Readers’ wildlife photos

June 10, 2026 • 9:30 am

I got two new batches of photos!  So hooray for the readers! Today’s photos come from Ephraim Heller, whose captions and IDs are indented. You can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Little St. Simons Island is an 11,000-acre barrier island on the coast of Georgia. Much of it is salt marsh, with a few islands in freshwater ponds for wading bird rookeries. I was lucky to spend a week there in April, during the nesting season. This post focuses on the wading birds, and my next post will focus on other species.

I got up before sunrise every day to bicycle to the rookery:

Like flamingos, roseate spoonbills (Platalea ajaja) cannot synthesize pink pigments on their own. Instead, the carotenoid pigments accumulated from shrimp, crayfish, and other invertebrates eaten over a lifetime are deposited directly into growing feathers. Young birds have pale, nearly white plumage; the color deepens progressively with age, so a deep magenta spoonbill is also an older one.

The distinctive, flattened, spatulate bill is a swept laterally through shallow water with the mandibles slightly open, detecting prey by touch rather than sight, necessary in turbid water.

During courtship, male and female spoonbills initially interact with some aggression, then settle into ritualized exchanges: perching close together, presenting sticks to each other, and clasping bills.

Anhinga (Anhinga anhinga) lack waterproofed outer plumage that repels water. While enabling the birds to pursue fish underwater, they must subsequently dry their feathers before they can fly efficiently. Hence, the familiar spread-winged posture seen on sunny perches. Wing-spreading also serves thermoregulatory functions, helping the birds warm up after a cold swim.

Stick-carrying by the male is pair bonding behavior: the male begins nest construction before he has a mate, placing large sticks in tree forks, and continues to supply material while the female does most of the actual building.

During breeding, the bill of the tricolored heron (Egretta tricolor) shifts to a brilliant blue with a black tip, the loral skin becomes cobalt blue, and the iris turns scarlet red. The individuals I saw must not yet have been in their breeding plumage.

The prehistoric-looking wood stork (Mycteria americana) is the only stork species that breeds in North America. The species was listed as federally endangered in 1984 after its population dropped more than 75% from 1930s levels, primarily due to habitat alteration in the Florida Everglades. It was downlisted to threatened in 2014 following population expansion northward into Georgia and the Carolinas. Georgia is now a stronghold. In 2026, the federal government removed the species from the threatened list, reflecting a breeding population estimated at 10,000–14,000 nesting pairs across roughly 100 colonies.

Wood storks require falling water levels at foraging sites. As water recedes, prey concentrates in shrinking pools, providing the density of fish that a nesting pair needs to raise chicks. A pair with active nestlings requires approximately 400 pounds of fish over a breeding season.

The great egret’s (Ardea alba) breeding plumage almost drove the species to extinction. In spring, the loral skin shifts from yellow to a vivid lime green, and long, filamentous plumes (aigrettes, from the French for egret) grow from the shoulder region, trailing over the back. Each aigrette consists of approximately 35 strands of slim feathers. These plumes develop for the breeding season and are shed afterward.

In the late 19th century, the aigrettes for the millinery (hat-making) trade commanded prices per ounce that were twice that of gold, and hunters shot entire breeding colonies in a single event. The resulting public backlash was instrumental in forming the early conservation movement in the United States. In 1896, Harriet Hemenway and her cousin Minna Hall organized Boston society women into a boycott of feathered hats, which led directly to the founding of the Massachusetts Audubon Society and eventually the National Audubon Society. The Massachusetts Audubon Society, in turn, helped pass the 1897 Massachusetts law prohibiting the feather trade, the 1900 Lacey Act, and eventually the 1918 Migratory Bird Treaty Act. The great egret is now the symbol of the National Audubon Society.

10-12. In the colony, the male selects a nest territory and then displays: calling, performing circular flights, and stretching the neck upward with the bill pointed skyward. Males bring sticks to females sitting on nests for pair-bond reinforcement.

The aigrettes of the snowy egret (Egretta thula) were even more valuable to plume hunters than those of the great egret, and by around 1900 scientists estimated that as few as 250 snowy egrets remained in North America. Numbers recovered rapidly once hunting stopped, but habitat loss remains an issue. In these photos you can see that the loral skin of some birds is yellow (non-breeding plumage) and in other birds it is pink (breeding plumage).

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 9, 2026 • 8:15 am

I forgot to post part 2 of Abby Thompson‘s latest batch of California intertidal photos, so here they are (the first batch is here). Abby’s captions and IDs are indented, and, as always, you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

The stars of this set, improbably enough, are two flatworms.   The first two pictures are of the elegant Eurylepta californica, which I think of as the “art-deco flatworm”.  It’s rare up here; I’ve found it once before.  The next flatworm (Family Euryleptidae) is an undescribed species.   It’s been recorded several times, almost all in the Monterey Bay area.    This is its third sighting (as recorded on inaturalist) this far north.  There isn’t agreement on the genus. It’s a beauty, and it’s unusual to have such a striking animal remain undescribed.   Both worms are about ¾” long.

