions included black saddlebag, green-striped darner and wandering glider.

I posted a plea for swarm sightings on my blog, and on a few online forums. Nearly 200 reports came back, from 63 of Ohio’s 88 counties. Hundreds of other postings about swarms were made on Facebook and elsewhere, documenting a massive movement that certainly touched all counties.

This migratory movement was short-lived, with most records falling on Sept. 10 and 11. Some reporters estimated swarms numbering over 1,000 dragonflies, but most observers saw between a few dozen and several hundred.

Dragonfly migration is imperfectly understood. The common green darner has long been known for large autumnal southward movements. Like migratory monarch butterflies, these swarms are generally on a southwest trajectory. They certainly are headed to warmer climes, but exact destinations remain a mystery.

Evidence suggests that most migratory dragonflies are headed to points from the Gulf Coast to Central America. The big movements generally coincide with the passage of a cold front, and in many areas it appears the dragonflies follow prominent landmarks such as lakeshores, rivers, ridges or other land features.

It’s likely that the dragonflies that move south in winter are not the same ones that return in spring. Vernal migrations are far less conspicuous, and spring migrants don’t seem to form swarms. It might be that adults newly arrived on the wintering grounds mate, produce offspring and die. Their spawn are the dragonflies that recolonize the north the following spring.

More conjecture than fact surrounds dragonfly migrations. No one is sure why some species — only a handful of the hundreds of North American species are known to migrate — form enormous aggregations. Some swarms have been estimated to number well over 1 million.

The passage of these “flocks” is typically rapid, and if you’re not looking skyward when they pass over, they will go unseen. Only when the dragons drop down to feed on smaller flying insects do they become conspicuous. Those people fortunate enough to see a feeding swarm bore witness to one of nature’s great fascinations — and enigmas.

Naturalist Jim McCormac writes a column for The Dispatch on the first, third and fifth Sundays of the month. He also writes about nature at www.jimmccormac.blogspot.com.

Two birds, mostly unloved

I encountered this large congress of rock pigeons, Columba livia, convening on a wire yesterday. The cinnamon-colored bird especially caught my eye. A stop was in order, to attempt to capture the animals as they conferred with each other in undiagnosable pigeon-speak.

Classic "blue-bar" pigeons bookend this set of birds - this is the wild phenotype. A glance down the wire revealed all manner of color variants among the 100+ members of the avian colloquium, although the bird clad in cinnamon was the one that really drew my eye.

Homo sapiens brought pigeons over from the Old World in the 17th century, and it goes without saying that they took. I share none of my fellow primates' common disdain for this species. Pigeons are quite showy, and masters of the air. Their powers of flight are renowned. Homing pigeons display an incredible orientation to their cote, sometimes beating their masters back home. Feral urban pigeons seem to organize pleasure flights, especially early in the morning or towards dusk. A squadron will head aloft, and race about the ether in well-organized packs, seemingly enjoying their incredible aeronautic abilities.

Mark Zuckerberg and Facebook reminded me of this photo, which I took and posted to the social media mega-site one year ago today. I had intended to post the image here, then, but never got around to it.

That morning, before first light, I headed to a local hotspot, Pickerington Ponds Metro Park. A very rare (for Ohio) roseate spoonbill had been hanging out there, and I wanted to see and perhaps photograph the pink visitor from the Deep South.

Upon my arrival, I found the wetlands socked in with thick pea soup fog. The overall ambience was stunning, but not good for finding or photographing birds. As the sun's rays began to thin the mist, these double-crested cormorants slowly materialized. I sometimes recognize a good shot when I see it, and I knew this was a photogenic opportunity. 

I was armed for bear - or distant spoonbills - with my Canon 800mm f/5.6 lens. Needless to say, that optical tank was mounted on a tripod, and I quickly plugged a remote shutter release into the camera, and threw the latter into live view mode. After framing a composition, I watched the birds closely as they preened and prepped for a day of fishing. When their collective postures looked interesting, I'd hold the trigger down and fire away. The beautiful juxtaposition of fog and light lasted only a few minutes, and I'm glad that I was there to live in that moment.

Like the aforementioned pigeons, double-crested cormorants are often held in low regard. Where cormorants are plentiful, such as on the Great Lakes, fishermen especially want to wage war on the piscivorous birds. The rod and reel set view them as competition, even though cormorants probably take few fish species, such as perch and walleye, coveted by fishermen.

Zermatt in September 2019: Part 2

After lunch in the hamlet of Findeln,

we set off down the steep path back to Zermatt.

I loved these dark coloured chalets against the blue of the sky.

Looking back and noticing snow on the mountains in the background.

