"We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us."
― Joseph Campbell
The forest fire haze from the north has moved into Wisconsin―goodbye blue sky!
I took Friday off work to search for Sandy Stream Tiger Beetles, but found zero—I checked both Arena and Sauk. In fact, I didn't find a single tiger beetle at any of my river stops. I wasn't completely surprised as we're between the spring and fall emergence seasons. Perhaps the early spring flooding had an impact on reducing their overall numbers, but they can be quite resilient creatures.
Saturday and Sunday I stayed closer to home, exploring the habitat
along Deer Creek. Actually, it's official name is the South Fork of
Pheasant Branch Creek. The north and south forks merge at the confluence pond along Deming Way before flowing into Pheasant Branch Conservancy, and ultimately Lake Mendota.
You may recall that a stretch of the creek was heavily re-engineered for flood mitigation. While many of the trees were removed, a native prairie was planted in their place. Overall, it's not a bad trade-off—I've already noticed more butterflies and dragonflies frequenting the open habitat. Best of all, the specific spot where I monitor hopper insects (suborder Auchenorrhyncha) remained untouched. Thus, it's still the case if I don't want to drive anywhere, I can walk a block and immediately begin insecting.
So, let's take a look at what I found this weekend ...
This little hopper has been featured on my blog many times. In fact, it was one of my first macro photography subjects when I first got my Tamron lens. This is Green Coneheaded Planthopper (Acanalonia conica), which were abundant along the creek.
It's common to find them lined up on a stem, like so ...
This next one is the Northern Flatid Planthopper in the genus Flatormenis ...
A female Locust Treehopper (Thelia bimaculata) ...
Dead end ...
Blazing star in bloom marks the season's pace ...
One of the great things about this two-mile route is its mix of habitats, which brings a natural shift in insect diversity and changes how I approach my photography. It's worth noting that I see far more than I end up photographing. I missed two chances at jumping spiders, for example, because they hopped out of frame before I could get a shot. Sometimes I'll mention species I saw without photo documentation, and other times I won't. It's always the case, though, that I observe far more than what I feature here.
Alright, back to insecting ...
Oh, come on ... line up those wings!
Perhaps it was a type of mating signal?
I really have no idea, but a male moved in quickly, attached, and the paired couple flew in tandem to a quiet perch. Given how fast and frantically Common Buckeyes (Junonia coenia) flutter, tracking them in flight is usually a exercise in frustration—making this encounter a rare moment of good fortune.
A very accommodating Variegated Fritillary (Euptoieta claudia) ...
Coreopsis ...
Lori often reminds me I should do more dragonfly photography. She's right! They're not a priority for me, but they do make nice nature portraits. This one is Eastern Amberwring (Perithemis tenera), one of several that were flying near the South Fork expanded pond.
This next one is an Eastern Pondhawk (Erythemis simplicicollis) ...
I also saw Common Whitetail, Twelve-spotted Skimmer, Halloween Pennant, and Blue Dasher.
It isn't that dragonflies aren't interesting enough to capture my attention and efforts—they absolutely are. In fact, one of the things I find most remarkable about them is that they are among the oldest winged insects on Earth, dating back roughly 300 million years, about 70 million years before the dinosaurs. Can you imagine a dragonfly-like insect with a 30" wingspan?
And naturally ..
A tiger beetle! Thanks to the exposed ground from the mitigation project, there's still a lot of open soil, which has attracted Punctured Tiger Beetles. It's remarkable how quickly a species can colonize fresh habitat. As the newly planted prairie matures and thickens over time, this bare ground will likely disappear, but I'll enjoy their presence while it lasts.
Victorious over a freshly dispatched prey item—what a mess! Having used its lightning-quick speed and sickle-shaped mandibles to overpower its prey, this one takes pause amidst the dismembered remains before resuming patrol.
Unlike our spring-fall species, Punctured Tiger Beetles are true summer specialists—emerging in June, peaking in August, and tapering off by late September. Though dirt common (no pun intended), they're still insects worthy of admiration.
The extreme close-up ...
It can certainly see me, but what does it actually process?
What is a tiger beetle thinking—or can it think at all?
Probably not.
While insects don't possess conscious thought, abstract reasoning, or an inner monologue in the human sense, their brains are far more sophisticated than simple, rigid reflex machines. Operating on anywhere from hundreds of thousands to a million neurons, an insect's neural architecture functions like an ultra-fast, highly optimized mini-computer that evaluates sensory data in real time—weighing competing inputs like hunger, heat, and visual threat to make immediate, adaptive choices. They are capable of genuine learning and memory formation, such as navigating complex landscapes or remembering negative experiences, but their internal world is ultimately driven by hardwired, rapid processing designed for split-second survival decisions rather than subjective, contemplative thought.
All images © 2026 Mike McDowell
