"Live in the sunshine, swim the sea, drink the wild air's salubrity."
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
Sue and I returned to Paya Lake in Oconto County last week, but I'm finally getting around to blogging about it now. While there are opportunities for all sorts of nature excursions at the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest, our favorite destination when we're up there is always Seagull Bar State Natural Area—it's just absolutely stunning. This time it was gusty and waves crashed against the sandy shore throughout the day. Temperatures were in the low 70s, so it was still comfortable for hiking, exploration, and nature photography.
Designated a State Natural Area in 1962, Seagull Bar SNA is a Marinette-based sand spit and marsh featuring Green Bay's only true dune complex. Fluctuating water levels constantly reshape its mudflats and shallow lagoons, supporting rich native flora ranging from rushes to marram grass. This dynamic landscape acts as a critical migration stopover habitat for shorebirds, gulls, waterfowl, and other birds.
But I adore it for ...
Tiger Beetles!
This is the only location I know of in Wisconsin where I can reliably find Cicindela hirticollis rhodensis, the State Endangered subspecies of Hairy-necked Tiger Beetle. Despite respectable numbers here, entomologist Dr. Mathew Brust has noted that this location seems to be their last good stronghold along the Wisconsin side of Lake Michigan, as they have vanished from most other areas. According to Brust, these beetles generally do not tolerate increases in human activity; their larvae dig insanely shallow burrows—only three to six inches deep—and will readily abandon a burrow to crawl across the sand and dig a new one if the moisture gradient changes.
The above beetle shows nearly complete but weak maculations, while this this next one is more teneral with less obvious markings.
Classic rhodensis.
Slightly more elevated on its legs ...
Despite mostly to partly cloudy skies, the shifting light worked to my advantage. By timing my shots carefully, I avoided harsh sunlight detail blowout while maintaining fast enough shutter speeds at f/22 to f/25 for focal depth of field. Bright but diffused light is ideal for softening glare to capture the intricate microsculpture of their elytral surface.
Subtle clues led me to Twelve-spotted Tiger Beetles (Cicindela duodecimguttata) further up the sandbar. It appeared that their usual area had recently been submerged, forcing them to retreat to higher ground on an upper ridge. So, that makes 12 species for 2026. Will there be Cow Path or Virginia Metallic?
Above and below, a Bronzed Tiger Beetle (Cicindela repanda). There was also a single Festive (Cicindela scutellaris) found, but the Hairy-neckeds far outnumbered the other three species. Still, four species at a single spot is very respectable. Spring Green's 10 or 11 is the best I know of, but I do have other tiger beetle haunts where I can find half a dozen or so.
I'm pretty certain this is Obedient Plant (Physostegia virginiana) but I've never seen them so short.
I've read that plants growing directly in beach sand or sand dunes exposed to wave action, wind, and low-nutrient substrates can exhibit severe dwarfing. Thus, a species that normally reaches 3 to 4 feet in rich inland soils often flowers at under 12 inches on sandy coastal shores.
The ever-cool Shoreline Wolfspider (Arctosa littoralis)...
Just remember the next time you're at the beach ... they're everywhere!
But harmless.
As I was wrapping up my tiger beetle photography efforts, I spotted a small group of shorebirds that consisted of Least Sandpipers and Greater Yellowlegs. There was also a Baird's we had seen earlier, but there was one other shorebird that looked a little different, rendering a moment of mental database consideration.
But then it hit me ...
Holy smokes! A Red Knot (Calidris canutus rufa)—juvenile.
This federally threatened subspecies breeds in the central Canadian Arctic and uses the Atlantic Flyway as its primary migratory corridor. While the vast majority of rufa knots travel along the Atlantic coastline, a small percentage of migrating birds travel through the interior flyways—including the Great Lakes region and places like the Green Bay shoreline.
Across four decades of birding, I've only observed this species three times, with the last sighting dating back to 2015. If I'm recalling correctly, my life bird was at Nine Springs in Dane County, but this encounter was by far my best view yet—and a lifer for Sue.
Alas, once I got home from the trip, an eBird check revealed other birders had spotted it the day before, but that didn't dull the thrill of finding it. With no reports since our sighting, we clearly caught a lucky break—the shorebird has likely resumed its southward journey. It's absolutely astonishing how far these birds migrate. Consider the true story of B95.
Some final views of Seagull Bar SNA ...
Before heading back to the parking lot, Sue and I took a breather sitting on a log when a couple of Monarch butterflies flew in. One landed the sand just past our feet while the other kept flying around me, so I finally extended my hand and it immediately landed on it.
I've had butterflies land on me before, but this was the first time I could feel one using its proboscis to discharge fluid onto my skin to dissolve and reabsorb nutrients. It might sound kind of gross, but this process allows them to extract essential salts and minerals from sources like rocks, carrion, and human skin. When the Monarch on the sand took flight, this one went along with it. Perhaps a coincidence, but it was a pretty cool interaction with another species. Anthropomorphize if you like.
And that's it for another Nature Adventure at Seagull Bar SNA!
Though it was a short trip, we also went to Mountain Fire Lookout Tower for great views of the Chequamegon-Nicolet National Forest.
The cabin at the top is only 7'x7' so if there are other visitors it can get a little tight.
This is what it looks like in every direction, but photos don't do it justice.
One morning we went to McCaslin Brook to look for migrating songbirds, but only Red-eyed Vireos were present. However, near the cabin we did find Yellow-rumped, Black-and-white, and Magnolia Warblers.
I saw this White Underwing (Catocala relicta) fly to a tree and quickly digiscoped a photo of it ...
We also returned to Cathedral Pines for a short hike.
But stopped only to photograph mushrooms.
With August in the books, blogging took a bit of a back seat this month—mostly thanks to my relentless (but failed) search for Sandy Stream Tiger Beetles. Even so, no time in the field is ever truly wasted. I used to contend that you don't learn from what you fail to discover, but that isn't always true. I think I got this sensibility from a book I read by British physicist Paul Davies, where he wrote:
"If God is to be found, it must surely be through what we discover about the world, not what we fail to discover."
Davies was speaking specifically about the 'God of the gaps'—the trap of looking for meaning in what science hasn't explained yet. But the principle translates well to the field: empty hands don't mean an empty outing if you pay attention to what the absence tells you.
All images © 2026 Mike McDowell