Tag Archives: syrphid fly (Toxomerus marginatus)

Blog reboot

I’m rebooting xenogere.

Today.

Mating pair of syrphid flies (a.k.a. hover flies; Toxomerus marginatus)

Since I last changed my blog theme, I’ve grown increasingly disenchanted with blogging.

That is to say I’ve hated the idea.

But no more.

Close-up of a red-tailed hawk (Buteo jamaicensis)

Facebook and Twitter and Google+ and various other diversions will no longer distract me.

I will, however, continue to focus on my novels.

Because I have more important things to do.

Ruby-throated hummingbirds (Archilochus colubris) mobbing a feeder

And I’ll focus on photography.

Because I can make money with that, let alone use it to expand my horizons.

A male eastern Hercules beetle (Dynastes tityus) crawling on my hand

And I’ll focus on technology work since that has put many a coin in my pockets.

I mean, hey, come on already.

A female white-tailed deer (Odocoileus virginianus) with her fawn

I started blogging more than eleven years ago.

It’s time to either shut down and move on or restart and move forward.

I choose to move forward.

A Striped bark scorpion (Centruroides vittatus) eating a cricket--which has been decapitated

As you can see, I’ve made significant changes to the site. These changes aren’t done yet. In fact, not only are they a work in progress, they’re a work in need of focus.

There are problems I must fix, changes I must make, enhancements I must address.

So the site’s incomplete. But trust me when I say I’ll take care of it.

a Carolina mantis (Stagmomantis carolina) crawling along a storage barrel

Meanwhile, it’s time for me to get back on the horse so to speak.

And I intend to do just that.

The slowly opened

A song whispers on cool air with the perfume of a thousand blossoms.  Lavender and gold and crimson and white intertwine with a rainbow infinitely diverse.  They paint meadow and field in the colors of spring.

A spotted cucumber beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata) perched on the edge of rough gumweed (Grindelia scabra) (20080921_12634)

Each petal reaches, each rising star shines grand and new.  These bright lives climb from realms I have never traveled but which are known to me.  And they seek the sky with faces upturned.

A black and gold bumble bee (Bombus auricomus) licking tiny droplets of dew from the blossom of purple bindweed (a.k.a. cotton morning glory; Ipomoea trichocarpa) (20080921_12798)

Just as the slowly opened rise from earthen slumber, so too does an army of faithful who find in the coming warmth a dance that steps only to the music of flowers.

Syrphid flies (a.k.a. hover flies; Toxomerus marginatus) mating atop a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) (2009_03_08_012853)

It is a love story, this song, one of powerful longings and intimate embraces.  It likewise is a chorus of endings, an operatic aria that each voice must sing only in its season.

A western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) on white clover (Trifolium repens) (2009_03_21_013732)

The kaleidoscope of winter’s gray falls before the advance of these voices now filling the heavens, and russet is washed away by waves of verdant song.

A Gulf fritillary (a.k.a. passion butterfly; Agraulis vanillae) with its tongue out as it flies toward western ironweed (a.k.a. Baldwin’s ironweed; Verbesina baldwinii) (2009_07_09_026290)

With each new voice, a cacophony of dancers shakes the ground with spirited waltzes and lively tangos, for every singer demands a select audience, a diverse group of listeners who perform at the behest of their favorite soloist.

A Gulf fritillary (a.k.a. passion butterfly; Agraulis vanillae) feeding on western ironweed (a.k.a. Baldwin’s ironweed; Verbesina baldwinii) (2009_07_09_026298)

I find the silence of this song deafening, the loudest music I will never hear.

A large milkweed bug (Oncopeltus fasciatus) resting atop green antelopehorn (a.k.a. green milkweed, spider milkweed or antelope-horn milkweed; Asclepias viridis) (20080921_12670)

For now comes the time of the slowly opened and those who must needs be with them.  In all my years I have never tired of this presentation.  And in all my years, I watch for their voices and listen for the dance it portends.

— — — — — — — — — —

Photos (all from White Rock Lake):

[1] A spotted cucumber beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata) on an unidentified bloom.  The compound flower remains a mystery to me.  But I’m not the only Texan wondering what this plant is (e.g., here).  Introduced?  So easy to identify that it’s left out of all the guides we have access to?  It’s a unique plant and a unique blossom, so it’s not like I’m mistaking it for something else.  Well, I’ve said before that flowers vex me more than any other kind of life.  Hence this one goes on the diabolical challenge pile for later identification.  (And it’s probably something so evident and so common that I’ll kick myself for not recognizing it.)  [Update: I have since identified the flower as rough gumweed (Grindelia scabra).]

[2] A black and gold bumble bee (Bombus auricomus) licking dew from the blossom of purple bindweed (a.k.a. cotton morning glory; Ipomoea trichocarpa).  I’d watched the bee flit from bloom to bloom where it slipped inside for a sip of nectar and a spot of pollen.  It then paused on this flower for a few minutes.  Only when I approached did I realize it was licking tiny droplets of dew from the flower.

[3] Syrphid flies (a.k.a. hover flies; Toxomerus marginatus) mating atop a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale).

[4] Western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) visiting white clover (Trifolium repens).

[5] Gulf fritillary (a.k.a. passion butterfly; Agraulis vanillae) with its tongue hanging out as it approaches western ironweed (a.k.a. Baldwin’s ironweed; Verbesina baldwinii).

