Photos of the Week – April 27, 2026

This has been a month of having to squeeze little bursts of photography into tight windows. That’s certainly not my ideal approach. Nevertheless, I managed some fun exploration time and came away with some images I liked. Here are some you haven’t yet seen.

(Why do we use the word nevertheless to mean, basically, “however” or “despite that”? Who decided that was a word that makes sense in those contexts? If you make it three separate words, they’d make no sense in my above paragraph. But if we squeeze them all into one word it’s ok? Language evolution is weird.)

Moth on grass stem

My first photo opportunity of April came during the first week of the month and I found myself at our family prairie as the sun was going down. I’d been doing some work on trees and decided to stick around to see what the sunrise looked like. The sunrise was just fine. However, as the sun dropped, I noticed a bunch of flying insects. Many of them were flies, but there were some moths included as well.

It was still early in the spring and I hadn’t seen many other insects that day, so I thought it was interesting that they’d start getting active as the sun was going down, instead of earlier, when the temperature was warmer. I followed a tiny moth around for a few minutes and managed to get a shot of it right after it landed on a grass stem and perched, momentarily, like a bird.

Fly perching in what might have been its preferred overnight roost site

Then I focused my attention on all the flies, which seemed to be landing and preparing to roost overnight high in the vegetation. I’ve seen this before and am still not sure I understand the motivation. Why would they want to perch up high on plants where they are most easily seen by birds and other similar predators, especially as they’re about to get cold (and probably wet with dew), which will largely immobilize them. Why not hide further down in the more dense vegetation?

I assume it’s because there are more/scarier predators down low than up high? Plus, I can see the value of placing yourself where the morning sun will warm you up right away. Early birds like worms, but I bet they’d eat an immobilized fly, too, if one were available.

Drone fly on stiff goldenrod (there were several other drone flies on the same plant and others nearby)

Ten days after I photographed evening flies, I was out at the Platte River Prairies and ended up with a free hour between meetings. Wild plum was blooming, so I went to see if it smelled as good as usual. It did.

Wild plum (Prunus americana) at the Platte River Prairies
Close-up of wild plum blossoms

I found a portion of the big plum thicket where the lightly-diffused-by-clouds sunlight was hitting the flowers, but there was a little shelter from the strong breeze. Then I settled in to watch the parade of pollinator insects come by. I managed to photograph a fair number of them, but would have gotten more if I hadn’t become obsessed with one particular moth.

Wheat head army worm moth.

I wondered if it was a migratory moth species (there are lots of them), so I spent extra time following and photographing it to make sure I had good enough photos to identify it to species later. It didn’t turn out to be a migratory moth. Instead, it’s a native species called the wheat head armyworm moth. As you might guess, it is so-named because its larvae are often found feeding on wheat and related grain crops. You can’t really blame the moth for that – it was here before those grain crops showed up. What, you don’t expect it to eat anything from the huge fields of tasty grasses we planted?

A blow fly of some kind, I think.
A metallic green sweat bee.

The next, very short, window came as I was opening a gate at the Platte River Prairies on my way to collect some data. I noticed some small butterflies flurrying around a patch of dandelions. I wanted to see what they were, so crept up close enough to identify them as Gorgone checkerspot butterflies. I grabbed my camera out of the truck and tried to get a photo of one of them on a dandelion, but they wouldn’t cooperate. I did manage to sneak up on one as it landed to bask in the sun, though.

Gorgone checkerspot butterfly

Once I was on the ground, I noticed other pollinators visiting the same patch of dandelions, including some flies, bees, and a couple common checkered skipper butterflies. I got a couple photos of one of the skippers before I pulled away to go do my real job.

Common checkered skipper

This last Saturday, I finally took a trip to a prairie solely for the purpose of photography. Unfortunately, as I was driving up to Gjerloff Prairie, I could see it was going to be another “squeeze-it-in” kind of photography trip. This time, the issue was the tiny sliver of space between the eastern horizon and the big bank of dark clouds that was sliding slowly in that direction. I kept driving because it looked like I’d get at least a few minutes of light before the clouds obscured the sun.

Prairie ragwort (Packera plattensis) at sunrise

When I arrived, I did a lot of quick walking, trying to find a place where there were some blooming flowers on a high area that would be illuminated by the sun when it popped up. Most of the prairie hasn’t been burned or grazed much recently, so there was a lot of thatch and not an abundance of flowers. I finally found a ragwort plant that I thought might work and got a couple photos before the clouds swallowed the light.

After the clouds rolled in, I took a more leisurely stroll and enjoyed finding other hidden flowers here and there. As I eventually circled back closer to where I’d parked, the sun peeked briefly out through a tiny break in the clouds and it looked like there were a few other small windows coming. I headed to a small area that had been burned earlier in the month to see what I could find there.

Recently burned prairie – Gjerloff Prairie
Pale poppy mallow (Callirhoe alcoides)
A traveling cherry millepede (Pleuroloma flavipes) that may have met its demise in the fire
Common milkweed sprouts, two of which were nipped off – probably by a cottontail or white-tailed deer

One aspect of the burned area I was paying close attention to was the resprouting of smooth sumac and other shrubs within the burned area. As always, it looks like a single burn isn’t going to do much to slow them down. Nearly every old stem that had burned had a nice fresh sprout emerging from its base. By the end of summer, they’ll be just about as tall as they were before the burn. This is just the world we live in now – shrubbier prairies are a fact of life, as I’ve written about before.

