"Summer was here again. Summer, summer, summer. I loved and hated summers. Summers had a logic all their own and they always brought something out in me. Summer was supposed to be about freedom and youth and no school and possibilities and adventure and exploration. Summer was a book of hope. That's why I loved and hated summers. Because they made me want to believe."
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz
― Benjamin Alire Sáenz
The Summer Solstice came and went without much fanfare last Monday. Well, some birds may have noticed something, or at least experienced subtle changes they themselves aren't necessarily aware of. Birds detect photoperiodic light with brain receptors, probably in the hypothalamus, rendering a circadian rhythm in melatonin secretion. They use the annual cycle of photoperiod to ensure seasonal events like breeding, molt, and song production, happen at the appropriate time of year. I've already noticed changes in frequency and style of some birdsong.
Summer may be the best time of year for photographing insects, but once I know the daylight hours are getting shorter, I'm already pondering fall and winter. We've only lost about a minute, which isn't even noticeable ― it's just the knowledge that has me feeling somewhat melancholy about having only a few months left of nice exploring and hiking weather. So, July, August, all of September, and part of October. A quarter of a year, to be optimistic. Yet critter by critter, things will start leaving or dying. It's my hope that all had (or will have) successful breeding seasons.
There are insects close to home that can be fun to photograph, though you all know I prefer tiger beetles. I probably won't make as much of an effort to surpass 2020's 14 species, but there's time to contemplate plans and trips. I'll likely visit the Sauk City Canoe Launch in a week or two for Sandy Stream Tiger Beetles, and perhaps Hairy-necked. But I don't think I'll go to Necedah for Northern Barrens this summer. Around home at Deer Creek, there are plenty of Long-legged Flies and Dogbane Leaf Beetles, which are personal favorites.
We're very fortunate to have had several days of rain during the past week, as the drought was really beginning to get nasty in Wisconsin. For now, things are greening up once again, but we could still use more rain ― we remain under moderate drought conditions throughout most of the south part of our state. July can be wicked!
As I had written a few blog posts back, Dickcissels are showing impressive numbers at many of my regular prairie haunts this year. Barneveld Prairie near Vortex Optics has the most I've ever seen there. They are a mysterious songbird, known for their semi-nomadic movements, often resulting in dramatic changes in distribution and abundance season to season, both breeding and wintering grounds. It's a good reminder never to take them for granted. By mid July their voices will quiet and you'll be hard pressed to find one by August. Little by little, the long farewell.
And the diminutive Clay-colored Sparrow with his simple but important bzzzz-bzzzz-bizzz song ...
So, summer makes me kind of sad, but in a good way. It's beautiful and nostalgic, but with it comes a premonition of things ending, like life itself. And that will be the case for many things alive at the present moment; many things I've seen and photographed. As the sun sets in the west over emerald summer fields, I recall being a kid waiting for twilight so I could catch fireflies and keep them in a jar ― but only for a little while. I'd always let them go.
All images © 2021 Mike McDowell