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

Something 'wonderful' is about to happen ...

Just Birding ...

Pheasant Branch Creek Corridor
Apr 4, 2026 10:00 AM - 11:30 AM
41 species

Canada Goose  
Wood Duck  
Mallard  
Wild Turkey  
Mourning Dove  
Sandhill Crane  
Killdeer  
Ring-billed Gull  
Great Blue Heron  
Bald Eagle  
Red-tailed Hawk  
Belted Kingfisher  
Yellow-bellied Sapsucker  
Red-bellied Woodpecker  
Downy Woodpecker  
Hairy Woodpecker  
Eastern Phoebe  
Blue Jay  
American Crow  
Black-capped Chickadee  
Tufted Titmouse  
Ruby-crowned Kinglet  
Golden-crowned Kinglet  
White-breasted Nuthatch  
Carolina Wren  
European Starling  
Hermit Thrush  
American Robin  
Cedar Waxwing  
House Sparrow  
House Finch  
American Goldfinch  
Fox Sparrow  
Dark-eyed Junco  
White-throated Sparrow  
Song Sparrow  
Red-winged Blackbird  
Brown-headed Cowbird  
Common Grackle  
Yellow-rumped Warbler  
Northern Cardinal

March Ends!

"March, when days are getting long, let thy growing hours be strong to set right some wintry wrong."

— Caroline May

And that's March! It goes by so quickly ...

 
Part I: Baxter's Hollow

 

Sunday, Baxter's Hollow in the Baraboo Hills. It was warm enough to draw out the first blooms of Round-lobed Hepatica (Hepatica americana) — this is the earliest I've ever found them open. Baxter's seemed like a good idea on how to spend a quiet Sunday in Nature. Again, there weren't a lot of birds yet, but April is sure to bring more our way. I was kind of hoping for an early Louisiana Waterthrush, but none were detected. There were, however, plenty of Eastern Phoebes.

 

That recent post (the diminutive Freiday quote) on tech birding apparently struck a chord, drawing significant traffic to this blog. Regular readers know I've long been critical of technology's growing role in the field. I'll be blunt: an over-reliance on these apps and devices comes at the cost of true immersion in Nature. The last thing I want is a digital ping or an AI voice dictating my experience, constantly pulling me to a screen. 

 

While birding the creek corridor a few weeks back, Sue and I were approached by a couple curious about what we were looking at with our binoculars. I mentioned Fox Sparrows and Golden-crowned Kinglets. Then the man eagerly pulled out his phone to show me the Merlin app. "It lets me know what birds are here!" he said, marveling proudly at the technology. I feigned ignorance and let him show me how it all works. Part of me wanted to say something like: I know something even better ... what's going to be here tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day after that. Lost is the immersion, the skill of deep listening, the development of intuition, and other field skills. I hear the same excuses that it's just a way to get started, but they didn't even have binoculars.  

 

I feel fortunate that my connection to the natural world started early and without crutches. I began collecting fossils at four, stargazing as an amateur astronomer by ten, and endlessly captivated by insects, birds, and other wildlife. Plants and wildflowers were a later endeavor, but for years, my approach was always to observe, document, collect, and learn. I used to be a pinner (butterflies), but I stopped doing that ages ago. If you're my age and you're just starting now, well, you've missed a lot. Perhaps an app is the best you can do, but it's like flash cards. This is why I agree with Freiday: tech-assisted birding doesn't produce the same caliber of naturalist.  

I do use my smartphone for blog photography, like nearly all of my landscape shots ...

And digiscoping birds, like this Eastern Phoebe, with an antiquated mirror-less digital camera ...

Ultimately, the choice isn't necessarily between technology and tradition, but between two different kinds of connection. One offers instant identification, a digital shortcut to a name. The other demands patience, attention, and the slow cultivation of a deeper sense of place. When we trade the quiet work of listening and observing for the immediate gratification of an app, we may gain a checklist, but we lose the profound satisfaction that comes from earning the knowledge ourselves. We risk becoming tourists in Nature, rather than inhabitants of it, forever looking at a screen and pixels instead of truly seeing the world around us. 

 

Part II: Sauk Prairie State Recreational Area

 

And since it's so close to Baxter's, a quick tiger beetle check was in order.

You may recall that a few Oblique-lined Tiger Beetles emerged on March 8th. During this visit there were probably 30 or more on the prowl for ants and other small insects. 

This is as close as I can get with my macro rig ...

Just portraits of Sauk Rec's awesome tiger beetle habitat on a gorgeous day ...

That's all for now ... see you in April!

 

All images © 2026 Mike McDowell

March Bug Hunt!

"When you see something excellent or something very beautiful, a silent astonishment will be the greatest word one can ever say to celebrate this excellence!"

― Mehmet Murat ildan 

Saturday's near-80° heat at Spring Green Preserve prompted a bug hunt instead of birding. With temperatures set to drop Sunday by 40 degrees, it was a prime opportunity to search for early tiger beetles and other insects. You may recall I had a difficult time finding Splendid Tiger Beetle last spring, and eventually found just one individual. Although I saw more during their second emergence in late summer, I began to worry they were disappearing from the bluff. Another tiger beetle enthusiast suggested I might be looking at the wrong time, as they could be emerging earlier than the April timeframe I typically search for them.

 

Perhaps he was right.

But first, a Green Stink Bug ...

And a small Wolf Spider ...

At the top of the bluff, the breeze was strong enough to keep the tiger beetles hidden, so I moved to a lower, more sheltered spot out of the wind. This area, facing the sun directly, was also noticeably warmer.

And there they were!

This is the earliest I've ever observed Splendid Tiger Beetle by nearly a month.

Collecting portraits ...

I like the lichen it's on. Although the beetle would explore other parts of the rocky outcropping, it consistently returned to this particular perch.

 

Uh oh ...

That's a male Claybank Tiger Beetle attempting to mate with a female Splendid Tiger Beetle. As longtime readers of my blog may recall, hybridization between these two closely related species does occur, according to Pearson et al. In fact, some DNA studies suggest that the Splendid, Common Claybank, and Green Claybank are not separate species at all, but rather variations of a single species.

 

Here's a handsome Claybank ... 

As I moved closer for a better photograph, I startled it, and it flew off toward the top of the bluff.

 

I uttered an expletive.  

Above and below, some Festive Tiger Beetle Portraits ...

This is astonishing. To find four tiger beetle species already, and it's not even April, is a clear sign that something may be fundamentally shifting. But that's the critical question, and it's easy to second-guess a surprising observation. Am I just noticing something that's always happened on the occasional warm March day? But when you see this kind of diversity this early, it seems like more than just an unusually warm day. 

 

Despite the heat, I expected to see more butterflies, but the only one was a single Mourning Cloak Sue spotted. I also came up empty on Oblique-lined Tiger Beetles, finding none at all. While other insects were around — some small bees, flies, and a few Cuerna fenestella sharpshooter hoppers — the hoppers were too skittish to photograph.

Though it was a weekend of bug hunting, there were FOY aves:

 

Carolina Wren

Eastern Phoebe 

Tree Swallow

Golden-crowned Kinglet

Great Blue Heron

 

All images © 2026 Mike McDowell