Photos of the Week – September 2, 2025

August really flew by but it was a fun and interesting month. In addition to a full calendar of work and home events, I made time to explore several of my favorite prairies, including The Nature Conservancy’s Platte River Prairies, Niobrara Valley Preserve, and our own family prairie. I caught numerous sunrises and sunsets, foggy mornings, stormy evenings, and some bright overcast days. It was sometimes a struggle to keep up with my to-do list, but my time in the prairie always felt rejuvenating, rather than as something that subtracted from my productivity.

I spent a few mornings in the Platte River Prairies. August is often a good time for foggy mornings with light winds, and this year’s version was no exception.

Sunrise on a foggy morning at the Platte River Prairies.
Compass plant and sunrise.
Canada wildrye with dew and morning light.

One morning, I spent several minutes watching a small spider deconstruct its web, eating it as it went. Many spider species will re-make their web daily, and eating the old one is a way to gain back some of the nutrients it takes to create more silk. This one was working methodically, pulling threads toward her mouth as she circled the web and spiraled inward.

Spider consuming its web in the morning.

Hover flies are always a common sight on the flowers of grasses (as well as other wildflowers). Grasses are wind-pollinated, so the hover flies probably don’t help the grasses any, but there seems to be plenty of pollen to go around, so I doubt they do any serious harm. Plus, they’re pretty dang cute – especially when they grab anthers in their front legs as they eat.

Hover fly feeding on big bluestem pollen.
Widow skimmer in the morning.
Grasshopper peering at me from a sunflower.

We’ve had good rain this year, starting in the early summer, so most of our prairies are looking pretty lush. That includes my family’s prairie. The area we grazed hardest last year is the most full of wildflowers and insects, but the whole site looks good.

A metallic green sweat bee on purple prairie clover.
A bush katydid peering at me through the grass.
A bush katydid from a different angle.

One morning, I stopped at our family prairie well before sunrise. As I was scouting around, waiting for the sun, I saw a few bees clustered together on a flower. That’s not unusual, but I mentally noted the location in case I wanted to come back after the light improved. Shortly after that, I saw an even bigger group of bees, and then another. I’d never seen so many longhorn bees on the same flower before, and I saw similar groupings on at least 4 or 5 flowers.

Longhorn bees waking up in the morning on a stiff sunflower (Helianthus pauciflorus).

I don’t know how to explain this. Longhorn bees (it looked like maybe two or three different species?) are solitary, meaning that females dig their own nest and work by themselves to gather food for their eggs. Males don’t have nests, so spend nights outside, sometimes a few at a time on a leaf or inside a flower. Seeing this many at once, though, was new to me. I wonder if a bunch had recently emerged (from pupae) and I was seeing the new generation on its first night, before they’d had a chance to disperse (or be eaten by predators)?

Whatever the explanation, it was pretty great, and I definitely circled back with my camera once sunlight started to hit those flowers. I had to work quickly, though, because the combination of my presence and the warmth of the sun caused the bees to start flying off pretty quickly.

More longhorn bees on a different stiff sunflower.
Another longhorn bee.

Meanwhile, in the Nebraska Sandhills, it’s been a terrific year for plains sunflowers, one of two annual sunflower species that grow in the state. They are especially abundant where grazing and/or fire created some bare ground for germination this spring, but they’re common across at least the whole eastern portion of the 12 million-acre prairie landscape.

Plains sunflowers (Helianthus petiolaris) and bison fence at sunrise. Niobrara Valley Preserve.
Plains sunflower and rising sun.

The bounty of sunflowers creates more than just abundant beauty. Sunflowers are very generous with their resources, including pollen, nectar, and seeds. They don’t hide pollen and nectar inside pods, and though the seeds are in shells, they’re laid out for easy access.

In addition to those resources, sunflower leaves are very nutritious, including for large grazers (especially early in the season) and lots of invertebrates, including as the favorite food for the plains lubber grasshopper. Plus, sunflowers produce extrafloral nectar from pores up and down the plants, which attracts hungry ants.

Huge numbers of annual sunflowers usually signifies a temporary drop in the vigor of dominant grasses and other perennial plants – from drought, fire, grazing, or a combination. While those other plants are regathering their strength, sunflowers step up and provide all their abundant resources to the members of the prairie community. Plus, of course, it’s a nice thing for photographers.

Lots of plains sunflowers.
More sunflowers.
An adult antlion with sunflower color in the background.

One evening, thunderstorms started forming off to the west of the Niobrara Valley Preserve and tracked northeast, providing a prolonged lightning show that kept just enough distance from the Preserve that I could watch and photograph it safely. After dark, the storms did pass directly over us, but I was safely in bed by then.

Lightning in Sandhills prairie. Niobrara Valley Preserve.
Lightning over the Niobrara River. Niobrara Valley Preserve.

In late August, my impressive wife, Kim, and a bunch of other tough athletes ran a 50-kilometer race on the trails at Wilson Lake (north-central Kansas). I was there as driver and crew member – mainly to say something supportive and hand her food, water, or dry socks when she passed through the aid station. Most of the time, I was free to do my own thing while Kim and a bunch of other human outliers ran up and down rocky hills all day.

It was a cloudy, breezy day, so I wandered down to the sandy banks of the lake where the wind wasn’t as disruptive for photography. I spent a lot of time on my belly, trying to photograph invertebrates who were feeding, hunting, or trying to warm up on the open sand whenever the sun peeked out from between clouds.

As per usual, I had to ignore the onlookers who were trying to figure out why a grown man was lying in wet sand with a camera. The diversity and activity of little creatures was well worth it.

