"There are some who can live without wild things and some who cannot."
― Aldo Leopold
Can you believe it? It's already mid-June. The Summer Solstice is less than a week away, and then the long trek to winter begins once again. Wanting to soak up every photon of peak daylight, Sue and I spent Sunday exploring Spring Green Preserve — Wisconsin's spectacular
Desert Prairie. Walking the transition line where the dense hardwood forest meets the open prairie you get a real sense of just how dramatic and diverse some of southern Wisconsin's ecosystems can be. Seldom does this natural area disappoint the keen-eyed critter enthusiast.
Our morning began on a cool, windy, and overcast note, leaving me a bit concerned that the day's finds might be somewhat slim. But wow, was I ever wrong. It ended up turning into another fantastic nature adventure.
Once in the wooded area, we began inspecting oak saplings for insects. Within a few minutes I located Archasia auriculata, a treehopper. Sporting a massive, high-arched green pronotum that mimics a fresh bud, it's a master of camouflage, perfectly adapted to its habitat. Though these oddities look AI generated, these are real creatures you can find in our wild outdoors.
Its scientific name reflects this regal, armor-like look. Archasia comes from the Greek archos, meaning "chief" or "ruler," paired with a root referencing a shield or helm. Combined with auriculata ("eared"), you're looking at the "Eared Chief" or "Helmeted Ruler" of the oak saplings — fitting titles for an insect that looks like it's wearing an ancient, ceremonial helmet.
And then Sue found another species ...
These ones are Glossonotus univittatus, more of a thorn mimic.
More Archasia auriculata ...
Hmm, what's going on here ...
Is it love, war, or a traffic jam? Who gives way with something like this? ;)
These next two are Archasia belfragei — note the slight difference in coloration and markings ...
Nifty looking things, aren't they? When you hike places like Spring Green Preserve, the real magic isn't just about getting exercise or looking at the big scenery; it's about tuning your eyes to a completely different scale. It's the contrast between looking up at a wide-open prairie landscape and then looking down to find a tiny, hidden world.
Though all were closed when we first arrived, once the sun came out the Prickly Pear put on an awesome display. It's amazing what a little mid-June heat can do. Within an hour, our corner of the sand prairie went from quiet green and gray to a stunning expanse of vibrant yellow blossoms.
Sand Milkwort above, and Spiderwort below ...
Venus' looking-glass ...
Common Spring Moth (Heliomata cycladata) above, and Banded Hairstreak (Satyrium calanus) below.
As fortune would have it, I found my first Punctured Tiger Beetle (Cicindela punctulata) of the year, just a smidge early by my records. That's 10 tiger beetle species for 2026 so far.
I didn't spend much time photographing beetles during this outing, but I did stop for a very cooperative Big Sand (Cicindela formosa) ...
The open sand was alive with activity — robber flies were out in full force. While I managed to capture the Efferia albibarbis shown above, there were also numerous Proctacanthus hinei darting around that I didn't attempt to photograph. Perhaps next time!
While prone, this colorful spider crawled my way ...
It's an American Rockweaver (Titanoeca americana). Members of its entire family (Titanoecidae) are collectively known as rockweavers because of where they love to hang out — nestling under stones, rocks, and loose leaf litter where they spin specialized, somewhat woolly, cribellate webs.
Getting closer ...
Let's see, what else ...
A female Twelve-spotted Skimmer above, and an adult Antlion below ...
Birdsong was somewhat muted early on, but once the sun came out, the avian activity exploded. An array of species began vocally defending territories, including Lark Sparrow, Grasshopper Sparrow, Field Sparrow, Eastern Towhee, Eastern Kingbird, Eastern Meadowlark, and Eastern Bluebird. Moving along the wooded edge, diversity climbed with Indigo Bunting, both Baltimore and Orchard Orioles, Rose-breasted Grosbeak, Scarlet Tanager, Yellow-throated Vireo, and a distant Pileated Woodpecker. To top it off, I heard a Blue Grosbeak vocalize a few times from the thickets, but I didn't bother to track it down for a glimpse or photo.
Dickcissels were everywhere ...
Common right now, they travel a long way to get to Wisconsin. The absolute core of their wintering range is the llanos region of central Venezuela — a massive expanse of seasonally flooded tropical grasslands and savannas.
Good grief, this was a mammoth post. I'll admit, I suffer from being blogligated — the weekend compulsion to head outdoors and gather material for the next post. Even without a blog, I'd still do it. But sitting down to sort photos and structure a post is the hardest part of the entire endeavor, especially when I've come home with hundreds of images. The trail itself feels effortless, even when it's physically demanding — hiking, climbing, balancing, and crouching. Any sense of the work waiting afterward disappears the moment my boots hit the dirt and start finding things to admire, photograph, and write about.
All images © 2026 Mike McDowell