Eurylepta californica (striped polyclad flatworm) Art deco flatworm:

Eurylepta californica:

Family Euryleptidae (Yellow frilly flatworm):

The starfish plague of several years ago was devastating along the coast, and several species (like the incredible sunflower stars) have not recovered, but the ochre stars are back with a vengeance.     I see many more of them than of the bat stars, but the next picture is one of each buddying up on a rock above the low tide line.

Patiria miniate and Pisaster ochraceus (bat star (red) and ochre star (yes, purple)):

The next three pictures are a slightly deceptive series.    I’m not sure that the first two pictures really are otter tracks, but the alternative is probably raccoon tracks, and otter is a better match.   They did not, in fact, end on the beach right next to the where I saw the otter in the third picture.   But at least the third picture below is definitely an otter.   This almost surely is a river otter, not a sea otter, as are most seen around here.

Otter tracks:

Close-up of otter tracks:

Lontra canadensis (North American river otter):

Finally, the roof of a cave, with sea anemones (green and pinkAnthopleura xanthogrammica and Anthopleura elegantissima) and sponges (the bright red-orange, not possible to ID from a photo):

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 8, 2026 • 8:15 am

Well, this is the last batch of photos I have, and it’s very sad to run out. How far this Ozymandias has decayed!

But today we have lovely flower photos from Rik Gern of Austin, Texas. Rik’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge his photos by clicking on them.

The last two batches of pictures I sent you consisted mostly of images in which a brown earth tone color predominated, so I thought I’d change the pace with a softer and more delicate palette this time.

These pictures were taken in the first few months of the year while taking short walks around the neighborhood in South Austin.

The first pictures are of a blossoming tree, the Mexican Plum (Prunis mexicana). Taking pictures of a tree’s flowers is a different experience from photographing ground  flowers, because it’s more immersive and you feel like you’re stepping into another world. I could live in this world forever!

Mexican Ruella (Ruellia simplex) not only has a beautiful flower, but is a sturdy plant that can survive both drought and flood conditions.

I’d always thought of the beauty below as a Wandering Jew (Tradescantia zebrina), but a search for the Latin name informed me that it is now to be referred to as the *Wandering Dude. The common assumption was that the name referred to Israelites wandering the desert and/or Jews displaced due to persecution, but there was also a 13th century myth of a Jewish man who heckled Jesus while he carried his cross on his way to crucifixion and was then condemned to wander the desert till the second coming. The name “Wandering Jew” is now considered bad because the story of Jesus’ alleged heckler was used to justify anti-Semitism. I had never even heard of the heckler story, so the name seemed benign to me and if anything seemed sympathetic, and the flower seemed like a reminder that even the displaced and wandering can produce beauty. Every Jewish person I’ve mention this to has been surprised and said that they never found the original name offensive. My question is, did the name change protect Jews, or did the Dude culturally appropriate the Jew? Or could the Dude be Jewish? I wonder if we need to consult the Cohen brothers? Whatever you call it, the flowers sure are pretty!

[JAC: I never found the name or the term offensive. In fact, in college I formed a group called “The Wandering Jews,” a group that accepted weird people but did nothing other than that.]

The last flowers are from another tree, the Texas mountain laurel (Dermatophyllum secundiflorum), a hardy plant that smells as good as it looks. Another world I could live in forever!:

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 6, 2026 • 8:30 am

I have but one batch of photos left, and I’ll save them. But if you have some, be sure to send them in.  In lieur of wildlife photos, I’ll substitute two items of local interest.

First, two pictures of consorting with my squirrels at Botany Pond. Since I’m oten there feeding or tending ducks, the resident squirrels (there are three) have sussed me out as a source of food. And, sure enough, I have bought good stuff to give them: walnuts in the shell, shelled almonds, and roasted but unsalted peanuts (I have to worry about their blood pressure).

Over a few months I have tamed them, starting with introducing them to walnuts (there’s nothing like seeing a squirrel’s first encounter with a walnut!), and then gradually allowing them to get closer. Finally, I’ve trained them to crawl up my body to get a nut or eat from my hand when I’m sititng down, as in the photos below.  Having been severely bitten by a baby squirrel years ago, I proceeded very gradually, rebuking them when they gently nibbled my fingers. These photos are the result of several months of labor.

Now we are friends, and for the first time this week one of them allowed me to pet her.  (She’s a lactating female.)  When I was feeding her, a kind lady sitting on the facing bench took photos, and asked me if I wanted them. Of course I said yes, and here are two.  In the first, the squirrel (unnamed) crawls onto my shoulder, and in the second I am petting a squirrel while she gets a nut.

Yes, I know it’s weird; you don’t have to tell me.

Madame Squirrel gets a peanut:

They have very soft fur:

Last night I was woken up at 1:40 in the morning, but didn’t know why, as I was sleeping well. Then I saw lights flashing on and off in my crib, like lights on a fire engine or police car. They were very regular, and so I prowled around to find the source. It took me a while to realize that they weren’t in my place, but coming from the outside. I went out on the balcony (just the landing of a fire escape) and saw repeated and semi-regular flashing behind the clouds. It must have been lightning, but there was no thunder.

