What Happened to this Pine White (Neophasia menapia)?

It was a victim of a crab spider, Misumena vatia; you can notice the spider's leg above right wing.

The crab spider has a clever trick: it can change its color from white to yellow, better to disguise itself on a flower head while it waits for a bee, a moth, or in this case, a butterfly. It grabs the prey and injects a venom, sucks out its meal and leaves. The luckless victim hangs there for awhile longer, looking like the real deal (to me). That's why I was so successful at sneaking up on this one: it was already muerto!

This was only the second opportunity so far this year to go looking for butterflies locally. I did have a great time visiting Death Valley in early April, resulting in seeing hundreds of Painted Ladies (Vanessa cardui), one single Sagebrush Checkerspot (Chlosyne acastus), and a half-bad picture of a Becker's White (Pontia beckerii). I am pleased to see that the Becker's White should also be found here in El Dorado County. I will watch for one.

So with my first real day of planned looking, I headed out to Traverse Creek and was immediately rewarded when I spotted a Propertius Duskywing (Erynnis propertius) flying up in front of my car when I parked; a good sign.

I wandered around for an hour or so, chasing down butterflies that wouldn't relax! I saw the Duskywings (many), and many California Ringlets (Coenonympha tullia california), a few Anise Swallowtails (Papilio zelicaon), and a couple of Mylitta Crescents (Phyciodes mylitta). My best sighting of the day (after the swallowtails) was a pair of Sara Orangetips (Anthocharis sara sara) that flew past me, leaving no chance for a photo. But I did see them and that was neat.

Finding only a half-dozen species is hardly a feat of skill, but I am increasing my awareness and I did recognize most. I feel I'm making progress.

The opportunity to go back to Tioga Pass had me hoping that there would still be a chance to find Coppers (Butterflies through Binoculars says Tioga is loaded with Lycaena species), and since it's at a high elevation, I thought the chances might be good.

When we arrived at the trailhead for Bennettville, the route description said it was a "3.5 mile hike along the rushing creek". Well, there was a creek, but maybe the route has been modified since the guide was published almost 20 years ago; the route is not all that close to the creek and it was only something less than a mile to Bennettville! The fact is, there was only one green meadow along the way, and butterflies were flying but it looked like there was only one species: Spereria mormonia (by my best effort to ID the thing, anyway). The book says that a wet meadow (a bit of a stretch, but damp anyway) is one way to determine which frit you are dealing with; dry meadows harboring the Great Basin Fritillary. These were also pretty small bugs (1.5"?) but that doesn't divide mormonia from egleis.

The middle of August doesn't provide many opportunities to butterfly unless you're willing to head up high, or go to a new place where something is coming into bloom. I tried to do both.

I have been told that there will be butterflies to be found in September if I just head for an area near the Nevada state line on Hwy 88 that will be blooming with rabbitbrush by then. Since I know that rabbitbrush is already blooming from Carson Pass on down into Hope Valley, I figured I might as well go take a look, especially since the story all season has been plants blooming too early because of dry conditions.

Well, I was too early! In fact I still have to determine what kind of rabbitbrush it is that is all over that hillside? It's beautiful: silvery gray, dense foliage, and only just started to bud. Looks like a few more weeks. It isn't the Chrysothamnus nauseosus I was expecting (which was in bloom) because C. nauseosus has green foliage. Perhaps it's White Stemmed Rabbitbrush? I did think it curious that I couldn't find any butterflies enjoying a chance at it.

It was windy like crazy, so even if something were out there I don't know if it would have wanted to fly. I thought about heading up to Monitor Pass! There is a patch of Showy Milkweed (Asclepias speciosa) that is growing up above its listed limit of 6000', and just maybe it would be attracting a few Monarchs? Thinking about the wind and the distance, I wisely decided that the possibility was too slim to bother with, so I turned back to look over Iron Mountain Road yet again.

