"There is something about a fire on a dark night, a fire shared with others, that pulls the gloom right out of you. We sat around the cheery little blaze with the branches popping as they burned with the flames dancing, and although we hadn't eaten that day, I could feel our spirits rise along with the smoke that drifted toward the stars."
― William Kent Krueger
I'd been anticipating this trip all spring and summer. Once again, Sue and I loaded up and headed north to Paya Lake for a week away from the bustle of city life. There's something about Wisconsin's Northwoods — the still mornings on the water, the scent of pine drifting on the breeze, the echoing calls of loons — that settles me the moment we arrive. The Chequamegon–Nicolet National Forest feels like a second home, only wilder.
Our first day was spent at
Seagull Bar State Natural Area, where I set out to search the sandy shoreline for tiger beetles. Birds weren't really a priority, but I'm always listening for them. Though gulls were abundant, I only paused long enough to take a few obligatory shots of Ring-billeds loafing on the rocks near the parking lot. Alas, I did miss an opportunity to digiscope a Sanderling.
We found a deceased Lake Sturgeon on the shore — sadly, the first one I've ever encountered. Even in death, it was an impressive sight — a relic of an ancient lineage that still inhabits the Great Lakes.
Seagull Bar lies where the Menominee River meets Lake Michigan, forming a long, narrow sand spit that stretches out into the bay. It's a place shaped by water and wind — wide sand flats, shifting dunes, and open shorelines that feel wild and exposed. The shallow waters and mudflats attract a mix of shorebirds and waterfowl during migration, while the sandy barrens provide habitat for rare plants and insects (especially tiger beetles). Walking out along the bar, you're surrounded on all sides by open sky and water, with Lake Michigan rolling against the shore and gulls wheeling constantly overhead. It's both stark and beautiful.
On account of the cooler weather, we didn't spot any tiger beetles at first. But after about half an hour, they began to emerge. I headed to the spot where I usually find Twelve-spotted Tiger Beetles, and sure enough, there they present.
The sunlight was occasionally filtered by clouds, but that actually worked to my advantage. One thing I enjoy about photographing tiger beetles in this softer light is how much more evident the elytral microsculpture (surface texture or patterning on an insect's exoskeleton) becomes. In direct sun, the iridescent glare can wash out some of that fine detail, but under cloud cover, it really stands out.
Not to get caught up in the numbers game, but this is TB species #12 for 2025.
This time the water was shallow enough for us to wade across to the island at the southern end. Seagull Bar has transformed quite a bit over the decades (see Google Earth) — sometimes the island connects with the main spit, while at other times much of the entire stretch has been submerged beneath the bay. Check the year 2020 for that!
A Shoreline Wolf Spider — the same species I encounter at Sauk along the Wisconsin River.
Onto the next target species ...
This teneral Hairy-necked Tiger Beetle shows a coloration that closely resembles a Common Claybank. In entomology, a teneral adult is a freshly emerged beetle that has just completed its final molt, with a still-soft exoskeleton. Although these specimens belong to the rhodensis subspecies, research suggests they are not genetically distinct from the nominate form. That raises a question: could differences in color and maculations be shaped more by environmental factors — perhaps during larval development — than by true genetic divergence at the subspecies level.
No matter, I always try to find as many different ones as I can.
Here are a few with disrupted maculations.
Again, note the detailed microsculpture.
And this one has almost no maculations:
And that was pretty much day-one! Unfortunately for me, I planned poorly and got a pretty bad sunburn, so the following day we took it easy by boating around Paya Lake.
Another place we wanted to check out was
Hagar Mountain State Natural Area. Google first led us to a spot with no trailhead, though we noticed an unmarked parking area a few hundred feet back. We drove around searching for a sign for the SNA, but eventually returned to the unmarked lot. There were still no signs, but the trail we found there seemed to head in the direction we were hoping for.
It turned out to be the spot!
A cool small falls along the way ...
We also returned to McCaslin Brook ...
And Cathedral Pines ...
Warblers observed throughout the week included Cape May, Golden-winged, Nashville, Black-and-white, Black-throated Green, Blackburnian, Northern Waterthrush, Yellow-rumped, and Common Yellowthroat. Red-eyed Vireos and Red-breasted Nuthatches proved the most abundant passerines, though we also came across a single Yellow-throated Vireo and a Hermit Thrush.
Paya Lake was calm in the evenings, the kind of calm that made the crackle of a campfire feel timeless. We'd settle in with bourbon in hand, guitars balanced across our laps, and let the night take its course. Songs were half-polished and improvisational, conversations delightfully nonsensical — threads of thought that wandered as freely as the sparks rising into the dark. Looking back, it wasn't about playing perfectly or saying anything profound. It was about how easy it felt to lose track of time, to be carried along by laughter, music, and the simple warmth of fire and companionship in the quiet Northwoods of Wisconsin.
All images © 2025 Mike McDowell
