Welp, we all knew this day would come, but we just didn’t know when. I’ve probably composed this message in my head once a week for the past 3 months, and today is the day I finally need to write it down. After 138 straight days, since March 30, I didn’t see a single thing in Estabrook Park this morning that I thought camera-worthy.

Oh sure, it was a nice morning, the cormorant and a wood duck hen were on the pond, plenty of flowers are in blossom, a few birds were singing, and I even walked past a pretty nonchalant bunny, but there was nothing that we haven’t seen plenty of times before.

Luckily for us, David Boehlke, long-time reader, Anne’s nephew, and forester who lives outside Marquette Michigan, sent in these astounding images, which he managed to capture through the layer of vaseline he keeps on his phone, of a white deer. As with Al, the white sparrow, we’d have to see if the eyes are red to assert it is a true albino.

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There are actually a couple of new blossoms in the park, which I photographed yesterday but opted not to include in yesterday’s report for various complex reasons, and the first one is another aster, this time bigleaf aster (Eurybia macrophylla), also looking a little like it’s been through the washing machine.

I’m sure you’ll be thrilled about this next one. Yup, as some of you may have already sensed, the giant ragweed (Ambrosia trifida) is starting to bloom, mostly along the river, and I probably don’t have to tell most of you that “its pollen is a significant human allergen.”

Finally, here’s weird one. It turns out, according to Friends of the Wild Flower Garden, that “late goldenrod (Solidago altissima with two subspecies) and giant goldenrod (S. gigantea) are subject to three different types of stem galls caused by tiny insects that lay their eggs on the plants. The larva from the hatched egg then eats its way into the stem.” And, “in the case of the rosette gall, the plant creates a dense growth of what looks like small leaves at the top of the plant after a larva hatches at the top of the stem. This rosette is caused by the plant stopping stem growth without stopping leaf production,” and here’s what that looks like.

Okay, back to the big story for today, lack of compelling new content. The good news is that this should give me some time to sort out the calendar details at last. If you haven’t yet voted on your favorite pictures or chimed in on how many calendars you might want, if any, now is the time. Just head over the the calendar page for all the particulars. No pressure whatsoever.

This doesn’t mean I’ll be quitting, or anything like that. Lord knows I still need the long walks for exercise. It just means that posts will probably not be quite so chock full of new discoveries, or we’ll slow the pace down a little from once-a-day. That should also give me time to teach the two civil engineering classes I’m on the hook for at UWM, I have a hope.

Well, let’s go out with something colorful, eh? Who can resist one more image of a monarch butterfly on swamp milkweed? Not me.

There were some low clouds and fog this morning that let the crickets sing until 8am. Then the sun burned through, the crickets quit, and the cicadas took over. Aah, August.

Only the young cormorant was on the pond this morning. The night-heron has probably moved on, and the great blue heron might have been there earlier, but either ate its fill or got spooked before I arrived.

In any case, I am contractually obligated to come up with a headline every single day, and they can’t all be winners.

I didn’t see anything really camera-worthy until the wildflower meadow by the boat launch when this striking female eastern tiger swallowtail (Papilio glaucus), not of the dark morph this time, floated by and enticed me into taking a couple of shots. How could I not, right?

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I followed it first to the chicory and then to the bull thistle before it took off for good, and once it was gone, something else on the bull thistle caught my eye. The plant was crawling with crickets. Well, actually, they were all just sitting there motionless, not even crawling, and they appear to be differential grasshoppers (Melanoplus differentialis), not even crickets, but yikes, it was weird.

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Also in the meadow, I noticed this striking little wildflower, the partridge pea (Chamaecrista fasciculata), about which I read “the seed is one of the major food items of northern bobwhite and other quail species because it remains in sound condition throughout the winter and early spring.” That’s exciting, because we haven’t seen a bobwhite yet. Maybe later this fall, eh?

Heading south along the river trail, I spotted what might be our first aster of the season, perhaps a roughed up New England aster (Symphyotrichum novae-angliae). Woo hoo!

