Jericho, Underhill, VT Life Search - Insect Observation Journal - Fond Farewell

 

  Morning coffee and a cheerful good morning from Maeve are my first welcome of the day. I am slow to wake up but it seems so are the insects. Until the temperature outside reaches about sixty degrees, they, at least the flying insects don’t make their presence known to me - slumber heads - they too are slow to wake up. 

   I wonder if the youngest amongst them wake early - eager to get about out into the world, brand new to them - and drive their parents crazy. Come on Mom, Dad,  get up, let's go find some sweet nectar and some powdery yellow pollen and make our own donuts. Meanwhile, Mom and Dad grunt something or another and pull the leaves over their heads. 

   By about nine or nine-thirty the sun has cleared Bolger Hill to the east of us. The first rays enter our bog area silently creeping in as though entering through the bottom of a window shade warming the first few inches of the floor and the cat stretched out upon it. Our outdoor kitchen thermometer has taken notice and even though the sun will not start to reach the main part of the backyard for a while, the red blush is rising approaching the sixty-degree mark. 

   Insects, I find, adore the sun and warmth. Our yard has about a dozen sun time zones. Some of them have multiple sun time zones, in part due to the surrounding trees. Observing the pollinating insects - the donut makers - means going where the sun is shining upon flowers and other pollen and nectar-producing plants. Early on I might spy dead dried stems like those of last year's golden rod, raspberry, and blackberry plants. There I can watch tiny Subgenus Zadontomerus usually about 5-7mm long, push aside some woody shavings and peek out of the hole in the broken woody stem to get their first look in the morning. A youngster leads the way no doubt. 

   Some of the crawlers like the slugs were up and about long before. They aspire to be through breakfast before the dew leaves the strawberry patch. I on the other hand prefer not to have protein with my strawberry breakfast as I pick a few of those sweet savory fruits - summertime never tasted so good - from our raised beds. A moth, disturbed by my hand, as I move leaves looking for the reddest and most plump berries, flutters with angst at being disturbed - understandably as the moths, for the most part, work the night shift. They are just heading to bed. I wish them a pleasant day's rest. 

   I finished my coffee, dined on freshly picked strawberries, observed a few early risers, and observed some heading to bed. I am now eager to follow the commuters to work. The Bees, the busiest hardest working group I have ever met, have upon the sun's touch, begun pollinating the raspberry flowers near our driveway. Mining bees, Bumble bees, Mason bees, Metallic Sweat bees, Pure green sweat bees, Bi-colored sweat bees… - a wide variety of bee species,  along with cane borers, wasps, and golden tortoise beetles,  race the turn that will have the flowers turn to fruit. 

 

  

   Nearby our roses, which last year took a major hit - cause unknown - show some sign of beginning to recover. They offer far fewer blooms this year. The bees seem to know there is a scarcity, they buzz and move about rapidly, packed three of four per flower competing for a limited food basket. I set my camera settings at about 1/1600 of a second (at the cost of an optimum aperture setting) and hope that I get at least an acceptable depth of field to provide an image good enough for an ID later when I post them on iNaturalist.

 A  bumble bee raises a leg to tell other bees or perhaps it is telling me - you are too close. 

The other kind of commuters going by in cars must wonder what I am doing on my knees on the sidewalk. I hope they drive by slowly enough to take in the beauty of the flowers if not the insects.

   Now the sun has reached our backyard shining brightest on a mock orange bush. Here too, many species of insects come for the savory-sweet food while others come for meat, like the crab spiders, and a few wasps. My favorite here is the Mock-Orange Scissor Bee. I watch as the males fly about looking for a female in the flowers and upon finding one quickly dive into the alcove for some quick loving and then after a quick hug - they depart. 

   Later in the day the sun, not yet set, has only dim rays mostly absorbed by the trees on the edge of our western boundary. I revisit the mock orange bush just the same to see if there are any late stragglers. A sole nomad bee - a cleptoparasite - therefore probably not a welcome member to join the party - is positioned head first deep into a mock orange flower. There must be a good stash left over in that flower for the bee remains in place for minutes. I take a few last photos for the day and am ready to wish all the insects a good night. 

   From the periphery of my vision, a motion dislodges my fixed attention away from the nomad bee. I turn to my right to see a fawn coming up the four-foot-wide mowed path. Apparently, that is the first it sees of me as well, though not more than thirty feet from me. The fawn, surprised as much as I am,  abruptly but without panic in its stride, turns tail and gingerly heads west, like the insects following the sun. 

   And so I end the day, having followed the windows of the sun, the savory taste of strawberries, and with the insects, the colorful attraction of flowers.  I am content that I have enjoyed the company of many who we share our yard with, who raise their families, get up each day and go to work, and at the end of the day turn around, wishing all a fond (or fawn) farewell until tomorrow. 

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