nature photography – Page 6 – Roadkill Crossing

The Infestation of Spotted Lanterflies

Tolstoy had it right when he penned, “It is amazing how complete the delusion that beauty is goodness.”

After a day of driving and a lengthy doctor’s appointment, the evening was beautiful. My wife and I anticipated an enjoyable dinner at a sidewalk table of a recommended restaurant.

We didn’t stay seated long. Pesky but attractive Spotted Lanternflies chased us inside. Even then, lanternfly after lanternfly landed near the bottom of the floor-to-ceiling plate-glass window and slowly climbed their way to the top. Several lay dead on the sidewalk below.

These lovely-looking, invasive insects have invaded Virginia’s agricultural breadbasket, the Shenandoah Valley, and are now moving into the Virginia Piedmont region. They likely hitched a ride on unsuspecting vehicles traveling south on I-81. According to hikers, entire sections of forest along the Appalachian Trail in Shenandoah National Park are stripped of leaves and likely dead due to these bugs, which resemble wolves in sheep’s clothing.

A recent email report from a hawk watcher’s group deployed in the same national park confirmed the mass invasion of the Spotted Lanternflies. The group had to move away from a building into a parking lot because these pesky insects swarmed around them so much that they couldn’t view the sky to count the migrating raptors.

Lanterflies don’t bite, but in swarms, they are a nuisance to humans.

Spotted Lanternflies are native to China and Vietnam. So, how did they get here? Human activity, of course. The Spotted Lanternflies first arrived in the U.S. in 2012, on a shipment of stone from Asia. The first infestation occurred two years later in eastern Pennsylvania.

Spotted Lanterflies feed on a wide range of plants, including flowers, grapevines, hops, stone fruit trees, and hardwood trees. Thus, the damage in Shenandoah National Park.

The Spotted Lanterflies excrete a sticky, sugary substance that promotes the growth of sooty mold, which can further damage the plants. The Tree of Heaven, also invasive to the U.S., is the lanterfly’s host plant.

So far, 14 states and the District of Columbia have officially verified reports of the Spotted Lanternfly’s existence. They hitchhike from state to state by laying their masses of eggs on hard surfaces, such as rocks, pallets, vehicles, trailers, and even children’s toys left outside. The lanternfly nymphs, small, black, spider-like creatures with white spots, are just as destructive as the adults.

Fortunately, North America has natural predators of these unwanted insects. They include other insects, such as praying mantises, wheel bugs, and spiders. Some bug-eating birds will also take care of them. However, the Spotted Lanternflies are so prolific that natural predators won’t eliminate them.

Consequently, humans must compensate for their collective error by spraying for them or hiring an exterminator. Homemade concoctions work against the lanternflies. A list of formulas is here.

Below is a map of the states where Spotted Lanternflies have been verified. However, if you encounter these beautiful but harmful bugs in a state with no official report, please notify the state’s wildlife or natural resources division as soon as possible.

In the case of the Spotted Lanterfly, Leo Tolstoy nailed it.

Map of the Spotted Lanterfly spread provided by Maps.com.

Variegated Fritillary

My wife and I were enjoying lunch on the back porch the other day when I spotted this lovely butterfly flit by. I had to get a photo, of course.

Variegated Fritillary butterflies fly low and love flowers. So, I stepped onto the patio and waited for this hyper little insect to alight on a blossom. It soon found one of the zinnias that bordered the patio to its liking, near where I was standing. It pumped its wings as it nourished on the flower.

According to Kenn Kaufman’s butterfly guide, the Variegated Fritillary butterfly is widespread over much of the United States. Their common zone for thriving spreads from Arizona to Florida, and as far north as Nebraska and Virginia. Some may find their way as far north as the central Canadian provinces.

It’s migration season, so be on the lookout for these flower-loving beauties.

Finding Fruition in Nature

Patience is the key

Swamp Milkweed blooms in June. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Finding fruition takes effort and patience. The latter is often the harder of the two.

Four years ago, I planted four swamp milkweed plants in our backyard, hoping to attract Monarch butterflies. In the first year, the seedlings sprouted tender, green shoots. Then, to my surprise, they disappeared.

It didn’t take me long to discover why. No sooner than the greenery emerged, a pair of neighborhood rabbits nibbled the fresh green leaves and stems. A three-foot wire-mesh cage around each plant promptly put a halt to that.

In the second year, the two biggest plants bloomed beautiful and fragrant blooms that only honeybees, bumblebees, and other insects enjoyed. I never saw a single butterfly, including Monarchs, even approach the flowers.

