Vance vs. Pope

"Was God on the side of the Americans who liberated France from the Nazis? Was God on the side of the Americans who liberated Holocaust camps and liberated those, those innocent people, you know, those who had survived the Holocaust? I certainly think the answer is yes ... but I think one of the issues here is that if you're going to opine on matters of theology, you've got to be careful. You've got to make sure it's anchored in the truth, and that's one of the things that I try to do, and it's certainly something I would expect from the clergy, whether they’re Catholic or Protestant."

— J.D. Vance

"I contend we are both atheists, I just believe in one fewer god than you do. When you understand why you dismiss all the other possible gods, you will understand why I dismiss yours."

— Stephen F. Roberts

From an intellectually honest, evidence-based perspective, we don't know whether any god or gods exist. Because of that, any claim about which "side" god supports in a geopolitical conflict is ultimately speculative. Both Pope Leo and J. D. Vance are making confident assertions about divine alignment based on their own interpretations of theology and history, but neither has a verifiable way to substantiate those claims.

The Pope's statement that Jesus "is never on the side of those who once wielded the sword and today drop bombs" reflects a particular theological viewpoint rather than an empirically provable fact. Likewise, Vance's claim that god was on the side of Americans during World War II is his own interpretive conclusion, though very likely shared by many Americans. But just because many people believe something doesn't make it true.

During WWII, German soldiers certainly thought "Gott Mit Uns" (god is with us):

In this sense, though, both are attributing positions to god that align with their broader moral, political, or theological frameworks. The exchange highlights how religious language can be used to frame and legitimize political arguments, even when those claims about divine intent cannot be independently verified.

Since no one has the slightest evidence of divine intervention in history, both are merely ventriloquizing for a silent heaven. One baptizes pacifism, the other nationalism, and each calls it theology.

Back to birding and insecting ...

Migration Notes!

"Some people are very competitive in their birding. Maybe they'll die happy, having seen a thousand species before they die, but I'll die happy knowing I've spent all that quiet time being present."

― Lynn Thomson

 

Part I: Migration Update

On Sunday, Pheasant Branch Creek Corridor was alive with Yellow-rumped Warblers. These hardy wood warblers—often the first to arrive in spring migration and the last to depart in fall—seemed to be everywhere, flitting among the budding branches and darting out in aerial sallies to catch emerging insects (mostly midge flies). Common, but still gorgeous.

I'm at 4 warbler species so far this spring:

Yellow-rumped Warbler

Orange-crowned Warbler

Louisiana Waterthrush

Palm Warbler

 

Take a look NEXRAD from early Sunday morning ...

And the wind ...

The overlapping pattern of wind direction and birds aloft. 

 

Migratory birds almost always wait for a tailwind—they can boost speed, conserve energy, and increase survival during migration. Checking NEXRAD radar first thing in the morning provides a preview of what the day's birding might hold. Radar images can reveal large concentrations of migrating  birds, giving birders a heads-up about potential fallouts or heavy migration activity. By checking radar, you can anticipate whether you'll encounter a significant movement of birds or a quieter day in the field.

Having said that, radar conditions don't always translate to uniform bird distribution across all locations. A night with heavy migration might show impressive radar returns, yet specific hotspots can remain surprisingly quiet. This has happened more times than I can recall. The reality is that birds concentrate in favorable habitats, and without local intelligence, you might miss the action entirely. 

 

Here's a nice trail to bird ...

A scenic section of Military Ridge State Trail I cross on my way to work every morning. I'll typically find 20 to 30 species in just 20 minutes. This is where I found an Orange-crowned Warbler this morning, and my first-of-spring Red-headed Woodpecker and Brown Thrasher.

 

Part II: Vesper Sparrows

On the outskirts of Sauk City, I spent some time photographing Vesper Sparrows at a dead-end road near old tiger beetle haunt. While development has since claimed most of the beetle habitat, the sparrows endure (for now). Despite the hurdles of a stiff wind and cloud-filtered light, my digiscoping efforts were rewarded by the their persistent songs rising from the ground and trees.

Perhaps 3 or 4 singing males were present.

A nifty looking sparrow with an incredibly melodious song.

The wind rendered that do!

Part III: Stuff at Baxter's Hollow

A storm was closing in from the west, but we had just enough time to check Baxter's Hollow. As expected, the Louisiana Waterthrushes had returned. I heard two of them counter-singing along Otter Creek, though they remained at too great a distance to photograph. A nearby lightening strike sent us scrambling back to the car, then the sky unleashed its fury was we drove out of the woods.

Round-lobed Hepatica—there was a lot more this time.

Marsh Marigolds were open ...

Skunk Cabbage! The spathe is the colorful bract or leaf-like structure that encloses the spadix (flower cluster) or inflorescence. It's essentially a protective sheath that can be mistaken for a petal but is botanically distinct. 

The spadix, on the other hand, the actual flower cluster itself—a fleshy, spike-like structure covered in numerous tiny flowers. It sits within or emerges from the spathe. The spathe serves to protect the developing spadix and often acts as a visual attractant for pollinators. In some species like skunk cabbage, the spathe can even generate enough heat to melt through snow.

There's something comical about Wood frogs. It's one of the first amphibians to stir in spring, often emerging while snow still blankets the ground. They gather in temporary woodland pools to breed, their quack-like call echoing throughout the hollow.

All images © 2026 Mike McDowell

Who is Rhode? An AI Lesson!

