#meadow plant bug

[onenicebugperday]

@karltface submitted: It's been a good week!

Ran across a young lacewing coming home tonight. Or at least a really small one. Lovely shade of green regardless.

Not too sure about this one, but it's got nice colors.

Found this yellow underwing while teaching the creeping Charlie a lesson. Also a couple larvae, but they were napping. Perhaps they're helping with the culling.

This fly has enormous, and hilariously dome-shaped, red eyes. Apparently they survive by imitating dollar-store toys?

Oh, and while she didn't hold still long enough for a proper photo, I saw a nice red ichneumonid. I choose to believe it's Moon Unit from last year, all big and strong.

All spotted in southern WI, as usual. All from home this time, in fact!

Glad you're finding all sorts of bug friends up there! It's definitely peak bug season.

Lacewings go through complete metamorphosis, so a "young" lacewing would be a larva. That fella is just a small adult. Green lacewings are commonly quite small!

The fella in the second photo I think is a true bug - a meadow plant bug, from the looks of it, with its wings open.

And the fly with silly eyeballs is just a male! He needs those big peepers for spotting ladies

[unkn0wnvariable]

Meadow Plant Bug

A meadow plant bug wandering along a grass leaf, along one of the paths through Holme Fen.

[dansnaturepictures]

26th June 2024: Hawksbeard at the railway station this morning one of a few nice flowers seen alongside ragwort, mercury and my first lady's bedstraw of the year, flowers in Abbey Gardens, bramble flower at Lakeside this evening, cropped and distant record shots of Purple Hairstreaks at Lakeside this evening what an honour to see these exquisite and exciting butterflies here for the fourth summer running they're amazing to see as they dance along the oak tops a great first sighting of the year of them for me and it was nice that my looking at them in awe along the northern path interested a few others, view and thistle at Winchester Cathedral and bindweed in Winchester.

Other highlights today were my first musk mallow of the year, a very pleasing number of screaming Swifts circling in the bright blue sky above at Winchester Cathedral possible youngsters flying around maybe with adults and House Martins, courting Great Crested Grebes, Black-tailed Skimmer, Blue-tailed Damselfly, purple loosestrife and my first ever Meadow Plant Bug at Lakeside.

[spiritofthemeadow]

ig - afternoondreams

[dreaming-of-texel]

Kasteel De Haere, Olst, Overijssel, The Netherlands

[woodsy-hoe]

views from this morning :-)

[greencheekconure27]

[kamsa666]

[inkskinned]

it is hard to explain but there is something so unwell about the cultural fear of ugliness. the strange quiet irradiation of any imperfect sight. the pores and the stomachs and the legs displaced into a digital trashbin. somehow this effect spilling over - the removal of a grinning strangers in the back of a picture. of placing more-photogenic clouds into a frame. of cleaning up and arranging breakfast plates so the final image is of a table overflowing with surplus - while nobody eats, and instead mimes food moving towards their mouth like tantalus.

ever-thinner ever-more-muscled ever-prettier. your landlord's sticky white paint sprayed over every surface. girlchildren with get-ready-with-me accounts and skincare routines. beige walls and beige floors and beige toys in toddler hands. AI-generated "imagined prettier" birds and bugs and bees.

pretty! fuckable! impossible! straighten teeth. use facetune and lightroom and four other products. remove the cars along the street from the video remove the spraypaint from the garden wall remove the native plants from their home, welcome grass. welcome pretty. let the lot that walmart-still-owns lay fallow and rotting. don't touch that, it's ugly! close your eyes.

erect anti-homelessness spikes. erect anti-bird spikes. now it looks defensive, which is better than protective. put the ramp at the back of the building, you don't want to ruin the aesthetic of anything.

you are a single person in this world, and in this photo! don't let the lives of other people ruin what would otherwise be a shared moment! erase each person from in front of the tourist trap. erase your comfortable shoes and AI generate platforms. you weren't smiling perfectly, smile again. no matter if you had been genuinely enjoying a moment. you are not in a meadow with friends, you're in a catalogue of your own life! smile again! you know what, forget it.

we will just edit the right face in.

