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.

Photos of the Week – June 28, 2025

This was a really fun week, but it was one jam packed with social interactions. The America’s Grasslands Conference happened just down the road and I gave a few presentations and several tours associated (officially and unofficially) with that. I also had a great time meeting new people and catching up with old ones. By the end of Thursday, though, my social engine was pretty much out of gas (I should probably think about upgrading to a more eco-friendly social engine).

As a result, on Friday morning, I got up and drove down to our family prairie to catch sunrise. I spent most of my time in the 80×80 foot plot there tied to the post-grazing photography project I’m doing this year. It was just the thing to reinvigorate me.

Purple prairie clover (Dalea purpurea)

The prairie was full of life and activity, even on a dewy morning. Purple prairie clover is starting to bloom across my project area, adding a lot of color, but also drawing a lot of attention from various invertebrates (more on that below). Yarrow, flax, and daisy fleabane were still in flower, but obviously on the back end of their blooming period. Upright prairie coneflower, hoary vervain, and other wildflowers were also joining the party.

Hoary vervain (Verbena stricta)
Upright prairie coneflower (Ratibida columnifera)
Grooved flax (Linum sulcatum)

We’ve had good rains lately, so there were mushrooms around, including on manure piles. I was surprised to see what I think are the same species on manure from last season as well as from this season (in areas outside of my photography project area). I guess I’d expected to see mushrooms on fresh dung, but not necessarily on older piles. Or that maybe that the fungal species would differ between young and old piles. I’m not really sure why I thought that, but either way, I was wrong. Look at me – learning new things!

Mushrooms on last year’s cow manure.

Back to the prairie clover, I saw a few crab spiders hanging around on them, and some drone flies had shaken off the dew and were making the rounds looking for pollen. I only saw one bee, but I assume that’s because the others were waiting for the dew to dry – prairie clover is usually one of the top bee-attracting wildflowers in our prairie when it’s blooming. I’ll go back soon and see what’s happening when the whole prairie isn’t soaking wet.

What I saw most on those prairie clover flowers were little katydid nymphs. They were ubiquitous. Tiny, long-antennaed, grasshopper-like creatures were hanging out and (I think) feeding on the pollen and/or anthers of many of the flowers. (I just had to convince my computer that “antennaed” is a word. It keeps underlining it to highlight the fact that it doesn’t think it’s correct. I even looked up the word to make sure I wasn’t the crazy one. What’s funny, of course, is that I looked it up online, which is a skill you’d think my computer would also have.)

Katydid nymph on purple prairie clover.
Katydid nymph on purple prairie clover.

Most of the tiny katydid nymphs were only about 1/4 inch long, but their antennae were several times longer than their bodies. As I’ve done countless times before, I wondered how they managed to move around in the prairie with those things sticking out like that. You’d think they’d get hung up in the vegetation over and over. Can you imagine trying to walk through a forest with 25-foot fiberglass poles stuck to your head? It must be similar. It’s just one more reason to admire katydids, I guess.

Katydid nymph on purple prairie clover.
Skipper on purple prairie clover.
Seven spotted ladybird beetle.

There were lots of other invertebrates around, of course, including ladybirds, grasshoppers (large and small), flies, lynx spiders, wolf spiders, funnel-web spiders, and many others. Damselflies were particularly noticeable as I walked carefully through the vegetation. As I’d step, a few would fly a short distance away from my feet and land again. The only way I could get close enough to photograph them was to lie prone on the ground and army crawl slowly toward them, keeping my head low. Even then, of course, only a few let me get close. One of them was distracted (I assume) by the small insect it was feeding on. I never did figure out what it was eating. Initially, I thought mosquito, but looking at the photos later, I’m not sure.

Damselfly and sparkling morning dew drops.
Damselfly with unknown prey.

The biggest highlight of the morning was seeing purple coneflower in bloom. This is a species that I’ve only seen a few times at my family prairie, and never in this particular location.

Purple coneflower (Echinacea angustifolia)

A couple weeks ago, I spotted two different individuals of purple coneflower and it looked like both were going to bloom. One of them was doing just that on Friday morning, with three flowers in various stages of opening. The mystery now is whether those plants have been hiding there for many years and I just noticed them this year or whether they came in from seed.

I’ve been overseeding the site every year for the last 15 years or so – tossing seed out in the winter where cattle had grazed hardest the previous season. It’s been a slow, gradual process because I don’t have a ton of time to harvest seed. I know I’ve had some purple coneflower in my mix a few times over the years, but definitely not within the last 4-5 years. Either way, it’s pretty fun that the first time I’ve seen them bloom is the year AFTER their part of the prairie experienced a year and a half of heavy grazing (the last half of the 2023 growing season and all of the 2024 season).

Purple coneflower and dotted gayfeather.

After a couple hours of exploring the prairie, I left for home feeling much better. That happens after walking any grassland, but the feelings are especially strong after I leave a prairie with which I have a strong connection.

At work, I have built lots of prairie from the ground up (both harvesting and planting the seed – with help from others, of course). Our family prairie has been under my management for about 20 years now, counting the years I helped my grandmother when she was still around. In both cases, the emotions that come with those personal ties are awfully profound. I know that every plant, every insect, every bird, skunk, mushroom, or other organism I see in those places is responding to a chain of events I helped put in motion through my restoration and/or stewardship work.

I mean – wow. Just wow.