As fall arrived, I let the dried-up stalks stand. In February, I trimmed them back, hoping new branches would appear with spring’s arrival. I also learned that some birds used the thread-like insides of the old stalks for nest building. I smiled when American Robins tugged and tore long pieces and flew off.

The next two springs brought the same results. Beautiful flowers bloomed in June, but no Monarchs arrived. I enjoyed the flowers and insect pollinators, but grew mildly frustrated that none of my favorite butterflies came to the flowers.

This summer, I realized my blindness. The swamp milkweed was more useful to the orange and black-viened butterflies during fall migration.

The mature plants produced flowers, which developed into pods and yielded seeds covered in silvery silk. Large and small milkweed bugs outnumbered the many different insects on the plants.

Two at a time.
Chomping
Climbing
Milkweed bugs and eggs.
Large and small Milkweed bugs
The gang’s all here
A Monarch egg

In mid-August, migrating Monarchs began flitting around the milkweed plants. They landed on the plants just long enough to deposit eggs on the leaves’ undersides. Joy filled my soul.

In a matter of days, small greenish-yellow, white, and black striped caterpillars appeared and began munching on the leaves. More Monarchs repeated the process, and more and more caterpillars emerged. It didn’t take long for them to grow, inches long, in preparation for forming a mint green chrysalis. I counted 14 on the plants one afternoon.

Other insects on the Swamp Milkweed

Soon, a new generation of Monarchs would continue their journey south, overwinter in the central Mexico mountains, and fly back north, stopping along the way when it was time to lay the eggs on more milkweed plants.

In my desire to see Monarchs on the milkweed flowers, I had only envisioned one aspect of the amazing life cycle of these beautiful, useful butterflies. I was ecstatic to find a dozen caterpillars chomping on the milkweed leaves. When ready, they would then crawl off somewhere to form a chrysalis, ensuring the next generation.

Patience proved critical to fulfill my desire to help propagate the Monarch butterflies.

A Monarch butterfly prepares to lay eggs on a Swamp Milkweed leaf. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Driveway Pattern Change

Nais Tiger Moth. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

No bigger than a 25-cent piece, this moth caught my eye as I walked out to get the mail. Its contrasting black and yellow wings stood out from the marbled pattern of our decades-old, well-worn concrete driveway.

Yet, the deceased insect seemed to blend in with the drive’s mishmashed surface. Perhaps it was the moth’s yellowish stripes that complemented the beige of the hardened concrete. The famous hard, blue limestone of the Shenandoah Valley, coupled with the crushed browns and grays of the area’s river rock, formed a flat tombstone of sorts that honored the dead moth’s demise.

Then again, maybe I am romanticizing my good fortune in spotting the moth at all. According to Kenn Kaufman’s “Field Guide to Insects of North America,” Nais Tiger Moths are widespread east of the Rocky Mountains.

Therefore, I hope you can also see this ubiquitous little moth, and trust it will be alive.

Mid-Summer Colors

Occasional rains and warm temperatures continue to be the norm in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. That combination has led to a continuation of summer’s bright colors.

From landscapes to sky to insects, to animals to flowers, wild and cultivated, a rainbow of colors has filled each day.

Flower gardens

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

More colors around home

Gladiolus
Gladiolus
Knockout Roses
Flowers and sky
Lovely landscaping

Coordinating colors

Photobombed!

Variegated Fritillary butterfly on Zinnia. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I was out taking photos of some flowers my energetic wife has cultivated around our home. This patch of Zinnias caught my attention.

Just as I was ready to take the photo, this pretty Variegated Fritillary butterfly landed on a fuchsia-colored Zinnia in the middle of the patch. The lovely photobomb was a welcome addition to these bright flowers and a new focus to the photo.

Halifax, We Hardly Knew You

Exiting Halifax harbor. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

I was really looking forward to visiting the Halifax, Nova Scotia area. We had booked an excursion to the famous Peggy’s Cove. We never made it.

After another good night’s sleep on the Zuiderdam, I rose early to meet the bus for our tour. When I stepped with my left foot into the shower mat, the ship suddenly made a quick pitch in the opposite direction. Instantly, for a split second, I was Superman, until I wasn’t. I hit the sink, and then smacked the floor with a shocking thud.

At first, I lay there stunned, no pain, my only thoughts reserved for my chronic back issues. But the back felt fine. I tried unsuccessfully to get up, and that’s when the pain shot through the right side of my body.