I groggily found my iPhone and filmed some of the atmospheric fracas, which went on for a long time. Here is a bit over a minute of it, which I posted on YouTube (it briefly goes out of focus).  The sound is on, but you won’t hear thunder.

It was cloudy, so you can’t see the lights of downtown.

Looking for “lightning, June 6” on the Internet, I found one video taken near downtown Chicago.  Here you can see the lightning. The poster describes it as an “epic lightening storm”:  There’s also a video similar to mine on reddit.

From Facebook:

It was quite a storm, but the rain has abated, so graduation this morning will be cloudy but dry.

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 4, 2026 • 8:15 am

Reader Mark Joseph, inspired by my post on leucistic Australian ducks, went in an example and some other photos. Mark’s captions and IDs are indented, and you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them.

Your post this morning coincidentally arrived as did this photo from a person in our birdwatching group; it’s a leucistic house finch (Haemorhous mexicanus):

And, to give you a small set instead of a singleton, here are a couple of my feeble efforts, all taken with an iPhone in suburban southwestern Michigan. Hopefully, you can use them. I know even less about flowers and insects than I do about birds, so all identifications are courtesy of Gemini.

A zinnia (This specific variety is likely a Zinnia elegans, such as the ‘Canary Bird’ or ‘Benary’s Giant Yellow’ cultivar”) with a bumblebee (“specifically consistent with the Common Eastern Bumblebee, Bombus impatiens). I have enjoyed taking photos of flowers and insects together:

Spotted Knapweed (Centaurea stoebe, sometimes classified as Centaurea maculosa). Unfortunately, it is invasive:

A crabapple tree and a closeup.  This closeup helps narrow it down to a Sargent Crabapple (Malus sargentii) or a Siberian Crabapple (Malus baccata).

Sargent Crabapple (Malus sargentii) or a Siberian Crabapple (Malus baccata):

This is a Big Brown Bat (Eptesicus fuscus) or a Little Brown Bat (Myotis lucifugus).These two species look nearly identical from a distance and are the two most common bats found roosting on residential brick walls across North America.

Brown marmorated stink bug (Halyomorpha halys).When we first moved here and I decided to take some pictures, I got all excited because I was able to get a really good picture. Then I found out it was a stink bug, and invasive to boot. So, not a new species of peacock. But, it’s one of the things evolution has produced. Order Hemiptera, the “true bugs.”

A Shaggy Inkcap (Coprinus comatus), commonly known as a Shaggy Mane or Lawyer’s Wig. The next day the cap is just black goo, and the day after, nothing is left but the stem:

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 3, 2026 • 8:30 am

Leucism, the absence of pigment in all or parts of the body in animals, is a genetic condition often mistaken for albinism (leucistic animals havenormally pigmented eyes).  It’s found in all sorts of animals, from reptiles to mammals, and Scott Ritchie has spotted it in Australian ducks.  Scott sent some pictures, which you can enlarge by clicking on them, and his captions are indented:

The leucistic Plumed Whistling Duck (Dendrocygna eytoni), is back at Hasties Swamp, Queensland, the white one in in middle.  We  have seen it for at least 2 years running. And “he/she” appears to have busy, with at least one (several white light feathers head and breast), and perhaps 3 (2 based on “forehead” feathers) individuals showing leucicism traits. It’s interesting that they were hanging together at the log to the left of the hide.

This last picture is of normal-type duck:

 

Readers’ wildlife photos

June 2, 2026 • 8:15 am

Do send in your photos if you have good one; we are missing many regulars, though I won’t drop names.

But today we have some plant photos by Rik Gern of Austin, Texas. Rik’s captions and IDs are indented, and, as always, you can enlarge the photos by clicking on them:

Here are some pictures of a mushroom that isn’t conventionally attractive, but is interesting nonetheless. This Hairy HexagoniaHexagoia hydnoides) has been growing on the stump of a Hackberry tree (Celtis occidentalis) in my front yard for some time now.

This mushroom has no stem and hardens over time. I tapped on it, and it appears to have the density of balsa wood.  The underside has striped bands and you can see the small cylindrical spores.

Before it hardened, the mushroom was soft enough for blades of grass to grow through, and poke out the top:

The cap is convex and in addition to being banded like the underside, is covered with small hairs:

This closeup makes the hairs look wet, but they are dry and brittle:

Another closeup gives the impression of a hilly, arid landscape:

The impulse to anthropomorphize must really run deep, because when I look at this picture of two Hairy Hexagonia caps touching I think of courtship and a gentle reaching out!:

I use the app Seek by iNaturalist to identify species, and the next mushroom shows the limits of relying on that app. These popped up on the ground next to the Hairy Hexagonia during a rainy spell. Unlike the Hexagonia, they lasted only a few days. iNaturalist consistently gave me two different answers depending on the vantage point I used when talking pictures. The choices it gave me were Pale Brittlestem (Candolleomyces candolleanus) and Coprinopsis strossmayer, for which I could find only the Latin name, but no common name. Of the two, I’d pick Pale Brittlestem because an image search shows mushrooms that look more like the ones I saw, but it serves a reminder that any identification made thru an app is provisional.

Anyway, I thought the gills on these two looked cool, so I accentuated them a little: