What do moths have to do with owls? Just ask Mat Seidensticker. After nearly a decade spent studying owls across Montana and Alaska, Seidensticker focused his research on the flammulated owl (Psiloscops flammeolus), one of Montana’s smallest and most cryptic species. Soon, it became impossible for him to ignore the moths—insects that this owl hunts extensively during the summer.

In 2015, Seidensticker began working with other researchers at the Bitterroot Valley’s MPG Ranch, studying not only small owls, but also nighthawks and poorwills. And, once again, the moths kept fluttering into his life. Eventually, they would show him they were far more important than most people imagine.

Now, over 30,000 moth specimens later, Seidensticker and the initiative he founded, the Montana Moth Project, along with his collaborators, Chuck Harp and Marian Kirst, have learned a great deal about the roles that moths play in nature. These soft-winged aerialists feed a wide variety of animals, shape plant communities profoundly, and carry far more pollen than anyone would have guessed.

Whales of the sky

To Seidensticker, the night sky is like an ocean. Moths, flying ants, and crane flies are “sky plankton,” a teeming community of aerial life that feeds the larger creatures. Common nighthawks (Chordeiles minor) are the “whales of the sky,” dipping and darting over the sunset as they scoop up moths with their gaping mouths.

On a late August evening near Helena, we don’t have to look far to spot the nighthawks skimming through the air high above us as they hunt for dinner. Tonight, we’re hunting moths, too. Photographer Lea Frye and I have joined Seidensticker for one of his nocturnal expeditions as he works methodically to document Montana’s moths.

A theater for moths

A swath of dark gray clouds skids over the mountains as Seidensticker hangs a white sheet between two aluminum poles. This unusual-looking device is a “light sheet,” one of the common methods moth researchers use to study these elusive fliers. Seidensticker fires up a generator as darkness approaches, powering a black light and mercury vapor bulb mounted next to the sheet. The lights will confuse nearby moths as they navigate through the night, throwing off their sense of up and down. The white sheet will give them a place to land while we identify them.

“It looks like we’re setting up a small drive-in movie theater,” I observe.

“We are!” Frye says.

Tonight’s outdoor theater is at the knees of the mountains, where the grassland shifts into pine forest and the conifers begin their march up toward the Continental Divide. We’ve already set up several bucket traps—homemade moth collectors involving a battery, black light, funnel, and 5-gallon bucket—among patches of different vegetation deeper in the forest. With luck, the buckets and the sheet will show us a great variety of moths.

Wind through the pines

Everything is in place now. The ponderosa pines are majestic black silhouettes behind us, and a quarter moon is sailing through the southwestern sky. Now, our only problem is the wind, which is proving more energetic than we’d hoped. It seems to be discouraging moth activity.

Gusts rattle the sheet, sigh through the pines, and rustle the aspen leaves. We wait, listening to the monotonous trill of the tree crickets filling the night. If only the wind would settle down.

At first, the moths trickle in one by one. Then, we get a lull in the wind, and they start arriving in fluttery waves: a small snapshot of the invisible nocturnal river of insects flowing through the dark skies around us. The diversity of colors and forms is stunning. There are the subtle ones, of course, well-camouflaged in a delicate palette of charcoals, grays, and browns, as if an artist sketched their wings. But not all of the moths blend in.

A diversity of moths

Several grass-veneers (Crambus) appear, sleek honey-colored moths with flashy white racing stripes. Frye finds an emerald (Geometrinae), its smooth green wings fringed and patterned with white. I’m fascinated by the sulfur knapweed moths (Agapeta zoegana), bright darts of yellow with a black chevron pattern crossing their wings. Several Nevada tiger moths (Apantesis nevadensis) clamber along the sheet, clothed in a mosaic of black and cream that resembles a Cubist painting. Their hindwings are unexpectedly salmon-colored.

The range of shapes and sizes is mind-boggling: from the tiny white speck of a micro moth, no larger than a midge, to broad-winged gray stealth fighters and furry-bodied Nevada tiger moths. And then there are their eyes, gleaming coppery, brassy, and purple in the intensity of the light. We go from moth to moth, taking photos as Seidensticker identifies the species, and a hundred tiny eyes shine back at us in the night.

Weathering the night

Our luck doesn’t last long, though. Soon, the restless wind resumes billowing, and the moth activity slows down. By 11 p.m., we’ve packed up the light sheet and retired to our tents. Now, everything is riding on our three bucket traps, whose lights will continue shining until morning. With luck, the wind will quiet in the upcoming hours, facilitating a strong flight of moths and an abundant catch.

Two hours later, it’s not looking good. White flashes light up the turbulent sky as a thunderstorm plows over the Continental Divide, giving us a brief but thorough soaking. Each bucket trap is roofed with just a small aluminum pan. Is it enough to weather the storm?

Moths in the morning

The call of a Swainson’s thrush (Catharus ustulatus) pierces the moist pre-dawn stillness as we open the first trap. Last night, we left it on a narrow ridge of Douglas fir trees, overlooking a drainage dotted with aspens and willows. Despite the midnight shower, the trap has served its purpose. Among the egg cartons inside, which provide places for moths to rest and hide, we see a rich assortment.

“Just looking at it here, there’s probably 20 to 30 species,” Seidensticker tells us. Some of these are new to me, including a broad-winged yellow moth. This one, like the pale green emerald we saw earlier, is a member of the geometer moth family, whose caterpillars are familiar to many people as inchworms.

The second trap, on a lower slope with a mature aspen stand nearby, gives us the largest moth we’ve seen so far, a species of underwing (Catocala sp.). This moth’s forewing is a fine achievement of camouflage, an intricate mottling of charcoal that resembles old aspen bark. But there’s nothing subtle about its hindwing, a visual exclamation declared in pink and black stripes.

Encountering sphinx moths

We retrieve the third trap from our lowest-elevation site, not far from the previous night’s light sheet. Here, large granitic boulders tower up among mature ponderosa pines, and patches of grassland and antelope bitterbrush provide habitat not present on our other sites. What catches my eye in this trap are two magnificently large sphinx moths, robust and furry. One of them, which Seidensticker identifies as an eyed sphinx moth (Smerinthus), has a pink-blushed hindwing with a surreal blue eyespot. The other, a spurge hawk moth (Hyles euphorbiae), has a pleasing bronze stripe in the forewing and a fuchsia-hued underside. These are the only sphinx moths we’ve seen tonight, and I admire the family of accomplished hoverers that often resemble hummingbirds when they fly.

Despite the uncertain weather, it’s been a productive night. Seidensticker estimates that we’ve caught between 100 and 150 species.

Thousands of species

As amazing as the assortment is from our single night in the field, it’s just one piece in the larger puzzle that the Montana Moth Project is gradually assembling. Already, the project has documented a whopping 1,250 moth species in the state. And that’s just the macro moths—the larger-bodied species, relatively straightforward to recognize in the field. Then, there are the micro moths—tiny midge-sized specks, much more difficult to identify but nevertheless important in the ecosystem. In fact, Seidensticker says, the micro moths are estimated to be three or more times as diverse as the macros.

The Montana Moth Project is collecting scientific specimens of all these species. The specimens go to the C.P. Gillette Museum of Arthropod Diversity in Fort Collins, Colorado or to the California Academy of Sciences in San Francisco, where they’re carefully curated as a reference library for biodiversity. In time, all of them—even the tiniest moths—will be identified. Including the micros, Seidensticker predicts there could easily be over 4,000 species of moths in Montana.

The ecology of moths

This number is mind-boggling—but what’s really incredible are the diverse lives of all these moths. Every species has its own story, a unique way of life fine-tuned to the harsh weather and varied vegetation of the Montana landscape. A lot of the details are still unknown; we’re still “in the dark” about many species’ basic biology. But what we do know is this: Moths are involved in a tapestry of relationships that is indispensable to the ecosystems around us.

According to Seidensticker, there’s an intimate “double link” between local moths and local plants. A tremendous variety of caterpillars chew on plants, forming the first link. Many adult moths feed on flower nectar, forming the second. Through these relationships, moths shape plant communities, feed a wide variety of animals, and contribute to pollination.

The double link: to eat and to be eaten

Caterpillar food plants, like the caterpillars themselves, are greatly varied. The pale enargia (Enargia decolor) develops primarily on aspens, tying the leaves together with silk. The oblique-striped emerald (Synchlora bistriaria) munches on sunflower and goldenrod blooms. Ambesa laetella, a beautifully patterned snout moth without a common name, feeds on wild roses. Eyed sphinx larvae rely on willows and cottonwoods. And through the simple act of chewing on leaves, caterpillars shape the course of evolution, pushing plants to develop defenses like hairy armors, bitter flavors, and aromatic compounds. Meanwhile, the host plants become caterpillar factories, producing millions of juicy larvae that songbirds eat.

If a caterpillar manages to escape the songbirds and transform into a winged adult, it may become important prey for flammulated owls or nighthawks. Bats feed so heavily on moths that certain moth species have developed sonic defenses, emitting high-frequency sounds that interfere with the bats’ sonar. Grizzly bears (Ursus arctos) gorge on adult army cutworm moths (Euxoa auxiliaris), which spend the summer hiding in talus slopes in the mountains. These moths are more calorie-dense than butter.

Moths and pollination

Meanwhile, scientists have only recently begun to recognize how important moths can be for pollination. In 2020, Seidensticker and his colleagues did a pilot study in the Bitterroot Valley using DNA barcoding to identify pollen swabbed from moth mouthparts. Impressively, they found moths transporting pollen from nearly a hundred plant genera, including common groups such as asters, legumes, and currants, as well as rarer plants like orchids and catchflies.

Moths may be especially important in this way because of how far they can carry pollen. Indeed, some moth species have been documented carrying pollen hundreds of miles. With their long-distance flights, they can connect the genes of isolated patches of plants. Bees, on the other hand, tend to forage close to their nests.

A soft-winged world

As researchers like Seidensticker continue to learn more, it’s becoming clear that moths are amazingly diverse, awesomely complex, and critically important to life around us. For Seidensticker, his journey of discovery began with owls. Now, it’s a web of connections: these fluttery pollen carriers link grizzly bears, bats, birds of the night, and plants in a complex dance.

And there’s still so much to learn. By 2030, the Montana Moth Project expects to have a comprehensive inventory of moth species in Montana. In the next decade, they’ll focus on developing the seasonal picture of when these moths fly. From there, the sky’s the limit, with much more to learn about pollination, host plants, and food webs.

It’s a soft-winged world that most of us take for granted. But the moths are out there—fluttering through our gardens, soaring through the nighttime pines—waiting for us to notice them.

The English version of this story first appeared in the Fall 2024 issue of Big Sky Journal, along with Lea Frye’s amazing photography. My Spanish translation appears here for the first time. You can find out more about the Montana Moth Project here.

The post A soft-winged world: why moths matter appeared first on Wild With Nature.

¿Qué tienen las polillas que ver con los búhos? Pregúntale a Mat Seidensticker. Después de pasar casi una década estudiando búhos a través de Montana y Alaska, EU, Seidensticker enfocó sus investigaciones en una de las especies de búhos más crípticas y pequeñas que existe en Montana, el tecolote ojos oscuros (Psiloscops flammeolus). Pronto resultó imposible ignorar las polillas—unos insectos que este tecolote caza extensamente durante el verano.

En 2015, Seidensticker empezó a colaborar con otros científicos en el Rancho MPG del Valle Bitterroot, estudiando no sólo tecolotes sino también chotacabras y tapacaminos. Y las polillas seguían entrando aleteando en su vida. Con el tiempo, ellas le enseñarían que eran mucho más importantes de lo que la mayoría de la gente imagina.

Ahora, después de recolectar más de 30,000 ejemplares de polillas, Seidensticker y la iniciativa que fundó, el Montana Moth Project (Proyecto de las Polillas de Montana), junto con sus colaboradores Chuck Harp y Marian Kirst, han aprendido mucho sobre los papeles que juegan las polillas en la naturaleza. Estas ascensionistas de alas suaves proveen alimento a una amplia variedad de animales, ejercen una profunda influencia sobre las comunidades vegetales y transportan mucho más polen de lo que se sospechaba.

Ballenas del cielo

Para Seidensticker, el cielo nocturno es como un océano. Las polillas, hormigas voladoras y típulas son el “plancton aéreo,” una comunidad abundante de criaturas aladas que alimentan a los animales más grandes. Los chotacabras zumbones (Chordeiles minor) son las “ballenas del cielo,” revoloteando y buceando sobre la puesta del sol mientras tragan polillas con sus bocas gigantes.

Un anochecer a finales de agosto cerca de Helena, Montana, no tenemos que buscar mucho para ver los chotacabras zumbones aleteando alto sobre nosotros mientras cazan su cena. Esta noche, nosotros también estamos cazando polillas. La fotógrafa Lea Frye y yo nos hemos reunido con Seidensticker por uno de sus recorridos nocturnos mientras trabaja metódicamente para documentar las polillas de Montana.

Un teatro para las polillas

Una bandada de nubes oscuras patina sobre las montañas mientras Seidensticker cuelga una sábana blanca entre dos postes de aluminio. Este aparato de apariencia rara se convertirá en una “sábana iluminada,” uno de los métodos comunes que usan los investigadores de las polillas para estudiar estos insectos elusivos. Seidensticker prende un generador mientras la oscuridad llega, conectando un foco de luz negra y otro de vapor de mercurio los cuales pone cerca de la sábana. Los focos van a confundir a las polillas que estén cerca mientras navegan por la oscuridad, alterando su sentido de dirección. La sábana blanca les va a dar un lugar donde aterrizar mientras nosotros las identifiquemos.

“Parece como si estuviéramos poniendo un pequeño teatro,” noto yo.

“¡Así es!” dice Frye.

Nuestro teatro al aire libre está en la falda de la montaña, donde la vegetación cambia de pradera a bosque de pino y las coníferas empiezan su marcha cuesta arriba hacia la Divisoria Continental. Ya hemos puesto unas trampas cubeta—colectores de polillas caseros que comprenden una batería, un foco de luz negra, un embudo y una cubeta de 19 litros—en unos parches de vegetación diferente más bosque adentro. Con suerte, las cubetas y la sábana van a mostrarnos una gran diversidad de polillas.

El viento por los pinos

Ahora todo está puesto. Los pinos ponderosa (Pinus ponderosa) hacen siluetas majestuosas detrás de nosotros y la creciente de la luna navega por el cielo al suroeste. Ya nuestro único problema es el viento, que está corriendo más de lo que habíamos esperado. Parece que está reduciendo la actividad de las polillas.

Las ráfagas de aire hacen traquetear a la sábana, suspiran por los pinos y hacen las hojas de los álamos temblones (Populus tremuloides) susurrar. Esperamos, escuchando el trino monótono de los grillos de árbol que llena la noche. ¡Si sólo el viento se tranquilizara!

Al inicio, las polillas llegan despacio, una por una. Finalmente el viento se detiene un poco y comienzan a llegar en olas trémulas: una pequeña vista del río nocturno invisible de insectos que está fluyendo por el cielo oscuro alrededor de nosotros. La diversidad de colores y formas es increíble. Están las sutiles, desde luego, bien camufladas en una paleta delicada de carbón, gris y café, como si un artista hubiera dibujado sus alas. Pero no todas las polillas son tan discretas.

Una diversidad de polillas

Unos Crambus aparecen, polillas delgadas del color de miel con rayas blancas llamativas. Frye encuentra una polilla esmeralda de la subfamilia Geometrinae, sus alas verdes lisas con flecos y venas de blanco. Me fascinan las Agapeta zoegana, dardos de amarillo brillante con un triángulo negro cruzando el ala. Unas Apantesis nevadensis trepan sobre la sábana, vestidas en un mosaico de negro y crema que se parece a una pintura cubista. Sus alas posteriores son sorprendentemente de color salmón.

La variación en forma y tamaño es alucinante: desde la manchita blanca minúscula de una polilla micro, tan pequeña como un jején, hasta tipos grises con alas anchas que se parecen a aviones furtivos y las Apantesis nevadensis con sus cuerpos peludos. Los ojos también son difíciles de olvidar: brillan de cobre, latón y morado en la intensidad del foco. Vamos de una polilla a otra, tomando fotos mientras Seidensticker identifica las especies, y cien ojos diminutos nos miran desde la noche.

Pasando la noche

Nuestra suerte no dura mucho. Pronto, el aire inquieto se agita de nuevo, y la actividad de polillas se desploma. Al llegar a las 11 p.m., hemos empacado la sábana y regresado a nuestras casas de acampar. Ahora, todas nuestras esperanzas están sobre las tres trampas cubeta, cuyos focos van a seguir brillando hasta la mañana. Con suerte, el viento se tranquiliza en las horas que vienen, facilitando un vuelo abundante de polillas y una captura numerosa.

Dos horas después, no se está viendo bien la cosa. Destellos blancos iluminan el cielo turbulento mientras una tormenta eléctrica choca con la Divisoria Continental, dándonos un aguacero breve pero intenso. Cada trampa cubeta está protegida nada más por una pequeña bandeja de aluminio. ¿Será suficiente para soportar la tormenta?

Polillas en la mañana

La llamada de un zorzal de anteojos (Catharus ustulatus) atraviesa la tranquilidad mojada antes del amanecer mientras abrimos la primera trampa. Anoche la dejamos en una cresta angosta con ayarines (Pseudotsuga menziesii) con una vista sobre el cauce de un arroyo lleno de sauces y álamos temblones. A pesar del aguacero a medianoche, la trampa ha funcionado. Entre los cajas de huevos adentro, que dan a las polillas lugares para descansar y esconderse, vemos una amplia selección.

“Al mirarlo, aquí probablemente tenemos 20 o 30 especies,” nos dice Seidensticker. Algunas son nuevas para mí, incluso una polilla amarilla con alas anchas. Ésta, como la polilla esmeralda pálida que vimos en la noche, es parte de la familia de los geométridos (Geometridae), cuyas orugas “medidoras” son conocidas por muchas personas por su forma notable de moverse, alternamente doblando y enderezando el cuerpo.

La segunda trampa, en la parte baja de una pendiente cerca de un bosquecillo de álamos temblones grandes, nos da la polilla más grande que hemos visto hasta el momento, una especie de Catocala. El ala anterior de ésta es un logro impresionante del camuflaje, un patrón de carbón moteado que se asemeja a la corteza vieja del álamo temblón. Pero el ala posterior no tiene nada de sutil: es una exclamación visual declarada con franjas de rosa y negro.

Encontrando esfinges

Recuperamos la tercera trampa de nuestro sitio con la más baja altura, relativamente cerca de donde anoche pusimos la sábana iluminada. Aquí, peñas graníticas ascienden entre pinos ponderosa maduros y parches de pradera y hierba amarga (Purshia tridentata), ofreciendo un hábitat diferente del de nuestros otros sitios. En esta trampa, lo que me llama la atención son dos polillas esfinge magníficamente grandes, robustas y peludas. La primera, que Seidensticker identifica como una especie de Smerinthus, tiene el ala posterior teñida de rosa con un ocelo azul irreal. La otra, un ejemplo de Hyles euphorbiae, tiene una línea bonita de bronce por el ala anterior y se ve fuscia por abajo. Son las únicas polillas esfinge (la familia Sphingidae) que hemos visto esta noche. Admiro esta familia relativamente distintiva de polillas que se ciernen fácilmente y a menudo se parecen a colibríes al volar.

A pesar del tiempo variable de la noche, ha sido un recorrido productivo. Seidensticker estima que hemos atrapado entre 100 y 150 especies.

Miles de especies

Por muy impresionante que sea esta diversidad de una sola noche al borde del bosque, es solamente una pieza del rompecabezas más amplio que el Montana Moth Project está descifrando. Ya el proyecto ha documentado 1,250 especies de polillas en el estado. Y esas sólo son las polillas macro—las especies más grandes, incluso muchas especies que se puede reconocer en el campo (después de estudiar mucho). Las polillas micro—manchitas del tamaño de un jején—son mucho más difíciles de identificar, sin embargo son muy importantes también en el ecosistema. De hecho, dice Seidensticker, se estima que dentro de las polillas micro hay por lo menos tres veces más especies de las que hay de polillas macro.

El Montana Moth Project recolecta ejemplares científicos de todas estas especies. Los ejemplares van al Museo C.P. Gillette de la Diversidad de Artrópodos en Fort Collins, Colorado o a la Academia Californiana de Ciencias en San Francisco, donde están guardados como una biblioteca de referencia sobre la biodiversidad. Con el tiempo todos—incluso los ejemplares más pequeños—van a ser identificados. Incluso las polillas micro, Seidensticker predice que fácilmente podría haber más de 4,000 especies de polillas en Montana.

La ecología de las polillas

Es difícil de comprender tanta diversidad de polillas—pero más increíble aún son las vidas diversas de todas estos animales. Cada especie tiene su propia historia, una historia de vida única adaptada al clima exigente y la vegetación variada de la geografía de Montana. Muchos de los detalles todavía están por aprenderse; seguimos “en la oscuridad” sobre la biología básica de muchas especies. Pero lo que sí sabemos es esto: Las polillas están involucradas en una tela de relaciones las cuales son esenciales para los ecosistemas alrededor de nosotros.

Según Seidensticker, hay un “doble vínculo” íntimo entre las polillas locales y las plantas locales. Una gran variedad de orugas usan plantas como su comida, formando el primer vínculo. Muchas polillas adultas se alimentan del néctar de las flores, formando la segunda conexión. A través de estas relaciones, las polillas moldean las comunidades de plantas, alimentan a muchos animales y contribuyen en la polinización.

El doble vínculo: comer y ser comido

Las plantas que sustentan a las orugas, como las orugas mismas, son muy variadas. La oruga Enargia decolor se alimenta principalmente de álamos temblones, amarrando las hojas con seda para crear estructuras protectoras. Synchlora bistriaria come las flores de girasoles (Helianthus spp.) y varas de oro (Solidago spp.). Ambesa laetella, una polilla con un hocico cuyas alas tienen patrones lindos, se alimenta de rosas silvestres (Rosa spp.). Las larvas de los Smerinthus dependen de sauces (Salix spp.) y álamos (Populus spp.). Y a través de la simple acción de masticar hojas, las orugas cambian los caminos de la evolución, impulsando a las plantas a desarrollar defensas como armaduras de pelo, sabores amargos y compuestos aromáticos. A la vez, las plantas huésped se convierten en fábricas de orugas, produciendo millones de larvas jugosas que ofrecen alimento a las aves cantoras.

Si una oruga logra esquivar las aves cantoras y transformarse en adulto alado, puede ser una presa importante para los tecolotes ojos oscuros o los chotacabras zumbones. Los murciélagos cazan tan intensamente a las polillas que algunas especies han desarrollado defensas sónicas, emitiendo sonidos de alta frecuencia para confundir el sonar de los murciélagos. Los osos grizzly (Ursus arctos) se empachan de los adultos de unos noctuidos como la Euxoa auxiliaris, polillas que pasan el verano escondiéndose en taludes en las montañas. Estas polillas tienen más calorías por gramo que la mantequilla.

Las polillas y la polinización

Mientras tanto, los científicos apenas han empezado a percatarse qué tan importantes pueden ser las polillas para la polinización. En 2020, Seidensticker y sus colegas hicieron un estudio inicial en el Valle Bitterroot usando códigos de barra de ADN para identificar el polen que tomaron de las partes bucales de las polillas. Notablemente, documentaron que las polillas transportaban el polen de casi cien géneros de plantas, incluso grupos comunes como las asteráceas, leguminosas y grosellas además de plantas más raras como las orquídeas y collejas.

Parece que las polillas pueden ser especialmente importantes por las largas distancias a las que pueden transportar el polen. De hecho, hay registros de algunas especies de polillas que han transportado el polen cientos de kilómetros. Por estos vuelos de larga distancia, pueden conectar los genes de parches aislados de plantas. Las abejas, al otro lado, suelen forrajear cerca de sus nidos.

Un mundo por alas suaves

Mientras investigadores como Seidensticker siguen aprendiendo más, se está volviendo cada vez más claro que las polillas son increíblemente diversas, extraordinariamente complejas y que tienen una importancia crítica para la vida alrededor de nosotros. Para Seidensticker, este viaje de descubrimiento empezó con los búhos. Ahora es una red de conexiones: estos insectos trémulos vinculan a los osos grizzly, los murciélagos, las aves nocturnas y las plantas en un baile complejo.

Aún queda muchísimo más por aprender. Para 2030, el Montana Moth Project anticipa haber logrado un inventario comprensivo de las especies de polillas que hay en Montana. En la década siguiente, van a enfocarse en entender las dinámicas estacionales de cuándo vuelan estas polillas. Desde ahí, el cielo será el límite, con mucho más por aprender sobre la polinización, las plantas huésped y las redes alimenticias.

Es un mundo por alas suaves que la mayoría de nosotros no lo valoramos. Pero las polillas están ahí afuera—aleteando por nuestros jardines, planeando entre los pinos nocturnos—esperando a que nos demos cuenta.

La versión en inglés de esta historia apareció por la primera vez en la edición del otoño de 2024 de Big Sky Journal, junto con la fotografía impresionante de Lea Frye. La traducción que hice al español se estrena aquí. Puedes aprender más sobre el Montana Moth Project aquí.

The post Un mundo por alas suaves: por qué importan las polillas appeared first on Wild With Nature.

The tiny wasp shimmered between my fingertips, its hard exoskeleton glittering green and blue under the strong June sun. Nearby, along the base of the shaly orange slope, was the patch of leafy spurge where I had captured it as it had gathered nectar from the showy yellow spurge blooms. I had started seeing cuckoo wasps several weeks ago near this western Montana grassland stream, crawling across the ground and visiting flowers among the busy profusion of early-summer vegetation.

The cuckoo wasps I was seeing, roughly the size of rice grains, varied somewhat in their appearance. But all of them were striking. Most ranged from emerald to a deep blue-green. Some shone coppery red in the light. And the more I learned about these tiny, often-overlooked wasps, the more interesting they became.

When most people think of wasps, they think of the yellowjackets and paper wasps – that small handful of species that tend to show up uninvited at picnics and sometimes sting us. But the rest of Montana’s wasps make up a vast and seldom-seen world. Most of them would never show up at our picnics. Very few people even notice them. And cuckoo wasps (family Chrysididae) are part of that massive world. Unless you know what to look for, you’ve probably walked right past hundreds of them.

How to recognize them

Cuckoo wasps are extremely docile. Unlike most female wasps and bees, they actually can’t sting, even when they’re threatened. While most female wasps have a stinger, cuckoo wasps just have a harmless egg-laying tube. To protect themselves, most of Montana’s species can curl up into a ball when they’re attacked. Like the shell of a turtle, the hardened armor of their exoskeleton keeps them safe.

Cuckoo wasps aren’t Montana’s only small, wasplike, iridescent green insects. Certain sweat bees (family Halictidae) are similarly green – and these creatures can sting when they feel threatened. There are also other tiny wasps, such as the perilampids (family Perilampidae), that sport similar, shiny greens and blues.

How can you tell if you’re looking at a cuckoo wasp, then? Watch for compact, iridescent green wasps that typically play dead when disturbed, rolling into a ball. Their bodies usually have a pitted appearance, and many of them have a series of small teeth projecting from the rear of the abdomen. The veins in their forewings form a few box-like cells. Sweat bees have many more of these cells (over six of them), while perilampids have none.

A diversity of cuckoo wasps

Like many insects, cuckoo wasps are very diverse in Montana. According to Mike Ivie, curator of the Montana Entomological Collection in Bozeman, we have at least 71 species of them in the state. In fact, we have almost as many cuckoo wasps as we do mammals, a group that includes 109 species in Montana. But whereas most people are at least vaguely familiar with mammals, from elk to muskrats and deer mice, few of us have noticed even a single cuckoo wasp.

Until recently, even entomologists didn’t know much about cuckoo wasps in Montana. For many species the published range maps seem to curve around the state, barely missing it. But since the 1990s, when Mike Ivie and his colleagues began a much more thorough effort to inventory Montana’s cuckoo wasps, they’ve found a rather astounding diversity of them.

“Our diversity is that mix of eastern and western,” Mike says.

We have species from the Pacific Northwest that enter northwestern Montana, others from eastern North America, and still others associated with desert habitats near the Pryor Mountains. With cuckoo wasps, as with so many other animals, Montana’s diversity of habitats fosters an impressive diversity of species.

Species ID and where to find them

Identifying cuckoo wasps to the species level is generally quite challenging. Some are relatively large; others are as small as a mosquito. Many are bright green, while others have reddish tints. Details of the wing venation, ridges and indentations on the face, and the structures at the rear of the abdomen can help distinguish the different species. But for definitive identifications, it’s usually essential to study specimens under a microscope. 

Relatively few people may have the patience to identify cuckoo wasps to the species level. But for all of us, it’s relatively simple to keep an eye open for these creatures whenever we’re outside. Species ID is hard, but recognizing them as a family is fairly straightforward. And by noticing cuckoo wasps, we can understand another important part of the vast natural world that surrounds us.

Where can you find them? Sometimes, cuckoo wasps visit flowers, such as the brilliant green individual I found on the leafy spurge. I’ve also found certain cuckoo wasps visiting the striking white flowers of cow-parsnip (Heracleum lanatum) and the deep yellow arrays of goldenrod (Solidago spp.). But it’s more typical to see them on the ground.

“The place I see them most is on dead wood,” Mike Ivie tells me.

In forested settings, it’s common to find some species crawling busily along downed branches, large or small. Meanwhile, others frequent areas of bare ground.

A bizarre life cycle

Why all of the crawling? This behavior is the visible sign of the other 80% of these wasps’ life cycles, which take place in hidden burrows. And from here, the story of the cuckoo wasps gets increasingly bizarre.

Montana’s cuckoo wasps are parasitoids. When we see them crawling busily across wood or soil, we’re actually watching them hunting. A few of Montana’s species, in the genus Cleptes, attack sawfly cocoons in forested habitats across the state. The rest of our cuckoo wasps look for certain groups of wasps and bees. In this case, the female will sneak into the nest of her host species, laying an egg there. When her young larva hatches, it will devour its host and whatever food is in the nest cell. The next summer, the new cuckoo wasp will emerge as an adult, having usurped its host’s would-be nest.

What can these shiny green wasps teach us? It turns out that noticing the cuckoo wasps themselves is just the tip of the iceberg. They’re a window in on a whole community of bees and wasps that nest in the ground, or in downed branches where wood-boring beetles have excavated. Each of these species, which the cuckoo wasps target, has its own story. Many are highly specialized, collecting pollen from particular flowers or hunting certain insects to stock their nests. It’s an intricate, miniature world that most of us don’t even think of. And the cuckoo wasps can help us notice.

A miniature world of bees and wasps

“They’ll be crawling around on pieces of dead wood, branches…. Those old beetle borings are full of bees,” Mike says.

A closer look at a few species helps to illustrate the complexity of this miniature world. On a sunny early July afternoon, I found a pair of deep green cuckoo wasps mating within a streamside leafy spurge patch. Later, studying one of them under the microscope, I identified it as Holopyga ventralis. Like all cuckoo wasps, Holopyga has a unique life story. This species attacks Bicyrtes, a group of pale-striped sand wasps that visit flowers and dig their nests in sandy soil. 

Like many wasps, Bicyrtes are rather-specialized predators. In order to feed their larvae, the females hunt stink bugs and other true bugs. Stinging these bugs to paralyze them and then stocking their underground nests with them, they’re ensuring that their larvae will have all the food they need to develop into an adult. If everything goes according to plan, that is. 

Enter the cuckoo wasp, Holopyga. If a female Holopyga manages to sneak into a Bicyrtes nest and lay her egg, then her larva will devour the developing sand wasp, along with the paralyzed stink bugs that were supposed to feed it. This is game over for the Bicyrtes larva. It’s also why the female Holopyga can curl into a ball, protecting herself with her super-tough exoskeleton. If the adult Bicyrtes wasp finds her sneaking into the nest, the armored-ball defense will allow her to survive. The angry Bicyrtes may throw her out of the nest, but the Holopyga will live to nest-search another day.

Different species, different story

It’s a similar story with Hedychrum parvum, a cuckoo wasp that I found visiting flowers in a dry, disturbed area around the same time of year. But instead of searching for Bicyrtes nests, this one has a different host. Hedychrum sneaks into the underground nests of Cerceris or Eucerceris, slender predatory wasps that hunt weevils. 

Then there’s the bewildering diversity of cuckoo wasps in the genus Chrysis. For many of these species, entomologists don’t yet know which wasps or bees they attack. Others are better-studied – such as the widespread cuckoo wasp Chrysis pellucida. This one relies on wasps in the genus Trypoxylon, which nest in wood and hunt spiders.

Aren’t cuckoo wasps bad news for the wasp, bee, or sawfly larvae that they attack? For these particular larvae, yes. But on the population level, one Finnish study suggests that they don’t seem to threaten the long-term survival of their hosts. Indeed, because they rely on specific host species, cuckoo wasps tend to be less common than their hosts, more vulnerable to extinction. For a species like Holopyga ventralis to thrive, it depends on an entire system in miniature: the Bicyrtes wasps, their true bug prey, and the plants those bugs feed on. 

So as June approaches again – and with it, the beginning of cuckoo wasp season – keep your eyes open. Watch for jewel-like, iridescent wasps crawling across downed branches or patches of bare soil. How many can you see? Can you spot the nests they’re searching for, or some of their host wasps and bees? Welcome to the miniature world of the cuckoo wasps.

Further reading

Bohart, R.M. & Kimsey, L.S. (1982). A synopsis of the Chrysididae in America north of Mexico. Memoirs of the American Entomological Institute no. 33. Ann Arbor, MI: The American Entomological Institute.

Evans, H.E. (1970). Ecological-behavioral studies of the wasps of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology 140(7):451-511.

Paukkunen, J., Pöyry, J. & Kuussaari, M. (2017). Species traits explain long-term population trends of Finnish cuckoo wasps (Hymenoptera: Chrysididae). Insect Conservation and Diversity 11(1):58-71. Retrieved from https://resjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/icad.12241

The post Bizarre and vibrant: getting to know Montana’s cuckoo wasps appeared first on Wild With Nature.

La avispa minúscula brilló entre las puntas de mis dedos, su exoesqueleto duro reluciendo con verde y azul bajo el fuerte sol de junio. Cerca, en la base de una vertiente anaranjada de esquisto, estaba el parche de lechetrezna (Euphorbia esula) donde la había atrapado mientras que ella cosechaba néctar de las llamativas flores amarillas. Hace unas semanas que había empezado a ver las avispas cuco cerca de este arroyo bordeado por praderas en el occidente de Montana, EE.UU., arrastrándose por el suelo y visitando flores entre la profusión concurrida de la vegetación al comienzo del verano.

Las avispas cuco que veía, casi el tamaño de granos de arroz, variaban un poco en su apariencia. Pero todas eran llamativas. La mayoría eran de color esmeralda o de azul profundo. Otras lustraban con el rojo de cobre cuando la luz las tocaba. Y cuanto más aprendí sobre estas avispas pequeñas y a menudo ignoradas, más interesantes me resultaron.

Cuando la mayoría de la gente piensan en las avispas, piensan en las avispas papeleras o las avispas chaqueta amarilla – ese pequeño manojo de especies que suelen aparecer en picnics sin invitación y que a veces nos pican. Pero el resto de las avispas de Montana constituye un mundo vasto y pocas veces visto. Pocas personas hasta se dan cuenta de ellas. Y las avispas cuco (la familia Chrysididae) son una parte de ese mundo vasto. A menos que sepas a qué buscar, es probable que hayas pasado por cienes de ellas sin verlas.

Cómo reconocerlas

Las avispas cuco son muy dóciles. Al contrario que la mayoría de las avispas y abejas hembras, realmente no pueden picar, hasta cuando están amenazadas. Mientras que la mayoría de las avispas hembras tienen un aguijón, las avispas cuco solo tienen un tubo inofensivo para poner huevos. Para protegerse, la mayoría de las especies en Montana pueden enrollarse en una bola cuando son atacadas. Como el caparazón de una tortuga, la armadura endurecida de sus exoesqueletos las mantiene seguras.

Las avispas cuco no son las únicas pequeñas avispas de verde iridiscente en Montana. Algunas abejas del sudor (la familia Halictidae) son igualmente verdes – y estas criaturas sí pueden picar cuando se sienten amenazadas. También hay otras diminutas avispas, tales como los perilámpidos (la familia Perilampidae) que muestran colores parecidos de verde y azul reluciente.

Entonces ¿cómo puedes saber si estás mirando una avispa cuco? Busca compactas avispas de verde iridiscente que típicamente simulan su muerte cuando se las molesta, enrollándose en una bola. Sus cuerpos suelen estar salpicados con cacarañas en la superficie. Muchas de ellas también tienen una serie de estructuras parecidas a dientes al posterior del abdomen. Las venas en las alas anteriores forman algunas casillas, como cajas irregulares. Las abejas del sudor, en comparación, tienen muchas más casillas (más de seis), mientras que los perilámpidos no tienen ningunas.

Una diversidad de avispas cuco

Como muchos insectos, las avispas cuco son muy diversas en Montana. Según dice Mike Ivie, el conservador de la Colección Entomológica de Montana en Bozeman, tenemos por lo menos 71 especies en el estado. De hecho, tenemos casi tantas especies de avispas cuco como especies de mamíferos, un grupo que incluye 109 especies en Montana. Pero mientras que mucha gente conoce por lo menos vagamente a los mamíferos, desde los uapitís a las ratas almizcleras y los ratones ciervo, la mayoría de nosotros ni siquiera nos hemos dado cuenta de una única avispa cuco.

Hasta recientemente, hasta los entomólogos no sabían mucho sobre las avispas cuco en Montana. La distribución de varias especies parecía curvar alrededor del estado, apenas esquivándolo. Pero desde los años 1990, cuando Mike Ivie y sus colegas empezaron un esfuerzo mucho más minucioso para catalogar las avispas cuco de Montana, han hallado una diversidad bastante alucinante de ellas.

“Nuestra diversidad es aquella mezcla de lo oriental y lo occidental,” dice Mike.

Tenemos especies del Noroeste Pacífico que entran en el noroeste de Montana, otras del este de Norteamérica y otras asociadas con hábitats desérticos cerca de las Montañas Pryor. En el caso de las avispas cuco, como con muchos otros animales, la diversidad de hábitats en Montana mantiene una diversidad impresionante de especies.

Identificando especies y dónde encontrarlas

Generalmente es difícil identificar avispas cuco al nivel de la especie. Algunas son bastante grandes; otras son tan pequeñas como un mosquito. Varias son de color verde brillante, mientras que otras tienen matices rojos. Los detalles de las venas en las alas, las crestas y las muescas en el rostro y las estructuras al posterior del abdomen pueden ayudar a distinguir especies diferentes. Pero para identificarlas definitivamente, generalmente es esencial estudiarlas bajo un microscopio.

Bastante pocas personas tienen la paciencia suficiente para identificar las avispas cuco al nivel de la especie. Pero por todos nosotros, es relativamente simple echar un vistazo a estas criaturas cuando estamos en la naturaleza. Identificar especies sí es difícil, pero reconocer la familia es simple. Y por reconocer las avispas cuco, podemos entender otra parte importante del vasto mundo de la naturaleza que nos envuelve.

¿Dónde puedes encontrarlas? A veces, las avispas cuco visitan flores, como el individuo de verde brillante que encontré en el parche de lechetrezna. También he encontrado algunas avispas cuco visitando las llamativas flores blancas de la planta Heracleum lanatum y las colecciones de amarillo profundo las cuales son las flores de las varas de oro (Solidago spp.). Pero es más común verlas sobre el suelo.

“El lugar en el que las veo más a menudo es sobre piezas de madera muerta,” me dice Mike Ivie.

En zonas forestales, es común ver algunas especies arrastrándose afanosamente a lo largo de las ramas caídas, tanto ramas pequeñas como ramas grandes. Mientras tanto, otras especies suelen visitar áreas con la tierra expuesta.

Un extraño ciclo de vida

¿Por qué arrastrarse así? Este comportamiento es la señal visible del otro 80% por ciento del ciclo vital de estas avispas. Todo aquello tiene lugar en madrigueras escondidas. Y desde este punto, el cuento de las avispas cuco se vuelve cada vez más extraño.

Las avispas cuco de Montana son parasitóides. Cuando las vemos arrastrándose por madera o suelo, realmente las estamos mirando cazando sus víctimas. Algunas de las especies en Montana, en el género Cleptes, atacan los capullos de avispas de sierra (como las de la familia Diprionidae) en hábitats forestales a lo largo del estado. El resto de nuestras especies buscan ciertos grupos de avispas o abejas. En este caso, la hembra entrará a hurtadillas en el nido de la correspondiente especie huésped, poniendo un huevo allá. Cuando su larva nazca, va a devorar la avispa huésped y cualquier comida que esté en la celda del nido. El verano siguiente, la nueva avispa cuco emergerá como adulta, habiendo usurpado el nido en potencia de su huésped.

¿Qué nos pueden enseñar estas relucientes avispas verdes? Resulta que darnos cuenta de las mismas avispas cuco sólo es la punta del iceberg. Son una ventana que nos permita ver una entera comunidad de abejas y avispas. Estas especies anidan en el suelo o en ramas caídas donde los escarabajos han barrenado la madera. Cada especie tiene su propia historia. Muchas son altamente especializadas, cosechando el polen de flores específicas o cazando insectos peculiares para provisionar sus nidos. Es un intrincado mundo en miniatura en el que la mayoría de nosotros apenas piensan. Y las avispas cuco nos pueden ayudar a verlo.

El mundo en miniatura de las abejas y avispas

“Van a estar arrastrándose sobre piezas de madera muerta, ramas… Aquellas viejas perforaciones de escarabajos son llenas de abejas,” Mike dice.

Mirar más atentamente a algunas especies nos puede ilustrar la complejidad de este mundo en miniatura. Durante una tarde soleada al comienzo de julio, encontré un par de avispas cuco de verde oscuro apareándose dentro de un parche de lechetrezna cerca de un arroyo. Más tarde, estudiando una de ellas bajo el microscopio, la identifiqué como Holopyga ventralis. Como todas las avispas cuco, la Holopyga tiene una historia de vida única. Esta especie ataca a Bicyrtes, un grupo de avispas de arena, decoradas con rayas pálidas, que visitan flores y excavan sus nidos en tierras arenosas.

Como varias otras avispas, las Bicyrtes son depredadores bastante especializados. Para alimentar a sus larvas, las hembras cazan chinches hediondas (la familia Pentatomidae) y otras chinches. Pican estas chinches para paralizarlas y las ponen en sus nidos bajo el suelo, asegurando así que sus larvas tengan toda la comida que necesiten para madurar a ser adultos. Si todo sigue el plan, es decir.

Entonces entra la avispa cuco, Holopyga. Si una Holopyga hembra logra entrar el nido de la Bicyrtes y poner un huevo, entonces su larva va a devorar la pequeña avispa de arena, junto con las paralizadas chinches hediondas que debían alimentarla. Esto es el final de la larva de Bicyrtes. También es por eso que la hembra de Holopyga puede enrollarse en una bola, protegiéndose con su exoesqueleto bien endurecido. Si la avispa adulta de Bicyrtes la encuentra entrando el nido a hurtadillas, la defensa de la bola de armadura le permitirá sobrevivir a la Holopyga. Puede ser que la Bicyrtes enojada la tire del nido, pero la Holopyga va a sobrevivir para seguir buscando nidos otro día.

Especies diferentes, historias diferentes

La historia de Hedychrum parvum, una avispa cuco que encontré visitando flores en un área seca durante la misma estación, es similar. Pero en vez de buscar los nidos de Bicyrtes, esta avispa cuco tiene otra especie huésped. La Hedychrum busca los nidos subterráneos de Cerceris o Eucerceris, flacas avispas depredadoras que cazan gorgojos.

Además hay la diversidad desconcertante de avispas cuco en el género Chrysis. Por muchas de estas especies, los entomólogos aún no saben cuáles abejas o avispas atacan. Otras son mejor estudiadas, como la especie de amplia distribución Chrysis pellucida, que depende de avispas del género Trypoxylon, las cuales anidan en madera y cazan arañas.

¿Son las avispas cuco malas noticias para las larvas de avispas y abejas que atacan? Para esas larvas individuales, claro que sí. Pero al nivel de la población, un estudio finlandés sugiere que no amenazan la sobrevivencia de sus huéspedes a largo plazo. Por depender de específicas especies huéspedes, las avispas cuco suelen ser menos comunes que los huéspedes y más vulnerables al peligro de extinción. Para que una especie como Holopyga ventralis florezca, depende de un sistema entero en miniatura: las avispas Bicyrtes, los chinches que cazan y las plantas que aquellas chinches comen.

Entonces cuando junio se acerque otra vez – y con él, el comienzo de la estación de avispas cuco – mantén los ojos abiertos. Busca avispas iridiscentes como joyas, arrastrándose sobre ramas caídas o parches de tierra expuesta. ¿Cuántas puedes ver? ¿Puedes hallar los nidos que están buscando, o algunas de las correspondientes avispas o abejas huéspedes? Bienvenido al mundo en miniatura de las avispas cuco.

Leer más

Bohart, R.M. & Kimsey, L.S. (1982). A synopsis of the Chrysididae in America north of Mexico. Memoirs of the American Entomological Institute no. 33. Ann Arbor, MI: The American Entomological Institute.

Evans, H.E. (1970). Ecological-behavioral studies of the wasps of Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Bulletin of the Museum of Comparative Zoology 140(7):451-511.

Paukkunen, J., Pöyry, J. & Kuussaari, M. (2017). Species traits explain long-term population trends of Finnish cuckoo wasps (Hymenoptera: Chrysididae). Insect Conservation and Diversity 11(1):58-71. Recuperado de https://resjournals.onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/full/10.1111/icad.12241

The post Extraños y brillantes: conociendo a las avispas cuco de Montana appeared first on Wild With Nature.

When you compare the birds of a manicured lawn with those that inhabit a grove of chokecherries, the difference is stark. The lawn might support a few starlings and robins. Perhaps, late in spring migration, a handful of desperate Swainson’s thrushes might stop by. The chokecherries, on the other hand, support an intricate community of life, from two-tailed swallowtail butterflies to dozens of species of songbirds. When the fruits ripen in late summer to a deep, juicy black, they attract cedar waxwings, Townsend’s solitaires, western tanagers, American robins, and house finches. Meanwhile, throughout the growing season, the foliage supports a diversity of insects – and the birds that eat them. Flitting among the leaves, you can find Wilson’s warblers, ruby-crowned kinglets, yellow-rumped warblers, and warbling vireos. 

When we consider the diversity of life around us, it’s easy to see a lot of bad news these days. We’ve lost 2.9 billion breeding birds in North America over the last 50 years. Scientists have reported steep declines of once-common insects. But by making a few simple decisions about what we plant in our gardens, we can be part of reversing these trends. In our yards, parks, and neighborhoods, we can provide homes for the birds, bees, and caterpillars. But doing this isn’t just about avoiding extinctions – it’s also a lot of fun.

This article is focused on plants for bird-friendly gardens in the western half of Montana, USA. If you live elsewhere, the specific plants will be different, but the general recommendations will be the same.

Getting started: habitat for birds

Every species of bird is unique in its life story. The habitats it uses, the foods it eats, where it nests, whether it migrates – all of this varies. Nevertheless, all birds need food, shelter, water, and safety from predators. Plants provide excellent food and shelter – especially particular species of plants that are native to the local landscape. But before we get into the specifics of these plants, let’s consider water and predators. 

Some birds, such as American kestrels, can get most or all of the moisture they need from their food. Otherwise, birds need to drink water. Including a source of water in your garden, such as a regularly cleaned bird bath or a backyard wetland, can attract birds to drink or bathe.

Watch out for predators

What about predators in our yards? Outdoor cats are incredibly deadly for neighborhood songbirds. In the United States alone, cats kill well over a billion birds a year. This number is so large that it’s almost unimaginable. But there are a lot of outdoor cats in the United States: around 50 million pets, in addition to as many as 100 million feral cats. Managing outdoor cats, especially feral ones, can be a contentious topic. But keeping your own cats indoors is a relatively easy step to take. By doing so, you’ll help ensure that your bird-friendly garden doesn’t become a death trap for songbirds.

Windows may not be predators, but they’re another deadly neighborhood hazard for songbirds. In the United States, they’re estimated to kill over 350 million birds a year. An article by the Cornell Lab of Ornithology gives an overview of this issue and discusses several solutions. Of these, Acopian Bird Savers are probably one of the most elegant. This is an unobtrusive, low-tech design that consists of vertical rows of cords, spaced four inches apart, that hang from the outside of the window. You can make your own out of parachute cord or bamboo, or you can order them online.

Including different habitat features

Broadly speaking, all birds are associated with one or more of three general habitats: forest, prairie, or wetland. What habitats make up the larger landscape surrounding you? The answer to this question will shape the possibilities for your bird-friendly garden.

Is your home in the middle of a Douglas-fir forest, or is it in a valley-bottom subdivision? Clark’s nutcrackers probably won’t visit your garden unless you have patches of conifers close to you. Similarly, you probably won’t attract marsh wrens or Wilson’s snipes to your yard unless you live very close to a wetland. Meanwhile, many prairie birds need relatively large patches of grasses and herbs. So unless this describes the area around your house, you probably won’t have grasshopper sparrows or western meadowlarks in your yard. Many birds of thickets and forest edges, on the other hand, will readily use yards during migration or the breeding season. And, of course, there are a variety of birds that use more than one of these habitats.

In general, in order to make your yard more inviting for birds, it’s worth considering components of all three habitats: forest, prairie, and wetland. A small water feature probably won’t attract Wilson’s snipes – but, once again, a bit of water in the yard will allow birds to drink and bathe. A prairie patch the size of a front yard is unlikely to bring in grasshopper sparrows, but it will offer important seeds and insects for thicket-edge birds such as chipping sparrows. And patches of native shrubs or trees, such as chokecherries, provide food and cover for a wide diversity of migrating and nesting songbirds.

Why native plants?

You’ve probably noticed that I keep mentioning native plants for birds. Why does this matter? you might be wondering. Perhaps you’ve noticed that robins and Bohemian waxwings often eat the fruits of Russian-olive (Elaeagnus angustifolia), a frequently-planted invasive that escapes from cultivation to compete with the cottonwoods and willows along our waterways. Or you might have noticed a house finch or pileated woodpecker pecking at an apple, another non-native fruit. 

Yes, there are non-native plants that certain birds will use. But, all things considered, native plants are far superior for our birds. Why? It comes down to food – and, specifically, insects. Doug Tallamy, a researcher who has spent decades studying birds and insects, writes that 96% of North American land birds rely heavily on insects during the breeding season. Soft, juicy caterpillars are especially important. And whereas native plants have coevolved with native insects, non-native plants are comparative deserts for insect diversity.

A non-native plant like Russian-olive may still provide fruits that feed a few species. But in comparison with a chokecherry or another native plant, it’s much less useful for most of our birds. If you want to attract an abundance of birds to your yard, then native plants are the way to go.

Okay, which plants should I plant for the birds? you’re probably asking. Here are some recommendations for western Montana, organized by the foods they provide.

Native plants for insects

What sorts of native plants provide our birds with the most insects? In order to give region-specific recommendations, Doug Tallamy and Kimberley Shropshire teamed up with the National Wildlife Federation to create an interactive website, searchable by zip code. For each zip code, this tool predicts the number of caterpillar species that different native plants will support. And in North America, it turns out, wherever you are, just a handful of native plants support most of the caterpillars.

Around Helena, Montana, willows are at the top of the list. These shrubs host up to 309 species of caterpillars – juicy protein packets to feed our nesting birds. Many of our native willows grow in wetlands, but Scouler’s willow (Salix scouleriana) and sandbar willow (Salix exigua) are common species that often grow in somewhat drier areas.

Cottonwoods and aspens are also high on the list, hosting up to 245 butterflies and moths. Among the cottonwoods are black cottonwood (Populus balsamifera) and plains cottonwood (Populus deltoides) – but keep in mind that these trees are notorious for dropping branches. Meanwhile, quaking aspen (Populus tremuloides) forms thickets from underground rhizomes. For these reasons, cottonwoods and aspens are best-suited for larger yards. 

Chokecherry (Prunus virginiana) and American plum (Prunus americana) are thicket-forming shrubs that are excellent for bird habitat. (They support up to 227 species of caterpillars – and check out this article for an exploration of other miniature insects that live on chokecherries.) However, if you live in an area with a high risk of bear conflicts, keep in mind that chokecherries and plums can attract bears when the fruits get ripe in the fall.

Birches, alders, and pines

Our native birches host 211 species of caterpillars. Water birch (Betula occidentalis) is a small tree that often grows along streams; paper birch (Betula papyrifera) gets much larger. And birches do more than just provide lots of insects. Their trunks (like those of cottonwoods and aspens) also make popular homes for cavity-nesting birds like black-capped chickadees and house wrens. (If you don’t want to wait for your trees to grow, the Cornell Lab of Ornithology also provides thorough instructions for nest box construction.) The related thinleaf alder (Alnus incana) is a large shrub or small tree that hosts 196 species of butterflies and moths.

Among the conifers, pines (Pinus spp.) are important for caterpillars, supporting up to 188 species. Around Helena, ponderosa pine (Pinus ponderosa) and limber pine (Pinus flexilis) are good options. However, keep in mind that they grow to be rather large trees. Also, depending on your surroundings, you might not want to plant them near your house due to fire risk.

Goldenrods, strawberries, and more

What about herbaceous plants? For caterpillars, goldenrod is at the top of the list, hosting 65 species. Common goldenrods in Montana include giant goldenrod (Solidago gigantea), Canada goldenrod (Solidago canadensis), and Missouri goldenrod (Solidago missouriensis). These plants are commonly blamed for late-summer allergies, but this is a myth: the culprits are typically ragweeds (Ambrosia spp.), which bloom around the same time.

Other herbs that support substantial numbers of butterflies and moths are native strawberries and sunflowers. Wild strawberries (Fragaria virginiana and Fragaria vesca) are low-growing; they may not compete well with taller, more vigorous plants. Sunflowers, on the other hand, are both tall and vigorous. In Montana, common sunflower (Helianthus annuus) is an abundant annual that often grows along roadsides. We also have two common perennial species, Nuttall’s sunflower (Helianthus nuttallii) and Maximilian sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani). 

Lupines and sagebrushes are also worthy of mention, supporting up to 40 and 35 species of caterpillars, respectively. Silvery lupine (Lupinus argenteus) and silky lupine (Lupinus sericeus) are a couple of Montana’s common lupines. Sagebrushes are very diverse in Montana and include shrubs such as big sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata) and silver sagebrush (Artemisia cana) as well as herbs such as fringed sage (Artemisia frigida) and white sagebrush (Artemisia ludoviciana). 

Native plants for fruits

I’ve already mentioned chokecherry for the diversity of insects that it hosts. In addition to the insects, this shrub is also a phenomenal fall fruit resource for cedar waxwings, American robins, and many other birds. And besides chokecherry, there’s a wide selection of other native fruits that attract birds, from July onwards through the winter. Many of these plants also host a notable diversity of caterpillars (though they support fewer species of caterpillars than the shrubs and trees I’ve already mentioned).

Red-osier dogwood (Cornus sericea) offers clusters of small white fruits from mid-summer through fall. Gray catbirds and white-crowned sparrows are among the birds that feed on them. This medium-sized shrub also has brilliant red fall foliage.

The native currants – such as golden currant (Ribes aureum) and bristly gooseberry (Ribes setosum) – are some of the earliest fruits to ripen in the summer. They provide a tasty snack for birds and people alike. Serviceberry (Amelanchier alnifolia) is another popular summer fruit for cedar waxwings, western tanagers, and thrushes. 

Elderberry, snowberry, and more

Blue elderberry (Sambucus cerulea) ripens in the fall, as does western mountain-ash (Sorbus scopulina). The snowberries – common snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus) and western snowberry (Symphoricarpos occidentalis) – also ripen in the fall, but their fruits stick around through the winter. So do the wild roses, such as Woods’ rose (Rosa woodsii) and Nootka rose (Rosa nutkana). Silver buffaloberry (Shepherdia argentea) is a great fall fruit that sometimes remains through mid-winter. Note that this is a large, thorny bush, though, and separate male and female plants are needed for pollination.

Rocky Mountain juniper (Juniperus scopulorum) is a tall shrub that provides winter “berries” (actually fleshy cones) for Bohemian waxwings, Townsend’s solitaires, and American robins. Keep in mind that juniper, like silver buffaloberry, has separate male and female plants, so you’ll need both in your general area for pollination to occur. Juniper is also highly flammable – so it’s probably not a good idea to plant it in areas with high fire risk. Montana also has two lower-growing juniper species that provide options for smaller spaces: horizontal juniper (Juniperus horizontalis) and common juniper (Juniperus communis).

Native plants for seeds

Many birds – such as American goldfinches, American tree sparrows, and pine siskins – commonly feed on seeds. In the case of sparrows, it’s often hard to see exactly what they’re eating, since they feed on the ground. Nevertheless, a few seed-bearing plants are especially noteworthy for the birds they attract. Montana’s native sunflowers – the annual common sunflower and the perennial Nuttall’s and Maximilian sunflowers – reliably attract goldfinches and pine siskins when their seeds ripen in the fall. Our pines, such as ponderosa and limber pine, feed nomadic groups of conifer-seed specialists such as red crossbills and Clark’s nutcrackers. Thinleaf alder, water birch, and paper birch provide winter seeds that often attract common redpolls and pine siskins. And many other native plants, from asters to grasses, also produce seeds that various finches and sparrows may use.

Native plants for nectar

What about hummingbirds? These tiny, beloved hoverers often catch tiny insects – so providing habitat for insects is important to them, too. In addition, they’re well-known for their nectar-feeding habits. A variety of native plants with long, tubular flowers are popular hummingbird plants. These include orange honeysuckle (Lonicera ciliosa), yellow columbine (Aquilegia flavescens), scarlet gilia (Ipomopsis aggregata), beebalm (Monarda fistulosa), and the penstemons. Among western Montana’s common penstemons are Alberta beardtongue (Penstemon albertinus), fuzzy-tongue penstemon (Penstemon eriantherus), and small-flower beardtongue (Penstemon procerus). In addition, some of the plants I’ve already mentioned for insects or fruits – such as golden currant – are popular nectar sources for hummingbirds.

Obtaining plants

Where can you find these plants? Some local nurseries, such as GardenWerks in Helena, carry a limited selection of native plants. In addition, I was able to find three retail nurseries in western and central Montana that offer a wide selection of natives: 

• Blake Nursery, Big Timber, MT: https://www.blakenursery.com/
• Center for Native Plants, Whitefish, MT: https://centerfornativeplants.com/
• Pipilo Native Plants, Charlo, MT: https://www.pipilonatives.com/

(A fourth nursery, Southwest Montana Native Landscapes, has unfortunately closed, though it still shows up on a Google search.)

To find out more, I contacted these nurseries and asked them which plants they stock, of those I list in this article. Find their responses here.

In addition to these retail nurseries, there are a few other commercial sources of native plants in western Montana. For larger projects, the Montana Conservation Seedling Nursery and Great Bear Native Plants accept wholesale orders. And if you want to start your own plants, Native Ideals sells locally grown seeds for a variety of Montana species.

Note that certain nurseries that don’t specialize in native plants may “stretch” the concept of “native” to include species that aren’t from Montana. For example, Penstemon strictus is sometimes sold as a native plant, but it grows in the wild in the southern Rocky Mountains and doesn’t reach Montana. When in doubt, look a plant up on the Montana Natural Heritage Program’s Montana Field Guide to learn about its status in the state, or check out the Biota of North America Program’s county-level range maps. These maps are organized by genus and show the distribution, by county, of all wild and naturalized plants in the United States.

The bird-friendly garden

Is this a comprehensive list of all of the plants that are important for bird-friendly gardening in Montana? No! I’ve neglected to mention native maples (Acer spp.), raspberries (Rubus spp.), hawthorns (Crataegus spp.), and many others.

When it comes to growing habitat for birds, there are always more plants you can add. But even if you do nothing more than add a patch of chokecherries and a handful of goldenrods to your yard, where previously there was just lawn, you’ll have made a good start. As the chokecherries leaf out in the spring, wait for the yellow-rumped warblers to appear, hunting insects. When the fruits ripen in the fall, look for the flocks of cedar waxwings and robins. And if you have the space in your yard to include all of the plants I’ve mentioned here, along with a water source… in a few years, your yard will be a paradise for birds.

This story was produced with support from the Gold Country Master Gardener Association.

Further reading

Acopian Bird Savers: prevent birds from flying into windows. Retrieved from https://www.birdsavers.com/

American Bird Conservancy. (2013, January 29). Outdoor cats: single greatest source of human-caused mortality for birds and mammals, says new study. Retrieved from https://abcbirds.org/news/outdoor-cats-single-greatest-source-of-human-caused-mortality-for-birds-and-mammals-says-new-study/

Biota of North America Program. (2014). BONAP’s North American Plant Atlas (NAPA). Retrieved from http://bonap.net/NAPA/Genus/Traditional/County

Center for Native Plants. (n.d.) Our most bird friendly species. Retrieved from https://centerfornativeplants.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/cnp_plantselection_birds-1.pdf

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2016, December 5). FAQ: Outdoor cats and their effects on birds. Retrieved from https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/faq-outdoor-cats-and-their-effects-on-birds/

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2023). All about birdhouses. Retrieved from https://nestwatch.org/learn/all-about-birdhouses/

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2023, February 24). Why birds hit windows – and how you can help prevent it. Retrieved from https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/why-birds-hit-windows-and-how-you-can-help-prevent-it/

Friends of the Mississippi River. (2022). Goldenrod or ragweed: which causes allergies and which benefits pollinators? Retrieved from https://fmr.org/updates/conservation/goldenrod-or-ragweed-which-causes-allergies-and-which-benefits-pollinators

Loss, S.R., Will, T., Loss, S.S., & Marra, P.P. (2014). Bird-building collisions in the United States: estimates of annual mortality and species vulnerability. The Condor 116(1):8-23. Retrieved from https://bioone.org/journals/the-condor/volume-116/issue-1/CONDOR-13-090.1/Birdbuilding-collisions-in-the-United-States–Estimates-of-annual/10.1650/CONDOR-13-090.1.full

Montana Natural Heritage Program. (n.d.). Montana Field Guide. Montana State Library. Retrieved from https://fieldguide.mt.gov/default.aspx

Narango, D.L., Tallamy, D.W., & Shropshire, K.J. (2020). Few keystone plant genera support the majority of Lepidoptera species. Nature Communications 11:5751. Retrieved from https://www.researchgate.net/publication/345818119_Few_keystone_plant_genera_support_the_majority_of_Lepidoptera_species

National Wildlife Federation. (2023). Native plants (by zip code). Retrieved from https://www.nwf.org/NativePlantFinder/Plants

Rosenberg, K.V., Dokter, A.M., Blancher, P.J., Sauer, J.R., Smith, A.C., Smith, P.A., … Marra, P.P. (2019). Decline of the North American avifauna. Science 366:120-124. Retrieved from https://www.birds.cornell.edu/home/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/DECLINE-OF-NORTH-AMERICAN-AVIFAUNA-SCIENCE-2019.pdf

Sánchez-Bayo, F. & Wyckhuys, K.A.G. (2019). Worldwide decline of the entomofauna: a review of its drivers. Biological Conservation 232: 8-27. Retrieved from https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0006320718313636

Smallwood, J.A. & Bird, D.M. (2020). American kestrel (Falco sparverius), version 1.0. In Birds of the World (A.F. Poole & F.B. Gill, editors). Ithaca, NY: Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Retrieved from https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/amekes/cur/introduction

Tallamy, D.W. (2019). Nature’s best hope: a new approach to conservation that starts in your yard. Portland, OR: Timber Press.

The post How to grow a bird-friendly garden in western Montana appeared first on Wild With Nature.

Cuando comparas las aves de un césped cortado con las que viven en un parche de capulines (Prunus virginiana), la diferencia es fuerte. Tal vez el césped mantendría a unos estorninos pintos (Sturnus vulgaris) y mirlos primavera (Turdus migratorius). Es posible que, al final de la migración primaveral, unos desesperados zorzales de anteojos (Catharus ustulatus) pudieran pasar por ahí.

Los capulines, por otro lado, mantienen una intrincada comunidad de vida, desde la mariposa cometa xochiquetzal (Papilio multicaudata) hasta docenas de especies de aves. Cuando las frutas maduran a ser jugosas y de color negro profundo al final del verano, atraen chinitos (Bombycilla cedrorum), clarines norteños (Myadestes townsendii), pirangas capucha roja (Piranga ludoviciana), mirlos primavera y pinzones mexicanos (Haemorhous mexicanus). Por otra parte, a través de la estación de crecimiento, las hojas mantienen diversos insectos – y las aves que los comen. Puedes ver chipes corona negra (Cardellina pusilla) revoloteando por las hojas, así como reyezuelos matraquita (Regulus calendula), chipes rabadilla amarilla (Setophaga coronata) y vireos gorjeadores (Vireo gilvus).

Cuando consideramos la diversidad de la vida cerca de nosotros, es fácil ver varias malas noticias en esa época. Durante los últimos 50 años, hemos perdido 2,9 mil millones de aves reproductoras en Norteamérica. A la vez, científicos en varias partes del mundo han reportado declives rápidos de insectos que solían ser comunes. Sin embargo, al tomar algunas simples decisiones sobre lo que vamos a cultivar en nuestros jardines, podemos contribuir en revertir estas tendencias. En nuestros jardines, parques y vecindarios, podemos proveer hogares para las aves, las abejas y las orugas. Y hacerlo no sólo tiene que ver con evitar extinciones – también es algo muy divertido.

Este artículo se enfoca en las plantas que podemos cultivar para las aves en la mitad occidental de Montana, EE.UU. Si vives en otra región, las plantas específicas serán diferentes, pero las recomendaciones generales serán las mismas.

Empezando: el hábitat para las aves

Cada especie de ave tiene su propia historia de vida. Los hábitats que usa, dónde anida, si emigra o no – todo esto varía. Sin embargo, todas las aves necesitan comida, abrigo, agua y seguridad contra los depredadores. Las plantas – en concreto, especies particulares de plantas nativas al paisaje local – ofrecen buena comida y abrigo. Pero antes de que pongamos atención a los detalles de estas plantas, consideremos el agua y los depredadores.

Algunas aves, como los cernícalos americanos (Falco sparverius), pueden conseguir en su comida más o menos toda la humedad que necesitan. El resto de las aves tienen que beber agua. Si incluyes una provisión de agua en tu jardín, tal como un baño de aves que limpias regularmente o un humedal pequeño, puedes atraer las aves a beber o bañarse.

Ten cuidado con los depredadores

¿Qué hay de los depredadores en nuestros jardines? Los gatos domésticos al aire libre pueden ser increíblemente letales para las aves cantoras en los vecindarios. Sólo en los Estados Unidos, los gatos domésticos matan a más de mil millones de aves cada año. Este número es tan grande que es casi inimaginable. No obstante, hay muchos gatos domésticos al aire libre en los Estados Unidos: cerca de 50 millones como mascotas, además de hasta 100 millones de gatos ferales. Manejar estos gatos, especialmente los ferales, puede ser un asunto de disputa. Pero mantener tus propios gatos dentro de la casa es un paso relativamente fácil. Haciendo esto, vas a hacer que tu jardín no sea una trampa letal para las aves cantoras.

Las ventanas no son depredadores, pero son otro letal peligro para las aves cantoras en el vecindario. En los Estados Unidos, se estima que matan más de 350 millones de aves cada año. Un artículo por el Cornell Lab of Ornithology resume este tema y presenta algunas soluciones. De estas, probablemente los Salvapájaros Acopianos son una de las más elegantes. Este discreto diseño de baja tecnología consiste en hileras verticales de cuerdas, separadas por cuatro pulgadas, que cuelgan del exterior de una ventana. Puedes construirlos por ti mismo usando cualquier cuerda o bambú, o puedes comprarlos en línea.

Incluyendo características de hábitats diferentes

Hablando en general, todas las aves están asociadas con uno o más de tres grandes hábitats: el bosque, la pradera o el humedal. ¿Cuáles de estos hábitats forman el paisaje cerca de ti? La respuesta a esta pregunta va a influir en las posibilidades para tu jardín para las aves.

¿Vives en el medio de un bosque del ayarín (Pseudotsuga menziesii), o en una zona residencial en el valle? Los cascanueces americanos (Nucifraga columbiana) probablemente no vayan a visitar tu jardín a menos que tengas parches de coníferos cerca de ti. Igualmente, es probable que no vayas a atraer ni saltaparedes pantaneros (Cistothorus palustris) ni agachonas norteamericanas (Gallinago delicata) a menos que vivas cerca de un humedal.

Por otra parte, la mayoría de las aves que viven en las praderas necesitan relativamente amplios espacios abiertos con gramíneas y hierbas. Por eso, a menos que esto describa el área cerca de tu casa, es probable que no tendrás gorriones chapulín (Ammodramus savannarum) ni praderos del oeste (Sturnella neglecta) en tu jardín. Mientras tanto, varias aves de matorrales o de los bordes de los bosques sí usarán jardines durante la migración o la estación reproductiva. Y, por supuesto, hay varias especies que usan más de uno de estos hábitats.

Generalmente, para hacer que tu jardín invite más a las aves, vale considerar componentes de estos tres hábitats: el bosque, la pradera y el humedal. Es poco probable que un estanque pequeño atraerá las agachonas norteamericanas – pero, otra vez, el agua hará que las aves puedan beber y bañarse. Tampoco es probable que un pequeño parche de pradera mantendrá a gorriones chapulín, pero ofrecerá importantes semillas e insectos a las aves del borde del matorral, tales como los gorriones cejas blancas (Spizella passerina). Y los parches de nativos árboles y arbustos, como los capulines, van a proveer comida y abrigo para diversas aves migratorias y reproductivas.

¿Por qué las plantas nativas?

Probablemente te hayas dado cuenta de que sigo mencionando las plantas nativas para las aves. ¿Por qué eso sería importante? podrías preguntarte. Tal vez hayas notado que los mirlos primavera y los ampelis europeos (Bombycilla garrulus) suelen comer las frutas del árbol del paraíso (Elaeagnus angustifolia), una planta invasora frecuentemente cultivada que a menudo escapa del cultivo para competir contra los álamos y sauces nativos en nuestras riberas. O quizás hayas observado un pinzón mexicano (Haemorhous mexicanus) o un picamaderos norteamericano (Dryocopus pileatus) picoteando una manzana – otra fruta no nativa.

Sí, claro que hay plantas no nativas que algunas aves usarán. Pero en conjunto, las plantas nativas son bastante superiores para nuestras aves. ¿Por qué? Tiene que ver con la comida – y específicamente, los insectos. Doug Tallamy, un investigador que ha pasado décadas estudiando las aves y los insectos, escribe que el 96% de las aves terrestres norteamericanas depende muchísimo de los insectos durante la estación reproductiva. Las orugas blandas y jugosas son especialmente importantes. Y mientras que las plantas nativas han coevolucionado con los insectos nativos, en comparación las plantas no nativas son un desierto para la diversidad de insectos.

Puede ser que una planta no nativa como el árbol del paraíso siga proveyendo frutas que alimenten algunas especies. Pero comparado con un capulín u otra planta nativa, es mucho menos útil para la mayoría de nuestras aves. Si quieres atraer una abundancia de aves a tu jardín, las plantas nativas te ayudarán mucho.

Dale, ¿cuáles especies debo plantar para las aves? podrías estar preguntando. Acá están algunas recomendaciones para el occidente de Montana, organizadas según los tipos de alimento que proveen.

Plantas nativas para los insectos

¿Cuáles plantas nativas les proveen la mayor cantidad de insectos a nuestras aves? Para hacer recomendaciones para regiones diferentes, Doug Tallamy y Kimberley Shropshire colaboraron con el National Wildlife Federation para crear un sitio web interactivo que se puede buscar por el código postal. Por cada código postal, esta herramienta predice cuántas especies de orugas cada planta nativa mantendrá. Y resulta que, en cualquier región de Norteamérica en la que estés, solamente unas especies de plantas nativas mantienen la mayoría de las orugas.

Cerca de Helena, Montana, los sauces (Salix spp.) encabezan la lista. Estos arbustos acogen hasta 309 especies de orugas – jugosos sacos de proteína para alimentar nuestras aves reproductivas. Muchos de nuestros sauces nativos crecen en humedales, pero Salix scouleriana y Salix exigua son especies comunes que suelen crecer en áreas más secas.

Los álamos (Populus spp.) también son muy importantes para las orugas, manteniendo hasta 245 especies. Entre ellos están las especies Populus balsamifera y Populus deltoides – pero fíjate en que estos árboles son reconocidos por caersele las ramas. Otra opción es el álamo temblón (Populus tremuloides), pero esta especie forma matorrales por sus rizomas subterráneos. Por estas razones, los álamos son más apropiados en espacios grandes.

El capulín (Prunus virginiana) y la ciruela americana (Prunus americana) forman matorrales y son arbustos excelentes para el hábitat de las aves. (Albergan hasta 227 especies de orugas – y ve este artículo por una exploración de los otros minúsculos insectos que viven en los capulines). Sin embargo, si vives en un área con alto riesgo de conflictos con los osos, fíjate en que los capulines y las ciruelas pueden atraer osos cuando las frutas maduran en el otoño.

Abedules, alisos y pinos

Nuestros abedules nativos (Betula spp.) mantienen 211 especies de orugas. La Betula occidentalis es un árbol pequeño que suele crecer al lado de los arroyos; la Betula papyrifera es un árbol mucho más grande. Y los abedules hacen mucho más que sólo proveer un montón de insectos. Sus troncos (como los de los álamos) son sitios populares para los nidos de las aves que anidan en cavidades, tales como los carboneros cabecinegros (Poecile atricapillus) o los saltaparedes comunes (Troglodytes aedon). (Si no quieres esperar hasta que tus árboles crezcan, el Cornell Lab of Ornithology también provee instrucciones detalladas de montaje para las cajas nido). Además de los abedules, el aliso gris (Alnus incana), una especie pariente, es un arbusto grande o un árbol pequeño que mantiene 196 especies de orugas.

Entre los coníferos, los pinos (Pinus spp.) son importantes para las orugas, alojando hasta 188 especies. Cerca de Helena, la Pinus ponderosa y la Pinus flexilis son opciones buenas. Sin embargo, recuerda que crecen para ser árboles bastante grandes. También, dependiendo de tus alrededores, podría ser que no quieras plantarlos cerca de tu casa por el riesgo de incendios.

Varas de oro, fresas y más

Y ¿qué tal las plantas herbáceas? Para las orugas, la vara de oro (Solidago spp.) encabeza la lista, albergando 65 especies. Varas de oro comunes en Montana incluyen Solidago gigantea, Solidago canadensis y Solidago missouriensis. A menudo se culpan estas plantas por alergias al fin del verano, pero esto es un mito: típicamente los culpables son las plantas del género Ambrosia, que florecen a la misma vez.

Otras hierbas que mantienen números grandes de mariposas y polillas incluyen las nativas fresas y girasoles. Las fresas (Fragaria virginiana y Fragaria vesca) se mantienen bajas; puede ser que no compitan bien con plantas más altas y vigorosas. Los girasoles, al otro lado, son tanto altos como vigorosos. En Montana, el girasol común (Helianthus annuus) es una abundante planta anual que suele crecer al lado de las carreteras. También tenemos dos especies perennes comunes, Helianthus nuttallii y Helianthus maximiliani.

También cabe mencionar los lupinos y las artemisas, que respectivamente alojan 40 y 35 especies de orugas. Algunos de los lupinos comunes en Montana son Lupinus argenteus y Lupinus sericeus. Las artemisas son muy diversas en Montana e incluyen tanto arbustos, entre ellos la Artemisia tridentata o la Artemisia cana, como hierbas, por ejemplo la Artemisia frigida o la Artemisia ludoviciana.

Plantas nativas para proveer frutas

Ya he mencionado que el capulín mantiene una diversidad de insectos. Además de los insectos, este arbusto también provee frutas. En el otoño, el capulín es un recurso fenomenal para los chinitos, los mirlos primavera y muchas otras aves. Y además del capulín, hay una amplia variedad de otras frutas nativas que atraen las aves, desde julio hasta el invierno. Muchas de estas plantas también albergan una diversidad notable de orugas (aunque apoyan menos especies de orugas que los árboles y arbustos que ya he mencionado).

La Cornus sericea ofrece manojos de pequeñas frutas blancas desde medio verano hasta el otoño. Los maulladores grises (Dumetella caroliniensis) y los gorriones corona blanca (Zonotrichia leucophrys) están entre las aves que las comen. Este arbusto de media altura también tiene un llamativo follaje otoñal de rojo oscuro.

Las grosellas nativas – tales como el Ribes aureum o el Ribes setosum – son algunas de las frutas más tempranas al madurar en el verano. Ofrecen una merienda sabrosa, tanto para las aves como para gente. El guillomo (Amelanchier alnifolia) es otra querida fruta veraniega para los chinitos, las pirangas capucha roja y los zorzales.

Saúcos, perlitas y más

Las frutas del saúco azul (Sambucus cerulea) maduran en el otoño, así como las del serbal (Sorbus scopulina). Las bayas de las perlitas – Symphoricarpos albus y Symphoricarpos occidentalis – también maduran en el otoño, pero siguen siendo disponible a través del invierno. Esto es el caso también por los rosales, tales como Rosa woodsii y Rosa nutkana. El arbusto Shepherdia argentea es otra buena especie cuyas frutas a veces permanecen hasta medio invierno. Sin embargo, nota que este arbusto es grande y espinoso, y se necesita distintas hembras y machos para polinizarlo.

El enebro Juniperus scopulorum es un arbusto de gran altura que provee “bayas” invernales (las cuales realmente son piñas carnosas) para los ampelis europeos, los clarines norteños y los mirlos primavera. Fíjate en que el enebro, así como la Shepherdia argentea, tiene distintas hembras y machos: vas a necesitar los dos en tu área general para que la polinización ocurra. Además, el enebro es altamente inflamable – así que probablemente sería una mala idea plantarlo en áreas con alto riesgo de incendios. Montana también tiene dos enebros de más baja altura, el Juniperus horizontalis y el Juniperus communis, que proveen opciones para espacios más pequeños.

Plantas nativas para proveer semillas

Varias aves – como los jilgueritos canarios (Spinus tristis), los jilgueritos pineros (Spinus pinus), los chingolos arbóreos (Spizelloides arborea) y otros gorriones – a menudo se alimentan de semillas. En el caso de los gorriones, generalmente es difícil ver exactamente lo que comen, dado que suelen alimentarse en el suelo. No obstante, algunas plantas son especialmente notables por las aves que sus semillas atraen.

Los girasoles en Montana – el anual Helianthus annuus y los perennes Helianthus nuttallii y Helianthus maximiliani – atraen de forma fiable los jilgueritos canario y pinero cuando sus semillas maduran en el otoño. Nuestros pinos, como la Pinus ponderosa o la Pinus flexilis, mantienen grupos errantes de aves que se especializan en las semillas coníferas, incluso el picotuerto rojo (Loxia curvirostra) y el cascanueces americano. El aliso gris y los abedules proveen semillas invernales que suelen alimentar los pardillos norteños (Acanthis flammea) y los jilgueritos pineros. Y varias otras plantas nativas, desde las asteráceas hasta las gramíneas, también producen semillas que varios pinzones y gorriones pueden usar.

Plantas nativas para proveer néctar

¿Qué tal los colibrís? Estas minúsculas y queridas aves suelen cazar insectos diminutos. Por eso, plantar el hábitat para los insectos les importa a los colibrís también. Además, son bien conocidos por su predilección por alimentarse con néctar. Varias plantas nativas con flores largas y cilíndricas son populares con los colibrís. Entre ellas están la Lonicera ciliosa, la Aquilegia flavescens, la Ipomopsis aggregata, la Monarda fistulosa y las campanitas (Penstemon spp.). Las campanitas comunes del occidente de Montana incluyen el Penstemon albertinus, el Penstemon eriantherus y el Penstemon procerus. Además, algunas de las plantas que ya he mencionado por los insectos o las frutas – como la grosella Ribes aureum – son fuentes populares de néctar para los colibrís. 

Cómo obtener plantas

¿Dónde puedes encontrar estas plantas? Algunos viveros locales, como GardenWerks en Helena, tienen una variedad limitada de plantas nativas. Además, logré hallar tres viveros minoristas en la parte occidental o central de Montana que ofrecen una amplia variedad de plantas nativas:

• Blake Nursery, Big Timber, MT: https://www.blakenursery.com/
• Center for Native Plants, Whitefish, MT: https://centerfornativeplants.com/
• Pipilo Native Plants, Charlo, MT: https://www.pipilonatives.com/

(Un cuarto vivero, Southwest Montana Native Landscapes, lamentablemente ha cerrado, aunque todavía parece en una búsqueda de Google.)

Para aprender más, me puse en contacto con estos viveros y les pregunté cuáles plantas tienen, de las que he mencionado en este artículo. Encuentra sus respuestas aquí.

Además de estos viveros minoristas, hay unas fuentes comerciales adicionales para plantas nativas en el occidente de Montana. Para proyectos grandes, el Montana Conservation Seedling Nursery y Great Bear Native Plants aceptan pedidos mayoristas. Y si quieres germinar tus propias semillas, Native Ideals vende semillas localmente cultivadas por una variedad de especies nativas a Montana.

Fíjate en que algunos viveros que no se especializan en plantas nativas a veces “extenden” el concepto de “nativo” para incluir especies que no son realmente nativas a Montana. Por ejemplo, a veces se vende Penstemon strictus como una planta nativa, pero esta especie existe en estado salvaje sólo en el sur de las Montañas Rocosas y no llega a Montana. Si hay alguna duda sobre una especie, búscala en el Montana Field Guide del Montana Natural Heritage Program para aprender más sobre su situación en el estado, o revisa los mapas al nivel del condado presentados por el Biota of North America Program. Estos mapas se organizan por el género de planta y muestran la extensión, al nivel del condado, en la que reside cada planta salvaje o naturalizada en los Estados Unidos.

El jardín para las aves

¿Es esto una lista completa de todas las plantas que serían importantes para cultivar un jardín para las aves en Montana? ¡Claro que no! No he mencionado los arces nativos (Acer spp.), ni las frambuesas (Rubus spp.), ni los espinos (Crataegus spp.) ni muchos otros.

Si queremos cultivar un buen hábitat para las aves, siempre habrá más plantas que podemos añadir. Pero aun si no hicieras nada más que plantar un parche de capulines y unas varas de oro donde antes sólo había un césped cortado, habrás empezado bien. Mientras los capulines abran sus hojas en la primavera, espera hasta que los chipes rabadilla amarilla aparezcan, cazando insectos. Cuando las frutas maduren en el otoño, busca las bandadas de chinitos y mirlos primavera. Y si tienes espacio en tu jardín para incluir todas las plantas que he mencionado acá… en pocos años, tu jardín será un paraíso para las aves.

Esta historia fue producida con apoyo de la Gold Country Master Gardener Association.

Leer más

Acopian Bird Savers: prevent birds from flying into windows. Recuperado de https://www.birdsavers.com/

American Bird Conservancy. (2013, el 29 de enero). Outdoor cats: single greatest source of human-caused mortality for birds and mammals, says new study. Recuperado de https://abcbirds.org/news/outdoor-cats-single-greatest-source-of-human-caused-mortality-for-birds-and-mammals-says-new-study/

Biota of North America Program. (2014). BONAP’s North American Plant Atlas (NAPA). Recuperado de http://bonap.net/NAPA/Genus/Traditional/County

Center for Native Plants. (sin fecha). Our most bird friendly species. Recuperado de https://centerfornativeplants.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/cnp_plantselection_birds-1.pdf

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2016, el 5 de diciembre). FAQ: Outdoor cats and their effects on birds. Recuperado de https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/faq-outdoor-cats-and-their-effects-on-birds/

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2023). All about birdhouses. Recuperado de https://nestwatch.org/learn/all-about-birdhouses/

Cornell Lab of Ornithology. (2023, el 24 de febrero). Why birds hits windows – and how you can help prevent it. Recuperado de https://www.allaboutbirds.org/news/why-birds-hit-windows-and-how-you-can-help-prevent-it/

Friends of the Mississippi River. (2022). Goldenrod or ragweed: which causes allergies and which benefits pollinators? Recuperado de https://fmr.org/updates/conservation/goldenrod-or-ragweed-which-causes-allergies-and-which-benefits-pollinators

Loss, S.R., Will, T., Loss, S.S., & Marra, P.P. (2014). Bird-building collisions in the United States: estimates of annual mortality and species vulnerability. The Condor 116(1):8-23. Recuperado de https://bioone.org/journals/the-condor/volume-116/issue-1/CONDOR-13-090.1/Birdbuilding-collisions-in-the-United-States–Estimates-of-annual/10.1650/CONDOR-13-090.1.full

Montana Natural Heritage Program. (sin fecha). Montana Field Guide. Montana State Library. Recuperado de https://fieldguide.mt.gov/default.aspx

Narango, D.L., Tallamy, D.W., & Shropshire, K.J. (2020). Few keystone plant genera support the majority of Lepidoptera species. Nature Communications 11:5751. Recuperado de https://www.researchgate.net/publication/345818119_Few_keystone_plant_genera_support_the_majority_of_Lepidoptera_species

National Wildlife Federation. (2023). Native plants (by zip code). Recuperado de https://www.nwf.org/NativePlantFinder/Plants

Rosenberg, K.V., Dokter, A.M., Blancher, P.J., Sauer, J.R., Smith, A.C., Smith, P.A., … Marra, P.P. (2019). Decline of the North American avifauna. Science 366:120-124. Recuperado de https://www.birds.cornell.edu/home/wp-content/uploads/2019/09/DECLINE-OF-NORTH-AMERICAN-AVIFAUNA-SCIENCE-2019.pdf

Sánchez-Bayo, F. & Wyckhuys, K.A.G. (2019). Worldwide decline of the entomofauna: a review of its drivers. Biological Conservation 232: 8-27. Recuperado de https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0006320718313636

Smallwood, J.A. & Bird, D.M. (2020). American kestrel (Falco sparverius), versión 1.0. En Birds of the World (A.F. Poole & F.B. Gill, editores). Ithaca, NY: Cornell Lab of Ornithology. Recuperado de https://birdsoftheworld.org/bow/species/amekes/cur/introduction

Tallamy, D.W. (2019). Nature’s best hope: a new approach to conservation that starts in your yard. Portland, OR: Timber Press.

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November 6, 2022

A light snowfall blanketed Missoula overnight, and this morning my feet are feeling the approach of winter. They’re screaming gradually louder at me from within waders that I may not have dried sufficiently since my last stream adventure. But if the aquatic insects dislike the cold, they aren’t telling us. In just a few minutes of wading and netting, we’ve caught over 300 of them in this single section of stream. It’s an impressive diversity of mayflies, stoneflies, caddisflies, and more.

Today, I’ve joined the Watershed Education Network (WEN) to volunteer for their stream science on Rattlesnake Creek. We’re near the Lincolnwood Trailhead, where Rattlesnake Creek flows through a mature forest of ponderosa pine, Douglas-fir, and black cottonwood. It’s a beautiful section of stream, flowing over large, mossy boulders, with rafts of fallen cottonwood leaves stacking up in the eddies. And unlike the Rattlesnake Creek Dam site, which we visited last week, here the stream has been a stream for much longer than two years.

Aquatic insects are just one part of the sampling that WEN’s Stream Team is doing today. We’re also measuring the stream cross-section here and testing the water chemistry. But when I had the chance to decide which activity I would help with, the insects were an easy choice.

Aquatic insects

Al Pak is leading the insect exploration this morning. Lauren Sampson and Grace Spella complete our team of four. Today’s plan is simple. We’ve begun by catching aquatic invertebrates using dip nets, sampling across the width of the stream. Now we’ll sort these creatures into groups we can identify in the field – such as mayflies, stoneflies, and midges – and tally how many of each we’ve found. 

Certain groups of invertebrates, such as mayflies and stoneflies, are indicators of good water quality and stream health. Others, like midges, tend to be more tolerant of polluted, damaged streams. So by looking at a sample, we can get a good idea of how healthy this stream section is. What’s more, it’s a lot of fun – and it’s a great opportunity to get to know this hidden community of tiny creatures.

How to catch mayflies

Before we got started this morning, Al instructed us in our netting technique. First, we would wade out into the creek and face downstream with our nets planted in front of us in the water. Then, he told us, we would gently shuffle the rocks of the stream bottom with our feet, dislodging small creatures into our nets.

In practice, it wasn’t quite as easy as it seemed. I immediately managed to dislodge a grapefruit-sized rock from the bottom, and the current swept it into my net. I fished the rock back out and continued stomping the bottom. After a few minutes, there was something in my net – an assortment of leaves, small bits of wood, and tiny pebbles. With luck, I hoped, there would be some insects, too.

Sorting the catch

Now our stream wading is done and we’ve all returned to the picnic table with our net samples. We rinse them into two plastic tubs filled with stream water. It’s time for the really fun part: sorting. Our goal is to pick out 300 creatures and figure out which group each one belongs to. An ice cube tray turns out to be an excellent tool for sorting, providing small wells where we can place these tiny animals while they’re waiting to be released again.

Al reminds us how to distinguish the major groups, and then we get busy sorting. Stoneflies (order Plecoptera) have two “tails” at the tip of the abdomen. Their gills, if visible, are in their “armpits,” at the base of their legs. Mayflies (order Ephemeroptera) can look rather similar, but most of them have three “tails.” Their leaf-like gills are located along the sides of the abdomen, not in their armpits. 

Mayflies and caddisflies

The diversity is impressive. There are lots of mayflies here, camouflaged in subtle tans, their three tails splayed widely. They differ in size and shape, and it’s no wonder: this is a complex group. In fact, there are over 600 species of mayflies known from North America.

Among the bewildering assortment of tan mayflies, Al shows me one that looks strikingly different. It’s small and blocky, with a reddish head and a surprising dark band across its whitish back. Al tells me that this is a spiny crawler mayfly (family Ephemerellidae). This family is rather sensitive to pollution, so it’s exciting to find them here.

We pick out several different types of caddisflies (order Trichoptera). They look more wormlike than the mayflies, with small legs and obviously segmented abdomens. At the tip of the abdomen, each caddisfly has a pair of short, hooked appendages. Some of them are surprisingly colorful, with notably orange heads.

Most of the caddisflies we’re seeing today are naked, without the intricate cases of wood or stone that certain members of this group carry with them. But then Al finds a saddle case-maker caddis (family Glossosomatidae) that still has its home with it, a fragile structure built of pebbles. 

“These are the ones that adhere to larger rocks in the stream,” he tells us. We watch under my macro lens as the caddisfly tentatively extends its head outside of its case.

“Okay, this is way too fun,” says Grace.

I have to agree: streams are fascinating to begin with, but it’s amazing to find this miniature world of creatures unfolding in front of our eyes. 

Stoneflies and riffle beetles

“I’m really happy with the number of stoneflies,” Al says as we progress with the sorting. In the section where the Stream Team sampled last weekend, the invertebrate community was heavily dominated by mayflies. But this week, we’re getting to see lots of diversity: not just mayflies, but many other creatures as well.

Several of the stoneflies are impressively large, nearly filling one of the plastic spoons we’re using to transfer creatures to the ice cube trays. And with the macro lens, we’re amazed by the intricate patterns of marbling and chevrons that cover their heads and thoraxes.

Lauren has been carefully searching the other plastic tub for new creatures. Now she shows us an adult riffle beetle (family Elmidae) she’s just found. It’s tiny, just two or three millimeters long. It would have been easy to overlook, but Lauren is sharp-eyed and patient. With the macro lens, I can see that the beetle has a magnificent orange and black pattern on its wing covers. I show the photo to Lauren and her face lights up.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so cool!” she says.

An insect mystery

Al quizzes me with a mysterious creature he’s found. Its body is elongated, segmented, and translucent orange. I grab some photos with my lens and try to imagine what it might be. It has a pair of protuberances at the tip of the abdomen, and another pair of miniature legs just behind the head. What could it be?

Is it a caddisfly? I ask him. No. 

I rack my brain. I’m somewhat familiar with terrestrial insects, but aquatic ones are a whole new world. Is it some kind of fly, order Diptera? I ask. Yes!

But flies are one of those insect groups that are extremely diverse: there are roughly 17,000 species known in North America. So to really understand this creature, just calling it a generic “fly” doesn’t get us very far. 

I try to think of the families of aquatic flies that I know. Is it a deer fly, family Tabanidae? I hazard a guess. No.

“It’s a very common one,” Al tells me. 

Could it be a midge, family Chironomidae? I wonder. Yes! The single pair of prolegs just behind the head is a good clue for this family, Al says. 

The chironomid midges – extremely common, non-biting relatives of mosquitoes – can be found almost anywhere there’s water. Unlike most of our mayflies, stoneflies, and caddisflies, many midges can tolerate polluted waters. But they’ll also live in cold, clear, high-quality streams. And because they’re so abundant, they’re important food sources for a variety of creatures, including fish and birds.

An underwater world

It seems like we must be getting close to our benchmark of 300 insects now. And I’m not the only one whose toes are starting to congeal from the cold. We each count the creatures we’ve sorted into the ice cube trays, and Grace tallies them all up. There are lots and lots of mayflies, as well as a respectable assortment of stoneflies and caddisflies. We’ve also picked out some other creatures that I haven’t had space to mention here. We’ve found black flies, a crane fly, flatworms, and some other aquatic worms. And our tally, astonishingly, comes out to exactly 300 of them!

We’re done for the day, and it’s a good thing for the sake of my frigid toes. But this has been such a fun morning: an introduction to an entire world. There’s a lot more to learn, and I look forward to getting out in the field with Stream Team again next year. 

What’s more, this underwater world isn’t unique to Rattlesnake Creek. The details differ from place to place, but every healthy stream is full of creatures like these.

It’s a world full of complexity and surprises. A person could study stream insects for their entire life without getting bored. But it’s also a world that anyone, regardless of age or experience, can get to know. (For an entertaining introduction to the life of a stream that is accessible to people of all ages, check out Montana-based ecologist Sara Owen’s excellent book, Seth and Mattie’s Big River Adventure.)

We hadn’t finished sorting through the mayflies yet when Al summed it all up.

“This is the coolest part, I think, is the bugs,” he said. I have to agree.

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September 10, 2022

From a distance, this sparse patch of sunflowers looks nondescript. You’d have no idea that it’s the stage for a gripping insect drama. But here we are, five adults, completely engrossed in this miniature world in front of our eyes. We’ve already spotted a golden paper wasp, two magnificently hairy velvet ants, and a spined assassin bug. And we keep spotting more creatures, each of them exciting. It’s a scramble to keep track of them all and get photos.

We’re about 18 miles southeast of Missoula today, close to where Rock Creek flows into the Clark Fork River. We’re standing in a rocky wetland area on the Rock Creek Confluence property, a Five Valleys Land Trust site that offers public day use and an interpretive trail. Prior to 2016, this wetland was a pond, kept full with irrigation water. Since then, Five Valleys Land Trust has returned their water right to in-stream flow, supporting bull trout, cutthroat trout, and other inhabitants of Rock Creek. And the once-full pond has become a shallow wetland under restoration. Now the water levels fluctuate with the groundwater. Volunteers have helped plant a variety of native plants, and others are establishing on their own. A deer fence currently surrounds the area, limiting attention from deer while the plants develop.

Getting started with the insects

As part of the restoration project, we’re here today to document a few of the most visible insects we can find in this habitat. Glenn Marangelo of the Missoula Butterfly House is leading this field day. By the time I arrive (20 minutes late), there are three other naturalists helping with the search: Kelly Dix, Kristi DuBois, and Jenny Lundberg. 

We’re hovering excitedly around the sunflower patch, in the dry cobbles above the wetland. A golden paper wasp (Polistes aurifer) is still perching quietly on a sunflower stem. It’s exciting to see this native species here – at least in my observations around Helena, this wasp seems uncommon compared to the European paper wasp (Polistes dominula), a non-native relative that has become ubiquitous.

“Is that another assassin bug up above him, hanging from that flowerhead?” asks Jenny. 

There it is, an outlandish, long-legged tan bug with a narrow head and neck. 

“Really!? Oh, that’s cool!” says Glenn, every word full of excitement.

For all of their drab tan camouflage, assassin bugs (Sinea spp.) are vicious predators. They hunt any small or medium insects they can find, sucking the juices out of their hapless prey. And this is the second one we’ve seen here in these few minutes of looking. The other one dropped to the ground, where I was able to get photos of it.

Ambush bugs and velvet ants

We haven’t finished watching the assassin bug when I spot one of its more-colorful relatives trying to hide behind a flowerhead. This armored, rough-textured black and yellow creature is a jagged ambush bug (Phymata sp.). Remarkably camouflaged among yellow flowers, like goldenrods and sunflowers, these bugs prey on unwary flower visitors. But here, against the green bracts, this predator is obvious. It must realize how much it stands out, because soon it flies off, in search of a better hiding spot.

Just minutes before, we had spotted a velvet ant on the sunflowers. Wingless and antlike, but way fuzzier, we watched it crawl methodically along the plant, then drop to the ground when we disturbed it. Not ants at all, these unique wasps (family Mutillidae) are parasitoids that attack the young of certain other insects, especially ground-nesting bees and wasps. They seem rather uncommon, and it’s always a treat to see them. Don’t pick them up, though – some species can give a nasty sting when they’re attacked.

From forest to wetland

In the distance, we can hear the chipping of red crossbills from the mature ponderosa pine stand along the interpretive trail. A few minutes ago, the Clark’s nutcrackers were giving their nasal calls there, too. I arrived at the trailhead at the same time as Jenny. From there, it took us almost half an hour to walk the 1/3 mile from there to the wetland, distracted by the spiders, moths, and grasshoppers within the pine forest. From the invertebrates and the bird calls, it’s easy to tell: the community in the ponderosas is completely different from that of the wetland.

Here in the wetland, small flocks of migrating American pipits are landing to forage, giving their sharp “sip-it” calls. A killdeer is foraging in the mud. And right around us, we’re finding new insects so fast that Glenn is hard-pressed to both get photos and write everything down.

Webworm moths and ladybugs

The fall webworm moths (Hyphantria cunea) have completely denuded a small chokecherry, replacing the once-green leaves with a massive, silky web. We find one caterpillar still at home – the others have already moved on. The web also yields a couple of ladybugs. A convergent ladybug (Hippodamia convergens) has died here, though whether it was at the end of its life or got trapped into the webbing isn’t entirely clear. 

But near this ladybug we find one that’s still alive, a less-elongate creature with a conspicuous black line where the wing covers meet. It’s a nine-spot! This species (Coccinella novemnotata) is in decline – and even here in Montana, where people continue to spot them, they’re rather rare. When I found six of them in a sagebrush stand near Helena earlier this summer, they were vastly outnumbered by the 142 other ladybugs I counted. Nine-spots are always a special sight. After Kristi takes photos of it, we remove the nine-spot from the webbing. Before I can get any photos, it flies off.

We stop briefly by some clumps of white sagebrush (Artemisia ludoviciana) loaded with inconspicuous yellow flowers. Conspicuous or not, the honeybees have found them. Several dozen honeybees are getting lunch on these flowers, along with a couple of smaller flies.

Insects near the water’s edge

Out in the moister soil near the water’s edge, the striped ground crickets (Allonemobius fasciatus) are singing from their hiding places among the vegetation and the mud cracks. Meadowhawks (Sympetrum spp.), those red and black dragonflies, are in constant activity here, perching and making short flights. We spot at least five species: striped, black, band-winged, white-faced, and cherry-faced meadowhawks. A variety of lyre-tipped spreadwings (Lestes unguiculatus) are fluttering around us, too. 

Up close, the eyes of these damselflies are like blue ocean planets. With such prominent eyes, it’s no wonder damselflies and dragonflies are excellent hunters. It makes them hard to catch, too! I do manage to catch a striped meadowhawk (Sympetrum pallipes) for a closer look.

We’re almost ready for a lunch break, but as we’re walking back I notice a brilliant green beetle making its way among the damp gravels of the wetland. It’s a species I haven’t seen before, its legs deep amber and its wing covers coated with short, golden hairs. A closer look tells me that it’s a species of carabid (family Carabidae), a group of ground-dwelling beetles that hunt whatever insects they can catch.

Pygmy grasshoppers and meadowhawks

After our lunch break, we return to the search, making a loop around the other side of the wetland. A pygmy grasshopper leaps up from my path. It’s well-hidden against the mud. Smaller than my thumbnail, the top of its thorax is prolonged over its back into a slender point, a distinctive characteristic for this group (family Tetrigidae). These little grasshoppers eat mosses, algae, and decaying vegetation.

The meadowhawks are hard at work now, laying eggs. We stop to watch them, dozens of pairs, rising up and down in a quiet dance over a meadow of spikerush (Eleocharis sp.) ten yards from the water. They’re laying eggs here. When the water rises in the spring, the eggs will hatch. The aquatic larvae, voracious predators like the adults, will develop rapidly to bring forth the next late-summer spectacle, this hover-dance over the spikerush.

A giant water bug and a katydid

Now we’ve reached the edge of the water, and Glenn has spotted something he’s been looking for all day. It’s large, the size of a frog, rowing gracefully away from us along the muddy bottom. It’s a giant water bug! Intent on the water now, Glenn spots another and dives for it with a tiny aquatic dipnet. He comes up with a netful of mud – and the water bug!

We all work together to rinse the mud off. Kristi carefully holds the massive insect by the sides of its abdomen, avoiding the wicked sting it can deliver with its mouthparts. Another of the wetland’s voracious predators, this bug (Lethocerus americanus) doesn’t just eat other insects. Today we’ve seen several young common garter snakes (Thamnophis sirtalis) here, their yellow and red stripes contrasting vividly with their jet-black scales. Watch out, garter snakes – Glenn says that even vertebrates this large can fall prey to the giant water bug.

An extremely high-pitched song has been tugging at my ears for a while now. It’s a rapid, mechanical trill followed by a series of ticks: a katydid of some sort. And based on my observations around Helena, I suspect this is probably a cone-headed katydid (Conocephalus fasciatus), a species that seems to like wetland edges. It’s not entirely clear whether these katydids are plant-eaters or predators (reports conflict). In any case, this one is singing very close to us.

I get down on my knees, trying to track the sound. Then I spot it. The katydid is literally a foot from my ears, singing from the stem of a willow seedling. I can see its forewings quivering as it produces its shrill song. 

All the insects of the Rock Creek Confluence

Isn’t this enough insects for one little restoration area?, you might be asking. No – in fact, I’ve been leaving out a lot, trying not to make this too wordy.

But one more still deserves a mention. We notice a large, slender wasp that keeps landing on the mudflats near the giant water bug’s shallows. It’s mostly black, with crisp yellow trimlines. Its abdomen is mounted on a long, slender pedicel. It’s a predatory sphecid wasp, a mud dauber in the genus Sceliphron. Its prey: spiders. And what’s it doing here? Presumably, it’s gathering mud for another nest cell. It will fill the mud nest with spiders for its young to eat.

As adults, sometimes it’s easy to forget how amazing life is. But being out here, learning together and being in awe of the complexity around us, I remember the enthusiasm and curiosity I had as a child. As Kelly Dix remarked today, “it’s fun to be ten years old out here.” To be out with a group of passionate naturalists, celebrating the beauty of the world around us and helping with a wetland restoration project: I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend a day.

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September 7, 2022

If you’re familiar with the Carroll College campus, you’ve probably walked past it countless times. It’s a small, bushy patch of plants in front of the Corette Library, spilling exuberantly onto the sidewalk. A bunch of plants, you’re probably saying: who cares? But these plants are special. They’re from the wild, members of Montana’s native flora. And here in the heart of the city, this garden is supporting a bunch of interesting wildlife.

When you think of Montana’s wildlife, you probably think of elk, grizzly bears, bison, and sandhill cranes. And no, I’m not suggesting that you’re likely to find grizzly bears or elk stopping in front of the Corette Library. To see the wildlife in this garden, we just have to think smaller. Take bees, for instance. Among Montana’s wildlife, there are at least 399 species of bees – and that’s just bees! Besides bees, there are countless flies; colorful and harmless wasps; various spiders… To see our state’s mini wildlife, all we need is a change of perspective and a bit of patience.

So what creatures are there in this native plant garden? This article is a teaser: an introduction to the garden, a guide to some of its plants, and a few snippets about some of the creatures here. Later this winter, watch for a follow-up article where I’ll identify all of these creatures and look at what they’re actually doing here.

Planting the garden

The Carroll College native plant garden got its start in 2012. Carroll Grounds staff and many volunteers helped plant 32 species of native plants in this little patch in front of the library. It was an effort that involved the larger Helena community, too, with funding from Last Chance Audubon Society and the Kelsey Chapter of the Montana Native Plant Society.

For several years, the Carroll community continued to watch the garden, producing a report every fall on how the plants were faring. But by 2018, when I began taking classes at Carroll, it seemed that interest in the garden had waned. Unless you were one of the people involved in planting it back in 2012, it would have been easy to walk past without recognizing the garden.

The plants

But recognized or not, the plants have persisted. Ten years from its original planting, the Carroll native plant garden continues to thrive. Which plants are growing here? Let’s meet a few of the most prominent ones.

Showy milkweed (Asclepias speciosa)

Recognize showy milkweed in the garden by its lush, velvety leaves, each pair placed opposite each other on the stem. In the fall, look for the strange seed capsules, covered with warty bumps. As they dry out, they’ll release hundreds of flattened brown seeds, each attached to a white tuft of silk. The fall winds scatter the seeds to new sites. 

Showy milkweed is the plant that feeds the larvae of the well-known, rapidly-declining monarch butterfly (Danaus plexippus plexippus). This summer, I found a monarch caterpillar feeding on a showy milkweed patch in the Helena Valley. Are there any at Carroll College, as well? If you’re around next summer and you spot some, let me know!

Rubber rabbitbrush (Ericameria nauseosa)

It’s hard to miss these bushes in the fall, when their narrow gray leaves are overtopped by masses of soft yellow flowers. And today, a crowd of honeybees are busy having lunch here. They’re constantly moving from one flower to the next, burying their heads deep within the bright yellow corollas. But it’s not just honeybees – with a closer look, it’s possible to find a surprising diversity of insects on these flowers.

Blue elderberry (Sambucus cerulea)

The tallest shrub in the garden, recognize blue elderberry by its clusters of powdery, whitish-blue berries. If this bush were growing a few miles outside of town, I’d be expecting black bears or grizzly bears to come in and strip these juicy fruits. Here in the middle of Helena, watch for robins, cedar waxwings, or other fruit-eating birds to come and harvest the bounty.

Lewis’s flax (Linum lewisii)

The leaves of Lewis’s flax are delicate and easy to overlook, but the flowers are hard to miss. They’re flat, showy, five-petaled blue blooms. This is a common grassland species across Montana, and it can flower for months through the summer. The fruits look like miniature tan pumpkins. Watch for a variety of small bees on these flowers.

Canada thistle (Cirsium arvense)

Oops! This prickly plant, with its feathery pink flowers and fluffier tufts of seeds, isn’t native to Montana. And why someone decided to name it “Canada thistle,” I don’t know: it’s actually native to southeastern Europe. This plant is a “weed” that has crept into the native plant garden uninvited. But as long as it’s here, it is providing some habitat for wildlife. I spot an orange hoverfly, camouflaged to resemble a honeybee, visiting the thistle flowers.

Wood’s rose (Rosa woodsii)

Back to the plants that are “supposed” to be here. In this garden, Wood’s rose is easy to identify: just look for a rose bush with lots of red fruits and spaced-out prickles along the stems. When it’s flowering in June, Wood’s rose is a magnet for pollinators. And will any birds come to the garden this winter to eat the fruits? Let me know if you see any!

Common snowberry (Symphoricarpos albus)

Its leaves look like mouse ears and they’re arranged in pairs on the stem, just like showy milkweed. The flowers are tiny pink bells. By the winter, if they get pollinated, they’ll be replaced by globe-shaped, waxy white fruits. Watch for bumblebees and striking, spiny-haired flies visiting these flowers. In wilder parts of Montana, these bushes provide excellent cover and nesting sites for songbirds such as lazuli buntings. 

Maximilian sunflower (Helianthus maximiliani)

This plant is similar to the sunflowers that farmers grow for birdseed and Spitz snacks – but while those sunflowers must grow from seed each year, Maximilian sunflower plants are perennials that live for multiple years. The flowers are smaller, too. But just like the annual sunflowers that produce birdseed, these plants can attract quite a diversity of wildlife to the garden. Some species of bees are specialists on sunflowers. And once the flowers fade and the seeds get ripe, watch for American goldfinches coming in to feed on them. 

The wildlife

Plants, plants, plants, you may be thinking – what about the wildlife? Here’s a quick sketch. Note that this is all just from a couple of hours in the garden on one fall morning, September 7, 2022. As the weather and the plants change through the year, the wildlife you could see here is going to change, too. 

The honeybees are everywhere this morning. There are hundreds of them, hungrily visiting the rabbitbrush flowers. It’s like lunchtime at the STAC [the Carroll College dining hall, for those who may not know], honeybee-style. And the honeybees aren’t the only wildlife on the rabbitbrush today. Several bumblebees join them in the flower-feeding frenzy. (These may be Hunt’s bumblebees, Bombus huntii.) There are also a few woodland skippers (Ochlodes sylvanoides), triangular orange butterflies prone to rapid escape flights when disturbed.

A few grasshoppers are resting on the snowberry leaves and the rabbitbrush flowers, taking a break from chewing holes in plant leaves. And then – what’s that? A banded garden spider (Argiope trifasciata) has built her web in the shade of a rabbitbrush bush. And in her web, lightly mummified in silk, is a grasshopper. Chewing holes in the garden plants has its risks!

Carroll College’s tinier wildlife

Some of the other wildlife in the garden today are harder to see. But I’m looking closely – and I’ve got an insect net with me. I’ll be collecting specimens of some of these harder-to-identify creatures – and once I’ve learned more about them in the lab, I’ll be able to share their stories in depth this winter. I spot several solitary wasps on the rabbitbrush flowers. They’re black with yellow lines across the abdomen. Much smaller than yellowjackets, they’re also much less aggressive. You probably wouldn’t notice them unless you were looking.

There’s a fuzzy bee fly with dark wings on the rabbitbrush. Another has wings that are entirely clear. I spot a white-haired bee with long antennae. Another bee is small with white lines across its abdomen. A large black wasp with a narrow waist is investigating the rabbitbrush leaves, and nearby a brilliant green fly is resting. Several hoverflies that mimic honeybees are visiting the rabbitbrush and Canada thistle blooms. A tiny wasp with a long ovipositor takes off from the rabbitbrush, while a spiny black fly lands on a snowberry flower.

In roughly an hour of watching and netting, I collect 15 insect specimens. It’s a sample of just a few of the species of wildlife that this garden is supporting today. This winter, watch for more details about these particular insects.

Sed vitae

And in the meanwhile, if you ever need a break from your daily routine, consider stopping by the Carroll College native plant garden. You probably won’t see grizzly bears or bison here. But you’re very likely to see a few of Montana’s smaller wildlife – creatures that are around us all the time, but that we may not know as well as the large mammals. 

Ten years ago, Carroll College and the community came together with foresight to plant this garden. Perhaps a bit forgotten, it’s still an educational resource, a complex world in miniature, and a reservoir of biodiversity in a time when biodiversity is rapidly declining across the globe. It’s a place that we, the community, created – a place that’s full of life. Quiet and unadvertised, but in plain sight for all of us to appreciate, it’s a silent testament to the Carroll College motto: non scholae, sed vitae. And indeed, this garden in front of the Corette Library is a place that’s for life.

Further reading

Wilson, J.S. & Carril, O.M. (2016). The bees in your backyard: a guide to North America’s bees. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

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September 6, 2022

They ripple over the water in a shimmery silver school, hundreds of them darting in elegant curves across the smooth surface. The creatures in this school aren’t fish, though: they’re beetles. I’m at Hauser Lake this morning, on the south shore of the bay at Lakeside, where willows cast their shade over the water. I dip my hand into the cool surface, sending a ripple towards the beetles. They scatter in a panicked frenzy. They’re neither massive nor tiny; they’re about the size of our common ladybugs, but more streamlined. Coal black in the shade, the sun’s rays turn them into brilliant specks of silver, skittering across the water.

Who are these beetles? To learn more, I’ll need to collect one. Slowly, I wade out towards them. The lake bottom is rocky here. Where the beetles are resting, the water is a foot deep. As I approach, they scatter in an energetic outburst. A bit farther away, they regroup. Again, I inch closer. Plunging my hand into the surface film, I come up with several beetles in my palm.

Escape artists

But even in the hand, these beetles are nimble. They leap away in the blink of an eye, propelling themselves against my palm and escaping into the water. Only one remains, trapped between my fingers. Holding it carefully, I wade towards the shore, picking my way gingerly among the sharp rocks. I’ve almost reached land when this one squirms free and gets away, leaping into the water. 

Back in its preferred habitat, the beetle is an accomplished escape artist. It twists and changes direction in the surface film as I follow after it, always a few seconds behind. Mostly it stays at the surface. At times it dives reluctantly, never submerging more than an inch or two and always resurfacing quickly. 

Finally, I manage to catch it again, scooping it up from underneath. This time I’m more careful, and I get to shore with the beetle still detained between my fingers. Up close, it’s a remarkably black creature with translucent reddish legs. Its body is flattened like a skipping stone. Its back is covered with rows of tiny, recessed dots.

Along the shore

Now I start kayaking along the edge of the lake, continuing to watch for these beetles. They’re creatures of the near-shore. Twenty yards out, where the water gets deep and the waves are choppy, not a single beetle is swimming. But closer to the shore, where the water is calm and shallow, I find them in massive, silvery shoals, rippling into a frenzy whenever I disturb them. Others are more solitary, zipping and darting like tiny, silent speed boats.

How many are there? I try to count the beetles in one shoal, going by tens and then by hundreds. Just in this one group, I estimate that there are 500 beetles. But even close to the shore, these groups are extremely patchy. I paddle for two miles along the edge of the lake, watching carefully for them. Long stretches of lakeshore hold no beetles, while one sheltered bay contains over a thousand. Most are in areas that are sheltered from the wind. But I find one shoal up against a steep, rocky shore, congregating in the meager shelter of a gnarled stump that protrudes from the water.

Identifying the beetle

In the lab the next day, I learn more about my specimen. It’s a whirligig beetle (family Gyrinidae): a creature specialized for a life at the water’s surface. Like most aquatic beetles, its legs are flattened into massive paddles. More distinctively, its eyes are divided into four parts. Two eyes peer above the water, while the other two watch for enemies below the surface. Among the various families of aquatic beetles, only whirligig beetles have eyes like this, doubled like a reflection of the watery horizon.

It proves straightforward to identify this beetle to the genus, too. It’s a Gyrinus beetle. In Montana, these are the only whirligig beetles that have a visible scutellum: a small, triangular region on the back between the thorax and the wing covers.

From this point, identification becomes a matter for beetle specialists. To distinguish species of Gyrinus (there are 40 of them in the United States and Canada), one must dissect their genitalia and go through a daunting identification key (it’s available here if anyone is interested). This week, that’s more than I’m prepared to do.

Fortunately, recognizing these beetles as some species of Gyrinus tells us a lot about their lives. The same publication that gives a key to species also gives an excellent summary of these beetles’ biology. 

Gyrinus biology

Gyrinus beetles are predators and scavengers of the surface film, well-adapted to maneuver rapidly through this interface of air and water. Besides snatching dead and living insects, they will also eat plant matter.

The adult beetles secrete distasteful substances, which might be toxic. Fish and birds only rarely eat them. And in the late summer, they typically form these large schools on calm waters. Why? Most researchers explain this as a defensive adaptation: perhaps the silvery flashes of a disturbed school may confuse would-be predators.

Surprisingly, these rafts of beetles often contain multiple species. One researcher found seven different species of Gyrinus in a large school on a lake in Massachusetts! Is this the case here on Hauser Lake? And why do multiple species aggregate like this? If I ever get an ambition to learn beetle dissection, these would be interesting questions to explore.

Adult Gyrinus overwinter, though many don’t survive the cold season. As the water warms again the following spring and summer, they mate. The larvae are aquatic predators. But they’re also predated, eaten in large numbers by a variety of fish.

Once the larvae are full-grown, they move from the water to the shore. Climbing the stem of a grass, rush, or cattail, they build a pupal case by gluing together bits of rock, wood, or vegetation. At this stage, they’re especially vulnerable to attack: several ichneumonid wasps attack Gyrinus as they’re pupating.

Once the beetles finish their late-summer pupation, the adults emerge and re-enter the water. There, they form these conspicuous, late-summer schools. On Hauser Lake, I’ve started noticing these rafts of beetles within the last week or two. Presumably, they’ll be present here for the rest of the fall.

A taste of Gyrinus

So many questions remain. What do the pupal cases of our local Gyrinus look like? How can so many closely-related species coexist without one outcompeting the others? 

But for this week, only one more question seems easy to investigate. Do Hauser Lake’s Gyrinus taste bad, as the literature suggests?

It’s September 8 now, and I’m back along the shady south shore of the bay with a dip net. A school of whirligig beetles is in the same spot where I found them two days ago. It’s easier to catch them with a net than with my hand. I plunge the net into the water and bring it up with dozens of struggling beetles inside.

The beetles all appear similar, sleek and black with reddish legs. I check a handful of them, and I can see the tiny triangle of the scutellum on each one – they’re all Gyrinus. And if there are multiple species present here, the differences between them are too subtle for me to notice them at a glance.

The beetles have a definite odor in my hands: they’re sour and musty, reminding me of certain ants I’ve found in the past. Bracing myself, I pick one up, put it in my mouth, and chew. The flavor is surprisingly mild, vaguely reminiscent of the smell but less obvious. At the same time, I notice a slightly chalky, dry sensation in my mouth. Is the beetle causing this? I could sample more to know for sure, but I decide I’d rather not.

If you find yourself at the edge of a lake this fall, keep your eyes open for whirligig beetles, darting in silvery schools over the shallows. Enjoy their dance across the water, make note of the habitats where you find them, and let me know what you’re seeing. But if you find yourself getting hungry, I’d suggest that you look for something else to snack on.

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