"August rain: the best of the summer gone, and the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time."
― Sylvia Plath
I'm always listening to and for birdsong, even when insecting or doing anything else. At the present time, a song standing apart from the summer avian choir is Indigo Bunting. It seems like no matter where I choose to photograph insects, there's one or two singing away. The remainder of this month and next will wrap-up the 2021 insect season. It's been fantastically fun! I'm looking forward to time spent at the Pheasant Branch creek corridor for fall warbler migration, and then boreal sparrows into October. There are still trips to Spring Green Preserve in store, as I would like to find and photograph a Virginia Metallic Tiger Beetle before the late fall freeze hits. That and Claybank Tiger Beetle are probably the only two species I'll find yet this summer ― probably no Twelve-spotted or Northern Barrens this year.
Many religious and philosophical disciplines instruct their adherents that contentedness can be found by living in the present moment. As far as we know, no other animal on our blue and green world spends as much time as we do when it comes to thinking about what's not going on around us ― the past, the future, things that might happen, or never will. While in the woods, prairie, or sandy shoreline, my present mindedness is so transfixed to the pursuit of finding interesting things that virtually nothing breaks my intense focus. When I do find an insect like this Sharpshooter Leafhopper, my brain at an instant shifts from seek to study, then document.
Naturally, there are plenty of activities where one can lose (or find?) themselves. It's a rush and reward of sorts, one that must represent something in our genes going back to our days as hunters and gatherers. I suspect a dopamine hit once I find a particular critter or manage to get a quality photograph of one. It's more challenging than I make it look, week after week. Even though I often use a monopod or tripod with my macro rig, even a slight breeze on a twig is enough to lose the correct focus given the shallow field depth I typically work with. It can take a while to get the perfect shot. Here we have a Cone-headed Planthopper (above), and also a Northern Flatid Planthopper (below). Such fascinating little creatures.
And yet another Partridge Bug!
A close-up of a Cicada:
Goldenrod Leaf Beetle:
A spider of the genius Tetragnatha:
To have a profound sense of connectedness and living in the present moment with nature is a higher state of existence. Much has been written about the psychology and healing power of nature, having access to nature, nature having an impact on our wellbeing, and so on. There's no doubt in my mind that nature serves as a refuge to heal, reflect, and inspire with respect to our place in the whole scheme of things. At that same time being out in nature can be dangerous. Have you noted the apparent increase in stories of hikers getting lost, attacked by animals, and falling to their deaths this year? It's generally the last thing I ponder, but most of the time I don't think of places I frequent as being dangerous. What an awful thing it would be to have biophobia (fear of nature) ― being so disconnected that one is actually afraid of spending time outdoors or in wilderness. For myself, I would embrace such a death ― to be taken out by nature by tooth or claw or some horrific fall rather than dying in a hospital bed or in a car wreck.
That got dark quick! Never you fret, my little Partridge Peas, soon it will be all about birds again, and then the long winter will set in.
All images © 2021 Mike McDowell