A black-, orange- and white-checkered moth walked in...

...and decided to stay! Thus begins the story of the Ailanthus Webworm Moth and its excellent adventure. (This is a companion piece to an earlier post on the Common Buttonbush.) While Matty and I were sketching the Buttonbush flowers along the Little Miami River, we noticed a small black-, orange- and white-checkered insect was on a lot of the blossoms...

Ailanthus Webworm Moths on a Buttonbush Inflorescence
These two dapper moths look like they are tiptoeing through the styles of each tiny flower. 

Ailanthus Webworm Moth
I'd seen the bug before, but had never studied it, so when we got home, I got out my "Kaufman Field Guide to Insects of North America," by Kenn Kaufman, and sure enough, there it was, an Ailanthus Webworm Moth (Atteva aurea), a day-flying moth that pollinates a lot of flowers as it visits them to sip nectar.

An Ailanthus Webworm Moth clings to the underside of a Swamp Milkweed flower along the Little Miami River near Spring Valley Wildlife Area. 

Tree of Heaven
This moth, which looks like a long skinny beetle when seen from a distance, is "sort of" a native to the United States (and here is where its excellent adventure kicks in). The lovely little moth got brave one day and jumped host plants. Originally, the moth was native to southern Florida and Central and South American, where its host plant, the Paradise Tree grew, but one day, it found a Tree of Heaven (Ailanthus altissima), which is closely related to the Paradise Tree, and decided to live on it. The Tree of Heaven is not native to the United States. It's from China, but it was introduced to the U.S. in the 1700s.  Since then, it has spread across the country, and the Ailanthus Webworm Moth moved along with it. (Click here for a detailed history of the Tree of Heaven in the United States and control strategies to prevent its spread.)

The Ailanthus Webworm Moth originally was native to southern Florida, but it followed the Tree of Heaven, an invasive introduced from China in the 1700s, as it spread across the nation.

The Tree of Heaven looks a lot like our native Staghorn Sumac (Rhus typhina), which produces seeds beneficial to the birds. There are several ways to tell the two trees apart. The easiest is the Tree of Heaven has smooth leaflets that turn yellow in autumn, while Staghorn Sumac has serrated leaves and turns bright red. Click here for an earlier post on Staghorn Sumac to see what it looks like in the fall, and learn about how it helps birds get through deep winter.  Click here for a pdf titled, "Invasives Strike Force Plant Guide, 2012," from the New York-New Jersey Trail Conference. This guide teaches you how to spot many invasive trees and tell them apart from native look-alikes.

An Ailanthus Webworm Moth, an early instar Monarch caterpillar, and a Monarch butterfly all share a Swamp Milkweed flower. The larvae of the Ailanthus Webworm Moth only eats Tree of Paradise leaves, but the adult moths are not picky and pollinate many types of flowers. 

One more thing...
The Tree of Heaven is famous for its starring role in "A Tree Grows in Brooklyn," by Betty Smith. Click here for a link to a critical essay on the symbols in the book, including the Tree of Paradise described in the first chapter, where the tree was a metaphor for all the immigrants coming into New York City during the 1700s and 1800s.


Additional references
For more information on the Ailanthus Webworm Moth, click here for "Moths of Ohio Field Guide," by David J. Horn, Ph.D; Ohio Department of Natural Resources, Division of Wildlife, or here for an interesting post on the blog "MOBugs; Missouri's Majority."

(I really enjoyed spending the day sketching with Matty (8-7-2015) at the Spring Valley Wildlife Area. Getting out in the wild with pencil and paper is relaxing and helps cement memories. The next day, I drove out with my camera to get photos. Beauty was everywhere...)

Common Buttonbush along the Little Miami River...

A few weeks ago Matty and I went up to Spring Valley Wildlife Area along the Little Miami River with our sketchbooks. We spent the afternoon rambling about, sketching whatever we saw. When we came across a stand of Common Buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis), we stopped and studied the tree and its blossoms, noting that the leaves occurred in whorls of three, and the "honey bell" was made of hundreds of tiny blossoms...

