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?

Photos of the Week – October 1, 2025

Over the weekend, my wife Kim ran 100 miles. On purpose.

The Cowboy 200/100 race has become an annual event for people who think marathons are more fun when you string a bunch of them together end-to-end. There were lots of those people on the Cowboy Trail (an old railroad right-of-way) this weekend. Some of them were running 100 miles like Kim, but even more of them were running 200 miles. In case you were wondering, 200 miles is 322 kilometers. That’s equivalent to thirty two 10K runs in a row, plus a couple extra K just for fun.

The Cowboy Trail a few miles west of the start of the 100 mile race.

Feel free to skip ahead if you’re just here for nature photos but I figured people might have questions about the apparent lunacy of these kinds of races. First of all, just finishing the race is a huge accomplishment. Obviously. There are cut-off times, so you can’t just walk the whole thing. Not that walking 100 or 200 miles wouldn’t also be a big deal, but they make you finish sooner than would be possible if you just walked.

Unsurprisingly, a grueling race like this means a lot of people aren’t able to finish it. Of the 70 people who started the 200-mile race, only 40 crossed the finish line. Sixty-two people started the 100-mile race and only 33 finished. The winner of this year’s 200-mile race finished in about 46 hours, but most people ran it in about 60-80 hours. If you’re struggling with the mental math, 80 hours is three days and 8 hours.

The winner of the 100-mile race finished in an amazing 16 hours and 30 minutes, but most people came in at between 24 and 30 hours. My impression is that most of the 200-mile runners took cat naps here and there, but I think most of the 100-milers did it without sleeping on the way.

Anyway, that was a quick primer to the ultramarathon world for those of you who haven’t run further than 26.2 miles and wondered if there were any opportunities to do so. There are! If you choose to become an ultramarathon runner, you will be joining a very select group of people who, in my experience, are incredibly friendly, supportive, self-disciplined, pain-tolerant, and utterly mad. It’s a fun group to hang around with, assuming you enjoy listening to conversations about electrolytes, caloric intake, blisters, shoe brands, late-race hallucination stories and Courtney Dauwalter.

While all those lovely people were on the trail, I just hung around and took pictures of bugs and such. I also met Kim at various aid stations along the route and handed her water, food, socks, or whatever she needed while she and other runners tried to convince each other they were having fun.

Right after the 100-mile race started on Saturday morning, I drove out ahead of the runners and wandered the Cowboy trail at a much more leisurely pace and photographed insects, flowers, and seed heads I found along the way. It was a gorgeous morning. Here are some of those photos.

Tree cricket
Drone fly
Half-eaten grasshopper
Sand bluestem (Andropogon hallii)
Prairie sandreed seed (Calamovilfa longifolia)
An Arabesque orb weaver (I think)
Smooth sumac (Rhus glabra)
Smooth sumac
Annual buckwheat (Eriogonum annuum)
Dainty sulphur (Nathalis iole)
Dainty sulphur, front view

I didn’t get a chance for photography Saturday night, but I did get to watch the sunrise on Sunday morning. There’s a nice scenic overlook at Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge, just outside of Valentine, Nebraska, where the race finished. I drove up there, not necessarily for the scenic overlook, but because I knew it was a place I could wander with my camera.

Cell phone photo of the scenic overlook when I arrived. Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge.

I was working with less than four hours of sleep (in the back of our car) but the crisp morning was invigorating and I had a great time exploring the small prairie area near the overlook. There were quite a few spider webs to enjoy, a few flowers still blooming, and some really nice fall color in the grasses, shrubs, and other plants.

Sunrise and sand bluestem
Sunrise and Niobrara River Valley
Sunflower seed maggot fly
Mayfly
Dotted gayfeather (Liatris punctata)
Green lacewing
Grasshopper
Narrowleaf four o’clock (Mirabilis linearis)

Since there was only a very light breeze, I spent time photographing spiders on their webs – at least those who tolerated my approach. Most of the time, if I kept my head low as I moved in, they seemed willing to pose for me.

Spotted orbweaver – maybe? (Neoscona crucifera)
A different spotted orbweaver individual
Sideoats grama (Bouteloua curtipendula) and spider silk
Spider silhouette (jumping spider)
Flower spider (Larinia borealis) or similar species
The same species as above. Maybe. Probably.

Once the sunlight grew too intense for good photography, I drove back down to the finish line and waited for Kim to arrive. While I was there, I hung out and talked to some of the other runners and the race organizers. Every time a runner was spotted approaching the finish line, though, conversations paused and all the runners who were done with the race stood (stiffly and shakily) and limped over to clap and cheer.

Then, I drove my beautiful, sleepy, and sore wife home.