The last few mornings, several turkey hens with their chicks have wandered across my lawn as the sun was rising. They have been dropping feathers as they travel around and my cats like to pounce on them and start chewing on them. On the dewy mornings, you can see the trails the turkeys leave behind but at least it isn’t tracks in snow yet.
Morning Stroll
Sitting high up on a pallet, the kitten is surveying its surroundings and probably deciding which litter mate to pounce on from above as the other kittens play on the ground.
Sparky the Surveyor
In a few weeks, the hills surrounding this church will be ablaze with autumn color and it has seen many autumn seasons as the date above the entrance states 1864.
Church Waiting for Another Autumn
The yellow lily was soaking up some sun rays on a nice afternoon after a chilly morning.
Catching Rays
Remembering all those who lost their lives and whose lives were impacted on that unforgettable day when terrorist attacks were carried out on September 11, 2001.
Remembering 9/11
The wings of the Monarch butterfly caught my eye when I was mowing and I had to slow down a few times for it to move out of the way. Monarch butterflies are known for the incredible mass migration in the fall before the cold weather moves in, which could be 3,000 miles, that brings millions of them to California and Mexico each winter.
Monarch butterflies go through four stages during one life cycle (egg, larvae, pupa and adult butterfly) and through four generations in one year. The first three generations in the year have short life span of 2 to 6 weeks, and only the monarchs born in late summer or early fall live six to eight months and make the migration, and they make only one round trip when they return in the spring to lay the eggs before dying. It is the spring migrators’ great grandchildren that make the trip in the fall returning on the same routes and even sometimes to the same tree as their ancestors.
The King of Butterflies
Three months ago the white bracts surrounding the greenish blossoms of the Bunchberry covered the banks by the lake. It gets a red round berry in the fall but I haven’t been back to the same spot to see if any ripened or if they are good tasting and the chipmunk eaten them all like they do with my raspberries. Cornus canadensis, in the dogwood family, is native to the northern half of North America.
The bunchberry is incapable of self-pollination, so it needs insects that rapidly move from flower to flower. Bunchberry stamens are designed like miniature medieval trebuchets – specialized catapults that maximize throwing distance by having the payload (pollen in the anther) attached to the throwing arm (filament) by a hinge or flexible strap. This motion takes place in less than half a millisecond and the pollen experiences two to three thousand times the force of gravity.
The Bunchberry has one of the fastest plant actions found so far requiring a camera capable of shooting 10,000 frames per second to catch the action so since my camera isn’t capable of catching the catapult action, I will just have to take the still blossom pictures (and maybe some berries if the chipmunks leave any).
Catapulting Bunchberry
The majority of the orioles have left but the sugar water still is disappearing rapidly as hummingbirds are taking their place at the feeders. Ruby-throated Hummingbirds are eastern North America’s only breeding hummingbird. But since the males aren’t chasing others away as the males began their migration in early August (since he only pairs up for courting and mating, then off on his own having fun and not raising the kids), more can eat from the feeders at the same time so hard to keep them filled.
Hungry Hummers
There were fireworks going off in the neighborhood last night, I assuming to celebrate the holiday, but some others had nature’s version of fireworks with the rumble of thunder and the lightning brightening the night sky and reflecting in the water as the storms moved through the area. I wouldn’t want be in a tent camping out when a storm rolls though even if the lightning bounced around the clouds instead of a lot of ground strikes.
Brightening the Night Sky
The Labor Day weekend is often referred to as the end of summer (even if not the end of astronomical summer yet), but apparently the maple trees think it is autumn as leaves started to turn last week since they heard it was meteorological autumn already. So I guess it is the end of summer (even if the dew point is 73 right now and doesn’t fell like autumn yet).
Start of Autumn Sunset
