What do the Swallowtail Butterflies, Bumble Bee Queens, and Fireflies have in common? They all depend on leaf litter as their home and protection during our winter months. For the last ten years there has been a growing movement to get people to leave the leaves in their yard in the fall to benefit wildlife. But the reasons are just as compelling to put off removing leaves in the spring.
As long ago as 2015, the National Wildlife Federation was advocating for leaving fall leaves, and the Xerces Society and others have taken up the call. And, somewhere along the line October was declared as “Leave the Leaves” month. To the extent that folks followed that advice, all sorts of critters have benefited. The bumble bee queens that burrow shallowly in the soil under a protecting layer of leaves, the adult Mourning Cloak Butterflies that tucked into the leaves, and the stick insect eggs that dropped from the tree or shrub on to the leaf litter all had better chances of surviving the winter.
But for over ten years, a crucial element in backyard habitat protection has been ignored. Simply put, the leaf litter layer is like Nature’s winter coat for those creatures. And just like we don’t put our own winter coats away when we get the first sporadic, warm, sunny days, if we want to protect pollinating insects and those that will feed the birds who depend on them for food to raise their young, we should leave their winter coat in place, too. The temperatures will dip again and the insects will need the protection.
It can be satisfying to clean up the yard and fill leaf bags with the refuse, and I’ve certainly filled my share of them, but I’ve learned the bags contain not only leaves and twigs, but insects at all stages of life: egg, larva, pupa, and adult. Many of them are small and even if visible, not recognizable because they look starkly different than the adults. And some are disguised, like the Swallowtail Butterfly pupae that mimics fallen leaves.
I understand the urge to do something, anything, to make the early spring yard look better. But if you’re hoping to support pollinators, and the birds who rely on insects to raise their young, April is too soon. Clear walkways to keep them safe, of course, but leaving the leaves this spring will help out not just the birds and the bees, but the butterflies, moths, and fireflies.
This past summer, our yard hosted Ground Yellowjackets in the front yard and Umbrella Wasps near the back door. The nest locations were a little inconvenient.
Eastern Yellowjacket and Viburnam
One mid-morning this summer I was weeding by the viburnum in the front yard and found the air filling with yellow and black insects. I backed away slowly. After a few hours, when they were visible but not agitated, I slowly and quietly returned to retrieve my garden tools and camera, and saw I’d been working inches from the Yellowjackets’ ground nest. I ceded the area to them for the rest of the summer.
With the help of iNaturalist and Bugguide.net, I identified them as Vespula maculifrons, a Ground Yellowjacket also known as the Eastern Yellowjacket. According to Bugguide, they are the most abundant Yellowjacket species east of the Great Plains. The adults feed on nectar and the juice of ripe and rotting fruit. As it happens, I first identified this species years ago when I rented a house with a big apple tree in the backyard and couldn’t keep up with the fallen apples. Yellowjackets of several species appreciated the bounty, including Vespula germanica, the German Yellowjacket, just left of center in this photo.
Meanwhile, in the backyard, wasps nested, European Paper Wasps,Polistesdominula. Oddly enough, in a bluebird-shaped birdhouse that I’d left on the back deck.
I’ve been familiar with Paper Wasp nests under eaves, but this hidden-cavity nesting is new to me; according to information on Bugguide.net, cavity nesting in wasps is species-specific. Paper wasps in general are less territorial about their nests than Yellowjackets, and they didn’t do anything startling, but I didn’t linger on the deck once they’d taken up residence.
I waited till after a deep frost to bring the birdhouse inside to try to get a photo of the nest. It was tucked up on the right side of the “ceiling.” Note the empty cells.
The cavity nest of Polistesdominula
The members of the genus Polistes are also known as Umbrella Paper Wasps, a name I find charming without knowing why. Polistes means “founder of a city,” although since it is a fertilized female, a queen, who selects the site, builds the nest, and establishes the colony, you’ll see writers refer to the “foundress of the city.”
These flyers with their vibrant orange antennae, (a key identifier for Polistesdominula, by the way), were interesting company this summer – once, when I inadvertently moved the birdhouse a few inches, they couldn’t find the opening even though they flew directly over it. It took a couple of tries for me to get the birdhouse back to where they could find their way in. When I set up my tripod to try to get better photos, I captured this behavior:
The yellow-faced male coming in for a landing.The curly antennae are another distinguishing feature of the male.It’s easy to see why these wasps can be mistaken for Yellowjackets.
Here in northern New York, November has been cold and, with the exception of the new queens, this year’s colonies will have died off. The new queens have left the nest and are overwintering somewhere, maybe in leaf litter, or logs, or soil. But what about next summer? It’s impossible to predict exactly where those queens will choose to start their colonies.