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

[anthonyspage]

🌥🏞⛰🌳🌼🐞

[unkn0wnvariable]

Meadow Plant Bug

A meadow plant bug on a cluster of opening flower buds, at Felmersham Gravel Pits.

[english-history-trip]

In 2020, for the first time since being laid in 1772, a section of a King’s College lawn the size of just half a football pitch was not mown. Instead, it was transformed into a colourful wildflower meadow filled with poppies, cornflowers and oxeye daisies.

[Researcher Dr Cicely Marshall] found that as well as being a glorious sight, the meadow had boosted biodiversity and was more resilient than lawn to our changing climate. The results are published today in the journal Ecological Solutions and Evidence. Despite its size, the wildflower meadow supported three times more species of plants, spiders and bugs than the remaining lawn - including 14 species with conservation designations, compared with six in the lawn.

The meadow was found to have another climate benefit: it reflected 25% more sunlight than the lawn, helping to counteract what’s known as the ‘urban heat island’ effect. Cities tend to heat up more than rural areas, so reflecting more sunlight can have a cooling effect - useful in our increasingly hot summers. “Cambridge has become more prone to drought, and last summer most of the College’s fine lawns died. It’s really expensive to maintain these lawns, which have to be re-sown if they die off. But the meadow just looked after itself,” says Marshall.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Steve being a hidden nerd in certain ways (ei: sports, camping, outdoor stuff like camping & vegetation/botony, bugs, animals & shit) the kids losing their collective mind as Steve tells them about it. Maybe on a camping trip or something???? I especially want Hop to be impressed.

This is maybe my first request that didn't have some kind of romantic relationship Steddie. They do have a little flirty moment, but beyond that, I liked the idea of just everyone loving Steve and being so intrigued by his knowledge of all of this random nature stuff. Also, no research was done here. Like, zero. I don't know what is true and what isn't so assume none of it is. This is fiction based on fiction and we're here for a good time. I've never been to Yosemite, but it is on the list for me and Liam to go! - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------------

No one expected Steve to actually want to go camping. Sure, he wanted an RV, wanted to go to National Parks and see mountains and lakes and rivers, but they assumed he’d just want to stay in the RV.

They hadn’t expected him to bring tents.

They hadn’t expected him to suggest sleeping in the tents.

“But…we have an RV,” Mike said, suddenly no longer interested in their trip to Yosemite.

“To travel in. But we won’t all comfortably sleep in it. It’s made for five people at most.”

And that was that. The only people sleeping in the RV were Hopper and Joyce and Max and El, and everyone else was sleeping in tents.

The entire drive there was filled with arguments over music, arguing over who got to sit where, and Steve’s “fun facts” about the land they would be staying on.

He had apparently done quite a bit of research, or he had been hiding a whole wealth of knowledge from everyone.

His fun facts were actually interesting, and everyone quickly tuned in when he started telling them about how the mountains could be dated because of the type and color of the rocks, and how much of the sequoias had been destroyed over the last couple of decades and what they were doing to preserve what was left.

When they arrived, everyone stared in wonder at the meadow in front of them, the mountains as the backdrop to a beautiful sunset.

It would still be light for close to two hours, so they didn’t rush to set up the tents. They went on a short walk along the road they took to the campsite, Steve pointing out different types of plants and birds as they went.

Everyone was in awe of his information, but no one was as surprised as Hopper.

“Where did you learn all this?” he asked on the way back to the campsite as the kids raced each other ahead.

“I went to camp once when I was seven and then I was obsessed with nature. My parents wouldn’t let me go back to camp, but they let me get books and movies about plants and animals. In high school, I took geology and almost had a perfect grade. I just like this stuff,” Steve shrugged.

“So you only went to camp once? Is this your way of going to camp?” Hopper asked casually.