Common Buttonbush flower ball, also called a honey bell, dangles from a stem and looks a lot like a firework display, a starburst...or in a less romantic view, a pin cushion! 

Common Buttonbush is native to Ohio. It loves water and swampy areas, and true to form, we found a large colony hugging the edge of the lake and another in a low boggy area beside the lake, just steps from the Little Miami River. The flower balls were intensely fragrant, which is where it gets its nickname "honey bell" or "honey-ball," and butterflies were everywhere...

A female dark morph Eastern Tiger Swallowtail (Papilio glaucus) nectars on a Buttonbush flower-ball (inflorescence). The butterfly uses its proboscis to sip nectar from each tiny perfect flower and pollinates the florets in the process. 

Two Silver-spotted Skippers (Epargyreus clarus) cling to the pin cushion for a sip of nectar as well. The long, projecting styles of each perfect flower in the inflorescence create the pin-like, starburst look.

The cranberry red stems of a Common Buttonbush shrub are almost as striking as its flowers. Its leaves have both a three-stemmed whorled arrangement (often near the flower) and an opposite arrangement elsewhere on the shrub.

Before the inflorescence bursts open, the tiny flowers (florets) are encased in tight mint-green buds (sepals). Here the flowers are just starting to open, but you can still see remnants of some of the buds and the light-green color.

After the flower petals have fallen away, little ball-shaped seed heads remain. Some will hold on through the autumn and winter. Each tiny flower in the inflorescence produces two seeds called nutlets. Often buttonbush trees grow at the edge of ponds, lakes, streams and rivers (or even in the water), so when the nutlets ripen and tumble out, they float and are dispersed by the currents. Wood Ducks, Mallards, teal, and other waterfowl like to eat the nutlets.  

For more information on the Common Buttonbush, including its historical use as a quinine substitute for malaria, look in "The Book of Swamp and Bog; Trees, Shrubs, and Wildflowers of Eastern Freshwater Wetlands," by John Eastman, pgs 34-37. For an online resource, click here for a link to The Hilton Pond Center's website, or here for the Ohio Department of Natural Resources Division of Forestry website.

What is an inflorescence?
When you look closely at a Buttonbush flower you'll notice it's a collection of hundreds of tiny flowers, called florets. Each one of the florets in the collection is a "perfect flower," which means it has a pistil (stigma, style and ovary) and stamens (anther and filament). The collection or grouping of florets is called an inflorescence. Common flowers with inflorescences are sunflowers and all the flowers in the daisy family. Click here for a past post called "Hummingbirds and sunflowers" that describes an inflorescence in more detail.

Spotted Jewelweed sparkles along the Little Miami River...

Bright splatters of orange along the riverbank in August can mean only one thing, Spotted Jewelweed (Impatiens capensis) is in bloom! Matty and I saw these orange gems last weekend along the Little Miami River at Spring Valley Wildlife Area. The temps were warm, the humidity was high, and the cicadas were singing...all indicative of late summer and the slow march to autumn...

A Spotted Jewelweed flower dangles from a translucent green stem. This beautiful flower is a powerhouse of fuel for the Ruby-throated Hummingbird during fall migration. 

A hummingbird's horn of plenty...
Spotted Jewelweed's conical horn-shaped flower with its tubular nectar spur was made for hummingbirds, literally. The flower coevolved with hummingbirds and is the main nectar source for the tiny bird on its return flight south in late summer and early fall (jewelweed blooms well into October). In return, the hummingbird is the flower's main pollinator. The downward angle of the nectar spur forces the hummingbird to go deeper into the flower to reach the nectar, which means more pollen ends up on the hummingbird's head, ensuring pollination and making the hummingbird a very efficient pollinator.  To learn more about nectar spurs and pollinators, click here for the article, "The relationship between nectar spur curvature in jewelweed (Impatiens capensis) and pollen removal by hummingbird pollinators," by Steven Travers, Ethan Temeles, and Irvin Pan.

When you look at Spotted Jewelweed in profile, you can see how its horn-of-plenty shape and the small tubular spur at the base of the flower that holds nectar is perfect for a hummingbird.

