Tag Archives: buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis)

A few of my favorite things #3

Flowers and the many faces of those who visit them…

A mason wasp (Monobia quadridens) and a white-faced tachinid fly (Archytas apicifer) sharing the bloom of a wild carrot (a.k.a. bishop's lace or Queen Anne's lace; Daucus carota) (20080422_04440)

a mason wasp (Monobia quadridens) and a white-faced tachinid fly (Archytas apicifer) sharing the bloom of a wild carrot (a.k.a. bishop’s lace or Queen Anne’s lace; Daucus carota)

Brownbelted bumble bees (Bombus griseocollis) foraging on aromatic buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) (20080713_09651)

brownbelted bumble bees (Bombus griseocollis) foraging on aromatic buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis)

A black and gold bumble bee (Bombus auricomus) weighing down a plains sunflower (a.k.a. petioled sunflower or prairie sunflower; Helianthus petiolaris) (20080727_10335)

a black and gold bumble bee (Bombus auricomus) weighing down a plains sunflower (a.k.a. petioled sunflower or prairie sunflower; Helianthus petiolaris)…

A metallic sweat bee (Augochloropsis metallica) visiting a different bloom on the same plains sunflower (a.k.a. petioled sunflower or prairie sunflower; Helianthus petiolaris) (20080727_10337)

…and right next door, a metallic sweat bee (Augochloropsis metallica) visiting a different bloom on the same plains sunflower (a.k.a. petioled sunflower or prairie sunflower; Helianthus petiolaris)

A female southern carpenter bee (Xylocopa micans) piercing the base of a pink Texas skullcap (Scutellaria suffrutescens) (20080727_10366)

a female southern carpenter bee (Xylocopa micans) piercing the base of an amazingly hardy pink Texas skullcap (Scutellaria suffrutescens)[1][2]

A scoliid wasp (Campsomeris plumipes) enjoying the furry bloom of woolly croton (a.k.a. hogwort or doveweed; Croton capitatus)(20080809_10694)

a scoliid wasp (Campsomeris plumipes) enjoying the furry bloom of woolly croton (a.k.a. hogwort or doveweed; Croton capitatus)

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Notes:

  1. Beautiful bit of adaptation in this case.  The carpenter bee is too large to fit into the flower, and it lacks a tongue long enough to reach from the opening to the base of the bloom.  So these ingenious insects pierce the base of the flower with their mandibles so they can reach through the hole and access the nectar.  Clever!
  2. This herb draws in hummingbirds and insects in large numbers.  It can be entertaining to watch the varied horde compete for the blooms.

All in a day’s walk – August 22, 2009

It all started with two birds way the hell across the lake…

Two black terns (Chlidonias niger) perched on half-submerged branches (2009_08_22_028472_c)

Even using a 400mm lens, the viewfinder showed me nothing but two dark specs perched atop half-submerged branches.  I might as well have been looking at a bit of spilled pepper on a blue tablecloth.

Still, I snapped a few images because I already knew I was looking at less conventional fare.  Only when I viewed the photos full-size the next day was I able to see the birds more clearly, and only then did these black terns (Chlidonias niger) finally have a name.

It’s a shame I didn’t have a 1200mm lens with me.  For that matter, it’s a shame I don’t have a 1200mm lens period.  Oh to be rich…

A silver-spotted skipper (Epargyreus clarus) feeding on flowers (2009_08_22_028487)

Even as I stood hoping beyond hope that I might get a decent picture of the terns, this silver-spotted skipper (Epargyreus clarus) flitted up beside me to enjoy a nectar breakfast.  A leaf-footed bug joined it momentarily but proved too fleeting for an image.

For that matter, the small butterfly sipped its liquid nourishment for only a handful of seconds before darting off into the bright morning sky.  I suppose the two insects quickly escaped in response to me hopping about and fussing vehemently after discovering I was standing in a pile of coyote droppings.

Needless to say, I dragged my feet for some distance trying to dislodge the smelly hitchhiker attached to the bottom of my shoe.

While checking the progress of my cleaning effort, I spied something of interest lurking about near shore yet distant from the trail that carried so many joggers and cyclists.  I tried to ignore the pungent cloud that encompassed me so I could sneak up on this latest discovery.

A green heron (Butorides virescens) standing still in the southern watergrass (Hydrochloa caroliniensis) (2009_08_22_028512)

Little more than a stone’s throw separated me from this green heron (Butorides virescens).  The verdant hues of its plumage melded with the southern watergrass (Hydrochloa caroliniensis) surrounding it.

And I wondered if it could smell me, smell the horrid guest still clinging to the bottom of my shoe.  I certainly could…

Something about the mysterious nature of green herons intrigues me, beguiles me, captivates me.  Secretive they are, stealthy yet evident, boisterous whilst disinterested in attention.  Only when a second green heron flew in to cause trouble did this one flee the scene.