Further south along the river trail, I came across what looks like yet another tussock moth caterpillar, this time white hickory (Lophocampa caryae), which I read we are advised not to touch because “the hairs of the Hickory Tussock caterpillar, which has black tufts on its back and black spikes, can cause an allergic reaction or rash for some people who make contact with the insect. The caterpillars have microscopically barbed setae, which can cause inflammation.” Good to know.

Finally, I stopped at the tunnel under the parkway to check for moths, and as I inspected the lannon stone blocks that line the west entrance, look what I finally noticed. That’s right, yet another fossil. This time it’s a trilobite that has been coated with a layer of flowstone, a form of Speleothem, that occurs “on manmade structures as a result of calcium hydroxide being leached from concrete, lime or mortar.”

And that’s everything I’ve got for today. Remember, we go to press with the pictures we have, not with the pictures we wish we had.

It was a nice morning in the park today; the air was cool and still. The doe and her two fawns were across the southern foggy soccer fields again, and two of the three big fishing birds we’ve seen a lot of recently were on the pond.

The young cormorant was in its usual spot in the southeast corner, where I had also spotted it yesterday afternoon and noticed that it seemed to be doing something odd with its throat so that it looked a little like a pelican.

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I couldn’t believe my luck when my very first google search returned this helpful tidbit from Dan Tallman’s Bird Blog. “By opening their bills, and vibrating their upper throat muscles and bones, herons (and a few other bird families) are able to increase the passage of air across the mucus membranes of their throats. This behavior, called gular fluttering, increases heat loss on hot days.  Because of its permanent down coat and lack of sweat glands, the ability to lose excess heat is important to a bird.”

Meanwhile, the young great blue heron was fishing intently in the northeast corner.

A solitary wood duck hen was on the pond, as well, but she was in no mood for pictures, and I’ve only ever seen the one catching and eating frogs when she was with her duckling.

We’ve also got some new blossoms in the park. Here is what I believe to be brown-eyed susan (Rudbeckia triloba), which I read “usually has smaller flowerheads, more flowerheads per plant, and fewer ray flowers per flowerhead than” the black-eyed susan (Rudbeckia hirta) we’ve already seen.

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Here is yet another mint, this time corn mint, field mint, or wild mint (Mentha arvensis) with its interesting choice of blossom locations along its stem. I found it growing in the tall grass on the mudflats along the river south of the falls.

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Also on the mudflats is this fairly understated plant, which I believe is known as pale smartweed, curlytop knotweed, willow weed, or pale persicaria (Persicaria lapathifolia syn. Polygonum lapathifolium), and which I read is actually “a species complex made up of a great many varying forms, sometimes considered varieties. The environment also has a strong influence on the morphology of an individual plant.”

Finally, monarchs continue to abound, and look who photobombed the shot as I was trying to photograph this photogenic example who must have been cool enough and/or hungry enough to let me get nice and close as it sampled some ever-striking swamp milkweed.

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That’s it for today and tune in tomorrow to find out who’s fishing on the pond, who’s blooming along the river, and whatever else I can find that might be interesting.

Man, if the mornings continue to be this nice, I might not want summer to end. I went out earlier than usual, in search of a mammal I haven’t seen in the park yet this year but rumored to be there lately, and Venus was especially brilliant in the clear eastern sky.

I had no luck with the mammal today, but I did see our young cormorant out for an early swim in the pond and then drying out on its usual perch in the southeast corner.

Neither heron were around this morning, but I did see a flock of Canada geese checking out the baseball diamond across the parkway from the pond. You can just make out the nice little layer of fog over the grass in the background.

Long-time reader and avid birder, Donna, invited me down to the lagoon in Veterans Park yesterday afternoon to look for a black-crowned night-heron rookery, which is said to be there, but I am sad to report that they were nowhere to be found when we arrived. Instead, we were treated to a green heron (Butorides virescens) on a ambulatory hunt, the likes of which I have never seen on the pond. Check out that neck!