The path is very steep in parts, like this one here down to the next hamlet.

I was wearing appropriate mountains boots,

but walking poles would have been a great help too,

especially where there were rocks and tree roots on the path.

The striking Matterhorn mountain appears to us many times during our way down.

Another mountain range and chalets dotted on the slopes.

The cows were mostly lying down at this point of our journey.

There were no enclosures to keep them in one pasture

and I wondered why.

I went a bit closer and then zoomed in even further to capture the cow bell.

The narrow paths downwards and plenty of rocks, 

so it's best to look where we place our feet.

A bit further down on the same path. 

The lower one with the barrier is for hikers

and the one above had a signpost saying it was for mountain bikes!

There were sometimes small cabins along the way

and benches to rest awhile and drink some water.

Best to choose a bench in the shade as it was a rather hot day.

The shady parts were extremely welcome!

As we neared the town of Zermatt, there were many more chalets.

I was happy to catch these two grey horses and a carriage.

No ordinary cars are allowed in Zermatt and all local vehicules are electric.

Some of the bigger hotels have horses and carriages to transport visitors.

It had taken us much longer than expected to hike down to the town again.

It took us over three hours.

It's true that I stopped often to take photos

and once or twice we left the beaten track!

This house on the top of a rock always fascinates me.

One day I must go up there to see what it's like.

On our last morning, I got dressed early and went outside just after 6 am.

I wanted to catch the first rays of sun as they hit the peak of the Matterhorn.

Time: 6:48 a.m.

The first sun illuminates the summit.

Time: 7:01 a.m.

The mountain is fully illuminated, but not yet the surrounding area.

Time: 7:12 a.m.

On the other side of the sky a tree silhouette against the purple and pink

looks equally lovely. 

The time here is 6:41 a.m.

Ten minutes later, the sky looks completely different.

A cut-out silhouette of the mountains at sunrise

The last shot of this iconic mountain, showing the surrounding areas.

Going back to the train station with our suitcases and enjoying the flower laden window boxes

and the flag from the Canton of Valais.

A lovely photographic souvenir of these beautiful days spent in the mountains.

Click on the link below if you would like to see Part 1 of this stay

Zermatt in September 2019: Part 1

Caterpillars, and more caterpillars

I reported on last weekend's great caterpillar safari in my last post, but showed few caterpillar photos. I will atone for that here. Our group found at least four dozen species, and I photographed a fair chunk of them.

Caterpillaring becomes addictive. Taken to extremes, it LOOKS LIKE THIS. I've been at the larval game for some time, and love the thrill of the hunt. Caterpillars do not want to be seen, and the vast majority of species are nocturnal, the better to avoid diurnal songbirds and insect predators. That means the successful hunter must also be active after dark, and that's when most of the subjects of this post were found. Throw in the allure of photography, the challenge of nightime shooting, and the novelty of charismatic subjects that few people photograph, and it's hard to beat.

More importantly, learning about caterpillars helps one learn MUCH more about food webs and ecosystems. Caterpillars are tube steaks on legs; Nature's hotdogs. It seems like everything eats them, and caterpillars are such a huge staple in the diet of many species of birds that we'd lose these songsters without the larvae. Some experts feel that the mortality rate of many caterpillar species is well over 90%. In other words, almost all of them are eaten. Those that make it become butterflies or moths, mate, lay eggs, and carry on the species.

Driving it all is native plants. Our caterpillars are chemically finicky and generally shun nonnative flora, with which they have no real co-evolutionary history. This is yet another reason to plant natives. You'll be growing crops of caterpillars, and feeding the higher-ups on the food chain.

A black-blotched prominent, Schizura leptinoides, rests atop some sort of cocoon, maybe that of a silk moth. I believe the cat's juxtaposition with the cocoon was just coincidence. One thing's for sure, it is a walking dead caterpillar. Those little white cylinders stuck to its upper body are tachinid fly egg cases. The maggots have already hatched, and are eating the caterpillar from within. Death by parasitoid insect is an extremely common fate in this world.

A pair of common buckeye caterpillars, Junonia coenia, nosh on slender foxglove, Agalinis tenuifolia. If they make it, they will morph into one of our most beautiful butterflies. The overwhelming majority of caterpillars are those of moths. Around 2,000 species of moths have thus far been documented in Ohio (some authorities believe MANY others await documentation), while we've only tallied about 140 butterfly species.

The leaf of a sycamore, Platanus occidentalis. An obligate sycamore feeder sits prominently on the leaf. Or perhaps not so prominently. Caterpillars are masters of disguise, or at least many of them are.