Disperses seeds like a pro...
Jewelweed's common name, Touch-me-not, comes from its unusual method of seed dispersal. When the seed pods ripen, the slightest touch (even that of a strong breeze) triggers a pop that ejects the seeds up to four feet away. Unlike most wildflowers, Jewelweed is an annual, not a perennial, which means its only way to reproduce is through seed. Efficient seed dispersal is critical to its survival, so it's no surprise it has developed such a cool method of ensuring its seeds get distributed. In addition to jewelweed's showy horn-shaped flower, another type of flower called a cleistogamous flower contributes to seed production. This flower is inconspicuous, small and green, and it never opens. It is self pollinated, and when it ripens, the seeds are not thrown as far. Botanists assume this ensures some seeds stick close to the parent plant where they will thrive in the same habitat. The seeds from the pollinated flowers come from genes from two parents and are more likely to be able to survive in conditions that might be slightly different, so they are tossed far and wide. Additionally, it's scientific name of "Inpatiens" derives from this "impatient" explosion of seeds. Source: "The Book of Swamp and Bog; Trees, Shrubs, and Wildflowers of Eastern Freshwater Wetlands," by John Eastman, pgs 91-95. (p.s. This book is part of a series of three. The other two are "Forest and Thicket" and "Field and Roadside." I love them because they go into detail with lots of interesting tid bits!)  

The deep oranges and reds of Spotted Jewelweed are a preview of the warm colors of autumn. It's a perfect transition flower from summer to fall.

...if you want to wax whimsical, this little flower could totally be a hat for a little flower fairy or gnome. Too cute!

Jewelweed reseeds itself and grows in large colonies. It forms a dense canopy and can crowd out noxious weeds (much to the delight of migrating hummingbirds in late August, September, and early October).

Sparkling silver leaves...
I used to think jewelweed was named for its jewel-toned orange and yellow colors, but it's not. Several years ago, I photographed the yellow-colored jewelweed (Impatiens pallida), and after researching it, I learned the moniker referred to the leaves. When water droplets form on the leaves, they shine like tiny, sparkling jewels, and when the leaves are placed under water, the underside shines like silver. Click here to see photos of Yellow Jewelweed (Pale Touch-me-not). The post also covers its use as an antidote for stinging nettle burns, poison ivy rashes, and mosquito bites!

Northern Leopard Frog at the Spring Valley Freshwater Fen

It's easy to see where this Northern Leopard Frog (Rana pipiens) got its name. It's covered in spots just like a leopard. I photographed the cute little frog two weeks ago at the Spring Valley Wildlife Area when Paul Krusling and I were there searching for Spotted Turtles. As I mentioned in an earlier post, we had no luck finding the Spotted Turtles, but spotted frogs were a whole other story...

Northern Leopard Frog (Rana pipiens) at Spring Valley Wildlife Area. This frog and several others were at the freshwater fen. 

I had never seen the small freshwater fen at Spring Valley. It's beautiful...hidden and off the beaten path, it was a haven for these little Northern Leopard Frogs.

Northern Leopard Frog hiding in the leaf litter in the freshwater fen at Spring Valley Wildlife Area.

...closeup of a Northern Leopard Frog's face.

Yellow-throated Vireo at Spring Valley Wildlife Area...

Last Tuesday I spent the day at Spring Valley Wildlife Area. It was beautiful and warm, and newly arrived spring migrants were singing in the bright sunshine. We were looking for Spotted Turtles, hoping one would pop its head out of the water and swim around, but unfortunately, none obliged. This sunny yellow Yellow-throated Vireo, however, put on a nice show...

Yellow-throated Vireo (Vireo flavifrons) singing along the Little Miami River at Spring Valley Wildlife Area.

Yellow-spectacled Vireo would have been a good name for this guy too... 

Sweet Swamp Sparrow at Spring Valley Nature Area...