This proved to be the right thing to do. I stopped at a few places where I have had luck before, and sure enough it was loaded with Great Basin frits attacking a few remaining roadside mints. There were dozens of bugs darting from plant to plant, keeping me busy trying to get a good side shot to prove if they were indeed Speyeria egleis. I believe they were: a dry meadow is the habitat that could help separate them from Mormon frits which are wet meadow critters.

As part of my reward for the day, a pair of Anna's Northern Blues (Lycaeides idas anna), a male and a female, appeared, apparently the last of their group. And just to be sure that I was teased by the bugs, an Orange Sulphur (Colias eurytheme) was flying back and forth, back and forth, ... doing its best to resist landing, until finally it saw an aster that was irresistible: Bingo! A better picture for me.

So it was not the most productive day as far as finding anything new (zero), but I find that I am getting familiar with what I see, and I spent a day looking at magnificent scenery. Not bad.

It started as a trip to look at the area around Lyons Creek (near Wrights Lake), but the parking area was so full we decided to move on and check Wrights Lake. Hah! That area was chock full with zero parking, so it was off to Ice House to see if we could find a meadow to poke around in.

We stopped along the way at a few dry open areas to investigate, finding a surprising number of fritillaries to watch. I started shooting any bug that sat with wings open, also watching as the Orange Sulphur(s) annoyed me by never landing. I tried to get a decent portrait of one, maybe two kinds of skippers, but was doing much better with the frits, and also finding a few Blues, even a Copper or two! I was pretty sure I had a couple different species of fritillaries because the hind wing markings were so different, but I just shot first and I would ask my questions later.

Continuing on to a meadow I typically only see in May or June, we found that there were many butterflies even though the plants (mostly Helenium and Lotus) were pretty much finished. There were lots of opportunities to shoot wingspreads, but the hard part was, of course, trying to get the right angle as the bugs were walking over the flower surfaces and seldom presenting the "best" aspect for the camera. Still, I shot and shot. Ahh, the beauty of digital and the lack of concern over film costs!

Ending the afternoon at the mudhole that had been a pond in Robbs Valley (along the Cheese Camp Road) was rewarding because, even though I wasn't going to walk out onto the soft muck, I could see that I had a new butterfly: an American Lady. Then I saw what I hoped was an Acmon Blue. I was able to get useful shots of both and they proved to be what I thought they were!

Results for the day? Twelve species found and photographed, six of them 'firsts" for my list: Acmon Blue, American Lady, Purplish Copper, Atlanta Fritillary, (possible) Mormon Fritillary, and rel="lightbox"Tailed Copper were all new to me; and added shots of Great Basin Fritillary, Edith's Copper, Orange Sulphur, a few Edith's Checkerspots, a Common Checkered Skipper, and a rel="lightbox"Lorquin's Admiral. Not bad for a dry meadow rip in August.

Comments in Butterflies through Binoculars said that Coppers were truly abundant at Tioga Pass, the east entrance to Yosemite. That sounded like a great opportunity and the plans were made. The only twist was that we were going to go to Saddlebag Lake", just outside the park, and a fine option because we would drive to 10,000' and just start looking around. I imagined that we would be overwhelmed with butterflies. Uh,...no.

On this particular day, we started off along the west side of the lake which is basically a rocky trail for the first mile plus, so nothing to attract butterflies. When we reached the northern end of the lake, it was meadow-like with meandering streams connecting a series of smaller lakes. I expected lots of butterflies, but that was not the case.

While it was an enjoyable hike, I was feeling cheated for having come all this way without my anticipated reward: countless Coppers flitting about my head like gnats! Nuts!

It wasn't until the last mile out that I finally walked up on some bugs hanging on to the senecios, and even those were hard to get because of the strong breeze. Complain, complain, complain. I did manage to get a few pictures, several of which look to be additional shots of Great Basin Fritillary, so while I hoped for finding something new, I guess I was destined just to run into old friends. One bright find: the photo left is a Ruddy Copper (Lycaena rubidus√), flying around at an unexpected 10,000', so that is a nice addition. It sure is a handsome bug.

