New Mexico Butterfly Blog

© Steve Cary; Sept 7, 2023

In New Mexico, the typical summer monsoon is a southerly flow of warm, moist air that brings humidity, showers, clouds, rain, green vegetation, insects and the things that eat them. The monsoon brings subtropical butterflies to the mid-latitudes of North America just because it is so pleasant to be here. Have you seen any subtropical sulphurs this summer? Nor have I.

But HEY, don’t be depressed. Butterflies still fly, at least to some extent. If you have a New Mexico butterfly story you want to share, please let me know. This blog is always looking for new writers, new photographers and new perspectives.

Surprisingly, not all spectacular images include butterflies. Who knew?

Thanks for sharing that, Tom!

Just in case you have not seen any Painted Ladies recently, Stephanie Dzur refreshes your memory, below.

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Heat Refugees; July 2023; by Steve Cary. Northern New Mexico’s recent summer heat wave was sufficient motivation for many to head for higher ground. Of course, we seem to spend a week in the Colorado high country almost every summer – why would 2023 be any different? This year we spent mid-July encamped at Mix Lake Campground at the base of Platoro Reservoir, just across the stateline in Conejos County. Situated at 10,000′ elevation, with patches of snow visible on higher north-facing slopes, we were well positioned to escape the heat while flyfishing, paddling, hiking, painting, or butterflying.

The meadows above Platoro Reservoir, serving as the headwaters of the Conejos River, are broad and support a lush mosaic of vegetation, from meadows to woodlands of various kinds, from wetlands and riverbanks to dryish hills. Butterflies in those meadows included Draco Skipper, Smintheus Parnassian, Margined White and California Ringlet.

Weather was generally excellent, that is, sunny, but one day I got a little help from some clouds. After an hour of morning sun, the Common Alpines were warm and active, flapping continually through meadow grasses and sedges, and giving nothing to photographers. One settled onto some mud, but with wings closed. Then a cloud came along, cooled things off, and calmed butterfly activity for a few minutes. When the sun re-emerged, the mudding alpine opened its wings to the max and I was able to capture the show:

In these meadows I witnessed an unusual encounter between butterflies of two different species. One seemed to be eager to court while the other seemed unsure what was going on. They never stopped, so I had a hard time discerning what they were, but I was able to click off some live action still shots and then go back to those to get identifications: Arctic Fritillary and Chryxus Arctic! The photo shows the Chryxus with a rather enlarged abdomen, thus clearly a female. This means that the chaser was a confused male Arctic Frit.

This sort of thing is not common, certainly worth documenting given the opportunity. In my experience and with my camera, documentation poses real challenges. Photographing flying butterflies with any success at all requires me to back off on the zoom, go into burst mode, and then keep clicking away as I move my camera to follow the action as best I can. One can always sort through the images later.

One day we drove 45 minutes on forest roads to a higher trailhead offering access to Trail 813 of the Continental Divide Trail. We parked at 11,500′ and our 6-mile round-trip hike carried us out along an undulating ridge that occasionally approached 12,000′.

In this landscape, damp swales produced Grizzled Skipper, Bischoff’s (Mormon) Fritillary and Greenish Blue.

Having access to even modest rises and rocky summits allowed us to settle in for our picnic lunch and watch the hilltoppers doing their thing all around us: Variable Checkerspot, Chryxus Arctic, Anise Swallowtail, and Nevada Cloudywing.

The next day we drove up to Kerr Lake, toting canoes, art supplies, lunch and cameras. At about 11,300′ elevation, we parked and made ourselves comfortable. The lake was lovely, perhaps 30 minutes for a leisurely circumnavigation by paddle. Adjacent and slightly uphill were some lush springs at the base of Cornwall Mountain. That’s where most of the nectar and butterflies were in this particular area. Purplish Coppers, Green Commas, Arctic Blues, and my personal favorite, Mead’s Sulphur, which requires a long, hard hike in New Mexico.

After we returned from Platoro. I related our fun adventures to my old State Parks buddy, Bob Findling. He returned the favor by fondly recalling his backpack trips from the little village of Platoro up 6 steep miles to Kerr Lake; 40 years ago that was the only way to get there. Well, things have changed. We were able to drive right up there; sure, the road required 4WD low range, but without great difficulty. Moreover, ATVs were abundant, and they can go anywhere. Everyone was friendly and worked hard to share a challenging road, but the noise and the ease with which anyone can get there makes it a different experience today. Humans are everywhere. Solitude and serenity are much harder to find.

The camping, hiking, butterflying, paddling etc all were terrific. I would be remiss, however, if I did not mention that the temperatures were a bit on the warm side and the deerflies ran the show after about 9:00 AM. High temps in the upper 70s may not seem warm compared to the low 90s that we left behind, but for 10,000′ they felt warm. The photo below shows how the bull elk managed the temperatures.

Yes, we did have a couple days when the morning lows were in the high 30s. Boy did that feel good! Once the sun had warmed things enough for the deer flies to fly, it was not fun in camp. Of course, we left camp most days and the flies did not generally follow. Upon our return in late afternoon, however, we were all very glad to have a roofed and screened enclosure to run into and relax with our adult beverages. Phew!

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Monarda Mania, July 26, 2023, by Steve Cary. Once back home in northern NM, I had to re-engage with what was flying in my own mountains. After some contemplation and map meditation, I settled on a canyon with a trail that I had never visited before. Clear Creek drains north to connect with Cimarron Canyon, within Colin Neblett State WMA in Colfax County, NM

From Santa Fe it was a good three hours to get there, passing some other great spots including the Moreno Valley in general and Eagle Nest Lake State Park in particular. The weather was mostly cloudy and temps were not heating up particularly fast, so I took my time, nosing gently into various spots before finally arriving at the trailhead right on US 64 within Cimarron Canyon State Park. I parked in a puddle, so this place was already wetter than I expected. That’s the good and the bad of rain; you gotta have it, but better last week than today, better last night than today, thank you very much.

Clear Creek proper, the highway and the Clear Creek trail all converge at a point, but plant growth and the natural behavior of creeks and people made the trail head slightly hard to find. In the end, stumbling slowly up Clear Creek eventually led me to the trail, which was not difficult; the few creek crossings were crudely but bridged, but one or two scrambly spots lay ahead.

