Today’s photos come from two sources. First, a fly from Diana MacPherson.
Hi Jerry, below are some images I took of a deer fly (Chrysops excitans) that rested for quite a long time on my glass table outside this evening. I took various angles but I think the side angle is the best even though the wings look rather pretty reflecting the colours above in the back angle.
Four photos form Arthur Williams of Ohio, whose captions are indented:
I have been combing my little sylvan suburban wilderness to find the nest of the red-shouldered hawks, Buteo lineatus, that I knew was in the area based on the everyday appearance of mom or dad in our copse of trees out back. I finally found it hiding in plain sight in a neighbor’s maple tree, aggressively pruned by the power company to avoid the lines that crisscross the half-hearted deciduous jungles of southwestern Ohio. The juvenile is on the left, I think, and the very next day he fledged, as I haven’t seen him back since, much to my chagrin.
The bug-eyed Northern cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis, is in our Canadian Cherry, Prunus virginiana, getting his carotene fix from the red berries that are nearly gone. The sharp-eyed arborist might also note a third species in the tree or at least its extended phenotype. The fungus, Apiosporina morbosa, produces the scabrous welts better known as “Black Knot” on the branches of susceptible fruit trees and is very difficult to eradicate; this explains the shabby condition of the tree.
The honey bees Apis mellifera are swarming in our hedge maple tree, Acer campestre; it was an awesome site to see thousands of bees swarming their new queen, so intent on her that the whole swarm could be coaxed into a box and carted off to form a new colony. We contacted a local beekeeper’s association to see if they wanted to find the bees a new home, but they had moved on before they could arrive to collect them.
The last shot is of my little street, ordinary in every way, except when it’s bathed in the lunacy of a full moon, with the smoky mists of a summer downpour hanging in the air, filtering the reflected moonbeams into surreal pastel blues that the thousands of screaming frogs (species unknown) seem to enjoy. That there is so much wildlife in this little patch, completely incurious about some damned virus or a certain bloviating orange barnacle, keeps me centered and just barely sane.