My next problem to solve is getting my hands on a new lens that will bring these bad boys up closer so I don't have to enlarge the hell out of the center of a picture taken from slightly too far! Sharpness; I crave sharpness. Cha-ching.

For all of my experience tracking butterflies with my camera, I am surprised at how I have reacted to my trip last Saturday. In early June, I was naive. I snapped of a few pictures of an eye-catching caterpillar. Two weeks later I went back to the same location and the air was filled with these comical black and white "Police Car Moths" now bouncing along with their stuttery flight pattern, looking for all the world like they couldn't get more than six feet before stopping to breathe! (Yes, I'm anthropomorphizing.) And because my new vision had brought me awareness of other bugs like checkerspots and crescents, I was delighted to watch these truly beautiful butterflies with their simple yet elegant patterns as they too flew about investigating the mint blossoms.

Last week I returned for yet another look at the same spot; the place was practically deserted. I waited and watched for fifteen minutes and saw maybe four Blues and took not a single photo. Hmmm. I moved on to another location I thought would be good. A few miles down another side road and there I was, watching a surprising few Gnophaela bouncing along just a few feet above the lupines, but better yet, a battalion of Blues assaulting a florid aster. Excellent.

I stepped up and started looking for some good side-wing shots; these guys don't really like to sit with wings spread but I was trying for something of the inside (top) surfaces because there are many types and they are confusingly similar.

Well, I took a lot of pictures, but when I started to look at them closely, I was taken aback: each and every one of them looked like they had lived 100 years and flown through a tornado to visit this aster. Faded colors, ragged wing edges, chunks of wings missing ... these Blues were in their last days. I never thought about a plant's life span as I've watched them come up in Spring, develop, bloom into Summer, then dry out and develop seed heads by Autumn. Each stage typically offers a type of beauty in its own right, then we spend a Winter of dormancy and wait for the cycle to start again. Well, having only just started to "see" butterflies, I was candidly a little shocked to see their degraded condition after mere weeks of life. For all the pleasure I've had finding these brightly-colored butterflies, this was a slap of reality.

On a much more positive note, I ended up at yet another spot to watch for forest life. I so enjoyed standing quietly on a meadow edge, listening to the birds and watching a Red-breasted Sapsucker working his way around the trunk of a tree just 20 feet away, oblivious of me for that moment. Bees were fumbling with the blue flowers of giant delphiniums, and suddenly I caught the wonderful gliding motion of a rel="lightbox">Lorquin's Admiral, faded as it was, that was so gracefully investigating a landing spot on the current growing near the outflow of a little pond. The book Butterflies through Binoculars says that Pine Whites exhibit "perhaps the most graceful, floating flight of any butterfly", but at that moment my money was on Lorquin's Admiral. It was a very relaxing afternoon in the forest.

I took my opportunity to return to the pond near Van Vleck to see if I could add to my collection. Stopping at the same places just gave me a few more chances to improve on my pictures of the same players (minus the Lorquins Admiral) and try, without much success, to capture what turned ut to be an Orange Sulphur.

I also had the pleasure of watching several Western Tanagers flying out of the pines to chase bugs and have their lunch. Another good day in the woods.

Heading out to look for whatever I could find, I drove up Ice House Road toward Loon Lake. I ended up going down Cheese Camp Road toward Van Vleck. Just a mile down the road I stopped to investigate an old slash pile with lots of blooms around it, and a drainage area that was keeping a lot of lotus green. It was in this area that I came across lots of Blues, just as was predicted in Shapiro's book. I also got my first Lorquin's Admiral, found harrassing a small cottonwood in the drainage area. Again, as predicted, it floated from that cottonwood to rest in a nearby willow, waiting patiently for me to get a photo.

Heading farther down the road brought me to the interesting "lake/meadow" area that was still holding a small pond, that in turn, as was evidenced by the tracks and prints, supporting a variety of critters. In fact the muddy edge of the pond was quite well populated by puddling fritillaries, and I even got a chance to get a Pale Swallowtail that stopped by to see what was going on.