[6] The same Gulf fritillary (a.k.a. passion butterfly; Agraulis vanillae) feeding hungrily after landing on the western ironweed (a.k.a. Baldwin’s ironweed; Verbesina baldwinii).

[7] A large milkweed bug (Oncopeltus fasciatus) standing atop green antelopehorn (a.k.a. green milkweed, spider milkweed or antelope-horn milkweed; Asclepias viridis).

That which is to come

Faces rise through the soil, ghostly apparitions of life once buried yet clawing its way to the surface.

They call themselves flowers, these earthly beings, these shining, petaled, hued portraits of aliens.

A spotted cucumber beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata) makes its ascent over the petals of a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale) (20080301_02425)

They open without a sound, yet other marvelous creatures hear their siren songs and rush to partake of the bountiful visage each proffers.

More than was lost the year before is found again with each blossom, each new life.

A close-up of several crowpoison (a.k.a. crow poison or false garlic; Nothoscordum bivalve) flowers (20080301_02394_p)

Soon their armies will march upon the mountains and plot upon the plains.

Soon their kind will take from the sun all that it fells upon the world, and in that taking they will give as much as they consume.

A western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) dives to the heart of a showy evening primrose (Oenothera speciosa) to fetch a bit of pollen (20080412_03273)

Lives will do battle with those risen from the ground, will eat of their flesh, and in doing so will give hope to more faces that will glow in generations to come.

What splendor does war in the vernal birth of our planet!  What marvels do manifest!

Western salsify (Tragopogon dubius) blooms and stalks reaching toward the sky (20080426_04675)

Towers will be built.  Traps will be set.  And more faces will rise than can be counted.

We will watch this, we humans, and we will wonder at the beauty of such beasts.

A western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) resting atop a full bloom of wild carrot (a.k.a. bishop’s lace or Queen Anne’s lace; Daucus carota) (20080518_05549)

Even as we shrink away from the heat that besets the selves we wish to protect, dirt will crumble as more leviathans reach forth, climb the air above, strip away their winter skins for spring countenances too long hidden away.

Fields will be colored by them.  Winds will carry their essence.  Eyes will rest upon their forms like so many mouths upon a banquet.

A syrphid fly (a.k.a hover fly; Toxomerus marginatus) feeding on the pollen of a Texas dandelion (a.k.a. false dandelion, Carolina desert-chicory, leafy false dandelion or Florida dandelion; Pyrrhopappus carolinianus) (20080518_05376)

What hope have we in light of such unstoppable invasions?

All hope, for vernal is that which is to come: life from lifelessness, growth from dormancy, brilliance from mundane, and new faces from the ashes of those who came before.

— — — — — — — — — —

Mary offered It’s Time for February Eye Candy and David offered Happy first day of spring!, both posting on the same day no less, and I blame them for this sudden want of mine to see the verdant, abundant life of spring.  Not that I don’t like winter, mind you; I love it, in fact, as it’s my favorite season, yet the naturalist within me desires the overflowing bouquet of marvelous flora and fauna that defines where we go from here.

Photos:

[1] A spotted cucumber beetle (Diabrotica undecimpunctata) makes its ascent over the petals of a common dandelion (Taraxacum officinale).

[2] As toxic as it is beautiful: crowpoison (a.k.a. crow poison or false garlic; Nothoscordum bivalve).

[3] A western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) dives to the heart of a showy evening primrose (Oenothera speciosa) to fetch a bit of pollen.

[4] A non-native species considered invasive in many parts, western salsify (Tragopogon dubius) produces large, elegant flowers.  All the towering buds you see around it are of the same species.

[5] A western honey bee (a.k.a. European honey bee; Apis mellifera) resting atop a full bloom of wild carrot (a.k.a. bishop’s lace or Queen Anne’s lace; Daucus carota).  Behind both towers yet another flower of the same plant has yet to open.

[6] A syrphid fly (a.k.a hover fly; Toxomerus marginatus) feeding on the pollen of a Texas dandelion (a.k.a. false dandelion, Carolina desert-chicory, leafy false dandelion or Florida dandelion; Pyrrhopappus carolinianus).

Mom made me do it

Mom dragged me out to the nether regions of the family farm one fine day in late May as she needed help learning how to take macro shots with her camera.  There, upon the dead remains of the underground house once envisioned as the xenogere family homestead for years to come, we chanced upon a bit of native flora, one lively plant called sensitive brier (a.k.a catclaw brier, sensitive vine littleleaf mimosa, native mimosa; Mimosa nuttallii, or sometimes Mimosa microphylla).

I first introduced you to this plant with the last photo shown in this post.  Here are a few others.

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195_9522

Yet something continually drew me back to that original photo.  My eyes wanted to see something more clearly which I had not seen before, at least not with any degree of clarity.

So I went back to that image.  Sure enough, hidden inconspicuously in one tiny spot I stumbled upon this small creature.

195_9509_1

And as I studied the remaining images, I finally reveled in the discovery of one clear picture that showed precisely what the camera had seen but that my eyes had completely missed.

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Without any hesitation, I recognized immediately the tiny syrphid who’d been busy with its own business while I ignorantly photographed it as though it didn’t exist.  This, poppets, is a fly.  More specifically, and despite its attempt to conceal itself beneath the camouflage of a predator, you’re looking at an example of Toxomerus marginatus.

These wee and winged beings are difficult to catch with the naked eye simply because they’re so small.  Too often, and certainly as was the case with me, they flit about effortlessly in our field of vision, yet they do so almost invisibly.