The first half-hour of my outing was warm enough, but mostly cloudy and mostly shaded, so butterflies were few and far between. Promising initial sightings of Great Spangled Fritillary (GSF) and Snow’s Skipper gave me hope for a decent day, if only the sun would show its face. Rain was not in the forecast, so that hope persisted for about a mile and during a modest scramble along a rocky creek bank and up a steep, rocky slope.

At one spot, possibly an old burn area, the big trees retreated a bit and exposed some rocks supporting a decent patch of a wild buckwheat (Eriogonum) of some kind, probably E. jamesii v. jamesii. I clicked off some photos of one or two blues whose identities were not immediately obvious. I made a mental note to stop there again on the return to see if I might get some better images.

The trail continued upstream past maybe three waterfalls of varying height. I am told that the upper falls is enough of a fish movement barrier that there are cutthroat trout above the falls, but ordinary rainbows below it. That explained why there was a trail.

After about one hour of walking and middling butterflies due to clouds and shade, the sun finally broke through for good and the hills colored up with flowery meadows. The chief butterfly attractor was bee balm (Monarda fistulosa), a known butterfly magnet in northern New Mexico’s mid-elevation moist woodlands. With sun on the beebalm, the whole place came to life. The purple blooms attracted many skippers, including Taxiles, Dunn and Snow’s.

The other prominent beebalm visitors were the familiar conveyors of mid-summer magic, the fritillaries. Dozens of GSFs, Aphrodites and ‘Electa’ Southwesterns flew with every step I took in or near a beebalm stand.

I tried to get a photo showing all three species on the same flower head, but even when I was motionless, they were mixing things up themselves; the approach of one caused two others to fly, et cetera, et cetera. It was a lively scene at each and every beebalm patch. Truly a butterflyer’s fantasy come to life.

It also was a great opportunity to watch and learn the similarities and differences between these three species. In photos featuring only one species they all look the same size. Seeing them makes you realize how small Southwestern is, how blue/gray its eyes are. Aphrodite and GSF are quite similar, but if you know which characters to examine, you can recognize GSF’s broadly banded VHW: the blonde submarginal band and the rusty median band.

After all those Frits, I was a happy camper. For the trip back to the trailhead I allowed myself to see other things. To my species list for the day, I was able to add Russet Skipperling, Black Swallowtail, Mexican Yellow, Purplish Copper, Arctic Fritillary, Arachne and Silvery Checkerspots, Weidemeyer’s Admiral, Canyonland Satyr and Small Wood-Nymph, among others. Clear Creek will be a nice place to go back to at other times of year.

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8/9-10: Great Spangled Fritillary (Argynnis cybele) from the Sangre de Cristo Mountains

A recent genomic study of Great Spangled Fritillary (GSF) (Zhang et al., 2022) established that GSF populations west of the Rio Grande in northern NM and southwestern Colorado are a genetically unique subspecies which they named Argynnis cybele neomexicana Grishin. Us New Mexicans appreciated that hat-tip to our home state, but the story of GSFs in New Mexico remains incomplete.

Until that publication, we had been calling all our northern New Mexico GSFs subspecies carpenterii (W. H. Edwards 1876) whose lectotype was collected by the Wheeler Expedition allegedly at or near “Taos Peak.” Zhang et al. sequenced the genome on that specimen too, but found that its DNA did not group within cybele‘s complicated western North American DNA “tree.” They concluded that specimen did not originate in northern NM populations or in any southwestern US population. Perhaps it bore an erroneous locality label, but at least for the moment it (carpenterii) seems no longer representative of GSFs in the Taos area or the Sangre de Cristo Mountains as a whole.

That left GSFs from the Sangre de Cristos wholly unrepresented in genomic studies to date and possibly without an applicable scientific name – two rather large voids which needed to be filled, pronto. So, I teamed up with Colorado fritillary guru Mike Fisher, as well as Bob Friedrichs, Jerry Jacobi and Dan McGuire. Over a few days in mid-August, we collaborated to gather up some samples of Great Spangled Fritillaries (aka “Fritters” to Dan) from the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.

The specimens, collected between Red River, Santa Fe, Taos and Angel Fire, were sent to Nick Grishin’s lab for total genomic analysis. Now we wait to see what the DNA says. As we understand the possible outcomes, the DNA will match either 1) the carpenterii lectotype DNA; 2) ssp. neomexicana DNA or 3) none of the above. Personally, I am pulling for option 3, but sound science demands objectivity, so I’m keeping that opinion to myself. Oops.

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Clayton Lake Butterfly Trip; August 24, 2023; by Kelly Ricks

Western green hairstreak, bramble hairstreak, immaculate hairstreak, immaculate bramble hairstreak, immaculate green hairstreak… Yes, common names can often mislead an identification, but when diagnosing this little green hairstreak, even the scientific taxonomy is confusing. What we’re calling Callophrys affinis is referred to as Callophrys dumetorum in Glassberg’s 2017 guide to butterflies. In other sources, dumetorum’s range is restricted to California. Additional taxonomic labels that show up include Callophrys viridis, Callophrys apama, and—perhaps most appropriately—Callophrys perplexia. Glassberg says,” There is little consensus on the best taxonomy or identification in part because there is little data available regarding the genetics of this group.” These highly variable and poorly understood western hairstreaks need some disentangling!

[Steve says: As a start to that process, Zhang et al. (2021)* established a new subgenus – Greenie – to house butterflies we have in the past attributed to dumetorum, viridis, sheridanii and affinis, among others. In New Mexico we currently operate with the understanding that we have sheridanii and affinis. Each of these is a potential riddle of its own to be solved and last year Dr. Grishin sent out a request for Greenie specimens from northeast New Mexico. I made an effort by scaling Sierra Grande, where I had seen it previously, but I got zip, no doubt due to intense drought in that part of NM.]

Steve Cary and I met at Clayton Lake State Park on August 24^th hoping to verify the easternmost occurrence of  Callophrys affinis and chip away at that puzzle. For an ideal result we’d need photos and GPS coordinates paired with DNA. An adult or caterpillar would be sent to Nick Grishin at University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center for genetic sequencing and analysis.

It could not have been a more perfect day: sunny, with highs in the mid to upper 80s, a moderate breeze, and the kind of tufty clouds you’d see on a desktop screensaver. There were few visitors in the park. “It’s going to be a nice quiet day on the trail,” I thought with a smile.

But where to start our search? Steve had photos of Western Green Hairstreak larvae from Clayton Lake taken on August 11, 2000; “below the dam” per his field notes. We parked at the Dinosaur Trackway Trailhead and started off toward the dam. At the southern end, Steve scanned the terrain and said, “butterflies don’t keep themselves to the trail.” He set out onto a steep and overgrown basalt slope and I did my best to keep up. So much for my “nice quiet day on the trail!”

Trying to get back to wherever “below the dam” was, we strode up and down craggy hillsides wading through waist-high grasses (I’m glad I wore pants) and pushing aside juniper, piñon, hackberry, and willow while watching for any characteristic flutter. There were lots of distractions—dragonflies and flying grasshoppers being the most frequent “fake butterflies.” We did see common checkered-skippers and a dainty sulphur or two, but not much else. There were almost no flowers blooming and even the damp seeps below the dam were butterfly-free.

When Seneca Creek was dammed in 1955, no one imagined its future reservoir would provide much more than water storage and maybe a bit of fishing, but when the lake overflowed its spillway in 1982, about 500 dinosaur tracks belonging to several species were revealed. Millions of years before our butterfly hunt, a baby Iguanodant walked among adults 30 times its size, a planteater slipped in the mud and used its tail to keep from falling, a pterodactyl touched down for a drink, and a giant carnivore strode confidently over a drying mud-cracked puddle.

Failure has a way of relieving the pressure. Since we had zero to show for “below the dam,” we were free to wander wherever looked interesting. On a dry hillside north of the dam we did find some of affinis’ presumed local hostplant: winged buckwheat—Eriogonum alatum. This was a new plant for me, but after a few minutes I found its tall spindly profile was relatively easy to pick out above the sparse grasses. We checked each plant for caterpillars, with no luck, and decided to try another location after lunch. Upon rejoining the trail we started to see a few more butterflies: hackberry emperor, mylitta crescent, canyonland satyr, and painted lady, along with the expected numbers of common checkered-skippers and dainty sulphurs.

We parked at the Nature Trailhead on the western side of the developed part of the park to have lunch. While enjoying sandwiches and Steve’s outstanding garden-grown grapes, I noticed a stand of alatum just a little way up from our picnic table. “You’re kidding,” said Steve as he immediately got up to investigate. It hadn’t been a minute before I heard, “and here’s a caterpillar!” Sure enough. There it was. Tiny and pale green, it held close to the thin stem and was all but invisible to an untrained eye. “What points to it being the western green?” I asked. “Well, it’s definitely a hairstreak,” Steve replied, “probably a third instar. And it’s on the right plant. But I guess we won’t know for sure until we send it off for analysis.” He gently removed the caterpillar’s branch and placed both into a small translucent envelope. “One small sacrifice for science,” he said. Photos were taken and GPS coordinates logged.

Spirits lifted, we finished lunch and headed down the Nature Trail. This shady path skirts the southwestern margin of Clayton Lake and leads to its inlet, Seneca Creek. Suddenly there was a flicker of brown and a flurry of white. A moment later Steve gently removed a common wood-nymph from his net. “Want to give it a try?” he asked. I declined…for now.

Also present were [common/gray] buckeye, gray hairstreak, dotted roadside-skipper, marine blue, and sachem. Moving north, the trail faded away into stands of tall, drying grasses. We startled a trio of white-tailed deer hiding beneath misty waves of purple lovegrass and watched a night heron slowly flap toward the lake.

For a while we followed a mostly-dry streambed. A common sootywing perched on a blade of grass while a red admiral, sachem, painted lady, and a host of silver-dollar-sized toads congregated on the mud beside a pool. I was distracted by the dramatic sandstone cliffs surrounding us and startled a garter snake. It slithered underwater and emerged on the opposite bank about 30 seconds later. I love New Mexico!

We circled around and, following the Parks southwest property line, took an open hillside route back to the trailhead. There were more diffuse stands of alatum, one of which hosted an even tinier hairstreak caterpillar. With one sample already gathered, we left this individual in place, but documented the find with photos and GPS. Of course, we were watching for adults too, but none came into view.

Was our search successful? Did we achieve our goal? If that goal was collecting a specimen of a particular western-green hairstreak then we have a few months to wait for a verdict. Whether or not that sample turns out to be Callophrys affinis, we still experienced a diversity of high plains ecosystems and observed 16 butterfly species, I got to learn from an accomplished butterfly expert, and we both got a good stretch of the legs on a perfect late summer day in northeastern New Mexico. Sounds like a successful expedition to me!

* Jing Zhang, Qian Cong, Jinhui Shen, Paul A. Opler and Nick V. Grishin. 2021. Genomics-guided refinement of butterfly taxonomy. The Taxonomic Report
of the International Lepidoptera Survey 9(3): 55 pp.

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Finally, migration season is beginning soon for Monarchs. All your Monarch observations are critically important to our better understanding of this special butterfly. Of extra importance are sightings that involve reproduction (courtship, oviposition, larvae, pupae) or migration (multiple individuals, overnight roosts). Please report all your sightings, with field observation details, to BAMONA, iNaturalist, JourneyNorth, or some other online citizen science site.

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Happy Butterflying!

July 6, 2023

© Steve Cary

We have several stories for you in this post. Jim Von Loh’s report from a grove of Organ Mountains hackberries is our featured piece, saved for last. We build up to it with three shorter items. Kelly Ricks poses a mystery butterfly pairing for you to decipher. Jonathan Batkin shares a brief notice regarding Arctics from just across the border in Arizona. And Bill Beck shares his photo-documented life history details of Dryope Hairstreak.

And as the late, great Jackie Gleason would say . . . awaaaaaaay we go!

Mystery Pairing:

Kelly Ricks submitted recently this photo to BAMONA, hoping for an ID. the BAMONA reviewer (me) now seeks your help. Kelly commented as follows:

“There are noticeable differences between sexes here. The left individual has top and middle spots on ventral hindwing overlapping (as in Green Skipper), while the right individual does not…it more resembles Pahaska Skipper (which I believe I saw in the area). I’m also interested in the ventral hindwing white spots edged in dark brown, which Glassberg (2017) connects to the Nevada Skipper. I’m assuming there’s no mating across species, so I’m not 100% on this ID.”

Dear Readers, what are we looking at here? OK, female on the left and male to the right, but which species are they? These are the data: June 25, 2023; Tollgate Canyon (near Colorado border), Union Co., NM. Please comment via the blog’s comment protocol so we can all see what you think.