Here it is again, in case you missed it the first time. It’s almost easier to believe that they are two different birds, right? The frogs just don’t stand a chance against technology like that. A good explanation with pictures is online here.

Also, growing beside the lagoon is a pretty flower that I haven’t yet seen in Estabrook Park.

The interwebs are having a little trouble positively identifying this one and suggest that it may be either longroot smartweed, water knotweed, water smartweed, and amphibious bistort (Persicaria amphibia), which is “native to much of North America;” or lady’s thumb, spotted lady’s thumb, Jesusplant, and redshank (Persicaria maculosa), which is “an introduced and invasive species in North America.” I’m afraid sorting that out might be above my paygrade.

Meanwhile, back in Estabrook, the recent rains have refilled the little stream that runs from the pond down to the river, which had run completely dry recently, and the tiny fish were back already! I read that there are a variety of techniques fish have evolved to enable them to survive in such an environment, and I don’t know which of those these little characters are using, but hats off to them!

I have previously reported that these might be creek chub, but the tail in this picture doesn’t look quite right, and the same goes for minnows. My best guess now is that these are some kind of darter, but Lord knows which one. There are over 200 species to choose from. In any case, a hearty welcome back to them, right?

Update. I’ve since uploaded this picture to iNaturalist, and the consensus there is that this is a largemouth bass (Micropterus nigricans). Wow, right?

Finally, I don’t think I’ve shown you a monarch butterfly on a pink coneflower since July, so here you go.

Lastly, the forecast is for clear skies again this evening, and the moon doesn’t rise till midnight, so don’t forget to look for the Perseids in the northeast, if you get the chance. Anne and I tried last evening, but we only spotted two, so we might try again.

Wow! It was a gorgeous morning out there in Estabrook, and all three recent big birds were on the pond.

This makes 5 straight days for the cormorant, and he or she is really starting to look comfortable there, facing the audience to dry out in yesterday’s midday sun and pausing to scratch behind an ear this morning.

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The young black-crowned night-heron was back and decided to take a little nap while I was trying to take its picture.

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Lastly, biggest and most skittish of the three, was the youngish-looking great blue heron.

I continued on and arrived at the boat launch on the river a bit before 8, and everyone was still sleeping, but by the time I left, just after 8, the indigo buntings and the cicadas had both finally woken up and started singing. There were a few mallard hens on the water, but they were far enough out that I decided to save my film. On my way south along the river, I came across another pretty obedient plant starting to bloom that definitely does look film worthy, right?

At the mud flats, I spotted a couple of wood ducks looking to be just waking up, but they did not want to stick around for me to try to find a shot with better lighting, and just took care of that themselves.

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I swung back by the pond, in hopes of finding a flower-of-the-hour blooming more than yesterday morning, but had no luck again, and this shot from yesterday afternoon isn’t much better. I guess I gotta be quicker or luckier to catch one of these beauties open, eh?

Finally, the night-heron was up from its nap on the pond and looking like it was fixin’ to rustle up some second breakfast.

The cormorant really seems to be making itself comfortable on the pond, which I am sure glad to see. This morning, he or she was on the usual branch in the southeast corner but facing west for a change so we can see the nice pale neck and chest plumage and one big webbed foot. Soon after I took this photo, it was back to fishing.

Two readers already asked what fish it caught yesterday, and my best guess is a big ol’ goldfish. The pond is big enough, and they are hardy enough to survive the winter there. When the lighting is right, you can see schools of them feeding near the surface of the pond, although they are a little more skittish than the bluegills, so my pictures aren’t so great.

The cormorant wasn’t even the only bird fishing on the pond this morning. Perhaps this is the same young great blue heron we’ve also been seeing recently. It was at the north end and took off while I was still focusing on the cormorant at the south end.

Speaking of tasty critters in the pond, you may be as surprised as I was to still see tadpoles this morning. I first saw one back in April, showed you a picture on June 4, and another picture of one with legs on June 23. That’s quite a breeding season they have, eh?