Before we went to the Little Miami trail to look for the eagle's nest (click here for that post), Rick and I spent some time on the boardwalk at Spring Valley hoping to catch a glimpse of the Virginia Rails. We heard two rails calling close to the observation deck, but they stayed hidden in the cattails. That was okay, though, because while we waited patiently for the rails to peek out, a very pretty Swamp Sparrow caught our eye as he waded in and out of the shallow water around the observation deck...  

A male Swamp Sparrow (Melospiza georgiana) wading into the water looking for something to eat. 

True to their names, Swamp Sparrows really like water. This fellow acted more like a shorebird wading through the water than a sparrow.  

A Swamp Sparrow from behind is pretty. I like his droopy wings and rusty colors.

A Swamp Sparrow perches on dead cattail stalks. He was singing his lovely song from this perch. He's probably migrating through, though, not setting up a territory. Swamp Sparrows breed in Ohio, but much further north. 

It was really nice to just sit on the observation deck in the warm sun and listen to the Red-winged Blackbirds singing all through the marsh. Beautiful Blue-winged Teal flew over regularly, and an Osprey took to the wing flying by low. Painted Turtles were everywhere basking on logs, and we could hear frogs and toads from the marsh edges...

Painted Turtles (Chrysemys picta) on a submerged log soak up a bit of sun.

...it was hard to leave the boardwalk. I loved lazing the time away in the warm sun just watching and listening to the birds. If that log were bigger I would have crawled out there and joined the turtles!

An American Bald Eagle on a nest along the Little Miami River...

Last October, Matty and I spent some time up at the Spring Valley Wildlife Area photographing what we thought might be an eagle's nest (click here for that post). Today Rick and I drove up to see if it was...and it was!

Okay...squint, step back and look carefully. Yes, it's there...a white head and a dark body. Finally, I've seen an American Bald Eagle on the Little Miami River. The quality of the photo is poor, but I was over 500 yards away shooting from the bike trail, and then I cropped the image to an inch of its life to try to make out the eagle. 

View of the eagle's nest from the bike trail. The nest is bigger now than it was this October, and there's no mistaking an eagle is in residence. When you look through binocs or the spotting scope, you can clearly see the bird, but through a 400mm lens, the eagle is nothing more than a bump on a blob!

This huge sycamore hugs the Little Miami River. Canoeists floating down the river are in for a treat if they look up! From the bike trail, it's a different story. However, just hang out at Spring Valley for a while, and you'll see the adults flying overhead or even grabbing a fish from the water. Rick and I spoke with a fisherman at the lake, and he said he's seen an eagle several times swooping down to catch a fish. What a sight!

Images of autumn...

...colors are richer, shadows are deeper, and the warm oranges and reds of the season ignite anticipation of the ancient celebration of harvest and plenty...

These photos are all from the walk Matty and I took along the Little Miami River at Spring Valley Wildlife Area (from the previous post).

The eagle's nest at Spring Valley Wildlife Area...

Sunday Matty and I drove up to the Spring Valley Wildlife Area, a beautiful wetland just past Waynesville, OH (about 35 minutes from our house). We wanted to hike out through the corn fields and windbreaks that border the wetland to check out what we hope is an eagle's nest. Before we set out on that hike, though, we took some time to study the marsh and look for birds on the lake. I went to the east and photographed some asters, and when I came back to the car, I found Matty writing in his journal...

Matty writing down a few of his observations in his field journal (south parking lot, Spring Valley Wildlife Area).

...nothing is sacred when you have a mom with a camera.

Journal entry from August 8, 2012 (by Matty Riccetti)
Spring Valley Wildlife Area 

"It is an interesting day at Spring Valley marsh. The trees are beginning to blush red and orange in the cool air of the approaching winter, and the birds are finding nests (roosts/places) among the leaves to barricade themselves from the autumn frosts; however, the marsh looks the same. The lily pads still polka dot the surface, and frogs still hop in the water as I draw closer. The marsh refuses to alter its appearance for the coming season; the landscape thus is both picturesque and confusing. Although the marsh still clings to its summer ways, it is still indescribably beautiful the way it picks up the autumn hues from the trees. Seasons change, but the beauty and depth of the marsh does not."

