Many of you know about the photo project I undertook in 2018, in which I visited the same square meter of prairie throughout the year and photographed everything I could find within that small area. It was a really fun project that ended up as a book, a museum exhibit, some traveling exhibits, and lots of presentations.

Since then, I’ve been asked many times if I would go back to the same plot and repeat the project. My answer was always “no”. I’d already done that project and didn’t really feel inspired to do it all over again. This spring, however, the part of Lincoln Creek Prairie where I’d done the project was burned by Prairie Plains Resource Institute and I took the opportunity to go out and relocate what was left of the four pin flags marking my old plot.

As I replaced the old flags with new ones, I was hit with both nostalgia and curiosity. Maybe it would be fun to visit the plot a few times during the year, just to see what’s happening these days.

After replacing the flags, I took a few quick photos to document the site. If I did decide to revisit the plot a few times during 2024, it might be nice to have those photos as a kind of baseline for the year. Eight days later, on a dewy morning, I stopped by again. You know, just to say “hi” and see how the regrowth was coming along. As long as I was there, I took a few more photos.

I started with the many dew drops hanging from the tips of grass blades. I found one in particular that caught my eye and ended up photographing it from lots of different perspectives. I enjoyed myself.

Once I started paying attention to the little droplets of water, I noticed other small treasures, including a dandelion seed hanging from an early leaf of a Maximilian sunflower. It was there, so I figured I might as well photograph it. Then I took photos of the little sunflowers as well. You know, just to document what they looked like on May 5, in case I decided to come back when they were taller.

As the sun rose and started to evaporate the dew drops, I started packing up my gear to leave. Before I did, though, I glanced over and saw an American robin feeding nearby – taking advantage of the bare ground and recent rains to hunt for worms. I circled around to the other side of it, just in case it decided to pass through my little plot as it foraged. Less than 5 minutes later, it did just that, pausing long enough for me to squeeze off a few photos of it inside the flags. You know what? This is fun!

Two mornings later, I stopped by the plot again. It’s right across town, after all, so it’s easy to get to. After just a couple days, there were really noticeable differences in the growth stage of the plants. I found newly-germinated annuals – too small for me to identify yet. Warm-season grasses like big bluestem were starting to produce leaves. Even better, I was able to photograph a couple different insects, including a little leafhopper species I’d seen on my previous visit, but hadn’t managed to photograph well.

This morning, I woke up earlier than I’d planned and wasn’t able to get back to sleep. As long as I was up, I figured I should do something with my life, so I hopped in the truck and went over to Lincoln Creek yet again. It had only been three days since my last trip, but, again, there had been quite a bit of change. For one thing, lead plant was starting to emerge from its basal buds. I had wondered whether it was still there and was glad to see it.

There were dew drops again, too, though not as many as there had been three mornings ago. Enough, however, that I found a couple worth playing with.

Short-beaked sedge (Carex brevior) was starting to bloom! Six years ago, it was present, but didn’t flower – probably because the site hadn’t been burned for a few years and its growth was suppressed. This year, it looks like I’ll get the chance to photograph its yellow anthers. Assuming, of course, that I decide to come back when it’s in full bloom.

After I photographed the sedge, I moved on to other subjects within the plot. Later, I circled back to the sedge because the light had changed and I wanted to capture it with more direct sunlight. As I was focusing on it, I noticed something tiny at the tip that seemed to be moving. Aha! It was a miniscule orb weaver spider of some kind! Now, we’re talking!

I spent several minutes photographing my new friend as it moved around the sedge and then across some silk lines between the sedge and nearby plants. After I got a few reasonably-good photos, though, it disappeared. I looked away for just a second and when I looked back it was gone. It was only about 2 millimeters long, so it hid really well, even in the short, sparse vegetation.

Oh well, maybe it’ll be back again. You know, assuming I decide to return and look for it.

After I finished with the spider, I photographed a few more plants, including butterfly milkweed, which had popped out of the ground during the last few days, and some dew drops on sunflower leaves. From a distance, my square meter plot didn’t look like it had much going on, but – just as in 2018 – once I sat down and really started looking, there was a lot to see.

I might just have to do this thing. I’ve only visited four times, but I’ve already seen at least 6 different animals in the plot, including at least one ant species that wouldn’t stand still long enough for photos and a really tiny beetle this morning that I only got a slightly-blurry photo of. Given how little plant growth there is after the burn, I feel pretty good about seeing six animals already!

I definitely have to get a photo of those ants, though. And I hope I get another chance at the beetle, though I’m less confident it’ll show up again. I think I might have found at least one tunnel entrance for the ants within the plot, so maybe I’ll camp out on that next time I stop by and see if I can capture images of the ants coming and going.

At this point, at least, the old energy seems to be back. I’m realizing how much I’ve missed getting to watch the prairie grow and change at an extremely local scale. Just during the two weeks since I put those flags in the ground, I’ve already gotten to know a lot of the individual plants and have seen dramatic changes in them. I’ll visit and photograph lots of prairies this year, but it sure looks like I’m going to spend a lot of time with this very small, very familiar, little plot of land as well.

Prairies are really waking up in this part of the world. There’s a lot of green out there, an increasing number of wildflowers, and a big influx of breeding and migratory birds. Invertebrates are slowly becoming more abundant, too, though “slowly” is the operative word there, at least for impatient macro photographers like me.