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Now About those Arizona Arctics . . .

On June 25, Jonathan Batkin, presently a Tucsonian but formerly a terrific butterfly photographer in Santa Fe, emailed me as follows:

“I just made two back-to-back trips to the White Mountains (AZ) and into parts of Catron County (NM). I had better luck with leps in AZ. First, I had Alberta Arctic at the base of Greens Peak (a few miles west of Springerville, AZ). I send the Alberta Arctic photo just in case anybody might think the ‘White Mountains’ race looks significantly different than others based on the Zimmermans’ photo posted in PEEC’s Butterflies of New Mexico. All seven or eight that I saw were similar. I called the location Greens Peak (correctly spelled with no apostrophe); it is technically the grassland at the base of the peak, where I saw my first one within one minute of arriving.”

“The next day, I found Ridings’ Arctic at Luna Lake near Alpine (only about three miles from NM). Ridings’ Arctics were easy to find on the dam at Luna Lake, so I didn’t look for them further. I felt lucky to get an upperside photo.”

Jonathan’s terrific images have been added to the species account for each of these arctics in PEEC’s Butterflies of New Mexico.

Understandably a dragonfly/damselfly fanatic as well, Jonathan continued his story: “one of my goals was to see if I could locate a New Mexico population of Marsh Dancer (Argia paludicola), which was described in the scientific literature for the first time just last September. It occurs in a few spots on the White Mountain Apache Reservation, where it was discovered in about 2007. It drew little attention and for a long time was misconstrued as a variant of another species. It has not been found anywhere else in the U.S. and the nearest known population is in the state of Durango, Mexico. In NM, I went south from Reserve to Willow Creek and Snow Lake, where there is water at about 8,000 feet, one of the species’ requirements. On this trip I was unable to find spots that serve the more specific requirement of a perennial boggy marsh, though some came close. I did find two other ode species that were new for me in the state. If you can think of other places I might visit, let me know.”

Will do, Jonathan. Thanks for exploring that challenging Mogollon Rim country for butterflies (and anything else that suits you)! And by the way, as you probably are aware, Arizona was once part of New Mexico Territory, so what you do there still matters to us!

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Life Stages of Dryope Hairstreak, by Bill Beck

This life history sequence is from eggs of a female Dryope Hairstreak (Satyrium dryope itys) collected near Tonto Creek Fish Hatchery just near Payson, Arizona. The larval host there is coyote willow (Salix exigua).

All we can do, Bill, is marvel at your wonderful work with these beautiful creatures. From eggs through all larval instars to pupa and adult, you seem to have the system figured out. You make it look very easy, but I suppose that is part of the magic you do.

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Spring Among the Hackberries, by Jim Von Loh

[Editor’s preface: Jim did all the field work, photography, research, and goodness knows what else to accumulate the multi-layered, time-transgressive story which follows. He then authorized me to arrange it in a manner I thought suitable for this medium. Below is the result of this collaboration. I hope I have done justice to what Jim assembled. In the presence of his work but without being with him in the field, in nature, I am in awe of his broad ecosystem perspective and the deep dives he does into each individual organism he encounters. All photographs are Jim’s unless stated otherwise.]

Part 1. The Arroyo/Drainage/Fillmore Canyon

I have been studying an area on the lower west slope of the Organ Mountains, within Organ Mountains Desert Peaks National Monument (OMDPNM), near Las Cruces in Dona Ana County, NM. In particular, three trails (Arroyo Trail, Lower Fillmore Canyon, and Lower La Cueva Trail) comprise an approximately one-mile long desert riparian habitat.*

The arroyo receives rainfall and snowmelt runoff and carries seasonal surface flows from adjacent LaCueva Formation rocks (foreground) and from high peaks and western slopes of the Organ Mountains (background) via Fillmore Canyon. Most visitors perceive flowing water because it is noisy and visible, but the boulder- and cobble-filled watercourse would be described as “dry” by trail users much of the year. Less apparent is perennial shallow groundwater movement beneath the arroyo and within root zones of riparian trees and shrubs (e.g., “my aren’t those trees pretty and green even when it’s this hot and dry“).

Part 2. Western/Netleaf Hackberry (WHb) Habitat/Grove/Stand

Approaching this desert riparian plant community from upslope to the east, the grove of deciduous trees wearing spring emerald green gradually emerges from its desert surroundings of dry, thorny and shrubby slopes to north and south.

Continued walking down the trail brings a person down through the complex tree canopy and eventually to the canyon bottom, which is home to multiple layers of ground cover, shrubs, small trees and larger trees. 

* Note: This trail system is maintained for visitors by staff of the U.S. Bureau of Land Management (a few times I’ve visited with Craig Severin, as he volunteers his time keeping this and connecting trails passable – Thanks!! Craig!!!)…Most visitors overlook Arroyo Trail, while destination hiking to the more popular La Cueva (the cave site) and to Upper Fillmore Canyon (supports a beautiful waterfall)…

2b. About the Tree(s)

Several important tree species are established within the arroyo and along Arroyo, Lower Fillmore Canyon, and Lower La Cueva Trails. I will focus on Western or Netleaf Hackberry (Celtis reticulata Torrey, henceforth WHb), which dominates the site in terms of distribution within the canopy and its value as general habitat for butterfly and moth species. The common name Hackberry is said to be of Scottish origin, a derivation of “Hagberry” or “Bird Cherry” and originally applied to the more widely distributed eastern North American species Common Hackberry (= Celtis occidentalis Linnaeus). 

At this location, the WHb population occurs centrally within its greater range, e.g., Chihuahuan Desert landscapes of southern Arizona, southern New Mexico, western Texas; also in northern Sonora, Chihuahua, and Coahuila. WHb grows in alluvial soils as well as rocky sites and is drought tolerant, to sites averaging ~7in of precipitation annually.

When Steve first mentioned to me, in 2021, that WHb served as a host tree to some local butterfly species, I wondered why such a plant/insect association might have developed over time. Of course, being (very) old school, I had always known WHb as related to elms in the family Ulmaceae. But, when I learned that hackberries recently had been reassigned taxonomically to the hemp family, Cannabaceae, I thought to myself – Aha!

