ultra humid | Winged Beauty Butterflies

Orchid, photographed by Jeff Zablow at Allenberg Bog in New York

It happens. Barbara Ann and I mucked through nearly 3/4 of a miles of over grown trail, to once again explore the wonders of Allenberg Bog in western New York State. Ultra-humid, mosquito rich trail, over fallen trees, large puddles and much mud. It happens meaning? Meaning that the trail didn’t show any evidence of having been used for a very long time, and much of it simply could not be deciphered. This was just last month, June 2018.

Had flown in to Pittsburgh with 2 objectives, see my family, and especially see my grandson, and to also revisit Allenberg Bog. This is an ancient sphagnum moss bog, rich with pitcher plants, sun dew and cranberries. Those cranberries host Big Copper Butterflies. Last years photos of those Bog Coppers were OK, but the butterflies were all of a single flight, all slightly worn. On this 2nd go-around, I was hoping to see a fresh batch of Bog Coppers. Then, I’d triumphantly share with you my newest, OMG! images . . . . Nope, didn’t happen. Barbara Ann tried so hard to get us there, but it was a labyrinth, and we ended the morning exhausted and a tiny bit discouraged.

Perk up though, for here I share a tiny orchid that Allenberg Bog dished up for us last year. So delicate, so fascinating and so beautiful. Beauty and grace, resplendent amidst all of the hazards that this acid bog surely delivers, day and night. Amazing, No?

Yes, She told me its name, and yes I can’t recall it. Barbara? Angela? Debra? Jim Fowler?

Jeff

Little Metalmark butterfly on bloom, photographed by Jeff Zablow at Shellman Bluff, GA

Like it was yesterday. Playing on East 58th Street, with nary a car going by to bother us, our street had an amazing number of boys. I once counted those boys on my street, who were in a 3-year age range, including me? . . . 30 boys!

We played all of our sports on that asphalt street, punchball, stickball, football, roller hockey ( never liked that last, as my nutso! friends now had hard sticks in their mits . . . ).

When a kid didn’t like how something went, and felt he had basis, he’d yell . . . “Do-Over.” We were a tough, yet fair bunch of boys, and we honored that when it was fair and square.

This 2016 image of a Little Metalmark, captured in Shellman Bluff, Georgia, ranks for me as a reasonable call for a Do-Over. They are among the tiniest of American butterflies, they nectar on these mini-blooms, themselves inches above the ground. Shooting this look on your belly, risks what happened to me on Jekyll Island, culminating in that tick holding fast to my chest, and a subsequent visit to Urgent Care in Eatonton.

The only way to capture this Sweetheart of an eye-pleaser is to crouch down, all the way down, and talk to my Macro-lens, urging it to do it, do it well, and make Papa happy. Now, know that it was unendingly ultra-humid, and each time I sought to score images, the sweat reached my headband, and soon overran it, salty sweat now pouring into my eyes. Got the picture?

Then I share this, and I share how much I wanted those silvery stripes to sing to you. My new lens ( the last quit on me ) has the built-in Image-$tabilizer feature, so . . . .

Jeff wants . . . a . . . Do-Over!

Thanks to Nancy and John, sincerely.

Jeff