A Bug and its Shadow

the only snapshot I could get of a Monarch butterfly in the backyard yesterday

It's one of those days in southeast Louisiana when just standing still outside causes one to sweat profusely. I know... because sweat poured down my face as I cut the branches from some bamboo poles I planned to use as stakes for some large, flopped-over zinnia plants and an eight-foot tall Maximilian sunflower. Here in mid-afternoon, the temperature is at 92^oF, and the humidity is 73%. Soon Tom will be delivering a truckload of horse manure for me to amend the soil in several new flower beds I'm working on.

Meanwhile, I've been thinking of how important our backyard visitors--such as bees, butterflies, and other pollinators--are to the health of our gardens and to the continuation of life as we know it. These little creatures cast a long shadow. According to Sam Droege, with the Patuxent Wildlife Research Center, without bees, "somewhere between 30 percent and 60 percent of our plants would ultimately disappear because they require bees or other kinds of insects, but primarily bees, to do their pollination" (interview with Sam Droege, at "Bees are not Optional," USGS website). As of today, there are "4,500 species [of bees] in North America."

Many bees, especially honeybees, are finally showing up in our garden.  I have seen perhaps 4 or 5 species of bees on the mountain mint at various times of the day. I suspect there is a honeybee colony somewhere near by. The flowers of our herbs (especially the basil) and vegetables (such as the tomatillos and tomatoes) attract pollinators, too. Butterflies home in on the lantana and zinnias. Maybe the word is finally getting around that there is food in the Dugat-Greene garden for the diligent pollinator.

I was especially pleased to get a couple of halfway decent photos of this very tiny wasp-like bee on a portulaca flower. The creature is so tiny that most likely I would have never noticed it if I hadn't been stalking the pollinators in this particular flower and herb bed. The flower is about an inch and a bit in diameter, and from a sight distance of five-and-a-half feet, the bee seems to be just a little speck. The close-up photo below provides a better view of this very tiny bee.

It is amazing to me that the beauty (and food) I take for granted is made possible by the work of such overlooked and underestimated creatures. We are seduced by the beauty of butterflies, not knowing that a tiny Cyrano is there, too, translating all the glory of flowers for the next generation of seed.

The swallowtail butterflies love lantana.

Other creatures hang out in the mountain mint patch as well as bees. A couple of Carolina anoles hide there among the leaves, the tiniest one being just a little over two inches long from nose to tail. 

Some weeks ago I took a photo there of an assassin bug nymph; that nymph is now an adult and can occasionally be seen in the mountain mint patch, scuttling quickly under a leaf at the slightest threat, such as an obtrusive camera lens. After several days of trying to get a photo of him, I was finally successful this morning.

adult assassin bug and its shadow

 

adult assassin bug

Another bug I've tried several times unsuccessfully to photograph is a tiny iridescent fly, one of several that I see among the mountain mint and other herbs. Yesterday I managed to get about three decent snapshots. The one below is the best of them, I think. Doesn't he seem to have a tiny goatee?

a very tiny fly and its shadow on a mountain mint leaf

skipper butterfly on mountain mint

My garden is a source of endless amusement. . . . and hard work.