Within the woody grove, WHb occurs as tall shrubs (~5-to-15ft tall) and as small-to-large trees (~15-to-40ft tall); their higher branches are often interwoven to provide 70%-90% canopy cover. WHb bark is light-to-brownish gray in color and forms cork-like, vertical ridges (check-marked in the furrows). Leaf length and width are variable based on maturity and condition of the individual shrub/tree, but generally, the lanceolate leaves, which are dark green on the upper surface and light green below, range in length from 1-to-3in. The broad leaf base is unevenly lobed; leaf consistency/feel is leathery/rough; the pronounced venation is net-like; and the leaf margin is smooth to somewhat serrate. WHb flowers are tiny and easily overlooked, but their large, round fruits are obvious and may be green, brown, or black depending on their state of maturity.

Part 3. The Insects

WHb leaves are a valuable food source to many insects, including Jumping Plant Lice (Psyllids, discussed herein) and our focal group of Lepidoptera (butterflies, moths, and their caterpillars) (more to follow). In particular, three butterfly species associated with the WHb along Arroyo Trail Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa = MC), Hackberry Emperor (Asterocampa celtis = HE) and American Snout (Libytheana carinenta = AS). Lepidoptera larvae are an important food source for passerine birds with nestlings – two species have been photo-documented and are discussed.

This Chihuahuan Desert riparian woodland habitat supports moderately high species diversity and high numbers of butterflies and moths in various life stages. In other words, in-season you’ll always see something interesting, including butterfly and moth behaviors and adult/larval forms, and you’ll have a nice batch of images to process! 

Part 3a. Butterflies and Moths

Species of butterflies and moths use WHb shrubs and trees for several purposes and behaviors, which may include the following: 1) hiding under foliage, etc. to avoid predators and to avoid exposure to wind, rain, and cold temperature; 2) perching to rest during hot/cold portions of the day/night; 3) perching to warm in the sunshine; 4) perching to defend territory, and/or to display to attract a mate (opening and closing wings is common); 5) feeding from sap seeping through wounds of the tree bark, branches, and leaves; 6) courtship and reproduction from mate selection through mating and egg placement; 7) larval stages (caterpillars) feeding on WHb leaves through several molting stages (instars) and attaching to leaves and branches as a pupa prior to new adult emergence; and 8) thermoregulation. Generally, the dense tree establishment (riparian woodland/forest) and canopy cover acts to moderate/eliminate wind, to create warm/cool sites for butterflies and moths, and to cover the soil/rocks with fallen leaves that provide nutrients and preserve moisture, etc.

American Snout [Libytheana carinenta (Cramer 1777) = AS]

Jim initiated this story from Las Cruces on May 23 as follows: “In the Arroyo a new flight or emergence of American Snouts is keeping the Hackberry Emperors busy defending territories among the Hackberry trees that they both rely on to complete life cycles.”

It’s very difficult not to like these small, often affable, colorful, floppy-winged, bug-eyed, funny-looking, little butterflies! Much of their life cycle depends on the WHb trees that have become established in places like Arroyo Trail. There is one place I always visit off-trail; it is protected by a downed oak trunk which I crawl under and brush through WHb branches and leaves doing so. 

The photo sequence below from 02 May 2023 shows a pair of AS exhibiting courtship displays on the WHb leaves and branches …

Part 3b. Nipple Galls and The Psyllids

When walking beside, under, or through WHb trees, many leaves have noticeable eruptions or galls on upper or lower leaf surfaces. It’s hard to ignore them, because nearly every photograph of butterflies, birds, etc. perched on WHb leaves reveals a few galls. The most common WHb galls I’ve observed result from insects in the order of true bugs (Hemiptera), in a primitive family (Psyllidae), and of more than one species of Jumping Plant Lice (JPL) (Pachypsylla spp.). Please see: [https://texasinsects.tamu.edu/] and reference Wikipedia [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Psyllidae] to further research this discussion.

Psyllids typically overwinter as adults, lodging in bark crevices. They resemble tiny cicadas (only 4-5mm long). A representative image is presented below: [https://insectlab.russell.wisc.edu/2020/11/09/tiny-jumping-flying-biting-psyllids]

Psyllids mate and lay eggs when new WHb leaves unfold from the buds; the eggs hatch within about 10 days. Immature Psyllids begin feeding on leaves (using piercing/sucking mouthparts) immediately after hatching, and a gall forms on the leaf as a response to the feeding activity. The immature Psyllid lives inside the gall, emerging in early autumn (~ September). WHb leaves are aesthetically marred during the Psyllid life cycle, but little-to-no host plant damage occurs, aside from some premature leaf-drop.

Because Psyllid adults are capable of jumping from a resting position and taking flight, they are also called “Jumping Plant Lice.” Psyllid adults may present a minor biting nuisance to Arroyo Trail users in early autumn, but they don’t feed on humans, can’t sting, and don’t attack or infect human pets. 

There are at least two different Psyllid species living off our WHb: Hackberry Disc Gall (HDG) is caused by Pachypsylla celtidisumbilicus (Riley 1890))

During spring 2023 field visits to Arroyo/La Cueva Trails, it was interesting to observe that leaf-eating insects of all life stages appeared to avoid eating HDGs. This avoidance is presented by the representative image below:

A second type of Psyllid, Pachypsylla celtidismamma Fletcher 1883, produces Hackberry Nipple Gall (HNG)

Part 3c. Mourning Cloak (Nymphalis antiopa (Linnaeus 1758) = MC)

MC larvae were observed and photo-documented eating, en masse, from three WHb tall shrubs/small trees adjacent to Arroyo Trail. An estimated 20-35 individual larvae were observed, the majority of them feeding on the leaves of a single WHb tall shrub/small tree per the following images collected on 10 May 2022.

Older leaves had also been consumed, presumably by MC larvae, but young, green MC fruits (drupes) that had begun development were apparently not eaten.

Part 3d. Guess who else is coming to dinner:

…suspended above the path, hanging by a silk thread, this larva was climbing up the thread towards a hackberry tree where the thread was anchored…  Searches in iNaturalist and Wikipedia suggest this long, spotted grayish-green larva appears to be a moth in the Ennominae Subfamily of Geometridae, probably in the genus Isturgia… The silk thread allows an individual to jump off a plant if a predator bird gets too close, then to climb back up to the plant when the coast is clear…

Part 4. The Diners

During May 2023, butterfly and moth caterpillars began feeding, in numbers, on WHb leaves, including those photo-documented above. As part of field visits to collect Lepidopteran and other wildlife images, I was fortunate to encounter and photograph two passerine bird species, on different days, capturing beakfuls (beaksful?) of caterpillars from WHb leaves to feed nestlings (and later, fledglings).