He didn’t usually ask questions that didn’t tell him something he absolutely needed to know.

“I guess. And to spend time with everyone. I like when we can all be together without hell surrounding us, ya know?” Steve admitted.

Hopper’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed in silent agreement.

Putting the tents up had been relatively easy, especially when Steve managed to show them a trick he taught himself when he was young and wanted to set up a tent in his backyard but never had anyone there to help him.

No one commented on how sad it was, but Steve realized it after he said it.

As everyone got their sleeping bags and lamps set up in their tents, Steve found a large rock along the edge of the creek in the meadow and sat on it, watching as the sun finally sank behind the mountains.

“Hey,” a voice startled Steve.

He relaxed when he turned to see that it was Eddie.

“Hey.”

“Mind if I sit with you for a minute? Kids are being a bit too much right now.”

“Go ahead,” Steve gestured to the spot next to him. “Not exactly a comfy seat, but the view can’t be beat.”

“Oh, so you’re rhyming now?” Eddie teased as he nudged Steve’s shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” Steve laughed. “It’s pretty great out here, though.”

“Yeah it is. You did good, Stevie.”

Steve looked over to see Eddie already smiling fondly at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool that you love nature so much. Nature isn’t really a good friend of mine, but it’s pretty nice to hear about it from you.”

“I’ll make an explorer out of you yet, Eds.”

Eddie looked at him with a look he hadn’t seen on anyone before, at least not towards him.

“Maybe you will, Stevie.”

Eddie only sat there for another minute before excusing himself to check that none of the kids touched his brand new acoustic guitar.

Steve sat there until it was completely dark around him, watching the land in front of him shift ever so slightly as the breeze picked up and the cicadas started their nightly song.

Robin sat down next to him, rested her head against his shoulder and sat with him in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s good to be out here. I don’t think Max ever expected to see mountains like this. She keeps asking when she can climb them,” Robin whispered.

“She does remember her legs aren’t at 100% yet still, right?” Steve asked.

“I think she’s willing to give it a go anyway. What’s the point of being here and surviving everything if you can’t even try?”

Steve nodded.

“Wanna come tell us more about the trail we’re taking tomorrow?”

“You guys wanna hear about it now?”

“Yeah. We like that you’re passionate about it.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up at the words.

“Okay then. If you guys don’t mind. There’s supposed to be a specific type of rabbit who burrows along this specific trail during the summer and they can grow to be nearly two feet long.”

“That sounds terrifying. Come tell everyone about it,” Robin said as she got up and offered him a hand.

He took it and made his way back to the group.

Everyone listened to him talk about their plan for tomorrow, not interrupting when he got sidetracking talking about the type of trees they would see and what kind of flowers tended to bloom during this particular time of year.

When Steve and Eddie slipped into their tent an hour or so later, they could have stayed in their respective sleeping bags.

But Steve was still too eager to talk about things, so Eddie sidled up next to him in his sleeping bag and held his hand while he talked for another hour about the waterfall they’d be seeing and the type of fish that would most likely be in the river.

[wanderingokali]

Okalivember day 28, meadow dwellers!

The common wooly liskuvost is a pretty large bug, crawling along on large flowers and feeding on nectar. Its large fangs are there to manipulate or pierce petals to get at nectar in flowers it's too small to crawl all the way into. Its curled tail holds its egg sac and babies.

The prairie nuosani is a predatory insect that often hides in hedges and bushes in ambush, waiting for any prey that passes close enough to grab with their lightning-fast reflexes. The females, more ravenous when they need the energy to make eggs, often hunt in a more active manner, their folding wings letting them divebomb prey.

The wild tailless nakulla is a close relative to a common domestic species. Feeding on a varied diet of both plant matter, fallen fruit, and small animals, their long legs allow them to see far over the tall grasses. Their vestigial wings don't allow them to fly, but serve as fat storage.

[woodsy-hoe]

say hello to my little friend :-)