My wife helped me to my feet, checked me over, and assured me I wasn’t bleeding anywhere. Now thinking about the lovely day ahead, I dismissed the pain and got ready for the day.

We headed to breakfast on the Lido deck. To be safe, I had an old man’s breakfast, hot oatmeal and four prunes on the side. As I stood up to leave, I could hardly walk. The rest of the boring details are in a separate, previous post here.

Our plans for the day were cancelled, and I received excellent treatment in the ship’s medical center. The staff was terrific. So, were the pain meds.

Fortunately, our comfortable cabin served as an excellent resting place. The only problem was that I couldn’t lie down. A month later, I still can’t. The ship’s X-ray machine showed one cracked rib. The CT scans at our local hospital, when we returned home three days later, revealed three.

I felt better standing, so I spent an inordinate amount of time on our veranda, which faced the harbor side. I watched the morning marine fog layer evaporate into a warm, sunny day.

Rest assured, I snapped too many photos of the same scene, only with different ships. A harbor lighthouse stood directly opposite us, and its bright while paint glowed in the afternoon sun. It made a perfect background. But how many times can you photograph ships with the same setting?

All categories of boats passed by. Fishing, ferries, sailboats, a Canadian Coast Guard cutter, trollers, a stately tall ship, and even tugboats escorting a huge freighter made time pass and filled my phone with hundreds of unnecessary photos.

The doctor told me to move around as much as I could without causing excessive pain. So, we went to lunch and dinner, sitting on padded chairs.

It wasn’t the way we had planned to see Halifax. But it was the best we could do.

The Kancamagus Highway

Our little tour group headed north out of Boston on the first full day of our land/cruise trip through parts of New England and into eastern Canada.

Looking at the itinerary, my wife and I realized that we would be seeing much of the same scenery that we had when we visited New Hampshire and Vermont six years ago. That didn’t deter our anticipation, however. We loved visiting both states and looked forward to new adventures.

We briefly visited Franconia State Park, and then drove eastward along the Kancamagus Highway that runs from Lincoln to Conway, New Hampshire. My wife and I drove it westbound in 2019.

It was much easier driving a personal vehicle than being a passenger in a large bus. I wanted to shout “stop” multiple times as we passed scenic overlooks and lovely White Mountain vistas. Of course, I didn’t do that.

The bus made two stops, both near the terminus of the famous scenic highway. Our first stop was at the Lower Falls on the Swift River that winds its way east toward Conway.

Because of the hot and humid weather, we weren’t alone at the falls. Families and couples, young and old, cooled off in the rushing waters of the aptly named river.

A boardwalk parallel to the river made it easy to observe the fun in the water. As a photographer, I sought a better angle near the refreshing waters, though I had no intention of joining the swimmers.

The above photo shows the majesty of Swift River and its gorgeous surroundings of lush evergreens and deciduous trees that climb the mountainsides. We were fortunate to have pleasant though warm weather.

I waited until the splashing went farther downstream before snapping this photo. The wavy boulders show the eons of wear and erosion from constant, fast-running water rushing down the valley.

Closer to Conway, where the terrain flattens out, the waters slow their pace and broaden their banks. Where the rapids and falls are is where the real action is. I was glad to see it again.

Early Summer Colors

Summer 2025 colors have not disappointed so far. We are only a month into the summer season in the Northern Hemisphere, and there have been plenty of opportunities to photograph her vibrant palette of hues and tones.

Here are two sets of my favorite representations of this brilliant calidoscope.

Landscapes

Please click on the photos to view them in full size.

Flowers

Zinnias.
Zinnias.
Rose of Sharon
A Holly Blossom.
Summer’s Beauty for worship.
Honey Bee on Swamp Milkweed.
Summer flowergarden.
Bee Balm.

While the Neighbors Were Away…

A fairy ring or circle in our neighbor’s backyard. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

Each year, a fairy ring or circle appears in our next-door neighbor’s backyard. They often don’t get to see it since they go camping as often as they can.

After several rounds of heavy recent rains, this circle of False Parosal fungi popped up. In the morning, only a couple of fungi appeared. By late afternoon, the fairy circle was nearly complete.

The circles are also known as an elf circle, an elf ring, or a pixie ring. They are naturally occurring rings or arcs of non-edible mushrooms. Some cultures consider these mushroom circles a bad omen, while others think they bring good luck.

This particular ring has occurred nearly every summer in the eight years we have lived in Virginia’s Shenandoah Valley. Shortly after taking these photos, the circle disappeared, not by some fairy’s magic trick, but by a lawnmower.

Have you ever seen circles like these where you live?