Steve succinctly described the foraging adult bird’s mission: “… passerine birds raise their chicks on a protein-rich diet that is 90% Lepidoptera larvae. Before they build a nest and lay eggs, adult birds scout around for the best neighborhood – that’s the one with the most young larvae. And then they synchronize the hatching of their eggs to coincide with the maximum availability of fat caterpillars . . .“

In the early afternoon on 22 May 2023, I photo-documented a Canyon Towhee (Melozone fusca Swainson 1827; CT) capturing moth and butterfly caterpillars that were foraging on WHb leaves in the tree-top foliage. (Typically CT are ground and low-vegetation foragers.) There were likely nestlings nearby, in adjacent tall shrubs. 

…Along with the sound, the CT’s movement and leaf-rustling was visually notable from a 25′ distance…This CT was obviously hunting where caterpillars were abundant…

Black-throated Sparrow (Amphispiza bilineata Cassin 1850) (BtS)

Near noon on 27 May 2023, this BtS was photo-documented capturing caterpillars that were foraging on WHb leaves and petioles. There are likely nestlings nearby in low shrubs just above ground level.

My perspective on this site was to look upward to about 3/4 of the WHb canopy height (~15ft high). As I watched this BtS with its beak full of captured caterpillars, I wondered how it could possibly feed so many of them to its nestlings/fledglings? … 

My question was answered on 30 May 2023 at the junction of Arroyo and La Cueva Trails…This fledgling BtS had made its first flight from a nest in a low shrub and landed on a branch and leaves of WHb…

Additional information concerning these and other species of local avifauna may be reviewed at: https://www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/search. 

Part 5. The Extras

The various species discussed above have direct and intimate involvement with WHb; their life cycles depend on WHb. Of course, the study site also is home to many other insects, including butterflies, whose interactions with WHb are more incidental, less consequential, but nonetheless worth noting. Some brief examples follow:

In the image below, a post-mating female Queen [Danaus gilippus (Cramer 1775)] selected a Wavy-leaf Milkvine (Funastrum crispum (Bentham) Schlechter) which wove among WHb trunks and branches along the Arroyo Trail (27 July 2022), on which to place eggs (underneath the leaves)…

Red-spotted Admiral (Limenitis arthemis (Drury 1773)) is a large, approachable butterfly commonly observed along Arroyo Trail at its junction with Lower La Cueva Trail where they may carry out their entire life cycle. They often perch on WHb leaves, along with leaves of oaks and grapes; perching is used to warm in the sun, patrol and defend breeding territory, display to attract mates, conduct courtship and mating. Eggs are typically deposited on Black Cherry (Prunus serotina Ehrh.) or other plants in the rose family)…

For local reference a common, large cicada species, the Cactus Dodger (Cacama valvata Uhler 1888) emerges along Arroyo Trail from late May through August:

Part 6. Work to be Done

I want to conclude this meandering tale by focusing on the elephant in the room, the butterfly most plainly associated with WHb: the Hackberry Emperor (Asterocampa celtis (Boisduval & Leconte 1835)) (HE). These medium-sized butterflies use WHb shrubs and trees for their entire life cycle. My encounters of many individuals along Arroyo Trail have documented sunning, feeding, and territorial behaviors, almost exclusively.

Notwithstanding what has been documented for Hackberry Emperor to date, it remains frustrating that the most common local users of WHb trees and shrubs have yet to be photo-documented (by me) in courtship, mating, egg-placement, larval development, and adult emergence. I conclude with this species because it motivates me to return to the study grove of WHb and to persevere in my efforts to observe and photo-document the complete life history of this distinctive regional butterfly.

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That’s all for this post. We hope you enjoyed it, will offer us some feedback and will then return for the next edition, whenever it appears. Until then, Happy Butterflying!

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It’s not fun to clean smashed insects off our vehicle windshields, and it’s not fun for the insects either. It still brings a smile to my face, though, because it reveals that our ecosystems are, at least to some extent, emerging from dormancy after weathering a terrible dry spell. Drought has relented, at least in much of our state, and insect life cycles are resuming. There are insects for birds to eat. That is unbelievably good news.

Read on to see what nature has produced for us over recent weeks, including some new poop on scat, Bill Beck’s life cycle photos for Striped Hairstreak, an interim report on the Margarita Challenge, Marc Bailey’s tale of elfins, and lastly a brief note on the recent passing of Paul Opler, which was terrible news.

Making Scat Work for You, by Steve Cary

On Monday, May 29, Bonnie, Bill and I found ourselves in Sixmile Canyon on the east side of the Magdalena Mountains in Socorro County, looking for Python and Margarita. We drove up-canyon as far as seemed wise, then parked our vehicles and continued up the road on foot. It was early afternoon and rather warm. We soon encountered two deposits of scat. Scat can be a precious resource for butterflies and other insects in search of electrolytes. They can be gold mines for butterflyers, too, but these two seemed desiccated and were not attracting many butterflies. A Bordered Patch perched near one, perhaps scrounging residue from an adjacent leaf.

We went about our business and returned an hour later having seen about 20 different butterfly species, not a bad showing for an hour’s labor along a dry canyon bottom on a warm afternoon. Being thirsty, we drank from our water bottles. Then it occurred to us that butterflies may be thirsty, too. Cleverly, we added water to the scat, then waited to see what might happen. Within minutes, one of the scats had attracted about a dozen Bordered Patches and a dozen Lupine Blues (Icaricia lupini).

The larger of the two scats, perhaps from a bear or lion, did not produce the same numbers of butterflies post-wetting. It did, however, pull in our first Gray Buckeye (Junonia grisea) of the day. Henceforth we will always bring extra water and be prepared to liberally moisten dried scats.

Life Cycle of ‘Western’ Striped Hairstreak (Satyrium liparops aliparops) by Bill Beck.

In 2022, I captured a female Striped Hairstreak near Folsom in eastern Colfax County, New Mexico. Afterward, I stopped at a plant nursery in Raton and purchased a chokecherry plant and a “miniature” plum. I took the butterfly and the plants home to Tucson (AZ).