Right across the parkway from the pond, I spotted this new blossom on a low plant, perhaps waiting for the sun before fully opening. It it known by a variety of names including flower-of-an-hour, flower-of-the-hour, bladder hibiscus, bladder ketmia, bladder weed, modesty, puarangi, shoofly, venice mallow. The ancient Latins called it Hibiscus trionum, and the names mentioning an “hour” are due to the blossom only staying open for a few hours.

The Pedia of Wik reports that “the flowers of the Hibiscus trionum can set seed via both outcrossing and self-pollination. During the first few hours after anthesis, the style and stigma are erect and receptive to receive pollen from other plants. In the absence of pollen donation, the style bends and makes contact with the anthers of the same flower, inducing self-pollination.” That sounds handy, and as soon as I post this, I’m going to head back out to see if I can capture an image of it open.

Finally, let me leave you with this nice picture of a monarch butterfly on some burdock blossoms that I took a day or two ago but didn’t have room for until now. Sometimes I get lucky, eh?

Wow! There sure was some high drama on the pond this morning!

That’s right, our young new hero, the double-crested cormorant, has struck pure gold.

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Here’s hoping he or she will feel like sticking around for a while, eh?

Meanwhile, on the river, the butterflies continue to eat and drink.

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And the water lilies continue to bloom.

And that’ll have to do it for this morning. Anne and I are off to meet some relatives for what we hope will be a safe and enjoyable brunch al fresco. It’s supposed to be a hot one today, so if you go to the Farmers Market, stay cool out there.

It was yet another beautiful morning for a walk in the park. Our new friend, the juvenile double-crested cormorant was on the same log in the pond as yesterday, and this morning struck the classic cormorant pose intended to dry out his or her feathers after a fishing expedition, which suggests that maybe he or she might be hanging out for a while. Yay!

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Also on the pond, and perhaps making its debut there, is this juvenile-looking great blue heron, perhaps one we’ve already seen on the river a few times.

I also saw a solitar wood duck hen on the pond, making it a three-fowl morning, but I didn’t see the juvenile black-crowned night-heron (Nycticorax nycticorax) this morning. Perhaps it was just resting on the branch of a nearby tree. Yesterday, I watched it hop up into a tree and simply disappear.

On the mudflats by the river, we’ve got somebody new, a cloudless sulphur (Phoebis sennae) that took me forever to look up. The difficulty was that it is close to white, as we might expect of the garden whites in genus Pieris, instead of the yellow we might expect of a sulphur in genus Phoebis. Upon closer inspection, however, several sources reveal that “some summer form females are pale yellow or white” and “female is lemon yellow to golden or white on both surfaces,” so that’s what I’m gonna go with.

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Supposedly, this “butterfly gets its name for the fact that the topsides of its wings are bright lemon yellow and free of any markings,” but she didn’t show me the tops of her wings, so I can’t confirm that. WisconsinButterflies.org reports that “the Cloudless Sulphur cannot survive northern winters, and is considered a stray in Wisconsin. The species does not stray to Wisconsin every year, and it should be considered a rare find,” if I have identified her correctly.

Also on the river this morning I spotted another newcomer, this striking American vervain, blue vervain, or swamp verbena (Verbena hastata), which is growing out over the water from the far side of an old concrete bridge pier a couple hundred yards south of the falls.

I had actually spotted it a week or so ago and even took a nice picture of it in the afternoon sun, but I mistakenly figured it was just invasive purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria), and so I didn’t bother reporting it. Ha!

Well, the sky has clouded up now, and I hope we get some rain. The stream from the pond to the river has run dry again, so I think we could use it. Adiós amigos.

The parade of beautiful days in Estabrook Park just keeps chugging along, and even more surprising is the parade of new arrivals.

First up is what appears, for all the world, to be a double-crested cormorant (Phalacrocorax auritus), right there on our pond, and this one seems to be yet another juvenile, based on its neck and chest looking paler than “all black”. You may recall seeing an image of them in a v-formation flying over the park back on May 14, and I never expected to have the pleasure of seeing one this close.

