Where have you been hiding?

It's been several years since I glimpsed Blue-flag Iris in the low-lying basins along the Sycamore Greenway. Their fondness for moist areas means they hang out down where the stormwater lingers, a good distance from the trail, and thickets of willows, dogwoods, and other shrubby growth eventually either crowded them out or hid them from view.

But what's this?! Near the Sycamore Apartments, where a willow thicket had been cleared with the REAP work over the winter, there's a little stand of these pretty irises, their trios of petals and sepals in full bloom as May shifts into June. Have they been here this whole time, hidden by overgrown brush (or just as likely, I was never looking in the right place at the right time to catch their distant purple flowers)? 

The REAP work included overseeding with native seed mix, but most sources indicate that it can take a couple of years for Iris virginica to flower from seed--so it seems likely these have been residents prior to that.

Closer examination of one of the flowers revealed one, then two tiny, long-snooted weevils trundling about. iNaturalist suggests they are an Iris Weevil (Mononychus vulpeculus) which certainly tracks with their location. These weevils feed on the seeds of iris but may also be found on daisies and fleabanes. 

Keep your eyes peeled when you're out on the trail! After the winter ecological restoration work opened up new vistas, who knows what old (or new) flowers--and their insect friends--we might spot?

Adapting to relentless succession

As the relentless march of human development proceeds apace, habitat is churned up first for agricultural monocrops, then--similar to ecological succession?--the ag fields are replaced by housing developments or the infrastructure to support them, like a shiny new electrical substation. 

The wildlife that lived in the original habitat must adapt, move, or die as the world changes quickly around them. 

If you're a big bird that likes to roost in tall trees with a wide view of the surrounding landscape, you might be tempted to settle for some tall metal stumps. On a recent morning, a Turkey Vulture alit on one of the tall towers, assuming a spread-winged posture in the early sun. That six-foot wingspread can help the bird cool off or warm up, depending on place and time, or help dry off their wet feathers. 

Soon the individual was joined by a second vulture, and then a third.  They relaxed for some minutes on two of the pillars, and then were gone.

These tempting tree-replacements, whether vultures at a substation or squirrels on roadside powerlines, are not without hazards. Birds with large wingspans can easily touch live wires or other equipment, resulting in electrocution (and power outages). Smaller birds and mammals may nest in equipment or chew wires, with similarly ill effects for both the animal and the grid.  

The juxtaposition of these ancient birds with our technology, showing how animals are forced to adapt to a world they didn't evolve to inhabit, is both hopeful and haunting.