In her cage, the female oviposited on a chokecherry branch. I started the first instar larvae on “miniature” plum’s new leaves and flower buds. Some larvae liked one plant and some liked the other, but as I ran out of the plum I switched all the youngsters to chokecherry flowers and buds. Both seemed to work?

In 2022, I captured a female Striped Hairstreak near Folsom in eastern Colfax County, New Mexico. Afterward, I stopped at a plant nursery in Raton and purchased a chokecherry plant and a “miniature” plum. I took the butterfly and the plants home to Tucson (AZ).

Bill, you’re a man of few words, but your many amazing photos speak volumes about your terrific work on hairstreak life histories. Thanks for elucidating the life cycle of this infrequently seen New Mexico Hairstreak.

To learn more about this beautiful butterfly, visit peecnature.org /butterflies-of-new-mexico/hairstreaks-lycaenidae-theclinae/#liparops

Margarita Challenge – Interim Report by the humbled version of Steve Cary

How do I say this . . . we ain’t doing so good. Yes, there have been a couple sightings of Margarita in the Sandias and a couple in the Organs. There have been a couple sightings of Python in Grant County, one capture in Sierra County and one in Hidalgo County. But those are disappointingly sparse results considering the hours, gallons and miles invested by Matt, Bill, Elaine, Bonnie, Joe, Rebecca, Hira, Rob, myself and others. Conditions seemed good almost everywhere we’ve looked, but Python and Margarita have been almost completely missing in action. First, I thought the season was merely very late in developing. Then I thought it was VERY late. Now I wonder if, being dry season creatures, are these skipper extending diapause through a wet year, waiting for things to dry out again? I am shocked and aghast to see them almost entirely shut down over so much of their range. What a year to decide to undertake such an intensive effort! I hope my dear colleagues can forgive me for pushing so hard. All the head-scratching notwithstanding, I wrote up the one outing of mine which actually produced a target butterfly, so here goes . . . 

A Chord of Dicot Skippers with a Python Gracenote: May 17, 2023

We convened in Deming at 7:15 AM on Wednesday May 17. Rob, Marta and Natalie from Las Cruces, Bill from Austin, TX, and I. Our destination was the Peloncillo Mountains of far southwestern NM, in the state’s Bootheel. Our goal was to find and capture a specimen of Python Skipper, Margarita Skipper, or both, so we could send a leg to Nick Grishin at the DNA lab in Texas. Confirming either would put another firm dot on the distribution map for that particular species.

Why then lead with Dicot Skippers (Eudaminae) in the title? Well, there is a rich vein of skippers Dicot Skippers in this part of the world and our Bootheel is New Mexico’s best opening to that vein. Whenever one chases butterflies there, the Dicot Skippers should be on the agenda.

Our mapping work to date with Python and Margarita had been based heavily on DNA sequencing of museum specimens and partly on genitalic dissections performed by Sajan KC at ENMU; most of these specimens had been collected by the late Dick Holland (now at Colorado State University), the Smithsonian’s John Burns, and the late Dale Zimmerman of Silver City (now at UNM). We also had a few dorsal photos showing the gold spots of Python vs the white spots of Margarita. Collating all that evidence from AZ, NM and west TX, the map revealed a rift along the Rio Grande, with Margarita to the east and Python to the west.    

However, we had no dorsal photos and no sequenced legs from Hidalgo County NM. Several old photographs were available for individuals observed in Hidalgo Co., but all showed only the underside – wings folded and thus unconfirmable as either species. You can see one such photo I took in the Bootheel in May 1992 by going to BAMONA record 1247077. In my mind, there was little doubt that it was Python, not Margarita, which occupied the Peloncillos. We only needed to prove it.

From Deming, Rob driving his Tacoma and Bill his 4Runner, we went west on I-10, south to Hachita. In Animas we filled fuel tanks and emptied bladders. Then it was due south on what used to be SR338, but is now a county-maintained road, still in good condition, paved for ~20 miles, then all-weather gravel. The road took us along the valley of the Animas River, which drains north into non-existence; along the way it supports scattered lush riparian woodlands, most privately owned. Grasslands extended in all directions, backed by rugged mountains.

We turned west-southwest onto Forest Road 63, which parallels Clanton Draw (yes, those Clantons) up into the southern portion of the Peloncillos, heads irregularly west-southwest, continues over Geronimo Pass at about 5860’ elevation, thence down the west slope into AZ and on to Douglas, AZ. The Peloncillos are a modest highland, not as high as the majestic Chiricahuas, but no less rugged, with fewer roads and fewer trails. I haven’t had much luck finding the high spot of the broad, dissected Peloncillos upland, but it may be around 7000’. That’s grand enough to have pine forests on north-facing slopes.

Eyes open for thistles, we progressed slowly up into the mountains through grassy slopes dotted with sotol and beargrass. Entering the Coronado National Forest, we transitioned to savannas with stands of alligator juniper and evergreen oaks. We stopped where the road approached Clanton Draw, which we hoped would have wet spots. A half-hour there produced our first Dicot Skipper, namely Northern Cloudywing (Cecropterus pylades or Thorybes albosuffusa or some combination thereof still being sorted by the experts). OK, ho hum, I agree that is about the least exciting Dicot Skipper in NM.

As we returned to our vehicles, a small pickup truck came rumbling down the road from the Douglas side, with a friendly dog sniffing out of the passenger window. Upon seeing Bill and his butterfly net, the driver stopped to inquire as to what we were up to. It turned out to be Saunders Drukker, a herpetology doctoral student at Texas State University and one of the party (including Johdan Fine and Raymond Van Buskirk) who had obtained video of a female Ursine Giant-Skipper placing eggs on yuccas just down the road from us back on August 7, 2020 (see my August 2020 blog posted at PEECnature.org). It’s a wonderfully small and fascinating world, don’t you think?

As we proceeded upslope along FR63, it became painfully evident that the pine forests of the upper Clanton Draw watershed had taken a severe beating in recent years due to wildfires. It was as if we were driving through a war zone. The surrounding forest was burned in many areas, with black standing dead trees all around. As is typical for most wildfires, some areas had escaped entirely. Burned areas showed extensive patches of verbena (Glandularia sp.) in full bloom. That got our hopes up because many grass skippers including Margarita and Python love to nectar at purple flowers, most of which have long nectar tubes that accommodate the skippers’ long proboscides. But our many patient searches of verbena patches went entirely for naught. Harrumph.