I was so close

With horrid stench in tow, I moved on.

A red-eared slider (Trachemys scripta elegans) sunning on a log (2009_08_22_028529)

Red-eared sliders (Trachemys scripta elegans) remain ubiquitous here.  Painted and softshell and snapper turtles join them, along with a host of other tortoises, but this one proudly grabbing some rays on a log epitomized the pedestrian nature of these reptiles: They’re everywhere!

I knelt in the wet grass to watch it.  That unfortunately put me in a position to smell the full weight of the reek stalking me from beneath my sneaker.

How can one man walk such a distance without losing the coyote sign he stepped in long ago?  Such questions vex me.

When a lumbering giant dragged his fatigued dog too close, the slider lived up to its namesake and vanished with nary a gesture.  I scarcely heard the timid splash before realizing my eyes rested on an empty log.  Amazing how they do that.

Sick of my own smell, I moved on—scraping my foot all the way.

A Sonoran bumble bee (Bombus sonorus [sometimes Bombus pensylvanicus sonorus]) collecting pollen from a buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) flower (2009_08_22_028535)

It didn’t take long before I stood near one of the many jumbles of buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) growing along the lake’s edge.  The bulbous flowers smell of treats for children, and wafting on the air to taste of this splendor are many insects.

Sonoran bumble bees (Bombus sonorus [sometimes Bombus pensylvanicus sonorus]), like all their kith and kin, dart about with drunken abandon, flitting from bloom to bloom sans concern for the world of men.  All they care for is filling their pollen sacs so they can return to the nest as providers, unsung heroes in the world of insects.

Even as I watched them, I came to realize I didn’t stink.  Well, at least not as much.  In fact, one could have said at the time that my pungent aroma was distant, aloof perhaps.

Syrphid fly (Palpada vinetorum) on a buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) flower (2009_08_22_028541)

Not that this syrphid fly (Palpada vinetorum) cared either way.  Right next to the ravenous bumbling leviathans, this fly-looking-like-not-a-fly hunkered down and played quiet.  Known to me by sight yet not by name…

At some point during my walk I realized my attention was nothing short of lacking.  Several hours walking and several hours of seeing little.

So I turned and headed toward home.

Along bamboo-encompassed walkways I strolled.  People came and went, faces melded with sun and shadow, voices danced silently on the wind.

Then I noticed it behind a woman pushing a stroller.  She never even knew it was there.

A mourning dove (a.k.a. rain dove; Zenaida macroura) fledgling resting on the ground (2009_08_22_028589)

Its breathing writ in the language of sleep, this fledgling mourning dove (a.k.a. rain dove; Zenaida macroura) opened its eyes only when I stopped nearby, its gaze focused on me and me alone.

How long had it rested unseen so near the walkway?  One needed but to turn toward the bamboo to be a single breath from it.  Atop earth that matched its plumage and before shadow that hid its life, this babe had gone the entire morning without being seen by the legion of people wandering by.

I could have reached out and touched it.  I could count the reflections in its eyes.  I could see the intricacies of its feathers as molting gave way from a child’s garment to that of an adult.

Not wishing to disrupt it more than I already had, I took a picture or two before moving on.  My attention would draw that of others, others who would not share my appreciation and respect, others who would feel indifference at endangerment.

Besides, I felt joy at the lack of smell.  Suddenly I felt less putrid.  Amazing what a bunch of wet grass can do.

Bumbles and buttons

As alluring as an aphrodisiac, I find myself drawn to this plant each time I walk the eastern shore of White Rock Lake south of Sunset Bay.  Only within a few steps does its presence grab the senses by sight and smell, a visual and olfactory pheromone as sweet to the eyes and nose as honey is to the tongue.

All about its location near the water rests a fog of enticement that can be tasted as easily as it is smelled.  The eyes simply draw one in, rest one from disregard to enjoyment, and all the while scent chains one to a position near what can only be described as a song tempting awareness with bait of beauty and beguilement.

And the bumble bees seem to think likewise.

A brownbelted bumble bee (Bombus griseocollis) hanging on the side of a buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) flower (20080713_09648)

The plant is called a buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis).  Its aroma strikes me as unmistakable and unavoidable.

Two brownbelted bumble bees (Bombus griseocollis) flying toward a group of buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) flowers (20080713_09647)

Brownbelted bumble bees (Bombus griseocollis) surround it during this visit, although previous calls on this place seem to include other species, albeit that assumption is unverified at present.

A brownbelted bumble bee (Bombus griseocollis) landing atop a buttonbush (Cephalanthus occidentalis) flower (20080713_09646)

Nevertheless, I always find this plant virtually covered with bumble bees, each flitting about from flower to flower, each busy with the accumulation of pollen.

Having savored this magnificent plant with every sense my body offers, I know why they claim it for their own, savor it in every way, cover it daily with their intent.  Bewitching understates its magic.