A Tale of Two Moths...Spring Butterflies in the Oregon Cascades

      Last week we took what has become our annual family vacation to Black Butte Ranch near Sisters, Oregon.  This time we started out with our grandchildren while my son and my DIL competed in a 24 hour relay race, running circuitously from Diamond Lake to Bend.

This Western Sulfur female is identical to Christina's.

     This adventure might have had a better beginning, but the weather for those first two days was deplorable.  Our friend Bob Hillis was simultaneously attempting to watch butterflies in Southern Idaho.  He was experiencing the same cold, windy weather and reported that conditions were ideal for watching trees and rocks, but not fragile insects.  Meanwhile, we had two high energy ragazzi couped up in the house fighting over board games and watching obnoxiously loud cartoons.  Just like David Muir, I can lead with the weather.  Its 100 degrees in Boston!  Ok. It sucks. Who cares?

     By the third day, the weather had improved, James and Tara (Or as Valdar would say, the Parental Units) had found their way to Black Butte and Sandra and I were on our way to the Metolius Preserve, ground zero for Cascade butterflies.  This was the first day after the unseasonable storm and the ground was just warming up.  The conditions were really pleasant, if a bit cool for butterflies.  The best thing was that we were out walking in the moist woods, and it was really quiet.

Anna's Blue, Metolius Preserve, June 2025

  From a butterfly perspective we collected a medium sized yellow butterfly.  On photographic examination, (back at the ranch), it looked just like a Christina's Sulfur, which would have been a few hundred miles out of range.  We sent our picture to Caitlin LaBar and she replied that it was a female Western Sulfur.  Not only is this a fairly common butterfly throughout much of Oregon and Washington, but its picture is on the page preceding Christina's Sulfur in Cait's book, our standard reference.   In our defense, the female Western and Christina's Sulfur appear identical to me. The fact that the photo was on an adjoining page was a little embarrassing.

    That night we were regaled, over an appropriate beverage, with stories from the race.  The highlight involved Wie, who I have known since he was a skinny little Vietnamese second grader.  He has grownup to be a big, athletic beast who can beat anybody at any sport you might name.  In the early morning hours, as the team approached Bend, Wie ran a twelve mile leg over Mt. Bachelor, in the dark, in the snow!  The race committee gave a special medal to the runners who completed this leg, presumably bearing the visage of a Yeti.

   And that is how we celebrate the Summer Solstice in the Oregon Cascades.

   The next morning, Tara herded the cats to the lodge pool, James worked from home on his computer and Sandra and I headed back to Camp Sherman.  The weather was getting progressively warmer and there were more butterflies on the wing. 

   We saw lots of good stuff, ten species in all, but the highlight was clearly two Anna's Blue Butterflies.  These are small blue butterflies, so until you get very close, probably taking a picture for a very good look, you probably don't know what you are looking at.  In this location, Silvery Blues were common.  Silveries are not especially large, and the blue of the Anna's male is similar to that of the silvery.   Hence the need for a good photo.

   Anna's Blue butterfly is so uncommon, that when Cait saw our pictures, she wanted to know exactly where we saw it.  With this in mind, I'm including more than one picture of the Anna's, one from the field and one from the lab.  Cait said this butterfly is found sporadically in small pockets. 

The Wild Forget-Me-Not Moth in Sandra's hand.

    I saw the first Anna's, while Sandra was taking a break on a commodious stump.  I took a picture of a cooperative little blue hiding among some leaves.  When I looked at the picture and saw all those yellow spots, I returned to find that the butterfly had not moved.  Swoosh.  He was on the way to the lab.

   Our second Anna's was resting on a fern.  This is a good year for ferns at the Metolius Preserve.  I'm not sure if this is good for butterflies.  Anyway, we took his picture and he flew away.  The picture we took was blurry, but it shows a lot of orange in the dorsal wing surfaces.

   Finally, you see the picture of the ventral surfaces taken under controlled conditions.  This, presumably, is the one Cait used for her identification.  Something to note:  there is a substantial difference in the ventral surfaces between the sexes in this butterfly.  This is a male and it matches up with the picture in Pyle and LaBar.

    Finally we got back to the car.  As we left the parking lot, we got a text from Tara saying there were lots of butterflies around the pool.  This accompanied a photo of a substantial black and white moth on her leg.  

Gnophaela latipensis, Black Butte, June 2025

    So off we went to the lodge pool.  When we got there, we found many  medium sized moths fluttering about.  As you can see, they are not small, have distinctive white wing markings and an orange bib.  It took Cait no time at all to put a latin name on this plentiful beast: Gnophaela latipennis.  This moth is known, according to Wikipedia, as the Wild Forget-Me-Not Moth. 

    I wouldn't know a forget-me-not if it forgot me without a second thought.  However, also according to Wikipedia, this moth doesn't eat forget-me-nots.  Rather, while living in a variety of habitats mostly in Oregon, and including Ponderosa Pine forests, it dines on two species of Dog's Tongue, which sounds a bit like one of the pirates from Treasure Island.  Dog's tongue is an unassuming weed with blue flowers and long floppy leaves that must have reminded someone of, well, a dog's tongue. 

   That venerable organization, Pacific Northwest Moths, notes that this moth is a plant specialist and the caterpillars insists upon Hound's Tongue.  Obviously they are not pirates. La de da.  This must be a good year for canine glossa in the pine forests around the pool at Black Butte.  

Western Sheep Moth Hemileuca eglanterina, June 2025

   We have not seen this insect previously over a great many years.  It is big enough and it was so common that if it had been present even a disinterested urbanite could not have been unaware of them.  So something is going on at the Butte.  Perhaps a bumper crop of Dog's Tongue? Climate change?  Trump's under-publicized tariff on Fleabane?

    Soon enough, the cock crowed and our final day of butterflying was upon us.  We made it back to the preserve a little later than before, hitting the Lake Creek Trail around 10;30.  This day, as predicted, was hotter.  Almost immediately I spied something strange in the sagebrush.  Of course, this wasn't sagebrush, but to us non-botanists it might as well be.  But not to butterflies...or moths.  Hanging from a branch of the brush was an object about three inches in length. It was pink and yellow, shaped like a butterfly wing in profile.  And I said to myself, " Why the f... would a child hang his colorful, rubber toy on the sagebrush?   (The fact that it was already f...ing hot explains my cursing.)

   I called Sandra over and she convinced me to pick it up.  The material had some bulk to it, but it wasn't rubber.  And as Sandra turned it over she saw a legion of wiggling legs and shrieked, "It's alive!" Well, if you know my girl, you know she didn't shriek.  Rather, she sort of propped it up on her wrist for a picture of its face and then she laid it down in the dusty shade so we could get a picture of the wing.  I then returned it to the sagebrush, which may or may not be Peck's Penstemon.  Who the f... knows?

Is the Western Sheep Moth going to eat Sandra in lieu of a sheep?

   Like many animals, a picture takes the place of paragraphs.  You can see the incredible mustard colored hair, the feather like antennae and the large colorful wings.

    We proceded to retrace our route through the riparian woodland, seeing a Zerene Fritillary fluttering on some wet soil and a Clouded Sulfur hiding among the ferns.  But too soon we returned to our vehicle for some AC and water.  While we sat there cooling off, I used Google lens to identify the hairy beast.  This previously unknown critter was a Western Sheep Moth.  Wikipedia says that it is day flying and not uncommon.  So why haven't we seen it before?  Heaven knows, it is difficult to overlook.  

      Despite the fact that he is deputized by the State of Hawaii and UH Manoa to save the Kamehameha Butterfly, my mentor, Daniel Rubinoff, is a moth guy.  So I wrote to him for some answers.  "Is it called a sheep moth because it is so wooly, albeit the wool is a hideous yellow color, or does it actually eat sheep.?"  

Mustard colored hats sold by SheepMoth.com, Girl sold separately

    Daniel wrote back saying that it was so named because it inhabits mountain meadows where they (shepherds, I suppose) graze sheep.  "It's in the book!"  he said, meaning Insects of California to which he a co-author.  He went on to say that he did his Phd on that genus, Hemileuca.

    Of course, the moths eat very little, certainly not sheep. And as far as I know, they don't taste like sheep.  But they do have that nice, mustard colored wool.  Next time I find one I think I will harvest the fleece and knit myself a cap for use in the Oregon summertime. 

jeff

Delightful Spring Butterflies on Mount Hood

       

          On the bank above Dougan Creek, these Lorquin's Admirals herald the beginning of spring.
     

    The weatherman has been struggling to put together a warm spring in the Pacific Northwest.  It was warm for a couple days a week ago and Sandra and I made it to Dougan Falls where we saw a profusion of Snowberry Checkerspots and small Lorquin's Admirals.  On the last day of this run we actually flirted with triple digits.  But then a cold spell descended upon us.  Looking for butterflies in temperatures lower than 60 degrees is a quixotic mission, so we took a few days off, watching the weather for the right day to make a journey to Mount Hood.  

Timberline Coffee 2025

      We decided that yesterday, the 17th of June, would be the best day this week.  And so, 8:30 in the morning found us on the third floor of Timberline Lodge enjoying a cup of delicious coffee and a postcard vista of the mountain.  By 9:00 AM we had finished our java.  Out on the terrace, looking up at Mt. Hood, we noted that that the profusion of wildflowers that we anticipate for later in the summer was still in the offing. And so we returned to the car and descended 500 vertical feet to Alpine Campground.

    The first thing we noticed was that the  campground itself was closed.  This wasn't a significant problem; we parked outside the gate and had the area all to ourselves.  In a month we expect to see a meadow of asters, but we were too early for that lovely purple carpet.  Lucky for us and our lepidopterous buddies, there was a sprinkling of different wildflowers.  

Polemium pulcheria aka Jacob's Ladder, Alpine Campground

    Initially I didn't see any butterflies and so I amused myself by taking pictures for the wildflowers.   Of course, being a very poor excuse for a botanist, I shared a few of these pictures (in my post trip missive) with our guru, the redoubtable Caitlin LaBar.  She replied, "I don't know what those purple flowers are, but the pink ones are a type of Phlox and the yellow is Birdsfoot Trefoil."  It's hard for me to imagine that Cait doesn't know what the purple ones are...she knows everything!

    Of course, there is someone who truly seems to know everything and his name is Mr. Google.  After a quick tutorial, I was able to use Google photos on my phone to put a name on the purple flowers: Polemonium pulcheria, sometimes known as Jacob's Ladder.  Heaven only knows why (get it?)  It's found in the mountains from the Yukon to Arizona.  And if you rub the leaves it emits the odor of a skunk.  So if you want to be popular with the ladies, don't rub the leaves.  

California Tortoiseshell warming in the morning sun.

    Anyway, as I was strolling along, I saw a couple medium sized orange butterflies.  One flew in front of me and landed at a convenient height in a conifer.  Low and behold it was a California Tortoiseshell.  This guy was extremely cooperative, basking in the morning sun, affording me the opportunity to capture this luscious photo.  

    I had heard that California Tortoiseshell was common around Timberline Lodge.  In as much as it migrates from the south, I had assumed it would arrive later.  Obviously, this was wrong.  

   We explored the meadows around Alpine Campground.  On the opposite side of the road, where there is a very pleasant meadow, I ran into some purple lupine, the aforementioned Phlox and the curiously named Pussypaws.  These, of course, are plants, not the dismembered limbs of felines. I saw a few tortoiseshells in the woodsy margin surrounding the meadow, but no other butterflies.   

   Deciding that we had done all the damage we could at Alpine, we headed down to lower elevation about 10 AM.   First stop was our favorite snow park, Snow Bunny, where children go sliding in the winter and we look for butterflies in the summer.  Immediately on disembarking, I caught an unusual moth among the weeds.

Sandra's Silvery Blue perches on her hand.  

    At about the same time we started seeing California Tortoiseshells.  Not just a few...they were everywhere.  Pyle and LaBar make a big deal of the population fluctuations for this species.  They note that these tortoiseshells build up their numbers for years until they become the most common butterflies in the mountains, defoliating large areas of deerbrush and ceanothus.  As with other such species, the following season their numbers crash.  In 2026 it might look like Donald Trump has put a tariff on tortoiseshells!  

    It's a shady quarter mile walk through the woods, up a service road, to the steep slopes the sliders use in the winter.  This road serves as a route for a seep throughout the summer.  On this day the wet ground was littered with tortoiseshells.  As we emerged from the trees, I took a failed swipe at a medium sized white butterfly and in short order Sandra caught a Silvery Blue.  We were hoping for Sara's Orangetip, which is supposed to appear along with the Silvery Blue, later in the season, at higher altitudes.  The status of the Orangetip, on our lifelist. remains unchanged.

Birdsfoot Trefoil at Snow Bunny.

    It was in this meadow that we found the aforementioned Birdsfoot Trefoil.  I wouldn't have known a Trefoil from a tin foil, but this unusual wildflower caught my attention.  Note how it produces small budding seed pods at the ends of the petals.  Supposedly the seeds reminded someone of a bird's foot.