A juvenile wolf spider on the beach of Wilson Lake in Kansas.
A big sandy tiger beetle on the beach. There were LOTS of these.
This is what the lakeshore looked like (featuring an invasive salt cedar tree in the foreground). Now just imagine me on my belly and boaters, dog walkers, and others passing by.
A band-winged grasshopper, one of several similar species that were extraordinarily well-camouflaged.
Damselfly.
A robber fly on an old common reed rhizome.

Along edge of the sand, just before the land rose up into the rocky prairie, I found an abundance of marsh-fleabane (Pluchea odorata). It was a very pretty plant, but even more attractive to scads of pollinators than it was to me. I photographed quite a few different butterflies, flies, and wasps on and around the plant. Since this has become a long post, I’ll just share one example.

A wasp feeding on the nectar of marsh-fleabane (Pluchea odorata) on the edge of the beach of Wilson Lake.

It’s hard to believe there are only about six weeks of this growing season left here in Nebraska. I spend a lot of time outside, but I still feel like I’ve missed way too much this year and am now running out of time to see everything that’s happening. It’s going to be hard to concentrate on any indoor activities during the next month-and-a-half, knowing that while I’m stuck indoors, prairie species are rushing around trying to do everything they need to before frost hits. I should be out there with them!

Ok, gotta go.

Hiding On Their Favorite Plant

I’ve been working with prairies a long time, and there are some individual sites I’ve been studying, managing, or visiting for 30 years or more. Even so, I keep finding new species I didn’t know about and stories I can’t believe I’d not heard before.

I made a quick trip to our family prairie last week to check on grazing progress and to enjoy a quiet evening. As always, there was a lot to see and I’m glad I went. In particular, though, I got to meet and learn about a new prairie friend.

As I was walking through part of the prairie that was grazed last year, I paused and did a little double take at some sideoats grama plants. There was something just a little “off” about the arrangement of flowers up the stem. First of all, it was on a dry slope, and the sideoats was obviously not going to produce seed – the flowers hadn’t gotten rain at the right time, and dried up before they filled. That’s not what I noticed, though. What I noticed was a little extra bump in the row of flowers.

Narrow stink bug on sideoats grama.

I knelt down and looked closer. Sure enough, there was something there – it was a skinny little bug that looked almost exactly like one of the dried grass flowers. Both the color and shape were near perfect matches. Well, I thought, that might be a coincidence but I bet it’s not.

I looked a few feet to my right at the next nearest sideoats flower stem and, boy howdy, if I didn’t see another bug just like the first! The chances that this was coincidental were dropping fast.

Another narrow stink bug on a different sideoats plant.

After that, of course, I looked at more nearby sideoats plants, but didn’t see any more bugs. That didn’t necessarily mean much but I still noted it. Shortly afterward, I did, though, find a couple more of the bugs – hanging out on some Indiangrass. Hm. Did the exception prove the rule or was I reading too much into a chance color/shape match between two species?

A narrow stink bug on an Indiangrass stem.

Later that evening, I submitted one of my photos of the bug to Bugguide.net and by the next morning I had my answer. The bug was identified as a narrow stink bug (Mecidae), which is a group of insects that feed on grasses. Sideoats grama was specifically noted as the grass species they are most often observed on. How about that?

Our family prairie is a site I know very well. It’s only a quarter section of land (160 acres) and I’ve been visiting it frequently for many years – usually with my camera – and looking closely at everything I can find. Even after all that time, I’d just discovered a new “kinship” between species I hadn’t known about. And, that’s not unusual. Making new discoveries is still a regular occurrence. This is just the latest one.

Anyway, I saw other things at the prairie, too. Here are some of them:

A silver-spotted skipper feeds on wild bergamot.
A bush katydid peers at me through the grass.
Bumblebee on ironweed.
Corn earworm moth (native species) on ironweed.
A recently-shed grasshopper exoskeleton on stiff goldenrod.
I’m pretty sure this is the grasshopper that had emerged from the above shed exoskeleton. It was sitting on the same plant and looked very fresh.
An assassin bug hunts on Missouri goldenrod.
This grasshopper was looking at the same sunset I was. It wasn’t until I got home that I realized it was missing one of its big back legs!

After the sun went down, I was driving out past the pond/wetland, which has water in it for the first time in several years. I wasn’t on a particular schedule, so I figured I’d stop and see if anything interesting was happening down by the water before it got too dark to see anything. The first thing I noticed as I approached was the squeaks of several bullfrogs jumping into the water. That wouldn’t be noteworthy except that the pond has been dry for four or five years. Where did those frogs come from? How did they get here so quickly?

The second thing I noticed was the cloud of dragonflies skimming back and forth above the surface of the water. It looked like they were all green darners, feeding on mosquitoes (I assume) and other flying insects. I think there were maybe 50 of them, though it was pretty hard to get an accurate count. It could have been as few as 20 – who knows?

Anyway, every once in a while, one of the dragonflies would drop down and land on a partially-submerged plant. It would then curl its tail downward – clearly laying an egg (or several) – before rising again to join its colleagues in the sky. I couldn’t tell if it was just one female doing this over and over or several different individuals.

A green darner laying an egg in the post-sunset glow of distant clouds.

I was surprised that the egg-laying dragonflies were solo. Often, when I see dragonflies laying eggs, there is a male attached to the female. I was pretty sure I’d seen that with this same species, in fact. I looked it up when I got home and apparently it happens both ways. There you go – one more thing I’ve learned!

The light was getting pretty dim as I watched the dragonflies but I couldn’t resist trying for some photos. The clouds to the west were still slightly glowing from the recently-set sun, so I set up my tripod and camera so that the reflected glow gave me enough light to work with (barely). Even so, I was using a pretty slow shutter speed and a remote trigger to avoid jiggling my camera. It took a while, but I managed to a get a few shots that looked like they’d work.

Happy and full of both new discoveries and questions for Google, I headed home.