Margined leatherwings find foxglove in early summer
June 11, 2026
Step outside into the long light of early summer, where the air holds warmth even as evening approaches. The foxglove beardtongue stands tall in the meadow edges around Ann Arbor, its white tubular flowers arranged in neat tiers along sturdy stems. Each bloom opens wide at the mouth, revealing purple guidelines that lead deeper into the throat.On these flowers, margined leatherwing beetles work with methodical purpose. The beetles are soft-bodied and elongated, their wing covers a warm orange-yellow bordered by dark margins that give them their name. They move across the flower faces with deliberate steps, their antennae constantly probing. Unlike the quick visits of bees or the hovering of flies, these beetles settle in. They chew pollen directly from the anthers and lap nectar from the flower's base, their flexible bodies allowing them to reach deep into the tubular blooms.The foxglove beardtongue depends on this partnership. The plant produces no scent to attract pollinators from a distance, instead relying on visual cues and the promise of abundant resources. Its flowers remain open for several days, giving beetles time to discover them and return. As the leatherwings feed, pollen grains stick to their fuzzy bodies and legs. When they move to the next flower, or the next plant, they carry this genetic material with them. The beetle's thorough feeding style means it contacts both anthers and stigma reliably, making it an effective pollinator despite its unhurried approach.This relationship peaks now, in early summer, when both species reach their seasonal crescendo. The beardtongue has been building toward this moment since its leaves emerged in spring. The plant invested energy in tall stems and multiple flower spikes, each capable of producing hundreds of seeds if properly pollinated. The beetles, meanwhile, have been feeding on other flowers throughout late spring, building the energy reserves they need for reproduction. On warm afternoons, you might find several beetles on a single beardtongue plant, males and females feeding side by side, occasionally pausing to mate before returning to their methodical harvest.The timing matters. Foxglove beardtongue blooms for only a few weeks, and the margined leatherwings must synchronize their adult emergence with this narrow window. Too early, and the flowers are not yet open. Too late, and the blooms have faded, the plant's energy redirected toward seed development. But when the timing aligns, as it does now, the meadow becomes a quiet theater of mutual benefit. The white flowers glow against their green backdrop, and the golden beetles move among them like small flames, carrying the future of both species in the pollen that dusts their bodies. Close your eyes and listen for the soft sound of their movement, the barely audible rustle as they shift from bloom to bloom in the warm, still air.
Peregrine falcons hunt warblers in migration
May 25, 2026
The air above the Huron River carries a tension that wasn't here a week ago. Lilacs finish their bloom along the banks, their heavy sweetness mixing with the green smell of new leaves. But something faster cuts through this settled spring air.A peregrine falcon sits motionless on the water tower, scanning the canopy below. The bird is sleek and compact, built for speed in a way that makes every other raptor look clumsy. Its dark head turns in small increments, tracking movement sixty feet down where bay-breasted warblers work through the maples. These small songbirds have been flying north for days, following the insect emergence that comes with warming weather. They move through the trees in loose groups, gleaning aphids and caterpillars from the newly expanded leaves. The warblers are tired from their night flight, focused on feeding, and predictable in their movements through the mid-canopy. The falcon knows this.Peregrine falcons nearly disappeared from Michigan forty years ago, poisoned by DDT that thinned their eggshells past the point where chicks could survive. The population collapsed to nothing before the pesticide was banned and captive breeding programs began releasing young birds back into the wild. Now they nest on bridges and tall buildings throughout the region, their numbers recovered enough that seeing one hunt along the river is no longer remarkable. But what they hunt has changed. Before pesticides, peregrines fed mostly on shorebirds and waterfowl over open water. Now they take advantage of the spring migration bottleneck, when thousands of small songbirds move through narrow corridors of remaining forest. The warblers that pour through Ann Arbor each May represent a concentrated food source that wasn't available to falcons a century ago, when continuous forest spread across the region. Migration routes have compressed into fragments, and falcons have learned to position themselves along these aerial highways.The strike happens faster than the eye can follow. The falcon drops from its perch and accelerates into a shallow dive, reaching speeds that would tear apart a less perfectly designed bird. It doesn't stoop straight down like it would over open water, but angles through the canopy gaps with surgical precision. A bay-breasted warbler, focused on a cluster of emerging moths, has no time to react. The impact is silent from this distance, over in an instant. The falcon carries its prey to a horizontal branch and begins feeding while the other warblers continue their search through the leaves, already resuming the rhythm that migration demands. Yellow-throated warblers work the oak bark nearby, their longer bills probing for insects the bay-breasted birds cannot reach. They seem unaware that one of their traveling companions has just been removed from the journey.