    Earlier in the day, as we drove up past Government Camp, which is a small commercial area at 4000 feet, near which the steep road to Timberline begins, I noticed that there was a ski area creating a meadow.  "Why not try that spot for butterflies?"  I thought.  And so, after we left Snow Bunny we added another stop to our route.  

Greenish Blue Butterfly, Government Camp, June 2025

   Before going on, I have to tell you that we have stopped in this area many times.  A large parking lot, that undoubtedly is used by skiers in the winter, is anchored by a chalet that houses the only designated rest area (i.e., clean toilets) on Mt. Hood.   U.S. 26 is the chief route between Bend and Portland., so this is a well-used rest area.  Suffice it to say, on those many instances when we have stopped, we have parked near the facilities. 

  Much to my chagrin, when we parked near the buildings that service the ski area, we found that the parking area is bounded by a substantial drainage from the mountain.  There are willows, tall grasses and a ditch with slowly moving water. This, of course, is a lepidopterist's wet dream.  

Hoffmann's Checkerspot, Government Camp 2025

      On disembarking, we were immediately treated to a variety of butterflies.  There was a small rufous butterfly on the grassy fringe of the car park which I successfully netted. Sandra got that little guy in a bag and I headed up the margin of grass fronting the seep.  

    There were a couple small black butterflies.  Caitlin has taught us that these small black butterflies are invariably duskywings.  If you look very closely, they are not solid black, but at even a short distance they appear black as a banshee.  In this case, they were either pascuvius or dreamy duskywings ( a genus of skipper).   I was unable to get one in the net, although I got a quick, excellent look at one of these small insects sunning himself in the short grass.   Unfortunately, lacking an excellent picture, our mentor is unwilling to guess which of the two it might have been. 

  We could see the snowball like blossoms of bear grass growing in the meadow/ski slope a hundred yards uphill.  (this is a ski slope after all), and so I decided to take a walk that far up the hill.  As I rounded the doublewide associated with this small ski operation I looked down at a small blossom growing in the grass and, to my surprise, I saw a Snowberry Checkerspot butterfly.  This is a very distinctive insect, and I have lots of experience with it.  In fact, I saw a dozen a week ago.  While I was deciding whether to net it or try for a picture it flew away.

Hoffmann's Checkerspot, ventral June 2025

   Well, I catalogued that one in my ancient squash and proceeded around the building.  There, on another small blossom, was a blue butterfly.  He or she was having lunch and paid me little heed while I took a picture.  I figured that this must be a silvery, based entirely on location, and headed up towards the Bear Grass. 

    I made it up and took a couple pictures.  (If you look carefully, you can see Mt. Hood peeking over the top of the hill.)  The way back down was uneventful.  Sandra let me waste another five minutes by the parking lot, but there were no more surprises.

    Back home, we took pictures of our victims and sent Caitlin some of the photos and the salient field notes.  For the most part we were able to make our own identifications.  As noted here, that small reddish butterfly was a Hoffmann's Checkerspot.  Last year, when we saw it at Alpine Campground, this was a really big deal.  This year, a month earlier and 2,000 feet lower, it wasn't quite so exciting, but still, this is a rare insect with a range restricted to the crest of the Cascades in the western states. 

Bear Grass, Ski Lift and Mt. Hood, Gov't Camp 2025

    We got Sandra's silvery right, but Cait took issue with the butterfly I photographed in the Government Camp ski meadow.  She calls it a greenish blue, highlighting that little mark on the dorsal forewing.  That's why she's the expert and we have one more for the list.

    It took but a moment's reflection for me to pose the question, "Can you see Hoffmann's and Snowberry Checkerspot in the exact same location on the same day in June?"  I sent this question in an email to Cait.

   Now...my older son has over the last few months become enamored of AI...artificial intelligence.  He started out by using AI for his computerized art.  Now he doesn't go to the washroom without asking AI if his tissue is correct for the circumstances.  And he's got me doing it, albeit to a lesser extent.

   In any event, I asked this question of Google Gemini and, to abbreviate the answer, Gemini said yes.  It noted that the two are both found in moist forests, and they fly at the same time of year.  While the habitat for Hoffmann's is quite restricted, Snowberry Checkerspot is found over a fairly wide range, including mountain environments.  A few hours later Caitlin said the same thing, using, I assume the intelligence that was gifted her by our maker, the God of Abraham. 

Snowberry Checkerspot, Dougan Creek, 2025

    So, 

holy Moley, two checkerspots at the Government Camp rest area!  Is that a good day butterflying, or what? 

 jeff

    

The Painted Lady as created by AI, Chuck Hill Graphics