"One way to open your eyes is to ask yourself, 'What if I had never seen this before? What if I knew I would never see it again?'"
― Rachel Carson
"Let me keep my mind on what matters which is my work which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished."
― Mary Oliver
With Friday's temperatures soaring into the upper 70s, I had a hunch that tiger beetles would emerge at one or more of my favorite haunts. In fact, it hit at least 81 degrees at one spot—unusually warm for this time of year in Wisconsin. In fact, many records were shattered across the state. The earliest tiger beetle to appear is usually the Oblique-lined (Cicindela tranquebarica). I didn't see many, but one or two are all I need for portraits, and they didn't disappoint. There weren't many other insects around, save for a few butterflies and some small flying insects I didn't bother to identify. At least there were prey items for the freshly emerged beetles to feast upon, providing them with an early opportunity to fuel up for the season ahead.
For now, the tiger beetle spot at Sauk Prairie State Recreation Area appears barren, the earth dry and seemingly lifeless. But the potential is always there. By April, the landscape will begin to green up, but there's something captivating about its current desert-like stillness—a quiet stage waiting for the season's first signs of renewal.
Birds present, mostly identified by vocalizations, included Sandhill Cranes, Song Sparrows, Eastern Meadowlarks, Eastern Bluebirds, Red-winged Blackbirds, Common Grackles, Blue Jays, Northern Cardinals, and a few fly-over Turkey Vultures. Still, my gaze remained fixed to the ground, searching for that first Oblique-lined. As it turned out, Sue spotted 2025’s first tiger beetle. "I just saw one!" she exclaimed. I quickly tracked it down and began photographing in earnest.
The astute tiger beetle enthusiast must always secure the requisite angles and close-ups, capturing the beetle in all its detail ...
A signature of March, everything was rather brown: the beetles, the birds, and the landscape. The lack of vibrant color gave the scene a stark, almost timeless quality, as if the world were holding its breath, waiting. In photography, monochrome settings like this often reveal subtle textures and contrasts that might be overlooked in more vibrant seasons. There's a certain appreciation in it's simplicity—how Nature's quieter moments can capture a unique kind of beauty, undistracted by the usual bursts of color.
Earlier in the day, I checked Stricker's and Tiedeman's Ponds for waterfowl. While I did spot a Red-breasted Merganser, there's currently more variety at the Black Earth Creek Pond along Highway 12, just outside Middleton. I've been checking it mornings before work and have observed Northern Pintail, Common Goldeneye, American Widgeon, Gadwall, Common and Hooded Mergansers, Redhead, Canvasback, Scaup, Ring-necked Duck, and more.
While photographing a Song Sparrow at Tiedeman's Pond, three Sandhill Cranes suddenly emerged from the cattails, mere feet away. Backing up as much as possible, I could only manage to frame one's head in the shot.
Perhaps used to people traversing the trails around the pond, they showed no concern as I continued photographing the Song Sparrows, calmly going about their business.
As the Song Sparrow sang its song, I couldn't help but think, Sing it, little brother!
As we cross a point in the season where more creatures emerge, migrate, or stir from hibernation, we're reminded that these moments are gifts—not just for naturalists and nature photographers, but for everyone. They are glimpses into the delicate balance that sustains our world. Yet, as we witness these wonders unfolding, it's impossible to ignore the growing threat to the environment, where short-sighted decisions are threatening the very systems that allow life to flourish. Nature's resilience is undeniable, but it needs our respect now more than ever.
All images © 2025 Mike McDowell