"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
























