A closer view of the caterpillar in the previous photo. It is a drab prominent, Misogada unicolor, which insofar as I know feeds only on sycamore. The pale stripe on its back mimics the pale midribs of sycamore leaves remarkably well. Go look at the previous image. By the way, sometimes the English names of moths are derived from the adult moth, sometimes the caterpillar. There's nothing "drab" about this larva; the name stems from the bland appearance of the moth.

This was a great find, by, I believe, Ann Geise (someone who was there correct me if I'm wrong). It's a hitched arches, Melanchra adjuncta. These caterpillars are often found in fairly conspicuous spots during the day, and that's when this one turned up. It is on water hempweed, Amaranthus tuberculatus, which the cat matches quite well.
 

An amazing bag of goo, this one, and always a crowd-pleaser. A specialist in the extreme, this honey locust moth, Syssphinx bicolor, feeds only on its namesake tree, Gleditsia triacanthos.

One of many oak specialists, this orange-striped oakworm, Anisota senatoria, is feeding on a black oak leaf, Quercus velutina. Oaks support more species of caterpillars than any other floristic group, by a long shot. Their conservation is vital to the ecology of the great eastern deciduous forest.

The slug moth caterpillars are often otherworldly in appearance, often looking like sea slugs plucked from a coral reef. This is a Nason's slug, Natada nasoni. Note the pale vermiculations (squiggles) on its body. Unlike the specialist caterpillars, this one is polyphagous - it eats many species of plants.

Hard to top the exoticness of a purple-crested slug, Adoneta spinuloides. How could you miss this thing, one might think. Like most slug moth cats, it is tiny, maybe a half-inch in length, and quite easy to overlook. We often employ ultra-violet flashlights in our quest. Many caterpillars, including most slugs, glow brightly under such beams.

I was quite pleased to see this species, and this individual was one of at least three found during the weekend. Chris and Sue Zacharias found two on white pine (which is not native in this region), and Randy Lakes found this specimen on native Virginia pine, Pinus virginiana. It's the aptly named pine sphinx, Lapara coniferarum, and it was new for nearly everyone including me.

Thanks to everyone who joined the hunt last weekend! I look forward to the 2020 expedition.

Heavy-duty caterpillaring

A fine group of intellectually curious people convened in Adams County, Ohio over the weekend - our 6th annual get-together, ostensibly to search for caterpillars. And that we do, but as always the foray becomes a natural history free-for-all, and we find lots of other STUFF. Our base camp is John and Tina Howard's Ohio Star Retreat Center. Most of the group stays here, and we all converge on the place to have meals, and photograph temporarily detained caterpillar livestock. It's a great place to stay of you're in Adams County, especially if you are in pursuit of the region's abundant natural history.

The group changes form a bit each year, and we always have one or a few new people, but most of the caterpillar-hunters in this image have been to a few or all of these strange outings. It's a blast, with lots of nocturnal field work. The group is, from back row (L to R): Tom Patt, Sue Zacharias, Chris Zacharias, Ann Geise, Sally Miller, Frances Ganance, Chelsea Gottfried, John Howard, Randy Lakes (peeking over John's right shoulder), and Jason Larson. Front row (L to R): Kyle Bailey, Kim Banks, Colleen Sharkey, Gina Patt, your narrator, Molly Kenney, and Dan Kenney. Not pictured is Judy Ganance, who kindly took the photo. Laura Hughes, Mary Ann Barnett, and Kathy and Ned Keller also joined in for part of the excursion, but weren't there when we took this photo. Sorry if I'm missing anyone else.

I took a boatload of photos, but haven't processed many caterpillar images yet. More of those will hopefully follow, in a future post. This is a saddleback caterpillar, Acharia stimulea, always a crowd-pleaser. Fun to look at, less amusing to the touch. This caterpillar packs a punch, possessing one of the most painful stings of any North American caterpillar.

This is the architecturally ornate larva of the comma butterfly, Polygonia comma. Our official larval scribe, Judy Ganance, recorded nearly 50 species of caterpillars seen by the group.

Now this is a treehopper we can all get behind! It's the keeled treehopper, Entylia carinata, an amazing thorn mimic.

This is a pretty cool little fly, if you ask me. It's a dusky-winged hoverfly, Ocyptamus fuscipennis. The larvae are predators of aphids.

Thanks to Laura Hughes for showing us this amazing spider on Friday night. It is the difoliate orbweaver, Acacesia hamata. This is the only member of the genus north of Mexico - apparently there are five or so species south of the U.S.

The handsomely marked female difoliate orbweaver creates an incredible web. The circular strands of the outer web are incredibly close together and there are a great many of them. Probably 75 strands can be seen in just this snippet of the web, which was much larger.