"AI is not just about replicating human intelligence; it’s about creating intelligent systems that can surpass human limitations."

 

— Yann LeCun

AI is handy for finding information, though I never take its word as final. Recently, while researching the Hairy-necked Tiger Beetle subspecies Cicindela hirticollis rhodensis, I encountered something a bit concerning. It all started when I saw the common name 'Rhode’s Tiger Beetle' on the Wisconsin DNR website:

I've always called it the 'rhodensis subspecies' of Hairy-necked Tiger Beetle, but 'Rhode's' made it seem like it might be named for a person. Googling further, I found the subspecies on Minnesota DNR's website as 'Rhode Island' Tiger Beetle:

Interesting ... so was it for someone named Rhode or for the eastern US state?

 

While David Pearson's tiger beetle field guide shows the scientific name described by Edwin E. Calder, I thought to run this by Venice.AI. It responded that the subspecies name honored a 'Charles Rhode.' Given how frequently taxonomic names are eponyms, this seemed entirely plausible — especially since the USFWS website also lists the subspecies as 'Rhode's Tiger Beetle'.

I wanted to learn more about Charles Rhode, but grew suspicious of the attribution when my searches yielded no information about him in the context of tiger beetles. Googling more, I finally located Calder's original 1916 journal description from the New York Entomological Society. He indicated that the beetle was first found in 1903 by entomologist C. Abbott Davis on "sandy beaches along the Atlantic Coast from Point Judith to Narragansett Pier, R.I.":

See that?

The mystery was finally solved: the name rhodensis is actually a geographic reference to Rhode Island, rather than an eponym honoring a person. It seems likely that both the Wisconsin DNR and USFWS fell into a similar naming assumption. 

But here's the really bad part of this saga ...

When I presented my findings to Venice.AI, it admitted to fabricating the narrative about Charles Rhode:

This interaction serves as a clear case study demonstrating that AI outputs must be fact-checked. I generated a plausible-sounding but entirely false narrative regarding the origin of the name rhodensis. This error was only uncovered because the user independently located the primary source material, which directly contradicted my fabricated information. The AI's tendency to infer and create a coherent story, even when specific data is absent, led to the propagation of misinformation. Without the user's critical verification, the incorrect information would have stood.

 

Wow.

 

Being wrong is one thing, but fabricating a narrative? 

 

As far as the common names go, both appear to be in use. While using 'Rhode's' and 'Rhode Island' doesn't alter the scientific nomenclature, I think it's better use the name that accurately reflects the historical and geographic context.

Rhode Island Tiger Beetle it is.

But shame on Venice.AI!

 

Rhode Island Tiger Beetle © 2026 Mike McDowell

Bronzed — Woo hoo!

"But days even earlier than these in April have a charm, — even days that seem raw and rainy... There is a fascination in walking through these bare early woods, — there is such a pause of preparation, winter's work is so cleanly and thoroughly done. Everything is taken down and put away... All else is bare, but prophetic: buds everywhere, the whole splendor of the coming summer concentrated in those hard little knobs on every bough."

— Thomas Wentworth Higginson

Part I: The River

 

April has arrived, bringing its grand awakening as Nature's brushstrokes of migration, emergence, and growth transform the brown landscape into vibrant masterpieces.

 

Despite recovering from a stomach bug that made for a slow Saturday, Sue and I returned to the Sauk area for a Sunday Nature outing. Following recent rain and northern snowmelt, we found the river running higher than usual at the canoe launch. With cooler temperatures and the reduced shoreline, I didn't expect to see any tiger beetles, but they were already active upon arrival, darting across what remained of their hunting grounds. All were Bronzed (Cicindela repanda).

This brings the count to five tiger beetle species found so far this year. Will I manage to track down all 16 Wisconsin species in a single season? Probably not! But since 14 of those can be found between Sauk and Spring Green, the goal always seems reachable — especially since Sue is eyeing Cowpath and Long-lipped tiger beetles now. Those two species require trips up north, but her interest might be the extra push I need to make it happen again. 

It's beetle portrait time ...

You can clearly see how the red and green microsculpture renders the bronzed coloration of this species' elytra ...

The elytra serve as a protective shield for the beetle's delicate hindwings and abdomen. When a tiger beetle prepares to fly, it raises these hardened forewings, which then allows the membranous flight wings underneath to unfold and generate lift. This dual-wing system is a defining characteristic of the order Coleoptera, which includes all beetles.

This next one shows the microsculpture even better ...

Usually there's a lot more exposed shoreline — note the plants in the water ...

On our way out, this section of trail had a few Oblique-lined Tiger Beetles, but I didn't stop to photograph them ...

Part II: More Spring Ephemerals

Leaving Sauk, we returned to Middleton to search for more spring ephemerals; first the Pheasant Branch creek corridor, then the prairie parcel. I know of a spot where I suspected Bloodroot (Sanguinaria canadensis) would be open, and they were ...

And then the hike up the drumlin to find Pasqueflowers (Anemone patens) ...

They're not yet at peak, but a few were open ...

Perched in an oak overlooking the prairie remnant and flowers, a solitary Field Sparrow held its tongue, seemingly more interested in us than in its own melody. While the beetles, birds, and wildflowers follow the Earth's ancient, rhythmic schedule, their brilliance remains a kind of surprise. At least, that's how I experience it when I see them for the first time every season. Nature's masterpieces are timed — we just have to be the ones who finally show up to watch them do their thing.

All images © 2026 Mike McDowell