butterfly | The Prairie Ecologist

Before and after sunrise…

Back in July, a small group of us got up early to do some prairie photography. We were attending the Grassland Restoration Network workshop in northwestern Minnesota and wanted to catch the sunrise at The Nature Conservancy’s Bluestem Prairie.

We arrived at the prairie before sunrise, split up, and walked off in different directions, searching for photo opportunities. Not far into my hike, I found a monarch butterfly roosting on a milkweed plant. It was cold and wet and not able to move. The sun wasn’t up yet, but there was nice color in the sky where the sun would appear in just a few minutes. That sky glow provided enough illumination and color for me to take a few good photos of the monarch before I moved on to see what else I could find. Before I walked away, I made note of the location so I could circle back later if I had time.

Monarch butterfly on common milkweed. TNC Bluestem Prairie, Minnesota.

5:51 am. The sun was nearing the horizon, but not quite up yet. The light in this photograph is just reflected from the pre-sunrise glow behind me. Nikon 105mm macro lens. ISO 640. F9, 1/25 second.

About twenty minutes later, the sun was up and I was wandering back near where I’d seen the monarch earlier so I stopped to see if it was still there. It was, and the rich golden light from the sun was hitting it squarely. I took some more photos .

6:13 am. The sun is up and is a bright orange color, providing a rich orange/gold tone to both the butterfly and milkweed plant. ISO 400, F11, 1/100 second.

These are just two of the images I shot of this butterfly that morning, but they are a good pair to use for comparison. Both are nice photographs. The first is a little flat, but has just enough color and definition of detail to make it work. While not as flashy as the second photo, it accurately depicts the subtle beauty of the pre-sunrise world. The second photo literally sparkles in comparison – every hair, scale, and droplet of water reflects the bright golden sunlight coming from the big orange sun behind me. The details are much more defined, and it is a stronger visual image.

I’d guess that in a poll, most viewers of these two images would say they like the second better, but I bet there are a few of you who prefer the first. (And if I hadn’t shown you the second, most of you would probably think the first is a very nice shot.) I like them both, and am glad I took the time to circle back and get the second set of images.

In photography, light is nearly everything. Composition is subjective, and it’s always interesting to see how different photographers frame the same scene. The ability to recognize and use various lighting conditions, however, is what separates good photographers from the rest. I can’t draw worth a lick, and I stick to very simple and safe color combinations in my clothing because I don’t have any aptitude in those regards. I can see light, though, and am very grateful for that. It makes the world a really interesting place to look at and photograph!

A guest post by Anne Stine, one of our Hubbard Fellows. All photos are by Anne.

Derr Sandpit Wetland Restoration – The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies, Nebraska. September 12, 2013

I was scouting for native seeds in our sand pit restoration across from the crew quarters when I noticed a fascinating pollinator-plant interaction. This activity would’ve been best captured on video with a high quality zoom (which I did not have), but I was able to take pictures. Bumble bees, and only bumble bees, were fighting their way into great blue lobelias along the edge of our restoration. Meanwhile, their neighboring cardinal flowers were visited by butterflies exclusively. Why, and how, were these two closely related flowers so specialized with their pollinator partnerships?

First, let’s consider the great blue lobelia (Lobelia siphilitica). The architecture of this flower insures that only burly bumble bees can gain access to the pollen and nectar. Some other insects “cheat” and chew holes in the flower to by-pass the petal-gate, but bumble bees are their primary visitors. Watching the bumble bees pry open the flowers was entertaining. First, they climb onto the flower’s extending ‘tongue’. Then, they push aside the two top petal ‘lips’ and dunk themselves head first into the flower. Their front half is completely inside the blossom. Only their bottoms and back legs stick out. They clamber up the stalk, climbing from flower to flower until they reach the top, and then they fly off to visit a neighboring plant. Because great blue lobelia seems to grow in patches, this is an efficient operation for both bee and blossom. The bees act drunk on nectar, and the flowers are practically guaranteed a thorough pollination.

How bumblebees gain entry to lobelia flowers.

Success!

Conversely, cardinal flower (Lobelia cardinalis) is traditionally considered to be a ‘hummingbird-specialist’ plant. We are just outside the range of the ruby throated hummingbird here on the Platte River Prairies. Instead, butterflies with their long tongues seem to have taken over the majority of the nectaring and pollination duties. Or perhaps cardinal flowers in this part of Nebraska predominately self-pollinate. At any rate, bees weren’t the major customers on cardinal flowers. Cardinal flowers were visited by butterflies.

How strange that these two wetland con-generics, great blue lobelia and cardinal flower, could grow in intermingled patches and still rely on totally distinct pollinator communities. Nature is weird and wonderful.

This monarch had the choice between blue lobelia and cardinal flower. She chose cardinal flower. So did all the other butterflies.

The Prairie Ecologist

Essays, photos, and discussion about prairie ecology, restoration, and management

Tag Archives: butterfly

Photo of the Week – December 17, 2015

Hubbard Fellowship Blog – Lobelias and Pollinators