Late last week, the Fellows and I took some time to explore one of our Platte River Prairies that has a lot of sedge meadow habitat (the same site I found all the pill bugs at the week before that). We saw lots of spring flowers, including sedges, but I didn’t take any photos of those. I did, though, pull out my camera when we saw a group of about 50 white-faced ibis feeding along the edge of the property.

The ibis weren’t the only migratory water birds around. There were about 50 yellowlegs around as well, along with some solitary sandpipers, phalaropes, and some others we couldn’t identify. They all seemed to be enjoying the pools of water in the low-lying parts of the prairie.

We next walked into the drier part of the prairie, where historic river channels had created tall ridges of sand prairie vegetation, to see how one of our recent burns was looking. It was looking green. I also relocated a big ant mound I’d seen earlier in the spring (after the fire) and we got to watch ants for a while. They were really active. I don’t know enough about them to interpret their behavior, but while a few were bringing in food, most of them seemed to just be swarming around. There were a couple winged ones in the mix, which might have had something to do with it. (I didn’t manage any sharp photos of the winged ants.)

As we worked our way back south into the wetter part of the prairie, Claire and I sloshed right past a snake that Kees spotted as he followed behind us. We stopped to admire the big plains garter swimming in the shallow water. For whatever reason (cool weather? standing water and available cover?), it chose to stay and try to hide instead of just streaking away from us. I grabbed my camera and squatted in the shallow water, trying to get some photos. I got the one below, but I couldn’t get the angle I wanted from that position.

Eventually, I decided to just bite the bullet and get wet. If the snake was going to be accommodating, it seemed silly to waste the opportunity just because I’d be soggy (and cold – it was cool and breezy) for my drive home. I eased myself down onto my knees and elbows in the water and started to slowly maneuver closer to the snake. The fellows stood back and watched, dry, comfortable, and bemused.

My muck boots immediately filled with water and my knees were instantly wet and cold. My elbows, however, didn’t get wet right away. I was wearing my chore coat over a sweatshirt that claimed to be water resistant and the claim was proving to be true. Eventually, I did get wet elbows, but it took an impressively long time for that to happen. Meanwhile, the snake and I were doing a little dance as I tried to position myself so I could see its head and it tried to avoid making eye contact.

I managed to get several nice photos and then decided to leave the poor snake alone. As I stood up, though, I realized I had another challenge in front of me. Both my boots and my sleeves were full of water. The boots weren’t a big deal – a little water slopping around my feet is fine. But the sleeves became an issue when I tried to put my camera back in the bag.

As I lowered my hand toward the bag, a stream of water ran down my arm, over my camera and into the bag. I quickly raised my hand up again and tried to think of a way to return the camera to the bag without getting it wet or ending up with a little pond in my bag. The best solution, of course, would have been to hand the camera to either Claire or Kees and ask them to help. However, I didn’t think of that at the time and they seemed too entertained to offer assistance.

I stood for a minute, trying to drain as much water as I could from each sleeve and consider my options – not ALL my options, obviously, just the ones my waterlogged self could immediately come up with. Eventually, I just went for speed and dropped the camera into the bag as quickly as I could, figuring I’d towel it off when I got back to the truck. I only ended up with a coffee cup’s worth of water in the bag with my gear… What a ridiculous situation. Fortunately, both the photographer and his camera gear eventually dried out and seem to have retained their basic functions.

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Over the weekend, I made the short trip up to Prairie Plains Resource Institute’s Gjerloff Prairie to see how spring was progressing in that upland loess hills grassland. It was a beautiful evening, though the scattered clouds I’d hoped would stick around left the area as I arrived. While I waited for the evening sun to drop low enough to provide good photo light, I scouted the area for good shot opportunities.

Clay-colored and Harris’ sparrows were making a lot of noise and I saw my first eastern kingbird of the spring. A few insects were around, including lots of little moths of at least several species. When a little damselfly landed on a nearby stem, I tried to get close enough for a photo, but it took off. I watched it fly a few feet to another grass stem and attempt to land there. As it did, though, the grass suddenly reached out with its little legs and tried to grab it.

Or, at least, that’s what it looked like, until I realized there was a well-camouflaged spider waiting to ambush any unwary visitor. The damselfly escaped unharmed, though I’m not sure that was because the spider missed. I think maybe the spider just decided the damselfly was more than it wanted to deal with. It’s hard to say. Either way, I spent a few minutes admiring and photographing the spider and lost track of the damselfly altogether.

As the light improved toward sunset, I stopped in a big patch of hoary vetchling (Lathyrus polymorphus). Photographing this plant is kind of an annual tradition for me, and I’m always looking for new ways to do it. I was pretty pleased with this year’s attempts.

Finally, after the sun dropped completely below the horizon, I started hiking slowly back toward my vehicle. As I did, I noticed a little common checkered skipper perched on a sunflower skeleton. It seemed like it had settled in for the night, so I set up my tripod and worked on a few different compositions to capture it silhouetted against the thin orange glow in the distance. The photo below is my favorite, though I shared several others on my Instagram page for those of you who partake in that particular social media app.

I hope you’re all enjoying the spring in your local prairies (except for those of you in the southern hemisphere where winter is coming). Everyone is starting to reappear on the scene after the long winter holiday, ready for another great year.