It was actually sharing a log with our new best buddy and recent pond regular, the juvenile black-crowned night-heron.

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Meanwhile, down by the river, this critter scared me almost as much as the living and flying giant ichneumon wasp (Megarhyssa atrata) I told you about back in July. This time, she’s a female yellow garden spider, black and yellow garden spider, golden garden spider, writing spider, zigzag spider, hay spider, or corn spider (Argiope aurantia), which is a member of the family Araneidae, the orb-weavers, and “may bite if disturbed or harassed, but the venom is harmless to non-allergic humans, roughly equivalent to a bumblebee sting in intensity!” That’s an odd definition of harmless, eh? “Males range from 5–9 mm (0.20–0.35 in); females range from 19–28 mm (0.75–1.10 in),” and she was easily that big.

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The Pedia of Wik explains that the dense zigzag of silk in the center of her web is known as a stabilimentum, and “the purpose of the stabilimentum is disputed. It is possible that it acts as camouflage for the spider lurking in the web’s center, but it may also attract insect prey, or even warn birds of the presence of the otherwise difficult-to-see web. Only those spiders that are active during the day construct stabilimenta in their webs.”

Less scary, but just as striking, is this red-spotted purple butterfly (Limenitis arthemis astyanax), which is of the same species as the white admiral (Limenitis arthemis arthemis), oddly enough, but has “evolved to mimic the poisonous pipevine swallowtail (Battus philenor).” I’ve tried to show you pictures of this critter three times before, on June 20, June 19, and June 12, but could never get one to pose like this. We even saw a chrysalis by the pond back on June 4.

Finally, you’re not going to believe the common name of the new flower I found blossoming on the river by the boat launch. The common sneezeweed (Helenium autumnale) “is a North American species of flowering plants in the sunflower family.” I was wading through the weeds from this picture when I nearly ran into Mrs. Orb Weaver above and almost got to put that bumblebee analogy to the test.

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That’s our show for today folks, and I can’t wait to see what I see tomorrow.

It was yet another beautiful morning in Estabrook Park, and there was a light fog hugging the soccer fields. All four deer were out again, but there were also a lot of walkers and joggers trying to get by, so they didn’t get a chance to pose for a family portrait this time.

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Our new pall, the juvenile black-crowned night-heron, was hunting up breakfast on the pond again from the “island” that had been overrun by turtles earlier this week.

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And the young great blue heron was doing the same on the river.

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It was still too cool for the butterflies to be out and about when I was in the park this morning, but they were making the best of the abundant Queen Anne’s lace yesterday.

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One novelty along the river trail, which I’ve been observing for weeks but didn’t manage to sort out until this morning when it is almost all passed by, is this fascinating “dog sick slime mould” or “dog sick fungus” (Mucilago crustacea). It is bright white, like spilled Dairy Queen “vanilla” soft serve, and not to be confused with the similarly-named dog vomit slime mold (Fuligo septica), which has a “peculiar yellowish, bile-colored appearance,” and often grows on overwatered mulch. Although both are slime molds, “organisms that can live freely as single cells, but can aggregate together to form multicellular reproductive structures,” the two are only in the same class Myxogastria, which contains 888 species!

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Speaking of Queen Anne’s lace, check out the beautiful spiral pattern in this one. It looks like a spiral galaxy, and I only see it so clearly every once in a while.

And speaking of spiral galaxies, Anne and I went out last evening to look at Jupiter and Saturn again, which were magnificent and are heading towards a great conjunction in December. There was no sign of comet NEOWISE anymore, and I failed again to capture an image of the raccoon, but we did get to see the Andromeda Galaxy. It’s actually a barred spiral galaxy, just like the Milky Way, but it barely looked like more than a white smudge to us, without some way to capture light of a period of time. Its photons, I am amazed to read, have been traveling for “approximately 2.5 million” before striking my retinas.

So long, for now, and enjoy the nice weather while it lasts, because I hear it’s gonna get hot and humid again for the weekend.