Smooth sumac resprouting after the fire

Eventually, it was clear the light was gone and wasn’t coming back for a while, so I packed up and headed back home. Ironically, I needed to get back home so Kim and I could head to some local nurseries to buy trees and shrubs for our yard. Look, I’ve eliminated way more woody plants from the world this month than I’ve added to it, but it’s all about the right plants in the right places, right? In this case, we wanted some shade, early flowers, and pie cherries in our yard. We waited a year since moving to our new house before starting to implement change, but now it’s time.

Nevertheless, it’s funny that I bought a bunch of woody plants to install in one place while working to suppress/manage the growth of many other woody plants in the prairies I care about. Also, it’s funny that I found two opportunities to use the word nevertheless in the same post. Heretofore, I’m not sure I’ve used it very much, insofar as I don’t like using words that are really three words in one.

Photos of the Week – October 10, 2025

The fall migration is in full swing through our prairies. Dragonflies, birds, butterflies, and more are moving southward. Going out on dewy mornings is a great way to check up on butterflies and dragonflies because I can find them immobile and covered in dew on their overnight roosts. This week was a big week for variegated meadowhawks (dragonflies), apparently. I found dozens of them at our family prairie one morning (more photos toward the end of this post).

Variegated meadowhawk at sunrise. Helzer family prairie.

There are lots of little brown birds skulking in the vegetation this week. Many of them are grassland sparrows of various species, but there also were a bunch of sedge wrens at our family prairie. Most of those birds are hard to see unless you flush them while walking through the prairie, but just standing still is also a good way to hear them as they rustle around in patches of tall grass. The sedge wrens made it easy because they not only rustled, they also called to each other with their machine gun songs (“Dot Dot d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d!”).

One of many sedge wrens hiding in the grass this week.

Monarchs are far from the only migratory butterfly (not to mention moths) coming through. I’ve seen a lot of painted lady butterflies this week and found a few orange sulphurs that (probably?) were on the move. There was a cluster of pearl crescent butterflies in our yard this week, too, but as far as I know, those aren’t migratory. They looked like they’d all recently emerged as adults, so they’d better hurry if they’re going to lay eggs before freezing temperatures hit!

Orange sulphur in the morning dew.

As I see the abundance of flies still active at this time of year, I can’t help wondering how many of them are migrants. A year ago, I wrote a post complaining about the lack of North American research on migratory flies. I’m sure that spurred a flurry of activity among researchers (eye roll) and that we’ll soon know a lot more about the topic. In the meantime, I’m left to wonder, especially about all the different drone flies and hover flies I see. Are they just scrambling to eat (and lay eggs?) before frost? Or are they fueling up during a long southward journey?

A gorgeous dew-covered fly. Is it a migrant or resident? I don’t have any idea. Lincoln Creek Prairie.

Most insects, of course, don’t migrate, so they have to survive Nebraska winters however they can. That usually involves finding a sheltered place to hide and then just withstanding freezing conditions. Species vary in terms of whether they go through winter as adults, eggs, or larvae/nymphs. All of those options seem to work ok.

This katydid thought it was hiding from me on an early morning this week. I’m not sure whether this species lives through the winter as adults or eggs.
Another shot of the same katydid.
Male American bumblebee (Bombus pensylvanicus) roosting on the underside of a tall thistle leaf.

A lot of the individual insects out and around now will simply die as winter hits. The only bumblebees, for example, that survive the winter are the fertilized females that will be next year’s queens. Everyone else in the colony will perish at the end of this season. Other insects that lay eggs before winter will also die after completing that task. I imagine that abundance of dead insects provides a big bonanza of food for any animals out poking around after the first big freeze or two. If not, bacteria, fungi, and other microorganisms will clean up the rest.

This caterpillar was literally hanging around on some big bluestem (remarkably camouflaged!) this week. I imagine it’ll spend much of the winter frozen solid, either as a caterpillar or pupa.
Stink bug on big bluestem.

Plants are also shutting down for the year. Most wildflowers and grasses are finished blooming and have produced seeds if they can. Perennial prairie plants are also making buds. Woody plants make buds aboveground where new leaves or stems will emerge next year so the plants can continue to grow larger (assuming they don’t get burned, chewed, or cut down). Herbaceous plants, though, including grasses, wildflowers, and sedges, create buds at their bases, usually right below the surface of the soil.

Over the winter, the entire aboveground portion of perennial herbaceous plants dies back. In the spring, though, those plants will start a new season of growth from their basal buds. Seeds are still important for those perennials, though, both because it allows them to combine DNA with others of their species (cross-pollination) and because it lets them spread progeny into new places. Seed dispersal strategies are fascinating and beautiful, and it’s a fun time of year to see a lot of them in action.

Indiangrass seeds dangling from a seed head, ready to be carried off by a breeze or passing animal.
This milkweed seeds are poised to fly off in the wind once the sun dries the dew drops from them.

Late summer and early fall are great times for dewy mornings. Those water droplets are a boon for insect photographers, but they also make nice photo subjects on their own.

Dew drop hanging from a leaf after sunrise.
Another dew drop on a leaf.

Back to the abundance of variegated meadowhawks this week… I can’t remember seeing so many at a time before, but that doesn’t mean much. I tried to quickly photograph a selection of those I found at our family prairie one morning, but I just kept finding more and more. Here are the ones I managed to photograph:

There was one dragonfly in particular that was perched attractively on top of some stiff goldenrod as the sun came up. I circled back to it a couple times as it started warming up and managed to photograph it from multiple angles while it was still too cold and wet to fly away. All the rest of the photos below are of that same individual.

I don’t know how much longer this late season flurry of activity will last, so I’m trying to catch as much of it as I can. I’ve gotten behind on some projects because I’m trying to see things before they’re gone, but I’ll have the whole winter to catch up, right?