The End of Summer in the Oregon Alps or an Hydaspe Surprise

Bob Hillis sets a high bar.

     It was the first day of the Labor Day Weekend.  The 2024 college football season would kick off in less than 24 hours, and it was a bright blue morning at Timberline Lodge. 

    Butterfly season was winding down.  On our last outing, to Dougan Falls, Sandra and I met a pleasant trio from the State of Washington Department of Ecology (who knew that such an organization even existed?) that were examining the water quality in the upper Washougal.  While it may have been amusing to watch an attractive biologist slip into her hip waders, the butterflying was far from exciting.  

    Our friend, Bob Hillis, had tempted us back into the field with a picture of Milbert's Tortoiseshell, which he encountered recently at 11,000 feet in southern Utah.  If Bob could see Milbert's (possibly my most wanted butterfly) why couldn't we see something good late in the season?  We were hoping for a Red Admiral and expecting, at the least, Lorquin's Admiral.  Instead, we saw a few tiny, orange Woodland Skippers, Que triste! 

    Luckily, hope springs eternal and Sandra and I were delighted to take this late summer jaunt up to Mt. Hood. From our coffee spot in Timberline Lodge, I had taken a quick trip to the car to fine tune our butterflying equipment and when I returned, Sandra had made friends with a couple from New Zealand.   They regaled us with stories of Sirocco, the famous kakapo.  Kākāpō are giant flightless parrots of renowned skill, sometimes referred to as owl faced parrots.  In the wild they are nocturnal. Sirocco was raised by hand and is virtually the national mascot.  Apparently he is easy to see, but his wild brethren have been much reduced in numbers and are, as previously stated, nocturnal.  So good luck seeing one of them.  

California Tortoiseshell, Tumalo Falls June 2024

    Sandra and I finished our coffee, applied our sun screen and bid our Kiwi friends a fond farewell.  They, in turn, wished us good luck with the butterflies, At that moment, I was sure that we needed all the good luck we could get. 

    Outside, despite being only 9:30, the sun was up, the sky was blue, and it was already warm.  We took the main trail up the hill from the lodge.  It climbed steeply and then turned west.  A sign noted that we were on the Pacific Crest Trail.  This trail was well trod with ankle high barriers and signs to keep on the trail.   After fifty yards we came to a crossroads.  The PCT continued west with seemingly little change in elevation.  Like the hill-topping butterflies, we wanted to go up.  And so we turned right onto a wide path that paralleled the ski lift.  Our new trail was wider, perhaps it would be accessible to an ATV associated with ski lift repair.   Best of all, this steeply climbing road had no barriers to prevent us from wandering.  

Boiduval's Blue, Deschutes Puddle Party, May 2023

 

   We climbed another 150 vertical feet and decided to take a rest.  One can over do this mountain climbing stuff.  Sandra found a rock that was both shaded and sufficiently comfortable. Left to my own devices (my sweetie had claimed the best rock) I crawled up the bank and perched on a spruce root that was retaining the soil.  At this point I decided, in a most self serving way, to hunt butterflies the way Rollo Kuse hunted deer.  

    Sandra's father, Rollo, was famous for his success in dispatching Bambi on an annual basis.  The best story involves him arriving in front of Sandra's dorm at Chippewa State with Bambi draped over and secured to the hood of his station wagon and honking madly until all the young lovelies came to admire the fruits of his hunting prowess.  

    The bottom line is that Rollo knew how to hunt in a way that my pater familias certainly did not.  My dad would arm my brother and me with shotguns while he carried a 30.06.  We would walk in a semi-stealthy fashion through some second growth alders for 45 minutes and, surprise, surprise, not see a fucking thing.  Rollo, on the other hand, would find a deer trail and sit quietly for as long as it took Bambi to wander by.  

This Butterfly Has Flown

    So, as I sat on my shaded perch, with a great view of a small meadow of asters and such, I took heart in the notion that I was not being lazy.  I was being smart.  Like Rollo!  I had a great view of the flies and bees that were working the wildflowers, which only three or four hundred feet higher than the lodge were far less baked.  We waited for a while, and I was in the final ten minutes of what my patience would tolerate when suddenly here came a butterfly making his way up hill.  I called to Sandra as the butterfly flew behind her, she turned and got a pretty good look at a California Tortoiseshell. 

   Well, this got me off my duff and we both traipsed around for a bit.  But like the bird in Norwegian Wood, this butterfly had flown.  We had both seen the medium sized orange insect, though, and we were not skunked.  God bless Rollo Kuse, wherever he is.  Presumably waiting for Bambi in St Peter's Wood.   

   Heading down the hill we encountered another butterfly on it's way up.  This was a medium sized yellow butterfly that circled for a while, getting quite close to both of us but never landing.  And never finding his way into my net.  As he flew by, I could make out the black dorsal wing linings, making this an Orange Sulfur Butterfly.  

    Robert Pyle tells us that "This is the most abundant butterfly in the high cascades in the fall, often seen moving up mountain roads..."  Sounds like Bob has it pegged.

Hydaspe Fritillary, Alpine Campground, Labor Day 2024

    We wanted to continue down the ski lift path, but at the intersection with the Pacific Crest Trail it became even steeper and appeared to terminate at the ski lift hut.  And so we turned back onto the PCT.  Here we encountered many hikers and their children and their dogs.  We also became reacquainted with the fences keeping us on the trail.  And the signs warning us to behave...or else.   A short piece down the trail we spotted several larger blues in the abundant white wildflowers.  

    We took turns with the binoculars, getting pretty good looks.  We were unwilling to step over the trail guards though, so we couldn't get a chance at netting one.  The female nearest to us was quite dark ventrally.  Several males were fitting around about twenty yards down the hill and it was easy to appreciate their gray blue surfaces.  Most likely these were Boiduval's Blues.

    Named for a famous Frenchie, who sat in his Ivory Tower in Paris naming the species that he received specimens from our hero, Pierre Lorquin, Boisduval's Blue is possibly the most common blue in the Pacific Northwest.  It is slightly larger than most other blues, is found in a variety of habitats and appears later in the season at higher elevations..  The picture you see here was taken at a dirt boat launch on the Deschutes near Maupin, Or. in the spring of last year.  Also present were Sagebrush Checkerspot, ,Coronis Fritillary. and Oregon Swallowtail.  With a gathering so auspicious, I trust they were drinking something better that plain old mud filtered water.  A Willamette Valley pinot, perhaps?

    One might easily think that three species for the morning was three more than we had a right to expect. So we were pretty happy as we descended 500 feet to Alpine Campground.  Immediately as we arrived we saw dark medium sized butterflies in flight.  It took a while to track one down, but I got my first on the far side of the highway, on the gated dirt road leading to a meadow.  A quick look at my catch and I knew it was our new best friend, an Hydaspe Frit.  

   Caitlin had said that this was our most common frit, but until this year Sandra and I had hardly seen one.  We encountered them in the vicinity of the Washougal in June and July and now here they were in great numbers at 5,400 feet.  Pyle and LaBar agree that it is found from lowlands in late spring to hill topping mountains later in the season.  Cait is apparently unavailable; perhaps she is out tormenting the butterflies of Montana.  When she gets back I'm sure she will tell us if it is surprising that we saw this butterfly in great numbers at Alpine Campground.  Look at our pictures taken back at the ranch.  In addition to some diagnostic ventral views, this guy gave as a great look at his dorsal pattern , as well.

    We were lucky to have such a day near the end of the butterfly season.  Football season is now upon us.  So raise a glass of something delicious and give us a Go Huskies! 

jeff