Even though I could, I wouldn’t do anything to discourage the Eastern Yellowjackets. I’m in the habit of leaving areas of bare ground for the ground dwelling bees, and if the wasps take advantage of them, that’s fine. I wasn’t stung or even harassed by these insects, despite them being disturbed by my pulling weeds inches from their nest entrance. The next day when I went out to photograph them, they were already out and flying; I kept my distance and they ignored me.
But one summer of close observation of wasps on my back deck was enough: I don’t think the wasps would use the birdhouse again, but I’ll move it to the wooded area behind the house where anyone, from mice to bluebirds to wasps, will be welcome to it.
Wasp-watching is done for the year and the process of going through photos I haven’t had a chance to review is underway. And, reading and researching continues on, of course. Here are two books I’m pretty excited about, with Bookshop links:
Jill McDonald’s Exploring Insects, a book for children,is a beautiful introduction to the world of insects and critters we mistake for insects. The illustrations are attractive, McDonald uses simple language to define well-selected vocabulary, and each page offers a question that invites reflection and encourages curiosity and conversation.
Eric R. Eaton’s Wasps, The Astonishing Diversity of a Misunderstood Insect, is itself astonishing. The illustrations and photographs are worth the price of admission. I hadn’t seen this book when I ordered it through Bookshop, and I’m really struck by its quality. If you know anyone who likes wasps, you know someone who will love this book.
In 2015 I was living 15 miles out of town, on three acres with fields and woods on either side and woods across the street. Many of the photos I’ve posted to Bugguide.net were taken there. When we moved in 2018 to a village rental, I wondered how many insects I’d see. As it turned out, not many. The residential use of pesticides and clearing of any wild shrubby areas had done their work. Even when clover bloomed all over the lawns of the nearby college campus, there were hardly any bees foraging the nectar.
When I discovered the emerging Giant Leopard moth, Hypercompe scribonia, on a plant I’d moved indoors, it was a double pleasure – it is rare enough to witness important moments in an insect’s life, and it would especially rare in my new surroundings.
Here’s what the moth looked like when I first saw it –
Giant Leopard Moth Adult emerging
Twenty minutes later the transformation was complete. These two photos are now 2 of a set of 3. I took the caterpillar’s photo on October 24, 2015. When the caterpillar is at its full length, it is a handsome black, when it curls into its protective position, the red intersegmental rings are on display.
Giant Leopard moth caterpillar
Now we own a home in the village, and I’ll have a chance to try to establish a small oasis for insects here in our yard. In the swirl of human activity that glimmers with foolishness and sorrow, trying to take care of the pollinators and other insects in the face of all that is stacked against them seems a reasonable task. It is one that will remind me over and over that I, too, am an animal; that I have a share in their fate as surely as they have a share in mine.
I love photographing insects and spiders and discovering details I didn’t see until I opened the photographs on my computer – the lovely striped abdomen of the Drone Fly; the butterscotch color of the Deer Fly; the slim white line that etches the outline of Sehirus cinctus, the White-margined Burrower Beetle.
I love the sense of wonder when I realize that what I have seen and photographed is a grasshopper laying eggs, or a wasp with her long, slender ovipositor slid into a blossom’s bosom.
I love discovering a crab spider on the yellow petal on which I saw and photographed a Jagged Ambush Bug: in successive frames they edge closer, then edge away.
I love the names of insects – the scientific names I would stumble over if I tried to say them aloud, but which somersault on my mind’s tongue with joy: Agelenopsis, Araneus trifolium, Neoscona Arabesque, Ellychnia corrusca, Reduvius personatus, Lygaeus kalmia, Podisus placidus, Stiretrus anchorago, Herpyllus ecclesiasticus.
And the common names: Grass spider, Shamrock and Arabesque Orbweavers, Winter Firefly, Small Milkweed Bug, Masked Hunter, Predatory Stink Bug, Anchor Stink Bug, Eastern Parson Spider.
I love the practicality of the names that describe their appearance: Three-lined Potato Beetle, Tortoise Beetle, Fourteen-spotted Lady, Thinlegged Wolf Spider, White Admiral, Painted Lady, Pearly-eye, Zebra Caterpillar Moth, Twice-stabbed Stink Bug.
And I love the names that describe their behaviors: Tumbling Flower Beetle, Jumping Spider, Fungus-eating Lady, Cobweb Spider, Rose Chafer, Oil Blister Beetle, Sharpshooter. And the names that do both: Milkweed Longhorns, Dot-tailed Whiteface Skimmer, Four-spotted Skimmer, Longbodied Cellar Spider.
And I love this world of wonders in which the Lady Bug is not a bug but a beetle; in which the nymph of the Masked Hunter covers itself in dust and lint and patrols our sheets and pillows for bedbugs; in which the hummingbird is, in fact, a moth.