A jumping spider with a handsome trig, freshly seized. The little eight-legged tough wasn't about to give his cricket up, and squared off with me and my camera.

I would say this one is "cute", as spiders go. It's a bolas spider, Mastophora yeargani. Laura Hughes showed it to our group last Saturday night. She made a great find; this is the first confirmed state record. I think this species was only described in 2003, and its basic life history is not well understood. The spider is resting below a twig and staring at the camera; nearby is her egg case.

More photos and stories from this expedition may follow...

Hemphill House, Adams County, Ohio

The Hemphill House, Adams County, Ohio.
(Click the photo to enlarge, as always)

I spent the weekend in Adams County with about 20 friends, canvassing interesting habitats for flora and fauna. We found scads of stuff, and I'll share some of those organisms here, later.

Last Saturday, the group journeyed to a wonderful spot on the banks of the Ohio River, where we located our primary quarry, the amorpha borer beetle, Megacyllene decora. Many other notable finds were made as well. The northbound return trip took us up a winding country lane that I haven't been on in years. Our car caravan crested a low ridge, and the old homestead in the photo suddenly presented itself.

Whoa! I hit the brakes to marvel at the beautiful old stone house, until I remembered I was the point car and had the caravan backed up in a less than safe spot. Off we went, but I resolved to return early the next morning for photos, and did just that.

It turns out that the structure is the Hemphill House, named for James Hemphill. If I've got the history correct, he bought this property in 1805, and probably constructed this house shortly thereafter. Hemphill was said to be a man of means, with much of his wealth derived from his regionally renowned whiskey distilling business.

The house is built like a bank vault. Thick stone walls have allowed the structure to withstand the test of time, and still look solid and nearly inhabitable. Judging by the newer roof, I'd say people did continue to use the house well into the 20th century. I didn't try to enter, of course, but I imagine the inside is probably beyond repair. Nonetheless, the house still stands strong, and I suspect its shell will remain for some time to come.

Zermatt in September 2019: Part 1

The star of Zermatt is the beautiful Matterhorn mountain.

This was taken from above the town from a lovely restaurant in the mountains.

I really like the way they have arranged bottles of flowers on high ledges

 in front of this marvelleous view.

But first of all, we'll visit the town before going up into the mountains for a hike.

Switzerland is well known for its beautiful arrangements of geraniums

and they're particularly beautiful on the wooden chalets.

Here is the hotel we stayed in which is very near the small centre,

but just on the other side of the River Matter Vispa that runs through Zermatt.

A pretty garden in a side street.

You can see the dome of the museum on the upper right.

From the balcony of my hotel room

I could see the Hotel Julen in typical darkened and weathered wood

which shows off the window boxes of flowers so well.

This was taken in the early morning.

Another chalet adorned with flowers and even a pair of mountain boots.

The Zermatterhof is a beautiful hotel in classical style.

This is where my son and his bride stayed last year in August

 and it's where the wedding reception was held.

Here is the link if you would like to see it:

A Wedding in Zermatt

The church steeple of St. Mauritius.

This plaque in the main street is to honour the first man to successfully reach

the summit of the Matternhorn with two guides.

It was a dangerous ascent and the equipment was rather rudimentary.

You can read about it here:

The first ascent of the Matterhorn

On the second day of our stay, we took a funicular up to a station called Sunnegga.

This is the view that greeted us!

You can see the glacier on the right of the image.

We took a small path down to a little hamlet called Findeln.

The cows were still grazing at this high altitude of 2.288 metres.

Soon they will be leaving the mountains to descend down the valley

for their winter quarters.

When we arrived in Findeln, we headed for a wonderful restaurant, called Chez Vrony,

 with fabulous views and a welcoming outside terrace.

The long wooden tables and white parasols make it perfect to sit outside.

Isn't it inviting?

The view is pretty marvellous too.

This is where we had our after lunch coffee.

Inside the chalet restaurant looking out over the sunny terrace.

It must be so snug for skiers here in the winter!

Here are Vrony and Max, the lovely owners of this restaurant.

They kindly allowed me to photograph them.

Here is a typical chalet on stilts used for storing grain.

The large discs of stone prevented rats and mice from climbing into the building

to eat the stored cereal.

When we could tear ourselves away from the lovely terrace and delicious organic food,

we started our descent down the valley.

Another chalet in the same Findeln Hamlet.

The pathway down was quite steep, but the views were fabulous all the way.

If you would like to see more mountain shots,

come back at the end of September when I'll be doing the next blog entry!

I just added this colourful collage to wish you all a very happy

Autumn Equinox

on Monday 23 September!