Somehow the ordinary species tend to thrive or at least do OK in severely disturbed areas. Northern Cloudywings and Marine Blues exemplified that capability this day.

Butterfly hunting was most successful at wet spots in the watercourse, which remained in decent condition because there had been no major post-fire channel incision or sedimentation, at least not yet. Our species tally at such spots included several of the usual suspects: Arizona Sisters,Red-Spotted Admirals, assorted sulphurs, Checkered Whites, etc.

As we approached Geronimo Pass, we left the charred forest behind us. The unburned area around the saddle was in much better condition, plant communities seemed intact, and butterflies diversified. We spotted an Acacia Skipper (Cogia hippalus) – our second Dicot Skipper. There were several satyrs, too, which we tried hard to make into Nabokov’s Satyr (Cyllopsis pyracmon) – a potential New Mexico state record – but they were all Canyonland Satyrs.

We paused at the pass to gaze at the summits to north and south, but those were not within reach this day. Instead, we rolled gently down the west side’s switchbacks ready to slam on the breaks at the first hint of butterflies. After a mile or two we came to the AZ border monument, and then FR 63 crossed Cottonwood Creek, where the gravel roadbed had puddles amid unburned woodlands and savannas. [This stop is notorious among New Mexico butterflyers because it is frequently a very hot spot for butterflies, but is just barely in Arizona. Some ancient cartographer made a minor mistake that we have paid dearly for ever since. What a pain!]

We stopped and I foolishly suggested we eat lunch. Fat chance! No one was eschewing the mud to find a good lunch log. We were butterflyers and appetites would have to be patient. Sharp-eyed Bill was barely out of his car when he glimpsed an Atrytonopsis at the mud. Before anyone could think, he swung his net and produced what remains the only Python Skipper I have seen this year. Note the yellow-gold spots on the forewing upperside. Bill took this specimen so we could send a leg to Nick in Dallas to get the DNA sequenced to confirm its identity.

Python was just the beginning. We tallied about 15 species at that magnetic mudhole, plus upstream and downstream from there. Among the more intriguing were Desert Checkered-Skipper and Tropical Leafwing, both at what I would consider to be rather high (for them) elevation of 5200 feet.

We also claimed our third and most interesting Dicot Skipper: Desert Cloudywing (Cecropterus casica) which is infrequently seen in New Mexico, and then only in our far southwest corner. Bill even followed the dry channel back into New Mexico and spotted one on the New Mexico side, which I greatly appreciated.

We finally had the thing we came for – Python Skipper – the fact that it was in AZ rather than NM was a trivial matter. We were 200 yards from the NM border, which was meaningless to the skippers; the habitat was continuous; Python was in the Peloncillos, as we hoped to demonstrate. Q.E.D.

That high note largely ended our day; Bill continued west toward Tucson and an appointment with Ilavia Hairstreak. Rob drove the rest of us back east to Las Cruces. But first we stopped at Adobe Deli, for an unforgettable dining experience, just a few miles east of Deming off the frontage road. Check it out when you’re in the neighborhood.

My Three Elfin Day, by Marc Bailey.

My quest for efins began in the middle of May 2021 when Steve organized a field trip for PEECbutterflywatchers members to visit known sighting locations around Fenton Lake in the Jemez Mountains [Santa Fe National Forest, Sandoval County]. I was not able to join that field trip but used the intel to visit probable locations a week later. Sure enough, at a patch of their shared larval host kinnickinnic, I was lucky to find both Brown and Hoary elfins. I wanted to visit the area again last May to capture better images, but the forest closures due to wildfire risks prohibited such trips.

I was determined to make the trip this year but was a little worried about the the cool spring and the very slow start to the butterfly season. I saw a break in a stretch of very cloudy, rainy weather and traveled to the Seven Springs Fish Hatchery area north of Fenton Lake on May 22. I decided to start at the same area I found the elfins in 2021, on a shelf above the Rio Cebolla, where there was plenty of kinnickinnic.

To my delight, I spotted two tiny brown butterflies spiraling together at the first large stand of kinnikinnic I came to. Fumbling with my camera I was able to capture an image of one of them when it landed in front of me. Ah, a Hoary Elfin! With a so-so image in hand, I proceeded to look for more and found another large stand of kinnikinnic that had three elfins spiraling higher and higher. I waited until they separated and returned to their own territorial perches in the kinnikinnic and saw they were again all Hoary Elfins. The closest one was very photogenic and I was able to get some great shots in the morning sun.

With one very nice photo in the bag, I examined the kinnikinnic and noticed there were not the numbers of flowers I saw two years earlier, most likely due to the unusually cool spring. I moved to another stand, no elfins, then another stand, no elfins. On my next move, up came a more coppery elfin. Fingers crossed, I watched it land and saw it was a Brown Elfin! A second photogenic specimen allowed more great shots and I figured I couldn’t improve on what I had.

Clouds began forming and moving in from the northwest. Realizing my time was limited, I explored the area and found a few more Hoaries, but no more Browns. The periods of shade were getting longer than the periods of sun and, being content with the photos I had, I started back toward the car. Near the original stand of kinnikinnic I saw a small brown butterfly flitting around a juniperbush. I moved in and saw that it was a slightly larger, very fresh Western Pine Elfin! I took some quick shots before it flew away, but it returned to the same branch of juniper. It turned out to be the most cooperative of all! I got many excellent photos and then just watched it until the clouds chased it away.

Elfins have become one of my favorites and I look forward to finding them in other locations. Hard to beat a three elfin day! 

Marc Bailey

Dr. Paul Opler

Earlier this year the forest of Lepidopterists particularly, and scientists in general, lost a giant sequoia with the passing of Dr. Paul Opler. When I arrived in New Mexico and joined The Lepidopterists Society c. 1980, Paul was one the Society members who graciously welcomed me into the world of butterflying in the southern Rocky Mountains (also RIP Dick Holland, Jim Scott and Ray Stanford). Paul was always open, welcoming, friendly and helpful to me, whether in the field together collecting in the Guadalupe Mountains of Eddy County or conversing via email about my hard-to-identify photographs of blues – were they Lupine Blues or Acmon Blues? – as he did cheerfully up to the end. Paul, you will be long remembered and with a smile. His full obituary is here: www.kibbeyfishburn.com/obituary/paul-opler