...birders from all over our area head to Spring Valley to see marsh species and wonderful displays of ducks. It's one of the best marshes in southwest Ohio. This summer I saw Marsh Wrens around the boardwalk, and I've seen Sora and Virginia Rails there many times. 

...another reason I love Spring Valley--it's on the Little Miami bike trail! After viewing the lake and marsh, we walked to the bike trail. The eagle's nest is located about a mile south of the south parking lot. Hop on the trail at the parking lot and go left. When you see the cornfields, follow the windbreaks down to the river. The nest is visible from the trail in a huge sycamore. It's on the other side of the river. We saw it from the trail this summer, and now that the leaves have fallen a bit, it stands out even more. 

An eagle's nest on the Little Miami river at Spring Valley! 

Earlier this summer, we saw this nest from a distance. It was much bigger than any Red-tailed Hawk's nest we had ever seen, and it was located where a park attendant said an eagle couple had nested this spring, so I'm 90% sure it's an eagle's nest. I can't wait to check it out this coming February or March to confirm. The nest looked big from a distance, but up close, it was huge! It's actually located on the other side of the Little Miami river from the trail, so you're still not that close, which is good, because the eagles can remain undisturbed. It looked a lot like the eagle's nest I saw up close in Florida (click here and here for those photos.)

Matty sketching out the eagle's nest (or at least what we think is an eagle's nest) across the river...

After viewing the eagle's nest, Matty and I headed back up the trail to the old beaver's pond. We were looking for the Red-headed Woodpeckers that liver there. Red-headed Woodpeckers are rare in our neck of the woods, but there is a population at Spring Valley, and we were hoping one or two would be about. We saw male and female Downy Woodpeckers, a few Red-bellied Woodpeckers, and we heard a Pileated, but no Red-headed Woodpeckers. It was getting late and the temp was dropping quickly, so we took the cut-off back to the lake, and when we emerged from the woods we heard something....and to our left, a Red-headed Woodpecker flew up from the ground and over the trees. His tell-tale white back feathers were flashing in the low light. Pretty cool...

A female Downy Woodpecker peaks from a hole in a dead tree at the beaver pond. She was in and out of the hole several times. We were hoping for close-ups of a Red-headed Woodpecker, but this little Downy was so sweet, we were just as happy. A male Downy was two dead trees down. He was fluffed up against the chill...and just as sweet.

Sounds of Summer

Last week when I was filling a feeder at the very back of our yard, I heard the call of a returning Red-winged Blackbird. My heart skipped a quick beat, and I had to stop and listen twice to make sure I had heard what I thought I had heard. It was gray and dreary, my fingers hurt from the nip of cold through my leather gloves, and I was mucking through the mud in lovely red boots, so for me, the call was out of place.


For me, the Red-winged Blackbird’s call means summer. As a kid, I can remember baking out in the sun while playing wiffle ball or looking for crawdads under rocks in the creek and hearing that wonderful bird sound always around us. At the time, I didn’t know it was the call of a Red-winged Blackbird. To me it was just one of the early sounds of summer, and I liked it. To this day, the red wing’s call makes me happy. It can evoke the feeling of summer heat and summer freedom…open space, blue sky, and water.


One day last summer, Rick, Matty and I headed up to the Spring Valley Wildlife Area. It was blazing hot…the kind of heat that just absorbs into your skin and makes you feel good. Walking across the boardwalk through the marsh, male Red-winged Blackbirds were scattered throughout the reeds, heads thrown back, singing into the heat. That exact moment was so beautiful it is branded in my mind. I had Matty and Rick with me, the sun was warm, and my childhood sounds of summer were all around me, melting past and present together.

Last week, when the red wing sang briefly in my back yard, anticipation of summer and the nostalgia it often brings spiked in my heart. As a coincidence, that night, while doing his homework, Matty had to define the word nostalgia and come up with its antonym. He decided nostalgia was longing for the past, and its antonym would be longing for the future. After a few moments, the word “anticipation” popped in his head. I had to chuckle…with a Red-winged Blackbird in spring at my house, you can’t have one without the other!